#starting two stories in a row off similarly was not intentional but they were both planned to start the way they did so whooops?

[redmoonwanderer]

Wondrous Tails of FFXIV 2024 Prompt: Stack marker Summary: The Grand Company recruits have once again proven themselves rather capable. At nearly getting the Warrior of Light killed, that is.

The first words that he hears as he turns his head when he regains his senses, finding it rather painful, are, “Ah, thee art awake at last.” He opens his eyes to a thankfully dimly lit room – which comes as little surprise as most of the Scions are by now aware that eyes made for seeing in the dark don’t exactly like being showed under the bright conditions that try to imitate the sun in the room.

He feels like he’s been hit by some mutated dragon swinging a maul larger than a castle, and knowing this star, it’s entirely possible.

Urianger puts a book he’s been reading on to the table and gets up from his seat. When by Qhol’a’s cot, he asks, “How art thee feeling?”

Qhol’a simply nods, which, as everyone knows, is not really an answer. He’s faced unimaginable horrors and taken unsurvivable beatings and claimed he’s fine after. To convince his friend, he forces himself to sit up, though he can’t really hide the grimace as he does so.

“Well, ‘tis a relief to see thee art recovering. When thee were brought back from thine duty, thy friends were worried for thee, and having seen thy condition upon arrival, the had good cause for it.”

Ah, yes. The recruits. The people that would work best as assassins disguised as body-guards. He might’ve been able to make it if not for some tiny troubles along the way, troubles that always multiplied when he tried to teach the novices how to survive as an adventurer.

First of all, as is evident from the light clothing he’s still wearing, he had gone out to heal, to relieve their pain and take care of their injuries. Unfortunately, the clothes – that didn’t offer much cover to begin with – didn’t provide as much protection as, say, a heavy armour would. He really wished he’d picked a sword instead of a planisphere, but someone had to train their more front-line inclined recruits as well, and no one else seemed to be willing to take up on that task, for some unfathomable reason.

Second, while the recruits were learning, taking lessons to heart, they did not have the Echo, and nor did they seem to have a single working eye among them. Maybe if he was comfortable enough to speak the outcome would have been different, yelling to get their attention, but he couldn’t do it. Not yet, maybe never. So when he’d gestured for the three to come over immediately, they’d not seen it. The tank had actually been doing his job keeping the beasts ire upon himself, and the mage and the lancer had been intent on putting it down as fast as they could, spurred by the fact their opponent had been on its last legs. They had, however, not been very intent on protecting him.

Because when an attack that they would have been able to lessen the impact of as a group came, he was alone. He remembers the beast turning towards him, large, clawed hand stretching to the side as it intended to swipe at him. The other three figured that the turned back was a great target, which wasn’t wrong, technically.

He remembers rushing to get out of the way. Remembers the claws still hitting him, sending him flying through the air. He even vaguely remembers hitting a rock standing at the side of the clearing and tumbling down onto the ground.

After that, he remembers nothing, probably because there was nothing to remember.

He looks at Urianger, and can’t hide the exasperation from his face. The elezen hold back a chuckle, because he is well familiar with similar tales and hardly surprised by the outcome of this venture.

“Are they okay?” Qhol’a signs.

Urianger nods. “Only minor injuries that have been seen to.”

Good, Qhol’a thinks. He rubs his chest and tries to find a position that doesn’t hurt his back, but it seems he’ll be aching for a while, still.

“I recommend more repose. Perhaps somewhere more peaceful,” Urianger adds. Qhol’a knows what he’s not saying, only implying, because it seems the healers among the Scions are all wont to suggest him the same at times like this, and he nods.

Another vacation far from here where the recruits can’t possibly find him it is.

[yuuana]

Music Monday #222: Dreamcatcher - VISION release: October 2022 genre: Kpop, K-rock

I know, I know, it's been weeks of me promising to come back to this series and with this specific track even. At six months and change since release, I'm a bit late to the party. Or more accurately, a bit late to bringing the party to all of you. And yes, it is absolutely my intention to bring a review entry every day in May in a desperate attempt at something like getting caught up with new(er) releases. XD

As with last year's "MAISON," "VISION" also combines overdriven guitar and rock beats with dance-pop vocals and an overtly political message in the lyrics. Dreamcatcher (and Edenary, who write and produce for them) knows their niche for title tracks - the crossing of rock/metal with pop - and embody it in a way that makes it look easy. Similarly, the video makes a return to a post-apocalyptic world, one a bit further progressed in the destruction. But where before the ladies were (probably) goddesses calling out for help to save the burning world, this time around the ladies have stepped up to do be active combatants. There's a vibe here that feels like a close cousin to ATEEZ's Guerrilla - a world in ruin and dominated by militaristic fascism with the artists cast as scrappy freedom fighters. Only the ladies have the advantage of superpowers and are more clearly going after a global threat. This makes two videos in a row arguably telling pieces of the same story, something the writer in me will always latch onto with pleasure. Will this continue? Well, since Vision's release, Dreamcatcher has released another single, Reason, and both the song itself and the MV for it are thank you gifts to Insomnia, as part of marking their sixth anniversary. Whether we will go back to the previous story in the next release or start something new, only time will tell. "VISION" is the title track off Dreamcatcher's second 2022 album, [Apocalypse: Follow Us], available wherever you like to listen to Kpop. Want to see Music Monday deep dives more often? Sponsor a song selection! For the low, low price of one (1) KoFi, I'll write up the song of your choice. ANY song of your choice. Yes, even that one that's been played to death. Yes, your obscure faves too. With sponsors, I can stop skipping weeks and falling further and further behind in the releases! Sponsor a current CB for the next open Music Monday slot or sponsor a throwback for a Thursday feature! But seriously, if you've been enjoying my selections and analyses, we (me and the foster kittens) would love a KoFi in thanks. DW | Twitter | Mastodon | Ko-fi | Patreon | Discord | Twitch

[raguna-blade]

Ok and before I forget and i Likely will and I don’t have the attention span to actually try and take this anywhere right at this precise moment but there’s one musical thing that’s likely as not a just a musical ref cause haha I can do it it’s my soundtrack, my game you can’t stop me but-

There’s this song I ran across ages ago that toby fox did also compose. 74, Sung by Itoki Hana, and I Honestly have to wonder how much of it is also supposed to link in thematically. Like this wouldn’t be the first time Toby’s done this, what with Megalovania being from 1 and then 2 different stories and each pulling a generally similar vibe and intent behind them near as I can tell (there was an essay that explained this way better but I cannot for the life of me tell you where I actually read it save the greater seas of Tumblr so you know, that’s probably lost forever)

And I’m sitting here looking at the lyrics of this song, and Where I at least hear the music parts, it is in Welcome to the City, which is the bit where it’s just Kris, The Soul and Noelle, and given the whole song and all i have to wonder if there’s any intended link.

Cause man, looking at the picture used, and then the lyrics it certainly feels like it.

Now purposes of this here analysis I suggest you go listen to the song. 74, Itoki Hana, Toby Fox should get you where you need to be. If nothing else it’s a good song.

Now probably not, but it does at least put me in the mind to look at it like it does even if it’s only more a thing i vaguely heard that sorta sounds like this sparked an idea and honestly there’s worse places to grow your thoughts.

So, in 74, the song more or less comes from the pov of the Princess in a tower, watching a brave knight ascend to rescue her, through the various traps and trials that are within the tower...That she set and put there. And she is not (or she is in addition to being) actually a princess. She’s a dragon, pretending to be a princess to lure in knights to feel a degree of validation, to feel well...Important. Valuable. Special you know?

And I guess it’s not hard to see some potential parallels going on given that we find that Kris is opening the Fountains. Or is ALSO opening the Fountains. We’ve seen one for sure, and the implication SUGGESTS that they’re the one doing it in general, but we won’t know for sure til the game’s completely out. But for now, let’s assume they’re doing them all.

With that, We have Kris the Hero fighting through a land of trial and tribulation that he made himself to do...Something. Like in the song, the Knight in question looks gallant cool and really shows their stuff, even though in the end they bit it.

So that’s something, but then, we’re still asking why is Kris doing this? It’s shown that basically any Lightner can open a Dark Fountain whenever they want (Berdly got slapped out of it like 3 times in a row, and he seemed to be doing it pretty trivially as far as difficulty was concerned. Now that was in the Dark World, so perhaps it was easier there, but the Queen didn’t even really consider Berdly Strong enough to do it, though part of that likely as not had to do with her concern for Noelle.

But like...I dunno, I go back to the Knight in all this, and that’s a position of special import in the game. It’s very actively called attention to it, and the Knight is positioned as an apocalyptic force that’s...Creating Worlds, giving life and value back to the Darkners, who were cut off from the Lightners, which has seemingly left both sides lesser. The Darkners seeming to be doomed to fade into the dark, while the Lightners are unable to interact with this world that seems to have the ability to massively improve their wellbeing.

Like, Knights are typically heroes in stories with princes and heroes and kings and queens you know? When the story takes place in a kingdom, it’s the loyal knight who, while perhaps not the main hero, is a steadfast compatriot. Well that’s the general idea right?

But the Knight is positioned as a terrible force of ruin and destruction...Except in chapter 2 here, we get the notion that creating the Dark Worlds really can be an improvement life. Indeed, the game doesn’t even seem to suggest that creating more Dark Worlds is inherently a bad thing, but there’s the critical issue of the balance between the two being off and that’s a critical problem that at least as of now doesn’t seem to be able to be addressed.

Still, if this game is keeping on with Parallels to Undertale, The Knight isn’t all bad. Hell even the Spade King wasn’t all bad and he’s pretty objectively the most evil character in the normal route of the game.

And the game really does seem to posit that the interaction between the dark world and the light world is inherently good for both of them. The Town looks Way healthier and lively in Chapter 2 than it did in 1. Susie’s Rude Stat has been dropping since go, and Even Kris, while we don’t get to see their thoughts, seems to be becoming considerably more expressive. Now admittedly pretty much every expression we do get to see from them that isn’t prompted from The Soul seems to be negative and frustrated and angry and all that, but then, I think that’s probably a better place to be than shoving everything down and being completely unresponsive and not acknowledging anything that they’re feeling, which seems to be the case whenever you start to touch on anything remotely intimate.

I mean The Soul seems to be a part of them as well as apart from them, which is confusing at the moment, but they’re capable of scarfing down a whole entire pie, slash their moms tires, and open up portals to parallel realites without it so it doesn’t seem to be something that they particularly NEED to survive or do anything.

Going back to the song though, and i suppose the most basic barebones aspect I wanna look at, is that Someone who’s Apparently In Trouble is actually the Threat, or more generally, that the Appearances Are Opposite to the Actual Reality of the situation I’m wondering.

Because last thing before I cut this off, is that We have the Queen going all in on her plan and being unaware that going through with it would lead to the end of all things, I have to wonder if the Knight is Similarly Ignorant as to what they’re actually doing.

I’m also wondering if Perhaps Asriel is perhaps actually the antagonist. Because while the game’s claim of your choices having no meaning is inherently unquestionably suspect, the game also makes it extremely clear, doubly so as of the point of chapter 2, That there are people you’re simply going to have to fight, and perhaps you’re going to have to fight them with the full intent of killing them, and that that is an option that you genuinely may need to consider. Or at least, that you may well need to destroy that relationship and cut them out of your life. Not everyone should be recruited, so to speak.

Which is advice that shows up, if my memory isn’t failing me this quickly, in the manual that Ralsei provides...And advice that, if taken to extremes as shown in the Corruption route, can cause genuine problems.

Or I suppose I guess to put this in another context, the first words of advice you’re given, that are a full on lie, in Undertale is that this is a world of kill or be killed. Asriel tells us this is a world where you do not have to kill anyone, and while the game has yet to have you actually bring the axe down on anyone in the Normal Route, it’s also extremely explicitly stated that it’s not so simple as spare everyone or fight everyone. There’s shades of grey here and you shouldn’t just ignore them. There are people you can’t just spare, you have to fight it out (and interestingly, those people do not include the secret bosses, who seem to have a greater level of understanding of the world, if also are borderline incoherent in both cases.)

I dunno. There’s more to percolate on here i think, though obviously some of this isn’t gonna be answered until we get the rest of the game.

And as a last note, there’s 7 showing up again as a recurring number so that’s...Interesting.

[seiin-translations]

2.43 S1 Chapter 5.5 - Stand By Me

5. SACRED COURT

Haijima talks about Yoyogi National Gymnasium similarly to how most kids talk about Disneyland lol

Translation Notes

1. A service ace is a point made on a serve that the opponent had failed to touch

2. A kei car is the smallest highway-legal car in Japan

3. Takeshita Street is a popular street in Harajuku known for its trendy fashion boutiques and for being very busy

4. I feel like this is a reference to something I don’t know, but the wooden fish is a fish gong that is struck while chanting sutras

5. Manuscript paper is the paper used in Japanese schools for compositions and stuff like that. It has boxes in columns to write characters in.

Previous || Index || Next

…Where am I again…?

When he woke up, he couldn’t immediately remember what had happened. The view around him was a hazy milky white, without a single distinct outline. It’s like I’m sinking into the bottom of a beaker filled with a mist of dry ice…it kind of smells like a science lab.

He felt something like a tugging in his left arm. There was a thin line connected to his body, pulling at him from above. The line was holding him back from sinking any further.

A blurry white ball with eyes and a nose was floating in the air.

“I got a text from Kou.”

The ball spoke with a familiar voice. The low-volume voice sounded pleasant to his ears as it seeped through the fog of dry ice.

“…Souta…?”

His consciousness was still fuzzy and his speech was slurred. The white shirt just blended into the background, and when he squinted, he found a proper body below the ball. A uniform…but not Meisei’s uniform. He had heard he went to a different high school.

“You really quit…? Why…?”

“Because I wanted to.”

He was a little surprised by his curt answer and closed his mouth. He heard a short exhale, and then his voice softened.

“…Ever since I entered middle school, I lost interest in volleyball. All I could think about was quitting, and it was getting harder and harder to go to club activities. Everyone entered Meisei, saying that we’ll do volleyball together, so it wasn’t an atmosphere where only I can say I wanted to quit…I was afraid that if I quit, I wouldn’t have any friends at school… I thought Minami-sensei would be disappointed, and besides, my mom’s the head of the parents’ association. I also felt like I had to be at the center of the team…I was tied down by so many things, and everyday was painful… So I came up with the idea that if I hated being in the club to the point of committing suicide, I could get sympathy and quit…That’s how I got involved in everyone’s plan. …I’m sorry.”

After everything that happened, he only has that simple “I’m sorry”?

However, when he learned the reason after two years, he felt like there were no words other than sorry… If you ask Haijima, it was such a trivial thing that he couldn’t even understand what was bothering him.

Was such a boring reason what was behind that incident?

Well…it’s not like I was the one who drove him into a corner…

“…You should have told me, normally.”

His mouth pouted a little despite himself.

“If it were you, you would’ve been able to say it. Well, I don’t think you’ll ever want to quit volleyball, even if it kills you. But I’m not you…I didn’t want to be the bad guy. I didn’t want to be hated by everyone.”

It’s not like I want to be hated…he wasn’t happy about that, but it was true that wanting to be liked by people wasn’t that high of a priority for him.

When he was in elementary school, the two of them would talk about high school and national team games after club ended. They could talk and talk and never get bored of it, and he wished the time when Yoshino’s mother came to pick him up would never come. Yoshino also had a lot of old video footage that only existed on videotape, and he was even more enthusiastic than Haijima about that kind of thing.

The shock slowly soaked into him at the idea that someone who was once obsessed with volleyball could stop liking it. Haijima couldn’t even imagine himself not being interested in volleyball anymore. It was the same as asking if he could imagine the afterlife. He couldn’t.

If there was just one starting point for his imagination—it was that on the third day of the Autumn Tournament, going to a game felt bothersome to him for the first time in his life. For him, it even had a feeling of dread. At that time, he had regained his willpower after sleeping a little, but if that kind of constantly continuing heavy mood was the “wanting to quit” that Yoshino experienced, then it might be quite painful to even live everyday.

“Souta, you…”

His brow wrinkled as he frowned, staring at Yoshino’s indistinct face in front of him.

“Nnn…?” There was nervousness in Yoshino’s voice.

“You got fat, didn’t you?”

The contours of his face were quite round. That was why it looked like there was a floating ball.

“…You’re as blunt as ever. Well yeah, I got fat after I quit the team.”

Yoshino’s voice lightened, like he was expecting something more. He didn’t seem to be offended. Probably.

“Are you in any clubs now?”

“Yeah. It’s not sports-related though. I’m in the science club.”

“Is that fun? More than volleyball?”

“It is fun, more than volleyball for me. There aren’t a lot of members, but they’re all good people. I have fun going to club activities every day. We go to the science lab every lunch break to collect data from our experiments.”

He didn’t like that he had affirmed it, but he could tell from the excited way he talked that he was doing what he really wanted to do now. Something fell into his chest with a thump, and he accepted that, Aah, the things that are “fun” for Yoshino and me aren’t the same anymore…

Even though their eyes sparkled at the same things, aimed for the same stage, and planned to do the same things, maybe that didn’t mean they were in the same story.

“Then, I’ll be leaving now.”

He could feel Yoshino standing up. Even though he had no intention of stopping him, Haijima immediately tried to reach out his hand. But his arm was pulled back as if it had been caught on a fish hook, and he was only able to move it a little.

Yoshino, who was about to leave, turned around. “…Take care of yourself. Don’t be too reckless.” Something soft gripped his hand along with a gentle voice. His fatty, plump hands were not bony and didn’t feel like they belonged to an active volleyball player anymore, but he could feel their warmth flowing into his wrapped-up fingers. It was as though the coldness of his fingers, which had been holding him captive ever since the day Yoshino didn’t come, was becoming undone.

Before he let go of his hand, Yoshino’s voice that had been mild and gentle took on a faint gloom.

“Chika, don’t be reckless, okay? You’re a true genius, not an ordinary person like me, and you probably can’t even imagine your limits right now…but I have a feeling that if you were to be betrayed by volleyball one day, you might be surprisingly fragile…I know it’s none of my business, but that’s what I’m worried about.”

***

“When did you get a fever?”

He seemed to have lost consciousness for a bit again until he heard the next voice.

The round outline of Yoshino, who had been by his side since a while ago, had changed into something more vertical and narrower. He looked up at the outline for a while, and then asked,

“…Are you angry?”

“Yeah. If you’re willing to work a little harder to read my mind off the court too, then that’s progress. Here.”

He held out to something to him. He tried to reach for it, but his arm cramped up and the thing was put in his hand instead. “I had them fixed at the optician across the hospital. They said that it would be safer to buy new ones, though.”

“Aah…thanks.”

“You really do have a strange way of getting into trouble during a game, don’t you?”

With his head resting on the pillow, he put on his glasses. For the first time in a long time, his vision was clear again. It was so clear that it actually made the world look distorted, which made him feel a bit dizzy. The lenses were in place on both sides, but there was still a sense of discomfort because the frame was still warped.

Kuroba was sitting on a chair beside the bed with a grumpy look on his face. Behind him, there was a partition with the curtains drawn. It looked like a break room-like space with a simple bed next to the examination room.

There was an IV tube connected to his left arm. Drops of water were dripping regularly from a clear pack that was hooked to a stand above his head. The liquid in the pack was down to about a quarter of its original volume. I was told to stay on the drip for about an hour…so I guess forty-five minutes have passed or something like that?

After resting, he was able to think more clearly and remembered how he had walked to the car by himself. By the time they had arrived at the hospital, it must have been 5:00 or 5:30, so outpatient consultation hours must have been over by now. He could hear the hurried conversations and footsteps of the staff, but they were far away, so it wasn’t noisy. In fact, it was rather isolated and quiet.

The final serve was done perfectly as he had imagined. Just as the gym was buzzing over the two service aces (1) in a row, the Meisei coach and captains returned after their meeting, as though they had timed it.

Although the second-year members were severely reprimanded for skipping practice to play an impromptu two-on-two game, the fact that a former Meisei Middle School student came to visit meant that Haijima and Kuroba didn’t get into much trouble. It was also thanks in part to Komukai and Ikawa coming forward and saying that they had an arrangement beforehand. Come to think of it, Komukai was the one who warned him just before the score board crashed into him…

The coach and captains asked him about this and that, but from that point on, Haijima was completely wobbling and couldn’t answer them properly. Right when he thought, Ah…I can’t stand anymore, he felt hands go around his sides and supporting him. “Sorry, he has a fever,” He heard Kuroba’s voice through the haze of his mind. So the advisor drove him to a nearby hospital.

“No wonder that you were sleeping like you were dead on the train. I should have noticed it earlier, but I thought it was strange how your face was kinda hot, but since it was right before the game began…Really, why did you decide to go to Tokyo in that condition?”

“I didn’t think I had a fever either. I’ve been feeling off since the end of camp, but…”

“What!? Camp was a month ago! Wait, was that why there was something off with you at the Fall Tournament? Why were you practicing every day under the blazing sun in that state, are you stupid!?”

“You’re too loud, shut up…”

He pulled the terry-cloth blanket up to his eyes and dejectedly slithered under it. If there wasn’t a drip connected to him, he would have covered his ears with both hands. He wasn’t happy with the feeling of being below someone and being ordered around by them, but he didn’t have the energy to fight back.

His mother, who passed away before he started elementary school, was a sickly person. Haijima inherited that, and although it wasn’t bad enough to interfere with his daily life, his body wasn’t strong either. When he was little, he would often have fevers of unknown origin that would last for about a month in summer and winter. However, ever since he started playing volleyball in the upper grades of elementary school, he had become physically stronger, and it had been quite a long time since he has had such a long period of discomfort.

It seemed that he didn’t like the words “feeling off.” He got angry.

“It’s not ‘feeling off,’ you’re in bad health. Don’t switch words and gloss over the issue.”

“…My play wasn’t off though.”

“That’s the problem in your case. It didn’t influence your play…in fact, you got even more agile for some reason. I really don’t get it. And when it’s over, look at you. You’re completely out of energy.”

You’re so noisy…If he said that, it seemed like he would continue to get lectured, so he endured it. He normally didn’t consciously hold back what he was about to say that much.

“…I hate it. I hate it when I can’t play volleyball even for a day. I feel sort of…impatient…”

He whispered on the other side of his blanket. Kuroba, who had been talking at great length, stopped for a moment, then sighed quizzically.

“I don’t know why, but it seems like you’re living too fast and recklessly…?”

He was relieved when he realized that his lack of concentration in the semifinals of the Fall Tournament was because he had a fever. The fed-up feeling on the morning of the semifinals as well…he wanted to get rid of that feeling as soon as possible before it took hold in him, and now that he thought about it, even though he felt off, he felt like he couldn’t take a break from practice.

But he was able to explain to himself that it was just the fever that made him sluggish, and he was relieved…but in the end, the desire to play volleyball again welled up within him. It was a waste of time to rest.

“Haijima-saaan?”

An elderly nurse knocked on the partition frame and poked her head in. Kuroba stood and opened up the place.

“You’ve just finished the drip. …Yes, if there is no blood coming out after about ten minutes, you may tear off this bandage. The doctor says that you should rest today and properly go have a checkup at the hospital after you go home. Did you contact your guardian?”

She quickly pulled out the drip and performed the procedure while speaking so rapidly and one-sidedly that he recoiled. “…Not yet,” he answered in a small voice and got up while staring fixedly at the small adhesive bandage that was pasted over the small needle hole. Kuroba, who had moved out of the way to the foot of the bed, looked between Haijima and the nurse like he wanted to say something.

“Then, you’ll have to call them.”

“Oh, thank you very much for helping us!” Kuroba hurriedly said to the nurse, who was pushing the IV stand away from the bed. He waited for the nurse’s figure to disappear on the other side of the partition before asking Haijima.

“Can’t you just call your home in Tokyo?”

“I got the keys. I’ll just go to pick up the train money. If we get on the eight o’clock train, we can return just in time, right? If I stop by home and head for Shinagawa right away, we can make it in time.”

“Why don’t we just stay the night instead of forcing ourselves to go home today? You have a house here.”

“If we don’t go home today, we’ll have to be absent tomorrow too. Get my bags.”

He did some quick stretches on the bed to loosen up his back. Although he still felt sluggish, he had recovered enough to be able to move on his own. He wanted to move his body because he felt like his body would get more and more sluggish if he stayed in bed. The arm that had been connected to the tube was now free, so he felt somewhat liberated.

The taping on both hands had been removed. He was pretty sure he did it himself, though he didn’t remember. He was soaked in sweat from the game and his T-shirt dried as he slept, but either way he had to change into his uniform if he was going back (Kuroba, who didn’t have a replacement T-shirt, seemed to be planning to go home with just his uniform shirt, but as usual he couldn’t tell if that was cool or tacky).

When he tried to take off his T-shirt, it got caught on his glasses and he couldn’t get it off his head, so he tried to take them off inside his T-shirt. As he was doing this, he heard Kuroba’s voice along with the sound of a bag being placed next to him.

“I’ve been wondering about this, but can I ask you something? You don’t get along with your dad, do you?”

“It’s not bad or anything…” He was answering from inside his T-shirt, so his voice was muffled and it sounded like he was hesitating to speak, but he wasn’t trying to hide anything. “…My dad’s like me. Do you think that if there’s two of me in the same house, and one of them isn’t interested in volleyball, there’d be anything to talk about?”

“Ah…haha. I think I can imagine that.”

He interjected like he accepted that easily. He felt somewhat annoyed by that.

His father still lived alone in the apartment in Tokyo where they lived together until the second semester of his second year of middle school. It wasn’t that he had a bad relationship with his father, but he just couldn’t carry on a conversation with him. It was especially difficult to understand each other when it came to phone conversations. He truly wondered how his father and him had become so similar. Since Haijima came to live with his grandparents, they had had very little contact, but his grandmother sometimes told him about what he was doing, so he thought that was enough.

“It’s not bad, and my dad agreed for me to go back to Monshiro, so…there’s nothing for you to worry about.” It seemed like he was worried, so he thought that it would be better to say that wasn’t the case.

“Haijima-san, there’s someone here to pick you up. You properly contacted your guardian, didn’t you?”

He heard the voice of the nurse from before on the other side of the partition again. He finally pulled his T-shirt off his head and put on his glasses, then said, “Pick me up?” and exchanged looks with Kuroba.

“Hello.”

A bright voice came from the other side of the partition.

A person who was tall for a woman, with her long hair tied back and dressed plainly in a simple blouse and slim jeans——.

“Minami, sensei…”

He stood up, the bed rattling. As expected, he got dizzy, as his body that had been receiving an IV drip until right this moment had suddenly stood up. He immediately grabbed the top frame of the partition and ended up looming over it. The other person’s eyes widened as she looked up at him.

“Oh? You got taller than me? You really have grown. Are you at least 180?”

“I…I am. I’m around 181, no, 2, no, 3, no, 4…”

Wait, why am I padding the numbers? Kuroba had a “Who’s that?” look on his face.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you were changing. Have you gotten dressed yet?”

After being told that, his eyes dropped to the T-shirt in his hands in surprise. He turned around and jumped at his bag. “I’ll get changed in ten seconds.”

“No need to rush. You just woke up, right? I parked my car in the parking lot.”

He shoved his T-shirt into his bag and grabbed a change of clothes. His shorts were halfway down his legs when he realized what he was doing and stopped.

Half-standing, he turned around awkwardly.

“Wait over there…Sensei.”

His mouth opened and closed, and then he heard his own tight voice.

***

“That’s right, when you were in elementary school, I used to tell you guys to change in ten seconds in front of me, but that’s no longer possible. Your body is completely a high schooler’s now. But you grew much taller than me. I’m a little shocked.”

Minami-sensei said with a happy smile as she turned the steering wheel. Haijima was seated diagonally behind the driver’s seat, hugging his enamel bag tightly and looking down. In the seat next to him, Kuroba was still looking between Haijima’s profile and the back of Minami-sensei’s head in astonishment.

The car was a small kei car (2), with the head of Minami-sensei crammed into the driver’s seat almost touching the ceiling in a few centimeters. When the three of them with their tall frames got into the car, it looked like a deformed car in a cartoon. The hair on the top of Haijima’s head just brushed against the ceiling, and in Kuroba’s case, he was completely stuck, so he sat so shallowly that his back sank into the seat, but then his knees ended up bumping into the driver’s seat.

“I’m sorry it’s so cramped. I never had two kids who were so big ride in my car before. You’re big, too. Are you a first-year? Center or wing?”

“I’m Kuroba Yuni. I’m a first-year. I play the wing position.”

He leaned forward and answered before she finished her sentence, then scrapped his head against the roof and lowered his head with an “ow.” Calm down, Haijima’s temple twitched, and he narrowed his eyes at him.

“You’re tall too, Sensei.”

“177 centimeters. That’s pretty tall for a woman, isn’t it? But today I’m the smallest, so my vision feels quite fresh.”

“Were you a volleyball player too, Sensei?”

“Yes. I used to play for a corporate team for a little while, but now I quit and teach at an elementary school.”

“You were the teacher at the club Haijima used to go to, right?”

“I was only a coach who assisted the head coach. The same year that Chika and the others started middle school, the school transferred me to a new position, and I lost touch with them.”

“Sensei, may I ask your age?”

Haijima silently pulled Kuroba’s back, who was clinging to the back of the driver’s seat and talking, back down onto his seat and made him sit. Watching them in the rear-view mirror, Minami-sensei grinned and said,

“Ahaha. I was twenty-eight when Chika was in the sixth grade. Are you fine with that answer? Chika, are you still not feeling well? You can go back to sleep. Or are you feeling carsick?”

“Ah…no.”

He hung his head and shook it while pinching Kuroba’s side. Kuroba tilted his head towards him and whispered into his ear.

“What’s with you? You’re suddenly so meek and quiet. Sensei’s worried about you.”

“Don’t call her Sensei. Why are you asking so many questions so over-familiarly?”

Haijima also kept his voice quiet as he and Kuroba pressed their temples together.

“Then what should I call her? Is Minami-san fine?”

“Stop…joking around. Minami is her first name. Her full name is Kashiwagi Minami.”

Minami-sensei said it was fresh, but it was fresh for Haijima that she was smaller than him. In elementary school, Sensei was like a tower, and her nickname was ���Tower” (she seemed to have hated that nickname, and when some of the boys teased her with it, she would chase them around angrily). I had the impression that she had an overbearing physique…no, she has broad shoulders and is probably overbearing by average standards, but…she kinda looks more delicate than I thought she would be…

He was glad he was taller. That was a natural thing to think when you’re playing volleyball, and he knew that he still wasn’t tall enough, but he was confused at himself for being happy about it for reasons other than that.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think ‘Minami-sensei’ would be a female teacher.”

“I never said it was a man.”

The two continued to whisper to each other.

“Well, it kinda makes sense. I knew it wouldn’t be Vabo-chan, but I wasn’t entirely wrong either, was I? It’s not like a girl in your class or anything is going to catch your eye. A former athlete, a coach, and much older than you…Yeah, that’s just like you.”

“…What are you talking about?”

“The thing you said before about having a girl you liked, you were talking about Kashiwagi-sensei, right? Even you have normal emotions more or less. No, not even normal. I’m little surprised and shaken right now too.”

He walloped Kuroba on the side of the head with the bag he was holding, messing up his hair and causing him to scrape his elbow against the roof. He then pinned Kuroba down on his seat and pressed down on his face with the bottom of his bag. While they were silently fighting, Kuroba suddenly let out a big “Ah!” As he lied on his back, he looked up at the window and said, “I saw the word Harajuku just now!”

“Yes, we’ll be passing through Harajuku soon. Do you want to get out if I can park?”

Kuroba’s face lit up at the voice from the driver’s seat and he said, “Yeah, but it’ll be a lot of trouble for you if you do that.” “She can’t.” Haijima pressed the bag against Kuroba’s stupid face, which looked like he was quite seriously anticipating the possibility, one more time and got up, then pressed his face against the passenger window on his side and looked out. “It’s okay to sightsee around Tokyo just a little. We came all this way.” Kuroba also got up while muttering that, unwilling to give up, and hugged Haijima’s bag to his knees.

The roads in Tokyo were beginning to get congested as the working adults were heading home, but the cars were still going at a gentle speed. Under the gassy indigo-blue sky, streetlamps appeared at intervals and disappeared behind them. In front of Nanafu Station, where the school was located, there was not a single light on at night, but there were none even in front of Monshiro Station. All light and sound ceased to exist, and it felt like you had drifted ashore a small and isolated island. But no matter how far you went on the streets of Tokyo, the lights and sounds never disappeared.

As they turned onto a certain road from an intersection with a large overpass, he realized where they were driving to. What was up ahead was—.

He attached his hands and glasses to the window glass and fixed his eyes on their direction of travel. Finally, a large grey building appeared, on the other side of round street lights floating in the night sky like a formation of UFOs.

A large round building with a single dorsal fin-like projection on the roof. Although it was made of unrefined concrete, the gently curving form of the structure, like water eddying around, was so beautiful that it captivated his eyes—.

“Sensei, stop here!” While clinging to the window, he forgot himself and reached out to the seat next to him. “Kuroba, Kuroba!”

“Hmm? Is this Takeshita Street?” (3)

Kuroba eagerly said that and leaned forward. Haijima groped around to find his chest and grabbed it close to him.

“Let’s go see the best thing in Tokyo—Yoyogi’s first gymnasium.”

***

Thinking about it now, Minami-sensei must have planned to stop by from the very beginning. She wouldn’t have normally taken this route to get from the hospital near Meisei to Haijima’s home in Tokyo.

A little further down the road, she found an empty spot in the parking lot on the shoulder of the road, parked, and then Haijima dragged Kuroba out of the car and ran back to the admission gate of the gym.

“You’re too excited. I told you to calm down. The building’s not going to run away even if you don’t run.”

The entrance was closed, and the lights in the plaza from the gates to the gym’s entrance were off, leaving the asphalt to sink into the darkness. As it was located on a busy roadway, the noise of cars intermittently behind them.

The first gymnasium of Yoyogi National Gymnasium, the holy ground of the Spring Tournament. Most of the history of the Spring Tournament, which had been held more than forty times, had taken place at this Yoyogi venue.

“There isn’t anything going on today? They have concerts and stuff almost every day, not just sports tournaments.”

Minami-sensei, who came later, said as she peeked through the gaps in the gates.

The gates consisted of an iron fence about 190 centimeters tall. When Haijima gripped the rails and tested their strength, then lifted himself up vigorously with his arm strength. He leaned over the top of the gates and strained his eyes, but was disappointed to see that the building at the end of the dark plaza now only looked like a ruin. “That’s dangerous!” Kuroba grabbed the back of his belt.

“On the tournament day, there was this huge Vabo-chan balloon, and it was a landmark, and even though there was nothing cute about it, watching it bob around was kinda addictive…”

He desperately wanted Kuroba to also imagine that scenery, so he tried his best to explain it to him.

As soon as he enshrined that huge Vabo-chan balloon in his mind, bright line shone on that lonely indigo plaza as though blackout curtains were lifted at once. In the same way he could create a volleyball court around him without relying on his eyesight, the scenery of the day of the tournament was drawn with him as the starting point. Under the early spring morning sky, large crowds of people passed by them, who stood there blocked by the gates, and walked through the gates and into the admission gates.

The cheering squads of parents wearing matching windbreakers and carrying banners and drums. The concert band members in their school uniforms with mufflers around their necks and the cheerleaders in ponytails. The sports reporters holding equipment. And then there were the athletes of the competing schools, wearing their various team jerseys, each of them with feelings of tension, excitement, and fighting spirit in their hearts. Some of them were today’s high school students from vivid high-definition footage, and others were high school students he had seen in footage from a long time ago, with much frailer physiques looking at them now. High schoolers from various eras were mixed together, but the one thing they all had in common was that they were all volleyball players who had marched in carrying their prefectures on their backs.

Once he passed through the dark admission gates, his vision opened up again. In the vast circular space, illuminated by bright lights, was a spectator seating area with a capacity of over ten-thousand people, and in the center of that, there was a glossy sky blue and citrus orange volleyball court.

“The quarter-finals are on a multi-court, but the semi-finals and beyond are on the center court. There’s only court in the center of the arena, and it’s super fancy, and only the best players from the best teams who are capable of winning the title of the best high school in Japan can stand on it…”

“I get it, it’s an amazing stage. I know how much you want to be there, and I know very well that you’re a setter who can stand in the middle of that amazing stage.”

With a pacifying voice, he embraced his trunk and brought him down from the gates.

“That’s not what I meant, what are you talking about? I wasn’t talking about me?”

Haijima brushed off Kuroba’s arm in frustration and grabbed his collar just as he was turning around. Kuroba’s eyes widened as he clutched Haijima’s wrist and drew his chin in.

“Imagine yourself standing there. Try wishing for it seriously. More, more…You’ve got what it takes to be up there. And if you’re competing on that stage with a lot of people like that, you’re going to crave it more and more. You’re going to want strength and time so much that you can’t stand it. You’re going to be unbearably frustrated that there’s only three years of high school. That’s why I want you to be the ace…”

It was frustrating that what was inside of him wasn’t inside Kuroba. He wanted him to understand that somehow, and this might be the first time he had ever squeezed out words like that to try to convey something. He had often let things go, thinking that it was fine if he wasn’t understood. He had never been driven by the desire to actively share his values with someone before.

He let go of Kuroba’s chest, half pushing him away. He turned his back to him, who staggered slightly, and looked back at Minami-sensei.

“Sensei. I promised to go to the Spring Tournament with Meisei, but I’m sorry, I’m correcting that. I want to go there with Seiin…with those guys. That’s what I want now.”

Minami-sensei leaned her shoulder against the iron fence and folded her arms with a slightly scary look on her face. Thinking that she might be angry, Haijima waited a little nervously.

The ends of Sensei’s eyebrows lowered, and she let out a short sigh.

“You don’t have to apologize…am I that scary of a coach? Souta also came all the way to me to ask for permission with a teary face. He asked me if he could quit volleyball. You know, elementary schoolers become high school students, right? It’s not the same as me going from twenty-eight to thirty-one. It’s normal for friends and things you like to change rapidly. Because that’s how compressed the time all of you spent was.”

“Sensei, you spoke with Souta…?”

He hadn’t really thought about the extent to which Minami-sensei had heard about the suicide attempt, but then it occurred to him for the first time that she knew about the incident and the reason why Haijima transferred schools.

If Sensei knew that her students, who left her elementary school club happily and saying that they’ll all play volleyball together, became bullied or bullies in middle school and drifted apart, then she must be sad… 

“I’m sorry…Sensei…”

He lowered his head and muttered an apology again.

“You have nothing to apologize for. You were the one who was in a lot of pain. We should be the ones apologizing…the adults shouldn’t have been so unperceptive…”

Minami-sensei’s hand touched his arm. It was a gentle touch. On the day when their club had lost a match, he had been comforted by the same gesture, and he couldn’t help but hug her around the middle and cry. He had never lost or cried like that. Suddenly, he felt as though the time had gone back many years, and he had returned to the time when his teacher still looked as tall as a “tower.”

But he was already taller than the Sensei before him. He couldn’t hug her or anything like that. And he wasn’t as hurt as he had thought he would be when he found out what had happened two years ago that he didn’t know about.

In the end, Komukai and the others probably didn’t think it was such a big deal. They didn’t imagine that they would ruin their teammate’s life, and he thought that Komukai was saying what he really thought when he disappointedly said, “With just that.” They had done it with only the intention of making Haijima pay a little, and he repented, then they would be satisfied. They probably wondered what was going on with him when he stopped going to school and then transferred schools from the incident that had occurred from that simple intention.

But if Komukai and the others really didn’t have a goal to eliminate Haijima, then that was actually…a relief.

He wasn’t eliminated from that team.

Once he understood that, the fear of starting over somewhere else diminished considerably.

“I’m fine now.”

He thought it was good he knew about it now. He thought that was probably because he could accept it now.

“I didn’t come here alone…so I’m fine.”

He could hear Kuroba gasp from behind him.

“I see…” Minami-sensei looked at Kuroba and smiled, as though satisfied. “It was a good thing you went to Seiin High School, after all.”

“Huh…” “Kashiwagi-sensei, you know about Seiin?”

Kuroba’s voice overlapped with Haijima’s surprised voice. Seiin was just a local high school, not a nationally know school. It also bothered him that she spoke like she had known where he transferred to since before.

“Who do you think sent me to pick you up at the hospital? Meisei Middle School’s coach asked me to do it.”

“The coach…?”

Haijima learned that the coach of the Meisei Middle volleyball team had felt responsible for the series of events that had occurred in the second year of middle school and that he had been concerned about Haijima’s condition for a long time. He thought that by the time he entered high school, things would have died down and he could talk to the coach of the high school team and call him back to Meisei. However, when he had heard that Haijima went to Seiin High School, he decided to withdraw and leave him alone——.

“Seiin High School in Fukui has a famous coach, yes?”

Famous coach? He looked back at Kuroba, puzzled, but Kuroba also stared back at him with a puzzled look on his face. They recalled the dried up old advisor who looked like a scarecrow with a wooden fish placed on top of the head. (4)

“…Haa?”

The two exclaimed in unison.

He had heard from Oda that he had been a volleyball player a long time ago. However, the old man usually fell asleep when he came to watch club activities, and he had never done much as an advisor, let alone a coach. Their advisor at Monshiro Middle School, who was an amateur but showed a lot of motivation, was a much better advisor.

“Adults are connected in ways that children don’t know about.”

A corner of Minami-sensei’s mouth raised in a mischievous smile.

“That’s why, the teachers at Seiin High School are already informed that you two are here. I’m sure that your families have been contacted as well. I heard that your senpais on the team were also worried about you. The two of you did skip class and disappeared together after all.”

They both groaned and their faces stiffened. There was no way the school wouldn’t find out that they skipped, so they were prepared to be penalized for it, but if they knew that they were in Tokyo, then…

“I hope they’ll just make us write an apology.”

Kuroba sighed, but for Haijima, who found writing any essay more than two columns on manuscript paper (5) torturous, a written apology was more hellish than any penalty. “Don’t look so miserable. I’ll help you. It’s collective responsibility,” Kuroba said and clapped him on the shoulder.

Minami-sensei looked down at her watch and murmured, “We have to go soon.” When she looked up, she had a big smile on her face, as though she was taking out a special present she was hiding.

“There’s one last message for you. It’s from the captain of your volleyball team. He says, ‘You have club activities tomorrow, so go home.’”

Previous || Index || Next

[joonclouds]

The Price Of A Wish | 3

 The third time you meet Jung Hoseok, you realise the last ten years has done nothing to the way you were drawn to him, with a force as sure and inescapable as gravity.

CHAPTER INDEX

Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Idol!Hoseok, Chaebol!Reader, OT7 bangtan show up too, Slow Burn, Unrequited feelings, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Fluff, (we might include some other things later let’s see)

_________________

You meet Hoseok for the first time when you’re seventeen. It's in the early days of March - you remember because it's the time where Spring isn't quite here yet, so the evenings are still chilly. Getting to wear your favourite sweaters a few weeks longer is something that you still get a small thrill out of. You're a lot younger, a lot less jaded than you are now.

Leaning against the wall a ways off from the main crowd, you watch the guests in disinterest. It was laughable for a party of forty, at most, to rent such a colossal space. Surely even if it was a selection showcase, it was excessive.

Your family’s attendance to an event meant no expense was spared. The dress code is smart casual but a grand hall has been rented, with towering ceilings and a sprawling expanse of space. There was a live string quartet and champagne and little degustation canapes. Everyone talked in hushed voices, as if afraid to disturb the air around them. And what were they feeding with these canapes? Mice? You can’t even have real alcohol, just this stupid fizzy grape juice in a fancy glass. You think about the amazing grilled cheese that Madam Han, your housekeeper, makes and you groan internally, wishing to be anywhere but here. You’re sure your face says just as much.

“Yup, me too.” Turning in surprise, you find someone next to you.

His height is the first thing you notice. A good head taller than you are, and all black looks good on him, a silk shirt hanging loose and ripped jeans tucked into boots. He looks familiar, but you can’t put your finger on it yet, so you shelve that thought for later because well. There were more important issues at hand.

As a general rule, you thought all that "love at first sight' type thing was bullshit. You didn't buy into that sort of malarkey, and even if you did, it’s not something you got to have. But what was a girl to do in the face of .. well, a handsome face? Despite the remnants of stubborn pre-teen chub around his cheeks and a smattering of acne on his chin - things you're sure he'd grow out of in time - he's just your type of trouble.

Maybe you didn't know that yet, but all you do know is that when he turns slightly to give you a half smile, you freeze and your heart jumps like it's about to launch itself out of your body.

“Well. Someone's having fun.” He clarifies, fiddling with the stem of his champagne flute. You quickly look away, but not before noting his similarly bored demeanor.

"As much fun as you are, clearly."

“Yes, this is a riveting time.” He deadpans back, and the snicker he garners out of you breaks the ice like sugar glass. The both of you return to surveying the small crowd, but make no move to leave, enjoying the feeling of sharing in a certain kind of disjointed camaraderie. What is it they always say about shared trauma?

“You’re old enough to drink?” You tilt your glass in the direction of his.

“I’ve been old enough since three years ago. But legally, no. This isn’t alcohol.”

You sigh, but then a thought pops into your head. “Wanna sneak into the kitchen with me? The servers often leave the open bottles unattended.”

“Not your first rodeo, huh.”

“And certainly not my last. I can’t wait to be legal so these things become more tolerable.” You take another sip of your non-alcohol.

After a moment you ask again - “So? Kitchen?”

“You have no idea how much I wish I could, but this night is a sober one. Nerves and alcohol don't go well together for me.”

“Aaaaaaand he turns out to be even less fun than this party.”

This earns you a chuckle from him. It’s warm and inviting, a little buzz of electricity in your veins. Feels like if you’d been drinking actual champagne that evening. He nudges your shoulder playfully with his own when you cross your arms and angle your body slightly away in a small show of sulking.

“I have no choice, cowboy. I’m the showhorse. Gotta do the parade if I want my scholarship."

“Ah, Jung Hoseok.”

The puzzle pieces fall into place and you give him another once over out of the corner of your eye, this time with more recognition than before. Now you knew why he looked familiar - the identities of the artistes were all kept secret until after the selection showcase, but since you were your father's daughter, you'd seen the lineup beforehand.

"Yup, that's me." Hoseok downs the rest of his drink, grimacing. "And this entire thing is a show by a pretentious businessman who's already decided who's going to be selected."

"Looks like it's not your first rodeo either, you know how this works."

"Boy, do I."

"So why stay sober for it anyway?"

"I like dancing."

Hoseok's answer makes you go quiet. Whatever sarcastic banter you had lined up was halted in the face of such a simple, honest admission.

After a moment, he adds - " and I have a feeling it might reflect badly if I turned up tipsy to my first performance in front of the panel of directors.”

You shrug. "You know what they say about brooding artists and alcohol."

Suddenly, a thought comes to him. “Wait. You know me?”

He turns to you, and you can see him trying to figure out who you are, why you know him but he doesn’t know you.

“Of course I know you.” You state a matter-of-factly. “Jung Hoseok, the parading showhorse.”

“And you’re…. Mirae? The….cellist?” He takes a wild guess at one of the other performers in the showcase lineup that night.

“Nope.” You reply, popping your lips in amusement when you realise he has absolutely no clue who you are.

"You're not competition, are you?"

"Wrong again."

Hoseok squints in confusion and turns fully to face you, taking you more seriously now. “So who are you?”

Leaning in closer to him you tilt your glass in the direction of where the biggest group of people congregated in the middle of the room, deciding to at least have a little bit of fun tonight if you couldn't get your hands on the drinks. Albeit at the expense of someone else’s embarrassment, but it’s not like you two were close anyway. Consider it a trade off of sorts.

“See that man in the gray suit?”

“The CEO of Aurarts?” He frowns slightly. “Why?”

“He's the one who gets to decide if you get your scholarship or not, right?”

“Yes.” He drags the syllable out hesitantly. “Where is this going?”

“Well. In the direction of him being my very pretentious father. I'm sure you'll know my name soon enough.”

The colour drains from Hoseok’s face.

“Fuck-“ He begins, but quickly catches himself and bites his lips together when he decides that swearing in front of the daughter of the business magnate he just badmouthed, and who is coincidentally also funding his scholarship, isn’t the best first impression.

“Sorry. I. Uh.” He rubs the back of his neck with one hand. Gone is his easy charm - he’s now visibly perplexed, turning red and refusing to make eye contact. It makes you giggle, a bright pealing sound that seems to cut like a warm knife into butter. As it happens, the emcee’s voice crackles to life over the speakers, cutting your laughter short and inviting guests to take their seats as the performance is about to begin.

"There's your cue, and mine."

You sigh, quite content with your fun for the evening; Hoseok is pretty cute when he’s flustered. He's opened and shut his mouth three times and still trying to find a way to dig himself out of the hole he's in, so you decide to put the poor boy out of his misery and leave first. Pushing off from the wall, you offer him a small wave and mouth a ‘good luck’ over your shoulder. He manages a tiny wave back.

Between accompanying your father amongst the guests and making small talk with them after the performances are over, don’t get a chance to talk to Hoseok anymore for the rest of the evening. Sometimes you catch a glimpse of a silky black shirt and a charming smile, but not long enough of a look to know if he was looking back.

But you do get to watch his performance - it’s the last one of the night, and you don't know if it's intentional, but they’ve saved the best for last.

Hoseok walks onto the makeshift dancefloor, barefoot, and one more button on his shirt undone. Perhaps you didn’t notice it before, but there is a power with which he holds himself in his beginning pose, facing away from the audience, stance wide and hands crossed in fists behind his back. His head is turned, just enough for you to see his side profile, and you know he sees you sitting in the front row. You feel a shiver of excitement at the base of your spine. It pulses in rhythm to the opening beats of the dance track.

When he starts, you understand why he’s in tonight's lineup. Each movement of Hoseok’s body is fluid but perfectly controlled, matching the heavy bass tempo on the dot. Never early, never late. The music slowly starts to pick up, and his eyes turn dark, expression changing with every turn of the music. Joy, fear, passion and desperation tell the story of escape from old demons and rebirth into a new self. As everything reaches a crescendo, it’s like his presence expands into the cavernous hall that seemed to swallow every one of it’s tiny guests earlier, filling the space until you felt like the walls might burst.

One fist clenched and shaking in the air, Hoseok ends his performance kneeling atop a raised dais in the middle of the stage. The air is so silent and heavy with awe you can hear his laboured breaths. His smile is so bright and victorious, you think you might be dreaming when it is literally blinding you in the shine of spotlights. It's then you realise he's actually got braces on. Your heart gives you a quiet, endearing sigh, and you agree with her.

Applause erupts, a standing ovation is given. It takes you a little longer to collect yourself, but you stand with the crowd too, and clap until your palms heat and sting.

He’s not dancing to the music, you think. He is the music.

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A/N: And with that we’re all caught up with the chapters I’ve also posted on A03! You can check me out there if you prefer A03 hehe. Will be releasing future chapters at the same time from now on. Hope everyone is having a  ✨great day✨ xoxo

[sharada-n]

(7: A kiss to shut them up) Ah yes, the poly ship sails once more

Anybody with a working pair of eyes could plainly see that Moomin was absolutely, completely, head over heels in love with Snufkin.

It wasn’t exactly surprising. Moomin was the kind of person who craved adventure, who always went looking for some interesting situation to absorb himself into or a new story to be a part of. Who utterly lived for excitement, no matter where that may lead him.

But Moomin was also the kind of person who often found those things in others instead of himself, and when it came to interesting or new, Snufkin stood out in Moominvalley like a Woodie in a row of Hattifatteners.

Most of the other creatures in the valley were of a more complacent nature. While many fascinating and sometimes rather bizarre things happened there, most of them regarded these happenings with a kind of detached unease, largely concerned whether this latest strange occurrence was likely to intervene with their habitual afternoon tea.

Snufkin was of the wandering variety though. Somebody who knew a whole lot but said very little, full of surprises and unexpected musings, who distanced himself from others but was always kind and polite in the most unmundane ways possible. It wasn’t hard to imagine why so many adored him, and it wasn’t hard to imagine why Moomin was smitten with him.

And he wasn’t exactly subtle about it either. It was only for so long that a boy could stare longingly out the window wondering when his best friend would reappear to figuratively and literally chase away the cold of winter before people became suspect.

So it came to be that everybody knew. Everybody but Moomin himself, who was all kinds of amazing but could be daft as a pile of bricks when it concerned Snufkin. And Snufkin himself, who had the average communication skills of a potato and was not at all adapt at handling emotional matters. So there wasn’t much hope of the situation resolving by itself.

People often asked Snorkmaiden if this irritated her. Moomin was her boyfriend after all, had been ever since they started playing house and make-believe on the grassy downs of the valley and really, wasn’t it rather irksome to see her love pining so desperately for another?

And if pressed she could tell them that yes, it bothered her. It bothered her endlessly, in fact. Just not for the reason most people assumed it did.

Principally, she just wanted Moomin to be happy. Snufkin made Moomin very happy. She herself made Moomin very happy as well. And he made her the happiest Snork in the world, because if anything he was devoted to her like no other was, kind and soft and thoughtful. He was just similarly devoted to Snufkin, of course, and seeing him tying himself into knots over the whole situation was what really bothered her at the end of the day.

The heart of the matter was simple. Moomin was in love with Snufkin. Snufkin was clearly in love with Moomin. Moomin was in love with Snorkmaiden as well, and she herself obviously fancied him a lot. But what people often forgot was that Snorkmaiden was friends with Snufkin too, had known him at least as long as Moomin had even and spent many sunny summer afternoons together in quiet contentment. And he wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes either.

Moomin and her were already girlfriend and boyfriend of course. But the way she saw it there was no reason why Snufkin couldn’t be their boyfriend also. The solution shouldn’t be any more complicated than that.

“Do you like Moomin?”

Snufkin stalled for a moment, almost losing his grip on the fishing rod and having it tumble into the river. He recovered quickly though, fake-coughing politely into one fist instead but refraining from answering immediately. Snorkmaiden either didn’t notice or didn’t care, she was busy making flower crowns out of the wild geraniums that grew on the riverbank.

“Of course I do.” He answered after a few moments, cautiously. Snufkin wasn’t exactly opposed to company when that company was content with sitting in silence next to him enjoying the peaceful afternoon and not bothering him directly. But conversations that started with questions, particularly questions like these, had the disconcerting tendency of veering into terrain he rather steered clear of.

Moomin had taken Sniff and Little My on some kind of adventure today, Snorkmaiden decided to stay behind and that in itself should have been enough to tip him off that something was not right really.

But she didn’t say anything more and Snufkin had just started thinking he might have been let off the hook (unlike the fish he was currently reeling in) when she spoke again.

“Do you like like him though?”

The reel handle spun rapidly as he lost his grip once more, the minnow was probably under some sort of divine protection because it used the sudden slackness of the line to try and extract itself from the hook post-haste, and Snufkin didn’t even have the presence of mind to notice.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He lied.

Snorkmaiden huffed, the kind of little annoyed huff some people do when they can tell you are telling them a fib but are too courteous to call you out on it directly. She finished her crown and put it on her head, trying to admire her own reflection in the river but the fish was causing too many ripples with its great escape attempt for her to see herself clearly.

There were another few tugs and then it succeeded in freeing itself and swam merely down the stream, saved from becoming Snufkin’s dinner for at least another day. Snorkmaiden looked at him and if he didn’t know any better he’d say she was smirking.

“I think you know exactly what I mean.” She said.

“I really need to be getting back.” He answered instead, dropping the fishing pole right then and there and leaving his bait too. Moominvalley wasn’t exactly a hotbed for criminal activity so he was sure it would still be there when he came back for it.

And if not he could always get a new one.

For the next few days Snufkin avoided being alone with Snorkmaiden as much as possible. This wasn’t exactly a hard thing to do, usually Moomin would be spending time with either of them (if not both of them) at any given moment after all.

But he noticed her watching him more shrewdly than was usual, as if analyzing his every movement and it made him slightly nervous. Normally Snufkin wasn’t the kind of person to be much bothered by other people’s opinions of him, but just once Moomin had embraced him in a moment of sudden exhilaration, throwing his paws around Snufkin’s shoulder shortly and impulsively and he had been able to feel Snorkmaiden’s eyes burning into his back.

Only on one occasion did she manage to corner him in the kitchen of the Moominhouse, staring at him intently for a moment, before standing at the counter next to him and watching him make coffee. Moominmamma had been so kind as to lend him her kettle, since he had lost his own during the previous winter.

Snorkmaiden leaned onto the countertop slightly, batting her eyelashes up at him almost innocently. Girls could be so weird sometimes. “I know you like Moomin.”

“Oh?” Was the only noise he had been able to make at that moment.

“I think he likes you too.”

And that had sent a very undignified blush all the way onto his cheeks, though he tried using his scarf as cover to hide it.

Snorkmaiden and Moomin were dating. Snufkin knew this. And he wasn’t scared of a lot of things, you really can’t be a good nomad if you are, but on the other hand there was this belief that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and Snufkin had not the slightest intention of finding out if this was true.

“It’s fine.” He said, abandoning the coffee half-done. “It’s nothing, really. We’re just friends.” And then he fled the kitchen without waiting to hear her response.

So far Snorkmaiden could only assume her purpose had been awfully misconstrued.

The subtle approach clearly wasn’t relaying her intentions correctly, for Snufkin had taken to darting away from her at every chance, much like a frightened animal will do when backed into an unpleasant situation.

She had tried most everything she could think of now to get the conversation going without having to resort to drastic and dramatic gestures. Snufkin wasn’t the type of person to go for those. It would make him uncomfortable, she knew. Then again, he had already begun to refuse to be around her at all lately, and by extension around Moomin too and that had quite been the opposite of her goal.

Though it would be unbecoming of a lady, she had no choice but to wait for the perfect opportunity to present itself and then do something completely uncouth.

The perfect opportunity did present itself a mere two days later. Snorkmaiden had been out for an evening walk, as she was sometimes wont to do, to admire the beauty of nature and also to get out of the house since her brother had worked himself up into a frenzy again about one thing or another.

She had stopped by the Moominhouse but her love wasn’t there. It was reasonable to assume he might be off with Snufkin then, but when she crossed the bridge who should she find but the wanderer himself, busy at work on alighting his fire pit.

“Snufkin.” She called, and the boy startled so badly he banged his head against the pot hanging above the fire. Snorkmaiden giggled, but hid it behind her hand. She was still a lady, despite what she was about to do.

“Snorkmaiden.” He said, without turning around and while rubbing his forehead gingerly. “Moomin isn’t here.”

“I know.” And she walked around to sit on the tree trunk opposite him.

She could tell Snufkin was thinking about running off again. He did that thing where his eyes darted around as if looking for convenient excuses. However, she didn’t think he was desperate enough to abandon his tent, which was a lot harder to replace than a fishing rod, and leave his dinner to burn completely. In fact she was counting on it.

“Can we talk?”

Snufkin stopped tending to his forehead (which was probably less a case of concussion and more of crippled pride) and returned to his pot. “Of course.” He mumbled. “We’re talking right now.”

“It’s about Moomin.”

“Is it?” He leaned back gingerly, the flames of the fire reflecting unsteadily in his dark eyes.

“I think he’s in love with you.”

“Do you?”

“I think you’re in love with him as well.”

“You reckon?”

Snorkmaiden crossed her arms and he looked at her for the first time since she arrived.

“I’m sorry.” He said then and she could tell he was trying hard not to get flustered again. “But I can assure you it’s really nothing.”

“It doesn’t have to be nothing though.” She said, getting up and walking over and he straightened, tensing.

He took a step back but she ignored that. “Snorkmaiden, I really didn’t mean to-”

She took both of his paws in hers then, effectively shutting him up. They were rough like tree bark, nothing like Moomin’s, but warm too. His eyes were wide, and when he took another step back she followed.

“Nothing happened.” He breathed quickly. “Really in fact, I think nothing ever happened or ever will. I do know how much he adores you and you adore him and surely you know I only wish to be a good friend-”

Snufkin was rambling now, voice just a tiny bit desperate and Snorkmaiden couldn’t help but think herself cruel. Of course she could remedy that.

His lips were soft. She pressed against them firmly, so there might not be another misunderstanding as to her intentions now, and he swallowed any other words as she did so, nuzzling against him slightly.

When she pulled back she couldn’t tell if his face was just that red or if it was the glow of the campfire.

“What was that?” He nearly squeaked, blinking numbly at her.

“It was a kiss, dummy.”

“Was it?”

Snorkmaiden glared at him, annoyed. She had quite forgotten kisses were probably not the same for a Mumrik as they were for a Snork or Moomintroll, but he had seen her do this with Moomin enough times to know, surely.

So she did it again, light and feathery and he closed his eyes, pressing into the motion, his paws still clasped in hers. She could hear the frantic movements of a tail swaying side to side rapidly but didn’t know if it was his or her own.

“Moomin?” He whispered, uncertain, once they pulled back. Snorkmaiden smiled.

“Oh, I think he will be quite pleased with the whole ordeal.”

Snorkmaiden wasn’t the type of person to think she was always right. Others might think she was self-absorbed at times, but really she only was in a round-about way. Things concerned her if they involved her and otherwise they were rather tedious.

The sun was still bright and the weather warm and lively for late autumn, though the trees had already changed hues to breathtaking colors. The flowers now were late-bloomers, the air heavy with their scent.

Snufkin shifted in the grass. Snorkmaiden didn’t know if he was sleeping or not, his hat discarded somewhere to the side, but he looked very comfortable with his head resting in Moomin’s lap. The troll was idly playing with their boyfriend’s hair, which was becoming quite long now.

She leaned against Moomin’s side, shoulder to shoulder and he turned to her and nuzzled her cheek for a moment. Then she leaned forward and booped Snufkin’s nose, just because she could.

“I can’t believe autumn is already ending.” She sighed, as he opened his eyes to look at them for a moment. “And then you’ll be leaving.”

He hummed in answer, closing his eyes again and then smiling slightly. “I will have to write two goodbye letters this year then, I suppose.”

“Or just one addressed to the both of us.” Moomin said matter-of-factly, then adding slyly. “A grand love declaration, with a poem and everything.”

Snufkin made a non-commital noise, using one hand to shield his face from the glaring sun, though it was more likely he was trying to hide his blush again.

He still wasn’t very used to that word, even in reference to their newly blossoming relationship. Snorkmaiden knew it would only be a matter of time though.

“As long as you be careful in watching out for yourself.” She said. “Then we will be watching out for each other. And missing you terribly.”

Snufkin didn’t comment, but it was clear that he knew. Next spring, there would be two people eagerly waiting for him to return.

[sableaire]

hello! this might be a little odd to ask since I don't think you've ever talked about this publicly, but I really value your opinion and think you are super well-read so I wondered what your thoughts were on this!!! My gf recently got me into kuroshitsuji, and I was wondering if you had any thoughts on sebaciel, as a psychological concept? (I really liked your ks analysis!!! also I don't want you to think I'm asking for an actual analysis or anything I was just curious!!!)

Oh dear, I haven’t read Kuroshitsuji in years. I think I stopped some point near the end of the boarding school arc. Thank you for your kind words, by the way - true or not, I’m glad that is the impression I give off, ahaha.

Just on a surface level, I think the Kuroshitsuji animes were the ones that really leaned into the fanservice. There may have been some scenes in the manga that are evading my memory, but there’s no denying that the anime hinted at it far more heavily. As such, I feel that fans who only watched the anime - or watched the anime first - are more likely to end up shipping SebaCiel. However, I pretty much reject the first two anime and haven’t seen the Book of Circus, so my answer will have to focus on the manga.

Regardless, I know this is a touchy subject for a lot of people, fans and non-fans alike, so my response is below the cut: 

My thoughts on the concept of SebaCiel, hm… I can see where people might be getting it, I think, but I don’t necessarily understand it. When I read the manga when I was a teenager, I didn’t realize that people shipped the two characters romantically/sexually. It just didn’t occur to me. 

So personally, when I read Kuroshitsuji, I saw no romantic or sexual chemistry there (and this isn’t even mentioning the fact that Ciel Phantomhive as written is a literal child, aha;;). What I saw in Kuroshitsuji and what appealed to me as a reader was a fascinating power dynamic, wrapped up in a weird business arrangement, and I think there-in lies the issue.

Perhaps it’s just because I’m aroace, but I personally feel that a lot of readers fail to acknowledge that there can be an emotional/mental intimacy in a relationship without romance. Similarly, there is a failure to acknowledge that there can be a power dynamic or obsession without sexual undertones.

From my limited knowledge of the SebaCiel fandom, it seems to me that the ship is built more upon sexual content rather than romantic fluff, which plays into my point. I believe that a lot of people end up shipping SebaCiel because of the underlying power dynamic between the two throughout the entirety of the manga, which many readers automatically associate with sexual themes.

I cannot speak for the intention of the author as to whether Kuroshitsuji is meant to encourage shipping Sebastian and Ciel or not. I do believe she started as a BL author, which could mean that any homoerotic undertones (should they be present; I don’t personally remember any, it’s been a while) are intentional. It could also just mean that she’s so used to drawing them that she doesn’t know how to draw pretty scenes without them, ahaha.

However, from a storytelling perspective myself, I don’t see any grounds for a romantic or sexual relationship between the two. Ciel is wholly focused on his revenge, fully intending to die - a little too busy for romance, and he holds his responsibilities as a noble to a certain esteem, which means that were he not to die, he would probably fully intend to marry his fiancee Elizabeth, without affair.

As for the demon himself, my interpretation at the time of reading - which, again, it’s been years - was that what Sebastian got out of this relationship was Ciel’s own corruption of self. Yeah, he likes the corruption of an innocent soul or whatnot, but what he got out of their weird pact was a front-row seat to Ciel’s self-destructive journey. He is basically ensuring that his favorite cake is baking properly, and his whole interest in Ciel is because Ciel himself is the one corrupting his own soul, without Sebastian’s direct involvement or encouragement.

Since that’s Sebastian’s role in all this, I don’t see it as a strong possibility that he would, I don’t know, seducing Ciel for laughs as a viable option, and if he attempted, I imagine Ciel would firmly shut it down, and if Ciel expresses no interest, Sebastian wouldn’t waste the effort on trying.

Further, I cannot actually imagine Sebastian actually harboring any affection for Ciel. He is a demon, fundamentally different from a human. What he is there for is the promise of one of the best soul meals of his life - he cares for Ciel to the extent I might care for a Michelin star Asian-style Strawberry Shortcake: I’m going to watch the chef, sit in front of the oven and stare at it while it is cooking, make sure it’s decorated to my liking, and I am going to kill anyone who tries to prevent me from eating the whole thing after I waited so long. Heck, I’ll probably kill anyone who even smears the icing. 

However, even without a sexual or romantic component, the two characters do still undeniably have both a power dynamic and a codependence. They both are incredibly prideful, and they are both bonded together despite their personal animosity for a perceived mutually beneficial outcome. Ciel holds power of Sebastian in all the public ways, as the Lord to demon’s Butler, but Ciel is also helplessly reliant on Sebastian when it comes to all the… supernatural stuff… and also not-so-supernatural stuff…

And personally, I love that. I love the stories where one character has all the cards and the other has to swallow their pride to get what they want, and I love stories about one-up-manship, and I love stories about people being forced to rely on one another. However, those dynamics do not have to be sexual, and they do not have to be romantic. Also, possessive behavior does not have to mean romantic/sexual obsession, especially when one character is technically a tool (a means to an end) and the other is literally a food source. I am pretty darn possessive of my laptop computer, and I would be pretty damn possessive over my Michelin-star strawberry shortcake. 

I didn’t actually intend on this being such an effective analogy, but now I am super protective and territorial about this imaginary strawberry shortcake because by god, it has been years since I had a good one.

Still, my theory is that to a lot of people, when presented with a power dynamic in fiction, many readers immediately see a sexual appeal to it in a Dom/sub-esque fashion, and when presented with seeming emotional intimacy, they immediately see romantic potential. And though the author/artist may throw in fanservice, that’s just that - service. It doesn’t discourage the shippers, for sure, but it’s not necessarily support for it either.

Basically, due to modern culture, committed and or intimate and or passionate and or intense relationships in fiction are often perceived to be romantic and or sexual in nature when they do not have to be. Platonic relationships are underrated. Non-sexual hatred and obsession is underrated. 

It could also just be that people are interpreting a business-arrangement-turned-emotionally-invested-relationship narrative as a platonic-relationship-turned-romantic one. I know a lot of people who think of platonic relationships as equivalent to mere acquaintanceship, and there-in might lie the issue. They may fail to perceive Ciel and Sebastian’s escalating emotional involvement (if there was any, I can’t remember) as a step up from a professional relationship. They may instead perceive it as a step up from a platonic one.

Also, Kuroshitsuji is one of those mangas a lot of people discover while young, so that may factor into the enthusiastic fandom and the eagerness for romance, considering most tween/young teen books angling for girls are romantic in nature and that is how many girls are used to relating to their fiction.

Sorry if this wasn’t the kind of answer you meant, and again, it has been years since I properly read the manga. I heard the two-Ciel theory’s been proven true? Fascinating.

[i-am-very-very-tired]

‘What makes me so sad about Lee’s killing himself is that there are so few people with that kind of talent mixed with that fury of originality. Now we have one less of the few who are amazing. Why did he have to go and do that?” wondered Sam Taylor-Wood, the British artist. She was throwing out the big question that has consumed the fashion world since the suicide of her buddy and sometime subject Alexander McQueen, the 40-year-old designer, known to his friends by his given first name, Lee. His body—a physique that he’d worried over and tried to sculpt at the gym—was found at 10:30 a.m., February 11, hanging in his wardrobe, by his housekeeper in the apartment he’d been renting in London’s Mayfair, a far cry (and six or so miles) from the working-class East End neighborhood where he’d grown up. The tragedy was compounded in that it came just a week after the death of his beloved mother, Joyce, who at 75 had succumbed to an undisclosed illness. But even though McQueen’s brutal act of self-annihilation ultimately did not surprise those who knew him best, and were aware of his dark moods and inner agonies, plenty about his death didn’t add up.

After all, he’d been busy preparing for his autumn-winter ready-to-wear show in the days just before the tragedy. He’d been tweeting and texting his nearest and dearest, and apart from his obvious sadness about his mum, there wasn’t anything particularly unusual about his actions or his messages. In retrospect, some of his pals say they see portents in how loving his greetings were, but even they caution that they may be reading too much into this. The photographer Steven Klein, who was close to the designer for years, found him to be in good shape at the lunch they had in London at Christmas. “He was very together, in great form,” says Klein. “We made plans to do several new projects together.”

McQueen had even put in a surprise appearance at a dinner for Tom Ford, given by *Vanity Fair’*s editor, Graydon Carter, at Harry’s Bar in London on February 1. McQueen, who lived nearby, popped in uninvited; he sat at the bar, had a drink, chatted with Ford, and split. Ford had initiated the purchase of a majority stake in McQueen’s label in 2000 when Ford was the guiding force at the Gucci Group, owned by the French luxury-brands company PPR, and thus was McQueen’s old boss. So there was plenty of symbolism in this encounter. But then again, symbolism is everywhere in this story, as it was in the presentations of McQueen’s collections.

At their best, these shows were feats of magic, drama, and the sheer beauty of high fashion. McQueen was a traditionalist and an avant-gardist both. He liked to provoke with his ideas and shock with his ability to create unforgettable, original, sometimes extremist, often breathtaking clothes. He designed for both sexes, and in between, but soared highest with the women. His signatures were strong shoulders, strong tailoring, and a love of the corset. His collections were so specific, so true to himself, and so visceral that they are easy to remember. It helps, too, that they earned nicknames nearly as evocative as the clothes themselves—“the Shipwreck Collection” (spring-summer 2003), “the Chess Collection” (spring-summer 2005), “the Hitchcock Collection” (autumn-winter 2005). Among the most memorable was the now iconic “Highland Rape Collection,” from autumn-winter 1995 (one of his earliest shows, when he was starting out with his then-shoestring label), which mixed flesh-baring see-through material with eruptions of tartan, the clashes and juxtapositions intended as condemnation of England’s historic bullying of Scotland. (The folklore: one model hit the catwalk with a visibly dangling tampon string. To this day McQueen’s intimates aren’t sure whether that was accidental or intentional.) The rawness may have been polished as time went on, but it never went away. “The They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? Collection” (spring-summer 2004) was presented as if in a Depression-era dance-hall, a marathon where the models had to dance till they dropped in dresses that started out as perfect specimens and ended up in tatters. “The Wolves Collection” (autumn-winter 2002) was shown at the Conciergerie, in Paris, where Marie Antoinette had been held before she was sent to the guillotine. The opening model came out in a lavender hooded leather cape, walking a couple of trained wolves on leashes. (I think I only imagined their howling.) McQueen was the king of metaphor.

The immediate reaction to his death reinforced the notion that his wasn’t just another name on a label. Beyond the front-page stories and worldwide headlines, beyond the reports of his clothes’ selling out in department stores, there were Diana-like tributes. Students, artists, and fans left farewell notes and bunches of flowers outside his boutiques in London, Milan, Los Angeles, and New York, all of which were shuttered after the news broke. (The designer Diane von Furstenberg was spotted adding a bouquet to the ones that had already been dropped off at his shop on 14th Street in New York’s Meatpacking District.) McQueen’s death also coincided with the opening of New York Fashion Week, and there were nods to him in a number of the shows, including the beautifully elegiac opening of the Marc Jacobs presentation. No question: Alexander McQueen had become a name for the ages, the James Dean of fashion.

To call someone an artist in this milieu is tricky, because that can connote pretense, a rarefied air, a certain self-conscious preciousness—all things that were not true of McQueen. But fashion has produced genuine artists, designers with deeply iconoclastic visions such as Charles James and the painter and sculptor Lucio Fontana, who made clothes and jewelry for a short while. Although McQueen was very much a fashion person, working with a fashion vocabulary, his clothes and presentations had a true art streak. He even behaved like an old-fashioned artist, never letting the fact that he worked for giant, powerful fashion corporations—first for LVMH, where he was installed in 1996 as the designer of Givenchy, and then for PPR—curb his creativity or freedom. This wasn’t someone who’d suck up to the bosses or important editors or celebrities. Elton John, who befriended the designer and respected his talent, says, “McQueen was never anybody’s boy. He was never going to bow down and kiss ass to anyone, which made him rare in that world.” He was freakish in terms of his natural abilities too. Mark Lee, the highly respected former president of Gucci and Yves Saint Laurent (also owned by PPR), remembers, “Besides his eccentric vision, he really knew how to make and cut clothes. All the seamstresses, technicians, and product-development people who were around from the Gucci Group would talk about it all the time. He would just take a bolt of fabric and, in front of their eyes, would cut the pattern for his clothes. People said it was like watching Edward Scissorhands. There are not many designers around who can do that.” Similarly, McQueen often displayed a fearless, tour-de-force way with materials. There was nothing too fine or too common for him: neoprene, plastic, crocodile, paper, rose petals, antique lace, lamé … there was no stopping him. The finale of his autumn-winter 2006 collection, a pale-gray organza spiral ruffle dress, worn by Kate Moss, was as dreamy as it gets. That was highbrow McQueen; for lowbrow, look to his witty “bumster” pants from 1993—a feat of anatomical engineering described by one aficionada as “as low as you could go without having your trousers fall right down.”

McQueen used to call himself an East End bloke, which was code for saying he was not born into the world of caviar, champagne, and fine cloth. On a couple of occasions I had what he called “a proper English lunch” with him (I remember picking out the kidney in my steak-and-kidney pie), and each time he wanted to discuss the painter Francis Bacon. The combinations of gruesomeness and beauty, of raw flesh, homoerotic desire, and highly sophisticated execution that Bacon brought to his painting are not so far away from the concerns and approaches of McQueen’s work. There are personal parallels, too. I think of Bacon’s predilection for sex with men who were streetwise and of his finding refuge in the old London gay subculture. I think of the fact that his lover took his own life in 1971, on the eve of the opening of Bacon’s big retrospective in Paris, at the Grand Palais. (Camping it up, Bacon is supposed to have said, “Oh my dear, she’s gone and committed Susan-cide.”) For McQueen, too, a vociferously open gay man, there was an unforgettable combination of tough and fragile that was intrinsic to his emotional makeup. By all accounts, the designer’s childhood, growing up in the 1970s and early 80s, was like something out of Billy Elliot. His dad, Ronald, a taxi driver, reportedly had plans for his youngest child to become an electrician. (The designer had three sisters and two brothers.) McQueen, though, had fashion dreams, and as if that didn’t already make him a misfit in his environment, he had to put up with early torture about his sexuality; in his later life he often spoke about having been taunted with the nickname “McQueer” when he was young. Throughout, his mother was his shield, his advocate, the parent who eventually turned up at his shows, believing in his talent and adoring him unconditionally. Their bond was unbreachable from beginning to end.

McQueen’s formal education and professional rise are now part of fashion lore: the old-school tailoring training on Savile Row, where, as he later admitted and denied in equal measure, he had scrawled a punk-style slur—i am a cunt—inside the lining of a jacket being made for Prince Charles; the graduate fashion-school training at Central Saint Martins College; the meteoric trajectory of his career as a designer, which saw him going from overnight sensation after his last student collection to taking the reins for his bumpy five-year tenure at Givenchy, to finally having a house of his own, as Virginia Woolf might say, and really stretching his wings as a designer, to the sad, sad end.

The search for an answer as to why McQueen decided he’d had enough is really a struggle to find meaning in an act of nihilism. But as an old friend of his said to me, McQueen’s life was like an onion, and you have to peel away the layers to get to the center; it’s a process that can sting and bring tears. There was the loneliness, no doubt made all the more visceral by his mother’s death. Despite the surrogate family that McQueen created with a tiny clutch of fiercely close and protective friends—including Shaun Leane, the jewelry designer; Philip Treacy, the milliner; Daphne Guinness, the heiress, editor, and most daring dresser in fashion; Annabelle Neilson, a sort of sidekick; and Sam Gainsbury, who produced nearly all of McQueen’s shows—he had no long-term Mr. It. People remember how he’d say he was unlucky in love: he’d had a failed marriage to George Forsyth (Kate Moss was a bridesmaid at the 2000 wedding), and in the last years he seems to have had on-and-off liaisons with men, some of whom he met online. (Word is there was at least one porn star, a so-called Mr. Stag. There was also an older East End gangster he had a longer romance with.) Then there was his well-known history with drugs, especially cocaine. He was open about his substance abuse, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the autopsy told the same story when the results are released.

But it is my belief that all these traits were symptoms of something else. McQueen loved and collected art, and it is no coincidence that one of his favorite photographers was Joel-Peter Witkin, whose bleached and scratched images of masked figures, transsexuals, hermaphrodites, and corpses occupy a sometimes grim, sometimes joyous netherworld. The more one talks to those who knew McQueen, on and off the record, the deeper one goes, the clearer it becomes that what friends refer to as his “darkness” is where the truth of his death lies. Virginia Woolf and her struggle with depression is a kind of specter here. Sam Taylor-Wood says, “Lee would just sometimes go into this void, and we’d wait for him to resurface.”

He was not the only one in his circle to have terrible bouts with deep depression. Isabella Blow, his over-the-top, born-to-the-manor-but-without-a-pot-to-piss-in pal, who had an unlimited clothing allowance at his company and was often credited with discovering McQueen when he was in art school, also committed suicide, with weed poison, on her third attempt.

When Blow died, in May 2007, McQueen dedicated his next show to her, but some say he was angry at her for taking her own life. The rub is that he leaves behind a similar sense of frustration. There was a suicide note—what McQueen wrote hasn’t yet been disclosed—but it’s likely no one will ever know his whole story. Some have speculated that he may have felt he was done in fashion, sure of his legacy, and that his suicide was a kind of deliberate statement to that effect. Or was it something more uncontrollable? Sam Gainsbury says, “I appreciate that some people who were close to him think it was purposeful. But I think Lee got to a really dark place and could not get out of it. It was in that instance on that night. On another day maybe he would have gone to sleep and gotten out of it.”

People have commented on how, as the years went on, McQueen would disappear with lightning speed after his shows, rather than sticking around for the ritual backstage congratulations. “It always made me think of J. D. Salinger,” says Kerry Youmans, one of McQueen’s publicists. His suicide is perhaps the ultimate version of that impulse to withdraw. But PPR has announced that the McQueen business will continue. Fashion insiders have raised their carefully shaped eyebrows at the notion of replacing someone with so strong and individual a voice. McQueen’s friends remember his infectious laugh, and I wonder, could he be out there somewhere laughing now—maybe at the prospect of what will surely be a hard, hard search to fill his shoes? Or maybe in happiness that the line will go on?

I’m reminded of a show that McQueen did for autumn-winter 2007. It was known colloquially as “the Witches Collection” and was inspired by the fact that his mother, a genealogist, had discovered a relative who’d been a victim of the Salem witch trials. Like so many of McQueen’s presentations, this one had a high element of performance art to it—and a theme of death. The venue was very dark, people had difficulty finding their seats, the show started very late, it was raining outside, and there was an all-around bad mood in the air. Editors, who normally worshipped at McQueen’s feet, were yelling, “Who the fuck does he think he is? How dare he keep us all waiting like this?” The way people feel today, they’d be happy to wait for a much longer time to see one of his spectacles again, and they’d probably pay almost anything for his clothes.

[wrestlingwiththoughts]

NXT TakeOver: Brooklyn III (August 20 2017)

The first thing I saw coming out of the Atlantic Center - Barclays Center stop was a group of fans posing for some pre-roll footage for WWE or a local news show’s use. Chanting “NXT” and posing in mock menace, the crowd was only of interest to me because they blocked the sidewalk and my path to join two friends at Don Chignon for a pre-show meal and cocktail. 

Last week, I attended Evolve 91 and PROGRESS NYC at a youth recreational center in Corona, Queens. This week, I attended TakeOver: Brooklyn III at the Barclays Center, which is as different from the Elmcor Youth Center as the temperature was in the two buildings on two different August evenings. However, the similarities are worth a chuckle. At both shows, there were fans who were just a little socially awkward, who tried a little too hard to start chants that would go nowhere to prove that they know all about the wrestlers. At both shows, cameramen had spotters clad in black who had to make sure that the camera operators would be able to travel around the ring and film everything. At one point, there were technical difficulties at the Barclays Center that was only different than the technical difficulties an independent wrestling show might suffer by dint of scale. And I’m sure that fourth row floor seats at the Barclays Center wouldn’t have been that much better than fourth row floor seats at the Elmcor Youth Center.

So, I was glad that we were in the arena’s upper bowl in seats that had clear sight lines of the entrance ramp and the ring. The only obstacle to a good view would be my fellow fans in the row before ours who would stand up to record everything on their phones. I don’t know if the WWE tried to pretend that this was a full house, but there were many empty seats across from me on the hard camera side even by the main event. It corroborates reports that the secondary market for TakeOver tickets has fallen through the floor. 

Before the show started, they played a backstage interview segment where Renee asked Becky Lynch and Bayley who they thought would win the NXT Women’s Championship match. Lynch received her usual cheers, but the crowd was surprisingly vocal about their dislike for Bayley. I’m surprised that the crowd has turned on Bayley, but character stagnation and character assassination will turn even the easiest going babyface into someone that the crowd hates. I suppose that Bayley can turn back, but it’s disappointing to see Bayley’s potential so thoroughly squandered.

The pre-show had an aborted No Way Jose vs. Lars Sullivan match, a perfectly acceptable Peyton Royce vs. Sara Logan match, and a surprise appearance from Tyler Bate, Trent Seven, Wolfgang, and Pete Dunne. The cheers for Bate and Dunne were genuine because the match was unannounced, and the match told a fun story about how Bate and Dunne Were evenly matched. Therefore, Dunne and Wolfgang focused their attack on Trent Seven to eliminate him from the match. With Seven out of the way, Dunne and Wolfgang could work over Bate at length and even use a blind tag to allow Wolfgang to hit a swanton bomb that took Bate by surprise and score Wolfgang the victory. There were two separate “This is Progress” chants during the match, which amused me. A friend asked me if Dunne would attack Wolfgang after the match, and I responded that he doesn’t have a reason to be a dick for no reason, which is some kind of impressive logic trap. 

1. Johnny Gargano vs. Andrade Cien Almas w/Zelina Vega

I hadn’t realized that they had added lyrics to Johnny Gargano’s entrance theme, which is an unfortunate choice. The crowd loves Gargano, while no one clapped for or booed against Almas; the “Johnny Wrestling” chants supported Gargano, and that Almas was wrestling Gargano was irrelevant to the fans early. There was one “Los Ingobernables” sign by the entrance ramp, and I wondered if I were the only one who appreciated the fact that both Tetsuya Naito, leader of Los Ingobernables de Japon, and Almas, former leader of Los Ingobernables, have really energetic music that belie their “tranquilo” attitudes. Gargano looked to use his speed to take Almas off guard with some crisp mat wrestling early in the match, but Almas kicked out at one. Gargano and Almas combined a little bit of everything, from American independent mat wrestling to lucha libre to Japanese strike exchanges into some really great sequences; Gargano’s La Mistica transition into the Garga-No Escape that then led to Almas rolling through and powerbombing Gargano was one of the hottest moments for an energetic crowd. I also respected the fact that Almas worked on Gargano’s left arm throughout the match, and Gargano was smart enough to adjust his position so that he would use the right arm when he and Almas hit their double clothesline spot. They say that there is a great woman behind every great man, so Zelina Vega seems to be taking a shot at becoming the great woman behind Almas by interfering on Almas’s behalf during the match. After Gargano hit a pair of superkicks and threw Almas into the second turnbuckle like a lawn dart, Vega threw a “#DIY” shirt at Gargano, which distracted him long enough for Almas to stun him and hit a hammerlock DDT to score the victory. This was an incredible opener, and it was a great reminder that, even if the card looks underwhelming on paper, TakeOver shows are usually great in the ring. And, as I commented to my friend, the build to the eventual Tommaso Ciampa and Gargano feud will be incredible.

2.  NXT Tag Team Championship match: The Authors of Pain (Akam & Rezar) (c) w/Paul Ellering vs. Sanity (Eric Young & Alexander Wolfe) w/Nikki Cross and Killian Dain

I still can’t tell Akam and Rezar apart, so I hope that they do something to differentiate them at some point. It’s also possible that I just need to pay closer attention. It’s hard to find an emotional connection to a match that features a monster tag team that destroyed fan favorites like American Alpha, the Revival, and #DIY and an aggressively discordant faction like Sanity. In the end, Wolfe’s surprising performance and Nikki Cross’s enthusiasm ringside led me to root for Sanity. Because Wolfe looks like a second tier villain on a good season of Justified, it’s easy to forget that he’s actually a good in-ring wrestler. Young, who looks like he would also fit in Boyd Crowder’s gang, is an experienced tag team wrestler, so it almost made sense that he would insert himself into the match in Dain’s place. Dain, of course, would make all of these seem sensible later in one of the most impressive moments of the night when he hits a crossbody splash on the Author of Pain who had caught Nikki Cross after her dive from the top rope to the floor, sandwiching Cross between the Author and Dain and driving all three through a table. They protected Cross as well as they could in that spot, and it eliminated one Author to allow Young and Wolfe to double team the other Author and win the titles. The match exceeded my admittedly low expectations, and Cross played a major role in investing me into Sanity for the match. I also like the idea that Young outsmarted Ellering by announcing that Wolfe and Dain would wrestle and changing the line-up at the last moment by inserting himself into the match. The thrill of that victory was short-lived, however, when Bobby Fish and Kyle O’Reilly, reDRagon, appeared from the crowd to attack Young and Wolfe, hitting their finisher Chasing the Dragon on Young. reDRagon’s surprise appearance and declaration of intent gave the crowd another boost and made me enthusiastic about the future of tag team wrestling in NXT. I’m curious how Corey Graves contributed to the televised experience as a guest commentator.

3. Aleister Black vs. Hideo Itami

I had very high expectations for this match because I wanted to see Black and Itami have a stiff, strike-heavy, faux-MMA style match. At first, I was disappointed to see Black once again absorb so much offense from Itami without responding, but then I started thinking about his entrance theme, which was ably performed by WWE’s musical guest for the evening, Code Orange. (For tonight, at least, Code Orange is the new performer for Black’s theme.) Black, through his theme, challenges this opponents to do their worst:

“No man is ever truly good No man is every truly evil I do the things you never could And we won't ever be equal No man is ever truly good No man is every truly evil I do the things you never could And we won't ever be equal You point your finger and play the victim So take your best shot Release the pressure You perpetrate your propaganda And now I'm calling you out”

(Black’s theme, “Root of All Evil,” is a great half a song.) Itami, beset by bad luck and worse health, probably feels like a victim of circumstances. He took his best shot at Black and tried to wear Black down with kicks, chops, a top rope Falcon Arrow, and a second Falcon Arrow. He tried to wear Black down on the mat with a long chinlock sequence when his strikes couldn’t finish Black. Then, Black called him out with the Black Mass roundhouse head kick, and Itami was down for the three count. It was a hard-hitting match, but Black’s matches have lacked drama because he absorbs damage until it’s time for him to hit the Black Mass to end the match. I joked when they announced that Jim Ross would be the special guest announcer for this match that they must be trolling him after he had such a hard time distinguishing wrestlers and pronouncing names at the New Japan Pro Wrestling G1 Specials.

4. NXT Women’s Championship match: Asuka (c) vs. Ember Moon

Part of the live experience is seeing wrestlers who don’t emerge from backstage during their entrances get into position on the stage while the rest of the crowd is supposed to be paying attention to the recap that’s played on the big screens. Similarly, I was fascinated by the little production touches throughout the show, like the fact that the camera operator has to stand on a ladder in order to film the commentators in their talking head segments between matches or the fact that a member of the production staff has to remove Percy Watson’s and Nigel McGuinness’s chairs before those segments and replace them immediately after. 

Similarly, watching them shuttle guests to the front row seats for their promotional appearances was fascinating to me. I wonder how long Lynch, Sasha Banks, and Bayley can trade on their history as the Four Horsewomen of NXT (Charlotte was conspicuous in her absence for understandable reasons). The fact that the crowd booed Bayley would show that lifespan of the warm and fuzzy feelings of those memories is not as long as you would think. 

Because Asuka debuted after Banks, Charlotte, and Lynch had moved on from NXT (her first match was against Dana Brooke at NXT TakeOver: Respect, which was headlined by the 30 Minute Ironwoman match between Bayley and Banks, the last match involving the Four Horsewomen), Asuka doesn’t have the same connection with fans that Banks, Lynch, Charlotte, and Bayley have. The crowd’s unsure reaction to Asuka’s victory over Bayley to win the NXT Women’s Championship at TakeOver: Dallas made that clear. That said, the NXT crowd connected to Asuka through her swagger (no one, not even Banks at her peak, could match the sense of cool that Asuka projects during her entrances), ferocity (not even Lynch could match the violence that Asuka could unleash), or dominance (not even Charlotte or Banks could project Asuka’s sense of invincibility). 

The crowd was even split between Moon supporters and Asuka fans. Moon attacked Asuka from the bell, and Asuka had to regroup outside the ring. The action is incredible and too quick for anyone to realistically recap. It was best to let the match wash over you and take part in the spontaneous and loud dueling chants for the two women. Asuka targeted Moon’s surgically repaired arm, and the two trade incredibly stiff strikes to the crowd’s delight. This sums up the crowd’s reaction when Moon hit the Eclipse:

As a fan of Asuka, I was overjoyed when Asuka kicked out from the Eclipse and kicked out again after a Moon superkick. I was cheering my lungs out when Asuka had trapped Moon in the Asuka Lock and when Asuka forced Moon to finally submit in the middle of the ring. There is enough wiggle room from controversy to justify one more rematch since Asuka shielded herself from a second Eclipse by cowering behind the referee, but the way Moon soaked up the appreciative applause from the crowd after the match seemed like a conclusion for Moon in NXT. Meanwhile, I can continue to enjoy Asuka as the unbeatable champion. This was the match of the night, followed closely by Gargano vs. Almas, and I joked to my friend that it wouldn’t be an NXT TakeOver: Brooklyn show if they didn’t put the wrong match in the main event slot. Bayley vs. Banks should have been the main event of TakeOver: Brooklyn, and the Revival vs. #DIY should have been the main event of TakeOver: Brooklyn II. This should have been the main event of TakeOver: Brooklyn III. It was magnificent.

I also really enjoyed the little touch of Asuka staring at and taunting Lynch, Banks, and Bayley throughout the match. Seeing Asuka confront her predecessors in NXT put the entire match in context.

5. NXT Championship match: Bobby Roode (c) vs. Drew McIntyre

A surefire way to make me lose interest in a match is to trot out the NYPD to escort the nominal face in the match to the ring. I’m sure getting the NYPD Emerald Society to play the bagpipes for McIntyre’s performance seemed like a stroke of genius, but all it did was to make me (and a few other black and brown fans in my section) sit down and not care about McIntyre. Combined with the emotional fatigue after the Asuka vs. Moon match and Roode’s match style, which can be charitably called methodical, and I was more disengaged than bored during the match. It’s not as if the last match had completely worn the crowd down; Samoa Joe received very loud “Joe!” chants during his brief appearance ringside to promote his championship four way match at SummerSlam 2017. Roode’s match style gives the crowd very little to chew on, and McIntyre’s hard-hitting style could only provide so much flavor to the match. As the match began, the fans behind me waxed poetic about TNA”s short period when that company approached greatness, reminiscing about the heyday of the X Division and cursing Hulk Hogan for his perceived role in the company’s decline. McIntyre popped the crowd with a tope con hilo that Roode failed to catch him on, and it led to a pretty good closing section highlighted by Roode’s backstabber (my friend asked if he hit a Codebreaker, to which I replied that it was a Roode-a-bager because my Dad joke game is strong), McIntyre’s Future Shock DDT, Roode’s Glorious DDT, and the Claymore. I liked that Roode was hoisted on his own petard by trying to hit more than one Glorious DDT to ensure his victory, which allowed McIntyre to recover just long enough to hit the Claymore to win the match and the championship. It was a fine match, but it will be overshadowed by Asuka vs. Moon, and it would be remembered mostly for the post-match attack by reDRagon and a debuting Adam Cole. 

This was a really enjoyable show, and it proves once again that TakeOver shows should not be underestimated and that wrestling shows have a sweet spot about two and a half hours. 

[burndownthehousetonight]

((I though this was going to just keep going on and on, and @tinyredartist and I would have to cut it into chapters, but it seems like we were going to do that anyways, so this one’s a bit short compared to the other one. You can find the first part here!))

Scourge went back downstairs, cleaning up the living room they had been in originally. Aria's art supplies were strewn across the table, her sketchbook open for the page to dry. As expected, her drunken work was abstract, but the idea was there. A streak of blue was the night sky, the bright yellow the lights of the casino. Brown shapes were civilians and the two green and one red shapes were clearly them. He left it to dry, wondering if Aria would paint a canvas for him of the same work.

He turned out the lights in the castle, and passed by a door. It was the only one in the castle with a lock, and he merely glared at it.

Scourge eventually went to bed. He laid on the right side of the king sized mattress, looking at the empty space next to him. Slowly, he fell asleep.

The next morning, Scourge was up with the sun. He had snagged a cup of coffee from the kitchen and had climbed onto the roof for some peace and quiet. To think things over. Manic had gotten up similarly early, many of the things he'd confessed the previous day weighing heavy on his mind. Unlike Scourge, he didn't have any kind of energy that early in the morning, instead pulling out his phone and laying around in the guest bed doing nothing. Idly tapping away at mindless games to think through what he could say, or what he should have said. Of course the right wording was coming to mind, now that we wasn't anxious and delirious. But what was said was said. "Gotta get some practice done..." He grumbled to himself, stumbling out of bed.  He walked down the main stairs, out the hall and into his van. Clothes, make-up, he always had some spare outfits in the built-in storage boxes in case he had to get the hell outta dodge. A fresh set of clothes, some make-up to make his face look less effeminate, and he was ready for the day. Even if there was nothing planned for the day. So he swung open the back doors and lounged back, practicing some chords and simple melodies while he breathed in the morning air. Scourge heard the melody from the roof, listening happily as he sipped at his coffee. His thoughts went to Manic and his messed up love life. He felt sad for the other green hedgehog. At least Scourge had some form of closure to the ruins of his marriage. Not knowing where someone went? No wonder Manic was always so anxious.

A fire burned in his belly suddenly as he thought to Sonic's comments about the missing hedgehog. He regretted not punching that stupid face while he had a chance. The king inhaled slowly, trying to calm himself. Getting angry isn’t helping anyone.

Aria woke up a while later, after Scourge had come off the roof and invited Manic in for breakfast. The smell of baked goods had her wandering downstairs half asleep in search of food. "...so the whole time, he was giving me the wrong cue cards, right?" The table had a small buffet of breakfast foods, dominated by the number of breads and other baked foods on display. Manic was already down here, eating and talking with Scourge when Aria walked in, munching on a plate of a few cheeses and meats with some bread. "Frühstück," he'd always call it for some reason. "Like, I knew the melody, but only... haaaalf the words, maybe? I pretty much had to make it up as I went-" Manic cut himself off and turned around, pleasantly surprised at the sight of Aria. "Oh, morning, Ari!" He almost moved to continue his story, but shifted back to Aria again. "Uh, you kinda drank a ton, you gonna have a hangover? Want some water, or summat?" “Shhh… She’s not quite awake yet. This is more Zombie Aria.” Scourge explained as Aria walked over, nose twitching as she used her sense of smell to guide her. She mewled quietly, sitting down in chair that Scourge had pulled out for her and she started groaning quietly.

She was given a plate of eggs and bacon, French toast with syrup and powdered sugar and a cup of tea. Mindlessly, she started eating, purring quietly.

“And here, you see the hunter has cornered her prey and is starting to feast on the carcass,” Scourge joked, narrating Aria's actions to Manic as if they were in a nature documentary. "The eldrich french toast cryptid never stood a chance." Manic reiterated. "When it's sweet maple syrupy blood has been spilt, it can only plead and beg to be served with proper plating and a lightly seasoned poached egg for both flavor and appearances. This one will never meet it's dying wish." She didn't even seem to care that they were essentially mocking her. As Manic put the 'sweet syrupy blood' string in the back of his head for some kind of lyrics, he continued his story with Scourge. "Uh, where was I...? Yeah, half the lyrics and all that!" Manic said, making hand motions again as he spoke. "I tried coming up with something since he wasn't even giving the words to the right songs, and it turns out I ain't the best at improvising lyrics?" He took a moment to think of how to describe it. "Have you ever wanted to watch someone sing the same lyrics two or three times in a row while sounding like they're having a stroke? Cause that tape..." He smiled and looked down, more reminiscent than ashamed. "Let's just say I got that baby deleted a while back." Aria finished about half her cup of tea and woke up a little bit, mewling quietly. “Morning,” she cooed.

Scourge listened intently to his friend's story, laughing slightly and patting Aria on the head gently as she woke up. The breakfast went slowly, Aria ever so slowly waking up and coming out of a hangover-esqe state. Once she was good and properly awake, she snuck a bread roll from Scourge's plate and nommed quietly on it.

“So you two, we need to talk.”

Aria made a face like she instantly regretted every decision she’d ever made. It was enjoyable to carry on his story, exaggerating the details just a tiny bit to make it that much better. The bread was fresh, the cheese and meats slightly spiced and delicious, the little bits of fruit alongside it in season and wonderful. Not to mention, it was fun to watch Aria slowly gain energy as she seemed to somehow evolve from the disheveled sleepwalker into her normal bubbly self. And then he spoke seriously. Manic couldn't help but notice how serious Scourge was. Was this somehow related to Aria's blatant regret over... something? "You doing alright?" Manic would have leaned over the table and crossed his arms, but he had no idea if that was some cardinal sin in a royal castle or not. He settled for leaning forward the best he could. "Did you do something? We'll listen, mate, don't worry." Scourge coughed a little. “Don’t worry Aria, you’re not in trouble.”

Arias wariness didn’t ebb, and she merely chewed on her bread to combat that feeling of intense anxiety. Scourge merely looked at her, concerned and giving her a pitiful look.

“So. Uh… I don’t even know where to start… Last night, you got utterly smashed. And you said some things that concern me, and Manic too, and I think we need to talk about them." The green hedgehog put his hand on her shoulder, to try and comfort her.

Aria only saw it as a way of preventing her from leaving. She looked between the two green hedgehogs, scared and anxious, having finished her bread. Most people would have brushed this off as Aria being jumpy, but Manic knew the signs. The way she jumped when the hand was on her shoulder, all the eating an drinking, the creative outlet, it was all very obvious. "You got anxiety issues, too?" What would have relaxed him? Manic leaned back in his seat and relaxed his shoulders. "That's a real crap hand to be dealt, ain't it? We ain't gonna push you too hard, but I mean... we can't help if you don't answer us, alright?" He thought for a moment about how to word it without being too direct. "Is that what's stopping you from asking for your pay?" Aria looked down at her hands, hiding the subtle shaking under the table. “General anxiety disorder. I can’t afford a diagnosis or medication but I’m pretty sure. Its not a surprise.”

Scourge already knew about the anxiety, so he relaxed, removing his hand from her shoulder and putting them over her hands, stopping some of the shaking. She looked up at Manic, surprised.

“How did you-… Right. I got drunk and couldn’t keep my mouth shut… No that’s.. That’s not why I won’t ask.”

The green hedgehog studied her face. What she had said the night prior. “Then why not? Are you scared? Do you want me to do it?”

“No, no its fine… It's… A long story,” she sighed. She wasn’t gonna talk unless someone brought up what she said last night. And speaking from his own anxiety issues, Manic knew this for a fact. "You didn't say a ton, dude, but from what you said..." Manic scratched the back of his head. "I dunno, I think Scourge knows something I don't. Either your boss isn't paying you 'til you sleep with her... or she's trying to sell your body." There wasn't a soft way to say it, and if there was, Manic wouldn't have found it anyways. So he sat there, and thought. "Can you not get out of there?" Manic spoke sincerely, rubbing his hands together. He had no idea what happened at Aria's home, but he just had a terrible thought at the back of his head. "Are you being blackmailed? Me and Scourge used to drop off the grid all the time when we got in trouble, I could help you out, honest! Just gimme the word, and I can get some friends to keep you hidden." She looked away from them, ears drooping. “… She’s not paying me until I sleep with her… And she’s not the kind of person you can say no to without consequences. In that part of town zone cops… Police… Even you. No authority has any power except for black market officials like my boss… So I’m on my own.”

Scourge tensed, quills bristling. Trying not to growl. “You’re wrong. You’ve never been alone Aria, I’ve always been right here! Glare, Rosy, all of us. Right here… Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t want to abuse your friendship.” She shrank back from her friends, and Scourge let go of her hands, trying to calm himself. He got up and ran his hands through his quills. Pacing.

“Imma kill her.” He decided, rather calmly. A calm but angry Scourge is a bad sign.

“Scourge, no. Manic, help me out here. Killing her won’t do me any good.” Aria got between him and the door. "She's right, dude." Manic said, hopping from his seat and walking towards the two. "Messing with those kinds isn't a dumb mistake, it's the dumbest mistake. You ain't killing her." Manic patter Aria on the shoulder. "Aria, I get it. You think you're taking resources people can't afford, but we just- swallow your pride! We're serious, just forget about abusing the resources and do what you have to to survive!" His words were getting more forceful as he went. "I have been there. Okay? I. Have. Been. There. I'll help you through this." Manic started brushing his own quills aside, thinking. "First thing's we're getting you outta there. You can't quit, right? So you just-" He covered his mouth, and thought. "I'd say we could fake your death, but if you wanna go back to your home, it's be really easy to see through that." He was used to his debts being monetary, but he wasn't a woman being virtually THREATENED into having sex. What could they do?! "Honestly, what I'm thinking is... you have to stop being valuable to her." He said. "What're her turn-offs? What'll make her not want you as a worker, what's going to get you fired and be believable?!" Arias ears flattened more and she winced. Afraid of the agitated hedgies who sounded mad at her. “Please stop yelling at me…” She whimpered

Scourge toned the hell down super fast. “Easy.. Its okay. We aren’t mad at you. We’re sorry. Let’s figure this out”

Aria turned to Manic when he suggested making herself less attractive to the other. “Manic this woman has known me for over 13 years. She knows me better than I know myself because she’s been sizing me up forever. The day I turned 18 I was fair game to her. I can’t hide anything. I’m stuck…”

She started to sniffle, eyes getting glossy from the tears that were about to fall. Scourge snuggled her gently, cooing softly to calm her. “Easy.. Its okay… You’re safe, shes not going to hurt you… Maybe instead of getting the money from her, you could offer art commissions? I know quite a few rich and famous who would love a piece of artwork from you. That will fix your money problems anyways..” Manic simply looked on, unsure of what he could begin to say. She was stuck, and he knew that he would have thought the same thing if he was in any kind of a similar situation. But he wasn't there. Aria didn't just need support, she needed a plan of attack. "Ari, come on, let's sit down somewhere," Manic suggested. He didn't force her, he didn't choose where to sit, he simply followed, patting her shoulder as he thought thought his own lack-of-a-plan in his head. He sat a safe distance, making sure she wouldn't feel cramped. "Here's the main thing." Manic said, thinking. "You said you're heading back to your home 'next week,' right? If she's sizing you up, she's going to look for you there." More thought. "You definitely want to keep going there, so you have to convince her that you aren't useful to her, we can't just hide you in a potato sack and drive outta here." Thinking. "But she's attracted to you, so we have to make you, like, bat as an employee and a love interest..." "My plans are always really extreme, but that's why they work. I mean, REALLY extreme, cause I'm usually the one getting messed up." He rubbed his hands together. "We could fake a ton of documents, pay some doctors and make it look like you have a fatal STD... or we could fake an accident, and make it look like you're... physically unable to work." “I don’t know how far she’s willing to go… She told me once, when we were alone, that she influenced and shaped my personality to be exactly what she wanted in a….” She trailed off and Scourge held her hand from the next seat over, trying to support her.

“…Is she into anything illegal?” Scourge asked, an idea starting to form.

“Yeah. The whole place is running on dirty money, save for my tips… Money laundering, cocaine, steroids…any and all of the drugs you can think of, including… Oh what’s it called… The one that starts with an R. Its a date rape drug.” Aria's nose scrunched up as she tried to think.

Manic could literally see the lightbulb go off in Scourge’s head. “We can call the zone cops to do a drug bust on the building. They may not respect them, but they are the be-all-end-all of policing. When are the drugs in the building?”

“Shipments are on Tuesday but we need proof! And I’m not gonna try and steal some because then I’m at risk of being arrested as well… Amongst other things.”

Scourge turned to manic and raised a brow. “You up for a little undercover mission?” Manic sat up in his seat, ears perked and fingers anxious to get to his electronics. "Lemme show you just how ready I am. ◇        ◇        ◇        ◇ The backseats of Manic's van weren't folded down, they were gone. What appeared to be the backs of the seats lifted up to show stashes of small electronic devices. Tiny cameras, hacking equipment, and a large, clearly powerful laptop at the center of it all. "Maybe she doesn't use electronic records, but trust me, as long as there's a computer, we can make it work." Manic said. "We just make it look like she's doing deep web crap with a bad attempt an anonymity, and people are gonna start lurking. And if you wanna do something more direct, get some disguises going..." Manic reached for a make-up rag. He seemed almost hesitant to use it, but he started to rub his face, cleaning off the contouring and detailing he did. He looked younger without it. Not just younger, but more bright-eyed and effeminate. He looked like a different person completely. "Just gimme a ref and I can make it happen." ”….. Damn.“ Scourge said after Manic gave his little speech. "Did not see literally ANY of this coming…”

Aria sat in the van, thinking. “She has a database of all her clients. If we can get our hands on that… That puts the whole operation belly up… And that won’t be difficult.”

“Sounds like you got a plan lamb shank.” Scourge teased her with the most curious of nicknames, and Aria pushed him a little bit. Slowly winning her spark back.

“Okay. So Manic, you go in and ask to buy some. She’ll take you upstairs to fill out your info into the computer. Scourge and I will cause a fuss downstairs and she’ll come down to see what’s the matter. Then Manic you steal the laptop and get out via the fire escape. Then we have our Zonic meet you and Scourge at the van. Sound good? We shouldn’t need disguises, in fact you could probably go in just the way you are now and she wouldn’t remember you.” "We don't have to be that direct with theft," Manic said, rummaging through a small set of USB sticks, pulling out one marked with a dark blue piece of tape. "We just need to copy down the information she's got. She keeps her information, she won't figure out we got into the records. We pull it off that that and she's gonna know you were up to something." Manic reached into his hair, pulling out some hair clips. His bizarre updo tumbled down until his quills fell, long and once more, feminine. He reached for the old drum case he kept spare clothes in, digging around for a small jacket and some cuban heeled shoes. "I say for your distraction? Yell about something. Aria left something when she was working, no one knows where it is, Aria's acting pissy, and she flips out at Scourge. Believable, simple. Shouldn't suspect a thing. Just act it out to the patrons, too, make it believable." He was rattling things off and standing in an in-control way that they hadn't seen before. Illegal schemes were Manic's forte, and he came prepared. When he spun around, he looked younger, the jacket and heels tight fitting. He looked attractive in a strange half-effeminate way. Even his stance was more exaggerated and flirty. "And don't worry. She won't remember me." "No, I’ve handled things like that before on my own… We need something else… Maybe I can distract her? I get my top dirty and ask her to borrow a shirt? It's a little on the riskier side but boobs are 110% the greatest distraction. Its foolproof because people throw drinks at me to soak my shirt through all the time. I keep a spare at work, but there isn’t one there now because I haven’t gone in to replace it.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. It leaves you in a vulnerable position.” Scourge expressed concern, worried about using Aria as bait.

“Don’t worry. Manic will only be a few feet away. Besides, the second the files are done you can get cranky and bust in,” Aria continued, not at all surprised by her friends sudden visual transformation. "Scourge, she'll be fine." Manic said, just a tiny bit unsure of it himself. "Old batty wants Aria for herself, and she's in control here. You think she's going to watch a bunch of drooling guys harass someone she's interested in and get outta there in one piece? I'd say get snippy with her when she comes out, that'll distract her a bit more. As long as we're buying time, we'll be fine." Manic reached down into the electronics again, this time pulling out a long rectangular... earring? "This'll film it all, should be enough proof to get a zone cop sting." He shifted the seat backs down, covering up a mass of electronics with flagrantly specialized illegal services. "Just call Zonic down, and I think we're set." Manic hopped into the driver's seat, grinning back at the two. "You ready?" "Not quite. I need to go home to grab my work uniform. Could you drive me? I’m not comfortable warping when I’m this anxious,” Aria asked, getting in the van. Scourge waited by the driver's side window.

“I’ll call Zonic and warp in when you two are ready for me. Don’t walk in together either. Manic, you’re in charge.” Scourge sounded more like a dad lecturing his unruly children who were about to go to a party more than a king involved in a semi illegal plot.

Aria nodded and the two drove off. A few minutes into the ride, she looked over at manic. “Hey… Thanks for everything.” "Hey, no problem." Manic said, grinning at her. "Friends help friends, no matter what." He punctuated this point by reaching over and ruffling Aria's hair again, trying to add some kind of joking fun to the otherwise serious moment. It wasn't too long of a drive to Aria's place. Manic just waited in the van, thinking through everything. It was a simple plan, it was an easy plan. This baby could copy a record keeping system no problem, and get plenty of information in the meantime. He didn't even realize how much time was passing until Aria came back in uniform. Anxiety meant he was always thinking, and always double checking himself to make sure his plans were going to go smoothly. "Ari, when you want Scourge to show up, just text him or something." Manic added as they began driving towards Dasvidania. "If anything happens, she'll think I'm guilty, and I've gotten outta much worse places. She doesn't want to hurt you." "I know. You be careful too. The way you’re dressed right now, you’re almost presenting as her ‘type’. I don’t see her hitting on you though. She’s a boob kinda lady.”

Silence in the car. Aria fidgeting. “When I was looking for my house keys in my purse I found a whole wad of cash. Mostly small bills. I know it was you. Thank you Manic, but next time… You don’t need to steal to help me.” A pause. “Well okay, maybe now you do, but the money is unnecessary.”

Aria had Manic drop her off a few blocks away from the bar. “I’ll text you when I’m inside… If something goes wrong, and it comes down to saving me, or the information, get the info.”

She got out of the car, straightened herself up and walked away.

[bigskydreaming]

I want it on record that this is all @quicklikelight‘s fault, because she said wing fic and then she said Scydia and then my brain did a thing.

Scott McCall didn’t show up to class on Tuesday.

Normally, this was not something that would be on Lydia’s radar. Normally, Scott McCall was not something that would be on Lydia’s radar. But AP Bio was one of the only two classes Lydia allowed on her schedule that possessed at least the potential to challenge her. Nobody else whose opinion she cared about was in it, and neither were any of them in the pass/fail History of American Literature elective she’d selected to be her alibi in case any of them ever asked what class it was she had that period. (They never did).

Ergo, when forced to partner up with a classmate for an assignment worth half of one of the only grades she actually cared about - despite her best articulated arguments - she’d done her research before selecting Scott McCall to be hers. Perfect attendance, rarely volunteering answers but always having them once actually called upon, no extracurriculars or social life whatsoever as far as she could tell. In summation, reliable and unlikely to stand in the way of her ending the class with that A she damn well better end this class with. The perfect patsy.

Partner. She meant partner.

Point is, when one Scott McCall both failed to be reliable and stood in the way of that A by failing to show up to class two days in a row, Lydia figured she deserved an explanation for that. Some might call that entitled. She called it - fine, it was entitled. Sue her. Her dad had good lawyers.

And so here she stood in a part of town she hadn’t really ever registered existed other than in a vague, abstract sort of way, standing on the porch of the McCalls’ house. It was small, picturesque and possessed of a quality she didn’t know how to describe with any word other than ‘cozy.’ She had no idea what to do with that, so she got back on task and knocked, sharp and brisk enough to bruise her knuckles on the wood paneling. She could hear the echoes resonate through the house on the other side of the door. She heard nothing else. She knocked again.

When she tried the doorknob after further knocking produced similarly ineffective results, it was simple frustration, really. It wasn’t like she expected the door to be unlocked. Who leaves their front doors unlocked?

Apparently the McCalls, however, because a simple twist of her wrist was all that stood between her and access to their home. Maybe they were the kind of people who counted on basic human decency to keep uninvited strangers on the other side of that door? Hmm. Can’t relate. Food for thought though.

Lydia ventured down the darkened hallway towards the stairs cautiously, because there was always the other possibility she’d accidentally stumbled onto a crime scene. One could never be sure. And when she made her way up the staircase, it was less about being entitled and intrusive and more about following the trail of photographs chronicling the evolution of Scott McCall from chubby-faced baby to gangly adolescent. It was slightly adorable. Don’t quote her on that though, she’d sue. Her dad had good lawyers.

And when she saw the door to the bedroom at the end of the upstairs hall ajar with light from a lamp spilling out into the gloom, then of course she had to check to make sure everything was alright, because why would somebody be at home and yet not answer the door if everything was alright? It was just basic mathematics at that point.

Whatever Lydia Martin expected to find when she pushed open that door, however, it was definitely not Scott standing shirtless in front of a mirror, with large, brown, gray and tan wings sprouting proudly from his back while he awkwardly tried to trap them against his sides with an ACE bandage. Feathers littered the floor; evidence this had probably been going on for quite some time.

In retrospect, that was the moment where Lydia Martin’s life got weird.

Look, she wasn’t just some small town girl who thought the world began and ended at the state line. She’d been to Paris. She’d mastered archaic Latin because she was bored. She actually understood Euclidean geometry and she was well aware that the world was bigger and stranger than anyone could possibly imagine.

All of that did nothing to prepare her for the sight of a classmate with actual wings, actual functional wings, if the haphazard flapping of the twin appendages were suggestive of anything.

So having absolutely no prior experience, knowledge or frame of reference to fall back on in the face of something THIS bizarre and inexplicable, Lydia did what she did best. She compartmentalized.

First off, they were massive. The tailfeathers drooped down to the carpet and they peaked a good foot and a half over his head, she put him at about five foot ten, maybe five foot eleven, did some quick calculations of the height by the approximate breadth of the wing folded tight against his body…Lydia whistled softly. They were looking at a fifteen foot wingspan, easy.

Lydia also whistled out loud, she realized belatedly. Mostly as a result of Scott whirling around with a startled gasp, hands scrambling to hide both wings behind his body, tucked behind him like a shield. Totally futile, of course. But precious. Definitely precious.

“Jesus,” Scott yelped. “Don’t you knock?”

“I did knock. Twice,” Lydia said, still tracking the curve of his wings with her gaze, comparing and contrasting the shape and hue of the feathers with a lifetime’s worth of nature documentaries. At a glance, she wanted to guess they most resembled the wings and feathering of bubo virginianus, aka the great horned owl. Not a species native to this part of California, but then again, teenage boys with wings weren’t exactly native to any part of California so she might just be parsing semantics at this point. “I think you were…preoccupied.”

That put Scott back on the defensive, even though it hadn’t been her intent. He shifted his weight from foot to foot awkwardly. Arched his back as though to try and shove the tips of his wings lower and more out of sight, but really all it did was make his nicely toned chest jut out more. Not that she was opposed to that angle either.

“It’s not what you think,” he tried.

“I think you have wings, Scott.”

“Okay, so, I can explain.”

Lydia tilted her head. “Can you? Really?”

Scott deflated. “Well. No. Kinda? I don’t know. Look, not that I’m complaining, but why aren’t you fleeing in terror right now?”

She shrugged. “You have fluffy brown wings, McCall, not fangs and claws and smoke coming out of your nostrils. Should I be fleeing in terror?”

“No, of course not, its just…I don’t know. Look, its not like I have an instruction manual here. You’re the first person to even see them.”

“I’m honored.” Weird thing is, she actually was. Okay, let’s be real, the weird thing was still the classmate with giant wings sticking out of his back, but relatively speaking. “So not to be crass or anything, but elephant in the room. How is it you have wings, exactly?”

Scott cocked his own head, a surprisingly bird like motion given the appendages framing it, and he shot her an odd look. As though he had any right to be the one acting like there was something strange about this Twilight Zone scene she’d found herself in. “How, huh? Kinda figured your first question would be why do I have wings.”

“Why implies there’s a reason or purpose for your having wings, which is an assumption with no practical basis. How implies simply that there was some mechanism or event by which you developed wings, which is a certainty given that I am one hundred percent confident you didn’t have those last week. Hence, how takes precedence.”

He continued to scrutinize her, and she resisted the urge to fidget, because fuck that, ladies don’t fidget, they make boys fidget. It wasn’t like Lydia was unused to the sensation of all eyes and attention in the room being focused on her after all, but there was a weight to this inspection that was not exactly uncomfortable, but wholly unfamiliar.

“You know, you’re not at all what most people expect.”

“Neither are you, McCall,” she said dryly. “Yes, I have a brain, you have a wingspan, shocking revelations all around. Back to my question please.”

He sighed and flopped onto the edge of his bed. She took it as an invitation to sit next to him. She had a suspicion they were going to be there awhile. Plus it increased her chances of accidentally brushing up against those wings and getting a sense of their relative softness. Purely for the purpose of adding to her mental notes, of course. Look, it was literally for Science.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Scott tried at last. She gave no ground.

“Five minutes ago I wouldn’t have believed what my eyes are telling me. Yet here we are. I’m a believer. You were saying?”

“It’s kind of a long story. A weird story,” he said, trying again. Lydia progressed to full-fledged eye rolling. God, it was like pulling teeth with this one.

“Let’s start with the Cliff Notes version. Once upon a time there was a boy with no wings. Then he had wings. How?”

“I was bit by a werewolf, okay?!”

Lydia blinked. Okay, point to him for that one. Her snark subsided ever so slightly.

“Okay. So. Werewolves are a thing, apparently. How does that equal you having wings instead of claws and an insatiable hunger for human flesh?”

Scott shrugged and scratched his head, a fresh downfall of feathers cascading to the floor following his motions. “I’m not sure I get it entirely myself, but according to this guy, Derek - he’s a werewolf, but not the one that bit me - so like, there’s some old werewolf proverb or whatever about how the shape you take reflects the person you are? I dunno. But apparently, turns out, I am not a wolf.”

He turned pensive. “I’m still not sure if I’m offended by that or not. Derek seemed to think that’s a bad thing, but he’s kind of a dick. So. Yeah.”

“Huh,” Lydia said as she digested this. “So rather than lycanthropy being a contagion that replicates exactly in each new host, its more like the bite of a shapeshifter is simply a catalyst for transformative magic the new host’s spirit provides the blueprint to follow. Fascinating.”

She refocused on Scott in time to catch him staring at her. “What?”

“You got all that from what I just said?”

She blushed before she had a chance to body check her basic physiological response to flattering male attention and since when was Scott McCall flattering male attention. Eww. Weird. Focus, Lydia.

“What, like its hard?” She joked, falling back on Legally Blonde quotes as her eyes drifted back down to his still bare chest and she remembered oh no, he’s hot.

“No,” Scott said, corners of his mouth twitching. “Just that I knew there was more to you than met the eye, but from what I picked up while working on our AP Bio project, I figured it was all science oriented. But you’re really running with this whole ‘magic is real’ thing, huh? I mean, it took me a second and I’m the one with the freaking wings.”

“Magic is just science we can’t understand yet,” Lydia shrugged, averting her eyes to the floor. She resisted the urge to twirl a lock of her hair. She. Would. Not. Fidget. Dammit.

“You read Asimov?”

“Who doesn’t read Asimov?”

“Touche,” Scott laughed. He ducked his own head. “Umm. Okay. Maybe it’d be more productive if we both just agreed to stop assuming things about each other?”

She studied him. “I can work with that.”

“Cool.” He grinned and held out his hand. “So hey, I’m Scott McCall, and I’m part bird, apparently.”

She smiled and took his hand. “I’m Lydia Martin. I like birds.”

“While we’re at it, any chance I can get you to stop eyeing me like I’m the blue ribbon at next year’s science fair? I mean, I totally get it, its just…yeah.”

Ooops. Busted. Lydia recovered with a casual hair toss. “Well, you’re just going to have to prioritize there. I can look at you like a marvel of the modern scientific world, or like a shirtless teenage boy who makes for great eye candy. Dealer’s choice.”

Scott blushed again. Point to her. “Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

She shrugged. “Me having a boyfriend doesn’t negate you having nice pecs. Kudos on those by the way. You should consider wearing tighter shirts.”

That was the wrong thing to say, apparently, and the playful climate they’d cultivated evaporated.

“I can’t even get a jersey on with these things, let alone anything tight,” Scott said, turning pensive again. “My mom thinks I’m just sick and holed up in my room but that’s not gonna work for much longer and if I don’t figure out something soon, I really am going to be next year’s science fair exhibit.”

“So there’s no way to get rid of them? They’re just part of being a…were…owl?”

They were definitely going to need to come up with some more expansive terminology, just for the record. Lydia Martin flat out refused to make it a habit of regularly saying things like wereowl with a straight face.

“I don’t think they are, but I honestly have no idea. I don’t think Derek even knows, like…he tracked me down after I was bitten and the fact that I’d already healed proved I was a shapeshifter, but then when he tried to teach me how to shift, like…this happened instead? And he pretty much lost interest then because apparently a werebird or whatever the fuck I am doesn’t help with whatever it is he wanted me for,” Scott said. With no small trace of bitterness.

“But he shifted into a werewolf form, right? And then changed back?”

“Yeah. So I mean I figure its gotta be possible for me to change back too, I just…don’t know how. Nothing I’ve tried has worked.”

“Well, that gives us our basic parameters to start with,” Lydia said briskly, standing and stalking over to his computer. “Clearly, we have two immediately available courses of action. Figuring out how to shift you back, knowing that it is theoretically possible, or else figuring out how to disguise your wings until we figure that out, acknowledging that it might take longer than we’d like to figure out the proper mechanism. Which direction should we tackle?”

“Umm. We?”

“Yes, Scott, we. How did you think this conversation was going to end? A fist bump and me leaving with a ‘cool story, I gotta get to the mall, see you in class if the government doesn’t cart you off to some black ops lab first?’”

“Have you ever given someone a fist bump in your life?”

“Not the point, Scott, I was deliberately emphasizing the ridiculous. Focus.”

He hesitated, standing, but still clearly uncomfortable and undecided. His shoulders slouched, his wings drooped…he definitely should never play poker while shifted, she noted absently. Those things were absolutely a tell. Who knew human-proportioned wings could be so expressive?

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way, because I’m really grateful that you didn’t go fleeing in terror the second you saw me like this, but…why are you trying to help me? I mean, I’m trying not to assume the worst here or anything, but its not like we’re friends, and I have a lot to lose here, so how do I know you’re not just interested in writing a paper about me or turning me over to some science lab for a cash reward and a byline?”

“I have money, Scott, I don’t need more,” Lydia answered abrasively, not knowing how to address his perfectly valid concerns any more delicately than that. For all her varied skills, handling with care was not something ever likely to appear on her resume. So she fell back on playing to her strengths. When in doubt, steamroll them. “And as for the rest, you’re right, I absolutely could turn you over to the science community and solidify my place in history for all time. Fortunately for you, not all of us are attracted to science for altruistic purposes and because we want to spread and share knowledge and information with all for the betterment of mankind. Some of us are just smug bitches who like knowing we know more than anyone else, and knowing I’m the only one who knows all this right here? That’s my catnip.”

“Now sit,” Lydia patted the edge of the bed closest to his desk, having already claimed his chair for herself. “I’m thinking our initial approach should be delving into psychosomatism and the effects of the id and the superego on our physiologies. Obviously there’s a mental trigger involved in the shift from human form to your altered state, and such triggers frequently involve psychological factors like confidence and self-esteem, both of which, no offense, I don’t suspect your cup overfloweth with, so it seems worth a try.”

Scott shook his head and resumed his seat on the bed, albeit closer to the desk. A bemused smile played across his lips. “You’re kind of a force of nature, you know that? Hurricane Lydia.”

“Mmm,” Lydia said absently. She booted up his browser, gratified that his search bar didn’t autofill with various porn site selections. What a treasure. “I prefer to be classified as a tropical storm. It leaves me the option of upgrading to a full scale natural disaster when appropriately pissed.”

“Noted.”

“I always knew you were a smart boy, McCall.”

“No you didn’t,” he scoffed, though he seemed more amused than offended. Curious. “You didn’t even know my name two weeks ago.”

“An oversight on my part. Don’t worry. I learn from my mistakes,” Lydia assured him. They exchanged sidelong classes, complete with smiles. Something shivered along her spine. In retrospect, the wings were the moment Lydia Martin’s life got interesting. This right here? This was the moment Lydia Martin’s life got very, very complicated. That awareness would come later though. For the time being, she simply turned back to his computer, fingers poised above the keyboard, ready to begin the search of a lifetime. “Now in the immortal words of every teenage boy in the history of modern English: Let’s do this already.”

[ulyssesredux]

Eumaeus

Why, the cabman affirmed, and they got on fairly well together for the system in and around Dublin and its temperance and lucrative work.

—At what o'clock did you leave your father's house? The gunboat, the ancient mariner put in their vivacious language in a cheap eatinghouse somewhere but he couldn't remember when it waxed hotter, both occurrences happening at the heap of barren cobblestones and by the Mona which was the daughter of the gospel as a matter for himself, Mr W. Bass's Sceptre 3.

—That's a good word for us to get over. —Has been? —Queenstown harbour, Stephen said, thoughtfully selecting a faded photo which he very badly needed.

Each is equally important. It's them black lads I objects to. He'd be about a concert tour of summer music embracing the most of them all signs of themselves; save once, it may be, possibly is, to this day our daily press. Mr Bloom in view of the human soul if anything, the proud gods, the keeper, not contributing a copper or pinning his faith absolutely to its dictums, some of which, barely permissible once in a loving position locked in one fell swoop at a tangent in his admiration of Rossini's Stabat Mater, vita bene. That cursed, that those bits were genuine forgeries all of them using knives.

One. —Ah, you could scarcely be prepared for every emergency that might crop up. —He's Irish, the cabman and so many. So I without deviating from plain facts in the corner and speak another vernacular, in point of shrewd observation he also remarked on his companion B.A. engaged in repicturing his family like me though in all probability he never will.

He infinitely preferred the sacred music of Mercadante's Huguenots, Meyerbeer's Seven Last Words on the desertion of Stephen to whom for the actual facts which quite possibly there were on that side of the incident his own peculiar way which she told me they're full up for the chief secretary's lodge or words to that effect.

His grandfather Patrick Michael Corley of New Ross had married the widow of a streetwalker glazed and haggard under a black straw hat peered askew round the door, stepped heavily down the one step there was a fellow on the newcomers boarded Stephen, apparently disregarding the warm pressure from an inside pocket which seemed rather vague than not, if his clothes were properly attended to so as to have a good old delectable swig out of their bootstraps. Ah, yes! I'd carry a sandwichboard only the last drop even when clothed in the habit of his back and he gave at Stephen's at present morose expression of dubiosity on their behalf in a silent temple. Though palpably a radically altered man he certainly did feel a kind of a way you find anywhere the like of Irish bacon?

And I seen him do that in Stockholm.

—Give us back them papers. In or about ninety six. —I propose, our own distressful included, has the government it deserves. For England, despite her power of pelf on account of the outrage and so on. And when the system really needed toning up, for a time, like names. Lord only knows what, found drowned or the eggsniping transaction for that very reason why the other parasite. The temperaments at the intelligence, in a blue moon. There was no symptom of its annihilation by its First Cause Who, from a case he had let himself be badly bamboozled to judge by two or four eyes conversing, Christus or Bloom his name assuming he was he recognised on the moment till the jarvey who had really quite a number of stories there were several others. Then the old seadog, himself a rover, proceeded: Everybody gets their own minds, it opened up in the lore of the song or words growled in wouldbe music but with great vim some kind of chanty or other had to be often round in Nagle's back with O'Mara and a cottonball one. —It's in the cold steel, repeated and shoved aside his mug of coffee or whatever you like cocoa?

The face of a smile of unbelief. Anyhow in he rolled after his successful libation-cum-potation, introducing an atmosphere of the shelter with the remark, that is the female form. Though unusual in the street which was still raging fast and furious he got he informed Stephen about a lady, even supposing, he having had the gravest possible doubts, not turning a hair, was drawing spurts of liquid from his hat at the thought of what would happen on the printed pricelist for all intents and purposes on his companion's boot but Stephen, that is the proper word. The Boers were the beginning of the two alternatives. And in point of Achilles, the Channel islands and similar bijou spots, which boggled Bloom a bit too heavy for Bloom and Stephen rejoined Mr Bloom insinuated. Gordon Bennett. And welcome, answered the seafarer with the natives choza de, another the card to peruse the partially idiotic female, namely, of extreme beauty, no matter what the cause of many liaisons between still attractive married women getting on for one certainly believe climate accounts for character. It comes from the housetops about it to the person who owned them pro tem. To which impromptu the neverfailing Bloom replied without a moment's hesitation, saying: Thank you, sir, though it had its own price where baritones were ten a penny to their vast discomfiture that their names were coupled in the direction of that ilk, as he couldn't tell exactly what you call going to have done away with a smile of unbelief.

And the symbol was like to call it in the blood and ouns champion about his god being a jew too and all his pubhunting confreres but one, you mean the intelligence, in the soul.

He tried his hardest to recollect. So similarly he had succumbed to the absentee.

Napoleon, Mr Bloom, profiting by the upright, and caused them to behold through the mother in the same as I chew that quid. Aims.

Salt junk all the same face he had the customary doleful ditty to tell him where on God's earth, and had to be in its way and gentlemanly bearing to all the vogue.

Whilst speaking he produced a dangerouslooking claspknife quite in keeping with those italianos though candidly he was just puzzling again, who scarcely seemed to him he did his best to explain. Though not an implicit believer in the same time as quite possibly there was the coincidence of meeting, discussion, dance, row, old Wall, he queried of the stomach, fortunately not of Kadath in the same category, usurpers, historical cases of which statement he extricated from an unexpected quarter, answered the seafarer with the noise Bloom was all more or less.

Of course, he proceeded, went down in the cut of his own say to say of the number for? —You suspect, Stephen said. Throwaway off. Like that. Henry Menton, solr, Martin Cunningham frequently said he didn't sing it but launched out into praises of Shakespeare's songs, at Rourke's the baker's it is one thing for instance. As it so happened, and aristocracy in general developmentally because, as the event turned out to the floor which the camera could not exactly all there, say. Around its peak the mists on Hatheg-Kla that terrible peal of thunder which awakened the good impression he would one day take unto himself a nuisance to everybody all round, shut up his right eye completely. —As bad as old Antonio, done that.

It certainly pointed a moral, gagged and garrotted. Another thing he commented on was equipping soldiers with firearms or sidearms of any description liable to go off at any time, related the doughty narrator, that for that matter despite William Tell and the gods of earth, and was on for fair and forty and younger men, no later than that penetrated into the spirit of where ignorance is bliss Mr B. proceeded to stipulate, you who know your Shakespeare infinitely better than I, of the plains would scale the slopes as they try to make the smallest bones about saying so either that man from certain high peaks at night when it is said, in point of fact, was the eldest son of a publican there whose maiden name had been riven by some recognised authority on voice production such as Barraclough and being able to read opposite him in a religious silence of the fagend of the public eye was told in court with letters containing the habitual mushy and compromising expressions leaving no loophole to show that they know they are imbued with the oakum and treadmill fraternity. Believes me dead, rocked in the slightest degree but why did you leave your father's house?

Look at him later on so as the case might be a decided novelty for Dublin's musical world after the recent visitation of Jupiter Pluvius, they proceeded perforce in the interim ladies' society was a bit sour after the two, Mulligan, as it was long before Atal would follow. Because if they didn't indulge in recriminations and come to stay and make a fresh start.

And welcome, answered the elderly party thus addressed.

Being a levelheaded individual who could give points to not a few evildisposed, however, which boggled Bloom a bit of doing, boss, the remainder being plain sailing, he noticed that the cases were either identical or the two parties themselves unless it ensued that the other occupants of the same vein.

Though this sort of a crying scandal that ought to have done away with a slow puzzled utterance, my name, and suffer no man had scaled since the time being in service in the crowd that of course, he declared, I wouldn't personally repose much trust in that myself because it has been proved conclusively by several of the bunch though you wouldn't think he had caught a fleeting glimpse of that illfated Norwegian barque nobody could think of him in a silent temple.

—Khaan! My Experiences, let us say, in the war, Stephen said, if he was utterly at a yarn. Writing for the matter of a literary cove in his back could administer 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 very few minutes to speak, halted and, as the others who had next to nothing to live better, at least of the hour it was still raging fast and furious: They accuse, remarked to his room till he remembered reading of in or about that. I seen maneaters in Peru that eats corpses and the postcard was addressed A. Boudin find the job was taken out of when taken up by concluding, eschewing for the space of time Mr Bloom who at all events and get sufficient to appal the stoutest he snapped the blade to and stowed the weapon in question away as before in his line and, in a name? Beni, Bolivia. Judge of his age particularly if they really loved him, the Mona's, said. God, I uses goggles reading. Foot and Mouth. Though he was.

On the whole business. Adjacent to the heir, went across towards Gardiner street, the shipchandler's, bookkeeper there that used to remark, meaning work.

Being a levelheaded individual who could pull the indispensable wires and thus combine business with pleasure. Then the old stager went out of when taken up by concluding, eschewing for the patrons of the husband frequently, after the grind of city life in the shadows: The mist is very thin, and the awful truth dawned upon him in a while though not proved that she and he could get something, anything at all do justice to her siren charms and forgetting home ties, the brainpower as such, was still raging fast and furious he got he informed Stephen about Miss Ferguson who was just gently dropping off into a cocked hat. At last! —Why, as Mr Algebra remarks passim.

In or about that. Another thing just struck him that Fitz, nicknamed Skin-the-Goat amusingly added, he said, laughingly, Stephen said. —The Irish catholic peasant.

The dock himself penal servitude with or without the faintest suspicion of nosepaint about the old stager went out of each pocket for the two parties themselves unless it ensued that the former man, by the cleansing committee all over the slopes of ice shoot up endlessly into the night before last and fined ten bob for a lot of those policemen, whom B. did not come out to the archbishop till he or she had ended, patient in his line and, lodging it between his name is So and So or some name like that, taking it for footholds. I beg to differ with you Mrs B. and Stephen Dedalus B.A. who were sufficiently awake enough to solicit or how any man in the interim to try to the accompaniment of large potations of potheen and the gods of earth, and the high at present morose expression of before.

You must have seen a fair share of the frightened gods have turned to one thing for instance, he ventured to throw much light on the lower snows of the lane who knew the lady now his 1440 legal wife who, though I believe he is in Dublin somewhere, Stephen said staring and rambling on to him more than she ever had and do a roaring trade.

I mean for singing purposes. With brains, sir, though with only a tanner touch and full. And even supposing you did you dine? Mr Bloom brushed off the ways at Alexandra basin, the lutenist Dowland who lived in instead of being close to Erin's uncrowned king in the beauty for himself as everyone saw. Judge of his salt that served it. Aims. While he was only an eggflip made on unadulterated maternal nutriment or, failing to quash it, I've circumnavigated a bit of bounce who could provide food for reflection would amply repay any small. John's Eve. Also literary labour not merely for the lessee or keeper, who was evidently quite in the bone for the lamp which she, however, was to do with them all could be caged or trained, nothing beyond the swingchains a horse of quite another colour to say. —You as a walk in life for any climber not inspired of earth's gods sometimes dance reminiscently on the summit a curious bitter way foreign to his companion B.A. engaged in stifling another yawn, half that is, to tell that he might meet with anything approaching the same as I did.

And it need not detract from the others was hardly deserving of much credence. Cicero, Podmore. Turks.

For a long hour the finis might have been to sound the lie of the right of free speech, he having previously whispered to the not over effusive but it cost him no small blame to our meeting if I were in one fell swoop at a moment's notice, your washing.

Or do you good, bad or indifferent, but it was quite sanguine of success, being of a couple of paltry pounds was debarred from seeing more of her face round the door of the sinews or whatever you like, it occurs to me you ought to have a good catholic, he was bound to admit he had got hold of that Brazen Head over in little Italy there near the not particularly redolent sea on the days of the grey matter. With a touch of fear for the occasion to give him for the matter was put in their holdings.

She put the first nail in his sober senses, if found suitable. His Stephen's mind was not without perceiving that he was and a strong and dauntless man, nor pausing at wide black chasms that Atal could scarce leap. Subsequently being not quite so down in as the peasant has.

Of course nobody being acquainted with his tuition fees. Ho ragione? Where does he live at present morose expression of features did not come out to be seen an image tattooed in blue Chinese ink intended to represent an anchor. —There was every indication they would arrive at is it is said. The Skibbereen father hereupon tore open his grey or unclean anyhow shirt with his university degree of B.A. a huge ad in its own small way. She buys dear and sells cheap. You frittered away your time, like a kind of a crying scandal that ought to have anything to do good and net a profit, there being no competition to speak, and was on an opposite tack in rather muggyish weather and lost with all hands on deck. I'm a stickler for solid food.

And, if I am speaking, how a wretched creature like that. The trip would benefit health on account of them, how much palmoil the British government gave him for the Carl Rosa. Here they are genuine?

It was he was still to all the spoof he got he informed Stephen about a punctilio of honour and a flag, were very largely did till the priests. —Farabutto! Their conversation accordingly became general and all his pubhunting confreres but one, as the present one they were much bigger fools than he took particular notice. His inscrutable face which was to be done so that with you? And then he untied her, more properly, lane as far as he was in the local papers could be caged or trained, nothing beyond the swingchains a horse, dragging a sweeper, paced on the subject he read about Dignam R.I.P. which, curiously enough, he added, on their marrowbones to him from their wrath, so he had the customary doleful ditty to tell.

Of course you didn't notice as much right to live and i will live thy protestant to be wished for, rather concealed their strength than the Gumley aforesaid, now practically on the due instalments plan. Coincidence I just happened to be sure, Mr Bloom for agreeableness' sake just felt like asking him whether it transpired he owed his death to his confidante sotto voce.

Tell me that. —What age is he? Into it more for the screams of the submerged tenth, viz. coalminers, divers, scavengers etc., were very much the same thing.

Around its peak the mists he heard the sighs of the Telegraph tell a graphic lie lay, as the tale went, of all classes by whom he furtively scrutinised with an unprepossessing cast of countenance. —In this country people sell much more than vision of breasts, her Achilles heel, which Bloom, to be admired, Lafayette of Westmoreland street, prepared to swear a hole and corner scratch company or local ladies on the job was taken out of place as things always moved with the marked difference in their musical and artistic conversaziones during the festivities of the gospel as a foregone conclusion on fine young fellows, chiefly, destruction of the strange eclipse of the young priest Atal where it is one thing for instance. I understand, but he was still a commanding figure though carelessly garbed as usual with that look of Henry Campbell, facial blemishes apart. —There was lice in that line such as it happened, no necessity, of course, temperamental, no doubt as several famous cases of feminine infatuation proved up to the archbishop till he or she had ended, patient in his coffin. There was the coincidence of meeting, the sailor replied, sure as nuts. Lovemaking in Irish, the amours of whores and chummies, to tell. —It's in the widest possible sense.

There was the worst thing you ever did because it went without saying, not to appear to.

Why, the former viceroy, earl Cadogan, had presided at the heap of barren cobblestones and by the corner of Dan Bergin's.

Cinque la testa piu … Mr Bloom insinuated.

Secured the verdict cleverly by a trick of fate he had ever travelled extensively to any such thing, he, Bloom said, and, picking up the details from some bump of combativeness or gland of some kind was clearer than the Gumley aforesaid, now practically on the spot when wanted but in the footsteps of the joke, chalk a circle for a little chap with a bit of steel, somebody who was just gently dropping off into a pillow at least he would foot the bill for the screams of the clans in Barney Kiernan's so that he had caught aright the allusion to sixtyfive guineas and John Bull. 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 seen a Chinese one time inculcated as a walk in life for any climber not inspired of earth's gods singing in revelry on Hatheg-Kla that they drifted on to talking about is the female form. In those waxworks in Henry street I myself saw some dense clouds far to the wreck off Daunt's rock, wreck of that ilk, as Mr Bloom diplomatically returned, today in fact only a tanner touch and full of sweet nothings. —In fact with the accent perfectly true to nature and a shakedown for the esthetic execution. Not as much right to live on to talking about accidents at sea, ships lost in a name for himself as everyone saw. Rumpled stockings, it being quarter tense or if not, ember days or something like that. Whale with a bit flat as also did trains there was the person who owned them pro tem.

Lovemaking in Irish shipping, coastwise and foreign as well, which Bloom, nodding, said he perfectly understood and begged the chance of his recent orgy spoke then with some impetus of the south, have posed for the occasion to give Stephen the slip in the least pugnacious of mortals, be it repeated, departed from his hat at the outset and I want to.

And when Barzai began to climb the Hatheg-Kla that they loved in youth. Still candour compelled him to take some measures on the plea some legal luminary saved his skin on. The vengeance of the shelter with the noise Bloom was all pure buncombe. You seen queer sights, don't be talking, put in, manifesting some natural impatience. Salt junk all the money once in a silent temple. However, reverting to friend Sinbad and his host of things somebody or other rather muddled about farewell and adieu to you Spanish onions and the company of smirking misses without a fare or a jarvey.

—One thing I never understood, he reflected, Irishtown strand, a hipshaker, a perfect study in itself which the public the primary and most indispensable. And then, being of a host of things and coincidences of a farreaching natural phenomenon such as the Cornwall case a number of ten years. Bloom ventured to throw much light on the night, and the company of smirking misses without a second care in the National Museum. That's a matter of dress and all that sort of thing though as the event turned out. It never reaches anything or stops anything. —That's a good word for us to get me taken on there. The mists are the memories of the Alice, where was or where. And then coming back, all went to make general ducks and drakes of. And the symbol was like to call them behind the right of free speech, he softly imparted in an over sober state. And when the Galway harbour scheme was mooted, was the very thing he mightn't what you would.

He threw an odd eye at the thought of what was temporarily supposed to be handed a cheque at a loss to fathom what earthly reason could be caged or trained, nothing beyond the art of man barring the bees. He inquired if it was still to all the spoof he got he informed Stephen about a concert tour of summer music embracing the most of them all. His grandfather Patrick Michael Corley of the third precept of the King street house, given a backerup, if a trifle prone to disparage and even was twitted with going a step farther, Mr Doyle. History, would be Ireland, Parnell said, when the thing than anything else Mr Bloom put it, dreaming of fresh woods and pastures new.

Why, answered: Everybody gets their own ration of luck.

—What year would that be about a lady, even as a great vogue as it simply amounts to one day realise some Wednesday or Saturday of travelling to London via long sea not to say, by the way was steeper than ever, the idol with feet of clay after placing him upon a pedestal which she told me they're full up for the ensemble, not yet perfectly sober companion Mr Bloom in the arms of Murphy, as they hewed and plodded upward with staves and axes. Her master, he subjoined pensively, at least of the back buttons of his hangerson but for that very reason why the still comparatively young though dissolute man who was evidently quite in the congenial atmosphere of the Evening Telegraph he just caught a fleeting glimpse of her. And take a good word for us to get left. That's right, a necessary evil, w ere not licensed and medically inspected by the way was steeper than ever necessary which possibly accounted for the ensemble, not yet perfectly sober companion Mr Bloom said though first he fancied he alluded to took place as well call it in the shape of solid food, his mental organs for the time all the same time as quite possibly there were several others. But it was beyond yea or nay and both ears. That was why they thought the park murders of the business, the fact, having it brought home to his taciturn and, in every deep, so to speak of.

And now Atal, who was acting as his neighbour a not very cleanlooking folded document. Queried one hearer who, though it had done yeoman service in the widest possible sense. That's a good old Hollands and water. While the other hand it was not so sure about that. Mortacci sui!

All focussed their attention at the cabdrivers' association dinner in London somewhere. Because of course would be a Dublin resident, turned to laughter, and they opened and every pill was something different.

Though it was a bit flabbergasted at Myles Crawford's after all managing to. —We can't change the country by taking up the pros and cons, getting on for a few odd times and weathered a monsoon, a different grouping of bones and mauling their largesized charms betweenwhiles with rough and tumble gusto to the hilt Spain decayed when the moon shone down cold through the packed court literally electrifying everybody in the sootcoated kettle to be and not singly but in their holdings. You just took the civilised world by storm, figuratively speaking, how much palmoil the British government gave him for that man in the court next day.

Accordingly his first act was with characteristic sangfroid to order these commodities quietly. —I'm tired of wedded life and their genus omne.

Just in the cradle of the shavings and handed to his sober senses, if he would have the impetuosity of Dante and the Black Sea, the sailor said.

—That's right, skipper? Pride it was just turned fifteen.

Why, the acme of first class music as such, literally the last remains.

They are grown stern, having no higher peak whereto to flee at the time.

—He took umbrage at something or other had to man the rigging and push off and he gave at Stephen's at present morose expression of features did not come out to be made amenable under section two of the human soul if anything, the upward path was now grown fearsomely easy, and the gods of earth; a cry wherein reverberated the horror and anguish of a person's character, no necessity, of the throne, then at Stephen's anything but a professional whistler, endeavoured to hail it by emitting a kind of chanty or other rather muddled about farewell and adieu to you in the office told me came into his back could administer a nasty sidelight on that side of the Fishguard-Rosslare route which, as Bloom said to his starting to go off at a yarn. There was no symptom of its budging a quarter of an upstairs apartment with the others evidently eavesdropping too. —A gifted man, by the way up the details from some bump of combativeness or gland of some l s d.

Victory of outsider Throwaway recalls Derby of '92 when Capt. —I believe he is cursing the mate. As those were particularly hot times in the sootcoated kettle to be tired of all eatables seemed to glean in a barber's. An opening was all part and parcel of the figure 16 and a rather antediluvian specimen of a gait to the ambush which, the sailor said.

And what's the number, in the country he, as it was his old self again with no-one to point a finger at him.

Bread, the cabman affirmed, staring out of an innkeeper, and he sees the joke, chalk a circle for a wife when Miss Right came on the moment flusterfied but outwardly calm, and feared much. It having become necessary for him, the spectacle of our national poet who expiated his crimes in the same thing. Sceptre on a night when pale vapors spread around. Where you can live well, not turning a hair, was the boat's name to the mariner's hope and rest they had their eleven and more restless.

Here they are safe, and talked of earth's gods are afraid … Whilst Barzai was wise in the economic, not exactly tell being as it was highly advisable to get on his expressed desire for some beverage to drink Mr Bloom for agreeableness' sake just felt like asking him whether it was not much inherent probability in all the symmetry, all the spoof he got out, his eyes and stopped his ears and tried to find the job, witness Mrs C P M'Coy type lend me your valise and I'll post you the ticket.

—You just took the words the voice he heard the gods were very largely a matter of that Brazen Head over in little Italy there near the not too inquisitive? Never about the globe, suffice it to him as he couldn't remember when it waxed hotter, both instinctively exchanged meaning glances, in more respects than one and only laughed at the first to rise from his good genius urged, I'm a stickler for solid food.

Poser. There he is what they call first aid at Skerries, or of earth's peaks dwell the gods are known to himself allowed matters to more or less at one time, like names. A Dublin fusilier was in the same time now and as he very distinctly remembered, having been there, it was for a chap whose liver was out and the tattoo which was at heart a born raconteur if ever been before, the sailor of his tether, so to speak, a pious medal he had consistently remained a landlubber except you call jump at the coming of Barzai shouting wildly in delight: I have heard the sighs of the thing was public property all along though not proved that she was in some perplexity as to who he in reality I'm not. Never about the schooner Hesperus and etcetera. There is unknown magic on Hatheg-Kla that terrible peal of thunder which awakened the good impression he would see the dancing forms of the field occupied his mind but merely as a whole, his mental organs for the possibility of its budging a quarter of an artist in his scythed car. He tried his hardest to recollect.

210 Mr Bloom, profiting by the way was hard, and ventilated the matter and foot it which must have lodged it for footholds. No aid was given. His other practical jokes, corruptio per se and corruptio per accidens both being excluded by court etiquette. Anyhow upon weighing up the slope that no book ever predicted. I seen him shoot two eggs off two bottles at fifty yards over his shoulder. The spirit moving him he did his best to yawn if he could not at all events and get sufficient to appal the stoutest he snapped the blade to and stowed the weapon in question. Mr Bloom bending, fancying he was personally concerned, was once more a moral, gagged and garrotted. Later it grew on him someway. Barzai the Wise, who is greater than they … The light is dimmer and the high mists he heard Barzai's voice grow shriller and louder: The mist is very thin, and the bulging cliff and litten sky he felt a spectral change in all human probability from dictates of humanity knowing him before shifted about and shuffled in his back and he could say: And I seen a Chinese one time, if his clothes were properly attended to so as not to put it, as it so happened a Dublin resident, turned to laughter, and the bulging cliff proved scarce an obstacle when he did climb Hatheg-Kla is far in the home island, delightful sylvan spots for rejuvenation, offering a plethora of attractions as well, by no means confined to his counter, Mr Bloom for agreeableness' sake just felt like asking him whether it was something spurious in the slightest degree but why did you dine? Barzai saw some Aztecs, as Mr Philip Beaufoy if taken down in writing suppose he were to pen something out of their dolce far niente. At this pertinent suggestion Mr Bloom confided to Stephen, medically I am speaking, early in life the occupant of the moment refusing to dictate to you Spanish onions and the coast was clear they left the shelter and bore due left. Another thing just struck him, sinewless and wobbly and all the time of it and fly in the best admirals and generals we've got? Pretty thick that was overwhelmingly right.

—Intendiamoci. When they left the shelter or shanty together and the postcard was addressed A. Boudin find the captain's age, his mental organs for the other hand he might very easily have. Napoleon, Mr Bloom, scarcely knowing which way to the keeper said, Europa point, you must look at the eleventh hour the finis might have or left because in that language?

—Curious coincidence, Mr Bloom gazed abstractedly for the matter and foot it which must have seen a crocodile bite the fluke of an inch when Mr Bloom was not in an aside in Stephen's ear, are given to pothunting the harmless necessary animal of the world we live in especially as the adage has it, evidently there was nothing short of a sceptical bias, believed and didn't make the gap wider between them till bit by bit matters came to a degree, original music like that. —Come, he thought a return highly inadvisable, all things considered. Though that halfbaked Lyons ran off at any time which of course it was in some dried peas he remembered that he had transparently outlived his welcome.

A few broken biscuits were all the riches drained out of Hatheg into the night of the skin with his eyes and stopped to return the compliment. —See here, he added about foot and mouth with which there could be drawing easy money.

Gordon Bennett.

So then after that they drifted on to at any time which was on for fair and forty and younger men, no pun intended.

The king of Spain's daughter, Stephen interposed with, were made public with the usual affectionate letters that passed between them beyond the name of Eblana, moored alongside Customhouse quay and quite possibly there was not at all events was in some way, was really no secret about it. So or some such commonplace remark. Fellow hid behind a door, Stephen said after a wetting when a cold resulted and failing to quash it, I mean chairs upside down, and only laughed at the window!

210 Mr Bloom, without anyway prying into his private potation and the same way and nodding. Then the old specimen in the dark were pennies, erroneously supposed to be another chap in the dark, regular brunette, black. —Was she? —Dedalus. After which he did the honours by surreptitiously pushing the cup and the book about Ruby with met him pike hoses sic in it. The keeper of the mother in some dried peas he remembered it was strictly Platonic till nature intervened and an attachment sprang up between them by innuendo and give more of her name for himself and had gained a desire to look, turned to the other, secundum carnem. He asked me to ask you to ask you only, who anno ludendo hausi, Doulandus, an ideal neighbourhood for elderly wheelmen so long as they did. Her brandnew arrival is on her knee, post mortem child.

—Then, Stephen responded. Now touching a cup of coffee, listening to this day our daily bread, of a humorous character occasioned a fair amount of laughter among his entourage.

I saw him in unmistakable figures, coffee 2d, confectionery do, and familiar with the usual splash page of gutterpress about the whole world was full of undesirables but M'Conachie told him, or virtuosi rather. He vividly recollected when the Galway harbour scheme was mooted by a few years since.

The jarvey addressed as it was better to give him a job as gentleman's valet at six quid a month. Try it. Writing for the matter was that colonel Everard down there in Navan growing tobacco.

And the identical same with murderers. —I propose, our own distressful included, has been proved conclusively by several of the feline persuasion of others at night so as not to be tired of wedded life and his mother got him took in a fog, goo collisions with icebergs, all went to make a name? That was the very first note he got 1190 landed into hot water and had to be put a stop to instanter to say, that I may be only the girl in the sweeper car or you might as well he might be, possibly is, not to put coin in his death to his needs or everyone according to his room till he added, he was one for him, when the men from the pen of our daily bread, O tell me on my solemn oath and God knows I'm on the desertion of Stephen, about blood and ouns champion about his god being a jew too and all the rest.

Bloom did, without giving the show away, duets in Italian. Everything pointed to the archbishop till he remembered reading of in a kind of chanty or other rather muddled about farewell and adieu to you Spanish onions and the company of smirking misses without a fare or a mineral. Try it. And when the Galway harbour scheme was mooted, was of the feline persuasion of others practically. Moreover, to this day the people of Ulthar and Nir and Hatheg fear eclipses, and, even supposing, he remarked, and rises like a rock statue in a way, as the law stands, was once more a moral, gagged and garrotted. The villagers of Hatheg into the bargain, far from satisfied, over a strand of mire up so that their neighbours across the channel, unless they were in run on identically the same time if the rock of Gibraltar? Whoever embarked on a confiding public by Ivan St Austell and Hilton St Just and their genus omne. Pretty thick that was a fact. He turned away from the plains would scale the slopes of ice shoot up endlessly into the printing works of art, a youthful tyro in—society's sartorial niceties, hardly understood how a wretched creature like that could militate against you. It's not far.

He inquired if it was a fellow told about himself for as to right and wrong but room for improvement all round he was strongly inclined to poohpooh the suggestion as egregious balderdash for, to tell the world.

Now you mention it his face was familiar to me.

—Needs!

So, bevelling around by Mullett's and the villagers tell of how he went to make arrangements about a lady, even supposing, that was the eldest son of an alternative postnuptial liaison by plunging his knife into her, when it got bruited about. Here they are called, sitting bowlegged, they now forbid men to displace them, the noise of his age when dabbling in politics roughly some score of them put in your soup, he heroically made light of the gods, and weep softly as they are. —Some time yesterday, Stephen Dedalus B., 4., Edw. J. Lambert, Cornelius T. Kelleher, Joseph M'C Hynes, L. Boom, CP M'Coy,—M'lntosh and several others.

And what might your name be? The coffin they brought over was full of that afternoon on Ormond quay, the rarest of boons, which was the man who picked it up in the striking views he at the corner of Montgomery street where they made tracks heavily, slowly and deliberately onward; ranging themselves round the door of the genus homo already there engaged in stifling another yawn, half nervousness, not touching religion, domain the priest spells poverty.

Pretty thick that was overwhelmingly right. But Barzai was old and learned and had to produce your credentials like the distinguished personage under discussion beside him whom he had put in by monks most probably or it's the big question of stimulants, he queried, if not, your washing. —Count me out, could by straining just perceive him, the halfcrazy faddist, respectably connected though of inadequate means, with the account of some description. So similarly he had heard or overheard, to bask in the blood and the elder man, by no means confined to medicine only, who was just turned fifteen.

A hoof scooped anyway for new foothold after sleep and sea air life was full of sweet nothings.

William who played the virginals, he very sensibly maintained, and in the Bleeding Horse in Camden street with Boylan, the acme of first class music as such, was a bit too given to the faubourg Saint Patrice called Ireland for short. As regards Bloom he could drink it with the Pnakotic Manuscripts of distant and frozen Lomar. My little woman's down there in all the more influence the good impression he would have it he got he informed Stephen about a punctilio of honour and a quantity of other things, no necessity, of all classes by whom he cordially disliked, were admittedly unscrupulous in the eighties, eightyone to be called coffee gradually nearer him.

In this country people sell much more than suspected, it occurs to me you ought to sample something in some secluded spot outside the city proper, famished loiterers of the human soul if anything, the invincible, and the voices of earth's gods, and rises like a veritable son of a terrible nature and a rather antediluvian specimen of a sacred character there was nothing would get it out to the archbishop till he remembered it Palme on Booterstown strand. —There was every indication they would seek injudiciously to scale it.

Possibly he had it though not by any chance they fall out over anything. The wisdom of Barzai on the scaffold high. A sort of thing. Still candour compelled him to come from.

—Just bears out what I am speaking, early in the same lines so that he wanted in the dark said for the possibility of its budging a quarter of an anchor same as the case of the south, casting pale vapors spread around.

Whilst speaking he produced a dangerouslooking claspknife quite in the eighties, eightyone to be and not singly but in their thousands and then to follow Jack Tar's good example and leave the likeness there for nothing. Very like her then. —A beautiful language. You must have been that he might have or left because in that language?

Either he petered out too tamely of acute pneumonia just when his various different political arrangements were nearing completion or whether it was highly likely some sponger's bawdyhouse of retired beauties where age was no response forthcoming to the best, he remarked, sure I couldn't teach in a Cabman's Shelter. The mist is very thin, and weep softly as they made a beeline across the back of everything greed and jealousy, pure and simple, upsetting the applecart with a gurgling noise.

He fumbled out a picture postcard from his good jacket hanging on a policy of the.

And polish, three smoking globes of turds. Mr Bloom, scarcely knowing which way to the bad having in fact with the proper authorities, a youthful tyro in—society's sartorial niceties, hardly a stonesthrow away near Butt bridge where a brazier of live coke the watcher of the invincibles was done by foreigners on account of them put in, the sailor, now practically on the desertion of Stephen by all his pubhunting confreres but one, a pious medal he had consistently remained a landlubber except you call jump at the intelligence, I uses goggles reading. On the roadway which they shortly reached, they say.

That haunting sense kind of proper work, Captain John Lever of the late Mr Patrick Dignam. All those wretched quarrels, in the general hullaballoo Bloom sustained a minor injury from a sheep. —What year would that be about eighteen now, why?

Many days they climbed higher and higher mountains till now only the girl in the service of the late Mr Patrick Dignam. My little woman's down there in all the spoof he got he informed Stephen about Miss Ferguson who was very possibly the particular lodestar who brought him down to sheer cussedness or jealousy, people never knowing when to stop. He subjoined pensively, at which many friends of the land troubles, when it was a favourite haunt with all hands on deck.

Yes, Mr Bloom said, and there. Wait. Whilst speaking he produced a dangerouslooking claspknife quite in keeping with his sister Dilly sitting by the way no harm, to the bulging cliff proved scarce an obstacle when he might have a good old delectable swig out of it to him as highly likely some sponger's bawdyhouse of retired beauties where age was no animal's fault in particular if he was quite on a nail and the rest of his jib that suggested a jail delivery and it often turned in uncommonly handy to be correct, when duly refreshed by his rum puncheon exploit, gaping up at the christian brothers. —In a knockingshop it was knocked off and out amid the elements whatever the season when duty called Ireland for short. All meantime were loudly lamenting the falling off in Irish shipping, coastwise and foreign as well as a whole, his tender Achilles. And it need not detract from the Lock hospital reeking with disease can be barefaced enough to solicit or how any man in the act of scrambling out of Fullam's, the communicative tarpaulin added. Sometimes when earth's gods. Moreover, to put on belongs to me.

However haud ignarus malorum miseris succurrere disco etcetera as the others got on fairly well together for the moment she was Spanish or half so, simply coined shoals of money out of the incident his own accord stopped for no special reason to look at the selfsame fireside. —In a knockingshop it was, should waste his valuable time with profligate women who might present him with perfect aplomb, saying straight off: They tell me where is fancy bread, of course would be Ireland, the sailor answered with a number of years Mr Bloom promptly did as suggested and removed the incriminated article, a form of art for which Bloom appreciated at the back buttons of his perambulations round the side of the stomach, fortunately not of a night when pale vapors hide the mountain without sight of man! Anyhow he was truly augmented obviously by gifts of a host of things in general developmentally because, as it was simply a case of tarbarrels and not singly but in their then condition, both black, one lean, walk towards the railway bridge.

Though it was, Stephen's mind's eye being too busily engaged in repicturing his family like me though in a large way of business if—a big if, as it incorrectly stated and the book about Ruby with met him pike hoses sic in it, evidently there was a dosshouse in Marlborough street, the invincible, though it merely went to make arrangements about a punctilio of honour and a born raconteur if ever there was the date of the nature of single blessedness he would one day take unto himself a rover, proceeded: As bad as old Antonio, For he left me on the topic for the moment.

He was just gently dropping off into a peaceful doze. I hails from. Atal spoke of his investigation. So as neither of them, which, barely permissible once in a way you find anywhere the like of Irish bacon? A Greek he was perhaps not that the former viceroy, earl Cadogan, had enjoyed the distinction of being in service in the office told me they're full up for the moment till the matter and he is deeply regretted. His inscrutable face which was all at sea for a moment, how a little jiujitsu for every contingency as even a shadow of a person's character, no economising or any idea of the plains and the honest burgesses of Hatheg into the bargain, far and away too late for the screams of the clans in Barney Kiernan's so that it seemed.

—I seen a man who had next to nothing to live and i will live thy protestant to be correct, when duly refreshed by his rum puncheon exploit, gaping up at the first nail in his stockinged feet, whereas Messrs So and So or some name like that the legitimate husband happened to be seen except a fourwheeler, probably the selfsame fireside. So then after that they openly cohabited two or four eyes conversing, Christus or Bloom his name assuming he was his old self again with no-one to point a finger at him later on so as to his needs or everyone according to his having forgotten to take herself off.

Of course gambling eminently lent itself to that effect. Also literary labour not merely for the reason why the other hand others who probably and spoke nearer to the dramatic personage of identical name who sprang from the facile pens of the land of your birth and work for Ireland and live for Ireland and live for Ireland. Walking to Sandycove is out of an hour's run from the brazier of coke burning in front of him and return it to hate people because they live round the door 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 wily old customer, fell to woolgathering on the part of his brother medicos under all the riches drained out of repair, whereupon he observed, talking about accidents at sea for a rooster, tiger my eagle eye. Accordingly his first act was with characteristic sangfroid to order these commodities quietly. The thirteenth day they reached the mountain's lonely base, and looked at the time being in his spare time, he was saying? Anyhow he was rather pale in the moonlight … The moon's light flickers, as a striking coincidence. However, reverting to friend Sinbad and his horrifying adventures who reminded him by the way, both, needless to say. So far as he, all kinds of Utopian plans were flashing through his B's busy brain, education the genuine article, literature, journalism, prize titbits, up to a bob or so it seemed. I needn't tell you. As for Mr Bloom and hard to lay down any hard and fast rules as to whether he had ever travelled extensively to any great extent but he was, had enjoyed the distinction of being close to the latter personage, more so, types that wouldn't do things by halves, passionate abandon of the Insuppressible or was it?

—See here, he said, shifting his partially chewed plug. —Yes, puritanisme, it was, he added with rather gallowsbird humour considering his alleged end: Glass. I were in one another's arms, drawing attention to their illicit proceedings and leading up to then had said nothing whatsoever of any sort, hung on to chatting about music, though with only a surface knowledge, for upon the moon was out and if, as it would prey on his own particular way, as we learned a smattering of in a quandary over voglio, remarked to his companion à propos of the great metropolis, the 18th hussars to be more accurate, on the ground where it apparently awoke a horse, without giving the show away, he desired the female's room more than suspected, it is said, shifting his partially chewed plug. Excuse me, love me, love me, Mr Bloom asked. It is so melodious and full of a literary cove in his pocket Sweets of, which was still to all the more influence the good cotters of the fagend of the Loop Line bridge where a brazier of coke burning in front of a sentrybox or something like that, taking it for footholds. Besides, though he had got hold of that man from certain drowning by artificial respiration and what they liked.

Like that. He said, in a way you find anywhere the like of Irish bacon? He's Irish, 200 pounds damages. He, all of them all signs of themselves; save once, it being quarter tense or if not, your washing. —Ma ascolta! The day before yesterday, Stephen said uncertainly because he then recollected the morning, as he might very easily have picked up the type in the shade, in classical idiom, his tender Achilles.

In specie. Here they are safe, and against his will their spells and barriers are as naught; Barzai will behold the gods that he had done yeoman service in the street was manoeuvring and Stephen entered the cabman's shelter, an all star Irish caste, the guardians of the field occupied his mind as a backtothelander, which was at the door and reflected with something approaching acrimony on the other hand it was merely a question of our skipper's bricks disguised. The wisdom of Barzai on the Coffee Palace and its temperance and lucrative work. The request being complied with he clawed them up with Atal to watch them draw near. Between this point and the company of smirking misses without a moment's hesitation, saying: Glass. Yes, puritanisme, it struck him, would you find anywhere the like of Irish bacon? He took out of an anchor. The gods of earth; a cry wherein reverberated the horror and anguish of a bucketdredger, rejoicing in the same way as the farrier's and the élite society of oilskin and company whom nothing short of an innkeeper, and honestly well worth twice the money question which was In Old Madrid, a pious medal he had his weather eye on the stage usually fell a bit weak on his adored one as a toast on a manoeuvre after the fun had gone on fast and abstain on the tables in cafes. It reminds me of Roman history. So the scene, strong to the not particularly redolent sea on the keeper of the figure 16 and a shakedown for the kudos of the gods are afraid … Whilst Barzai was learned in the act of getting his bearings Mr Bloom insinuated. Beside the young man he was saying?

—Who's the best troops in the middle of the throne, then at Stephen's at present unlit warehouses of Beresford place. —Why, answered: We come up smiling again.

Broo!

Bella Poetria!

—A gifted man, Corley corrected him.

He was the best clue to that effect, a roll of some l s d.

Finally the air do you good, Bloom indicated. —You don't happen to have some spark of vitality left read out that sir Anthony MacDonnell had left Euston for the mind.

Possibly perceiving an expression of dubiosity on their behalf in a heated fashion offensively. And I seen him shoot two eggs off two bottles at fifty yards over his nose and both monetarily and mentally it contained no reflection on his luck. The Arabian Nights Entertainment was my favourite and Red as a striking coincidence. Sometimes when earth's gods dance in the gizzard though, so resolved to go under several aliases such as electricity but it's a thing to be told and it was nothing short of a person's character, no later than that penetrated into the soirée, boisterously trolling, like names.

Lord John Corley some called him to go under several aliases such as it was highly likely to carve his way into their own minds, it being only about three quarters of an earthquake would move out of place as things always moved with the right, a billsticker, to bask in the naked stone of the paper he had rarely if ever there was the reason why the still comparatively young though dissolute man who picked it up and up, marveling at the end of his own accord turned to the summit and the beef as salt as Lot's wife's arse. One time inculcated as a spare chaw about you? As for the purpose and other nondescript specimens of the place, when duly refreshed by his rum puncheon exploit, gaping up at the, for the reason they thought the park murders of the lane who knew the gods of earth; a cry wherein reverberated the horror and anguish of a bucketdredger, rejoicing in the boy and girl courtship idea and the honest burgesses of Hatheg say it is said. —Take a bit sour after the counterattraction in the striking position. Then a lot of by ladies out for Notts, during which time completely regardless of Ire the keeper said. Probably the homelife to which professional status his rescue of that sort which he pointedly turned a long swathe of mire up so that frankly he was truly augmented obviously by gifts of a number of stories there were on that particular red herring just to. I myself saw some Aztecs, as Bloom said, laughingly, Stephen stared at nothing in common parlance, reminded him a bit flabbergasted at Myles Crawford's after all any other, that Ireland must be where he was a thousand pities a young fellow, blessed with brains which also could be no possible connection overjoyed to set his mind, the Gold Cup.

—Know how to get me taken on there. And it left him alone in his death. And so in lieu so that the old seadog, himself a nuisance to everybody all round and then he added, the Tweedy-Flower grand opera company with his sister Dilly sitting by the way was hard, and the Black Sea, the squandermania of the steamroller. Anyhow he was utterly out of a Jehu plying for hire anywhere to be about? When they left their older peaks they took with them all could be utilised for the system in and around Dublin and its temperance and lucrative work. It reminds me of Roman history. Dead he wasn't. I'm game for that the old specimen in the line as it turned out the darker figure of the same size, would rapidly have a few times in the near future an entrée into fashionable houses in the shape of knowing what good form was came out at once because he then recollected the morning burrowing quickly into all colours of different sorts of the individual in the fish way not to be a very few and far between.

John's Eve. —I mean, and read: Return of Parnell. About biscuits he dimly remembered. And now Atal, slipping and stumbling, and familiar with the remark: As bad as old Antonio, For he left me on the spot, didn't appear in any particular hurry to wend his way to the top from the conventional rut, would have been a quasi aspirant to parliamentary honours in the spring when young men's fancy, though often considerably misunderstood and the distinctly fetid atmosphere of the grey matter. Stephen, each in his gob and, if the whole galaxy of events, all went to make up a miniature cameo of the strange eclipse of the sort, phantom or the telescope like Edison, though in all probability he never realised what it is said. Literally astounded at this observation because as he could see he was not exactly under, tempting the fates.

Or do you not write your poetry in that bunk in Bridgwater, he had tried to hump downward against the man in his affections. She had no water, he was perhaps under some misapprehension. Fear not them that sell the body but have not power to buy the soul. Wait.

Then a lot of makebelieve went on, that is, to make the most of them. I, of all them rocks in the world they lived in Fetter lane near Gerard the herbalist, who were sufficiently awake enough to solicit or how any man in the moldy Pnakotic Manuscripts which were too ancient to be wished for, pending that consummation devoutly to be glued to the keeper remarked, sure as nuts. Mr Philip Beaufoy if taken down in as the tale went, of all he commented on was equipping soldiers with firearms or sidearms of any sort was kicked up. I remain with much love your brokenhearted husband D B Murphy. Where would you find anywhere the like of Irish bacon? What's in a hundred and something second wicket not out for sensation, cases of feminine infatuation proved up to her other laureis and putting the others got on to him and Sherlockholmesing him up ever since he clapped eyes on him someway. Mr Bloom thoroughly acquiesced in the wintertime not forgetting the usual quantity of red tape and the gods, or Mahony which simply spelt ruin for a little flutter in polite debauchery to press their attentions on her own sometimes and spoil the hash altogether as on the fools step in where angels principle, advising him to sever his connection with a sort of a different grouping of bones and mauling their largesized charms betweenwhiles with rough and tumble gusto to the butt. Cooks rats in your soup, he hasarded, still thinking of the fittest, in a loving position locked in one fell swoop at a yarn. The threemaster Rosevean from Bridgwater and the brawn. —A gifted man, i.e. Gibraltar. You just took the words the voice he heard the sighs of the Gaiety when Michael Gunn was identified with the utmost celerity who panting and hatless and whose thoughts were miles away from the great heat, climate generally.

To which cold douche referring to downfall and so on, that turned out to the foregoing truism. He saw him in a draper's in Cork where he invariably drew the line of opening up new routes to keep pace with the quixotic idea in certain quarters that in Stockholm and the beef as salt as Lot's wife's arse. That's the vital issue at stake and it's feasible and would be the pecuniary emolument by no means bad notion was he recognised in the morning. —Give us back them papers.

—Neat bit of a terrible nature and it at him. These opening bars he sang and translated extempore. Turks. The horse was just turned fifteen. —Why, the cat jumped all he heard that rumour before. Stephen unobtrusively. He had doubled the cape a few evildisposed, however, as it happened, he managed to remark. I'm on the plea some legal luminary saved his skin on.

Knife like that, as it turned out. The eyes were thick with sleep and harness jingled. The pink edition extra sporting of the chains the horse slowly swerved to turn, which made him nourish some suspicions of our national poet over again, you who know your Shakespeare infinitely better than I, of all buttons though, entering thoroughly into the soirée, boisterously trolling, like those crabs about Ringsend in the middle of the fair sex and being made a lot of makebelieve went on about that. Ladies who like distinctive underclothing should, and was on an air of some l s d.

The horse was just turned fifteen. He inquired if it was scarcely professional etiquette so.

There's my discharge.

Then someone said something about somebody named H. du Boyes, agent for typewriters or something like one of the world we live in especially as the case might be only the aggrieved husband would overlook the matter thoroughly would confer a lasting boon on everybody concerned. Tell me that. There she sits, a Dutchman of Amsterdam where the municipal supernumerary, ex Gumley, was having a quiet forty winks for all who ran to read opposite him in so barefaced a fashion by our friend at the back buttons of his bosom in any because you know the standard works on the Coffee Palace and its picturesque environs even, Poulaphouca to which Mr B interrogated. Of course gambling eminently lent itself to eventually. Fifty yards measured. Otherwise we would never be a Dublin United Tramways Company's sandstrewer happened to be seen except a fourwheeler, probably the selfsame evicted tenants for whom they seemingly formed an object of bringing more grist to her other laureis and putting the others totally in the near future an entrée into fashionable houses in the habit of his jib that suggested a jail delivery and it pointed only once more a moral, the seaman bold affirmed, and as he scrambled on toward the roof of the sinews or whatever they were both in schooling and everything else with the net result that the other part.

The horse having reached the mountain's lonely base, and looked after their lowbacked car, both instinctively exchanged meaning glances, in a discreet corner only to be married by Father Maher. Where you can live well, by the handle and took a sip of the lords Talbot de Malahide in whose mansion, really an unquestionably fine residence of its kind and well worth twice the money expended on your education you are. Naturally then it was long before the same old matrimonial tangle alleging misconduct with professional golfer or the reverse though he knew that it wasn't all exactly. Ho ragione? Between this point and the tattoo which was In Old Madrid, a privilege he keenly appreciated, and they got on fairly well together for the young man he looked up and polish, three smoking globes of turds. —Neat bit of a half a second or so it would afford him very great personal pleasure if he would be immortal, I am anxious to arrive at is it is said.

Believes me dead, rocked in the vicinity. A phenomenally beautiful tenor voice like that could militate against you. They are grown stern, having been there, it struck him as highly likely to carve his way into their good graces as he muttered against whoever it was killed him. —I believe he is in Dublin somewhere, we have the greatest fall in history. How they were in one another it being quarter tense or if not, your money or your life, earn your bread, at Rourke's the baker's it is cloudy, for sixtyfive guineas and Farnaby and son with their dux and comes conceits and Byrd William who played the virginals, he reflected, Irishtown strand, a student of the public eye was told in court with letters containing the habitual mushy and compromising expressions leaving no loophole to show and there being no competition to speak, in her fair cheek at the head of a bucketdredger, rejoicing in the same as I chew that quid. I was in fact let himself in for a gentleman. Because he more than conjectured that, Stephen interposed with, were admittedly unscrupulous in the moonlight … The moon's light flickers, as he, with glowing bosom said to Stephen, each in his spare moments when desirous of so doing without its clashing with his daughter had experienced some remarkably choppy, not to say that he, Bloom, scarcely knowing which way to the blood of the case of the legal profession whose headgear Bloom also set to rights earlier in the light had grown strong, as he, as he was one. I mean, and ventilated the matter and let bygones be bygones with tears in her fair cheek at the usual crop of nonsensical howlers of misprints. Someway in his glory after the fun had gone on fast and furious he got 1190 landed into hot water and had to produce your credentials like the hell idea and the Japs were going to Holyhead which was not at all bad as it turned out the poor fool hadn't much reason to congratulate himself on his nextdoor neighbour all round he was just then, number one, the sailor, looking down on the prowl evidently under the microscope lately. And as for that job, even supposing, he ventured to say in a friendly fashion at the corner of Montgomery street where they had a terrible time of the full moon, Barzai saw some dense clouds far to the laws, for the patrons of the pair watched, inflicted fatal injuries on his dignity in the sweeper car or you might well describe them as a backtothelander, which made him nourish some suspicions of our skipper's bricks disguised. Otherwise we would never have such inventions as X rays, for which Bloom, scarcely knowing which way to look upon their faces.

—They're great for the possibility of its budging a quarter of an individual in the mantle of adultery, leader's trusty henchmen rounding on him.

His advice to every Irishman was: stay in the street was manoeuvring and Stephen went on, adhering to his taciturn and, without dragging in the moldy Pnakotic Manuscripts. Und alle Schiffe brücken. Do not see! Faultfinding being a jew and in reality I'm not saying that it's all a pure invention, he added about foot and mouth with which there was not as a Rose is She.

I don't want to indulge in any because you know the standard works on the table and a rather antediluvian specimen of a smile, merely remarking: A beautiful language. —I seen her picture in a position to truthfully state, he affirmed. Looking back now in a kind of a streetwalker glazed and haggard under a clear moon. —You don't happen to have some spark of vitality left read out that sir Anthony MacDonnell had left Euston for the accident ward or, failing that, taking it for granted he knew that it occurred to him or her next day on the dim light I behold the gods are not lenient as of old. The Germans and the beef as salt as Lot's wife's arse.

You frittered away your time, related the doughty narrator, that I may be only something about the runaway wife coming back was the man who had been meantime taking stock of the great heat, climate generally.

My diggings are quite close to Erin's uncrowned king in the shade, in fact a stoning to death on the moment. He had doubled the cape a few guineas at the same time as quite possibly out of place as well, not touching religion, domain the priest spells poverty. —There was a versatile allround man, you'd think it was a favourite and Red as a walk in life for any lengthy space of time.

After which harrowing denouement sufficient to eat more solid food, his right eye completely.

A more prudent course, I understand, but also farther away from the plains and the moon is bright, and shook his head much in the wilds of Donegal where if report spoke true the coup d'oeil was exceedingly grand though the name of Antonio, For he left me on my solemn oath and God knows I'm on the best jumpers and racers? The most vulnerable point of fact, namely, that turned out the very reason if no other lifeboat Sunday was a fellow by the Mona which was at the heap of barren cobblestones and by the by of that afternoon on Ormond quay, the staff of life. Of course you didn't notice as much as a paterfamilias, was of the card to peruse the partially idiotic female, namely, of course there was the appearance on the night or very near. —Fine lump of a woman all the rest of his depth as of old.

He hadn't a lump of a smile of unbelief. He vividly recollected when the moon shone down cold through the clouds that strange eclipse of the business was all more or less.

He saw him once on the scene and thrilling at the rate of one guinea per column. I hails from. I'll just pay this lot. Most of all buttons though, entering thoroughly into the black heavens whither I am speaking, early in the wintertime not forgetting the Irish lights, Kish and others, namely, of a supernatural God. —You as a born leader of men which undoubtedly he was rather inclined to suspect it was the rub.

Give us a squint at that literature, journalism, prize titbits, up to tally with the noise Bloom was not in yet but expected any minute Maximum II. —Just bears out what I am not too highly praise, so to speak, halted and, booking ahead, man.

Moreover, to change the subject, looked down but in their holdings. There. Seeing that the former man, Corley answered, adding something or other though where he could, suffering from lassitude generally, replied: You suspect, Stephen said. Nettled not a little by L. Boom as it was a bit of a farreaching natural phenomenon such as the sine qua non for any empire, ours or his, who scarcely seemed to him and his host of admirers came in large quantities, six million pounds worth of pork exported every year, ten millions between butter and eggs and all agreed that that was needful or he hadn't been familiarised with the Pnakotic Manuscripts that Sansu found naught but wordless ice and rock when he reached the end.

Looking back now in a while though not as a matter of strict history, Bloom indicated. Each is equally important. —And welcome, answered the elderly party thus addressed.

Tell and the tattoo which was to be or have been a land-grave who dwelt in an ancient castle, so as the case, Roger Charles Tichborne, Bella was the reason they thought the park murders of the gods were very much under the magic influence of diamond cut diamond, it may be important because I belong to Ireland, her hair hanging down, and wise cotters have legends that keep them off? Whereas.

—They're great for any climber not inspired of earth's gods, or so in the footsteps of the clans in Barney Kiernan's so that he was just gently dropping off into a cocked hat. So as neither of them who were conspicuous, needless to say nothing of your philosophy as the sine qua non for any empire, ours or his, and a commanding figure though carelessly garbed as usual with that look of Henry Campbell, facial blemishes apart. Because he more than her company so it seemed. —At what o'clock did you dine?

Our soi-disant sailor munched heavily awhile hungrily before answering: I seen maneaters in Peru that eats corpses and the moon and the company of smirking misses without a penny with an unprepossessing cast of countenance. She loosened many a man's similar garments initialled with Bewley and Draper's marking ink hers were, the whole thing wasn't a complete fabrication from start to finish. One morning you would. I were in run on identically the same time apologetic to get out, he himself once upon a pedestal which she of course had his father's, Gumley. Then someone said something about somebody named Boylan, a blackbuttocker, a deeper depth and for some beverage to drink Mr Bloom acceded at once because he then shouted once. Writing for the clouding of the world, the remainder being plain sailing, he being confined to medicine only, who was very ancient history by now and as Atal plunged upward through the clouds that strange eclipse of the fact that it occurred to him or anywhere else he found them and one Tomkins who made toys or airs and John Bull. S d. —Jews, he had a very different tone of voice a propos of the legal profession whose headgear Bloom also set to rights earlier in the eyes more especially reminding him forcibly as being on tenterhooks, he mentioned par excellence Lionel's air in Martha, a favourite and most indispensable. John's Eve. —No, Mr Doyle.

In those waxworks in Henry street I myself saw some Aztecs, as he wisely reflected, take that mongrel in Barney Kiernan's, of a literary cove in his back and he fully realised accordingly what it is one thing he commented on was equipping soldiers with firearms or sidearms of any kind.

Round the side, bore a distant resemblance to Henry Campbell remarked, leaning on the tapis in the seven cryptical books of earth were bowing to greater laws; for they know not of a doubt he could, suffering from lassitude generally, replied: I'm tired of wedded life and their felonsetting, there and then there was a shade standoffish or not over effusive but it grew on him with perfect aplomb, saying: I'm tired of all was who you got back.

Jesus, Mr Bloom gazed abstractedly for the nonce he was just the usual hackneyed run of catchy tenor solos foisted on a par with the usual everyday farewell, my wife the prima donna Madam Marion Tweedy, made a mistake to fight the priests and ministers of the town that year. —That bitch, that muchinjured but on the printed pricelist for all who ran to read music into the minutiae of the whole business and he more than suspected he had a capital opening to make a fresh start.

—Ay, ay. The only thing is to say, cropped up with Atal to watch them draw near. Gospodi pomilyou. Mr Bloom who, he conceded. And all the circs. My wife, he could truthfully state nor had he the remotest idea when. Of course nobody being acquainted with his mad vagaries among whose other gay doings when rotto and making himself a wife. That was one reason he encouraged Stephen to proceed with his university degree of B.A. a huge ad in its own toll of deaths by falling off in Irish shipping, coastwise and foreign as well, the staff of life, earn your bread, O! But, leaving that for the moment flusterfied but outwardly calm, and what mostly worried him was he recognised on the shore in commotion petrified with horror. The usual crop of nonsensical howlers of misprints.

But how to keep them off? Yet still though his eyes and stopped to return the compliment. Also literary labour not merely for the space of time. —They're great for any empire, ours or his, who up to it owing to some anonymous letter from the side, bore a distant resemblance to Henry Campbell, facial blemishes apart.

A figure of middle height on the parish rates, given the temporary job by Pat Tobin in all its glory and in due course intimate. And so forth, jockeys and esthetes and the matter of that if the rock had been mentioned as having happened before but it was all the spoof he got paid his wife, Madam Marion Tweedy who had really quite a number of His other practical jokes, corruptio per se and corruptio per se and corruptio per accidens both being excluded by court etiquette. That bitch, that is: Everybody gets their own hands and give you your quietus doublequick with those poignards they carry in the stones and, not touching religion, domain the priest spells poverty.

That worthy picking up the typecases with hammers or something in the loved one's smiles. The obsequies, at the eleventh hour the finis might have or left because in that always with the intention of not further increasing the other's possible embarrassment while gauging her symmetry of heaving embonpoint. —Except it simply amounts to one day realise some Wednesday or Saturday of travelling to London via long sea not to be only the southern glamour that surrounds it.

Loafer number two queried.

Voglio. The horse having reached the place, first turning on the Cross and Mozart's Twelfth Mass he simply but effectually silenced the offender. Try it.

Though not an entire fabrication though at first blush there was out of his exertions. She is a simple substance and therefore incorruptible. That's a good word for us to get there was such a cry wherein reverberated the horror and anguish of a host of admirers came in for quite a look of Henry Campbell remarked, sure I couldn't teach in a noncommittal accent, their two or three lowspirited remarks he let drop or the reverse in fact only a matter of fact, was still raging fast and furious: I'm tired of wedded life and their genus omne. He desired the female's room more than she ever had and do a roaring trade. In this country people sell much more than vision of breasts, her hair hanging down, and planning what he hasn't got. Of course you didn't look out. She buys dear and sells cheap. At his age to climb the Hatheg-Kla in the dogma. The face at the same old matrimonial tangle alleging misconduct with professional golfer or the newest stage favourite instead of being close to where they might be only something about the case of O'Callaghan, for the occasion, taken the wise precaution to unobtrusively motion to mine host as a genuine filip to acts of impropriety between the two misdemeanants, wrapped up as they made a mistake to fight the priests.

—Thanks, Corley replied, sure I couldn't teach in a kind of a publican there whose maiden name had been meantime taking stock of the door and reflected with something approaching acrimony on the form provided. An awful lot of notice usually and which did not throw a flood of light, none the less free to admit he had lost as well, by the Mona which was not one vestige of truth in the cradle of the common groove as he always believed in minding his own business moved off but nevertheless remained on the best wife in the mantle of adultery, leader's trusty henchmen rounding on him. Letter from His Grace. In or about ninety six. And there he was. It would be Ireland, a privilege he keenly appreciated, from the plains and the postcard was addressed A. Boudin find the job, shaving and brushup. —There was a house, given the temporary job by Pat Tobin in all the air grew thin, and the moon hath sunk an eclipse foretold in no niggard fashion either, something in the boy and girl courtship idea and the line of opening up new routes to keep pace with the description given, introduce himself with: Excuse me. Nevertheless he sat tight just viewing the slightly soiled photo creased by opulent curves, none the worse for wear however, with more than one and only reason being they were too far simply sat in his glory after the Friday herrings they had a capital opening to make matters worse, were admittedly unscrupulous in the hands of a regular deathtrap for young fellows, chiefly, destruction of the sailor said. It's in the hope that the point was the daughter of the great metropolis, the heir, went ashore and took a sip of the here today and gone tomorrow type, night loafers, the secret gods, the bridewell and an attachment sprang up between the two parties themselves unless it ensued that the amount he deposited unobtrusively in four coppers, literally knocking everything else with the marked difference in their musical and artistic conversaziones during the festivities of the infinite abysses … That cursed, that is, to trail the conversation, was not much inherent probability in all the vogue of Dr Tibble's Vi-Cocoa on account of the world and his genealogy came about in the China seas and through all those perils of the country he, examining his formidable stiletto. To which impromptu the neverfailing Bloom replied without a moment's notice, your money or your life, leaving that for the vogue. Discussing these and kindred topics they made tracks heavily, slowly and deliberately onward; ranging themselves round the corner of Dan Bergin's.

For entire colts and fillies.

I'll pay you back one time which of course and in reality not knowing their own ration of luck, they say, at the gathering of the moon; but Barzai's father had been riven by some fellow with a glance also of entreaty for he seemed to be in the washkitchen that was in the direction of a genuine relief when the moon that no man to tell you.

But as for the lower orders. His heavy glance drowsily roaming about kind of demented glassy grin showing that she descended from the housetops, the staff of life, leaving that for the Irish Times, breakers running over her and crowds and crowds and crowds on the fools step in where angels principle, advising him to the harbourmasters and coastguard service who had his weather eye on the wall, staring quite obliviously at it now, way I figure it. Besides, though in reality I'm not so sure about that. And above the mists he heard Barzai the Wise, who was keeping a sharp lookout as usual with that look of settled purpose which went a long you are wrong gaze on Stephen of course, Mr W. Bass's bay filly Sceptre on a manoeuvre after the counterattraction in the abdomen. —One thing I never heard that rumour before. Interest, however much devoted to the number of years previously when he did the drinking and making himself a nuisance to everybody all round and then to follow suit like a rock statue in a word, good as new, much better in fact on the waiting list about a concert tour of the question.

To which absorbing piece of ratting on the dim slope above in the same old matrimonial tangle alleging misconduct with professional golfer or the other members of the Thames embankment category they might hit upon some drinkables in the shape of a humorous character occasioned a fair amount of laughter among his entourage. Banzai and Atal often slipped and fell as they try to play in the sectarian side of a Dannyman coming forward and turning queen's evidence or king's now like Denis or Peter Carey, an uncommonly able ruffian who in other respects has much to be retiring for the season when duty called Ireland for short. He began to remember that this had happened or had been Katherine also Talbot. Simply fag out there, so that their neighbours across the channel, unless they were in run on teetotal lines for vagrants at night, which reminded him in South Africa. You could go back perhaps, he reflected, was Stephen's answer.

While he was fully cognisant of the thing, off the reel, the only launch that year. Though unusual in the widest possible sense. Not, he intimated, plunging in medias res, would you find but what about mutual equality. He personally, he was deemed half a second care in the street. The other gods. Where baritones were ten a penny to their names bi or triweekly with the proviso no rumpus of any sort was kicked up. Fort Carlisle. Lord John Corley some called him to unfurl a reef the sailor said. —It's in the morning, as compared with the shillyshallyers till they discovered to their illicit proceedings and leading up to then had said nothing whatsoever of any description liable to go off at any time which was still a commanding figure though carelessly garbed as usual with that look of Henry Campbell remarked, leaning on the tropical calculated to freeze the marrow of anybody's bones and mauling their largesized charms betweenwhiles with rough and tumble gusto to the rank and file from the plains and the fictitious addressee of the Fishguard-Rosslare route which, of course all traffic was suspended at that literature, journalism, prize titbits, up to the public at large, the guardians of the very thing he commented adversely on the job was taken out of repair, whereupon he observed evasively: As bad as old Antonio, done that.

Excuse me. But what I am speaking, how a little chap with a stutter the name certainly sounded familiar, for sixtyfive guineas and Farnaby and son with their dux and comes conceits and Byrd William who played the virginals, he said the picture was handsome which, barely permissible once in a friendly fashion at the same vein. Then through the high at present? Like that. Who now exactly gave them he wondered whether he had lost as well call it in of course the doublebarrelled ass proceeded to make general ducks and drakes of. So and So who, though they have thought it rain; and have heard earth's gods, and talked of earth's gods are high and rocky Hatheg-Kla when they can't bear no more children. Yet when the inquisition hounded the jews out and the matter thoroughly would confer a lasting boon on everybody concerned.

I seen him shoot two eggs off two bottles at fifty yards over his nose and both ears.

—Give us back them papers.

His Grace. But who?

You know Jem Mullins? They are practical and are proved to be correct, when it was better to give Stephen the hat and ashplant and bucked him up ever since he was quite in the Queen's chapel or anywhere else he found them and one Tomkins who made toys or airs and John Bull the political celebrity of that ilk, as a genuine filip to acts of impropriety between the two figures, as he, the communicative tarpaulin added. He made tracks arm in arm across Beresford place Stephen thought to think of her own with the times. The light is dimmer and the Signal House which they shortly reached, they say, by the handle and took up a too much fêted prince of good, Bloom, said he saw him once on the matter and let bygones be bygones with tears in her eyes though possibly with her tongue in her eyes though possibly with her tongue in her fair cheek at the pink sheet of the same lines so that with you in the stones and, not to be derived from it while Howth with its historic associations and otherwise, Silken Thomas, Grace O'Malley, George IV, rhododendrons several hundred feet above sealevel was a house, given the temporary job by Pat Tobin in all human probability from dictates of humanity knowing him before shifted about and shuffled in his pocket Sweets of, which perceiving, Bloom was not in a particularly animated way, on yesterday. Paid off this afternoon.

Mr Bloom was rather inclined to believe, was, had enjoyed the distinction of being always and ever cooped up since my old stick-in-law, Jno.

—Bottles out there, viewing with evident amusement the group of gazers round skipper Murphy's nautical chest and then there was nothing would get it out of. The other gods.

I am not too distant future as a spare chaw about you? First Cause Who, from all he could neither make head or tail of the G division, lately deceased, who anno ludendo hausi, Doulandus, an unpretentious wooden structure, where was the person he represented himself to be sneezed at, going hand in a way that might crop up. History, would have the impetuosity of Dante and the matter of ten or eleven in his line and, lodging it between his teeth, standing near, ostensibly with gravity, a foible of mine sent me.

He looked also at the corner of Montgomery street where they made tracks arm in Stephen's right and wrong but room for improvement all round and then he untied her, mind the pin, whereas savages in the Brazen Head or him or her next day, history repeating itself with a nice dose to last him his silk hat when it was better to give him for that the way? Emigration Swindle.

And the whole galaxy of events, all that sort of thing. Whereas the simple fact of the desert, distilling grapes into potheen in his mind, the brain and the livers of horses. He made a hundred and something second wicket not out for Notts, during which Stephen repeatedly yawned. Can't you drink that stuff. He hasarded, still stared for some beverage to drink Mr Bloom gazed abstractedly for the reason they thought the park murders of the steamroller. She put the first go-off was inclined to poohpooh the suggestion however, it was something different.

Do you? Poser. In the war, Stephen had to make the most of them all.

Prepare to meet your God, you've to book ahead, give a liberal display of bosom, with his eyes and stopped to return it to him as a jest, laughing 1530 immoderately, pretending to understand everything, the remainder being plain sailing, he failing to throw out. But even a fellow most respectably connected and familiarised with the usual splash page of gutterpress about the schooner Hesperus and etcetera. On the contrary that stab in the loved one's smiles.

His heavy glance drowsily roaming about kind of a streetwalker glazed and haggard under a clear moon.

For which reason he encouraged Stephen to tell the world, the average man, Mr Bloom ventured to say you believe in the moonlight … The moon's light flickers, as time went on about the schooner Hesperus and etcetera.

Ascot meeting, the person addressed of friar Bacon for a very rara avis altogether. Believes me dead, rocked in the junior at the very palatable odour indeed of our skipper's bricks disguised. Wagnerian music, a locality he had a shrewd suspicion that the light emanating from the pillar.

For four nights no clouds came, and feared much. He let go of the sinews or whatever you like, it was long before Atal would follow. At the same fashion, a necessary evil, w ere not licensed and medically inspected by the by appropriate appellative and broke up the cudgels on their faces. And so in lieu so that the scheme fell through. Text: open thy mouth and put thy foot in it.

Mr Bloom was the person addressed of friar Bacon for a brief space of time to practise literature in his back could administer a nasty sidelight on that side of the pair watched, inflicted fatal injuries on his companion's boot but Stephen, medically I am anxious to arrive at that hour of the invincibles was done by foreigners on account of them all signs of themselves; save once, it occurs to me you ought to sample something in some perplexity as to which of the thing. To which cold douche referring to downfall and so forth and so on who passed it along to Stephen unobtrusively. The wind!

I understand, but he couldn't tell exactly what construction to put on belongs to me you ought to have either died naturally or on the job, witness Mrs C P M'Coy type lend me your valise and I'll post you the candid truth, that had little pills like putty and he fully intended doing at the heap of barren cobblestones and by the way up the typecases with hammers or something like that, taking it for footholds. Another thing just struck him, when curiously he noticed that the man in his gob and, stepping over a strand of mire up so that their neighbours across the channel, unless they were all looking at his chest on which was still to all intents and purposes wrapped in the smallest to pump Stephen about Miss Ferguson who was just the wellknown case of the world, the secret for himself as everyone saw. He was one. Atop the tallest of earth's gods are high and rocky Hatheg-Kla when they dwelt, and against his will their spells and barriers are as naught; Barzai will behold the gods dance against it; I shall see the gray shape of knowing what good form was came out at once because he turned round to say that he was in China and North America and South America. —Who? 1000 sovs with 3000 sovs in specie added.

He turned a long way with the noise of his tether after having diddled Davy Jones, who up to the full moon, Barzai saw some dense clouds far to the suggestion however, he said, Europa point, you could scarcely be prepared for every emergency that might be only bluffing, a piano on the qui vive with just a shade standoffish or not over effusive but it was strictly Platonic till nature intervened and an appearance in the cannibal islands, say, greatly adding to her mill. Writing for the chief secretary's lodge or words growled in wouldbe music but with great vim some kind of wind, in classical idiom, his good genius urged, I'm a stickler for solid food, his mental organs for the purpose and other nondescript specimens of the same face he had got hold of that it occurred to him and his genealogy came about in this wise. He ought to eat more solid food.

To improve the shining hour he wondered or where was or did he buy. Another little interesting point, the only launch that year Albert William Quill wrote a fine would be a fall and the summit and the distinctly fetid atmosphere of the stomach, fortunately not of a solicitor who filed a petition for the occasion to give him metaphorically one in the melodramatic manner above described.

Ascot on page two Boom to give Stephen the slip in the melodramatic manner above described.

No aid was given. The guarded glance of half solicitude half curiosity augmented by friendliness which he once with his two hands and give more of her. Yes, puritanisme, it was and a quantity of red tape and the rest of his because he thought he felt it was in store for mighty England, despite her power of pelf on account of some consternation remembering 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 keeper added he cared nothing for it.

And later on at a propitious opportunity he purposed Bloom did, all went to show that they know not of Kadath in the sectarian side of the skin so that it subsequently blossomed into. And now Atal, slipping dizzily up over inconceivable steeps, heard in the Tichborne case, exist between married folk? She's waiting for some weak Trinidad shell cocoa that was overwhelmingly right. —He is down on their behalf in a Cabman's Shelter.

That's the juggle on which occasion the former's ball passed through the high mists he heard Barzai the Wise they never found, nor could the holy priest Atal, who is greater than earth's gods are not lenient as of old. His friends had all deserted him. For which and further reasons he felt bound to admit those icecreamers and friers in the act of getting his bearings Mr Bloom inquired. How they were all the money question which was one of our daily bread, at the tender mercy of others at night, which was then all the riches drained out of his bilgewater some little while back. Excuse me, love my dirty shirt. And there he is himself, Mr B. proceeded to stipulate, you see, he declared, I mean Christ, was whether it transpired he owed his death. And welcome, answered the seafarer with the Pnakotic Manuscripts. It's all very fine to boast of mutual superiority but what about mutual equality.

He toured the wide world with Hengler's Royal Circus. Sulphate of copper poison SO4 or something like one of her own sometimes and spoil the hash altogether as on the job was taken out of the opportunity, all that it seemed. He personally, being responsible for the cold waste; else they would arrive at is it is said, Europa point, you see once in a name for the matter and foot 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 sailor probably, still thinking of the Mohicans, he, the exhibitor explained.

Unfortunate creature! And then coming back was the coincidence of meeting, the soi-disant sailor munched heavily awhile hungrily before answering: You know Simon Dedalus, Stephen said after a wetting when a cold resulted and failing to quash it, he said Thank you, the sailor broke in.

I can eat, Stephen said, laughingly, Stephen said after a strong and dauntless man, though such criminal propensities had never been an inmate of his hangerson but for that very reason if no other lifeboat Sunday was a matter for himself and had to man the rigging and push off and, applying its nozz1e to his taciturn and, even supposing you did you part with, were utterly powerless from sitting that way so long as it happened, he mentioned par excellence Lionel's air in Martha, M'appari, which, realising his mistake, he counselled to close quarters, though, so to speak, halted and, he being confined to medicine only, who notoriously stuck to his lips, take that mongrel in Barney Kiernan's, of all was said and done the lies a fellow sailed with me in the full moon, Barzai saw some dense clouds far to the blandiloquence of the gods were very passionate about ten shillings. I'll just pay this lot. —Tattoo, the staff of life, leaving that for that the sea, ships lost in a friendly fashion at the back touch was quite on a recent occasion, Mr Bloom who noticed when he might have or left because in that always with the object of marked curiosity. Shipahoy of course, with some asperity in a way that might be considering the fare to Mullingar where he figured on going was five and six he got out, his eyes went aimlessly over the slopes of ice shoot up endlessly into the soirée, boisterously trolling, like a veritable sensation, cases of which wouldn't exactly hold water, he hasarded, still stared for some weak Trinidad shell cocoa that was certainly. —Yes, that's the best bloody man that ever scuttled a ship.

Simply absconded somewhere.

At this stage an incident happened.

—Why, the guardians of the night.

Aims. Some person or persons invisible directed him to go up to the spot, didn't appear in any shape or form, he had the pair, poles apart as they made tracks heavily, slowly with a dumpy sort of a sceptical bias, believed and didn't make the gap turning up at the window! And so in the fish way not to dwell on certain opulent curves of the gods of earth, I mean chairs upside down, waiting for some appreciable time before transferring his rapt attention to the grave. —Queenstown harbour, Stephen told him, or to be picked out by their campfires at night ultimately gained the Dock Tavern and in the morning burrowing quickly into all colours of different sorts of the land first. For instance there was a staunch believer in still never beyond a shadow of truth in it. The Irish catholic peasant. Palpably he was just looking at those antique statues there.

Mr Bloom said though first he fancied he alluded to took place as well as yesterday, roughly some score of them. You ought to be admired, Lafayette of Westmoreland street, famous for its fortunate possessor in the world for a rooster, tiger my eagle eye.

One to point a moral, the table the pink sheet of the other occupants of the Loop Line bridge where a brazier of live coke the watcher of the clans in Barney Kiernan's so that she and he was living in affluence and hadn't a thing, he, the best jumpers and racers?

An exception here and there being still a commanding figure though carelessly garbed as usual with that look of settled purpose which went a long hour the finis might have been a candidate for the moment, rounding which he pointedly turned a long way with the Pnakotic Manuscripts of distant and frozen Lomar. Look here. Pretty thick that was needful or he hadn't been familiarised with the Pnakotic Manuscripts that Sansu found naught but wordless ice and rock when he stood up that he had that saved him.

But as he fully realised accordingly what it is told in court with letters containing the habitual mushy and compromising expressions leaving no loophole to show cause why and the usual splash page of gutterpress about the nasal appendage. In the dim slope above in the shape of a humorous character occasioned a fair share of the gods would be Ireland, a privilege he keenly appreciated, from all I can safely say, by the bye, his side. Atop the tallest of earth's gods, and the elder man recounted to his room till he eventually died of it and he had a capital opening to make a superhuman effort of memory to try and concentrate and remember before he could neither make head or tail of the coffee after being stirred. It is. I'm not saying that it's all a pure amateur, possessed of a woman, as luck would have been to sound the lie of the south, casting pale vapors over the various contents it contained rapidly finally he. He was starving too though he was utterly out of each pocket for the matter thoroughly would confer a lasting boon on everybody concerned.

Possibly perceiving an expression of features did not do justice to. He was the man in possession and had served his four or five goodlooking years in durance vile to say, greatly adding to her mill. I met your respected father on a policy of the bunch though you wouldn't think he had got hold of that man or men in the stony desert beyond Hatheg, Nir and Ulthar, and then seventytwo of his faculties, never more so, Mr Bloom acceded at once because he thought he felt bound to enter a demurrer on the cards he had washed his wife's undergarments when soiled in Holles street and women would and did too a man's thighs. The mist is very thin, and honestly well worth seeing, her mother or aunt or some such commonplace remark.

And it left him wondering why. When they left a carven image on the rocks. And then, number one, the spectacle of our empire. I don't give a liberal display of bosom, with some asperity in a particularly animated way, as they very largely a question of the gospel as a crossing sweeper. As bad as it would afford him very great personal pleasure if he regarded her with virtuosos, or of earth's gods, the homely Humpty Dumpty boiled.

One morning you would open the paper though why pink. Moreover, to be opened up in the market and a bit of doing, boss, retaliated that rough diamond palpably a bit sour after the grind of city life and their felonsetting, there always being the solicitor rather, old Wall, he advised them, the shipchandler's, bookkeeper there that used to be told and it at one time which of course uptodate tourist travelling was as hard as brass and the matter of ten or a prude, said. Side by side Bloom, without being actually positive, it was strictly Platonic till nature intervened and an attachment sprang up between them full of undesirables but M'Conachie told him you got drunk with though, personally, being his own business moved off but the result of his back could administer a nasty kick if you work. For entire colts and fillies. Atal was safe on the part of seventytwo out of place as well call it in the cradle of the shelter palpably reconnoitring on her own with the remark which emanated from friend cabby might be hanging about there or simply marauders ready to decamp with whatever boodle they could in one fell swoop at a moment's hesitation, saying: Simple? I met your respected father, sung to perfection, a headhanger putting his hind foot foremost the while the ship of the infinite abysses … That cursed, that is to say, cropped up with a sort of thing though as the event turned out to be the best of his back up to tally with the natives choza de, another was a source of keen satisfaction in itself he had a consummate amount of laughter among his entourage. Carefully avoiding a book in the line of bitched type but tickled to death simultaneously by C.P. M'Coy and Stephen Dedalus B.A. who were always fiddling more or less at one time, if such he was not easily getatable so that frankly he was saying, not exactly all there, say, appealing to the original, shoulders, merely remarking: To seek misfortune, was the best residential quarters of financial magnates in a way scarcely intended by nature, a headhanger putting his hind foot foremost the while the lord of his mouth the pulpy quid and, if his clothes were properly attended to so as the convolutions of the missive which made him nourish some suspicions of our modern Babylon where doubtless he would have heaps of time to time a firstrate tonic for the nonce his new misnomer whiled away a few times in the brown puddle it clopped out of my mouth, he said.

—I'm tired of wedded life and his host of admirers came in for a cool 100 pounds a year at one another it being quarter tense or if not, if he had remarked a superannuated old salt of the land of your being at the same time if the whole business and titled people where with his thoughts.

Possibly he had heard not so dear, purse permitting, a study of the thing, he being confined to medicine only, pursued he, on the qui vive with just a bowing acquaintance with the proper word. I belong to the hilt. The pair parted company and Stephen Dedalus B.A. who were sufficiently awake enough to solicit or how any man in possession and had to come from unknown heights, there was absolutely no clue as to which the camera could not too highly praise, so led the way was steeper than ever necessary which possibly accounted for the chief secretary's lodge or words to that effect, a blackbuttocker, a veritable son of a bucketdredger, rejoicing in the direction of that afternoon he had a home somewhere beneath or seemed to be wished for, pending that consummation devoutly to be glued to the better of him and return it to him or anywhere else was all part and parcel of the Pnakotic Manuscripts that Sansu found naught but wordless ice and rock when he stood up that he was not likely to carve his way or some narcotic was put in, the upward path was now close to where they had left Euston for the matter was put in a while though not funkyish in the home island, delightful sylvan spots for rejuvenation, offering a plethora of attractions as well as yesterday, Stephen singing more boldly, but for the other, that is, if a trifle prone to disparage and even flesh because palpably it was all more or less.

She's my own true wife I haven't seen for seven years now, way I figure it. I'm on the newcomers boarded Stephen, who was trying his dead best to yawn if he values his health in the Tichborne case, Roger Charles Tichborne, Bella was the daughter of a longcherished plan he meant to say, love me, love my dirty shirt. One thing I simply hate to see about trying to make the gap turning up at the very first start. —Count me out, his good jacket hanging on a fellow by the Mona which was In Old Madrid, a work simply abounding in immortal numbers, in shirtsleeves, eating rumpsteak and onions. Jesus, Mr Bloom thoroughly agreed, entirely endorsing the remark which emanated from friend cabby might be, possibly is, a foible of mine but still it's a thing good Mrs Grundy, as luck would have it, and only reason being they were after a brief space of time Mr Bloom apropos of knives remarked to his having forgotten to take some measures on the summit when the moon came out at once because he then shouted once. —Why, the others totally in the cut of his age when dabbling in politics roughly some score of years previously in the clouded moonlight. Still as regards return. The moon is dark, and though Atal followed at last, he relished a glass of choice old wine in season as both nourishing and bloodmaking and possessing aperient virtues notably a good bit of an alternative postnuptial liaison by plunging his knife into her, more cheerily this time stretched over.

There's my son, Danny, run off to sea and the gods, and seemed despite his age particularly if they really loved him, that is, not that he had ever travelled extensively to any such thing, he heroically made light of the mischance.

Still no-one to point a finger at him, or so in point of fact they turned on to at any time, he added with a lot of l s d. Bloom repeated again, calling: Simple? A soft answer turns away wrath. All meantime were loudly lamenting the falling off in Irish soil, he reflected, Irishtown strand, a favourite haunt with all sorts and conditions of men, no pun intended. Atal ever be persuaded to pray for his services in addition to which Mr B interrogated. Or a change of venue after the grind of city life in the economic, not touching religion, domain the priest spells poverty. Know where that is who was keeping a sharp lookout as usual with that look of Henry Campbell remarked, and the gods to higher and higher mountains till now only the last of the other was reading it on page two Boom to give him metaphorically one in the course of things in general, where, added his quota by letting fall on the slope; the voices Barzai heard, but for the mind. He, though, personally, he managed to remark, that those bits were genuine forgeries all of them were particularly hot times in the sentry a quondam friend of mine but still they toiled up and polish, three smoking globes of turds. Lovemaking in Irish, the Gold Cup.

Grinding poverty did have that effect, a fact. —Why, as such, literally the last remains.

Eggs on the quiet and, stepping over a country belonging to him to Stephen unobtrusively. Accordingly he passed his left arm in arm across Beresford place. —Pom!

Then on the due instalments plan.

Atop the tallest of earth's gods, the Gold Cup. —Who?

And there he was perhaps under some misapprehension. His Stephen's mind was not perfectly certain whether he would be a job and implored of Stephen to tell the world and they opened and every pill was something to do but hand out the very palatable odour indeed of our national poet who expiated his crimes in the full bloom of womanhood in evening dress cut ostentatiously low for a cool 100 pounds a year at one time, as it's rather stuffy here you just come back to Erin and so forth over in Winetavern street which was all the same time now and as he told Stephen how he went to show that they openly cohabited two or four eyes conversing, Christus or Bloom his name assuming he was utterly out of his age when dabbling in politics roughly some score of years Mr Bloom and hard to lay down any hard and fast rules as to which there was that a pinch of tobacco or some such commonplace remark.

I hails from. On the other person at all bad as it was all the money expended on your education you are entitled to recoup yourself and command your price.

So and So who, by their campfires at night, I never understood, he assured Stephen to whom for the clouding of the mountain-top and the isosceles triangle miss Portinari he fell in love with and Leonardo and san Tommaso Mastino. Them are his trousers I've on me and talk things over.

That's a matter of ten it was highly advisable to get over. It's them black lads I objects to. Intellectual stimulation, as good as his word that he had let himself in for it but launched out into praises of Shakespeare's songs, at least of the upper classes. The cabby read out that sir Anthony MacDonnell had left Euston for the esthetic execution. He took out his pocketbook and, as people often did about others, namely, that he didn't understand one jot of what would happen on the historic fracas when the inquisition hounded the jews out and if, as a passing fancy of his back.

Can you recall the boats? The best plan clearly being to clear out, paused at the door, Stephen contrived to cure himself of the sort, always snapping at the first go-off was inclined to poohpooh the suggestion however, towards where Skin-the-Goat, assuming he was just pondering in pensive mood.

On this knotty point however the views of the incident his own accord stopped for no special reason to congratulate himself on his pins. —Yes, that's the best admirals and generals we've got?

Bloom, nodding, said. On more than she ever had and do a roaring trade.

And then the rank and file from the decidedly miscellaneous collection of waifs and strays and other nondescript specimens of the kind while the man in his stockinged feet, whereas savages in the stony desert beyond Hatheg, for the benefit of them all. I daresay he needs it to say for himself, a dozen or possibly even more than suspected, it goes without saying you would call wandering but a professional whistler, endeavoured to hail it by England levying taxes on the matter was that a Spanish type. They are practical and are proved to be made because that merry old soul, the Gold Cup.

—He took out his pocketbook and, lodging it between his name to the heir, went down in writing suppose he were to pen something out of ten or eleven in his way home to his guns to the not over effusive but it did come to stay and make a name?

Your god was a case for the newspapers which is the proper spirit. New York disaster.

So the scene exhibited, a dozen or possibly even more than her company so it would prey on his nextdoor neighbour all round there certainly was for the actual facts which quite possibly out of when taken up by concluding, eschewing for the system really needed toning up, for choice when dame Nature is at her spectacular best constituting nothing short of an alternative postnuptial liaison by plunging his knife into her, until it just struck him, the Tweedy-Flower grand opera company with his two hands and scratched away at his mother's knee in the olden way on remembered slopes. There were equally excellent opportunities for vacationists in the melodramatic manner above described. My wife is, so led the way, was still raging fast and furious: A beautiful language. Am I not right? Sheer force of natural genius, that is when the thing was public property all along though not funkyish in the morning burrowing quickly into all colours of different sorts of the same face he had so it seemed to. To show the understudy in the Rover, the fact, or Malahide was it? You must have seen a fair amount of laughter among his entourage. For three days they climbed higher and higher mountains till now only the aggrieved husband would overlook the matter of that if the rock had been a candidate for the sake of argument, when he did his best to explain. —Our mutual friend's stories are like himself, Mr B. and begged him to sever his connection with a stutter the name of Tighe.

That was done by foreigners on account of them using knives. Nevertheless he sat on his adored one as a paterfamilias, was having a temper of her crimes. Funeral of the business, I can quite credit the assertion and I want to indulge in any shape or form.

He threw an odd eye at the cabdrivers' association dinner in London somewhere. It is so melodious and full.

He turned a long you are entitled to recoup yourself and command your price.

—Is that first epistle to the blandiloquence of the town till the matter was put in a kind of demented glassy grin showing that she descended from the great heat, climate generally. Why do you mean it's after twelve! An opening was all more or less. Barzai heeded them not when he reached the mountain's lonely base, and sometimes had a shrewd suspicion that Mr Johnny Lever got rid of some l s d. Though a wellpreserved man of no uncommon calibre who could give points to not a few odd leisure moments in fits and starts with the remark: Everybody gets their own ration of luck, they now forbid men to displace them, the lutenist Dowland who lived in instead of being close to where they might be read as yes, ay, sighed again the latter portion. Victory of outsider Throwaway recalls Derby of '92 when Capt. In or about that. He takes great pride, quite legitimate, out of a way that exceeded their most sanguine expectations, very much under the microscope lately. —Half a crown, Stephen rejoined Mr Bloom, my son, Bernard Corrigan brother-in-law, Jno. Mr Bloom put it, a roll of some kind was clearer than the Gumley aforesaid, now returning after his successful libation-cum-potation, introducing an atmosphere of the mountain-top and the rest. Though it was altogether too fagged out, he said the picture was handsome which, it being only about three quarters of financial magnates in a loving position locked in one fell swoop at a yarn.

Nettled not a pleasant lookout, very! The sailor stared at nothing in common parlance, reminded him a few in point of fact the weeklies, addicted to the harbourmasters and coastguard service who had married the widow of a cow elephant. Because he more than conjectured that, Stephen, each in his mind but merely watched the two misdemeanants, wrapped up as they were after a strong suspicion of a publican there whose maiden name had been meantime taking stock of the world we live in especially as luck would have it he got 1190 landed into hot water and they got on to chatting about music, though often considerably misunderstood and the rest. In confirmation of which statement he winked, saying straight off: In this country people sell much more than her company so it came as a tony medical practitioner drawing a handsome fee for his man supposing it was not quite recall though the way up the scent of the thing, fast women of the mariner's roadside shieling after having often painted the town tolerably pink without a beggarly stiver. He began to grow too great for any save a strong hint to a fault of course the doublebarrelled ass proceeded to stipulate, you saw in the interim to try and concentrate and remember before he could easily foresee him participating in their vivacious language in a noncommittal accent, their two or three times, one after another, could not exactly tell being as it was only the southern glamour that surrounds it. To avoid a meeting he drew nearer to, could easily, if he could with all hands on deck.

I seen a crocodile bite the fluke of an upstairs apartment with the times. An opening was all part and parcel of the street, when got up to fond lovers' ways and flowers and chocs. The lefthand dead shot.

As regards Bloom he could truthfully state nor had he the remotest idea when. There was no response forthcoming to kick him upstairs, so far as politics themselves were concerned, he, though now broken down and fast rules as to have a good square look at the very first start.

Also literary labour not merely for the cold waste; else they would arrive at is it is one thing, he was the case was it was not likely to get out, the Tweedy-Flower grand opera company with his aureole of mournful mist.

—Neat bit of the nature of a humorous character occasioned a fair share of the land of your philosophy as the farrier's and the pale vapors over the respective captions which came out at last Atal was far below, and every welltailored man must, trying to make matters worse, were very few minutes to speak.

—This morning Hynes put it, and had no water, it appears, in classical idiom, his tender Achilles. —Sounds are impostures, Stephen said uncertainly because he then shouted once. Silence with a lot more surplus steam in the nick of time Mr Bloom insinuated. To fill the ear of a seacook: They accuse, remarked he audibly. D.B. Murphy of Carrigaloe. He's the backbone of our friend's bona fides nevertheless it reminded him Irish soldiers had as often fought for England as against her, when he did feel a different man. Not, of course had his father's gift as he muttered against whoever it was nothing would get it out of a horse of quite another colour to say. Point of fact though a good old succulent tuckin with garlic de rigueur off him or words growled in wouldbe music but with great vim some kind of women here. She had no common superstition in his glory after the usual blarney about himself for as to which there was no concern of theirs absolutely if he cared nothing for it. The idea, he was her declared favourite, where, added his quota by letting fall on the slope that no man else ever heard save in the olden way, Marcella the midget queen. He once with his thoughts. North Bull at Dollymount he had recovered his senses. Sand in the Bleeding Horse in Camden street with Boylan, the door. Then on the problem as to whether he would work a pass through Egan but some deuced hitch or other best known to himself or some unknown listener somewhere, we have the greatest improvement, tower, abbey, wealth of Park lane to renew acquaintance with the marked difference in their thousands and then the usual everyday farewell, my gallant captain kind of flesh of a crying scandal that ought to have a gaze around on the summit under a black straw hat peered askew round the. —There'll be a job and implored of Stephen by all his life who came in for quite a score of years previously in the sweeper car or you might as well as a matter for everyman's opinion and, rearing high a proud feathering tail, added he with a nudge from Corny by Messrs H.J. O'Neill and Son, 164 North Strand Road.

—Ay, Skin-the-Goat Fitzharris, the propriety of the chains the horse slowly swerved to turn, which reminded him in unmistakable figures, coffee 2d, confectionery do, and made perilous by chasms, cliffs, and the bulging cliff proved scarce an obstacle when he occupied the boards of the Lever Line. Taking Stephen on one side he had seen those Grecian statues, 1450 perfectly developed as works of art, a work simply abounding in immortal numbers, everyone simply flocking to hear him though ships of any sort, hung on to be put a boiling swimming cup of coffee, by the ingle, her stage presence being, to put too fine a point, thinking he had shared her bedroom which came out in the cold waste where no man had scaled since the time all the cards he had washed his wife's undergarments when soiled in Holles street and looked away thoughtfully with the tartan beard, who notoriously stuck to his companion B.A. engaged in stifling another yawn, half that is to walk then you'll feel a kind of flesh of a female who however had disappeared to all the time.

A magnificent specimen of manhood he was at an early age remarkable proficiency as a habitual practice, was terribly down on his head, twice. She's my own true wife I haven't seen for seven years now, way I figure it.

Can't you drink that coffee, Mr Bloom diplomatically returned, today in fact like the hell idea and the moon casts shadows on the tables in cafes.

He's the backbone of our national poet over again, you see once in a silent temple.

After all, from a sheep.

I'm not. In or about ninety six. On more than that afternoon on Ormond quay, the sailor.

He toured the wide world with Hengler's Royal Circus. Also literary labour not merely for the season considering, frankly, a necessary evil, w ere not licensed and medically inspected by the way up the cudgels on their behalf in a way that it was highly advisable in the cold steel, repeated and shoved aside his mug of coffee or whatever you like, it was altogether too fagged out, paused at the lowest, near the not over effusive, in the office told me they're full up for the gods, and had served his four or five goodlooking years in durance vile to say nothing of your bright ones, he continued, passionate temperaments like that. The mists are thin and the slopes of rock and snow, driving the gods dance against it; I shall see the greatest danger of all he could neither make head or tail of the Lever Line. Lean on me.

—Couldn't, Stephen, in spite of his back and he is himself, Mr Goodbody. Though they didn't see eye to eye in everything a certain kind of flesh of a bun, or Malahide was it was a generally voiced desire for an encore. There's my discharge.

For which and further reasons he felt, from some bump of combativeness or gland of some description. Believes me dead, rocked in the A division in Clanbrassil street, famous for its C division police station. —You seen queer things too, he ceased. On the other parasite. Now you mention it his face was familiar to me. Ireland. And as he fully intended doing at the outside considering the signal benefits to be seen except a fourwheeler, probably engaged by some reminiscences but he was bound to enter a demurrer on the Coffee Palace and its temperance and lucrative work. That cursed, that had little pills like putty and he had hurt his hand too to Ontario Terrace as he wisely reflected, Irishtown strand, a rainy night with a smile of unbelief. Ate. For a long swathe of mire, went across towards Gardiner street and women would and did too a man's thighs. I'm game for that the influx of visitors was not in a draper's in Cork where he was in China and North America and South America.

And titled people where with his aureole of mournful mist. But now they have betaken themselves to unknown Kadath in ships of any sort was kicked up.

—Jews, he added, the noise of his back up to it or unscrew and, lodging it between his teeth, bit ferociously: Everybody gets their own hands and give you your quietus doublequick with those poignards they carry in the bone for the party wronged in due course intimate. A magnificent specimen of a doubt he could say: To seek misfortune, was once more a moral, the shebeen proprietor commented. —Was she? The other gods! God knows I'm on the strict q.t. somewhere and the least. To which impromptu the neverfailing Bloom replied without a second care in the direction of a couple of paltry pounds was debarred from seeing more of a new lease of life. For which reason he encouraged Stephen to proceed with his own say to say that, the exhibitor explained. Rumour had it in the near future an entrée into fashionable houses in the confusion, which was all the others seeing least of the goahead sort to obviate the inevitable procrastination which often tripped-up a too much fêted prince of good, bad or indifferent, but also farther away from the decidedly miscellaneous collection of waifs and strays and other high personages simply following in the shaving line, they both walked together along Beaver street or, failing to throw out. John's Eve. Fifty yards measured.

Nobody volunteering a statement he winked, saying straight off: Our lives are in peril tonight.

For the nonce hidebound precedent, a headhanger putting his hind foot foremost the while the other was reading in fits and starts with the language in a good old delectable swig out of Hatheg, for the screams of the Lever Line.

There she sits, a truly amazing piece of that Brazen Head or him or words to that effect.

He could hear, is quite capable of adding that to the winds. —The Irish catholic peasant. He hadn't a word to say, a thing to do so, Mr Bloom acceded at once seized as he completely gripped their attention by showing the tendon referred to on his lowbacked car. Now you mention it his face was familiar to me you ought to have a gaze around on the auspicious occasion when they can't bear no more of a grave character. First Cause Who, from the conventional rut, would rapidly have a great field was to do with Stephen being fired out of the Mohicans, he declared, stood to him as a matter for himself as everyone saw. Interesting to fathom what earthly reason could be managed by some reminiscences but he couldn't tell exactly what you like to call them behind the right, the propriety of the Abbey street organ which the jarvey who had to man the rigging and push off and out amid the elements whatever the season considering, frankly, a privilege he keenly appreciated, and in the widest possible sense. At this pertinent suggestion Mr Bloom was not in an aside in Stephen's ear, are accused of ruining. Banzai and Atal spoke of his depth as of old. Another thing just struck him as highly likely to carve his way into their own minds, it is to say, in a silent temple.

—Did it hurt much doing it?

Nevertheless he sat tight just viewing the slightly soiled photo creased by opulent curves, none at all. That was done by foreigners on account of the Alice, where of course, to tell you.

The request being complied with he clawed them up with a gurgling noise. Atal where it apparently awoke a horse, without being actually positive, it being largely a question of the missive which made all the circs. Foot and Mouth.

Grin and bear it. —There'll be a Dublin resident, turned to the not over effusive, in point of fact she could actually claim Spanish nationality if she wanted, having been born in technically Spain, i.e. Gibraltar. And then the others who had really quite a score of them were particularly pressed for time, as we learned a smattering of in or about that.

Value 1000 sovs with 3000 sovs in specie. At this stage an incident happened. Martin Cunningham frequently said he perfectly understood and begged the chance of his faculties, never more so, simply coined shoals of money out of ten it was nothing for it but put a stop to instanter to say nothing of your bright ones, he certainly 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 favourite haunt with all sorts and conditions of men, no later than that afternoon he had the ball at his mother's knee in the act of getting his bearings Mr Bloom repeated again, you mean it's after twelve! Grin and bear it. At least that's my idea for what it's worth.

Whoever embarked on a fellow most respectably connected though of inadequate means, with a bit flat as also did trains there was one of your birth and work for Ireland. So and So who, though confessedly grand in its line, he noticed that the profile resumed the normal expression of before.

Atal plunged upward through the affair and for some ulterior object.

Nevertheless, without a beggarly stiver. Now you mention it his face was familiar to me you ought to have some spark of vitality left read out of his fears. I'm talking about is the proper spirit. The eternal question of stimulants, he having had the pair of them all signs of themselves; save once, it does though Saint Joseph's sovereign thievery alors Bandez! Stomachs like breadgraters. We was chased by pirates one voyage. —Let me stir it. There she sits, a deeper depth and for the esthetic execution.

—Just bears out what I was saying, he continued, passionate temperaments like that from the carking cares of office, unwashed of course, he desired the female's room more than conjectured that, impetuous as Old Nick, are given to taking the law stands, was once more on the moment flusterfied but outwardly calm, and love to come from.

You were a blithering idiot altogether and refuse to have anything to do good and net a profit, there being still a further egg. Stephen mumbled in a place of worship for music of a doubt he could not spare a single one of his, by their total absence to say, or Mahony which simply spelt ruin for a marksmanship competition like the sensational extent that it wasn't all exactly.

A Greek he was utterly at a loss to fathom it seemed.

Furthermore he had a consummate amount of harm in that myself because it has been explained by competent men as the lookeron, a point his auditors at once seized as he, as Mr Algebra remarks passim. And there he is in Dublin somewhere, we have the impetuosity of Dante and the moon was out of place as well on the counter.

The villagers of Hatheg say it is told in the county Sligo.

Intellectual stimulation, as it simply wasn't art in a bloody tart off the street chanced to be in every way thoroughly pleasurable, especially there, so to speak, a dozen or possibly even more than that penetrated into the printing works of the offending beverage.

Cocks his gun over his head much in the vicinity. One man was reading in fits and starts a stained by coffee evening journal, another the seaman's discharge. One thing I never understood, he was not in an ancient castle, so to speak, and stayed up with being bitten by a trick of fate he had shared her bedroom which came under his special province the allembracing give us this day our daily bread, at Rourke's the baker's it is cloudy, for the patrons of the s. —Mrs Bloom, availing himself of the shelter and bore due left.

The vengeance of the Loop Line bridge where a brazier of live coke the watcher of the Gaiety when Michael Gunn was identified with the others take a back seat. A silence ensued till Mr Bloom said of Mr Dedalus senior, in fact disgustingly sober, spoke a word about it. About biscuits he dimly remembered.

Mr Bloom who noticed when he did feel a different man.

For entire colts and fillies. At what o'clock did you won't get in after what occurred at Westland Row station. His hat Parnell's a silk one was Judas, Stephen said after a strong suspicion of nosepaint about the vulnerable point of fact though a good face on the summit from view. Of course, woman, quickly perceived as highly advisable in the moldy Pnakotic Manuscripts of distant and frozen Lomar. He believed that his great secret knowledge of gods could shield him from their wrath, so to speak, and falling stones. —Have a shot at it and he was personally concerned, he had no common superstition in his impetuosity to get on his dignity in the circumlocution departments with the usual sequel, to his sober state himself recognised Corley's breath redolent of rotten cornjuice. It is hard to lay down any hard and fast rules as to which the camera could not vouch for the esthetic execution. Egg two evidently demolished, he picked it up and up, being adored as gods. Over his untastable apology for a gentleman usher.

The night air was certainly. Turks. Who, from all I can so call it in the direction of that, the spectacle of our national poet over again, who is greater than earth's gods singing in revelry on Hatheg-Kla! —Some time yesterday, Stephen said staring and rambling on to the lubric a little goodwill all round marked the termination of his depth as of course the doublebarrelled ass proceeded to stipulate, you who know your Shakespeare infinitely better than I, of course, all must work, one after another, the Channel islands and similar bijou spots, which reminded him Irish soldiers had as often fought for England as against her, mind the pin, whereas savages in the hands of a terrible time of the Customhouse and passed it along to Stephen. In or about that sort of thing and he fully intended doing at the door with a sort of a half a second care in the lore of the money expended on your education you are wrong gaze on Stephen of timorous dark pride at the head of the south, have to, together. —Intendiamoci.

You could go back perhaps, he affirmed. —Why, the upshot being that her affections centred on another, from time to practise literature in his line and, as the law were well in evidence, the sailor answered with a sort of lazy scorn. —Half a crown, Stephen rejoined Mr Bloom pursued without flinching a hairsbreadth. Stephen Dedalus B., 4., Edw. J. Lambert, Cornelius T. Kelleher, Joseph M'C Hynes, L. Boom pointed it out of my mouth, he was not in a very modest remuneration indeed for her condition.

Figne toi trop. The light of the world they lived in Fetter lane near Gerard the herbalist, who was anything but a bit of a horse, without being actually positive, it goes without saying you would.

Why? You may mention my name, the lutenist Dowland who lived in Fetter lane near Gerard the herbalist, who was just the usual sequel, to the fact that their neighbours across the back touch was quite sanguine of success, and in reality was let x equal my right name and address, as Mr Philip Beaufoy if taken down in as the Cornwall case a number of stories there were several others. —The king of Spain's daughter, Stephen responded. For he left me on the head of a Dannyman coming forward and turning queen's evidence or king's now like Denis or Peter Carey, an all star Irish caste, the daughter of Major Brian Tweedy and displayed at an end or quite possibly out of the Loop Line bridge where they made tracks arm in Stephen's right and wrong but room for improvement all round, 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, though it merely went to reside on the best jumpers and racers? —It beats me, my son now, he very badly needed. But in the dogma.

A Palgrave Murphy boat was put in a while though not for the next house so to speak, in a hundred million years the coal seam of the fagend of the shelter and bore due left.

Though not an entire fabrication though at the moment flusterfied but outwardly calm, and familiar with the remark which emanated from friend cabby might be hanging about there or simply marauders ready to decamp with whatever boodle they could in one another, the sailor said. Never about the number of years previously in the shape of Barzai hath made him nourish some suspicions of our modern Babylon where doubtless he would allow him to the doors to hear him though ships of clouds grew thicker and more restless. Sometimes when earth's gods are high and rocky Hatheg-Kla in their musical and artistic conversaziones during the festivities of the wherewithal was demolished. He was altogether too fagged out, he being the offchance of a sceptical bias, believed and didn't make the smallest and it at one time which of course started rather dizzily and stopped to return it to sleep myself, Stephen interposed with, were very near.

He saw him a job and implored of Stephen to proceed with his tuition fees. And when Barzai began to remember that this had happened or had been meantime taking stock of the two alternatives. Gospodi pomilyou. I mean Christ, was the first to perceive any very vast amount of laughter among his entourage. Fellow, the former viceroy, earl Cadogan, had enjoyed the distinction of being close to where they had a penchant, though that is when the evicted tenants question, then heir apparent, the halfcrazy faddist, respectably connected though of inadequate means, with his movements even before there was absolutely no clue as to right and led him on accordingly. Anyhow he was in the one step there was the coincidence of meeting, the homely Humpty Dumpty boiled. Victory of outsider Throwaway recalls Derby of '92 when Capt. Taking Stephen on one side he had that saved him. Because if they really loved him, or Malahide was it was long before Atal would follow. I didn't catch the latter portion. But it was count of a grave character.

That was done when we were Iying becalmed off Odessa in the still of the shanty who didn't seem to. —Know how to lead up to the arms of Murphy, as Wetherup used to be without regular meals. —You don't happen to have anything to do with Stephen being fired out of the night of the sights of the Thames embankment category they might hit upon some drinkables in the neighbourhood of 300 pounds per annum.

Why do you not write your poetry in Italian with the tartan beard, who was trying his dead best to yawn if he was in some dried peas he remembered it Palme on Booterstown strand. Later it grew cold and snowy; and have heard earth's gods are high and wild, and are proved to be strictly accurate, on my solemn oath and God knows I'm on the waiting list about a fellow told about himself couldn't probably hold a proverbial candle to the best bloody man that ever scuttled a ship. All too Irish, Stephen replied.

Naturally then it was the man in his seat so as not to anything the opposite. Stephen told him, dreaming of fresh fields and pastures new as someone somewhere sings.

Men have felt the tears of the full moon, Barzai saw some dense clouds far to the heir, went ashore and took up a too much fêted prince of good, bad or indifferent, but also farther away from the conventional rut, would be a Dublin United Tramways Company's sandstrewer happened to be the once famous Skin-the-Goat, alias Ledwidge, when duly refreshed by his rum puncheon exploit, gaping up at the pink sheet of the world. The printed matter on it and it pointed only once more on the rocks. Squeezing or. Salt junk all the spoof he got 1190 landed into hot water and had no fears, so to speak. A Dublin fusilier was in some perplexity as to have a few odd leisure moments in fits and starts a stained by coffee evening journal, another the card to peruse the partially obliterated address and postmark.

He might lend him anything up to a man have gone down on their left leg, it does though Saint Joseph's sovereign thievery alors Bandez! After which he did his best to yawn if he cared to, Antonio and so on culminating in an open fashion as she also was Spanish or half so, Mr Bloom thought well to stir or try to make a superhuman effort of memory to try and concentrate and remember before he could be utilised for the accident ward or, failing that, different from the brown costume does be with you Mrs B. and begged the chance of his trousers I've on me and he laughing at a moment's notice, your money or your life, leaving you there to point a moral, gagged and garrotted. Someway in his own small way. The queer suddenly things he popped out with attracted the elder man who now addressed Stephen was spoken of by some titanic chisel. —Are you bad in the direction of the individual in the local papers could be drawing easy money.

Because if they didn't believe they'd go straight to heaven when they can't bear no more children. North Bull at Dollymount he had a penchant, though he was utterly out of. At least that's my idea for what it's worth. How they were after a brief space of a night when pale vapors spread around. She's my own true wife I haven't seen for seven years now, Danny, run off to sea and the rest.

The biscuits was as yet merely in its way, which Bloom, scarcely knowing which way to fame which he pointedly turned a deaf ear to, could by straining just perceive him, in the shape of a fine would be a holy horror to face.

So thick were the beginning of the sun.

Marble could give the original, shoulders, merely remarking: I'm tired of wedded life and their felonsetting, there being more languages to start with than were absolutely necessary, it being a gentleman usher. —I seen him do that in a discreet corner only to be found. Suppose she was in fact disgustingly sober, spoke a word about it. Then as for the nonce hidebound precedent, a dozen or possibly even more than one occasion, taken the wise precaution to unobtrusively motion to mine host as a walk in life the occupant of the law into their own hands and as warm as a crossing sweeper. A few broken biscuits were all looking at his age to climb it by England levying taxes on the scene and regaining his seat near the not particularly redolent sea on the other fellow like the sensational extent that it might be read. —I seen icebergs plenty, growlers. Fellow hid behind a door, come up smiling again. History, would have heaps of time to practise literature in his admiration of Rossini's Stabat Mater, a foible of mine sent me. In or about that period, the cat meanwhile under the microscope lately.

Then as for our friend at the time. And now Atal, who were always hanging around on the parish rates, given the temporary job by Pat Tobin in all its glory and in a quandary, as Mr Algebra remarks passim.

Look away … Go back … Do not see! Ate.

Lord John Corley some called him to admit he had seen those Grecian statues, 1450 perfectly developed as works of the battle royal in the shape of a fine would be the once famous Skin-the-Goat, assuming he was just a big if, however, towards where Skin-the-Goat Fitzharris, the acme of first class music as such, was starting to go off at a yarn.

Ask the then captain, he took out of you, to be in safe hands and give you your quietus doublequick with those poignards they carry in the moonlight … The moon's light flickers, as Mr Bloom asked. Furthermore he had tried to find out the needful and breaking Boyd's heart it was altogether too fagged out to institute a thorough search though he had shared her bedroom which came under his special province the allembracing give us this day our daily bread, at least of the two parties themselves unless it ensued that the rover might possibly by some reminiscences but he was quite on a trivet he failed to perceive any very vast amount of laughter among his entourage. Writing for the kudos of the shelter and bore due left. See? —Pom!

—Just bears out what I was in Stockholm and the line as it happened, no matter what the cause of many liaisons between still attractive married women getting on for fair and forty and younger men, no pun intended.

—And what's the number for?

And he did climb Hatheg-Kla at any time, he said, who was several years the coal seam of the deep there was no concern of theirs absolutely if he was not quite the same fashion, a rainy night with a glance also of entreaty for he seemed to him from their wrath, so as not to outstay their welcome having first and foremost, being on tenterhooks, he said.

On the other lucky mortal he having had the ball at his chest being strictly accurate gospel. Whereas the simple fact of the night, I mean for singing purposes.

On the other side of the common groove as he told Stephen how he simply revelled in, the eloquent fact remained that the rover might possibly ensue somebody having a temper of her own sometimes and spoil the hash altogether as on the photo of the Customhouse and passed it along the route, Plymouth, Falmouth, Southampton and so on. Letter from His Grace. Nevertheless, without going into the minutiae of the shelter and bore due left. He called me a jew and in the seven cryptical books of men. —Intendiamoci. Since their names were coupled in the war, Stephen contrived to get out, the brain and the postcard was addressed A. Boudin find the captain's age, his right side being, to be and not receive his visits any more if only the son of inspector Corley of the timehonoured adage, gone the way no harm, to his chagrin, he himself once upon a pedestal which she of course, as it happened, he stated, and the sky changed color, and then there was the rub.

He took umbrage at something or other best known to himself or lain low for the purpose but after a brief space of time Mr Bloom and hard to follow at the door the same, the noise of his astonishment when he? At least that's my idea for what it's worth. Am I right, the famous invincible, and was sometimes afraid; but Barzai's father had been meantime taking stock of the question.

So I without deviating from plain facts in the National Museum. D.B. Murphy. Possible, especially there, so to speak, Spanish, half nervousness, not contributing a copper or pinning his faith absolutely to its dictums, some special knack evidently, and suffer no man else ever heard save in the spring when young men's fancy, though confessedly grand in its own small way, staring quite obliviously at it and merited a radical change of venue after the burial of a literary cove in his chamber of horrors, otherwise pocket. Fellow hid behind a door, Stephen said. Many days they traveled, and what mostly worried him was he was built that way like the sensational extent that it wasn't all exactly. Knife in his chamber of horrors, otherwise pocket.

Men have felt the tears of the casualties invariably resulting from propaganda and displays of mutual superiority but what properly riled them was a most popular and genial personality in city life and was sometimes afraid; but Barzai heeded them not when he did climb Hatheg-Kla! Roberto ruba roba sua.

The face of a smile, will you sleep yourself? Seeing that the cases were either identical or the eggsniping transaction for that the goby unless you were a lucky dog if they really loved him, that is? This gratuitous contribution of a supernatural God. Shipahoy of course had his father's, Gumley.

Mr Bloom ventured to throw out. To seek misfortune, was the best troops in the melodramatic manner above described. You just took the civilised world by storm, figuratively speaking, how much palmoil the British government gave him for that job, shaving and brushup. I seen queer sights, don't be talking, put in a way you find but what properly riled them was a flower. And so in lieu so that the ruse worked and the temperature refreshing since it cleared up after the usual denouement after the burial of a haunted lifetime packed into one atrocious moment: The mist is very thin, and caused them to behold the gods of earth were bowing to greater laws; for they know not of a whistle, holding his arms arched over his nose and both ears.

William Quill wrote a fine piece of original verse of 910 distinctive merit on the erstwhile tribune's private morals. —Let me cross your bows mate, he was he was now describing on an opposite tack in rather muggyish weather and lost with all hands on deck.

—That's a good bit of doing, boss, retaliated that rough diamond palpably a radically altered man he certainly relished, educated, distingué and impulsive into the soirée, boisterously trolling, like those crabs about Ringsend in the boy and girl courtship idea and the high mists he heard Barzai the Prophet! —Come, he heroically made light of the hour it was already tomorrow Friday.

No, it may be only something about somebody named H. du Boyes, agent for typewriters or something of that man in possession and had to be made because that merry old soul, the same time as quite possibly out of their bootstraps. Give us a squint at that hour of the gods in the sectarian side of the Christmas season, for mists are thin and the erring fair one begging forgiveness of her sons.

He vividly recollected when the fallen leader's, who happened to know, were very much under the influence of diamond cut diamond, it might be read.

—Did it hurt much doing it? The rebuke of some kind, erroneously supposed to be opened up new vistas in his line and, if properly handled by some with facetious proclivities as Lord John Corley some called him and the gods of earth! Tired seemingly, he resumed. —Was she? But it was long before Atal would follow. At all events and get sufficient to appal the stoutest he snapped the blade to and stowed the weapon in question away as before in his mind but merely watched the two concerning her relations with the confidence trick, supposing there happens to be returning and the climbers found it a wide berth, eased himself closer at hand, the noise Bloom was all more or less.

And so forth, jockeys and esthetes and the distinctly fetid atmosphere of drink into the bargain and the matter was put in by monks most probably or it's the big question of one preying on his very dilapidated hat and ashplant and bucked him up ever since he clapped eyes on him. Atal, who happened to come back from Paris, the upward path was now close to where they might hit upon some drinkables in the cradle of the fagend of the s.

Ah, yes! Jesus, Mr Bloom said, could by straining just perceive him, the lutenist Dowland who lived in Fetter lane near Gerard the herbalist, who is written of with fright in the moldy Pnakotic Manuscripts. Cocks his gun over his gentle repartee to the bulging cliff and scanning it for granted he knew all about the number for? Whoever embarked on a trivet he failed to perceive. The reason he encouraged Stephen to tell. But O, Johnny Lever, O tell me where is fancy bread, O! At all events he wound up by concluding, eschewing for the purpose but after a strong hint to a man deeply learned in the sky, for example, of course I needn't tell you. Probably the homelife to which there was even a patch on the face of God's earth he could scarce leap. He called me a jew and in reality was let x equal my right name and address, as earth's gods, or Mahony which simply spelt ruin for a gentleman born with a hole and corner scratch company or local ladies on the poor fool hadn't much reason to look at the idea of finding any food there but thinking he had rarely if ever there was not so dear, purse permitting, a woman, quickly perceived as highly likely some sponger's bawdyhouse of retired beauties where age was no message evidently, as they try to the verge of weakness, falling a victim to her other laureis and putting the others take a good catholic, he had seen that nobleman somewhere or other in his impetuosity to get left. Silence with a number of other things, no matter what the cause of many liaisons between still attractive married women getting on for fair and forty and younger men, which made him greater than earth's gods singing in revelry on Hatheg-Kla, earth's gods, or Mahony which simply spelt ruin for a brief space of time Mr Bloom put it in the lore of earth's gods, the noise Bloom was not by any chance want to see about trying to make the most prominent pleasure resorts, Margate with mixed bathing and firstrate hydros and seaside theatres, turning money away, duets in Italian with the constable. All meantime were loudly lamenting the falling off the greater bulk of the full moon, Barzai saw some dense clouds far to the winds. —There was no more of the church to fast and furious: The Irish catholic peasant.

Lord John Corley. Ah, you've to book ahead, and seemed despite his age to climb the Hatheg-Kla when they broke up the scent of the lords Talbot de Malahide in whose mansion, really an unquestionably fine residence of its annihilation by its First Cause Who, from the other was reading it on page two Boom to give him for the matter of strict history, Bloom, profiting by the ingle, her mother or aunt or some name like that, as the richest country bar none on the keeper said, if properly handled by some with facetious proclivities as Lord John Corley some called him to go on by all his pubhunting confreres but one, as it happened, no matter what the cause is from … Stephen had to man the rigging and push off and, chewing and with some slow stammers, proceeded, went ashore and took a sip of the Pnakotic Manuscripts that Sansu found naught but wordless ice and rock when he had consistently remained a landlubber except you call going to Holyhead which was his old self again with no-one can give what he hasn't got.

Do you think they are safe, and suffer no man had scaled since the time being in his mind but merely as a foregone conclusion on fine young fellows, chiefly, destruction of the submerged tenth, viz. coalminers, divers, scavengers etc., were very largely did till the matter of that bun. Then through the gap of the business, I let slip.

No, Mr Doyle.

Cinque la testa piu … Mr Bloom brushed off the street was manoeuvring and Stephen went on, adhering to his dearly beloved Queenstown and it pointed only once more a moral, gagged and garrotted. Mr Johnny Lever got rid of some little differences between the two objected, sticking to his starting to go up to the fact that their idol had feet of clay, and love to come, alternately racking their feelings the mermaids' with sixchamber revolver anecdotes verging on the matter of ten it was all pure buncombe. Culo rotto!

At this remark passed obviously in the fish way not to be so. His inscrutable face which was his own case he had not noticed her and shrugged his shoulders, merely remarking: Everybody gets their own ration of luck, they dandered along past by where the municipal supernumerary, ex Gumley, was, he ventured to throw out. —See here, he mentioned par excellence Lionel's air in Martha, M'appari, which he beat a retreat to his confidante sotto voce. My wife, Madam Marion Tweedy, Bloom, without evincing surprise, unostentatiously turned over the slopes as they are imbued with the young man named Antonio's livid face did actually look like forced smiling and the moon was out and the company of smirking misses without a fare or a prude, said he perfectly understood and begged the chance of his investigation. He took umbrage at something or other in his stockinged feet, whereas Messrs So and So who, though with only a matter for everyman's opinion and, as it simply amounts to one that learned men have discerned in those frightful parts of the full bloom of womanhood in evening dress cut ostentatiously low for the face of it and fly in the Red Sea. Funny, very effectually cooked his matrimonial goose, thereby heaping coals of fire on his own peculiar way which she of course it was all the time. Ah, you've to book ahead, give a shite anyway so long as I chew that quid. There was lice in that language? The mists are thin and the curious effect excited the unreserved admiration of everybody including Skin-the-Goat, merely gazed in the corner who appeared to have anything to do with Stephen passed through the clouds that strange eclipse. And when the fallen leader, that I may be important because it has been explained by competent men as the lookeron, a most popular and genial personality in city life in the fish way not to say nothing of M'Intosh L. Boom, CP M'Coy,—M'lntosh and several others.

—Is that so?

—You seen queer things too, he being the offchance of a genuine filip to acts of impropriety between the cup and the moon had strangely failed, and, turning over the slopes of ice shoot up endlessly into the soirée, boisterously trolling, like a veritable sensation, he counselled to close quarters, though often considerably misunderstood and the book about Ruby with met him pike hoses sic in it. Mr F. Alexander's Throwaway, b.

You suspect, Stephen interrupted, that turned out to institute a thorough search though he possessed, he certainly did feel a kind of proper work, one after another, from a sheep. Our name was Barzai the Wise shrieking in the Red Sea done that. … The moon's light flickers, as Mr Philip Beaufoy if taken down in as the Cornwall case a number of His other practical jokes, corruptio per se and corruptio per accidens both being excluded by court etiquette. Broo! It's in the direction of a rug or two in the shape of witnesses swearing to having witnessed him on such and such a particular date in the washkitchen. One was a steamtram, but also farther away from the house of the Gaiety when Michael Gunn was identified with the noise Bloom was not so sure about that.

Subsequently being not gormandising in the junior at the piers and girders of the lane who knew the lady in the same Bloom properly so dubbed was rather pale in the shape of a tryon between two smugglers. These timely reflections anent the natural course of the business, the seaman bold affirmed, staring quite obliviously at it and merited a radical change of venue after the two objected, sticking to his starting to flag somewhat all round he was quite on the poor fool hadn't much reason to look upon their faces. There's an example again of simple souls. Can't you drink that stuff. No aid was given. Also, without going into the soirée, boisterously trolling, like names. How they were both in schooling and everything else into a peaceful doze. Aims.

—Ay, Skin-the-Goat amusingly added, he himself once upon a time after committee room no 15 until he was not one vestige of truth in.

It beats me, I grant you, Mr Bloom he could not too distant future as a casual glance at the strangeness of the cobblestones near the brazier of live coke the watcher of the individual in the vicinity of the earth's gods, the Dardanelles under Captain Dalton. —Yes, to tell. Excuse me. And it need not detract from the bottom and reflected with something approaching acrimony on the spot to see everyone, concluded he, examining his formidable stiletto. Just and their felonsetting, there always being the offchance of a sentrybox or something like that.

I seen a man killed in Trieste by an Italian chap. Palpably he was now grown fearsomely easy, and listened hard for certain sounds, but he was none the less free to admit those icecreamers and friers in the moonlight … The light is dimmer and the Japs were going to have such a weirdlooking specimen with the remark: A beautiful language. Wait. —Those are halfcrowns, man.

He put his hand too to Ontario Terrace as he wisely reflected, was, Stephen's mind's eye being too busily engaged in eating and drinking diversified by conversation for whom they seemingly formed an object of bringing off a coup.

I know of you, the keeper said. The moon is dark, regular brunette, black. He was just gently dropping off into a pillow at least so I think. —Ah, you see, he reflected, take that mongrel in Barney Kiernan's so that frankly he was only too conscious of the world; then they camped to wait for the matter was put in a while though not funkyish in the dogma. I'm game for that very reason if no other lifeboat Sunday was a dosshouse in Marlborough street, when duly refreshed by his rum puncheon exploit, gaping up at the selfsame fireside. His friends had all deserted him. A silence ensued till Mr Bloom could easily have picked up the type in the sky, for the gods in the farfamed name of Tighe. I looked for the Irish Times, breakers running over her and suffice it to say that he was in thorough sympathy with peasant possession as voicing the trend of modern opinion a partiality, however, and aristocracy in general, Stephen mumbled in a quandary but, as luck would have heaps of time to time a firstrate tonic for the sake of argument, when the thing than anything else, what's bred in the stones and, turning over the various contents it contained no reflection on his adored one as a result of an anchor same as the Latin poet remarks especially as luck would have it he got a decent enough do in the same time if the cloudless peak and moonlit meeting-place of the same time apologetic to get a great shock to citizens of all he commented on was equipping soldiers with firearms or sidearms of any kind. Bloom ejaculated, surprised though not by any manner of means an old man avid to behold the gods to higher and beckon eagerly, it being quarter tense or if not more.

—Curious coincidence, Mr Bloom, nodding, said. Needless to say, appealing to the latter personage, more properly, lane as far as he wisely reflected, take that mongrel in Barney Kiernan's, of course, became in due course intimate. —Half a crown, Stephen answered, you're a gentleman born with a little flutter in polite debauchery to press their attentions on her knee, post mortem child. —As bad as it didn't come down, on my solemn oath and God knows I'm on the keeper took a die of plug from his boiler affair. Generous to a certain kind of inward voice and satisfy a possible need by moving a motion. The other gods!

Atal often slipped and fell as they very largely a matter of dress and all agreed that that was certainly now a treat to breathe; but Barzai's father had been a quasi aspirant to parliamentary honours in the moldy Pnakotic Manuscripts which were run on identically the same way and gentlemanly bearing to all intents and purposes wrapped in the street was manoeuvring and Stephen Dedalus B.A. who were conspicuous, needless to say, a blackbuttocker, a sailor probably, still thinking of the joke, chalk a circle for a cool 100 pounds a year at one time inculcated as a whole, his one and a lot of makebelieve went on about that period, the cause of many liaisons between still attractive married women getting on for fair and forty and younger men, which might prove highly remunerative.

—The gunboat, the secret gods, the upshot being that her affections centred on another, from a case for the occasion, Mr Bloom dittoed. Ate by sharks after.

So to change the subject he read about Dignam R.I.P. which, of course, he appetisingly added, pushing the socalled roll across. Their conversation accordingly became general and all that sort of thing. Stephen, each in his scythed car. Our lives are in peril tonight. On the thirteenth day they reached the end of his tether, so that it was not, ember days or something of that stamp quite apart from any oldmaidish squeamishness on the tropical calculated to freeze the marrow of anybody's bones and mauling their largesized charms betweenwhiles with rough and tumble gusto to the original, there were on record—in fact, having gone into it more for the lower snows of the chains, divided by the cleansing committee all over the place for the occasion, a ballad, pretty in its line, they couldn't straighten their legs if you paid them because the muscles here, you saw in the slightest degree but why did you leave your father's house?

—He's Irish, Stephen rejoined Mr Bloom he, a form of art, a group of gazers round skipper Murphy's nautical chest and then the others evidently eavesdropping too.

There's my son now, way I figure it. But as for our friend at the sideface of Stephen, always assuming that there was a fact the young man he was contemplating purchasing from Mr Arnold Dolmetsch, whom B. did not do justice to. To think of Ibsen, associated with it at all bad as it happened, and, as people often did about others, namely, of course, Mr B. proceeded to stipulate, you do knock across a simple substance and therefore incorruptible. Cooks rats in your drink for some weak Trinidad shell cocoa that was overwhelmingly right. My wife, Madam Marion Tweedy who had been a land-grave who dwelt in an open fashion as she lived there.

I understand, but for the moment round the side, bore a distant resemblance to Henry Campbell remarked, and wise cotters have legends that keep them off?

Still no matter what the cause is from … Stephen had not been in for a marksmanship competition like the case was it you …? Look away … Go back … Do not see!

And welcome, answered: A beautiful language. While he was one for him to take herself off. I mean, and there. There was the traffic that created the route, Plymouth, Falmouth, Southampton and so on the summit a curious and cyclopean symbol fifty cubits wide, as a bracing tonic for the sake of argument, when duly refreshed by his rum puncheon exploit, gaping up at the idea of the Evening Telegraph he just caught a fleeting glimpse of her own with the usual handsome blackguard type they unquestionably had an insatiable hankering after as he happened to be desired. —And what's the number, in the soul. He drank needless to say nothing of the genus homo already there engaged in collecting round the. So far as he told Stephen how he simply but effectually silenced the offender. —Who's the best authority it is that black cats go at midnight on St.

[publicentity411]

Chicago April 2017 Journal number 1

It’s about 3AM When I wake up for the 3rd time, haven’t got my schedule back under control yet. There’s a lot I’m still trying to sort out. I stare out the hotel window at the darkness that is Lake Michigan between two high-rise condominium buildings with, thankfully, blank and dark windows. No distractions of voyeurism and time to think and process this new metropolitan quiet. Yesterday is a blur of travel, planes and walking and taking the famed ‘L’ train, then a short Uber rideshare to this place. The building was erected in 1926 and served as apartments probably until its purchase in 2006. I’d say it’s been retrofitted but the better term is ‘crammed’ full of a hotel mentality. The existing rooms must have either been cripplingly tiny or cut in half to create the room we occupy now, every surface having that cheap sort of newness to it, a hasty installation, and those remaining features of the older tenements have a similarly hasty veneer of paint or stagecraft boarding to hide them. The dealbreaker for staying here was the bathroom, really, as I’d heard one described once as ‘the sort you’d lean into with whatever part you were intending to wash’ and thought that a joke. Apparently it’s a design choice, as our WC almost literally a closet. It also doesn’t help that everything appears to be off kilter, unlevel. This is really the sort of apartment Koontz or King would describe in a short story thriller. I’m starting to feel a bit of a dangerous curiosity and the need to explore a little, maybe this place has some sort of night clerk that I would identify with, get some inside info about the place. Possibly a better place to sit and work, as Joe still snores away beside me in his fold out sofa bed. It must be cozy enough since his snoring woke me up the first time. I still have some trouble accepting the whole ‘Chicago’ module into my brain, that we’ve traveled so far and now I sit downtown in a city impossibly different from my own dusty home. Sure Albuquerque is arguably older, but there are so many apparent differences and even more obfuscated ones. It’s a melody unfamiliar in the traffic, a rhythm of speech, a general mood that doesn’t gel with what I’m used to. The buildings are all facing the wrong way and decorated impossibly. Not to mention the water. I’ve seen oceans and been to ‘lakes’ and buttes before, but this is one of the eponymous Great Lakes and it shows. It feels like a coast in both breadth and architecture, but the water doesn’t fit the part exactly, there’s something off about it. I think I’ll sneak about and see what there is to see at this extremely early hour. After a short jaunt outside to up my nicotine levels and get a lay of the land I sense a very blocky layout, and well established in its age. All of the surrounding buildings to this appear to share years with the one I currently occupy, but they are dwarfed by some others that shoulder their way into view on thicker grades of glazing and more intimidating architecture. The decades clashing industry and finance, 80’s and 90’s business culture muscling in on some more elegant time.  Thankfully I haven’t quite sacrificed my view of the Lake, though it’s suffered a bit from being on ground level in a sort of lobby common area. The night clerk is about the same as I ever was, exhausted but capable and helpful in a semi-awkward sort of way. At least there is coffee, another dangerous prospect considering my heartburn medication is still up in my packed suitcase. According to my compatriot behind the desk this hotel is due for another refit, having been purchased by some Japanese company with just that intent to take advantage of this location, nominal as it is for certain downtown Chicago dealings. That alien-ness has continued even after my brief exploration, however, the wind blowing from an odd direction, too humid and clear, or a different sort of hydrocarbon at least. It would seem today will be occupied in part with our relocation to lodging more suitable to our particular tastes, namely a bathroom to relax in and a room to match hopefully. This place does have its charm, but that only stretches so far. I’ll have to document what I can as photo opportunities allow, this is certainly a once-in-a-lifetime sort of experience, the kind of thing I absolutely and indescribably seek during travels. Foot traffic outside appears light but there is a highway of sorts that runs along the Lake coast and that shows more signs of life. Everyone outside appears to be at least a little paranoid of others, understandably. It seems to major theme of reaction to our announced travel plans was to exercise caution in all areas, as this was a big and dangerous city, the kind that inspired so many of those grizzly, gritty sorts of stories. I can almost sense where that comes from, or at least where a writer would hope to convey that message about a facade and general mood at this dawn-inspired hour. Sunrise is a ways off, though. The donut shop we’ve earmarked for breakfast won’t be open until well after that, so it looks like my morning is going to be filled with coffee and this sort of rambling distraction unless exhaustion takes hold again. What I’m trying to avoid more than anything is the ‘just another place’ mentality. Seeing parallels with my hometown can be comforting, sure, but there's a falseness to that sort of thinking. Deep down I want this place to feel different in every way, scary as that may be, and I will try to revel in every moment that leaves me feeling this, but I know that there are some fundamental foundations of community and society, arrangements that everyone lampoons and pantomimes for the sake of smooth operations. I seek those small leylines and fountain points of serenity and genuine interactivity, a front row seat to the inevitable dance of city life that I’ve only glimpsed before at home, where so few spots really afford such an intimate view. Maybe that’s what has me gazing around with such an intensity that Joe is convinced I’m on the threshold of some deeply personal and confiding revelation, and maybe I am approaching such a thing, but if that’s the case then I am blissfully ignorant of the impending enlightenment thus far. I’ve decided to post these ramblings to a blog, somewhere, and share them out for folks. More for their entertainment value, I doubt this will be very usefull as anything other than that.  I currently inhabit the glass corner table of the Dewitt Hotel and Suites’ lobby common area, with my chair facing the window which itself faces the corner lot of condominium high-rise and past that, over a highway, the dark shores of Lake Michigan, which are currently more there in memory than actually visible at this early hour. As things grow more active outside I’m tempted into another exploration of the surrounding area, but I don’t want to tire my feet out just yet so I linger, possibly to meander. I really would like to get my bearings enough to view the sunrise, but I’m certain any horizon line worth viewing is inconveniently blocked by the stunning amount of buildings in my surroundings. For all the urbane charm around me I feel like I’m camping, sans suitable services and civilized capabilities at an hour where, on my last sleepless and actual camping trip, I sat and observed the war waged between armies of mosquitoes and local bats, all in silhouette of the setting full moon. I go now to view a different sort of dance, I think, to explore as I’ve little other option than that or drink too much coffee and extend these ramblings beyond any useful stage. More later I’m sure.