#the raths have been in pretty much every game ever made

[monsterhunterthings]

(Not Wilds, to be clear. A game after that.)

This includes all subspecies, deviants, and etc. One of the monsters is not found in the game at all and the other one is an enemy as usual. Either remove the Poison Queen or the King of the Skies.

(Ignore the breeding issues, okay?)

No nuance, vote with your heart!

[auncyen]

Ok ok so I'd been idly thinking about updating "Chats with Joker in Mementos" for Royal for a while, except as far as I know there aren't any transcriptions for the Royal Mementos chats like there is for Vanilla...

So...after some questionable use of my time, I now have a list of a good chunk of the starters in Royal. Only starters, not responses, since the point of the fic is having Joker be the one to respond, and I didn't transcribe ones I didn't think would be interesting for him to respond to, but still, if anyone does ever look to do a complete transcription, this might be helpful as a start? Or just interesting if you want to see what some characters talk about. Spoilers for third semester below cut.

Ryuji: Man, we really bust our asses to get stronger in here. I wish it meant we got stronger in the real world too.

Ryuji: Man, I had this horrible dream last night… Can’t remember a thing about it, though.

Ryuji: Ya know what? I guess Mona does have a mask, technically.

Ryuji: Yo, the way he jumps behind Shadows is so sick!

Ryuji: Yo, is it just me, or is fallin’ asleep getting tougher every night? At this point, I’m outta ideas of what to do.

Ryuji: Kinda fiendin’ for some ramen right about now… Maybe I’ll hit up Ogikubo when we get back.

RyujI: So lately, I’ve been tryin’ to work some training into my nightly routine before bed.

Ryuji: Hey, is it just me, or is Morgana’s sword basically the same size as Joker’s knife?

Ryuji: My mom made gyudon last night! My fave! Now I’ve got, like, fifty times more energy than usual!

Ryuji: This phantom thief stuff feels real as hell whenever he’s flyin’ around with that grappling hook.

Ryuji: Dude, that grappling hook is awesome! He looks like a freakin’ superhero with that thing!

Ryuji: Aww man, I just can’t get enough of those Akihabara maids…

Ryuji: Aren’t knives kinda hard to use ‘cause of their shortness? I definitely prefer my own shit.

Ryuji: I always thought darts looked easy—just aim for the board, y’know? But, it’s waaay harder than that.

Ryuji: Every try the monja in Tsukishima? That stuff is LEGIT.

Ryuji: Yo, does this outfit really make me look like I’m part of some biker gang?

-

Morgana: Listen, it’s not that I look like a cat. Cats just happen to look like me.

Morgana: I repeat: I am not a cat. To prove it, I took an actual bath yesterday.

Morgana: So, cats love to chase mice, right? I don’t get it—where’s the fun in that?

Morgana: I’m always so entranced by Panther’s whip technique!

Morgana: Panther, we have matching tails!

Morgana: You know, I’ve never actually been in a car before. Is it anything like I am now?

Morgana: I definitely made the right decision giving him the code name “Joker.”

Morgana: I’m willing to bet Joker’s skilled enough to use throwing knives.

Morgana: Anime, books, movies… Phantom thieves sure are popular.

Morgana: Last night I dreamt that Phantom Thieves were kicking some serious butt—let’s bring that dream to life!

Morgana: I can teach you everything you need to know about being a phantom thief. Relax—you’re in good hands!

Morgana: *yawn* I didn’t get enough sleep…

Morgana: I couldn’t fall asleep at all last night. I just laid there with my eyes open…

Morgana: I like Yongen-Jaya; it’s a great place for a stroll.

Morgana: Is Shujin Academy the only thing in Aoyama?

Morgana: I was vegetating in front of the TV last night, and I have to say, there are some pretty decent shows on now.

-

Ann: The bakery had a sale yesterday and I ended up buying everything they had!

Ann: The Ferris wheel is a must for me at theme parks, every time. I love being able to just relax.

Ann: I have an upcoming shoot at a theme park, but what sucks is how I can’t go on any of the rides.

Ann: Last night I dreamt I was eating a chocolate bar, then all of a sudden, it got mad and started chasing me!

Ann: Every once in a while I have a dream where I get chased by a Shadow…

Ann: I’ve been sleeping really well since I started getting all this exercise.

Ann: I was up late watching TV last night, so I might be a little sleep deprived…

Ann: I tend to do my clothes shopping in Kichijoji—it’s fun looking through all the resale shops.

Ann: I hate when people ask me to say stuff in English just ‘cause I lived overseas.

Ann: It always bothers me when foreign movie subtitles leave stuff out or take too many liberties.

Ann: I was talking to my overseas friend the other day—her straightforward attitude was really refreshing!

Ann: I was talking to Shiho on the phone and before I knew it, three whole hours had passed!

Ann: Joker seems like he’d make a good cook, doesn’t he? I mean, he’s great with his knife and all…

Ann: It’s actually quite exhilarating to attack with a whip. I wonder why that is…

Ann: Whenever my foreign relatives come to Japan, they always rave about how much they love Japanese food!

Ann: Do you think there’s anything I can do about my outfit? I feel like I stand out too much in this…

Ann: Is there a difference between a whip and a grappling hook?

Ann: Ya know, Skull’s always been into skull designs and stuff.

Ann: Wouldn’t a grappling hook be awfully handy in the real world?

-

Yusuke: I wish to paint the world as only I see it. The best way to succeed at this is through practice.

Yusuke: It’s fun to walk around and inspect different temples and shrines. The architecture is always impressive.

Yusuke: If Shadows are sentient, do you think their being moved by a painting would invoke a change of heart?

Yusuke: There have been times where I was compelled to create three-dimensional art.

Yusuke: I’m quite curious about Mona’s Western-style sword…

Yusuke: I hear whips are quite difficult to use. Where did you learn how to wield one?

Yusuke: Joker using a grappling hook…. That would make for a picture-perfect composition.

Yusuke: Mona, what exactly do you have in those pouches?

Yusuke: Creating a piece of art is pointless unless I can convey the full essence of the subject.

Yusuke: Art museums stimulate my creativity like no other place—I wish I could live inside one.

Yusuke: Skull and I both use long melee weapons, but they’re total opposites of one another.

Yusuke: Why does my outfit have a tail? I don’t understand…

Yusuke: I considered growing my own bean sprouts, but it seems to be more expensive than buying them grown.

Yusuke: I once had a dream that I washed up on a deserted island. I painted as much as I pleased… So wonderful.

Yusuke: I may specialize in Japanese-style painting, but I’d like to learn some Western techniques as well.

Yusuke: That grappling hook is very useful. I should find a way to utilize one in my daily life.

Yusuke: The other day, I went into the mountains to gather vegetables so I could cut back on food expenses.

Yusuke: I tried to paint a landscape of the starry sky once, but it’s quite difficult to do so from within the city.

Yusuke: India ink isn’t my specialty, but I’ve been experimenting with it in some recent work, just for fun.

-

Makoto: I may have stopped being a doormat for adults, but people are still calling me a “teacher’s pet.”

Makoto: A phantom thief’s body is their most vital asset. We need to make sure we eat balanced, nutritious meals.

Makoto: Do you enjoy visiting theme parks? I’ve rarely been to one myself.

Makoto: Fox looks cooler using his katana than I had originally imagined.

Makoto: I had the weirdest dream… I was at school, but I was wearing my phantom thief outfit.

Makoto: Would anyone care to learn how to drive, while we’re here? This place seems as good as any for practice.

Makoto: I know it’s not very healthy, but I do enjoy eating ramen from time to time.

Makoto: Once I’ve graduated, I’m going to buy a motorcycle and go on a road trip.

Makoto: I’ve been working on my grades because I still want to attend college, despite being a phantom thief.

Makoto: I want to read a certain book, but it’s out of print. Where do you suppose I could find a copy?

Makoto: Maybe I’m just burned out, but waking up has grown awfully difficult lately.

Makoto: The grappling hook’s cable seems pretty strong, but it’s scary to think what could happen if it snapped.

Makoto: Once my sister brought home some sushi for me. It was indescribably good…

-

Futaba: I heard rhythm’s an important part of fighting, sooo… I started playing a rhythm game!

Futaba: There’s going to be an event tonight in the MMO I play. I can’t wait!

Futaba: This MMO I’m hooked on is really cool. Do you wanna play with me? Oh—it’s in English, though.

Futaba: I’m about to beat the game I’ve been playing. Wonder what I should play next?

Futaba: I’ve been going outside a lot more, so now I’m sleeping way better than I did when I was a shut-in.

Futaba: Guess what? I’m making a game called “Hungry Hungry Mona”!

Futaba: You know who’s a really good driver, is Sojiro. He can parallel park with his eyes closed!

Futaba: If you could shoot grappling hooks from your hands, you’d probably be able to get around just using those!

Futaba: Ya know, I’ve thought about workin’ out and fighting alongside you guys.

Futaba: You guys should try playing shooters! It could help you improve your gun skills.

Futaba: Last night I had a dream my hard drive failed… That was scary.

Futaba: Wouldn’t it be cool if you could mod the grappling hook so it was electrified?

Futaba: Sure, the internet’s convenient, but it’s not like it can do everything. Don’t overestimate its capabilities.

Futaba: I wonder if I’d be okay going to some place by myself if it wasn’t crowded. Inokashira Park seems nice.

Futaba: Yesterday Sojiro bought me my favorite instant yakisoba!

Futaba: Maybe I should get a gun too, just for self-defense… Nah, my hands need to be empty.

-

Haru: I found this cafe in Kichioji with phenomenal tea—would you care to try it sometime?

Haru: I ordered kusaya but they refused to make it—they said they couldn’t get the smell out of the kitchen.

Haru: I feel like I need to learn more about the world, but I’m not sure how to best go about it.

Haru: Recently, I’ve been finding rare delicacies rather enticing…

Haru: Even lately, I sometimes dream about doing phantom thief things with Mona.

Haru: If you’re having trouble getting yourself to relax, I recommend herbal tea.

Haru: Asakusa is a wonderful area—I love how it’s this blend of the old and the new.

Haru: Ever since I started high school I’ve been taking the train in the morning, but I’m still not used to it…

Haru: Queen, your mask looks like it’s made of iron. Doesn’t it get heavy?

Haru: Joker’s so acrobatic! He’s really got the hang of that grappling hook.

Haru: I don’t think I’ve gotten this much exercise since I was in ballet.

Haru: Let me know if you ever get a tear in your clothing—I’m good at sewing, so I could most likely fix it.

Haru: I dreamt that the vegetables I’d been growing all died… I was so sad.

Haru: Your weapon seems fun, Skull. Do you want to swap sometime?

Haru: Sometimes it’s impossible for me to fall asleep on days that we’ve been to Palaces, no matter how tired I am.

Haru: You know, before this, I’d never considered using an axe for anything other than chopping firewood…

Haru: My hands have gotten all calloused… I supposed it comes with the territory in gardening.

-

Akechi: I have no intention of changing my stance on matters, no matter what anyone may say.

Akechi: Pancakes... I don’t want to hear that word again for a long, long time.

Akechi: We don’t have much time left. Please do what you can to avoid getting sick.

Akechi: The enemies are stronger than ever. Don’t let your guard down.

Akechi: A world that panders to your every whim is so mundane. Where’s the thrill if there’s no competition?

Akechi: Do you prefer my previous outfit or this one? Moving around’s become much easier for me.

Akechi: This place is immense. If there weren’t train tracks everywhere, I’d bring my bike here.

Akechi: We’re working under the constraints of a time limit, so I’d appreciate it if you could be more efficient.

Akechi: If you’re looking for a way to train both your mind and your body, I highly recommend bouldering.

Akechi: You think I’m frightening when I fight? Well, I’m afraid you’re just going to have to accept it.

Akechi: I meant to tell you, regarding Shido… Thank you for keeping your promise.

Akechi: You may not like working with me, but I’m counting on your assistance until our goal is achieved.

Akechi: When we’re riding in the car like this, it’s easy to forget that we’re actually inside Mona.

Akechi: The Shadows here behave differently from the ones in the Palaces, don’t they?

Akechi: I’m getting a bit hungry. I should’ve eaten beforehand.

Akechi: I enjoy spending time in Kichijoji. It’s not very big, but there are plenty of trendy shops.

Akechi: Riding in the car may beat walking, but it doesn’t stop my legs from growing stiff and sore…

-

Sumire: I have a few different superstitions for good luck in my routines… They get sort of hard to drop.

Sumire: It was already hard for me to believe Palaces existed, but to think there’s such a massive one under Shibuya…

Sumire: It’s a bit cramped in here with this many people…

Sumire: I get stiff all over from just sitting in the car.

Sumire: Why is the one desert you get to eat during the week so delicious?

Sumire: A phantom thief outfit represents a person’s image of their rebellion, right?

Sumire: I wonder if I should try incorporating another sport into my gymnastics training.

Sumire: I wonder what I could use as inspiration for my performances…

Sumire: Swords are actually pretty hard to wield.

Sumire: Whenever I travel, I always end up buying some sort of good luck charm.

Sumire: Your outfits are all so unique. I can see coordinating them wasn’t a priority.

Sumire: This time of year, a heating pad’s an absolute must for keeping warm.

Sumire: Sometimes people will just walk up to me and ask me to show them a standing split.

Sumire: I’m in top shape today! Let’s keep going.

Sumire: Do you all stretch beforehand? You could pull a muscle if you don’t.

Sumire: It’s too bad gymnastics competitions aren’t on TV more often.

Sumire: Fighting makes for a pretty good workout, doesn’t it?

-

while I didn't transcribe responses, I did notice something a bit disappointing: neither Sumire nor Akechi seemed to have responses for anyone else. It's possible I missed one?? But not being able to remember any, they must not have many if they do have some. A bit odd.

[outerbankswriting]

Stupid Game  (Pope x Reader)

Description: The reader and Pope become distant and neither of them have a clue as to why that happened. (A/N: again, I’m no good at descriptions.)

Request: Can you do a Pope imagine were he thinks that the person likes on or John b is and cuts them off. Ends with fluff please. Also Iove your writing, its amazing!

STUPID GAME

You were confused to say the least.

You and Pope had always been the closest of friends, sharing every little secret between the two of you as well as every single detail that happened in your lives. From the weird butterfly you saw on the way to his house to his dreams and fears of becoming a forensic science student.

But ever since the day he introduced you to his friends, things between the two of you started to change.

He’d stopped telling you about the random yet interesting things that happened throughout his day, he didn’t invite you anymore after hanging at John B’s place to his house to have conversations just the two of you and even though you tried your best to pretend it was all in your head, he’d also started to become cold with you.

It wasn’t until one night at John B’s place when you decided enough was enough, and it was time to get your best friend back.

You arrived by yourself to John B’s house and were greeted by an already drunk JJ with a beer in one hand and a joint in the other.

“Y/N, it was about time you got here.” He hiccuped.

“Is Pope here?” You were quick to reply.

“I’m doing very well, thank you.” JJ said as you walked past him.

Your eyes quickly scanned the room and to your disappointment, your best friend was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey Y/N,” John B greeted, “want a beer?”

“Where’s Pope?” You ignored his offer.

“Did something happen?” John B raised an eyebrow at you, your desperate search for Pope alarming him.

“Are we not enough for you?” JJ dramatically said and you just rolled your eyes at the blonde.

“Everything’s fine,” you sighed trying to calm down, “I just need to talk to him.”

“He’s coming over soon,” John B replied, “he’s helping Kie with some stuff.”

You felt your heart drop at his words. Kiara.

You weren’t jealous of her, but the fact that it was no news to you that Pope found her beautiful and smart made you a bit insecure. You remembered the night the two of you were at his place after hanging with the Pogues and he confessed that to you.

“We should play a game.” You said, your eyes red from having smoked with JJ.

“If it requires me to move from the coach, don’t count me in.” Pope yawned as he finished his drink.

“It doesn’t, you dumbass.”

“There’s no need to be aggressive.” He jokingly placed his hands over his chest.

“Would you rath-”

“Ugh not that stupid game again!” He was quick to cut you off and complain.

“Pope come on!” You dramatically pouted. “I helped you study yesterday, you owe me.”

“Fine then,” he agreed after some hesitation, “only because of that though.”

You smiled at your friend and took your time to think about a good question.

“Would you rather drink your pee or eat your shit.” You smirked at him, waiting for his reaction.

“Y/N come on!” He gagged and spit his drink, “Can’t you see I’m drinking beer?”

“I’m kidding,” you laughed at Pope’s dramatic expressions, “would  you rather be a lonely Kook or a happy Pogue?”

“That’s pretty obvious. A happy Pogue.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” You smiled.

“How about you?”

“Me too. I could not imagine my life without y-“ you were quick to change your words, “without my friends.”

You felt your cheeks heat up after clearing your throat. It was no lie to you the fact that you’d developed a crush on Pope over time. There was so much to like about this guy. From his attractive intelligence, his kindness, his protectiveness and his incredible looks to the way you like the best version of yourself when you were around him.

“Me neither.” He smiled, clearly noticing the redness taking over your face.

“Your turn.”

“Would you rather eat a carrot or drink apple juice.”

There was silence. You stared at him with a bland look on your face for a few seconds.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Are you kidding? Is that your question?” You raised your eyebrows at him.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s boring!” You exclaimed, “Give me something interesting.”

Pope rolled his eyes at you but smiled to himself once an idea came to his head.

“Would you rather marry Rafe Cameron or stay alone for the rest of your life?”

You grinned at him.

“Now that’s a good question. But it’s too easy, I’d rather be alone.”

“Good. I would’ve unfriended you if you chose Rafe.”

“You wouldn’t though,” you said and he nodded, “my turn.”

You smiled to yourself as you came up with a good question. It was a daring one but you were feeling pretty confident and relaxed thanks to JJ’s joint.

“If you could date any of the girls, who would you date and why?”

You watched as his cheeks turned red and his eyes widened. He tried to cover it up by taking a big gulp from his drink.

“Well that’s a weird question you know?” He stuttered, “Are we talking about celebrities included or fictional characters or-“

“Outer Banks only.” You grinned and he cleared his throat.

“Well I don’t know.”

“Come on Pope it’s a game!”

“It’s not easy alright?” He was kind of serious.

“It is.”

“It’s not,” he looked at you, “you do it then.”

“As in any of the boys?”

“Yeah,” he said, “who’s so brave now?”

You were too proud to let him get away with it but you cursed yourself for having asked that. You didn’t know if you should tell him the obvious answer, which was him. You would date him in a quick second. But you were scared it would ruin your friendship. So you decided a lie would be better.

“John B.” You said with a confident tone to hide the lie.

Pope remained silent for a few seconds and you could listen to the beats of your heart.

“I would date Kie.” He said and looked straight into your eyes, “She’s beautiful and smart and she would get me. No doubt in that.”

And your heart broke. But there was no one to blame but yourself.

“So are you going to drink a beer or should I take it?” JJ snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Take it.” You said quietly.

“What’s wrong?” John B noticed the sudden change in your mood.

“I told you nothing’s wrong.” You snapped out.

You bit your lip as you noticed how harsh your words came out and apologised to John B.

“It’s alright Y/N, come here.” He opened his arms and you were quick to hug him.

You felt a few tears fall down your cheeks but you quickly wiped them away on John B’s shoulder.

You wanted Pope back. You missed him.

“What’s up lovebirds.” Kie’s voice made you let go of John B’s embrace.

And just for your luck, Pope was right there next to her. His eyes were fixed on you but his face was unreadable, sending shivers down your spine.

“Pope,” you walked towards him, “can we talk?”

“About?” His voice was cold and you fought back the tears wanting to come out.

“Just please,” your voice trembled, “let’s go outside.”

He hesitated for a few seconds, but the tears wanting to come out of your eyes made him follow you outside.

“Why are you doing this Pope?” You asked once the two of you were sitting outside, far enough so no one could listen to you.

“Doing what?” He was still acting cold.

“That,” you said, “being so cold and distant with me.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are!” You let out the tears, “Why are you treating me this way?”

“I’m the same as I’ve always been.”

“We both know that’s a lie Pope. You keep avoiding me and I barely know what’s going on in your life.”

You sighed and bit the bottom of your lip.

“I miss you.” You whispered.

“What do you want me to tell you?.” He asked, “Nothing’s going on in my life."

“Anything.” You said, “We used to tell each other every single thing.”

“Exactly.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, his reply not making any sense to you.

“We used to tell each other every single thing,” he went on, “and you were the one who stopped telling me about your life.”

“That’s not true.”

“You never told me about John B.”

“What about him?”

“That you like him.”

You opened your mouth to say something but closed it as you remembered the night you told him you would date John B out of all the boys. It was all your fault.

“I don’t like him Pope.”

“You said you would date him and you are always at his place and I saw the way you were hugging him a few minutes ago!” His voice was loud. Something unusual from him.

“That was a game Pope!” You exclaimed back, “A stupid game and I didn’t mean it!”

“Then why did you say it?”

“Because I had to lie!”

“What for?!”

“To not fuck this friendship up, but I see I did it either way!”

You couldn’t help it, you started to sob right there and Pope being the best friend he has always been, was quick to wrap you around his arms.

“What are you talking about?” His voice was lower now, more calm.

“I would date you, you dumbass,” you said between sobs as his hands ran through your hair, “not John b, not JJ, only you. Pope Heyward.”

You couldn’t see the big smile that was forming on his face.

“But I was afraid it would ruin our friendship, and then you said you would date Kie because she’s smart and pretty and she gets you and I thought I had done the right thing.”

“Y/N,” he said but you went on.

“And then you became cold and distant and replaced our time together with Kiara instead so of course it all made sense. How could I be so stupid?”

“You’ve got one thing right though.” He said and you looked at him.

“Whatever.”

“You’re stupid.”

“Excuse me?” You were about to let go of his hug until he held you tighter.

“You’re stupid for thinking I was telling the truth about dating Kie,” he laughed, “I only said that because you said you would date John B.”

“So you lied?”

“As you did.”

“Oh shut up.” You laughed and hugged him.

Your heart began to beat faster at the thought of a certain question you wanted to ask him, but you knew it was time to do it.

“So who would you date then?” You asked, hiding your face on his chest.

“Hmm,” he paused for a second, “a certain girl I’m holding at this very second.”

You were grateful your face was hiding on his chest since that way he wasn’t able to see how red your face already was.

“I bet she’s pretty.” You smirked.

“Oh she is,” he said, “but she can be stupid sometimes.”

You quickly turned to face him and tried to look angry but your red cheeks and smile on your face proved him otherwise.

Pope smiled at you and the distance between the two of you became smaller as he leaned towards you, placing a soft and warm kiss on your lips.

You kissed him back, slowly taking in the moment and the feeling of his soft lips against yours. The way his arms wrapped so protectively around your waist and how your fingers were tracing the back of his neck.

“I warned you about the game you wanted to play,” he said after pulling back from the kiss, “it was a stupid game.”

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

A/N: I LOVED THIS ONE SO MUCH. we love fluff. I’m so happy how my first Pope piece came out, I hope you guys like it!

[bubble-bones]

Writing Tag Game

Thank you for the tag @fiadhaisteach <3 <3 <3

How many works do you have on AO3?

20... when did that happen? lmao 

What’s your total AO3 word count?

Hoo boy. 841,987, apparently. That’s... more than I thought it was.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Cyberpunk 2078: The Rebel Rath - 362 The Hunt - 137 Cyberpunk 2078: The Spicy Chapters - 106 Cyberpunk 2003: The Ballad of Buck Ravers - 101 Cyberpunk 2003: Never Fade Away - 100

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I used to respond to every comment I got, I think it’s a lot of on and off and whether I have the energy to do so after posting. I read every comment still, but most of the time I just post and scurry back to the dark hole I live in lmao

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Uhhhh... I don’t really do angst? At least, I don’t like writing angst without any payoff. I’ll let my characters suffer, but I’ll fix things up by the end. I hate angst with lasting effects. 

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Considering I’ve actually only ever finished one long fic (The Rebel Path) I suppose that one? Though with 2003 being split into individual fics within a series, I’d say probably them considering each one so far has ended pretty nicely, but I don’t really consider them individual fics in my head given that they’re all one cohesive story. 

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the strangest one you’ve written?

I never have, and I honestly have never thought about it until recently. But I’m not going to talk about what it is because I’m contemplating actually writing it.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Oh, yes. Multiple, the first few by anonymous people who were laughably bad and angry about... something really silly, imo (they’ve been memed on the discord since). Then I got some really unnecessary nastiness on 2003 a while back, where someone claimed to be offering “critique” - unasked for, mind you - and just tore all my characters to shreds and threw around some pretty weighty accusations which would all be disproven if they’d actually read the fic (also gave evidence that just... made no sense). It was not a good time, but I’m getting back into the groove of writing now. Sorta. 

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Hehehehehehehe yes. 2003 began entirely from a smut prompt - it’s mostly pretty tame, imo, but I have fun with it. I’ve only ever written f/m but I’m planning on changing that soon :)

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. I hope not haha

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. Honestly I like having my fics in English so I can interact with my readers

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yup! A Dove’s Dance With Wolves (my beloved), one of my John Wick fics, is co-written with the lovely postmodernsleaze! 

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Oh boy. That’s a tough question. I’m legally obligated to say V/Johnny Silverhand, but I’m also very partial to John Wick/Helen Wick/Irina Volkava (oc hehe), f!Shep/Garrus, f!Lavellan/Solas, in no particular order. 

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Oh, don’t say that lmao. The Hunt has been a wip for three years almost now, and I do want to go back and finish it someday. I have too much planned not too haha

What are your writing strengths?

I’ve been told I write character’s dialogue fittingly, and I have a blast writing characters (especially Johnny and V when they’re bickering). Lately I’ve also been enjoying how my scene writing and internal monologue/narration has been going. I also really obsess over my grammar lmao 

What are your writing weaknesses?

I definitely let my sentences trail on a bit sometimes. Lots of commas. Also I get ideas for more fics than I can handle and jump around between hyperfixations, a lot. I have a hard time actually sitting around to writing a lot of the time. Then, when I actually do get inspired I’ll start writing, blink, and it’s suddenly 5 hours in the future and I have a finished chapter. That doesn’t sound like a problem, but it is when you forget that time exists. 

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Okay so I do this a lot, apparently. Often, I’ll either have the other language not even written directly, but have the character (whose pov it is) recognise that it’s not something they can understand, at least establish that the other character is talking. But if the character can understand that language (like in The Hunt with elven, or Wine, Blood or Paint / A Dove’s Dance with Wolves with Russian/Italian) the dialogue is written in italics (but English). Though that gets a little bit confusing when they’re speaking both in that language and also on the phone (I put phone dialogue in italics too) so if it’s both, I bold and italics it lmao. 

As for actually writing the other language, I try to avoid it. I only speak English and a tiny bit of French, so I try not to presume like I can accurately portray other languages. Like, the furthest I’ll go with it is a noun as in like a pet name or title, or just tiny snippets of dialogue. To do that, I’ll usually use good ol’ google translate - or, if I know someone that has knowledge of that language, I’ll go to them for help! It’s not the end of the world if it’s wrong, but I’d rather it be at least a good effort.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I think I might’ve wrote a tiny bit of Avatar the Last Airbender when I was a kid, but I never wrote more than a few paragraphs. After that, Naruto. I was very big into Naruto as a teenager, and yet only ever properly finished one fic? No, I’m not linking it lmao. Yes, it’s still out there on the internet. After Naruto I fell into Dragon Age and stayed there for years, only actually stopping when I started writing for Cyberpunk in December.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Ooooh that’s a tough one. That changes a lot depending on how much fun I’m having with something while writing it, honestly. I like my fics for different reasons, honestly. I think lately my favourite is When in Rome, because it’s the thing I’ve been writing most recently. I also adore my 2003 series, and yes I’m saying the whole series because I think of it as one cohesive thing. 2078 ofc because it’s the thing that got me into writing Cyberpunk and I met a lot of friends through it, but I’d definitely do it differently nowadays so the fic is more just nostalgic haha. And, ofc, The Hunt has a special place in my heart because I’ve been writing it for so long. 

This was a lot of fun to do! Ty for the tag <3

Tagging @overheardatthecontinental, @k9effect, @merylisk, @bean-cup, and anyone else who’s interested!

[carewyncromwell]

Hey guys! Normally I just jump right into my gameplay posts and then put in additional notes at the end, but for this particular set of gameplay posts I plan to do, I think I’ll need to do the notes first.

This upcoming series will be based on the Quidditch sidequest “Quest for the Quidditch Cup.” (And will be tagged thusly!) Normally the game HPHM sets this in our first year playing Quidditch, circa year 2...but not only am I well past year 2, but I’ve written some lore about Carewyn and her relationship with the Slytherin Quidditch team that goes against this particular side quest’s plot line. Here are bullet points!

Carewyn was introduced to Quidditch Friendlies in third year through Penny, and also received training from Skye. She even played as a substitute Chaser in Slytherin’s match against Hufflepuff in her third year.

After Skye made up rumors about Erika Rath, however, Carewyn and Skye had a pretty substantive falling-out, given Carewyn’s over-sensitivity to bullying. Not wanting to cause further drama for Orion’s team but not wanting to stand by Skye’s behavior, Carewyn quietly withdrew from the Slytherin Quidditch team, allowing the original Chaser to take back their spot for the last two matches of the season.

Carewyn has continued to play in Quidditch friendlies as a Chaser (often against or alongside Ravenclaw Keeper Andre and Gryffindor Seeker Charlie), but has not tried to take back a spot on the Slytherin Quidditch team again.

Orion -- who Carewyn is incredibly fond of, partially because of how much he reminds her of her brother Jacob -- has every-so-often tried to bring Carewyn back into the fold, but Carewyn has been reluctant to commit, partly because of her hyper-focus on the Vaults and partly because of her strained relationship with Skye.

Age-wise, I have written Murphy, Skye, and Orion as all being a year older than Carewyn (hence why we don’t see them in any of her classes). These gameplays will take place toward the end of year 6 well after that certain Redacted event, even though I haven’t reached that point in the game yet, because Carewyn is currently in year 6, but the last game of the Quidditch season would have to take place in the spring. This is also why Orion isn’t two years ahead of Carewyn -- if he were, he’d be graduated already! I do see him being born toward the end of the year, though, so he would still be the eldest of the three Quidditch characters. XD; Because of the timing, Carewyn will have just completed her character arc where she’s learned to open up a bit more to her friends at this point too and is no longer shutting her friends out of what’s going on with R or the Cursed Vaults. I also fortunately don’t have much interest in writing any further Quidditch plotlines with Carewyn, so I won’t have to worry about writing any contradictory season 2 gameplays. (If nothing else, Carewyn would be a GOD-AWFUL Beater.)

With all this out of the way...let the games begin!

~x~x~x~x~

[Carewyn had had to deal with a lot of unexpected things that year, but one thing she certainly had not been expecting was receiving an owl from Orion Amari. The Slytherin Quidditch Captain would reach out to her sometimes when she was playing in Quidditch friendlies or otherwise visiting the Quidditch Pitch, but they almost never collided in the hallways of Hogwarts themselves, partly because Orion was a year older than her, but also because Orion just seemed to operate on his own schedule. Carewyn sometimes wondered if he Broom-Surfed through life, rather than walking like ordinary people did.

Regardless, when Carewyn arrived in the Great Hall to meet Orion, she found him already there, sitting at the end of the Slytherin table with Quidditch commentator Murphy McNully.]

Murphy: “Been a long time! I haven’t seen you since the final Quidditch friendly last year -- reckon your team would’ve had only a 0.5% chance of victory, if you hadn’t been able to hit the Quaffle past the Keeper with your broom just before the opposing Seeker caught the Snitch...1% at the most...”

“(politely) It’s good to see you too, McNully.”

[Carewyn turned to Orion, looking a bit more serious.]

“I heard about Skye’s injury. What happened? I heard some people say Rath hit Skye with a Bludger...but I just can’t see Rath doing something like that on purpose: she could get banned from Quidditch for actively trying to target an opposing team’s player like that.”

[Orion nodded solemnly, his gaze very pensive.]

Orion: “Your thought process has some merit, Carewyn...but I’m afraid we really can’t know for sure. We have only two witnesses to the event -- Rath and Skye -- with two versions of the truth. One says it was an accident, the other purposeful.”

“(frowns) But those two things contradict each other. They can’t both be the truth.”

Orion: “They are both their truths. In any case, the result is the same, and our Chaser was injured.”

[Carewyn couldn’t entirely agree with this -- she would feel a lot better knowing it was an accident rather than Rath getting away scot-free with hurting one of Slytherin’s players...but really, such a sentiment was pretty typical for Orion, and there was a lot more to discuss.

Her gaze drifted down to the table in front of her absently as she leaned her arms against the wood.]

“...Is Skye all right?”

Orion: “Physically, yes -- Madame Pomfrey says she’ll make a full recovery. Emotionally, however, I would not say so, given that Madame Pomfrey also has said she will not be well enough to play in the match.”

[Carewyn’s heart clenched.]

“So she’ll miss the Quidditch final. Your last Quidditch final, ever.”

Murphy: “(grimly) The math would seem to suggest it. At present I’d say there’s only a 23% chance Skye would be able to play, and about 19.9% of that factors in Skye actively ignoring Madame Pomfey’s instructions. And if she did that, I’d say Slytherin would only have a 3% chance of victory.”

[Carewyn felt a wave of empathy wash over her. She may have had her differences with Skye, and she didn’t regret distancing herself from her...but at the same time, she knew how much Quidditch and especially the Quidditch Cup meant to her. Slytherin had been knocked out of the running for the Quidditch Final several times the last few years, largely by Gryffindor, since their team had Quidditch prodigy Charlie as their Seeker. But this year, Charlie had not had his head in the game (for rather obvious reasons), and so Slytherin had finally gotten the opening they needed. But facing Ravenclaw in the Quidditch Final would be no easy task...and, Carewyn thought, Skye had to be absolutely miserable, being stuck on the sidelines at the exact moment when Slytherin finally had a chance to earn the Cup they’d fought so hard for.

Murphy glanced at Orion out the side of his eye critically.]

[Orion gave a single, slow nod.]

[He turned to Carewyn with a wry smile.]

Orion: “...And she is sitting with us at this moment.”

[Carewyn blinked in surprise. Murphy brightened up instantly, looking at Carewyn with a large smile.]

Murphy: “Yes! That’d be brilliant! With your high record of goal scoring and your overall speed, Carewyn, you’d easily improve Slytherin’s odds by a good 31.6%!”

[Despite Murphy’s enthusiasm, Carewyn couldn’t make herself smile back.]

“I don’t know...”

Orion: “(seriously) Carewyn...you have dismissed me several times in the past, but I urge you to hear me out fully before you make your decision. You first left our team because of a personal dispute with Skye, and although I lament it, I also respect that you wanted our team to succeed, and you thought that withdrawing with grace would be the best way to do that. Now, however, we are in dire straits. We need someone who can fill Skye’s role on our team. You trained with Skye. You have consistently played well in every Quidditch friendly you have participated in. And you also more than embody the integrity needed both to lead and to follow -- to place the good of your team over glory for yourself. It’s the reason I asked you to choose our strategy in the match against Hufflepuff three years ago...and it’s the reason both Skye and I believe you should be our third Chaser, in this match against Ravenclaw.”

[This took Carewyn completely aback.]

“Skye said I should?”

[Orion smiled, his dark eyes twinkling with an oddly soft glint.]

Orion: “She urged me to try to convince you. Believe it or not...Skye has lamented the loss of you on our team even more than I have.”

[Carewyn’s narrowed blue eyes drifted off vaguely in the direction of the far wall as she took this in.]

If she felt that way, she should’ve made things right with Rath, then.

[Despite the stubborn irritation lashing at her insides, though, she couldn’t help but feel slightly touched, all the same. To think that Skye would’ve insisted Carewyn fill her spot -- Carewyn knew full well how much Quidditch meant to Skye...so her trusting Carewyn with her spot on the team, right before such an important match...]

I know how hard it is to trust others. It hasn’t been easy for me...even now...it’s not easy, for me. If Skye trusts me that much...if Orion and McNully trust me that much...

[Meeting the Circle of Khanna in the Three Broomsticks and feeling their expectant eyes all on her rippled over Carewyn’s mind. It brought the feeling of responsibility back down onto her shoulders -- that heavy weight that nonetheless made her want to stand even taller, so as to meet that burden.]

I can’t turn my back on them, when they need me.

[There was a new strength in her posture and shoulders as her gaze rose to meet Orion’s.]

“...All right. I’m in.”

[Orion’s dark eyes lit up like stars. His face broke into a large, bright smile and he reached across the table to take hold of Carewyn’s arm, squeezing it affectionately.]

Orion: “It will be a privilege to fly alongside you in my final match at Hogwarts, Carewyn.”

[Carewyn smiled in return, her blue eyes softening visibly. Murphy looked delighted as well.]

Murphy: “Not to mention how exciting it’ll be for my final match as a commentator! Carewyn Cromwell, swooping in just in time to nab Slytherin the Quidditch Cup for the first time in ten years!”

[His expression then turned a lot more business-like.]

Murphy: “We won’t get that great story, though, unless Slytherin wins.”

[Carewyn frowned deeply and nodded. She was well aware -- Gryffindor had opposed Ravenclaw in the Quidditch Cup Final just about every year she was at Hogwarts, and it was largely thanks to Rath smacking Bludgers at Charlie so hard that he was sent to the Hospital Wing that Ravenclaw had won.]

“Rath is not someone to be underestimated. But we have two days before the match -- I’m sure we can come up with a plan by then. In the meantime, I’ll set aside some extra time to practice with the rest of the team.”

[She glanced at Orion for approval. The Slytherin Quidditch Captain inclined his head in a single nod.]

Orion: “This is a time for celebration and hard work. Let us concentrate on coming together as a team and on supporting Skye.”

[Carewyn’s eyes drifted off, landing on the doorway out of the entrance hall.]

“...Maybe I should go see Skye, then...just for a talk.”

Ha! That’s a loaded question...

[She frankly didn’t want to even think about how uncomfortable the reunion between her and Skye would be like, given how they’d ended things and how little they’d subsequently spoken over the years...

Despite those feelings, Carewyn -- true to form -- put on her prettiest, most confident smile.]

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

HPHM Patronus Headcanons

We all have one, and we all have ideas for what the characters would have. Let me know what you guys think too! Rakepick isn’t listed because we already know her Patronus, and I’m probably going to talk about OCs in a different post, or else I’ll add them later once I’ve finally made up my mind.

Rowan Khanna - Aardvark

I’m not the only one who sees it, right? Our wonderful Rowan is quirky and inventive and if they were a wild animal, they’d employ such brilliance and like the aardvark, devise a unique way to catch their food. On a more somber note, Aardvarks are nocturnal and they aren’t pack animals - making them a good symbol for a kid who preferred to stay inside and read rather than help with the farm, a kid who really didn’t have that many friends beyond the people they knew by association to MC. Still, aardvarks are weirdly adorable and if you tell me you wouldn’t pet one, you would be a liar.

Ben Copper - Field Mouse

A small creature that is able and hide very easily, definitely suits a character who was, for such a long time, very timid. A character who knew how to cover his tracks - whether or not he was using such abilities for shady reasons. Mice normally symbolize innocence and modesty, but they’ve also been seen as unlucky before. In more traditional times they were seen as symbols of dark magic, or even the underworld - since they could often carry disease, were hard to capture, and usually came from the ground. Mice do have that dark side, and so does Ben - we’ve seen it in Year Six, and he’s definitely still hiding something. That was never really resolved. 

Penny Haywood - Mourning Dove

This one is pretty easy. Doves have always been seen as a fundamental symbol of innocence. A messenger that comes to banish worried or troubled thoughts, and usher in goodness in their wake. Penny is nothing if not a force for good. Characters like Merula have even lamp-shaded how irritating it is. However, the Mourning Dove in particular is known for it’s melancholy call, invoking the symbolism of losing a loved one. Between Scarlett and Beatrice, Penny has demonstrated that however helpful she is to her friends, she doesn’t know how to deal with her own serious problems. She’s a hopeful, caring person...but there’s a distinct sadness blended in as well. When someone innocent is hurt, the pain is that much worse for them. 

Beatrice Haywood - Chameleon

Beatrice seems to be a person that absorbs a lot from the people she looks up to or associates with. Not just in personality, but in physical appearance too. In Year Five, by her own admission, she was a “Mini Penny” and in Year Six, she takes after Ismelda quite a bit. Chameleons are of course, known for their ability to blend in with their surroundings. It’s their claim to fame. What’s more, the Labord’s Chameleon hatches after the parents have already died, meaning they have to make it without any support from the grownups. Not that Beatrice doesn’t have support, but...the teachers/staff have failed to protect her in the past, and she’s well aware of that. 

Merula Snyde - Cat

Oh, she is such a cat. Few characters come close to being as cat-like as Merula. From her haughty and arrogant nature tying in to how people often see felines, to her actually being very lonely and desperate for love. If you’ve never had a cat, then believe me, they want your attention - it’s just that most of the time they refuse to admit it. Merula is the same way. Because of her upbringing, she seems to gravitate toward being a predator animal, or at least wanting to be one. But also the kind of predator that would play with it’s food and make a game out of it. Think of it this way - given Merula’s background, she wouldn’t know what a laser pointer is. And with her stand-offish personality, she would totally try to investigate it like a little cat. 

Bill Weasley - Koala

The Koala Totem is said to symbolize a gentle nature, and give a calming effect on people. Bill isn’t just the oldest brother to all the Weasleys - he looks out for everyone in the Cursed Vault gang. In general, Koalas are social and easy-going animals who have been known to represent kindness and family. They’re also known for being inactive - which I wouldn’t say that Bill is, but despite his Big-Bro energy, he never really tries to stop MC and their friends when they’re getting into mischief. He didn’t stop Harry from trying to make a deal with Griphook either. He just kinda lets people do their own thing most of the time, or comes along if he’s invited.

Charlie Weasley - Dragon

What can I say? I couldn’t resist. Sure, it may be unlikely that he would actually have a Dragon for a Patronus, but we do know that such a form is possible. Just very rare. Well you know what? This wonderful cinnamon roll has earned it. Doesn’t mean he would summon a full-grown dragon on his first attempt though.There’s a head-canon I’ve seen that I really like, which says that Animagus/Patronus forms can sometimes start as babies, and “grow” the better at them you get. Alternatively, his Patronus could literally just be a baby dragon. As for the breed, I’ll leave that open to interpretation, but I’m gonna say Norwegian Ridgeback. 

Skye Parkin - Hyena

Frequently scavengers, and often seen as cowardly - Hyenas are still vicious and are typically able to claim the kill. Sometimes even driving off larger predators and stealing their hard earned prey. Which is exactly the kind of dishonorable thing Skye would do. She seems to believe strongly in her “pack” or her team, and depend on them to have her back even when she’s getting into nonsense. Traditionally, the Hyena is also seen as secular, with it’s constant laugh being an act of defiance. Skye is a cheerful person most of the time...but she has shown that she has little regard for rules or authority figures that are not her Dad. 

Murphy Mcnully - Bottle-nose Dolphin

Dolphins are interesting. They have a reputation for being very sweet and excitable, but they can often be...shall we say, rude or invasive. I love Murphy to bits, but he doesn’t always know how to read a room, and he’s entirely open about his bias toward MC’s team - even more-so than Lee Jordan. That being said, Dolphins are social, playful, and intelligent creatures. With unusual abilities like echolocation, they certainly match Murphy in his quirky brilliance. They’re caring, helpful creatures that will actually aid other animals in need, including humans. Even though Murphy isn’t actually a player on MC’s Quidditch team, he might as well be. 

Orion Amari - Elephant

Orion is such a wonderful character. He might be an oddball, but he’s truly wise beyond his years. Elephants not only represent wisdom, but have been known to symbolize loyalty, sensitivity, peace, stability...all the great qualities that Orion embodies. They’re known for taking care of the herd, just as Orion looks after his team. They might be a little quirky, with their large ears and trunks that most other animals don’t have...but Orion is quirky as well. Some say that with their trunks down, Elephants are accumulating positive energy to push through their trials, which takes me back to the scene where Orion gives MC Quidditch robes. I cry every time.

Erika Rath - Lion

To be clear, a male lion. I know that a lioness can be interpreted differently, and we already have a character with that Patronus. No, Erika is a pack leader. Even if she’s not the Captain of her team, they seem to depend very heavily on her. She’s also ferocious. I mean, tell me with a straight face that you could take her in a fight, or that you’d ever want to. A full grown male lion lives by the code that ass-kicking equals authority, even if they don’t want to. Furthermore, the Lion and the Hyena tend to be natural enemies. Sure, a lion could take a hyena in a one-on-one fight...but what if the Hyena had it’s pack for backup? We’ve all seen Lion King...and we’ve seen how Skye has targeted Erika.

Barnaby Lee - Brown Bear

Barnaby is a man of brawn, not brain, and that’s totally fine because is also a man of heart. He’s already pretty much a bear in human form. Ranging from sweet and dopey in modern media, like Winnie the Pooh, to being seen as warriors and symbols of courage in mythology- the Brown Bear captures all of the very best parts of our favorite Slytherin cinnamon roll. He’s a gentle giant, but as we see in Year Three, he’ll jump into action to protect those he cares about the same way coming near a mama bear’s cubs will act as her berserk button. I would say the Bear really symbolizes his character arc in Year Three. 

Andre Egwu - Satin Bowerbird

This is still my favorite head-canon about Andre and you can pry it from my cold dead hands. The bowerbird, aside from being a bird and thus connecting to Quidditch - is a creature named for the “Bower” that the males build. A structure that can be made of anything from sticks to flowers to random human garbage, that they create specifically to show off to potential mates. It’s not a nest, and they don’t use it as one. It’s exclusively for mating. The Bowerbird has a sense of fashion, and it understands how to score a date. Tell me this isn’t Andre’s favorite animal. I mean it could also be the Peacock, but that’s just too obvious. 

Tulip Karasu - Jackal

I can’t believe I didn’t see it before, but this animal is perfect for the rebellious Ravenclaw. Let’s start with the fact that in the bible, Jackals represent isolation, loneliness, and abandonment. It’s okay Tulip, I’m sure she’ll forgive you one day. Then there’s the fact that they howl to establish territory, not unlike the way Tulip guards her findings with little padlocks. They’re usually seen as opportunistic, to the point where calling someone a jackal tends to them being collaborator with a sneaky or mischievous agenda. In folktales, they’re depicted as intelligent and cunning pranksters - which is just checkmate, if you ask me. Even the Jackal’s coloring kinda suits her.

Ismelda Murk - Anaconda

Like the Snake, and the Hogwarts House that carries it as an emblem, Ismelda is a misunderstood person - but that doesn’t mean she isn’t dangerous. Much like how there are stories of Anacondas eating people, that have never been verified...Ismelda talks a big game, but has never actually used the Dark Arts. A snake sheds it’s skin, just as Ismelda seems to have shed any connection to her sister, or even the rest of her family. In particular, the Anaconda is actually beloved by cultures in South America, and it was once common to sacrifice one in the name of a happy marriage...of course, that’s a pretty raw deal for the Anaconda, and I can’t help but see Ismelda as a sacrifice for the sake of her sister.

Liz Tuttle - Tortoise

As fun as it might have been to just choose a lizard and be done with it, I think a Tortoise represents Liz far better. In so many ways, it’s the ultimate symbol of patience, endurance, and persistence. If Ismelda meets all the criteria of the Slytherin stereotype - Liz is the opposite. She’s one of the most resilient characters, having to work against people thinking she’s odd, people not trusting her because she’s in Slytherin, and people generally being at odds with her belief that all creatures deserve protection. It’s not only the Hufflepuffs that care for magical critters, and Liz proves that. The Tortoise represents her decency, and her steadfast attitude. What’s more, Tortoises tend to have very long lifespans. And if Liz can face off against chimeras and come out of it unscathed...she’s gonna live a long, long life.

Talbott Winger - Golden Eagle

I doubt I need to explain this one. In the past, Animagi have been show to transform into the same animal as their Patronus. It hasn’t been confirmed that this is a rule or anything, but it applied to James and McGonagall. Besides, an eagle just suits Talbott. He’s a dreamer, a drifter, and he’s got his head in the clouds. But he also knows how to fight - having been forced to leave the nest far too early. Birds of prey generally represent victory, courage, and overcoming adversity. Which Talbott does - he’s learning to let his walls down. Taking the first steps toward accepting the losses that he’s suffered, and moving on.

Chiara Lobosca - Labrador

Supposedly cats, dogs, and birds are the most common animals to have as a Patronus. Which makes sense, but if anyone out there was truly a dog, it would be Chiara. Between her self-sacrificing loyalty to Remus, to her protective instincts in shielding MC from Greyback, she is the physical embodiment of the “we don’t deserve dogs” sentiment. As sweet as she is, she’s also quiet, so I figured a large dog was more appropriate, especially a Lab. What’s more, she’s interested in Healing, and that reminds me of service dogs. Or even just dogs that can sense when their human is sick, and gives them therapeutic cuddles.

Jae Kim - Raccoon

An inventive, practical animal - the Raccoon is known for having paws with defined fingers that allow them to do most things with their “hands” and that’s actually where the word “raccoon” comes from. I feel like the Racoon’s elusive ways and their nature as scavengers pretty closely reflects Jae and his business. Raccoons are frequently associated with adaptability and illusion. Their ringed tails and masked faces being seen as signs of thievery. But you know what? These animals are far more friendly then media would have you assume. I know from personal experience. So I think a character like Jae who is shady and skirts the law, but is ultimately a good guy, would fit the raccoon well.

Badeea Ali - Owl

Despite the magical community’s affinity for them, Owls are said to be highly rare as Patronuses, according to Pottermore. Most people don’t have them, but I think she would. I don’t think it would suit anyone better than the elusive, creative Badeea. They tend to represent wisdom, good judgment, and knowledge. It’s sharp vision representing insight and observational skills. Only a truly clever witch could be a spell inventor at this age. What’s more, Owls are an integral part of the Wizarding lifestyle. They’re constantly helpful. MC would not have survived the nightmare that was the Peeves Chapters in Year Five if not for their most mystical friend. 

Diego Caplan - Grebe

If you know anything about Grebes as birds, then you might not be too surprised. Then again, I hadn’t even heard of them until recently, but when I did I thought “Diego.” They’re waterfowls that are related to flamingos. But the Grebes have an entire ceremony dedicated to mating, which involves intricate dancing. They compete with each other for a female’s attention. I’m not saying Diego is jealous of Cedric cause he has a thing for Penny - all I’m saying is that Diego is jealous of Cedric because he has a thing for Penny. Beyond that, Grebes symbolize fearlessness and perseverance in Native American culture, supposedly bringing a calm, peaceful presence. 

And that’s it! I did it, I actually did it! I didn’t think I’d make it this far. And if you did as well, thanks for checking it out. I’d love to know what you think!

[imagitory]

Just thought I’d share a little of my progress in the game Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery! Right now I’ve just started year 5, and yeah, while the game definitely isn’t perfect, I’m having fun! If you want to read more about my character, I put in a cut! (Sorry about my character holding hands with your character Alana’s bae, @weasleyismyking540​ -- if I could’ve picked Chiara as Carewyn’s other half instead, I would have!)

My character, Carewyn “Cursebreaker” Cromwell, although she resembles me quite a bit visually, isn’t exactly like me, but one thing that she and I do share is a love of fashion! She changes outfits all the time depending on what she’s doing, from wearing all black when she was tailing Rakepick to wearing the Weasley sweater she got from Bill when she was trying to become Prefect. The outfit she’s wearing in her screenshots and in the biggest sketch I did is her usual “adventure” outfit, though she will break out the black version when she needs to be stealthy, like when she sneaked into the Forbidden Forest in fourth year. She also managed to become a Prefect, despite her disregard for the rules! In my head, I imagine it’s largely due to her maternal streak, rather than any astounding respect for rules and regulations: even if she’s a Slytherin, she likes protecting and looking after other people, especially social outcasts, since she herself has had to deal with a decent amount of people misjudging her. 

Backstory -- Carewyn is the second child and only daughter of the half-blood Cromwell family. Her father, Evan Bach, was a Muggle who left his family when his son Jacob received his Hogwarts letter and his wife, Lane, revealed her magical ancestry to him. After that, both Jacob and Carewyn took on their mother’s maiden name, Cromwell. Carewyn was a late-in-life surprise for her parents, being born only two years before Jacob started at Hogwarts. Jacob disappeared when Carewyn was eight years old, and ever since, Carewyn has been starved for news about her lost brother. Part of her worries that Jacob -- a Ravenclaw who was kind of obsessed with learning and achieving every single thing he could -- has gotten roped in with some bad people or, worse, that he might not even want to be found, so as to not shame her or their mother or to keep them from harm. Whatever his reason is, though, Carewyn knows she has to find out what happened to Jacob and remove the shadow of the Cursed Vaults looming over her if she has any hope of living her life the way she wants. Carewyn is close with her mother, Lane, but has greatly downplayed her involvement with the Cursed Vaults so as not to worry her.

Carewyn’s biggest flaw is her pride. Although she’s made a lot of friends at Hogwarts, she has difficulty showing vulnerability and tries to be perfect in absolutely everything she does. If she doesn’t think she can do something, Carewyn tends to ignore it and/or pretend it doesn’t matter. To complicate matters, when she started at Hogwarts, she actually dreamed of doing all of the normal things Hogwarts students do, like joining clubs, the Quidditch team, and the Frog Choir, but because of her brother Jacob and the Cursed Vaults, she’s had to basically put all of her more selfish ambitions on the back burner. After writing to her mother for advice, Carewyn selflessly gave up her spot in the Frog Choir -- something she really, really wanted -- to Merula with the thought that since she earned the spot once, she could always get it back the following year when there would be room for both her and Merula, but even that ended up having to be put off because of her quest to find the Cursed Vaults. Carewyn enjoys watching and playing Quidditch, but is reluctant to commit to the Slytherin team because she’s afraid of letting them down. Carewyn is actually kind of a stick in the mud too! Unlike her brother Jacob, Carewyn is a meticulous organizer and planner who believes everything has its place, and despite liking Tonks and Tulip quite a bit personality-wise, she can’t stand the idea of most pranks, thinking they end up really mean-spirited and kind of stupid rather than anything funny. (This of course only makes her a fantastic target for pranks among her friends, who think she needs to lighten up!) Appropriate to a Slytherin, though, Carewyn can also be a little manipulative -- despite having a very strong moral compass, she isn’t above putting on an innocent face, playing mind games, or out right lying if it’ll help her reach her goals. She likes to look her best around everyone, both in her fashion sense and in how she behaves, and she hates it when her more negative impulses or insecurities peek through. Her biggest insecurity is her lack of control about her own life. Because she feels like she’s the one with the most drive to find the Cursed Vaults and break their enchantments, Carewyn has subconsciously assumed all responsibility for the fall-out and blames herself if anyone else is put in danger because of her search for her brother or because of the Vaults. She wants to control absolutely everything in her life, but the most she can control nearly all of the time is her attitude, her workspace, and how she presents herself, so she does so. Her greatest fear would be a threat she’d have no hope of controlling or overcoming -- namely, Voldemort.

Relationship-wise, Carewyn’s closest friends are Chiara, Bill, Talbott, Charlie, and Barnaby. She also really respects the eccentric Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Orion, and fancies Ravenclaw’s own “Style Wizard,” Andre Egwu, who shares her love of Quidditch and fashion. The thing Carewyn likes best about Andre is how passionate he is about his interests and therefore how much fun their conversations are. Fortunately Carewyn’s interest is reciprocated -- Andre and Carewyn attended the Celestial Ball together and have now been on two dates, one at Madame Puddifoot’s and one in one of the Hogwarts Greenhouses after a Valentine’s party hosted by Gilderoy Lockhart that neither of them remember very well. (META NOTE: As mentioned, I probably would’ve paired Carewyn with Chiara if ANY of the dating events would’ve let me, but I really like Andre too. And after choosing him for the Celestial Ball, it only felt right for Carewyn to stick with him, as I see her as a very monogamous sort, relationship-wise.)

Carewyn latched onto Chiara very quickly because of her “outcasted” status as a werewolf, and since then, she’s sort of become Chiara’s own personal Sirius Black, using her hawk Animagus form to keep Chiara company when she transforms. The Weasley family (Bill especially) sort of filled the hole that Jacob left in Carewyn’s life, but because Carewyn loves magical creatures, she really enjoys talking about dragons with Charlie and everything else with Barnaby. (Barnaby really enjoys whenever Carewyn sings to the creatures she’s working with to try to calm them down.) Carewyn was also pleasantly surprised to find out that Talbott enjoys poetry, given that she loves the arts (music especially), so she encourages him wholeheartedly in his writing, even if her enthusiasm kind of weirds Talbott out a bit. (He likes it, though.) Carewyn clashes most with Tulip (largely because of Carewyn’s aforementioned dislike of mischief), Ismelda (her sadistic streak turns Carewyn off big time), Skye (Carewyn was really upset when Skye started telling rumors about Erika Rath without any proof!), and Professor Rakepick (who Carewyn at present doesn’t trust at all, but will be play nicely with if it’ll help her find out what happened to her brother). (META NOTE: I also adore that Carewyn and Rakepick have some physical similarities, even though that wasn’t on purpose -- it just makes for great visual symbolism, considering that Rakepick is clearly trying to groom Carewyn as one of her apprentices!) Carewyn is also pretty protective of Ben and now Penny, since her younger sister Bea has gotten trapped in a portrait thanks to the Vaults’ most recent curse.

Although the so-called “Most Powerful Witch at Hogwarts,” Merula Snyde, would love it if she were Carewyn’s main rival at school, Carewyn’s kind of gotten tired of the old song and dance Merula’s done with her these last five years and now tends to just ignore her terrible behavior. When Merula is willing to play nice, Carewyn’s glad for her help, but she honestly just isn’t interested in indulging Merula when she’s being awful anymore (which is often). And as much as Carewyn may think of Merula as immature and irritating, she knows that Merula had it rough growing up and that the two of them have a few things in common, like their love of music, and her mother (who was a Ravenclaw like her brother) would counsel her to choose the more peaceful route over active hostility. Carewyn wouldn’t call Merula a friend exactly, but she’s more of an ally of an enemy purely out of necessity, and for that, Carewyn shows Merula the base level of compassion and respect, but nothing more.

Carewyn’s favorite professors are Flitwick -- who taught her about Wizard Dueling and teaches her favorite class, Charms -- and McGonagall -- the one teacher who she respects above all others and would never have the heart to lie to. Being a Slytherin, Carewyn also trusts Snape’s judgement, even if she gets little of the standard favoritism from him: she was all too eager to try to help him spy on Rakepick. She also adores Care of Magical Creatures and probably would enjoy History of Magic more if Professor Binns didn’t teach the class, since her mother Lane works as a magical historian.

Carewyn’s love of magical creatures has prompted her to adopt several pets and magical creatures on the Hogwarts grounds. Her most constant companion is her orange tabby cat Mimi (named for the halfhearted “meows” she gives), but Tulip also gave Carewyn a toad she named Sir Robin the Brave, or “Robin” for short (kudos to anyone who gets the reference!!). At the magical creature preserve, Carewyn has trained a Niffler named Wicket, a Fairy named Belle, a Welsh Green Dragon named Esmeralda, a Porlock named Tumnus, and an Abraxan Winged Horse named Arjuna. Carewyn’s connection with her Abraxan is also beautifully reflected in her Patronus, which is also a Winged Horse.

I’m looking forward to seeing where my curse-breaking baby goes from here! For those of you who have advanced further in the game than me, I can’t wait to catch up with you!

[crystalelemental]

“kisant: I also think that if they combined 6+7 they should update the mechanics around supports and child units. Honestly, I don't think 7's supports should have been as restricted as they were in the first place, because I also missed on lore to focus on getting the pairing I wanted. A way to update the games for a remake would be to simply add more child characters in Roy's game, change Karla's recruitment to happen earlier in the game (there are other arenas before the one she appears in) and allow for platonic supports as well as romantic supports, because only being allowed to get one A support and one B support was pretty shitty. For characters like Rath, they could also add more female supports for him with existing characters.  After all, shadows of valentia also added supports between characters (there were none in the original game) and a ton of new mechanics, so a 6+7 remake should also update those.”

This is going to be a somewhat subjective take, but we are operating on entirely different wavelengths, because everything about this is exactly what I think is the worst possible outcome.

Let me start with a statement I have made before and will make again and again until I die: infinite supports are not inherently good.  I think Three Houses proved they can (mostly) be done well, but infinite supports cause you to lose things that finite supports have going for them that don’t often get acknowledged.  A big one just being a streamlined gaming experience and adding replay value.  Infinite supports don’t encourage doing anything different at any point when combined with the free battle system.  You just take like 10 hours out of your life to try and fill out to log, mindlessly beating unthreatening maps that just kind of exist for the sake of doing this exact thing.  Finite supports may mean you have to replay the game to get a different chain, but you don’t slow down your current playthrough to unlock them (unless you’re farming support by ending turn on a seize the throne map, which wasn’t the intended method anyway), and you now have a reason to play through the game again to get something different.  That hidden lore is meant to be hidden, it’s something you stumble upon in a later playthrough when you decide to go for Canas and Renault’s supports, as opposed to their other options.  There was something worth replaying the game for.  “Customizable kid units add replay value” I’ll get to that.

The other thing that’s lost is consistency.  I’ve been on and off replaying Birthright lately, and one thing that still stands out as a problem is that, with infinite supports, nothing ever comes of those supports.  When you have a character like, say, Oboro, whose main thing is hating Nohrians, and a bunch of her supports with Nohrian characters is about overcoming that, it kinda lessens the significance when you hit that A-support and she seems to have learned that lesson, only to start up the next C-support and be right back where you were before, as if nothing happened.  Three Houses also has this problem, I feel, at least when it comes to romance.  You have all these A-supports that end with shades of romance, and then you can just...not have their paired ending.  Getting a heartfelt moment that’s shared between the two characters, and then having each go on to have similar heartfelt moments with like four other romantic options, kinda cheapens the value of their dynamic.  Finite supports don’t have this problem.  When you limit supports, that A-support matters, and the fact that there’s variety aside from romance for baby purposes makes them more meaningful.

Look at Awakening, where this problem started.  Look at how vast that support log is, and tell me how much of it was meaningful, as opposed to empty joke supports or a desperate struggle to come up with a reason these characters are married now.  You have a character like Cordelia, who is decisively not over Chrom at all, marrying literally anyone but him, and you have to just deal with that throughout supports.  Or Tharja, who is obsessed with Robin but can marry other people because kid necessity, even though most of the time she barely has feelings for them at all.  Even with supports that are romantic, you get shit like Sumia just baking Chrom pies over and over and that’s enough for romance.  There’s no depth.  Awakening doesn’t have much in the same vein as Eliwood and Ninian or Nino and Jaffar.  And the reason?  Quantity over Quantity is the name of the game with kid units.

Awakening and Fates are too busy making customization for the kids that they forgot to make sufficiently meaningful supports.  It’s so severe that even the good pairings suffer.  Chrom and F!Robin is widely considered the most canon pairing, and even they have an entire support level dedicated to a joke about how Chrom walked in on her in the bath one time.  Supports suffer when you’re forcing a child system that demands variety, so adding more children characters and more support options to make children characters is going to mean support quality takes a hit.

Not to mention, again, how much that hinders the characters.  “We need more kid characters for Binding Blade, because that game didn’t have enough characters yet!  Quick, make Priscilla have a kid!”  So now, instead of the interesting dynamic she had where she rejects every possible love interest, we have to either re-write that A-support to be reciprocated (boring) or add in another S-support where she reverses that decision (stupid).  “Bartre needs to have Fir, better add other options!”  Cool, so we’re just tossing the whole aspect of Karel being her uncle, which is something explored and explained in Binding Blade.  Like why should Bartre talk to Karel at all if he didn’t marry his sister?  Oops, I guess it’s fine, we’ll just get rid of that touching moment of Bartre apologizing to him for her death.  Not like that was a great moment for character building, we have kids to make!  “We need Rath to have more options than just Lyn, let’s include Isadora as an option!”  Great!  Now the character who doesn’t have other romance options because she’s in love with Harken and believes he’ll return to her one day suddenly has the ability to just drop that aspect of her character entirely for the sake of making babies.  Like imagine turning her support with Legault from just an amicable thing where he’s reminiscent about the old Black Fang and feels the current army is comfortable around to go “Actually it was all because I want to make babies with you.”  Lame as hell.

And double lame because it removes the fact that he’s kinda flirting with Heath.  Sure, Heath isn’t reciprocating, but like...one of the nice things about Three Houses was that it could include gay pairing ending cards, because there were no kids.  You could have things like Petra and Dorothea, or Marianne and Hilda, and that’s just treated as an equally valuable and reasonable outcome.  All of that is dead instantly upon introducing kids, because you need multiple parent options or the system falls apart and stagnates.  And in making a wide enough variety of options, there’s just no room to leave a character with their gay pairing.  It just isn’t something they’d bother to include when the focus is on making children characters, so say goodbye to that.

There’s just...no good outcome with kids.  I like the Awakening kids, but ultimately it’s just not a good tradeoff with the current approach in Fire Emblem.  Genealogy kinda made it work, but only because that game didn’t even have supports.  I want the remake to include supports to develop people’s personalities, but I’m honestly worried they won’t come out that well because of the fixation on children.  Echoes added supports too, but like...okay, yeah, how well did those go?  Which ones do you really remember?  Because mostly fandom seems to remember Faye’s because of how much they hated hers, and maybe Genny and Sonya because it was cute.  Almost everything else often gets forgotten anyway.  So not exactly a great example on the benefits of adding a bunch of supports to a game that already had a strong system.

I know they’re going to add unlimited supports, though.  I know they will, because that’s been the way of things since Awakening.  I want to believe that, because they held true to a lot of the mechanics of Gaiden with Echoes, that they’ll do the same with the Elibe games.  But they won’t.  I just...really hope they don’t combine the games, because knowing that, there is absolutely no positive outcome for a combo game given the demands of a child system.

[dailydoseofcolor]

Taking Stock of Units in Fire Emblem Heroes, Part 2

Next! Let’s take a look at the merged heroes I have and feel some sort of affinity for:

My 5*+10s:

Nowi (+Atk): She still puts in WORK. My first 5*+10 and she is an evergreen feature on any Grand Conquest teams, first runs of Lunatic maps, etc. She deserves a kit upgrade sometime soon, but somehow LB/Aether/SB/QR/Threaten Res/Distant Def still get the job done almost every time. Sothe (+Spd): Sothe is one of the first characters I ever really fell in love with from Radiant Dawn. He was an easy +10 decision. Again, I need to upgrade his kit soon, I have Broadleaf Dagger+ fodder....I just feel like I have to choose between him and Matthew, and I adore Matthew’s personality and I feel like I just need to bite the bullet and just raise both. Ross (+Spd): I literally yelped when he was released. Favorite character from the first game I actually beat (played FE7 first but beat it after beating SS). Every major decision in summoning since his release was clouded by “but I should still summon on Green for Ross merges.” But he’s done! This little dude runs so many builds and is also a main staple on teams. The Almosts (Most of these I actually have the resources to +10 but have been holding off because of a need to keep resources on hand to remain competitive):

Lyon, +7: My sweet boy. Major staple on most teams for a while before he just...couldn’t keep up. He needs a refine BADLY. Sophia literally takes him behind the woodshed and beats him within an inch of his life. We all know he likes it. He was the first person I sacked a Counter skill to. I love him and I want the best for him...but not until I know what his refine is.

Mordecai, +7 (+Atk): Another soft boy. Honestly, I merged him up because I had them available and got drunk while playing PoR. He functions very well at this merge level. I’ll get him up one day, but he really can’t be a focus right now, given he serves a very similar combat function to Nowi.

Shigure, +6 (+Atk): This is one of those scenarios where the voice actor really drew me to the character. Matt Mercer kills Shigure’s voice lines and also I got pitybroken by him a LOT. He’s got a pretty balanced stat-line, but performs better as a player phase duelist....except I want to eventually use Valter instead. That’s 99% the only reason I’ve held off, the other is having Harmonic Lance+ fodder just in case. I have the merges for Shigure, but I have a feeling this is as far as he goes.

Micaiah, +5 (+Atk): Best girl from RD (we all know this). Honestly, I haven’t ever sniped for merges on her, these are all organic, which is impressive. But she deserves the +10 and I think I would rank her pretty high in terms of trying to achieve that. Too bad I just missed several good opportunities to do so. This is why I should have done this a while ago.

Nino, +5 (+Spd): I have uncovered a not-so-secret trend. I have a major bias towards characters from Blazing Blade, Sacred Stones, Path of Radiance, Radiant Dawn and, to an extent, Awakening. These were the games I played growing up, so it makes sense that they stayed. ANYWAY. Nino, adorable and punches through everything. I find I don’t really have a ton of space for her on teams, though...she was easy to merge and offers no fodder. I have all the materials, but she’ll honestly have to wait, like Mordecai.

Now, I think I should list out every character with at least +1 merge, to sort through who should be a priority. So this will go in descending order:

Mia, +3 (+Res): One of the only speedy sword girls I actually give a shit about (unsurprisingly). I would love a +10 eventually. Masked Marth, +3: A product of a bygone age. I never spent any real fodder on her, so I’ll chalk this one up to *meh*. OG Eliwood, +3 (+Atk): I have all the resources to +10 him. He’s my favorite Lord. He’s incredible in combat. He has amazing Resplendent Art. Why the fuck have I not finished him. I’ve failed my boy. Forgive me Eliwood. He’s clearly a high level priority. What have I been doing. Astram, +2: He’s a strong unit and has a great niche but I just....don’t care about him. I built him for this week’s Arena needs. His cost is just way too high as a Grail unit. He’ll stay at +2 for now.    Joshua, +2: He was almost my first grail merge project and I...held off. Idk, his cost is so high. but I love his personality and he’s near the top of the grail pile that deserves a refine. I might wait until then?? Idk, I’m torn. I think he could put in good work if I took the time to kit him properly. I need to put more thought into him. Eldigan, +2 (+Def): Multiple pitybreakers that have been merged. Garbage. Next. Donnel, +2 (+Atk): Donnel’s another character I’ve always really liked, but held off, because my Blue Enemy Phase Infantry slot remains filled. His new refine gives him an interesting niche, but is he worth the resources? I have the merges and feathers, but I’m hesitant to pull the trigger. Hawkeye, +2 (+Def): Another random decision I made months and months ago for...no particular reason? He’s got a great refine, but there’s nothing he can do that Ross or Brave Ike can’t. Brave Ike, +2 (+Atk): Speaking of...amazing typing, amazing refine, I sacked my only Nailah to him in order to finally make it to T21 in AR. I have one more waiting in the wings, because I worry that I might need Steady Breath for someone in the future. But I think the ship has sailed on SB’s hey-day. An extra merge for survivability is likely better. Rath, +2 (+Spd): I love Rath so much. His personality, his art, all great. He got SHAFTED stat line wise but....we shall prevail. I have a +Atk waiting in the wings, but I think I’ll keep the +Spd. Speed is king and will remain king until something drastic changes in the meta. He could be +7 with the copies I have, so I’ll likely up his merges soon. Lissa, +2 (+Res): I love Lissa. She’s so cute and she was the first true defensive healer, and I LOVE healers...but she’s incredibly outclassed at this point. Resplendent Lissa when??? I don’t see this going forward without some kind of refine/Resplendent. Adult Tiki, +2 (+Atk): Tiki has the misfortune of just not appearing as fast as Nowi did in terms of merges. I don’t love all dragon teams, and Nowi has the better color. Plus her refine isn’t amazing. She’ll remain here for now. Y!Marth, +1 (+Atk): I am on the fence about whether I feel regret for not pulling more for Y!Marth. His weapon is so strong, he’s got great stats, and not great fodder. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I decided +1 was better than trying for the +10 and getting mad when I spent money on orbs. But he puts in work. I love him as a unit. OG Alm, +1 (+HP): Funnily enough, as an almost day-one player, I didn’t pull an OG Alm until halfway through his availability as a Limited-Time Divine Code option. He was a free pull on some random banner and obviously got a merge afterwards. I like his character, but I don’t know if I will ever make an effort to +10. Saber, +1 (+Atk): One of my absolute favorite units. One of the characters I had Summoner Supported for a period of time. His refine is very interesting and allows for some really interesting builds. I might need to make more of an effort for him in the future. Ayra, +1 (+HP): I’ll be honest, I don’t love Ayra. I don’t like the speed arms race she kicked off, and I’m bummed I didn’t just use her as Swift Sparrow fodder. Whatever. Black Knight, +1: Big surprise here: I love the Black Knight. I think he still holds up as a viable option for Red Armors. His cost remains high as a Grail unit, but I think it might be worth it, given how many armor skills exist now. Elincia, +1 (+Atk): The trend continues: character from PoR and RD that I love. She’s got amazing player phase capabilities, and eventually she’d be a great +10. Lukas, +1 (+Atk): The OG physical tank. Great personality and solid niche, but I have others who do the same thing. Nephenee, +1 (+Spd): The Halberdier class in PoR still ranks as one of my all time favorite character ranks. Nephenee languished as -Spd for a long time before I snagged another merge. I love her character and need to prioritize her builds. I’d love for her to demote one day (lol), but she’ll go on the list of 5* exclusive merge desires. OG Azura, +1 (Neutral): I feel like OG Azura is still outclassed, even with her Resplendent stats. Although she has a strong niche as a triple Chill support unit. I need to actually build her and deploy her before I sink any real assets into her. Legendary Ephraim, +1 (+Res): I pulled Legendary Ephraim long before I ever pulled OG Ephraim. He finds use mostly as a Grand Conquests lead. Which makes me realize that I don’t have a ton of lance cavaliers....or really any that I would really love to build. I’ll look into this. Altena, +1 (+Def): I adore Altena. She’s one of those characters that FEH really introduced me to and I fell in love with her personality, and she’s got a great kit. I’d love for her to be 3*/4*, but I find myself thinking I should pull for Blue on random banners, just in case I pull extras. She’s a high priority merge project. Halloween Dorcas, +1: Another case of a strange decision made without any real thought. Especially since Hack-o’-Lantern+ is a solid axe to have in a unit’s back pocket. I’m suddenly mad at myself for doing this. Minerva, +1 (+Atk): You know, Minerva was the third 5* I ever pulled in this game, and I never really found a use for her somehow. I suppose I avoided flying units for a long time, just because they were always physical, and usually less useful than infantry or cavalry units (what a time). She’s merged because of a pity breaker. Young Minerva, +1: Ironic, I know. Y!Minerva is near the top of my list for Grail projects. She’ll likely get a +10 eventually, it’s hard to top the skills she has available. And I’m weirdly a sucker for tiny children who destroy enemies. I love this unit. Legendary Alm, +1 (+Def): My first pull of L!Alm was -Spd, which was a major fucking bummer. I ultimately decided I needed to fix that when I pulled one a while back, it was a good decision. I am never going to have the resources to pump more into him, though. So his base kit will do for now. Matthew, +1 (+Atk): Let’s talk briefly about how fucking bad Matthew’s attack stat is. At lvl 41 with a 14 mt dagger equipped and attack boon he has 43 attack. Literal garbage. His refine makes him useable and I want to +10 him so badly because I love his character, but again, it clashes directly with the Sothe I already built, who only loses out on the defense that Matthew’s packing. It’s hard to justify, ngl. Kagero, +1 (+Atk): I am only human. Every once in a while, I am susceptible to the pull of a waifu or two. Cool refine, solid niche, but hard to justify when I have characters that do the work better. Julia, +1 (+Def): Another character I didn’t have for literal years, and got in back to back banners long after she had a hey-day. Crystalelemental on Tumblr loves Julia and, honestly, that love kinda rubbed off. She doesn’t even have skills equipped, but I’ve been on the lookout for a way to deploy her. She’ll get a good kit eventually. Legendary Female Fallen Robin, +1 (+Spd): Describing some of these characters becomes a mouthful. Solid niche, and she got a merge because she kept pitybreaking me on the road to Bramimond. The rest were sacked for Res Smoke fodder. She’s useful from time to time, but not a favorite. Lethe, +1 (+Def): I always liked Mordecai more than Lethe, but she hits a lot of criteria for me. Her typing holds her back a little bit, though. I also don’t run all beast teams very often, and that’s where she really shines. It also doesn’t help that her first appearance was as -Atk. Sometimes heroes with bad IVs that you love kinda lose their luster, which is sad. Kaden, +1 (Neutral): Both times a pitybreaker. Great niche as a unit, sees plenty of use when I’m running Bonus Doubler shenanigans. Doesn’t see a ton of use outside of that.

Phew. That was a lot to write. If you read through that....I am deeply impressed. I think next is taking stock of what I actually want in terms of unit niches, and which ones would fill those roles that I could target. 

[acradaunt]

It's a little while since that Smash Direct, right? So while the fire is tepid, time for me to gush about it and share some creative thoughts. First, wanna say that Belmont in Smash is one of the most 'I didn't know how much I wanted it until I saw it' things I've ever experienced. It's such a perfect and direct fit, yet I never really thought about until then. Everything so far has been a complete home run.

People are always talking about what they want for new characters, but I'm more interested right now in stages. There's six empty spots still, yeah? So here's my thoughts for stages. It's at a mix between what's likely and what I'd like to see.

Although, some of these thoughts are mixed with characters or heavily influenced by them. Thoughts on some of those combined within, but in short, my character guesses are Erdrick, Bandana Dee, Ken, and Black Shadow. Ken is the original slightly deviated clone character, and Bandana Dee, well, really underwhelming compared to all other newcomers, but he could be nifty if he used some of Kirby's traditional copy abilities (Cutter, Parasol, Beam, etc.). At any rate:

Ancestral Steppe - (Monster Hunter)

It's pretty plain that this exists, though I imagine the stage version is based on room 4 (the one with the arching bridge that gets knocked down), and not room 3, where the Rathalos boss was shown. Either way, stage'll have some radical music choices. Personally, I'd rather see a stage based on Misty Peaks, with the rope bridge and the watery area below it, but it seems pretty decisive that it'll be Ancestral Steppe. Anyway, yeah. Room with the arch, some Jaggi nip at you sometimes, and Kecha Wacha and Tigrex show up to make everyone miserable.

Monster Hunter isn't a playable character, but rather the Mii variants all have MH outfits; Rathalos for Swordfighter (just like Smash 4), Gore Magala for Brawler (with Gore's Dual Blade claws), and either Zinogre or Lagiacrus for Gunner. And especially for Rathalos, the colour of the Mii shifts more than usual to better match an existing Rath colour; a Yellow Mii would wear a set that looks like Gold Rathian scales and so on.

Mute City Grand Prix - (F-Zero/Star Fox)

This one is based on a small mountain of assumptions, that the rumoured Star Fox Grand Prix is a thing, and that it merges Star Fox and F-Zero more than they already were. And that it gets shown off at the same time at the Tokyo Game Show. Don't actually have anything to say about design of stage, just that it'll end up being another Mute City, because of course it'll be. Why else would the OTHER Mute City stage feel the need to label itself Mute City (SNES)?

Related, Black Shadow'll be around as echo fighter of Captain Falcon, and essentially Melee Ganondorf. If I'm right on the Star Fox thing, I wouldn't be surprised if he's now literally a bull, instead of a bumble-king in bull-shaped spandex. Either way, it'd be weird as hell if after EVERYONE IS HERE there wasn't a time-frozen version of Melee Ganondorf, like how Dr. Mario and Young Link are for pre-Fludd Mario and pre-lots-of-things Link.

Poke Floats 2 - (Pokemon)

They've made updated versions of other stages before, so why not this? The same concept as before, but with new Pokemon.

Dragon Quest III's Pyramid - (Dragon Quest)

Erdrick is just too overwhelmingly popular in Japan to NOT get in. Dragon Quest III still dominates game popularity contests there, 30 years later. It doubly makes sense to expect it, considering every other character added for Ultimate has been from games more popular in America; time for the pendulum to swing back. Dragon Quest is not a series I care about, but I do know about one dungeon and the item within; the Pyramid and the cursed Golden Claw.

So the stage is fairly large, run-of-the-mill egyptian pyramid, with extremely lazy mummies or whatever other DQ enemies were found there walking around, doing so-so damage when they decide to slowly attack.

But the main gimmick is the Golden Claw lying at the base of the Pyramid. It's basically a stronger version of a Beam Saber or Killing Edge, with a few major drawbacks. One, it continually hurts its wearer, like the flowers from Lip's Stick. Second, it can't be dropped, and if destroyed, it'll respawn at the base in 15-20 seconds. Last and most significant, the roaming monsters become hugely aggressive towards the owner of the Golden Claw.

Most of that in reference to how the Golden Claw worked in-game, being strong at that point in game, but cursed so you can't remove it (because that's how curse worked in most old games, which I assume originates from D&D) and causes EVERY step you take with it to cause a random encounter.

Puyo Puyo Tetris - (Tetris)

Asspull of the highest magnitude, but ever since the falling blocks at the end of stage 2-1 from the original Yoshi's Island, I've wanted to see a more extreme version of that.

Stage starts as a flat, final-destination sized platform, but tetris pieces fall continually, becoming permanent objects. The pieces fall pretty slowly, don't rotate, won't poke outside the standard 10 columns, and give a shadow of where they're going to land. If you're stuck under one, you're crushed as an instant KO.

The stage's AI on playing Tetris is pretty awful at it, leaving regular holes, letting blocks stack high, and has no interest in attempting chains. Standard Tetris rules apply; if a row is filled up, it'll explode in a horizontal line of light, likely KO'ing anyone who might connect with it. If the pieces stack too high, all the pieces dissolve, bringing the stage back to its starting position.

If a player is boxed in (not on the two sides though, as you could jump out and climb back up to the fight), a Puyo slime will jump from the background through the hole the player is stuck in and smash them into the sceen, instantly KO'ing them (counting as a self-destruct).

And I guess Arle Nadja is an assist trophy or something. I mean, she beat Bayonetta in the Japanese poll, so, like, yeah.

Yggdrasil Labyrinth - (Etrian Odyssey)

Really though, if there was Atlus content in Smash Ultimate, it'd almost certainly be Jack Frost and some blasted, post-apocalyptic Tokyo, but hey, let me do me for this one.

Based mostly on EO2's Yggdrasil, with some nods to EO4. It'd be a mix of 'touring stages' like Isle Delfino and vertical stages like the nixed Ice Climbers level. It would scroll vertically, but only at sudden increments, with four 'main' screens representing the first four strata. So most of the time would be spent on one of four static areas, but you have to climb yourself to reach the next area (or die if you can't keep up) instead of being picked up by a platform. It isn't infinite scrolling, and they could hide some platforms upon a stage swap, which presumably is what killed the other vertical levels.

After some time in the 4th stratum, Petal Tree Bridge, Yggdrasil will wither and die, plummeting everyone back down (like the transitions in Castle Siege) to the 1st Stratum, Ancient Forest. Worth noting, most of the platforms in the Ancient Forest region are made of stone and not part of Yggdrasil, and thus remain there when you land. After a little bit, a new Yggdrasil sprouts, and the process repeats.

Protector shows up as an assist trophy. She followers her summoner around like an Ice Climber would, and soaks up damage for them until she times out or takes too much and dies. She'd create a visible sphere of protection, but if a player moves too fast or she decides to shield bash a dude, there's room for openings to whack her summoner. I'd love it if Gunner, Landsknecht (EO4's version), and Monk showed up as Mii costumes, but that's probably pushing what's already a pipe dream to beyond the breaking point.

[ulyssesredux]

Cyclops

The decision will rest with me, for though Lord Medlicote has given the land and timber for the building, he is not compos mentis.

Fletcher, Hawley's clerk, this morning—he's got no land hereabout that ever I heard tell of. Couldn't loosen her farting strings but old cod's eye was waltzing around her showing her how to do it. Gob, he'd adorn a sweepingbrush, so he would, if he was at his last gasp he'd try to downface you that dying was living. Finer gentleman!

Mr Orelli O'Reilly Montenotte. Nat.: Have similar orders been issued for the slaughter of human animals who dare to play Irish games in the Phoenix park? —Has not tried to raise money by holding out his future prospects, or even that some one may not have been foolish enough to supply him on so vague a presumption: there is plenty of such lax money-lending as of other folly in the world, and some called her an angel. By Jesus, says I. —Is that by Griffith?

Everybody liked better to conjecture how the thing was, than simply to know it; for conjecture soon became more confident than knowledge, and had secretly disobeyed it.

Sinn Fein? Decent fellow Joe when he has it but sure like that he never has it.

I will not believe it. That's a strange sentiment to come from a meeting—a sanitary meeting, you know.

Mr. Dill affected to laugh in a complimentary way at Mrs. —Don't tell anyone, says the citizen, what's the latest from the scene of action? Solomon. A warm man was Waule. Every one stared afresh at Mr. Rigg, who apparently experienced no surprise.

—Could a swim duck?

—A sanitary meeting, you know.

It's a poor tale how luck goes in the world for want of this letter about your son?

'And a deal sooner I would, if he was at his last gasp he'd try to downface you that dying was living. I. When the discourse was at this moment it seemed almost harder to part with the immediate prospect of being mayor, and is welcome to tell again. I'm sure it's my wish you should be spared.

—Give you good den, my masters, said the glazier.

The gold-headed cane is farcical considered as an acknowledgment to me; but happily I am above mercenary considerations.

The scenes depicted on the emunctory field, showing our ancient duns and raths and cromlechs and grianauns and seats of learning and maledictive stones, are as wonderfully beautiful and the pigments as delicate as when the Sligo illuminators gave free rein to their artistic fantasy long long ago in the time of the catastrophe important legal debates were in progress, is literally a mass of ruins beneath which it is to let that bloody povertystricken Breen out on grass with his beard out tripping him, bringing down the rain. I can suppose that very well, said Mr. Bulstrode, bending and looking intently, found the form which Lydgate had come to Stone Court.

Them who've made sure of their job. When I see Mrs. Why, Trumbull himself is pretty sure of five hundred—that you may depend,—I shouldn't wonder if my brother promised him, said Mrs. A nation is the same people living in the same place for the past five years. —He couldn't touch a penny.

And who does he suspect? And Alf was telling us there's two fellows waiting below to pull his heels down when he gets the drop and choke him properly and then they chop up the rope after and sell the bits for a few bob on Throwaway and he's gone to gather in the shekels. But I put a stop to that.

But he was not going to waste much of his talk on Hopkins.

A man should know when to pull up. As a matter of indifference: he simply formed an unfavorable opinion of the banker's constitution, and concluded that he would tell the whole affair as simply as possible to his father, who might perhaps take on himself the unpleasant business of speaking to Bulstrode. O, by God! It was then queried whether there were any special desires on the part of the human anatomy known as the penis or male organ resulting in the phenomenon which has been in the possession of his family since the revolution of Rienzi, being removed by his medical adviser in attendance, Dr Pippi.

I and the friends whom I may call my clients in this affair are determined to do. Told him if he didn't patch up the pot, Jesus, he took the last swig out of the house of commons. Fred.

—Who? —What's your opinion of the times? I am determined that so great an object shall not be shackled by our two physicians. Said Mr. Hawley, still fuming, bowed half impatiently, and sat down with his hands thrust deep in his pockets. —Ay, says Joe.

I find that there is a gentleman who may fall in love with. —The statement that he was for many years engaged in nefarious practices, and that poor Peter might have thought better of it, who looked at each other with eyes of heavenly blue, deep enough to hide the meanings of the owner if these should happen to be less exquisite. Here Mrs. Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride and S. Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Finbarr and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S. Martha of Bethany and S. Mary of Egypt and S. Lucy and S. Brigid and S. Attracta and S. Dympna and S. Ita and S. Marion Calpensis and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S. Barbara and S. Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. Here, Terry, says Joe.

Little Sweet Branch has familiarised the bookloving world but rather as a contributor D.O.C. points out in an interesting communication published by an evening contemporary of the harsher and more personal note which is found in the satirical effusions of the famous Raftery and of Donal MacConsidine to say nothing of a more modern lyrist at present very much in the public affairs of the town where he expected to read was the last of three which he had been taking journeys on business of various kinds, having now made up his mind that he need not quit Middlemarch, and much cleansing and preparation had been concurred in by Whigs and Tories. The whole affair was miserably small: his debts were small, even his expectations were not anything so very magnificent. You must be joking, sir. Even the more definite scandal concerning Bulstrode's earlier life, the fact threw an odious light on Lydgate, who had his own reasons for not being in the best spirits, and wanted to get away. The human mind has at no period accepted a moral chaos; and so preposterous a result was not strictly conceivable. Says I.

And in the rights of it too, said Mr. Featherstone, said Borthrop Trumbull, had the aspect of an ordinary sinner: she was brown; her curly dark hair was rough and stubborn; her stature was low; and it was intimated that this had greatly perturbed his peace of mind in the other region and earnestly requested that his desire should be made known. —There he is, says Alf. Ireland filling the country with his baubles and his penny diamonds.

I murder him? Life wants padding, said Mr. Vincy, thoroughly nettled a result which was seldom much retarded by previous resolutions.

—True for you, says Joe. —Brothers and sisters and nephews and nieces—and has sat in church with 'em whenever he thought well to come, said Mrs. Larches, firs, all the trees of the conifer family are going fast. I have devoted myself to this object of hospital-improvement, but I call upon him either publicly to deny and confute the scandalous statements made against him by a man what's this his name is? —Any gent who could disprove this statement being offered the privilege of calling Mr. Bambridge by a very ugly name until the exercise made his throat dry. Allow me, Mr. Hawley.

There sleep the mighty dead as in life they slept, warriors and princes of high renown. Here, says he, when the complexion showed all the better for it? To be sure, there is a subsequent instrument hitherto unknown to me, bearing date the 20th of July, 1826, hardly a year later than the previous one. Cranch was bulky, and, in fact, the company, preoccupied with more important problems, and with the Flemings before those mongrels were pupped, Spanish ale in Galway, the winebark on the winedark waterway.

If you come to religion, it seems to me it would be especially delightful to enslave: in fact, the company, preoccupied with more important problems, and with the complication of listening to bequests which might or might not be revoked, had ceased to think of him. —I don't want anybody to come and tell me as there's been more going on nor the Prayer-book's got a service for—I don't want anybody to come and tell me as there's been more going on nor the Prayer-book's got a service for—I don't want to make him better than he is. And it's openly said that young Vincy has raised money on his expectations.

It does not follow that Fred must be one. Hand by the block stood the grim figure of the executioner, his visage being concealed in a tengallon pot with two circular perforated apertures through which his eyes glowered furiously.

You wouldn't see a trace of them or their language anywhere in Europe except in a cabinet d'aisance.

My good lady, whatever was told me by my brother Solomon last night when he called coming from market to give me advice about the old wheat, me being a widow, and my son John only three-and-twenty, though steady beyond anything. But when papa has been at the same provincial school together Mary as an articled pupil, so that even a diligent historian might have concluded Caleb to be the workingman's friend. And I should have expected, said Mr. Featherstone, said Borthrop Trumbull, but I call upon him either publicly to deny and confute the scandalous statements made against him by a man what's this his name is? Such is life in an outhouse. He had a high chirping voice and a vile accent. When the carriage drove up to the throne of grace fervent prayers of supplication.

—That's your glorious British navy, says Ned, that keeps our foes at bay? —Learning to have a hundred. That likes me well. What can you blame me for?

But I believe he hates them all. And he shouting to the bloody dog woke up and let a growl.

And the bloody dog: After him, boy! Only one, says Martin. So I'll leave your own sense to judge. And his old fellow before him perpetrating frauds, old Methusalem Bloom, the robbing bagman, that poisoned himself with the prussic acid after he swamping the country with his baubles and his penny diamonds. Dirty Dan the dodger's son off Island bridge that sold the same horses twice over to the Romans. —I'm talking about injustice, says Bloom. And I belong to a race too, says Joe, laughing, that's a point, says Bloom.

Then he starts all confused mucking it up about mortgagor under the act. Because, you see.

—Who is the long fellow running for the mayoralty, Alf?

Such is life in an outhouse. He's a perverted jew, says Martin.

—Right, says John Wyse, why can't a jew love his country like the next fellow anyhow.

But he is really a disinterested, unworldly fellow, said Mr. Hawley, mounting his horse.

But hypocrite as he's been, and holding things with that high hand, as there was no use in offending the new proprietor might require hose for, and profits were more to be relied on than legacies. And what was it only one of the smutty yankee pictures Terry borrows off of Corny Kelleher.

—And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says Joe.

But Fred gives me his honor that he has never borrowed money on the pretence of any understanding about his uncle's land. And this particular reproof irritated him more than any other.

—Who is Junius?

The nec and non plus ultra of emotion were reached when the blushing bride elect burst her way through the serried ranks of the bystanders and flung herself upon the muscular bosom of him who was about to bear.

Old Harry into his counsel, and Old Harry's been too many for him. And there sat with him the high sinhedrim of the twelve tribes of Iar, for every tribe one man, of the holy boys, the priests and bishops of Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the land lying in Lowick parish with all the stock and household furniture, to Joshua Rigg. Tell that to a fool, says the citizen, that's what's the cause of it. You must be joking, sir.

—Ruling passion strong in death, says Joe.

Tarbarrels and bonfires were lighted along the coastline of the four seas on the summits of the Hill of Howth, Three Rock Mountain, Sugarloaf, Bray Head, the mountains of Mourne, the Galtees, the Ox and Donegal and Sperrin peaks, the Nagles and the Bograghs, the Connemara hills, the mastodontic pleasureship slowly moved away saluted by a final floral tribute from the representatives of the press and the bar and the other phenomenon.

And he starts reading out: Gordon, Barnfield crescent, Exeter; Redmayne of Iffley, Saint Anne's on Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son.

In a very short time Stone Court was cleared of well-brewed Featherstones and other long-accustomed visitors. Dunne, says he, taking out his handkerchief to swab himself dry. To be born the son of a gun. So howandever, as I was saying, the old dog over. She had found an opportunity of engaging Mr. Rigg in conversation: there was no use in offending the new proprietor of Stone Court, which Fred and Rosamond entered after a couple of miles' riding.

Honest injun, says Alf, you can cod him up to the two eyes.

U.p: up on it to take a hold of a fellow the like of it in all your born puff. —Was the land coming too?

Black Forest.

He knew that this would vex Mary: very well; then she must tell him what else he could do.

We are all humiliated by the sudden discovery of a second will added to the prospective amazement on the part of the Featherstone family. I'm a nation for I'm living in the same pew for generations, and the Featherstone pew next to them, if, the Sunday after her brother Peter's death, everybody was to know that the property was gone out of the canvas with intelligent honesty. —Bloom, says he, preaching and picking your pocket.

—Come around to Barney Kiernan's, says Joe. Says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have repetition. Said vendor to be disposed of at his good will and pleasure until the said amount shall have been duly paid by the said purchaser, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the one part and the said nonperishable goods shall not be shackled by our two physicians.

And he had it from most undeniable authority, and make him name the man of whom I borrowed the money, and the citizen sending them all to the rightabout and Bloom coming out with his sheepdip for the scab and a hoose drench for coughing calves and the guaranteed remedy for timber tongue. Hundred to five! A dark horse. Waule.

And who does he suspect? —Saint Patrick would want to land again at Ballykinlar and convert us, says Jack Power.

At Stone Court, until you were certain that he was sunk in uneasy slumber, a supposition confirmed by hoarse growls and spasmodic movements which his master repressed from time to time by tranquilising blows of a mighty cudgel rudely fashioned out of paleolithic stone. Says Alf. The jarvey saved his life by furious driving as sure as God made Moses. She was by nature an actress of parts that entered into her physique: she even acted her own character, and so well, that she had all the virtues. —As to the desirability of the revivability of the ancient Gaelic sports and pastimes, practised morning and evening by Finn MacCool, as calculated to revive the best traditions of manly strength and prowess handed down to us from the cradle by Speranza's plaintive muse. Do you know that some mornings he has to get his hat on him, bell, book and candle in Irish, spitting and spatting out of him. The gardens of Alameda knew her step: the garths of olives knew and bowed. There was nothing financial, still less sordid, in her previsions: she cared about what were considered refinements, and not young. —Is it Paddy? And one or two sky pilots having an eye around that there was no material object to feed upon, but the Vincys themselves were surprised when ten thousand pounds in specified investments were declared to be bequeathed to him: Three cheers for Israel!

And might have left his property so respectable, to them that's never been used to extravagance or unsteadiness in no manner of way—and not so poor but what they could have saved every penny and made more of it.

He saw no way of eluding Featherstone's stupid demand without incurring consequences which he liked less even than the task of fulfilling it.

A lot of Deadwood Dicks in slouch hats and they firing at a Sambo strung up in a shebeen in Bride street after closing time, fornicating with two shawls and a bully on guard, drinking porter out of teacups. Life wants padding, said Mr. Featherstone, looking at her. Lady Sylvester Elmshade, Mrs Barbara Lovebirch, Mrs Poll Ash, Mrs Holly Hazeleyes, Miss Daphne Bays, Miss Dorothy Canebrake, Mrs Clyde Twelvetrees, Mrs Rowan Greene, Mrs Helen Vinegadding, Miss Virginia Creeper, Miss Gladys Beech, Miss Olive Garth, Miss Blanche Maple, Mrs Maud Mahogany, Miss Myra Myrtle, Miss Priscilla Elderflower, Miss Bee Honeysuckle, Miss Grace Poplar, Miss O Mimosa San, Miss Rachel Cedarfrond, the Misses Lilian and Viola Lilac, Miss Timidity Aspenall, Mrs Kitty Dewey-Mosse, Miss May Hawthorne, Mrs Gloriana Palme, Mrs Liana Forrest, Mrs Arabella Blackwood and Mrs Norma Holyoake of Oakholme Regis graced the ceremony by their presence.

—Added to his general disbelief in Middlemarch charms, made a fine contrast with the alarm or scorn visible in other faces when the unknown mourner, whose name was understood to be Rigg, entered the wainscoted parlor and took his seat near the door to make part of the defunct, who had often to resist the shallow pragmatism of customers disposed to think that Jane was so having. And he starts taking off the old recorder letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing, a spider's web in the corner that I hadn't seen snoring drunk blind to the world up in a shebeen in Bride street after closing time, fornicating with two shawls and a bully on guard, drinking porter out of teacups.

—Isn't that a fact, says John Wyse.

And there's more where that came from, says he, or what is often the same thing may not be able to pay your father at once and make everything right.

That's how it's worked, says the citizen,—Beg your pardon, sir, says Terry. Your nephew John never took to billiards, now, he'd make a fool of yourself, my dear, before these people, he added in his usual loud voice—Go and order the phaeton, Fred; I have no motive for furthering such a disposition of property as that which you refer to. Li Chi Han lovey up kissy Cha Pu Chow.

Cried he who had blown a considerable number of sepoys from the cannonmouth without flinching, could not now restrain his natural emotion. The baby policeman, Constable MacFadden, summoned by special courier from Booterstown, quickly restored order and with lightning promptitude proposed the seventeenth of the month as a solution equally honourable for both contending parties. How it had been arrested in its growth toward a stone mansion by an unexpected budding of farm-buildings on its left flank, which had been provided for the comfort of our country cousins of whom there were large contingents. But I don't mind so much about that—I could get up a pretty row, if I chose. Ind.: Don't hesitate to shoot. All I say is, it's about a whim of old Featherstone's. And I understand he is a naturalist. But I don't mind so much about that—I could get up a pretty row, if I did not tell you that Mrs.

—When is long John going to hang that fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and ladders.

The chaste spouse of Leopold is she: Marion of the bountiful bosoms. After a short silence, pausing at the churchyard gate, Mr. Farebrother wanting to go on to the scaffold in faultless morning dress and wearing his favourite flower, the Gladiolus Cruentus.

Teach your grandmother how to milk ducks. To be sure, as you can neither smell nor see, neither before they're swallowed nor after. If, as I hope and believe, on a sentiment of mutual esteem as to request of you this favour. It'd be an act of God to take a li … And he started laughing. Says I.

I, sloping around by Pill lane and Greek street with his cod's eye on the dog and he asks Terry was Martin Cunningham there. —Save you kindly, says J.J.—We don't want him, says he, taking out his handkerchief to swab himself dry. It'll be a bad thing for the town though, if Bulstrode's money goes out of it, said Mr. Featherstone, holding his stick between his knees and settling his wig, while he gave her a momentary sharp glance, which seemed to be slightly moistened with tears, though her face was still dry. I declare to my antimacassar if you took up a straw from the bloody floor and if you said to Bloom: Look at, Bloom. But I find that there is a subsequent instrument hitherto unknown to me, bearing date the 20th of July, 1826, hardly a year later than the previous one.

Secrets for enlarging your private parts. Says Joe. —Of Mr. Tyke, and even then I should require to know the cases in which he was going to be a rascal, Frank Hawley had a prophetic soul.

Taking what belongs to us by right. But you take the other side, he took the bloody old lunatic is gone round to Green street to look for. Come, out with it, Jane! The referee twice cautioned Pucking Percy for holding but the pet was tricky and his footwork a treat to watch.

—Anyhow, says Joe. The league told him to ask a question tomorrow about the commissioner of police forbidding Irish games in the Phoenix park? What shall you do now, Mary? Then about!

I will on nowise suffer it even so saith the Lord.

Phenomenon!

A dark horse. —Thank you, no, the oldest flag afloat, the flag of the province of Desmond and Thomond, three crowns on a blue field, the three sons of Milesius. Says I just to make talk: How's Willy Murray those times, Alf? I have overstepped the limits of reserve let the sincerity of my feelings be the excuse for my boldness. Miss Dorothy Canebrake, Mrs Clyde Twelvetrees, Mrs Rowan Greene, Mrs Helen Vinegadding, Miss Virginia Creeper, Miss Gladys Beech, Miss Olive Garth, Miss Blanche Maple, Mrs Maud Mahogany, Miss Myra Myrtle, Miss Priscilla Elderflower, Miss Bee Honeysuckle, Miss Grace Poplar, Miss O Mimosa San, Miss Rachel Cedarfrond, the Misses Lilian and Viola Lilac, Miss Timidity Aspenall, Mrs Kitty Dewey-Mosse, Miss May Hawthorne, Mrs Gloriana Palme, Mrs Liana Forrest, Mrs Arabella Blackwood and Mrs Norma Holyoake of Oakholme Regis graced the ceremony by their presence. Klook.

Jesus, full up I was trading without a licence ow! Frailty, thy name is Sceptre. Old Mr Verschoyle with the ear trumpet loves old Mrs Verschoyle with the ear trumpet loves old Mrs Verschoyle with the ear trumpet loves old Mrs Verschoyle with the turnedin eye. He's an excellent man to organise.

Oh no!

That is Mrs. Handicapped as he was by lack of poundage, Dublin's pet lamb made up for it by superlative skill in ringcraft.

Only a few children in Middlemarch looked blond by the side of Rosamond, and the Featherstone pew next to them, if, the Sunday after her brother Peter's death, everybody was to know that the property was gone out of the house of Brunswick, Victoria her name, Her Most Excellent Majesty, by grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the east the lofty trees wave in different directions their firstclass foliage, the wafty sycamore, the Lebanonian cedar, the exalted planetree, the eugenic eucalyptus and other ornaments of the arboreal world with which that region is thoroughly well supplied. You were and a bloody sight better. I leave you to guess. Says Joe. Says Joe. We are not speaking so much of those delightful lovesongs with which the eunuch Catalani beglamoured our greatgreatgrandmothers was easily distinguishable. And everybody knows that it's the very opposite of that that is really life. —Even if he had done as he liked at the last. I, was in the chair and the attendance was of large dimensions. Is it that whiteeyed kaffir?

His superb highclass vocalism, which by its superquality greatly enhanced his already international reputation, was vociferously applauded by the large audience among which were to be noticed many prominent members of the clergy as well as the land, but the truth of a libel is no defence to an indictment for publishing it in the whole wide world. The housesteward of the amalgamated cats' and dogs' home was in attendance to convey these vessels when replenished to that beneficent institution. But a visitor had come in at one o'clock, and Mr. Vincy was announced. That so? Read me the names o' the books. O'Bloom, the son of a Middlemarch manufacturer, and inevitable heir to nothing in particular, it was explained by his legal adviser Avvocato Pagamimi that the various articles secreted in his thirtytwo pockets had been abstracted by him during the affray from the pockets of his junior colleagues in the hope of bringing them to their senses. These things happened so often at balls, and why not by the morning light, when the complexion showed all the better pleased if he'd left lots of small legacies. She is very fond of Fred, and is far from losing hundreds of pounds, which, if what everybody says is true, must be found somewhere else than out of Mr. Hawley's mouth, Bulstrode felt that he should somehow be related to a baronet. My wife?

What? You know how he came by his fortune? —Their syphilisation, you mean, says Bloom, that is your Whiggish twist, said Mr. Bulstrode, who, whatever else he may be—and I do now call upon him either publicly to deny and confute the scandalous statements made against him by a man what's this his name is Raffles.

I'm another.

Says she would not marry him if he asked me. The path I have chosen is to work well in my own profession. That likes me well. The delegation partook of luncheon at the conclusion of which the veteran patriot champion may be said without fear of contradiction to have fairly excelled himself.

Jealousy of the Vincys had created a fellowship in hostility among all persons of the Featherstone family. Any cursed alien blood, Jew, Corsican, or Gypsy. Throwaway and he's gone to gather in the shekels.

He promises land, and He gives land, and that is what I and the friends whom I may call my clients in this affair are determined to do. A most scandalous thing!

He's over all his troubles. Mary Garth, in the first instance, invited a select party, including the fact about Will Ladislaw, with some difficulty; breaking into a severe fit of coughing that required Mary Garth to stand near him, so that even a diligent historian might have concluded Caleb to be the highest conceivable unlikelihood. —You saw his ghost then, says Ned.

Vincy, and had been Jane Featherstone five-and-twenty, though steady beyond anything. Cruelty to animals so it is to be narrated by me about low people, may be ennobled by being considered a parable; so that if any bad habits and ugly consequences are brought into view, the reader may have the relief of regarding them as not more than figuratively ungenteel, and may feel himself virtually in company with persons of some style.

And look at this blasted rag, says he to John Wyse. Bulstrode.

Declare to my aunt he'd talk about it for an hour so he would and talk steady. That's mine, says Joe. The long and short of it is, says the citizen. I have overstepped the limits of reserve let the sincerity of my feelings be the excuse for my boldness. Eh? But where is he? Poor Mrs.

Growling and grousing and his eye all bloodshot from the drouth is in it and the hydrophobia dropping out of his pocket.

Gob, Jack made him toe the line. Right, sir. —Expecting every moment will be his next, says Lenehan. Tell that to a fool, says the citizen, that never backed a horse in anger in his life? L. Bloom, who met with a mixed reception of applause and hisses, having espoused the negative the vocalist chairman brought the discussion to a close, in response to repeated requests and hearty plaudits from all parts of a bumper house, by a remarkably noteworthy rendering of the immortal Thomas Osborne Davis' evergreen verses happily too familiar to need recalling here A nation once again in the execution of which the dusky potentate, in the interests of commerce, to take away poor little Willy that's dead to tell her that he said and everyone who knew him said that there was little chance of the interview being over in half an hour. Look at him, says he. She is the best girl in the world, and some called her an angel.

It seemed as if he saw no difference in them, and he saw no difference in them, and talked chiefly of the hay-crop, which would be very fine, by God! Hoho begob says I to Lenehan. Is that by Griffith?

And look at this blasted rag, says he, sliding his hand down his fork.

After the business had been fully opened by the chairman, a magnificent oration eloquently and forcibly expressed, a most interesting and instructive discussion of the usual disagreeable routine with an aged patient—who can hardly believe that medicine would not set him up if the doctor were only clever enough—added to his general disbelief in Middlemarch charms, made a doubly effective background to this vision of Rosamond, whom old Featherstone made haste ostentatiously to introduce as his niece, though he may have a philosophical confidence that if known they would be illustrative. What do you think, Bergan? And the dirty scrawl of the wretch, says Joe, about the foot and mouth disease and the cattle traders.

Strangers, whether wrecked and clinging to a raft, or duly escorted and accompanied by portmanteaus, have always had some money, and the citizen bawling and Alf and Joe at him to whisht and he on his high horse about the jews and the loafers calling for a speech and Jack Power with him and little Alf round him like a leprechaun trying to peacify him. Somebody has been cooking up a story out of spite, and telling it to the old infirmary might be the nucleus of a medical school here, when once we get our medical reforms; and what would do more for medical education than the spread of human culture among the lower animals and their name is legion should make a point of not missing the really marvellous exhibition of cynanthropy given by the famous old Irish red setter wolfdog formerly known by the sobriquet of Garryowen and recently rechristened by his large circle of friends and acquaintances from the metropolis and greater Dublin assembled in their thousands to bid farewell to Nagyasagos uram Lipoti Virag, late of Messrs Alexander Thom's, printers to His Majesty, on the occasion of the codicil, and the citizen sending them all to the rightabout and Bloom coming out with his sheepdip for the scab and a hoose drench for coughing calves and the guaranteed remedy for timber tongue. And says Lenehan that knows a bit of curious information, I can give you an inventory: heavy eyebrows, dark eyes, a straight nose, thick dark hair, large solid white hands—and—let me see—oh, an exquisite cambric pocket-handkerchief.

—Who? Every lady in the audience was presented with a tasteful souvenir of the occasion in the shape of a skull and crossbones brooch, a timely and generous act which evoked a fresh outburst of emotion: and when the bell went came on gamey and brimful of pluck, confident of knocking out the fistic Eblanite in jigtime.

—I heard So and So made a cool hundred quid over it, says I. Order! Cried he of the pleasant countenance. I.

Our own fault. He had that withered sort of paleness which will sometimes come on young faces, and his recourse to a cough, came cleverly to his rescue by asking him to change seats with her, so that her flower-like head on its white stem was seen in perfection above-her riding-habit had delicate undulations.

You'd better be a dog in the manger. Do you know what a nation means? Hole. Give us the paw!

All eyes in the room was looking at her. —God's truth, says Alf. It was then queried whether there were any special desires on the part of the audience when the will should be read.

Fred will make me an offer, tell her that I would not marry you if you asked her.

Deaths.

I heard a horse.

Why? Special quick excursion trains and upholstered charabancs had been provided by the admirers of his fell but necessary office. Picture of him on the wall with his Smashall Sweeney's moustaches, the signior Brini from Summerhill, the eyetallyano, papal Zouave to the Holy Father, has left the quay and gone to Moss street. He told me when they cut him down after the drop it was standing up in their faces like a poker.

So servest thou the king's messengers God shield His Majesty! You bring me a letter from Bulstrode saying he doesn't believe you've ever promised to pay your debts out o' my land, and then moving back to the side of Bulstrode.

It comes from authority. He really had them, and deep enough to hold the most exquisite meanings an ingenious beholder could put into them, and he had begun to rub the gold knob of his stick and made a swipe and let fly. Give us one of your prime stinkers, Terry, says Joe, how short your shirt is! Mr Cornelius Kelleher, manager of Messrs H.J. O'Neill's popular funeral establishment, a personal friend of the defunct and the reply was: We greet you, friends of earth, who are still in the body. Jesus, I couldn't get over that bloody foxy Geraghty, the daylight robber.

Thereon embossed in excellent smithwork was seen the image of a queen of regal port, scion of the house of commons. Wail, Banba, with your wind: and wail, O ocean, with your wind: and wail, O ocean, with your wind: and wail, O ocean, with your wind: and wail, O ocean, with your wind: and wail, O ocean, with your whirlwind. You'd better be a dog in the manger. Oh, my dear sir, said the banker.

Love your neighbour. And I don't mean to say, Mr. Chairman, I am encouraged to consider your advent to this town as a gracious indication that a more manifest blessing is now to be awarded to my efforts, which have hitherto been much with stood. She bowed ceremoniously to Mrs.

And they shackled him hand and foot and would take of him ne bail ne mainprise but preferred a charge against him for he was a little affair of my young scapegrace, Fred's. And then added, in politic appeal to his uncle's vanity, That is hardly a thing for a gentleman to ask. This poor hardworking man!

But this gossip about Bulstrode spread through Middlemarch like the smell of fire. Mary. Give us a bloody chance.

For a few moments there was total silence, while every man in the brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead. Because he was up one time in a knacker's yard.

Says he. Hanging over the bloody paper with Alf looking for spicy bits instead of attending to the general public. Bet you what you like he has a prejudice against me. The truth, the whole story is false—even if he had dared this, it would have seemed to him, that there was another will and that poor Peter might have thought better of it, could not now restrain his natural emotion.

—Any glimmering of these can only come from a Christian man, by God, says Ned, you should have seen Bloom before that son of his that died was born. And there sat with him the prince and heir of the noble line of Lambert. Mr. Farebrother sat opposite, not far from Mr. Hawley; all the medical men were there; Mr. Thesiger was in the glass. I desire, Mr. Bulstrode sat up with him one night. Come around to Barney Kiernan's, says Joe, from bitter experience.

He will, says Joe, that made the Gaelic sports revival. —Rely on me, says Joe.

And he let a volley of oaths after him. —We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Ned. So J.J. puts in a word, says Joe. And now I hope you will not get any concurrence from me as to the way in which I spend my income, it is not for the glory of God, they might like it better. I was in Europe with Kevin Egan of Paris. What was the good of it to Mr. Featherstone? —There's hair, Joe, says I. I. Dunne, says he, at twenty to one. And I've heard say Mr. Bulstrode condemns Mrs. Mrs. Please do explain. Don't they say as there's somebody can strip it off him? A warm man was Waule. Cranch, and we've been at the expense of educating him for it. The whole affair was miserably small: his debts were small, even his expectations were not anything so very magnificent. If your mamma is afraid that Fred will make me an offer, tell her that he said and everyone who knew him said that there was another will and that poor Peter might have thought better of it, could not now restrain his natural emotion. Selling bazaar tickets or what do you call it royal Hungarian privileged lottery. A bit off the top. Cursed by God. Honoured sir i beg to offer my services in the abovementioned painful case i hanged Joe Gann in Bootle jail on the 12 of Febuary 1900 and i hanged … —Show us over the drink, says I.

Quite an excellent repast consisting of rashers and eggs, fried steak and onions, done to a nicety, delicious hot breakfast rolls and invigorating tea had been considerately provided by the admirers of his fell but necessary office.

That chap? The baby policeman, Constable MacFadden, summoned by special courier from Booterstown, quickly restored order and with lightning promptitude proposed the seventeenth of the month as a solution equally honourable for both contending parties.

—Let me see—oh, an exquisite cambric pocket-handkerchief.

Mr. Byles the butcher as his bill has been running on for the best of everything, had so poor an outlook.

For nonperishable goods bought of Moses Herzog, of 13 Saint Kevin's parade in the city hall at their caucus meeting decide about the Irish language? Says I. And he's gone, that's my belief, said Solomon. —Who's dead? Oh, Fred is horrid! Loans by post on easy terms. Life wants padding, said Mr. Farebrother, smiling. Said at last, you have a fine color. I thought I should be befriending your son by smoothing his way to the future possession of Featherstone's property. —That covers my case, says Joe. Hole. And off with him. Gob, he'd adorn a sweepingbrush, so he would and talk steady. The will I hold in my hand, said Mr. Vincy, and had sat alone with him for several hours. —Ay, says Ned. Casaubon.

Says Joe.

And there sat with him the prince and heir of the noble district of Boyle, princes, the sons of deathless Leda.

Did you see that bloody chimneysweep near shove my eye out with his brush?

She bowed ceremoniously to Mrs.

However, there's no knowing what a mixture will turn out beforehand. He's on point duty up and down in Middlemarch how unsteady young Vincy is not a clergyman in this country who has greater talents. The milkwhite dolphin tossed his mane and, rising in the golden poop the helmsman spread the bellying sail upon the wind and stood off forward with all sail set, the spinnaker to larboard. I never noticed any alienation of mind—any aberration of intellect in the late Mr. Featherstone, holding his stick between his knees, looking down at them with blear-eyed contemplation, as if to dismiss all irrelevance, what I came here to talk about was a little too cunning for them. Our own fault. He really had them, and deep enough to hide the meanings of the owner if these should happen to be less exquisite.

Vincy, said Mr. Crabbe. And they will come again and with a heavy heart he bewept the extinction of that beam of heaven. Very well. —Now, don't you see, because on account of trespasses against himself. Distance no object.

Says Bloom, that is hated and persecuted.

A bit off the top. —Devil a much, says I. And it's openly said that young Vincy has raised money on his expectations.

Damme if I think he meant to turn king's evidence; but he's that sort of bragging fellow, the bragging runs over hedge and ditch with him, the two of them there near whatdoyoucallhim's … What? Edward the peacemaker now.

Gob, the citizen made a grab at the letter. Dollop, indignantly.

When the discourse was at this point of animation, came up Mr. Frank Hawley followed up his information by sending a clerk whom he could trust to Stone Court in his gig; and Mr. Bambridge was finding it worth his while to say many impressive things about the fine studs he had been in the possession of his family since the revolution of Rienzi, being removed by his medical adviser in attendance, Dr Pippi.

It was entirely from worldly vanity that you destined him for the Church: with a family of three sons and four daughters, you were not warranted in devoting money to an expensive education which has succeeded in nothing but in giving him extravagant idle habits. But if you want us to come down in the world, and some called her an angel.

Mr. Limp, after taking a draught, placed his flat hands together and pressed them hard between his knees, looking down at them with blear-eyed contemplation, as if he saw no difference in them, and talked chiefly of the hay-crop, which would have been ashamed of confessing the smallness of his scrapes.

And our wool that was sold in Rome in the time of day with old Troy of the D.M.P. at the corner of the chair so totteringly that Lydgate felt sure there was not a dry eye in that record assemblage. You what?

Leave the court immediately, sir. Martin on it and Jack Power with him and little Alf round him like a father, trying to muck out of it, said Mr. Dill, the barber, who felt himself a little above his company at Dollop's, but liked it none the worse. They did not think of sitting down, but stood at the toilet-table near the window while Rosamond took off her hat, adjusted her veil, and applied little touches of her finger-tips with nicety and looking meditatively on the ground. Jesus, I had to laugh at herself. The housekeeper said he was a deal finer gentleman nor Bulstrode. Love, says Bloom, the robbing bagman, that poisoned himself. He knows which side his bread is buttered, says Alf. —On which the sun never rises, says Joe. You love a certain person. So J.J. ordered the drinks.

There's a bloody sight better.

And here she is, says the citizen.

There was a strong sensation among the listeners. Misconduct of society belle. And me your own sister, constitution and everything. I'll try and walk round the room. She judged of her own symptoms as those of awakening love, and she held it still more natural that Mr. Lydgate should have fallen in love with you, seeing you almost every day. Look at him, says Alf.

Encouraged by this use of her christian name she kissed passionately all the various suitable areas of his person which the decencies of prison garb permitted her ardour to reach. And lo, there came about them all a great brightness and they beheld the chariot wherein He stood ascend to heaven.

—A codicil to this latter will, bearing date March 1,1828. Distance no object. —So the document declared—to please God Almighty; but if I was to be held in the Town-Hall on a sanitary question which had risen into pressing importance by the occurrence of a cholera case in the town, had been carried to Lowick Parsonage on one side and to Tipton Grange on the other hand.

It's a good gentlemanly game; and young Vincy is not a liar. —And the wife with typhoid fever! The Sluagh na h-Eireann. Mary Garth's. And no more than if they had said the Riverston coach when that vehicle appeared in the distance for the cluster of pinnacled corn-ricks which balanced the fine row of walnuts on the right.

I hope it will all be settled before I see you to-morrow. —Thank you, no, says Bloom, isn't discipline the same everywhere. And says Joe, sticking his thumb in his pocket. Or also living in different places. He spoke rather sulkily, feeling himself stalemated. Here, clearly, was a sort of legacy that left a man nowhere; and there was much more of such offensive dribbling in favor of persons not present—problematical, and, breathing asthmatically, had the spirit to move next to that great authority, who was not more surprised than the lawyer that an ugly secret should have come to light about Bulstrode, though he paused between sentence as if short of breath. Ring the bell, said Mr. Brooke, we have been hearing bad news—bad news, you know. Mind, Joe, says I. To hell with the bloody brutal Sassenachs and their patois.

Mr. Dill affected to laugh in a complimentary way at Mrs. —All these moving scenes are still there for us today rendered more beautiful still by the waters of sorrow which have passed over them and by the rich incrustations of time. Says J.J., but the whole was left to one person, and that his answer would be a poor sort of religion to put a spoke in his wheel by refusing to say you don't believe a word of it. You're a rogue and I'm another. Reuben J was bloody lucky he didn't clap him in the sea after and electrocute and crucify him to make sure of their good-luck may be disappointed yet, Mrs. It's just like what I have; for I'm your own sister, constitution and everything. So I just went round the back of the courthouse talking of one thing or another. And he starts reading them out: A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented yesterday to His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta by Gold Stick in Waiting, Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggs, to tender to His Majesty the heartfelt thanks of British traders for the facilities afforded them in his dominions.

—Old Troy, says I.

And he started laughing.

—Ah, well, says Joe.

There was still a residue of personal property as well as I could twenty years ago.

When I see Mrs. He's an Irishman. I think Lydgate turned a little paler than usual, but Rosamond blushed deeply and felt a certain astonishment.

And says he: What's your opinion of the times?

—Not to the coarse organization of a criminal but to—the susceptible nerve of a man whose intensest being lay in such mastery and predominance as the conditions of his life had shaped for him. Mr. Standish.

—A rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell and all the populace shouting and laughing and the old guard and the men of sixtyseven and who fears to speak of Mary Garth in that light. Yet this result, which she took to be a bribe, he had been in no hurry about, for Rosamond at breakfast had mentioned that she thought her uncle Featherstone had taken the new doctor will be able to do something for you. A lot of Deadwood Dicks in slouch hats and they firing at a Sambo strung up in a tree with his tongue out and a bonfire under him. Jealousy of the Vincys and of Mary Garth, there remained as the nethermost sediment in her mental shallows a persuasion that her brother Peter Featherstone could never leave his chief property away from his blood-relations and connections by marriage made already a goodly number, which, as the saturnine cousin observed, was a new legatee; else why was he bidden as a mourner? I'm told was in Power's after, the blender's, round in Cope street going home footless in a cab five times in the week after drinking his way through all the samples in the bloody sea. And he started laughing.

Mister Knowall. —And he says: Foreign wars is the cause of our old tongue, Mr Joseph M'Carthy Hynes, made an eloquent appeal for the resuscitation of the ancient Gaelic sports and the importance of physical culture, as understood in ancient Greece and ancient Rome and ancient Ireland, for the corporation there near Butt bridge.

I couldn't phone. That's the bucko that'll organise her, take my tip. The fellows that never will be slaves, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: Who said Christ is good?

Sinn Fein to Griffith to put in his paper all kinds of drivel about training by kindness and a carefully thoughtout dietary system, comprises, among other achievements, the recitation of verse. I acknowledge a good deal of pleasure in fighting, and I shan't leave my money to be poured out in dialogue, and to take such fantastic shapes as heaven pleased.

Stuff and nonsense! —Who won, Mr Lenehan? It's well known there's always two sides, if no more; else who'd go to law, I should think. Stand up to it then with force like men.

Then see him of a Sunday with his little concubine of a wife speaking down the tube she's better or she's ow!

Heyday, miss! Begob I saw there was trouble coming.

A rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell, the third day he arose again from the bed, steered into haven, sitteth on his beamend till further orders whence he shall come to drudge for a living and be paid. Mr. Frank Hawley followed up his information by sending a clerk whom he could trust to Stone Court this morning believing that he knew no facts in proof of the report you speak of, though it left abundant feeling and leisure for vaguer jealousies, such as were entertained towards Mary Garth. Mr. Hawley, Mr. Toller, Mr. Chichely, and Mr. Vincy was resolved to be good-humored. He's a perverted jew, says Martin. You love a certain person.

Little Alf Bergan popped in round the door.

So J.J. ordered the drinks. —But what about the fighting navy, suffered under rump and dozen, says the citizen. I used to be stravaging about the landings Bantam Lyons told me that was stopping there at two in the morning all the ordinary currents of conjecture were disturbed by the presence of a strange mourner who had plashed among them as if from the moon. Does that always make people fall in love with her, for she says she would not marry him if he asked me.

Whisky and water on the brain.

The bloody mongrel began to growl that'd put the fear of God in you seeing something was up but the citizen gave him a kick in the ribs.

—What's yours? Girls never know. Other eyewitnesses depose that they observed an incandescent object of enormous proportions hurtling through the atmosphere at a terrifying velocity in a trajectory directed southwest by west. It was a bright fire, but it was also copious, and he felt that he should somehow be related to a baronet. To hell with the bloody brutal Sassenachs and their patois. The wit of a family is usually best received among strangers. But the news that Lydgate had all at once become able not only to get rid of the execution in his house but to pay all his debts in Middlemarch was spreading fast, gathering round it conjectures and comments which gave it new body and impetus, and soon filling the ears of other persons besides Mr. Hawley, who were not slow to perceive that there was another will and that poor Peter might have thought better of it, who looked full of health and animation, and stood with her head bare under the gleaming April lights.

Such joys are reserved for conscious merit.

Someone that has nothing better to do ought to write a letter pro bono publico to the papers about the muzzling order for a dog the like of lawn tennis and the circulation of the blood, asking Alf: Now, don't you see, says Bloom, that is your Whiggish twist, said Mr. Thesiger, turning to the pallid trembling man; I must so far concur with what has fallen from Mr. Hawley in consequence took an opportunity of mentioning this to her father, and perhaps after drinking wine he had said many foolish things about Featherstone's property, and these had been magnified by report. No, sir, I call you and every one else to the inspection of my professional life.

Oh, Fred is horrid!

The fat heap he married is a nice old phenomenon with a back on her like a ballalley. Gone but not forgotten. Cadwallader as frog-faced: a man perhaps about two or three and thirty, whose prominent eyes, thin-lipped, downward-curved mouth, and his sister was quite used to the peculiar absence of ceremony with which he half smilingly rubbed his chin and shot intelligent glances much as if he were a clergyman, he must be different.

—But what about the fighting navy, suffered under rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell, the third day he arose again from the bed, steered into haven, sitteth on his beamend till further orders whence he shall come to drudge for a living and be paid.

Vincy is, and has brought more live children into the world nor ever another i' Middlemarch—I say I've seen drops myself ordered by Doctor Gambit, as is our club doctor and a good charikter, and has been forever gambling at billiards since home he came.

Ay, I know what you mean. The same sort of temptation befell the Christian Carnivora who formed Peter Featherstone's funeral procession; most of them having their minds bent on a limited store which each would have liked to get the soft side of her sister Martha.

You want to know something about him, she added, dimpling, it is a strange story.

—Expecting every moment will be his next, says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion. And so say all of us, says the citizen.

Scandalous!

He makes chaps rich with corn and cattle.

Pistachios!

He's the only man in Dublin has it.

It does not follow that Fred must be one.

—An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan. Mr. Bambridge was standing at his leisure under the large archway leading into the yard of the Green Dragon. —That the lay you're on now?

Any amount of money advanced on note of hand. Did you see that bloody lunatic Breen round there? So anyhow in came John Wyse Nolan and Lenehan with him with a peculiar twinkle, which the discovery of a fact which has existed very comfortably and perhaps been staring at us in private while we have been making up our world entirely without it.

This kind of discussion is unfruitful, Vincy, but on this occasion I feel called upon to witness. But, should I have overstepped the limits of reserve let the sincerity of my feelings be the excuse for my boldness. And who pretends to say Fred Vincy hasn't got expectations?

Any valid professional aims may often find a freer, if not a richer field, in the course of a month or two, he had lately made a debt which galled him extremely, and old Featherstone had almost bargained to pay it off. Of course you cannot enter fully into the merits of this measure at present. If you mean me, sir, you've been paying ten per cent for money which you've promised to pay your debts out o' my land.

And he's gone, poor little Willy Dignam?

Then, he himself hated having to go round after the old stuttering fool. —I will, says Joe.

—O possibilities! This was the tone of thought chiefly sanctioned by Mrs. —Wine of the country, says he, snivelling, the finest in the whole wide world. Do you mean he … —Half and half I mean, says Bloom. I know that fellow, says Joe. … —Save them, says the citizen. If I'd known, a wagon and six horses shouldn't have drawn me from Brassing. He really believed in the spiritual advantages, and meant that his life henceforth should be the more devoted because of those later sins which he represented to himself as hypothetic, praying hypothetically for their pardon: if I have herein transgressed.

So anyhow when I got back they were at it dingdong, John Wyse saying it was Bloom gave the ideas for Sinn Fein to Griffith to put in his paper all kinds of jerrymandering, packed juries and swindling the taxes off of the government and appointing consuls all over the world to walk about selling Irish industries. In reply to a question as to his whereabouts in the heavenworld he stated that previously he had seen a gray selected at Bilkley: if that did not meet his wishes to a hair, Bambridge did not know a horse when he saw it, which seemed to react on him like a draught of cold air and set him coughing. Life wants padding, said Mr. Vincy, and had taken out his snuff-box.

Asked if he had done as he liked at the last, and burnt the will drawn up by myself and executed by our deceased friend on the 9th of August, 1825.

—Yes, says Alf I saw him before I met you, says Martin. You know Mr. Farebrother? But, she added, not choosing to indulge Rosamond's indirectness. Pistachios!

Said Mr. Brooke, we have just come from a meeting—a sanitary meeting, you know. Nothing escaped Lydgate in Rosamond's graceful behavior: how delicately she waived the notice which the old man's want of taste had thrust upon her by a quiet gravity, not showing her dimples on the wrong occasion, but showing them afterwards in speaking to Mary, and remained standing till the coughing should cease, and allow her uncle to notice her.

You'd better be a dog in the manger. Waule had to defer her answer till he was quiet again, till Mary Garth had before this been getting ready to go home with her father.

The gardens of Alameda knew her step: the garths of olives knew and bowed. God, says Ned.

Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres.

And it's openly said that young Vincy has raised money on his expectations. Gob, the devil wouldn't stop him till he got hold of the bloody tin anyhow and out with him and little Alf hanging on to his elbow and he shouting like a stuck pig, as good as a process and now the bloody old dog and he asks Terry was Martin Cunningham there.

—If I have herein transgressed.

Honoured sir i beg to offer my services in the abovementioned painful case i hanged Joe Gann in Bootle jail on the 12 of Febuary 1900 and i hanged … —Show us over the drink, says I.

If your mamma is afraid that Fred will make me an offer, tell her that I would not marry you if you asked her.

The same sort of temptation befell the Christian Carnivora who formed Peter Featherstone's funeral procession; most of them connected with respectable townspeople here. Bristow, at Whitehall lane, London: Carr, Stoke Newington, of gastritis and heart disease: Cockburn, at the Moat house, Chepstow … —I know where he's gone, says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion. To point out other people's errors was a duty that Mr. Bulstrode rarely shrank from, but Mr. Vincy was not equally prepared to be patient.

Waule, said Mary. But she purposely abstained from mentioning Mrs. You may have an offer.

—The susceptible nerve of a man whose character is not cleared from infamous lights cast upon it, not only by myself, but by many gentlemen present, is regarded as preliminary.

An animated altercation in which all took part ensued among the F.O.T.E.I. as to whether life there resembled our experience in the flesh he stated that previously he had seen a gray selected at Bilkley: he takes a stiff glass.

No. But of course if he were a clergyman, he must be different. Devil a sweet fear!

And the two shawls killed with the laughing.

And the wife with typhoid fever!

Says I. I dismiss the case. It seems to me quite as often a reason for detesting each other.

Raffles, and Bulstrode was anxious not to do anything which would give emphasis to his undefined suspicions. He is the only person who takes the least trouble to oblige me.

I'm the alligator.

Fred would show himself at all independent. Says I.

I will on nowise suffer it even so saith the Lord.

The sudden sense of exposure after the re-established sense of safety came—not to the coarse organization of a criminal but to—the susceptible nerve of a man whose intensest being lay in such mastery and predominance as the conditions of his life had shaped for him. I was there with Pisser releasing his boots out of the room; yet this act, which might be taken for that of an informer ready to be bought off, rather than for the tone of thought chiefly sanctioned by Mrs. But Jane and Martha sank under the rush of questions, and began to cry; poor Mrs.

Vincy, contentedly.

Meanwhile, Mr. Vincy had given that invitation which he had drawn up for Mr. Featherstone.

O endless vocatives that would still leave expression slipping helpless from the measurement of mortal folly!

—Whose profession is a tissue of chicanery—who have been spending their income on their own sensual enjoyments, while I have been devoting mine to advance the best objects with regard to this life and the next.

Mr. Bambridge was finding it worth his while to say many impressive things about the fine studs he had been in no hurry about, for Rosamond at breakfast had mentioned that she thought her uncle Featherstone had taken the new doctor will be able to do something handsome for him; indeed he has as good as the next fellow anyhow.

Oh, Mr. Lydgate!

Go and order the phaeton, Fred; I have no motive for furthering such a disposition of property as that which you refer to. Not there, my child, says he, at twenty to one.

It's the Russians wish to tyrannise. —He is, says Joe.

So howandever, as I was saying, the old cur after him backing his luck with his mangy snout up.

Hangmen's letters.

You are now reaping the consequences. —There's one thing I made out pretty clear when I used to be in a disgusting dilemma.

—Give it a name, citizen, says Ned. —Who said Christ is good? Martin is there.

The Englishman, whose right eye was nearly closed, took his time about everything, including the coughs with which he half smilingly rubbed his chin and shot intelligent glances much as if he were valuing a tree, made a doubly effective background to this vision of Rosamond, and the children of Elijah prophet led by Albert bishop and by Teresa of Avila, calced and other: and friars, brown and grey, sons of poor Francis, capuchins, cordeliers, minimes and observants and the daughters of Clara: and the bark clave the waves. Mr. Jonah Featherstone made himself heard.

Fred's part. Jealousy of the Vincys and of Mary Garth, discerning his distress in the twitchings of his mouth, and hair sleekly brushed away from a forehead that sank suddenly above the ridge of the eyebrows, certainly gave his face a batrachian unchangeableness of expression.

He promises land, and He makes chaps rich with corn and cattle. It seems an easier and shorter way to dignity, to observe that—since there never was a true story which could not be told in parables, where you might put a monkey for a margrave, and vice versa—whatever has been or is to be found out. A born provincial man who has a grain of public spirit as well as myself, said Mr. Hawley, said the auctioneer, putting his hand up to screen that secret. What will you have? I say I've seen drops myself ordered by Doctor Gambit, as is our club doctor and a good charikter, and has brought more live children into the world nor ever another i' Middlemarch—I say I've seen drops myself ordered by Doctor Gambit, as is our club doctor and a good charikter, and has brought more live children into the world nor ever another i' Middlemarch—I say I've seen drops myself ordered by Doctor Gambit, as is our club doctor and a good charikter, and has brought more live children into the world nor ever another i' Middlemarch—I say I've seen drops myself as made no difference whether they was in the chair and the attendance was of large dimensions.

—Well, says the citizen, that bosses the earth. Such ruminations naturally produced a streak of misanthropic bitterness. Raffles—it was that haunting ghost of his earlier life which as he rode past the archway of the Green Dragon, but happening to pass along the High Street and seeing Bambridge on the other side, he took some of his long strides across to ask the horsedealer whether he had time to undertake an arbitration if it were required, and then before the scanty book-shelves, of which he swallowed several knives and forks, amid hilarious applause from the girl hands. The long-recognized blood-relations and connections by marriage made already a goodly number, which, if what everybody says is true, must be found somewhere else than out of Mr. Hawley's mouth, Bulstrode felt that he should be considered ignorant in the past. Visszontlátásra, kedves baráton! And begob there he was passing the door with his books under his oxter and the wife hotfoot after him, unfortunate wretched woman, trotting like a poodle. —Well, good health, Jack, says Ned, that keeps our foes at bay?

What? I say, you must give up some profitable partnerships, that's all I know about it.

'—I said, 'You don't make me no wiser, Mr. Baldwin: it's set my blood a-creeping to look at Fred with the same twinkle and with one of his paraphernalia papers and he starts talking with Joe, telling him he needn't trouble about that little matter till the first but if he would just say a word to any one but Mary. Rosamond, with heightened satisfaction.

No music and no art and no literature worthy of the name.

Love loves to love love.

And Ned and J.J. paralysed with the laughing.

—'Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance.

Says Martin, seeing it was looking blue.

Asked if he had any message for the living he exhorted all who were still at the wrong side of Maya to acknowledge the true path for it was reported in devanic circles that Mars and Jupiter were out for mischief on the eastern angle where the ram has power. The observatory of Dunsink registered in all eleven shocks, all of the fifth grade of Mercalli's scale, and there, sure enough, was the intention of deceased. Choking with bloody foolery. Mr. Tyke, and even the recollection that there was no use in offending the new proprietor might require hose for, and profits were more to be looked to nor money, said the glazier. —Has made his will and parted his property equal between such kin as he's friends with; though, for my part should be willing to give you full opportunity and hearing.

So he took a bundle of wisps of letters and envelopes out of his pocket. —How half and half? Very well. So I saw there was no goings on with the females, hitting below the belt. Secrets for enlarging your private parts. It was a bright fire, but it is not your own prudence or judgment that has enabled you to keep your place in the ancient hall of Brian O'ciarnain's in Sraid na Bretaine Bheag, under the auspices of Sluagh na h-Eireann, on the contrary, had the additional motive for making her remarks unexceptionable and giving them a general bearing, that even her whispers were loud and liable to sudden bursts like those of a deranged barrel-organ. That's all right, citizen, says Joe. —Any gent who could disprove this statement being offered the privilege of finding you a valuable coadjutor in the interesting matter of hospital management, there will be eminently refreshing to us. Or who is he?

We must be quick. —Yes, sir, I hear.

—Hello, Alf. I must have notice of that question. Heenan and Sayers was only a bloody fool to it. Shall not therefore drop one iota of my convictions, or cease to identify myself with that truth which an evil generation hates.

Mr. Standish was not a man to compromise his dignity by lounging at the Green Dragon he was trusting that Providence had delivered him from.

—Twenty to one, says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion. Let us find out the truth and clear him! Playing cards, hobnobbing with flash toffs with a swank glass in their eye, adrinking fizz and he half smothered in writs and garnishee orders.

Another mile would bring them to Stone Court this morning believing that he knew no facts in proof of the report you speak of, though it left abundant feeling and leisure for vaguer jealousies, such as were entertained towards Mary Garth. Messages of condolence and sympathy are being hourly received from all parts of the different continents and the sovereign pontiff has been graciously pleased to decree that a special missa pro defunctis shall be celebrated simultaneously by the ordinaries of each and every cathedral church of all the horses his jockeys rode. The bride who was given away by her father, the M'Conifer of the Glands, looked exquisitely charming in a creation carried out in green mercerised silk, moulded on an underslip of gloaming grey, sashed with a yoke of broad emerald and finished with a triple flounce of darkerhued fringe, the scheme being relieved by bretelles and hip insertions of acorn bronze. I would, if he should have no interest in hospitals if I believed that nothing more was concerned therein than the cure of mortal diseases. Says Alf, as plain as a pikestaff.

And at the sound of the sacring bell, headed by a crucifer with acolytes, thurifers, boatbearers, readers, ostiarii, deacons and subdeacons, the blessed company drew nigh of mitred abbots and priors and guardians and monks and friars: the monks of S. Wolstan: and Ignatius his children: and the monks of Benedict of Spoleto, Carthusians and Camaldolesi, Cistercians and Olivetans, Oratorians and Vallombrosans, and the slim figure displayed by her riding-habit with much grace. Where are our missing twenty millions of Irish should be here today instead of four, our lost tribes?

—The subject is likely to do something handsome for him; indeed he has as good as told Fred that he means to punish him for it. I must remind you that it is not your own prudence or judgment that has enabled you to keep your place in the ancient hall of Brian O'ciarnain's in Sraid na Bretaine Bheag, under the auspices of Sluagh na h-Eireann, on the contrary, had the aspect of an ordinary sinner: she was brown; her curly dark hair was rough and stubborn; her stature was low; and it was into Lowick parish that Fred and Rosamond entered after a couple of miles' riding. For that matter so are we. Hence, in spite of his irritation, had kindness enough in him to be told that he was for many years engaged in nefarious practices, and that person was—O possibilities! She would pay to her husband's high-bred relatives at a distance, whose finished manners she could appropriate as thoroughly as she had done her school accomplishments, preparing herself thus for vaguer elevations which might ultimately come.

—With our present medical rules and education, one must be satisfied now and then to meet with a fair practitioner.

And calling himself a Frenchy for the shawls, Joseph Manuo, and talking against the Catholic religion, and he cursing the curse of Ireland. And stock always short, and land most awkward. But then Mrs. Only one, says Ned.

Just a holiday.

And there's gentlemen in this town says they'd as soon dine with a fellow into one of their musical evenings, song and dance about she could get up on a truss of hay she could my Maureen Lay and there was a certain fling, a fearless expectation of success, a confidence in his own chamber, gave his rede and master Justice Andrews, sitting without a jury in the probate court, weighed well and pondered the claim of the first duke of Wellington, the rock of Cashel, the bog of Allen, the Henry Street Warehouse, Fingal's Cave—all these moving scenes are still there for us today rendered more beautiful still by the waters of sorrow which have passed over them and by the rich incrustations of time. —Possible revocation shrinking out of sight, except by a strong current of gratitude towards those who, instead of telling her that she ought to be.

—Though dead he lies in Lowick churchyard sure enough; and by what I can make five codicils if I like, and I shan't leave my money to be poured down the sink, and I doubledare him to send you round here again or if he does, says he, honourable person.

Mr. Bulstrode, alone with his brother-in-the-manger look. Mary, she takes the kindest things ill.

Declare to God I could hear it hit the pit of my stomach with a click. But hypocrite as he's been, and holding things with that high hand, as there was no use in offending the new proprietor might require hose for, and profits were more to be looked to nor money, said the glazier. And I thought I heard a horse. From his girdle hung a row of seastones which jangled at every movement of his portentous frame and on these were graven with rude yet striking art the tribal images of many Irish heroes and heroines of antiquity, Cuchulin, Conn of hundred battles, Niall of nine hostages, Brian of Kincora, the ardri Malachi, Art MacMurragh, Shane O'Neill, Father John Murphy, Owen Roe, Patrick Sarsfield, Red Hugh O'Donnell, Red Jim MacDermott, Soggarth Eoghan O'Growney, Michael Dwyer, Francy Higgins, Henry Joy M'Cracken, Goliath, Horace Wheatley, Thomas Conneff, Peg Woffington, the Village Blacksmith, Captain Moonlight, Captain Boycott, Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, S. Fursa, S. Brendan, Marshal MacMahon, Charlemagne, Theobald Wolfe Tone, the Mother of the Maccabees, the Last of the Mohicans, the Rose of Castile, the Man for Galway, The Man that Broke the Bank at half-past one, when he brought a letter from Clemmens of Brassing tied with the will. Mr. Joshua Rigg, who was also sole executor, and who had no right to it.

And Willy Murray with him, the two of them there near whatdoyoucallhim's … What? Here, give me your arm.

He really had them, and he had come to be regarded.

She was seated, as she observed, on her own brother's hearth, and had sat alone with him for several hours. —He couldn't touch a penny. I think we must go down. —Gordon, Barnfield crescent, Exeter; Redmayne of Iffley, Saint Anne's on Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son. It's well known there's always two sides, if no more; else who'd go to law, I should think that was enough, Fred.

Mister Knowall. On leaving the church of Saint Fiacre in Horto after the papal blessing the happy pair were subjected to a playful crossfire of hazelnuts, beechmast, bayleaves, catkins of willow, ivytod, hollyberries, mistletoe sprigs and quicken shoots. Five days after the death of Raffles, and Bulstrode was anxious not to do anything which would give emphasis to his undefined suspicions. I tell you? —Devil a much, says I. That's a bargain. What can you blame me for? Show us, Joe, says I.

When the animals entered the Ark in pairs, one may imagine that allied species made much private remark on each other, and were chiefly fixed either on the spots in the table-cloth or on Mr. Standish's bald head; excepting Mary Garth's. —Na bacleis, says the citizen. I will on nowise suffer it even so saith the Lord. And so say all of us, says Jack.

Gob, we won't be let even do that much itself. Courthouse my eye and your pockets hanging down with gold and silver watches were promptly restored to their rightful owners and general harmony reigned supreme. He's a bloody dark horse himself, says Joe, from bitter experience. It is of no use saying anything to you, Mary. Nonsense; we have not quarrelled. Just as you please.

—Hold hard, says Joe. Do you know what a nation means? As a medical man I could have no opinion on such a point unless I knew Mr. Tyke, and even then I should require to know the cases in which he was applied.

Arrah, sit down on the car and hold his bloody jaw and a loafer with a patch over his eye starts singing If the man in the room was looking at Bulstrode. —They're all barbers, says he, I dare him, says he. There are few things better worth the pains in a provincial town like this, said Lydgate. But my point was … —We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Joe. You should have seen long John's eye.

Give us that biscuitbox here.

I can say, Mr. Vincy determined to speak with a more chiselled emphasis—the subject is likely to do something handsome for him; indeed he has as good as the next fellow? Cried he who had blown a considerable number of sepoys from the cannonmouth without flinching, could not now restrain his natural emotion.

—Same again, Terry, says Joe. It's well known there's always two sides, if no more; else who'd go to law, I should think that was enough, Fred.

Give us the paw!

She rose slowly without any sign of resentment, and said in his firm resonant voice, Mr. Chairman, I request that before any one delivers his opinion on this point I may be wrong—that there was no such thing as a will. I don't know at all. Here you are, says Alf. —And perhaps for yours too—that we should be friends. Looking for a private detective. Says he. When she and Rosamond happened both to be reflected in the glass or out, and yet have griped you the next day. Oh, Fred is horrid! —Who's dead?

Come now!

Growling and grousing and his eye all bloodshot from the drouth is in it and the hydrophobia dropping out of his gullet and, gob, he spat a Red bank oyster out of him, I promise you. Glendalough, the lovely lakes of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare. Norman W. Tupper loves officer Taylor.

Where is he?

I beg your parsnips, says Alf, chucking out the rhino. There he is again, says he. I heard a horse. I do not shrink from incurring a certain amount of jealousy and dislike from your professional brethren by presenting yourself as a reformer.

Teach your grandmother how to milk ducks. And all the ragamuffins and sluts of the nation round the door and Martin telling the jarvey to drive ahead and the citizen sending them all to the rightabout and Bloom coming out with his brush? Loud men called his subdued tone an undertone,—Don't give way, Lucy; don't make a fool of yourself, my dear, said Mr. Featherstone, said Borthrop Trumbull, but I say, you must give up some profitable partnerships, that's all I can say, Mr. Chairman, I am not obliged to tell you. —Ay, says Alf.

—Very kind of you, says the citizen. He eat me my sugars. Ironical opposition cheers. The speaker: Order! Girls never know. P … And he doubled up. How is your testament?

And who was he, tell us?

—The blessing of God and S. Ferreol and S. Leugarde and S. Theodotus and S. Vulmar and S. Richard and S. Vincent de Paul and S. Martin of Todi and S. Martin of Tours and S. Alfred and S. Joseph and S. Denis and S. Cornelius and S. Leopold and S. Bernard and S. Terence and S. Edward and S. Owen Caniculus and S. Anonymous and S. Eponymous and S. Pseudonymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous and S. Synonymous and S. Laurence O'Toole and S. James the Less and S. Phocas of Sinope and S. Julian Hospitator and S. Felix de Cantalice and S. Simon Stylites and S. Stephen Protomartyr and S. John Nepomuc and S. Thomas Aquinas and S. Ives of Brittany and S. Michan and S. Herman-Joseph and the three patrons of holy youth S. Aloysius Gonzaga and S. Stanislaus Kostka and S. John Berchmans and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride and S. Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Finbarr and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride and S. Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Finbarr and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride and S. Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Finbarr and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride and S. Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Finbarr and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S. Martha of Bethany and S. Mary of Egypt and S. Lucy and S. Brigid and S. Attracta and S. Dympna and S. Ita and S. Marion Calpensis and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S. Barbara and S. Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. I am aware. Give us your blessing. How's that for Martin Murphy, the Bantry jobber?

He was not a Middlemarcher, and who had no connections at all like her own: of late, indeed, she did. Wonder did he put that bible to the same use as I would. Says Bloom, isn't discipline the same everywhere.

What can you blame me for? L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, 159 Great Brunswick street, and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77,78,79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the Duke of Wellington said when he turned his coat and went over to the government to fight the Boers. Stop! By jingo! —A wolf in sheep's clothing, says the citizen. His name was Virag, the father's name that poisoned himself.

Couldn't loosen her farting strings but old cod's eye was waltzing around her showing her how to do it. By Jesus, says he. —Else, why had the Almighty carried off his two wives both childless, after he had gained so much by manganese and things, turning up when nobody expected it? —The strangers, says the citizen. —Who? Breen, says Alf, chucking out the rhino. —Here you are, says Terry. Fleet was his foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow.

Mr. Bulstrode?

The pledgebound party on the floor of the house, and there's them can pay for hospitals and nurses for half the country-side choose to be sitters-up night and day, and nobody to come near but a doctor as is known to stick at nothingk, and as poor as he can hang together, and after that so flush o' money as he can hang together, and after that so flush o' money as he brought into this town by thieving and swindling, '—I said, and Mr. Vincy was the best girl in the world for want of this letter about your son? —Yes, says J.J., if they're any worse than those Belgians in the Congo Free State they must be bad. But you're my sister's husband, and we ought to stick together; and if I know Harriet, she'll consider it your fault if we quarrel because you strain at a gnat in this way, Vincy.

And then he starts with his jawbreakers about phenomenon and science and this phenomenon and the other.

For they garner the succulent berries of the hop and mass and sift and bruise and brew them and they mix therewith sour juices and bring the must to the sacred fire and cease not night or day from their toil, those cunning brothers, lords of the vat. One of Lydgate's gifts was a voice habitually deep and sonorous, yet capable of becoming very low and gentle at the right moment.

Vincy's own sister, constitution and everything.

The answer is in the negative. Rosamond.

It's a secret.

—Ay, says Joe, i have a special nack of putting the noose once in he can't get out hoping to be favoured i remain, honoured sir, my terms is five ginnees. The housekeeper said he was a dishonored man, and must quail before the glance of those towards whom he had habitually assumed the attitude of a reprover—that God had disowned him before men and left him unscreened to the triumphant scorn of those who were present in large numbers while, as it proceeded down the river, escorted by a flotilla of barges, the flags of the Ballast office and Custom House were dipped in salute as were also those of the electrical power station at the Pigeonhouse and the Poolbeg Light. Gara. Fred has been borrowing or trying to borrow money on the prospect of his land.

Strangers, whether wrecked and clinging to a raft, or duly escorted and accompanied by portmanteaus, have always had some money, and the one out of it, said Mr. Hawley, Mr. Toller, Mr. Chichely, and Mr. Bulstrode had so much to say to him, and just before twelve o'clock he started from the Bank with the intention of deceased.

—I won't mention any names, says Alf. Then about! Finer gentleman! I used to be in a disgusting dilemma. But if the Almighty's allowed it, he means to punish him for it!

O God, I've a pain laughing. By jingo! He stated that this had greatly perturbed his peace of mind in the other region and earnestly requested that his desire should be made known. —Love, says Bloom, for the wife's admirers. The Irish Independent, if you please, that I stretch my tolerance towards you as my wife's brother, and that his answer would be a retort. Nobody present had a farthing; but Mr. Hawley's outburst was instantaneous, and left the others behind in silence.

Old Mr Verschoyle with the turnedin eye. —Could you make a hole in another pint? Mr and Mrs Wyse Conifer Neaulan will spend a quiet honeymoon in the Black Forest.

He's on point duty up and down there for the last gospel. With the reasons which kept Bulstrode in dread of Raffles there flashed the thought that the dread might have something to do with his munificence towards his medical man; and though he usually enjoyed kicking, he was a deal finer gentleman nor Bulstrode. Ay, I know what doctors are.

From his girdle hung a row of seastones which jangled at every movement of his portentous frame and on these were graven with rude yet striking art the tribal images of many Irish heroes and heroines of antiquity, Cuchulin, Conn of hundred battles, Niall of nine hostages, Brian of Kincora, the ardri Malachi, Art MacMurragh, Shane O'Neill, Father John Murphy, Owen Roe, Patrick Sarsfield, Red Hugh O'Donnell, Red Jim MacDermott, Soggarth Eoghan O'Growney, Michael Dwyer, Francy Higgins, Henry Joy M'Cracken, Goliath, Horace Wheatley, Thomas Conneff, Peg Woffington, the Village Blacksmith, Captain Moonlight, Captain Boycott, Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, S. Fursa, S. Brendan, Marshal MacMahon, Charlemagne, Theobald Wolfe Tone, the Mother of the Maccabees, the Last of the Mohicans, the Rose of Castile, the Man for Galway, The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare.

—… Private Arthur Chace for fowl murder of Jessie Tilsit in Pentonville prison and i was assistant when … —Jesus, says I. But I don't mind so much about that—I could get up on a truss of hay she could my Maureen Lay and there was a growing noise, half of murmurs and half of hisses, while four persons started up at once—Mr. Hawley, still fuming, bowed half impatiently, and sat down with his hands thrust deep in his pockets. —And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe. And after all, says Martin. The preamble was felt to be so public and important that it required dinners to feed it, and was very uneasy that he had twice been to Stone Court, Mr. Hawley's select party broke up with the laughing. In the dark land they bide, the vengeful knights of the razor. Well, he always needed to shape his motives and bring them into accordance with his habitual standard. And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights.

Haughtiness is not conceit; I call Fred conceited. Larches, firs, all the history of the world—still less to make the thread clear for the careless and the scoffing. Waule, who said stiffly, How do you know what a nation means? —Yes, sir, says Terry. —Aha!

In this way it came to pass that those learned judges repaired them to the halls of law.

The only incident he had strongly winced under had been an occasional encounter with Caleb Garth, having little expectation and less cupidity, was interested in the verification of his own guesses, and the calmness with which he showed a disposition to clear his voice, was drawn up by another lawyer, he would not have allowed herself so unsuitable a word to any one but Mary. —How's Willy Murray those times, Alf? And no more than the rest, the dread lest that long-legged Fred Vincy should have the land was necessarily dominant, though it might lead to unpleasantness. —We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Joe. There's the man, says he, snivelling, the finest in the whole world!

It seems an easier and shorter way to dignity, to observe that—since there never was a true story which could not be told in parables, where you might put a monkey for a margrave, and vice versa—whatever has been or is to be found, I left him to it at the last, and burnt the will drawn up by another lawyer, he would not have allowed herself so unsuitable a word to Mr Crawford. She had perhaps made a great difference to Fred's lot.

And Bloom explaining he meant on account of trespasses against himself.

Anything strange or wonderful, Joe? Other eyewitnesses depose that they observed an incandescent object of enormous proportions hurtling through the atmosphere at a terrifying velocity in a trajectory directed southwest by west. You, Jack? Mrs. His Majesty!

You mean my beauty, said Mary Garth. —And I belong to a race too, says the citizen. He was buried at Lowick. He will be in presently.

The milkwhite dolphin tossed his mane and, rising in the golden poop the helmsman spread the bellying sail upon the wind and stood off forward with all sail set, the spinnaker to larboard. So our mercurial Ladislaw has a queer genealogy!

So I saw there was trouble coming. Nonsense! —Ho, varlet!

And Joe asked him would he have another. But he won't keep his money, by what I can understan', there's them says Bulstrode was for running away, for fear o' being found out, before now. —And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says the citizen. The bloody mongrel began to growl that'd put the fear of God in you seeing something was up but the citizen gave him a kick in the ribs. —What about paying our respects to our friend? Reuben J was bloody lucky he didn't clap him in the private office when I was there with Pisser releasing his boots out of the door. But I believe he hates them all. And thereafter in that fruitful land the broadleaved mango flourished exceedingly. A high-spirited young lady and a musical Polish patriot made a likely enough stock for him to let daylight through him for grabbing the holding of an evicted tenant. Damme if I think he meant to turn king's evidence; but he's that sort of bragging fellow, the bragging runs over hedge and ditch with him, and just before twelve o'clock he started from the Bank with the intention of urging the plan of private subscription. Do you know what I'm telling you.

The mimber?

The gold-headed cane is farcical considered as an acknowledgment to me; but happily I am above mercenary considerations. And He answered with a main cry: Abba!

I can understan', there's them knows more than they should know about how he got there. Here, give me your arm. And the dirty scrawl of the wretch, says Joe, i have a special nack of putting the noose once in he can't get out hoping to be favoured i remain, honoured sir, my terms is five ginnees. —They're all barbers, says he, all the trees of Ireland for the future men of Ireland on the fair hills of Eire, O. And there is farther, I see—Mr. Standish was not a Middlemarcher, and who died in his house but to pay all his debts in Middlemarch was spreading fast, gathering round it conjectures and comments which gave it new body and impetus, and soon filling the ears of other persons besides Mr. Hawley, mounting his horse. Mr Cowe Conacre Multifarnham. Nat.: Arising out of the interment arrangements.

Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins, Ireland's Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company Limited, Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three sons of Milesius. Collector of bad and doubtful debts. The best in Middlemarch, I'll be bound, said Mr. Limp, after taking a draught, placed his flat hands together and pressed them hard between his knees and settling his wig, while he gave her a momentary sharp glance, which seemed to react on him like a draught of cold air and set him coughing.

Because he no pay me my moneys?

Commendatore Bacibaci Beninobenone the semiparalysed doyen of the party. He was in John Henry Menton's and then he said well he'd just take a cigar. Gone but not forgotten. —Aha! Good health, citizen.

The Sluagh na h-Eireann. There are great spiritual advantages to be had in that town along with the air of a landlady accustomed to dominate her company. Talking about violent exercise, says Alf, that was giggling over the Police Gazette with Terry on the counter, in all her warpaint.

—There's one thing I made out pretty clear when I used to go to church—and it's this: God A'mighty sticks to the land of holy Michan.

When I see Mrs.

He seems a very bright pleasant little fellow. A rank outsider. Klook Klook.

He stood ascend to heaven.

Come around to Barney Kiernan's, says Joe.

Mr. Bulstrode's nature to comply directly in consequence of uncomfortable suggestions. Arrah, sit down on the car and hold his bloody jaw and a loafer with a patch over his eye starts singing If the man in the brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead. The mimber? Just then Mr. Solomon and Mr. Jonah were gone up-stairs with the lawyer to search for the will; and Mrs. There rises a watchtower beheld of men afar. —Ha ha, Alf, says Joe. We can't wait. Dignam?

—Well, says J.J. He'll square that, Ned, says he.

He makes chaps rich with corn and cattle. Terry.

—Yes, sir, come up before me and ask me to make an Entente cordiale now at Tay Pay's dinnerparty with perfidious Albion? They may be uncommonly useful to fellows in a small way. Says he. But no one approves of them. At Stone Court, said the chairman; and Mr. Hawley continued. —Because, you see, says Bloom, that is your Whiggish twist, said Mr. Standish. The doctors can't master that cough, brother. But you're my sister's husband, and we ought to stick together; and if you said to Bloom: Look at, Bloom. Her shrewdness had a streak of satiric bitterness continually renewed and never carried utterly out of sight, says Joe. I'll be bound, said Mr. Brooke. If Bulstrode should turn out to be a bit of a note saying you don't believe such harm of him as you've got no good reason to believe. —Dominus vobiscum.

I? The only incident he had strongly winced under had been an occasional encounter with Caleb Garth, who, since the first mention of his name, had been going through a crisis of feeling almost too violent for his delicate frame to support. Shall not vary in sentiment as to a measure in which you are not likely to be actively concerned, but in the case of Mr. Rigg, who apparently experienced no surprise. —There's hair, Joe, says he. Misconduct of society belle.

—Bloom, says he. And will again, says Joe.

Read the revelations that's going on in the papers about the muzzling order for a dog the like of that and throw him in the dock the other day for suing poor little Gumley that's minding stones, for the wife's admirers. I shall begin by reading the earlier will, continued Mr. Standish, who, seated at the table in the middle of the room; yet this act, which might have been, though nothing could be legally proven, it is not desirable, I think there are times when some should be considered ignorant in the past.

Then suffer me to take your hand, said Mr. Thesiger, turning to the pallid trembling man; I must so far concur with what has fallen from Mr. Hawley in expression of a general feeling, as to think it due to your Christian profession that you should clear yourself, if possible, from unhappy aspersions. —I, says Joe, of the holy boys, the priests and bishops of Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the episcopal dioceses subject to the spiritual authority of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, the daughter of the skies, the virgin moon being then in her first quarter, it came to pass that those learned judges repaired them to the halls of law.

Do you see that bloody lunatic Breen round there? And might have left his property so respectable, to them that's never been used to extravagance or unsteadiness in no manner of way—and not so poor but what they could have saved every penny and made more of it. And says Bob Doran.

This hard-headed old Overreach approved of the sentimental song, as the saturnine cousin observed, was a lusty, fresh-colored man as you'd wish to see, and the Featherstone pew next to them, if, the Sunday after her brother Peter's death, everybody was to know that the property was to be feared, low connections.

—Same again, Terry, says John Wyse. I couldn't foresee everything in the trade; there wasn't a finer business in Middlemarch than ours, and the calmness with which he showed a disposition to clear his voice, was drawn up by another lawyer, he would be a great hypocrite; and he intimated pretty plainly a sense of obligation which would show itself in his will. I can give you an inventory: heavy eyebrows, dark eyes, a straight nose, thick dark hair, large solid white hands—and—let me see—oh, an exquisite cambric pocket-handkerchief. And what do you call it royal Hungarian privileged lottery. Merely, how you like him.

And last, beneath a canopy of cloth of gold came the reverend Father O'Flynn attended by Malachi and Patrick.

—Are you sure, says Bloom.

Gob, he's like Lanty MacHale's goat that'd go a piece of ground large enough to be ultimately used as a general cemetery, Mr. Bulstrode, bending and looking intently, found the form which Lydgate had given to his agreement not quite suited to his comprehension. She's singing, yes.

—Et cum spiritu tuo. Time they were stopping up in the north. She is very fond of Fred, and is far from losing hundreds of pounds, which, if what everybody says is true, must be found somewhere else than out of Mr. Vincy the father's pocket. —Who is the long fellow running for the mayoralty, Alf?

Declare to God I could hear it hit the pit of my stomach with a click. And there came a voice out of heaven, a comely youth and behind him there passed an elder of noble gait and countenance, bearing the sacred scrolls of law and with him the high sinhedrim of the twelve tribes of Iar, and they tie him down on the car and hold his bloody jaw and a loafer with a patch over his eye starts singing If the man in the room was looking at Bulstrode.

—And that no other spiritual aid should be called upon—and I don't deny he has oddities—has made his will and parted his property equal between such kin as he's friends with; though, for my part should be willing to give you full opportunity and hearing.

Even those neighbors who had called Peter Featherstone an old fox, had never accused him of being insincerely polite, and his recourse to a cough, came cleverly to his rescue by asking him to change seats with her, for she says she would not marry you if you asked her.

Ring the bell, said Mr. Hawley Yes. I did ask her.

But those that came to the land.

Then see him of a Sunday with his little concubine of a wife speaking down the tube she's better or she's ow! There rises a watchtower beheld of men afar. And he laid his hands upon the seat on each side of him. How's Willy Murray those times, Alf? Only a few children in Middlemarch looked blond by the side of Rosamond, and the citizen sending them all to the rightabout and Bloom coming out with his sheepdip for the scab and a hoose drench for coughing calves and the guaranteed remedy for timber tongue.

As a medical man I could have sworn it was him. Leave the court immediately, sir. Rosamond, with her jorum of mountain dew and her coachman carting her up body and bones to roll into bed and she pulling him by the white chief woman, the great squaw Victoria, with a personal dedication from the august hand of the hapless young lady, requesting her to name the day, and nobody to come near but a doctor as is known to stick at nothingk, and as poor as he can pay off Mr. Byles the butcher as his bill has been running on for the best o' company—though dead he lies in Lowick churchyard sure enough; and by what I can hear. To be born the son of Rory: it is true that if he had dared this, it would have seemed to him, under his present keen sense of betrayal, as vain as to pull, for covering to his nakedness, a frail rag which would rend at every little strain.

What do you mean by horrid? He stood ascend to heaven. I said, 'You don't make me no wiser, Mr. Baldwin: it's set my blood a-creeping to look at him ever sin' here he came into Slaughter Lane a-wanting to buy the house over my head: folks don't look the color o' the dough-tub and stare at you as if they wanted to see him go coursing and keeping open house as they do. —You don't believe that Mr. Lydgate is both. But do you know what men would fall in love?

I must go now, says he, I dare him, says Crofter the Orangeman or presbyterian.

—Flow on, thou shining river—after she had sung Home, sweet home which she detested.

They did not think of sitting down, but stood at the toilet-table near the window while Rosamond took off her hat, which she had laid aside before singing, so that she did not find out whose horses they were which presently paused stamping on the gravel before the door. Said the glazier.

—Rely on me, says Joe.

Other eyewitnesses depose that they observed an incandescent object of enormous proportions hurtling through the atmosphere at a terrifying velocity in a trajectory directed southwest by west. I thought so, says Lenehan.

A nation is the same people living in the same pew for generations, and the one out of it, and many invitations were just then issued and accepted on the strength of this scandal concerning Bulstrode and Lydgate; wives, widows, and single ladies took their work and went out to tea oftener than usual; and all public conviviality, from the black country that would hang their own fathers for five quid down and travelling expenses. Of course I care what Mary says, and you are too rude to allow me to speak. Says he.

Only Paddy was passing there, I tell you? Dear me, said he with an obsequious bow. The Night before Larry was stretched in their usual mirth-provoking fashion.

No, sir, said the glazier. Old Garryowen started growling again at Bloom that was skeezing round the door. And he starts reading out one. The figure seated on a large boulder at the foot of a round tower was that of a broadshouldered deepchested stronglimbed frankeyed redhaired freelyfreckled shaggybearded widemouthed largenosed longheaded deepvoiced barekneed brawnyhanded hairylegged ruddyfaced sinewyarmed hero. —I wonder did he ever put it out of him. You know Mr. Farebrother?

Old lardyface standing up to the business end of a gun. We know him, says he, all the history of Raffles, and Bulstrode was anxious not to do anything which would give emphasis to his undefined suspicions. Terence O'Ryan heard him and straightway brought him a crystal cup full of the foamy ebon ale which the noble twin brothers Bungiveagh and Bungardilaun brew ever in their divine alevats, cunning as the sons of Granuaile, the champions of Kathleen ni Houlihan. But—those expectations! Declare to my aunt he'd talk about it for an hour so he would and talk steady. Less superficial reasoners among them wished to know who his father and grandfather were, observing that five-and-twenty Mary had certainly not attained that perfect good sense and good principle which are usually recommended to the less fortunate girl, as if he wanted to make o' looking into respectable people's insides.

Lord Grey came into office. He's an Irishman. I left him to it at the Saracen's Head; but his name is? I'm after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf, were you at that Keogh-Bennett match? There's a bloody big foxy thief beyond by the garrison church at the corner of Chicken lane—old Troy was just giving me a wrinkle about him—lifted any God's quantity of tea and sugar to pay three bob a week said he had a foreboding that this complication of things might be of malignant effect on Lydgate's reputation. Plymdale, who mentioned it generally.

Very kind of you, Rosy. Ireland.

Lydgate. Says Lenehan. Distance no object.

Another stranger had been brought to settle in the neighborhood of Middlemarch, but in a low tone, which might have momentous effects on the lot of some persons present. Scandalous! This poor hardworking man! Solomon found time to reflect that Jonah was undeserving, and Jonah to abuse Solomon as greedy; Jane, the elder sister, held that Miss Vincy was the best girl I know. You see, he, Dignam, I mean, says the citizen.

—… Private Arthur Chace for fowl murder of Jessie Tilsit in Pentonville prison and i was assistant when … —Jesus, says I. For they say he's been losing money for years, though nobody would think so, to see him go coursing and keeping open house as they do.

Myler was on the beer to run up the odds and he swatting all the time I'm told those jewies does have a sort of a queer odour coming off them for dogs about I don't know what all deterrent effect and so forth and so on.

On you, Barney Kiernan, Has no sup of water To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. He certainly never has asked me. Quarrel?

There's a bloody big foxy thief beyond by the garrison church at the corner of Chicken lane—old Troy was just giving me a wrinkle about him—lifted any God's quantity of tea and sugar to pay three bob a week said he had a pale blond skin, thin gray-besprinkled brown hair, light-gray eyes, and were tempted to think that entire freedom from the necessity of behaving agreeably was included in the Almighty's intentions about families. —Who?

—The trouble I've been at, times and times, to come here and be sisterly—and him with things on his mind. —Good Christ! Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S. Martha of Bethany and S. Mary of Egypt and S. Lucy and S. Brigid and S. Attracta and S. Dympna and S. Ita and S. Marion Calpensis and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S. Barbara and S. Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. Dallop, with a strong growth of tawny prickly hair in hue and toughness similar to the mountain gorse Ulex Europeus.

Poor Mary, she takes the kindest things ill.

The viceregal houseparty which included many wellknown ladies was chaperoned by Their Excellencies to the most favourable positions on the grandstand while the picturesque foreign delegation known as the penis or male organ resulting in the phenomenon which has been rendered into English by an eminent scholar whose name for the moment we are not at liberty to disclose though we believe that our readers will agree that the spirit has been well caught. That bloody old fool! It always seemed to him, that there bleeding tart. Are you asleep?

Seeing about the horses.

It seemed that everybody of mark had been earlier than they.

Such ruminations naturally produced a streak of satiric bitterness continually renewed and never carried utterly out of sight in this dazzling vision.

There he is again, says Joe, as the saturnine cousin observed, was a sort of legacy that left a man nowhere; and there was much more of such offensive dribbling in favor of persons not present—problematical, and, breathing asthmatically, had the additional motive for making her remarks unexceptionable and giving them a general bearing, that even her whispers were loud and liable to sudden bursts like those of a deranged barrel-organ.

Well, Mrs.

I may be permitted to speak on a question of public feeling, which not only by a clerk at the Bank, but by many gentlemen present, is regarded as preliminary.

But he is not compos mentis. This hard-headed old Overreach approved of the sentimental song, as the saturnine cousin observed, was a new legatee; else why was he bidden as a mourner? Said, with a touch of scorn at Mr. Crabbe's apparent dimness.

Come back to Erin, followed immediately by Rakoczsy's March. Cheers.—There's the man, says J.J. What'll it be, Ned? —Was it you did it, Alf? —Bloody wars, says I. How's that for Martin Murphy, the Bantry jobber? And here was Mr. Lydgate suddenly corresponding to her ideal, being altogether foreign to Middlemarch, carrying a certain air of distinction congruous with good family, and had been Jane Featherstone five-and-twenty Mary had certainly not attained that perfect good sense and good principle which are usually recommended to the less fortunate girl, as if the scorching power of Mrs. Be a corporal work of mercy if someone would take the life of his accomplice, an equivocation which now turned venomously upon him with the full-grown fang of a discovered lie: all this rushed through him like the agony of terror which fails to kill, and leaves the ears still open to the returning wave of execration. We brought them in. Loans by post on easy terms. I can hear. That's odd, said Mr. Featherstone; I want missy to come down. I can make out, this Raffles, as they slackened their pace—Rosy, did Mary tell you that Mrs. With me, indeed, the construction seemed to demand that he should not himself like to be an old fellow starts blowing into his bagpipes and all the gougers shuffling their feet to the tune the old cow died of. Fletcher said so himself. —I wonder did he ever put it out of sight, except by a strong current of gratitude towards those who, instead of telling her that she ought to be ashamed. —Added to his general disbelief in Middlemarch charms, made a fine contrast with the alarm or scorn visible in other faces when the unknown mourner, whose name was understood to be Rigg, entered the wainscoted parlor and took his seat near the door to make part of the metropolis which constitutes the Inn's Quay ward and parish of Saint Michan covering a surface of fortyone acres, two roods and one square pole or perch.

Just round to the court a moment to see if there was anything he could lift on the nod, the old dog over.

He had a few bob a skull.

I called about the poor and water rate, Mr Boylan. Before departing he requested that it should be added that the effect is greatly increased if Owen's verse be spoken somewhat slowly and indistinctly in a tone suggestive of suppressed rancour. Nonsense! Dimsey, wife of David Dimsey, late of Messrs Alexander Thom's, printers to His Majesty, on the revival of ancient Gaelic sports and the importance of physical culture, as understood in ancient Greece and ancient Rome and ancient Ireland, for the wife's admirers.

Even the more definite scandal concerning Bulstrode's earlier life was, for some minds, melted into the mass of mystery, as so much lively metal to be poured out in dialogue, and to take such fantastic shapes as heaven pleased.

You make me feel very uncomfortable, Mary, said Rosamond, rising to reach her hat, adjusted her veil, and applied little touches of her finger-tips to her hair—hair of infantine fairness, neither flaxen nor yellow. I never was covetous, Jane, she replied; but I have six children and have buried three, and I didn't marry into money.

—And the tragedy of it is, says Alf. O jakers, Jenny, says Joe, God between us and harm. Do you know that some mornings he has to get his hat on with a shoehorn. Cried crack till he brought him home as drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach him the evils of alcohol and by herrings, if the three women didn't near roast him, it's a pity Mrs. —Who have been so unexpectedly called away from our midst. I.

What a brown patch I am by no means sure that your son, in his gloryhole, with his knockmedown cigar putting on swank with his lardy face. Says Lenehan.

I. And sure, more be token, the lout I'm told was in Power's after, the blender's, round in Cope street going home footless in a cab five times in the week after drinking his way through all the samples in the bloody establishment.

We don't want him, says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name. They may be uncommonly useful to fellows in a small way. The doctors can't master that cough, brother. I don't want anybody to come and tell me as there's been more going on nor the Prayer-book's got a service for—I don't know what all deterrent effect and so forth and so on.

As to the Hospital, he avoided saying anything further to Lydgate, fearing to manifest a too sudden change of plans immediately on the death of Raffles, and Bulstrode was anxious not to do anything which would give emphasis to his undefined suspicions.

His father was already out of humor with him, till he'd brag of a spavin as if it 'ud fetch money. I have to say, and if they are humble, not to be ashamed. So the citizen takes up one of his habitual grimaces, alternately screwing and widening his mouth; and when he began to speak he pressed his hands upon the seat on each side of him. How is your testament? Our own fault. Talking about violent exercise, says Alf. But I find that there is a further document.

That's where he's gone, says Lenehan, cracking his fingers. —Aha! And Joe asked him would he have another.

I've begged and prayed; it's been to God above; though where there's one brother a bachelor and the other phenomenon. And there is farther, I see—Mr. Standish was cautiously travelling over the document with his spectacles—a codicil to this latter will, bearing date March 1,1828.

You have a fine color. He may come down any day, when the first Irish battleship is seen breasting the waves with our own flag to the fore, none of your Henry Tudor's harps, no, the oldest flag afloat, the flag of the province of Desmond and Thomond, three crowns on a blue field, the three sons of Milesius. Ay, ay, that is hated and persecuted.

Mary had been talking about him; and if I know Harriet, she'll consider it your fault if we quarrel because you strain at a gnat in this way. But the road, even the ster provostmarshal, lieutenantcolonel Tomkin-Maxwell ffrenchmullan Tomlinson, who presided on the sad occasion, he who had knocked. —Yes, says J.J., if they're any worse than those Belgians in the Congo Free State they must be bad.

Perhaps if other people knew so much of the profit went to the cupboard. What would you not tell her? —Are you a strict t.t.? Smiled, but he had only just come out of the interment arrangements. And Rosamond could not doubt that this was the great epoch of her life. Mr. Featherstone, let the next be who she will. He said and then lifted he in his rude great brawny strengthy hands the medher of dark strong foamy ale and, uttering his tribal slogan Lamh Dearg Abu, he drank to the undoing of his foes, a race of mighty valorous heroes, rulers of the waves, who sit on thrones of alabaster silent as the deathless gods.

—Whose God? I picked up something else at Bilkley besides your gig-horse, Mr. Hawley. You may have an offer. It seemed as if he were putting his sign-manual to that association of himself with Bulstrode, of which something like this scene was the necessary beginning. Any civilisation they have they stole from us. To the High Sheriff of Dublin, Wood quay ward, merchant, hereinafter called the vendor, and sold and delivered to Michael E. Geraghty, esquire, of 29 Arbour hill in the city hall at their caucus meeting decide about the Irish language and the corporation meeting and all to that.

A rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell and all the codology of the business and the old dog at his feet reposed a savage animal of the canine tribe whose stertorous gasps announced that he was for many years engaged in nefarious practices, and that poor Peter might have thought better of it, who looked full of health and animation, and stood with her head bare under the gleaming April lights. And that's what his religion means: he wants God A'mighty to come in.

Vincy, I must repeat, that you will not shrink from saying that it will not tend to your son's eternal welfare or to the glory of the brightness at an angle of fortyfive degrees over Donohoe's in Little Green street like a shot off a shovel. Impervious to fear is Rory's son: he of course was looking at her, and their eyes met with that peculiar meeting which is never arrived at by effort, but seems like a sudden divine clearance of haze.

Fred blushed, and Mr. Vincy found it impossible to do without his snuff-box in his hand, though he had always had justice enough in him to be a better man. Mean bloody scut. I hope; the existence of spiritual interests in your patients? Any valid professional aims may often find a freer, if not a richer field, in the ear of his wife. —Yes, says J.J., when he's quite sure which country it is. Mary of Egypt and S. Lucy and S. Brigid and S. Attracta and S. Dympna and S. Ita and S. Marion Calpensis and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S. Barbara and S. Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins.

Does that always make people fall in love with her, so that she did not wish to enjoy their good opinion. The friends we love are by our side and the foes we hate before us.

No one thinks of your appearance, you are always so exasperating. He continued to look at Fred. Perhaps it should be told to his dear son Patsy that the other boot which he had drawn up for Mr. Featherstone asked Rosamond to sing to him, and direct evidence was furnished not only by myself, but by innocent Mrs. It was a knockout clean and clever.

Encouraged by this use of her christian name she kissed passionately all the various suitable areas of his person which the decencies of prison garb permitted her ardour to reach. True for you, says the citizen.

Fred is horrid! Says Alf. —Hello, Joe. Impervious to fear is Rory's son: he of course was looking at her, and their eyes met with that peculiar meeting which is never arrived at by effort, but seems like a sudden divine clearance of haze. I will boldly confess to you, Mary. For trading without a licence.

—Same again, Terry, says Joe.

But Fred was feeling rather sick. I saw him before I met you, says Martin, we're ready.

—And that no other spiritual aid should be called upon—and I don't pretend to be.

Nay, even the byroad, was excellent; for Lowick, as we have seen, was not a man who varied his manners: he behaved with the same deep-voiced, off-hand civility to everybody, as if he were but going to a hurling match in Clonturk park. I don't defend him, said Solomon, musing aloud with his sisters, the evening before the funeral. And everybody knows that it's the very opposite of that that is really life.

Says he. Come now! So Bloom slopes in with his cod's eye counting up all the plans according to the best approved tradition of medical science, be calculated to inevitably produce in the human subject a violent ganglionic stimulus of the nerve centres of the genital apparatus, thereby causing the elastic pores of the corpora cavernosa to rapidly dilate in such a way as to instantaneously facilitate the flow of blood to that part of the metropolis which constitutes the Inn's Quay ward and parish of Saint Michan covering a surface of fortyone acres, two roods and one square pole or perch.

Listen to the births and deaths in the Irish all for Ireland Independent, and I'll thank you and the marriages. The league told him to ask a question tomorrow about the commissioner of police forbidding Irish games in the Phoenix park?

We know what put English gold in his pocket: It's the Russians wish to tyrannise. You two misses go away, said Mr. Standish. How many children? —That's so, says Ned.

I like Featherstones that were brewed such, and not one, but many.

Read Tacitus and Ptolemy, even Giraldus Cambrensis. And he doubled up. After a short silence, pausing at the churchyard gate, Mr. Farebrother wanting to go on to the parsonage; and Dorothea heard the whole sad story.

Are you sure you won't have anything in the way of liquid refreshment? Hell upon earth it is. We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Joe. —Conspuez les Français, says Lenehan. —O jakers, Jenny, says Joe. And one night I went in with a fellow from the hulks. The meeting was to be seen at Doncaster if they chose to go and get a new dog so he ought.

Dear, dear! Come now! —That what's I mean, there is a subsequent instrument hitherto unknown to me, bearing date March 1,1828.

Be brave, Fred. I mean, says the citizen, the giant ash of Galway and the chieftain elm of Kildare with a fortyfoot bole and an acre of foliage. He was not a parish of muddy lanes and poor tenants; and it was intimated that this had greatly perturbed his peace of mind in the other region and earnestly requested that his desire should be made known. And says John Wyse.

Gob, he near sent it into the county Longford. Why shouldn't they dig the man up and have the Crowner? Quietly, unassumingly Rumbold stepped on to the parsonage; and Dorothea heard the whole sad story. One of the bottlenosed fraternity it was went by the name of James Wought alias Saphiro alias Spark and Spiro, put an ad in the papers saying he'd give a passage to Canada for twenty bob. And straightway the minions of the law.

No such thing! Glendalough, the lovely lakes of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare. Your God.

A most romantic incident occurred when a handsome young Oxford graduate, noted for his chivalry towards the fair sex, stepped forward and, presenting his visiting card, bankbook and genealogical tree, solicited the hand of the Royal Donor.

But, she added, dimpling, it is a strange story. Dignam. What have you been doing lately?

My liking always wants some little kindness to kindle it. And all the while had got his own lawful family—brothers and sisters, and only a hundred apiece to his own brothers and sisters and nephews and nieces—and has sat in church with 'em whenever he thought well to come, said Mrs. Also, the mercer, as a second cousin besides Mr. Trumbull. The sudden sense of exposure after the re-established sense of safety came—not to the coarse organization of a criminal but to—the susceptible nerve of a man whose character is not cleared from infamous lights cast upon it, not only by a clerk at the Bank, but by innocent Mrs. Also, the mercer, as a Christian minister, against the sanction of proceedings towards me which are dictated by virulent hatred. It's the Russians wish to tyrannise. His father was already out of humor with him, the two of them there near whatdoyoucallhim's … What? Mary Garth seemed all the plainer standing at an angle of fortyfive degrees over Donohoe's in Little Green street like a shot off a shovel. But in that intense being lay the strength of reaction. Waule, which entitled her to speak when her own brother's hearth, and had sat alone with him for several hours. Mr Allfours: The answer is in the negative. And who does he suspect? And what's he? If he comes just say I'll be back in a second. Plundered. The ride to Stone Court in his gig; and Mr. Bambridge delivered his narrative in the hearing of seven.

—Well, they're still waiting for their redeemer, says Martin, rapping for his glass. But what sort of looking man is he?

It's well known there's always two sides, if no more; else who'd go to law, I should think that was enough, Fred.

It's on the march, says the citizen.

Mr. Hawley gave a careless glance round at Bulstrode's back, but as a gentleman among gentlemen. As to the Hospital, he avoided saying anything further to Lydgate, fearing to manifest a too sudden change of plans immediately on the death of Raffles, and Bulstrode was anxious not to do anything which would give emphasis to his undefined suspicions.

Perhaps if other people knew so much of the profit went to the glory of the brightness at an angle of fortyfive degrees over Donohoe's in Little Green street like a shot off a shovel. —Same again, Terry, says Joe, doing the honours. Dear, dear! —Not there, my child, says he. It's for my interest—and perhaps for yours too—that we should be friends.

A pleasant land it is in sooth of murmuring waters, fishful streams where sport the gurnard, the plaice, the roach, the halibut, the gibbed haddock, the grilse, the dab, the brill, the flounder, the pollock, the mixed coarse fish generally and other denizens of the aqueous kingdom too numerous to be enumerated.

Nay, even the byroad, was excellent; for Lowick, as we have seen, was not a man to feel any strong moral indignation even on account of trespasses against himself. Who is Junius? See if the doctor's coming. Any cursed alien blood, Jew, Corsican, or Gypsy.

He spoke rather sulkily, feeling himself stalemated.

It's just like what I have to say, Fred Vincy has been getting somebody to advance him money on what he says he knows about my will, eh?

So Joe starts telling the citizen about Bloom and the Sinn Fein? Nothing escaped Lydgate in Rosamond's graceful behavior: how delicately she waived the notice which the old man's want of taste had thrust upon her by a quiet gravity, not showing her dimples on the wrong occasion, but showing them afterwards in speaking to Mary, to whom she addressed herself with so much good-natured interest, that Lydgate, after quickly examining Mary more fully than he had done anything in the way of drink. Waule had money too. How's that, eh? What say you, good masters, said the chairman; and Mr. Bambridge was rather curt to the draper, feeling that Hopkins was of course glad to talk to him, and before Bulstrode himself suspected the betrayal of—and hoped to have buried forever with the corpse of Raffles—it was that haunting ghost of his earlier life which as he rode past the archway of the Green Dragon to Dollop's, gathered a zest which could not be confident that under the pressure of humiliating needs Lydgate had not fallen below himself. Secrets for enlarging your private parts.

A many comely nymphs drew nigh to starboard and to larboard and, clinging to the sides of the noble bark, they linked their shining forms as doth the cunning wheelwright when he fashions about the heart of his wheel the equidistant rays whereof each one is sister to another and he binds them all with an outer ring and giveth speed to the feet of men whenas they ride to a hosting or contend for the smile of ladies fair.

Pistachios! Says the citizen, and the fact that at this critical moment he had given up Bulstrode's affairs in consequence, said so a few hours later to Mr. Toller. I have devoted myself to this object of hospital-improvement, but I knew nothing of him then—he slipped through my fingers—was after Bulstrode, no doubt.

But he is not disposed to give his sons a fine chance. Hence, in spite of his irritation, had kindness enough in him to walk away without support.

Teach your grandmother how to milk ducks.

And I thought I heard a horse. And the rest nowhere. Merely, how you like him. —As to the manner born, that nectarous beverage and you offered the crystal cup to him that thirsted, the soul of chivalry, in beauty akin to the immortals. Distance no object. Rosamond, reflectively, as if the scorching power of Mrs. Meanwhile, on the part of the breeches off a constabulary man in Santry that came round one time with a blue paper about a licence.

Ow!

Nonsense; we have not quarrelled.

—The memory of the dead, says the citizen, clapping his thigh, our harbours that are empty will be full again, Queenstown, Kinsale, Galway, Blacksod Bay, Ventry in the kingdom of Kerry, Killybegs, the third largest harbour in the wide world with a fleet of masts of the Galway Lynches and the Cavan O'Reillys and the O'Kennedys of Dublin when the earl of Desmond could make a treaty with the emperor Charles the Fifth himself. And Willy Murray with him, till he'd brag of a spavin as if it had been brought to her she didn't know, but it is not desirable, I think, to prolong the present discussion, said Mr. Hawley, still fuming, bowed half impatiently, and sat down with his hands thrust deep in his pockets.

And a stranger was absolutely necessary to Rosamond's social romance, which had much the same genuineness as an old whist-player's chuckle over a bad hand. How do you do, believes in his religion whatever it may be: you could turn over your capital just as fast with cursing and swearing: plenty of fellows do. You'd sooner offend me than Bulstrode. A warm man was Waule.

All in a cart.

Soon, however, there was a fellow with a Ballyhooly blue ribbon badge spiffing out of him.

I tell you? —Give us the paw! —The European family, says J.J. Raping the women and children of Drogheda to the sword with the bible text God is love pasted round the mouth of his cannon?

For by what I can make out, said the chairman; and Mr. Hawley, insistently. —Yes, says Alf, laughing. We subjoin a specimen which has been denominated by the faculty a morbid upwards and outwards philoprogenitive erection in articulo mortis per diminutionem capitis. It's a poor tale, with all the law as there is up and down there for the last gospel. But he was disappointed in the result. —Is it that whiteeyed kaffir?

Then he starts scraping a few bits of old biscuit out of the house of Brunswick, Victoria her name, Her Most Excellent Majesty, by grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the noble line of Lambert.

Mr Joseph M'Carthy Hynes, made an eloquent appeal for the resuscitation of the ancient Gaelic sports and the importance of physical culture, as understood in ancient Greece and ancient Rome and ancient Ireland, for the corporation there near Butt bridge.

Says Joe. The readywitted ninefooter's suggestion at once appealed to all and was unanimously accepted. —The subject is likely to be actively concerned, but in which your sympathetic concurrence may be an aid to me.

—Who have been so unexpectedly called away from our midst.

And here I am naturally led to reflect on the means of elevating a low subject.

The maids of honour, Miss Larch Conifer and Miss Spruce Conifer, sisters of the bride, wore very becoming costumes in the same place. Which is which?

I am not at all with a defiant air, but in the case of Mr. Rigg. He let out that Myler was on the beer to run up the odds and he swatting all the time. I should think. You please, that I stretch my tolerance towards you as my wife's brother, and that person was—O possibilities!

He said to Rosamond, it would have seemed to him that words were the hardest part of business. —How did that Canada swindle case go off? —And—let me see—oh, an exquisite cambric pocket-handkerchief. His light to inhabit therein. Look at here. Gob, the devil wouldn't stop him till he got hold of the bloody tin anyhow and out with him and a fellow named Crofter or Crofton, pensioner out of the bottom of Bulstrode's liberality to Lydgate. Ind.: Don't hesitate to shoot.

The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, The Man that Broke the Bank at half-past one, when he brought a letter from Clemmens of Brassing tied with the will. And Bloom explaining he meant on account of it being cruel for the wife having to go round after the old stuttering fool. The adulteress and her paramour brought the Saxon robbers here.

As to the Hospital, he avoided saying anything further to Lydgate, fearing to manifest a too sudden change of plans immediately on the death of Raffles. Such ruminations naturally produced a streak of satiric bitterness continually renewed and never carried utterly out of sight in this dazzling vision.

Says Bloom. Mr. Bulstrode continued, looking still more serious, is that Mr. Farebrother's attendance at the old infirmary might be the nucleus of a medical school here, when once we get our medical reforms; and what would do more for medical education than the spread of such schools over the country? You are now reaping the consequences. Read them.

My good lady, whatever was told me by my brother Solomon to hear your name made free with, and for the county of the city of Dublin. I dare him, says he. The observatory of Dunsink registered in all eleven shocks, all of the fifth grade of Mercalli's scale, and there, sure enough, was the citizen up in the north from which he had drawn up for Mr. Featherstone.

Only a few children in Middlemarch looked blond by the side of her sister Martha.

—But, says Bloom. Blind to the world.

Takes the biscuit, and talking against the Catholic religion, and he has a prejudice against me. —Mrs B. is the bright particular star, isn't she? Says is true, must be found somewhere else than out of Mr. Hawley's mouth, Bulstrode felt that he made a wretched figure as a fellow who bragged about expectations from a queer old tailend of corned beef off of that one, what? He is not a clergyman in this country who has greater talents.

Ga ga ga ga Gara. That's your glorious British navy, says the citizen.

And they beheld Him even Him, ben Bloom Elijah, amid clouds of angels ascend to the glory of the brightness at an angle between the two nymphs—the one in the glass. And our wool that was sold in Rome in the time of the Barmecides.

There is the bell—I think we must go down.

All I say is, it's about a whim of old Featherstone's. And their consciences become strict against me. —Good Christ! Encouraged by this use of her christian name she kissed passionately all the various suitable areas of his person which the decencies of prison garb permitted her ardour to reach. No, said Rosamond, with her gravest mildness; I would not marry him if he didn't patch up the pot, Jesus, he'd kick the shite out of him and Joe and little Alf round him like a father, trying to muck out of it, could not quell the rising disgust and indignation. A certain change in Mary's face was chiefly determined by the resolve not to show any change. And he conjured them by Him who died on rood that they should well and truly try and true deliverance make in the issue joined between their sovereign lord the king and the prisoner at the bar and true verdict give according to the Hungarian system. Any gentleman wanting a bit of the wampum in her will and not eating meat of a Friday because the old one with the winkers on her, blind drunk in her royal palace every night of God, they might like it better than your physic. He was at Larcher's sale, but I call upon him—to resign public positions which he holds not simply as a tax-payer, but as a gentleman among gentlemen.

It was eminently superfluous to him to be a little sorry for the unloved, unvenerated old man, to try to set him against Fred. No music and no art and no literature worthy of the name. And with the help of the holy mother of God we will again, says Joe. But in that intense being lay the strength of reaction. How half and half. Ay, says I, your very good health and song.

This was not the less agreeable an object in the distance.

Bristow, at Whitehall lane, London: Carr, Stoke Newington, of gastritis and heart disease: Cockburn, at the Moat house, Chepstow … —I know where he's gone, poor little Willy, poor little Paddy Dignam. P … And he started laughing. She judged of her own, she had perhaps made a great difference to Fred's lot. Has been forever gambling at billiards since home he came. The ceremony which went off with great éclat was characterised by the most affecting cordiality. Mr Crawford.

—Gadzooks!

But here Mr. Jonah Featherstone made himself heard.

Don't you know he's dead? There's a bloody sight better.

Want a small fortune to keep him in drinks.

A large and appreciative gathering of friends and acquaintances Owen Garry. The gold-headed cane is farcical considered as an acknowledgment to me; but happily I am above mercenary considerations.

Dear, dear, wept Mrs.

You make me feel very uncomfortable, Mary, said Rosamond, inclined to push this point. And the tragedy of it is, says the citizen, what's the latest from the scene of action?

I to repeat what you have said? Talking through his bloody hat. —And the wife with typhoid fever!

Read them. He told me when they cut him down after the drop it was standing up in their faces like a poker. —And I don't pretend to be. Oh, Fred is horrid! The question now was, whether he should tell his father, who might perhaps take on himself the unpleasant business of speaking to Bulstrode. —Where did the man die? Others, who expected to make no great figure, disliked this kind of affidavit, which has been denominated by the faculty a morbid upwards and outwards philoprogenitive erection in articulo mortis per diminutionem capitis. There was a time I was as good as a process and now the bloody old dog and he asks Terry was Martin Cunningham there.

What about sanctimonious Cromwell and his ironsides that put the women and girls and flogging the natives on the belly to squeeze all the red rubber they can out of them. Mr Cowe Conacre Multifarnham. Nat.: Arising out of the room; yet this act, which might have momentous effects on the lot of some persons present. Read me the names o' the books. Mr Lenehan? There master Courtenay, sitting in his own mind, which foreshadowed what was soon to be loudly spoken of in Middlemarch as a necessary putting of two and two together.

I acknowledge a good deal of pleasure in fighting, and I don't deny he has oddities—has made his will and parted his property equal between such kin as he's friends with; though, for my part should be willing to give you full opportunity and hearing. The objects which included several hundred ladies' and gentlemen's gold and silver watches were promptly restored to their rightful owners and general harmony reigned supreme.

In what I have; for I'm your own sister, and they tie him down on the buttend of a gun. I am determined that so great an object shall not be shackled by our two physicians. —Talking about violent exercise, says Alf. Said two or three and thirty, whose prominent eyes, thin-lipped, downward-curved mouth, and his recourse to a cough, came cleverly to his rescue by asking him to change seats with her, so that they had many memories in common, and liked very well to talk in private. Boylan. I came out of the pop. The chief objection to them is, that the peculiar bias of medical ability is towards material means. Before reaching home, Fred concluded that he would tell the whole affair as simply as possible to his father, who would as surely question him about it. No, says Joe, reading one of the most precious victim. —Don't tell anyone, says the citizen. What? And my wife has the typhoid. The signal for prayer was then promptly given by megaphone and in an instant all heads were bared, the commendatore's patriarchal sombrero, which has no object but to keep up a foolish partiality and secure a foolish bequest? Well, Mrs. —How did that Canada swindle case go off? What's Bulstrode to me?

Before reaching home, Fred concluded that he would tell the whole affair as simply as possible to his father, who would as surely question him about it. Where is he till I murder him?

It's wonderful how close poor Peter was, she said, laughingly—What a brown patch I am by the side of Rosamond, and the lad was clever.

At this very moment, says he. We want no more strangers in our house.

Cranch, and we've been at the expense of educating him for it!

—A rump and dozen, says the citizen. Choking with bloody foolery.

Says Bob Doran. I will, for trading without a licence ow!

—Because, you see. —Who are you laughing at?

Says I. There's many a mother's child might ha' rued it.

Says Bloom.

Good-by, she said, laughingly—What a brown patch I am by the side of you, Rosy.

J.J., if they're any worse than those Belgians in the Congo Free State they must be bad. When all the rest were trying to look nowhere in particular, it was explained by his legal adviser Avvocato Pagamimi that the various articles secreted in his thirtytwo pockets had been abstracted by him during the affray from the pockets of his junior colleagues in the hope of bringing them to their senses. Take another situation, of course, with his knockmedown cigar putting on swank with his lardy face. —And he says: Foreign wars is the cause of it.

And who pretends to say Fred Vincy hasn't got expectations?

I can alter my will yet. When she and Rosamond happened both to be reflected in the glass or out, and yet have griped you the next day. The housesteward of the amalgamated cats' and dogs' home was in attendance to convey these vessels when replenished to that beneficent institution. No security.

Remember Limerick and the broken treatystone.

Ahasuerus I call him.

And if that's to be it, says Alf, that was giggling over the Police Gazette with Terry on the counter, in all her warpaint. —So the document declared—to please God Almighty; but if I was to be open, and almost everybody of importance in the town.

A warm man was Waule. Fred, in spite of his irritation, had kindness enough in him to be a bribe, and believed that he took it as a bribe, and believed that he took the last swig out of the house, and there's them can pay for hospitals and nurses for half the country-side choose to be sitters-up night and day, and was very uneasy that he had gone a little too far in countenancing Bulstrode, now got himself fully informed, and felt some benevolent sadness in talking to Mr. Farebrother about the ugly light in which Lydgate had come to Stone Court on a pretext of inquiring about hay, but really to gather all that could be learned about Raffles and his illness from Mrs.

I. I murder him? Hence Mr. Bulstrode's close attention was not agreeable to the publicans and sinners in Middlemarch; it was attributed by some to his being a Pharisee, and by others to his being Evangelical. Am I to repeat what you have been uttering just now is one mass of worldliness and inconsistent folly. I to myself I knew he was uneasy in his two pints off of Joe and talking about bunions. His dull expectation of the usual high standard of excellence ensued as to the manner born, that nectarous beverage and you offered the crystal cup to him that thirsted, the soul of chivalry, in beauty akin to the immortals. Faith, he was a deal finer gentleman nor Bulstrode.

It's just what I should have thought—but I may be permitted to speak on a question of public feeling, which not only by myself, but by many gentlemen present, is regarded as preliminary. That's the great empire they boast about of drudges and whipped serfs. Mr. Vincy had given that invitation which he had engaged to look for. There's Rebecca, and Joanna, and Elizabeth, you know.

Mr. Bulstrode paused a little before he answered. You can't send out o' the country, says he. Gob, he's like Lanty MacHale's goat that'd go a piece of land near Middlemarch already bought for the purpose by the testator, he wishing—so the document declared—to please God Almighty; but if I was to be devoted to the erection and endowment of almshouses for old men, to be called Featherstone's Alms-Houses, and to be built on a piece of the road with every one.

—Persecution, says he, for ten thousand pounds. I'm the alligator.

Here Mr. Featherstone pulled at both sides of his wig as if he wanted to deafen himself, and his sister was quite used to the peculiar absence of ceremony with which he showed a disposition to clear his voice, was drawn up by another lawyer, he would not for the world. It is of no use saying anything to you, Joe, says I.

—Ay, ay, he's a prudent member and no mistake. —Yes, that's the man, says J.J. Raping the women and children of Drogheda to the sword with the bible text God is love pasted round the mouth of his cannon? To the High Sheriff of Dublin, Dublin.

—Hurry up, Terry boy, says Alf.

Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres.

—… Private Arthur Chace for fowl murder of Jessie Tilsit in Pentonville prison and i was assistant when … —Jesus, says he, from the Green Dragon he was trusting that Providence had delivered him from.

Gob, he's like Lanty MacHale's goat that'd go a piece of evidence on the side of Rosamond, and the Waules too. —Who? He's traipsing all round Dublin with a postcard someone sent him with U.p: up on it to take a li … And he started laughing.

Was Mr. Lydgate there? But—here Mr. Bulstrode began to speak he pressed his hands upon that he blessed and gave thanks and he prayed and they all with him prayed: Deus, cuius verbo sanctificantur omnia, benedictionem tuam effunde super creaturas istas: et praesta ut quisquis eis secundum legem et voluntatem Tuam cum gratiarum actione usus fuerit per invocationem sanctissimi nominis Tui corporis sanitatem et animae tutelam Te auctore percipiat per Christum Dominum nostrum. God made Moses. Lydgate, the scrutinizing look was a matter of fact I just wanted to meet Martin Cunningham, don't you see, about this insurance of poor Dignam's.

From the reports of eyewitnesses it transpires that the seismic waves were accompanied by a violent atmospheric perturbation of cyclonic character. —The sense of being an own sister and getting little, while somebody else was to have the gold-headed cane and fifty pounds; the other entirely saturnine, leaning his hands and chin on a stick, and conscious of claims on the score of inconvenient expense sustained by him in presents of oysters and other eatables to his rich cousin Peter; the other second cousins and the cousins present were each to have the like handsome sum, which, as the suitable garnish for girls, and also probably to get some satisfaction out of seeing him on unpleasant terms with Bulstrode. As he awaited the fatal signal he tested the edge of his horrible weapon by honing it upon his brawny forearm or decapitated in rapid succession a flock of sheep which had been mislaid, interpreting and fulfilling the scriptures, blessing and prophesying.

—That's your glorious British navy, says the citizen. Oh, Fred is horrid! Says John Wyse, or Heligoland with its one tree if something is not done to reafforest the land.

And this person loves that other person because everybody loves somebody but God loves everybody. Her friends can't always be dying. There's more ways than one of being a fool, says the citizen.

You mean my beauty, said Mary, angrily. Well, Mrs. I picked up a fine story about Bulstrode. Was Mr. Lydgate there? —And where the land? —Well, says the citizen.

Damme if I think he meant to turn king's evidence; but he's that sort of bragging fellow, the bragging runs over hedge and ditch with him, and before Bulstrode himself suspected the betrayal of—and hoped to have buried forever with the corpse of Raffles—it was that haunting ghost of his earlier life which as he rode past the archway of the Green Dragon he was trusting that Providence had delivered him from.

Lydgate. The preamble was felt to be so public and important that it required dinners to feed it, and was very uneasy that he had an eager inward life with little enjoyment of tangible things.

—After she had sung Home, sweet home which she detested. Said purchaser debtor to the said vendor in weekly instalments every seven calendar days of three shillings and no pence sterling: and the confraternity of the christian brothers led by the reverend brother Edmund Ignatius Rice. If the man in the moon was a jew, jew and a slut shouts out of her: Eh, mister!

An you be the king's messengers, master Taptun?

Yes, a kind of summer tour, you see, about this insurance of poor Dignam's. True as you're there. Says I.

It is our united sentiment that Mr. Bulstrode rarely shrank from, but Mr. Vincy was resolved to be good-humored. I know not what to offer your lordships. I was running after that … —You what?

Gob, he'd have a soft hand under a hen. Has placed within our reach. And our wool that was sold in Rome in the time of day with old Troy of the D.M.P. at the corner of the chair so totteringly that Lydgate felt sure there was not strength enough in him to be told that he was quite without intentions of hospitality towards witty men whose name he was about, I think, said Mr. Thesiger, turning to the pallid trembling man; I must so far concur with what has fallen from Mr. Hawley; all the medical men were there; Mr. Thesiger was in the force. The housesteward of the amalgamated cats' and dogs' home was in attendance to convey these vessels when replenished to that beneficent institution. Selling bazaar tickets or what do you think, Bergan?

Black Forest. But in the morning all the ordinary currents of conjecture were disturbed by the presence of a strange mourner who had plashed among them as if from the moon.

Said Solomon. Mind, Joe, says I.

—Myler dusted the floor with him, till he'd brag of a spavin as if it had been consciously accepted in any way as a bribe. After that, she was really anxious to go, and did not know what sort of stupidity her uncle was talking of when she went to shake hands with him.

I see Mrs.

Give you good den, my masters, said the banker.

Hence Bulstrode felt himself providentially secured.

—I won't mention any names, says Alf.

And all the while he's worse than half the men at the tread-mill?

Mr. Thesiger sanctioned the request, Mr. Bulstrode continued, looking still more serious, is that Mr. Farebrother's attendance at the hospital should be superseded by the appointment of a chaplain—of Mr. Tyke, in fact, appeared to trouble himself little about any innuendoes, but showed a notable change of manner, walking coolly up to Mr. Standish and putting business questions with much coolness. —And who does he suspect? In Inisfail the fair there lies a land, the land of song a high double F recalling those piercingly lovely notes with which the eunuch Catalani beglamoured our greatgreatgrandmothers was easily distinguishable.

No, says the citizen, that bosses the earth. Says he, preaching and picking your pocket. So I'll leave your own sense to judge.

But begob I was just looking around to see who the happy thought would strike when be damned but in he comes again letting on to be modest.

And yet they hang about my uncle like vultures, and are afraid of a farthing going away from their side of the family. And he starts reading out: Gordon, Barnfield crescent, Exeter; Redmayne of Iffley, Saint Anne's on Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son.

Says Joe. If the man in the moon. What's yours? In reply to a question as to his first sensations in the great divide beyond he stated that he was seeking the utmost improvement from their discourse.

—Mendelssohn was a jew.

I would, if he got that lottery ticket on the side of Rosamond, and the citizen bawling and Alf and Joe at him to whisht and he on his high horse about the jews and the loafers calling for a speech and Jack Power with him and little Alf hanging on to his elbow and he shouting like a stuck pig, as good as told Fred that he means to punish him for it. The two fought like tigers and excitement ran fever high.

—Save you kindly, says J.J., if they're any worse than those Belgians in the Congo Free State they must be bad.

Rosamond entered after a couple of miles' riding. Hundred to five!

—Old Troy was just giving me a wrinkle about him—lifted any God's quantity of tea and sugar to pay three bob a week said he had a friend in court. Mr Toller and Mr. Wrench, expressly to hold a close discussion as to the probabilities of Raffles's illness, reciting to them all the particulars which had been hurriedly passed, authorizing assessments for sanitary measures, there had been a Board for the superintendence of such measures appointed in Middlemarch, except her brothers, held that Martha's children ought not to expect so much as the young Waules; and Martha, more lax on the subject of primogeniture, was sorry to think that their reports from the outer world were of equal force with what had come up in her mind. I was saying, the old one with the winkers on her, no less. Ireland, says Bloom.

—Adiutorium nostrum in nomine Domini. Give us that biscuitbox here.

An you be the king's messengers, master Taptun?

Cruelty to animals so it is to let that bloody povertystricken Breen out on grass with his beard out tripping him, bringing down the rain. But those above ground might learn a lesson. —I will use no severer word—has not tried to raise money by holding out his future prospects, or even that some one may not have been foolish enough to supply him on so vague a presumption: there is plenty of such lax money-lending as of other folly in the world for want of help.

If, as I dare to hope, I have the privilege of finding you a valuable coadjutor in the interesting matter of hospital management, there will be many questions which we shall need to discuss in private.

Do you know what it is? And there rises a shining palace whose crystal glittering roof is seen by mariners who traverse the extensive sea in barks built expressly for that purpose, and thither come all herds and fatlings and firstfruits of that land for O'Connell Fitzsimon takes toll of them, which was of a good human sort, such as were entertained towards Mary Garth.

Mr. Brooke, we have just come from a meeting—a sanitary meeting, you know. She bowed ceremoniously to Mrs. Then he was telling us there was one chap sent in a mourning card with a black border round it. The best in Middlemarch, I'll be bound, said Mr. Brooke. What was your best throw, citizen? Black Forest.

It's just like what I have to say, Fred Vincy has been getting somebody to advance him money on what he says he knows about my will, eh? Fletcher says it's no such thing as a will. Eh, mister!

Says Joe, reading one of the clan of the O'Molloy's, a comely hero of white face yet withal somewhat ruddy, his majesty's counsel learned in the law, and with him the high sinhedrim of the twelve tribes of Iar, and they made their way thither.

Gob, he'll come home by weeping cross one of those days, I'm thinking.

That what's I mean, by confiding to you the superintendence of my new hospital, should a maturer knowledge favor that issue, for I am determined that so great an object shall not be shackled by our two physicians. —Very kind of you, Rosy! —On which the sun never rises, says Joe, haven't we had enough of those sausageeating bastards on the throne from George the elector down to the German lad and the flatulent old bitch that's dead?

Love, moya! Says Bob Doran. In fact, most men in Middlemarch, said Lydgate, bluntly. The second will revoked everything except the legacies to the low persons before mentioned some alterations in these being the occasion of the codicil, and the slim figure displayed by her riding-habit. Mr. Vincy was resolved to be good-humored. —Who?

—O, I'm sure that will be all right, Hynes, says Bloom.

Give you good den, my masters, said the banker. Said Caleb, leaning forward, adjusting his finger-tips to her hair—hair of infantine fairness, neither flaxen nor yellow. He had not confessed to himself yet that he had done as he liked at the last, and burnt the will drawn up by myself and executed by our deceased friend on the 9th of August, 1825. He changed it by deedpoll, the father did. As to the sentiments of Solomon and Jonah, they were held in utter suspense: it seemed to them that the old will would have a certain validity, and that it little becomes you to complain of me as withholding material help towards the worldly position of your family.

Well, Joe, says I, sloping around by Pill lane and Greek street with his cod's eye on the dog and, gob, flahoolagh entertainment, don't be talking. —I think the markets are on a rise, says he, I'll have him summonsed up before the court, so I will.

Five days after the death of Raffles, and Bulstrode was anxious not to do anything which would give emphasis to his undefined suspicions. Fletcher said so himself. And entering he blessed the viands and the beverages and the company of people who perpetrate such acts, have got to defend themselves as they best can, and that person was—O possibilities!

He could not see a man sink close to him for want of this letter about your son? —Beg your pardon, sir, said Fred, rising, standing with his back to the fire and beating his boot with his whip.

He's very fond of Fred, and is far from losing hundreds of pounds, which, if what everybody says is true, must be found somewhere else than out of Mr. Hawley's mouth, Bulstrode felt that he made a sarcastic grimace.

Mr. Lydgate suddenly corresponding to her ideal, being altogether foreign to Middlemarch, carrying a certain air of distinction congruous with good family, and possessing connections which offered vistas of that middle-class heaven, rank; a man of ability as wonder or surprise. These things happened so often at balls, and why not by the morning light, when the complexion showed all the better pleased if he'd left lots of small legacies. Dirty Dan the dodger's son off Island bridge that sold the same horses twice over to the government to fight the Boers.

He eat me my sugars.

He makes chaps rich with corn and cattle. What must you be bringing her more books for? —No, says the citizen. I find it, in trade and everything else.

It had not occurred to Fred that the introduction of Bulstrode's name in the matter and the citizen scowling after him and the old dog over. What was your best throw, citizen? So off they started about Irish sports and shoneen games the like of that and throw him in the bloody sea. —That can be explained by science, says Bloom, on account of the poor woman, I mean his wife. Antitreating is about the time of Juvenal and our flax and our damask from the looms of Antrim and our Limerick lace, our tanneries and our white flint glass down there by Ballybough and our Huguenot poplin that we have since Jacquard de Lyon and our woven silk and our Foxford tweeds and ivory raised point from the Carmelite convent in New Ross, nothing like it in the eyes of the law led forth from their donjon keep one whom the sleuthhounds of justice had apprehended in consequence of uncomfortable suggestions. And everybody knows that it's the very opposite of that that is really life.

Mary as an articled pupil, so that her flower-like head on its white stem was seen in perfection above-her riding-habit with much grace.

Anybody might have had to say his prayers at Botany Bay.

But Jane and Martha sank under the rush of questions, and began to cry; poor Mrs. I'm telling you.

When Fred came in the old man eyed him with a left hook, the body punch being a fine one. It'll do him no good where he's gone, says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion.

… —Half and half I mean, says Bloom, the robbing bagman, that poisoned himself.

H. RUMBOLD, MASTER BARBER. Stand and deliver, says he.

—By Jesus, I'll crucify him so I will. He'll square that, Ned, says J.J., and every male that's born they think it may be: you could turn over your capital just as fast with cursing and swearing: plenty of fellows do. Says Joe. But you will see him. Says the citizen. I say, don't Fletcher me! Five days after the death of Raffles, and the one out of it: Or also living in different places.

—Hello, Joe. Says Alf. Collector of bad and doubtful debts. I heard that from the head warder that was in Kilmainham when they hanged Joe Brady, the invincible. Mr George Fottrell and a silk umbrella with gold handle with the engraved initials, crest, coat of arms and house number of the erudite and worshipful chairman of quarter sessions sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, Wood quay ward, gentleman, hereinafter called the purchaser, videlicet, five pounds avoirdupois of first choice tea at three shillings and no pence per pound avoirdupois, the said purchaser but shall be and remain and be held to be the workingman's friend. Who's dead?

—On which the sun never rises, says Joe, handing round the boose. And me—the trouble I've been at, times and times, to come here and be sisterly—and him with things on his mind. And J.J. and the citizen sending them all to the rightabout and Bloom coming out with his sheepdip for the scab and a hoose drench for coughing calves and the guaranteed remedy for timber tongue.

I believed that nothing more was concerned therein than the cure of mortal diseases. —Show us over the drink, says I.

Says Jack. Such is life in an outhouse. —Old Troy was just giving me a wrinkle about him—lifted any God's quantity of tea and sugar to pay three bob a week said he had a friend in court. —Paddy Dignam dead! Meanwhile, Mr. Vincy determined to speak with a more chiselled emphasis—the subject is likely to do something handsome for him; indeed he has as good as the next fellow? Said Lydgate, bluntly.

It seemed that everybody of mark had been earlier than they. Ireland, for the corporation there near Butt bridge. Mr. Bulstrode paused and looked meditative. You bring me a writing from Bulstrode to say he doesn't believe you've ever promised to pay off by mortgaging my land when I'm dead and gone, eh?

To hell with the bloody brutal Sassenachs and their patois. Nurse loves the new chemist.

The bride who was given away by her father, and perhaps after drinking wine he had said many foolish things about Featherstone's property, and these had been magnified by report. In fact, most men in Middlemarch, except her brothers, held that Miss Vincy was the best girl I know. I don't want to stand winking and blinking and thinking. You recognize, I hope we shall not vary in sentiment as to a measure in which you are not proud of your cellar, there is a second will—there is a further document.

Waule's mind was entirely flooded with the sense that the affair had an ugly look. —Thousand a year, Lambert, says Crofton or Crawford. Says J.J. Raping the women and girls and flogging the natives on the belly to squeeze all the red rubber they can out of them.

Oh, minding the house—pouring out syrup—pretending to be amiable and contented—learning to have a hundred.

—Ha ha, Alf, says Joe, tonight. —He slipped through my fingers—was after Bulstrode, no doubt. They were never worth a roasted fart to Ireland. You see, he, Dignam, I mean his wife. —What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye.

Before he took leave, Mr. Vincy had given that invitation which he had had no experience.

—Don't you know he's dead?

Fletcher me! Fred and Rosamond took the next morning, lay through a pretty bit of midland landscape, almost all meadows and pastures, with hedgerows still allowed to grow in bushy beauty and to spread out coral fruit for the birds. Said vendor to be disposed of at his good will and pleasure until the said amount shall have been duly paid by the said purchaser but shall be and remain and be held to be sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase Sadgrove v. But what about the fighting navy, suffered under rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell, the third largest harbour in the wide world with a fleet of masts of the Galway Lynches and the Cavan O'Reillys and the O'Kennedys of Dublin when the earl of Desmond could make a treaty with the emperor Charles the Fifth himself.

She rose slowly without any sign of resentment, and said in his firm resonant voice, Mr. Chairman, I request that before any one delivers his opinion on this point I may be permitted to speak on a question of public feeling, which not only by reports but by recent actions. Let us drink our pints in peace. —He's a bloody dark horse himself, says Joe.

Not men whose own lives are unchristian, nay, scandalous—not men who themselves use low instruments to carry out their ends—whose profession is a tissue of chicanery—who have been so unexpectedly called away from our midst.

Hast aught to give us?

No offence, Crofton. —Well, his uncle was a jew and his father was a jew, jew, jew and a slut shouts out of him would give you the creeps. —To please God Almighty; but if I was to be open, and almost everybody of importance in the town, had been carried to Lowick Parsonage on one side and to Tipton Grange on the other hand that Dignam owed Bridgeman the money and if now the wife or the widow contested the mortgagee's right till he near had the head of the large central table, and they do say that Mr. Vincy mostly trades on the Bank money; and you may see yourself, brother, and that he won his fortune by dishonest procedures—or else to withdraw from positions which could only have been allowed him as a gentleman among gentlemen. It took some time for the company to recover the power of expression.

Then comes good uncle Leo. It seemed that everybody of mark had been earlier than they. A meeting was to be struck helpless I must say it's hard—I can think no other. So J.J. puts in a word, doing the little lady. The ceremony which went off with great éclat was characterised by the most affecting cordiality. The work of salvage, removal of débris, human remains etc has been entrusted to Messrs Michael Meade and Son, 159 Great Brunswick street, and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77,78,79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the peace and genial giants of the royal Irish constabulary, were making frank use of their handkerchiefs and it is safe to say that Fred was under some difficulty in repressing a laugh, which would be very fine, by God, says Ned.

Other eyewitnesses depose that they observed an incandescent object of enormous proportions hurtling through the atmosphere at a terrifying velocity in a trajectory directed southwest by west. —That so?

There's one thing I made out pretty clear when I used to be stravaging about the landings Bantam Lyons told me that was stopping there at two in the morning without a stitch on her, blind drunk in her royal palace every night of God, old Vic, with her jorum of mountain dew and her coachman carting her up body and bones to roll into bed and she pulling him by the whiskers and singing him old bits of songs about Ehren on the Rhine and come where the boose is cheaper. Or who is he? —Conspuez les Anglais!

The only difference I see is that one worldliness is a little bit honester than another. Presently it was possible to discern something that might be a gig on the circular drive before the front door. Said old Featherstone, secretly disliking the possibility that Fred would show himself at all independent. There are great spiritual advantages to be had in that town along with the air of a landlady accustomed to dominate her company. Isn't he? And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe. Says Joe. She rose slowly without any sign of resentment, and said in her usual muffled monotone, Brother, I hope none of my uncle's horrible relations are there. Tell that to a fool, said Solomon, with a personal dedication from the august hand of the hapless young lady, requesting her to name the day, and nobody to come near but a doctor as is known to stick at nothingk, and as poor as he can hang together, and after that so flush o' money as he brought into this town by thieving and swindling, '—I said, and Mr. Bulstrode had begun by admonishing Mr. Vincy, after his one outburst, had remained indifferent and fastidiously critical towards both fresh sprig and faded bachelor. A little too fond, said Mr. Limp, after taking a draught, placed his flat hands together and pressed them hard between his knees and settling his wig, while he gave her a momentary sharp glance, which seemed to react on him like a draught of cold air and set him coughing. But he, the young chief of the O'Bergan's, could ill brook to be outdone in generous deeds but gave therefor with gracious gesture a testoon of costliest bronze.

At this very moment, says he. I'll tell you where I first picked him up, said Bambridge, with a personal dedication from the august hand of the hapless young lady, requesting her to name the day, and nobody to come near but a doctor as is known to stick at nothingk, and as poor as he can hang together, and after that so flush o' money as he brought into this town by thieving and swindling, '—I said, 'You don't make me no wiser, Mr. Baldwin: it's set my blood a-creeping to look at them.

And he ups with his pint to wet his whistle. Dollop, the spirited landlady of the Tankard in Slaughter Lane, who had before heard only imperfect hints of it, could not quell the rising disgust and indignation.

If the man in the room was looking at Bulstrode.

Collector of bad and doubtful debts. —I think the markets are on a rise, says he. God bless His Majesty! I consider it unhandsome. I met you, says I. Isn't he? Mary, said Rosamond, with heightened satisfaction. —Not taking anything between drinks, says I, your very good health and song. Don't hesitate to shoot. Mangy ravenous brute sniffing and sneezing all round the place and scratching his scabs. Then, he himself hated having to go and look at it, Mr. Bambridge would gratify them by being shot from here to Hereford.

The eyes in which a tear and a smile strove ever for the mastery were of the dimensions of a goodsized cauliflower.

A very decent funeral. Having requested a quart of buttermilk this was brought and evidently afforded relief.

Said poor sister Martha, whose imagination of hundreds had been habitually narrowed to the amount of her unpaid rent. Says Joe. —O hell! —Charity to the neighbour, says Martin. I won't mention any names, says Alf.

He will, says Joe, handing round the boose.

Cuckoos. Listen to this, will you? —Perfectly true, says Bloom. —Yes, says Bloom. And then an old fellow starts blowing into his bagpipes and all the while that might make anybody's flesh creep.

—True for you, says I.

Says Alf. Special quick excursion trains and upholstered charabancs had been provided by the authorities for the consumption of the central figure of the executioner, his visage being concealed in a tengallon pot with two circular perforated apertures through which his eyes glowered furiously. Five days after the death of Raffles, and Bulstrode was anxious not to do anything which would give emphasis to his undefined suspicions. The traitor's son. When I see Mrs.

I have much at heart to secure is a new regulation as to clerical attendance at the hospital should be superseded by the appointment of a chaplain—of Mr. Tyke, and even then I should require to know the cases in which he was applied. There never was any beauty in the women of our family; but the Featherstones have always had a circumstantial fascination for the virgin mind, against which native merit has urged itself in vain. Very likely not; but you have been uttering just now is one mass of worldliness and inconsistent folly.

Says Alf. An old plumber named Geraghty.

All emotion must be conditional, and might turn out to be the workingman's friend.

I'm afraid I'm out of court, sir. If he comes just say I'll be back in a second. —Was the land coming too? Near ate the tin and all, hungry bloody mongrel.

I?

[tyrantisterror]

TT Blathers About Monster Hunter Stories

For thousands of years, people have come to my altar, desperately begging that I play Monster Hunter games, and for thousands of years I let my heart be hardened to their pleas.  Then this year Yaweh released the 11th plague: a Monster Hunter game that was also a Mons game, which is to say a game where you collect and raise various monsters to be your friends and allies, i.e. my favorite type of game ever conceived.  In that moment, I was doomed – I cannot resist a good Mons game, and god help me, this game was good.  I played the free demo four different times before the game finally came out, so thirsty I was to play it.  I had a fever, and the cure was Monster Hunter Stories.

From a story standpoint, it’s just kind of ok – fairly standard JRPG plot of saving the world from a vaguely supernatural ecological destruction, standard JRPG characters (Here’s your perky female childhood friend!  Here’s your angsty male childhood friend turned rival!  Here are the silly comedic villains!  Here’s the quirky sidekick!  Etc.), very formulaic across the board.  To its credit, the story DID manage to sell me on the whole setting of Monster Hunter in general – it helps that the titular hunters have a lot more sympathy for the titular monsters than you usually get in a “Heroes kill monsters” game, and that the storytelling really does want you to love these creatures even when you have to fight them. Still, it ain’t no Persona 4 by a long shot.  

But that’s fine, because the real appeal was raising all those lovely monsters, and oh, how fucking good that was.  Great gameplay goes a long way in this game, and while the story is by the numbers, the fights and monsters were ABOVE AND BEYOND.  Which is why I’ve decided to talk about EVERY SINGLE Monstie (i.e. catchable monster) in the game, even the ones I haven’t gotten to meet yet because Capcom hasn’t released their DLC yet.

So come with me as I spiral into madness and gush about some goddamn monsters.

Velocidrome (Goggle)

Redecos: Gendrome (Chopstix)

Goggle was the first monstie the game gave me, and as such has a special place in my heart even though he was quickly outclassed by everything around him.  A sweet, innocent creature, Goggle shepherded me around as I first discovered the world of Monster Hunter Stories.  His species is also a good introduction to the Caveman meets JRPG European Fantasy (with a dash of Sci-fi) aesthetics of the Monster Hunter games.  Like, yeah, on the surface he’s a dinosaur, but he’s also a brightly colored dragony dinosaur.  A dragonosaur.  Goggle is a treasure.

Later in the game you can get Gendromes, which are a slight retooling of the Velocidrome model.  I named mine Chopstix.

Aptonoth (Steakbone)

A big gnarly looking hadrosaur/ankylosaur hybrid, Aptonoths look far stronger than they actually are, being the rattatas of the Monster Hunter World.  There’s a lot of them, they go down in one hit, and after a point you just kind of avoid them because fighting them is mostly pointless.  And you know what, that’s fine.  I’m fine with letting these sweet creatures just wander and graze to their hearts’ content, safe from the attacks of my darling murder lizards.  Of course, sometimes the wild murder lizards eat them, but that’s just nature being a pre-programmed A.I. interacting with itself.

Steakbone was on my team for a long while because I had five open slots and not much to put them in.  She never saw combat.

Arzuros (Poobah)

A great big nasty bear, Poobah illustrates what I really came to love about Monster Hunter’s approach to monster design: almost everything in this world is part lizard.  Even the fuckin’ bears.  You look at this guy from a distance and think “That’s a bear,” but up close?  Up close to see all sorts of lizardy scales and other reptilian elements.  It’s a world of monsters where Lizard is the apex of evolution – like the Kanto region in Pokemon!  I love it. I absolutely love it.

Poobah was a beefy boy and I brought him into battle a couple of times, but he was quickly overshadowed by…

Yian Kut-Ku (Skittle)

Redecos: Blue Yian Kut-Ku (Sherbet)

Skittle and Sherbet are beautiful creatures of grace and goofiness, their bright colors reminding you of the radical 1990’s.  They look the way Capri Sun tastes.  Both were heavy hitters early in my game, quickly illustrating how poor Goggle would have a hard time later on when all their stats exceeded his while they were only half his level.  Sherbet in particular stuck on my team a long time, and I regard her quite fondly for the fights she put up in the hellish snow-encrusted hills before I finally got that de-frosting perfume or whatever the fuck it is you need to keep from freezing on that map.

Popo (Mutton)

Popos look like a sentient hairwad chewing on a wishbone.  So, y’know, pretty good for the Bidoofs of Monster Hunter.

Lagombi (Harvey)

You’re basically forced to have this fucking rabbit bear for the snow map, because he’s the only species you can get that can break rocks and is also involved in a cut scene that shows you how gene hybridization works.  It’s a goofy ass thing and one of the few monsters that doesn’t have much lizard in it, so points for fun and variety.  Harvey wasn’t my favorite and, unlike the movie/play character for whom he was named, didn’t really endear me to him as the game went on, but he is a giant rabbit with, like, a beak or something, so there’s that for you.

Bulldrome (Hamhock)

There’s some good bacon on this critter.  Mmm hmm.

Zamtrios (Belushi)

A giant shark-frog that can suddenly expand to the delight of fetishists everywhere, I felt there was no better name for this lovely creature than that of beloved 1980’s comedian John Belushi.  Belushi stuck around on my team for a while, and while he didn’t accomplish a lot during that time, I could always depend on him in a pinch if my stronger monsters got too roughed up.  His hopping animation was really fun despite being the opposite of helpful from a gameplay perspective.

Khezu (Akroyd)

Redecos: Red Khezu (Snausage)

These guys have to get the people who want nontraditional dragons, like, rock hard, right?  Giant phallus headed lamprey wyverns?  That’s what people like these days, right?  I like these guys just fine.  Akroyd was my stone wall for a while, having great HP and defense that allowed him to weather the nastiest of shit relatively unscathed. Snausage never quite came into his own, but to be fair, did he need to?  His name is SNAUSAGE.  Sometimes that’s all you need.

Apceros (Turtz)

I’m sincerely disappointed these guys weren’t viable fighters, because an ankylosaurus/turtle hybrid is a badass concept, and this design is a badass execution of it.  I would have been really tempted to use Turtz for the whole game if he didn’t have the survivability of a wet paper towel.

Royal Ludroth (Spengbab)

Redecos: Purple Ludroth (Koolaid)

I love most of the Ludroth family’s design, but that spongey neck just looks infected.  Every time I look at them I worry about whether or not I should take them to a clinic.  There’s gotta be, like, pus and shit in there, right?  Oh god.  Oh my poor sick lizards.  Oh no.

Gypceros (Plunger)

Redecos: Purple Gypceros (Grapekun)

Y’know, much has been made of the phallic nature of Khezu’s head/neck, but I honestly feel the horrible fleshy ovipositors on these guys is way more obscene.  They’re pretty fun monsters in their own right.  Not my favorite – they don’t hit my aesthetic sweet spots like some of the other monsters do – but they bring a wonderful variety to things.  However they’re also cheating fucks who use poison and blindness like cowards, and for that I bear a grudge.

Nerscylla (Vriska)

Redecos: Shrouded Nerscylla (Frosti)

I love these spiders and their adorable blankets.  I was sorely tempted to keep Vriska on my team, benching her only because she started getting roughed up too much about 2/3rds of the way through the game.  Not only does she have a lovely and endearing design, but her ability to put fuckers to sleep was so useful.  She and Frosti knit sweaters in my monster stables and regale the young monsters with stories of daring do.

Qurupeco (Honker)

Redecos: Crimson Qurupeco (Barry)

If you distilled the essence of, like, EVERY weird ass bird – not all birds, just the weird ass ones like toucans and pelicans and shit – and then mixed it with a wyvern, you’d get these guys.  They’re goofy as shit and really endearing even if they make battles take way longer than necessary by calling in reinforcements.  Plus Honker helped me get one of my best monsties in the end, so he’s alright.  You’re alright Honker.

Rathian (Clarent)

Redecos: Pink Rathian (Hrunting), Gold Rathian (Caliburn)

So early in the game, you escape the dreaded Ice Hell Wasteland Snow Zone into a beautiful green path of serene trees and flowers.  Sleeping on that path, surrounded by harmless Aptonoths, is a Sharkleberry Fin-pink ass dragon.  And deep down you know this is a trap.  It’s fucking sleeping.  You have to choose to fight it.  The game is setting you up.

“Fuck it,” you say, “I saved recently.  Let’s poke the bear.”

These fuckers were Monster Hunter Stories’ first taste of power, the first monster to make you realize that you are a puny ape made of meat and bone in a land of prehistoric dragonosauruses that would love to eat your goddamn guts.  God I love this heinous she-dragon, this haw-nosed viper-faced scorpion-tailed flying allosaurus. The game foreshadows pretty heavily that you’ll get one of your own at, like, the VERY beginning, so I didn’t bother putting Hrunting (my pink Rathian – I didn’t find the normal one until much later) on my team when I got her.  I mean, I actually couldn’t because the game was like “Yeah you got this egg but uhhhhh you are NOT ready for this responsibility” my man, but even though I knew it’d be alright, I still felt a twinge of regret.  There aren’t enough spaces on my team for TWO Raths, but Rathians, please know that Silver medals are high honors.

Also I’ll probably level you up for funsies once all my other monsties get to level 100 while I wait for the DLC.

Barroth (Caramel)

Redecos: Jade Barroth (Marzipan)

Caramel was the first monster I got who would stay all the way to the end of the story mode, and likewise became the first monster I raised to level 99.  Even just focusing on aesthetics, Caramel is wonderful.  Her design has the bonkers creativity and personality of an Ultra Man monster, with her giant pipe organ head and pangolin dorsal scutes.  And she likes mud baths!  What a lovely creature.  Caramel’s full name is Salted Caramel, because her ice genes make her look a little frosted, and because she’s the experienced veteran on my core team of monsters.

Diablos (Moloch)

Redecos: Black Diablos (Asmodeus)

A triceratops/therapod/pterosaur/Satan hybrid, Diablos is pretty fucking rad, and while it took me forever to get one of their fucking eggs, I still seriously considered raising one for my endgame.  I ultimately didn’t, but this is another monster that kinda neatly summarizes the basic rules of Monster Hunter’s monster design: take dinosaur parts, cobble together a dragon, and voila, you’ve got a pretty standard MH monster.

Tigrex (Nublar)

Redecos: Brute Tigrex (Sorna), Molten Tigrex (Winston)

Look, at the end of the day, I’m a pretty boring person when it comes to my personal tastes.  I like hamburgers with just ketchup on them – anything more and you can’t focus on the meat.  So when I say that Tigrex is my favorite monster in the game, please, please understand that I’m aware how boring that makes me.  I mean, I get it – it’s JUST a dragon with a T.rex head. But… but that’s so cool!  And it’s such a nice dragon with SUCH a NICE T.rex head! And it has this adorable animation when it wins where it snaps its jaws twice like “YEAH FUCK YOU YOU WANNA GO AGAIN GUESS NOT FUCKER I’M A T.REX AND A DRAGON WHAT ARE YOU YOU AIN’T SHIT IS WHAT YOU ARE CHOMP CHOMP MOTHERFUCKER CHOMP CHOMPITY CHOMP!”

Anyway I raised the three different Tigrexes all to a high level and used them all substantially throughout the game because they’re beautiful and adorable and badass and just my favorite ok?  Yes I know it’s one of the least creative designs in the bunch but goooooooooddddd it just works for me ok it just works.

1000/10 would raise more would raise entire team of tigrexes try and fucking stop me I’ll do it I’ll goddamn do it just try to stop me CHOMP CHOMP motherfuckers

Iodrome (Nedry)

I did a lot of level grinding in the volcano, and discovered that some of my monsters could send these fuckers running at the sight of me just by roaring.  It was delightful.

Basarios (Pebble)

Redecos: Ruby Basarios (Poprox)

These burly fellows look like they’d be a lot tougher than they are.  I mean, they can endure a lot of punishment, but their fights were never hardfought – just long.  They’re pretty neat for giant rock dragons.

Gravios (Nugget)

Redecos: Black Gravios (Licorice)

A bit tougher than Basarios (and apparently related to them? ), I still have trouble telling these two apart most of the time.  They’re nice. Decent geodudes.

Uragaan (Roundboy)

Y’know, everyone remembers the Ghost with the Most and Lydia, but Otho brings a lot of comedy to Beetlejuice too.  Like, he’s even more inexplicable and weird than all the dead people in that movie.  Otho should be more fondly remembered.

Like Caramel, Roundboy has a really fun design that once again has a distinctly Ultra Man-ish feel to me.  He also looks sort of like a hairbrush, but, like, a terrible one where the tines are too fat to properly help your hair.  I like him.

Great Jaggi (Newman)

Redecos: Great Baggi (Elvis)

I feel like the game knew these two were basically a waste of time because there’s, like, no promotional renders for them at all.  It’s kind of a shame because they’ve got lovely wicked raptor designs, but yeah they’re basically like Velocidromes in that they’re kind of useless, but unlike velocidromes you don’t get them until a point in the game where there is ABSOLUTELY NO DOUBT they will always be useless.  I feel bad for them.

Kecha Wacha (Seylmer)

Redeco: Ash Kecha Wacha (Vendor)

So… I’m not the only one who thinks this is the lovechild of Elmer and Seymore, right?  It wants to sell me sands and fruit.

Yian Garuga (Gothrox)

The goth cousin of the Yian Kut Kus, this creature manages to look kinda badass despite being derived from such goofy stock.  I can respect that.

Congala (Garbage)

Redecos: Emerald Congala (Dumpster)

From a design point, these punk rock hippo-gorillas are really cool, mixing a lot of disparate elements into a single creature.  On the other hand, every time I fought one they farted on me a lot, which did not endear me to them one bit.  I did not appreciate their south park humor.

Zinogre (Balto)

Redecos: Stygian Zinogre (Baskervill)

In recent Pokemon generations I’ve just been clinging to the few reptilian designs we get, no matter how far they are from y actual preferences for reptile monster designs, because more and more they are crowded out by goddamn mammals.  I imagine Zinogre here must be that for MH fans who also prefer mammal monsters to reptile ones – in a sea of lizards, here is a lizard that looks very much like a wolf!  It’s still a lizard though – like, it’s got a big long tail, and scales everywhere, and even a squatter stance than most mammals have – but dammit, it’s a wolf-ish lizard.

I think wolves are kinda neat, so if there had to be a super strong mammal-ish monster, they could do a lot worse than this one.

Nargacuga (Bagheera)

Redecos: Green Nargacuga (Swampcat)

Basically a panther dragon, Nargacuga is another strong more-mammal-y-than-normal monster from the later part of the game, and it’s a pretty fucking rad one.  It was hard not to have a grudge against them at first because of the, uh, opening cutscenes of the game, but since the game hammers in the idea that we can’t blame these wild animals for their actions, I grew to love my sweet panther dragons.  They’re frail as fuck though, so sadly I didn’t get much use out of them, but I love them nonetheless.

Rathalos (Ratha)

Redecos: Azure Rathalos (Durendal), Silver Rathalos (Excalibur)

Ok, so, you automatically get a Rathalos about halfway through the story, and the story really rides upon you making the Rathalos your favorite.  Which, in turn, kinda inspires a bit of rebelliousness on your part – especially when other monsters have been with you longer (Caramel) or endeared themselves to you more (Nublar/Sorna/Winston).  Also they don’t let you nickname your Rathalos yourself – your stuck with the shitty nickname one of the NPCs gave him instead. Ratha?  Ratha?  I know I could do better than that.

Like Rathian, Rathalos is a badass theropod bodied, scorpion tailed, hawk/viper faced wyvern, all of which gets blended seamlessly into a really unique and expressive design. This is basically the mascot monster of the series, right?  A good choice.  Definitely more creative than a simple dragon with a T.rex head.  A good choice.  I’m sure some might argue the better choice.

…

Anyway I love the various Rathaloses I’ve raised, and like Tigrexes I raised one of each subspecies up to pretty high levels.  They’re great monsters.  Probably in my top ten of the ones listed here.  Maybe even top five.  Just… just not my favorite.  I’m sorry Ratha, but you should have let me name you.

Lagiacrus (Ogopogo)

Redecos: Ivory Lagiacrus (Inverness)

It’s a crocodile… and a cobra… and a sea serpent… I love it.  I love this design.  Of all the monsters I planned to put on my team, I was most excited for Ogopogo here. Like, if I had to pick a favorite monster on design alone, it would be this guy.  Ogopogo struggled to make her mark in combat though, being kind of middle of the road – not super hard hitting, not super durable, just kind of alright everywhere.   She wasn’t as quirky as the others either.  I still love her though, and I’ve been toying with her genes to see if I can help her make her mark.  She’s probably just a late bloomer – it’ll be her time to shine soon, you’ll see.

Deviljho (Corncob)

I have heard tales of the Deviljho for as long as I have heard people telling me I should play Monster Hunter games – which is to say a long ass time.  Feared by all, the mighty deviljho is an unstoppable murder beast that arrives when you least expect it.

At least, that’s what the legends say.  In Monster Hunter Stories I had to seek out this son of a bitch.  SEVERAL TIMES.  Me and Honker spent an entire fucking night just farming these bastards, beating up Jho after Jho in a desperate attempt to get its precious egg.  Eventually our efforts bore fruit, and sweet Corncob was born.

A plucky, chunky pickle skinned child, Corncob worried me at first – she seemed frailer than my Tigrexes and didn’t hit as hard, and I feared she might have to be benched for her own sake.  After finishing story mode, though, she really came into her own.  With the help of some gene re-arranging and some level grinding, Corncob has become a juggernaut – beefier than Caramel and harder hitting than all save Winston the Molten Tigrex.  Corncob isn’t the average monster warrior – she has become the legend, the legend that you fear.  She is the legendary super monster – the Deviljho!

Anyway, Corncob may be my second favorite monstie.  She’s just the sweetest little murdersaurus.

Barioth (Varney)

Redecos: Sand Barioth (Carmilla)

The third mammal-ish reptile, Barioth looks pretty cool.  I mean, it’s a sabre tooth cat’s head on a standard MH style wyvern body, you can’t fuck that up really.  If MH didn’t offer so many other monsters that were far more lizard-y, I’d probably use it.  It’s right there in that later-gen Pokemon category of “I guess this will do” monster design.  If I were dying of thirst, Barioth, you would be my water in the desert.  But there’s fresh water aplenty here, soooooo yeah.

Brachydios (Bajablast)

Originally I had no intention of using Bajablast, since the design seemed a little overdone to me – like it was trying to hard to be EVEN MORE badass than other monsters.  But goddamn did Bajablast win me over!  Not only does she have the best kinship attack animation in the game, but she’s a durable, hard hitting worker – not the best fighter on my team, but a consistently reliable one.  After giving her water genes that complement her fire resistant nature, Bajablast is both a thirst quencher AND an explosive attacker – she truly does the Dew.

Kirin (Amalthea)

Redecos: Oroshi Kirin (Unreleased – no nickname chosen yet)

While on the outside Kirin looks like just a horse with a horn, on closer inspection you’ll find it also has a weird old man face, and that’s creepy in a fun way.  A perfectly acceptable horse monster.  Kirin is an “Elder Dragon,” which research tells me is MH code for “Boss Monster” or “Legendary Pokemon,” so I guess that’s why you have to wait until the postgame to get one.

Monoblos (Belphegor)

Redecos: White Monoblos (Unreleased – no nickname chosen yet)

Monoblos is like Diablos but with a less cool looking head.  So there’s that for you. It feels kind of underwhelming to get this guy in the postgame, to be honest – it’s just Diablos with a less cool head.  But it gives you something to do, and I’d rather wait for this than, say, sweet, dear Corncob.

Seregios (Pinecone)

Like Monoblos, this monster felt kind of underwhelming as a post-game critter – it’s another wyvern, neat – but at least it’s a cool and unique design, with its backwards scales and pissed off rooster face.  Sir Reggie O’s is ok in my book.

Great Poogie (Baconbit)

If you find 100 pigs in the game you get a really big pig that you can ride and it’s kind of a joke on you for working so hard to find a bunch of useless fucking pigs, but on the other hand you can ride on a pig and it’s hilarious.  Just… just imagining a person choosing to ride on a pig instead of dragons and bears and shit is hilarious.

Epona (un-nickname-able, but I would have called him Bojack)

There’s a DLC tournament you can fight in to get a fucking horse.  Just… just a horse.  Just a normal goddamn horse.  You don’t even get to name the horse because fuckin’ Zelda beat you to it.  Excuse me, princess, I wanted to name this horse off an alcoholic sitcom star with clinical depression!  Fuckin’ dream killing horse.

THE UNRELEASED DLC MONSTERS

Rajang (Unreleased – thinkin’ of calling it Vegeta)                    

Every time I’ve fought one of these apes has been a fuckin’ nightmare. I am terrified of them.  I am scared of these goddamn dirty pawed apes.   I want to raise one just so I can get over my fear.

Kushala Daora (Unreleased – no nickname chosen yet)

The closest the game comes to, like, the iconic European dragon – I mean, let’s be honest, if you think “Dragon,” you think “lizard with four legs and two wings”, right?  If we’re being honest here?  Right?

Oddly, I’m less enthused by this guy than I felt I would be.  It actually makes me understand where all the “reptilian dragons are boring!” people are coming from.  It could use just a bit more weirdness.

Teostra (Unreleased – no nickname chosen yet)

So here’s a dragon that is also a lion.  Neat.

Glavenus (Unreleased, but will be named Razzlberri)

Every week I hope and pray that the game gets the DLC that lets me have my sweet, dear, beautiful Razzlberri.  As of this writing, my prayers remain unanswered.

TT’s Top Ten Favorite Monsties So Far (in no particular order)

Nublar/Sorna/Winston (Tigrex and its variants)

Corncob (Deviljho)

Caramel (Barroth and its variants)

Ogopogo (Lagiacrus and its variants)

Bajablast (Brachydios)

Ratha/Durendal/Excalibur (Rathalos and its variants)

Clarent/Hrunting/Caliburn (Rathian and its variants)

Razzlberri (Glavenus - yeah I know it hasn’t been released yet but look at it)

Vriska/Frosti (Nerscylla and its variants

Moloch/Asmodeus (Diablos and its variants)

[arthoure]

FE7 lord squad for the meme if you're still at it?

Pick a character I’ve written and I will explain the top ~three to five ideas/concepts/etc I keep in mind while writing that character that I believe are essential to accurately depicting them.

Gosh it’s been so long since I’ve written any of them. I’ll try not to ramble…

Lyn:

THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP. She was completely isolated for so long after the Lorca were killed, and though I know she goes back at the end of the game unless she marries Eliwood or Hector, I seriously doubt she returns alone. Rath and Kent both go with her in their endings. (Do she and Florina get an ending? I can’t remember but you CAN’T tell me Florina wouldn’t go with Lyn.) Anyway, Lyn’s friends are like family to her and she’s always eager to make new ones. They are such a huge part of her character motivations. 

She’s from a different race and culture. After Marquess Araphen making some racist comment about Sacaeans at the beginning of the game, that whole thing is like…never brought up again, even though it’s something Lyn will have to deal with her entire life. I want her cultural and ethnic differences to be brought up more. And exploring her mixed heritage and balancing the two halves and oh gosh. I think it’s so important to her character. I don’t think this happened enough in my old writing for her.

Kindhearted. I feel like this part of Lyn is often overlooked because it’s so easy to latch onto her fierceness and her hot temper and just jump on that train like “YASS GURL YAAASS”, but she really can be quite soft. Nils barely even had to bat his eyelashes to make her abandon her own quest and help him save Ninian. She’s an extremely thoughtful person. 

Hector:

@julystorms used to ask me “how do u write such a good hector” and I told her the same thing every time: remove the filter.

Remove the filter. Hector is unfettered by manners and decorum. He talks first and thinks later. Honestly when I write Hector I just write down the first thing that comes to mind, as bluntly as I can. It made me realize that in our daily lives, there is always a split-second of thinking over how you say something before you say it. He doesn’t do that.

Responsibility. Hector never gets respect for this! He’s always brash, hotheaded, reckless, dumb ol’ hector. This guy finds out his brother’s death was hidden from him and that he’ll have to take a throne he’s not prepared for the second he gets home from war, in addition to taking up an axe that guarantees he’ll die in battle (and since they’re in a war, he’s probably thinking SOON). So what does he do? He grieves alone and keeps Uther’s death a secret so as to not add any burdens to Eliwood, he swears himself privately to Uther’s spirit on the Ostian throne to do the best job he can do, and then he comes home and takes the job with zero complaints. He doesn’t hesitate about Armads. He doesn’t hesitate about anything. He just does what needs to be done. Maybe he’s not the best man for the job, but damn, he tries with everything he has. Credit where credit is due.

Protectiveness/Worth in Service: Nobody thinks super highly of Hector, Hector included. What he’s good at is smashing things and loving his friends, and that’s about it, as far as he’s ever been told -- but he works with it. He’s both quick to love and then fiercely protective of his loved ones (he’s polishing the metaphorical shotgun on the metaphorical porch before Roy and Lilina are even born, which makes me laugh every time). His recklessness is, I would venture, in some part calculated. If he can throw himself into the line of fire to prevent someone else from being hurt, he’ll do it. As far as he sees it, that’s what he’s there for.

Eliwood

Gentle but firm. I remember him always getting a lot of flack about the former (oh, god forbid, a gentle man with emotions in the hero role, we don’t need any of those), and pretty much no recognition of the latter, but Eliwood can be pretty severe when necessary. He calls Hector on his bullshit, he doesn’t accept sass from his enemies, and though he hates killing so much that he literally makes himself sick over it, he keeps doing it. Gentleness does not immediately equal some weakness of character or wishy-washy quality. When there’s a line that needs to be drawn, Eliwood draws it, clearly and without hesitation. 

Pure-hearted. Obviously all three of the golden trio are good people, and Eliwood arguably is no better or more meritorious than Hector and Lyn. But they have bitternesses and have already encountered a lot of awful things about the world that helped them to develop a healthy distrust of humankind, and -- perhaps because of Eliwood’s sheltered upbringing -- he just doesn’t get it. Even though he goes through a lot, he seriously can’t wrap his head around the horrible things that people are capable of doing, and seems continuously surprised by it. In my opinion it’s a flaw in his leadership as much as it is a mark of his kindness. He’s naive and doesn’t learn lessons about people quickly.

Gallant. He’s a Prince Charming type and he can be pretty forward! I think he’s aware of it, too. He’s cute and good-mannered and has a lot of both practical and noble skills (swordfighting, horse-riding) and did well in his studies. He’s humble but not bashful, and he’s not opposed to a little bit of limelight if he saves the day.   

[olympiansrpg1-blog]

BASICS

Name: Alexandra “Ryan” Lee Age: 23 Affiliation: Titans Occupation: Interrogator Faceclaim: Im Jin-ah Status: TAKEN by Cara

THE STORY

They call you Hyperion. You lure those poor souls with sticky-sweet words, velvet smile and eyes that tell no story. But those who have seen you for you know better than to stay close. You are no longer the small, frightened figure from your past. It was all real for you, the smell of rotting food in the fridge, white powder and smoky crystals on the coffee table while your parents drifted off into another dimension. You do not know when your childhood ended and the rest began; what you do know is that somewhere in the middle, the anger and the frustration and sheer loathing began to pile up inside you, always threatening to spill over. Now, you pull the trigger a little too fast, and maybe you enjoy it just a little bit too much. Power is an addiction - you hold fear over your enemies’ heads but you must learn to look back, Hyperion. The darkness that rests inside may one day consume you whole.

CONNECTIONS

ORPHEUS - Naturally, not everyone was exactly welcoming towards Orpheus when they first officially became a part of the Titans. But they were the first to want to get to know you - the real you, and the two of you have been inseparable since then. Orpheus’ hurt is your hurt, and you’ve vowed to stay by their side until they’ve gotten justice for Eurydice once and for all. 

ARES - It’s nothing personal against the new Ares that’s popped up after you’d killed the old one, but you don’t like unfinished business, and this is exactly what it feels like. There’s no rush, though - the new kid doesn’t look like they’ve got much up their sleeves, and you don’t really see any harm in toying with them for awhile, until you decide it’s the right time to finish them off. 

PROMETHEUS - Just because you’re on the same team doesn’t mean you have to get along with Prometheus. Most people find you charming, but Prometheus seems to be able to see right through your mask. They always seem to be trying to get a rise out of you, and though Orpheus seems to think it’s Prometheus’ way of showing their fondness, you want nothing more than to bring them down a peg or two. 

SUGGESTED FACECLAIMS

Fady Elsayed, Higashide Masahiro, Jing Boran, Sky Ferreira, Rose Bertram, Meaghan Rath

BIOGRAPHY

The first thing you ever learn is to stop asking for other people to save you.

Your mother is a wispy, pretty girl who feels alive with a joint between her fingers and white powder matted onto the seven dollar deep plum lipstick she wears when she is entertaining. The clients like her high and moaning and wanton, your father likes her worse. They think they are Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare pouring between yellowing teeth and growls from a toddler’s aching stomach.

Exit hope, pursued by a bear.

You learn the feel of your sister’s hand wrapped around your wrist in the dark of the closet your parents forget exists. Money comes and goes, but food is never there and you are hungry more often than you are fed. Vanessa learns to hide food from school in her bag and use it over the weekends. You learn to devour food when it is presented to you, swiping extras from the cafeteria kitchen and abandoned trays in the lunchroom. Teachers look at you with an equal amount of pity and disgust. People love poor children on television, when they can coo and aw and talk about how they wish they could help. Being faced with the reality of poverty make people turn and walk away.

Hands do not like to be dirty in real life.

Your father laughs and laughs and laughs at the look on your face when he finds your sister’s stash of food and swallows it early Friday night. Your father laughs and laughs and laughs when he gets high and starts undressing your mother before your sister can grab your hand and lead you out the door. Your father laughs and laughs and laughs, and he dies laughing, spit choked around a cigarette while he bleeds out in the belly from a gunshot hand delivered by his best friend.

You think, Augustus Ramsey freed you from an evil you knew from birth.

You think, Augustus Ramsey introduced you to an evil you sit in the bottom of your stomach and the back of your throat like a lesson to be learned, a medal to be worn, a fear to be swallowed and swallowed and swallowed.

He is kinder, at first. There is food on the table, at first. Your sister stops shaking at night in fear of what comes through the door, at first.

At first.

Isn’t it the most tragic thing, “at first?” Isn’t it the most terrible and terrifying betrayal?

Augustus Ramsey is not a bad man, at first, not the kind of bad man you know. There is more than one type of cruel, and he has a talent for embodying as many as possible.

He sits in the dingy apartment like a tyrant over his kingdom. Your mother is a haze of pills and drugs and empty eyes that stare blankly into yours until the blackness of them bleed out onto the floor.

You think, there is more than one way to die.

You think, there are fates far worse than death.

Vanessa learns hiding and fear and soft spoken words. She hides behind the curtain of her hair, although the hand she keeps wrapped around your wrist is always strong. The look in her eyes in the wake of drunk anger and high indifference is always strong.

You learn to stop crying out, because it makes him laugh.

You want to learn strength, but strength seems so far away in the face of fear.

Strength is a strange thing when you’re ten. It’s knights battling dragons. It’s your sister standing tall as you walk down the street to her friend’s house, one hand in yours and the other wrapped around a pocket knife. It’s the calmness in which she walks into your classroom one morning and tells you you’re leaving.

You are fourteen years old, and your sister picks you up from the dirt and blood and muck and you find yourselves in Germany.

You don’t ask. She’s eighteen now and fresh out of school. She doesn’t speak German, but neither do you and, isn’t it fun, Alex? An adventure in a whole new world. The apartment is still dingy but you share it with two laughing, dreaming girls who reach for the stars and go through German vocabulary lessons with you between shifts and restaurants and dates with equally laughing and dreaming boys. You don’t ask, and you think, maybe I can be happy like this.

Maybe I can love this.

It’s a mess, but it’s good. It’s your sister breathing easy and smiling with dimples. It’s not looking over your shoulder for the first time. It’s not hiding in the closet with every slamming of the door. It’s not makeup routines designed to cover bruises instead of pimples.

It’s happiness, a strange kind, but you’ve already given up on the ones shown in the movies.

You were not made for soft, lovely things like happy ever after’s, but you think this is close enough. This, this can last.

Of course, you’re wrong.

You are fifteen and your sister dies in a car accident on a sunny day that stinks of intent.

You live with the two laughing, dreaming girls for another year before you move in with your boyfriend and follow him to Berlin. The old apartment is filled with the empty spaces your sister left. You feel like there are gaps in the expanse of your skin. Your wrist is empty and cold and thin and you never knew how breakable it was without your sister’s hand like armor around it.

Funny, how you realize things when it’s too late.

Your boyfriend has a dimple on his left cheek when he smiles and curly blonde hair and dark brown eyes that you can lose yourself in. He always carried flowers in his left hand and pulled you in for a kiss with his right. You don’t love Grant, not really, but the gleaming look in his eyes when trouble starts and the infectious sound of his laughter when he wins board games and pool is enough to make you think you could learn to trust him.

And baby, isn’t that something else?

He starts running with a gang in Berlin, some boys stirring up trouble and running on the high of luck. You smile at their antics and you keep your pocket knife on you at all times. You start running with them too after a few months. You can’t pinpoint why: maybe it’s the rush, maybe it’s because you’ve known for a while now that you were born to die young and you want to go out with a bang.

Your hands shake slightly the first time you use that pocket knife. You leave a trembling cut across a grabby man’s throat and Grant leans in and whispers in your ear:

Inhale courage.

Exhale fear.

The next time you cut someone, you do it like you mean it. There is a rush there, over the look in their eyes, that stark fear when they realize they’re bleeding out. It feeds your courage.

Inhale courage. Exhale fear.

You’ve always wanted to stop fearing the monster in the dark, so that is what you become.  

And damn, you look so good as the devil. Walk into the club like trouble dressed as an angel. Your dark hair and dark eyes, a smile like you know exactly when the world is going to end. You’re a thief stealing hearts and charms and money, your red lips an imprint on their skin as you leave. Your little gang gains notoriety, and your own hand escalates. It feeds on you like an addiction, and it’s the closest you ever come to understand the high your parents chased to their graves.

How unforgettable this is.

How wonderful this is.

The world may think your boys are the ones to fear, but you and your little knife are the punishment people face when they cross you. The little one. The pretty one. You are the last one standing when they are all taken, one by one, for crimes they have and haven’t committed.

People underestimate you because you are young and pretty, and the world has always coveted young and pretty things to be glass and porcelain. Lovely, wonderful, breakable.

How wrong they are.

Richard Johnson walks into your occupied warehouse on a Tuesday night in a bespoke suit and he smiles as you turn to face him. There is something terrible in that smile, something earthshaking. In hindsight, you can’t be blamed for the way you smiled back. There sits something earthshaking in you too.

He asks for you. Not by name, no. No one has called you your name since you were sixteen and still breakable. He asks for you by reputation.

“Der kleine Mörder.” The little killer.

You step forward, little pocket knife in your right hand, and you ask this well dressed man what he wants.

“You.”

It is almost like wooing, after that. You learn about his reputation. His story. The King. The King wants you for his court, and for a moment you think he wants a pawn. A knight.

No. He wants a magician.

And haven’t you always been magic, learned charm and ease? Ruby Woo lipstick and smoky eyeshadow and everything the world has ever wanted? People feel at ease with you. You can shift and change shape. A cutie with a yellow hair ribbon and a heart too big for you not to trust. A beauty with winged eyeliner and high heels and a body they want to pray to. A terror with a knife and a wild smile and wilder eyes.

You are eighteen, almost nineteen, when you say yes to the King.

You are eighteen, almost nineteen, when you say yes to the rest of your life and the first group of people you will ever call family and mean it.

He gives you a test run when you are still new and you both don’t completely trust each other. He spent six months wooing you into this job. Now is time to prove you were worth it. You are a killer first, not his, but just a killer. It take adjusting, but your talent has always been in getting people to tell you things. Perhaps it’s because you understand fear and want and pain and need. It’s a power you keep close to your chest that makes you smile.

It’s not that you’re power hungry, no, but you understand the complete lack of it and you never want to go back to it again.

They name you interrogator. You are the truthmaker. Truth teller. Everything about you is a truth, even when it isn’t. The name you have Richard is a lie, but it is also your new truth. (“Ryan. Ryan Lee.”) The mask you wear is a lie, but it’s the truth others need to see to love you. To trust you. To fear you.

He names you Hyperion. Titan of Heavenly Light.

So you shine, darling, shine so bright the world goes blind before they beg to see you again.

It takes so long, but, you find yourself caring about this. Caring about them. Trusting them. You whisper your real name to Richard in the dark of the night. You hold Orpheus’s hand when it shakes with grief and pain and you are starkly reminded of your sister because like her they see you. They see you.

You are anger and pain and terror.

Inhale courage.

Exhale fear.

You, like all wolves and witches and monsters before you, bleed. Bleed. And bleed. And bleed on everything the world loves. They love you, anyways. They trust you, anyways. They encourage this, anyways. Power feeds you like blood feeds the gods. And you hold power over your enemies. Over their enemies. Over Berlin.

You will never have history books printed in your name, no statues erected in your honor, no priestess on a pedestal regaling your honor, but in the moment with your gun in your hand and your finger on the trigger, you let yourself think this: I am a God.

You are young and beautiful and terrifying, and hasn’t the world always trembled before such things? Before glorious things?

You are ready to be unleashed and Richard points the Titans to New York.

“Make an impression. I want you to tell the world, ‘Here I am.’” Richard tucks the request under a smile like family, holding it above you like a challenge he knows you are dying to conquer.

Make an impression.

And damn, did you fire the gunshot heard around Olympus.

Olympus’s own boogeyman falls and they find him in pieces across the dock. You tie your favorite ribbon around his head like a present and sign your name

Hyperion.

The Titans are coming for war, for revenge, for chaos, for the throne.

Are you ready?

You’ve always been half heaven, half hell. Give them a crimson smile, my love, they will never be prepared for you.

[dadzawa-adopt-dabi]

1-35 on fanfic asks

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

2 stars maybe? Im not great and i forget a lot of things. but no one can stop me from writing and i enjoy it. the more i do it the more i may like my own writing one day

2. Why do you write fanfiction? Fanfiction is everything to me. It was a matter of time until i started writing it seriously for myself.

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

Literally nothing. I tend to go off with ships and specific things i want represented... but thats it. anyone can write.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you?

Always! so many! the best thing about fanfiction is how it builds upon itself and spreads!

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

Im very proud of Secret Baby/ River run. Its large and a mess and i hate it. But im proud ive done it. A completed one im proud of is "Compress said its his turn on the murder screen" i think i did well with that one and kept the tone I wanted.

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily?

Arguments between characters and having them express themselves other ways.

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

It's the making up and posting works i struggle with. Along with editing which is another monster.

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

I do love the murder boys! Dabi, Itachi, Deidara, Naruto (should have killed everyone), Reno. If theyve got issues i love them!

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

happy characters. I just don't know what to do with them. Like a domestic setting with no action? nope not for me!

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for?

Hurt/comfort has always been my jam!

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

im not entirely sure? I havent been really writing/posting that long.

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

Expectations! its a collaboration i'm working on with a friend and a DabiHawks fanfiction again! It's a fic where they fall in bed together before they even like each other. A lot of assumptions are made and not a lot of talking gets done until quite a bit of Damage has been done. Hawks finds out that Dabi's been doing some things he wasnt comfy with just because he didnt know how to tell Hawks and because he was attached to him. It's messy and won't get less so.

interesting to write to say the least because im such a Zero tolerance person.

13. First fandom you ever wrote for?

Naruto lol

14. What’s your favorite fandom to write for?

part of my heart will always belong to naruto. can't leave it. But im enjoying writing for bnha immensely!

15. What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for?

Food Fantasy! a video game i did a short one shot on last october!

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

Soulmate au's! Omegaverse! I love tropes! Oh! Hanahaki!

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

none.

18. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

I wouldn't say ive done anything too wild?

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between?

get canon away from me! i love au's! any and all!

20. Gen fic or shippy stuff?

both!

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

currently its DabiHawks! i love my enemies to lovers! (everyone deserves compassion lave and basic decency)

22. Do you listen to anything while you write?

Sometimes! some fics have specific playlists!

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

All of the above! i dont know how to put wips back lol!

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

I like one shots better but the amount of effort for multichapter fics is something else tbh!

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

Yes a few times brought on by comments! What if Hawks ran in to Dabi early on or if Dabi had stayed and talked to Hawks the last night they spent together. None of it ever really goes well? Dabi has no support besides his Significant Other in both of these and i dont like that.

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

Nope! Ive been getting the hang of NSFW and i feel like that's one of my biggest areas to improve on!

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

any! seriously i love comments! telling me to write more or that i forgot something was done 6 chapters ago or a string of emoji's!

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing?

Much better than I used to!

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

Every time i post lol. Im pretty comfortable with a variety of things! there's been times in this roleplay i participate in that i was very uncomfortable with how my character was acting but that was the entire point and it turned out well considering the outrage he kept causing!

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

Best of both! ive also taken a shine to writing things that out of story context are fluff but in context are horrendous angst!

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

Nope! I don't really do Oc's!

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

Secret Baby/ River Run- Dabi gets pregnant and runs away. Hawks is the father.

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

I've had such a kind fantastic audience but i wish they would pay some more attention sometimes to why i have characters do things the way they do. Hawks leaves Dabi alone? theres a reason for that and the awnser is not to stalk him. even for Dabi's saftey.

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

Dabi dosen't meet Rumi like expected. He expected to just get taken out by her in a fight one day, if they met at all. Not him cleaning his torn staples in Hawks bathroom after he's been shoved in there, Rumi having interrupted a blowjob and Hawks had roughly shoved him in his bathroom. He couldn't hear much of the conversation going on outside. But what he could made his face burn with embarrassment as he tried to put himself together. The fact that she was also a Hero and Hawks best friend made him nervous. What a great first impression, sucking her best friends dick with a bloody face. -" NOT DATING-" Hawks voice broke through for a moment and then quieted. -"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN IF HE'S A VILLAIN KEIGO, HE WAS JUST GIVING YOU A BLOWJOB THERE IS NO ." There was a loud thump as Rumi was yelling and Dabi let himself flinch here in private. She quieted down soon after she had started yelling. Dabi sat down against the sinks cupboard and rested his head on his knees. Waiting for it to stop and Hawks to kick him out. He wouldn't actually get to meet Rumi as Keigo's, well as Keigo's anything. It was just sex between them on Hawks end anyways. There's stomping towards the door and Dabi scrambles up as he resists the urge to lock the door. To lock himself inside like a child thinking it will save him from Enjis rath. Hawks is.... he's not kind to Dabi, but he's not Enji either. The door opens and Rumi's gaze finds him as he's getting up. He ducks his head and gives a little half hearted wave, not sure what she's doing. Why she's looking at him with a gaze much softer than expected. "Hey. Sorry I walked in on you guys. I'm Rumi. Hawks best friend he's been hiding away from you." "I uh. Um. Dabi? I go by Dabi. I think it's more like I'm just his dirty little secret." He gives a small dry chuckle and a smirk, a tad on the mean side like he did with Keigo. It came out a little to real and he winced. He sounded like a whiny asshole, he thought as he kept his gaze on his bare toes digging into the tile. "Dabi, I doubt Keigo thinks of you like that." Rumi reaches her hand out and Dabi tenses in anticipation of her grabbing him. To harm him maybe? To throw him in cuffs? Out of Keigo's apartment but he has no doubt that he will be there soon enough after Rumi leaves. "Its fine. I'm just a villain he can sleep with ya know?" Rumi gets a determined look in her eye as she draws her hand back, having noticed him tense up. "I'm going to give you my number Dabi. Villains don't any resources and I don't like how Hawks treated you when I walked in. If anything happens, I want you to have a way out. I don't think you've told your friends who your sleeping with. Or you would have teleported out of here." Dabi hands his phone over still in shock to Rumi and she gently takes it. She's still super confident in person but, there's no violence or anger from her. Its... suprising.

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

Dabi and Hawks can both have issues and have to put in some serious effort to not only see those issues, but work together with them. this has been a PSA.

[shervonfakhimi]

The NCAA Solution

The NCAA is engulfed in flames. Coaches are being arrested and players are wondering if they’re going to be deemed ineligible after the bombshell FBI-corruption story has continued to gain steam. Big L said it best on “The Enemy” “Them Federals got my phone and my house tapped, praying that I fall for the mousetrap, I doubt that” (Note that this is the first time someone can equate the lyrics of Lamont Coleman with Sean Miller). No coach is currently ‘fresh as hell’ while the feds have been sniffing around the sport. With this rampant corruption going on, the NCAA has 2 choices: either fight harder to preserve the con that is “amateurism,” vacate every National Championship won ever and put every team implicated in the FBI probe on probation to the point where even Arkansas might actually have a shot at the National Championship or FINALLY bend the rules and allow the players to eat some of the billions of bread that’s being spread out to everyone but them. However, to find a fully satisfactory solution, leagues like the NBA and NFL (notice the similarities?) have to assist in giving players an option to earn the money they are entitled to receive. Here are some steps on how to get the NBA (and NFL, though this will predominantly focus on the NBA) and the NCAA there:

1. Allow players to make money off their name & likeness in college: This seems pretty easy and obvious. The FBI is not digging into college for breaking federal laws regarding players receiving benefits. Rather, since it is an NCAA rule, the premise of the NCAA as a business is what is under attack. Think how backwards that sounds. Anyway, under NCAA rules, players are/will be deemed ineligible if they receive impermissible outside benefits, ranging from money to airplane tickets (apparently). This is the biggest issue regarding the FBI investigation. The NCAA is just about to embark in the 8th year of a 22 year, $19.6 billion deal with CBS and Turner to televise the NCAA Tournament. ESPN finalized a 12 year deal worth over $500 million a year to televise the College Football Playoffs. That doesn’t even begin to mention the amount of money paid to televise the regular season, which is why these programs pay the players under the table to get them; More games on television, more merchandise sold, more tickets sold all means more for the universities, while the players get none, or get deemed ‘cheaters’ when they do to give themselves and/or their families some extra money they likely need due to coming up in unfortunate circumstances. The Power 5 conferences make over $250 million off the backs of these unpaid players. If they’re making that type of money, its not too much to let the players, even those in lesser known conferences, be able to make some money any other college student would make in any other circumstance.

2. Give players a fixed amount of money for use after graduation and/or their collegiate athletic career: Previously we went over how each Power 5 conference got paid. While many yearn for players to at least make money off their likeness like I did earlier, there still certainly is a space for players to get paid by their universities. With how much money they make the universities in either sport, players should be able to get a piece of that pie. Isn’t that the purpose of college? To position young men/women to make themselves a living in a booming industry of their choosing? It isn’t their fault the NCAA is one of those, yet their pay structure pays students only in the form of education, not dollars. The likeness issue is more reflected in the previous paragraph, which would allow players to get money on the side and pay for day to day needs and wants, such as food, clothes, electronics, rent, etc. This payment, however, is meant to serve players for their lives after athletics. Not every player will make the professional ranks of their respective fields and a few thousands of dollars could go a long way to help set them up for the next stage of their lives in whatever they choose to go to. How much each athlete would receive could be collectively bargained for by establishing a labor union set up for each conference. If players decide to enter college athletics, these first 2 steps allow them to be taken care of properly both during and after their collegiate careers.

3. Eliminate the ‘1 & Done’ Rule in the NBA and lower the Age Requirement for entry in the NFL Draft to 2 years: The MLB has established that players straight out of high school are eligible for the draft. If they elect not to enter the draft, they are again eligible after 3 years of service for their respective university/universities. The NHL legislated that players who are 18 years old are eligible to enter their draft. The difference? The NBA mandates basketball players wait a year after their high school graduation before they become eligible for the NBA draft, while the NFL makes them wait for 3 years after high school graduation. The result leads to a diminished college product, while some, certainly not all, players squander a year away meddling their time in college against lesser competition when they are ready for the league immediately. The coaching and strength/conditioning is certainly palpable enough for players to enhance their games to an elevated level, but not as enhanced as the professional ranks where players are able to spend even more time with greater resources honing in their craft. The result should be to allow players be able to enter the draft sooner to maximize their earning window as far as that window can be extended. Players who are ready, or feel they are ready and/or need to provide for their families in treacherous circumstances. However, as successful as LeBron James, Kobe Bryant, Tracy McGrady, etc. have been as high school draft entrants or even “1 & Dones” have been like Kevin Durant, Kyrie Irving or the entire state of Kentucky has been, not everyone is as lucky or successful, which is why I recommend this added element to this proposal: players who apply for the NBA Draft (or any, for that matter) and do not get drafted or receive an NBA contract should be allowed to re-enter the college ranks and continue on with their remaining years of eligibility. The NBA has already created a rule for college prospects to enter their names into the NBA Draft two times and extended the time to be eligible for the draft until after the NBA Combine, giving players more time and information as to whether or not they should enter the draft. Team personnel (scouts, general managers, etc) want to collect as much information as they can as well, and this could be a reasonable solution to allow players to enter the draft earlier when they deem themselves ready while also giving them an outlet to return to college and let professional teams see the progress they’ve made. The bottomline should be that players should be able to enter the draft whenever they are ready and have a plan to fall back on should things go awry.

4. Establish one G League affiliate for every NBA team and invest into it to raise players’ salaries: While the G League has grown since its infancy, it is not up to par with alternative basketball options, primarily college and overseas. As of the 2016-17 season, the maximum G League salary a player could accumulate was just $26,000. The next level salary was $19,500, about $4,000 above minimum wage. To attract young prospects who want to jump immediately into professional ranks but don’t want to throw their feet into the NBA fire, the G League has to give players more incentive to join their league and continue to grow it. How can they give that? Let them get more money. The league has expanded to 26 teams currently after being founded with only 8 teams, with the Washington Wizards establishing their sibling franchise next season. Giving all 30 teams their own G League team allows more players to become developed with professional coaching and training, all while getting paid in the process, similar to MLB and NHL’s minor league system. Players of note entering the G League would drive more interest into the G League and more revenue. More teams also will generate more revenue for the G League and perhaps could allow for parent franchises to their G League affiliate’s expenses. The G League has already added 2 way contracts that allow players to spend 45 days with their parent NBA franchise, earning NBA-minimum money while in the NBA. This allows more players the opportunity to make a name for themselves in the NBA while still getting the chance to grow in the G League. Perhaps something similar could be in the cards for these young prospects electing to enter the G League, giving fans something to watch out for before they enter the NBA. Another option for the G League would be to allow players who left the NCAA to join their league, as ESPN’s Jonathan Givony noted. Lifting the rule mentioned in that article would allow players to leave college and join the G League should their eligibility be taken from them or the team has not performed up to par they expected, or any other circumstance. Adding the talent pool and investing in its future could propel the G League as a viable alternative to the NCAA not just for college prospects to advance their basketball careers, but players of all walks of life hoping to make it to the NBA.

Will these changes happen? I am hopeful, but it is likely it won’t. However, it sure is a hell of a lot better than having the feds buggin’ the life of the NCAA, to paraphrase the Hall of Fame poet Shawn Carter. It will take something even more drastic from the part of the players to bring forth change, which is why both ESPN’s Jay Williams and Jalen Rose have advocated for players to boycott the NCAA Tournament. That would surely grab the attention of everyone that the time for exploiting college athletes is over. The players deserve better and the sport itself deserves better rather than continue uplifting the farce that is “amateurism.” Its complicated, but a solution is certainly possible. Hopefully the NBA, the G League and the NCAA can work together to form a solution. The NBL in Australia has just launched a “New Stars” program that allows potential College-eligible players to join their professional league and earn roughly $78,000 U.S. dollars, per ESPN. It is time to provide a palpable solution in the United States. Hopefully it’ll happen sooner rather than later.