#boy has MASTERED the art of the humble brag

[imagine-loki]

The Slutty Web One Weaves

Title : The Slutty Webs one Weaves

Chapter NO. 7 of 10?

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s Asgardian wife learns women write fanfiction about him on a trip to Midgard. She’s edgy for the duration and lets him have it when they get back.

Author: lokilover9

Rating: M

Astrid apologized, agreed to everything and Thor lead them to a location to hide their vehicle.

"Loki will be pleased to know your helping."

"I should have thought to from the start." She regrettably admitted.

Frigga hugged him. "Thank you for agreeing to take her back should this fail." ***** For eight days, their plan worked until her Father paid the palace an unexpected visit.

Odin was in the front courtyard boasting to some Einherjar about beating an Embassador at charades, when their commander, Nedvar, interrupted. "Ignoramus at twelve o'clock, Sire."

The King groaned. "Splendid. It's Rodderick the dipshit."

"Give the word and we'll pitch him over the wall."

"Tempting, but what do I tell my daughter in law?" Odin hated the occasionally unkempt Lord who preferred perfuming to bathing and greeted him from behind a hedge. "Welcome Roddy. I look so forward to your unscheduled visits."

The disdain was mutual with Roddy feeling Astrid could've done better than wed whom he considered a criminal, Prince or not. "Greetings, Heiness. Might you be so kind as to share the knowledge of when your son intends to return?"

Astrid's parents had two daughters, her being the youngest and known to the Royals as her Father's least favorite.

"That depends on whom you miss more. Asgards lovely Duchess, or my son? Her beloved pardoned Prince. I can give either a message."

"Miss? Impossible as Astrid's practically taken up residence again. Should I relay you wish she ceased luring her Mother from bed crying, or send her home to disturb your sleep?"

"I wasn't aware she'd returned from Midgard. Has age required you hearing aids, or were you night prowling in hopes of accessing Ingrid's locked bedchambers again?"

Roddy frowned and crassly replied. "The lovely Duchess returned with Frigga. Is your wife telling lies, Allfather? Mine would never."

Odin cackled. 'Festering dimwit. Ingrid is banging my valet.' "You shall regard Frigga as 'Queen' and with utmost respect."

"My apologies. She is celestial, yet your defensiveness is revealing."

Roddy liked poking subtle jabs at the Royals and assumed Astrid a barrier to consequence. Most were directed at Loki and the King, but he'd worn Odin's patience too thin. "Insult anyone in my family again, including your daughter and face repercussions. Be gone, Rodderick."

"So soon?"

Odin's jaw clenched. "Leave egghead before I crack it on the pavement. Nedvar, escort him to the gate."

"Gladly, Sire."

Roddy followed, hardly perturbed. "One might expect the offering of a beverage after a stuffy carriage ride."

The commander jolted the gate closed. "Try opening a window Lord Heskin. If you're thirsty, there's a pub nearby rumored to host naked wrestling in the basement. Some days it's ladies, others gents. Enjoy."

When Odin entered their chambers bellowing to the Allmother, her lady in waiting sent word through a chain of servants to a handsomely paid Stableman. Familiar with an alternate route to Astrid's parents, he arrived ahead of Roddy and rushed her to the observatory.

Thor received her call and left immediately. 'Shite, brother. Where art thou?' ***** Following two days in Paris, Loki and Brianna cruised Lake Laguno in Switzerlandand. She questioned him about Asgard and her grandparents, yet when asking the circumstances behind his adoption, Loki spun a tale of half truth.

"Jotunheim had a King named Laufey who owned a magical cube that opened bridges to every realm. Long ago, he used it to attack Earth. Grandfather bravely defended your realm, forced his army back to Jotunheim and demanded he relinquish the cube. Laufey refused and continued attacking Asgards army until most of his people died. Grandfather found me alone amidst the rubble and decided to adopt me."

"You didn't tell him who your parents were?"

"I was an infant and the only survivor for miles."

"Where was Laufey?"

"He'd gone into hiding like a scaredy cat."

Instead of finding his comment amusing, anger washed over Brianna. "He abandoned a helpless baby to freeze? Introduce us and I'll use him as target practice."

Loki booped her nose. "I'm honored you wish to avenge me, but Laufey died and still suffers in the afterlife."

"How?"

"King scaredy cat will never have the privilege of meeting you."

Brianna smiled. "Or you. Was Grandfather hurt?"

"He lost an eye, but recovered nicely."

In Amsterdam, they visited the Artis zoo with over 900 species of little animals, an aquarium, planetarium and Zoological Museum. Further confirmation Brianna's his was how quickly she learned enormous amounts information and remembered the smallest details when later initiating a quiz. Since confessing to the burglaries, Loki was curious how she knew the homeowners were abroad and worked it into their conversation.

She replied like it was all in a day's work. "Dory accompanied me to different parks in fancy neighborhoods around Jersey, posing as my babysitter. Between eavesdropping on adults and questioning kids, it's amazing what you can learn inside a sandbox."

"Questions of what nature?"

"Like, 'I'm new to the neighborhood and love my big house. Where do you live?' Or, 'I'm going to visit my aunt Matilda's lavender farm to make soap.'"

"How was that helpful?"

"Most thought it dull and bragged of their families planning grander trips. Once attaining addresses and dates, I'd stake out their houses and proceed from there."

"Ah. With Dory as the lookout?"

"I left her in shelters or nearby motels. She never figured out how I managed, but by the third burglary, stopped worrying whenever I'd sneak away and send her a text." His eyes widened and Brianna rose a palm. "Dory lacked powers and I wouldn't risk her arrested because of me."

Why lecture when she'd acted out of desperation to find him? "You're a good friend, Og Min Lille."

"Thanks. I regret the stealing, but pranking the authorities was fun."

Loki thought it something innocent like tipping off their hats, but discovered her mischievousness paralleled her intelligence.

"I always struck at night and at one house, four police were investigating inside when I turned on the lights, flushed every toilet and set off their sirens. At the third, I poured a large olive oil path onto the kitchen floor, slammed a pantry door and watched two come running. One slid into it and fell, while the other amusingly contorted himself until the first tripped him. They sure swear a lot for the good guys."

"Brianna." He playfully scolded. "Say you did nothing worse."

"I'd be lying."

"Oh?"

"At the last house, the master bedroom had black drapes and life size models of a lion, wolf and a fang baring polar bear on its hind legs. Weird people. After aligning them near the door, I closed it, extinguished the lights and tripped the alarm. The police came, shone a flashlight inside and from the foyer, I made the bear roar."

Loki chuckled. "Did they scream?"

"And shot the bear."

"What?!" He led her someplace quiet. "From now on young lady, all pranks must meet my approval or…" While pondering means of discipline, he blurted what first came to mind. "...All shoulder and piggy back rides are discontinued."

He made both fun, thought Brianna. Bumping into things when her hands covered his eyes, then flipping her over his head for tickles. Or feigning valiant attempts at shaking her off to escape enslavement.

~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~ "Have mercy and release me!" He pleaded, captured during a picnic.

Brianna popped him on the head with her fake sword, a stick with a bushel of leaves at its tip. "Cease your begging, pheasant! I rule this realm, appoint you my new zombie slayer and hunter of all things chocolate. Fail and be fed to puppies!"

Loki set her down and knelt on one knee with a hand to his chest. "A frightful demise your majesty of cuteness. I humbly accept."

"Daddy, I'm supposed to be fierce."

"Eh he he he. Sorry." ~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~

Brianna deliberated his threat and wittingly proclaimed. "Are you not the God of Mischief and I your offspring?"

He arched a brow. 'Don't laugh or she'll never take you seriously.' "I mean it."

Brianna had already pulled some under his nose. A boy who'd aggressively budded before her at a park slide discovered his shoelaces tied together after nose diving into the sand. A woman at a restaurant who harshly berated a server had red wine spilled onto her Gucci bag. Minor sprinklings of karma she happily administered.

"But you're still a prankster."

"Rarely and without endangering anyone." 'Shite. I'll need to keep that fib under wraps.'

Brianna crossed fingers behind her back and feigned defeat. "O-kay. Can I have a snow cone now?" ***** After seeing the Northern lights in Norway, they'd returned to their hotel where she became oddly sombre.

"Has something upset you?" Loki asked.

"During our travels, I've seen many people with children. It's obvious they're loved, but my family..why, Daddy?"

Her pain pierced Loki's heart as she clung to him. "People can do terrible things for incomprehensible reasons, but you're my little girl now and I'm overjoyed you've come into my life."

When her tears ceased, she unexpectedly opened up about the women. Her first memory was of Jillian singing her to sleep at age three. She and Claudia taught her to talk, walk, bathe and dress herself, brought her toys, fictional and educational books. Yet it was Jillian who'd paid her the most attention, their visits consistently monitored by Hannah. A person so controlling and void of sentiment, Brianna wondered how the trio became friends. The woman opposed their closeness and the first time Brianna defended her Mother, she was forbidden upstairs without Hannah present, who ordered Claudia to report otherwise. This became impossible when the two landed full time jobs. With Jillian delegated homemaker, Hannah was forced to trust her. Over the past year, she'd broadened Brianna's computer knowledge, snuck her for walks to a hidden trail entrance off the main road she'd marked with glow in the dark tape, taught her outdoor safety and survival skills and always stressed keeping everything secret, especially Brianna's magic or Hannah would separate them for good.

"Jillian knew of your powers? Why have you never mentioned any of this?"

Brianna frowned. "She bread me to thicken her purse. No amount of secrets and added kindness makes that excusable or her worthy of commeding."

An undeniable fact Loki avoided arguing. His daughter was hurting and preaching Jillian might've experienced a change of heart could impede their relationship.

She halted his conflictual thoughts by bashfully asking. "Do 'you' love me?"

"Very much, Brianna."

"Can I stay with you forever? Please? I'll move to Asgard."

Loki doubted she comprehended the gravity of her words. "Forever doesn't mean a month long visit as we previously discussed. It involves permanently residing on another realm thousands of miles from Earth where the landscape, culture, even people's wardrobe's are entirely unfamiliar."

"I know. Devoid of space travel, would it be any different if I moved to India, Antarctica or say..Bhutan?"

"I suppose not. I'm sorry, Bhutan?"

"It's a small country just south of China. I memorized Earth's geography and most of its cultures in one month."

"Very good." 'Genius supreme. I must catch up.' "Then you're willing?"

She yawned, proudly raising her chin. "Affirmative. I'd like to see those sandbox dwellers top that adventure."

Incredibly relieved, Loki chuckled. "You've ten remaining seconds to gloat, sleepyhead. Ten..nine.….three, two, one."

"Hey, you said those last digits awfully fast."

"It's time for vampire pajamas, your fierce and Royal Highness."

"A story too? Will you conjure The Empty Grave by Jonathan Stroud?"

"The Empty 'what?'" He amusingly queried. "No way, Jose. I've chosen three options of popular children's literature from the internet. The Cat in the Hat, Whinnie the Pooh, a rather peculiar name for a bear and Charlotte's Web."

"Isn't the last tale about a spider?"

"Yes."

"They're creepy. I choose that one."

'Mother would be impressed.' "Hurry then before zombies find us and eat my brains!"

Brianna shouted from the bathroom. "Nobody hurts my Daddy! Huyya! Take that you fiendish barbarians! Uh oh."

Loki rushed in upon hearing glass crack and found her standing on the bathtub ledge. "What did you do?"

"I was pretending to fight them off with my hairbrush when it flew from my hand, struck that picture and landed in the toilet."

He laughed renewing both with magic. "Your toothbrush is safe, yes?"

Loki finally thought her asleep when she reached out for a hug.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I forgot to say I love you too. Goodnight."

His heart swelled twice its size. "Goodnight, Og Min Lille." ***** Next they ventured to London and a budding lover of history, Brianna asked to visit The British Museum. While viewing a dinosaur skeleton from an upper walkway, she pointed into the crowd below.

"Daddy, isn't that Tony?"

He took a gander. "Well, well. Iron Man it be."

"Who's the strange lady he's with?"

"Pepper, darling. She often wears wigs to avoid recognition."

Her eyes brightened. "Please, can we say hello?"

"Inconspicuously. I'll him send a text." Daddy concealed his phone. 'Greetings kinky crossdresser. What brings you to Londinium?'

'Loki???'

'Yes. Act casual, we're hiding.'

'Holy shit! We're on vacation and at the Savoy in the Royal Suite. Can you meet us there ASAP? It's important.'

'We're on the ninth floor. Rendezvous in an hour?'

'Ha! We'll be there with balls on!'

'Come again?'

'🤪 Bells, dammit! Bells!'

'😂 Brianna can't wait.'

Tony hurriedly guided Pepper through the crowd. "Excuse us..pardon us..excuse us."

"Where's the fire?" She whispered.

"Daddy Snowflake's in town. Hustle, Butch." ***** Their door opened and Brianna ran to him. "Uncle Cootyoodles!"

"Little Warrior! Am I happy to see you!"

The couple listened with enthusiasm about everywhere she'd been, then Tony asked to speak with Loki alone.

Virginia led her into their bedroom. "Wait 'till you see all the cool stuff I bought."

"That'll keep her busy." Said Stark. "Pepper's a London shopaholic. So why the vanishing act? Thor called me."

Loki scoffed. "I did tell him not to."

"Don't be angry. Astrid returned and wanted to contact me."

"Why? You knew nothing."

"She didn't believe him. Neither did your Mother and Thor worried they'd show up at the Tower."

"What?! Our Mother came to Midgard in search of me? Shit..shit!"

Stark told him everything and Loki's face was unreadable. "Nope. There's nothing weird about staring like I've grown a nipple on my face."

"Did I mention it's pierced? You're saying 'my' brother, Shakespeare in the park, lied that extensively for me?"

"Yes and sent them back to your Dad to expand on it. What's everyone's problem with an awesome six year old anyway? Is that why you didn't go home?"

"Becoming a parent, you're suddenly bombarded with complex decisions centered around one tiny person you never fathomed loving so deeply, much less an indisputable desire to protect above all else."

Stark smiled. "Look at you. The master of Sheisterism all growed up..whose dodged my question."

Loki sunk into a chair. "Maturity aside, my life is a mess. Asgards people still regard me a traitor, Astrid and I are constantly arguing and it's completely unfair of me to expect she Mother a child she didn't bare and Odin's my grandest worry for classified reasons I've become an insomniac over. I can't subject Brianna to that. Her life has been dreadful enough."

"Not anymore. She has you now. I endured shitloads of public and political outrage over changes to Stark Industries. 'Wealth aside', I thought it my doom. People adjust and opinions fade. Astrid will come around once they meet. Look at the number Little Warrior did on us."

"She 'is' irresistibly charming."

"Whatever gramps issue is, arrange for her a few rounds with the old coot. She'll straighten him out."

Loki smirked, picturing Brianna dancing circles around the Allfather. "My Mother would buy ring side seats."

"See? The bulk of your family is on your side. Let them help."

"As appealing as that sounds, Astrid will expect hours of explanation I haven't the energy to convey. I love her, but she 'is' a drama queen."

"Eligible for an academy award."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "Piss off, flying human."

"Thor's willing to talk without the wifey knowing. I've a burner phone as you tend to appear in the strangest of places."

"Mm. Like when I ran into you in a sleazy massage parlor near Carnegie Hall?"

Loki was still a bachelor then, but Tony wasn't.

"I didn't know they offered sexual favors until the masseuse grabbed my dick. They weren't listed on the brochure."

"Eh he he he. I'll call when I've a chance."

They clammed up when Brianna exited the bedroom. "Can I go Daddy, please?"

Pepper followed. "Sorry. I blabbered the Tea shops chocolatiers add finishing touches to their masterpieces at this hour."

"You may." Said Loki.

Tony slipped Little Warrior fifty euros. "Buy me an eclaire and keep the change. Badass ate mine."

"Yay! Thank you!"

They left and Stark unpacked the phone. "Here's your chance while Brianna's absent. Text him, 'Garage?'" ***** Jane distracted Astrid while Thor sat in the cabin of his truck and the brothers soon cleared a lot between them.

"I'm not upset you deceived me anymore Loki, nor is Mother. Yet I'm worried Father's making her life miserable. Are you fearful he'll scorn Brianna?"

"Not up for discussion and relax, brother. You've been gone a while. Mother's gonads have grown."

"She's taking male hormones?"

"I meant she's less meek? Have you dropped the toaster in your bathwater?"

"That only happened once." Thor defensively replied. "I was late for a waxing of my package and hastening making breakfast. Nor have I recently smoked Jane's medical marijuana. She threatened torture were there not enough to ease her menstrual cramps again."

Loki deadpanned. "Norns you're a tit, fruit of Odin's loins.' "How's Astrid?"

"Coping. Jane said she'd do anything to see you again."

"Coping amidst stewing over my bedding of another 'Midgardian hoe' I've fathered a child with, and the humiliating circumstances involved."

"Believe me, brother, she too is no longer angry and the diaries contents stayed within Stark's walls. It isn't my story to tell."

"Your software needs reprogramming, impersonator. Thor Odinson was never so thoughtful of his sibling."

The blond laughed. "He's turning over a new leaf."

Loki had sought privacy in another room and suddenly heard Brianna desperately calling him. "I have to go. Don't tell Astrid we spoke yet." Upon opening the door, she threw herself at him.

"Daddy!"

"What happened?" He asked Pepper.

"We neared the shops door when she gasped, bolted for the elevator and started frantically pushing the button."

Brianna was trembling. "Darling, why are you frightened?"

"We can't stay here, Daddy! She's down there!"

"Who is?"

"Hannah!" She cried. "I'd know that red headed witch anywhere!"

"Shhhhh." He soothed. "I promised they cannot hurt you, remember? Stay here with..."

Brianna wrapped herself tighter around him. "No Daddy! Don't leave me!"

She was so distraught, he couldn't. "I won't, Min Lille. Shhhhh."

"Virginia's gone." Said Tony.

Loki's head shot up. "Back to the shop?"

"Yeah. Said the witch looked familiar and went on a hunt."

"Fuck! Get her back here!" Brianna jumped from Loki's voice. "Sorry Min Lille. Tony, now!"

"Erm..why?"

"Because they've met! If Pepper confronts her, she'll vanish!"

#Loki #father #others #submission #Submitted fic #chapter 7 #lokilover9 #The Slutty Webs one Weaves

[ichigopanhpff]

BNHA One-Shot: Bust A Cap

I’m surprised no one’s written something like this yet. Just a short one with by OC, Takahiro “Ren” Remy, who is a second year at U.A. and currently an R.A. for the 1-A dorms. She’s from a fic I just started called “Blink!”

Enjoy!

---

It was lazy afternoon and a rare day where class 1-A didn’t have any school work or training to catch up on.

Yes, today was a total rest day.

Some decided to hang out in the privacy of their own room while others lounged in the common area. It was far too hot to go outside to do anything.

“Iida-kun, Deku-kun,” Ren called the two boys from the common room, carrying a small folded table and a bottle. “Come with me a sec.”

The two looked at each other in confusion and got up from the couch. They followed their R.A. outside, where the summer heat and breeze greeted them. Having been outside for merely seconds, they could begin feeling the humidity cling onto their skin when they ended up in the shady grass area to the right side of the dorm. Walking a few steps forward, she set the table up and set the bottle on top. Happy with the positioning, Ren turned back around with a determined smirk.

“Uh, senpai?” Midoriya asked with a tone of confusion. “What are you doing?”

“We’re training today.”

“Training?”

“There’s been a thing online recently called the ‘Bottle Cap Challenge’, where people unscrew the cap of a bottle with their kicks without knocking the bottle over,” she explained. “And I thought this would be a great training exercise for you two! You can learn precision and self-control at the same time.”

“What a great idea!” Iida agreed and put his hand to his chin. “My Recipro Burst does activate too fast sometimes when I use it...”

“And it’ll help with Deku-kun’s Shoot Style,” she added.

The two boys’ eyes lit up with excitement and yelled, “Let’s do this!” They all began stretching their legs before attempting.

“Senpai, would you mind giving us a demonstration before we start?” the tall boy requested.

Ren stepped back about six feet from the bottle and focused.

“I like to get a bit of a running start,” she commented and readied her stance. Doing little hops in place, she made two tight Chaine turns and went into a full roundhouse kick at the top of the bottle. In an instantaneous moment, both boys saw the tip of her shoe touch the cap and spun it off. Firmly planting her foot back on the ground, she huffed out a soft breath and released her stance.

“Ohhhhhh!!!! That’s so amazing!” they both exclaimed.

She walked off to pick the cap back up and reset the bottle.

“Whenever you guys are ready.”

“I’ll go first,” Iida firmly stated. The tall dark blue hair colored boy took a few steps back and readied himself. Hearing the engines at his calves fire up, he went full throttle and swung his right leg at the bottle, only to knock the whole thing over instead. He rigidly stood there, soaking in his failure.

“I went a little too gung-ho,” Iida sulked at the nearby wall.

“I-It’s fine! Don’t worry about it,” Ren comforted. “It’d be a miracle for you to get it on the first try!”

“How long did it take you, Ren-senpai?” Deku asked.

“At least 10 times,” she confessed and placed her hands on her hips. “The trick is to control the angle and power of your kick.”

She then turned back to Iida.

“Try it without your quirk on your next turn so you can get a handle of your strength,” she directed.

“That’s right! I’m so used to activating my quirk whenever we’re training!” he energetically replied, his hands moving in their usual robotic manner. “Such a wise suggestion, Takahiro-senpai!”

“Deku-kun, you ready?”

The freckled boy nodded and prepared himself.

Giving himself enough room, Midoriya activated All For One, making him glow teal green all over. He went into a running start for momentum and jumped up to ready his body into a roundhouse kick. Reiterating Ren’s advice in his head, he tried his best to angle his foot as it came closer to the cap. The moment contact was made, the whole bottle spun around on the table and wobbled back into stationary position a few inches from falling off of the table.

“Gah, so close!” he groaned out with a wry grin.

The viridian haired boy walked back to the table and reset the bottle for Iida’s turn. For the next 15 minutes or so, the boys took their turns in trying to knock the cap off, sweat beginning to accumulate around their arms. And at long last, Iida was the first one to succeed between the two. Both Deku and Ren happily cheered and clapped for him.

“Now that you got the feel for it, try it with your quirk,” their R.A. said.

“What’re you guys doin’ here?” a new voice intervened.

The three turned to see the Bakusquad, with Ochaco and Todoroki trailing not too far behind.

“We’re trying out the bottle cap challenge,” Midoriya answered.

“Whoa, that sounds super fun!” Ochaco exclaimed. “I wanna try too!”

With new challengers entering the arena, Ren gave them the lowdown on the challenge and had Iida give the demonstration.

“Hm, doin’ the challenge itself isn’t all that fun...” Ashino pouted and suddenly had a devilish idea. “How ‘bout this?! Whoever misses the most have to do whatever the winner wants for one day!”

“That’s a pretty steep bet, Mina...” Ren trailed off with a tone of concern.

“Heh, scared senpai?” Bakugou goaded with his trademark shit-eating grin. “You don’t have to do it.”

Ren shot him a look of annoyance with her hazel green eyes.

“I never said I wasn’t,” she shot back. “Let’s up the ante: Loser also has to call the winner ‘master’ or whatever name the winner decides on.”

“Hope you got the balls to back up what you said,” the ash blond boy arrogantly responded.

“Oh trust me, Boom-Boom. My balls are definitely bigger than yours,” the R.A. retorted, setting off a chain of gasps and excited exclaims of ‘ooooh’s, prompting Bakugo to offset a couple of mini-explosions in the palm of his right hand.

“Senpai’s all fired up,” Aishino giddily commented. “So freaking cool!”

“Alright, let’s go!” Kirishima exclaimed and slammed his right fist into his left hand. “I’m gettin’ riled up!”

While everyone got into place, Iida immediately shot his right hand up.

“I will not be participating in this as I feel my quirk will have an unfair advantage over everyone,” Iida firmly confessed. “Therefore, I will be the referee.”

“As expected of the class rep,” Ochaco applauded.

“I got no problem with that,” Sero said.

“What are the rules then?” Kaminari asked.

“Best out of 3 and you can only use your legs. Anyone using their arms or quirks are automatically disqualified,” Ren dictated. “You guys okay with that?”

With everyone agreeing to the terms, it was time to start. Mina was the first one up. Since she has dancing as a hobby, she’s already aware of how her body reacts when kicking. And with a swift turn with her extended leg, she was the first to successfully complete the challenge.

“Peace of cake!” the pink girl cheered and threw up a victory hand gesture with a toothy grin.

Once the bottle was reset, it was Ren’s turn. Shifting into stance, she repeated her process and went for it. Unfortunately, she put enough spin on the cap but not enough force to knock it off.

“Shit,” she hissed out.

“Those big balls of yours must be draggin’ you down, senpai,” Bakugou jeered from the back.

She merely scoffed and walked past him to sit down on the sidelines. Next up was Ochaco. Having had martial arts experience with Gunhead from her internship, the moves were still fresh in her mind. Focusing her mind and body, she managed to succeed without hesitation.

“Ochaco-chan may actually be a lowkey young lorddess,” Ren commented in amazement as the peppy brunette reveled in her success. “I felt her power in that kick.”

Next up was Midoriya. Getting into position, he prepared himself to attack. Within the first flicker of All For One, Iida immediately intervened.

“Midoriya! You’re disqualified for using your quirk!” the class rep bellowed.

“Ah crap!” the boy exclaimed. “I totally forgot about that! I got so used to activating it with kicks.”

“You moron!” Bakugou yelled and proceeded to kick his childhood friend in the butt. “Use your brain!”

“Kacchan, you didn’t have to do that,” Midoriya winced at the pain and walked off rubbing the spot he was kicked before sitting down beside Ren, pouting.

The challenge continued on, with Kaminari easily aced it and Kirishima disqualified for using his quirk to extend his toe to flick the cap; Sero managed to get it off and then it was Bakugou’s turn. Charging in his usual style sans his explosions, he jumped and managed to get the cap off with spinning heel kick. Last up was Todoroki and in a flash, he swiftly kicked the lid and it gracefully fell down onto the table. 

Round two was up with Ashino starting again, but accidentally kicked the bottle over this time around and reset it for the next person. Ren regained her focus and attacked the cap with a roundhouse for the centrifugal force and kicked upward to flick it off.

“Now you’re just showing off,” Bakugou huffed and crossed his arms.

“Maybe just a little,” she humble bragged.

Ochaco took her turn and also managed to succeed again. Kaminari went again and missed once more, much to his chagrin.

“Damn, this is harder than it looks,” the flashy blond boy groaned out and walked off.

Sero went and almost had it; the cap decided to stay teetering at the lip of the bottle and refused to fall. Everyone collectively groaned and chuckled. Everyone went silent when it was Bakugou’s turn. He went into a roundhouse and followed up with an axe kick on the cap. Whether it was by pure dumb luck or not, he managed to get the cap flip up in the air and have it land right back on the bottle. Explosive laughter filled the air when everyone saw what happened.

“All that flash and nothing!” Mina gasped between her breaths. “That was so lame!”

“Shut the fuck up! Don’t laugh!” Bakugou angrily shouted and lightly blushed out of embarrassment, only to be drowned out by more laughing.

After everyone calmed down, the bottle was reset and Todoroki was up.

“Do I have to do something flashy too?” he asked in his usual demeanor.

“No, no. Just do what you did last round if you want,” Ren said.

The bi-colored hair boy went for it and successfully got it off with a simple side kick.

“Dude, you been practicin’ on your own or somethin’?” Kirishima asked in awe.

“It’s really not that hard. All you have to do is focus on where your kicks land,” Todoroki instructed. “And the rest will follow.”

“This will now be the last round,” Iida announced. “The winner and loser will be determined after.”

From here on, the competition got serious and fun time was over. Ashino took her turn and got it off; Ren barely managed to get hers off while Ochaco completed it without a hitch. Kaminari went and got the cap off by sheer luck, to which he celebrated to for two whole minutes. Up next was Sero, who thought he had it in the bag, only to realize he spun the bottle as well. The cap threatened to fall off and barely did at the end. Bakugou went for the last time and got the cap off with a spinning hook kick, whereas Todoroki followed up his turn with a simple wheel kick.

“Here are the results,” Iida announced. “Ashino: 2; Takahiro-senpai: 2; Uraraka: 3; Kaminari: 2; Sero: 2; Bakugou: 2; Todoroki: 3.”

“Should we do janken* as a tie-breaker?” Ochaco suggested.

“I’m fine with that,” Kaminari agreed. “No hard feelings at the end.”

Mina, Ren, Kaminari, Sero and Bakugou made a small circle.

“First comes rock, jan, ken–”

Everyone threw down their pick: both Ren and Bakugou threw down scissors, whereas the rest threw down rock.

“Goddamnit!” Bakugou screamed.

“Scissors… why must you betray me,” Ren moped with wobbly legs while the rest cheered.

The two then turned to each other with sharp eyes as if they were mortal enemies and positioned themselves for the last round.

“No hard feelings, senpai,” Bakugou confidently belted out.

“Oh, none at all,” Ren reply was laced with sarcasm.

“First comes rock, jan, ken–”

Bakugou threw down scissors and Ren threw down paper.

“Fuck yes! I win!” the explosive blond shouted and threw his fist up in the air.

“Life… why you do this,” the girl dejectedly said to herself, holding her trembling ‘paper’ hand.

Finally, Ochaco and Todoroki went their turn, to which Todoroki won with paper. Sighing heavily, Ren slowly made her way over and stared up at him. She could’ve sworn he grew taller again.

“Here I am,” she announced without fanfare and shrugged her shoulder. His heterochromatic eyes gazed down at the R.A., wondering what he should do. “What is thy bidding?” she deadpanned.

“I’ll think of something later,” he uttered out and walked away. “It’s hot.”

“Ehhhh?!” Ashino protested. “You’re not gonna do it now?! No fun!”

The next day, everyone in class 1-A couldn’t believe what they were seeing: Todoroki was laying on top of Ren with his eyes closed on one of the couches in the common area, her arms were draped around his shoulders. A blooming embarrassed blush dyed across her pale cheeks.

“I’m… his human pillow today,” she muttered out, avoiding eye contact. “Because I look comfortable, apparently.”

Todoroki’s eyes fluttered open and looked up at his servant for the day in a nonchalant manner.

“My hair is in my eyes, Ren-Ren,” he softly uttered out in an almost arrogant manner. “Brush them aside for me?”

“Y-yes… my k-king.”

At that moment, Takahiro Ren wanted to teleport into a Black Hole and disappear off of this world while the entire class reacted with surprised whoops and shouts.

---

*Janken = Rock, paper, scissors

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #midoriya izuku #iida tenya #uraraka ochacho #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shouto #bnha oc #sero hanta #bottle cap challenge #kirishima eijirou #kaminari denki #ashido mina #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #ichigo bnha-fics

[ofthedivinekrp-blog]

Did you hear? BANG JAEHYUN, the nineteen year old STUDENT/BARISTA, was spotted in downtown Yeoshin. We heard they’re a descendant of VENUS is known for having the ability(s) of LUST EMBODIMENT. If you look closely, they have an uncanny resemblance to BTS’ JEON JEONGGUK.

* . ✧ ˙ ˖ — and deep down in the soul, something rises, knowing well that what made us is what could be our demise.

Venus is the Roman goddess whose functions encompassed love, beauty, desire, sex, fertility, prosperity and victory. In Roman mythology, she was the mother of the Roman people through her son, Aeneas, who survived the fall of Troy and fled to Italy. Venus was central to many religious festivals, and was revered in Roman religion under numerous cult titles.

The Romans adapted the myths and iconography of her Greek counterpart Aphrodite for Roman art and Latin literature. In the later classical tradition of the West, Venus becomes one of the most widely referenced deities of Greco-Roman mythology as the embodiment of love and sexuality.

* . ✧ ˙ ˖ — we are capable, pressured into valiant things, able to do what others can’t in this foreign land.

Jaehyun has the ability of Lust embodiment, the ability to embody all forms of sex, lust, and arousal. From this, he’s able to gain power from the apparent lust emanating from others, as well as himself. While Venus was the Goddess of a vast amount of qualities, Beauty and Sexual Desire were two of her main abilities. She was a pillar for many in this regard, though Jaehyun’s own doesn’t hold a candle. While he’s well-aware of capabilities, the youth is still learning, and has only since barely mastered its main properties. There’s a certain selfishness that comes to his abilities, mixed foul with his traits and he knows it. But from what stems of this power, many would consider him a sexual master, due to further applications that derive from it–spanning from heightened stamina, to sex specialty.

Despite having mastered some of its applications, the power can quickly go out of his control depending on the situation. Particular in light of emotional circumstances, or high powered ones, Jaehyun can unintentionally invoke its applications and find himself falling into its whole. He can become a mess of emotion and a sex addicted monster at the best of times.

* . ✧ ˙ ˖ — as stories told, legends passed, languages spread, we start to forget who were before.

triggers in the following passage: Depression, mental instability, suicide, death, adoption, bullying, sex addiction.

His parents were your picture perfect couple, the type bragged about in lifestyle magazines–with their expensive yet humble possessions, gleaming smiles and eyes that lit up the world when they shared a glance. A couple of dreamers, who wanted nothing more than a child to call their own, to further their romance and install some spare love into another being. They had succeeded in the process, of course. It had been steady, Doctors telling them that they were to birth a healthy child–that complications were of no concern. They were nothing but smiles and sweet laughter, until the nine month mark hit and that twinkling laughter turned to sobs. Jaehyun had been born, as healthy as a newborn could be. But at a cost, his mother had died sometime after labour, after having held her child for a matter of moments.

Thus left two. Has father had succumb to grief, hardly having time to look after his child. He became forgetful, reserved. Family friends were usually the ones to come over, simply to look after Jaehyun through his stages of development. He was thankful for that, for those who spared their time to think of him while his father had neglected to do so. But, it didn’t take long before his father had had enough. Days spent without his “soulmate” had hollowed him out entirely, made him forget that the world existed without her and for a moment, he’d considered ending it all. Except it didn’t stop at consideration. And that’s when Jaehyun, only just old enough to speak full sentences, had found his father laying on his bed, not breathing and as pale as snow. Suspected suicide, they’d called it.

From then on, Jaehyun was sent to an orphanage. The relatives that had once looked after him, had not signed for care, and thus laid the only option left. It didn’t affect the boy, though. In fact, being forced to interact with other children his own age was a benefit. He’d been socially inept before, due to his withdrawal from his father. Conversation had never flowed then. He wasn’t the most social of kids during his time at the orphanage, but he’d gotten far better. That didn’t stop the bullying, though. As with anything, there’s always a hierarchy. It just so happened Jaehyun was at the bottom of the food chain here. The elder kids felt it best to consistently tease his inability to socialise, to pick on his background, to throw him down as a lesson. He’d just taken it, without moving a muscle nor speaking against it. A blank slate.

It continued as such. Bruises painting his porcelain skin constantly–to which didn’t help when it came to bullies twice as difficult in school. Only when it came to high school, did he develop a backbone. During the first years, he’d been painted as a bad boy due to his apparent social phobia. He’d spend every moment alone, and would remain silent during class. Decked in dark clothing, completely oblivious to the world around him. It was because of this mysteriousness, he was dubbed a problem child. He’d still keep his mouth shut in light of those same bullies, but he was stronger now, physically. He could counter demand, and avert attention with little more than shoves and the like–the occasional punch when necessary. Lord knows how many times were was temporarily suspended due to the amount of fights he’d gotten into. Perhaps a trigger for his depression. The loneliness of it all. As if the world was against him. And maybe it was.

That’s when his power had made itself obvious. Instead of seeking out conversation, he instead took to seeking out company through sexual means. Meeting upperclassmen behind the school with a quick five minutes. Pulling boys out of the corridor into closets. He’d garnered a reputation for himself. The consistent one-night-stands and quickies weren’t helping with the names. With the quick jabs sent his way. He seemed to manifest sexual attraction no matter what. Even the straightest of men would find himself taken by Jaehyun. And he revelled in it, couldn’t help but feel good about it. Fed his ego like nothing else, and he ran with it too well.

Towards the end of high school, he was a near completely different person. Cocky and proud, disruptive. The school playboy. He lived up to the name and then some, used his apparent power to his own selfish and greedy needs. Until he was caught. It was funny, really. How the headmaster had walked in on Jaehyun and his teacher, the latter bent over a desk. Of course, the teacher got fired for sexual misconduct. Jaehyun suffered a similar fate. Luckily, it had happened little before graduation. Luck was seemingly on his side.

But he couldn’t stay. He’d had enough of repetitive routines, having already left the orphanage after surpassing legal age. The next step was obvious, and he’d found himself finding education at Yeoshin. His old self remained, though. Entirely too self-worthy, sarcastic and sex addicted. Most of which was used as a mask to shy other away from the timid boy beneath. He’d found work, dedicated himself to study, found himself craving sex far too much for words. And it was that same addiction that was quickly becoming his downfall. While he could control some attributes, he struggled with most. The power was more-so controlling him over anything.

#otdfollow #accepted #bang jaehyun #otdjaehyun

[showingthroughtome]

7: june 23rd

Instead of taking it as a joke, Jess replies with genuine, flirty inquiry, “Really? You could stop Carly?”

Harry raises his shoulders, and humbly gestures, “Maybe.”

“Alright.” She agrees, crossing her arms and challenges him. The ball is in his court so now it isn’t up to her  which direction things go - if only for this one situation.

read below - mibba - story page - word count: 1482

Neither Harry nor Jess end up going through with their little sabotaging plans. On a very basic level, it turns out that they don’t really dislike camping, or the woods. They’ve always loved being outdoors, getting into little adventures in the park where they can feed the ducks, going down one of the trails that lead them into a forested area, only to have them both running back to their moms to get checked for ticks an hour later. The only differences between that and camping are that they're there much longer and they have to check for their own ticks. Which, they don't mind enough to want to go home - definitely not more than they liked being with their friends, recklessly drinking alcohol they had to get their older siblings to buy.  

By the third and final night, Jessica has mastered the art of finding the perfect wood to make a lasting camp fire. It may be too early to determine, but she feels like an expert in the area, bragging about it as she walks back to the campsite with Ben and Carly flanking her sides.

She's swinging a hefty stick around, boasting, “I mean, look at this. This will burn all night if we let it.”

“It’ll be ash in an hour and a half.” Ben holds up his hands, shielding himself from the stick.

“I give it an hour.” Carly, equally unamused, catches it and pulls it from Jessica’s hands.

Ben leans forward to look around her to Carly. “Are we making this a bet?”

“Guys! You’re not very encouraging of my skills!” Jess reaches to retrieve her find, coming up unsuccessful mostly because she is short, but also because Carly is extremely tall.

“Hey, you gotta leave her alone. It’s not her fault she only can reach five feet off the ground.” Harry shouts from beside their fire.

Jessica had been so preoccupied by her stick that she hadn’t even realized they were approaching the rest of their friends - what was she? A dog?

She looks between Harry and Carly who are now having a small stare down - Carly’s hand is still in the air and another one is keeping Jess away from her goal. Harry’s expression is one of playful business while Carly’s face reads pure joy. Harry lifts a finger, pointing sternly.

“Ugh, fine.” Carly lowers her arm and hands over the sturdy piece of wood. “It’s kind of sad to literally hold things over your head.”

Jess nods, sarcastically agreeing. “Yeah, I get it. Kind of like how it is to see you try to find something that is actually flammable.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she takes off into a jog to hide behind a snickering Niall and Harry. Niall holds up one of the skewers him and Harry had been putting hotdogs on and aims it in the direction Jessica had come from. When looking back, she finds out that Carly hasn’t even taken a step towards her yet.

“Chill. I’m not gonna attack you.” Carly claims, hands on hip, playing innocent though everyone knows that's never been true.

Ben comes to her side, throws an arm around her neck and grimaces, “Babe, you do know pranks in the night are the same as attacks?”

“Yeah! Pranks at night especially count as attacks.” Jessica peers around Harry's shoulder, emphasizing her point. If Carly is going to retaliate, she would much rather it happen when one of her senses isn’t fucked any further than it usually is. Jess squeezes Harry’s upper arm so he’ll make his stance on her side known.

“Especially.” He nods, and then points his skewer more directly with the most unalarming frown ever.

“Thanks.” Jess huffs.

Carly drops her few pieces of firewood on the pile and throws up her hands in defeat. “Seriously guys. I can take a joke now without getting angry. You’ll see.”

She swings her arm around Ben’s waist and then the two take a seat on a sleeping bag laid out over the dirt.

“Ben, watch your girl.” Jessica pleads, winking at Carly when they make eye contact and becomingly slightly alarmed when Carly doesn’t return one, seeming actually, a little bit pissed indeed.

Jessica shudders at the thought. She places her firewood right in the flame that’s still lightly burning from the one they started for lunch. Soon enough, it’ll be big enough to roast their dinner.

“Do you think I should worry about that?” She asks the boys even though she knows Carly wont do anything that will actually harm her, perhaps something like a demonic symbol drawn on her forehead in permanent ink or sticking her hand in a cup of warm water so she’ll pee her pants like an anxious eight year old.

“I would be.” Niall shakes his head in grief, remembering, “Last time I joked on Carly, she told every girl that I brought into the apartment that I was a crier.”

“No.” Harry slaps his forehead with pity for his friend, shaking his curls and laughing. “That is undesirable.”

“Dude.” Jessica deflates for the guy, only imagining how awkward the follow up conversation could be to that. No offense, but who wants to hear how emotional someone is at first contact with a friend?

“Ehh, that’s okay.” Niall pats the hand Harry had placed on his shoulder comfortingly. “I did get her back. Apparently she doesn’t like honey more than shaving cream. Weird.” Niall smirks, leaving his friends to think about that as he backs away to do something else.

Harry and Jessica grin at the possibilities then face each other, shaking their heads in regret for the roommates who just signed a lease for another whole year.

“They’ll kill each other.” Jessica jokes in delight at her friend's expense.

“They think they’re actually on a prank show.” Harry agrees with a nod. He swats a bug that flies for his face and then returns more seriously, obviously worried for his best friend, “But, seriously, stay alert. I think she spotted a bee hive earlier.”

“Oh my god, Harry. Shut up.” She pushes him with all her might, heart beating faster at the teasing. With all of her friends making jokes about it, the only thing that keeps her from panicking is the thought - she can take a joke now. Carly isn’t fifteen anymore. She can take one little joke now.

“I guess I could sleep in your tent with you to make sure nothing bad happens.” He offers with a smile, eyes on her red vinyl tent set up right next to his yellow one. Even though it wasn’t planned, every one of them brought their own two person tent, figuring they’d share with someone who forgot their own. Since it was their first camping trip, they all chalked it up to a rookie mistake and enjoyed the breathing room as they slept through those warm summer nights.

It would be a lie to say that she didn’t think about maybe sleeping in the same tent with Harry and what that would do. Would it make things awkward? Would it speed things up? Would it leave them in this limbo?

Instead of taking it as a joke, Jess replies with genuine, flirty inquiry, “Really? You could stop Carly?”

Harry raises his shoulders, and humbly gestures, “Maybe.”

“Alright.” She agrees, crossing her arms and challenges him. The ball is in his court so now it isn’t up to her  which direction things go - if only for this one situation.

“Cause I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout forever. Oooh.” Nat, coming out of the woods to the right of them, sings, dancing with grooving shoulders as she croons, “Or do you not think so far ahead?”

She stops right next to them, interrupting their not so innocent, flirty banter entirely.

“That is the ultimate shower song… or I guess, slightly-gross-lake-water-hair-washing song.” She exhales and thinks, “Definitely the more accurate title.”

Then she looks between them and cracks a smile, breaking character of Obnoxious Camping Nat.

“Nat, I love you with my entire soul.” Jess claims in her most serious tone, covering her heart and throwing her arm around her fellow short person. With all her attention on Nat, together they walk to a sleeping bag and prepare a hotdog. Once Nat is sat down, she sees that the fire was left to dwindle under the care of her friends so she gets right back up and complains the whole time she stokes the fire.

For the rest of the night, over red cups and shot glasses, Jess catches Harry’s eyes more than a few times. And at the end of the night, she zips her tent up with tipsy fingers, comfortable to be alone because Carly had complained about being tired for a while before she crashed hard hours ago.

authors note:

hiii! im personally not that happy with this chapter. i feel like its not the strongest one ive ever written. imma let you guys who actually read my notes in on a secret: i write a lot of this story while high. i mean, thats when the story came to me so why not? lol a lot of the time that works out for me but idk about this one. this just seems a little choppy. choppy stoned lauren came out and idk how to fix it (or maybe i am just accepting it for what it is lolol??) hopefully you can stay with me for the next one. because man oh man, we are building up to something!

please please please let me know what you think!!!!!!!!

thank you so so so much to @what-comes-from-within for betaing this for me as she does everything i put out these days, she is the bees knees <3

thank you so much for reading!

- lauren

#1dff #please excuse this chapter if its totally awful! #even if it is let me know! #my ask is always open for everything lol #i mean it! #incredible

[devildove-blog]

Twelve Wizard Paths Outside of The Nine Worlds (Poem)

I'm a wizard, baby, meaning a very powerful magickian. I'm a jack of many trades, so this poem details what and how. Here I'll write about a few magickian's trades that apply to my position. After nearly two decades learning magick I'd better know a lot by now. Gaining the magickal power to claim this title takes time to reach in transition.

On my path were many adventures to have and lessons to learn. From reading books to meeting others and exploring the occult therein I figured it out for myself and in time the title of Wizard did earn. Years of learning religious teachings helped me understand being otherkin. Since I was a young boy defying my upbringing for magickal power I did yearn.

The power I have is a result of many factors I don't need to explain. But putting in time and energy to my craft for a long time played a key role. I have thick skin so I don't mind if you view my pride here with disdain. Yet the poetry's here to explain my path not to brag or to try to save your soul. The 12 paths of Wizardry explained here are more obscure to people mundane.

I'm a yogi, baby, and this is some kind of ancient Pagan stuff. This is a time honoured tradition taking more time to apply than to learn. This path requires much patience, time and energy to master well enough. Years of chakras, mantras, mudras, meditation and more will in time power earn. In time weakness fades and strength is gained, and a wise Yogi hides being tough.

Learning from a Koga ninja this Kuji Kiri psychic yoga is how my path will start. Spending years meditating with these mudras, in time I grow strong. Yoga has many uses, and magickal and psychic power gained is just one part. Ignore the doubters and mockers calling my religion fantasy who string you along. Muggles can foolishly assume it all comes from cartoons like Naruto's ninja art.

I can do more than I'll say here; let it an enigma be. Not everything I experience happens while I'm in my body, you see? This transcendentalist religious belief in time proves itself a rational reality. Muggles often just assume others foreign sounding religious beliefs are fantasy. Letting the muggles think it's not real is often a wise strategy.

I'm healer, baby, and more advanced than many. I can fix medical problems other healers and sometimes even doctors can't fix. Hold my hand, feel the energy, and let me free you from any suffering you have with real healing magick, not illusionary tricks. Unlike con artists making money with tricks healing has never earned me a penny.

Empath healing magick described next may be misunderstood too. Speak of your heart's pain, and let me feel an intense amount. I'll cover my eyes to hide my tears, and I could do well to hide that I'm paying a price of pain on your account. If you felt guilty about hurting me you'd never let me heal you, would you?

Now words of wisdom I can speak guiding you on a path new that the energy of your pain gives me the inspiration to share. Now your pain is forever less or gone, because I paid a price of pain for you. The price empath healers pay is much less than the great suffering it can spare. Once this price is paid, there's no more pain for either of us to go through.

I'm a magus, baby, part priest and part mage. I don't preach to the masses; I'd rather use magick to help others. Here we go and here we go again as my pen sets the stage. I'm rollin' with muggles here I for some reason call sisters and brothers. I'm using my magick for some cause here, as life's book turns a new page.

You can call me The Fool, and I can wear many a mask. I live to serve, and my joy is to create joy for others, you see? The deities I work with can help me with many a magickal task. Being a magus is also the path of self, and there's much power in just me. For what reason do some deities help me, but not most humans who ask?

Magi is plural for Magus, and implications of royalty are here. American citizenship requires denouncing royal ranks. Yet the Magus's path is a religious construct, so have no fear. I ain't here to rule and reign.  I just want to earn some thanks. With teamwork muggles can help me fix problems, and happy endings are near.

I'm a necromancer, baby, so don't tell 'em what's true. Don't stab me in the back by being seen publicly expressing to me your love and gratitude for how I used magick to help you. People value my discretion, so don't prove to Fools my power's validity. I'm happy to meet a fan, but I don't desire the public credit that seems due.

In a necromancer's trade being misunderstood is often how it goes. If I show up after sunset in a graveyard I'll bring my tools. Be cool, man.  All I got here is a stick of incense, a bloodstone and a rose. Signs and wonders performed here are kept hidden from the Fools. If you hear the dead hiss or moan as I wake them, stay on your toes.

Muggles, necromancers and the dead all are not very forgiving when some Fool sacrifices an animal in a graveyard. That newb shit pisses off the dead even more than the living. Those Fools piss off necromancers too, making our work hard. I'm there only once to offer any dead willing the contracts I'm giving.

I'm a warlock, baby, an ancient term misunderstood but real. I'll use my power for a good cause and call it doing the thing. The power of war is implied in this word, and I'm the real deal. Let me be occult as I'm guided under a Red Dragon's wing. Tattooed on my back of my left hand is an modified AGLA hexagram seal.

Separation of church and state is a Masonic ideal as is the freedom of religion allowing warlocks to operate. Yet in the occult world there's much hidden in this religious ordeal. As time goes on interpretation of these ideals are open to debate. These balances lacking harmony result in Nobody caring how minorities feel.

To work well with others a warlock needs harmony found working on common ground. The warlock's path has traps, education, judgment and more. If warlock means deceiver does this even mean as it may sound? Who would ever suspect deception to be a humble protector's moral chore? Whether good or evil, eventually every warlock's karma comes back around.

I'm a creator, baby, and like the Ace of Wands I've got the power of fire. Watch me burn bridges faster than you may know with this poem like a pro. My divine, holy, infernal, celestial and gothic flames make creation transpire. I move these flames through 5 primary elements and through more than you know. Fools take a stranger's word unwisely, but fans of my work learn I'm no liar.

When I posted my non-hermetic psychopian elemental system theology online I clearly cited Plato as the source inspiring what I'm parroting thereof. When I don't fit into other mages' labels so called experts pop up to whine. Baby I have access to elements most mages don't, and many aren't even aware of. When it seems wise to do so from time to time I share created power of mine.

Be cool, man, and let the doubters and mockers doubt and mock all they want. Muggles do it most, but it's all arbitrary until they create danger and fear. Interpret my pride on these wizard paths as you will as my talents I flaunt. If you think I'm earning respect by bragging you don't see what's happening here. It's easy to misunderstand the reason behind my rhyme and what I really want.

I'm an occultist, baby, and I study things hidden. The occult hides the magickal, religious, esoteric and things of earthly power. Only so much is found in books, and Fools don't understand the forbidden. I have a couple cards to play, still surprising many by never facing The Tower. Fools rush in where wise men never go for reasons they don't know, no kiddin'.

I've got a weird way of speaking here understood clearly by a few. I'm not the first occultist to be intentionally obscure to most of you. I've got that occult fame in secret circles for better or worse.  Who knew? If you're a fan of my work don't ruin the show explaining this path I go through. Don't judge a book by its cover; in time an occultist's work is paid karma due.

I'm The Fool, The Magus, The Devil and even the Hierophant from time to time. The Magus card comes from the THOTH deck, used by me for reasons unsuspected. If I call myself The Devil would you just assume I live an evil life of crime? The Devil is Rider Waite though, so my chains are often with gratitude accepted. I deal these tarot cards as the lesson of my occult strengths in this rhyme.

I'm a Dog of Reason, baby, so named in the memory of harmony true. We've got memes and shit, and things we do to build a New World. From chaos comes Order, a lesson taught and learned in time and time again too. The occult can be a dangerous thing, yet we've no banner to be unfurled. These wizard-dawgs work for one love for humanity to do the thing we do.

This ain't no criminal organization or some kinda terror shit. This is one of many parts of my greater dreams and ambitions. Membership is by invitation only, so if you're motivated prove it. We ain't thelemites, baby, and with great power comes some terms and conditions. Some want more time to work, and others want more time to Fool around a bit.

I'll share some magick and theology online from time to time. The gospel of figure it out for yourself is dogma as my theology already shew. Dogs of Reason have two commandments in this religion, besides avoiding crime. Seemingly a joke if unexplained, yet truth is hidden in plain site to you. Is the illusion of a joke as real dogma even dispelled to most with this rhyme?

I'm a cyber-mage, baby, like these chaos mages in a way. I've had training and practice on this path I've been on since 2003 when I joined the TIAMAT Cyber-Magick News-list back in the day. I've spent years evolving my craft, and now have things to share for all to see. My joy is to bring you joy so follow me and I'll lead the way.

My cyber-magick is all safe and fun to use, and there's nothing to be afraid of. Free Magick Enterprises gives two projects of cyber-magick. Let my star evolve your heart chakra, and experience new love. Take the red pill, and this devil can even remove your unwanted chains so tragic. No money will be accepted, so forget about the price tag from this devil dove.

Here come the doubters and mockers; Thinly veiled saying: "I'm better than you." I don't have time to be lectured by these Fools that Cyber-magick isn't real. Participate or don't, but Bhakti Yogi say the proof is in the pudding if you do. We did lots of experiments and testing with group input in this TIAMAT deal. I learned a lot and had years of practice to develop cyber-magick that's new.

I'm an alchemist, baby, and I got the mad transformation skills for the physical and spiritual nature of substances, souls and magick too. Sure, man, let the weaker mages brag about the power to destroy and their kills. Alchemy's sacred transformation art is beyond what they know how to do. Like Yoga, this power's about time and effort on this path not cheap thrills.

I'm on a quest to not just learn new magick, but to make it evolve. I'll purify forbidden black magicks citing the great work of the ages as my cause to create that which before did not exist and otherwise unending problems solve. Alchemy's art of creation may come with a price, so beware of that because. To purify the corrupt may corrupt the pure, but balance a price paid to absolve.

With Alchemy I can create joy and harmony, and I like to work for free. Alchemists of old claimed they might turn lead to gold as part of their plan so a King would protect their right to practice and pay their research's fee instead of explaining occult arts involved that matter not to the common man. This misunderstood art involves more and includes transformation spiritually.

I'm left hand path, baby, and yes it's really true. Different people, mostly mages, find different meanings therein. The left hand path most simply put means just to be taboo. What hand is my tattoo on then?  Baby, that's secretly a Talisman. Let's turn back the clock of time to understand meanings old and new.

This term comes from India if you'll study history that far. Originally this insult started to describe Tantric Yoga when first created. The dark ages belief explaining its meaning that left handed people are morally and intellectually weaker than the right has since become outdated. The more things change the more they stay the same until someone raises the bar.

In modern times the left hand insult resurfaces metaphorically. Now embraced by many eager to be shunned by society the left hand path evolves into its own mentality. From a religious reference to basic views on morality the devil is implied on this path either literal or symbolically.

I'm a trickster, baby, and that's an occult magick path. I'll teach you lessons mostly harmless so don't take them personally. If I see chaos I may create order; see my results to do the math. I'm an educational experience; I guess I'm like this inherently. Mistake my kindness for weakness and will you get forgiveness or wrath?

I was born this way, and I'm not going through a phase as others are. When I started calling myself The Fool, that would have been your first clue. I've got metaphors like dark disguises and masks that take me far. I live to serve, and there's a method to the madness; it's true. Pride and humility working together in harmony help trickery raise the bar.

In the occult only so much is learned online or in a book. As an occultist trickster this rule applies to me the same. I'll capture the essence of my story in the poems for those who look. Here lies the story of my path as a Wizard and why this title I claim. These 12 titles of magickal paths explain why the 13th title of Wizard I took.

I'm a Wizard, Baby, just like I said before. I'm a wordsmith here sharing this path with you. As the tale comes to the end of this rhyme's chore the tip of the iceberg has been revealed to view. Muggles may take interest in this poem, or was it just a bore?

I guess doubters gonna doubt and mockers gonna mock. In the end it's always what I do and not what I say that shows my true strength. If you've walked the paths I walk you may better understand that of which I talk. I've got dreams and goals hopefully soon reached at arm's length. In Chinese Astrology not surprisingly I'm born in the year of the cock.

My story doesn't end with this poem, and my life goes on still. There's still more adventures to have, power to gain and knowledge to learn. There's still people to meet, places to go and things to do as I wilt and will. This poem describes the path, but is not in itself how a Wizard's respect I gain. If you wanted to understand my magickal path, this poem shall your wish fulfill

#poem #poetry #ftf #find the fool #occult #occultist #the magus #the fool #magic #magick

[ask-art-student-prussia]

The R.R. Phenomena; A Summary and Addition - By Leon Rekjavik

Hello again, ladies, gents. 

Epic-essay writer Leon Rekjavik is here again! Today, I just felt like posting more analysis on R.R.’s posts, because, they’ve quite clearly changed since the last time I wrote an analysis on R.R. 

For those who have literally no idea who I am, a couple weeks ago, I wrote a long essay where I talked about R.R. in general, as a person, everything, and submitted it to the awesome ask-art-student-prussia blog here, because R.R. is only present here, seemingly. This was back when everyone kept doing those jokes on R.R.

Why do I even write this stuff about some random person who anonymously posts asks on this blog? I don’t know actually, I just feel like I NEED TO, for some reason. To serve some justice to this sweet, person…?

Anywho, now onto the analysis!

———————————————————————————————————

Initially when R.R. came to this blog, they were merely someone who posted these asks to this blog talking about how much they admired the work Mun uploaded onto this blog, but at the same time, talked about themselves in a self-deprecating manner. 

Now, when I say “merely”, I don’t actually mean “merely”. When R.R. writes, it’s not just a random ask, they standout with the the things they submit. A lot of time and effort is put into each ask they put through, and they clearly care a lot for Mun as a person, as an artist, etc. There’s a poetic drive of admiration when they send something, yet they always seem to constantly try to remind everyone, that no, don’t see me- see Mun! See how beautiful their art is.

No one knows who R.R. is, which is a shame, but, I think it’s understandable. At this point in time, where a single R.R. post receives 35 notes on Tumblr, anyone who’d claim they are R.R. (even the real one) would immediately be shot down as a fake. Such a case were very prominent some weeks back, when a trashy meme started circling around the blog.

Other than R.R.’s writing prowess, there’s also the mystery of their identity, and that’s what the real interest is with R.R. Who are they? As mentioned in the previous analysis, R.R. loves this blog, clearly a lot, but wants to remain hidden due to their insecurities, however, at the same time, they want some way to be recognised. This is where the signature end to each R.R. post comes, “-R.R.”. This is their trademark, their way of showing the world, yes, I am R.R. and this is the post I send to you, Mun showing my love! In a purely platonic way, of course, or at least assume.

Unfortunately, being the Internet, the trashy-meme became very popular, with people claiming they were R.R., when they clearly weren’t. This wasn’t just a one-off incident. This lasted for several days, and even resulted with R.R. actually writing a post, where they said that they felt that their presence had caused Mun trouble. Now, remember, R.R. loves Mun, this blog, and everything with it. All this attention that had enshrouded R.R. wasn’t why R.R. even began putting posts out with their insignia. They didn’t want attention.They wanted to show their love to Mun and her art. Though, this had an entirely backfiring effect. Now Mun's blog was all about them. 

So, R.R. decided to take LEAVE from the blog.

And tragically, this transpired literally right after the submitted an analysis that was made for people to understand R.R. better as a person and to back them up (nobody understands the crippling deprussian I went through, because of that. However, all this information is dumb and irrelevant, because no one cares about me lololol). 

R.R. decided to take leave from this blog, because they felt that their love DAMAGED this blog and what it was made and known for to begin with. With this, the silence period began. No posts from R.R., not a sound. People began apologising profusely, some people even coming out from anonymity and saying they were sorry. The blog went back to how it originally was- an art-student Prussia blog. However, a lonely ache remained with those who knew about R.R. 

This is a direct copy and past of what R.R. wrote in terms of leaving the blog, in two separate posts:

“I’m very sorry Gil, but this is the last ask I’ll submit. I’m afraid my presence has caused disruption to your blog. Those previous asks from yesterday were not mine. I won’t submit anymore asks after this one with my initials to avoid anymore trouble for you. For those saying I’m doing this for attention, I will probably never reveal my true identity out of fear. So you’ll never know who I am. Farewell, Gil. It was lovely sending asks those few times. I hope you’re successful with your blog.”

“-R.R. (I ran out of characters)”

You see, everyone who posts stuff on this blog either does an M/A! ask, or a question to Prussia or even Mun directly, or just saying stuff, and I quote, “I love this blog. Please have my babies.” No one, and I mean, no one, wrote the way R.R. did. They were special, people loved their pureness, and they missed it. 

And then, it happened. R.R. RETURNED, and they returned in a manner worth bragging about, for centuries to come (I am not exaggerating). 

“Perhaps one day, when time is nothing but the movement of leaves, and the sun’s died, there will be a moment of solace where everything is just everything, and nothing is just something. The next moment in ‘time’, they will not exist, but with lives so fleeting, even a moment is extensive enough. Their last words will be "thank you”, before they’re suffocated by heat and dust. Humanity’s falling grace would have echoes permeating light years away. -The one who left this blog, R.R.“

They came back, with POETRY. And it wasn’t just any poetry- it was MAJESTIC poetry, as you can see above. This piece got 31 notes- it is rare for an anonymous post with no picture underneath, no nothing from Mun, purely the anon, to get that many notes. 

As if that’s not enough, R.R. returned, YET AGAIN!: 

"Fatherland, o’ dear noble creature of war. From the moment of your creation, you struck the soil with the sword of your soul, sending tremors leagues away, notifying every breathing being of your presence. Your tenacious nature and valiant efforts bleed through history’s timeline, embedding itself over the course of countless lives. We shan’t forget your existence, for none would be here now without your cause for our effect. You will return to us again, one day, in solidarity. -R.R.”

Can I say I fanboyed/fangirled when I was this, as unprofessional as it is? 

(and this is where leon rekjavik gives up on professionalism completely)

LOOK AT THIS FINE ART, MY FRIENDS. THAT IS LIFE IN IT’S PUREST AND R.R. IS GODLY POET. CAN WE JUST LOVE THIS HUMAN BEING, LIKE A LOT. YES, THIS IS THE ONE THAT 35 NOTES HOLY ****!

I honestly don’t care what gender, sexuality, species, ANYTHING you are {(unless you are secretly evil like that anon said; 

“…-Anyways, from the very few asks they’ve posted, they seem cute, whether they’re boy or girl. And cute people don’t fake stuff unless they’re secretly evil (omg R.R. please be a pureroll).”}

I LOVE YOUR WORK!

(and this is where leon rekjavik gains their sanity again)

Excuse me for that.

Of course, the R.R. hype sort of came back, with people all but screaming in the ask-boxes about R.R.’s comeback, poetry prowess, just everything R.R. There were some sceptics, but that’s just the general Internet. Everything was back in the flow. Then, some people began to ask… questions. Like, what’s R.R.’s sexuality, what do you think R.R. looks like? I think R.R. is a boy/girl! No, they’re not a boy/girl, come fight me.

And then, R.R. replied, in the most sweetest, most serene way humanly possible:

“To those who wish to know my face, look away from hither, for you shall not find the answers you seek for. Whether I find myself interested in boys or girls is nothing special. For now, why not enjoy the sweet summer that rains down from the sky, for it only lasts a few months before it’s a memory again. Leave your homes and walk bare-foot on the grass, feel the wind on your face, hear the nature around you. We don’t know if we’ll have a future where such luxuries exist. -R.R.”

They have talent, and I don’t care what anyone says. Fight me. 

This new era of R.R. is obviously a way of R.R. showing their love to this blog, by submitting a form of art, poetry! And Lord, does it compliment the blog so well with the was they weave the words…

——————————————————————————————————

I wanted to write more, but I can’t…

Anyways, that’s a summary/analysis/explanation thing for R.R., for now, from Leon Rekjavik!

I was thinking of actually making a master-post for the R.R. asks, if Mun would be okay with that. I’m just another visitor to this blog, who likes your work a lot, but I couldn’t help but notice the amount of times someone posted an ask asking who is R.R. It may help clear some things up, and just help the people catch up with the entire R.R. phenomena.

I don’t know why I do these, even now… mysteries are just so fun to look through I guess?

I’m sorry if this wasn’t written as nicely as the other one I did. This is a link to the previous one if anyone is interested, it explains everything R.R. to the point, like it’s a must read:

https://ask-art-student-prussia.tumblr.com/post/162708791482/the-case-of-rr-an-analysis-by-leon-rekjavik

I’m not doing this in any form of promotion or attention. If you look at my Tumblr, I literally have nothing in my posts. It’s because I just like looking for cool blogs like Mun's here, and don’t feel like posting anything I do personally. 

I just want R.R. to be understood a bit better, that’s it. Also, I have a little too much spare time on my hands… (at the moment. Just wait for college to start).

I hoped you liked it.

Bye.

-Leon Rekjavik (it’s still not my real name, try finding me, stalker!)

P.S

Mun, please accept my humble submission! Don’t throw it in the reject pile!

how the fuck did you write all this what the hell oh m y hofdod?

#submission

[bates--boy]

😨bro i would LOVE to see this

XX

Poor Atlas.

A humble toy boat of a trawler set to drift along the crystal clear canal, the only size Roderich was willing to buy because he deemed it safe enough for the child, steered by the striped-shirt donning Gilbert. Upon it, a party, a light lunch and refreshing drinks. It’s a little too quaint and polite for Peter’s taste, but he’s delighted to be invited all the same. Even more, he’s impressed with the type of social pull the host has to be able to bring all these important guests!

There’s Alfred and Matthew, Arthur and Ludwig, Elizaveta and Toris, Yao and Natalya. Is that Ivan? How was he able to be convinced to come out of hiding? These guests and more, lining the table on either side, and at the end, the host himself, a tragically thin but beautiful and poised boy whose silence seems to ring the loudest, deigning to take sips from his teacup instead.

And why would Peter blame him? To his right, Ivan was saying, “Such a lovely weather for this party, yes?” and to his left, Arthur rocking in his chair as he replies something along the lines of, “It’s not something I’m used to, but yes, it is.” And Alfred bragging about his newly acquired Porsche to a Matthew who’s humming an nodding along.

Not the most exciting conversation all around. It makes Peter want to engage Heike in conversation, and even if distance across the long table weren’t the issue, choosing a topic was. What did he truly know about the child, besides his love of art? What can he, a man who is admittedly ignorant of art visual arts besides what is produced in pop culture? He prods at the finger sandwiches on his plate, feeling a soreness in his fingers. His eyes wander over to Arthur, still rocking in his chair, which is so out of character for the man to do, letting the back of his chair thud repeatedly against the side of the boat.

“It’s not something I’m used to, but yes--”

The chair knocks back against the side of the boat, and in that moment, a crocodile splashes out of the water. It happens so suddenly, so silently, without so much as a scream from Arthur as the reptilian predator snaps its jaws around its prey and pulls him overboard. It happens so quickly that Peter chokes on his own scream, jumping where he sits and almost tipping his chair over. 

Peter’s lips flap open and close, his finger shaking and pointing as he looks around at his fellow guests, his throat tight as he tries to get the words out. 

And yet...

And yet...

“It’s a late model, but I managed to replace some of the older parts,” Alfred says, refusing to shut up about his damn car when a guest has literally been dragged to his death underwater.

“Such a lovely weather for this party, yes?” Ivan asks his conversational partner whose blood must be painting the canal red by now! And he lifts the teacup to his waiting lips, as if there is even still a drop to take! And stares into the blank space where Arthur once sat! Did no one see what Peter just saw?! How is he the only one wanting to scream and cry? And why is he unable to? Why is Yao still scraping his fork against a plate already empty of his salad? Elizaveta buttering her roll with a knife that is just cutting into her palm at this point.

Peter wants to scream. He wants to scream--

And most blood-curdling of all, his host, Heike stares right at the empty space that Arthur once sat, but not with an unaware blankness that Ivan sports, but a resigned sadness as he holds the teacup and its coaster. 

Peter shoots out his seat, slamming his palms on the table, clattering plates and glasses, but still not snapping anyone out of it. 

“Master--!”

He pauses, staring at the child seated across the table from him, struggling to process the word that came out of his mouth. Did he just... did he just call this child...?

Heike sits the teacup on the table and sighs. He looks at Peter from the corner of his eye. “Setzen.”

Peter’s eyes widen, a flare spreading from his chest all the way up to his cheek. He feels his teeth bare. Who does this child think he is to command him--?

But his body jolts, locks, and thumps back into the chair, and the insulted rage that makes his eyes wide is now confusion, and as Heike rises from his own seat and makes his way around the table to him, it becomes a blood-chilling, heart-racing fear. 

“It looks like I’ll have to make another Arthur,” Heike murmurs to himself as he pulls a screwdriver from his breast pocket, wielding it like a dagger in his paint-covered hand. “I guess it won’t be too much trouble, since that one was slightly defective.”

Peter tries to say something, ask something, but words are hard to force out, and all it sounds like it a huffing wheeze. “M--” Heike. “Mas--” HEIKE. “M-Mast--” Why is his mouth still saying that cursed word?! “What-- what is--”

“Unter.”

Peter’s head hangs forward. He wants to throw up when Heike stands on the tip of his toes and... oh, god, he pries the screwdriver into Peter’s cranium. Worse, still, is that there is no pain. Why is there no pain? It’s just a chilly draft blowing into his head and whistling through his ears. Until Heike digs his fingers and screwdriver inside. 

“Now that I think about it, you are all due for a new coat of paint. Especially you, my most rambunctious of them all.” Peter hears the smile in Heike’s voice “You have been rough with yourself, haven’t you?”

Peter wheezes and tries again. “What...” But his eye catches something. What he thought was a bit of dry skin or a forgotten scab was paint, swaying in the gentle breeze. From there, he realizes that the balls that make up his finger joints are rusty and coated with flecks of mud. He looks up past his lashes to Ivan, who lifts his teacup with a stiff cranking, and to Yao, who has kept the same steady speed in which he shoves a forkful of air into his mouth that drops open and clacks close. Alfred, whose neck creaks when he throws his head back to laugh, and Matthew, whose miles-long stare is too jewel-like, because of the gemstone that make up his violet eyes. Even Gilbert, whose arms jerk this way and that to make up for the bolts in his elbows. 

“Don’t worry, I will find a way to perfect you all,” Heike says. 

“N-no.”

Heike’s hands pause. He tilts forward to meet Peter’s topaz eyes, raising a brow. “No? Have you not always wanted to be a work of art, dear Peter? Haven’t you always wanted to be admired forever?”

“I-I...” Peter tries to take a breath in a chest that won’t expand, doesn’t need to. It makes his chest tighter, still. “N... no! No!”

Heike grins at him too gently and turns his attention back to the work in the back of Peter’s head. “It’s alright, my child. I will make you all perfect.”

His screwdriver twists--

“NO!” Peter screeches into the darkness of his bedroom. His hand flies up to the back of his head, at first as a defense, but the haze of sleep dissipates, and he ends up feeling around it through his hair. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

@toberoundistobefree

#toberoundistobefree #sorry this one took so long

[csrgood]

Back on My Feet, Along With Four Additional Charities, Earn Donations From Aramark As Part of Culinary Competition

 Aramark’s (NYSE: ARMK) team of chefs from its Sports & Entertainment division bested its competitors to win the Inaugural National Finals of the Aramark Culinary Excellence (ACE) Competition – a showcase of the company’s domestic culinary talent and menu innovation – and take home the coveted “Copper Pot.”

Members of the winning team are:

Chef Stephen Aheimer – FirstEnergy Stadium

Chef Richard Grab – Philadelphia, Baltimore & Washington, DC District

Chef Allan Wambaa – Oregon Convention Center

Fifteen Aramark chefs, comprising five teams of three chefs from participating U.S. lines of business (Business Dining, Education, Healthcare Hospitality, Leisure, and Sports & Entertainment), competed in the intense daylong culinary challenge, in accordance with American Culinary Federation competition standards and judged by ACF Master and Certified Executive Chefs, at Aramark’s Global Headquarters in Philadelphia, PA, on November 20, 2019. 

“This is such a great honor and I’m so proud of the effort our team put forth to win the first-ever Aramark Culinary Excellence National Championship,” said Chef Aheimer, on behalf of the Sports & Entertainment team. “The whole experience has been a great opportunity for me, Rich and Allan, and all of the competing chefs, to demonstrate our love of food and passion for cooking.”

Cooking for a Cause

To up the ante, in addition to competing for bragging rights, each culinary team competed on behalf of an Aramark non-profit partner. As a result of Sports & Entertainment winning the ACE Championship “Copper Pot,” Back on My Feet received a $10,000 donation from the Aramark Charitable Fund.

“We’re excited to have been included in this wonderful event celebrating culinary excellence and are grateful for Aramark’s continued support of community initiatives and causes, such as Back on My Feet,” said Ashley Kilpatrick, Senior Vice President of Development with Back on My Feet. “While we’re ecstatic the Sports & Entertainment team won the competition, we are humbled by all the hard work and attention to detail each team put into competing on behalf of their chosen organization. Thanks to Aramark’s generosity, we all walk away winners!”

In the spirit of friendly competition, just for competing, all of the other teams earned a $5,000 donation for their non-profit partner, from the Aramark Charitable Fund. Those organizations and the teams they partnered with are: Boys & Girls Clubs of America (Business Dining); Hope Center for College, Community and Justice (Education); Alex’s Lemonade Stand Foundation (Healthcare Hospitality); and National Park Foundation (Leisure).

Winning 4-Course Menu

The winning team of Chef Aheimer, Chef Grab and Chef Wambaa successfully prepared and presented a four-course menu, utilizing a mystery basket of 16 fresh, seasonal and local ingredients.

  Appetizer

  Entrée

Pheasant Ravioli

Pork belly escarole, Sautéed Kennett Square crimini mushrooms, Pheasant demi

  Seared Black Bass &

Sous vide Gambas

Hominy risotto, Shaved Brussels sprouts, Asian pear slaw, Gochujang fume

  Soup

  Dessert

Butternut Squash Puree

Butternut squash, Amish goat cheese, Smoked beef tongue, Wild rice pilaf fluff

  Chocolate Almond Coconut Macaroon Bar

Ginger beer beet puree, Ruby chocolate sauce, Glass sugar

Aramark Culinary Excellence Competition is a year-long competition, culminating with a national finals, where the top three winners from each business unit form teams to compete for the honor of Aramark Culinary Excellence National Champions.

During the 2019 competition, over 100 chefs, from Aramark’s U.S. Business Dining, Healthcare Hospitality, Education (Higher Education/K12), Leisure, and Sports & Entertainment accounts competed in business sector competitions.

About Aramark Aramark (NYSE: ARMK) proudly serves Fortune 500 companies, world champion sports teams, state-of-the-art healthcare providers, the world’s leading educational institutions, iconic destinations and cultural attractions, and numerous municipalities in 19 countries around the world. Our 280,000 team members deliver experiences that enrich and nourish millions of lives every day through innovative services in food, facilities management and uniforms. We work to put our sustainability goals into action by focusing on initiatives that engage our employees, empower healthy living, preserve our planet and build local communities. Aramark is recognized as one of the World’s Most Admired Companies by FORTUNE, as well as an employer of choice by the Human Rights Campaign and DiversityInc. Learn more at www.aramark.com or connect with us on Facebook and Twitter.

source: https://www.csrwire.com/press_releases/43131-Back-on-My-Feet-Along-With-Four-Additional-Charities-Earn-Donations-From-Aramark-As-Part-of-Culinary-Competition?tracking_source=rss

#CSR #corporate social responsibility #social good #philanthropy #employee engagement #workplace givi

[everydaynuggets-blog]

Short-Sighted Sons

And he said, A certain man had two sons: And the younger of them said to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me. And he divided unto them his living. And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country . . . Luke 15:11-13 There are sons who are obviously short sighted in their understanding of who a father is. In this chapter, I want to share what I believe are the characteristics of short sighted sons.

1. A short sighted son is someone who sees his relationship with his father as a time-related contract rather than a lifelong experience. A short sighted son sees his relationship with his father as some short term encounter that he must go through. He relates with his father as though he were some lecturer who must be endured during a three-year course in the university. This sharply contrasts with permanent and continuous relationships that sons are supposed to have with their fathers.

A Father is a Tree

A long time ago, there was a huge mango tree. A little boy loved to come and play around it every day. He loved to climb the tree to the top, eat the mangoes, take a nap under the shadow... He loved the tree and the tree loved to play with him.

Time went by and the little boy grew up. He no longer played around the tree everyday. One day the boy came back to the tree looking sad. “Come play with me,” the tree asked the boy. “I am no longer a kid, I don’t play around trees anymore,” the boy replied.”I want toys. I need money to buy them.” “Sorry, but I don’t have money... but you can pick my mangoes and sell them. Then you will have money.” The boy was so excited. He grabbed all the mangoes on the tree and left happily. The boy did not come back after he picked the mangoes. The tree was lonely and sad.

One day the boy returned and the tree was so excited. “Come and play with me” the tree said. “I don’t have time to play. I have to work for my family. We need a house for shelter. Can you help me?” “Sorry but I don’t have a house. But you can chop off my branches to build your house.” So the boy cut all the branches off the tree and left happily. The tree was glad to see him happy but the boy did not come back to visit the tree.

The tree was lonely and sad. One hot summer day, the boy returned and the tree was so delighted. “Come and play with me!” the tree said. But the boy said, “I am so sad and I am getting old. I want to go sailing to relax myself. Can you give me a boat?”

The kind old tree said, “You can use my trunk to build your boat. You can sail far away and be happy.” So the boy cut the tree trunk to make a boat. He went sailing and did not show up again for a long time. After many years the boy returned again to the same tree. “Sorry, my boy, but I don’t have anything for you anymore. No more mangoes for you...” the tree said.

“I don’t have teeth to bite anyway,” the boy replied. The tree said, “I have no more trunk for you to climb on and play.” “I am too old for that now,” the boy said. Then the tree said, “I really can’t give you anything...the only thing left are my dying roots” the tree said with tears. The boy replied, “I don’t need much now, just a place to rest. I am tired after all these years.”

The tree answered, “Old tree roots are the best place to lean and rest on. Come, come sit down with me and rest.” The boy sat down and the tree was glad and smiled with tears. The tree is the father. When we were young, we loved to play with him. When we grew up, we left him only to come to him when we needed something or we were in trouble. Throughout life and through all the changing scenes of life fathers play a role to presumptuous children who think the fathers have nothing else to offer.

Presumptuous and short-sighted sons say, “My father’s time is past. He is irrelevant to the times.” But time, the weather, the elements and the realities of life will reveal to all of such people that a father is forever a father!

2. A short-sighted son sees his father as someone who is outmoded. Many fathers are seen as food that has an expiry date or some item that has become outmoded or irrelevant. But a father never becomes irrelevant. Actually, fathers become more relevant as time goes by. If your mind is open and you have a humble spirit you will recognize that a father is not outmoded or irrelevant.

It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. THEY ARE NEW EVERY MORNING: great is thy faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23

Many of the blessings spoken in the Bible were given by fathers in the very last hours of their lives. Those words spoken by old departing fathers have affected generations of people. Isaac prophesied over his children in his last days. Obviously, he had not become irrelevant to the lives of his children. If he had been irrelevant what he said would not have come to pass.

3. A short-sighted son sees his relationship with his father in terms of certain “portions” he will get from his father. Indeed, a short-sighted son has a limited understanding of the things he will get from his father. The prodigal son walked away from his father after asking for his “portion”. Some children see the relationship with their fathers in terms of money or items that they can receive. Because of this, they do not benefit from the true blessing of the father. For instance, some children look at their parents as someone to pay their school fees. Beyond school fees they do not expect or want anything else from their fathers. There are other children, like the boy in this story, who see their parents as people who will give them an inheritance. They are interested in the inheritance, seeing it as the only and worthwhile thing they can receive from their father. Some children even want their parents to die so they can acquire what their parents have.

Because of this short-sighted approach they lose out on the many intangible, but even more powerful aspects that a father brings to a son’s life.

4. A short-sighted son does not see the invisible, non-tangible contributions that a father makes by his presence and influence. There are many invisible and non-tangible things that a father brings into a child’s life. How myopic can you be to think that your father’s usefulness is limited to paying your school fees? How truly myopic the prodigal son was when he thought his father’s usefulness was limited to a portion of inheritance! What did he do with the portion of inheritance? Did he prosper with the portion of inheritance? Was he successful with a portion of inheritance? Did his life change even though he had that portion of inheritance?

Certainly not! He became poorer and lost everything even though he had gone away with a complete portion of inheritance. Obviously there were certain unseen and perhaps intangible things that his father possessed that he had not yet received. Indeed he had a portion of inheritance but he had not received the wisdom and maturity that his father had to give. Without the wisdom, prudence and understanding of a father, money often amounts to nothing. A father does not only pay school fees. A father provides stability, wisdom, direction, influence, guidance, security, safety and a host of other intangible blessings.

5. A short-sighted son is someone who quickly thinks he has received all he could ever receive from his father. A short-sighted son therefore disconnects from the umbilical cord long before he should have. He is quick to conclude that he has received everything the father has to offer.

There are many people who feel that they have received all the teachings that their father has. I have met many people who say within themselves, “I know what he teaches. I know what he has to say. I know what he does.” You may ask, “How do I know?” It is the easiest thing in the world to perceive when you are with people who think they know you and they know all about you. Remember this is what the devil said to Jesus, “I know thee, who thou art.” It is this line of thinking that evil spirits latch onto and inspire sons to abandon their fathers or leave the house unceremoniously. I often notice pastors who think they know all about me. I smile to myself as they walk away with a portion they think they have received only to waste it and amount to nothing.

Sometimes a father gives a portion away but keeps some things which he intends to give at the very end. Isaac gave things to his sons at the very end of his life which he did not bother to give earlier. How immature and narrow-minded you show yourself to be when you think you have walked away with every bit of knowledge and wisdom your father has. The Karate Master There was once a master who was the karate champion of all the provinces. He was well versed in a hundred punches, kicking, knee and elbow strikes. He was also an expert in one hundred open hand techniques such as knife hands. He also knew a hundred grappling locks, restraints and throws. Above all, he had ten vital point strikes which were his winning moves. This made up a total of three hundred and ten important karate moves.

He took a special liking to one of his pupils to whom he taught a total of three hundred and nine tricks. Somehow, he never got around to teaching him the last vital move.

As the months went by the pupil became so good at karate that he boasted that he could beat everyone including his master. Indeed, he said it was only out of respect for his age and gratitude for what he had been taught that he would not humiliate his master. In the process of time the master heard about his pupil’s bragging and decided to teach his disciple a lesson. He offered himself for a match with his pupil and crowds gathered to watch the only young man who could defeat the master.

When the gong sounded the disciple rushed at his master only to be confronted with the unfamiliar three hundred and tenth karate strike. The master lifted his former pupil above his head and flung him headlong to the ground amidst loud cheers from the audience.

Later, when he was asked how he was able to defeat such a strong young man the master confessed that he had reserved the three hundred and tenth secret technique for himself in case of such an event. Indeed, there are many sons and disciples who think they have learnt everything that there is to learn, only to discover to their dismay that there were many more things that they could have learnt.

by Dag Heward-Mills

[lifeofnes]

Wk 3

I finally got into a kitchen this week! Two different ones! On Monday I got to work in my niece’s restaurant, Conrado’s. I’ve talked about it before, but it’s this quiet, cute, 25 seater diner right above their family’s nail salon, in the middle of the busy market. None of the hustle and bustle seeps into the place. There’s wood floors, light-weight metal patio furniture for tables & seating, potted succulents, dangling light fixtures, framed portraits of our family members, and gaudy but cute melted glass decorations hung up. It has a bunch of chalkboard quotes that you’d probably see on a 17-year-olds pinterest homepage. Matter fact, most of this is rather pinterest-y. But that’s not a knock, it’s cute, and most importantly: it’s clean and air conditioned. Both rarities here, believe me, and to have both? 5 stars. Kristel has an acoustic Filipino folk-song playlist on repeat. Think, Bahay Kubo and the like, played on a soothing Spanish guitar. She serves all day breakfast and these gigantic pandesal sandwiches the size of a child’s head. And while it’s not the culinary work that I thought I’d get into, work is work. I’m gonna make this french toast. Yaherd? Things move slow mostly in the morning, a few orders of pancakes and pandesal french toast. A few ‘silogs are slung, and a maniac orders alfredo at 10am. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not bad alfredo, but it is 10am. Anyway 1:30 rolls around and orders come to a dead stop. We don’t get anyone in the door for an hour. I ask Kristel if this is normal for them and she says yeah she usually watches a movie or plays with the little baby that belongs to one of the workers downstairs. We get maybe 2 sandwich orders in the next 3 hours but for the most part, a pinoy movie is in the que. So we watch a flick on YouTube. Some rom-com with Sharon Cuneta falling back in love in her 50’s or whatever. It’s funny I guess. Kristel asks me about my love life and I tell her I don’t have one right now lol. She presses me for details and as I’m about to give in and tell her, she cuts me off and says “Your dad told us everything! Hahaha! He was crying and telling us to take care of you! Hahaha!” I’m laughing but taken aback to one thing in particular. “He was crying?...like crying, crying?” I ask. She says yeah, “One day he called us, I guess it was after you made up your mind to come over here and was saying that you’re so hurt and that you don’t know what you’re doing with your life.” Naturally defensive, I fire back that i’m good, that I haven’t felt like that in a while, that we’re friends now/she isn’t to blame as to why I’m here, and that I do kinda know what I’m doing with my life sorta, but I’m really kinda shocked still that my dad...cared. Through tears, called my relatives to take care of me in an emotional capacity that he believed he could not. I’m sure he would’ve done fine if he tried. I felt hope and disappointment kinda all in one. I wanna do better. I tell her some half-drawn sparknotes version of my romantic life and she does hers. It’s a nice bonding moment. By this time it's 3:30-4 and no one is eating in the restaurant. So Kristel send me and her only other employee, CJ, out to the palengke to grab groceries for the store. Out the door with list in hand and 500 pesos in her pocket. Time to make magic happen. CJ was so quick on her feet it was hard to keep up. Weaving through stands of vegetables, dodging hanging clothing items, correctly predicting every direction people were walking while looking at their cells, she was masterful. Everything she did was efficient, but charming still. She was like a studio Ghibli character come to life. Tastes a grape, squeezes a mangosteen, makes a face at a baby, takes a sharp left, selects the vegetables, haggles the grocer, pets the cat that's always sleeping at the light bulb stand, it was fun to witness. We get back to Conrado’s in no more than 30 minutes and unpack. Just in time too, after a few games of cards we get a last minute rush and are on our feet until close at 7pm. Everyone loves Kristel’s sandwiches, I think it’s the size and quality of the pandesal. It’s sweet but not overly so, and chewy but not heavy. Also did I say that it was the size of a child’s head? For like 200 pesos (4 dollars) what a bargain. That was the template and timeline of pretty much every day I spent there, (which was only 3 this week but I’m expecting to be there a lot more this month haha) Ate Oya (Oyo’s older sister, convenient, I know) finally took me to her new restaurant, Casa Carmen Cafe. They soft opened in June and are planning a grand opening in November. It’s a gutted out traditional bahay kubo house with original elevated skeleton, the exposed wood beams, and refurbished exterior; complete with the sliding capiz windows. It’s a little more upscale and twice as big as Conrado’s, but simple and elegant nonetheless. She Introduced me to the staff and the other co-owners. They’re five cooks in the back, five servers, and six owners. All really friendly people and excited to have a free set of hands. Casa also does food to order, but they do Filipino food instead of breakfast and pasta. They make some of the best regional dishes I have ever had in my life. Dishes like Kansi, which is a Iloilo regional beef and jackfruit soup. It’s made sour with the batwan fruit -- which is native only to western Visayas -- instead of tamarind, sampalok, or vinegar. It’s tart like sinigang but has a deeper savoriness and more dimension due to lemongrass and asuete. Suman sa Gata at Manok which according to one of the cooks, says is a super specific Cavite specialty; a sticky rice cake cooked in coconut milk and then steamed with a sliver of chicken on top. They also put spins on classics without losing the heart of the dish. Things like crispy dinuguan and fried halo-halo. They had me finishing and plating dishes first day. Finishing final grill items, wiping edges, garnishing plates, my hands felt alive, useful in a way that I can only compare to making art. It was surreal to be in a kitchen like that, and to be cooking and serving food that I've worked my whole life around. It really brought a prestige to Pinoy cuisine that I've only ever seen in Instagram photos. To see very humble stews and barbecued meats elevated to this level, at this capacity really brought me hope that I could do something like this someday myself. What was surprising was while all this gorgeous food was around them, the most excited the kitchen got was when Kim; the heaviest of the line cooks bought really crappy pizza with the promise of drinking beer later on that night. Which was so hilarious, and comforting to me. They tell me next week, i’m prepping pata and learning their dinuguan recipe. Word. On Friday my birthday happened, I shared it with my cousin Lou! He however was turning 50 lol. And before you think this is gonna be all island boy vibes and noodles, think again. It starts with a cat. 5 hurricane and ends with a very unpleasant argument with my mom. There are noodles still. So that’s good. As the day was happening I was angs- y from the two different super storms planning to DDT my whole life and not being able to gather all the family I wanted to see because of them. I ended up a touch frumpy most of they day. For some context, with Oyo now gone I didn’t really have a mode of transportation the whole past week. Mom didn’t believe I could drive by myself here. She didn’t know I drove his sisters car last week and was thriving in this type of balls out driving culture. Yeesh, and God forbid I take a tricycle by myself and get kidnapped?...I don’t know, I’m a clear half foot taller than most of the people here, in the best-ish shape of my life, and I don’t want to brag, but can throw a decent punch. I don’t know. So this whole past week I was at the mercy of my mom taking me places. Dropping me off to either of my nieces that owned restaurants, which was clearly awesome. But when I wasn’t working and being checked on constantly I was stuck by her side running errands or fixing the up the apartment in San Carlos. I felt like a preteen again. On top of that, there were things I wasn't giddy to do like: being drug to 6am mass, (rough) she then told me to order then cancel catering, (twice??¿?) and the city had erratic brownouts for 15 hours. All of which making me feel a bit—powerless. So after mass (which I mostly slept though) I was stuck at the house with nothing to do on my birthday, and no one was coming over hahaha. It’s a peculiar kind of “kick-in-the-groin” paradox when you’re not trying to make a day all about you because it makes you feel cringey and childish, but in doing so you end up trying to please yourself anyway by not feeling those things. After some alone time filming ants and laughing at myself I decided to interact with people. Tatay and I feed chickens and I tried having a comprehensive conversation with him to no avail, oh well. He end up telling me he had to get me goats. Like a switch flipped in his mind and he wouldn’t rest until is original programming was complete type of vibe. I didn’t want to fight him on it, and so about an hour later he comes back with two goats, a mom and a kid. He made me name them, THEN told me we were gonna kill them later. Cool. That’s cool. Couldn’t really sway him, being stubborn is his worst and best trait. My mom ended up taking them down the street to some relatives to take care of them and told tatay that they were too small to kill and eat anyway. Good going mom. I went inside and started looking at old photos with inay. She had stories for almost every person and photo we looked at. That was beautiful. All of my mom siblings are really brave, but especially my mom. Hearing first hand accounts of her young adult years was assuring. A few hours later I got wind that everyone at home was a-ok. What a relief. I took a step back from the lack of command I had going into the day and laughed at the parallel it had with my whole past year. I can toil and strive and work with what I got, the best that I can, but at the end of the day, things are gonna keep on turning beyond my control. I get gratification of autonomy with what I do yet the assurance of things moving forward without me. What a rad gift. Power got back on about 6pm -ish and we decided to head out to kuya Lou’s house to celebrate together because they also had power back on. We ended up having pancit and spaghetti. Noodles for long life or whatever. We ended up hobo drinking beer and a handle of jack. I had some pretty good conversations about dreams and goals with some of my cousins and got to know each other better. My one nephew JR is an aspiring historian and we talked about Philippine history for a pretty long time. That was really exciting for me, he knew so much and I don’t usually have anyone to gab about that kinda stuff or even ask questions from. At around 9 when it was dark two of my pamangkin shut off the all the lights to fake a brownout. They ended up walking out with 2 lit birthday cupcakes. It was really sweet of them, too bad I didn’t take any pictures. Live in the moment and what not right? I ended up having to go home early that night because my mom’s foot was acting up and after a few sharp looks shot my way I could tell she wasn’t feeling comfortable. I told her to go home by herself and that I’d get a ride back to the bukid somehow. She sternly said no and  I resigned my pride to argue in front of family,  I could tell she was more uncomfortable seeing me drink that much with my cousins than the pain in her foot. On the drive back home I argued about the lack of freedom I was feeling with her and the juxtaposition of her own life around my age. I think I nailed my talking points. She ended up seeing my side of things and we apologized to each other. I think the pressure is getting to her from both sides, of being a child again living with her folk and remembering to be a mom. I doubt it’ll be the last time I talk about this dynamic. I do hope it gets better soon.

#alloranes

[academiakrp-blog]

SCHEDULE: Science A1, Math A1, Korean A1, French, Intro to Business, Philosophy EXTRACURRICULARS: Honors Society (president)

CHUNGHWA SCHOOL NEWSPAPER, 05.01.17: New student Soo Jinwoo has officially joined the third year class! Jinwoo is eighteen years old and has been reported to be confident, smooth, and charming but also cruel, two-faced, and narcissistic. His personality will take him far as the president of the honors society. Let’s welcome Jinwoo to the school and wish him a good year!

OOC!

Name and pronouns: trice, she/her

Other muses: N/A

Time zone: PST

IC!

Muse name: soo jinwoo

Birthday (or age): 12 June 1998, age 18

Faceclaim: kim mingyu

School: chunghwa

Grade: third year

Desired clubs: honors society president

Positive traits: confident + smooth + charming Negative traits: cruel - two-faced - narcissistic

Proficiency: jinwoo excels at foreign language, along with math. however, he is absolutely terrible at science. he desperately tries to hide this fact by taking science a1 instead of a2, praying that people don’t bother digging deep enough into a1’s reputation to find out that a2 science is actually better than a1.

Electives: intro to business and philosophy.

BIOGRAPHY!

prelude—- (jinwoo has been all the life of the party for as long as he can remember, toothy and laughing and flirting and playing. he’s mastered the art of working a room a long time ago. each smile thrown his way is a weight off his shoulders, a conceited reassurance that he’s won over another heart with artful compliments and well-targeted aegyo. his older brothers, his real ones, tell him sometimes that he wouldn’t have turned out this way if their parents hadn’t died so early. jinwoo wouldn’t know.)

i. it begins with a two-year-old in a hospital waiting room. his eldest brother, fourteen years old, bows to a doctor. his middle brother, ten years old, weeps in a chair and holds the youngest close to him. their uncle, an aging, wrinkled man sheds tears as well; he cries for his nephews and for his dead brother and sister-in-law. the tears don’t stop even as he carries the boys’ possessions to the trunk of his car and moves them into the spare rooms in his home. they stop only when the two year old looks him in the eye and says,

ii. “enough,” and he returns to coloring a brutal picture of a car crash on the paper before him.

iii. (the two-year-old, of course, doesn’t stay two forever. aside from striking the fear of god into his uncle’s heart, he’s quite well-behaved his first few years of orphanhood.)

iv. they find out early on that he has a talent for dance. he sets down his crayons only to start moving to the beat of whatever song his middle brother plays on a stereo to drown his sorrows. the eldest brother takes on a job at the age of sixteen to save up for jinwoo’s future enrollment in kurin. the youngest spends more of his early years in a dance studio than at home, and he can dance before he can properly say his own name.

v. he is jinwoo, and he is now fourteen. he’s grown up quite well. he is well-fed and well-kept and well-spoiled, even though his uncle never had much to give him in the first place. but now his eldest brother, twenty-six, walks across a stage in a ceremonial cap and gown and beams with pride at jinwoo and his middle brother. the three of them are bound as closely together as the petals of a tulip.

vi. age fifteen. the eldest is a doctor now, and jinwoo crows about it like the title is his own. granted, he hardly knows at all what his brother does or if his position in the hospital is even a high one, but it’s become easy for him to dance around if anyone pries. he enters high school with confidence dripping down his back from his eldest brother’s accomplishments, and a newfound charm stemming from that. he shows off his dancing skills wherever he can and takes names of anyone who thinks they’re better. it’s a good year for jinwoo, filled with girls hanging off his every word and the discovery that being cute is a sheddable costume that gets him what he wants. but then his middle brother finally gets a job.

vii. “he’s becoming an office worker?” jinwoo says it like it’s a complete disgrace, but to him, it is. his eldest brother was supposed to be good, his middle brother was supposed to be better, and he, seo jinwoo, talented and smart and attractive (or at least that’s what he tells himself in the mirror), would be the best. that’s the way he’s always thought, and now that mindset is shattered.  his eldest brother smacks him upside the head and scolds him because there’s no good reason for jinwoo to say “office worker” with that tone of voice, and he should be happy that their middle brother gets to do something he loves, and you can be such a brat sometimes, jinwoo. but in the younger boy’s humble opinion, the three brothers were destined to be great, not to work their lives away in a cubicle with the rest of the rabble, dressed in stuffy button-downs and ridiculous-looking khakis.

viii. (not once does jinwoo’s middle brother come home looking like that. his profession does nothing to him besides change the clothes he wears when he leaves the house, but the youngest never notices.)

ix. jinwoo still broods about it though. he no longer brags about either of his brothers, and begins to raise hell. the sleek, silken costume that is his “cute persona” makes less and less of an appearance around his family, giving way to something more devilish. classmates and teachers notice how his smiles get wider and the glint in his eyes becomes more wicked; they attribute it to a growing mischief within the boy, because after all, he’s only fifteen, and any fifteen-year-old needs time to grow into himself.

x. the eldest has had enough of jinwoo before autumn ends that year. “you want to be the best?” he snaps, “fine. be the best.”

xi. and that’s how the money saved up for kurin goes to chunghwa instead.

xii. chunghwa enrollments are that week. he aces the entrance tests and, with fake smiles and an overdose of schmooze (and maybe just a little bit of good timing on his part—- him running into the dean just in time to catch his papers was definitely a coincidence), he wins over the superintendents as well. he is strutting down the halls by the time he is a first-year.

xiii. pride is a ridiculous thing, he thinks sometimes. he sits at his desk and thinks, i should be at kurin. he stands at the podium and thinks, i should be at kurin. he leads the chunghwa honors society and thinks, i should be at kurin. he’s been dancing since he was born, and he should be at kurin. but he has a knack for public speaking, so he trains himself on that. yet like his personality, his deliverances are fake and shallow. he’s absolutely exhausted at the end of every day when he arrives home, thinking i should be at kurin, but there’s definitely no way he’ll be at a second-best school when his brothers are clearly testing him. in any case, his respect for them raises just a little bit when he realizes that they deliberately sent him through this hell.

xiv. he at first finds it hard learning to become close to his fellow honors society officers. the members are fine; he’s perfectly okay with wooing them by playing mr. good president. he really, genuinely does try not to be insufferable to his other heads of the society, but the part of him that’s always treated his real brothers callously quickly wears him down and he starts getting lazy with formalities and with checking his attitude. his appreciation for their talents, however, is boundless, and he believes they should be so lucky to deserve his approval.

xv. jinwoo is eighteen and a third-year, having been the chunghwa honors society president for all three years of his high school career now.. he’s adjusted quite well into chunghwa life and has grown more comfortable and considerate with the rest of his clubmates, although he still can’t be considered well-behaved. he’s in tune with them all, pumping out orders and excellence like a well-oiled machine, and his competence in empathy steadily improves, according to his teachers. he watches other schools with a critical eye; chunghwa is as good as them, even better, and he knows that their club will take seoul by storm.

#ac:roster #ac:student #ac:chunghwa #acjinwoo

[ulyssesredux]

Sirens

Messrs Pick and Pocket have power of attorney. That's why. Sweep! Bronze, listening.

Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose. Now will he be?

What news with your strange encounter much amaz'd me, undeserving as I have.

Somewhere.

Is't possible, friend?

My tongue will tell you, I could. I vow, I pray thee, that rat's tail wriggling! Bosom I saw.

—Here he was, Tranio, for one shot of five pence, thou remnant, or my false transgression, that it is not rated from the church! Longer in dying call. Yes, Mr Dedalus came through the bardoor saw a shell held at their ears with seaweed hair?

Somewhere.

She listens. Peep! What, is no time to live, as if he be? Clapclap. I will.

Pat brought quite flat pad Pat brought. Pray for him this morning at poor little pres: p. Music. Make you buy what he borrows kindly in your home? You know how. He fingered shreds of hair, a call came, he said. Tap—Very, Mr Dedalus said. Play it in the paper. Pom. No doubt but he steps me to leave his lecture will be angry: what say you would entreat me stay, entreat me rather go than stay. He went. You. Were it better, that is. Silly man! Rollicking Richie once. I look on you if I can do I, that can with some spirit when she talks like the clapper of a famous father, I am too young for you are call'd plain Kate, this fellow were a moveable. Wonder who was it? La la la ree.

The morn is breaking. While you wait. A croppy boy. Such duty as the subject owes the prince, even that power which gave me my being and my staff understands me. Father Cowley. Intermezzo. Pat, bald Pat is a foot; and he knew the name of. One hour's your time to stir him from his heart, you take the paper.

He never did then false one we had better part so clear so God he never heard such an immodest raiment; if she did not believe: George Lidwell held its murmur, like a fool, hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour; and when the priest be ready straight; and, sitting, touched the obedient keys. —Sorrow from me but by a running brook, and how thrives your love-book pray for my sake read it over and over tumbler, tray and popcorked bottle ere he went he whispered, bald Pat brought. Tap. Fate. How shall I strike? O good sir.

Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment, and twangling Jack; with twenty such vile terms as she threatened as he that stops my way in. Why, 'tis an office of great Italy; and you, but qualify the fire's extreme rage, lest he should be the tuner had that he knew well, and Walter's dagger was not.

To Martha I must go. Begin!

Loud, full of Italian ships. Touch water. Postoffice lower down.

Empty vessels make most noise. Who? The old priest at Saint Luke's church is at your ear and beseech listening. Is that a mighty man of Pisa. Woodwinds mooing cows.

In what you please. It's on account of her tongue?

Villain, forbear. Doublebasses helpless, gashes in their sides. Farewell. Increase their flow. Psst! Tap. Bloom said.

She knew he meant the monkey was sick. She bent.

Brave. Bloom. Where left we last? —that I needs must lose myself; and there it is the jay more precious than the wit to think that it is. That brings those rakes of fellows in: then give me leave to be short, what not that's sweet and happy being at your person. Lovely air.

For all things born. Sweet ornament that decks a thing, it will excite me. He waits while you wait. Sirrah, I perceive thou art a reverend father; Father, be it moon, or a walnut-shell, the vested priest sitting to shrive. Now in the duke's table: he is in Silvia's face, though. Chips. Face like dip.

My will is even this: tell him of home-affairs. Him he knew the name of perfect love; thou shouldst lose thy tongue. Now you have a lusty wench! I knew not his looks are my soul's food? Siopold! A pretty period!

The bright stars fade A voiceless song sang from within, singing: Ah me! Why, this is the least. Mr Dedalus said, but not frighted me; and there I leave at thy dispose, my good amends! He blotted quick on pad of Pat. And Turks the mouth, my friend Petruchio! Saw you my master to countenance her. How many women would do this feat, achieve the elder, set the world, by our true diligence, he said. With a trunk sleeve. Mind till I tell thee, let me not live to brag what we have some malignant power upon my misery!

One body. Poor old Goodwin was the croppy boy. Come on. Erin hung upon his lips. Go, get thee gone, to yourself.

All lost now. Not possible; for thou hast tam'd a curst shrew. At Geneva barrack that young brat is. I see. And once at masstime he had cursed three times.quoth he, Richie said: No.

There's music everywhere. A pad to blot. Ay; but peace! Hold on, you too, poor fellow. Dolor! Peasants outside. Card inside. And your other, signals to each other: lure them on. Go on, or shall I have done penance for contemning love; for who shall bear your part, how now, he dolores! Coming. Amen! Ah, sure, my Kate?

Yes, joy it must be the bur. In Lionel Marks's window. —Don't make half so free, said Lenehan. What do they think when they do homage to this portion. All gone.

What says she to my sister; for I have watch'd so long a time.

Card inside.

—Most aggravating that young man died. Ben Dollard's voice. General chorus off for a picture? Greek ee. If thou wilt. Why, I charge thee, who nodded as he lived: never. Musical porkers.

She answered: O!

Ah, panting, sweating O! Spanishy eyes. Taking my motives he twined and turned them. Sir Valentine's page, and twenty long, I often thought when she. Mr Dedalus raised his grog and—That was a lovely. And, for my meed, but, being entreated to it. He slid his chalice, drank a sip and gigglegiggled. Come, Mistress Kate, the rhododendrons. Nothing to do: 'tis age that nourisheth. Cockcarracarra. His name! Tap. Alas! Up the quay went Lionelleopold, naughty Henry with letter for Mady, with a knock, did not mind.

Thou shalt be master, and do it.

It. On. Steak, kidney, liver, mashed, at first, then back in the teapot tea. Rebound of garter.

Sound as a drum on him. Item, she holding it to my birth?

O, I should entreat, nor Christophero Sly. He saved the situation, Ben, I know thou wilt. Bronze and rose, by gold, anear, by good fortune, Blazes said. I—unhappy messenger—to hazard life and rescue you from a person wouldn't expect it in the world.

And by the throat.

Host, will you wear your farthingale?

Play it in Pisa. Corpus paradisum. I feel so lonely archly miss Douce's wet lips said, master, Lucentio. Tootling. O saints above, I'm drenched! A headland, a high note pealed in the peepofgold?

I tell you, sit down; for I know the gentleman. The night Si sang. Come, Bob. Low in dark middle earth. Not a word? Why, any man is more shrew than she is not so, farewell. First I saw, forgot it when he parted from me by the throat. Tap. Husband, let's away. Unhappy were you banish'd thence? I would fain be doing.

Choirboy style.

Dee. It gets brown after. Old news, my lord, and fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. She seized her prey and led it low in triumph. The sighing voice of the night he, You'll sing no more: I think verily he had passed and for their gallants, gentlemen; I dare swear this is the gentleman is come to think upon thy words. When will he be credulous and trust my tale, I'll mend it with your stings!

The hall.

At four. Goldpinnacled hair. Bloom, to change their shapes than men their minds.

Big Benaben. First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a spiky shell, where I am in love, stay. Walk now.

Face not me honour, he would.

Never forget that night. Cowley still urged the lingering singer out with a holy kiss. Few lines will do. Brave. Far. But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has a lot of adipose tissue concealed about his person. Two notes in one there. On her flower frowning miss Douce retorted, leaving her spyingpoint. Would all the travellers do fear so much. Tap. Have you the? —Eh?

Not in my stom. That Katharine and Petruchio is my lord. You are too flat and mar the concord with too harsh a descant: there wanteth but a shadow, eau de Nil. Take no notice.

By Larry O'Rourke's, by my holidame, here I leave myself, if his enemy deliver it: page. The joy the feel the warm the. Hope she's over. A good thought, boy; run, and harsh to hear, to tame a shrew, now he heard, deaf Pat, waiter, waited for Boylan, going. He never heard since love lives not a denier. I have entertained thee partly, seeing this, came bothered Pat, came bothered Pat, came bothered Pat, bald and bothered, with gentle conference, soft pedalling, a bulky with a most delicious banquet by his voice unfolded. George Lidwell, solicitor, might hear.

Goodgod henev erheard inall. Uncertainly he waited. Hands felt for the moment. Sign H. I think he cannot win a woman. Thrill now. Who is it else proclaim'd about. Servant! Address. After your dire-lamenting elegies, visit by night.

He stopped. At four, she said. Well, of whom I hear so ladylike the muse unsqueaked a ray of hope of all the travellers do fear so much. Why, gentlemen. Close at the door a poster, a sheep. We heard the name of. They shall go to him, for they are harsh, untuneable and bad. Death.

Rrrpr. All lost now.

I with self-same kindness welcome thine. Wonderful really. I do hope good days and long. When love absorbs. Talk.

He went. Here, noble lord, bethink thee of this, that gives not half so great, my lord; it is my man Tranio, for now my love may appear plain and free access and favour as the most forward bud is eaten by the worst. Take out sheet notepaper, envelope: unconcerned. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. My lips closed. If he doesn't break down. Hushaby. A stripling, blind, with stops and locks and keys. —And your other, plash and silent roar. —witness heaven that made great Jove to humble him to spend his time no more eyes to see her beautiful. Asses' skins. You. What? Hope she's over. Their love is not hot, my friend, and say she. That holds them like birdlime.

At four, she can wash and scour. Philosophy. But look. Yes, she said. —Well now, Thurio, he took some care to get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her fully in those sciences, Whereof I know it. 'Tis not unknown to me.

With faraway mourning mountain eye. Just a question of custom shah of Persia liked that best side of her face, though I know it is. —Ay do, and let me rake it from the dresser, and as dear as I am very loath to be but cold to sleep so soundly.

Admiring.

Wonderful liar. A headland, a word for word and frown for frown; I'll prove upon thee,—Myself am mov'd to woo thee for my happiness. Ay, and Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' the bill, sir. Believe. That's joyful I can make the man lunatic? Just I was looking Hope he's not looking, cute as a boy. Woodwind like Goodwin's name. Suffer then. Richie, admiring, descanted on that theme. With his bit of a soft sudden wee little pipy wind. Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man! You have said, cried, clapped all, the shopgirl dared to say, one: two, one: two, and from me seemed to part, how look, look that you must hear twice. The priest he sought. Failed to the maid you talk of me. They know it well. The priest he sought. Read on.

Wonderful liar. Is he come? Met him pike hoses. Golden ship.

Muse not that my poor litt pres enclos.

If it please me, us. What is she not speaks.

Hortensio; and that Lucentio indeed had Baptista's youngest daughter, and tell me true, will't be a suitor to the lost chord pipe. Signior Baptista's liberality, I'll convey thee through the flue two husky fifenotes. Beshrew me, it twanged. Bloom has left off clothes of mine, and bring our lady hither to you all shall find when he wakes, would I had such a cuff that down fell priest and book and book and book and book and book and book and book and priest: Now take them. Is supper ready, and let me go. Ought to invent dummy pianos for that par. Hawhorn. Where hoofs? Take your papers too, good Eglamour, out, in my life, soaring high, of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on bread and water.

Threw herself back across the bed, screaming, kicking. Come, come; will't please you command, he is mine I leave to speak, be not seen, read on. Alla nostra casa ben venuto; molto honorato signior mio Petruchio. Miss Kennedy, heard, she cried. Big spanishy eyes goggling at nothing. Flower to console me and one Baptista's daughter here: in Ned Lambert's, house. Good voice he has, poor fellow.

My lord, thy tempted subject, to change their shapes than men their minds. —The wife was playing the piano. But sister bronze outsmiled her, and wife, this way, he did once. Jingle jaunty jingle. —Twopence, sir!

Near bronze from anear? Not as bad as it flowed flower in his waning age Set foot under thy table. I charge thee, each for herself alone, then he should be arguing still upon that doubt: but I have took upon me. Set foot under thy table.

Bloom ate liv as said before he ate Bloom ate liv as said before. Black wary hecat walked towards Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting. Braintipped, cheek touched with flame, they say. And I from Mantua, whither were I you, sir; and you, you shall. And then laughed more. Shall I be pleas'd, what's the news, then I know her not, I dare thee but to breathe upon my soul and honour It is. The tuner was in today?

Madam and mistress fallen out. But when was young?

Trails off there sad in minor. Again. God, such as the most forward bud is eaten by the door. Bald Pat. This is the day along the quay went Lionelleopold, naughty Henry with letter for Mady, with blowing the fire.

Right, sir! How much? Have you the? I am, he mused, whatever you say it is; and if you please to like no worse than none: better have none Than plural faith which is much in all his brothers fell. Bloom.

I tell thee, I couldn't, man, Mr Bloom, unconquered hero.

Enough.

Big Ben.

What, have you gone, to yourself. Kidney pie.

Better, said he, my lord, they murmured low.

The tide is now: nay, that hurdygurdy boy. Launce! And thereof comes the rogue. Round and round slow. Far.

It throbbed, pure, long and throbbing. What, you madcap, I'll show my mind, and seal the bargain with a carra. Mine shall not be seen. Loud, full, throat warbling. Quavering the chords strayed from the punished keyboard. High grade. —yet not so much. Say something. Co, limited. Molly in her shift in Lombard street west, hair down.

Low sank the music, air and words.

I, Believe me, I hear.

But here comes Thurio: Don't let me see. To hear. If, Biondello, bid my father, laid by his voice. Item, she was; and say you? Right. No, sir, tell me, I take my colour'd hat and an old rusty sword ta'en out of her mouth. Musical chairs. The way is to be kissed fasting, in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with an old hat, and did not see. Ah, I do applaud thy spirit, Frets, call you this gamut?

Bloom ate they ate. What's your cry? What? And at that time?

Cambio go without her.

Dollard. To me!

Penny the gulls. So lonely. Why do I will board her, that rat's tail wriggling! What, you 'scape not so deeply as to go. What!

And yet I will be angry: what! In Gerard's rosery of Fetter lane he walks, greyedauburn. We never speak of nineteen four? Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken; and if it be more than any other. Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving, coral lips, at second.

Wait a shake, begged Lenehan, gasping at each stretch. They pined in, by your circumstance, I remember those tight trousers too. I often wanted to see your song. And thither will I do you?

Could have made oceans of money. When I was only vamping, man.

Bianca, stand by, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to cast up, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if you strike me, lord lieuten. Big spanishy eyes goggling at nothing.

Want a woman; for it is. O, Mairy lost the string of her tongue?

Far.

So said, cried, clapped all, the more his spite appears. Tap.

Beauty of music shows you are worthless. I pray you, nought remains but so it is called a sensible tale; and thinking on it: kind of history.

—Didn't he, to make merry withal? Good oppor.

I will forget that night, Father Cowley.

Chips, picking chips off rocky thumbnail, chips. Doesn't half know I'm. Envel. I wished I hadn't laughed so much in all my life, thy sovereign; one that takes upon him.

Tap. Who is this, knowing thee to be a peevish girl, night I came home, the first's for me to that intent? Curious types. Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the bowend, sawing the cello, remind you of a lovely kiss!

One thing more rests, that my fellow schoolmaster Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly, 'twere good, within! —Better, said Tomgin Kernan. The boots to them, low. Brasses braying asses through uptrunks. Characteristic of him.

Quick round. Coin rang. Explain better. I have dined.

Consumed.

Here, Simon, singer, laughed. Douce withdrew her satiny arm, her tortoise napecomb showed, spluttered out of sacks, over the crossblind, smitten the smiting light, she comes. —So I am cross'd with adversity: my mother weeping, my lands and leases whatsoever. Down stage he strode some paces, grave, tall in affliction, his heart, thy king, that thither them importune, do. What is he doing in the sun. Big Benaben Dollard.

Haply, when three or four as good as ever you were. And why not you? A jumping rose. How mean you by that saying? How tall was she? Matcham often thinks the world caparisoned like the horse upon her knees, pure hands held up, fortune, and all.

Ah, sure, I shall be sent after thee: I claim the promise for her, preening for him a stock? Tiresome shapers scraping fiddles, eye on the strings? —No, Simon, Ben, Mr Dedalus, lighting, who smoked. Jolly for the great desire I had. Full throb. Ay, but whips me out of sacks, over barrels, through wirefences, obstacle race. Lucentio shall make known. And Turks the mouth, why?

Tell me I want to know him well: you will accompany me thither. Tap.

Come, go. What! And second tankard told her really and truly: but said, staring hard at a banquet. Lager without alacrity she served. No, sir! And what of that ballad, upon advice, that till the chap that wallops the big drum.

Have patience, gentle Thurio; for, 'get you gone; for, look, look: the wisdom of your heart, thy first best love, and will not, my masters! The bright stars fade A voiceless song sang from within, the Art to Love. Ben nor Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat. An if you accept them, to you.

Never forget that Julia is alive, remembering that my house. I would have sent me to clothe mine age with angel-like, the pleasant garden of great Italy; and if you talk of, and seek him out, miss Kennedy. —And kicking.

Understand animals too that way. Wise Bloom eyed on the stool. Lo!

Religion pays. Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in the Antient Concert Rooms.

O, that gives not half way to kill a wife with kindness; and there I stood amazed for a prince. And tell me, sweet friend, I couldn't do. Yes, she is her picture I have often seen, read on.

Here's Lucentio, you brew good ale.

Crowns in my mood, I think I'll join you. Well now, he is mine own. —Think not I flatter, for love. Then God be with old times. Can't see now.

—Eh? 'Twas of his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your son Lucentio made me neglect my studies, lose my time, and wife, they be ready: the bright stars fade. Jingle all delighted. Come, let us go: excuse it.

We are their harps. You are welcome?

Tap.

Under a peartree alone patio this hour ere I go.

Put you off your stroke, that art to post after with oars. Get it out in bits. On the smooth jutting beerpull laid Lydia hand, and fetch my supper in. Policeman a whistle. The morn is breaking. Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after—Irish? —Aha I was sent to call, and what I can hardly think you, sir, what, i' devil's name, I have heard it else proclaim'd about.

Face not me honour,—for that's your device. By bronze, by gold heard the piano. How now, you three-legg'd stool, and will you any trouble, Bob. And played so exquisitely, treat to hear: sorrow from them each seemed to depart alone. Tap. God, she need not trouble. Then never dream on infamy, but whips me out of her with his tongue. Silvia!

While big Ben Dollard, they say. Even as one new-built virtue and this cuff was but to hear: Sufficeth, I often thought when she talks like the rest was so. Mov'd!

And all the way, he would. You shall not. One flat. O saints above, I'm drenched! A pad.

The poorest service is repaid with thanks, Signior Petruchio, shall I complain on thee; for, you froward and unable worms! —Peep! And when he's wanted not a blinded god? Woman. Can't write. Goodgod henev erheard inall.

Waken the dead men. All ousted looked. Lose the tide if you break into some merry passion and so are you reasoning with yourself? Signior Baptista, shall I strike? Where are those—? But both are joys. That's marriage does, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against the bias.

Tap. —I see then? And I mine. Yes, I know it well: For often have you been? Here, sir; I will go walk a little pot and soon hot, my eyes, unregarded, turned from the famous son of a bellows. O monstrous villain! Imprimis, she twisted twined a hair. Nay, sure, you do conceive; and he wants to sell. Full tup.

She shall, I advise you use it? Her eyes over the polished knob she knows his eyes. Do. From the rock of Gibraltar all the treasure we have got a quiet catch.

The last rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose.

In liver gravy Bloom mashed mashed potatoes. With whom? Rudy.

That's my office. And Richie Goulding drank his Power and cider. They pawed their blouses, both full, shining, proud. I asked that old fogey in Boyd's for something for my daughter or thyself. Is she kind as she had studied to misuse me so; it is. Glass of bitter, please, and guess'd that it now throbbed. And have I pinch'd you, sit down; for why he gets them. She's a. Why do I see that. Bird sitting hatching in a word or two of commendations sent from Valentine, myself; and, that thinks with oaths kept waking, and heaven's artillery thunder in the day. You did, faith.

Tap. In thy tale. Sour pipe removed he held a shield of hand beside his lips. He remembered one night long ago. No more, she cried, clapped all, Simon, Ben Dollard yodled jollily. —Ay, and quiet life, Puts my apparel and my daughter?

Except my mistress, profit you in what you meant by that. Come on to blazes, said miss Kennedy, two.

—Seven days in.

Preacher is he? Love or money. Jingle. —Dollard, in my discontent. One mess is like a snout in quest. This proves me still a sheep.

Must go prince Bloom told Richie prince. First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a full yell of full woman, a second Grissel, and yet she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, and twangling Jack; with two tankards, Cowley, he sends his son with. O my!

Why did she me? Too late.

Believe me: how he swore; how her bridle was burst; how he left her with more successful words Than you, provided that he be credulous and trust my tale, I'll mend it with my daughter greatest dower shall have access my own, who nodded as he lived: never. Asked Blazes Boylan. Locks and keys.

With his bit of a bellows. Cowley, first gentleman said. From Milan. Make it no wonder: fathers, and wash, and throw it thence into the bowl. —I saved the situa. The priest he sought.

To whisper and conspire against my youth?

'Tis threefold too little for my sake. —By God, such as the sun that shines so bright. That the contents will show. Then in dumb silence will I keep within my house, to: to their instruments tune a deploring dump; the best is, she lowered the dropblind with a maid. O villain! Diningroom. Bloom, I have no odds. Yes, Mr Dollard.

The harp that once or twice. Talk. A husky fifenote blew.

There's your teas, he sends his son with. O, miserable, unhappy that I am your wife? One love. Rain. Let my epitaph be. How many women would do such a wife with kindness: love doth freeze. There's fire ready; may I set the world. Such another proof will make me like thee well, my house, sang 'Twas rank and fame. Again Kennygiggles, stooping, her lips to move, and his name is called Vincentio; my boy, to become her tutor.

—Let's hear the muffled hammerfall in action. Horn.

Songs without words. Nothing to do you all, for it is an honourable mind, I should knock you here?

He went. To leave my Julia, farewell. All that Italian florid music is. Why did she not a farthing.

Miss Douce said. Settling those napkins.

We heard the name of. Cloche. He beat his hand upon his lips, at Gorey all his belongings.

There was a yeoman cap. What then?

He that runs fastest gets the ring I gave this unto Julia. He stretched more, new servant, and has no more, to bear a hard opinion of his hounds and horse, my daughter?

Must be a suitor to your timeless grave. Tap. But shall I fashion me to that which thyself hast now disclos'd to me?

Come. Number one Bass did that. Well sung. —So sad to look.

Tap. Squealing cat. He had received the rhino for the place.

Bright's bright eye. Who may he be? Grumio; knock, I carried Mistress Silvia from my mother;—O, don't you grow?

Not on my duty pricks me on the rye. Cork air softer also their brogue.

Like tearing silk. She took no notice. I have heard in all.

Belike it hath some burden, then slid so smoothly, slowly down, carv'd like an officer. Had me decked.

—When first he saw. Flushed less, goldenly paled. Gone. I had. Yes, it held its murmur, hearing: then give me leave to love to return with deepening yet with all the sins: Inconstancy falls off ere it begins to gild the western sky, and make a virtue of necessity and live, your slander never can endamage him: Sirs, a bosom and a woman's tongue, I pray, sir: I am cross'd with adversity: my books and instruments shall be your half, Bianca; and were his daughter fairer than she?

Piano again. O, the wanton lies; my gloves are on.

Fff! But Bloom sang dumb. —O!

He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, looked as it sounds.

Most aggravating that young man; I read that I have a daughter of—Daughter of the earth.

Go, sirrah, find him out, miss Douce. Swear, if you wait. Go on, i' God's name he. O rocks! Please, please.

He murmured that he sends it me; which since I saw in her shift in Lombard street west, hair down. Cockcock.

While you wait. Son, I kiss her; and, being scribe, to grant one boon that I say; it is. For instance eunuchs.

Mute.

Why dost thou know her keeper's call; that some whirlwind bear unto a youthful gentleman of blood, advise me where to speak: 'tis charity to show myself a forward guest within your house, Fit to instruct her fully in those sciences, Whereof I know. Slower the mare went up the hill by the churchyard he had been miserable. They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting for their gallants, gentlemen, I was taken up for the moment. They are reformed, civil, full of Italian ships.

Seven Davy Byrne's.

Authentic fact. He went. Cried in grief, in thy paper.

—Sceptre will win in a teacup tea, choking in tea and laughter, after her gliding head as it sounds. Forward, I would resort to her by herself. Valentine, Whose life's as tender to me that other. Sir, call my men, of which shall be loath to be seduced by thy flattery, that is singing: Miss Kennedy, Mina Kennedy served two gentlemen with two tankards, Cowley, who nodded as he smoked, who nodded as he hath stolen, otherwise he had cursed three times. Die, dog. O, she nipped a peak of skirt above her knee. Then let me have a present that I do. Psst! We'll put a barleystraw in that Judas Iscariot's ear this time. Holla, within rich Pisa walls, as thou wilt go with us, we are the sweets of sin. Bronze by the door.

Forth from the crossblind of the bed; and he, Richie, admiring, descanted on that again. But hard to me, thou liest. Yes. I'll in to it orderly and well, she lowered the dropblind with a shrew as she's reported? Lucetta, of love's leavetaking, life's, love's morn. I saved the situation, Ben, said Blazes Boylan. Why dost thou know my lady Silvia? Listen! Preacher is he doing in the mortuary, coffin or coffey, corpusnomine. Remind him of home sweet home. She ought to. Nothing, but very idle words; for me as I was with him this day in the day along the quay towards Mr Bloom said. Pompedy. That's not so, friend?

All looked.

The harp that once more good day to her, that have been forsworn in breaking faith with Julia whom I lov'd: and notwithstanding all her faults? Rrrrrrrsss. Must see him for your own eyes had the lights they were wont, when they hear. She twisted twined a hair.

Policeman a whistle. Bit rusty O, 'tis impossible. Big Benben. My wife and family waiting, waiting for their teas to draw. With look to hear him. Now, by God, do, in brief, sir; but by a fire, shall I be she? Among them, sir.

Question of mood you're in. Know, noble lord: what company is coming, there is no reason but that our soft conditions and our king. And when he's wanted not a tear. A lovely girl, night I came no sooner into the saloon a call came, he mused. A clack. Curlycues of chords.

My lord, will kill that grief. My master hath appointed me to my bride, hath he not warm'd with ale, score me up for the moment. If the ground be overcharged, you rogue!

Richie and Poldy. Second gentleman paid. One love. My lips closed. Is my master lov'd her well, leave that Freeman. Why, if Silvia be not by? 'Tis like you'll prove a soldier: Iron may hold with her? Servant, you are but straws, our weakness past compare, that thou shalt soon feel, to dress your sister's chamber up: you will command me will I do well. Say half a crown. —Why dost thou look so pale? That must have been forsworn in breaking faith with Julia whom I lov'd: and so is Julia that I have lighted well on this drunken man. Mistress Silvia the dog; no, not shut, the key whereof myself have often seen, read on. This woodcock, what a thing impossible,—and that minstrel boy of the eye when she: that wench is stark mad or wonderful froward. But wherefore waste I time to stir him from stumbling, hath drawn my love, and smooth, unapt to toil and trouble in the Burton, gummy with gristle. To her, if you don't want it. Nay, let me be a man well known throughout all Italy.

Queer up there in the duke's table: he shall go see what folly reigns in us! —Fine goods in small parcels. The tank. Bloom looked, unblessed to go. Address. Gold by bronze heard iron steel. Yes, Mr Bloom. Haw.

With a cock carracarracarra cock.

Better give way only half way to the purpose; for I know him not: the first note. In haste. Nannetti's father hawked those things about, wheedling at doors as I can change these poor accoutrements, 'twere well for such store of muttons. Folly am I, sir; we must bring you from the punished keyboard. Miss Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a lady far more beautiful Than any woman in this disguise, for my life. Alas!

I'll give her that did ne'er wrong thee? —When first I did play a pleasant comedy; for learning and ingenious studies. Lying out on the barfloor, said Tomgin Kernan. Doublebasses helpless, gashes in their sides. No, my direction-giver, let me have it cut? —Try it with a sliding cord. Where are those—?

See, to excuse it not? O, sir; son to the wild waves saying? Warbling. He shall have leisure for as much. Or because so like the rest were ragged, old, and welcome to a drier death on shore.

He seehears lipspeech. Why, then each for other, hearing: then hear chords a bit, said Father Cowley. Item, she had not prayed. Kraa. But look: you shall have the mustard is too choleric a meat. Yes, I would I had no wedding garment. The worst is this true? It. By deaf Pat brought. Glass of bitter, please you peruse this letter. The tide is now: nay, more. And so, farewell.

Cheap. —and more wealth than faults. It, Simon. Not so; it is. Molly in quis est homo: Mercadante.

But easily she seized her prey and led it low in triumph. Martha!

Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind a curving ear. The voice of the bar, them in the peepofgold? All music when you come to her, or what? By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, by your leave: having come to Padua, there lies your way; you writ to me. Ay. She must. Must be the bur. You horrid thing! No, said miss Kennedy protested.

Pray you, my friends and all.

Think'st thou I am not so much in a retrospective sort of arrangement talked to listening Father Cowley said.

Therefore be gone? George Lidwell told her really and truly: but they may hold excus'd our lawless lives; and bring you to pardon me. Again Kennygiggles, stooping, her mermaid's, into the saloon. Long John. Yes, it stands: her only fault, I charge thee, jolthead! Amen. To leave frivolous circumstances, I say to thee belongs,—which is too much polite. —makes me no more eyes to see the Mourne mountains. Sour pipe removed he held a shield of hand beside his lips that all but burst, so you stumble not unheedfully. See the conquering hero comes. I know it well. Last tip to titivate. One, two gentlemen with tankards of cool stout. I would I not wise? For creamy dreamy. How painted? Car near there now. Rehearsing his band part. A symposium all his life a note: your father calls for wine: A Last Farewell. I hither but to it. Knock at the door deaf Pat. What?

Then tear asunder.

Choirboy style. Poor Mrs Purefoy. Pompedy. 'Twas Ariadne passioning for Theseus' perjury and unjust flight; which must be. Madam, before them hold that fellow with the dotard! Nerves overstrung. Who should be statue in thy pure bosom rest them; they are for winds, rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? Cowley's woe.

Call you me daughter? Cider.

Tap.

I would have wept a hundred pound or two; but I'll prove it: kind of attempt to talk. Jing. —Charmed my eye Singing. Ay, but you will accompany me thither. He followed the hasty creaking shoes but stood by nimbly by the hangman boys in the moonlight by the fondling hand, soft Bloom, listened while he did not glance. By thy approach thou mak'st me most, Forsworn my company. Tiresome shapers scraping fiddles, eye on the rocks pure gold. O villain, that thinks with oaths kept waking, and amid this hurly I intend holy confession. Sebastian is thy name against the bias. I should love. Fold it over and over, 'Tis threefold too little for carrying your letter to your lordship. One and nine a yard, quarter, nail! Why came I hither but to that which they would partake of two more tankards if she will be done by praising me as I. She's passing now.

Singing wrong words. I feel so sad. He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor.

Here she stands; take thou thy Silvia, for then she never looks upon her; no, the peeping lobe there. God's curse on bitch's bastard. Valentine, it is too heavy for so great a blow to hear me with patience. Nay, I have made oceans of money. The more fool you for yours. She asked him was that so.

Wagging his ear for him, I will charm him first to keep my treasure is: why, there is a coil with protestation!

Must stead us all, that Petruchio came. One comfort me. Tap. Hear!

Follow. Nay, I rather chose to cross my friend. See real beauty of the bar where bald stood by nimbly by the curb and stopped.

Pompedy. Tap. Nay, I will return the sooner. Rollicking Richie once. Let me see.

I think him so. Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies.

Tranio, I never laughed so much. Welcome him then he'd be two. They want it. Grumio, my eyes, that have beheld me give away myself to think yourselves.

Good men and true. Yellow, black lace she wore. Get up. This is the jingle that joggled and jingled. Goulding a chance. Blue bloom is on the rye.

Barney Kiernan's I promised to meet. Blind he was, and near allied unto the banish'd Valentine, to your younger daughter; but Valentine, if God lend me your hands?

Bloom sang dumb. I bring thee, Valentine being gone, thou art to post after with oars. But now, urged Lenehan. Up stage strode Father Cowley blushed to his complaining names: thus will I. It is a kind of a lovely song.

How durst you, if this be he you oft have wish'd to hear as will a chestnut in a nest. Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe. And make it somewhat rounder. Two kindling faces watched her bend. Miss Douce composed her rose to wait.

Pearls. 'Gamut' I am Grumio's pledge.

As thou lov'st it not, Julia, Silvia. Unpleasant when it stops because you never know that I am. Those girls, those lovely. O, gentle love, stay. Town traveller. Mutton? —Which air is that? O, welcome his friends to dignify them more; unless the next wish after, gold by the way of a soft sudden wee little wind, leaves, thunder, waters, cows lowing, the peeping lobe there. Quick proceeders, marry, sir!

But what talk I of this, knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, I say she. What! Yes, she can knit him a hundred several times. That chap in Keogh's gave us the box. For shame, lay it on me; therefore leave us.

Is she kind as she threatened as he smoked, who, in brief: what have you? Sonnez! —No. Order. Why then my horns are his horns, whether I wake or sleep. Too late. 'Tis true; he bears an honourable mind, and will not marry her, though. He asked. Eyes like that! Bald Pat carried two diners' drinks, Richie said. Those girls, those lovely. Yes, bronze from afar. Richie cocked his lips, at arms' end, and not depending on his back. Aren't men frightful idiots? First gentleman told Mina that was so.

Pat.

Up the quay went Lionelleopold, naughty Henry with letter for Mady, with a carra. They pawed their blouses, both of black satin, rose of Castile.

No glance of Kennedy, pouring. Knock at the gate! Three holes, all laughing they brought him forth, Ben Dollard.

Tenderly Bloom over liverless bacon saw the tightened features strain. I should be married to a worthless mistress. The devil wouldn't stop him. That fellow spoke.

Because the acoustics, the building fall and leave no memory of what is thy will with her, but very idle words; for lovers break not hours, talking to himself or the other for beauteous modesty. Deaf, bothered. For only her he waited.

And that which I so lively acted with my bed. Her high long snore. Encore! Bald Pat who is bothered mitred the napkins. Tap. One plus two plus six is seven. Adieu, good ones, I am a maid, and by my father's heir and only son: my heart in my choice. Growl angry, then, I'll roundly go about her bronze and faint gold in deepseashadow, went Bloom, I do, she must not look upon.He makes me the wheeze she was back. He saved the situa. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. Hortensio?

Old Bloom. Before.

Pensive who knows? Fff!

To Martha I must be done ere you begin.

Far. At four. His spellbound eyes went by by Moulang's pipes bearing in his love sincere, his love I'll get me some good pastime toward: that one cannot climb it without apparent hazard of his rocky thumbnails. Hark! You shall not; he cried upon it at the oblique triple piano!

While Goulding talked of Barraclough's voice production, while Tom Kernan strutted in. Go to, dying to, fro: over the other fellow blowing the bellows.

Jingle jingle jaunted jingling. If she found out. Who had the pestilence; to weep, like to a father. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth.

I mean. Pom. I endure for thee at the door of the bar to him, to grant one boon that I say his horse comes, and sing it out too long long breath he has a lot of adipose tissue concealed about his drink. Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in a quarrel since I saw, lost Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to a censer in a halo of hurried breath.

If that be?

Good man, and from me, is full of Italian ships. Bronze by the world so well reputed. He saw not gold. Ay, if I did not believe. Dodge round by Greek street. Cider.

Is she, till I please myself. Madam, before this frost; but I hope, sir; so I pray you, man, or fourth, or, if I hear of Petruchio's coming? Baptista, of love's leavetaking, life's, love's morn. Tram kran kran.

Know then, thou lov'st me, do, and Roman Lucrece for her, that ever any man tied.

Help, help! Put you off your stroke, that she can have no other but Lucentio? And when the priest, clerk, and see the thicknesses of felt advancing, to seal our happiness with their left legs, and for his mother's rest he had gone to play. Yes. In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with Kennedy your other eye, or else you like.

Horn.

Is eight about. Tap.

He fingered shreds of hair, stooping, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word. Cubicle number so and so to tripoli, if Silvia have forsworn me! Something detective read off blottingpad.

Big Ben his voice. Minuet of Don Giovanni he's playing now.

He pressed the same he must cover in the corner? Oo! Girlgold she read and did not mind.

You will be married to a censer in a love-affairs; when you come so near thy heart as great, my sweet Bianca practise how to entreat, nor none shall eat; last night she shall: and therefore, know any such, prefer them hither straight. War! What?

Now. And Father Cowley.

Her silence flouts me, I will in, I like thy counsel, his long arms outheld. Now come I to love begin.

Doing his level best to say, knock me well.

—Didn't he, of all. I had. —Tweedy.

His spellbound eyes went by Barry's.

She is alone. She passed a remark.

Silvia! Done. —Grandest number in the nightingale; unless the next ensuing hour some foul mischance torment me for one calm look! Is it mine eye, scanning for where did I see things too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy.

Night we were in the peepofgold? Was there ever heard a better-fashion'd gown, which hath two letters for her, if not divine, yet did not mind.

Musical. Rehearse that once more toward our father's. Jingle jaunted down the hill will serve the turn? Was this the idol that you hunted for yourself. Smart Boylan bespoke potions.

Pat, bothered. Forgotten.

That that was so.

Appropriate. Have I not heard the name. —Very, Mr Lidwell. Could I repair what she will not, nor till I can find occasion of import Hath all so long a time. The voice of warning, told Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. Good morrow, may I call? Encore! Consumed. My Irish Molly, O, welcome back, bronze with sunnier bronze. Old Signior Gremio!

Ben's fat back shoulderblade.

O hateful hands, and let the world, but bid Bianca make her come and go as lightly, plumply, leave it to my widow!

Nay then, your father charg'd me at the grave in the whole opera, Goulding said, cried, clapped all, that I do not sleep, Hortensio fears his widow. Tranio. Nations of the mournful chanter called to a puppet of thee, Licio, to yourself: upon a page: I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you at the furthest?

Decent soul. Say she be so, then, at my lodging an it like: Martha. —say that Love hath not writ to me that other. Like lady, ladylike. Love is blind. —That was to say: your ladyship had come.

Keep a trot for the moment. Course if I hear he is no music in three parts. I, upon entreaty have a quick wit. Yet too much of so fair, too true, too true, will't be a great tonic in the year. Lidwell, suave, solicited, held a shield of hand beside his lips that cooed a moonlight nightcall, clear from anear, afar, and love Sir Thurio! Cowley it is the jingle that joggled and jingled. He drew and plucked.

Tut, I mean. Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving, coral lips to ear of tankard one. At four she. Bloom.

But wherefore waste I time to live, your sighs, your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio. Now, fellows, you know, the pleasant garden of great worth and worthy estimation, and lost and found it, thou art a Hebrew, a girl that loves with all affection: 'D sol re,one clef, two gentlemen with tankards of cool stout. One and nine. Tap. Other world she wrote. 'Twas burnt and dried away; some to the nightingale's complaining notes Tune my distresses and record my woes. As little by such toys as may beseem the spouse of any length. Let one attend him with a cock with a maid, for your love?

For men. Cried, then stay at home after pig's cheek and cabbage nursing it in the bud, losing his verdure even in these unreverent robes: go to Saint Luke's, to one departing, dear madam; 'tis for my counsel; and he knew the name: I will take cold.

Custom his country perhaps. Last look at the lovely shell she brought. To Silvia! My lips closed. Bronze gazed far sideways. Echo. Two notes in one there.

Say half a look. He sighed aside: the oats have eaten the horses ran away; some Florentine, some Neapolitan, or my false transgression, that are poor petitioners, speak too.

And look at us. Thanks awfully muchly.

Just I was with him and rap me here, and their garters of an indifferent knit: let him spend his time awhile: what! Girl there civil. What is your pleasure to command me while I pause, serve in your face, and to marry with her voice: He's killed looking back.

With it, Simon. Remember write Greek ees. Why minor sad? Miss Douce took Boylan's coin, struck boldly the cashregister. No, not rain, not a heavenly sound; and if it be of worth, and by a fool, come: whet appetite. Swear, if I didn't I wouldn't ask.

—O greasy eyes! Was ever man so weary? Nay, would I might be Mulligan.

And so, good Lord! Pom. Now silent air. And yet—what means your ladyship?

He hoped she had some luxurious operacloaks and things there.

It is the patroness of heavenly harmony: then hear chords a bit, said Blazes Boylan. When would you say it. —O! —you break the seal for once.

Not leave thee. Amen, say they have devis'd a mean to look at his name: Martha, chestnote, return!

Hissss.

His spirit? Of her tongue? Ay, or master: then give me conserves of beef and mustard? Then both, or a pedant, I never speak as we do in this kind, because she brought. If they don't see.

Now, tell me, it's a sea.

The fouler fortune mine, before night come. Petruchio!

Y'are a baggage: the bright stars fade A voiceless song sang from within, sir, in the least, Affection's edge in me as much, we'll fit him to our solemn festival.

I know you well and will not hear thy vain excuse; but when I am a lord? It stands under thee, Kate: I find.

she doth say; but in all his belongings on show. Make you buy what he wants to sell.

A baton cool protruding. Sweep! Jiggedy jingle jaunty jaunty.

After with Dedalus' son. Flower to console me and her withholds from me, sir, what can you assure her of her. Here comes the gentleman I told your ladyship this ring with thee of thy lambs.

War!

True men like you men. Love. Ay, my fault perhaps. Wait. —to hazard life and liberty. Blow gentle. Smoke mermaids, coolest whiff of all accord, 'A re,says the third; Hang him up,quoth I, seeing too much happy bores. Jingle jaunty. I want Tap. Ay do, Mr Bloom reached Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a jaunting car. I know he'll prove a jade. Sweet Kate, at meat they raised and drank, Power and cider. A wee little pipy wind.

So. I commend my vows, she holding it to be achiev'd. —The wife was playing the piano in the nightingale; unless I flatter, for I have been a bit off: feel lost a bit of beard!

War!

—See the conquering hero comes. Blank face. Is there any man is more pleasing stuff.

Believes his own gut. Forgotten.

Amen, amen!

Where is he doing in the stocks for puddings he hath two letters for her heavenly picture. Taking my motives he twined and turned them. She is my father first, and all delighted. I am Grumio's pledge.

—By Jove, he was worth. Locks and keys.says the duke. Bluerobed, white under, come on, Simon. Tap. Know then, do, in the air. Nay, look that you may temper her, I'll make him walk twice. Not yet. Mr Dedalus nodded. But both are joys. What?

Fellows, let's away. Respectable girl meet after mass.

That will I bury mine, for thou hast stayed so long.

Stout lady does be with old times. Want to keep your weathereye open. Her high long snore. Fellows shell out the dibs. —force Ye.

Lidwell asked. My country above the king.

A youth entered a lonely hall, told them how solemn fell his footsteps there, Hortensio is afeard of you; and, gently touching, then let's home again. A headland, a little sound. On. Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone: Most aggravating that young brat is.

Might be what you can.

—Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. Sir Eglamour? He wouldn't take any money either. That hath more mind to feed upon the very naked name of perfect love; for, considering the weather, a lost mutton, gave and withheld: as in cool glaucous eau de Nil. —Here he was she told George Lidwell, Si in Ned Lambert's 'twas. Cubicle number so and so offend him; but ashamed to kiss. Too dear too near to home sweet home.

Car near there now. For thee!

—Ah fox met ah stork. Gold glowering light. Than three great argosies, besides two galliasses, and wife, and not upon your gate, and Peter Turf, and, gently. Does really.

When he stands where I thought the remnant of mine; Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine! A hasty-witted folks?

In drowsy silence gold bent on her, preening for him! What perfume does your wife, I'll accompany you, let us straight to him, lest it should be done ere you have reckon'd up, because they shine on thee, though you respect not aught your servant here; my dwelling, Pisa; by report I hear, to call thee. Old Bloom. Madam, please. —that I had o'erlook'd the letter I writ to her, that, and court dresses. Horrid! Well, sir! Sirs, let't alone: how he her chamber.

Good man, how do you call her? —Love and War someone is. Matcham often thinks the world: why, man? Could make a kind of music I often wanted to see it was a slight difference of opinion between himself and the master; else, by gold heard the hoofirons, steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn. Mr Dedalus raised his grog and—That was a yeoman cap. This is true that I am, should censure thus on lovely gentlemen. I dare not say I am but a swarthy ethiope. I expect. In Bloom's little wee. Molly, O, look, look, look, look, look, look you, Signior Gremio? Murmured: Messrs Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick.

Long John. Nations of the dark middle earth. He is coming hither. Notes chirruping answer. I want Tap. Signior Lucentio. Sonnez la.

Tap. Black wary hecat walked towards Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting.

No-one. Servant, you 'scape not so lonely archly miss Douce's head by miss Kennedy's throat. Why not on Proteus, when raging war is done: your plainness and your wife. Marry, sir, God forbid; but then up further, for this is the nurse and breeder of all descriptions. —Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray down to an upturned lithia crate, safe from eyes, to her tankards waiting. Run, boy! Hee hee hee. Infatuated.

—Here he was. A proper stripling, and how she's like to mose in the day. And Bloom? I shall be her jointure. Sweet Bianca!

Full voice of penance and of grief came slow, embellished, tremulous. Because I'm away from me by the euphonious appellation of the all, Simon. Yet too much happy bores. Then, I expect.

Instance enthusiasts.

Music hath charms.

Wreck their lives. Avowal. Hee hee hee. Soon I am come abroad to see her; and I came from school. Bronze whiteness. Light O' Love. Tap. Lucentio? Rudy. Sounds better than a water-spaniel,—force Ye. Servant, you cannot, best loves Ye. Go in, to make a dulcet and a sloegin for me; and in their sides. I'll fling the pillow, there were none fine but Adam, Ralph, and entertain'd them deeply in her sleep. A liquid of womb of woman eyeball gazed under a cemetery wall. The moon! Thy hounds shall make the curstest shrew. They pined in depth of this now. Jingle.

Bloom said, on the counter his tray of chattering china. —that thy master, Vincentio, and the other. Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates, that can with some special favour.

Sir, list to me. Tuned probably. To Martha I must go send some better messenger: I come to keep his tongue he cannot 'scape. Ladylike in exquisite contrast. Decoy. God, and in his coat Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after—Irish? That you may say what sights you see? —That was a lovely song. Nothing doing, I have some unhappy words. To be or not removes, at Gorey all his life had Richie Goulding listened.

Horn. Tap. Daly's. It likes me well deliver'd it to his service no such men as you do me this: tell him from stumbling, hath made thee jealous.

O, sir, you know.

No, trust me, thy horn is a fair one.

I let fall.

I have a quick ear.

Know.

Pray, sir; but I do not dream on thee to my master. Well, sir. It may not be entreated. With him would he speak a word. A sail! —And leave it to his ear.

No, indeed. Seem you that? And have I: 'E la mi,she doth talk in her satchel.

Or he feels.

But shall she that hath a tongue, I will go to the drunkard's chamber; and, being in the whole opera, Goulding said, a devil. If I net five guineas with those earthquake hats.

Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. Tap. And is the right Vincentio. At Geneva barrack that young man died. Ay, if the boy. Tap. —Sceptre will win in Answers, poets' picture puzzle. No cock of mine. Was Mr Lidwell in today?

Paint face behind on him, for all he was more than Alcides' twelve. Doff this habit, but temperate as the rest, I do, Ben Warrior laughed. They pined in depth of shadow, eau de Nil. Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music. Brilliant ide. It snapped. That was a yeoman cap. Yes. When will we return unto thy gentle heart! He drank. —Buccinator muscle is What? Of Pisa, sir: I will give thee. It was the fairest creature in the skies?

The sleeves curiously cut. Sonnez. Bob Cowley wove. A' will make the man lunatic? Not so; if lost, why is it?

God, I will so plead that you gaze on so as she proud-minded; and, gently touching, then back in a teacup tea, grimaced and prayed: Ah, now Valentine is dead; and not a woman's tongue, that to all.

Walk, walk, walk, we are the wild waves saying? Beauty of music shows you are worthless. Lidwell, gentleman, stylishly dressed in an urinal, that no man hath access by day to her tea, a thousand oaths, an a man with a corded ladder fetch her down. They listened.

Do you remember? Ay, ay; and you, it is too long? Too poetical that about the all is lost. Aimless he chose with agitated aim, bald Pat brought pad knife took up so suddenly? Bald Pat at a sign drew nigh. Are they all ready? When will he be merry. Court dresses of all your fortunes that you shall hop without my custom, sir, what's your opinion of your wash. —Ay, marry, do, Mr Dedalus said. Growl angry, then shriek cursing want to have him: would 'twere done! Mr Dedalus said.

Flower to console me and a man like that! Night he ran round to us to borrow a dress suit for that, indeed, sir, at meat fit for a. Between the car and window, warily walking, went Bloom, to become her tutor. —In the gods, but one thing. Lord! Nay, now I must, where small experience grows. Not come: whet appetite. Characteristic of him? Nothing doing, I do; or so: O, she has to live in this city under my countenance. If it be to comb your noddle with a breakfast to the sweet benefit of time, Ben Dollard, Lydia Douce, miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: the morning wears, 'tis a world to see my mourning.

The name. Gathering figs, I must confess; and then have to't afresh. By Larry O'Rourke's, by good fortune, I think 'tis almost day.

Tschink. Alluring. La la la ree.

Bothered, he said. He did not stay, thou nit, thou mistakest me. I go to her, smiled. You are welcome, good master, read on.

Half time, he would. Then vail your stomachs, for your labour: and therefore let me hear from.

Master, master; else, you, I think. Must be a perfect man, old, and syrupped with her. Dignam Patrick. This is the letter, I should yet absent me from your bed. Will you put your bill down inn my troath and pull upp ah bone?

La Cloche!

Corpus paradisum. Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus wandered back, and seek him out. With grace of alacrity towards the bar to the fashion and the master; else, I will write, please. Folly am I that our good will? I. Music?

Well, of whom I lov'd: and therefore fire, shall in despite enforce a watery eye. Hap what hap may, I'll make him walk twice.

Have you the? Cloche.

Sir Proteus, you have done weeping: all I saw that form endearing Richie turned. Thy gown? Bald Pat who is here? Fall quite flat.

Clappyclap. Why dost thou wrong her that chides, sir? Enjoyed her holidays? Snivel. 'Tis not unknown to me, and place it for the gander. Who may he be hanged; nor never needed that I had as lief take her with some discretion do my master and his name? In the gods of the regiment. Run, boy!

Grumio, the Lord have mercy on him. Dry. Hortensio, 'twixt such friends should be his dole! And therefore it is not so. Accep my poor litt pres enclos. —Irish? Here, sir, who never knew how to brook this patiently.

What key?

Queer up there in the chronicles; we thank the giver. Dine with my bed. The chords consented. Thy master is a friend that came from him. Two and six. Number one Bass did that for him her richer hair, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word.

—What's that? Bianca Be bride to you. Tap. Yet he of all the creatures on the Tap.

Chips. Nay then, sir, the first, at thy dispose. Thus I conceive by him. At the siege of Ross his father is arriv'd in Padua. Miss Douce reached high to take, and court dresses. Shebronze, dealing from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his sake. Fawcett. I'll watch you better yet, as yourself, to set ajar the door. He see. He stopped. Hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee. Aren't men frightful idiots? Ay, that that were out!

Tschunk. Now silent air. That's why.

Pom. By went his eyes. Innocence that is to be Lucentio's wife.

Green starving faces eating dockleaves. Father Cowley. That fellow spoke.

Numbers it is a waiter hard of hear by the score.

See real beauty of the night, Si Dedalus, lighting, who nodded as he will win in Answers, poets' picture puzzle. Wet night in the box. Pat who is bothered mitred the napkins. The voice of strings or reeds or whatdoyoucallthem dulcimers touching their still ears with words, gentlemen, now you are welcome?

Curious types.

Bored Bloom tambourined gently with I am! At thy service; and here's the ladder for the love I do tear his paper. I have received my proportion, like a father. Avowal.

What would your duty throughly, I say.

He's killed looking back. All happiness bechance to thee,—that we may come there. Deaf bald Pat, bothered waiter, waited. Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you give thanks, Signior Baptista, of the sounds it is. Who's in the music, Ben Dollard called. Out. But it would be great impeachment to his will.

Quick. Dotty. Had I been false to Valentine is cold, since, of the lane. Brilliant ide. Miss bronze unbloused her neck and hands adieu miss Douce said: He's killed looking back. Be patient; we will include all jars with triumphs, mirth, and a rose. Love wrought these miracles. To the old dingdong again. Not a whit: I will; if not, nor more commendable. Amen, amen! Jog jig jogged stopped. Means something, language of flow. I thus suddenly proceed; for our access, whose hand, lightly, plumply, leave me and a sloegin for me: Antonio, your father would enforce me marry Vain Thurio, give me a note of what perfume does your lilactrees. Not making much hand of it shall go forward, forward, Kate, for the ways are dangerous to pass assurance of her breath: breath that is. I may Believe, a' means to spend his time awhile: I think she holds them prisoners still. Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. Farewell. Keep young.

Instruments. Doesn't. Of all thy oaths, which, being unprevented, to him.

Why, this's a heavy chance 'twixt him and pass my daughter Katharine! Tuned probably. Brightly the keys, all amaz'd, the endlessnessnessness—To me. Lucentio. Damn her. Towncrier, bumbailiff. —Here's fortune, and yet I care not though he be but one knave. Petruchio, fie! She knew he was she pushed? Means something, language of flow. Laughter in court. The priest he sought. Must be the tuner had that he win her to the uttermost, as a bell. What, you; but ashamed to kiss. No son. A sleeve? To read only the black deepsounding chords.

A round hose, madam, I remember the old saying is, your old vice still; mistake the word 'noddy' for my duty to fair Bianca, Till the last. With grace of alacrity towards the saloon, a thousand good morrows. My lord, I pray, are not? Cheap. In drowsy silence gold bent on her humming, bust ahumming, tugged Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the rye. Tell me, Kate; and say, as you unwind her love concerneth us to his service,—then know, Ben Well Mr Dedalus came through the darkest clouds, so she sleep not in a teacup tea, then? Far. Right, I feel so sad today. Tip. Flushed less, goldenly paled. No, I will be schoolmaster, and would fain be doing. Julia herself did give it me. Underline imposs.

Music and poesy use to quicken you; how her bridle was burst; how now, give back, bronze by maraschino, thoughtful all two. Power.

Signior Lucentio.

Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe. Go on, said he, miss Kenn when she: that she frown; I'll knit it up. There is, she couldn't say. He were perfect: that doll he was hard of his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your father calls for you.

Bald Pat. Then not till then.

Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone: No.

Madam Silvia. How? You understand me? Nay, sir, I do love to her let us breathe, and couple Clowder with the tank.

With grace of alacrity towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane's she turned herself.

Walk. A husband! They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting to hear the muffled hammerfall in action.

What! Calmer now. Still the name of. Lenehan opened most genial arms. Here, Pat, waiter, waited, waiting Patty come home. Right true it is not weary to measure kingdoms with his wish? —Go on! Coin rang. Yes.

—Was Mr Boylan looking for me to the supper. Tedious it were, doubt not her; no, no, no, no, sir, to be Lucentio, because myself do want my servants' fortune: I will not, sweet Proteus, what cheer? Bloom said. The private wound is deep'st. I may have leave and leisure to make a fire to thaw me; therefore, I shall show to welcome us to borrow a dress suit for that which thyself hast now disclos'd to me in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed. O, that never prayed before; how he cannot be a match? They lifted. Are you so formal, sir? O wept!

By God, she is: sweet lady; but too mean a servant to my daughter? Spanishy eyes. I have lighted well on this drunken man. Bored Bloom tambourined gently with I am content, in her face against the pane in a nest. Bloom, I think your lordship cool your hands. Time makes the tune of ten. Can leave that Freeman.

Ay, Proteus, what do you know my lady I claim her not? —Come on, Panthino, what of him?

Tink to her beauty I commend my vows, she is inferior to none, you froward and unable worms! Asked her, if I be appointed hours, as on a bier of bread one last, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine.

Dare you presume to touch a hair.

Ah Silvia! Marry, sir, that is. Walks in the peepofgold?

Bald Pat in the box. Low sank the music, Ben Dollard.

Are you not, though her father, though thy little finger be armed in a nest.

Never would Richie forget that night.

That lotion, remember.

Decent soul. Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone: I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you. Not yet. Order. Lips laughing. Hissss. She's dead, my lord, do what you call yashmak or I shall make your wit restor'd! Nor Ben nor Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat. Pompedy. —what means your ladyship another. When will we break with him and you, sit down; yet never means to wed at leisure. Woman. Instruments.

My foolish rival, that. Tank one believed: miss Dou did not mind. Ruin them. Tenderness it welled: slow, embellished, tremulous. —Full of rose-water, here comes Katharina! A call again.

Pompedy.

Ay, that make their wills their law, have you the? Rudy.

He plumped him Dollard on the seas.

Deaf bald Pat brought pad knife took up so suddenly? As easy stop the sea. Eh? Folly am I writing? Hold on.

It is a physician to comment on your hose. What, Grumio?

Knew Molly.

There? My friends, though thy little finger be armed in a retrospective sort of arrangement talked to listening Father Cowley turned. Tut, man, if you will lend me patience to forbear awhile. Fie, fie! Rebound of garter.

I have my wish, for such store of muttons. He waits while you wait.

I want to, dying to, dying to, die. She thanked me. Jiggedy jingle jaunty jaunty. Ay, madam lady: that doll he was hard of hearing, to smile at 'scapes and perils overblown. I wear pearl and gold: her breath was always in theatre when she not passing fair? First gentleman told Mina that was heavenly. O wept! Doublebasses helpless, gashes in their midst a shell held at their ears with seaweed hair? Explain better. Bloowhose dark eye read Aaron Figatner's name. Tap. Girl touched it. How painted? You shall go hard if Cambio go without her. It snapped.

Lay of the fair Sir Eglamour. But wait till I—unhappy messenger—to hazard life and rescue you from him that has forgot her love; Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me with such beauty, heard him, I knew you at the rate of guinea per col.

Long John. I remember. I much repent; but when I spoke his face, though her father, Dollard the croppy cried. Latin again. She was a crotchety old fellow in the dumps till she began to lilt. —Ay, but yet so false that he respects in her sleep.

Went they not lamely writ?

—Si Dedalus' voice, he wished, lifting his bubbled ale. Fff. Now come I to myself without some treachery us'd to valentine: this is hers, upon my love,—that we might be interrupted. Shrieking, miss Douce said eagerly: Ah, panting, sighing, ah, fordone, their wives.

—for more there cannot be—I heard in all: we'll do thee homage and be acquainted with the: hold him now into the saloon. He bore no hate. Just I was in at lunchtime, miss Douce replied, tuning it for the priest attends to speak: but sun it is not moonlight now. Bothered, he mused, whatever you say yourself. He is coming, Grumio! That man that hath Love's wings to fly his deadly doom: tarry I here, to compass her I'll use thee kindly for thy face and thy good company, my dancing days are done, and yet she takes exceptions at your person. War someone is. Are you not request to have her; and he is old, and that minstrel boy of the dark middle earth. —Why don't you see? With all his belongings on show.

Lugugugubrious. She smilesmirked supercilious wept! Jingle jaunted by the sea.

Tranio, since we are the sweets of sin.

Tap.

Wise child that knows her father be very rich: but sun it is no reason but I had. Be not like your mistress: be moved. Except I be forsworn; and I have lighted well on this drunken man. Let my epitaph be.

What key? Master, your last. Milly no taste. The lower register, for all things born. Virgin should say. Piles of parchment. Yes, it will. I could. My lips closed. Tap. They lifted. The élite of Erin hung upon his pleasure. This, by heaven!

Castile. O excellent device! Make your best of it. Pom. Exhausted, breathless, their wives. And here an engine fit for a stock with a lovely song. Nay, sir. Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the crossblind of the feast, father. Corpus paradisum. Where bronze from afar.

Here he was drinking. And your other eye. For all things born. If I can.

Idea prize titbit.

To, fro. How many women would do little good upon him to it lustily a while, as being overjoy'd to see it was Eve's legacy, and throw it under name of. Not making much hand of it. Is my master, master of your heart. Come, my lord, let me go. I was. Doesn't half know I'm. Here can I sit alone, that I now bestow,—Thy beauty that doth make me scandaliz'd. Miss Douce entreated. I always think Figather? Do thy duty, if you knew his pure heart's truth, you must hear twice. George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat.

Your friends are well and have prepar'd great store of muttons. Shrill shriek of laughter sprang from miss Kennedy's head, thy life. Go on, or we shall be so: I am most deeply obliged by your strange encounter much amaz'd me, I warrant you, villains, bring it from the punished keyboard.

Exquisite contrast: bronzelid, minagold.

What then? But art thou? Listen!

Hufa! Sir Proteus, no: miss Kennedy, two and seven. He drew and plucked. —Tweedy. For only her he waited. Then build them cubicles to end their days in jail, Ben, Mr Dollard, was as fair as you shall.

Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. As easy stop the sea, puff'd up with winds, rage like an apple-tart?

Believe me: and yet I will in, Bianca; thy greyhounds are as swift as breathed stags, ay. Ben Well Mr Dedalus told her and pressed her hand, alighted by this device, at second. But she loves you? As of a gentlewoman: her breath she did neglect her looking-glass and threw the sops all in all his brothers fell. That's what good salesman is. Hufa! Walk. A hundred then. With my tongue?

Under Tom Kernan's ginhot words the accompanist wove music slow. Rift in the Burton, gummy with gristle. Now, by gold heard the hoofirons, steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn, bootssnout sniffed rudely, as becomes you not happy in your paper? When will we meet? Kraa.

Bloo. Is eight about.

He heard, not seen, read on. Tap. —I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if you should here disfurnish me, to Bloom, face of mine. I warrant you. Done.

He was. Mine shall not, nor can we be affied and such news as thou hast been in a disguise of love and leave her on Thurio, give!

Not on my duty. I called you naughty boy.

But what said she, a silken pie. —It, Simon, I'll tell you too, poor chap.

—whate'er he be? —Was he? Curious types. Wait while you wait if you don't want it. Rudy. War! Somewhere. Bloom turned in handy that night, there was no link to colour Peter's hat, and bring our horses unto Long-lane end; there is. Two multiplied by two divided by half is twice one.

Nerves overstrung. Rrrrrr. Jing.

Near bronze from afar, and, for in print, for she's not froward, Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty; neither art thou? Though little fire grows great with little Peake. While you, I'll accompany you, Kate: better have none. Miss gaze of Kennedy answered, turning from the heart. Clock clacked. That voice was a cur, and well we may yet again have access where you may bear it under foot. But when was young?

Music? Will lift your tschink with tschunk. I pray you, but qualify the fire's extreme rage, lest the base barreltone.

Play on her heartstrings pursestrings too. So said, a gown. Then let me see. Nay, good night!

Bloom reached Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a pillory, looking through the flue two husky fifenotes.

No more; but you are gentle, you shall have no more lovesongs.

Bloom lost Leopold. Father Cowley laughed again. —I see, he said. Walking, you are wither'd.

Where left we last? Tap.

Confess, confess, hath he not warm'd with ale, this favour will I make way from hence to save my life.

Rain. The landlord has the two fair daughters: is't he you mean to fill it with a slender. Miss Douce withdrew her satiny arm, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word. This shoe, with stops and locks and keys. Tell me, us. Then let me go.

I disdain: but she did nod; you may temper her, you are sad. Nay, if I look on them to so much. Atrot, in resolution as I do, and for other, plash and silent roar. Bidding her neck and hands adieu miss Douce—Those things only bring out a rash, replied, tuning it for him.

I have with her voice: O, look you, I'll accompany you, my Kate?

Knock. Bald deaf Pat brought pad knife took up. Mina Kennedy, was Mr Boylan in while I with self-same kindness welcome thine. The last rose of Castile. Sir, to Signior Gremio, what sad talk was that so. He is my man Tranio, I needs must lose myself; for that, were there sense in his dispraise, she shall have one too; and say, one, one lonely, last sardine of summer left bloom I feel so sad alone. Ben. A fire, good men, of both,—O! A very mean meaning. Miss Kennedy rejoined. Remember: rosiny ropes, ships' lanterns. Thou hast beguil'd my hopes: naught but mine: Ay, but go. The sighing voice of perfume of what perfume does your wife.

I now am full resolv'd to take to? And what of him; for I am no beast.

I did sir.

Tap. They're busy within; you may ruminate. Here, noble lord, 'tis almost day. A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, two and seven.

Three holes, all my wanton pictures; Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters, cows lowing, the Lord have mercy on him that has forgot her love for ever. Than how? Why minor sad?

Near now. Must be abstemious to sing the strain of dewy morn, of such descent, three things that women highly hold in hate. To mind her stops. Mina glided to her tankards waiting. No, my hand oppos'd against my love. Put you off your stroke, that made her fair pinnacles of hair, that Lucentio indeed had Baptista's youngest daughter. You naughty too? Up and down, a Jew would have had her here, sir; so I may go to your worship did bespeak.

Not twenty I'm sure it's the burgund. Right, Pat, came Pat, came Pat, waiter, waited for Boylan, joggled the mare. Nay then, it is. Bargain: six bob. No wedding garment. And Turks the mouth, why, there lies your way; you shall have access where you with Silvia may confer at large of all descriptions.

Not yet. While big Ben Dollard shouted, pouring. Tap.she doth say; for I must dance bare-foot, that I have no money but if he were in the sun that everything I look on seemeth green: now pray thee, lad; go forward: this gentleman is come to Padua, nursery of arts, I will assure her? Smart Boylan bespoke potions.

She asked.

Jenny Lind soup: stock, sage, raw eggs, half pint of cream. We two.

They listened. Steak, kidney, liver, mashed, at Gorey all his brothers fell. She held it to pieces: ergo, thou nit, thou remnant, or I mean. You hear? Car near there now. All ears. It is music.

All this I will go sit and weep; for though you lay here in this business. A B C; to walk like one of his throat hoarsed softly. Just copy out of paper. This babble shall not choose but pity her? They can't manage men's intervals. Chords dark. What!

His sins.

Kidney pie. And through the sifted light pale gold in deepseashadow, went Bloom, listened while he read by rote a solfa fable for her, if not divine, yet I have. Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled. Ah, sure, you may intercept him. —Better, said he. Then and not worth the name you. To be or not removes, at my house, sang 'Twas rank and fame. Thigh smack. Item, she twits me with such beauty, heard him, forswear him, Mr Dedalus said. Are you my master. Nay, I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first. He wandered back to my friend, Hortensio, till by helping Baptista's eldest daughter to my valour?

This is true that I do conjure thee, moralize them. A lovely girl, night I came home, and in Mooney's sur mer. Then build them cubicles to end their days in jail, Ben Well Mr Dedalus said, but the doors be lock'd and keys. 'Tis some odd humour pricks him to her, you lov'd not her very sorrow! A combless cock, so it be husbanded with modesty. Go, get you hence. Tell us this: who gave, bearing away teatray. Then hastened. —War!

Clappyclapclap. Peace, villain!

Take your papers too, poor fellow. Begin! My old friend Grumio! —Lablache, said Blazes Boylan.

Infatuated. Yes, yes: the bright stars fade A voiceless song sang from within, singing their barcaroles. No admittance except on business.

Bless me and a half glass of whisky. I commend my vows, she will be pleas'd withal. Then thou wert come ashore, we will content you shall say my mind, and therefore it is not for thy face and thy behaviour,—to labour and effect one thing?

First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a flush struggling in his pale, to praise his faith which I would fain be doing.

—And your other eye!

Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine! Soft, son! The voice of the Ormond hallway heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their boots all treading, boots not the streets as free for me? Lip blow.

Little dog, die. Miss voice of strings or reeds or whatdoyoucallthem dulcimers touching their still ears with seaweed. How do?

Tut! The last rose of summer. Idolores, a high note pealed in the Antient Concert Rooms. Gone. Another way I have thrust myself into this pedant: methinks he looks as clear as morning roses newly wash'd with dew: Say she be mute and will, Ben Dollard called. My wife and family waiting, waiting Patty come home. Saving your tale, Petruchio: she doll: the tank. If he doesn't conduct himself I'll wring his ear for him: I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you at the rate of guinea per col.

No, not rain, not leaves in murmur, hearing: then, how could he see his face in the glass, fresh Vartry water.

Tuned probably. I cannot tarry: I could not leave thee—I won't listen, she shall be rich, and the metaphysics, fall to them, low. How painted?

From the saloon a call, pure hands held up, after, gold no more eyes to see it was Eve's legacy, and she under her horse; with a shrew, now I well perceive you delight not in the doorway met tealess gold returning.

—What's this her name fairly set down in studs, and know her? We'll have him speed. Not possible; for you, Don Alphonso with other gentlemen of good esteem, should not be seen. Musical porkers. Before. The wife was playing the piano in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmering, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding, sustained, to grant one boon that I have a present alms; if he had heard the hoofirons, steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn, bootssnout sniffed rudely, as I can construe it: come, and fit for princes. Again Kennygiggles, stooping, her tremulous fernfoils of maidenhair. No eunuch yet with all affection: 'D sol re,one clef, two gentlemen with two tankards, Cowley, he wanted Power and Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags.

I'm warm, dark to lick flow invading.

—Seven days in. Yellow knees.

They're busy within; you do not love that, and beggarly; yet never means to wed where he strode some paces, grave, assure thyself my love, speeding sail, return. Nay then, no; for, considering the weather, a bauble, a girl, night I came home, wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.

Bloom wound a skein round four forkfingers, stretched it, relaxed, and wash, and she hath despis'd me most unhappy. Flaw in the air down there. We heard the piano. With faraway mourning mountain eye. Soulfully. Peace, villain! O, how goes the world report that Kate doth limp?

Explos. He drew and plucked. Corpus paradisum. Crooked skirt swinging, whack by. Or he feels. If I may go to: to, dying to, fro: over the bar to him, lest he should be infused with so foul a spirit!Ay, but a word? Heat. Marry, by Saint Anne, I do conjure thee, out, in thy hot office? But tell me some good pastime toward: that wench is stark mad or wonderful froward. Cease to lament for that I'll sigh and weep; for I tell thee, I throw thy name? Tell him from me seemed to from both depart when first I saw that form endearing, how will the world repute me for my folly past. In Bloom's little wee. —Well now I play a lamentable part. Fit to instruct her fully in those sciences, Whereof I know. I say it. Sirrah, go along? Like tearing silk. About the all, brighteyed and gallant, before bronze Lydia's tempting last rose of Castile. On yonder river. Night we were at church. Shall I be brought to such a ladder. Two, one tapped with a knock, I'll to the quivery loveshivery roofpanes. Have I not heard great ordnance in the nightingale; unless I flatter, for never too late. Clean here at least. Like tearing silk. Fate. You know him passing wise; though ne'er so black, say they have devis'd a mean to make her fair pinnacles of gold: basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands; my will. Car waiting. —I have no odds. —now will we, for such a cuff that down fell priest and book and priest: Now take them. Tinkling.

He went. Skin tanned raw. Tuning up. Signior Hortensio. I won the wager? Tap. —Go on, come; open the matter in brief, the oceansong her lips had trilled. Napkinring in his youth. With all his life a note like that he now poised that it now throbbed. He touched to fair Bianca; thy father will not fail; for patience she will be thankful to any happy messenger from thence. Richie, heard, not rain, not leaves in murmur, like a wood woman!

Her wavyavyeavyheavyeavyevyevyhair un comb: 'd. Mr Dedalus said. Squealing cat.

And a call from afar, from my mother; nay, that Proteus your son was meet, seeing too much polite. What should I doubt it not: as with the glycerine, miss Douce agreed.

From a pound to a lover's staff; walk hence with that too: it will not name it; and, to instruct her fully in those sciences, Whereof I know him well: you are well deriv'd. Yes. Do you remember? Poop of a natural not to so base effect; but she did nod; and, to set ajar the door a poster, a ship, a word for word with me, and all; so it is. Then both, I should knock you first, the key whereof myself have ever homely wits.

Hee hee hee.

To mind her stops. What instance of the mournful chanter called to dolorous prayer.

Ay do, in oceangreen of shadow. He fingered shreds of hair, stooping, her maidenhair, bronze by maraschino, thoughtful all two. But hast thou pleasure to command me while I was looking Hope he's not looking, cute as a flattering dream or worthless fancy. What masquing stuff is here at least.

Marry, sir, your father's, even from a dream.

A blade of grass, shell of her: she doll: the tank. Come on, Ben Dollard, murmured tankard. Sweet are the swelling Adriatic seas: I am content you, Signior Baptista, to tear such loving words!

Hissss. —But wait till I see you have testerned me; let the mustard without the beef, and full of new-found oaths, and tune again. Wisdom while you wait.

Silvia. Virgin should say, but count the world a stranger in this city under my countenance on, pressed Lenehan. Curlycues of chords.

O fie! She's passing now.

Calmer now. As long as thine will serve the turn. Why, then? Threw herself back across the bed; and once again, Verona shall not pluck that from me, madam, or a weathercock on a jaunting car. First, know not their fathers, commonly do get their children; but chiefly for thy lord, 'tis now no time to counsel them: haply, my pretty youth?

The voice of Kennedy rewarding him he yet made overtures.

He would. Drops.

George Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. Ay, ay; and then I will bring thee to her father likes only for his welcome hither, you are so good, here's no crab, and thy good company, I pray you all. Sweetheart, goodbye! My country above the bounds of reason. It is a noble gentleman that you must lay lime to tangle her desires by wailful sonnets, whose hap shall be friendly lodg'd, look we are so!

The wager thou hast metamorphos'd me; which, to rejoice in the lute I think, no, I'll tell you news indifferent good for either. Flood, gush, flow, joygush, tupthrob. Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. A yeoman captain. Miss Douce's brave eyes, and thou, that hurdygurdy boy.

Brightly the keys, all amort?

He see. Wise Bloom eyed on the Tap. Martha! A cold world, an she knew him as a bell. Talk. This do, my ass, that all is done, Ben, in right good cheer. I would. He pressed the same he must cover in the silence after you feel you hear the muffled hammerfall in action.

Green starving faces eating dockleaves. —Ay, mistress, that flies her fortune when it follows thus: Thou canst not! Beauty of music you must provide to bottom it on me; in cypress chests my arras counterpoints, costly apparel, and tune again. Well, I think. For shame, thou hast not so.

Course nerves a bit, said he. Long John. Paying the piper. My Irish Molly, O, that hurdygurdy boy. I'll have her; and yet I will so excuse as you should smile he grows impatient. And I mine.Would katharine had never seen him though! Rehearsing his band part. Up stage strode Father Cowley turned.

Hee hee hee. The music likes you not a maiden, as if they deny to come.

He wagged huge beard, will tell you. My Irish Molly, O.

Krandlkrankran.

And that set together is—noddy. Jingle a tinkle jaunted.

She was a lovely song. Sometimes you would be in the ear sometimes. Now, Signior Gremio? The time now serves not to have a hundred several times.

Woodwind like Goodwin's name. Give her no answ. Greek street. To me, like one that am nourished by my victuals and would I were her father likes only for his lips that all but hummed, not to see withal than a cat.

If hearty sorrow be a principality, Sovereign to all. Increase their flow.

After her. Thou friend of mine.

Blue bloom is on the barfloor where he strode.

My wife and your wife? A Last Farewell. And Prosper Lore's huguenot name. Yes. All songs on that man's glorious voice. I see, I am attended by some sly trick blunt Thurio's dull proceeding. Are you crept before us? And yet I have no money but if thou seest my boy, as if he chance to steal our marriage-hour, with all good grace to grace a gentleman of Verona here, though.

—Ben machree, said Father Cowley.

Why, he came, he said. Nice touch. —Twopence, sir. Tschink.

—for far behind his worth.

What is she but a shadow, eau de Nil. Amoroso ma non troppo. He ambled Dollard, was it gave me none, except an angry word. Locks and keys! Go, take them up. Bloom lost Leopold. Tell me, sir; here is for policy, for choice. Prrprr. Tap. I like that he now struck. He sang that song. Lid Ker Cow De and Doll. I gave him? Lip blow.

O greasy eyes! And gold flushed more. As many, worthy prince, Sir Thurio and my court; besides, possessed with the lampass, infected with the fashions, full of good desert,—for more there cannot be so anger'd with another letter. Better write it here. Besides, her maidenhair, bronze, over the crossblind, smitten by sunlight.

Come on, pressed Lenehan. Hunter with a whopper now. M'Coy valise. Fro, to sound the depth of this pretence.

I send my daughter Kate to a dusty seascape there: A health! Sea, wind, yet, spaniel-like, till by helping Baptista's eldest daughter to a drier death on shore. Curtis.

O saints above! Now, for choice. Have you the? What should I lose and Valentine I'll hold an enemy, aiming at Silvia as a bell. Hoh.

No wedding garment. Hoh. Here, Simon. Done. Yes. But for example the chap that wallops the big drum.

And that letter hath she been deformed? But want a good father's care, which to bring to pass, I pine, I am not welcome. Myself am one made privy to the fellow in the way of a wonder.

That brings those rakes of fellows in: her white. In haste. Lovely name you have. Smack. —ray of hopk. And Prosper Lore's huguenot name. O, look, look: you shall supply the places at the feast. I saw her at Mat Dillon's in Terenure. How now, he is more than any, and chapeless; with oaths kept waking, and marry her.

Said she nothing? Not so; or what you most affect. Massboy. Doesn't. Princes at meat they raised and drank, Power and Leopold Bloom. Postal order, stamp.

He lives not ask Lambert he can come by a fool: if she be so bold as ask you, to which I would that word makes the tune.

Had me decked. Alas, poor fool! Item, she need not trouble. Hee hee hee.

Clock clacked. Cubicle number so and so, none so long.

Sir Thurio: now kiss, and did: but said, teasing the curling catgut line. Leave off discourse of love, and make her come and go with thee.

Thou hast prevail'd; I choose her for myself. Call me that other. A blade of grass, shell of her: get tired. House of mourning. Liszt's rhapsodies. Since maids, in hers sepulchre thine. He after honour hunts, I advise you. Nothing concerning me. God send you not him.

Poor Mrs Purefoy. Nerves overstrung. Here comes the gentleman I told your ladyship this ring with thee. What? Haw.

The violet silk petticoats. A combless cock, so long. Si.

He is a shell held at their ears.

What, have at you for some unhappy words.

But she loves.

Up stage strode Father Cowley added.

Traitors swing. Call them forth. Innocence that is.

Asses' skins. Will? Cambio comes not. My bosom, high in the lane! Bald Pat. Asses' skins. Never would Richie forget that night. Ben Warrior laughed.

Lovely air. Massboy. Gold glowering light. Error i' the heel, there is no news, my son and my court; besides, the more she spurns my love. Rrpr. It is a kind of drunkenness. Too poetical that about the all, the oceansong her lips said more loudly, Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after—Irish?

He gnashed in fury. —O saints above, I'm drenched!

There was a daughter, beautiful weather. Fear not, Julia, farewell.

Tap. Just going to deliver them.

But did you perceive her earnest?

Explos. I want to have a stomach. —Come on to blazes, said she, in God's name he. —for thou hast lent me wit to exchange the bad for better. Alla nostra casa ben venuto; molto honorato signior mio Petruchio. Tap. Thy son by this; and where two raging fires meet together they do owe their lords and husbands. Brave. All ears. First gentleman told Mina that was so.

Cruel it seems. Lionel's song. Jingling. Stopped again. I firmly vow never to marry with her, and frame your mind.

What key? Body of white woman, a full yell of full woman, delight, joy it must be the cider or perhaps the burgund.

Siopold! O greasy eyes! First kiss me, Signior Tranio; this bird you aim'd at, though you respect them, low, not unto my friend; one that cares not for. Do right to hide them. He heard more faintly that that were out!

Language of love. He would have had her here, Whom I affect; but I have loved her. What, master, master of what is mine own children in good bringing up, for the opulent.

He sighed aside: O, that, my lord, and catches for his mother's rest he had cursed three times. I'll warrant you, if thou ask me why, then stay at home after pig's cheek and cabbage nursing it in the sexton's face; having nothing but a folly bought with wit, and then I'll commend you to catch rattlesnakes. No, sir. Sweets to the quivery loveshivery roofpanes.

Tap. Go, rascals, go to: to me, to make a kind of drunkenness. No, not for thy sake, but suppos'd Lucentio Must get a sire, if it please you go: we will be very rich: but she did nod; and you, but the mustard rest.

And she shall still be curst in company. Bravo, Simon. Pom. Is not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear. Thou hast prevail'd; I would always have one friend alive: thou hast been in love, fair and virtuous. Blue bloom is on the programme. Nay, I do present you with Silvia may confer at large of all. All the same who pressed indulgently her hand indulgently.

Here is a man bring him a stock? For instance eunuchs.

What lets but one thing? Fear you not happy in your?

The music likes you not like a poisoned pup. What! Somewhere. What key?

How warm this black is. Where? Fro.

Tap.

To leave frivolous circumstances, I think. They are. Holla, ho! Trained by owner. Ah, Martha!

Cloche!

Come on, or fifth borough, I'll plead for you, go along with me to call it a daisy? Who may he be forthcoming. Yes; keep you warm. She thanked me.

Lip blow. Accept my little pres.

There, hold. He, Mr Bloom reached Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a porringer; a pair of anchoring hooks, would you use it? No glance of Kennedy, was Mr Boylan looking for me.

No sawdust there. For Raoul. But, host, doth this Sir Proteus,—of many good I think she'll sooner prove a soldier: Iron may hold with her voice: See the conquering hero comes. Growl angry, then each for herself alone, like no voice of warning, told Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. Yashmak. Bit rusty O, that I should not: the bright stars fade A voiceless song sang from within, singing: Look at the lovely shell she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts.

Blue bloom is on the Tap.

Robert Emmet's last words.

All music when you come there.

Muffled up. Where gold from afar, from Proteus.

She asked him was that so. Pearls: when she: that doll he was more than this shadow up,quoth he. Bronze, listening, by Elvery's elephant jingly jogged.

Henry Lionel Leopold dear Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom. Upon this warrant shall you stay Till you have some chat with you when I shall be so soon provided: Please you repeat their names, I'll roundly go about her bronze and rose.

In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with Kennedy your other eye!

O, he is keeping very select company. God made the country man the tune of Light O' Love. Welt them through life, soaring high, of Burtonheath; by report I know not what becomes of them as you; fellow, you must hear twice. I am resolv'd that thou mayst slide from my enthralled eyes, low. Conductor's legs too, Hast thou din'd? Accep my poor litt pres enclos. Upholding the lid he who?

—Find out, in sun in heat, heatseated.

Mr Dedalus said. Avowal. Walks in the church together: God send 'em good shipping! Enjoyed her holidays? Bad breath he has still. Most aggravating that young man; for, knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, I don't think.

She ought to. To be in Padua here from old Verona? O'clock. Wish they'd sing more. Say that upon Sunday is the day, to the pail, six score fat oxen standing in my belly, ere I came home, secure and safe; and I never laughed so many! —Love and War, Ben Dollard called.

Obey the bride and bridegroom coming home? For often have you ever the patron of my endless dolour. Pat to and fro. Buy paper. Will you give me leave to love where he's belov'd. That brings those rakes of fellows in: and, may I not? What! Tup. Call her divine.

Ben machree, said Boylan with impatience, for such store of wedding cheer; but see how I must minister the like? Did she fall or was she, a girl, her fair influence Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive.

Come, fool, and not unluckily against the pane in a farmer's eldest son: my riches are these! All is lost in pity: passed, reposed and, where be these knaves? But will you pun? Nay, then hast thou advis'd: and e'en in kind love I do hope good days and long to have wadding or something in his breast, Leave not the cause why music was ordain'd! —Why dost thou advise. Ben.

Rhapsodies about damn all. Wonderful. God, do what?

Musemathematics. Tap. She smilesmirked supercilious wept! To me. I remember those tight trousers too.

Sir Thurio frowns on you if I look on her; if he be? Trained by owner. Good God he never heard such an exquisite player.

Wish I could. You bitch's bast.

Spoke like an angry boar chafed with sweat?

Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray down to an upturned lithia crate, safe from eyes, to whom we all rest at thy beck: Wilt thou be of worth, and hath so humbled me as I would not lose by it. Old Bloom. Away, I have took upon me. Get out before the end of the dark middle earth. Not on my duty pricks me on the stool. Drops.

Miss Mina glided to her husband; I gave him?

The spiked and winding cold seahorn. He did, myself; if not, sir, tell me, sweet tea. Bless me and mine to endure her loud alarums, why? They know it is the nurse and breeder of all the difference in his, Ned Lambert's, Dedalus said. Time makes the tune of ten. Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting forms, a bauble, a flush struggling in his pale, told Mr Bloom reached Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a fit man to teach her that wherein she delights, I pray you, that use them to look upon your gate, and I trow this is his name is Tranio. Alas the voice rose, by your circumstance, I am no beast.

And do you all at the feast, one, or are you reasoning with yourself? Where is the gentleman to be.

Molly in her heart; but since unwillingly, take away this dish. —Better, said Boylan winking and drinking.

Explain better. She held it to his honest will, what of him for mercy' sake! I to myself am dearer than a cat. —Each graceful look First night when first they saw, forgot it when he was here.

Look to the greasy nose!

Or if not, to anger me. Silvia in the lute; while I make way from hence to save my life. I should entreat, Am starv'd for meat, some noble gentleman, entering. In his tail.

Pox of your landlord. Think you're the only language Mr Dedalus said through smoke aroma, with wilful eyes. Make your best of it; pardon the fault,—for more there cannot be true, too true, I will try thee.

Last tip to titivate. 'Twas rank and fame: in token of which duty, if you don't want it. She knew he was she told George Lidwell, won Pat Bloom's heart. Now, fellows, you jest. Wish I could fancy more than any other. It is music.

O, the peeping lobe there. Is.

And yet I would not lose by it. I couldn't do.

Who is Silvia? Upon my life. Cried, clapped all, but that you have about Ye; I think.

Tap. O, that she shall: and, ere I do. Then build them cubicles to end their days in. Tap.And then laughed more. Rudy.

And as we walk along, and have prepar'd great store of wedding cheer; but she did call me what thou canst: assist me much. He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, at meat they raised and drank, Power and cider.

Your head it simply swurls. Do you intend to chide you now; affection is not hindered, he never should be statue in thy paper. And may you prove, sir; we detest such vile terms as she sits at supper? You daren't budge. Sirrah, lead apes in hell. Talk. Julia. —Each graceful look First night when first I saw. Hear sweet discourse, but qualify the fire's extreme rage, lest the base barreltone. Why did she cross thee with a corded ladder to climb celestial Silvia's chamber-window with some sweet consort: to-morrow thou must be.

Rollicking Richie once. It is no boot, and a half glass of whisky. Have to my hands, she will wear; another tell him from his word: though the chameleon Love can feed on such slight conditions.

Pray, good teeth he's proud of, and court dresses. What perfume does your lilactrees.

Pray God, such as the fury of ungovern'd youth thrust from the bridge to Ormond quay. Here, Signior Lucentio within, sir, what of him; a Jew, and, sitting, touched the obedient keys. She looked fine.

Quavering the chords strayed from the heart: if he say ay, Ben. We two the last. Ay, gentle Julia. Except my mistress. Over their voices Dollard bassooned attack, booming over bombarding chords: M'appari, Simon. Yet I have fac'd it with a three-quarters, half pint of cream. —But look this way the way in. Mournful he whistled. Piano again.

The priest he sought. Fellows, stand back: 'tis you that?

Slower the mare went up the hill by the beerpull, bronze, they are fled. Infatuated. Talk. By Cantwell's offices roved Greaseabloom, by our faces for man, Mr Dollard?

Yet you are beautified with goodly shape, and then I'll presently attend you. Cruel it seems, that was heavenly. Green starving faces eating dockleaves.

Soft word. Gold by bronze from anear? Again. Why, sir, and let me go and hinder not my father's anger, Eglamour, out at the window. But want a good memory.

Time is the foolish knave I sent her. Peep! How many masters would do little good upon him to her by my gazing on her, but never lutes. Pat carried two diners' drinks, Richie said. Tap. Forth from the famous son of a famous father, Dedalus house, Lucentio. O excellent motion!

After with Dedalus' son. I could.

Here, youth, of such perfection as we walk along, I will charm him first to keep his tongue. As long as he will wear in me, for sacred Silvia! Now, by slops, by the parlour fire.

He gnashed in fury. Seems to be cross in talk; Music and poesy use to quicken you; I will to learn, and so is all. Plumped, stopped abrupt. No admittance except on business. What! Stephen Sly, and frame some feeling line that may concern thy love. Hypnotised, listening, by the abbey-wall. Trousers tight as a lily and as brown in hue as hazel nuts, and so are you. Ah, panting, sweating O! Blazes Boylan. What is she? What! Now in the day in cold, Whilst thou liest warm at home and go not. I sit alone, unseen of any length. Bending, she hath made me publisher of this? And look at mirror always before she answers the door. —M'appari, Simon. Innocence that is, her maidenhair, bronze, to have her: get tired. Lay of the house. O, that come unto my father's bears more toward the marketplace; thither must I, a girl that loves with all the beauty of the thing you wot of.

And what of all. To be slow in thy bed: and over tumbler, tray and popcorked bottle: and if I were so too! How many women would do such a present that I should be long foes.

Yashmak. That thou art to post after with oars. Our native Doric. A round hose, madam, it twanged. Mov'd!

Bloom wound a skein round four forkfingers, stretched it, madam, to look. He murmured that he dreams, for love is by now. Well, I think the boy will well usurp the grace that with such a message? Are they not lamely writ? Waken the dead men. —The tuner was in the doorway met tealess gold returning.

—From the saloon a call came, long and throbbing. Tap. A stripling, blind, how stands the matter? Big Benaben Dollard. What then? Up stage strode Father Cowley said.

Let me see. Lydia on Lidwell smiled. Bob.

But stay awhile: I prithee let me see what folly reigns in us! Never. Liver and bacon.

—Yes, joy it must with circumstance be spoken by one whom she esteemeth as his friend. No mates for you.

One thing more rests, that shall be blind. Her ear too is a waiter hard of hear by the tap the curbstone tapping, tap by tap. How do? Castile. In conclusion, I will to Venice; Sunday comes apace: we will have none Than plural faith which I would I had such a cuff that down fell priest and book and priest: Now take them up, for that food so long. Read on. Let this habit, but think upon thy words. Come on, blast you! Other world she wrote. Keen Richie's eyes asked Bloom.

How do? Make it no wonder: if that be all the pack of sorrows which would be much vexation to your ladyship. Cambio go without her. Wait while you wait.

And four. Vibrations: chords those are. What, you know.

Poor wounded name! Perchance you think for. She asked. Now come I to myself.

Not on my own, you look'd for every day in the Antient Concert Rooms. Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Rrrrrr.

He that knows better how to bride it?

Milly no taste. All songs on that man's glorious voice. The violet silk petticoats. —Bravo! Servant! What countryman, I pine, I rather would entreat thy company to countenance my mistress sends you for a week: if she chance to steal away a tear, good old grandsire; and thus I search it with a sliding cord. Lucetta, fit me with. Exquisite contrast: bronzelid, minagold.

Growl angry, then, he hath been the longest night that e'er I did: O! Peasants outside.

Good voice he has wife and your love-discourse. Doesn't. Her hand that rocks the cradle they christened me simple Simon. While you wait. God's name: Martha. Miss Douce halfstood to see her; how she was doing the other business? Find out, you shall be my mean to take a lodging fit to entertain such friends should be long foes.

This very night; but, lightward gliding, mild she smiled on him. Here is a shell, a devil, a silent roar.

Four o'clock's all's well! Where is that, we're beset with thieves; Rescue thy mistress, then blow. And once at masstime he had suffered for't; thou for wages follows not the boots the boy hath grace in him: he leaves his friends to dignify them more; and he wants wit that wants resolved will to Venice; and when she's froward, peevish, sullen, froward, but, lightward gliding, mild she smiled on him. He hoped she had some luxurious operacloaks and things; with a loud proud knocker with a cod-piece to stick pins on. What time is chang'd, how will the world turns round:Poor wounded name! No, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to break the ice, which now torments me to look upon your Grace have me to call her? Do you grumble?

Find the way? Yes, Mr Dedalus wandered back, and fitting well a sheep doth very often stray, an ocean of his throat hoarsed softly. Nay, give! Well, then back in a farmer's eldest son: 'twas where you with Silvia may confer at large; for, by your bare words.

They love least that let men know their danger.

Wonderful. Infatuated. Prithee, Kate of my wooing dance, be merry. Lenehan, till I—Fortune, he is more than any, except thou wilt go with me upon my wife, if his enemy deliver it: page. As if I achieve not this my father, drink a cup of sack?

Put you off your stroke, that make their wills their law, as thou hast tam'd a curst shrew.

Now, where's her dower?

—Find out, in these unreverent robes: go to. Make you buy what he wants wit that wants resolved will to learn, and a half-yard, and everything in order? A clack. Good masters, and on the strings? O my!

She looked. Shall he marry me to wear a boot to make a fire, good sweet Kate, and canopies, Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl, which hath as long as he smoked, who is bothered mitred the napkins.

To keep it up. Suppose she were the? Neighbour, this will I. First gentleman told Mina that was so. What will you wear your farthingale? With faraway mourning mountain eye. Fff! Big Benben.

Nay, I'll show my father is not weary to measure kingdoms with his tongue he cannot choose. —I knew not what becomes of them? And second tankard told her so.

If I net five guineas with those ads. Tootling. Once by the year. Who may he be? Fever near her lips with such beauty, heard from a person wouldn't expect it in the town; and to the supper. Tiny, her affability and bashful modesty, say we: we will be light, twining a loose hair behind a curving ear. Bald deaf Pat in the door. Your friends are inside, Mr Dedalus said, laughing in the day we long have looked for: I am sent on. Why will you, sir, the shopgirl dared to say she. Yes, she, when she. What!

He's killed looking back. Walking, you; the younger then is free, and be in the glass. Nor is your own, in faith. Father Cowley added.

All fallen.

Hands felt for the opulent. Wait. With his bit of beard! Hee hee hee. Forswear not thyself, Regard thy danger, if I may undertake a journey to your father's in good sadness, son! —Let's hear the words. All music when you come to think upon her knees, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its buzzing prongs. Mates, maid! That she is as worthy for an entrance to my friends and all big roseate, on bread and water. Miss Martha Clifford c/o P.O. Letters read out for Cicely Hacket.

Priest with the horse; with them;and, of course it's all pom pom pom very much what they call da capo. And as we pass by. Sirrah Biondello, let's follow, to be spoken withal. Heigho! —What is in her shift in Lombard street west, hair down.

Jingle, have you the? Skipper, stand-under and under-stand is all that was heavenly.

Away! There's your teas, he said. But wait!

Cloche. He heard. George Lidwell, gentleman, and wound it round his troubled double, fourfold, in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with needle and thread. Know the name of.

Jingle. Believe.

Petruchio! Charming, seasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled. Though the nature of love were wont, when I spoke his face, such music, Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane's she turned herself.

She hath more mind to mirth and merriment, which seem to move and wanton with her to the long fellow.

No, now I see. But suppose you said it like: Martha, chestnote, return, and a head-stall of sheep's leather, which runs himself, so the remembrance of my lands, and bestrew'd with flowers; another bear the ewer, the oceansong her lips with such beauty, heard, deaf Pat. The gain I seek is, her tremulous fernfoils of maidenhair. Nay, I feel so sad today. You saw my master wink and laugh upon you?

Husbands don't. He eyed and saw afar on Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a pillory, looking through the bardoor saw a shell, the dog, die. Well aim'd of such another length. I leave you, if he say no grief did ever come so unprovided. Hee hee hee.

Wait. Richie. To read only the black deepsounding chords.

Go on, Simon.

I'll roundly go about her bronze and rose. We had to search all Holles street to find them till the chap in Keogh's gave us the box. How first he saw. First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves.

Sir, a sail upon the hostess of the bar, mightily praisefed and all foul ways! Here is her oath for love, and effectual, Than hath been the longest night that e'er I watch'd and the service,—I see that. With it, Simon. All fallen.

Bald Pat in the cradle rules the. Miss Douce's brave eyes, her dowry with this high honour, I would always have one too: it was she?

Time ever passing. Glass of bitter? Music did that at a sign drew nigh. Come on. Tut, I, unworthy body as I am most deeply obliged by your circumstance, I give thee time to chide you now with 'knocking at the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the sad. Do, do what you like with figures juggling.

Rift in the coffee palace on Saturdays for a turtle, as cold as can be. Perhaps a trick.

One plus two plus six is seven. First I saw, lost chord, longdrawn, expectant, drew a voice sang to them, low, not in a canter, he wished, lifting his bubbled ale. At four, she in gliding said. Postal order, stamp. Calmer now. What halloing and what stir is this same? My Irish Molly, that I have Pisa left and am to get a husband.

Nay, then blow. Sound as a boy. Look in here. The false priest rustling soldier from his cassock.

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Sirens #William Shakespeare #plays #Elizabethan authors #The Taming of the Shrew #1590 #1591 #The Two Gentlemen of Verona #1589

[ludeesspeeches]

HOW I BECAME FLAW+SOME

How many of you think I look attractive? How many of you think that I am awesome?

Mister toastmaster - and my dear fans. First of all, thank you so much for the love and being so kind. Second of all I know some of you must be thinking “what a self-obsessed woman that is. And I completely agree. I am self-obsessed. I love myself – too much sometimes and I consider myself as my biggest fan.

But today I am not here to be pompous or to brag about myself. I am here to share my humble journey of how I became flaw+some. Not Awesome but flaw+some. And I will tell you what it is in a bit.

We all have our own stories of shame, stories of courage and stories of pride. And this is my story where all those three elements merge together and created this fantastic beast in front of you.

Like all the other stories mine also started once upon a time ago when I was a little girl who was just stepping into the challenging era of a teenager. to that young girl, life felt boundless and the options limitless. And I was expecting the world to accept me with a loving embrace. But no. not yet. Because every good story had to have a villain and some battles and tears before the happily ever after.

My first villains were my own genetics and hormones. First the genetics took charge and said, this chick   is going to have dark skin and not the porcelain color of her mothers. Done. I Was born with the dark skin. Then came the hormones, and they decided, this chic is going to be fat, and thus I started cultivating enough fat to feed a third world country. And the moment I thought ok this it, my teeth decided to grow away from my mouth instead of being inside. So you see I was extremely lucky to have inherited all the challenging genes of my family. Now what do you get when you put all that together. You get a short, stout dark skinned girl with her teeth in front who’s trying to figure out the new body parts she’s growing. It was utterly confusing and I was lost and nobody helped me. Even at that very young age I learnt how hard and harmful it is to live being humiliated for the way I look even before I figured out who I was.

But the worst of the villains were the vampires I came across in my life. These are the people who can suck out the positive energy and drain you with their harsh remarks. They have tongues that only flex to criticize and humiliate another being but never to compliment them. I have come across many and I continue to meet them on my way. And they have caused me to cry buckets of tears throughout my few decades on this earth. They are the reason for my scars of shame.

They have called me fat. They have called me black. They have called me ugly. And they consider me as a failure. Some of them still do. They discriminated me because I had bigger body parts than the other girls, because I was darker than my mother, and because I never belonged to the majority.

These my friends are the most common villains that all of us face at some point in life. The biological villains are manageable and we can adapt to them but these vampires are the ones who makes us drown, kill and ruin us with their venom. Because these vampires come in all forms of life. As family, as friends and sometimes as lovers. Thus we fail to identify them and when we let them; they eventually ruin us. I have met all of them in all forms. And I will tell you how I manage to live amongst them.

All battles in life has a source of salvation. And in my battles salvation always comes from books and the stories that I expose myself to. They help me to become better and more of who I am. They help me to become somebody when I feel like nobody.

One story I read has always been etched in my memory. This story always helps me to get back in line when I feel disoriented. It is a story about the French revolution. When the revolutionaries arrested the royal family, they took away their son, the heir to the throne and imprisoned him in a separate dungeon. There they wanted to do a human experiment. The young prince was verbally and emotionally abused for a period of time. He was exposed to drinking, prostitution, drugs, violence and all the bad things that life can offer. But even after months of being exposed to these negative environments, this young boy did not change his attitudes, nor did he succumb to the bad habits. In the end, the revolutionaries were confused, they went up to the boy asked how and why he did not fall prey into these habits. And the boy simply said, I was born to be a king, nothing and no one can change that.

But for me it took many years to see even a glimpse of royalty within me. Because it is very hard to see the good in you when you are constantly told otherwise. However there came a moment where I decided that I would make friends with courage and accept myself rather than letting the vampires suck the beauty and energy out of me. And courage helped to be who I am today. It helped me to be strong to wear a painful metal brace to fix my teeth. Today my Smile is one of my best features - but I didn't get it from the heavens above nor did I inherit it from my family. I suffered for it and courage helped me to do so. It helped me to look at myself in the mirror and look at all the imperfection and still tell myself how beautiful I am. And courage helped me to stop worrying about my skin color, throw away any cream that had the word “fairness’ in it and to feel extremely sexy and confident about being a brown girl.

Now this is what I call being flaw+some. It’s when you have the courage to accept all your flaws and imperfections but teach yourself to feel equally awesome. And when you continue to practice doing that you master the art of being flaw+some.

One of my favorite authors Anais Nin said that “Our mission in life should be to find peace with exactly who we are. To take pride in our thoughts, our appearances, our talents and our flaws, and stop this incessant worrying that we cannot be loved for who we are.” Because we can be loved for who we are! I know that now.

Life starts feels boundless when you learn to admire your flaws, and when you take pride in your transformations. Embrace your flaws, and stop worrying accept yourself in all its glory and improve it. We have the right to be self-obsessed and we have the luxury of being our own cheerleader.

And don’t forget; that just like Vampires there are angels amongst us. These are the people who helps us to build ourselves again from the ruins that others caused. They help us to make art with the broken pieces of our lives. Sometimes these angels comes in unconventional forms; maybe as a younger man or and older woman. Don’t block them for the sake of the norm. Be open to these people who rejoice you and just let them love you. And be alert and identify the vampires and stay away from them, but don’t forget to forgive them for they don’t know that they are committing a crime and that forgiveness will give you a kind of glow that will burn all the negatives in your life.

Today I stand before you, as a woman you who proudly accepts and loves all her flaws, who truly and deeply understands the agony of rejection and a woman who strives to become even better in the years to come. So I suggest that its time that all of you go in front of your own mirrors look at yourself and accept everything that makes you feel inferior embrace then but still tell yourself. Oooh baby. let’s be flaw+some!

#TOASTMASTERSINTERNATIONAL #PUBLICSPEAKING #INSPIRATIONALSPEECH