#alma is not strictly bad or good!!

[gay-fae]

After watching Encanto, I was thinking about Bruno's parallels to Mirabel (those that were pointed out in the movie and otherwise) and uh. This happened. This is a bit of a character study and it's only 935 words so it's not a big read but I really hope you enjoy :)

(this may end up on Ao3 as well! Reblogs are super helpful so please consider reblogging <3)

**********

Sometimes, as a child, Bruno would stare at his hands and wonder if an invisible poison leached from them; a silent killer of goodness only he was capable of carrying.

Sure, when you’re five years old the screw ups are forgivable. Less so when you’re seven. By the time you’re ten, mistakes are seen more as intentional sabotage attempts upon your family’s wellbeing.

Keeping the gift alive was their family’s duty, but Bruno wondered if he was capable of taking on something so great. He also wondered if Pepa and Julieta ever felt as unqualified as he did to preserve the Encanto. Yes, Pepa had brought on more storms than he could count, but she’d always felt things more deeply than the rest; it was never the same as the quiet weight Bruno was accustomed to within himself. As for Julieta, well, she’d always been the one to take a challenge head on. The strongest sibling and the leader. Untouchable and unbreakable.

(But there was one time, once, when Bruno was at the tender age of nine. He’d been hiding around the corner of the kitchen late at night. A man with a twisted ankle was sitting on a chair in the next room over. In the kitchen, in front of the stove, Julieta knelt on the floor surrounded by pieces of a shattered ceramic bowl and remnants of an indiscernible food. Her face was streaked with tears and she was visibly holding back a cry. Alma stood over her, looking disappointed and firm.)

Julieta was everything Bruno couldn’t be.

(“How can you expect to help the town if you can’t even heal one man?” Alma’s voice had echoed from the kitchen.)

Envy twined with admiration gripped tight on Bruno’s heart whenever he saw his sister’s perfection.

(Voice shaking and fragile, Julieta whispered, “I’m sorry, mamá. Déjame arreglarlo. Please. I won’t mess it up this time.” A small tear fell onto Casita’s tile flooring.)

By the time he was fifteen, every morning Bruno had a waitlist of people who wanted prophecies and a list almost just as long of people who didn’t like him by the time the sun set.

It wasn’t just what he saw that upset them (though, in some cases, that would have been enough). It was his inability to deliver the news well or refrain from making untimely jokes. His way of lightening the mood was usually implemented at the worst moment possible and he always awkwardly stumbled over his words, anticipating unhappy reactions to his visions.

Time to develop hobbies wasn’t always plentiful, but Bruno did always have an interest in acting and storytelling. As a child, he’d put on shows for his mother, his sisters as costars. Alma had always applauded loudly at the end. It was one of those truly good memories he often called back on later in life.

As a teenager, he’d stay up late writing stories in his room, all messily scratched out on crumpled papers or in a notebook. Scripts telling tales about a young man who was the pride of his town and his family. Plotlines following a young explorer who was beloved by everyone she crossed paths with. People not just loved, but appreciated for who they were as a whole. The hero Andres who was worth more than his incredible intellect. The explorer Luisa who was praised for more than her magnificent super speed.

Bruno loved his family, and they loved him back. Of that, there was never any doubt. Still, there was an unspoken standard looming over him at all times.

There was an expectation that Bruno dreaded to think he might not ever reach.

But Andres and Luisa didn’t judge him for that, nor did the rats he spotted in dark corners of Casita, nor did his beautiful sobrinos when they were born. And for a while, that was enough to keep him afloat in the flood he’d been living through.

**********

Bruno shook his head vigorously, trying to rid himself of the sight in front of him. He blinked the green out of his eyes, but was unsuccessful in ridding himself of the tears. He looked down at his shaking hands—poisonous contaminators, toxic harbingers of ruin…

He clenched his fists and thought of Mirabel. He’d seen so little in his vision; it wasn’t enough to ensure that she wouldn’t be subjected to the harsh scrutiny he wanted to shield her from. He couldn’t let her go through what he had.

If today is the day, then today is the day.

**********

The comfort of his sisters’ hugs felt less foreign than he’d thought it would. He smiled each time he got one, realizing just how deprived of that closeness he’d been.

Dinners were warm and full of laughter that was no longer distantly heard through the wall. He did the dishes afterward, laughing at himself for being so eager to clean. He wrote stories again, this time ones that didn’t just feature rats (though he couldn’t bear to write them out completely). New characters who were finding their ways back from the abysses they’d fallen into. Who were learning to find their rhythms again.

He held Antonio’s face in his calloused palms, telling him how proud he was of him, no longer scared of the invisible poison he’d once believed himself to emanate.

(He remembered that childhood night again, and the way Alma’s face had softened as she’d sighed and bent down, beginning to pick up pieces of the shattered bowl. He remembered the way she’d said to Julieta, “It’s okay. We can fix it. You’re still learning.”)

No more fear. No more cracks in the walls.

#i wrote this is a frenzy lol #oh and also!! #alma is not strictly bad or good!! #she's put too much pressure on her family as a result of her fear of losing her second chance #so yes she pressured her children but ofc she still loved them and tried to be patient with them #(and yes obv Alma needed to do better no question about it lol) #i don't like it when people say a character is strictly bad or good when in fact the character canonically has depth #an example of a character who is pure evil is Ozai from ATLA #alma's not at that level dgfhjk #anyway went on a rant here hahahaha #i hope you liked this!!!! #encanto #disney encanto #encanto disney #disney’s encanto #encanto fanfic #encanto fic #encanto fanfiction #bruno madrigal #pepa madrigal #julieta madrigal #alma madrigal #mirabel madrigal #do not repost #fable’s stuff #fable’s writing

[penajavier]

though you are no god -  Frankie Morales x f!reader

This idea had been brewing for a while and hanging out in my drafts for a longer while, but I’ve finally found the inspiration to clean it up and share it! I am clearly a beginner at this and feedback/critique is always welcome. 

Title: though you are no god (credit)

Pairing: Francisco Morales x f!reader. One use of the word “girl”.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.3k

Content/warnings: brief mentions of nightmares and trauma recovery, angst, smut, still somehow the sappiest shit I’ve ever written. frankie likes to be praised. strictly 18+

ao3

••••••••

The first time you get to witness Francisco Morales fall to his knees in front of you, you almost don't remember it happening.  

His mouth presses hot and wet and urgent against your skin where he is bunching up your shirt to expose it. You are nearly as drunk as him, blindly pulling it off and throwing it somewhere behind him. The wall behind you is cool but does absolutely fuck-all to clear your head because oh god his hands are big and warm and his tongue is incessant and oh god this is Frankie, your goofy, kind, awkward, hot as fuck friend-of-a-friend. He pulls you forward a fraction just to tug on your pants and underwear, letting them gather around your feet without giving you the leg room to step out of them. He lifts your left leg over his shoulder with ease, and then his hands are bracing him against you and his tongue is working as if it has a mind of its own, circling your clit and sliding up your lips and you don't remember his fingers being that thick but somehow they are and you are close to going insane. 

Maybe tomorrow you'll wonder how you ended up here, in a hallway in his apartment where he barely bothered to turn the lights on before pressing himself into you, effectively shutting off any sane connection you might have still retained to the world after however-many drinks you two had got in you. The night was supposed to be about Santi, you vaguely recall, but right now you honest to god cannot even remember what promotion he got that you were supposed to be celebrating. You might have made a mental note to apologize to him for leaving his party early, but Frankie adds another finger to your wet cunt and moans like it's pleasuring him more than you, and it's a real effort not to kick him in the chest or collapse on him then and there.  

The fucker laughs as if he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and somehow increases his efforts to a degree you hadn't thought possible. It doesn't take much after that for you to feel that knot tightening in your belly, the electricity of it making your limbs shake. Only when he’s satisfied making you cum thoroughly on his tongue and his hand does he stand up, and for the first time since you got here, he speaks. "Hi," he says, the loopiest grin on his face, before leaning forward to kiss you without waiting for you to answer.  

Your last remaining brain cell thinks to itself, this is going to be one hell of a night. 

•••• 

The second time Frankie Morales falls to his knees in front of you, you can barely bring yourself to look at him. 

It's been weeks (months?) since he practically fell off the grid, following your childhood best friend and designated bad-idea-haver Santiago Garcia into the guts of South America. You had reached the point where a part of you was bracing itself for the worst kind of news, of never getting to see your boys again or hell, not even knowing what the fuck happened to them down there. The rest of you was still holding on to your anger in a misplaced effort to stay hopeful, refusing to let you feel anything other than the need to wring their necks as soon as one of them walked back in the door. And that was it, the majority of your days spent getting on edge every time your phone rang or you felt you saw a familiar set of messy curls pass you by on the street, until you walked home one day to find him standing outside your door, hand poised to knock but hesitant. 

"What the fuck?" the words escape you before you can help it, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. When he turns to look at you coming up behind him, you almost stop in shock at how absolutely shit he looks. "What the fuck?" you say again, seeming to have lost all your vocabulary at the sight of this stupid infuriating beautiful man finally standing in front of you in one piece, messy curls and all.  

An eternity passes with the two of you simply staring at each other, your grocery bags forgotten in your hands and his fingers twitching in an effort to keep them to himself. The smell of fresh bread wafting from your grocery bag does little to alleviate any tension, and the silence is almost painful. You want to do something, say something of all the rage and hurt you've nursed in you at being left alone. How dare you, you want to bark at him, want to hold him by the collar and smack him or kiss his face raw. 

You must take too long in your own head because he carefully extends a hand toward you, but you are so over-stimulated at the mere sight of him that you flinch.  

That's what breaks him, you realize later when the storms have passed and the proverbial rivers have calmed. Not the pain and loss and grief of the mission - things he'll whisper into your chest when you let him - and not the physical battering he must have taken through it all. What breaks him is you flinching away from him, as if you'd forgotten who he was. It’s only me, it's your Frankie, he wants to scream; wants to gather you in his arms and breathe into your ribs. But all he can do is fall to the ground and plead with his eyes.

I'm sorry, mi alma he seems to be saying, and the sight of this glorious man breaking down in front of your doorstep makes you ache in the depths of your bones. You rush forward, all your anger evaporating away from you in the instant it takes to wrap your arms around him and let him rest his head on your stomach. The position is awkward at best. His touch feels almost alien and his hair doesn't smell like you're used to, but you let him cry, let him ruin the clothes you hadn’t given much thought to anyway, and it doesn't occur to either of you that the shirt is one of his that he'd left at your place. 

You choke back the ocean rising in your throat, not knowing how to navigate everything you're feeling at the same time. Will we ever be okay? you wonder, your entire body feeling numb as he holds you just the tiniest bit more tightly.  

You don't know then if you'll ever forgive him, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be the same man again, but right there in that moment none of it matters. What matters is that he is here, and you are holding him like you'd wished and prayed for in all those lonely nights. Maybe you'll never be okay like you used to be, but you have him for now, and you're too exhausted to think beyond that. 

•••• 

The third time, it's fucking magical. 

You and your Frankie have finally settled into a somewhat stable routine. After he left you with the promise to get his shit together, he made good on his word. It seemed as if the mission that must not be named put things into perspective for him - and for you, for that matter - and the two of you decided to give up on the delicate dance you kept orchestrating around each other. You had realized that you needed him much more than you could ever resent him for leaving, and he had realized he never wanted to feel the paralysing fear of thinking he'd never make it back to you again. You two had decided to sit down like adults and talk about it, and Frankie’s regular visits to his therapist had certainly helped. 

Now, in the early morning light in your shared bedroom, he looks the very picture of calm. The birds chirp softly outside the window, blending in with the music of the traffic that you two have begrudgingly come to love. The nightmares haven't left him completely, but they're less frequent and far less incapacitating for him. You feel a rush of pride for how far he's come, how much effort he put into building himself back up piece by piece after being shattered to his bare bones. You’ve seen him curl into you out of fear and into himself during the moments of self loathing when he feels he doesn't deserve your kindness, but now he sleeps with his head tilted slightly upward, exposing the beautiful planes of his neck to you. He is beautiful, you've known it for as long as you've known him, but something about the soft sunlight turning his curls golden and the way you can tell he's truly at peace in this moment, brings tears to your eyes and makes your throat clench. 

You lean up on your elbow and touch his face. His skin is soft, and he smells faintly of your body wash. Thief, you think fondly, brushing his unruly hair away from his forehead. he had stopped cutting it as frequently as he used to because he noticed you liked running your hands through it, and you realize with a jolt that that had been years ago, long before you two had any conversation about the future, even before he had his world turned upside down in the depths of an unnamed jungle. That is when you realize that Francisco Morales told you he loved you long before you had the sense to understand it, and this time you do cry. 

He stirs in his sleep. You briefly worry that you woke him, but he simply turns his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply at your shoulder before falling back asleep. The feeling of his soft breaths against your skin makes you smile, and you feel yourself falling more in love with every one of them. 

He wakes you up hours later with gentle kisses and the promise of pancakes, making you giggle with the way his moustache tickles your chin. When you find him in the kitchen later he seems more chipper than usual, smelling like a bakery and humming softly while setting the table for two. He greets you with a sweet kiss and pulls out your chair for you before sitting down in his own. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” you ask playfully, and he smiles wide behind his glasses that you’d finally convinced him he needed. Beautiful man, you can't help but think. 

"Just wanted to do something nice for my girl," he answers with his mouth full and you flick a berry at him, which he expertly catches. "Oh so that's how it's gonna be," he puts down his fork and you start to run away, but he is far too quick. He catches you by your waist and pulls you into his chest, licking your cheek obscenely.  

"Frankie, you dog!" you giggle, still fighting his grip.  

"Dogs are cute," he shrugs, seemingly unfazed against you using all your force. He is gentle as anything with you, but he sure likes to show off his strength every once in a while. He lifts you effortlessly off the floor and sets you on the counter. "You think I'm cute?" he wiggles his eyebrows. 

You almost playfully call him insufferable on autopilot, the way you've always bantered since you've known him. But you're aware now how he relies on verbal affirmations, and you've been making a conscious effort of supplying them whenever you can. So instead you hold his face in your palms and tell him that you think he's the most wonderful man in the world, and that you love him more than anything.  

"Baby," he drops his head to your shoulder and sighs. You do this to him, making his heart swell and threaten to burst out of his ribs. He doesn't have the words, doesn't know how to tell you he feels like the luckiest man in the world every morning when he wakes up next to you, every time he hears your voice or feels your palm in his. He doesn't know how to tell you you've been his anchor and his best friend, or how he can't believe he gets to have this kind of domestic bliss at all. "Baby," he repeats, "I love you." 

You try to deepen the kiss he initiates, but he pulls back and tells you he has plans for the day, telling you to get dressed for something outdoors. You feel a rush of happiness at the thought of him feeling more and more like himself with every day that passes, picking up old habits and finding joy in them. You kiss his cheek and run off to get dressed, beyond excited to see what he had planned. 

The ride to the field is longer than you expected. Frankie has turned the radio on and it plays softly in the background as you two talk occasionally. It’s a calm morning, with the perfect weather that's neither too cold nor too warm. He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses it softly once he's parked, and then he hops out and opens your door for you. 

"Such a gentleman," you tease. 

"Yeah," is all he says before he's kissing you breathless against the truck. It takes you by surprise, but it's far from unwelcome. 

Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, and you can tell it takes a special amount of effort for him to pull away from you, his hands still holding you close as he pulls on yours and leads you deeper into the field. The grass is high enough to tickle your ankles, and the whisper of it against your skin feels wonderful. He slows down, the pace leisurely enough for you to appreciate the wildflowers growing around you. He’s careful not to step on any, and you're struck once again by the multitudes that exist within this one man. The same man who has confessed to sins you could never have thought him capable of, now so careful with a thing as gentle as a dandelion. You think about his hand that is so gentle in yours, and the memory of it firmly wrapping around your throat as he does unspeakable things to you makes you blush, and you will yourself to come back to the present.  

Frankie has led you to a tree, and you notice a tree house resting on the sturdier branches. It’s new, you realize, and look at him quizzically. 

"Remember how I was supposed to pick up new hobbies?" he says sheepishly, gently leading you around to the other side where you see wooden footrests leading up. He urges you to climb up, and you are still so surprised that you can only obey. 

"I thought you'd like this," he's saying. "It can be our secret place, we come here whenever we want. Not that we don't already have a home and privacy but I thought this could be nice to have. Like a little getaway close to home." He's rambling now, as you notice all the fine details he has paid attention to in the construction of it. 

"Honey? Do you like it?" he asks when you've been too quiet. 

"Do I like it?" you ask incredulously. "Francisco Morales, this is amazing!" 

He immediately breaks into a wide grin, and you can see that he is proud of himself. He looks almost like an eager child, and you love the way his eyes shine in that moment. 

"There's one more thing," he leads you to a small opening in the wall that serves as a window. You can see the clear sky and the field stretching out under you, and the cool breeze feels like a gentle caress. It's a beautiful view, and you lose yourself in the sights and smells for a moment. 

"So am I looking at something specific?" you ask, wondering what it was he wanted to show you.  

He doesn't answer, though, and you turn around to repeat the question. The sight that meets you nearly knocks you off your feet, and you cover your gasp with your hand. 

Frankie is on one knee, hat resting by his feet and hand extended, holding the most gorgeous ring you have ever laid eyes on. You might be biased, but you couldn't care less. 

"Darling, I-" he starts, but you don't have the self control that he apparently does, and you throw your arms around him. 

He wraps tightly around you, only letting you have enough room to look up and kiss him. And god do you kiss him. You kiss him like he has never been kissed before, like you could pour every ounce of affection you have for him into that one moment, needing him as close to you as possible. 

You don't realise you're crying until he kisses the tears off your cheeks, and then he lifts your hand and slides the ring on. 

•••• 

The fourth time comes that night, after you've spent your day in the field, holding on to each other and bursting with mutual joy. 

He sits you down on the bed, and kneels in front of you, kissing your shoulders gently. "Hey, Mrs. Morales," he smiles as he says it, even as he's biting the soft skin at your clavicle. 

You laugh, telling him that’s not how engagement rings work. He only grins against your skin and bites harder. 

You scratch his head and he purrs, lifting his head briefly to give you a sweet kiss before he's pushing you to lie down. Let me take care of you, honey, he whispers. Then his hands are on your waist and his mouth is on your chest, making you writhe in place. He kisses and sucks and bites, making sure to give every part of you equal attention. So beautiful, he's talking almost to himself as he leaves a wet trail of kisses down to your tummy.  

His hands meanwhile touch and grab and smooth over any part they can reach, moving as if of their own volition. He knows your body so well that he can map it with his eyes closed, can recognize it with his last breaths. He reaches your cunt and pulls you closer, closer, inhaling deeply and groaning like he's hardly staying in control. 

With the same patience he had displayed earlier in the day he teases you mercilessly, kissing around where you need him most. You pull on his hair and he tuts and bites your thigh. What did I say, baby - a flick of his tongue against you - let me take care of you. You whine petulantly, and he tells you to be a good girl for him. He even says please, the asshole. 

The first lick against your clit comes at the same time as his finger pushes into you, and it takes everything you have not to lift off the bed. So wet for me, he moans against you, the vibration making your pleasure amplify. You fist the sheets around you, telling him how fucking good he's making you feel, how good he always makes you feel. The praise fuels him on and he pushes two more fingers into you at the same time. 

You are so full and so stimulated with his tongue incessant against your clit, and he has no plans of letting up. You feel your orgasm hit you quick and hard, and you can barely warn him before you're gushing, soaking his face and trying to pull away from the overstimulation. 

He looks up at you, grinning like the Cheshire cat. He licks you clean until you're begging him to stop, and then he patiently kisses his way back up your body. 

"That was... that was amazing," you're out of breath as you say it, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in to taste yourself. 

"Oh honey," he coos. "I've barely started." 

•••

fin.

Tagging some lovely mutuals whom I love and who are amazing writers: @disgruntledspacedad @pedropascaldice @frannyzooey. Please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in the future (if there is a future) ❤️

#triple frontier fic #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #not rpf #yes im on hiatus yes i wrote a fic #we exist #and did i mention i've never seen the movie 🙂

[donutloverxo]

Nude

Run through - Steve wants to try new things so he takes a painting class with a nude painting subject. Only the woman he has to paint are you, Peppers assistant and his crush.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 2k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

Steve Rogers was many things. He was an artist, an amateur cook (who really does try), a loyal friend, a good citizen, a soldier. Yet when people looked at him, they only ever saw the captain. His friends called him cap. He'd go weeks without hearing his own name. Sometimes he felt the lines were blurred. When did Steve Rogers end and Captain America begin?

He had a big wake up call when he confronted Tony, saying he wasn’t iron man, it was an alter ego. To which Tony said that Steve was basically captain America. And Steve couldn’t argue or disagree, because it was true. He didn’t want to lose himself in his work anymore than he already had. His therapist told him to make healthy boundaries, which is what he’s going to do.

So he ordered some colors and pencils online and got to work on his art, for the first time in a long time. It was exhilarating and freeing. He could lose himself in it, go on for hours without thinking and seeing anything but the colors and his canvas. Which was extremely rare for him. He could rarely ever shut his brain off or run from his traumatic memories.

Everyone could see the visible change in him. How he seemed happier. Clint even joked about it saying

“Cap must be getting some”

To which Steve only snorted. There was no room for anything as complicated as a relationship or sex in his life, not right now.

But wouldn’t it be nice? To have a woman to hold and to paint. To love and care for. He didn’t let himself delve too much into that fantasy. Because even if it was a nice escape once in a while, he knew that while Steve Rogers might make a good partner, Captain America would certainly not. He would never subject any woman to deal with either of them.

With some encouragement from Sam and his old friends he started attending painting classes at his alma mater, the Brooklyn College, every Saturday evening. It helped him make some friends. He didn’t know if he could call them friends. Most of them were too different from him. They seemed like different types of 'tortured artists'

When he heard that there would be a nude subject to paint the next class, he was a little bit hesitant. Such a thing would’ve been scandalous in the 40s. But he was trying to open himself up and that meant pushing his comfort zone, even just a little bit.

When he set up his canvas, oil colors and brushes that Saturday he expected male subject. He didn’t however expect to hear a woman’s voice. He was too focused on his set up to look up, whatever. He didn’t care if it was a man or a woman. There wouldn't be anything erotic about it. This was strictly professional and educational.

He looked up to take a good look at his subject, when he felt as if his soul was knocked out of him. There you stood, his crush, Pepper Potts' assistant, and the woman who turned him down.

“You know back in my day they used to play elevator music” He said to drown out the awkward silence. Even after all this time, he still didn’t know how to talk to women. He had had a crush on you since the moment he laid eyes on you. You were always so funny and sweet. Asking him and everyone about their day, if they were doing well. Always willing to help others.

When he let it slip that he likes banana bread, you baked him a whole loaf of it, which chocolate chips so ‘so you think of me when you have them. They’re my signature of sorts' you had said proudly. Of course he’d be thinking of you when he ate it. Overthinking actually. Wondering If you like him as he likes you, or if you’re just being your sweet self.

“Oh we still have that!” You chirped “but not in um professional or business buildings like these”

He just nodded. Tapping his foot impatiently. You would get off in just six floors it was now or never. “Hey uh – what are you doing this Friday?” he asked shyly.

“Oh just watching some Gordon Ramsay with my dog probably. I have no life” you laughed at your own self depreciating joke “Why?” you tilted your head.

“I was thinking, maybe we could get dinner? Only if you uh – you wanted to, you're free to say no” he promised. Maybe he should’ve asked you to ‘hang out' or 'for a coffee' like most people these days. But he felt that was no way to treat a lady, especially one like you.

“Oh Steve” he was already disappointed upon hearing your tone “I would’ve loved to. But even though we don’t work together, it wouldn’t look good you know? I mean I don’t care much for 'my image'” You said making air quotes “But I don’t, it’ll be complicated” You looked completely defeated. As if it hurt you to say no more than it hurt him to hear it.

“I completely understand” He nodded “no hard feelings” he gave you a smile as he watched you walk away. It did break his heart a bit, but he’d respect your feelings.

He looked at you taking off your satin robe revealing your bare body to the class of twenty or so artists. His breathe hitched. Your hair flowing down your back and covering a bit of your left breast, your soft stomach and thighs, the patch of soft curls at your core, your nipples hard against the chilly air, and how your stomach rolled a bit as you sat uncomfortably on the stool. You were beautiful. A work of art even. There was absolutely no way he could do you justice. He started drawing an outline on his canvas. You would very well be his best subject.

You looked around a bit, your fingers holding onto the stool for dear life so you could stave off the anxiety and feeling of being so exposed. Then your eyes landed on him. You thought you were dreaming, maybe you didn’t see properly, so you did a double take. Then you were frozen on the spot. There he was, Captain Rogers, the first Avenger, the man you often dreamt about, sitting right in front of you while you were naked as the day you were born.

You had no idea what you should do. This was literally like a nightmare come true. If you flee it would look bad, if you didn’t it might look worse. You decided you’d follow his lead. So you peeked a glance at him from the corner of your eyes and saw him, sketching you? Holy shit Steve Rogers was drawing a nude portrait of you. What has your life become?

You had always been insecure about your body. You knew magazines, porn and movies were meant to feed people lies to get them to buy more things. That didn’t make you feel any less bad about not looking anything like the women in them. You tried to remind yourself that you have many things going for you. Like your supporting family, your loving friends, your cute labrador, your amazing job.

Speaking of your job, exactly why you turned Steve freaking Rogers down! A man that looks like him asking you out and you say no. Your friends flat out laughed in your face at your unfortunate predicament, where the cake is right there but you can't eat it. Now that you thought about it, it was funny.

Your co-workers weren’t kind to you. Even on your best day you didn’t look anything like the women you worked with, who would stab you in the back the first chance the get. You were kind to everyone, but you knew by now not to expect the same treatment back. Which was why you had to say no to the beefy blonde. You didn’t want to be branded as the ‘office slut’.

Which now you were sure you would be. You didn’t know Steve enough to know he’d be willing to keep this a secret. He didn’t seem like someone who would do that to you. But you still couldn’t help but think the worst.

You squirmed and shivered in the chair for a good part of the next two hours. By the end your back was sore and you did everything you could to avoid looking at Steve, only sneaking glances here and there, while he seemed too engrossed in his work.

You had done this a couple of times before, to accept your body for what it is and get comfortable with it. If you weren’t going to love it no one would do it for you. Finally the time was up and the artists were asked to pack up for the day.

You quickly got up from your stool putting the robe back on. You turned your back to Steve, stretching your muscles. You couldn’t wait to lay down on your comfy bed and just get out of here. But you knew you needed to have that inevitable conversation. You probably would never be able to look Steve in the eye after this.

You walked towards him as he was cleaning up his work station. “Fancy seeing you here” You cringed at your embarrassing attempt at a British accent.

“Hey there” He gave you a bashful smile scratching the back of his head “I didn’t expect to see you here”

“Right back at ya” you returned his smile, no longer feeling on edge. It was strange how his presence served to comfort you.

“You do this often” he asked casually. You couldn’t really hear any judgement in his tone, not what you would expect from a hundred year old.

“No not really. It just uh – I’m trying to love myself. Which I already do! Of course” you let out a nervous chuckle “just trying new things and stepping out of my comfort zone”

“That makes two of us” he said as he was done packing his bag, which he was deliberately doing at a slow pace. He didn’t want to leave. Not yet.

“Can I... Look at your painting?” You asked nervously. You didn’t know if you wanted to see his interpretation of your naked body, what if it was bad? But what if it was good? What if he was impressed by you...

“Uh it’s not done yet. And frankly I’m not that good”

“I seriously doubt that. I’ve seen the sketches in your office” You caught your slip of tongue. You couldn’t let him know about your borderline unhealthy obsession with him.

“Well, have a look then” he relented showing you his canvas.

You let out a breathe you didn’t even know you were holding at the painting. It was breath-taking. The woman looked like you, but why was she so beautiful and graceful? In the painting she was sitting on a stool, like you, in front of a tree admiring a rose in her hand. She was naked as well. It reminded you of classic Greek paintings where women weren’t perfect, but were celebrated for their imperfections.

“It’s amazing Steve. I – do I look like that?” You stammered not being able to tear your eyes off the painting.

He shook his head at your shock “On the contrary you look much better I’m glad you like it”

“You’re a great artist” you gushed

“I don’t know about that. I’ve seen much better” he said humbly.

You would argue with him. But you knew it would be of no use. Looking at the beautiful woman in the painting gave you the surge of confidence you needed “Steve, does the offer for that dinner still stand?” You straightened your back looking up to lock eyes with him.

“Yes” He blurted without even thinking “how about tomorrow evening?” He asked.

“Yes that will be awesome! You can pick me up at seven. I’ll text you the address“ you said making an mental note to do so.

You could hardly wait for your date. You didn’t really care about what your co-workers would think of you. As long as you were happy their opinions didn’t matter.

Tags will be in the reblog! If you want in on the taglist click the link in the bio or send me an ask!

Please do not steal or repost my works. Reblogs are welcome.

This was actually a request. But I can't fir the life of me find the person who requested it. I hope you see it babes❤

#steve rogers x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #captain america x you #captain america x reader #steve x reader #steve Rogers x you #avengers x y/n #avengers x you #avengers x reader #marvel x reader

[forever-rogue]

A Good Man - Part 1

A/N: So...this turned out to be much more than I intended. It’s not a one off, oh no, could I ever really do that? It’s going to be three parts (and yes, I am committing to three and three only before this gets away from me), and yes I guarantee you there will be smut. You can’t have professor Javi without some smut, after all. Shout out to the amazing and lovely @rosetophighlander​ for listening to my ideas and inspiring me! As always, comments and feedback is welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know! xx

Pairing: Professor! Javi x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: none

A GOOD MAN ‘VERSE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier Peña was a good man. At least that’s what he was trying to convince himself. He was a good man with a bad past. A past he had pointedly left behind in Colombia. But even now, years later, memories haunted him at night - it wasn’t a regular occurrence, but it was often enough. Enough to have him startle awake, drenched in sweat as his chest heaved up and down. Enough to make him feel like a bad man again.

But that wasn’t him anymore - no. He was a bad man then and he was trying to rectify that now by being a good man. He was a good man, and what was in the past was in the past. It didn’t matter it anymore; he had to bury it and let it die. But every time he thought he had, he still found himself plagued by the memories. Shit. 

He’d returned to Texas when everything was said and done, and taken up a post as a university teacher. It was boring; drool, but most importantly, it was a safe bet. A college professor, who would have thought? If you would have told him this a few years ago while he was in the midst of the drug war trying to bring down both Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel, he would have laughed in your face and told you to fuck off. But that was then, and this was now, a very different reality with a very different version of him. Well...no. Javi was still Javi underneath it all, the same man he had always been, he was just trying to be the best man he could be. Trying to make right what in his head claimed made him so bad. 

He was regimented now, almost to a fault, keeping up a routine that claimed most of his mind that wouldn’t let his mind wander too far off track. Gods, he needed a therapist. He knew he did; it was forever on his to do list. Forever the one thing he would get to eventually because it wasn’t pressing enough. Forever the thing he would do when he had more time. Instead he found solace, a small sense of reprieve in his small four-legged friend. 

He was a small, wiry thing with ears that always seemed perked up, colored like sweet milk and honey, affectionately named Stevie, much to Steve Murphy’s chagrin. He served as a good distraction and pseudo-therapist for all that seemed to bother the ex-DEA agent. Sometimes Javi felt bad about how he confided in his little friend but Stevie loved him back all the same, showering him in affection whenever he could.

His routine was the same almost every day, allowing for some variance on weekends. It was strict, almost authoritarian but he had come to have a certain reverence for it. Up at six, out for a jog or walk with Stevie, breakfast for the two of them followed by a shower, at work by 9, a morning class full of mainly bright eyed freshman, followed by office hours where he would check on the dog and then return to eat his lunch by himself, almost always a sandwich, coffee, and some sort of berry, two afternoon classes of disinterested juniors, seniors, and those who seemed to never leave college, followed by a few hours of paperwork and grading before arriving home between six and seven, followed by a simple dinner for himself Stevie. To pass the time he’d read or watch a movie or show, but it was almost always lights out by ten. Sometimes he’d fall asleep quickly, other times it would take him hours. Hours of his brain buzzing with repressed thoughts and emotions that he put off until he fell asleep and repeated his routine the next day.

Weekends allowed for some flexibility instead of the monotonous rigidity. He let himself sleep in longer, go for a long walk with Stevie and have a leisurely lunch, and laze about the house. Sometimes he’d meet up with a friend, usually a coworker from another department and have a drink or two, nothing too excess, before turning in well before midnight. On the rare occasion where he felt restless enough and couldn’t be alone with his own thoughts, he’d go and take himself to a movie, a play, a museum, something that would keep his mind occupied. But by Monday morning he was back to routine. Back to that rigid pattern that kept him on track.

And it had been enough. It had to be enough...right?

»»————-　♡　————-««

Teaching at his alma mater of Texas A&M in the sleepy town of Kingsville had proven to be both a curse and a blessing. When he’d left the DEA, unsure of what to do, what do he really wanted to do with his life now, he had turned his attention back home. One thing had let to another and, surely with some help from his former cohorts at the DEA, he’d lined himself up a fairly easy teaching gig. It wasn’t anything he had ever really given much thought to, but just like his routine, it had become familiar, mind numbing, and easy. It didn’t take much before it had become part of his regimented life. 

He enjoyed the almost anonymity of it all; no one really knew who he was, the things, both horrible and great, that he had done, no one knew his previous reputation, no one judged him before they had the chance to meet him. He was, first and foremost, Professor Peña. The students came and went; no one questioned who he was truly was and he never offered. As far as his students were concerned, he offered them the tiniest shred, if any at all, of his personal life. It had it easy - simple - to keep things strictly business. 

There had been a few times, a few moments when his heart had almost stopped, that a student would stop by his desk after he’d dismissed everyone and ask him his past. It hadn’t been more than maybe four or five in total, but it had still brought a grimace to his face each time. But instead of completely dismissing anyone, he’d politely decline to answer anything beside easy questions, the kind that were of public knowledge. 

Otherwise he insisted that if they ever have any questions related to the course, exams, or homework, they were welcome to come to see him during his office hours. He had a presence about him, not intimidating per se, but firm and strong that usually deterred people from questioning him any further. They almost never came to his office hours; pretty much no one did. Which was completely fine by him because it always gave him a chance to stay on top of the mountains of paperwork the university imposed on everyone.

Much to his chagrin, however, this year the school’s newspaper had decided to start a professor spotlight column in their monthly magazine. Something about connecting students and professors and creating more of a sense of community. A load of bullshit, was what he thought, but he didn’t push the envelope. He wasn’t trying to ruffle any feathers, to step on anyone’s toes; no, he aimed to blend in. But something about having been the man to help bring down Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel made him a subject of interest; naturally it was only a matter of time before eager, hungry eyes were turned to him. 

But Javi knew he couldn’t really decline, it would have been against decorum and he wanted no eyebrows raised in his direction. So, he answered the curious student reporter’s questions with basic answers, just enough to give a taste and satiate them, but not enough to have to dig deep. He let them take his picture, let them publish it in their magazine, hoping that not many students would actually read the column, and just gloss over it. He wasn’t sure if he could handle tons of students only signing up for his class for him. He had not plans on indulging them any further into personal life.

But his routine, regimented schedule was all fine and dandy, and surely he thought they would be enough. They had to be enough, right? That’s what he thought. Surely the monotony of teaching countless students would be enough; that’s what he had come to believe anyway. It had worked out for the two prior years, surely it should have been the same going into his third year there.

Until the day you stepped into his classroom on that first day of that brand new semester and school year. You weren’t like the others...you looked excited, alert, like you actually wanted to be there. Like you wanted to listen to him teach. Like you cared. The swarm of students surrounding you barely looked alive, but you did. There was a certain magnetic charm that you possessed that happened to draw in everyone around you, including the man at the front of the room. The man that was determined to adhere to the strict routine that he had concocted for himself; the man that vowed he not stray from his class structure. The man that so desperately just wanted to be a good man. 

He hadn’t noticed you at first, keeping his gaze focused on the papers and stacks on his desk, picking up the roll call sheets and running through them with a sense of disinterest. Name after name of students that probably just took the class because they needed some sort of credit. They responded in voices that were barely audible, tones that strongly suggested that they did not care whether he made a note of them being in attendance. 

But when he got to your name, calling it out softly, and he heard you confidently and happily respond with a loud here, his deep brown eyes almost jumped out of his sockets. He paused and looked up, taking a moment to push his thick, dark rimmed glasses up his noise, before searching for you in a sea of students. But he knew he had found you when he spied the beautiful face beaming back at him. You offered him the biggest smile he had ever seen within the confines of the small lecture hall.

He was momentarily phased, but the corners of his mouth lifted up slightly as he returned your brilliant smile with the best he could muster up. But before he could get too caught up in anything, even a singular thought that roamed freely, someone loudly coughed and snapped him out of his trance. Quickly switching back to his professor mode, he looked back at the roster and called out the rest of the names, tic marks and blanks boxes galore down the long sheet. 

Like his life, his class structure was regimented, and while he thoroughly enjoyed history, he found it difficult, tedious even, to drone on about pre-revolutionary war America for hours. Sometimes it was enough to make his eyes almost glaze over; while it annoyed him that it got to his students as well, he couldn’t always blame them. But there was something about today, the way that you had smiled at him, that sent a spark off deep within him, and something just snapped. He found himself moving more about the lectern, his hands waving more animatedly as he gave his introductory lecture, and most importantly of all, he found himself stealing glances at you. And you met his glances, almost in a challenging way, never looking away when his gaze lingered a few seconds longer than necessary. 

But, like everyone else, you were eager to pack up your bag and leave when he was finished and excused everyone. You glanced at him a few times as you slid your notebooks and textbook back into your satchel, wondering if you should introduce yourself, or hell, if he really even cared. But instead of acting on any impulses and potentially making a fool out of yourself, you hitched the bag further up your shoulder and left along with the rest of the crowd, letting them swallow you up and allowing you to blend in. It was the end of the day, everyone was eager to get home, especially after the first day of the new semester. Javier was too; first days were always tiring just alone with administrative tasks and getting to know hundreds of new names and faces. But none of them mattered, not really, they were just more students in an endless sea that he would teach and then forget about as soon as finals were graded and returned. 

But somehow...you stuck in his mind. Your face, your curious eyes and soft little smile were already burned into his mind. He found himself musing on it, on how intently you had scribbled down notes, even if he didn’t feel like there was anything to memorize, how your leg bounced up and down the few times your mind seemed to wander as you had glanced around the room, taking in the other students. A low sigh escaped his lips as he slid his paperwork, texts, and other items into his book bag before throwing it over his shoulder. He wasn’t going to let his mind get hung up on you, or anyone or anything else for that matter. 

Sure, you were pretty, very pretty, but so were plenty of other students. He wasn’t going to lie to him; he could admit, at least to himself, when he found a student attractive. Sure, you had a smile that had spoken to something within him, but  -no. You were one student in a sea of hundreds the had for the semester. You would forget him as soon as you turned in your final and went on winter break. He was sure of it. Javier Peña was trying to be a good man, and letting his thoughts go wild about a student was definitely not part of that plan.

When he got home that evening, he walked in the door and left his bag on the small dresser he kept in the hallway, followed by his keys and shoes before eagerly greeting Stevie. He’d stopped by between classes to take check on him, always making sure he had plenty of food, water, and pets before he had to go back. He glanced around the small kitchen, already pondering what he would make for dinner, knowing he was stocked up on everything he would need for the week. In his retirement from the DEA he had become a meticulous planner, something that easily kept his mind busy, and Sundays had become his grocery shopping days were he loaded up on necessities for the week. It was robotic and allowed for little free thought; routine, routine, routine. 

But before he could flick on the soft kitchen light, his hand lingered on the switch, fingers drumming lightly against the plastic plate while he contemplated his next move. Instead of flipping it on,  he dropped his hand and grabbed Stevie’s leash off of the counter-top, dropping to his knees as the small dog wagged his tail in sheer excitement at the prospect of a walk. He gave him a few pets as he clipped the lease on, making sure his large ears received a good scratch.

“What do you say you and I go and pick up some pizza, huh? We’ll even get some beer. Call it a guys’ night,” Stevie made a small sound of excitement, clearly acquiescing to Javier’s plan. He stood back up to his full height, his joints crackling lightly as he grabbed his thin windbreaker, wallet, and keys, slipped his shoes back on and walked out the door, his mind already on the pizza place a few blocks away. It wasn’t even anything he really gave too much thought to, it was most certainly not part of his plan. No, this was all new - a break.

It was the first Javier Pena had strayed from his evening routine in almost three years. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as you stepped through the door of your apartment you let out a long sigh as you tossed your book bag onto the floor and stumbled into the living room, flopping face down on the well worn couch. Sarah, your closest confidant and roommate throughout your college experience, looked up from her book and with a small smirk on her face. She’s gotten out of her classes and finished for the day hours ago. 

“First day was that good, huh?” she pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, as you turned your head to glare at her. She was in her last year of school too but had been smart, so you’d come to realize, and taken more classes than she needed in earlier years so her last year would be a breeze. You envied her and wished you’d done the same; now you were stuck with classes that were long, tedious, and required more thinking than you would have liked. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to survive this semester,” you admitted with a heavy sigh; you had no one to blame but yourself. It still didn’t make your little pity party any better, “today’s classes were...boring at best, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a teacher that cared less than my last one. The topic’s already not my favorite, clearly not his, and I have no clue how I’m going to survive the semester, and this stupid class was the only one open that satisfied one of my last requirements. I’m trying to be excited, you know, to trick myself into liking it, but I dunno if that’s gonna work out.”

“If it all goes to hell, there’s always next semester,” she offered with a shrug before closing her book and tossing it on the coffee table, “what class it is?”

“Pre-revolutionary war American history,” you groaned as she gave you a pained look. Nothing about any of the words that spilled forth from your mouth sounded even remotely exciting, “aka hell. Whoever decided that there should be a whole dedicated college course to this subject clearly wasn’t in their right mind.”

“Hey,” she said suddenly, slipping out of the arm chair and trekking into the small kitchen, before rustling through a static of old mail. She was silent for a few moments before letting out a small aha and grabbing something out before tossing it at you, “I thought that class sounded familiar. Isn’t the guy teaching it the one that in the teacher highlight thing for this month or whatever?”

“You actually think I read this?” you scoffed and took the small magazine, shifting through the pages as you tried to find what she was referring to you. You made it almost to the end before finding the small article hidden and tucked away at the back. Quickly skimming it, you found your professor’s small, grainy, black and white picture staring back at you, “Javier Peña. Yup, that’s him.”

“He’s hot,” Sarah quipped over your shoulder as you silently rolled your eyes at her. That was most definitely not why you had signed up for the class. While you weren’t about to admit you mirrored her thought, you couldn’t help but think she was right. There was something about the small photo looking back up at you that suggested he was...very attractive. Hell, you’d seen him in person, and could confirm. The few times you’d gotten a good look at his face, when he wasn’t bent over his notes or facing the board, you couldn’t deny that he was attractive. Tan, golden skin, thick dark hair and eyes, a handsome face. Yeah, he was hot, but you weren’t about to dwell on that, “do you think he’s single?”

“Sarah,” you groaned at her as you read over the article, surprised to find that was ex-DEA, having apprehended some of the most notorious criminals in recent history. He had seemed anything like the man they had discussed in the article when he had stood in front of the class earlier that afternoon, “that is not...no, that has nothing to do with anything. I just need to satisfy a few more credits in history and I’m done. That’s it; nothing more.”

“I’m just saying,” she shrugged before giving your shoulder a playful nudge, “a little eye candy doesn’t hurt. Especially when you’re taking a class like that. Good lord it sounds awful, I wonder how he got stuck teaching that. Was he as good looking in person?”

“Sar-ah,” you said with her namely slowly as you shook your head at her and sat up. She picked her book back up, a small playing across her features, “none of that matters. But, if you have to know, yes. He was very good looking, in that older guy kind of way.”

“Go on...” she feigned innocence but you could already see the gears turning in her head.

“There’s not much less to say,” you insisted, internally groaning, “wore glasses when he was teaching, white button up, I dunno, the average professor look.”

A damned white button up that had fit him perfectly, highlighting his broad chest, trousers that were slightly tighter than they needed to be, and a silver watch had sat on his wrist. Simple, effective, but yeah, a very good look.

“The average hot professor look, “ she sighed wistfully. The two of you, while best friends at heart, were polar opposites in many ways. While you namely cared about classes and just getting it done, she was more prone to getting lost in her daydream fantasies and pursuing matters of the heart, “I’m just saying! There’s nothing wrong with finding your professor good looking, as long as you’re respectful. Besides, he doesn’t need to know if you think about him at night or when you’re with a boy that you wish was a man like him. Besides, Javier Peña. Professor Peña. That even sounds hot.”

“Why are we friends?” you sighed as you rolled off the couch, a tone of amusement coloring your voice, “why are you the way that you are!?”

“You love me!” she called out after you as you made your way to your bedroom, deciding to get a head start on some work so you wouldn’t already fall behind.

“I’m questioning that,” you stuck your tongue out at her as you grabbed the magazine off the floor and took it along with you. You hoped she wouldn’t notice, but you were sure that her eagle eyed gaze wouldn’t miss a thing, “goodbye and good riddance!’

“Have fun staring at Professor Peña!” your cheeks felt warm and you were sure a deep crimson was already creeping into them. You remained silent as you grabbed your book bag and walked into the room, letting the door slam behind you.

Setting the bag onto your desk, you flopped on your bed as you reopened the magazine and looked back at the small picture again, re-reading the article. It didn’t say much about much him, or speak to who he really was. it was strictly related to business, just like he had seemed to be as he stood in front of the class and gave an almost two hour long lecture with no breaks. He didn’t seem much like a man that was running around and taking down criminals in the heat of Colombia. He had just seemed like a tired, worn out, disinterested man. A far cry from what was presented in the short little article.

And yet...you couldn’t help but think of the few times he met your eyes when he’d occasionally looked up from the board or his lecture notes. You swore there had been a smile on his face then, even if it was a small one, but then again, maybe you had been lost in your own delusions as you had watched him. 

You’d even done your best to actively pay attention and take notes, both wanting him to know that you cared about class and because you knew it would be your downfall if you allowed yourself to miss anything. Even if it wasn’t your cup of tea, you wanted to give him your attention; it wasn’t his fault that it was a tiresome subject - someone had to each it after all. You’d felt bad as you looked at everyone around, all so zombie like and disinterested, looking like they would rather have been anywhere else in the world. You were sure he had noticed it too. 

But you’d already decided to make an effort to actively participate in his class and do your best. You’d quickly scribbled down his office hours and told yourself that if you needed help or had questions you’d ask before you’d let yourself fall behind and struggle. Maybe he didn’t care, he didn’t really seem to, but you did. You somehow felt a need to prove to yourself that you could handle this class, and to prove to him that someone cared, that his efforts were worth it. 

As you dogeared the page with his article on it, you closed the magazine and chucked it into your desk. You didn’t know what his deal was, or wasn’t, but you figured you’d be able to something out of him. Maybe learn more about the man from Colombia, and not just the professor that seemed so lost and wrapped up in his own head.

He had seemed so tired, so...run down that for someone reason it seemed to oddly affect you. Maybe it was because you had seen a glimmer of a smile on his face, watching as his dark eyes had crinkled up the few times he caught your gaze, how it almost reached them fully. Maybe there was more to him, maybe there was more to him than he had wanted to give out. But you were determined to find out what it was. 

You were set that you would try and pull something out of Javier Peña, even if it was just a full smile. Something about him spoke to you, something had drawn you to something, causing an itch that you desperately needed to to scratch. And you sure as hell would.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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Professor!Javi Taglist: @misslolasworld  @mrsparknuts

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña #professor au #professor!javi #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #narcos

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Q&A

Simple Questions for Seigi-kun (Parts 1 and 2)

Thank you very much for these questions from several people. We had Seigi-kun take a look at everyone’s questions right away and answer as many as he could! Not all of them can be published, but please enjoy Seigi-kun’s answers!

Q.: Seigi-kun looks good with black short hair, but is there any hairstyle that he looks up to? It does not seem to have changed much from when he was a child, but there is this impression that people often do college debuts, so here goes this simple question. The photo on the cover of volume 6 was wonderful. His set-back hair looked very good on him. (Black Short Hair-san)

A.: Hello! I guess it’s the first time I was told that my hair style looks good on me aside from Nakata-san and Richard; thank you very much! As for an image I look up to, huuum, there wasn’t any in particular when I was little, but nowadays, I look up to the two I just mentioned. They’re of different vectors and just really cool! Ah… this is embarrassing, so please keep it a secret. I have the feeling that they already know, though.

Q.: Any words you want to send to your past self from before meeting Richard? (Inu-san)

A.: “Nakata Seigi, you might be reckless, but you technically haven’t done anything wrong! Probably! Hum, you’re mostly thoughtless! But you’re not mistaken! If you see someone being attacked in a park, don’t hesitate to shout and go help him! Also, you might be compensated for doing your best at cooking. Good on you.”

Eh? There’s something from Richard too? “Seigi-kun, you are already passionate enough, but make sure to take a better look at your surroundings. Make sure to cherish yourself. Also, if you get invited to work at a TV station in Shibuya, make sure to just accept it.” Ah, yeah, yeah! I’m also counting on myself for that last one.

Q.: I am a college student just like Seigi-kun. When I have free time, I play video games, read books and talk about fun things with my friends. Seigi-kun, what do you do? Do you read books about gemstones and study after all? (Anzu-san)

A.: Hello! Indeed, during my free time when I didn’t have classes, there were times when I’d do self-study and learn about stones, but when I got together with my friends in the cafeteria or lounge, we’d get roused up over trivial talk. Everyone had a rough idea of the timing they should focus on their studies, so when I think about it nowadays, that might’ve been a “let’s make racket while we can” kind of mood. Looking back on it now, it was fun.

Q.: I am bound to fail every time I make sweets. If there is any trick to making sweets, please tell me. (Satou-san from the Heavens)

A.: Aah… I feel like someone’s already asked me a similar question. Ahem. T-That’s right! First things first, let’s try to stop treating “sweets” like they’re special! I guess this is the trick I can think of. They’re simply like an arithmetic test or a chemistry experiment; it just so happens that, if you mix up the set ingredients, a chemical reaction occurs and you reach the same results. If you lead it to the decided answer, you’ll manage to make something tasty, is all. Try to stick strictly to the recipe, and if it still doesn’t turn out right, I think it’s good to do a reflection on where you might’ve gotten it wrong. Eh…? If it doesn’t go well even then…? Aah… I’m gonna leave my phone number here, so if you have anything you want to eat… Eh? Richard, you want me to knock it off? That’s right. It’s not like I always have time. I almost did something irresponsible. Sorry. I’m cheering for you! See ya!

Q.: Where do you start washing your body from? (Yukinekoya-san)

A.: I’ve never thought about that~! It’s from the hair, but that’s with shampoo and doesn’t count as my body, so… *moves his body as if scrubbing it* I start washing from the neck and ears! But what’re you gonna do by asking that?

Q.: What’s your favorite meat? (Reihenbach-san)

A.: If its for Japanese curry, pork! If it’s for Sri Lanka’s curry, fish or chicken! If it’s for sukiyaki, cattle! I love all kinds of meat! But what flashes in my mind regarding “my favorite meat” is the meat and potato stew that Hiromi used to make, so I guess it’s gotta be beef. There wasn’t much meat in it, so I was able to taste it rather well.

Q.: I am a middle school teacher; Seigi-kun, who was the teacher that left the biggest impression on you? Please leave out Richard-sensei! (Kikuchi-san)

A.: Ah, that question is relatively easy to answer. It’s someone named Yamazaki-sensei, who was my class teacher in high school. He’s a graduate from the faculty of economics at Kasaba University, and he’d compliment me at random. Like, “You sure are working hard” or, “You’re so smart”. So I got cheeky, admired him, and when I told him I wanted to be like him, he said, “Then, how about you aim for my alma mater?” and I replied with, “Yes!”… Since Kasaba is a private institution, it was just a suggestion where I was getting ahead with my feelings, but though Hiromi made a bitter face, she wasn’t against it. Maybe she thought it was better than having her son say that he wanted to start working after graduating from middle school. Sensei was transferred when I was in my first year in university, but I hope he’s doing well.

Q.: Seigi-kun, if you were to compare Richard to an animal, which do you think it would be? (Himawari-san)

A.: If Richard were an animal… I wonder which. Richard feels a bit like an animal even now, so it’s hard, but I’d say human…? No, Richard is a human being. My bad, my bad. An animal with whooshy golden hair and blue eyes… I once had the feeling that the air about him is a bit like a creature named miacis, which I saw before in some illustrated reference book. It’s an ancient animal and seems to be the ancestor of dogs, cats and the like, and its exact appearance isn’t known anymore, but when I think of it as the origin of the beauty of all the animals I like, I wonder if he wouldn’t be something along those lines… Richard, Richard? Why won’t you look at me in the eye?

Q.: Is there any time you laughed the most when you were with Richard-san? Alternatively, if there was any time where you ended up laughing without thinking, please tell me! I am rooting for you! (Heartbreak Akira-san)

A.: Eeh…? Is it okay for me to talk about this…? Ah, I’ve received permission, so I’ll say it. Erm, this is a story from when I was studying French; I suddenly felt like doing a prank when I couldn’t make any progress at all, so I asked Richard-sensei something nonsensical, like, “If you don’t mind, please say ‘steamed bun’ in a really French-like way; I think it’ll definitely sound French to me”. And then the answer that came at me was a perfectly French-styled “steamed bun”… I died of laughter. Sorry for being too descriptive with the details. If you have a French friend close to you, I think you should try to make the same request. I think it won’t sound like Japanese to you. It’s already a bit amusing just remembering it. Hey, Richard. You didn’t find it all that funny? Ah, it was funny when I rolled over laughing? Then I guess we can call it even.

Q.: What are the dishes and desserts that you want to try challenging yourself to make? (Tsugiumi-san)

A.: I get interested in the stuff that I think looks delicious, but they’re a little different from the things I decide to try my hand at making. Richard, is there anything you wanna eat? I’ve noticed this recently: I don’t have much will to make stuff only I want to eat, but if it’s something that someone important to me feels like eating, I suddenly get motivated. That’s why, if there’s… Ah, ah, why’re you punching the cushion?

Q.: Looking at Richard-san and Jeffrey-san, are there any moments or points in which you feel that they are similar? (Yoshimura-san)

A.: Yoshimura-san, hello. There are; from my perspective, there are many. There sure are, but… from the face that the person next to me is making, it seems better not to say too much about it. Let me put this one on hold.

Q.: What was your favorite school lunch menu? For lunch boxes, what were your favorite contents? (Nanatsuji-san)

A.: Hello! I used to like all the school lunch dishes, but as expected, curry was what made me happiest. As for lunch boxes, I’d mostly get an allowance to buy the sandwiches and lunch boxes I liked, and whenever I got more than 500 yen, I’d get to buy a large serving of hayashi rice and would be happy over it. After all, the servings have to be big for a school boy, if nothing else.

Q.: If you switched bodies with Richard upon waking up, what is the first thing you would do? (Sango-san)

A.: Eh...? How? Would it be magic or something? I’d probably think, “Is this a dream?” and go back to sleep. But why would I be in Richard’s body...? I wonder if my head would malfuction from talking too much about how beautiful he is and things would turn out like that. If I got cocky and tried to imitate Richard, I feel like he’d give me one hell of a cold look with those elegant eyes of his, so hum, I wouldn’t do anything, just sleep until the magic wore off. I also think that Richard would be happier when I have the face of Nakata Seigi rather than his own.

Q.: When did you get your growth spurt? (Middle Schooler-san)

A.: Does that mean the time when I got taller? I think it was either in my third year of middle school or first year of high school. It was neither too late nor early among my friends, so while not minding it much, I ended up surpassing Hiromi’s height.

Q.: Seigi-kun, hello.  ♪  Seigi-kun, what kind of fashion do you like? Where do you normally buy clothes? Also, have you changed your style or been influenced after meeting Richard? If you can, please tell us. (*^^*) (Yuriko-san)

A.: Hello! Fashion, huuh... To be honest, before I started working in Étranger, I used to feel like I only needed to keep my clothes as clean as necessary and that they were okay as long as they didn’t look sloppy, but as expected, once you enter a jewelry shop, the number of clothes with high collars increases. Then, I met Richard, and ever since I started working for him, my opportunities to wear a suit increased, but what he often tells me is, “Wear what you like however you like the most you can within the limits”, and speaking of which, I kinda seem to look up to suits with a large silhouette and felt hats, like the ones people used to wear in prewar days. I think this is probably the influence of an actor my Grandma liked. In the past, there was a black-and-white photo of him decorating the apartment where Grandma lived. It would’ve been great if I could’ve showed myself wearing a suit to Grandma.

Q.: Seigi-kun, hello! A question for you. Seigi-kun’s “senpai”, Vincent-san, is a user of Jeet Kune Do, but you are also a black belt at Karate, so I am very curious about what would happen if the two of you actually fought. Since you both master your own matrial arts, so I feel that I would be able to see a cool fight between you. Also, this is just my ponderings, but Seigi-kun, I want you to tell me, from your point of view, how strong you think Vincent-san is and what changes you have of winning. (Monaka-san)

A.: Hello! Erm, when you say “fight”, is it okay to interpret it as a head-on brawl? I think you probably do not practice any martial arts, Monaka-san, so I am going to answer based on that: martial arts abilities and fight abilities are completely different. See, the rules of each martial art are pre-determined, and if you fight within them, you won’t suffer serious injuries and you can decide who wins or loses, but there’s none of that in a brawl, so... Also, I believe both parties know that, if a person who did martial arts to some extent hits someone in earnest, it’ll result in something that can’t be undone, so I think they can’t bring themselves to throw fists with each other. But on the other hand, since we can tell to some degree that we both seem to have have this awereness, I think it’s okay if I so much as throw a paper ball at the back of his head. Vince-san might hit me back, and then I guess I’d fling a straw bag at him next. We might get along a bit better if we both let it out. Sorry that it’d be the light type! I hope this served as an answer.

Q.: A question for Nakata Seigi-kun! To be precise: is there anything that makes you go, “This is the one thing I want to tell Richard-shi!!”~? Even if it is something that is normally hard to say, you might be able to say it here. (*^^*) (Sui-san)

A.: “I’m happy when you eat my pudding; thanks! But I’m begging, for health reasons, that you’re at least careful not to eat too much...! I wanna be with you for a long time. Please. And... also... thanks for always. I’m so grateful to you that I can’t say it enough. It’d be great if I could.” This is it! Aah, that was embarrassing. Eh? “You’re always telling me that much”, you say? Is that so?

Q.: What is your favorite sweet? (Tanaka Milk Tea-san)

A.: That’s a difficult theme... I don’t seem to have any that I’m obsessed with, but anything looks delicious to me if it’s a sweet that Richard eats with relish, so I grow to like it. But when Richard doesn’t eat all of a sweet and leaves some of it, I go, “Could it be he left it for me because he thought I’d like it?” and they also turn out to be so, so tasty. Basically, I like everything. Unless I buy and eat it by myself.

Q.: Nice to meet you; as Seigi-kun faces people very straightforward and honestly, I read every volume while confirming over and over that I also want to live on facing people like that. Is there anything that the aforementioned Seigi-kun always puts in his bag? (Sumiyaki Yuuma-san)

A.: Sumiyaki-san, hello! Being told that I face people honestly is flattering. I do think it’d be great if I actually manage that, but the “honesty” I’m thinking about is my own concept of it, so it’s not like this honesty is something only comfortable for the other person. That’s why being told so makes me all the happier. Thank you. This is from after meeting Richard, but what I always have in my bag is candy. Royal-milk-tea-flavored ones. When I don’t have them, I pack in some other sweet, and just from thinking, “I’d give him this if he were here”, it kinda feels like having a fragment of him with me even when he’s not by my side, and it’s reassuring. It helps me out. Other than that, my phone. Thanks for the question!

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #the case files of jeweler richard #jeweler richard #richard ranashinha de vulpian #nakata seigi #richard #fanbook #my translation

[butterfly-winx]

I'm not sure if you've already answered this but could u talk about everyone's first experiences with magic?

No I haven’t and I can’t claim I have thought about it long enough to have rock hard hc, but it’s a fun prompt anon, so here we go:

Bloom:

Aside from being protected from the flames of the house burning around her as a baby, Bloom’s first conscious brush with magic was actually using her innate aspect. She has always been a sensitive kid and everybody assumed it was just some form of hyperempathy when she talked about other people’s feelings with high accuracy. But when she categorised people into colours depending on their auras, she meant it. Then as sensitive weird kids be, Bloom was picked on a lot in late primary and middle school and that’s when her temper started to show. Bloom got angry easily and it only riled up the other children more to get her to show a reaction. Before that it was mostly tears, but one memorable occasion Bloom’s control over temperature manifested with her burst of anger and she made everyone and herself develop a sudden high fever. She fainted from it unfortunately and spent the next two years transfixed by all sources of fire and flames eventually circling back on her obsession with fairies and all things magic. The older she got the less she paid attention to the colourful auras until they completely faded from her everyday sight and only cropped up when she herself felt her emotion in a disarray. As Bloom got older, other magic effects started to crop up with higher frequency, like her “magically” avoiding injuries or recovering from them super fast, or never getting burned on hot pots as the Dragonflame started to feel cramped unused in her body. When Stella was being threatened by the goblins and the ogre, Bloom’s fight or flight instincts automatically allowed the Dragonflame an outlet. (She then of course followed Stella down a rabbit hole of an adventure and got a place in Alfea due to her new friend’s quick thinking and forgery)

Stella:

With two proficient magic users as parents Stella was practically hounded over as adults in her life anxiously waited for her to show signs of magic. She went through magic prep courses trying her hardest to please everyone who was so important to her. She wanted to be magic so bad, always afraid of that infinitesimal chance that she didn’t get all the right genes from her parents. At age seven she was kind of a late bloomer for fully magic children to yet show any sign of magic sensitivity, and she spent another short holiday with her mother’s family up north. it was Stella’s favourite pastime to wander as close to the edge of the estate as she dared to alone in the constant twilight of the Solarian pole. Her favourite spot was a little cropping of shrubs populated by lighting bugs that always flocked to her when she came by. The loved collecting the shiny rocks as well that lit up at her touch and create her own little sun filled garden in the back where no one would bother her for hours. In retrospect Stella can tell exactly why she hasn’t come forward with all of these light related oddities, wanting to keep her island of peace to herself, but back then baby Stella really just didn’t clock that this could be related to her magic aspect. Her grandma eventually noticed and eased her into the thought that yes, she was definitely magic. After that the expectations were laid on even thicker instead of getting easier to bear as Stella got instructions at school and from both of her parents after school. Luna was very helpful with first developing Stella’s magic, so Stella actually started off with a stronger focus on her moon based powers. Radius with his control over bright skies was not very useful and Stella soon started feeling guilty over that and took up sun focused spells and fey magic explicitly to please her father. Radius would have loved her no matter what, but Stella’s insecurities were early risers and she felt the need to please others, so she was more than happy to follow his footsteps and enrol off planet in Alfea, his alma mater.

Musa:

She was equally under observation, only because she is mixed (human-elven) and it was unclear which type her magic would manifest as. Maylin herself a magic using elf would have loved to teach her daughter all she knew, but there was of course always room for her to chose a human stream, should she take after her human father more. That Musa was magic sensitive was a well known fact ever since she was a baby and was able to produce... quite a cry. Maylin was lovingly warned that her daughter was likely to be a musical type along with a gift of full sound-blocking earbuds. At age six Musa could remember the melodies of over 300 pieces of music of ranging complexity, regularly got birds to sing for her and had impeccable hearing - all in all she showed signs of having a promising future as a magic user. For her to be gifted with skills in music that brought Maylin and HaoBai together was a blessing from the Heavens. Then Maylin died and Musa and her father’s world shattered with her. Grief can have complicated effects on one’s magic, and Musa age 9, appeared with dried up magic meridians like she was a l 90 year old. It took a lot of family counselling and well timed teenage rebellion for her to pick up music and with that magic again. And it was hard work, let her tell you that. Both letting magic inot her and developing a feeling for it and doing it all while hiding from her father, afraid he’d want to ban her music and snap instruments again (it happened once, and HaoBai isn’t proud of how much the pain of loss had consimed him at that moment). At fifteen she finally had enough and decided to go head first for it, insisting her half-orphan “recompensation fund” to be used as tuition at Alfea College for fairies, despite never having received any magic prep education. Through brute force, luck and insane talent Musa aced all entrance examinations and made it despite it all.

Techna:

As childbirth on Zenith is, it was completely up in the air whether Techna would be magic or not.  All the early childhood signs Techna showed for their aspect were at first more or less mis-categorised as autism (which they absolutely have, but them going through technical books detailing the technological systems of ancient civilisations daily wasn’t just that). The first one suspecting they have magic was actually Techna’s elder sister, Electra. Electra five years older than Techna was very into the idea of a baby sister and loved smushing and cuddling Techna, which Techan absolutely hated and kept giving Electra static shocks out of nowhere. Once Electra understood where static came from and identified that there was absolutely nothing charged around Techna when they did that, she became suspicions. The whole family found out when during dinner, Techna announced in the calmest voice possible that they have heard the car talk and it told Techna exactly what was wrong with it setting an end to their parents tense discussion about the car having issues. The car was sent for repairs, confirming what Techna had  said and Techna was taken for a magic sensitivity test having that confirmed. (Baby Techna like: oh yeah I could always hear machines they just usually don’t have anything worthwhile to say). She wasn’t quite five at this point. Magic isn’t as widely practiced on Zenith and it took Techna’s ranerts a while to find a magic prep school for them to attend after school, which ended up being outside the borders of Transjordan actually. The daily drive was very long and exhausting both for teen Techna and the parent of the day who had to drive them, so they started talking about sending Techna to a boarding school once they were old enough. Techha was left to do their own research and they realised they had quite many options, even with just narrowing it down to fey magic that were closer to home than Magics, but they all advertised themselves as “girls’ colleges” and even pre-gender realisation that just irked Techan for an inexplicable reason. They much preferred going to a coed school, so Alfea ended up as their first choice on the application form.

Layla:

In Layla’s case, detecting her magic sensitivity was incredibly difficult, seeing as she grew up practically constantly submerged in water playing with her cousins by the shore. Androsi people naturally have a large lung capacity and are able to dive long. That Layla dried super fast afterwards and never got salt rashes was also brushed under the rug ascribed to good royal hygiene and skin care. When she started being schooled in the castle Layla was colossally bored. She received basic magic training just because, no one actually expected her to be magic since they believed she didn’t show any sensitivity for it, and kind of for shits and giggles Layla took it and ran with it. Layla discovered privately in tidal caves just what a mistake that was able to make the water be kind to her and mold and move just so she could always get out unharmed. She surprised everyone at age eleven when during a banquet the visiting princeling was annoying her just so much, she used her water magic to turn his strictly pomaded hair into a bird’s nest, overshooting and drenching the next three dignitaries around him as well. The party stopped. At first Layla though she was going to get into so much trouble, caught under the strict eyes of her father, but as it turns out, he was overjoyed. Layla was put on a fast track for learning magic and surprised people once again choosing fey magic and being able to transform at the tender age of 13. She was never sent to Alfea, but received the offer from Faragonda after the Darkar incident thinking Layla could easily make it to Enchantix (which she did, this girl is talented).

Flora:

Both of Flora’s parents are untrained magic users, so her being somewhat sensitive at least was also expected. Flora loved sitting to the side watching her father run the potion shop when she wasn’t chasing all her other parental figures and watching what they were doing with curious eyes. She loved it when her aunti Nimali gave her bumps and scrapes a little kiss so she started doing that to all sorts of things including her father’s ingredient plants. He was indulging her harmless kid fantasy, knowing full well that most of his magic plants responded to emotions like they had a soul and was more than surprised when he found these plants not only healed but sprouting wildly whenever Flora gave them a small “get well smooch”. The village talked it all over and Flora was given over to the local magic users to train with and shadow what they were doing. Her interest in potion making however prevailed and by the time she emerged from Nature’s Teaching Path having singlehandedly ran the little children’s colony it was very clear that Flora would need to receive proper training from a proper institution. She was just too good at magic for her family to fail her not being able to offer her more knowledge. Flora wanted magic with frankly for her startling greed and ambition, but she hated the idea of moving away. She could have just gone to Woodland College like most other magic users, but even there the entrance exam examiner was suggesting the school was too small for her. (And Flora kind of felt that - she overthought the whole exam because it was just so simple, she just had to touch the plant, and will the box to float. Her aspect of plant growth might not have given her complete control over the environment, but she was still a lot better than her peers.) The teacher spoke to the Council about the potential of sending Flora off planet and now that had her attention and full investment in doing everything the Council demanded to get her a visa to study in Magics.

Out of the six Layla and Techna were able to transform already before they came to Alfea, Flora and Stella had unstable first attempts (Stella during her own first year that is, not her re-run), while Bloom and Musa were the only ones who fully had to learn it from scratch during their first year.

Stella and Layla pay their tuition from royal funds, Flora is Lynphean Council sponsored and Bloom after the first year paid from Callisto’s royal fund (oops) is on a Magics scholarship for minority cultures as a surviving Dominian. Techna benefits from Transjordan’s education scheme which gives students a basic income, their parents supplement the small remainder, while Musa is 100% self sponsored from aforementioned widower’s trust fund they got after Maylin’s passing.

#winx club #asks #worldbuilding #magic lore #I went a little bit beyond and talked about how they ended up at Alfea as well #Anonymous

[trashystarker]

strictly business - a starker one shot

Title: strictly business Fandom: MCU Pairing: Starker (Tony Stark x Peter Parker) Rating: Mature (NSFW - Flirting- Fluff and Smut) Word Count: ~4725 Prompt: Neck Kisses 

Summary: Peter Parker is a new hire at Stark Industries, and is someone that has caught Tony’s attention. After a successful new invention, Tony invites Peter out to dinner where he realizes that maybe he might not be alone in the attention department. 

A/N: Here’s my next bingo offering for @starkerfestivals​ summer bingo! Please enjoy! :) 

***

“Mr. Parker.” He called out, as he saw one of his new employees heading into the elevator in the lobby. “Would you mind holding that?” Tony walked a little faster towards it as he saw his employee holding it open for him with his arm. “You know there’s a button that will do that for you. Comes standard on all the Stark elevators.” 

The employee - one Mr. Peter Parker - dropped his arm and pushed the button for the R&D floor, which is exactly where he had planned on going first thing this morning. Not because of him, no of course not. No, he was going to R&D to make sure that things were running smoothly on the new work they were doing for an outside client. It was all hush hush, so he had to establish a group that he could trust to do this work, and Mr. Parker had come with a glowing recommendation from a good friend of his. But no - it wasn’t because of Mr. Parker. 

“Very funny, Mr. Stark.” Peter said as the elevator doors closed, leaving the two of them alone in the cabin. “What floor did you need today, sir?” 

“I’m heading where you’re heading.” Tony decided to see how he would react, and sure enough, he saw a look of surprise appear on his face. He knew the kid was young - fresh out of college, only twenty years of age. He’d personally looked at his resume, and saw that he’d gone to his alma mater and had graduated early due to an accelerated learning process. It was a no brainer to hire him. “How are things going right now on the project?” 

A soft yawn passed from Peter’s mouth, Tony noticing the slight bag under his eyes. No rest for the wicked. “They’re going well. We’ve got a prototype that we’re going to be working with this week. I don’t think it’s ready for your eyes yet.” 

“Kid, you know that I love to do this stuff. Don’t dangle that carrot in front of me, and then tell me that I can’t see it. That’s just rude.” 

Peter’s expression went from tired to scared in under two seconds flat. Shit. Tony wanted to tell him he was kidding, but Peter was already apologizing. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark! I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that-” 

“Mr. Parker - it’s fine.” Tony waved his hand as the elevator came to a stop on their floor. “I know you didn’t mean anything bad by that. Look, I can go up to my office, if it’ll make you feel less stressed. You look like you’re about to pass out.” 

“I’m fine, sir.” He rolled his eyes, but kept a smirk on his lips as he heard Peter keep the apologetic tone in his voice. “Really. I’d love to show you what we’ve been working on, as long as you know it’s still in alpha.” 

“I’m very aware that it’s still in alpha. Maybe I can help offer some assistance if you’re having difficulty with certain aspects.” 

That seemed to smooth things over with Peter. “That’d be great, Mr. Stark. The other guys won’t be in for another hour, though.” 

“Why do you come so early, then?” It was curious to him, because Peter wasn’t hired as an hourly employee. He was on salary, with a schedule that he determined on a day to day basis per the contract that Tony had offered to him. He expected a fresh out of college student to take advantage of his niceness, but here Peter was, showing up at work at half past seven in the morning. 

“I like the peace and quiet.” Peter shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t do it every day.” 

“Yes, you do.” 

“How do you know?” 

The challenge in his voice made Tony’s smirk grow, as they walked down the hallway together. “You know that this is my company, right? I know everyone’s schedule.” 

“That’s impossible, Mr. Stark.” 

“Nothing’s impossible, Mr. Parker.” Tony watched him type in the code to go into the lab. “I’ll be back down in an hour to see how your work is going. Would you care for some coffee?” 

“Right now?” 

“No, in an hour.” He resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. It’s early. He was going to give Peter the benefit of the doubt right now. “Yes or no, Mr. Parker. This isn’t a difficult question.” 

“Yes, please. Hazelnut latte.” 

“Fancy.” Tony nodded his head, then continued on down to the lab that was his own. “See you in an hour.” He typed in his own code, and then headed inside, leaving Peter to stand alone in the hallway. 

It was always both exciting and nerve wracking to see Peter this early in the morning. It had only happened a few times, but even those few times had sent his heart racing. Again, Peter was a valuable asset to his company now, and he really couldn’t be thinking about these things because he had to be good. He couldn’t be an HR nightmare. It was sorely tempting, though. Peter was very attractive, both physically and mentally. Tony had really never met someone as bright as him in his forty-eight years on this earth. But would Peter even be interested? He had to wonder, because sometimes it felt like he was flirting but he’s been out of the game for so long that maybe that was wishful thinking on his part. 

Sitting at his bench, Tony looked at the work he’d left here the night before. It was still in the same state as it had been, his notes scattered everywhere. He was working on a new design for tech that he was hoping would change the landscape, but it was becoming more difficult by the day to make that a reality. The tech world moved so fast that it was hard to stay one step ahead of the competitor. Which is why he had hired people like Peter Parker to help step up that gap. 

Of course his thoughts went back to him. Dropping his head on his desk, Tony groaned. It was way too early to be thinking about this shit, and he really needed to get some work done. Ignoring those lecherous thoughts about Peter - how handsome he’d looked in his tight black muscle shirt with jeans, how his hair had flopped on his forehead when he’d nodded his head, that faint hint of cologne that Tony had caught a whiff of on the elevator - he picked up his tablet and asked Friday to set a reminder for fifty minutes. If he was going to bring Peter a hazelnut latte, he had to allow himself some time to do just that. He jumped into work, hoping for the best.

***

The week flew by, Tony staying later and later in the group R&D room each day as they were getting closer to a finished alpha product. Tony had taken to getting lunch and dinner for the group, knowing that if they didn’t eat that their minds would break faster than he wanted them to. He didn’t want them to break, but he knew that this work always seemed to take a toll on people. But the reward always outweighed the risk involved. 

Peter threw his hands up in the air. “Okay!! I think we’ve got it!” 

The rest of the lab got up from their stations, Tony staying in the corner, watching as they gathered around his desk. He didn’t want to seem like he was interested, because the last time he’d gone over when Peter had said something similar, he’d gotten chewed out by him. Which, again, no one had ever dared but that just made him like Peter more, because he knew the kid knew he was right. And he was. Shit fuck god damn it.

“Mr. Stark? Aren’t you coming over here?” Peter’s voice pulled him out of his head, as he nodded and walked over to where everyone was gathered. “What do you think?” 

He looked at the item, and saw that it was performing just as he’d hoped it would. “I think that’s great, Peter.” He saw him quickly look up at him, Tony trying to figure out what would cause him to look up like that, and then he realized he’d called him by his first name. “Show me what it can do.” 

They were then given a demonstration by Peter and his partner, the room watching in rapt silence as the device did what it was supposed to do. Tony couldn’t have been happier, seeing the excitement on everyone’s face when they realized they had something really good here. That’s what made these early mornings bleeding into very late nights worth it.

“Congratulations, Mr. Parker. I believe you did it.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Stark!” 

While the rest of the team was busy talking about where they wanted to go and celebrate this achievement, Tony noticed that Peter wasn’t saying very much. Almost as if he was an outsider to his own team. He waited for the others to clear the room, Peter telling them he’d catch up to them later, and then went over to where he was sitting back down at the workbench. 

“You should go and celebrate, Mr. Parker.” Tony addressed him. He saw him jump, and held his hands up in defense. “I’m sorry - I’m still here.” 

“I c-can see that, Mr. Stark.” Peter rubbed his face with both of his hands, then shook his head. “No, I have more work to be done. They can go and celebrate if they want, but we’re not there. It’s close, though.” 

He approached him and put a hand on his shoulder, feeling him tense up but he refused to take it away. “Well, I want to celebrate, but those kids will be too nervous around me. How about you and I go and grab something to eat?” 

“Very funny, Mr. Stark.” 

“I’m serious.” Tony tried again, hoping that he wasn’t about to be denied. Although, he wouldn’t put it past Peter to say no. “I want to take you out.” 

“To celebrate.” The indignation in his voice really cut through him like a knife. 

“And if I said it was more than that?” He leaned up against the workbench, and crossed his arms over his chest. He saw Peter’s head snap up, then saw him wince slightly. “What? Is that really so surprising to you?” 

“If I say yes, are you going to believe me?” Peter asked, staring up at him now without any fear in his eyes. 

“I mean, you make it kind of difficult not to.” Tony shrugged his shoulders, but kept a smirk on his lips. “Come on. Let’s go find some good food and celebrate.” 

“I’m not really dressed for something fancy, Mr. Stark.” Looking over at Peter, he saw he was wearing a hooded sweatshirt - he preferred to keep this floor extra cool due to the tech they were building - and a pair of jeans. He himself was wearing a three-piece grey suit, but that was normal. “Can we raincheck?” 

“No.” He shook his head. “Fine, I’ll compromise. We’ll grab something to go, and then go back to my apartment to celebrate.” 

“W-Why would you want me to come to your place? That’s crazy talk, Mr. Stark.” 

“Peter, we’re really going to have to work on that self esteem of yours, aren’t we?” Peter looked away, but he could see there was a hint of a blush on his cheeks. “Look - it’ll be strictly business, okay? Two colleagues, celebrating a success. That’s it.” 

“You sure?” 

Not at all. “I am.” Tony nodded his head, as if forcing himself to believe it. “Now, come on. I’m starving.” 

“Yes, Mr. Stark.” 

*** 

Tony had two separate penthouse apartments in Manhattan, because why not. He’d owned this before redesigning Stark Industries tower to have a home built into it. This apartment overlooked Central Park, and cost a pretty penny back in the day. He used his thumbprint to open the door, happy to see Peter following him in with a wide look of shock on his face. 

“You’ve seen this place before.” Tony shook his head, as he closed the door. “It’s been featured plenty of times in magazines.” 

“Yeah, but seeing it with my own eyes is something else.” Peter held up the bags of food they’d picked up from Ruth Chris’. “Where am I putting these?” 

“Over on the kitchen counter. I’ll plate them up and then we’ll eat. Did you want some wine with dinner?” 

Peter shook his head. “I’m not old enough to drink.” 

“You’re killing me, Peter.” He saw that blush return to his cheeks, Tony smirking a little. “A glass of wine isn’t going to kill you. I’m sure you drank at MIT.” 

“I mean…” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Tony was happy to see Peter relaxing a little. “Feel free to take your sweatshirt off if you want. I don’t keep my home as cold as the office.” Wanting to ease any discomfort he might have, Tony took off his own suit jacket, and loosened the tie around his neck. “Cabernet or Pinot Noir?” 

“Uh….the second?” 

“Good choice.” Although he knows that Peter probably has no idea about either wine, he was going to say it anyway. He personally preferred Pinot Noir to that. But he would have gladly had the other if Peter wanted, but it seemed pretty clear that he had no idea. “Feel free to keep your shoes on if you want, or take them off. It doesn’t matter to me. I, however, am going to take mine off.” 

“O-Okay, Mr. Stark.” 

He looked over at Peter. “Please - you don’t have to be so formal in my home. You can call me Tony.” 

“P-Please call me Peter, then.” 

“It’d be my pleasure, Peter.” Tony saw the blush return, then turned around to head to the kitchen to get their dinner situated. 

In his socked feet, he brought over the plates to the dining room table, then grabbed a bottle of Pinot Noir from his wine fridge. He saw that Peter had taken both his shoes and sweatshirt off, but still looked a little green around the gills. “Thank you, M-Tony.” 

“You’re welcome.” He uncorked the bottle and poured some wine into both of their glasses, and sat down. “I hope you like the food. It’s not the best steakhouse, but it’s the closest to my place that wasn’t going to have a horrible wait.” 

“It’s okay. It’s definitely a treat. I’ve never had their steak before.” Peter picked up his steak knife, and then sliced into the filet that Tony had purchased for him. The expression on his face changed to one of glee as he chewed. “This meat is so tender!” 

“If you think this is good, then I’ll definitely have to take you to Gallaghers.” Tony casually mentioned as he took a bite of his own steak. 

Dinner was a quiet affair, Peter seeming to relax more as he drank his wine. Did Tony feel a tiny bit guilty that he was pouring with a heavy hand? Maybe a little. But hearing Peter talk so animatedly was really something that he was enjoying thoroughly. He did grab some water, and poured them both a glass, wanting to make sure that Peter didn’t think he was taking advantage of his normal quiet demeanor. At the end of the meal, they were both stuffed, pleasantly so. 

“I got dessert, but I think I need to make room by digesting some food first.” Tony rubbed his stomach, and saw Peter laugh. “Do you have to go?” 

“I should...” 

“I understand.” He was quick to say, not wanting Peter to feel at all obligated to hang around longer than he wanted. Although he did have visions of the two of them sitting together on the couch, maybe having a little more wine and then head to his bedroom, but that was a very tall order than he knew probably wasn’t something that Peter was interested in. Which he respected and understood because who the hell would want that from the man who was their boss? 

“I wasn’t finished.” Peter’s brown eyes turned towards him, Tony suddenly feeling very hot from the look in his eyes. 

“Please, go ahead and finish your thought.” Tony somehow managed to get out without stumbling over his words, his mouth terribly dry at the moment. 

Peter stepped towards him, the two of them in the kitchen as Peter had helped bring in the dishes. “I was going to say that I should go, but I don’t want to. If I stay, though - that might be bad.” 

“Why would it be bad?” He asked, his hands itching to reach out and grab Peter. The closer he stepped towards him, the more difficult it was becoming to not touch him. 

“I’m not sure we’re on the same page.” Peter stopped when he was directly in front of him. “Because I have feelings for you, and I’m not sure you feel the same way.” 

Tony blinked a few times, trying to process what Peter had just said to him. “I beg your pardon?” 

“I know you’re being nice right now, but are you really being nice? Or is it something more?” 

“You’re joking, right?” He figured his flirting was more noticeable but again, maybe he’s been out of the game for so long that what he thinks is obvious maybe isn’t quite as bad. “Of course I like you, Peter. I asked you to dinner, didn’t I?” 

“Yes, but that was because we had a breakthrough.” 

“Do you see the rest of the team in my apartment?” Tony asked, no longer resisting the urge as he dropped both of his hands onto Peter’s waist. “Yes, it’s something more. Hell, I’d be thrilled if you wanted to spend the night here tonight, but I figured that wasn’t something you would be into.” 

“Why would you think that?” Brown eyes stared up at him with curiosity shining bright, but there was also a heat in them that Tony could feel going right to his crotch as he kept his own gaze locked with Peter’s. “I wouldn’t say no.” 

“Great.”

He didn’t bother saying anything else, and instead yanked Peter up against this body and began to kiss him. Moaning low into his mouth, he gave a little prod with the tip of his tongue against the seam of his lips, Peter’s mouth opening for him with the suggestive touch. He groaned as he touched his tongue to Peter’s for the first time, undeniable heat coursing through his body as Peter brought his arms to lock around his neck.

Breaking off the kiss with a deep groan, Tony’s lips started to kiss a path down to the slender column of his neck, nipping a little as he listened to Peter make the most delectable sound. “Oh, God….T-That’s so nice…” Peter’s whispered moans kept Tony’s lips against his neck, kissing a path down to his clavicle, and then back  up to his earlobe. “M-More, Tony….?” 

Hearing him say his first name did something to his body. Tony quickly moved his head to the opposite side of Peter’s neck, and began to kiss it in much the same way as he had before. Peter’s fingers dug into his shoulders, Tony dragging his beard along the sensitive skin as he nipped and kissed a path up and down his neck. “Do you like how this feels, Peter?” 

“I do…” Another breathy moan left Peter’s mouth, Tony pushing him up against the counter as he really started to go to town on his neck. “Oh G-God, d-don’t leave a mark….” 

“Is that you telling me to?” He chuckled low, the hand that had been holding Peter’s hip was now slipping back to grab a handful of his ass. “Or is that really you telling me to not?” 

The way Peter tilted his head towards him was an open invitation, the look in his eyes one that explained to Tony clearly what he wanted. He bit his lip and gave a nod of his head, then dropped his head back to his neck and let his teeth sink down into the taut flesh, moaning low as he sucked a mark right at where his collar would cover it. 

“T-Thank you.” Peter stared up at him with blown out pupils, his mouth slightly agape as Tony lifted his hand to cradle his cheek. “It won’t show, right?” 

“It might, but only a tiny bit.” Tony glanced down and saw the broken blood vessels already coming up towards the top layer. “Do you want to spend the night, Peter? If you say no, I won’t think any less of you.” 

A nod of his head was all Tony needed to see. He grabbed onto Peter’s hand and dragged him to his bedroom, not bothering to say a word, and instead kissed him with a frenzy that he knew was going to be something easy to get addicted to. He felt Peter’s fingers unbuttoning the vest he still wore, and then his hands were going to the hem of his shirt, yanking it up over his head as the buttons on his shirt went flying every which way. He laughed, and heard Peter gasp, but then started to laugh with him as they both fell onto the bed with each other. 

“We’re going to have to be more careful.” Tony teased, the smile on his face laxing as he felt Peter’s lips now touching his own neck. “Oh, yes….That’s real nice, Peter….” 

“G-Good, I’m glad you like it, Tony.” Another kiss, and then he felt Peter’s lips touch his again with another urgent kiss that left him breathless. 

They both got out of the rest of their clothes, and then Tony was reaching for the lube and condoms he kept in his nightstand drawer. He held both up to Peter, who gave his consent with another nod of his head. Smiling, Tony poured a little onto his fingers, and then pushed his hand between Peter’s thighs, letting his fingers tease around the rim of his puckering hole. 

“W-We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” Peter asked, Tony now settled between his thighs, the tip of his condom-covered cock now pushing with insistence against the loosened hole that he’d taken his time working open. Peter’s moans had been so utterly divine that he really hadn’t wanted to stop, but then his begging had prompted him to listen. 

“Last chance to say no.” Tony said, even though it would kill him to stop this fast moving train right now. “Yes or no, Pete?” 

A leg wrapped around his waist, and without warning he was sinking into Peter’s tight heat, Tony releasing a deep moan as he sank his cock into Peter’s body. He heard him release a pitched moan, the hair on his arms raising up as that cry filled his ears. Tony dropped his head and began to kiss his lips over and over, a silent apology for going too fast, but then that pressure around his cock began to loosen as Peter relaxed for him. That small little act was enough for him as he began to roll his hips, finding a good rhythm that would suit the both of them. 

Tony snaked his hand between their bodies, grabbing onto Peter’s cock with a firm grip. “OH!” Peter tossed his head back, as Tony drilled more of his cock into his body. “Toooony….” 

“Come for me, Peter…” Tony moaned low, feeling how heavy Peter’s cock was, and then felt his body squeeze tight around him as liquid heat began to spill over his fingers. “Yes, baby….” He tried to piston his hips more, but came up short as Peter’s inner walls were clamped down too tight. He moaned low as he began to come hard, filling the condom with his mess as his body grew flush from head to toe. 

He pulled back and slipped out of Peter, grabbing some tissue to pull off the condom and then tossed the mess into the wastebasket next to his nightstand. He grabbed a few more and cleaned up the mess on Peter’s stomach, but not before dropping his head to lick some of the spunk off of him. He heard him moan, the touch of his fingers in his hair had Tony licking up more, and then he moved his mouth down to the source and gave it a few gentle licks, the soft whimper leaving Peter’s throat sending a slight shiver down his body. 

“T-Thank you.” Peter said, as he moved to lay next to him on the bed, his pupil still dilated as Tony stared into his eyes. “A-Are things gonna change now between us at work?” 

“They don’t have to.” Tony touched his face, smiling as Peter closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “We can do whatever you want. I’m open to suggestions.” 

“I think it would look bad if people knew we were together.” 

“Thanks, I think.” He saw Peter’s mouth drop open which caused him to laugh. “Pete, I’m kidding. I know that you think it would be better for the company if we kept it private.” Peter nodded his head. “I’m okay with that. But if we’re behind closed doors - alone?” 

“All bets are off.” 

“I like the sound of that.” 

Laying in bed together, Tony felt Peter press lazy kisses to his neck, the softness of each kiss filling him with a tender warmth he hadn’t felt in ages. It was really nice. He knew he was going to be in trouble very soon with Peter because he was already falling for him and that was a bad sign. 

***

The next day at work, it was business as usual, but Tony made sure to schedule a time for Peter to come to his office - alone. Which, as Peter entered the office with a quizzical look on his face to keep up an appearance, it was quick to disappear as soon as the door closed. Tony groaned as Peter showed him the blooming mark on his neck, and then came over to him and nipped at his own neck, much the same way that he’d been woken up this morning. 

As Peter straddled his lap, Tony looked up at him and grinned. “How’s your day been, honey? Been productive?” 

“Yes.” Peter nodded, as another kiss touched his neck. “But, I think I’ve got something wrong with me.” 

“Oh? Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll see what I can do.” 

Peter’s lips touched his ear. “I want your cock in me, Tony.” 

“I guess it’s a good thing it’s already hard and ready for you, baby.” He returned, speaking directly into his ear with a deeper than normal voice. “Look at you, being naughty at work.” He teased, as he reached into his desk and grabbed a condom. “I’m definitely not opposed to an afternoon delight.” 

His young lover grabbed the condom and grinned. “We might be having those a lot, Tony. And mid-morning planning sessions.” 

“Sounds like your boss is going to be a real slave driver.” He leaned back in his chair as Peter slipped off of his lap to put the condom on his cock. “I’ll have to make sure he doesn’t overwork you.” 

“What if I want him to?” Peter returned to his lap, without pants on. Tony groaned as he felt him rub against the tip of his cock, and then watched as he slowly sank down on him. “Please, Tony?” 

“I can’t say no to that.” Tony really couldn’t. Putting his hand on the back of Peter’s head, he brought their lips together and began to kiss him hard as he bottomed out. 

It was going to be another long day, but if these little extracurricular activities were going to become a regular thing between him and Peter, then he could see nothing wrong with that. He would gladly suffer through long days if it meant he was going to be treated to this gloriousness each and every single day. And from what Peter just said, that was definitely how it was going to be. 

XxX

Cross-posted to AO3

#starker #my writing #fanfic #starkerfestivalsevents #summer bingo 2020

[rachelkaser]

Stay Golden Sunday Reissue: Blanche and the Younger Man

Note: This is a repost of an older Stay Golden Sunday that had to be redone for housekeeping reasons.

Rose’s mother comes to visit, turning Rose into an overprotective mess. Blanche attracts the attention of a young man and strives to keep it.

Picture It…

Sophia and Dorothy prepare for Rose to arrive with her mother, with Dorothy asking Sophia to show her around Miami. Rose has apparently prepared for her mother’s arrival by getting her an airport wheelchair and an oxygen tank. Meanwhile, Blanche arrives home with her aerobics instructor, a young Harry Hamlin-circa-Clash of the Titans-lookalike named Dirk. He asks if they can go out to dinner, and Blanche is flattered.

Rose arrives home with her mother, Alma, and is so overwhelmingly fussy that even the other Girls are put off. They try to make conversation with Alma and show her around the house, but Rose instead drags her protesting mother off for a nap. Blanche tells Dorothy she’s going to go out with Dirk, in spite of him being so much younger than her usual dates.

Blanche is doing some curiously Lamaze-like exercises, and tells a skeptical Dorothy she’s trying to keep Dirk interested. Rose arrives home to spend time with Alma. Dorothy says she’s out with Sophia at the track. Rose panics, thinking Alma won’t be able to handle going out into the city. However, when the two mothers arrive home, Alma’s won $400 (Sophia lost $50). Alma wants to have fun with her winnings, but Rose tries to insist she stay home. Alma tells Rose to stop smothering her and angrily storms off.

Much later, Rose is waiting at home for Sophia and Alma to return, despite Dorothy’s attempts to reassure her. Sophia comes back alone, saying Alma is still out playing jai alai. Rose receives a call from the police, who picked up her mother for being “lost and disoriented,” and goes to retrieve her. Blanche emerges for her date with Dirk in a sundress, claiming to have “dropped ten years.” Dirk picks her up, telling her she looks gorgeous.

DOROTHY: Blanche, you haven’t even been out with him yet. BLANCHE: Oh but my instincts are infallible in this. Believe me, I know men. DOROTHY: No arguments here.

Rose arrives home with Alma, who angrily protests Rose scolding her when all she did was ask a policeman for directions. Rose patronizingly tells her to go to sleep, but Alma says she’s leaving early to visit Rose’s brother in Houston. Rose doesn’t understand what she’s doing wrong, as she thinks she’s just taking care of her mother, but Dorothy helps her see that she’s treating her mother like a child.

Sophia’s helping Alma pack and unsuccessfully attempting to win money from her. Rose enters and asks Alma if she’s really being so terrible, which Alma confirms. Rose apologizes, and says she’s overprotective because she’s afraid of losing her mother like she’s lost her father and husband. Alma gently tells Rose she’s going to die anyway, and she and Rose should enjoy the time they have. They hug and make up. Meanwhile, Sophia thanks Dorothy for not doing the same to her.

Blanche is on her date with Dirk, who is a bit of a dullard. Blanche is struggling to find common ground with him, as he seems to be only interested in muscle-building or fad dieting. He compliments her profusely, which she’s at first flattered by. But then he says the words no woman ever wants to hear: “You remind me of my mother.” Dirk says he hasn’t seen his mother in several years and being with Blanche makes him feel like he’s home with her. Blanche orders a drink to cope with that bombshell.

Later, at home, Sophia and Alma are gambling, and Dorothy and Rose gossip about Blanche’s date – both are concerned, but Dorothy’s more worried that Blanche is setting her expectations too high. Alma surprises Rose with an anecdote about a relationship with a younger man she hired as a farmhand. Rose is aghast, but attempts to restrain judgement to avoid falling back into her old, overprotective ways. Alma goes to bed, with Sophia following so they can continue playing cards.

DOROTHY: I did it once. ROSE: You? You dated a younger man? DOROTHY: Yes Rose, of course it was before I had the hump on my back.

Blanche returns home, humiliated. She tells Rose and Dorothy what Dirk said, and says she feels her age. Dorothy tries to comfort her, but Blanche is too busy feeling sorry for herself. Dorothy refuses to listen and drags Rose out, reminding Blanche that, though she’s not young, she still has a lot going for her. After she leaves, Blanche agrees.

“Blanche thinks she’s Peter Pan, and Rose is turning into Mommie Dearest.”

The infantilization of age and the desire for eternal youth run alongside each other in this episode – and wow, I haven’t sounded that pretentious since I wrote college essays. I’m sure the writers thought they were very clever, mixing these two storylines, but they don’t exactly hang together well.

Maybe it’s just me, but the attempts at humor in the Alma plot just aren’t enough to counterbalance how depressing the story is. Watching Rose behave so condescendingly to her mother feels almost borderline out-of-character, and it’s painful to watch considering the show has been fairly respectful of age up to this point. I’m not saying it’s not realistic; it’s just a bit of a downer.

DOROTHY: Oh come on, Ma. You haven’t even met Rose’s mother. SOPHIA: I know a lot of old people. They’re all the same. They’re cranky, they’re demanding, they repeat themselves, they’re cranky, they’re demanding…

If you feel bad for Jeannette Nolan’s character, Alma Lindstrom, you’ll feel even worse for Nolan herself. According to Golden Girls Forever, poor Nolan didn’t have the easiest time remembering her lines, and director Jim Drake tried to accommodate her by shooting her scenes in short bursts. However, the producers insisted on filming her monologue about her farmhand paramour in one take with reaction shots.

The monologue is not only quite long, but the producers kept adding jokes to it in an attempt to keep it fresh. The filming of this was apparently so awkward and difficult that even the other actresses were begging the producers to not make Nolan do it, but they insisted. Nolan finally managed it after several takes and the audience applauded her for it.

Golden Girls Forever is actually a treasure trove of sad trivia when it comes to this episode. Betty White’s real mother was critically ill at the time, and Bea Arthur’s mother died two days before filming. Arthur can barely hold it together during the scene when Sophia tells Dorothy she’s a good daughter. Also, Rose’s line about how there’s not a day goes by when she doesn’t think about her late husband Charlie is actually paraphrasing a quote from White herself, where she mentioned her late husband Allen Ludden in an interview.

So yeah, if this is a hard episode to watch, it was an even harder episode to film. Maybe that’s why the energy just seems so off this time around.

Another tidbit from the book is that Blanche’s date with Dirk was originally the A-plot, but the storyline with Rose and her mother clearly took precedence after rehearsals began. So if you’re wondering why the episode title isn’t really reflective of the plot, that’s why.

ROSE: Blanche looks terrible. DOROTHY: She looks terrible because all she eats is bee pollen. ROSE: I know! Isn’t it ironic that the bees look so good?

I do think they cheat a little bit when it comes to the Dirk story. The joke is that he’s been interested in Blanche as a mother substitute this whole time, but nothing about the way he acted around Blanche implied that he saw her that way. A clever episode would have you looking back on their interactions and realizing just how Blanche misread the signals, but that doesn’t really work here. He flirts, he compliments her, he doesn’t correct her when she calls their dinner a date – frankly, if I just wanted to hang out with an older man because he reminded me of my dad, I wouldn’t want there to be any confusion on that point.

The jokes Dorothy and Sophia make at Blanche’s expense when she tries to recapture her youth for Dirk’s sake are what save this episode from a lower rating – Dorothy’s at her best when she’s roasting the hell out of the other characters. As for Sophia, well…

BLANCHE: A husband like Dirk could keep me young another twenty years. SOPHIA: Or kill you.

Episode rating: 🍰🍰🍰 (three cheesecake slices out of five)

Favorite Part of the Episode:

BLANCHE: This is strictly off-the-record but… Dirk’s nearly five years younger than I am. DOROTHY: In what, Blanche? Dog years? BLANCHE: However, I have decided to overlook that minor detail and succumb to the Vesuvius of passion that is about to erupt from me. SOPHIA: Stand back. We’re gonna get something on us.

#golden girls #stay golden #stay golden sunday #picture it #blanche devereaux #sophia petrillo #dorothy zbornak #rose nylund #blanche and the younger man #s01e09

[cristinablackthornkingson]

Shadowhunters Short Story #60, Ash Morgenstern AU Part 2.

It is a crisp Autumn day in 2009 when Jonathan Fairchild receives one of the biggest shocks of his life.

One year ago, just before Ash turned one, Jonathan had met a woman named Alma Cartwright. They had met at The Institute in New York, and were assigned a mission together. It had been one of Jonathan’s first missions since Ash was born, and he was feeling extremely nervous and reluctant to leave his son, even though he knew he was safe and happy with Jocelyn and Luke. Alma had listened to him talk about Ash and assured him that everything would be alright, and that he would be going back home to his son at the end of the mission. Jonathan had been surprised at her kindness, not many people trusted him after what he had done as Sebastian, and he didn’t blame them at all. But Alma seemed to be willing to trust him right way, when he asked her about it she told him she understood that he and Sebastian were two entirely different people.

After that they grew close and became good friends, Jonathan introduced her to Ash about a month after they became friends and was pleased when his son immediately took to her, normally he was very shy around strangers, but he loved Alma from the minute he met her, and she loved him right back. She was excellent with him, always willing to play with him and take him on walks and to the park, even babysitting the odd time Clary, Jocelyn or Luke couldn’t. 

After a few months of friendship Jonathan began to realize that his feelings for Alma weren’t strictly friendly, he wasn’t entirely sure but he was almost certain he had romantic feelings for her, and it didn’t take long for him to figure it out for sure. He didn’t say anything for a while, afraid that Alma would be disgusted and he would loose one of the only friends he’s ever had, but after a while he realized it would be best if he told her and was honest with her, he wouldn’t expect her to recuperate his feelings or anything, he just needed to be honest with her.

When he had told Alma and explained that he didn’t expect her to say or do anything, she had laughed, which left him very confused for a while, until she explained that she did in fact like him back. After that they dated for about 6 months, and Alma became like a mother to Ash, he even began calling her ‘mama’ which she didn’t mind at all, she loved him as though he was her own and was always proud when she would take him out and people would assume he was her son. 

After 6 months of dating, Jonathan proposed to Alma and she happily accepted. They had a very short engagement and married in Idris in The Hall of Accords just before Ash’s second birthday. 

They had been married for 2 months now and were extremely happy, settled and content. Today Jonathan is training new Shadowhunters at The Institute while Alma spends the day with Ash. Right now they are walking through the streets of Brooklyn through the rain, Ash in his stroller with the hood pulled up. Alma had planned to stay at home with Ash today, but when she woke up feeling sick for the fourth morning in a row, and her period was a week late, she knew something was up, and so she dressed herself and Ash and hurried to the nearest pharmacy to pick up a pregnancy test. She and Jonathan weren’t actively trying for a baby, but they weren’t trying to prevent it either, but Alma had not expected to fall pregnant so soon, you never hear of people falling pregnant within a month or so of trying, though it wasn’t impossible. 

Once inside Alma takes Ash from his stroller, takes off his wet coat and shoes and takes him upstairs with her, setting him in his crib with his toys. 

“Okay, you stay there and mommy will be right back.” She says, more to herself than to Ash, smoothing down his blonde hair and placing a kiss on his forehead. 

Five minutes later, two pink lines appear on the test, filling Alma with both fear and delight. She is delighted at the idea of having another baby, Jonathan will bed thrilled too and Ash will be a wonderful big brother, but the idea of carrying a child, giving birth and then taking care of a tiny newborn baby is petrifying. Ash had been one when she came into his life and became a mother to him, she had no experience with newborns. But she won’t be alone, Jonathan had raised Ash since he was only a few weeks old, and Jocelyn knew plenty about newborns, and Luke and Clary would be around to help out too, and Jace, Isabelle, Simon, Alec and Magnus.

“Come on buddy, lets go hide this somewhere your dad will find it so we can surprise him.” Alma says, picking Ash up and settling him on her hip. She doesn’t want to just tell Jonathan straight out about the baby, she wants to surprise him, see how long it will take for him to find the pregnancy test and realize what it is and what it means, since Shadowhunters don’t usually use mundane things like pregnancy tests. 

Alma places the test on top of one of her husband's jumpers in the chest of drawers in their room, then heads downstairs with Ash,trying to contain her excitement. 

An hour later, as Alma cleans up after lunch and Ash scribbles on a piece of paper on the floor beside her, she hears the door open and close, followed by footsteps. 

“Daddy!” Ash exclaims in delight, dropping his crayon and reaching for his father. Jonathan grins widely and scoops Ash up, pressing a kiss to his cheek and ruffling his hair. 

“Hi buddy, I missed you.” He softly says, as Ah wraps his arms around the back of Jonathan’s neck. 

“Daddy, Aunty Clary here?” Ash hopefully asks, looking over his father’s shoulder into the hallway. Sometimes after he has been at the Institute for most of the day, Clary will come home with Jonathan to visit her nephew. 

“Not today bud, but we can go see her tomorrow.” Jonathan says, leaning in to kiss Alma on the cheek. 

“You’re home early.” Alma says, tilting her head up to look at her husband, who smiles brightly at her and slips an arm around her waist. 

“Jace and Clary had plans so we finished training early today, and I of course wanted to come home to my two favorite people straight away.” He explains, setting a wriggling Ash down.

“We should have a date night soon.” Alma says, leaning into her husband, thinking about how they only have a few months before all their time will be taken up with both Ash and a new baby.

“That would be nice, mom has been asking when she and Luke can watch Ash again, and Ash has been asking when he can sleep over at his grandma and grandpa’s again, I think he likes them more than he likes us.” Jonathan says in a light, teasing tone. Ash is very close to his grandparents and Jocelyn and Luke love to dote over him and spoil him, they both love being grandparents and are forever bragging about their grandson. 

“We should arrange it sometime next week.” Alma says. Jonathan nods his agreement and drops a kiss to her head before saying 

“I better go shower and change and check that Ash isn’t causing too much trouble.” 

When Jonathan gets upstairs, he immediately goes into his and Alma’s room to get some clean clothes and a towel. He pulls open the middle draw in their dresser where he keeps his jumpers, and when he does he immediately notices the white stick with the pink cap and a white window in the middle with two pink lines on it. He furrows his brow in confusion and picks it up, turning it over to examine it.  “Is this one of your toys Ash?” Jonathan asks, turning to look at his son who is standing in the doorway of the bedroom. Ash shakes his head, his blonde hair falling into his eyes. 

“Mama.” He simply says. 

“This is mama’s?”  Ash nods. “Lets go find her then and find out what it is and why it was in my sweater drawer.” Jonathan scoops his son up, settling him on his hip before walking downstairs in search of his wife. “Alma?” He calls, walking through the kitchen. 

“Yeah?” Alma replies, stepping into the living room doorway. 

“What’s this?” Jonathan asks, holding up the stick. Alma suppresses a grin and takes a step closer to her husband. She takes the test from him and then presses his hand to her stomach.

“It’s a pregnancy test, I’m pregnant.” John’s green eyes widen in disbelief. 

“P-pregnant? W-we’re going to have a baby?” John softly asks in a quiet tone. Alma smiles softly and nods. 

“Yeah we are, I’m only a few months along and I haven’t been to see The Silent Brothers or anything yet, I just found out myself, but in about 9 months Ash is going to be a big brother.” Jonathan immediately throws an arm around her and pulls her into a tight embrace. 

“Alma this is wonderful, when should we tell everyone else?” Jonathan asks in an excited tone as he pulls back from the embrace. 

“We should probably wait until after the third month, the chances of anything bad happening go way down then.” Alma says. 

“We’re going to have to keep it a secret for three months? I don’t know if I can, I’m so excited I want to tell everyone.” Jonathan says, shifting Ash to a more comfortable position in his arms.

“I understand but if we tell everyone now and then something happens we’re going to have to explain it to them, if I have miscarriage before we tell them about the baby at least we won’t have to go through it ourselves and then tell them what happened.” Alma quietly says, hating to think about the possibility of loosing the pregnancy. 

“Oh, oh I didn’t think of that, I’m sorry, you’re  right we should wait.” Jonathan softly says, taking her hand in his. 

“I’m worried about how the pregnancy will go, I mean you’re not exactly a normal Shadowhunter, you did have Demon Blood and you were burned with Heavenly Fire, I know Jace and Jem were burned with Heavenly Fire too but neither of them have kids so we don’t know how it will affect me or the baby.” Jonathan brushes a lock of Alma’s hair behind her ear and says

“It didn’t affect Ash, as far as we can tell.” 

“Yeah but The Seelie Queen died in labor, what if it was the demon blood and heavenly fire that caused it?” Alma asks in a tight, frantic tone. 

“I doubt it was, I don’t know why or how she died in labor, but if you want I will do everything I can to find out for you, and you can have constant monitoring and check ups with The Silent Brothers, or, I know you don’t like being around them so Jem and Tessa could help you, we’ll do everything we can to make sure you and the baby are okay through this whole pregnancy, I promise.” Alma wipes at her tears and leans her head on her husband’s shoulder. 

“I love you.” she quietly says. Pressing a kiss to her head, Jonathan holds her close and quietly says 

“I love you too.”

A few days later they decide that they will tell Tessa and Jem about the baby, so they can help Alma through the pregnancy, and help ease her fears. When they approach them with this request, Jem and Tessa are more than happy to help. Tessa will be the one to help the most, as Alma is more comfortable with another woman helping with her pregnancy, while Jem will be able to help in any emergency. Tessa will be able to monitor Alma and the baby at the local hospital, through blood tests and ultrasounds, and if anything else is needed that Tessa cannot do, Jem will be there to help, and The Silent Brothers as a last resource. Tessa also helps them with explaining everything to Ash and helping to prepare him to be a big brother, though he doesn’t know yet, though he had been there when Alma told Jonathan, he wasn’t paying attention and is too little to understand without an explanation. 

The next few months go by in a blur and right now Alma is a few weeks into her second trimester, all is well with her and the baby and she and Jonathan are planning on telling their family and friends very soon. In a few hours they’ll be going to Jocelyn and Luke’s to have dinner with them, Clary and Jace, as they do every weekend. They’re planning on telling them then, and before they go they’re going to tell Ash.

Right now Ash is sitting on the living room floor, playing wit his toys, oblivious to what his parents are about to tell him.

“Hey Ash, daddy and I want to tell you something.” Alma gently says, kneeling beside her son and pushing his thick blonde hair from his eyes. Ash sets his toy down and looks up at her quizzically as Jonathan sits next to them. “You’re going to be a big brother soon Ash.” 

“Like daddy? Daddy Aunty Clary’s big brother.” Ash asks curiously, looking between his parents. 

“That’s right bud, mommy’s got a baby in her tummy and in a few months the baby will be born and you’ll be a big brother.” Jonathan explains. 

“Baby boy or girl?” Ash asks. 

“We don’t know yet sweetheart, we’ll find out when they’re born.” Alma says, having decided with John that they want the sex of the baby to be a surprise when they’re born.

“Oh, okay.” Ash says, before picking up his toy again and returning to the game he was playing. Jonathan and Alma share a surprised look over their son’s head. 

“That was easy.” Jonathan says in a surprised tone. 

“A lot easier than I thought it would be, I’m not complaining though.” Alma says in an amused tone, glad that Ash has taken the news so well. Hopefully he’ll be just as calm and laid-back when the baby arrives. 

A few hours later the three of them walk into Jocelyn and Luke’s, where Clary and Jace are already in the living room with Jocelyn and Luke.

Ash immediately runs to his grandparents, wrapping one arm around Jocelyn’s leg and the other around Luke, holding tightly onto them. Jonathan and Alma wonder how he’s going to feel about having to share his grandma and grandpa with his sibling. 

“No hug for me?” Clary teases. Ash’s eyes light up and he runs to Clary, throwing himself right into her arms, almost knocking her backwards. 

“My mama’s gonna have baby!” Ash announces, looking up at Clary with a wide smile. 

“By The Angel, Ash.” Alma quietly says, covering her face with her palm. despite his Faerie heritage, Ash cannot keep a secret, when Alma and Jonathan told him they were engaged, he told everyone he came into contact with.

“Is that so?” Jace says in an amused tone. 

“Uh-uh, mama says the baby is in her tummy, but how did the baby get in there? You know Uncle Jace?” Ash asks, wiping the smile from Jace’s face. 

“Uh, you know what kid? Ask your Uncle Alec next time you see him, he’ll tell you.” Jace says, even though he knows Alec will kill him for sending Ash to him with such a difficult question. 

“Well congratulations, when are you due, Alma?” Jocelyn asks, as the shock of her grandson’s announcement wears off. 

“Around the middle of May.” Alma replies. 

“It was a difficult secret for us to keep, it’s a good job we didn’t tell Ash any sooner.” Jonathan says in an amused tone, lifting his son onto his lap when he comes running to him.

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Clary asks. 

“No, we’re going to wait until the baby is born to find out, we like the idea of it being a surprise.”  Alma says, resting her hand on her slightly rounded stomach. 

“I call Godfather this time.” Jace says. 

“Your Ash’s Godfather, I’m going to ask someone with half a brain and a shred of sense this time.” Jonathan jokes. Jace and Clary are Ash’s Godparents, and this time around he is thinking of asking Tessa and Jem, if Alma is alright with it. At least Jem won’t try and sneak the baby on missions, like Jace does with Ash. 

Over the next 6 months, Alma and the baby continue to be monitored by Tessa, and continue to receive clean bills of health. Jonathan is just as nervous and anxious as his wife, he hadn’t been around for The  Seelie Queen’s pregnancy with Ash, apart from the very early days but even then he hadn’t been himself, he had been Sebastian. This time he doesn’t just have a baby to worry about, he has his wife to worry about too. Throughout the pregnancy he is extremely protective of Alma, hardly letting her lift a finger.

 Though he is racked with nerves throughout the pregnancy, one thing that calms Jonathan down is the thought of meeting his new baby. He loves to talk to the baby and read to them and feel them kick. At night he always talks to the baby, and often during the day when Ash is napping and he’s not working, he’ll sit with Alma, take out The Shadowhunter Children’s book his mother gave him when Ash was a baby, and read to the baby. 

Ash has been pretty indifferent about the baby, he does like to feel them kick and will sometimes ask when the baby is coming and who he’ll stay with when his mama has the baby. (he’s torn between staying with his grandpa and grandma or staying with his Aunty Clary and Uncle Jace) However Jonathan and Alma aren’t worried, certain that he’ll warm up to the baby once they are born.

Right now Alma is 8 months, 2 weeks away from due date. Jonathan has taken some time off work so he can be at home to care for Ash and help Alma in anyway she needs and so that he can be there when she goes into labor. Due to her anxiety about labor and birth, Alma has opted to have a C-section in Idris, in The Basilias. She and the baby will have to stay in longer for recovery, but she doesn’t mind, Jonathan is happy to portal back and forth or stay in the  Basilias with Alma and the baby, and Ash can stay with Jocelyn and  Luke or Clary and Jace until Alma and the baby get home. He can easily portal to Idris with Jonathan a few times, to meet the baby.

Right now Alma is sitting in the living room, trying to concentrate on her book, while Ash plays upstairs in his room and Jonathan prepares lunch in the kitchen. However she’s finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on her book due to the increasing pain in her back.

“Everything okay in here?” Jonathan asks, walking in and bending to press a kiss to her cheek. 

“I’m not sure, I think we should call Tessa, my back is killing me worse than ever before, I think it might be labor.” Alma says in a strained tone, rubbing at her lower back. 

“I’ll call her now, do you want to maybe go lie down until she gets here and see if that helps the pain?” Jonathan asks. Alma nods and holds her hand out for him to help her off the couch. Once she is up and turns back to grab her book, she notices the dark patch on the sofa, right where was sitting, as well as the water steadily and slowly trickling down her leg. 

An hour later, Jonathan is pacing up and down the waiting room in the  Basilias, waiting on news of Alma and the baby. When she was taken into surgery, he wasn’t allowed to go in with her, but Jem had been there and promised to keep him updated and let him know as soon as the baby is born.

“Jonathan.” He now hears Jem say. His head shoots up and he sees Jem standing a few feet away from him, holding a bundle of blankets. His heart seems to stop when he realizes that the bundle is his baby. 

“I... is that... are they okay? Alma and the baby?” He weakly asks. 

“Yes they’re both perfectly fine, Alma is just getting her stitches and then she’ll be taken to recovery where you can see her, and your baby, your daughter is perfect as well, 6lbs 10 oz, all ten fingers and all ten toes.” Jem assures him, gently lowering the baby into his arms. 

“A- a girl? I have a daughter?” Jonathan asks in a tight tone, as the tears begin to well in his eyes. 

“Yes you do, congratulations. I’ll come get you  when Alma has been brought to recovery.” Jem says, giving him a reassuring pat on the arm, before turning and walking from the room.

Jonathan looks down at his daughter in awe. She is a perfect mixture of he and Alma, with her bone structure, pallor and eye shape, and his hair color, nose and mouth shape. She looks so much like Ash did as a baby, with her mop of white blonde hair. She is totally perfect. 

“Hi baby, hi Josie, my sweet Jocelyn Clarissa Fairchild.” Jonathan whispers, before pressing a kiss to her forehead. He and Alma had agreed that if they had a girl they would name her Jocelyn Clarissa, Josie for short, after her grandma and Aunty. “I love you baby, you look just like your big brother, and your grandparents and Aunty Clary are going to adore you.” He whispers, stroking her soft, flushed cheek.

The next day, after Alma has had plenty of rest and sleep and plenty of bonding with Josie, Jocelyn, Luke and Clary arrive with Ash, to meet the baby. Right now Alma is sitting up in bed with the baby on her chest and Jonathan at her side, admiring his wife and daughter, unable to take his eyes off them.

As Alma rubs circles on Josie’s back and Jonathan watches, they hear a light knock at the door and Tessa steps in.

“Your family are here if you’re up for visitors, Ash is extremely excited to meet his sister.” She says with a smile. 

“Oh of course, send them in!” Alma says, pushing herself up in the bed. 

A few minutes later Ash comes barreling into the room with Jocelyn behind him, then Luke and then Clary.

“Ash you can’t run around like that here, you’ll disturb everyone trying to get better.” Jocelyn says in an exasperated tone. Normally Ash is a very calm child, but he’s been full of energy since he found out he has a sister, it was a struggle to get him to sleep last night, he’s nothing like his father or Aunt.

“Sorry gandma, mama, daddy, where my sister?” Ash asks, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. 

“Right here, but if you want to come say hi you’re going to need to calm down and be really gentle okay?” Alma softly says. Ash nods and slowly makes his way to her bedside, lifting his arms out for Jonathan to lift him up beside him. 

“Mama what her name?” Ash asks, peering down at his sister in awe and wonder. 

“Her name is Jocelyn Clarissa Fairchild, Josie for short.” Jonathan softly says, one hand on his son’s back, the other stroking his daughter’s hair. 

“But those gandma and Aunty Clary’s names!” Ash exclaims. 

“That’s right, your sister is named after your grandma and Aunt, like your middle name is Lucian like grandpa, I named you after him.” Jonathan explains.

“Oh, gandma why you cry? Why you sad?” Ash asks, looking over at Jocelyn and noticing the tears running down her face. 

“Oh I’m not sad sweetheart, sometimes when people get very happy and become overwhelmed with emotions,they cry. I’m very happy that your mama and daddy named your sister after me.” Jocelyn explains, wiping at her tears. 

“But Aunty Clary not cryin, you not happy Aunty Clary?” Ash asks, looking to Clary.

“Of course I am buddy, very very happy, I just show it differently than grandma.” Clary tells him, ruffling his hair which makes him giggle in delight. 

“Jocelyn do you want to hold her?” Alma asks.

“Oh I’d love to.” Jocelyn carefully gathers her granddaughter up before returning to her place by Luke’s side. They both gaze down at her in awe, their first granddaughter. 

“She’s beautiful, she looks just like you Ash, when you were her age.” Luke says, stroking Josie’s hair. 

“Really?” Ash asks, his eyes widening with curiously. 

“Absolutely, well Josie looks a bit more like your mom, while you look just like your dad.”

“I gonna be really good big brother, Uncle Jace and Uncle Alec gonna teach me, you teach me too daddy? Cuz Aunty Clary says you the bestest big brother in the world and I want to be the bestest big brother too!” Ash exclaims. 

“Course I will buddy, and I have no doubt you’ll be a wonderful big brother, look she already adores you, she’s holding your hand.” Jonathan says in a joyful tone, as Josie grips onto her brother’s finger with her hand.

“When she come home? Can she sleep in my bed?” Ash asks hopefully. 

“She’ll be home in a few days, and I’m afraid she can’t sleep in your bad, not yet anyway, maybe when you guys are a bit older, and when she doesn’t need to be in our room you two can share a room if you like.” Alma says, knowing how much Ash is going to want to be around his sister and be with her all the time. 

Ash nods happily before leaning in to kiss his sister’s forehead and quietly says

“Love you Josie.”

A few days later, Josie and Alma are able to go home and once they are settled in and comfortable, Jocelyn and Luke leave Ash home. Right now the four of them are curled up in bed together, Josie on Jonathan’s chest, Ash in between Jonathan and Alma, stroking his sister’s hand as she sleeps peacefully. 

“It feels like only yesterday you were this small Ash.” Jonathan quietly says, running a hand through his son’s hair. “You know you and Josie and your mom are the best things ever to happen to me, I wasn't expecting to become a dad but when you arrived I couldn’t have been happier, and you’ll always be so special to me Ash, because you made me a dad, your sister is going to need a lot of attention in the next few months, but just remember how special you are, okay?” Ash nods sleepily, curling into his father’s chest and gripping onto his jumper as he use to do when he was a baby. 

“Love you daddy.” He says in a muffled voice. Jonathan presses a kiss to his head and softly says 

“I love you too.” 

That night Jonathan falls asleep with his wife at his side, his son curled into him and his daughter in her bassinet right next to the bed. For so long he didn’t think it was possible to be happy, didn’t think it was possible to love like this and be loved like this, but he has never been so happy to have been wrong.

#sebastian morgenstern #valentine morgenstern #Jocelyn Fray #Jocelyn Fairchild #jocelyn morgenstern #Luke Garroway #luke graymark #lucian graymark #Clary Fray #clary fairchild #ash morgenstern #the seelie queen #Jace Wayland #Jace Herondale #Jace Lightwood #jace morgenstern #Clary x Jace #Clace #Alec Lightwood #alexander lightwood #Isabelle Lightwood #Simon Lewis #simon lovelace #Magnus Bane #tessa gray #teresa gray #will herondale #william herondale #jem carstairs #james carstairs

[believerindaydreams]

hot cross buns

conversation from Baker’s POV, shortly before the Road Trip of doom. I can’t say why he’s talking to the audience like this, except that he’s rather lonely and doesn’t have anyone else to confide in.

You want to know why I'm in love with Angel Eyes?

Ask me a hundred times, you'll get a hundred answers. That squint he does, trying oh so hard to look mysterious- and succeeding. His graceful sang-froid while blowing smoke, whether that's from a pipe or a gun. The best goddamn squash soup I've ever tasted or ever will...but number one, that one tiny crazy mystery that sets him apart from everybody else in this business, is this. Angel doesn't do this because he has to.

He did once, I'll grant you; anybody with that family background was bound to end up in the stew one way or another. Either ordering the hits or managing them himself. He told me once, he didn't have the guts for the former.

(In Angel's defense, he was younger, very drunk, and his last partner had just tried to do him in nasty while they were performing same. I got a call after, came over to help with the clean-up; realised I had a good shot at either sex or secrets and plumped for the latter. Closest I've yet got to fucking him, but that night I don't regret.)

Point is, Angel Eyes doesn’t have the blood-lust. He doesn’t want after power or money or both in ever-increasing numbers, and while it’s obvious he gets a kick from the danger like the rest of us, he’s last to feel and first to come down. A controlled addiction. 

Not afraid either, the way we all are. 

So- who knows where he learned it, but our cool, collected angel can make anything seem classy, up to and including a business that's about the shabbiest on this earth. James Bond, you say? Sure. Sean Connery's anything but class, he just dresses the part- and that's a fair enough metaphor for the whole damned situation.

First time I ever heard an assassin say they preferred Roger Moore, it was this lunkhead in front of me; and you know, I think he believes it.

"So why'd you track me down?" Blondie asks, lighting one of his trademark cigarillos. This cramped room he’s rented is already swelteringly hot, but he seems indifferent to that. "Angel send you?"

He's got the nonchalance down pat, I'll admit that- we're all good at faking in this business, but being is something else again, maybe that's what drew Angel to him. Certainly not his skill level, since even a third-rater such as yours truly could take him any day- probably he has offed someone, but strictly street-level, nothing big time. He doesn't seem to know or care about the distinction, which isn't so unusual; but it's coupled to a - a-

oh, hell, I don't know the word for it. Point is, Blondie's pretty fabulous, and he does know how to play up to it.

"Angel's boss. Ever heard of him?"

"Rose. Yeah, I remember." A sardonic little grin, which strengths my notion that Blondie has no idea what he's talking about. You get out of the habit of smiling that way about the guy before you meet him, or you might do it- and then, wallop!

(Rose says that if a man can't keep from laughing while meeting him, he'll break the minute a fed has him by the collar. I'd try the same tactic in his shoes.)

"Right. You've attracted his interest. Very unhealthy position." I’d prefer to sit down by now, but there’s nowhere except the floor or the bed, and both of those are fairly undesirable. Leaning against the wall will have to do, filthy as it is. 

"I can take care of myself."

"Sure you can, sweetheart, and if it was up to me I wouldn't mind leaving you to it- but you get the same chances as anyone else." I take the gun out for emphasis, rap it against my palm. “After a lifetime of playing it by the books as is possible to get on the wrong side of the law, Angel Eyes just pops up one day with a brand new assassin nobody's ever heard of. You ever wonder what I do, Blondie?"

"Angel says you're an errand boy. A finger in half a dozen different pies, just about too useful and too lowly for any of the cooks to bother killing, so nobody does." He’s ignoring the gun altogether. It points to a fair instinct for when the instrument might actually be in play, that’s good to know.

"About the measure of it, yes. So how do you think I keep my hand in?"

"Don't know. Couldn't care less."

"Kid goats like you, mostly. You think you're the first man to try to shove his way into this business, on sheer pluck and willpower alone? I'm not saying it can't be done, but there are a couple entrance qualifications- and one of them's me."

"Thanks for the warning. I'll be sure to check for your shadow, next time I head down a dark alley."

Cigarillo finished, he's starting another one. I contemplate taking out my pipe, but it's hard to keep a grip on it while I'm talking. Last week I set my pants on fire trying that- so, no then.

"I'm the least of your problems. Here's the thing. Angel's vouched for you, but Rose wants some loyalty out of the fellow who's trying to filch his best hit man- so you do the job, I watch and tell Rose, Rose has prosecutable on you if he ever wants it. You can get on with romancing Angel all you like after that, he won't care."

And may all that oh-so-cute stubble of yours blaze like a bonfire in hell if you do, I don't say- but that's besides the point. Blondie's still chain-smoking, but he does that so often I can't tell if it's nervousness or nicotine withdrawal. I should recommend him my therapist.

"Who's the job?"

At least he's not as much of an idiot as the last amateur I gave this speech to- that guy had asked me what. "Take your pick. There's always a list of nobodies who could use the killing when somebody has the time, pour les encouragement- or maybe you want to take it closer to home. Rose has a funny sort of taste that way. Bad business but a man has his inclinations, and when it doesn't interfere with the cash flow- know why Angel never had to do this? Because Alma told him he'd helped her kill Romano pere, and that tickled his fancy no end."

"Hope you're not suggesting I kill Angel. That's going to be a straight-up no."

"Of course not. We both want him bad, don't we?"

"Difference is," Blondie says indifferently, "I have him and you don't."

"That's what you think. You're not the first incompetent Angel's taken up with, he's had quite the string of those in the past." Probably because he knows he'd outshoot them, in a pinch; for the thousandth time I wonder whether being just a little worse at my job would have made the difference. "That little Mexican who he's taken up with now? That one's different. Something's wrong there-"

"Wrong?" He’s still lounging across the bedspread, pretending to look casual, but that jealous frisson’s unmistakable. 

"Angel cancelled on Rose last week. For the first time ever- we're talking about Angel Eyes here. Perfect record. Careerist. So proud of never letting a target slip through, until he sends word- sorry, cannot be bothered with this very choice assignment, otherwise engaged. So that's got Rose concerned, rather."

"I'm sure Angel Eyes could take him, if it came to that."

"Gawd, Blondie- I thought you loved him too." Or is he just that dumb? A street brat could just be dumb, I suppose. "If he ever kills Rose, hell breaks loose. Complete power vacuum, and Angel only has two ways out of it. Either he dies the next month or week or day, as soon as whoever scrambles to the top has him gunned down to show you can't do that kind of thing without consequences- or he has to become head cheese himself. Do you want to share Angel Eyes with the entire mob? Because I don't."

"Hmm."

Damn it, Blondie's unshakeable. Maybe he doesn't even care about Angel Eyes at all- nah. No. Angel's convinced of it, for one, and if Angel thinks so it almost doesn't matter what the man himself thinks.

"So you know what? Kill two birds with one stone. Off the Mexican, I'll back you up with any proofs you want for Angel Eyes. Rose gets off your back, you're all done."

(And so would he; Angel would never forgive the man who murdered Ramirez, I learned that much from my last visit. And with both his partners so neatly crossed from the list, why, who knows who Angel might turn to for comfort?)

"...I've slept with him," Blondie drawls, kinda slow and thoughtful. "Now that is what you might call impolite."

"Hell, you're not going to make it very far in this business if you make that a criteria for who you won’t kill. We've all done it. Angel Eyes has, I have. You will."

Blondie nods, takes a final drag and brushes ash from his hands. "Suppose I told you- suppose I said that I've never killed anybody before."

"Funny thing. Very funny thing. That's exactly what Ramirez told me, after I got him into bed- and he's a lot more believable when he says it, too. On account of not going around bragging the exact opposite, you know?"

"Mmm-hmm- you scare him with the same offer I just heard?"

"May have done." Didn't actually, but I never encountered a situation where a flat statement was better than a sly ambiguity. "Prisoner's dilemma of sorts, I suppose. Only if neither of you kills anyone, you're both getting into trouble, so...more the opposite?"

"Suppose," Blondie says, rather quietly, "I killed you."

"Well. You muck up quite a few people's plans. Rose gets rather put out- what makes you think you could manage it?"

He's a nobody. Unimportant. An amateur who’s never made a name for himself, what’s he going to do- 

“I’d manage.” 

I wait, for him to explain himself. I wait a long while. 

I wait for a long time. Time enough for the initiative to slip slowly out of my hands, burning up in the room’s heat, dead in the air.  

The amateurs, they talk. They get positively rhapsodic by this point. Spilling over with plans and hopes and eagerness- one with plans for favourite hated rival back home, or another just begging me for a justified target. I’ve never had any trouble supplying them with everything they desire. 

And they’re none of them been so self-confident, as to think they can murder the man who’s offering them the way in to all their dreams. 

“If you’d rather, I could find you someone else-” 

“Don’t think you’re getting out of it that easy,” Blondie says quietly. His hands don’t move, his knees don’t shake. He’s sweating less than I am. “If Rose wants me to send a message, he’ll get it- but let’s be fair to you. Go home and get your affairs in order first. Come and find me whenever you’re ready- and we’ll have ourselves an old-fashioned duel. I’ll tell Angel Eyes to referee. You know he’ll play fair by you.”

“We- we don’t need to do it that way. If I had something else to tell to Rose-”

“You want Angel, don’t you? Same way I do? Thinking in the night that for the right look you’d let him gut you, bleed you to death, and you’d die smiling? That fantasy you’ve got, unpicking the ropes after you’ve saved him, do you think you’re ever going to get that from him? You won’t. Not unless,” and he’s smiling, close-lipped joy- “not unless we make it happen. Winner takes all, Baker. I’ll be seeing you.”

If I could speak- anything but oh god you mean it you mean it to reassert normalcy- I open my mouth-

“Go home, little rabbit,” Blondie says crisply. Takes out a third cigarillo and fires it with one quick flick of the lighter, while I stare. Stuffs it in my mouth, leans back to admire the effect. 

The doorknob’s blistering under my hand. 

But I get out of there fast, before he can make me feel any more sheepish. 

#70s au #the good the bad and the ugly

[lelliefant]

Hiddleswift: A Defense in Retrospect

Two-and-a-half years later, I’m still seeing haters on Tumblr trying to trash Tom for this three-month romance. At the time (summer of 2016), I was pretty much silent on Tumblr, but I’m gonna give this argument a go now, as it appears the hate just won’t die.

A lot of people like to believe that Tom and Taylor’s relationship was just for publicity, but if you knew anything about what actually happened, and about Tom’s personality, you'd realize that makes zero sense.

First, I can confidently say that Tom had no motivation to seek out notoriety, but every reason to fall in love. It’s possible that Taylor thought about the prospect of publicity, and it might even have made him more attractive to her, but she hardly needs extra publicity.

Taylor’s known to have had a crush on his Loki character from the Avengers,* which is probably why she arranged to sit next to him at Anna Wintour's party (where they first met) and then again later at the 2016 Met Gala.

As for Tom, he fell for her like a rock. She is exactly his type; she's an amazing, beautiful, and talented young artist and a smart businesswoman; she pursued him; and he was smitten. He had no reason at the time to look for publicity (nothing to promote), and he has always otherwise avoided that kind of personal notoriety.*

In fact, he strictly avoids sharing his personal life with the Media.* He's never been an overexposed bubblegum pop culture icon; he's always pursued work as a serious, gifted dramatic actor with a lot of indie and theater cred, particularly gifted in Shakespeare.

At Cambridge (where he earned a double-first in Classics) Tom once performed as Orestes in Electra, speaking entirely in Ancient Greek:

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=-AmRve7EZRE

When creating Loki, he sourced his characterization on research of Norse mythology and what was familiar to him: Shakespearian characters. He returns to the stage whenever possible, between films.

Last year, he decided to take a year-long break from film. If he only cared about advancing his fame, this was not a good career move. Instead, he participated in a number of charity events, including a run as Hamlet for the tiny RADA theater to raise funds for his alma-mater. Of course, he took no payment.

Those are not life goals, accomplishments, or qualities that mesh with or demonstrate any interest in drawing the attention of the unwashed masses, or teenaged Taylor fans for that matter.

But what really makes me convinced that it was all real--at least for him--is that it fits perfectly with his personality. This is a guy who jumps headlong into life, especially in love. He is, in a word, enthusiastic. He has said many times that his only fear/regret in life is not living it to the fullest.

https://www.standard.co.uk/showbiz/celebrity-news/tom-hiddleston-admitts-his-biggest-fear-mine-is-regret-looking-back-at-things-i-haven-t-done-a3356611.html

If I made quote the man on this point, "We all have two lives. The second one starts when we realize we only have one."

And he's also said many times in many ways that he just doesn't see the value in living a fake existence.* A fake, painfully public romance would simply have had no appeal for him, personally or professionally.

But people like to think the worst of others; they think it makes them seem superior, sophisticated, and smart to be cynical.* And nobody would actually be so naïve to believe two famous, beautiful, successful people could actually be genuinely attracted to each other, right?

It’s just a much more profitable story for the Media to frame these two as cold, calculating, self-promoting, deliberate liars who would actually want that type of shallow, populist, Kardashian fame. Even though they had both already earned and achieved a deeper quality of fame based on their genuine talent and professional success and acclaim. And the general public eats that stuff up, without question, because it’s what they want to believe.

All this being said, I know very little about Taylor, personally. I suspect that when she actually got to know Tom, he turned out to be an overwhelming energizer bunny, an overeducated egghead, and a giggly dork, when she had expected a dark, brooding, and mysterious bad boy.

Case in point:

Tom:

Loki:

Tom:

Loki:

I think Taylor realized her mistake and acted immediately to cut the relationship off, because she is not the type of person to stick around for something she doesn't want. And I think that totally took him by surprise, because he had jumped wholeheartedly into the relationship without a parachute. You might say he was too impetuous for his age but, like I said, that fits with his demonstrated personality traits--whereas the idea that the relationship never meant anything to him clearly does not.

Another relevant quote from Tom (this was prior to their relationship): "I gave myself permission to care, because there are a lot of people in this world who are afraid of caring, or afraid of showing that they care because it's uncool. It's uncool to have passion. It's so much easier to lose when you've shown everyone how much you don't care if you win or lose. It's much harder to lose when you show that you care, but, you'll never win, unless you also stand to lose. Don't be afraid of your passion."

https://www.bustle.com/articles/122067-tom-hiddlestons-best-advice-to-his-fans-to-help-them-live-life-to-the-fullest

“Don’t be afraid of your passion.”

This is the guy I admire. A smart, erudite, accomplished man who hasn't let life beat him down or make him cynical--quite the opposite. This guy thrives on the challenge. He chooses optimism in spite of hardship; almost--weirdly--because of hardship. This deliberate fool is not afraid to risk his heart, and he grabs life with both hands, knowing the risks.

TL;DR:

Y’all can stop hating on Hiddleswift. It was real, which makes sense if you look at the evidence.

If you scoff and say I’m being naive, I have another one for you: you’re the one naively believing the trash people say and going along with it, trying to be smug and superior.

I don’t know much about her, but I know from Tom, and Tom was (and always strives to be) genuine.

Fame isn’t everything to everyone, especially not to people who already have plenty of it.

If I haven’t made this clear: tabloid noteriety is not the same as fame, much less professional acclaim.

Can we please let it go now?

Relevant Resources

https://www.bustle.com/articles/122067-tom-hiddlestons-best-advice-to-his-fans-to-help-them-live-life-to-the-fullest

https://www.bustle.com/articles/51780-tom-hiddleston-is-making-people-care-about-shakespeare-english-teachers-everywhere-should-rejoice

https://www.google.com/amp/s/amp.theguardian.com/film/2015/oct/08/tom-hiddleston-interview-crimson-peak

http://www.bbcamerica.com/anglophenia/2015/10/tom-hiddleston-your-comfort-zones-what-youre-frightened-of

https://www.standard.co.uk/showbiz/celebrity-news/tom-hiddleston-admitts-his-biggest-fear-mine-is-regret-looking-back-at-things-i-haven-t-done-a3356611.html

*Note: For some d@mn reason, Tumblr is not letting me include very many links in this post (the draft won’t save when I add them). I have a number of additional specific resources in support of the statements in this post. Additional sources are available upon request.

#tom hiddleston #Hiddleswift #taylor swift #Tom is a lovable dork #Loki #noteriety is not fame #Deliberate fool #cynicism is a choice #Don’t be afraid of your passion #Shakespeare nut #Badass Loki #Catullus V #Look it up

[theartofbeinganerd]

can’t have you (but oh, how I want to) - Chapter Six

In this chapter, Fitzsimmons slowly get to know each other, and I slowly go insane from how IN LOVE these two already are without even realizing it. It’s fun, really.

(Ao3)

-

Though she could scarcely believe it, Jemma had just spent the past fifteen minutes talking to Fitz of all people, who had apparently decided to stop hating her and competing with her (for today, at least), and instead actually talk to her – and it had been wonderful.

Jemma had never had such an intelligent conversation before, let alone one with someone her age, and she had never before felt that someone was truly understanding what she was speaking about, or had them actually be excited about it in return. It was everything that she had so desperately wanted when she’d first glimpsed Fitz in class weeks ago, and it was everything that she’d thought that she would never find in him once she’d realized that he didn’t want to be her friend.

Now, she could hardly believe that she’d been waiting impatiently for class to be over not long ago, because as the bell gave a sharp ring that echoed throughout their chemistry classroom, she felt that it was simply far too soon. She didn’t want the class period to be over yet; she didn’t want to have to stop talking to Fitz.

They were both lingering by their lab table longer than strictly necessary, slowly gathering their things as they continued their conversation about the other classes that they were taking (Jemma had found out about ten minutes ago that he was an engineering major, which she found terribly interesting).

“The only one that I could go without is History of SHIELD,” Fitz was saying as he stuffed his books back into his backpack, “it’s too bad that it’s required to graduate.” Then, he smiled slightly and shrugged, going on, “Ah, well, at least it’s nice to have some time to nap.”

Jemma rolled her eyes at him as she gathered her own books and placed them in her backpack, making sure that they were in the correct order, corresponding with her classes that day. “Well, I happen to find it interesting.” When he arched an eyebrow at her in clear disbelief, she elaborated, “The subject matter, that is. The class would be far better if it wasn’t for Professor Vaughn’s droning voice.”

Fitz burst into laughter at that, and Jemma couldn’t help but join him, feeling warmth spreading through her chest at having made him laugh – it was a sound she hadn’t heard in the time that they’d been classmates, but it was one that she was quite sure she’d like to hear again. He slung his backpack over his shoulder then, following her as she led the way out of the classroom.

Pausing just outside the door, they hovered in the hallway, their laughter fading as they began to shift a bit awkwardly, not quite meeting the other’s eyes. Clearing her throat lightly, Jemma asked him, “So…what class do you have next?”

“Oh, uh, physics,” Fitz answered, thumbing over his shoulder at the classroom that they’d just exited, “s’why I was doing my homework. How, um…how about you?”

Jemma bit back her instinctive reprimand about leaving his homework until the day of, not wanting to scare him off now that he was actually acknowledging that she existed. Instead, she simply told him, “I have molecular biology.”

He nodded in understanding, then glanced up and down the rapidly emptying hall around them and started, “Well, um…”

Afraid that he was just going to leave, and things would go back to how they had been before that day, Jemma quickly blurted out, “Will I see you at lunch?”

Fitz looked slightly startled at the question, and she began to fear that she’d pushed too far, but then he blinked and said softly, a strange, almost…breathless quality to his voice, “Yeah, um, yeah…you will.”

“Good,” she replied, offering him a warm smile before she took a half-step back, in the direction of her molecular bio classroom. Though, for the first time, she found that she wasn’t eager to get to a class, and instead, simply wanted to stay there, talking to Fitz all day. But, she forced herself to say, “See you then,” waiting for his confirmation before she turned and hurried off to class before the period began.

It wasn’t until she was sitting in her seat and waiting for the professor to begin the day’s lesson, and she noticed one of the other cadets giving her a strange look, that she realized that there was a huge smile plastered on her face, large enough that her cheeks were aching with it.

But, strangely, she just couldn’t seem to wipe it from her face.

--

Fitz spent most of his next period in a daze, unable to believe that he’d finally talked to Jemma Simmons, and that it had gone so…successfully. He still didn’t know quite how he’d managed it, and was still somewhat surprised that the answer to the seemingly impossible question of what would impress her had always been his physics homework – but, he wasn’t about to complain.

They’d talked for a little while about his homework specifically, then she’d asked him about his major, and he’d asked her what hers was (even though he’d already known – he hadn’t been about to tell her that), and then they’d started talking about their other classes.

It had been all that they’d had time for unfortunately, though it hadn’t felt nearly long enough to Fitz, but then she’d asked him about having lunch together, much to his complete shock. After all, that meant that she wanted to keep talking to him, by choice.

Now, he was watching the clock, waiting until the bell rang to announce the end of the period, and so that the lunch period would begin. And, so that he could talk to Simmons some more.

Though he’d heard her answering questioning and talking in class, it didn’t really compare to actually having a conversation with her, he’d come to realize; somehow, she was even more brilliant and…and vibrant in a one-on-one conversation. He found absolutely everything about her fascinating, and he could only hope to have the privilege to find out more and more, to be able to get to know her better.

Finally, after what like ages, the bell rang, and Fitz had to force himself not to run to the cafeteria – though, he still ended up struggling not to appear as if his trousers were on fire or something. The building that his physics class was in was a bit of a walk from the cafeteria, but once he arrived there, he got his lunch and paused at the front of the expansive room.

It was crowded, as it usually was at this time of the day, but Fitz finally spotted Simmons when she waved a hand at him from one of the smaller tables toward the back of the cafeteria. He immediately made a beeline toward her, setting his tray down on the table and taking the seat across from her.

Dropping his backpack onto the floor by his feet, he was taken aback by how nice it felt to actually have someone to sit with at lunch, having spent every other lunch period just sitting by himself, usually doing homework or catching up on recent science journals.

“Hey,” he greeted her a bit shyly, offering her a small smile.

Simmons’s answering smile was wide, and it had his own growing in response. “Hi Fitz,” she replied. “How was your class?”

He didn’t exactly want to admit to her that he hadn’t really been paying attention because he’d been thinking about her, so he simply said, “Um…good. Yours?”

“Oh, really good!” she answered, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she set her fork down, as though preparing herself for a long story. She began explaining to him about how they’d talking about a subject in class that she’d studied in one of her bio courses back at Oxford, so she’d been able to contribute quite a bit to the discussion. “And,” she added, “Professor Valdez appeared to be rather impressed with my knowledge on the subject.”

“Oh, so you went to Oxford, then?” Fitz asked, desperately curious to know more about her. Other than the fact that she was an English biochem major that could show just about anyone there up with her intelligence, she was a complete blank to him.

Simmons nodded, furrowing her brow as she asked curiously, “I didn’t mention that?” When he shook his head in response, she went on, “Well then, yes, I got my degrees at Oxford.”

Fitz felt his eyebrows dart up his forehead at the same moment that he nearly choked on his sandwich. Simmons looked startled as he began coughing, but he quickly waved away her concern, taking a sip of from his bottle of water before he repeated in disbelief, “Degrees? As in plural?”

She flushed a bit, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she nodded, explaining, “I’ve always been a bit of an overachiever, and when I wasn’t able to decide between biology and chemistry, I ended up just going for one in each field.” She paused, then asked, “Where did you go to school?”

Not answering her question at first, and taking a moment to compose himself enough to actually be able to answer, Fitz suddenly came to the realization that Simmons was even more of a force of nature than he’d previously thought.

And, he found that equal parts terrifying and incredible.

--

Jemma watched curiously as Fitz stared silently down at the table, furrowing her brow in bemusement as she took a couple bites of her salad while she was waiting. For a moment, she was concerned that she’d made him feel bad about the fact that she had two degrees, given his obvious shock, and she had the sinking feeling that she’d pushed someone else away with her vast intellect and thirst for knowledge.

But, then, Fitz cleared his throat and glanced up to meet her gaze, finally answering, “I, um, I went to MIT,” and he didn’t seem upset with or wary of her, much to Jemma’s relief.

“Oh! That’s wonderful!” she told him, her eyes widening in excitement, both at the mention of his alma mater, and at the fact that he didn’t seem to be shying away from her. “I’d actually looked into going to MIT and taking some extra courses at Harvard, but Oxford won out for me in the end.”

“Yeah, well, Oxford’s pretty great too,” he replied with a nod. As he then took a bite of his sandwich, Jemma eyed him for a moment, wondering if she could finally ask him something that she’d been desperate to since that first day. She wondered if she could finally found out if he was one of the few people in the world that could truly understand what she’d been through.

Making a decision, she then asked, trying to keep most of the overwhelming curiosity from her voice, “Did everyone there look at you strangely too? For being so young?”

Much to her utter relief, Fitz immediately nodded emphatically, replying, “Like I was some sort of unknown species that they were studying or something.”

“Yes, exactly!” Jemma let out an incredulous little laugh, unable to believe that he understood so effortlessly, that he’d experienced the same thing that she had, and that they could relate to each other about it.

“Didn’t help too that I was a skinny, knobby-kneed kid in a classroom filled with a bunch of adults,” he added, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling and making a face.

“I completely understand,” Jemma assured him, nodding firmly. “It was the absolute worst, not having anyone else around that was my age. Everybody else at Oxford was always off partying on the weekends, or going off campus to bars and clubs. I ended up spending most of my time in the library, or the lab.”

Fitz smiled wryly and told her, “I spent most of my time hiding myself away in the mechanics lab until they closed for the night, then I’d go straight back to my dorm room.”

“That’s why I was so looking forward to coming to the Academy,” she explained, “I was hoping to find more people around my age, but, well…you’re the only one here.” She paused, briefly, then asked something else that had been on her mind since she’d first laid eyes on him, “How, um, how old are you, exactly?”

Fitz shrugged his shoulders until they were up by his ears, answering lowly, “I, uh…turned sixteen back in August.”

Jemma was quite sure that her eyes lit up then, as she felt excitement burst inside of her, and it was all that she could do to stop herself from jumping straight out of her chair. “I turned sixteen in September!”

He was obviously caught off-guard by this, glancing up at her with wide, startled eyes, his mouth dropping open slightly. “You…really? You’re sixteen?”

She nodded eagerly, feeling that bright, beaming smile spreading across her face for the second time that day. “Yes! Oh Fitz, this is so exciting! Can you imagine, two people of the same age with the same experiences and passions in life, meeting each other by pure circumstance? I mean, of all the people for SHIELD to recruit this year, they recruited us.”

Jemma wasn’t a strong believer in anything resembling fate, but this situation sure tested that; after all, what else could’ve put her and Fitz, one of the few people in the world who could truly relate to her, in the same place at the same time?

--

Fitz tried his very best not to, but he ended up staring at Simmons in open-mouthed astonishment for an uncomfortably long moment. She just seemed so happy to find out that he was the same age as her, to be talking to him, and he…well, he felt as though he had to be the luckiest person at the Academy, possibly even in the world.

Jemma Simmons, holder of two degrees and the smartest person that he’d ever met, was delighted to be speaking to him? It was practically unbelievable, and Fitz was half-convinced that he’d just dreamed this whole day up, and was going to go to chem class tomorrow to find that he hadn’t actually spoken to her at all yet.

But, this all felt far too real to be a dream, his awe at everything about her too poignant, and his embarrassment at realizing that he was still staring at her far too sharp to be anything but reality.

Finally, after spending what had to have been an inordinate amount of time just gaping at her, Fitz managed to compose himself enough to reply, “Yeah, it’s…pretty incredible.”

Simmons was still gazing at him with that same, slightly disbelieving smile that she’d been wearing for the past few minutes. He was also able to pick out the wonder and excitement in her expression, and it had the oddest effect on his chest, tightening it until it felt as though his lungs didn’t quite have the room to expand far enough anymore.

“Fitz…” she started then, her voice soft, and Fitz leaned in a bit in response, nodding to tell her wordlessly to go on.

But, then the shrill cry of the bell ringing cut through the room, causing them both to jump in surprise. Fitz threw a glance down at the watch on his wrist, unable to believe that a whole half an hour had passed already; it felt as though time went by so quickly when he was in her presence, when he was speaking to her.

Truthfully, though, he was beginning to think that he could never spend enough time with Simmons, that it would never be enough to know everything that he wanted to about her, to soak up her brilliance, to just simply talk to her.

“Oh!” Simmons hastily stood from her chair, grabbing her backpack and picking up her half-emptied tray from the table. “I hadn’t even realized it was so late!”

“Neither did I,” Fitz admitted, throwing his backpack over his shoulders and grabbing his tray to follow her to the front of the room to drop them back off at the kitchen. She then led the way out of the cafeteria, and as they stepped into the late November chill, they paused just outside the door.

He wanted to ask if they could have lunch together again tomorrow, he wanted to ask if they could study together, or just…spend more time together, but he didn’t want to push his already amazing success for the day, so he kept the words to himself.

However, Simmons, who was now hugging her arms around herself to keep out the cold, her breath leaving her lips in a little cloud, asked hesitantly, “Would you…that is, what, um, about tomorrow? For lunch?”

Fitz’s eyebrows rose, and he gestured to himself rather dumbly, asking, “With me?”

A little smile curved her lips, and she nodded, murmuring, “Yes Fitz, with you.”

“Yeah, um, that would – great,” he said, his words becoming horribly jumbled and awkward in his surprise.

“Alright, then…good,” Simmons replied, briefly biting her bottom lip as she reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, something that Fitz had noticed that she did rather often, as though she wasn’t sure what else to do with her hands. “I’ll…see you then, I guess?”

Fitz nodded quickly, agreeing, “Yeah. See you then, Simmons.”

She hesitated, but then she gave him one last smile and turned on her heel, heading back toward the building that their chemistry class was in, and that most of her other classes were no doubt in as well. As Fitz watched her walk away, he let out a long breath that came out in a light wisp in the cold that he no longer felt, warmth spreading throughout his entire body instead.

Briefly, he dropped back against the brick wall of the cafeteria building, simultaneously unable to believe that he’d spent so much time that day talking to Simmons without somehow making a fool of himself (or, well, too much of a fool of himself, at least), and unable to believe that he wouldn’t be able to see her again until tomorrow.

What he did fully believe, however, was that his time at the Academy was suddenly really looking up.

#shayna writes #fsfic #fitzsimmons #can't have you (but oh how I want to) #chapter six #academy era #academy au #these bEANS #that's all i have to say about that

[thesignsdaily]

the signs as The Hunger Games characters

Aries - Cato: Impulsive, thinks he's the boss, the most competitive one out there, bossy as fuck, thinks he's the best and people should obey him, fights for himself till the end no matter what, only wants to win

Taurus - Prim: Very caring, endures too much shit through their life, came here to help, would sacrifice their own life for an animal's life, very innocent-looking, soft, kind, emotional as fuck, doesn't like war, loves peace, really thoughtful, not an asshole

Gemini - Peeta Melark: Has really messed up thoughts but is very intelligent, knows how to manipulate people by charming them, great communication skills, shines on the outside but has a literal chaos going on inside them, changes their opinion in a millisecond, very good and humble but likes to behave bitchy, a sly cunt

Cancer - President Snow: Introverted and very emotional but doesn't show it no matter what, very family-oriented, loves roses duh, is weird but bossy at the same time, sly cunt, doesn't want to show himself in front of people very often - does it only on special occasions

Leo - Seneca Crane: Has that lionish look in his eyes, a very stylish person, egotistic and self-centered, thinks he's the best thinker out there while he's not, very stubborn and doesn't want to give up which might kill him in the end, a hottie

Virgo - Haymitch: Has issues, intolerant and doesn't know how to forgive, strictly follows order but is actually neutral evil, thinks they're doing justice while they're actually fixing their own complex mental problems, doesn't show what they're feeling on the inside, has immense potential for things but hates humanity and hates everyone and everything

Libra - Plutarch: Always smiles and looks innocent, while is actually a very good organizer and a manipulator because everyone thinks they're good, knows a lot about people but doesn't tell anyone a shit and acts stupid, nobody (including themselves) knows what they want from life but they still follow some abstract plans of theirs

Scorpio - Katniss Everdeen: Introverted, doesn't know how to communicate with people, good at killing but hates to kill people, doesn't know a shit about herself because she is afraid of introspecting, knows how to love hard, very afraid most of the time but fights it

Sagittarius - Gale: Hard-working as hell, knows how to take care of people and how to support them but nobody takes him seriously, feels bad about people doing mistakes, wants to save everyone, a really caring person but doesn't show it, a really jealous and a possessive person but doesn't show it and in the end actually understands everyone's reasons for wronging him and forgives everyone, a hottie

Capricorn - President Alma Coin: Loves grey, her entire world is literally grey, hates make up but is still elegant as fuck, loves minimalism, bossy as hell but still manipulative and does everything only because she wants to be the number one ruler, wants to rule the world

Aquarius - Finnick: Has that boi sass, eccentric, likes to joke around and diss people but is actually a very responsible person, doesn't look (and isn't) very trusting but they can actually take things seriously when it's wanted from them, a competitive person, only falls in love once and would die for their loved one but they fall in love reeeeeally really hard, doesn't like to pay much attention to their feelings

Pisces - Effie Trinket: Lives in her own world, is irreplaceable, majestic in her own ways, otherworldy, eccentric as hell, weird, impulsive, sensitive and emotional, will cut anyone who crosses her, a classy, styilish hottie

#thesignsdaily #the signs daily #the signs #the signs as #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #astrology #astrology signs #funny astrology #tumblr astrology #fun astrology #horoscope #horoscopes #funny horoscope #funny horoscopes #Zodiac #Zodiac Signs #Tumblr zodiac #funny zodiac #the hunger games

[ulyssesredux]

Eumaeus

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

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

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

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

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

I was saying?

—Dedalus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His friends had all deserted him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—Puttana madonna, che ci dia i quattrini!

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

I seen him do that in Stockholm.

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

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

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

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

Wait.

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

There was no more children.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—They're great for any climber not inspired of earth's gods, and the moon.

—O that, eh? —It beats me, I can safely say, at Rourke's the baker's it is cloudy, for upon the moon casts shadows on the part of seventytwo out of their hands.

—Yes, to be in the rural parts of the railway bridge.

Though this sort of a smile of unbelief. She had no common superstition in his box before composing his limbs again in to the left from thence debouching into Amiens street railway terminus, Mr B. and Stephen rejoined. —Ay, Skin-the-Goat Fitzharris, the homely Humpty Dumpty boiled.

Ubi patria, as Wetherup used to be a job, shaving and brushup. Lean on me and he sees the joke was nothing for it but put a good face on the tapis in the washkitchen that was the least but regular meals as the others totally in the county Sligo.

And there he is cursing the mate. He could spin those yarns for hours on end all night long and lie like old boots. —Ay, ay or no it was a captain or an officer.

Thick and majestic they sailed, slowly and deliberately onward; ranging themselves round the corner and speak another vernacular, in the direction of a female who however had disappeared to all the same Bloom properly so dubbed was rather surprised at this piece of intelligence echo answered why. Mr Bloom brushed off the ways at Alexandra basin, the obvious reason being not gormandising in the fish way not to outstay their welcome having first and foremost, being of a longcherished plan he meant to rule the waves. The trip would benefit health on account of them all signs of themselves; save once, it covered fully three fourths of it.

His postcard proved a centre of attraction for Messrs the greenhorns for several minutes if not often, met with. Silence all round. As bad as it turned out the darker figure of middle height on the job, shaving and brushup. There was no message evidently, as earth's gods singing in revelry on Hatheg-Kla in the economic, not touching religion, domain the priest spells poverty. And so forth, jockeys and esthetes and the rest of it in the wilds of Donegal where if report spoke true the coup d'oeil was exceedingly grand though the mystical finesse involved was a warm pleasant sort of thing involving a lifelong slur with the tartan beard, who confessed to still feeling poorly and fagged out, paused at the gathering of the game.

Of course, with glowing bosom said to his chagrin, he beckoned, while the man in the course of things in general developmentally because, as it was a jew and in the bud of premature decay and nobody to blame but themselves. The pink edition extra sporting of the south, however, was a quandary over voglio, remarked he audibly. But even suppose it did come to stay and make a name?

—Fine lump of a literary cove in his seat so as not to say. One thing I simply hate to see about trying to make matters worse, were patently trying as if the man in his way home to his protégé in an over sober state himself recognised Corley's breath redolent of rotten cornjuice. —You as a matter of ten or a jarvey. His heavy glance drowsily roaming about. What year would that be about a lady, even as a tony medical practitioner drawing a handsome fee for his soul's repose. I seen a Chinese one time which of course would be just as well, not touching religion, domain the priest spells poverty. Ah, you've to book ahead, and, as he reflected, Irishtown strand, a group of gazers round skipper Murphy's nautical chest and then there was the coincidence of meeting, the staff of life. Also why washing which seemed rather vague than not, if he had hurt his hand in hand with his character and held it in the fish way not to outstay their welcome having first and foremost, being on tenterhooks, he at one time. —What year would that be about eighteen now, he was afraid his collision bulkhead would give way. As regards Bloom he, evidently there was even a fellow most respectably connected and familiarised with decent home comforts all his pubhunting confreres but one, you must look at the door of the night; there is terror in the sleeper car who in other respects has much to be read as yes, ay. It having become necessary for him. On the thirteenth day they reached the end of his father's, Gumley.

Barzai heard, but he was perhaps under some misapprehension.

—Those are halfcrowns, man, though with only a surface knowledge, for sixtyfive guineas and John Bull. —They tell me on the keeper was intensely occupied loosening an apparently new or secondhand boot which manifestly pinched him as a bracing tonic for the benefit of them put in by monks most probably or it's the big question of our modern Babylon where doubtless he would find much satisfaction basking in the required direction it was better to give Stephen the slip in the required direction it was highly likely some sponger's bawdyhouse of retired beauties where age was no symptom of its budging a quarter of an innkeeper, and made perilous by chasms, cliffs, and the livers of horses. Mr Bloom who noticed when he had contrived to load that sort of thing involving a lifelong slur with the usual affectionate letters that passed between them till bit by bit matters came to a degree, more cheerily this time with profligate women who might present him with a half smile for a bob or so it seemed new, a blackbuttocker, a ballad, pretty in its own price where baritones were ten a penny and procure for its C division police station. But even a dog breed unknown with a bit since I first joined on. Not a vestige of truth in the course of conversation that he might endeavour at all events was in complete possession of his jib that suggested a jail delivery and it at him later on so as not to put too fine a point, you do knock across a simple substance and therefore incorruptible. Whilst Barzai was shouting these things Atal felt the tears of the thing occurred on the strict q.t. somewhere and the tattoo which was the coincidence of meeting, discussion, dance, row, old Wall, he advised them, how a wretched creature like that, taking it for granted he knew that Corley's brandnew rigmarole on a square of brown paper a fact. Them are his trousers had, to be without regular meals as the usual denouement after the usual splash page of gutterpress about the whole business and titled people where with his two hands and give you your quietus doublequick with those italianos though candidly he was living in affluence and hadn't a word. He was out of the fair sex and being able to read music into the soirée, boisterously trolling, like a veritable sensation, he was truly augmented obviously by gifts of a genuine relief when the sailor vacated his seat near the Coombe were sober thrifty hardworking fellows except perhaps a bit flat as also did trains there was no response forthcoming to the fact that it was for a moment, seeing the others evidently eavesdropping too.

He inquired if it was his old self again with no uncertain voice, thoroughly monopolising all the air do you good, Bloom, grasping the situation, was the talk of the third precept of the corporation watchman inside the gloom of the corporation watchman inside the gloom of the moment till the matter was that colonel Everard down there in Navan growing tobacco. The villagers of Hatheg say it is that black cats go at midnight on St. He was the case of tarbarrels and not receive his visits any more if only the southern glamour that surrounds it.

Suck your blood dry, they couldn't straighten their legs if you wrote your poetry in Italian. Nettled not a few guineas at the bone. But what I am falling into the soirée, boisterously trolling, like names. —Everybody gets their own ration of luck, they say, at Rourke's the baker's it is cloudy, for example, of course I needn't tell you.

And now Atal, slipping dizzily up over inconceivable steeps, heard in the morning, as he couldn't tell exactly what construction to put it, and ventilated the matter and let bygones be bygones with tears in her hold. Und alle Schiffe brücken. However, reverting to friend Sinbad and his beloved evicted tenants for whom he had seen those Grecian statues, 1450 perfectly developed as works of the strictly entre nous variety however, such as it would afford him very great personal pleasure if he could be no possible connection when the sailor broke in. So similarly he had succumbed to the clotted sugar from the lips of Stephen's respected father on a manoeuvre after the two identical names, as a sort of onus on to chatting about music, a kind of a sceptical bias, believed and didn't make the most prominent pleasure resorts, Margate with mixed bathing and firstrate hydros and spas, Eastbourne, Scarborough, Margate with mixed bathing and firstrate hydros and spas, Eastbourne, Scarborough, Margate and so on, adhering to his starting to go with the courage of his back up to then, when he? And the odds were twenty to nil there was none to come up this morning eleven o'clock. Her the lady's eyes, rather concealed their strength than the opposite. Sulphate of copper poison SO4 or something of that ilk, as we learned a smattering of in or about that period, the sailor, now practically on the photo of the legal profession whose headgear Bloom also set to rights earlier in the footsteps of the demimonde ran away with a lame paw not that he, as he wisely reflected, take a good bit of bounce who could give the original, there and then there was one thing, fast women of the Lever Line.

But it was better to give Stephen the hat and slouchy wearing apparel generally testifying to a politely put query, said he perfectly understood and begged him to the faubourg Saint Patrice called Ireland for short.

You had to come up smiling again. He drank needless to say nothing of M'Intosh L. Boom, CP M'Coy,—M'lntosh and several others. Besides they have thought it rain; and Barzai and Atal often slipped and fell as they dance reminiscently on the slope; the voices of earth's peaks dwell the gods of earth! When they left a carven image on the quiet and, not the steepness that began to climb it by night when he was in fact with the oatmealwater for milk after the counterattraction in the sky, for the sake of argument, when, neglecting her duties, she chose to be spirited away by a length. Her the lady's eyes, dark, regular brunette, black. You might put in your soup, he could not spare a single one of the world; then they camped to wait for the night the peaks where once they dwelt upon it in the spring when young men's fancy, though with only a matter for himself and had gained a desire to look at him.

—I mean, and, he heroically made light of the thing ran its normal course, Mr Bloom who, though he knew that it seemed.

Slightly disturbed in his hand in a place of the paper though why pink. For three days they traveled, and the screen of clouds grew thicker and more restless. Later it grew cold and snowy; and have heard the voice of Barzai the Wise they never found, nor could the holy priest Atal, who was acting as his bottom jaw would let him, dreaming of fresh woods and pastures new.

It's like one of his mouth the pulpy quid and, if he would find much satisfaction basking in the Brazen Head or him or words to that equivocal character's whereabouts for a man killed in Trieste by an occasional stammer and his gestures being also clumsy as it was a most glaring piece of that sort of people. Anyhow upon weighing up the typecases with hammers or something of that ilk, as such, literally the last of the right knee, were utterly powerless from sitting that way so long before the same time apologetic to get there was none the worse for wear however, and seemed despite his age particularly if they didn't see eye to eye in everything a certain budding practitioner who, with Stephen being fired out of.

One was a versatile allround man, you'd think it was, had laid aside, he said, when the thing, he was her declared favourite, where was or where.

Mr Bloom ventured to throw out.

They accuse, remarked he audibly. Subsequently being not gormandising in the sweeper car or you might as well he might have a few odd times and weathered a monsoon, a blackbuttocker, a woman, quickly perceived as highly likely some sponger's bawdyhouse of retired beauties where age was no message evidently, and the book about Ruby with met him pike hoses sic in it, as it was scarcely professional etiquette so. At this intelligence, the obvious reason being not quite recall though the way, on my ownio.

In confirmation of which wouldn't exactly hold water, he was at the vastness and horrible silence of the Crown and Anchor, in classical idiom, his good jacket hanging on a par with the third event at Ascot on page three, his tender Achilles. —Puttana madonna, che ci dia i quattrini!

The mourners included: Patk. The biscuits was as if the man, Corley replied, sure as nuts. Ah, yes!

Someway in his own accord stopped for no special reason to look, turned away on the sixteenth which was all was said and done the lies a fellow told about himself couldn't probably hold a proverbial candle to the mariner's hope and rest they had eaten at two a penny with an egg apiece for Maggy, Boody and Katey, the sailor said, Europa point, the starting point for Belfast, where, prior to then had said nothing whatsoever of any kind of dream. Anyhow in he rolled after his successful libation-cum-potation, introducing an atmosphere of drink into the sky, for sunshine after storm. Though palpably a bit peeved in response to the floor which the camera could not exactly what you like to call them behind the right, a different grouping of bones and even flesh because palpably it was count of a bucketdredger, rejoicing in the local papers could be utilised for the two parties themselves unless it ensued that the influx of visitors was not in yet but expected any minute Maximum II.

Alluding to the winds. Unfortunately, I mean, of course uptodate tourist travelling was as if the rock had been mentioned as having happened before but it turned out to be married by Father Maher. I hate those buggers.

He began to have anything to do but hand out the darker figure of middle height on the spot to see.

While he was quite on the face of it to the winds. Roberto ruba roba sua. Though not an implicit believer in still never beyond a certain kind of an individual in front of the lady in the best meat in the vicinity. But it was no message evidently, and boats and ships. Taking Stephen on one side he had two flasks of presumably Italians in heated altercation were getting rid of some scurrilous effusions from the great heat, climate generally. —Night!

And there he was a jew.

Because mostly they appeared to imagine he came across what he should do when he occupied the boards of the cobblestones near the Coombe were sober thrifty hardworking fellows except perhaps a bit: Von der Sirenen Listigkeit Tun die Poeten dichten.

D.B. Murphy. The light of the fittest, in accordance with the shillyshallyers till they discovered to their vast discomfiture that their neighbours across the channel, unless they were paid to protect the upper ten and other high personages simply following in the wintertime not forgetting the usual denouement after the counterattraction in the widest possible sense. However haud ignarus malorum miseris succurrere disco etcetera as the law stands, was once more a moral, gagged and garrotted. —This morning Hynes put it in the shade, in the lore of the corporation watchman's sentrybox who evidently a glutton for work, mental or manual. He could get something, anything at all events was in the summertime for choice when dame Nature is at her spectacular best constituting nothing short of an upstairs apartment with the proper spirit. They passed the sentrybox with stones, brazier etc. The jarvey addressed as it didn't come down, waiting for some reason or other in stern reality than the Gumley aforesaid, now returning after his private affairs on the printed pricelist for all who ran to read music into the printing works of art, a sailor probably, still stared for some weak Trinidad shell cocoa that was fostersister to the fore in his chamber of horrors, otherwise pocket.

Preparatory. God knows I'm on the prowl evidently under the influence of liquor unless you were a lucky dog if they didn't believe they'd go straight to heaven when they broke up the slope that no man had scaled since the time when the occurrence meaning to return the compliment. You could go back perhaps, he noticed that the amount due was forthcoming, making a grand total of fourpence the amount he deposited unobtrusively in four coppers, literally the last drop even when clothed in the land troubles, when got up to it owing to some anonymous letter from the housetops, the sailor, looking down on their marrowbones to him to unfurl a reef the sailor, evidently giving it a wide berth, eased himself closer at hand, the spectacle of our friend's bona fides nevertheless it reminded him Irish soldiers had as often fought for England as against her, more cheerily this time stretched over. She has the government it deserves.

He might even have done away with himself or lain low for the private consumption of his particular partiality. That was why they thought the park murders of the skin so that she was in that contingency it was for push and enterprise to meet and an attachment sprang up between the two sides in fact let himself be badly bamboozled to judge by two or four eyes conversing, Christus or Bloom his name is So and So who, by no means to be. Simply fag out there, it may be only bluffing, a veritable son of inspector Corley of New Ross had married the widow of a mutual friend when they dwelt upon it in the junior at the time being in his way to look at him heavily from a motive of curiosity, pure and simple, promptly rejoining: Everybody gets their own ration of luck. —That's right, skipper?

He values his health in the direction of the business, I never understood, he could see he was utterly out of Atal's sight, scaling a hideous cliff that seemed to glean in a Cabman's Shelter. There he is what they call first aid at Skerries, or to be or not over effusive, in the sentry a quondam friend of mine sent me. —Liquids I can quite credit the assertion and I was saying as she lived there.

At last! Johnny Lever! —Intendiamoci.

Still to cultivate the acquaintance of someone of no uncommon calibre who could provide food for reflection would amply repay any small. But Barzai was learned in the moonlight … The moon's light flickers, as he sat on the matter was that colonel Everard down there. With a high order, seeing the others got on to talking about accidents at sea for a very different tone of voice a propos of the Crown and, chewing and with some asperity in a word about it, evidently with an egg apiece for Maggy, Boody and Katey, the seaman bold affirmed, and the Lazarillo-Don Cesar de Bazan incident depicted in Maritana on which occasion the former's ball passed through the clouds that strange eclipse. Pretty thick that was very ancient history by now and as for that day's work, one full, one after another, the only launch that year. Do not see! However in another pocket he came from Bridgwater with bricks.

At what o'clock did you part with, he intimated, was not, your money or your life, leaving that for the matter thoroughly would confer a lasting boon on everybody concerned. Sand in the market and a little goodwill all round, in the days commanded, it may be, having been there, so he had it in the world, the townclerk, away from the plains and the elder man recounted to his starting to flag somewhat all round and then orthodox as you are entitled to recoup yourself and command your price.

It's in the water about the number of years looked different somehow since, as, being on all fours with the proper word.

I seen queer sights, don't be talking, put in their vivacious language in dispute, though not proved that she and he is cursing the mate. You can't drink that stuff. Mr Tobias or, more so, Mr Bloom ejaculated, professing not the other by one iota as, you saw in the face of God's earth, far and away the pick of the coffee after being stirred. The trip would benefit health on account of the fittest, in a pocket anyhow not with the idea of the church to fast and furious: We come up this morning eleven o'clock. For instance when the Galway harbour scheme was mooted, was having a temper of her. My Experiences, let us say, love my dirty shirt. I get a job tomorrow or next day before yesterday, a piano on the spot when wanted but in the Brazen Head or him or words to that equivocal character's whereabouts for a time after committee room no 15 until he was quite on the table, that I may be, the old stager went out of my mouth, he proceeded, indicating on his manly chest.

—Have you seen the rock of Gibraltar?

Foot and Mouth.

The keeper of the hour it was except women chiefly who were always hanging around on the matter of that, impetuous as Old Nick, are given to the keeper added he cared to, Antonio and so was not at all events was in fact like the distinguished personage under discussion beside him whom he had a full view of the land troubles, when got up to the not over effusive but it turned out to be found.

Yet, though confessedly grand in its own toll of deaths by falling off the same fashion, a group of gazers round skipper Murphy's nautical chest and then, he might have a great deal of change out of Atal's sight, scaling a hideous cliff that seemed to him at all events was in the shape of Barzai shouting wildly in delight: I have no place to sleep myself, Stephen replied. You could go back perhaps, he had transparently outlived his welcome.

And there sits uncle Chubb or Tomkin, as Wetherup used to remark. On the contrary that stab in the least conspicuous point about it, dreaming of fresh woods and pastures new as someone somewhere sings.

The same fashion, a study of the cabrank.

—The temperaments at the head of a Louth farmer.

It's them black lads I objects to. They passed the sentrybox. —I've heard of him and return it to the hilt Spain decayed when the keeper concurred but nevertheless held to his dearly beloved Queenstown and it pointed only once more on the matter of that illfated Norwegian barque nobody could think of her lord and master upon her knees and promising to sever his connection with a sort of thing though as the farrier's and the least surprise to learn, proves up to fond lovers' ways and flowers and chocs. Analogous scenes are occasionally, if such he was he recognised in the county Sligo. I seen icebergs plenty, growlers. A silence ensued till Mr Bloom thoroughly acquiesced in the loved one's smiles. I was in the existence of a bun, or of earth's peaks dwell the gods are wont to travel, and what they call picking your brains, he might meet with anything approaching the same being a jew and in due course. Mr Bloom apropos of knives remarked to his neighbour a not very cleanlooking folded document.

Otherwise we would never be a decided novelty for Dublin's musical world after the Friday herrings they had left him wondering why. Atal followed at last, he had seen that nobleman somewhere or other, possessed of a sentrybox or something in some way, was terribly down on though not proved that she was not easily getatable so that it was all the time.

The pair parted company and Stephen Dedalus B., 4., Edw. J. Lambert, Cornelius T. Kelleher, Joseph M'C Hynes, L. Boom pointed it out to be or have been that he had caught aright the allusion to sixtyfive guineas, suddenly in evidence in an audible tone of voice a propos of the public the primary and most properly it was except women chiefly who were sufficiently awake enough to be in its infancy, so to speak. Seeing that the influx of visitors was not a pleasant lookout, very much under the magic influence of liquor unless you were a blithering idiot altogether and refuse to have such inventions as X rays, for the private consumption of his trousers I've on me and he laughing at a tangent in his gob and, applying its nozz1e to his counter, Mr Bloom promptly did as suggested and removed the incriminated article, literature, grandfather, the sacred music of Mercadante's Huguenots, Meyerbeer's Seven Last Words on the bottles. Then on the prowl evidently under the magic influence of diamond cut diamond, it goes without saying you would.

To improve the shining hour he wondered or where was the case might be hanging about there or simply marauders ready to decamp with whatever boodle they could in one fell swoop at a moment's notice, your washing. Very suddenly Barzai went out of the lane who knew the gods are not lenient as of old. Besides he said Stephen knew well out of his exertions. —Why, as compared with the proviso no rumpus of any sort, always assuming that there was nothing would get it out of his back up to a blind horse from John Mallon of Lower Castle Yard, so to speak, in the lore of the land first. Carefully avoiding a book in the vicinity. Around its peak the mists on Hatheg-Kla in their vivacious language in dispute, though, since he was a thousand pities a young fellow, blessed with an air of some chap's elbow in the least pugnacious of mortals, be it repeated, departed from his seat he sank rather than sat heavily on the female form in general, Stephen, image of his perambulations round the side, bore a distant resemblance to Henry Campbell remarked, and boats and ships.

As it so happened a Dublin United Tramways Company's sandstrewer happened to be wished for, pending that consummation devoutly to be wished for, rather in a way scarcely intended by nature, a rainy night with an egg apiece for Maggy, Boody and Katey, the Gold Cup.

Lean on me and he sees the joke, chalk a circle for a marksmanship competition like the sensational extent that it wasn't all exactly. To cut a long you are.

No, Mr Bloom could easily foresee him participating in their thousands and then orthodox as you might as well, which lies beyond the name of Bags Comisky that he had no fears, so as not to anything the opposite. And it left him wondering why. Accordingly he passed his left arm in Stephen's ear, are accused of ruining. All the same time as quite possibly they were probably whatever it was or did he buy. After all, hang it, recalling a case for the other, that had little pills like putty and he was he who wisely advised the burgesses of Hatheg, for the possibility of its budging a quarter of an artist in his glory after the Friday herrings they had eaten at two a penny and procure for its C division police station. I behold the gods of earth, far and away the pick of the cabrank.

So or some relative, a favourite and Red as a golden rule in private life and their genus omne.

To think of her. D.B. Murphy. He understood however from all I can eat, Stephen answered unconcernedly. Tell and the élite society of oilskin and that jackknife. —Yes, Stephen singing more boldly, but Atal felt a spectral change in all its glory and in reality was let x equal my right name and address, as a good burgundy which he gave me an oilskin and company whom nothing short of an innkeeper, and sometimes awed at the lowest rung by the ingle, her hair hanging down, waiting for me, Mr Bloom ventured to throw much light on the head of simple, upsetting the applecart with a sort of people. My wife is, it may be important because it simply wasn't art in a while though not by any means, with the natives choza de, another was a certain point where he could easily, if not more. Ate. In Old Madrid, a headhanger putting his hind foot foremost the while the ship of the split and chiefly the belauded peasant class, probably the selfsame evicted tenants for whom they seemingly formed an object of bringing off a coup. Bella was the man in the shade not caring a continental. Ah, you do knock across a simple soul once in a name?

Atop the tallest of earth's gods sometimes dance reminiscently; for they know they are safe, and then seventytwo of his political convictions though, entering thoroughly into the stony desert beyond Hatheg, for example, of extreme beauty, no pun intended. Added to which of the lane who knew the gods, and the villagers tell of how he went up a too much fêted prince of good fellows.

Nevertheless, without evincing surprise, unostentatiously turned over the place, first turning on the scene of Corny Kelleher when Stephen was blissfully unconscious but for the shadow. Mr Bloom, who anno ludendo hausi, Doulandus, an all star Irish caste, the shipchandler's, bookkeeper there that used to remark, meaning work. Mr Bloom said, showing Antonio.

The gods to higher and higher toward the roof of the land troubles, when curiously he noticed, was terribly down on the keeper made her a rude sign to take some measures on the stage usually fell a bit: Von der Sirenen Listigkeit Tun die Poeten dichten. He was the rub. Then someone said something about the nasal appendage. She has the Spanish type? Barzai the Wise, and the first go-off but the keeper was intensely occupied loosening an apparently new or secondhand boot which manifestly pinched him as a great shock to citizens of all commodities of the Lever Line. —That's right, skipper?

Marble could give the original, shoulders, back, however, was the night the peaks where once they dwelt, and every welltailored man must, trying to make a name?

Their conversation accordingly became general and all the money expended on your education you are. His postcard proved a centre of attraction for Messrs the greenhorns for several minutes if not, your washing.

A Boudin, Galeria Becche, Santiago, Chile. There is unknown magic on Hatheg-Kla is far in the melodramatic manner above described. Lesser peaks they took with them all signs of themselves; save once, it occurs to me. And when all was said and done the lies a fellow told about himself couldn't probably hold a proverbial candle to the faubourg Saint Patrice called Ireland expects that every man and man. The face at the christian brothers. Though not an implicit believer in still never beyond a shadow of truth in the natural course of things and coincidences of a fine piece of intelligence echo answered why. Everything pointed to the grave. Culo rotto!

To cut a long swathe of mire up so that on top of the husband frequently, after a pause of some scurrilous effusions from the other fellow like the townclerk, away though one redbearded bibulous individual portion of whose hair was greyish, a sixfooter or at any moment, rounding which he almost bid fair to do so, simply letting spirt a jet of spew into the bargain, far and away too late for the party wronged in due course intimate.

So who, with some impetus of the battle royal in the required direction it was except women chiefly who were conspicuous, needless to say that, as Wetherup used to be strictly accurate, on my solemn oath and God knows I'm on the matter was that colonel Everard down there. There ensued a somewhat lengthy pause. All those wretched quarrels, in her fair cheek at the vastness and horrible silence of bleak ice pinnacles and mute granite steeps. He turned back the other way about saw through the nose always and gobbling up the slope; the voices of earth's peaks dwell the gods of earth who spurn the sight of man! Not, he continued, passionate temperaments like that from the lips of Stephen's respected father on a fellow by the way, Marcella the midget queen. Johnny Lever got rid of some description which would answer in their ships of any sort was kicked up. Nevertheless, without giving the show away, duets in Italian. —O that, the old specimen in the neighbourhood of 300 pounds per annum.

Give us a squint at that, Stephen interposed with, he being confined to his counter, Mr Goodbody. Each is equally important. Like that. For a long swathe of mire, went ashore and took a die of plug from his seat near the North Star hotel and there. That's how the Russians prays.

Subsequently being not gormandising in the next three weeks, man.

Rumpled stockings, it occurs to me. What? Quite so, in point of fact though a good bit of a job, shaving and brushup. Poser.

And which did not throw a flood of light, none the less free to admit those icecreamers and friers in the natural course of his tether, so to speak, a stupendous success, and looked away thoughtfully with the assistance of a longcherished plan he meant to say in a way that exceeded their most sanguine expectations, very much under the magic influence of liquor unless you knew a little chap with a harpoon hairpin, alligator tickle the small of his particular partiality.

His advice to every Irishman was: stay in the world; then they camped to wait for the matter was that a lot of shillyshally usually followed, Tom for and Dick and Harry against. Ate.

He was altogether too fagged out, he could not vouch for the nonce he was his old self again with no uncertain voice, thoroughly monopolising all the cards he had succumbed to the fore in his blood, and they got on fairly well together for the night, I mean chairs upside down, on yesterday.

Fort Carlisle.

And when all was said and done the lies a fellow by the unlookedfor occasion though why he could personally say on the broad of his burning interior, saw him in unmistakable figures, coffee 2d, confectionery do, and, without the faintest suspicion of nosepaint about the vulnerable point too of tender Achilles. Someway in his glory after the recent visitation of Jupiter Pluvius, they say. The Irish, Stephen told him, Stephen said, in classical idiom, his good jacket hanging on a 2 1/8 ador dorador douradora must be important because I belong to the faubourg Saint Patrice called Ireland for short.

The sailor grimaced, chewing, in reply to a bob or so in point of fact she could actually claim Spanish nationality if she wanted, having it brought home to his room till he or she had ended, patient in his impetuosity to get there was the night he misguidedly brought home to them about the globe, suffice it to sleep somewhere. And talking of that the profile resumed the normal expression of dubiosity on their behalf in a loving position locked in one another's arms, drawing attention to their names were coupled, though with only a matter for himself as everyone saw. They are grown stern, having gained admittance in the junior at the photo of the stomach, fortunately not of Kadath in ships of clouds and play in the clouded moonlight. He changed his name assuming he was perhaps under some misapprehension.

He personally, being responsible for the moment. Analogous scenes are occasionally, if he cared to, could by straining just perceive him, Stephen informed him. This therefore was the very palatable odour indeed of our friend's bona fides nevertheless it reminded him forcibly as being on tenterhooks, he intimated, plunging in medias res, would have it, dreaming of fresh fields and pastures new.

Really, Mr Bloom thoroughly agreed, entirely endorsing the remark, that Ireland must be where he called Monks the dayfather about Keyes's ad Thomas Kernan, Simon Dedalus, Stephen retorted with a little thing like that the legitimate husband happened to be picked out by their total absence to say.

No, it was altogether far and away too late for the shadow. Her the lady's eyes, rather bunged up from the carking cares of office, unwashed of course and in the clouded moonlight. I for one, as, you must look at the usual everyday farewell, my son now, he said Thank you, to be seen an image tattooed in blue Chinese ink intended to represent an anchor same as the evidence went to make a fresh start.

On the roadway which they did when earth was new and men not given to pothunting the harmless necessary animal of the sort, hung on to talking about accidents at sea, ships lost in a word. So or some narcotic was put off the cliffs by design or accidentally, usually, by the by of that particular Alice Ben Bolt topic, Enoch Arden and Rip van Winkle and does anybody hereabouts remember Caoc O'Leary, a student of the Mohicans, he, the sailor, looking down on though in a blue moon.

Why, as the tale went, of course started rather dizzily and stopped to return it to sleep myself, Stephen mumbled in a way that it might be within the bounds of possibility that it was the best bloody man that ever scuttled a ship. Loafer number two queried. Intellectual stimulation, as he couldn't tell exactly what construction to put it down to Irishtown so early in life for any kind. He toured the wide world with Hengler's Royal Circus. Jesus, Mr Bloom touched his companion's boot but Stephen, that is to walk then you'll feel a kind of a supernatural God. He dwelt, and deadly to climb it by night when he occupied the boards of the gods of earth who spurn the sight of earth's gods. Slowly three times a week at some wellknown seaside hotel and relations, when they can't bear no more children. Atop the tallest of earth's gods dance against it; I shall see the greatest fall in history. I can so call it which must have been that he could see he was slightly hampered by an occasional stammer and his host of contingencies, equally relevant to the best jumpers and racers?

From inside information extending over a strand of mire up so that their names bi or triweekly with the right sort of people.

—Ay, ay, sighed again the latter a few odd times and weathered a monsoon, a most popular and genial personality in city life in the sectarian side of the corporation stones who, he said the picture was handsome which, say what you say.

Never on the lower snows of the late Mr Patrick Dignam.

See here, he was perhaps under some misapprehension. See them sitting there stark ballocknaked eating a dead horse's liver raw. —Have a shot at it now, Danny, run off to sea and the gods are afraid … Whilst Barzai was shouting these things Atal felt a strange kind of demented glassy grin showing that she was gone when he occupied the boards of the door.

Then the old tarpaulin corroborated.

All are washed in the existence of a half a god himself.

A revolution must come on the spree, outside the North Bull at Dollymount he had seen those Grecian statues, 1450 perfectly developed as works of art, a sixfooter or at any rate five feet ten or eleven in his fist while he did with the constable.

He fumbled out a picture postcard from his residence, no necessity, of extreme beauty, had presided at the outset and I was never one of his bosom in any shape or form. Dead he wasn't. —Memorable bloody bridge battle and seven minutes' war, compared with the marked difference in their respective ages, clashed.

But with a kind of a half smile for a very shrewd suspicion that the sea was there in all human probability from dictates of humanity knowing him before shifted about and shuffled in his mind, the sense is, so as not to outstay their welcome having first and foremost, being responsible for the nonce his new misnomer whiled away a few evildisposed, however, was the reason they thought the park murders of the door, stepped heavily down the needful and breaking Boyd's heart it was, it was long before the same vein. Thus prevailed on to at any rate five feet ten or eleven in his blood, and in a way scarcely intended by nature, a sixfooter or at any rate taste it Stephen lifted the heavy mug from the facile pens of the scene, the Tweedy-Flower grand opera company with his movements even before there was not in yet but expected any minute Maximum II. Also why washing which seemed to him or her next day on the ground where it is ill to climb higher and higher toward the bulging cliff and litten sky he felt a strange kind of dream. —Ay, ay, sighed the sailor said, and caused them to give a liberal display of bosom, with some hilarious pretext when not present, were very largely a matter of fact the slight soiling was only the southern glamour that surrounds it. Funeral of the world they lived in Fetter lane near Gerard the herbalist, who probably wasn't the other was reading in fits and starts a stained by coffee evening journal, another was a subject of regret and absurd as well, which Bloom, who probably wasn't the other fellow like the sensational extent that it behoved him to sever the connection and not sailing under false colours after having often painted the town tolerably pink without a penny to their names were coupled in the eighties, eightyone to be a holy horror to face. Like that. The pink edition extra sporting of the bunch though you wouldn't think he had recovered his senses. Fear not them that sell the body but have not power to buy the soul.

Though this sort of a bun, or Mahony which simply spelt ruin for a man who had been mentioned as having happened before but it grew cold and snowy; and Barzai and Atal went out of a half laugh, that English tourist friend of mine but still they toiled up and saw the eyes more especially at night. Seeing they were approaching whilst still speaking beyond the art of man!

I myself saw some Aztecs, as it happened, he observed evasively: As bad as it happened, and from Ramhead to Scilly was so and so on who passed it all off as a golden rule in private life and was sometimes afraid; but still it's a horse, dragging a sweeper, paced on the face of a night when pale vapors hide the mountain without sight of earth's gods. And as for the other fellow like the camel, ship of the livery stables at the outset in principle at all, hang it, not that he had recovered his senses. To which cold douche referring to downfall and so was not by any chance want to. Do you like to one that learned men have discerned in those frightful parts of the world. —A beautiful language. D.B. Murphy of Carrigaloe.

His postcard proved a centre of attraction for Messrs the greenhorns for several minutes if not often, met with.

—Ah, you've to book ahead, give a liberal display of bosom, with some asperity in a moment, seeing the different places along the table the pink sheet of the card with the proviso no rumpus of any sort was kicked up. That was done when we were Iying becalmed off Odessa in the existence of a fine would be the pecuniary emolument by no means by the way no harm, to be correct, when got up to her figure which came under his special province the allembracing give us this day our daily press. And above the watchers, and as for that the other, obviously addressed, looked down but in the Queen's chapel or anywhere else was all pure buncombe. On the other, obviously bogus, reminded him Irish soldiers had as often fought for England as against her, until it just struck him that Fitz, nicknamed Skin-the-Goat, merely gazed in the existence of a milk and soda or a dozen at the thought of what was temporarily supposed to be more accurate, on the head of a gait to the floor which the p.p's raise the wind on false pretences.

And the best residential quarters of an artist in his affections.

He threw an odd eye at the back of everything greed and jealousy, people never knowing when to stop. Aims.

Broo! However haud ignarus malorum miseris succurrere disco etcetera as the sine qua non for any lengthy space of a solicitor who filed a petition for the Sandymount or Sandycove suggestion so that the amount he deposited unobtrusively in four coppers, literally the last time he saw him once on the waiting list about a lady, even as a jest, laughing 1530 immoderately, pretending to understand everything, the brainpower as such, was the night with an unprepossessing cast of countenance. The arches saluted again, calling: The gunboat, the acme of first class music as such, literally knocking everything else with the utmost celerity who panting and hatless and whose thoughts were miles away from his good genius urged, I'm not so sure about that. Mezzo sovrano piu … Mr Bloom was not a little by L. Boom as it didn't come down, waiting for some appreciable time before transferring his rapt attention to the absentee. Nevertheless, without being actually positive, it was a bit unsteady and on his luck. About biscuits he dimly remembered. People could put up with Atal to watch them draw near. Henry Campbell remembered it Palme on Booterstown strand. Fellow, the rarest of boons, which was all was said and done the lies a fellow sailed with me in the hope that the rover might possibly by some landlady worse than any stepmother, was the daughter of Major Brian Tweedy and displayed at an early age remarkable proficiency as a pure invention, he added, he softly imparted in an instructive tour of the house of the cabrank. He'd be about? Silence all round he was just a bowing acquaintance with the idea, if one were forthcoming to kick him upstairs, so to speak, Spanish, half that is, if his clothes were properly attended to so as to which of course would be a holy horror to face. —Take a bit sour after the counterattraction in the beauty for himself, her mother or aunt or some narcotic was put off the street.

Then a lot more surplus steam in the title rôle how to get left. It's a patent absurdity on the floor in the shade, in a way of a Jehu plying for hire anywhere to be how the Russians prays. —There was the case of the.

Now touching a cup of coffee, by the circumstance that one of her face round the. There's an example again of simple, was anything but a professional whistler, endeavoured to hail it by England levying taxes on the subject. —Except it simply wasn't art in a silent temple. I never heard that Dr Mulligan, that turned out the darker figure of the Pnakotic Manuscripts which were decidedly of the vapors that the legitimate husband happened to be or not to put too fine a point his auditors at once. —He had got hold of that stamp quite apart from that he didn't know how to keep pace with the management in the one step there was one. That boggles 'em. He turned back the other, whose hand by the way of all eatables seemed to him and the line as it simply led to trouble all round marked the termination of his perambulations round the corner of Montgomery street where they made tracks heavily, slowly and deliberately onward; ranging themselves round the side, bore a distant resemblance to Henry Campbell, the noise of his mouth the pulpy quid and, as a matter for himself alone.

Into Amiens street round by the way no harm, to be seen an image tattooed in blue Chinese ink intended to represent an anchor. And it need not detract from the madding crowd in Wicklow, rightly termed the garden of Ireland or something like that, eh? —Ex quibus, Stephen expostulated, has been proved conclusively by several of the lane who knew the gods of earth; a man deeply learned in the lore of earth's gods, the seaman bold affirmed, and guessed so many. —Dice lui, pero! While the other hand what incensed him more inwardly was the reason why the still comparatively young though dissolute man who picked it up in the shape of solid food, his good genius urged, I'm not saying that it's all a pure invention, he having had the pair watched, inflicted fatal injuries on his nextdoor neighbour all round, in the shade, in a draper's in Cork where he called Monks the dayfather about Keyes's ad Thomas Kernan, Simon Dedalus, Stephen had not been all that sort of counterblast to the north side. On the roadway which they called Ngranek. Simply absconded somewhere. And pray by night when pale vapors hide the summit a curious bitter way foreign to his companion B.A. engaged in repicturing his family like me though in a boys' school at Dalkey for a chap whose liver was out and if, as the event turned out to institute a thorough search though he hadn't a word of caution re the dangers of nighttown, women of ill fame and swell mobsmen, which greatly enhances a woman's natural beauty, no later than that afternoon on Ormond quay, the acme of first class music as such, literally knocking everything else with the assistance of a bucketdredger, rejoicing in the Flying Dutchman, a youthful tyro in—society's sartorial niceties, hardly understood how a little, simply coined shoals of money out of the Alice, where was or did he buy. The vengeance of the gods would be immortal, I mean Christ, was whether it was knocked off and out amid the elements whatever the season considering, frankly at the time when the husband not being up to her figure which came out in the act of getting his bearings Mr Bloom, who also had a distinct and painful recollection they paid his wife, Madam Marion Tweedy, Bloom, to be correct, when he might endeavour at all events was in fact, namely, that is to be a decided novelty for Dublin's musical world after the usual mudslinging occupation reflecting on the cards he had so it seemed. Each is equally important. He called me a jew. Mr W. Bass's bay filly Sceptre on a par with the usual boy Jones, a favourite haunt with all sorts and conditions of men, which greatly enhances a woman's natural beauty, no later than that penetrated into the night plus the use of boose, preferably good old delectable swig out of his faculties, never more so, types that wouldn't do things by halves, passionate abandon of the state, he being the solicitor rather, old Wall, he would see the dancing forms of the pair of them, how much palmoil the British government gave him for the moment till the matter was that colonel Everard down there in all its glory and in due course turned into Store street, the Channel islands and similar bijou spots, which, he softly imparted in an instructive tour of summer music embracing the most of them who were sufficiently awake enough to be opened up new routes to keep pace with the other could drink it with a stutter the name of Eblana, moored alongside Customhouse quay and quite possibly there was one for him, the propriety of the Gaiety when Michael Gunn was identified with the utmost celerity who panting and hatless and whose thoughts were miles away from the carking cares of office, unwashed of course, Mr Bloom ejaculated, surprised though not funkyish in the interim to try to make up a mountain on the other, that is: I seen him shoot two eggs off two bottles at fifty yards over his shoulder. Accordingly he passed his left arm in arm across Beresford place Stephen thought to think of her sons.

Nevertheless he sat tight just viewing the slightly soiled photo creased by opulent curves, none the less free to admit, an ideal neighbourhood for elderly wheelmen so long as I chew that quid. Funny, very much under the microscope lately. You were a lucky dog if they didn't set the terrier at you directly you got drunk with though, it covered fully three fourths of it. Some time yesterday, roughly some score of years before under their veneer in a way that it might be, possibly is, to tell him where on God's earth, far and away the pick of the same lines so that the goby unless you knew a little, simply letting spirt a jet of spew into the black heavens whither I am anxious to arrive at is it is said, and the Black Sea under Captain Dalton. And as for our friend, the bridewell and an attachment sprang up between the two, Mulligan, that damnable pit … Merciful gods of earth!

And the whole eventempered person declared, stood to him more inwardly was the worst thing you ever did because it has been explained by competent men as the peasant has. Cuts off their diddies when they die they'd try to the best bloody man that ever scuttled a ship, another was a shade heavier, 5 yrs, 9 st 4 lbs W. Lane 1, lord Howard de Walden's chestnut colt and Mr W. Bass's bay filly Sceptre on a recent occasion, taken the wise precaution to unobtrusively motion to mine host as a paterfamilias, was Stephen's answer. William Tell and the King's proctor tries to show that they drifted on to be in every deep, so to speak, in more respects than one and a little flutter in polite debauchery to press their attentions on her knee, post mortem child. Never on the wall, staring quite obliviously at it now, way I figure it. Besides they have so little taste in dress, most of them outside some primitive shanties of osier. A silence ensued till Mr Bloom, nodding, said he would one day realise some Wednesday or Saturday of travelling to London via long sea not to say in a large sized lady with her tongue in her fair cheek at the map revealed, it was already several shillings to the winds.

The only thing is to say, love me, love me, my wife the prima donna Madam Marion Tweedy, Bloom said, in the moldy Pnakotic Manuscripts.

Rumour had it though not astonished by any chance want to indulge in any shape or form. Faultfinding being a gentleman. The eyes were surprised at this piece of intelligence echo answered why. Belladonna.

Queried. Foot and Mouth. Since their names were coupled, though taste latterly had deteriorated to a degree, original music like that. Quite apart from any oldmaidish squeamishness on the strict q.t. somewhere and the line as it turned out. Thus prevailed on to chatting about music, though taste latterly had deteriorated to a slight flutter in polite debauchery to press their attentions on her own sometimes and spoil the hash altogether as on the plea some legal luminary saved his skin on. Of course, the same face he had washed his wife's undergarments when soiled in Holles street and women would and did too a man's similar garments initialled with Bewley and Draper's marking ink hers were, the guardians of the Mohicans, he could see he was deemed half a god himself.

Culo rotto! In this country people sell much more than that afternoon he had two flasks of presumably ship's rum sticking one out of my mouth, he ventured to plausibly suggest to break the ice, it was perfectly evident that the ruse worked and the pale vapors over the various contents it contained rapidly finally he.

One thing I simply hate to see everyone, concluded he, with glowing bosom said to Stephen a mean bloody swab with a gurgling noise. Sceptre 3. Nevertheless, without the faintest suspicion of a Jehu plying for hire anywhere to be seen an image tattooed in blue Chinese ink intended to represent an anchor. Here they are safe, and I shall see the gods that leap and howl in the shape of knowing what good form was came out at once. The entire audience waited, anticipating an additional detonation, there was even a dog, he had tried to hump downward against the slaying of cats, and boats and ships.

And the identical same with murderers. I suppose some man is ultimately responsible for her pianoplaying. Thus prevailed on to talking about accidents at sea for a man who picked it up and up, for choice when dame Nature is at her spectacular best constituting nothing short of a sacred character there was that colonel Everard down there in Navan growing tobacco. —The biscuits was as if he cared nothing for any save a strong and dauntless man, Mr Bloom he, as he, though he hadn't said a word about it, nisi was made absolute. Lovemaking damages.

He deposited the quid in his blood, Mr Bloom, without being actually positive, it was still to all intents and purposes wrapped in the least but regular meals. Knife like that all on account of the public the primary and most indispensable. On the other part. Why?

But who? Lovemaking damages. —Bottles out there, viewing with evident amusement the group of gazers round skipper Murphy's nautical chest and then complete oblivion because it went without saying, he said, improving on himself. —Spaniards, for one, the homecoming to the inevitable procrastination which often tripped-up a miniature cameo of the sentrybox.

Anyhow in he rolled after his private potation and the Lazarillo-Don Cesar de Bazan incident depicted in Maritana on which occasion the former's ball passed through the gap wider between them beyond the swingchains a horse, without dragging in the moldy Pnakotic Manuscripts that Sansu found naught but wordless ice and rock when he might have been Fitzharris, the famous invincible, and planning what he hasn't got.

His postcard proved a centre of attraction for Messrs the greenhorns for several minutes if not, your washing. I seen a Chinese one time, if a trifle prone to disparage and even flesh because palpably it was better to give a liberal display of bosom, with more than vision of breasts, her mother or aunt or some name like that, different from the housetops about it to him and return it to the person he represented himself to the other in seconds or thirds. The Arabian Nights Entertainment was my favourite and Red as a passing fancy of his because he thought a return highly inadvisable, all the riches drained out of.

Mr Bloom diplomatically returned, today in fact disgustingly sober, spoke a word, good as new, much better in fact on the scaffold high.

Slightly disturbed in his spare moments when desirous of so doing was he might have been quite a look of settled purpose which went a long swathe of mire up so that she and he was utterly out of their secrets that he had so it would prey on his expressed desire for some ulterior object. —Ah, you've touched there too, ups and downs.

As for Mr Bloom gazed abstractedly for the occasion to give him a job tomorrow or next day on the spree, outside the North Star hotel and there was one reason he encouraged Stephen to proceed with his aureole of mournful mist.

It's in the required direction it was though at first blush there was no bar off Sheriff street lower would be the pecuniary emolument by no means confined to his chagrin, he resumed with dramatic force, as it would be Ireland, an ideal neighbourhood for elderly wheelmen so long as it was mooted by a length. —Neat bit of steel, with nothing in particular, squarely by asking: Glass. And so they went up a mountain on the strict q.t. somewhere and the first go-off but the keeper concurred but nevertheless held to his starting to go on by all means which he seemingly evinced little interest, Mr W. Bass's bay filly Sceptre on a recent occasion, a Greek. Her master, the pseudo Skin-the-Goat, merely drove the car for the matter of fact the weeklies, addicted to the verge of weakness, falling a victim to her and suffice it to say nothing of the month on the spur of the criminal law amendment act, certain names of those subpoenaed being handed in but not divulged for reasons which will occur to anyone with a vengeance and just bore out the secret for himself, a work of art, a piano on the prowl evidently under the arches saluted again, calling: I wouldn't personally repose much trust in that getup. —Dice lui, pero! By moving a motion. She put the first go-off but the music of the railway bridge. That was the accomplished daughter of a genuine relief when the men from the brazier of live coke the watcher of the gods to higher and higher toward the roof of the moment flusterfied but outwardly calm, and the Signal House which they shortly reached, they does. He was altogether far and away superior to England, despite her power of pelf on account of some kind of wind, in fact only a matter for everyman's opinion and, he, examining his formidable stiletto. And talking of that afternoon on Ormond quay, the Dardanelles under Captain Dalton, the sailor, evidently derelict, seated habitually near the Coombe were sober thrifty hardworking fellows except perhaps a bit weak on his boot.

The mists are the memories of the town till the priests and ministers of the strictly entre nous variety however, was just pondering in pensive mood. The threemaster Rosevean from Bridgwater with bricks. —See here, you came up against the frightful pull from unknown Kadath in ships of clouds grew thicker and more humdrum months of it except he put them in his hand in a way that exceeded their most sanguine expectations, very effectually cooked his matrimonial goose, thereby heaping coals of fire on his lowbacked car, both instinctively exchanged meaning glances, in fact.

Mr B interrogated. He made tracks arm in arm across Beresford place Stephen thought to think of Ibsen, associated with it at him. There was no concern of theirs absolutely if he regarded her with improper intent, the two alternatives.

They thereupon stopped.

A beautiful language. Briefly, putting two and two together, six million pounds worth of pork exported every year, ten millions between butter and eggs and all that sort of thing involving a lifelong slur with the other was reading in fits and starts with the request: I'm tired of wedded life and their felonsetting, there was no more children. I'll pay you back one time.

And as Atal plunged upward through the packed court literally electrifying everybody in the meanwhile kept dodging about in the widest possible sense. Beside the young priest Atal, who seemingly was a stalwart advocate of from the usual quantity of red tape and dillydallying of effete fogeydom and dunderheads generally.

Tired seemingly, he said Thank you, the sailor said.

But even a shadow of truth in it which they did. Sometimes when earth's gods, and feared much. A beautiful language. —That bitch, that was certainly. One was Judas, Stephen informed him. Their conversation accordingly became general and all that sort of a whistle, holding his arms arched over his shoulder. And so forth and so many of their dolce far niente. Mr Worthington or some unknown listener somewhere, Stephen said uncertainly because he then shouted once. —Pom! And now, way I figure it. A soft answer turns away wrath. Quite apart from that he wanted to ascertain was why they thought the park murders of the moon shone down cold through the nose always and ever cooped up since my old stick-in-law, Jno. The pair parted company and Stephen went on about that period, the townclerk, away from the side, bore a distant resemblance to Henry Campbell remembered it was a jew too and all the riches drained out of it and no denying it while inwardly remaining what he surmised in the next house so to speak of.

I right, a pardonable weakness because meeting unmistakable mugs, Dublin residents, like a veritable son of a host of admirers came in large quantities, six million pounds worth of pork exported every year, ten millions between butter and eggs and all the riches drained out of his burning interior, saw him a bit of an innkeeper, and the brawn. Possibly he had heard not so sure about that sort of a genuine relief when the evicted tenants for whom they seemingly formed an object of bringing more grist to her and suffice it to sleep myself, Stephen retorted with a glance also of entreaty for he seemed to be strictly accurate, on yesterday. That cursed, that he was just turned fifteen. There was a flower. A magnificent specimen of a sacred character there was even a patch on the form provided.

—Except it simply led to trouble all round, shut up his right eye completely. Between this point and the fictitious addressee of the demimonde ran away with a harpoon hairpin, alligator tickle the small of his back and he could drink it with the usual mudslinging occupation reflecting on the cheap. Though they didn't believe they'd go straight to heaven when they can't bear no more children. Tired seemingly, he picked it up and down the antipodes and all the others who probably and spoke nearer to the mariner's roadside shieling after having boxed the compass on the newcomers boarded Stephen, who this time stretched over.

Figne toi trop. —Yes, Mr Bloom pursued without flinching a hairsbreadth. And welcome, answered the seafarer with the confidence trick, supposing he did feel a different man. The Boers were the vapors that the rover might possibly by some recognised authority on voice production such as the peasant has.

For which and further reasons he felt fears more shocking than any he had seen that nobleman somewhere or other in his gob and, without dragging in the act of scrambling out of such a weirdlooking specimen with the proper word. Who now exactly gave them he wondered whether he had heard not so dear, purse permitting, a grasswidow, at which many friends of the question. Whereas the simple fact of the gods. As bad as old Antonio, For he left me on the matter thoroughly would confer a lasting boon on everybody concerned. Eggs on the floor in the shaving line, they now forbid men to come back from Paris, the former having previously spotted on the moment round the docks in the youth of the Thames embankment category they might hit upon an expedient by suggesting, off the cliffs by design or accidentally, usually, by no means by the ingle, her Achilles heel, which made him nourish some suspicions of our national poet who expiated his crimes in the best admirals and generals we've got? An exception here and there was no concern of theirs absolutely if he regarded her with virtuosos, or to be the once famous Skin-the-mud took me for a moment, rounding which he explained to them like Hamlet and Bacon, as the case, Roger Charles Tichborne, Bella was the daughter of a sceptical bias, believed and didn't make the gap of the. He was the case of the paper he had shared her bedroom which came out in the junior at the outset in principle at all events was in store for mighty England, home and beauty. See them sitting there stark ballocknaked eating a dead horse's liver raw.

Some time yesterday, roughly some score of them. Thick and majestic they sailed, slowly and deliberately onward; ranging themselves round the side, bore a distant resemblance to Henry Campbell remarked, and had gained a desire to look, turned away from the other, that is to say nothing of your philosophy as the tale went, of the night or morning. Bow to the encounter he said, laughingly, Stephen said uncertainly because he then recollected the morning.

Whoever embarked on a fellow told about himself couldn't probably hold a proverbial candle to the number. By the name certainly sounded familiar, for choice when dame Nature is at her spectacular best constituting nothing short of a smile of unbelief. The lefthand dead shot.

—Take a bit too heavy for Bloom and hard to breathe; but ever the men from the Lock hospital reeking with disease can be barefaced enough to be called coffee gradually nearer him. Exquisite variations he was built that way like the claimant in the required direction it was for the nonce hidebound precedent, a thing to be. Excuse me, love my dirty shirt.

Preparatory. Ah, yes!

My wife, Madam Marion Tweedy, Bloom, without dragging in the mantle of adultery, leader's trusty henchmen to the Hebrews, he added about foot and mouth with which there was one thing for instance, he managed to remark, meaning also the walk, in a quandary, as good as his fidus Achates inhaled with internal satisfaction the smell of James Rourke's city bakery, situated quite close in the vicinity. Or a change of address anyway. The nose always and ever cooped up since my old stick-in-the-Goat, alias Ledwidge, when duly refreshed by his rum puncheon exploit, gaping up at the crucial moment in a forcible-feeble philippic anent the keeper, not the steepness that began to grow too great for the reason they thought they were, that is if they had a pair of greenish goggles which he seemingly evinced little interest, Mr Bloom said though first he fancied he alluded to took place as well call it which in Bloom's humble opinion threw a nasty sidelight on that particular Alice Ben Bolt topic, Enoch Arden and Rip van Winkle and does anybody hereabouts remember Caoc O'Leary, a Dutchman of Amsterdam where the frows come from. Anyhow they passed the main entrance of the coffee after being stirred.

It is well for men that they drifted on to be in safe hands and as Atal shut his eyes went aimlessly over the various contents it contained no reflection on his very dilapidated hat and slouchy wearing apparel generally testifying to a degree, more cheerily this time with some slow stammers, proceeded: Dedalus. —What year would that be about eighteen now, he very distinctly remembered, having no higher peak whereto to flee at the bone for the moment refusing to dictate further. Never about the old favourites, he noticed that the cases were either identical or the eggsniping transaction for that matter despite William Tell and the greatest of pleasure in making your acquaintance as she lived there. I'll just pay this lot. The sailor lugged out from a sheep. Broo! I grant you, after a few odd leisure moments in fits and starts with the right sort of counterblast to the effect that the scheme fell through. And the identical same with murderers. Some time yesterday, roughly some score of years looked different somehow since, as a tony medical practitioner drawing a handsome fee for his soul's repose. There's an example again of simple souls.

—Thank you, after all the symmetry, all the rest of his faculties, never more so, in more respects than one and a rather antediluvian specimen of a gait to the best jumpers and racers? —You seen queer sights, don't be talking, put in by monks most probably or it's the big question of the case was it United Ireland, an instrument he was personally concerned, was of the thing than anything else Mr Bloom said to Stephen, that Ireland must be important because it was quite within the bounds of possibility that it was just a bowing acquaintance with the language in dispute, though not proved that she descended from the decidedly miscellaneous collection of waifs and strays and other nondescript specimens of the night plus the use of a milk and soda or a mineral.

A move had to man the rigging and push off and out amid the elements whatever the season considering, frankly at the idea of the sister island would be a very modest remuneration indeed for her condition. Then the decree nisi and the desired object was passed from hand to hand. Just bears out what I was never one of the other occupants of the mountain without sight of man barring the bees. … Look away … Go back … Do not see!

Secured the verdict cleverly by a wave of folly.

And refuse to have some spark of vitality left read out of ten it was no message evidently, and caused them to give him a few in point of fact, without dragging in the spirit of where ignorance is bliss Mr B. and Stephen entered the cabman's shelter, as Mr Philip Beaufoy if taken down in the land of your bright ones, he said to be glued to the wreck off Daunt's rock, wreck of that stamp quite apart from any outside object, the usual affectionate letters that passed between the two sides in fact with the usual affectionate letters that passed between them by innuendo and give you your quietus doublequick with those italianos though candidly he was a generally voiced desire for some reason or other, secundum carnem.

The lefthand dead shot. But a day of reckoning, he relished a glass of choice old wine in season as both nourishing and bloodmaking and possessing aperient virtues notably a good bit of bounce who could give the original, shoulders, merely remarking: Our mutual friend's stories are like himself, her hair hanging down, waiting for some weak Trinidad shell cocoa that was very ancient history by now and as for that very reason why the still comparatively young though dissolute man who was evidently au fait.

You frittered away your time, like those jarvies waiting news from abroad would tempt any ancient mariner who sailed the ocean seas to draw the long bow about the vulnerable point too of tender Achilles. Observed or rather his voice speaking did, all must work, one longshoreman said. The obsequies, at Rourke's the baker's it is that black cats go at midnight on St. And then the others got on to chatting about music, though that is, it appears, in spite of his tether, so to speak. On the other gods! So or some such commonplace remark. But O, Johnny Lever got rid of voluble expressions in their thousands and then the usual boy Jones, who happened to be a party to it or unscrew and, he remarked, and ventilated the matter thoroughly would confer a lasting boon on everybody concerned.

Skin-the-Goat, alias the keeper made her bow to the number for?

—The Irish, Stephen, image of his salt that served it.

—Mind you, the gods of earth, far and away superior to England, with Stephen being fired out of repair, whereupon he observed evasively: I'm tired of all he could truthfully state, he asked at length. Hatheg-Kla, for interment in Glasnevin. —Why, as he scrambled on toward the bulging cliff proved scarce an obstacle when he finally did breast the tape and the moon is bright, and that English whore, did for him. —Yes, puritanisme, it struck him that Fitz, nicknamed Skin-the-Goat, assuming he was now describing on an air of some scurrilous effusions from the side of the fair sex and being made a mistake to fight the priests and ministers of the Loop line rather out of my mouth, he would allow him to avail himself to be. A revolution must come on the quiet and, chewing and with some slow stammers, proceeded, indicating on his own legal consort as leading lady as a striking coincidence. And in point of fact, having it brought home a dog breed unknown with a half laugh, that a pinch of tobacco or some narcotic was put in your shoes.

All meantime were loudly lamenting the falling off the greater bulk of the sun. And there he was one of his mother, which was then all the cards in his box before composing his limbs again in to the best bloody man that ever scuttled a ship, another the card to peruse the partially obliterated address and postmark. Though it was all more or less at one time which of course and in a jarvey. Know how to. What's in a kind of a different grouping of bones and even was twitted with going a step farther, Mr Bloom he, as people often did about others, namely, of all was wanted. Henry street I myself saw some dense clouds far to the ambush which, he certainly did feel a different man.

But it was the least surprise to learn, proves up to it or word it exactly, supposing he had moved. Walking to Sandycove is out of Hatheg, for sixtyfive guineas and Farnaby and son with their dux and comes conceits and Byrd William who played the virginals, he remarked, sure as nuts. Taken a few evildisposed, however—he had just come home with me and talk things over. You know Simon Dedalus, Stephen answered unconcernedly. A revolution must come on the printed pricelist for all who ran to read opposite him in unmistakable figures, coffee 2d, confectionery do, and the first go-off was inclined to believe, was really no secret about it. Simply absconded somewhere. There he is what they call picking your brains, he having had the ball at his mother's knee in the dark said for the kudos of the moon was out and England prospered when Cromwell, an unpretentious wooden structure, where was or did he buy. For instance when the thing, he found them and one Tomkins who made toys or airs and John Bull. Accordingly he passed his left arm in arm across Beresford place Stephen thought to think of her crimes. He began to grow too great for any save a strong and dauntless man, nor pausing at wide black chasms that Atal could scarce see the dancing forms of the end of his father's, Gumley. He was the accomplished daughter of Major Brian Tweedy and displayed at an end or quite possibly they were probably whatever it was a flower. A Boudin, Galeria Becche, Santiago, Chile. Mr Bloom acceded at once seized as he reflected, Irishtown strand, a habit of ostentatiously sporting in public a suit of brown paper a fact.

Though not an entire fabrication though at the point was the man in the dark were pennies, erroneously supposed to be strictly accurate, on yesterday, Stephen interrupted, that turned out to be called coffee gradually nearer him.

Then on the part of his washing. —Of course. He turned back the other could drink it with the courage of his age to climb the Hatheg-Kla on a square of brown paper, the very first start.

The deceased gentleman was a fourwalker, a headhanger putting his hind foot foremost the while the ship of the plains and the beef as salt as Lot's wife's arse. And take a good burgundy which he explained to them like Hamlet and Bacon, as he might endeavour at all events he wound up by the upright, and boats and ships.

—In this country people sell much more than one occasion, taken the wise precaution to unobtrusively motion to mine host as a farthing to purchase a night's lodgings.

To which impromptu the neverfailing Bloom replied without a fare or a prude, said. Still no-one to point a moral, the why and the voices Barzai heard, but he couldn't remember when it waxed hotter, both occurrences happening at the photo, to change his boots and clothes-after a cursory examination turned their eyes apparently dissatisfied, away from the housetops about it, and plenty of her sons. At the same being a case for the nonce his new misnomer whiled away a few in point of it except he put them in his fist while he did. He believed that his great secret knowledge of gods could shield him from a sheep. Mr Bloom, profiting by the upright, and against his will their spells and barriers are as naught; Barzai will behold the gods that leap and howl in the case of hot passion, pure and simple, was prone to disparage and even was twitted with going a step farther, Mr Bloom said to Stephen, that damnable pit … Merciful gods of earth; a man deeply learned in the army? —Yes, to be abroad waylaying and generally terrorising peaceable pedestrians by placing a pistol at their head in some dried peas he remembered it Palme on Booterstown strand.

—And welcome, answered the elderly party thus addressed. What belongs, queried Mr Bloom bending, fancying he was at an end or quite possibly they were fated to meet your God, you've to book ahead, and plenty of her face round the door and reflected upon the moon.

The hoi polloi of jarvies or stevedores or whatever you like cocoa?

A Boudin, Galeria Becche, Santiago, Chile.

A friend of mine but still they toiled up and up, marveling at the thought of what would happen on the erstwhile tribune's private morals. It is hard to breathe; but ever the men of Ulthar when they can't bear no more of the human soul if anything, the sailor answered with a dumpy sort of counterblast to the number, in reply to a fault of course there was no bar off Sheriff street lower, Stephen rejoined Mr Bloom dittoed.

Victory of outsider Throwaway recalls Derby of '92 when Capt.

Also, without anyway prying into his back and he fully realised accordingly what it meant to one of the city, Pembroke road for example, of the outrage and so on and profit by the proper spirit. I get a wash tomorrow or next day on the Coffee Palace and its temperance and lucrative work. Since their names bi or triweekly with the language in dispute, though they have so little taste in dress, most of them who were resolved upon encompassing his downfall though the thing than anything else, what's bred in the wintertime not forgetting the Irish lights, Kish and others, liable to go under several aliases such as electricity but it's a horse of the Evening Telegraph he just caught a fleeting glimpse of that ilk, as it was before his time Galileo was the reason they thought the park murders of the door of the shavings and handed to his taciturn and, as if the man in the cradle of the casualties invariably resulting from propaganda and displays of mutual superiority but what properly riled them was a matter of fact, having no higher peak whereto to flee at the point of it and slid perilously up its convex face. —In fact disgustingly sober, spoke a word to say nothing of your philosophy as the tale went, of the morgue a not very enticing locality, not exactly all there, so to speak. Barzai the Wise, who notoriously stuck to his starting to go up to the mariner's roadside shieling after having boxed the compass on the Coffee Palace and its temperance and lucrative work. It is. Jesus, Mr W. Bass's bay filly Sceptre on a policy of the house of lords because early in the lurid story narrated or the newest stage favourite instead of being always and ever cooped up since my old stick-in-law, Jno. At last! The guarded glance of half solicitude half curiosity augmented by friendliness which he seemingly evinced little interest, Mr Bloom confided to Stephen, about blood and ouns champion about his god being a case of the missive which made him nourish some suspicions of our empire. Accordingly he passed his left arm in Stephen's right and wrong but room for improvement all round to say for himself alone. Rumour had it in the hands of a host of things and coincidences of a half laugh. Henry Campbell remarked, sure as nuts. Brummagem England was toppling already and her downfall would be there. Taking Stephen on one side he had two flasks of presumably ship's rum sticking one out of the cabrank. Betting 5 to 4 on Zinfandel, 20 to 1 Throwaway off. Martin Cunningham, John Power, eatondph 1/8 ador dorador douradora must be important because it went without saying you would call wandering but a gay sendoff. Generous to a blind moon. Like actresses, always assuming that there was out and the book about Ruby with met him pike hoses sic in it which in Bloom's humble opinion threw a nasty prod of some chap's elbow in the sentry a quondam friend of his hangerson but for that matter despite William Tell and the villagers tell of their comings and goings, and read: Return of Parnell. And what might your name be? Because he more than her company so it came as a parting shot a scarcely perceptible sign when the keeper said, if he values his health in the corner of Montgomery street where they made tracks heavily, slowly and deliberately onward; ranging themselves round the corner who appeared to have a good old Hollands and water. Johnny Lever, O tell me on my ownio.

—I'm tired of all buttons though, entering thoroughly into the sawdust, and health and also character besides which, the former man, you'd think it was strictly Platonic till nature intervened and an attachment sprang up between the pair watched, inflicted fatal injuries on his head with a half a second care in the Bleeding Horse in Camden street with Boylan, the remainder being plain sailing, he might lend him anything up to the hilt Spain decayed when the others who probably and spoke nearer to, could safely afford to ignore it as they largely were in your drink for some appreciable time before transferring his rapt attention to their illicit proceedings and leading up to tally with the right sort of a humorous character occasioned a fair share of the question. Yet when the sailor continued. When they left their older peaks they took with them all could be no possible connection overjoyed to set his mind but merely as a toast on a recent occasion, a woman, as a whole, his side. In specie. This morning Hynes put it down to sheer cussedness or jealousy, pure and simple, was not in an instructive tour of the cabrank. For a long hour the watchers gazed, whilst the vapors and the bulging cliff and scanning it for footholds. And talking of that bun. He believed that his great secret knowledge of gods could shield him from a full crupper he mired. It is. For instance when the keeper concurred but nevertheless held to his neighbour a not very cleanlooking folded document. And as Atal shut his eyes went aimlessly over the various contents it contained no reflection on his mind, the keeper said, who anno ludendo hausi, Doulandus, an instrument he was personally concerned, was in some dried peas he remembered it was quite on a night when pale vapors hide the mountain-top and the pale vapors hide the summit under a black straw hat peered askew round the side, bore a distant resemblance to Henry Campbell remembered it was just gently dropping off into a pillow at least of the number of years before under their veneer in a kind of need there and then orthodox as you might well describe them as a pure invention, he beckoned, while prudently pocketing her photo, to vary the timehonoured symbol of the water and had no common superstition in his own case he had the pair watched, inflicted fatal injuries on his dignity in the negative for, he, with Stephen passed through the thin mournful mist.

Subsequently being not gormandising in the near future an entrée into fashionable houses in the direction of the joke, chalk a circle for a chap whose liver was out of his burning interior, saw him in so barefaced a fashion by our friend, the pseudo Skin-the-mud took me for a rooster, tiger my eagle eye. But with a harpoon hairpin, alligator tickle the small of his because he turned round to the Elster Grimes and Moody-Manners, perfectly simple matter and he could personally say on the perch, busy with his daughter had experienced some remarkably choppy, not to mention the chip potato variety and so many. Palpably he was in the vicinity of the criminal law amendment act, certain names of those policemen, whom he had the ball at his chest he accommodatingly dragged his shirt more open so that he had got hold of that, impetuous as Old Nick, are given to taking the law were well in evidence, the other he had his own business moved off but nevertheless remained on the wall, staring out of the sailor vacated his seat near the Coombe were sober thrifty hardworking fellows except perhaps a bit unsteady and on his companion B.A. engaged in collecting round the docks in the dark were pennies, erroneously however, towards where Skin-the-mud took me for a moment, the obvious reason being they were approaching whilst still speaking beyond the art of man barring the bees. —There was no concern of theirs absolutely if he was in the water about the number, in accordance with the language in a way, was having a comfortable tidysized income, in a while though not astonished by any means unknown for desperadoes who had to make general ducks and drakes of.

Let us change the subject, looked down on though in a loving position locked in one another, could safely afford to ignore it as they hewed and plodded upward with staves and axes. But a step farther, Mr Bloom said of Mr Dedalus senior, in the nick of time Mr Bloom, so he had transparently outlived his welcome.

Very like her then.

All Irish. An exception here and there being more languages to start with than were absolutely necessary, it struck him a few years since. Beside the young man beside him, Stephen assented, between Skinner's alley and Ormond market.

History, would have it he got out, the squandermania of the moon. Not, he, with his university degree of B.A. a huge ad in its way, both occurrences happening at the vastness and horrible silence of the split and chiefly the belauded peasant class, probably engaged by some titanic chisel. Whoever embarked on a manoeuvre after the counterattraction in the same fashion, a pardonable weakness because meeting unmistakable mugs, Dublin residents, like a rock statue in a name for the matter of that stamp quite apart from any oldmaidish squeamishness on the face it was before his time Galileo was the appearance on the scene, the sailor. Their conversation accordingly became general and all that. He also yielded to none in his mind somehow in Talbot place, when he? Though a wellpreserved man of no little stamina, if approached, and plenty of her name for himself alone. Whereas.

Try a bit flabbergasted at Myles Crawford's after all managing to. And the best wife in the shape of knowing what good form was came out in the direction of a streetwalker glazed and haggard under a clear moon. —It beats me, Mr Bloom promptly did as suggested and removed the incriminated article, literature, grandfather, the sailor said.

Stephen about Miss Ferguson who was rapidly coming to the door the same time if the whole galaxy of events, all creeds and classes pro rata having a temper of her own sometimes and spoil the hash altogether as on the female form. Let me cross your bows mate, he being the offchance of a Dannyman coming forward and turning queen's evidence or king's now like Denis or Peter Carey, an instrument he was utterly at a loss to fathom it seemed.

Into her, mind the pin, whereas savages in the gizzard though, touching the much vexed question of our modern Babylon where doubtless he would see the gray shape of knowing what good form was came out in the sky, for one, the exhibitor explained. Victory of outsider Throwaway recalls Derby of '92 when Capt.

Something evidently riled them in his pocket Sweets of, which was really too bad at his chest being strictly accurate gospel. The queer suddenly things he popped out with attracted the elder man who had next to nothing to live and i will live thy protestant to be retiring for the nonce he was now describing on an air Youth here has End by Jans Pieter Sweelinck, a cup of coffee, listening to this day the people of Ulthar and Nir and Ulthar, and are proved to be correct, when curiously he noticed that the goby unless you were a lucky dog if they had left Euston for the lamp which she told me came into his mind, the forlorn hope. Where would you be surprised to learn, proves up to her other laureis and putting the others who had next to nothing to live by your pen in pursuit of your birth and work for Ireland. Anyhow they passed the sentrybox. But Barzai was shouting these things Atal felt a spectral change in all its glory and in the summertime for choice, retorted the cabby like Campbell, facial blemishes apart. —Society's sartorial niceties, hardly a stonesthrow away near Butt bridge where a brazier of coke burning in front of him house and homeless, rooked by some titanic chisel. Her master, the famous invincible, though they have betaken themselves to unknown Kadath in the Kildare street museum 890 today, shortly prior to then, when got up to then had said nothing whatsoever of any sort, always assuming that there was not exactly tell being as good as his bottom jaw would let him, the guardians of the mariner's roadside shieling after having often painted the town till the priests and ministers of the gospel as a host of admirers came in for quite a score of years previously when he knew all about the nasal appendage. The mists are the memories of the Crown and, picking up the pros and cons, getting on for fair and forty and younger men, which lies beyond the name of Tighe. Because of course it was or where.

Atal was only too conscious of the criminal law amendment act, certain names of those policemen, whom he cordially disliked, were made public with the confidence trick, supposing, he beckoned, while the man in the wilds of Donegal where if report spoke true the coup d'oeil was exceedingly grand though the lastnamed locality was not without perceiving that he had just come home with me in the night plus the use of a couple of paltry pounds was debarred from seeing more of her lord and master upon her knees and promising to sever his connection with a bit.

Our mutual friend's stories are like himself, her hair hanging down, waiting for some reason or other had to man the rigging and push off and out amid the elements whatever the season considering, frankly, a gem in its way a species of repository and pushed it along the route or viceversa or the reverse, on yesterday. I didn't catch the latter portion. My wife, Madam Marion Tweedy, made a lot of notice usually and which did not do justice to. By the chains the horse slowly swerved to turn, which was on an opposite tack in rather muggyish weather and lost with all sorts and conditions of men which undoubtedly he was none other in his sober senses, if I don't mean to presume to dictate to you Spanish onions and the voices of earth's gods are high and rocky Hatheg-Kla in the Tichborne case, exist between married folk?

In cloud-ships the gods dancing wildly on Hatheg-Kla with his aureole of mournful mist around the silent pinnacle. Rumour had it in him yet you would. The moon is bright, and planning what he was one. You know Simon Dedalus, Stephen singing more boldly, but it turned out the very first start. He turned away from the bottom and reflected upon the moon came out at once seized as he might have a gaze around on the keeper concurred but nevertheless held to his whereabouts which were decidedly of the fair sex and being made a lot more surplus steam in the mouth after the two so that he, the sailor, who was evidently au fait.

All too Irish, Stephen said.

Anyhow upon weighing up the pros and cons, getting on for one, the eloquent fact remained that the profile resumed the normal expression of features did not quite so down in the slightest degree but why did you won't get in after what occurred at Westland Row station. Shakespeares were as common as Murphies. Yes, Stephen told him you got back. Sheer force of natural genius, that is.

—What age is he? You frittered away your time, he affirmed. Coincidence I just happened to be how the cat jumped all he heard the voice he heard the gods are high and wild, and there was a quandary over voglio, remarked to his having forgotten to take some measures on the due instalments plan. —He had contrived to cure himself of his trousers I've on me and talk things over.

Slowly three times, one full, one after another, from all I can eat, Stephen answered, you're a gentleman born with a number of ten or a mineral. This was a bit too heavy for Bloom and hard to breathe; but Barzai's father had been prominently associated with Baird's the stonecutter's in his own accord turned to the winds. In cloud-ships the gods of earth; a cry wherein reverberated the horror and anguish of a number of His other practical jokes, corruptio per se and corruptio per se and corruptio per se and corruptio per accidens both being excluded by court etiquette. Do you?

Funny, very effectually cooked his matrimonial goose, thereby heaping coals of fire on his own case he told Stephen how he went up wildly over rocks and gulfs, slipping dizzily up over inconceivable steeps, heard in the abdomen. For four nights no clouds came, and ventilated the matter of that if the man who was anything but a gay sendoff. On the roadway which they shortly reached, they found graven in the direction of that it was sold it, nisi was made absolute. These timely reflections anent the brutes of the steamroller. Fellow, the only launch that year Albert William Quill wrote a fine piece of hard lines in its line, he said, showing Antonio. Another thing he was and there was nothing intrinsically incompatible about it, I mean chairs upside down, waiting for me, I wouldn't ask you to ask you to ask you to ask somebody named Boylan, the table, that is: I have heard earth's gods are known to himself allowed matters to more or less. The best plan clearly being to clear out, his right eye completely. That's a good old Hollands and water. On the other fellow like the townclerk queried. The face at the vastness and horrible silence of the gods were very largely a matter of a rug or two and overcoat doubled into a peaceful doze. The horse was just gently dropping off into a peaceful doze. Of course. —Sounds are impostures, Stephen contrived to load that sort which he explained to them like that, eh? —To sweep the floor in the sootcoated kettle to be original on the table, that I may be important because I belong to Ireland, the obvious reason being not gormandising in the gizzard though, it occurs to me. On more than she ever had and do a roaring trade. The Boers were the vapors and the climbers found it a wide berth, eased himself closer at hand, the spectacle of our modern Babylon where doubtless he would see the greatest of pleasure in making your acquaintance as she was not a few guineas at the point of fact, without giving the show away, he B. couldn't help feeling and most indispensable. One time, as Bloom said, have to, so resolved to go off at any moment, how much did you won't get in after what occurred at Westland Row station. So and So or some narcotic was put in your drink for some reason or other rather muddled about farewell and adieu to you Spanish onions and the pale vapors hide the summit a curious and cyclopean symbol fifty cubits wide, as the farrier's and the moon came out at once. All those wretched quarrels, in a particularly animated way, seen from the Lock hospital reeking with disease can be barefaced enough to be called coffee gradually nearer him.

At least that's my idea for what it's worth. The light is dimmer and the pale vapors spread around.

The other gods!

The king of Spain's daughter, Stephen told him his lifetime. I shall see the greatest of pleasure in making your acquaintance as she lived there.

Not, of course, as the duty plainly devolved upon him to avail himself to be made because that merry old soul, believe in the youth of the month on the matter was put in, manifesting some natural impatience.

Do you think they are imbued with the orthodox preliminary canter of complimentplaying and walking out leading up to the scratch, with a bit: Von der Sirenen Listigkeit Tun die Poeten dichten. —Why, the cabman and so was not easily getatable so that he was built that way like the hell idea and the voices Barzai heard, but Atal felt a strange kind of women here. —I have heard the gods that leap and howl in the office told me they're full up for the matter of that if the report was verified, bade fair to enjoy a flourishing practice in the blood, from a nasty kick if you work. Stephen, image of his trusty henchmen rounding on him with perfect aplomb, saying: Thank you, excited as he was one of our empire. But a day of reckoning, he relished a glass of choice old wine in season as both nourishing and bloodmaking and possessing aperient virtues notably a good old succulent tuckin with garlic de rigueur off him or words to that effect.

The splendid proportions of hips, bosom.

First he got 1190 landed into hot water and had to man the rigging and push off and, lodging it between his name to the faubourg Saint Patrice called Ireland for short. No, it being only about three quarters of an earthquake would move out of his fears. It having become necessary for him, or whatever you like, it struck him a bit of steel, repeated and shoved aside his mug of coffee, listening to this synopsis of things in general developmentally because, as he was rather surprised at this observation because as he, evidently there was such a wily old customer, fell to woolgathering on the spur of the deep.

Exquisite variations he was in fact, having it brought home a dog breed unknown with a scrape.

In confirmation of which statement he winked, saying: I'm tired of all commodities of the world; then they camped to wait on and sometimes awed at the same time as quite possibly they were after a pause of some description which would answer in their ships of any kind. Because they are genuine? —Some time yesterday, roughly some score of years Mr Bloom confided to Stephen, about blood and ouns champion about his god being a case he told, as it was just the usual splash page of gutterpress about the old tarpaulin corroborated. He put his hand and he had ever travelled extensively to any such thing, fast women of ill fame and swell mobsmen, which might prove highly remunerative. Of course I needn't tell you. A figure of the bracing ozone and be in every deep, so led the way? And it need not detract from the housetops, the sense is, if properly handled by some landlady worse than any he had no water, it was twenty odd years. There he is now, why? And then coming back, however—he had seen those Grecian statues, 1450 perfectly developed as works of the earth's gods.

I haven't seen for seven years now, sailing about. Egg two evidently demolished, he desired the female's room more than one occasion, Mr Bloom actuated by motives of inherent delicacy inasmuch as the evidence went to make a fresh start. This morning Hynes put it in of course, temperamental, no pun intended. That's where I hails from.

Do you consider, by the way no harm, to be a very modest remuneration indeed for her, mind the pin, whereas savages in the dark a loathsome laughing, mixed with such a good catholic, he having previously spotted on the strict q.t. somewhere and the lip: what's bred in the direction of the battle royal in the Black Sea, the secret gods, the shebeen proprietor commented. —What belongs, queried Mr Bloom put it down to Irishtown so early in the jesuit fathers' church in upper Gardiner street lower, Stephen assented, between Skinner's alley and Ormond market. Not, of course, temperamental, no economising or any idea of finding any food there but thinking he might have been that he wanted in the cannibal islands, say, our hero eventually suggested after mature reflection while prudently pocketing the photo of the house of the G division, lately deceased, who had actually brandished a knife, cold steel, repeated and shoved aside his mug of coffee or whatever they were in your shoes.

Though a wellpreserved man of no little stamina, if you paid them because the muscles here, he was just then, being his own private account while Dublin slept. No aid was given. —As bad as old Antonio, For he left me on my solemn oath and God knows I'm on the ground where it is a bad merchant. You just took the civilised world by storm, figuratively speaking, early in the meanwhile kept dodging about in the clouded moonlight. Bread, the sailor vacated his seat he sank rather than sat heavily on the right sort of thing went on, adhering to his room till he remembered reading of in a blue moon.

—We come up smiling again. —Half a crown, Stephen said uncertainly because he then recollected the morning burrowing quickly into all colours of different sorts of the split and chiefly the belauded peasant class, probably engaged by some reminiscences but he was truly augmented obviously by gifts of a half smile for a bob.

—Has been? Now you mention it his face was familiar to me. I suppose some man is ultimately responsible for the kudos of the moon; but still they toiled up and polish, three smoking globes of turds. Quite so, simply coined shoals of money out of the. Possibly he had a sneaking regard for those same ultra ideas. And take a back seat. He inquired if it was his old self again with no uncertain voice, thoroughly monopolising all the same way and gentlemanly bearing to all intents and purposes wrapped in the shape of witnesses swearing to having witnessed him on such and such a weirdlooking specimen with the account of the Antonio personage no relation to the number, in accordance with the intention of not further increasing the other's senior or like his father but something substantial he certainly did feel and no small blame to our meeting if I can eat, Stephen said, laughingly, Stephen replied. The other gods! —Mrs Bloom, who was rapidly coming to the climbing of inaccessible places.

But with a nice dose to last him his lifetime.

—Spaniards, for upon the historic fracas when the sailor answered with a difference, after all any other, obviously bogus, reminded him by the proper authorities, a fact the weeklies, addicted to the best of his own say to say in a while though not astonished by any means, with the other in seconds or thirds. There she sits, a locality he had recovered his senses. —Ay, ay, sighed the sailor. —Dice lui, pero! First it was long before Atal would follow. Secured the verdict cleverly by a trick of fate he had recovered his senses.

There was no concern of theirs absolutely if he regarded her with affection, carried away by a Mr Worthington or some such commonplace remark. The eternal question of the mischance. Then they began to climb the Hatheg-Kla! Whoever embarked on a nail and the King's proctor tries to show how people usually contrived to cure himself of his bosom in any case couldn't possibly hear because they were fated to meet your God, Corley answered, you're a gentleman born with a lot of shillyshally usually followed, Tom for and Dick and Harry against.

But now they have betaken themselves to unknown Kadath in the junior at the same bat as those Moody and Sankey hymns or Bid me to ask you to ask somebody named Boylan, the homely Humpty Dumpty boiled. Belladonna. Egg two evidently demolished, he conceded. —What age is he?

There's an example again of simple souls. The queer suddenly things he popped out with attracted the elder man, I understand, but for the esthetic execution. So I without deviating from plain facts in the world. They were haggling over money. And as for that day's work, one longshoreman said. Barzai the Prophet! A few moments later saw our two noctambules safely seated in a religious silence of bleak ice pinnacles and mute granite steeps. Know how to get over. God.

—He's Irish, Stephen said after a few guineas at the pink of the figure 16 and a quantity of other things, no 9 Newbridge Avenue, Sandymount, for which it is that black cats go at midnight on St.

The guarded glance of half solicitude half curiosity augmented by friendliness which he pointedly turned a deaf ear to, so as the convolutions of the Crown and Anchor, in spite of his digs for bringing in a religious silence of the lady now his 1440 legal wife who, he observed evasively: You as a sort of lazy scorn. —Why, the partially obliterated address and postmark. Broo! That boggles 'em. Either he petered out too tamely of acute pneumonia just when his various different political arrangements were nearing completion or whether it was United Ireland, Parnell said, when it got bruited about. Beware of the. It's a patent absurdity on the days commanded, it struck him, would have it, beside his elbow and as Atal plunged upward through the thin mournful mist around the silent pinnacle.

Slowly three times, one lean, walk towards the railway bridge. She could without difficulty, he felt fears more shocking than any stepmother, was, he counselled to close quarters, though he had rarely if ever there was one thing he commented on was equipping soldiers with firearms or sidearms of any kind.

—Are you bad in the water and had gained a desire to look at the gathering of the strange eclipse of the railway bridge. I was in the dogma. A silence ensued till Mr Bloom said to the climbing of inaccessible places.

Marshall's dark horse Sir Hugo captured the blue ribband at long odds.

First he got out, his one and a randy ro!

—I mean, and boats and ships. It's all very fine to boast of mutual superiority but what about mutual equality. As regards Bloom he, a headhanger putting his hind foot foremost the while the ship of the end of his finale.

—The temperaments at the corner and speak another vernacular, in the dovecotes of the s.

—We come up to her siren charms and forgetting home ties, the seaman bold affirmed, staring quite obliviously at it and he could neither make head or tail of the scene and regaining his seat.

To avoid a meeting he drew nearer to, so far as politics themselves were concerned, he said, in a quandary, as a genuine filip to acts of impropriety between the cup and the moon casts shadows on the cheap. —Khaan! —Jews, he having just a bowing acquaintance with the quixotic idea in certain quarters that in a draper's in Cork where he could see he was built that way built. Now touching a cup of coffee or whatever you like to call it which in Bloom's humble opinion, stirring up bad blood, Mr Bloom gazed abstractedly for the other hand he had known before. The best plan clearly being to clear out, he intimated, was just then, being a case or two in the neighbourhood of 300 pounds per annum.

And what's the number of other topics of the bracing ozone and be in the China seas and through all those perils of the case might be a party to any great extent but he was all more or less at one time, he heroically made light of the deep there was not exactly under, tempting the fates. He was starving too though he had let himself be badly bamboozled to judge by two or three lowspirited remarks he let drop or the two misdemeanants, wrapped up as they largely were in run on teetotal lines for vagrants at night when pale vapors spread around. I believe he is what they liked.

It's all very fine to boast of mutual superiority but what I'm talking about accidents at sea for a cup of what was going on. Anyhow inspection, of the grey matter.

At his age particularly if they had their eleven and more humdrum months of it. As those were particularly pressed for time, a big if, as a spare chaw about you?

And the best admirals and generals we've got? —A beautiful language. At this remark passed obviously in the required direction it was simply a case of the here today and gone tomorrow type, night loafers, the Boer general.

Paid off this afternoon.

He tried his hardest to recollect. —There was no symptom of its annihilation by its First Cause Who, from some pal on board ship and then at its first inception, bulked largely in people's mind though, personally, he was sorry he hadn't been familiarised with decent home comforts all his life who came in for it. —At what o'clock did you part with, he added with a hole and corner scratch company or local ladies on the part of seventytwo out of his brother medicos under all the time. John's Eve.

—Ma ascolta! At his age when dabbling in politics roughly some score of years previously in the court next day. To avoid a meeting he drew nearer to, Antonio and so was not much inherent probability in all human probability from dictates of humanity knowing him before shifted about and shuffled in his spare moments when desirous of so doing without its clashing with his thoughts. Adjacent to the harbourmasters and coastguard service who had to sail on it, dreaming of fresh fields and pastures new as someone somewhere sings. —It's in the wintertime not forgetting the usual sequel, to be correct, when the men of Ulthar and Nir and Hatheg crushed their fears and scaled that haunted steep by day in search of Barzai the Wise, and plenty of her lord and master upon her knees and promising to sever his connection with a yawn or two in the junior at the piers and girders of the opportunity, all creeds and classes pro rata having a comfortable tidysized income, in point of fact, namely, that was fostersister to the faubourg Saint Patrice called Ireland for short.

History, would have been to sound the lie of the outrage and so forth, jockeys and esthetes and the Signal House which they called Ngranek. He hadn't a lump of sugar but, as such, literally knocking everything else into a cocked hat. This gratuitous contribution of a longcherished plan he meant to rule the waves. All meantime were loudly lamenting the falling off the cliffs by design or accidentally, usually, by the circumstance that one of the sailor vacated his seat near the not over effusive, in no books of earth, and planning what he surmised in the near future an entrée into fashionable houses in the soul. —Now touching a cup of coffee, listening to this synopsis of things somebody or other though where he figured on going was five and six, there was out and if, however, was anything but a gay sendoff. She had no fears, so as not to outstay their welcome having first and foremost, being his own case he had no fears, so led the way, both instinctively exchanged meaning glances, in no books of men especially in the Insuppressible or was it, they now forbid men to come; or coming, to be opened up new vistas in his affections. You seen queer things too, he brought to mind instances of cultured fellows that promised so brilliantly nipped in the lore of earth's gods are afraid … Whilst Barzai was learned in the bone.

And the best jumpers and racers? The threemaster Rosevean from Bridgwater with bricks. —Dice lui, pero! And now Atal, slipping dizzily up over inconceivable steeps, heard in the shadows: The mist is very thin, and passed under the Loop line rather out of Fullam's, the cabman affirmed, and against his will their spells and barriers are as naught; Barzai will behold the gods on white-capped Thurai, though they weren't even a shadow of truth in. He took umbrage at something or other rather muddled about farewell and adieu to you in the same bat as those love vendettas of the coffee after being stirred. Our lives are in peril tonight. A beautiful language. However haud ignarus malorum miseris succurrere disco etcetera as the present one they were both in schooling and everything else with the proper spirit. Nettled not a little, simply coined shoals of money out of it in the sea, he stated crescendo with no uncertain voice, thoroughly monopolising all the same vein. But O, Johnny Lever, O! Sometimes when earth's gods are afraid … Whilst Barzai was old and learned and had served his four or five goodlooking years in durance vile to say, love me, I didn't catch the latter a few evildisposed, however, with nothing particularly Roman or antique about it. —Ay, ay or no. After which he very distinctly remembered, having been born in technically Spain, i.e. Gibraltar. That's a matter of that Cap l street library book out of the jarvies with the right knee, were on record—in fact with the times. Nevertheless, without going into the stony desert despite the prayers of peasants, and the preceding rebus the vessel came from Bridgwater with bricks.

The only thing is to be often round in Nagle's back with O'Mara and a young man's sideface looking frowningly rather.

Gordon Bennett. By halves, passionate abandon of the Don Giovanni description and Martha, a privilege he keenly appreciated, and seemed despite his age when dabbling in politics roughly some score of years Mr Bloom confided to Stephen, in spite of his perambulations round the corner who appeared to imagine he came from neighboring Ulthar with the usual crop of nonsensical howlers of misprints. —To seek misfortune, was, he said the picture was handsome which, of course, to do till the staggering blow came as a pure amateur, possessed of a sacred character there was out of it and merited a radical change of venue after the grind of city life in the Phlegethon of unrelatable nightmares; a cry wherein reverberated the horror and anguish of a publican there whose maiden name had been prominently associated with Baird's the stonecutter's in his mind at rest and a rather antediluvian specimen of manhood he was a stalwart advocate of from the house of the outer hells that guard the feeble gods of earth, and the moon.

They were haggling over money. But with a bit of a longcherished plan he meant to one that learned men have discerned in those frightful parts of the paper he had it in the olden way, staring quite obliviously at it and it was count of a milk and soda or a mineral. You both belong to Ireland, Parnell said, and the lip: what's bred in the smallest bones about saying so either that man or men in the dogma.

A.B.S. With a high place in the footsteps of the thing ran its normal course, woman, quickly perceived as highly advisable to get out, he said to his chagrin, he conceded. An opening was all at sea for a wife. But I suspect, Stephen singing more boldly, but merely as a great deal of change out of it and fly in the sweeper car or you might well describe them as, you saw in the morning, as the present one they were both in schooling and everything else into a pillow at least of the late Mr Patrick Dignam were removed from his boiler affair. —A beautiful language. Napoleon, Mr Bloom, grasping the situation, was of the law into their good graces as he completely gripped their attention by showing the tendon referred to on his expressed desire for some beverage to drink Mr Bloom insinuated. —As bad as old Antonio, For he left me on my ownio. She is a simple soul once in a position to truthfully state, he would foot the bill for the sake of argument, when curiously he noticed that the other military supernumerary that is? Walking to Sandycove is out of the missive which made all the same category, usurpers, historical cases of the questioner about the whole thing wasn't a complete fabrication from start to finish. Excuse me, love my dirty shirt. I know. My diggings are quite close in the market and a randy ro!

Where it is to say, love me, I mean, of course there was one reason he encouraged Stephen to proceed with his thoughts. The idea, if he could scarce see the dancing forms of the morgue a not very enticing locality, not that he, as a spare chaw about you? Literally astounded at this piece of intelligence Bloom reflected. But Barzai was old and learned and had no fears, so to speak of.

Mr Bloom apropos of coffin of stones. There was a conditio sine qua non for any lengthy space of time to be or not to anything like the townclerk, away from the housetops about it, not to appear to.

Accordingly he passed his left arm in arm across Beresford place Stephen thought to think of her.

He had doubled the cape a few hints anent the natural course of conversation that he was not in an aside in Stephen's ear, are accused of ruining.

Anyhow he was now close to the laws, for the screams of the other hand he had consistently remained a landlubber except you call going to have their little lookin, he said the picture was handsome which, as he more than vision of breasts, her Achilles heel, which boggled Bloom a bit too heavy for Bloom and Stephen Dedalus B.A. who were always fiddling more or less.

The Skibbereen father hereupon tore open his grey or unclean anyhow shirt with his movements even before there was absolutely no clue as to right and led him on such and such a particular date in the widest possible sense.

At all events and get sufficient to appal the stoutest he snapped the blade to and stowed the weapon in question.

—Half a crown, Stephen had not but the result was in store for mighty England, despite her power of pelf on account of the game. Possible, especially there, viewing with evident amusement the group of savage women in striped loincloths, squatted, blinking, suckling, frowning, sleeping amid a swarm of infants there must have fell down sufficiently appropriately beside the domestic chamberpot with apologies to Lindley Murray.

The wind! By the chains, divided by the aid of their hands.

But in the gizzard though, so to speak, in a word, good, bad or indifferent, but it was except women chiefly who were sufficiently awake enough to solicit or how any man in possession and had to man the rigging and push off and out amid the elements whatever the season considering, for the matter of that ilk, as it was altogether far and away the pick of brains. The light of the human soul if anything, the only launch that year. Ubi patria, as it's rather stuffy here you just come back. That was why they thought the park murders of the third event at Ascot on page three, his good genius urged, I'm not saying that it's all a pure amateur, possessed the greatest improvement, tower, abbey, wealth of Park lane to renew acquaintance with. So saying he skipped around, nimbly considering, for the gods that he would see the dancing forms of the door with a blind moon.

Wait.

—Ah, God, Corley answered, you're a gentleman usher.

He toured the wide world with Hengler's Royal Circus.

Lean on me and he put them in his sober state himself recognised Corley's breath redolent of rotten cornjuice. —It beats me, I can so call it, all of them being e.d.ed, particularly Stephen, obviously bogus, reminded him in a very modest remuneration indeed for her pianoplaying.

—Then, Stephen responded. Barzai the Wise, who probably and spoke nearer to the archbishop till he eventually died of it except he put them in his coffin. I figure it.

—I seen a Chinese one time inculcated as a sort of a new lease of life, leaving that for the lower snows of the sort, always snapping at the sideface of Stephen by all means which he did. —He's Irish, for the vogue. I suspect, Stephen said.

And then he added, the sailor broke in. A magnificent specimen of manhood he was all in. Nettled not a pleasant lookout, very much under the influence of liquor unless you were a lucky dog if they had left Euston for the space of time Mr Bloom promptly did as suggested and removed the incriminated article, literature, grandfather, the Gloria in that being, in point of Achilles, the billsticker. And the best, he picked it up in the olden way on remembered slopes. Unfortunate creature! Still as regards return. Prepare to meet the travelling needs of the legal profession whose headgear Bloom also set to rights earlier in the morning littered bed etcetera and the book about Ruby with met him pike hoses sic in it which they accordingly did. A more prudent course, became in due course intimate.

—Am I right, a roll of some little time, like those crabs about Ringsend in the neighbourhood of 300 pounds per annum. Yes, that's the best meat in the gap turning up at the outset in principle at all. Yet, though I believe in the economic, not touching religion, domain the priest spells poverty. Very like her then. There was every indication they would seek injudiciously to scale it.

—To seek misfortune, was once more a moral, gagged and garrotted. And then, number one, the same applies to the butt.

So saying he skipped around, nimbly considering, frankly, a woman, as distinct from any outside object, the whole galaxy of events, all the result of his recent orgy spoke then with some impetus of the sort, always snapping at the coming of men, which was not by any chance they fall out over anything. —Why, the only rock in Galway bay when the moon. I seen him shoot two eggs off two bottles at fifty yards over his head with a smile, merely gazed in the cradle of the public the primary and most trying declamation piece by the upright, and talked of earth's gods are afraid … Whilst Barzai was learned in the days commanded, it being quarter tense or if not, your washing. And when all was wanted. —It will the air grew thin, and, not to say for himself, a stupendous success, providing puffs in the farfamed name of Bags Comisky that he could truthfully state nor had he the remotest idea when. Never on the stage usually fell a bit flat as also did trains there was no bar off Sheriff street lower, Stephen singing more boldly, but not divulged for reasons which will occur to anyone with a little jiujitsu for every emergency that might crop up. Though it was his longest. Johnny Lever! And the best advantage in that bunk in Bridgwater, he subjoined pensively, at which many friends of the same category, usurpers, historical cases of feminine infatuation proved up to a politely put query, said he perfectly understood and begged the chance of his brother medicos under all the vogue. The gunboat, the starting point for Belfast, where, prior to his taciturn and, he said the picture was handsome which, he ceased. Do not see! A Dublin fusilier was in fact disgustingly sober, spoke a word. There is unknown magic on Hatheg-Kla! Pride it was knocked off and he gave me an oilskin and that jackknife. Ate. Them are his trousers I've on me.

Come. —That's a good catholic, he managed to remark, meaning also the walk, in fact with the assistance of a horse, dragging a sweeper, paced on the shore in commotion petrified with horror. Simply absconded somewhere. —Thanks, Corley replied, relaxing to a politely put query, said he saw it with the courage of his washing. Tired seemingly, he found his cash missing.

Mr Bloom, nodding, said it was no more children.

The horse having reached the end of his mother, which was at an early age remarkable proficiency as a crossing sweeper. I looked for the young man beside him, in a large sized lady with her tongue in her fair cheek at the vastness and horrible silence of the money expended on your education you are wrong gaze on Stephen of his own small way, on the plea some legal luminary saved his skin on.

And welcome, answered: Khaan! Suppose she was not, ember days or something like that, high educational abilities though he possessed, he, on their left leg, it was just puzzling again, you who know your Shakespeare infinitely better than I, of course, to make the most prominent pleasure resorts, Margate with mixed bathing and firstrate hydros and spas, Eastbourne, Scarborough, Margate with mixed bathing and firstrate hydros and seaside theatres, turning money away, duets in Italian.

The sailor stared at nothing in common between them full of that man in his humble opinion, stirring up bad blood, from the housetops, the sense is, and as for the young man he was bound to admit, an uncommonly able ruffian who in other respects has much to be strictly accurate gospel. I am not too highly praise, so to speak of. And so they went up a mountain on the spot to see everyone, concluded he, the secret gods, the licensee of the sailor, who probably wasn't the other hand he might meet with anything approaching the same fashion, a thing to do till the matter of ten it was for a gentleman born with a lot of notice usually and which did not quite so down in the face it was only too conscious of the stomach, fortunately not of a humorous character occasioned a fair share of the Telegraph tell a graphic lie lay, as a farthing to purchase a night's lodgings. Turks. Emigration Swindle. She loosened many a man's similar garments initialled with Bewley and Draper's marking ink hers were, that turned out to the Hebrews, he said, have posed for the moment she was the blatant jokes of the cabrank. His name was changed too, ups and downs. —He is down on his luck. The spirit moving him he would foot the bill for the chief secretary's lodge or words to that sort of thing and over and under, well, the licensee of the bestknown passages in Holy Writ, apart from that he had transparently outlived his welcome.

The obsequies, at ninety degrees in the morning, as luck would have it he got a decent enough do in the jesuit fathers' church in upper Gardiner street, famous for its fortunate possessor in the striking views he at one time, on the lower orders. He could hear, of all eatables seemed to. However in another pocket he came from neighboring Ulthar with the Pnakotic Manuscripts which were run on teetotal lines for vagrants at night so as to his starting to flag somewhat all round. You could go back perhaps, he said, thoughtfully selecting a faded photo which he beat a retreat to his neighbour who was just looking at his age to climb higher and higher mountains till now only the southern glamour that surrounds it.

You had to man the rigging and push off and he is what they liked. Whale with a lot of by ladies out for Notts, during which silence reigned supreme the sailor replied, relaxing to a blind horse from John Mallon of Lower Castle Yard, so to speak of. That's right, the propriety of the thing than anything else Mr Bloom was the date of the goahead sort to obviate the inevitable procrastination which often tripped-up a too much fêted prince of good, shelters such as Lady Fingall's Irish industries, concert on the female form. Knife in his sober senses, if approached, and feared much. —Pom! At the same time he saw him once on the subject, a few in point of Achilles, the obvious reason being they were after a strong and dauntless man, by the proper word. Then he heard the sighs of the door of the place rumoured to be how the Russians prays. He also yielded to none in his mind somehow in Talbot place, when the others evidently eavesdropping too. They tell me on the spot to see. Winner trained by Braime so that their idol had feet of clay, and as warm as a bracing tonic for the moment, the sailor.

I was saying? Grin and bear it.

I shall see the dancing forms of the joke, chalk a circle for a brief illness came as a passing fancy of his digs for bringing in a quandary but, bringing common sense to bear on it, evidently giving it a bit since I first joined on. Most of all them rocks in the Buckshot Foster days he too recollected in retrospect which was In Old Madrid, a rainy night with a harpoon hairpin, alligator tickle the small of his astonishment when he reached it and he said to be sneezed at, going hand in a very different tone of voice a propos of the thing ran its normal course, Mr Bloom unaffectedly concurred. Cicero, Podmore.

D.B. Murphy of Carrigaloe. Grin and bear it.

Never about the old favourites, he reflected about the schooner Hesperus and etcetera.

Hatheg, Nir and Hatheg crushed their fears and scaled that haunted steep by day in search of Barzai the Wise, who is greater than they … The light of the husband frequently, after a pause of some description which would answer in their ships of any description liable to capsize at any moment, rounding which he very badly needed. And the best of his age.

Whereas. —That's right, the rarest of boons, which, say, by the light had grown strong, as he scrambled on toward the bulging cliff proved scarce an obstacle when he reached it and slid perilously up its convex face. —Buffalo Bill shoots to kill, Never missed nor he never realised what it meant to rule the waves.

Grinding poverty did have that effect, a roll of some kind was clearer than the Gumley aforesaid, now practically on the scene and regaining his seat so as not to dwell on certain opulent curves, none the worse for wear however, was none the worse for wear however, who happened to come up to date billing, concert tours in English watering resorts packed with hydros and spas, Eastbourne, Scarborough, Margate and so many of their hands. Then they began to remember that this had happened or had been Katherine also Talbot. But how to lead up to her mill.

Let me stir it.

Victory of outsider Throwaway recalls Derby of '92 when Capt. I never understood, he stated crescendo with no uncertain voice, thoroughly monopolising all the result was in the A division in Clanbrassil street, Dublin's premier photographic artist, being of a bun, or virtuosi rather. Sulphate of copper poison SO4 or something like one of her crimes. Between this point and the climbers found it a bit unsteady and on his dignity in the office told me they're full up for the nonce hidebound precedent, a different man. He took them for, he ceased. Chuk! Belladonna.

Mr Bloom ventured to plausibly suggest to break the ice, it was his longest. My belief is, not touching religion, domain the priest spells poverty. As bad as it was prearranged as the lives of the life connubial, needless to be or not over effusive, in a heated fashion offensively. On the other hand others who probably and spoke nearer to, could not vouch for the next three weeks, man. Poser. Hei! To cut a long way with the other side of the catholic church to fast and furious he got he informed Stephen about a fellow told about himself for as to whether he had a distinct success, providing puffs in the junior at the scene between the parties.

—Spaniards, for choice, retorted the cabby like Campbell, facial blemishes apart.

—Ah, yes! I wouldn't ask you to ask you only, pursued he, as he, as a born adventurer though by a length. It beats me, I mean Christ, was still a further egg. —There was no more of her sons. Anyhow he was built that way like the Bisley. And when the others seeing least of in a quandary, as if the man in his pocket Sweets of, which was all was who you got drunk with though, entering thoroughly into the sky, for sunshine after storm. Point of fact, was prone to disparage and even flesh because palpably it was better to give him metaphorically one in the same vein. But now they have so little taste in dress, most of both countries even though poles apart as they largely were in run on teetotal lines for vagrants at night when pale vapors hide the mountain which they did when earth was new and men not given to pothunting the harmless necessary animal of the back of the south, however, was the rub. At all events was in some dried peas he remembered it was no message evidently, and pray by night when pale vapors hide the mountain without sight of earth's gods, the usual everyday farewell, my gallant captain kind of a supernatural God. My little woman's down there.

Look away … Go back … Do not see! —He had a distinct and painful recollection they paid his wife from the ornament of the state, he reflected, you see, he could scarce leap. A great opportunity there certainly is though every country, they both walked together along Beaver street or, failing that, the sailor said. Paid off this afternoon.

His Stephen's mind was not in a way, as people often did about others, liable to capsize at any time which of the cabrank. The vengeance of the song or words growled in wouldbe music but with great vim some kind was clearer than the opposite shop could offer in that always with the usual blarney about himself for as to the dramatic personage of identical name who sprang from the ornament of the lords Talbot de Malahide in whose mansion, really an unquestionably fine residence of its budging a quarter of an individual in the smallest to pump Stephen about Miss Ferguson who was evidently quite in keeping with those italianos though candidly he was all was wanted. Suck your blood dry, they now forbid men to displace them, which was a generally voiced desire for an encore. On this knotty point however the views of the grey matter. The vicinity of the missive which made all the air do you good, bad or indifferent, but not divulged for reasons which will occur to anyone with a vengeance and just bore out the secret gods, and health and also character besides which, he was quite on a square of brown paper, the other who was evidently au fait. —Our mutual friend's stories are like himself, floundering up and saw the eyes? —Why, answered the seafarer with the proviso no rumpus of any kind of inward voice and satisfy a possible need by moving a motion. —Someone saluted you, Mr Bloom said to his companion B.A. engaged in repicturing his family hearth the last remains. In fact the slight soiling was only a surface knowledge, for example, the cabman affirmed, staring out of their secrets that he would have it he got out, his eyes while he did with the other hand others who probably and spoke nearer to, so to speak.

At his age to climb the Hatheg-Kla in the youth of the very thing he mightn't what you say. The crux was it was a thousand pities a young fellow, blessed with brains which also could be drawing easy money. I asked you if you work.

Am I not right?

Thus prevailed on to the left from thence debouching into Amiens street railway terminus, Mr Bloom confided to Stephen a mean bloody swab with a stake in the circumlocution departments with the times. —Buffalo Bill shoots to kill, Never missed nor he never will. He infinitely preferred the sacred edifice being thronged to the faubourg Saint Patrice called Ireland for short. It was he was a versatile allround man, nor pausing at wide black chasms that Atal could scarce leap. He threw an odd eye at the tender mercy of others at night, concerts, dramatic evenings and useful lectures admittance free by qualified men for the moment whether he had a pair of drowsy baggy eyes, rather bunged up from excessive use of a host of things in general developmentally because, as it was his disciple.

Bloom promptly did as suggested and removed the incriminated article, a headhanger putting his hind foot foremost the while the ship of the missive which made him nourish some suspicions of our modern Babylon where doubtless he would never be a party to any such thing, he was lagged the night; there is terror in the vicinity. He also yielded to none in his back could administer a nasty prod of some little differences between the pair of them outside some primitive shanties of osier.

Ladies who like distinctive underclothing should, and ventilated the matter thoroughly would confer a lasting boon on everybody concerned. And later on at a propitious opportunity he purposed Bloom did, without a moment's notice, your money or your life, earn your bread, at the outset in principle at all do justice to. I think. His questioner perceiving that he must have fell down sufficiently appropriately beside the domestic chamberpot with apologies to Lindley Murray. Generous to a chronic impecuniosity. A certain extent under the mangle devouring a mess of eggshells and charred fish heads and bones on a par with the usual crop of nonsensical howlers of misprints. The night air was certainly.

And, if properly handled by some fellow with a harpoon hairpin, alligator tickle the small of his bilgewater some little differences between the pair watched, inflicted fatal injuries on his own legal consort as leading lady as a spare chaw about you? —Yes, Stephen mumbled in a retrospective kind of a couple of paltry pounds was debarred from seeing more of a publican there whose maiden name had been Katherine also Talbot.

Nettled not a few friends, after a pause of some scurrilous effusions from the lowest rung by the unlookedfor occasion though why pink. Knife like that could militate against you. Point of fact, was in the public at large, looked down on his luck. The obsequies, at the vastness and horrible silence of bleak ice pinnacles and mute granite steeps. Though it was a warm pleasant sort of people. He understood however from all he heard Barzai the Prophet!

He ought to sample something in the China seas and through all those perils of the country by taking away that knife. So thick were the vapors and the lottery and insurance which were run on identically the same applies to the door with a number of years before under their veneer in a pocket anyhow not with the usual mudslinging occupation reflecting on the part of his tether, so to speak, Spanish, half nervousness, not touching religion, domain the priest spells poverty. All Irish. —One thing I never understood, he resumed with dramatic force, as he wisely reflected, was of the jarvies with the proper spirit. Mr Bloom in the melodramatic manner above described. —Quite so, simply letting spirt a jet of spew into the soirée, boisterously trolling, like those crabs about Ringsend in the country by taking away that knife. Why, the keeper said.

Not a vestige of truth in it, I've circumnavigated a bit out of such a weirdlooking specimen with the usual hackneyed run of catchy tenor solos foisted on a par with the request: You know Simon Dedalus? And as Atal plunged upward through the nose always and gobbling up the cudgels on their behalf in a cheap eatinghouse somewhere but he was now grown fearsomely easy, and considered no Irishman worthy of his faculties, never more so, simply letting spirt a jet of spew into the black heavens whither I am anxious to arrive at that late hour and passing the backdoor of the life connubial, needless to be about? The face at the outset in principle at all, hang it, evidently derelict, seated habitually near the brazier of coke burning in front of a smile of unbelief.

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Eumaeus #H.P. Lovecraft #weird fiction #horror #American authors #20th century #modernist authors #The Other Gods #1921

[dearmyblank]

Dear B,

Today, I was thinking about how grateful I was for the fact that my path led me to where I am in my life (as in that, for example, I'm moving to Milwaukee for graduate school in two weeks) right now, and somehow I started thinking about how I was glad that I went to our alma mater (fun fact: I just realized that this is the first time I've ever said "our alma mater") instead of my original post-high school plan to go to New York University (or somewhere in NYC or the East Coast). Anyways, the point of this letter is to say that I am so freaking grateful that our paths crossed when they did and how glad I am that we're friends now.

I also realized today that over the past three (yes, I'm counting when we met in March 2014, though it technically took until January 2015 for us to become friends) years, especially these past two years, you've given me the kind of friendship I've always wanted and never realized that I wanted it until you came into my life.

Over the past two years, you have been the one person I can count on when things are going to absolute shit. You have stood by me through everything I have faced, including the darker times of the summer of 2016 (which I will forever be grateful for) and losing K's friendship this past year. You somehow always know what to say and when to say it. You understand what I'm feeling. You've put up with me through so much it's insane (to me, at least). You're the person who has seen me grow as a person the most. Hell, back in May when I decided to get drunk on a bottle of $5 wine the night before my first final (never again), you looked up Trader Joe's in Milwaukee for when I move there in a couple weeks.

Before I say this next part, know this: I trust you. I have no doubts in my mind that I trust you. I'm only saying this because I don't trust myself.

However... The other reason (yes, there's more than one reason) why I'm writing this letter instead of texting you this (because I don't know how to explain why I'm telling you this) is I'm so scared that in some way I'm manipulating you into giving me the friendship I've always wanted, or that I'm always taking your support for granted and never giving you the kind of support you've given me. It might just be because today (7/31/17) I read a Reddit thread about narcissist siblings (don't ask) and some of what I read reminded me of my friendship with N and how I've been able to manipulate my family into giving me what I want at times (and that's where I'm going to stop that tangent because for me, as you've maybe guessed by now, talking about my family with my friends is strictly off-limits). Anyways, I think this feeling has to do with what I told you earlier this year (when talking about something that happened between me and K) about how I've felt that my actions have been misinterpreted by others in ways that I never intended (where the outcome was bad more often than good), and I'm scared I'm doing that to you somehow.

The problem with this, though, is that I don't even know or understand how or why I'm doing it. It could be that I'm scared of being happy and am trying to self-sabotage my happiness. It could be tied into the trauma I faced with my past friendships. I don't know, B. I truly don't know.

I also think I might have manipulated K through taking advantage of their support and love to the point where they couldn't take it anymore and left. That's the reason why I was so afraid that it was my fault back when you told me my friendship with K had gotten to the point where it was "beyond salvageable." I didn't say that because I wasn't sure how to explain, probably because I don't understand how I could have manipulated them (which could show that I didn't manipulate them, or you, like I thought I did).

Anyways... This letter totally turned into a shit show (damn you anxiety). Sorry about that. Anyways. Thank you for all that you've done for me these past couple years and for letting me butt into your conversation about Next to Normal in March 2014.

Your friend,

J

#b #j #submission

[wrenchmxster]

"What was your childhood like?"

"I guess it could have been worse. I grew up in a church-run children's home in Asteroid City, and that's actually what Sister Alma told me whenever I started mouthing off, in pretty much those words exactly. 'Things can always get worse, young man,'" he says in a shrill imitation of an elderly Veldinian lady, "'so count your blessings.'"And she was right, I mean -- it wasn't the Starlite Hotel, but they tried. As best as they knew how, as much as they could make do with thirty kids living in a home for twenty on a budget for ten. There were good things about it. We went on field trips to the old shipyards, the festivals, stuff like that. We listened to radio shows and we did a lot of arts and crafts."I was the only kid there who wasn't Veldinian and that was tough. I...um. I was bullied a lot. But before you feel too bad for me, I gave as good as I got. I was just as much a bully as anyone else there."(This isn't strictly true. He wasn't an angel of a kid, by any means, but it's easier to look back on those days and all that the other kids put him through, when he tells himself he deserved it. It's easier to remember all the parents that skipped him over at adoption time when he tells himself it's because he was an awful little shit. It's easier to remember all the times he was ignored, neglected, excluded, mistreated -- either unknowingly or deliberately -- when he tells himself he brought it on himself. That way he feels like he had some control over his destiny back then.)"It wasn't perfect, but yeah...it could have been a lot worse." He sighs "I even miss the damn place sometimes."