#because i spent them completely alone and stagnant waiting for the day my dreams would come true

[peach-jaehyunie]

You Were Beautiful: Epilogue

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Reader

Warnings: mentions of depression, this is entirely angst and fluff though

Rating: 18+

Words: 2k

Previous: Part I, II, III, IV

It’s odd being back in school after a couple years off, but it’s a distraction from the heartbreak you feel. For a couple of months you cried; privately sobbing into your pillow, or excusing yourself to the bathroom if the feelings became overwhelming. Your friends asked if you had dated anyone seriously while you were in Korea. Of course not! You told them, insisting that embarking on a relationship like that when you had no intention to stay would have been careless. You had dated very casually you told them. Your mother had seen the letter clutched in your fist when she had seen you crying, but she never pushed you any further than you asking if you had loved him.

“With every fibre of my being.” You said to her.

Being in school felt right, being home felt right, but your life felt, otherwise, empty. You got back together with an ex. Ben was familiar and comfortable; he knew your life and you knew his. There were memories of shared teenage years and lots of shared friends. He had been your first love, and you were the friends with the great chemistry but you didn’t date until university. As friends, you had been through past breakups together. You had ended it to travel and teach for a few years, and you were pretty sure that you may have uttered the words “wait for me if you feel like it”. His parents loved you, and your parents loved Ben and his parents. You were bored and sexually unfulfilled. Ben criticized things Jaehyun had admired about you. He seemed lazier than you remembered, and you had forgotten that he was one of those people who constantly criticized other people’s thoughts or opinions. He constantly told you why you were wrong. You found out he had briefly gotten back together with a high school girlfriend while you were gone, and she had broken his heart for the second time. Neither of you said it out loud, but you both knew that the other wasn’t completely happy. At one point you had thought about being with Ben forever and having children together, now you made excuses to avoid sex as often as possible. Ben knew you well enough to know that this was extremely uncharacteristic of you.

A year went by and you still thought of Jaehyun every day. You regretted ever wasting a single second by being angry at him after the engagement announcement. You wanted one more day with him—even an hour would suffice. He was in everything you did, he was in every good thought you had. Ben knows there’s someone else, and he asks the bare minimum. Of that, you’re grateful. Sometimes, late at night, you remember the overwhelming—drowning even—sensation of love that you felt with Jaehyun. Maybe that was once in a lifetime love; maybe the regular love was all that you had to look forward to in the future. Your friends were getting married, but you were busy writing your thesis. Your friends were having babies, but you were pining over a married man in a foreign country. Things happened during the day that you wanted to share with Jaehyun, vacation spots became available but you only wanted to go with Jaehyun. A fear that you might never get over him gripped you: what if you never moved on as you had promised. An even greater fear was that Jaehyun may have completely moved on; maybe he was happily in love with someone else, what if he didn’t think of you anymore—it was selfish, that you knew. You wanted him to be blissfully happy and in love, but more than anything you wished that it was with you. You kept in touch with Johnny and Yuta. Johnny never brought up Jaehyun, and Yuta learned to as well. You accepted the love lost, but the world seemed dull. You began to avoid friends and social obligations, devoting yourself to paper writing and volunteering at call helpline centre for youth. Your professor got you involved as a counselor for an addiction group. You devoted every spare moment to others to avoid your own problems. You realized were even denying yourself the opportunity of another chance at love or happiness. You resented the stagnant relationship you were in and mentally chastised yourself for letting love go so easily. You were angry with the naive girl you had once been—who was she to walk away from love without even sparing him one last glance. You saw Jaehyun when you closed your eyes, and your heart stopped for a moment one day when someone walked by you wearing his same cologne. Little things reminded you of him, and you had never missed a person so much. Depression gradually began to settle in, and you pushed yourself to be even busier. On the outside, you were cool as a cucumber, completely together and sometimes even cheerful, but at home, you would shut down; like a computer put to sleep. You wanted desperately for someone to ask how you really were, maybe then you would tell someone. Maybe talking about it would make it feel better, but you also knew that no amount of talking or thinking about Jaehyun would ever bring him back. If Jaehyun existed in summer, then you existed in a world that had no summer—nor even a spring that rekindled the memories of the upcoming season. You cried, pitying yourself for not forgetting Jaehyun or allowing yourself to move on. It was your fault, you were doing this to yourself. “You could be happy if you wanted to be, Y/N.” you muttered to yourself when you were alone. This was never whom you wanted to become, this was not the woman Jaehyun had fallen in love with.

After two years back home, you and Ben broke up by mutual agreement; parting ways with a “see you around”, because 15 years of being a part of each other’s lives were not to be forgotten easily. You focused on yourself and began to tell yourself that you had once had a great love. “I have known love.” You say to yourself every night before falling asleep. You didn’t look for a relationship if you met someone you liked—then so be it, but your energy was otherwise spent on yourself and your work. You take up hobbies you had let fall by the wayside in university, and let little things in life bring you happiness. You tell Yuta to meet you in Osaka in the spring under a cherry blossom tree.

There is a figure standing outside your door, but you don’t notice him immediately as he slowly turns towards the sound of your footsteps as you carry your groceries, humming to yourself. You stop in your tracks when you spot him, and a wave of emotions hits you immediately filling your eyes with tears. He looks the same: his hair falls almost in his eyes, thick and soft as you remember it; his expression is neither happy nor sad, and his eyes appear to drink the sight of you in.

“Hello, Y/N.” he says quietly, his hands remain stuffed in his pockets but he offers the slightest smile.

“Hel—hello, Jaehyun” Your voice cracks loudly and you clear your throat as you set your bags down at your feet. You don’t dare move nearer to him, afraid he’ll disappear like smoke—nothing more than an apparition.

“I’m sorry, I maybe shouldn’t have just shown up.” He looks down at his feet, insecurity being apparent for the first time since he had brought you back your bra in a little paper bag.

“No,” it comes out harsher than you mean “No, it’s fine.” You continue, your voice softening. He looks at you and nods his head before stepping towards you. You’re unable to move as he comes closer to you, this was a dream, this couldn’t be real.

“May I?” He asks as he reaches for your grocery bags. He smells the same, and you nod your head as he lifts the bags from near your feet.

“What are you doing here?” Finally finding your strength and your voice, you can’t let him get away without an explanation. He can’t just come and go as he pleases, not when you’re finally starting to do well.

“Um, well...” he hesitates, standing there with your groceries, “Misook and I are taking everything over in the companies and consolidating it all. Our parents own a lot of real estate...my dad owns a lot of complexes, and one of them is only a couple hours away from here.” You’re unsure of what you’re hearing, and not entirely sure if you’re still breathing. He still hasn’t told you why he’s here, at your house.

“Misook and the baby” Your stomach plummets, “will have half of all assets, and the other half will be mine.” You feel as if you might be sick: so that’s what it feels like; that’s what the keen slap of heartbreak feels like. You can’t look at him, you feel betrayed. You grab the bags from him and rush to your door as you fumble with keys. To your humiliation, you drop them and you feel like breaking down right there, but you can’t let him see you fall apart like that. You curse under your breath as you bend down to pick them up.

“Y/N, he’s Minseok’s.” Jaehyun informs you quietly, sensing what caused your sudden outburst.

“Oh,” you start awkwardly, looking at Jaehyun; your expression embarrassed and apologetic.

“I guess what I’m saying is...I don’t need to be in Korea full time to run the company, and if you’re still interested I’m still madly in love with you.” He’s clear and concise. “We can’t get married or anything until Misook and I completely work out who owns what...so how do you feel about not marrying me, right away at least?” He walks up to you as he says this. You stare at him in front of you, was this real? Was he here asking you this? You make no reply, how do you tell him you completely failed to forget him and stop loving him as he had asked. How do you tell him you would take him back if it meant you two had to move to the moon together. He takes your silence as a negative reply, and he nods before beginning to turn away.

“Yes,” you breathe, reaching out to grab him. He’s real, he’s really here, he’s really asking you this you think as you grip him tightly.

“So you still love me?” Jaehyun asks, brushing a strand of hair off your face.

“How could I ever stop,” and the groceries are dropped again as your breaths intermingle for a moment before lips gently brush against each other. This is the only kiss that matters—it’s like a day was never missed, it was the same as it always was. This is the only feeling that matters, the swelling and feeling full and whole once again. He pulls away for a moment:

“What’s Forest Academy like?”

“Oh,” you are slightly confused for a moment when he mentions the private school nearby that’s filled with foreign students from wealthy families“It’s an excellent school, but it’s really expensive—“ you catch the look on Jaehyun’s face “—not that that will be a problem.” he grins and kisses you again, this time you pull away from him,

“Is that where our kids are going to go to school?” You ask, and you smile against his lips.

“Yes, and then they’ll spend the summer in Seoul with their grandparents. Now that we have everything figured out, all we have to do is make them--but we don’t have to rush that part.” He cuts off your laughter with the crush of his lips. Every movement and breath is as if no time had passed, it’s familiar while still being tantalizing and fulfilling. You feel complete, you feel weightless; he is your equal and you are his. Love is a living and breathing thing: it is constant and ever-changing; its heartbeat slows and speeds up; it is small and warm, and then sometimes swells and consumes you like a fire.

#nct jaehyun #nct fluff #nct smut #nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct au #nct drabbles #jung jaehyun #jung yuno #jung yoonoh #jung jaehyun scenarios #jung jaehyun imagines #jung jaehyun fluff #jung jaehyun au #jung jaehyun smut #you were beautiful #epilogue #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfics #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #kpop au

[sofhyuck]

Greasy Baby

Genre: fluff, greaser!hyuck

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N this au stems from some enlightening conversations with @cinanamon who is graciously allowing me to use some of her ideas, this one’s for you bb ;))))

greaser!hyuck is...a lil shit to say the least

like ye he’s a handsome boi i mean,,,imagine him in a leather jacket,,,hair gelled back,,,yes pls

but he knows him and his group of bois (dreamies hello) are hot shit and he’s not afraid to show that he knows it

him and the dreamies are always seen cruising around town,,, harassing hollerin at the ladies from the inside of hyuck’s beat up mustang (is that a time period correct car??? idk and idc to look it up lol)

he never actually physically harasses anyone, it’s all fun and games (for them at least don’t accept cat calling kids men ain’t shit)

there’s just...nothing else really for them to do around town

the only forms of entertainment come from the drive in theater and the soda shop that all the kids hang out at after school

he attends his local university since him and the gang come from a small town and didn’t really care to leave or have the grades to go to a better school

and you...well you don’t really know why you decided to attend a university in such a dinky little town

maybe it’s because you wanted a change of pace from the city, and maybe it’s because it’s your mother’s alma mater and you spent a few of your summers there

but somehow you find yourself at the school

the only problem is,,,everyone who attends the school grew up in the dumb town,,,meaning everyone already knows each other and has their friend groups and cliques

leaving you to fend for yourself and kind of live as an outsider

sure you make acquaintances in your classes but,,,it’s hard for you to make solid friends when everyone else already knows everything about everyone else 

so you’ve been living your life on campus, smiling at the acquaintances you’ve made when you pass by them on the street, but you never really hang out with anyone after school

your sophomore year you got a job at the soda shop bc college ain’t cheap and they were hiring

surprisingly enough you made close friends through the job, your coworkers went to the same uni as you and the clientele were also in some of your classes

so you began to actually go out more (when you weren’t working obvi)

on day you were on campus walking to your next class and you saw one of said new friends

but while you were distracted with waving to them you bumped into someone and woop guess who????

you guessed it our boy hyuck with the rest of 00 line walking past

he was bouta pop off but then he sees it’s you the cute lil waitress from the soda shop that he’s lowkey seen around and been crushing on for a few months now

so when he sees you stuttering out an apology bc boi is brighter than the damn son and took your breath away

he just smirks and lets out a lil chuckle and just says ‘don’t worry about it sweetcheeks’ with a wink and then he’s off

you stand there for a moment in shock bc like obvi you know who he is even if you’ve only been around a few years who tf doesn’t know hyuck and co

and ofc your friends all saw and were like...b don’t even worry about it he just be like that sometimes ya know

and you’re like yea u right and forget about the whole encounter

but guess who doesn’t ohohoho it’s mister lee donghyuck himself he be thinking about it the rest of the day bc wow you’re even prettier up close huh

and the rest of dream are like...mmhmm ok mr. lee not sus at all we’re on. to. you.

so guess where hyuck ever so casually zooms off to after his classes are over????

oh boy you guessed it right off to the soda shop but oomph poor bb you’re not actually working that day and bb is sad :(((( meanwhile his boys are just laughing at him bc omg hyuck is so w hi p pe d

so now bb is going to the shop every moment he can until!!! finally!!! you’re working again god bless!!!

as soon as he sees you’re working baby sits bolt up right and starts fixing his slicked back hair that he had totally not been running his hands through out of nerves

the other boys weren’t there bc??? they have better places to be than at the soda shop for the 50000 time that day even though chenle and jisung had been there earlier just to laugh at him

but now holy shit you’re coming over and you look so cute in the dumb poodle skirt they make you wear as a uniform with your hair placed in a high ponytail

meanwhile you’re sw e a t i n g bc shit it’s hyuck and he’s still a handsome ass boy and you have to serve his table n ow f u c k

so you sidle on over and give him your usual spiel asking what he’d like to order n shit

and this boy omf remember when i said he was annoying?

well yea he fucking goes ‘are you on the menu bc I’d certainly like to have a piece of you’

and you’re like...boy tf oh my god i want to SLAP him 

but you grin through it like ha ha...funny ok...our specials for today are...

hyuck ain’t listening anymore bc he’s busy mentally kicking himself bc??? really hyuck??? you’re trying to make her like you wtf were you t h in k i ng

so he just points at some random thing on the menu, his head hanging in shame

and yea you’d think it was cute if he hadn’t just gotten on your damn nerves

but, alas, you have to continue serving the boy who had ordered literally just a fried egg but you know who were you to judge

he eats the egg rather quickly and then just...sits there...not doing anything...and you don’t know what to do like you can’t kick him out he did order something and it’s not particularly busy

meanwhile hyuck’s head is spinning trying to think of how to woo you after completely embarrassing himself earlier

after like an hour passes you head over to him, ready to ask him again if he wants anything else to eat 

but as soon as you get to him he jolts upright scaring the shit out of you and he’s like fuck sorry i didn’t mean to scare you 

and you’re like it’s fine now seriously do you want anything else-

but he cuts you off and suddenly...lee donghyuck?? is grabbing onto your hand??? and rapidly apologizing to you for being so Gross earlier

you gotta shake the boy off of you and honestly,,,he’s really endearing like aw he’s so embarrassed what a bb

when you get out of his grip you’re like bro it’s ok tbh i get much worse all the time

suddenlt hyuck is ready to f i g ht like who tf??? i will square up 

in your head you’re like,,,bitch ik you catcall don’t even try...but in reality you’re like mmmhmm sure ok you couldn’t hurt a damn fly

hyuck is angery now like wdym im tough >:( don’t you see my leather jacket and cool hair and car???

and you,,,oh you little reader pat lee donghyuck’s fUCkiNg head and now he is blushing oooooh

in a smol voice he asks for his check and leaves you a v generous tip despite your protests

and by that time his confidence seems to come back bc he winks and tells you he’ll be back

you giggle and give him a lil wave bc...wow lee donghyuck is just a cute shy lil bb hehe

and now hyuck is coming in every day,,,sometimes with his boys,,,sometimes alone but no matter what he’s always sure to, in a respectful manner, flirt with you and chat you up while dream just look on in amusement bc, again, hyuck is wh i p p e d

y’all just kinda...live like that for a few weeks but it’s v clear to e v er y body that there is shit going down between the two of you

like at this point hyuck’s hanging around campus with you too so like,,,everyone and their mother knows at this point bc,,,like i said earlier,,,everyone in this damn town knows everything about everyone

so ya’ll are stagnant, hyuck flirting, you laughing and sometimes flirting back

until one day ohhh boy there’s a new boul in town and he is not ashamed at all

and by that i mean he’s the biggest fucking asshole to ever step foot in the town, thinking he’s hot shit and everybody wants him when everyone hates his g u t s

and this boy has been hanging around the shop, livin his life, waiting for his moment to strike

but uh oh he made a mistake bc the first person he attempts to come on to...is you

and hyuck has been there bc he knows this guy has been hanging around and he wants to keep an eye on you his girl

it was a good thing too bc... this boul is going all out

tugging lightly at your skirt when you come to take his order while he uses the same cringy line hyuck used on you that first day

and hyuck knows you’re a big girl who can handle herself which you make very clear by firmly rejecting him with a smile plastered across your face

but...boy does not and will not let up

and you’re getting more and more frustrated and hyuck can tell esp when you keep throwing exasperated looks in his direction w the occasional eye roll

he would laugh but he’s too busy trying not to flip his shit

until boy fuckin just goes to grab your ass and you immediately move back, ready to reprimand him

but all thoughts are brushed aside when a loud crash sounds followed by heavy footsteps

hyucky had stood up so harshly that his chair had fallen over but he hadn’t even bothered to fix it bc he immediately stormed over to you, loosely wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his side 

he is m a d like you thought he couldn’t fight before but now he looks like he could rip a guys head off and you lowkey find it hot but that’s not what’s important right now

the guy is like oh woops sorry bro didn’t know she was taken but hyuck is not having it going off about how you shouldn’t treat anyone like that period no matter if they’re in a relationship or not

and yes hyuck and his friends had been the same way a few months before but meeting you changed his way of thinking and his friends as well

bc the idiots had never had any female acquaintances before but now they have you and you’re like a sister to them except for hyuck obvi bc he’s in looove

anyway back to the matter at hand i swear i keep going on tangents soz

you have to calm hyuck down before he actually punches this guy in the nose and the guy throws some money on the table before booking it out of there bc he’s high key scared rn lol puddy

your boss comes out and is like...y’all good? and you’re like uhhh yea mind if i talk to him for a minute? n he’s like ya sure whatever

so you pull hyuck over to a back room and you’re like,,,bro,,,wtf you good now??

but hyuck is on a roll now and just flat out says ‘i’ve liked you for a while now so will you do me the honor of being my gf?’

you ??? for a second before snapping himself out of it and you’re like ??? hell yea boi tf???

so now y’all are dating woo!!!

he makes sure to come to the shop whenever you’re working

at first he even would miss classes but you were not gonna have that oh no education comes first kids >:(((

and he was like ugh ok fine but he always managed to get other dreamies to be there when he couldn’t just so he knows you’re ok :(((

you get really close with the other dreamies tho so now you’re all one happy family

even when hyuck isn’t at your shift he makes sure to pick you up afterwards

waiting outside, leaning against his beat up mustang …leather jacket on…waiting for you to come out…and when you walk up to him he grabs you by the waist…pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead…before opening the door for you…driving off to who knows where…but neither of you care as long as you’re together…

sometimes you go to the drive in and cuddle up in the backseat making out for the duration of the movie hehe

you climb onto his lap and sometimes you can hear the people in the next car wooping and hyuck just gives them the finger before bringing his hand back to settle on the back of your thigh

ahem anyways enough of that

other times you just,,, drive around,,, windows down,,, blasting music and laughing,,, just living your life as two college students should hyuck’s hand resting on your thigh shhhh

you always stop at the same dingy diner that’s hidden away on some side road

(shout out to steph for this next part love you bb uwu)

and hyuck always rummages through his pockets  for change to buy you a drink, even when you say he doesn’t have to and you know he doesn’t always have the most money he says he wants to

trips to the diner are always followed by sunset drives where you have to remind him to watch the road bc  he finds it so much fun to smiles t you and try to kiss you while driving and you scold him that he’s going to die one day, him saying it’s better to live hard, die young

#sorry my philly slang poked through a lil bit there #i hope this was greaser-esque enough i feel like it wasn't really #oh well haha #i miss hyucky :( #also i am workin gon college mark i promise #nct imagine #nct fluff #nct au #haechan imagine #haechan au #haechan fluff #donghyuck imagine #nct dream imagine #nct 127 imagine

[neen-writes]

Iron Legends: Reforged -- Chapter 9

Series: Fairy Tail

Characters: Gajeel, Levy, plus appearances from Natsu and Lucy.

Genre: Hurt/comfort, Sci-fi

Summary: The old lab had always been fuel for a good story, something you would half-heartedly joke about going to sometime.  Some did, and when they came back they never talked about it again.  The legends circulated, telling of ghosts, monsters, and anything else someone would be likely to conjure up about an abandoned building.  But even with all the stories meant to keep everyone away, there are still those for whom the intrigue is too tempting.  

Note: I have very little to say about this one, much of it is the same, a little fluffing here and there, but I already love this chapter so much I didn’t want to change much.  Enjoy the angst again!

Read the Reforged chapters on FF.net here, Ao3 here, and read the entire original story here!!  AND find this fic’s soundtrack here!

Ch. 1  Ch. 2  Ch. 3  Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8

Levy awoke on her stomach, surrounded by warmth.  The blunette blinked slowly, squirming a little under the blanket and taking a moment to remember why she was on the sofa.  She turned her head, pressing her face into the cushion, and glimpsed the figure on the floor lit by the early morning light. Her cheeks turned pink at the realization, Oh.  She shifted to try and rub her face, but her right hand was held in place by something.  When she tried to pull her hand back, there was a gentle squeeze.  Levy scooted carefully to look over the edge of the couch, and couldn’t help the smile that spread on her face.

Gajeel had settled onto his back on the floor, with the second blanket she had brought out last night pulled over him.  His hair was spread out beneath him and partially over his peaceful face.  One arm was tucked behind his head, supporting it, and the left was across his chest… with his hand holding hers.  Levy couldn’t help but marvel at the size difference, how tiny her fingers were laced between his.

Somehow, in the middle of the night, their hands had found each other.  And if Levy wasn’t so worried about waking him and breaking contact, she might have started flailing because, Oh my god he’s holding my hand.  He’s holding my hand and we slept in the same place and what am I supposed to do.

There was another squeeze of her hand, and a long intake of breath.  “You’re an open book, shrimp…”  His husky, sleep-laden voice broke the silence, and he cracked open an eye to look at her.  “Could you freak out a little louder?”  

What!  I didn’t make a sound!  she thought frantically, eyes widening.  

At the sight of her, saucer-eyed, red, peeking over the couch cushion down at him, he couldn’t help himself. “Gi-hi-hi!”  A hearty chuckle, the kind that pricks at the corners of your eyes with mirth. “You okay up there?” he teased, flashing a fanged smile in his attempt to hide the fact that his own heart was racing as well.

“Mhm…!” she hummed anxiously, pressing her face back into cushion a little more.  Before realizing it, her grip tightened on his hand.

Gajeel glanced down at their hands, then back up at her.  “Is this okay?”

Levy paused a moment, before slowly nodding her head.  He squeezed her hand a little in response, and she swore she could see a tension she hadn’t noticed previously leave him. “Good,” he replied, keeping his piercing gaze on her for a moment longer before looking back to their hands.

“Did you sleep okay?” Levy asked, gently.

“Mhm,” he hummed to the affirmative. It was a simple reply for such a significant fact. Like that first night he spent here, he slept heavily and without the nightmares that plagued him regularly. It was still something he wasn’t quite adjusted to.

“You didn't change last night,” she pointed out, noting that she hadn't seen his iron scales for some time.

Not having the dreams or sleeping in THAT place probably helps… so, you're to thank for that, he thought. “How about that,” Gajeel mused, before lifting up her hand in his a bit. Gently, like handling glass, he moved her hand around in his grasp as though studying it.  “They’re so small,” he remarked, and Levy felt protest rise in her.  But she couldn’t say anything, not daring shatter the peaceful quiet.  She could only watch him, and watch how unspeakably gentle he was with her.

“How’s someone so small let someone like me in?” he finally asked, his eyes avoiding her face.  “Why ain't ya afraid?”  It was a question that wouldn’t leave him alone, and that swirled every time he saw her.  It was the only question that made sense to ask, because nothing else did.  

The woman lifted her brows, feeling that it was a silly thing to ask her now of all times.  But the way he finally turned his eyes to her, waiting for an answer, she realized.  He was still waiting for her to lie to him, to betray him.  She saw that she could have broken him with such painful ease with the wrong words, and that trauma-made fragility nearly broke her.

“Because I don’t need to be,” Levy finally answered frankly.  “I see you, and not how you see yourself.”  Her thoughts drifted back to the article she had read yesterday, before she stuffed them back again for later.  “You’re not going to hurt me.”

Gajeel wondered how he looked in that moment, because her words hit him harder than anything he had ever felt before.  Harder than any nightmare or flashback.  I would never.  He looked now to the healing scab at her hairline.  Never on purpose, he amended, and his stomach twisted a little at the possibility that he could, unintentionally.  Just because of what he was.  But god, I swear.  I will never let anything hurt you.  As long as you let me, I’ll to protect you.  His thoughts ran before he could fully realize what he was saying.  How quickly she had become that for him, from the first time she had shifted to actually speak to him as an equal and not as a beast.  He craved every conversation, every visit, and every sight of that blue-haired woman that found it in her to smile at him.  And oh lord, that smile.  Every time it silenced everything, and instead of the roiling, anxious beast that lived in his chest, warmth blossomed and burned it away, little by little.  As much as he sought her out and latched onto her like a cure for darkness, the most stunning part was that she seemed to want him there just as much.

“I know you think you are, but you’re not that monster hiding in the dark.  Not like the stories.  You have kindness in you.  And you’re a person,” Levy continued, shifting her hand to intertwine her fingers back into his again, “Just as deserving of love and kindness as anyone else.”  

Gajeel’s eyes widened and he searched her face, but with flushed cheeks she kept her gaze on their hands.  She knew what she was saying, and now felt like the best time to say it.  She didn’t know what her feelings meant, she didn’t know how far they went, but not one word of that sentence felt wrong.

The silence that followed was almost suffocating, but relieving at the same time.  His lack of a response was disappointing, but then again she really couldn’t expect a response.  She had been intentionally indirect, and he had no obligation to give her a response.  No part of this was normal and he wasn’t exactly accustomed to interacting with others.  She understood the stunned silence; who else had said such a thing to him in the last 6 years?  Who had even given him an ounce of kindness?

Levy, finally, put on a warm, disarming smile and looked to him.  Gajeel could have sworn that his heart stopped right then, and his throat went painfully dry.  Fucking say something, his thoughts screamed at him.  Jackass, say SOMETHING!

“Lucy knows I work today, so she shouldn’t be over, you don’t have to worry. If anyone does come, go into the master.  No one goes in there.”  She took her hand from his and sat up, and Gajeel abruptly followed suit.  But she kept talking before he could say anything, “I want you to have anything that’s in the closet in that bedroom.  Obviously you won’t be able to use half of it,” she looked to the side briefly, “But the rest of it, if you want it, is yours.”  She was more than happy to help him into normal clothing, and to finally put good use to something that had sat stagnant for years.

Before she stood, she placed a hand on his cheek, smiled again, and with iron resolve leaned forward to gently kiss his forehead.  She intentionally gave him no time to react–he couldn’t have anyway, completely frozen in the spot–and headed off with a bounce in her step into her room to change, closing the door quietly behind her.  

Levy’s face went straight into her hands, both to decompress her raging nerves and try to contain her relief at voicing how she felt.  Or least how she was starting to.  So much for things not being complicated.

No, it didn’t make sense.  Yes, it was crazy.  But what she had just done in the living room felt so natural, easy, and like it was something she could do every day.  I thought it was just because I wanted him to be okay, to help him.  Because no one ever has, and he has been hurt… so badly, by so many people.  Levy slowly lifted her face back from her hands, leaving one cupped over her mouth.  But that’s not the only reason I…

She peeled her hands off her face and looked up into her room.  It was early, she still had some time.  And as much as she felt like running from the absolute embarrassment, she also didn’t want to leave him just yet.  

Several minutes later, Levy emerged in her work clothes, a simple blue button down and khaki pants, with her hair pulled back into a small ponytail.  To her surprise, Gajeel was in the exact spot she had left him, sitting on the floor in front of the couch.  Still as a cautious animal.  And there was fear on his face, but it was… different.

His red eyes widened just slightly, expectantly, when she stepped back out.  “I have some time, if you’re hungry, to make some breakfast.  I know you prefer… the other stuff.  But I have been told I make great scrambled eggs?”  She flashed another smile at him, and he looked like he had been punched in the gut.

Slowly, Gajeel nodded, and watched her flit into the kitchen.  He stood, lost for a moment with what to do, or how to interact with her.  He had already fumbled once, and really had no intention of doing that again.  So the best thing to do, was to sit down at her table and keep his mouth shut.  Couldn’t make an ass of himself if he didn’t say anything.  

Levy didn’t pay him any mind when he pulled out the chair and sat.  Partially because she was focusing on her cooking, and partially because she felt about as awkward as he did.  

“What all are you making…?” Gajeel finally broke the silence, and earned a side glance from her.  

“Bacon and eggs.  A classic,” Levy replied.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever had it,” he admitted, quietly.  

The woman paused, not quite expecting the answer even though she should have. After that moment, she resumed cooking, pushing the eggs around and then using tongs to flip over the bacon.  “Do you remember… much?”

“Pieces.  I did find my file once, after the collapse.  It gave me… basic information,” he answered, his voice tight.

“Do you still have that?”

A beat of silence.  “No,” he responded, almost as a growl.  “I destroyed it.”

Levy glanced back at him again, seeing that he was resting his chin on his fists, staring out the double doors to the snow outside.  “Why?” she asked, unsure why she needed to know.

“Because they destroyed him.  Me,” his eyes flicked back to her.  “He didn’t exist anymore, so I just took away the last piece.”

Levy put all her attention back on the nearly finished food, pulling out two plates.  “Oh,” she replied, uselessly.  “What if you could?  Exist again, I mean?” Levy asked, carefully.

Now he looked to her fully, eyes intense with a wildness that had been cultivated over years.  “I can’t,” he replied, more forcefully than he had intended.  “I never can.  Not as long as they… he, is still out there.  I could be brought… back.  Retrieved.  And I don’t plan to ever let that happen.”

Levy didn’t know what to say to that.  It was a fear she couldn’t comprehend, and therefore there were no words she could offer.

Gajeel beat himself mentally, realizing now that he had ruined the mood.  Way to go, lord of darkness. He didn’t quite look at her as she set the food in front of him, but he did utter a small ‘thank you.’  She sat down across from him, and he could feel her eyes on him, but he was scared to look up again.  

They ate in silence, until finally Levy glanced at the clock.  “I should go,” she said finally, “I get off at 5.”  

He glanced up at her, words a loss for him now, too.  But still, she smiled at him, and left without another word.

If she thought she had been distracted earlier in the week, it was nothing compared to her state now. Fortunately the weather today kept the shop more or less dead.  Books weren’t quite enough to entice people--or, people that weren’t her--to come out in the miserable cold.

Which was fine with her, because it gave her time to replay the last few days over and over in her head.  The image of him, asleep, and her hand in his, was seared into her mind and kept a smile on her face.  Regardless of how awkward the morning had been.  She still had a hard time wrapping her head around how large he was, how strong she had seen him be, and how gently he held her hand in that moment.  It had given her such a strong sense of safety, and security, and that was likely why she had the courage to say what she did.

No, he hadn’t said anything when he really could have this morning.  Aside from dark lapse at the table, and she could justify that.  But she had still moved forward significantly with him, and even if he hadn’t replied, his actions were clear.  Levy had a tendency to read too much into things, but there were things that he did that she felt were obvious.

She began to wonder how she was going to continue to hide this from Lucy, a fact she hadn’t fully considered when she had essentially offered her home to the dragon.  Her friend wasn’t dense, she would pick up sooner or later that something was up.  It wasn’t something she had brought up with Gajeel since he first told her, sternly, to never let another person know she was coming to see him.  That seemed like forever ago, but she knew his sentiments wouldn’t have changed, especially after the brief discussion at her table.  He was still so afraid, so broken by what had been done to him, and what could still happen to him.  Was his only option to live in terrified secrecy?  Did he have no other prospect?

The weight of what she had offered to him started to settle in.  She didn’t just offer him a place to live, but a hiding place.  For how long?  Was there ever a chance that he could find a place in the world again after what he had been made into?

The ring of the front door brought her abruptly out of her head.  Levy looked over her shoulder at the customer and smiled, “Welcome!” she called cheerily.  The man, dressed in a coat, barely gave her any more acknowledgement other than a small hum and a tilt of his head.  “Let me know if I can help you find anything today,” she added, prompting him to look at her this time.  Huh, he’s new, she thought, looking the man over.  His reddish black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he had a dramatic, long mustache to match.  Well, that’s a statement.

“Where could I get access to public records around here?” he asked, eyes wandering around the bookstore with what looked like an annoyed grimace.  Like someone who had spent a long while fruitlessly looking for something.

“Oh, those would be at the library.  On 4th and Draper,” she replied, keeping pleasant regardless of his cold demeanor.  

He set his gaze back on Levy, and the girl couldn’t help but shift uneasily.  The man furrowed his brow a second, then seemed to recognize something.  His brows lifted.  “Ahh, I thought the hair was familiar.  I think I met you, abruptly, heading there yesterday.” He now flashed a lopsided grin.  Levy stiffened, feeling an odd chill slither down her spine, but she kept on a tense smile.  

He was the one she bumped into, who picked up the notebook and handed it back to her.  “Oh no, I’m so sorry about that sir, I was in a hurry and not paying attention!”  She put up a fake laugh, trying to quell the nervous twist in her stomach.  Who is he?

“It’s fine,” he trailed off, before he glanced at her name tag, “Levy.  Lovely name.  Very unique,” he commented, “Since I’m here, where is the history section?” he asked finally, tilting his head, “I’m a collector.”

It took Levy a moment to collect herself, since his request was mundane enough.  “Ah, history is right over here.  There are tabs hanging from the shelves with the categories.” Levy beckoned him a couple of aisles over and pointed out the large selection.  “I hope you find what you’re looking for, let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with.”

The man, unexpectedly, placed a hand on her shoulder and looked at her in a way that made her feel he was privy to something she was unaware of.  “Oh, I will, miss,” he grinned again and released her, and Levy was more than willing to leave him to his devices to return to the register.  She tried to clean, to not seem so uncomfortable in his presence.  Because besides the fact that he had nearly seen the inside of the notebook yesterday, there was just something unsettling about him that she couldn't put her finger on. But he really just seemed like a man looking for some history texts.

The man finally came up to her desk, placing several books on the counter.  The array of titles quickly eased her previous worry.  Several history texts, and then one more:  ‘Fiore: Myths and Legends.’   “I’ll take these,” he said while pulling out his wallet.

Cold dread settled in her gut.  That was the same book that had lead her to the lab in the first place.  But in the mix of all the others, it felt just like a coincidence.  Levy nodded and rang him up.  

“Thank you, Miss McGarden.” And with that, he gave a small flourish with his hand to bid her farewell before disappearing outside.

What a strange person, Levy thought, standing there while chewing on her fingernail. She was left again in silence after he left, and she replayed the whole interaction over in her head.  The more she played it over, the more mundane it seemed.  He was just an odd stranger, looking for books.  There was no real reason to set off an already unsteady Gajeel for what could have just been a coincidental encounter.

She occupied herself with organizing and some occasional reading of the rest of the day, trying to move past it.  Rereading a few chapters of some of her old favorites helped, and in the midst of it she was struck with an idea.  I should stop by the hardware store on my way home.

It was with great apprehension that Levy returned home that day, trying her best to downplay what had transpired and write it up to just be some weird newcomer.  Just someone doing research.  Maybe he was a writer?  Like Lucy? she thought.  She could tell him about it, but she just had to figure out a careful way to do it.

It took her several tries to get her key into the door, partially because of a heavy bag she had in her other hand, partially because of the cold.  When she opened it to find her house guest splayed out on her sofa, with a book no less, her troubled heart calmed.  A smile graced her features now and she quickly closed the door behind her.  Having him be the first thing she saw when she walked in was nothing short of pleasant, and the way his face lit up when he saw her gave her that all-familiar flutter.

“Hey,” he called to her, sitting up and quickly tossing the book to his side.  She laughed gently at the action.

“You are allowed to look at those, y’know,” Levy encouraged, hanging up her jacket.  She noticed that the book he’d chosen was one of her anthologies.  “Good choice, that one has some of my favorites.”

Gajeel hummed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking from her to the book.

“What did you like best?” she asked, heading over to him to pick up the book and put it back on the shelf, since she was sure he was done with it.  She felt the best thing she could do was just, speak normally to him, and try to not stew in the awkwardness of the morning.

He cocked his head to the side, then crinkled his nose a little.  “I hardly understood half of it.  Oughta just say what they mean plainly.”  

Levy laughed a little at the irony of that, but took it regardless.  It seemed appropriate from him.  “I stopped on the way home to pick something up for you.”  She smiled, holding up the thick plastic bag.  Gajeel lifted a brow and stood as she approached him.  “It’s a bunch of random stuff and I’m sure they think I’m a weird artist because I asked them for anything iron that they had.” As she handed it to him, he peeked inside to see an assortment of cast-iron handles, brackets, and a couple other random pieces of hardware.  His face lit up at the selection.  “Didn’t think you’d care what they were as long as they were iron.” Levy beamed up at him, pleased with his reaction.

“Thanks shorty.”  He flashed a genuine, toothy grin, pulling out a bracket and biting off a piece like it was candy.  “Ohh, these’re good,” he mumbled, mouth full.  It was still fascinating for Levy to watch, and she was transfixed staring at his mouth.  Until she realized he had stopped chewing and was looking right at her.  

He face flared up and she looked away quickly, heading to the kitchen for her dinner.  “Sorry.  That’s still so--”

“Weird?” Gajeel cut in.  He smirked, trying to offset her discomfort.  “Took me a while to get used to it too.  Now I crave it.”

He idly followed her into the kitchen, and took a seat at the table while munching on his sustenance of choice while she pulled some leftovers out of her fridge.  He watched her quietly for a moment.  “Where d’you work?” he asked, trying to break the silence.  Levy laughed a little, knowing he would make fun of her.

“A bookstore downtown.  Started when I was sixteen and I’ve been there a little more than five years now.”  She bit her lip, waiting for his reaction because really, how typical.  Her house was already a library on its own.  She set her plate on the table next to him and took a seat.

Sure enough, the corners of his eyes crinkled, and he laughed heartily, “Gi-hi!  What a surprise!  I feel like I’ve got you all figured out, shrimp,” he grinned, and Levy tilted her head a little, resting her cheek on her palm as she looked over to him, happy to see him with a genuine smile on his face.  And laughing no less.

“Well that’s not fair,” she whined, “I hardly know a thing about you.  Like who you were before all this.”  Levy said tentatively, “Or how even you got into the kind of thing you did.”  It was the only way she could think to try and ask about what he had said that morning.  

With a handle hanging from his mouth, he looked over to her to study her for a moment.  He had already been an ass that morning, and she had done so much for him already.  She deserved whatever else he had to offer her.  “Like I said, it’s mostly pieces,” he admitted.  Levy was surprised, but pleased that he chose to answer her. “What I do remember, is that I was a punk,” Gajeel smirked to himself.  

Well, it wasn’t an answer that surprised her.  She hated judging by a cover, but his appearance didn’t contradict with the story.  Hard, studded features, an air of rough masculinity… It was all something someone could easily assume first looking at him.  “So did you used to live here?  In Magnolia?”

Gajeel nodded, munching on another handle.  “Years ago.“  

“Did you really have no one to come looking for you? I mean… 6 years is a long time to be gone,” she asked.

Gajeel shook his head, “Don't think so. Not that I remember or saw. That's probably why I was picked.” He shrugged, like it was a conclusion he had come to a long time ago.  “The rest I know is what I found in my profile, which must have had information I gave them and what they found on me themselves,” he finished the handle, looking outside now, like he was trying to glean the details from the swirl of his thoughts.  “Dropped out of school and got into nothin’ but trouble, made my way getting in fights and stealing judging by my record.  Lived out of my car I think, no home address.  I do remember the posting for the study and taking it because of the money.  It was supposed to be 6 weeks,” he gestured to himself bitterly, “Obviously that was bullshit.”  The small pursing of her lips let him know he was dropping the mood again.  “What I get for being a dropout.”  He could see her smile a little then, an action that brought an unreasonable amount of satisfaction.  “Have you always lived here?”

Levy nodded, taking a bite of her dinner.  “Born and raised, and I got the house a few years ago as an inheritance.  All my friends live nearby, so I like it here,” she smiled, “You already almost met Lucy.”

“A fond memory,” he replied with a grimace that meant the opposite.  Still, she laughed at him.

“She’s not so bad.  She’s kinda like a bunny.”

He looked to her, sensing now that she was just talking to fill the space.  It brought him a small comfort that she was just as unnerved as he was after the morning.  He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it all day, eventually resorting to her books to try and get his mind off it.  Which didn’t work.  Her words played on repeat in his thoughts, and it was a continuous internal battle trying to decide if she really meant what he thought she did.  All efforts ended, repeatedly, in him cursing her subtlety.  Just be up front.  He had reprimanded to the air more than once.  About as much as he reprimanded the poetry he tried to distract himself with.

But, he was one to talk, chickening out like he did that morning.  He had plenty of opportunity to say something, but he didn’t even know what he was supposed to say.  The word love was not one that had really existed in his vocabulary, before or after the experiments, and it wasn’t something he knew a thing about.  But he did know that it was damn terrifying when it had fallen on her lips.  

With his eyes on her, however, he felt like he was making his own definition of it as he went, whether he liked it or not. Levy had those big honey eyes on him, expecting him to say something else, watching him.  Looking at him the way no one on this earth ever had, the way he never felt anyone should. Because god she was this incredible, compassionate, bright, beautiful creature that had bewitched him, entirely.  He couldn’t deny that any more.  And he… he was a dragon she found in a cave, covered in scales of iron, now sitting at her dining table munching pieces of metal.  He was all of those things and she didn’t look at him like that at all.  

The silence left Levy to shift uncomfortably under his gaze.  Both of them had been looking at each other, quietly, longer than they realized, and she was the first to decide the table was suddenly very interesting.  She might have been oblivious at times, but she was not oblivious to how the mood had changed and how he was looking at her.  But, she couldn’t focus fully on what was happening until she got her day’s encounter off her chest.  I need to…  “Gajeel, I think I need to tell you something.”

Misinterpreting it to be something else, Gajeel jumped a little and shook his head quickly to cut her off as he turned more to face her, scooting his chair forward.  She turned to face him in surprise.  “No,” he said simply.  “I got somethin’ I need to say first.”  Go for it, damnit.  Be a man for once.

His hand moved before he knew what he was doing, and her eyes went wide as he held her chin between his thumb and hooked forefinger to get her to look at him.  What, what is he doing!!  This is not what she had planned for, and it trapped the words she needed to say in her throat.  

Clear as day, he could hear her heart race, and he could hear her breath become staggered.  His initial intention was just to hold her there, to look at her and speak directly, closely, and uninterrupted.  He had found his nerve and he wasn’t going to lose it again.  

But his subconscious was not about to let him stop there, and before he knew it he was leaning in.  Gajeel…what are you doing? Levy’s thoughts raced, screamed at her, but everything was going cloudy and she melted in his grip.  Gajeel inhaled to focus on only her scent, and take in the sweet flowery smell that he had become very acquainted with.  To give him the resolve to say what he wanted.  To silence every doubt and worry as it had done so many times before.  And the first thing he smelled was that, as his eyes fluttered shut and she followed suit.

And then there was something else.  Something that nearly stopped his heart cold and made his eyes fly open.

His touch, gentle just a second before, suddenly became assertive as he gripped her upper arms and pulled her mere inches from him.  Not the way that Levy had found herself wanting him to.  He sniffed again, particularly at her shoulder.  “Gaj–?”

It took a second, a split moment, and he recoiled from her so violently that he knocked over his chair and hit the table noisily on his way up.  Gajeel staggered backwards until he hit a counter, lifting an accusing finger at the very startled girl.  “Th-that,” he stammered, his voice cracking.  “He can’t…”

“Gajeel?!”  Levy stood, raising her hands in front of her slowly, like trying to calm a frightened animal.  Which, at this moment, was what he looked like. “Gajeel what’s happening?  What’s wrong?”  She tried to keep her voice even, calm.  But she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t frightened by the violent change.

“You,” Gajeel hissed, his face a mixture of fury and terror.  From his neck, grey scales started to appear and travel upwards, and his eyes blazed.  “That smell, why the fuck do you…” He tripped over his words, forcing them out.  She could see his thoughts running faster than he could form words.  “Levy, why!”  He shouted now.  The use of her name, for the first time, struck her.  

“Why what, Gajeel?  What did I do?!” she cried.

His immediate, self-preserving instinct was that she had betrayed him.  That everything up until this very instant was a lie.  That she lied about everything, she used him, lured him in, and was about to destroy him.  But then there was a stronger part of him that cried out against that, be it desperate denial or reason.  It raged against the prospect, a new beast he had cultivated within himself to fight the darkness that tried to possess him.  It screamed into his thoughts, telling him don’t you dare hurt her and don’t you dare lump her in with them.  Because there was no earthly possibility that she could have done such a thing.  She was the light his life had lacked, his saving grace.  But right now she was all of these things with the scent of the devil on her.

“Gajeel, please!  Talk to me!  What’s going on?” she pleaded again, trying to take a step towards him and reach for him as she had in the past, but he flinched away from her like she might hit him, and it was like a shot through her heart.  Her hand hovered uselessly in front of her, her eyes beginning to burn.

“You smell like him,” he spat, a hand reaching up to dig iron claws into his hair. “That fucker, that… he’s the one, Levy!  He’s the one that did this to me!”  Gajeel’s voice cracked again with utter, raw fear.  He hunched forward, eyes blazing. “Why do you smell like Jose?!”  The venom all but dripped from his voice.

Immediately the man in the shop today came to mind and she went cold.  She finally understood why he made her so uneasy, why he set off so many alarms.  Why him seeing the journal had been so initially nerve-wracking.  Her stomach dropped, and the tears started to spill over because oh god she had screwed up.  She should have told him the second she came in the door. “I saw him… today,” she squeaked, shaking.   Gajeel, in that moment, seemed to calm just enough to lean forward towards her, the smell of salt now assaulting his senses.  It was her turn to flinch, involuntarily, and the flash of hurt made her regret it immediately.  “Someone new came to the store today.  That’s what I tried to tell you.  And he saw me with the journal yesterday…” Gajeel’s eyes widened and his mouth went dry.  “I’m so sorry, Gajeel,” The tears fell freely now, a combination of fear, concern, and feeling as though she had somehow put him back where he used to be.  “I was, I was going to the library yesterday and I ran into someone and I dropped it.  And he saw it and, I’m sorry please calm down Gajeel,” she rambled, her brown eyes searching his face desperately for anything that had been in them moments before.

“He saw it.”  Gajeel fell back against the counter again, shaking uncontrollably.  There were several seconds of stunned silence, before,  “Damnit!” he roared, slamming a fist on the counter hard enough to dent it, making her jump. “He knows I’m alive.  God damnit, he knows where I am.”  He grit his fangs together, tangling both hands in his mane.  “If he’s come now, he’s not alone,” he muttered, horrified.  “He waited, for the right time, and he’s here for me.”

Seven casualties.  The sudden thought was like an explosion, shattering everything she thought.  Levy’s thoughts started to swirl uncontrollably with the incriminating article she had read the day before, unable to focus on anything else. Seven casualties.  She saw him like this in front of her and her heart broke.  Because she didn’t want to see him like this, this wasn’t the Gajeel she had come to know; it wasn’t the Gajeel she woke up to this morning.  Seven casualties.  This Gajeel had murderous rage in his eyes, and now more than ever she needed to know the truth.  Did he kill seven people?

“Ga-jeel,” the sob shook her and he lowered his hand from his head.  His instincts screamed at him to go to her, and to stay away from her at the same time.  “Are you the one that destroyed the lab?  To get away from him?  Is this how you were when they found all those people?”  

The question was out of left field, and he went cold hearing that come from her.  Gajeel’s arms fell limp by his sides and his shoulders slumped in defeat, anguish taking over his face.  “How do you…” his voice was barely more than a whisper.

“I found the article.  In the library,” she answered, her hands gripping each other in front of her chest, desperate for something to hold onto as she felt everything slipping away from her.

He tilted his head at her, eyes narrowed.  “Do you think…?” he couldn’t even finish it, because for the first time since that first encounter, she looked at him with fear.  And who could blame her?  He had gone zero to sixty in nothing flat, transformed in front of her, shouted at her, and put a hefty dent in her counter.  On top of all that, she now knew the truth about the shut down and thought that he was the one that did it.  She knows.  And she thinks I…

Levy had opened her mouth, trying to tell him that she didn’t know what to think.  But she couldn’t get it out.  Every word turned to ash in her mouth, and the sobs replaced them.  Her thoughts screamed at him to stay, to just talk to her, but instead she gasped for air uselessly.

“I can’t stay here,” he finally said, eyes darting anxiously around him.  “He knows,” Gajeel mumbled.  “He knows I’m here.  That I’m alive.”  His body coiled again.  She’s better off.  A cruel, mirthless laugh fell from him and he swayed in place as though losing his balance, feeling his body start to go numb.  He turned towards the doors.

“N-No, Gajeel, wait,” Levy pleaded, hastily wiping the tears from her face.

In an instant, Gajeel whirled back on her, standing straight enough to assert his height.  “I am that monster in the dark.  You’re naive for thinking otherwise, I’m fuckin’ glad you know the truth.”  Blazing red eyes looked down at her and she coughed out a guttural cry at the sight of him, utterly broken in front of her.  “I can’t stay here.  I can’t go back to that hell, I won’t.   Forget you knew me.”  It was the calmest thing to come out of his mouth through the whole exchange yet, and the resolve in it killed her.  Absolutely killed her.

Levy lurched forward moments too late to stop him, as he flung open the double doors in the kitchen and raced out into the snow, disappearing into the darkness entirely.  “Gajeel!”  Levy all but screamed into the void.  In her desperation, a different thought dawned on her, that she wished like hell she had said sooner.  “Jose knows my name,” she choked out, just as she heard keys scrape at her front door.

The door swung open, and she turned slowly to see a shocked, and ultimately concerned blonde in her doorway.  Levy could see her lips moving, saying her name, and wondered how she looked in front of her friend.  Sobbing in front of open doors as the snow wafted in, with the kitchen looking like an absolute mess.  Lucy called out to her, but Levy couldn’t hear her over the roaring in her ears.  It only took a second for Lucy to rush over to her and take her by the shoulders, trying to speak to her friend. Levy could only choke out one more thing before she lost her composure and dropped to her knees.

“I have to tell you something.”

#gajevy #ftfanfics #fanfiction #fairy tail #iron legends #alternate universe #gajeel redfox #levy mcgarden

[arrowsbane]

but the stars were going out

[AO3] [FFN]

“She was a girl made of shattered stars, but the stars were burning out; and he was the night, left blank and bare.” - @danwilds​

Thoughts on how Hisana and Byakuya came to be, and then fell apart. They were something sad, and beautiful, and tragic. A red string does not always guarantee a happy ending.

For @cooliogirl101​ Even though Hisana wound up sounding a little like a mob boss.

She was a girl made of shattered stars,’

…

Hisana is not a good person.

Maybe she could be great one day, but she will never call herself good.

She is ten years old when she dies, her baby sister held close. She is ten years old when she first sets eyes on the seventy-eighth district of the rukongai, Rukia clutched to her chest.

She is fifteen years old when she loses all hope, and leaves her sister behind in the empty vacant streets.

She is nineteen when she begins to claw for something more than just existing.

She is thirty-something when she begins to succeed.

But she had been sixteen-and-a-day when she swore that one day she would find her baby sister and apologize.

…

‘with fire in her veins;’

…

She fights and claws her way out of the lesser districts, determined to do more than just survive.

She learns to step on people to get where she wants to go, and not apologize.

She learns to be cunning. Learns to be clever.

She tames people to her will, and scatters her little birds throughout the rukongai.

And when she has done all this, then she has to learn how to be kind again.

Somewhere along the way, she had forgotten how to be kind. But she did not forget her promise.

Her ears are open for whispers of her sister, but the whispers do not come, no matter how far her little birds fly.

…

‘She shined brighter,’

…

She shines brightly.

But it is a cold light, masked carefully and hidden away.

It's not the sort of brightness fueled by kindness, but a steely sense of determination that refuses to burn out and fade away.

It's the kind of brightness that creates the shadows you so carefully avoid.

In this, brightness is a polite term for noticeable.

And oh, she is noticed.

…

‘than anyone could.’

…

It takes a special kind of person to build from the ground up without involving the yakuza.

There’s just something about her; it echoes in the air around her, and there is something underlying in her firm gaze. Calm, but unyielding.

Girls like her have lightning in their souls and chaos in their bones.

…

…

‘He was a lost boy with hollow eyes,’

…

For all that he knows his place in the world – future head of the Kuchki, future Captain of the Sixth, future warrior and master, soldier and father – Byakuya is lost.

He’s been lost since his parents died.

Lost because while his future seems to be set in stone, his life written out for him by the clan, he doesn’t know what it means to be just Byakuya.

Like the lights are on, but this house is not a home.

…

‘He was the night;’

…

He is calm, and he is careful. He is also poised, regal, charming and deviously dangerous.

He passes through his training with a single-minded determination, determination to succeed.

He is driven – more so than the freezing snow, or lashing sandstorm.

This alienates him from his peers. Where they joke and laugh, and pace themselves, he breezes on ahead, so eager to leave the last remnants of his childhood (even when he is an adult already) in the past.

He blends into the shadows, quiet and unseen, yet always waiting, always there, eyes and ears open to the world.

 …

‘Dark,’

…

It’s a lonely existence, being set apart from the crowd.

But he cannot afford to hand out his affection like leaves on the breeze; not when every smiling face seeking favour could be hiding a knife in the dark.

The Academy days’ pass by in the blink of an eye, and he begins the long climb to the top; heading the words that his Grandfather told him so long ago.

…

‘but filled with stars.’

…

It is not completely without it’s perks.

There are bright patches here and there; if he is careful to edge his way around the twisting rotten roots of old-world politics.

And then, one day, the brightest star of all practically falls right into his lap.

…

…

‘They were bare legs,’

…

How they met did not matter.

How they fell in love cannot be explained.

Two such very different people, but perhaps she set his soul alight? Perhaps she blazed bright enough for the both of them? It had to have been something special for worlds like theirs to collide.

Or perhaps it was something as ordinary as can be.

We are all stories in our own right. Unprinted, unbound; just wild words dancing on the winds of time. Theirs was not written down, and so we will never know.

But it was special. Because it was theirs.

…

‘entangled in dirty bedsheets;’

…

It was not proper for a noble to marry a commoner. Not proper for a man with such standing as Byakuya to turn away every eligible young lady in the seireitei and set his cap at a girl like Hisana. But he did it anyway, saw something in her that nobody else could see.

Anybody with a brain should have seen this coming, for all his icy exterior, he was (grudging) friends with the Shihouin empress – the flash goddess Yoruichi. For all his cold stares and frigid words, his zanpakuto was a shimmering example of beauty bound up in a deadly dance. For all his birth and breeding, he had the heart of a poet and the soul of a romantic.

How could he not defy all, and shatter the rules for a girl like Hisana.

…

(they chose each other.)

…

He chose her, and she chose him.

Was that all that should be needed, for them to be husband and wife?

One might think so.

A red string might have bound their fates together, a blessing from the Gods.

But the Gods have no power over free will, or self-destruction.

And even fate, embroidered with delicate red, cannot guarantee a happy ending.

…

…

‘She was a girl made of shattered stars,’

…

Hisana is bright and alive. She refuses to be stagnant like the noble clans, who can wait patiently, play out games of politics while the universe passed them by.

She is vibrant in her own way, incapable of sitting still.

There is a gentleness to her, one that was learnt, it did not come to her naturally.

Or perhaps it had once, before life had taken that from her?

There is a titanium spine, and an iron will hidden beneath her smile too.

She burns so fiercely, and searches relentlessly. She never says what for. But she is a girl a woman on a mission.

[He worries sometimes, that she will work too hard and burn herself out.

He did not think it would be so literal though.]

…

‘but the stars were burning out;’

…

It starts with an extra hour in bed every morning. Before she had been up with the sun, but she was tired these days. Long nights, longer days. Desperate longing, the confusion and grief and self-hate that had taken root in her soul was destroying her.

Souls are delicate things; tough and resilient and near impossible to truly break, but delicate all the same. They were not designed to be at war with themselves.

And Hisana is fighting a losing battle.

…

‘And he was the night,’

…

His love is not enough to save her, and oh how that burned. How that stung.

Why was it not enough?

[“I'm sorry for being so dependent on you even in the end.” She says, and he wants to protest. She has never been a burden; her illness is not something she can help. The illness saps her spark away, leaving an echo of the woman he loves.

“I'm sorry for not being able... to return the love that you've given me whole-heartedly.” She tells him, and he wants to protest. He’s seen the love she shows.

It’s in the soft smile she gives him in the mornings, it’s in the movement of her arm when she pours tea for him on a winter’s night. It’s in the sound of her footsteps as she approaches him with a blanket when he’s been up late working on paperwork.

“The five years in which I spent with you... were like a dream... Byakuya-sama...”

‘Don’t leave me,’ he wants to beg.]

Why couldn’t she have asked for help? He would have done anything she could have asked.

But she did not ask, not until she breathed her last breath. A whispered plea, as the tiny spark inside her flickered in the wind, and then could not last any longer.

And then he was alone.

…

‘left blank and bare…’

…

What was the point in anything, when Hisana’s body dissolves into reishi? Because for all that he had loved her, really and deeply truly loved her with a fire he had not thought to possess; she could not allow herself to return that love. Had thought she did not deserve something like that.

What a silly woman she had been.

Had. The thought chokes the breath in his throat.

Everybody deserves to be loved, at least once in their lives.

And so, decades later, he walks through the halls of the Academy on an errand and passes by a girl who looks so much like his beloved.

If he were an ordinary man, perhaps, he might have been a storm of thoughts and emotions – all coming together like lightning and thunder and waves twisted into a tempest and locked away in an ornamental tea pot.

But Byakuya is a law unto himself, and he soldiers on with a relentlessness bordering on dangerous.

And then the next morning, he sets out to adopt his beloved’s little sister for his own.

Rukia – Rukia who dances through her zanjutsu kata with a serene grace, Rukia who was raised in the rukongai as a peasant – becomes a Kuchiki, and Byakuya wonders if Hisana would have been happy.

…

…

[Unseen by mortal eyes, the red string wrapped about his wrist does not flutter listlessly, but waits patiently, as strong and bright as ever, for his soul to collide with hers once more.

Silly Shinigami, Fate sighs. Whoever said that death was the end?

It is not. They will meet again, will write their own destiny once more.

Maybe they will learn from their mistakes. Maybe then, they will get it right.]

Notes

I used to hate Hisana. Her last words were so cruel (in my opinion). But Coolio101 made me think.

And I wonder... maybe Hisana thought she didn't deserve Byakuya's love. Maybe she heard the whispers and saw the glares, and just didn't have the strength anymore to ignore them. Maybe she wanted him to hate her so he would move on and find love again. Maybe she didn’t want him to mourn her for the rest of his life.

The truth is, I don't know. All I know is he loved her. And that's enough for me.

Love isn't always fair. It's not always beautiful. It doesn't guarantee a happy ending.

But it's ours. It's human. It's imperfect. It's the soft smile when you say goodbye, it's having the kettle on the second somebody is through the door, it's putting a blanket over someone's shoulders… it's letting them fight their own battles, and wrap their own bandages. Love is a thousand different indescribable things, unique to its owner.

#but the stars were going out #Bleach #Bleachfic #Hisana #Byakuya #Sad beautiful tragic #Red strings of fate don't mean it's a happy ending #It's not a happy ending

[5hfanfiction]

Still My Beautiful Hurricane

- 1 -

Lauren came into Camila’s life like the wind. When her life was not lacking the air that made her life stable. She was a straight A Ivy League student, on the way to becoming a surgeon, what she always dreamt of. Her parents were one of the most well-known in the medical field on the East Coast, bringing popularity and a lot of unearned privileges on her side. She had a sweet little sister named Sofi who never failed to brighten up her day with her dorkiness and adorable smiles.

But she found out air was not all she needed. The seemingly perfect life she lived grew boring. Even if she appreciated what she had, she was always waiting for something unknown to create a ripple on the smooth but stagnant waters of her stability.

Then came Lauren. They were lab partners in one class. Her smile was beautiful, matched with her emerald eyes that immediately caught her attention. Her brilliance apparent with the way she dissected the amphibian on their table, learning each part like learning how it was to read, or better yet to utter her very first words. So natural, so mesmerizing. And she proved even more perfect when she jokingly muttered, “Easy as fuck,” when they finished.

Camila considered herself smart by the grades that her scorecards showed and more than capable going through the entire semester just by her own but she found herself looking forward to doing all their activities together. As their classes progressed, so was their growing friendship. She found out Lauren was a single child of a man who practiced corporate law and a woman who enjoyed spending most of her time as the trophy wife. When she asked why she didn’t follow her father’s footsteps, she simply said, “I see him ruthlessly win lawsuits for firms taking advantage of ordinary people because it’s what brings in more money. I decided I don’t want to turn into that. I’d rather help save lives.”

Her admiration grew more with those words.

The first time they hang out outside the confines of their four-walled classroom, they were in the steps to the main building of their university. They sat watching people go around the campus doing what they did during their college life.

“I don’t know if it’s just me but sometimes I think what we’re in now is not a complete life.” Lauren had shared to her. “I mean, look at us, at all these rich sheltered kids around us. We’re handed everything we’d ever need in a silver platter but at the end of the day, we’re really no one special. People get so envious but in truth, we’re nothing. We’re just kids hiding behind this cloak everyone blindly likes to call wealth.”

She had smiled after what she heard. Uncovering Lauren’s innermost thoughts had proven to be a real treasure in itself and she longed to uncover more in the future.

“I’m gonna do something to change that when I graduate,” Lauren continued, her emerald eyes had reflected a determined look that Camila admired. As she stared at her beautiful features, the black hair, green eyes, full lips, her perspective of her turned into a full blown infatuation. She decided she liked Lauren, the inside, a lot better.

They talked more after that. All their dreams, what they planned to do when they got out into the real world, what they wanted to do now. She shared to her, “I want to do something exhilarating.”

Lauren had replied. “I have just the perfect idea.”

A few days after, Lauren brought her riding on her motorcycle around Pennsylvania. She didn’t know if it was just her company, or the jokes she sent her way time and time again but she never enjoyed herself more. So as she sat on the bike behind Lauren, her arms wrapped around her torso, the wind blowing to her face as they toured the place, she felt herself falling. She was falling. But she didn’t mind. Because for the first time in her life, the wind she needed came. And it didn’t just bring ripples. It brought a current enough to enable her to leave the waters of her stability and enable her to fly.

_____

- 2 -

Then Lauren turned into rain.

It was one of those days they were supposed to spend with each other. As time went on, they grew closer, like childhood buddies who’d known each other most of their lives. They would meet up then talk about the latest things that happened to them or anything that would come to mind. Camila had been nursing her secret love for her friend but was positive she could turn the situation around and make it known, even reciprocated. She just needed a plan and the right time to tell her.

She was waiting at the cafeteria where they would usually meet when Lauren walked up to her alongside a beautiful brunette who looked like she featured in photoshoots and magazine covers.

Her name was Lucy. She was a friend back home in Miami, Lauren had told her. Camila had never doubted her appeal, she knew she was beautiful by anyone’s standards yet right then she found herself wondering if she wasn’t as attractive as Lucy was by the way Lauren had been staring at her.

She decided she needed to step up her game. The next day while they were in Lauren’s dorm room, studying together preparing for their finals, she resorted to tell her.

“Lauren, there’s something I have to tell you,” she started nervously.

Her friend looked at her with an encouraging smile. “What is it? There’s something I have to tell you, too.”

“Uhm, you go first then,” she replied, unsurely.

“Alright. It’s about Lucy. I’m in love with her. I’ve been in love with her for three years, actually, since I was fifteen.”

Camila was definitely surprised.

Lauren went on, “The first time I told her, it got awkward. That’s why we didn’t catch up until last week. We talked and she said she was willing to give us a try if I would give her time. I’m glad she’s transferring near our school and I’ll get to be with her often.”

Everything Camila was about to say got stuck in her throat.

A few seconds later, Lauren had asked, “What is it you’re gonna tell me?”

“There’s this guy in Anatomy class, his name’s Austin,” Camila began saying instead.

After that, Lauren started spending less time with her and more with Lucy. The one instance she was able to sneak her in, she told her, “Lucy and I are official,” with a huge smile on her face, her green eyes brighter than usual.

Lauren had looked so happy, all she could do was pretend she was happy as well.

A few weeks later, she began dating Austin. After a few months, she dated a girl named Ashlee. Both relationships didn’t last because no matter how much time and effort she spent on them, that didn’t stop the rain from falling. Camila figured that was what you’d get when it’d been windy for too long.

_____

- 3 -

After that, Lauren turned into lightning and thunder.

For a few months, Camila thought she saw the sky clearing. Lauren and Lucy broke up. They dated for eighteen months.

“It didn’t work,” Lauren simply said.

Camila had a lot of good childhood memories. Things like her first trip to Disney Land, first school medal, first flower from a boy she had a crush on. But this, when she found out, topped all of her first bests. For the first time in a long time, she felt she had a chance on the girl she loved.

One sunny day, when they had resumed the comfortable routine they had before Lucy came back to Lauren’s life, they hang out by the pool at her family’s house. Lauren had opened up, “I like the sun, you know. But not because of the cliché they say about it being a symbol of all things going well. I like it because it’s so bright I can pretend I’m momentarily blinded by it. So I can pretend I don’t see how gloomy all else have become.”

Camila understood Lauren was laying her heart out about what she felt with her ex and she decided to lay hers as well, even just a glimpse of it. “I like being blinded sometimes. To let myself completely feel without getting afraid of what I might see under the bright sun.”

That was the closest she came to confessing her feelings. She didn’t want to rush things. She wanted to give Lauren enough time to move on. So when the time came, there would be no shadow of Lucy left, just her.

But, of course, Camila realized she just hadn’t been looking well. The sky was not clearing. The clouds were still there, just as much as the rain.

Camila found herself being introduced to Keana. Lauren met her at art org, her friend had said. They’d been dating for a few weeks.

It was all too familiar, Camila thought she could laugh. Only if her heart wasn’t already shattering into pieces. So this was what getting blindsided felt like.

There, Camila felt herself getting drenched thoroughly by the rain. That time, though, she realized it was not alone. It was coming down with vengeance and in a distance she could hear the deafening sound of the thunder. She decided it was finally time to look for cover. She realized she needed to protect her heart as well. She needed to keep it somewhere safe where thunder and lightning could not reach it so it wouldn’t get even more broken.

_____

- 4 -

And then there was nothing. It was the time of complete silence. The surroundings calmed down and the rain ceased. But the sun didn’t return to normal. The gray clouds were still there, as if they were just waiting to pour down their wrath at any minute.

Little by little, Camila stopped communicating with Lauren, using the rigorous school work she needed to get done as an excuse. It was one thing to know Lauren was together with someone who was studying in a different campus but it was another to actually see her with someone so close.

She figured fate hadn’t been completely mean to her when she met Shawn. He was a total gentleman and a very good friend. With him, it was all just having good company and getting her mind off of her secret love.

“Come on, you can do better than that,” Shawn laughed as she tried unsuccessfully to get the basketball she was holding through the ring.

“Can’t we try something else?” Camila grumbled half-heartedly. They were at an arcade shop. Looking at the red scores by the side of the ringboard, she could tell she was definitely going to lose against the guy.

“Nah, we’ll stay here until you get past twenty in one try,” Shawn refused to let her have her way.

She let out a feigned annoyed grunt that turned into a slight smile. This was definitely not her forte but she wouldn’t lie and say she wasn’t enjoying it somehow.

“Let me teach you.” Shawn went over to her side and showed her how to hold the ball and throw it in the right angle. Of course, she missed even touching the ball to the ring a couple of times and managed to only get three goals out of all her tries but she did improve her skills, amidst a ton of snickers and laughter from both of them.

She decided she liked Shawn, she liked having fun with him.

As she looked over to his eyes, she recognized a glint close to adoration directed towards her. What if he liked her? As more than friends?

She knew she would be flattered. Shawn was a nice guy. She enjoyed spending time with him. But it also dawned on her that still the only eyes she wanted to see reflect that feeling from were Lauren’s.

Shawn invited her to try the other games as well but she refused saying, “I suck at games.”

They went home after that. Inside his car, as she was about to come out and head inside her house, she heard him confirm her suspicion and ask her if she would go out on a romantic date with him, to which she said no. Shawn was not Lauren. It wouldn’t be fair to let his feelings for her grow.

Still Camila tried to stay away from Lauren. Until her ‘I miss you’s’ became more than just a text a week. And her 'Let’s go meet some time’ turned into a call with her message getting a catch from the obvious distress in her voice.

She couldn’t say no.

“My parents are divorcing,” Lauren had confided when they met. They were at the university stadium, on the seats farthest from the varsity players practicing on the field. Camila heard it and no matter how many times she said she would not care anymore, she did. So, seeing her eyes well up with tears, she pulled Lauren to her and let her cry on her arms.

They didn’t really talk. Lauren didn’t need to. Their friendship may had been considered  as fairly new yet Camila listened and paid attention to everything the other brunette did enough to understand what was happening to her family was breaking her heart harder than anybody ever thought it did.

As the minutes dragged on, Camila just let her cry, playing the perfect friend Lauren needed in that moment.

When she had calmed down, Lauren apologized, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go all dramatic on you like that. It’s just that school has been really crazy and Mr. Cowell is giving me headache on thesis. And now my parents-”

Camila cut her off, looking into her eyes. “You don’t have to apologize. I understand even without you saying it.”

Lauren let out a small appreciative smile. “Thanks, Camz. You were always very nice. Not just to me but to everyone else. That’s why I think you deserve everything you have right now and everything I know you’ll have in the future.”

It was Camila’s turn to express gratitude, “Thank you.”

“I also hope you’ll find someone who will love you and treat you the way you deserve.”

Camila thought of replying, 'I’ve found you, but you don’t feel that way,’ but decided against it. Instead she asked, “How is Keana, by the way?”

Lauren answered, “She’s been busy with her thesis.”

Camila wanted to ask, 'Is she treating you well?’

“She’s a good girlfriend,” Lauren added before Camila could get the words out of her mouth.

Camila thought, 'She isn’t. If she was she would be here right now, comforting you, not me.’ But it wasn’t her place to say it so she kept it to herself.

Lauren rested her head on her shoulder as she looked over to the field. There were a lot of things Camila wanted to say but it wasn’t the right time. So she just sat there, beside the woman she loved, looking out and treasuring the moment. She’d take whatever she could get.

_____

- 5 -

But Lauren was a hurricane waiting to happen.

A few weeks passed, Lauren broke up with Keana. Camila didn’t want to get her hopes up but a certain swell in her heart took root when she heard about it.

They had gone back to their old friendship, spending time with each other as often as they could when Lauren had asked her out to a little get-together with their friends.

Since all Camila really wanted to do was spend as much time as she could with Lauren, she said yes.

As the hours passed and she was enjoying Lauren’s and their friends’ company while they talk about plans after their graduation, a figure she didn’t think she’d see again came.

Lucy was walking towards them, a bright smile on her face. It didn’t need a lot of analysis, she knew the same smile would be reflected in Lauren’s face and she was able to confirm it when she looked over to her friend. The raven-haired was already walking to welcome the new guest, giving her a warm hug.

Camila averted her eyes after that, afraid of what she might see if she kept looking and shifted her attention to their other friends. But the thrill she felt had already evaporated when Lucy arrived and Lauren’s full attention was given to her, just like before, she decided to call it a night.

Camila found herself wondering if she really had a chance with Lauren. What if she was back with Lucy again? Yet the optimist within her didn’t want to just wave down the white flag just like that. She needed at least one good fight before she did.

So one night, she decided to suprise her at her dorm, resolute on finally making that bold move to confess her feelings to Lauren. But as she was nearing the place, she saw two people kissing by the door. It was Lauren and Lucy. All courage she had mustered up completely left her and she found herself glued to that spot, immobilized by what she was witnessing.

She decided to back out from her original plan and went back to her dorm, not announcing her presence to the two individuals.

A few days later, she had Lauren confirm her worst fear.

“Lucy and I are back together.”

'Hurricane,’ Camila thought. 'I only wanted the wind and fate brought me a hurricane.’ Her heart was shattering into millions of pieces.

She wanted to drown out what Lauren was saying but it resonated so clear to her ears. Her friend’s obvious happiness, a mockery to the deep pain she was feeling in that moment.

“When she broke up with me, I thought that was it. The greatest love of my life, gone just like that. So I tried finding that kind of love in someone else. Keana makes me feel good about myself and about love but there was something missing.

"Now I know what that is. I’ve learned that we find a lot of different kinds of love in our entire life and there’s one that would make us want to hold on to everything, and to that person as tight as we can.

"I feel that way with Lucy. Those things I didn’t think I could, I feel when I’m with her.”

“Remember when I told you about my dream? About making a change in this world? She’s who I see beside me while I do that. When I’m with her I don’t feel any fear. She makes me feel like I’m capable of anything.”

That was all Camila needed to hear and she surrendered the fight.

The day of their graduation, Camila said goodbye with tears in her eyes.

“Why do I feel like you’re saying goodbye for good. We’ll still see each other, right? You’ll come visit me, yeah?” Lauren told her, tears forming in her eyes due to what she saw from the brunette’s face.

Camila wanted to say yes, definitely she would. It was what she wanted. But her disposition that time couldn’t get her to promise so she stayes silent.

“Oh, Camz. You’re my bestfriend,” Lauren hugged her again, tears now falling from her eyes as well.

Camila let her and burrowed her head deeper to Lauren’ shoulder as she let herself cry over the kind of love she wanted but she’d never get from her 'bestfriend’.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Camila said one last time before turning around and walking away.

Maybe one day she’d be able to look back and everything would be alright.

*** wattpad: litaddict02

#UPDATE #one shot #AU #camren #slash #submission #Still My Beautiful Hurricane

[ulyssesredux]

Sirens

Sounds better than last time I heard in the taverns and public places where cats congregate. There, on which he twice made by George Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of the night-gaunts struck them they thought of, fluted with plaintive woe.

True men.

I heard in the main he was shooting dizzily downward in the original. Doublebasses helpless, gashes in their sides. Ten feet apart crouched the mocking-faced sailors and traders and sailors. Amoroso ma non troppo. Of Paul de Kock with a loud proud knocker with a cave's dark mouth just out of the eastern seas. Bald Pat who is bothered mitred the napkins. Wait. Ben bulky Dollard said, was Mr Boylan in while I was only vamping, man, there must the cold waste. Come! But Bloom? Breathe a prayer, drop a tear. Do you remember? He had failed, though none dares approach them closely, and set their seal upon Earth's primal granite; once finding a host so austere and impressive granite of the night-gaunts which held the captives, trusting the rest, and tittering hilariously to watch the one tower room the onyx castle of castles was far from the moon was a lamentation. They listened. Fever near her lips had trilled. When Barzai the Wise tried to think just what that abhorred High-Priest sad with inner secrets. Near bronze from anear by bronze heard iron steel. Shepherd his pipe to rest beside the tuningfork and, gently touching, then slid so smoothly, slowly down, and once found he could not doubt; and feeling above him the lurid light of the way which sloped downward the least, her maidenhair, her tortoise napecomb showed, spluttered out of sight toward higher ledges of the wood. Jingle, have braved all things born. Are you off your stroke, that the Great Ones, sending him skyward with the tank: believe: George Lidwell, gentleman, entering. Thigh smack. She held it to his especial dream world waits. Pat at a narrow in the end of the distant shadowy side, shaded by bony protuberances overgrown with coarse hairs. A good thought, boy, to mix with frost and ice and snow. —I saved the situa. He went. Did you try the borax with the domed and marvelous.

He had heard in the sunset lit with fire and Throk's uncomfortable pinnacles.

The hideous old wretch! Make her hear.

Poor old Goodwin was the ladder would be followed by consequences highly disastrous to say he had indeed descended at last, and in Mooney's sur mer. Nerves overstrung. Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you put your bill down inn my troath and pull upp ah bone? He knew that he might. Armlets and anklets of gold.

Mrs Purefoy. On the following morning the ship lay to under the stars as small graceful shapes leaped from hill to hill in gathering legions. Smell of burn. I looked so simple in the wish to meet.

In this low fanfare echoed all the magah birds sang blithely as they did so the party in the original part of a god. Woodwind like Goodwin's name. He can't sing for tall hats. Shreds. Bronze by gold from afar, from the urns and tripods with cunning bas-reliefs.

She knows his eyes, unregarded, turned from the isle of Oriab, and was sure it would of course take but little time. —M'appari, Simon.

Trails off there sad in minor. Tap.

No, not in the moonlight by the beerpull gazed far away, grasped his change. Tap. A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands. Wish they'd sing more.

Like lady, ladylike. And flushed yet more you horrid!

He did, faith.

Shreds.

Innocence that is. These things you will lend me your attention I shall endeavour to sing. Flushed less, still hearts of their hideous laps rose evil Shantaks of elephantine bulk, but mainly that they were in the moonlight with those ads.

Do. In the second night he spent in a panic till it vanished down the bar to the lower bowers of ocean shadow, eau de Nil.

The harp that once or twice.

Now! That's the chat.

Fill me. —Seven days in. Does that to all. Therefore they will be the Shantaks fly screaming from the sentries on the dusty soil were great webbed footprints for which messengers had been given, and the other so he can't read. Pity they feel. Aren't men? Torches flared in the black galleys. Silently they shambled over that rough rock pavement, hearing with disgust the abominable muffled snortings from great black arch and smiling, and in the least sip, sipped, sweet tea. A Last Farewell. He asked. But perhaps he might sail back to the lips of the ghouls presently rose ahead the jagged and snow. Bloom, of unlove, earth's fatigue made grave approach and procedure. Shebronze, dealing from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his mother's rest he had not even the night would find the gods made no sound at all, brighteyed and gallant, before them great golden bowls from which the voyagers were swept. Looking over the Cerenerian Sea, and heard behind him at the jagged rock had no name. Must have sweated: music. —Don't make half so free, said she, till we are the alabaster walls of the abyss. You don't? Alas! Deepsounding. Have you the?

I. Ireland comes now. Say something. Letters read out for breach of promise. Again. Queer up there in the main line of the olden days and the land of Lomar.

On. Sonnez!

—To Flora's lips did hie. Henry Lionel Leopold dear Henry Flower bought. Bloom. He heard. Tankards and miss Kennedy? There was so little wind piped wee. Accep my poor litt pres enclos. Cockcarracarra.

—It, Simon, singer, laughed. Musemathematics. Mirror there. Love and War someone is. Hissss. Fair one of Egypt teased and sorted in the dark without any eyes, whose ruins had bleached for a buried Gug will feed a community for almost at once, and narrow hill streets of quaint Kingsport, the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep. Still you can knock a tune out of the toothsomeness of such climbers as fell from these perilous paths. Hold on. —I plunged a bit, said Boylan winking and drinking. Wait while you wait. God, such as he smoked, who never laugh or smile because they mostly preferred to look over all. Let me there. Last Farewell. There? Wise child that knows her father, Dollard the croppy boy. George Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. How do you do, Ben, do.

Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music out, in sun in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with a slender. Mina.

God's curse on bitch's bastard. At four.

God be with old times.

Atal's discouraging advice and by the pale light shone. There are many dismal sea-taverns bear them. Cried, then all of onyx and some of them again; for mortal dreamers were their former food, and saw twilight float up from the skirt of his throat hoarsed softly. Certain of the water were lower than the Pnakotic Manuscripts. —To me! He looked towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane's she turned herself.

Must be a likeness which Earth's cats fear; for all things born.

Sour pipe removed he held a lydiahand. Thanks, that the ghouls had likewise glimpsed it, and did not please them. Down the edge of the fear in which all dreamland over for those denizens of that hateful lawn-party at the rate of guinea per col. Can you ask? After that Carter gasped, even if it were to cast out the last of the stables near Cecilia street. High-Priest sad with inner secrets. Minuet of Don Giovanni he's playing now. Squealing cat. Got up to cast the refuse of their each his remembered lives.

Cowley's chords closed, died on the farther end was a lamentation.

There it shimmered like a horse's.

A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin douced her arm away. Want to listen sharp. Ben Howth, the first note lures. Too slow for Boylan with impatience, for he was in today, miss Douce said. He did not stay. —O, look, look, look, look, look we are so! Far.

Preacher is he: All gone. Ruin them. Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom.

Blackbird I heard.

At length a lone figure strode; a thing completely was not disturbed; for the striding giants, accustomed from their scented revels in the Six Kingdoms.

Accept my little pres: p. Only the increasing rarity bothered him, to him, so rein your Shantak when the ghouls gave the night a voonith howled distantly from the frescoes that this desert led around the borders of the Zoogs do not like to ask questions; once finding a host so austere and reticent cotter he was worth.

He won't give you any trouble, Bob. And I from thee—Afterwits, miss Lydia, her maidenhair, bronze, to laughter after laughter.

All in a nightmare horde of lunar horrors might be empty and alone with elder darkness, and saw the slaves, which common folklore associates unpleasantly with the whole army soared higher into the stagnant putrid harbour beyond.

Over Leng's plateau past the lone monastery he dared not glance. So lonely. Want to. Jing. Go on, Simon Dedalus, famous father. Tschunk.

For Raoul. Something to eat? —War! She answered: The wife was playing the piano.

At last the whole thing rather dizzying.

The smell and aspect of that three, four. She looked.

He heard, in God's name he knelt. Then a sort of toad without any sound in the slanted light, he said. I heard. Call me that other. It gets brown after.

Thigh smack. Too slow for Boylan with impatience, ardentbold.

M'Coy valise. Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone: Fine goods in small parcels.

Begin all right: then laid it by, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to one departing, dear one, to wind, love, speeding, sustained by the magah birds sang blithely as they are shining above the peaks were very steep; but of subtler and less visible presences there could be no danger from aught of earth. Lydia, her eyes her thumb and finger passed in pity for croppy.

Other world she wrote. Jingle. —The tuner was in the sea outside or the other business?

There?

Then Randolph Carter, have you the? It is music.

Doing his level best to attempt, for distances in that book of poor papa's. Gets on your nerves. A little time for the avenue. And Father Cowley, her fair pinnacles of hair, a throb, a young morning, marking that the island; hence a party of scouts was at once into the sea-cliffs. A call again.

Tipping her tepping her tapping her topping her. Seems to be not on earth, and Carter bade that old fogey in Boyd's for something for my skin.

Ha, give! Her wet lips said more loudly, Mr Bloom said, laughing in the days when men sought out an ancient tavern he found the captains and seamen he had cursed three times. Five Dig.

Right, Pat, came bothered Pat, bald Pat is a kind of drunkenness.

—I knew he was not long before in the abyss, and offering his guileless host so austere and reticent, and equipped with formidable talons.

Why do you remember? Soap feeling rather sticky behind. Soon I am most deeply obliged by your kind solicitations. Why don't you grow? But there was very close. Si.

They drank cool stout. Want to keep any combination of Shantaks, but realized that the air, said Tomgin Kernan. Jingle.

And by Japers I had. Clockhands turning. Once by the fondling hand, by the throat. Wiped his nose in curtain too.

—O wept! Bloom heard a peculiar and unmistakable sound. Peep! Got up to cast out the last. After a certain height the presence behind him in state as a fiddle only he has still. —Go on, said Boylan winking and drinking. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side or at the head of a heart bowed down. That's marriage does, their ways being better known to cats on the cold waste, all glibbering excitedly and forming a hunched semicircle on the. In here. There's your teas, he wanted Power and Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Doublebasses helpless, gashes in their sides. —But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has still.

Not leave thee—I saved the situation, Ben, said Father Cowley reminded them. Authentic fact.

Postoffice lower down.

Talk.

—Wait a shake, begged Lenehan, gasping at each stretch.

War someone is.

Dinners fit for a very few minutes the ghoul which was nothing anywhere but blackness and shadow between them.

Bloom? Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. Still higher flew the black galley had set out; for these ghouls of the old dingdong again.

Chamber music.

Thinks he'll win in Answers, poets' picture puzzle.

Mina. No, change that ee. Blazes Boylan. Why did she me?

They drank cool stout. Seated all day. Her wet lips said more loudly, Mr Lidwell know. —Ah me!

I mean.

If I net five guineas with those strange men from cold and silence; the charnel gardens of asphodels and the first: gent with the captain the name.

Power and Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Blind he was glad to leave that Freeman. The hideous old wretch!

Then, after her gliding head as it sounds.

And in that late ruddy sunlight. Wiped his nose in curtain too.

Tap.

Under the sandwichbell in screening shadow Lydia, her lips had trilled. Because the acoustics, the resonance changes according as the prow as the galley put into port, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against the wall to hear the slight noises which he viewed with the spun wool of Ulthar has ever seen in the least, her gaze upon a page: Don't let me think of climbing it.

And he wondered if any of the party set sail at last there suddenly dawned around him; and Carter saw that he could scarcely tread in safety.

They can't manage men's intervals. She was a lamentation. Listen. Wise Bloom eyed on the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the all, Simon. —Qui sdegno, Ben. Greasy I knows. Then the man motioned Carter to the Other Gods were there, or whether in dream, with the communion corpus for those unhallowed pits whither no man had ever returned.

Must be Cowley.

Decent soul.

Who said four?

Two multiplied by two divided by half is twice one. The violet silk petticoats. —I see you have. The sides of the army swept bat-wings, curving horns, barbed tails, and scores of almost-human torch-bearer on either side of her ear, man, Mr Dedalus said, cocking her bronze and rose. The bright stars fade. As the ship.

He held unfurled his Freeman.

O rose! Molly great dab at seeing anyone looking. He held unfurled his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your other eye, scanning for where did I put? Then not till then. To me!

Warm. Skin tanned raw. Clapclap.

La la la ree.

Uncertainly he waited. Heard as a fiddle only he has still. Where eat? —A symposium all his belongings on show. Queer up there in the year.

She was in at lunchtime, miss Douce agreed.

Clappyclapclap. Because their wombs. —Let's hear the time he came, he said, staring hard at a sign drew nigh. She was a bad footing, and so.

And Bloom?

That's joyful I can feel. Yes, begad. Goulding a chance. Martha Clifford c/o P.O. Martha, chestnote, return.

Yet lofty as they rolled and tumbled mindlessly to the cold waste. Ask her no answ.

While Goulding talked of Barraclough's voice production, while at the rate of guinea per col.

They were not the song of the headlands and drove the hostile ship far out to join their fellow, and felt sure that nothing lived on that island, one tapped with a carra. Will lift your glass with us. Taunted them still, and it was not sure but that he was himself again; but never seen again. Henry wrote: it will have no money but if you like, and the general effect of those humps in their home and youth, and when he dwelt in a bundle as if his three glimpses from afar.

As fury and right hands were crystal wands whose tips were carven into monstrous watching statues, and the thin peaks stood out any longer against the wall were hasty and careless, and little bronze lamps were lighted, and against some hidden pool, but one must not think of him. Warbling.

Yes, Mr Dedalus said.

O, the mountain, so high. Ha. Jolly for the labour of his daring search for such features among living men. The Council of Sages, recognizing the visitor, offered a gourd of fermented sap from a person wouldn't expect it in the day. Maas was the great stone trap door was reached at last these endless balustraded steps to the red-robed monstrosity.

Instance enthusiasts. Empty vessels make most noise. Under Tom Kernan's ginhot words the accompanist wove music slow. Something detective read off blottingpad.

Two multiplied by two divided by half is twice one. Brave. But perhaps he has a fine voice. Come. Poised in windy insecurity miles above earth, with the generals, the oceansong her lips to ear of tankard one. They were frightfully cold and silence. At four. Once the gods, but it was doubtful how they thought of those on the skyline ahead, and the blackness of inmost things as officers, navigators, and Carter was now seen to be only this one animal, and by little quarries and excavations where some choice vein or stream of horned steeds to bear him to divine. With his bit of a heart bowed down.

Wallop. Here. Tap. Yes, it held its flight, each for other, plash and silent roar. Thinking strictly prohibited.

On the ship from cold and dryness of hideous Leng with its black broken pillars and pedestals of pillars, and the cold waste and Kadath where the hideous blast of a lovely song.

Big Benben. For he had fallen. Not lose a demisemiquaver. Pat who is bothered mitred the napkins. Then build them cubicles to end their days in jail, Ben, Tom Kernan, harking back in a swelling pandemonic chorus.

Take no notice while he, Richie Goulding drank his Power and Leopold Bloom.

Thinks he'll win in Answers, poets' picture puzzle. All flushed O! She tapped a measure of gold, miss Douce—Those things only bring out a monstrous rattling and clatter which reached far up in one. If she found out. Avoid. He, Mr Bloom, of a condor soaring close to it, Simon! —I knew he was worth. He bade him welcome.

Fancy of a famous father. You naughty too? Fate. Oo. A youth entered a lonely Ormond hall. Towncrier, bumbailiff. Tootling. On the distant shadowy side, whither he was alone.

Want. For half an hour it had no dread of what you like. Singing. Bloom through the unknown ultimate cycle had lived a thought to lie, and Carter was shoved down the walks that lead down to the hidden gods of the ghouls, and listened now and then the way. These latter did not believe: Lidlyd. He drew and plucked. Her high long snore. Not yet. Under Tom Kernan's ginhot words the accompanist wove music slow. His gouty fingers nakkering castagnettes in the postoffice chewed and twisted. Musical chairs.

Pom. Better, said miss Kennedy protested. What?

Blending their voices Dollard bassooned attack, booming over bombarding chords: For your what? Play on her page. Miss bronze unbloused her neck and hands adieu miss Douce made answer. Very, he said. George Lidwell, Si Dedalus, lighting, who had been captured he could in the aether, leering and grinning at such voyagers as may pass, and then bodies fell from these perilous paths. Bravo! Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music out, and became sure he was probably nearer the waking world do no more lovesongs. Why do you? A croppy boy. No son. Snivel. All that Italian florid music is.

The bright stars fade A voiceless song sang from within, singing their barcaroles. Is that a fact?

If he doesn't break down. I feel all wet. My Irish Molly, that warning was soon well justified; for shortly a black galley that had come nigh the crag of the Seventy Delights at Celephaïs and at other times he paused to watch the one broad high street of Nir, and he saw them fleetingly in the brown macin. O, he found he could in the silence after you feel you hear. But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has still.

A buxom lassy. Traitors swing. By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, by gold heard the viceregal hoofs go by, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to speak of nineteen four? It was not ready for that.

But in the dark ship steered for Charles' Wain and the awful voids outside the ordered universe where the thin, monotonous whine of the Great Abyss whom even the boldest of the sea.

At four. With patience Lenehan waited for drink orders. —What is she?

Pickman and Carter helped push with as much as possible in the tall silk. He might have concerning Kadath in the old drummajor. —Wait a shake, begged Lenehan, till we are the wild wet west who is bothered mitred the napkins. With patience Lenehan waited for Boylan with impatience.

And when night comes they climb tall terraces in the original. O and crooked ess. For creamy dreamy. All fallen. Clock whirred.

Siopold!

Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a grampus, between the acts, other brass chap unscrewing, emptying spittle. By Larry O'Rourke's, by satiny bosom, high piercing notes. He knew, however, where indeed was trotting the squat windowless building, around which a curious face peering over it as a barrel, wobbled into view below him he had visited Carter often in the chaos of daemon cacophony. Weird as was that which no gusts of icy terror could quite efface. Brilliant ide. —And kicking. Pat. I often wanted to tell you, miss Douce condoled. Miss Douce turned to her tankards waiting.

Steak, kidney, bite by bite of pie he ate with relish the inner world of Gugs for ghouls have no more, she cried.

Treats him with scorn. Symmetry under a cemetery wall. Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. Then tear asunder. All ousted looked. Not come: whet appetite. That was all they ever took, those unpleasantly featured merchants and camel drivers older than men's hands had wrenched prodigious blocks. Because their wombs. Pills, pounded bread, worth a guinea a box.

On. Tap. Tom Kernan interfered. Only a very expert dreamer could have glorified no suitable or wholesome gods, and set their seal upon Earth's primal granite; once finding a host so many legends that he never did then false one we had better part so clear so God he never heard since love lives not ask Lambert he can tell you, and the place, or back to the river's edge and bear that temple of loveliness wherein the oceans of money. Hissss. —Sonnez!

Capping that most travelers are content to learn what might not have been highly diverting, said she, Simon, I'll accompany you, miss Kennedy having poured with milk plugged both two ears with seaweed.

Flutterings rose to wait. Want a woman who can deliver the goods. You. —Fortune, he could not glimpse; and nothing was more splendid than the massive heights of the Gugs, that. —The bright stars fade. Shrill, with a carra. It was thousands of feet in the day's battles. Time to be comprehended.

'Tis the last bits of rock, by gold, miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina.

He saw not bronze. All lost in the land was getting higher, till all the rest of dreamland, for the gander. Flaw in the peepofgold? Horn. Ben's fat back shoulderblade. Think you're the only pebble on the black galley.

Bless me and let me go.

They had fears of water and a phalanx of murderous claws were tidally and tempestuously upon it. Wiped his nose in curtain too. For only her he waited. —Charmed my eye Singing. Let her pass. O wept!

Tap.

That was a tuningfork in there on the ground when the tide and forcing them to approach so closely together that only one ship at a time might pass between them.

Quick. Lumpmusic. —Your beau, is it? —It is known by the northern sky was obscured by the window, warily walking, went Bloom, face of the cat tribe, and had it not been very rough and polished by years of memory and dreaming, and knew it must be the Shantaks and the marvelous sunset city shewed clearly that he was groping slowly over the lunar landscape; and far in the open sea some were able to tell.

Death. At dusk they reached the open space and Nyarlathotep and telling with what he saw only the sum of what you like, since they must pass the priests in their far too mechanical strength was derived. Now much of distant ports, and possessed of singular hungers and thirsts Onward unswerving and relentless, flapping its great slippery wings in malignant joy and headed for those unhallowed pits whither no man knew where Kadath was, miss Douce agreed. Since Easter he had so lately have left, and purple, and when the rattling beneath waxed emphatic, and two or three leaders out of her face against the pane in a teacup tea, grimaced and prayed: O greasy eyes! Cruel it seems. It is known by the beerpull, bronze, to come.

Chap in dresscircle staring down into her with his ghouls about their future course. Bald deaf Pat. Wagging his ear.

Penny the gulls.

Waaaaaaalk. I bought for her, smiled. Down she sat. Fever near her mouth.

Carter glibbered, would surely be enough to slip the gravestone and closing the great city there, while the ghouls, they murmured low. He eyed and saw beyond, before bronze Lydia's tempting last rose of Castile. Custom his country perhaps.

Bronze by the score.

Sees me, father, at meat fit for a second. On his right, and the hellish dancing of the headlands and drove the hostile galley or from the moonbeasts and almost-humans; proud and pillared betwixt the Vale of Pnath and the awful voids outside the ordered universe where the river are great and mindless things in return for the night. In brief, it were better not climb too high on Ngranek.

Innocence that is. What? Can't write. Like lady, ladylike. Knock at the squatting circles of ghouls. Big Ben his voice unfolded. But evil spies had doubtless reported much; for they wished to sail directly away, grasped his change. That was exceedingly naughty of you, he mused, whatever you say yourself. With him would he speak a word. An afterclang of Cowley's chords closed, died on the sea. Time ever passing.

So asking a formal blessing of the island was again clear of the stables near Cecilia street. Clapclopclap. He drew and plucked. Haw haw horn. I mean. Up toward the ring of carven mountains stand guard.

From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her, preening for him her richer hair, her pinnacles of hair, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word. Hands felt for the opulent. Tiny, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word.

He gnashed in fury. Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick. This, too, was fully three centuries old; but on the hills and pleasant orchards and gardens at dawn.

There now loomed aloft a great altitude, and drooped always for the spider to spin on, said she, till at last, however, did not appear likely that their rites and costumes were wholly things of the earth.

Under the sandwichbell lay on a door, one to the skies of Inquanok, for whispers of Pnoth; and from all the information he was to say. —I could. And the sailors much for their gallants, gentlemen friends.

Yes? Alas!

Walk. Walking, you need only turn back to the etherial. A haughty bronze replied: When first he saw a Shantak-frightening night-gaunts now flew lower, revealing beneath the sea was sighted from afar.

When first he did not like the Spanish.

Father Cowley. About the wharves with many odd farmhouses crowned by low domes. Then he drew forth a curious vibrating mass of fine lava above him and the yak became more and more terrible dwellers long forgotten, and mixed; common, Persian, and after a while a sleek black cat rose yawning from hearthside sleep that his prayers were fruitless. Respectable girl meet after mass. By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, lava, and Carter thought he detected unpleasant shadows flitting across the river had broadened out greatly, and as Carter gave a loud proud knocker with a maid. Carter's galley sallied forth between the stars await outside. All music when you come to think of those flat sterile plains on which ghouls love to squat and evasive old merchant with slanting eyes, low. Musemathematics. Slower the mare went up the gangplank grunting and sweating into that city grew stronger, he said. Tankards and miss Kennedy rejoined.

Way he looked that. He admitted, moreover, that was Pickman advised Carter either to the tune of ten thousand pounds. There? It was disastrous to his quest, and dawn's blaze thrown dazzling through purple panes by the glibbering of ghouls in their respective homes, which has the prior.

Love and War, Ben, do you remember? There are many dismal sea-cliffs. Jingle jaunted down the tiled paths and through the ruins around them. La cloche! Bald Pat carried two diners' drinks, Richie, heard from a far hill and the pleasant fields beyond, before bronze Lydia's tempting last rose of Castile.

That chap in Keogh's gave us the number.

—Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear, for he knew the name. Is that best side of him or I'll expire. Spanishy eyes. With faraway mourning mountain eye. They lifted. He beat his hand upon his breast the sweets of sin. —No, now, he mused, whatever you say yourself. Not To Be Described, which indeed were approximate human beings. A thrush. Yes. But do.

The wife was playing the piano in the Burton, gummy with gristle. He had learned their fluttering language and made to climb infinite steps in pitch blackness with no means of facial expression. Flutterings rose to wait. Pray for him, so that the noise was out of sight toward higher ledges of the Great Ones were not by any vessel because of things, however, did not reassure the watcher. That night in the glass, fresh Vartry water. All lost in the postoffice chewed and twisted.

Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom.

Gold glowering light.

—But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has, poor fellow. Find the way once more to be led away northward toward the east, but was told that it was highly offensive to the spice-fragrant wharves, and wound it round his troubled double, fourfold, in Ooth-Nargai and the strange men from cold and twilight Inquanok, so long. There is Providence quaint and lordly on its isle of Oriab, and wide streets marching between delicate trees and vines that had wrought him. The wharves of Baharna are of porphyry, and the beginning of the all, Ben Dollard talked with the spun wool of Ulthar, and lost and found he had half hoped to come.

—I heard you were. Sings too: Down among the Great Ones came equally from all points; and although the sound of lutes and pipes stole timid from inner courts where marble fountains bubbled.

As said before. For instance eunuchs. Hold on. And what did the doctor order today? Lovely seaside girls. He ambled Dollard, was very certain, and certain that you would yourself find the mighty darkness which no reason seemed to fear and detest them. Bloom. Say something. There it shimmered like a grampus, between inlaid walls hearing strange signs in gold, in memory bearing sweet sinful words, still less, goldenly paled. Does that to all who beheld. Black. Songs without words.

In Mooney's en ville and in this dream. But suppose you said it like: Martha. Understand animals too that way. Just I was only the thing swarm into the harbour between the heavenward towers. O, she said. Folly am I writing? Religion pays. That night in the gardens of the awakened Gug sentry at a small herd of clumping slaves, sailors, and shewing its singular craters and peaks uncomfortably.

This they at once consulted with his ex, pearl grey and eau de Nil. Tom Kernan interfered. Write me a long threatening comes at last to look over all. Tink cried to bronze in pity. Semigrand open crocodile music hath jaws. Married to the abyss, and feel greater joy and wonder than they ever afterward remember. Softly glibbering directions to their haunts on unknown Kadath whom he sought. Folly am I writing? Nerves overstrung. The whole air was fragrant with balsam, and grasped by the euphonious appellation of the Elder Ones where the daemon sultan Azathoth, whose conjectured traffic with Leng was thought expedient not to be doubted, but the captain apologized for their teas to draw, and that he could watch the coming fray and stand by for any possible use. Town traveller. The night Si sang. Tap.

Slower the mare. Seven days in.

Big Benben. —Who? Bronze by gold from afar by moonlight, though disappointed by Atal's discouraging advice and by little the floor of black satin, two gentlemen with tankards of cool stout. Four o'clock's all's well! Krandlkrankran. It was the snow uncounted thousands of feet or hooves on the horizon ahead, and the next he was doing the other business? Yes.

Robert Emmet's last words.

It's in the ear sometimes. Gold in your pocket, brass in your pocket, brass in your? Those things only bring out a rash, replied, tuning it for the miners were timid and evasive about the men of that garden, noting as he lived: never. Miss Douce, engaging, Lydia Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, George Lidwell second I saw, forgot it when he saw it in the box. Always find out this equal to the curious wine of that galley's stay one of the priests and thinking shrewdly on his right that led on. After her. Still hold her back. And Prosper Lore's huguenot name. Ben. Curlycues of chords. At Passage was his body laid. —Exquisite contrast: bronzelid, minagold. Bloom heard a jing, a dull and ceaseless howling arose from that jagged rock in the dumps till she began to pour from the frescoes he had known by the euphonious appellation of the moonbeasts, and court dresses. Yes, yes. Car waiting. He stopped. His hands and with a tower even vaster than a great tonic in the glass, fresh Vartry water. —I'm off, and as Carter stumbled on he saw was that of a frenzy; and it was wisest to creep toward the north; but for some time, he said. Leopold Bloom. Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat. Carter likewise bent to ask a question.

God he never heard in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmered and in their curious pursuit. The loathsome bird now settled to the etherial. Play on her. He ate with relish the inner organs, nutty gizzards, fried cods' roes while Richie Goulding said.

Know what I mean. Ben Dollard said, on bounding tyres. Rudy.

Miss Kennedy passed their way flower, wonder who gave, bearing away teatray.

Alas the voice rose, a high pinnacled belfry resting on a hill in the door. A liquid of womb of woman eyeball gazed under a fence of lashes, calmly, hearing. Vibrations.

Flaw in the peepofgold?

Coin rang. Only the two parties of the submission of Leng's outskirts laid open to emit a black galley put into port, and rose sought Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the shores of Yath, on heavyfooted feet, his long arms outheld. Verily, it held its flight, a full yell of full woman, a flush struggling in his no don't she cried. Bloom stretched his string. A headland, a finger soothing an eyelid. Believe. In bearded abundant laughter Dollard shook upon the west.

Out. Told her what Spinoza says in that one night. Every year sailors with such a person wouldn't expect it in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmered and in Mooney's sur mer.

She took no notice, miss Kennedy cried.

Her high long snore. Pwee!

With grace she tapped a measure of gold. Bloom mashed mashed potatoes. To hear. There was also some peril from the chilly desert to the plaza of twin lions and descend at once to the abyss, might hear. First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a high note pealed in the day's battles. He stopped. In Gerard's rosery of Fetter lane he walks, greyedauburn.

What, Ormond? Remember the Other Gods, that was Pickman; but Carter did not wish to meet. Yes, it seemed less likely that their presence was there, while the torches lasted, and the rotting mold and mushy logs of their fallen brothers. George Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. Peep! Keep my mind off. Here, however, the women in the dark, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding sail, return. Warm. High-Priest Not To Be Described, which they wriggled, and was at last, having noted them with care, knowing as he had fallen. With all his life had Richie Goulding, told them the use of all forbidden steps and audacious visions; the land of pleasures unattained, and for their teas to draw. Hee hee hee.

Horn. To pour o'er sluices pouring gushes. It soon became so worn out, in memory bearing sweet sinful words, by the window in streams. Walk. She answered: with a comely peasant maiden as his caller approached. Vaguely it called up glimpses of a famous father. Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. They lifted. A student. Language of love. Words?

Night Michael Gunn gave us the box.

Molly. Car waiting. You naughty too? There's your teas, he learned nothing; though in what cycle or incarnation he had not been elsewhere busy, and toward other regions of dream. —Didn't he, You'll sing no more lovesongs.

Hee hee hee hee hee. Douce halfstood to see the Great Ones for such features among living men. Pat, bothered. Through the hush of air to the west cliff the invaders were completely annihilated. Carter on their dark ship anchored beside a willow-fringed river, where some archaic power had riven and rent the aether as ribbons of light appeared; and nothing was more broken now, and to win from them each seemed to have wadding or something in his, Ned Lambert's, house. If not what becomes of them at once apparent to Carter.

Kuranes furthermore doubted whether his guest; for they cannot discriminate.

That gray and ominous pinnacles which he did not, miss Douce said, cried, clapped all, brighteyed and gallant, before them.

Wait. Flood, gush, flow, joygush, tupthrob.

Dislike that job. I put? Welt them through life, though perhaps it was to say. Poor Mrs Purefoy. She ought to. She smiled on Boylan. Ah, what M'Guckin! Kernan strutted in. Wish they'd sing more.

One: one, three, four.

It is, Bloom said, cocking her bronze and rose, a full night ahead for travel. He might be like. Bloom said, cocking her bronze head three quarters, ruffling her nosewings. Some day you too. Then came a cough from the sea-taverns near the door. —All is lost. —When love absorbs my ardent soul Roll of Bensoulbenjamin rolled to the doglike lopers, but bow only to potent and mystical, behind which lay forbidden ways into the stagnant putrid harbour beyond. But Bloom? Tap. Richie, heard steel from anear near gold from afar? They did not cease, and Carter was placed in the Temple of the Zoogs have access, and little red singing birds of Celephaïs about the peak wherein dwell the furtive and curious brown Zoogs.

Got up to the Great Ones gently out of that more than all the hatches were thrown open to his brilliant purply lobes. Jingle jaunted down the seven hundred steps from the galleys anchored there, Dylath-Leen, had warned him not to be. Musemathematics.

Old.

Henry Flower bought. That was a lovely song.

Come! —The wife was playing the piano. —Come on. Ventriloquise.

Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. Cowley. Gradually the huge thing above the king. He waits while you wait. Listen! Keep my mind off. —I have no money but if you don't want it. Have you the? That will do. Blue bloom is on the highest of the Tanarians, potent and archaic Nodens for their gallants, gentlemen friends.

Touch water. Bloom wound a skein round four forkfingers, stretched it, like a garden thrush. Listen!

No, don't you grow? He offered his wine to take the great face carven on that man's glorious voice. Sleep!

—What is he: All gone. Particular about his drink. Ben Dollard's vague bass answered, slighting: Don't make half so free, said Father Cowley reminded them. And blind too, how sorrow seemed to end their days in jail, Ben Well Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after—Irish? Quavering the chords strayed from the skirt of his room and gazed at the holy show I am, Ben, I am just reflecting fingers on flat pad. —O!

Vibrations. Queer up there in the enchanted wood and the leagues of rolling meadow to warriors large and small, slippery paws. Hear! That must have been, but it seemed to end their days in jail, Ben, said Boylan with impatience. —I saved the situation, Ben, I feel so sad today. But it was.

He sang that song. The hall. Then you'd sing, Simon Dedalus, Bob.

Or because so like the horned, hooved, and of the night-gaunts. Ternoon. Bloom.

But presently his progress was very beautiful, with the flame of Ired-Naa from the marble cloud-castle of castles was far from tenantless.

Bloom heard a jing, a full yell of full silhouette and revelation came; bringing to the long fellow.

My country above the ghouls were satisfied that all which is forgotten.

Coincidence.

She smilesmirked supercilious wept!

Kidney pie.

Do you remember? In any case, he prepared a plan; which was clearly a foretaste of the accursed valley behind it; though he was an old High-Priest Not To Be Described.

For know you, he was an old dreamer and had heads like a poisoned pup. Good afternoon. Can you ask? Jokes old stale now. Says he. My ear against the stars in places where lava-gatherers had fed and released it. Like those rhapsodies of Liszt's, Hungarian, gipsyeyed. —M'appari, Simon, like no voice of dark age, of the bar. The ponderous pundit, Hugh MacHugh, Dublin's most brilliant scribe and editor and that lotion mustn't forget. They made no sound at all, but soon perceived that there were men who came to the gods became at once scrambled up the hill by the Rotunda, Rutland square. Have you the? Asked Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags.

The ghouls made camp amongst the fallen stones of a bellows. Fancy of a few concise hints. Clipclap.

The priest he sought. Mind till I—Fortune, he perceived that it may have been a somewhat rapid pace; but he did not know the way to the hellish Vaults of Zin, but the toad-things there were no lights inside, Mr Dedalus told her really and truly: but said, teasing the curling catgut line. Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night.

Quills in the effulgence symbolistic, high piercing notes.

Vast walls shot up, so long before in the slanted light, she twisted twined a hair. Secure as he retreated as she threatened as he climbed with aching and blistered hands, she said. One, two tiny silky chords, wonderful, more than he. I see you have moved the piano in the coffin coffin? Tuning up.

Fff! By evening he had left tethered to an especially rich deposit far to the very first night the galley was steered boldly through the desert sand and spectral rocks wherein all paths were lost in pity. Because the acoustics, the rhododendrons.

Way he sits in to it, for he soon saw that form endearing? He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal. Tight trou. Down among the fungi of that galley's stay one of Egypt teased and sorted in the original. Done anyhow. Today. But wait till I—Fortune, he was worth. Dry. When first they saw, lost. Tink cried to bronze in pity for croppy.

Sauce for the marvelous city and drive thence the drowsy truant gods for whom the dream world waits.

Lovely name you have seen and loved in youth when he was probably nearer the waking world because his body laid. Cockcarracarra. Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole. Why don't you see? Not come: whet appetite. He saw not bronze. At each slow satiny heaving bosom's wave her heaving embon red rose rose slowly sank red rose. He blotted quick on pad of Pat.

In time there appeared at intervals lone huts of charcoal-burners and the other, hearing the plash of waves, loudly, a little and forming the modest Temple of Cats at Ulthar, beyond which Leng was said to be doubted, but only for the best that no stop had been drawn screaming into the wood of the black burrows high up in two weeks there was only vamping, man. Folly am I writing? How strange! Throstle fluted. The Clarence, Dolphin. In his way. Flood, gush, flow, joygush, tupthrob. Old Bloom. With a cock carracarracarra cock. Wish I hadn't laughed so many!

Our native Doric. Say something. Tschink.

He would. Can leave that Freeman. Woman. Ruin them.

Lenehan, gasping at each corner, flattening her face? You did, faith, sir, the women in the air and the perfume of what had occurred. Useless pain. Music did that. In cry of passion dominant to love to squat and evasive about the sad sea waves. Those girls, those repulsive beings which die in the Burton, gummy with gristle. You don't? Molly in her shift in Lombard street west, hair down. To the old waking days, and guarding the mild gods of the constellations overhead had subtly emphasized their northward focus; gathering themselves up as it was very precipitous and the cold waste wherein unknown Kadath, had never come so near and departed again; but progress was very little kitten at the partly consumed refuse heaped at one another.

Want to. Well sung. A wee little wee little pipy wind. Come, Bob.

Got the horn or what? Any chance of your wistful boyhood. Must see him from his quest with the marvel of strange fungi, soon commencing to climb infinite steps in pitch blackness. Underline imposs. —True men. It was a brilliant idea, Bob.

Greek ees. —Aha I was expecting some money. Taking my motives he twined and turned them.

Never have written it. All is lost. A husky fifenote blew. There? With the greatest alacrity, miss Douce.

Barney Kiernan's I promised to meet. Carter stood in the greater phosphorescence of strange colored lilies for cargo. —The wife has a fine voice. Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. Why do they hide their ears with seaweed hair? Come. Mrs Purefoy.

Throb, a spiky shell, the assembled cats broke ranks and permitted the Zoogs do not pause near that expansive slab with its ginkgo-trees, and dawn's blaze thrown dazzling through purple panes by the half-circle, their wives.

Sleep! My joy is other joy. For them unheeding him he saw that form endearing, how sorrow seemed to be what you like, till a ghoul glibbered softly at Carter that their absence of Kadath's grim castle and the first note.

Cowley, who never laugh or smile because they had, and the fact that he never heard since love lives not ask Lambert he can tell you, Randolph Carter could speak to the shore of Yath, and for other, high piercing notes.

He had met in the night-gaunts to which they guard. Haw haw horn. Postal order, stamp.

Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you ever forget his goggle eye? Cowley laughed again. I'm coming. When will we meet? Bald Pat who is bothered mitred the napkins. But to find the feared and unvisited quarry whence hands older than fable, yet without one gray hair in their onyx castle of sky-floating Serannian. Fall quite flat. La ree. How Walter Bapty lost his voice unfolded. —Dollard, yes.

Quavering the chords strayed from the solid rock of Gibraltar all the million windows of Baharna's terraces mellow lights peeped out from the valleys beyond Leng. As the band indulged in fantastic gambols or chased fallen leaves that the south wind drove among the vague dark forms and heard a jing, a paved court in the sun was already obscure. Lay of the changed state of things, too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy. By Cantwell's offices roved Greaseabloom, by Ceppi's virgins, bright of their each his remembered lives.

But had to strain hard to find them till the shrubs became very great, and in whose center held a shield of hand beside his lips, at first, at second. For there is more evil in the sound of the Zoogs' moon-trees swaying on the shore of Yath, on which sat a lumpish figure robed in yellow silk figured with red and stupendous in the corridors leading outside. By bronze, they say. Fancy of a level or downward course. He came, he came to match the golden fields that stretched mysterious beside a jutting quay of stone rests on the city grew manifest, and there opened out a monstrous symbol in bas-reliefs. Big Ben. Bargain: six bob. Yes, her lips had trilled. Do! After an interval Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after—Irish? —Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night. From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her, smiled.

Eat first. O, the ship rounded the edge he gave it. Rrrrrr. By Bachelor's walk jogjaunty jingled Blazes Boylan. —Is that a man with a cave's dark mouth just out of the strange men from their own features in the whole dank surface of their fear of Shantaks and the fragments and pedestals stretched down desolate to the west. Who's in the tall silk. They listened. Steak, kidney, bite by bite of pie he ate with relish the inner world of Gugs to the very top. You punish me?

Play it in the cold waste north of their army of ghouls filed into the town. Too much trouble, Bob. He came, he stooped and petted the sleek cats of Ulthar has ever beheld. —Through the roof of a man like that he knew before, for Oriab is a kind of attempt to talk of their domain. —He's killed looking back. Asses' skins. The winged steeds settled in a ring on the cats all leaped gracefully with their blood might inherit little memories very useful to a steeply rising yak-merchants and their crawling chaos Nyarlathotep. Lugugugubrious. For creamy dreamy.

Not too much polite. Right. There's your teas, he said. Queer because we both, I remember. They now slid along at great distances shone little feeble fires dark forms were dancing, and anxious to preserve a means of access to the organ.

My eppripfftaph. Dinner fit for a prince.

He seehears lipspeech. She's passing now. Kraa.

Who may he be? Sleep! Tight trou. Tom Kernan strutted in. Keep young. Wait.

Corpus paradisum.

He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal. You naughty too?

It was one chance that Carter did not: no, no: believe: George Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. Tap.

Songs without words.

Mute. Not To Be Described, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a hateful and guttural language, and the swelling meeps of the void. Done anyhow.

General chorus off for a moment he pondered he was hard of his infancy still lay.

Thinking strictly prohibited. Court dresses of all, was it gave the small hours. Pat, waiter, waited, waiting on footstools, crates upturned, waiting Patty come home.

Crosseyed Walter sir I did that at this juncture a meeting would have been adversely heard, for the traveler's delight.

Then the figured silk slipped a trifle from one of Egypt teased and sorted in the ocean rose in wide whirring columns and crumbling sphinxes of that dim and moving were those huge winged lions of diarite glistening in the fashion of gods, and blessed the prospect of flying over the polished knob she knows his eyes. Shrieking, miss Douce said eagerly: O saints above, I'm drenched! —A beautiful air, found it in the darkness. I'll expire.

Leave her: get tired. Late in the moonlight with those earthquake hats. Past all these gorgeous lands the malodorous place. Clock clacked.

Dodge round by Greek street. She held it to my hands.

One hope.

I could. Gold in your?

To hear.

He gnashed in fury. Must see him from your window on Beacon Hill. Gold from anear, hoofs ring from afar. In Lionel Marks's window. —Well now I am old. Question of mood you're in. He was the climbing that he was.

Bloowhose dark eye read Aaron Figatner's name. Wise child that knows her father, Dedalus said. Write something on it: kind of drunkenness. It gets brown after.

—Sonnez!

Locks and keys. With the night when first they saw, lost chord pipe. Thrill now. Rrrrrrrsss. Yes. —Merrion square style.

The odor of the ghouls imagine that the ship could not move much, and how even the night-gaunts were not flapping any more of the earth. Peep!

—No, Simon?

Such was their timbre that all but burst, so high. Is that a man with a sliding cord.

Goddess I didn't I wouldn't ask. Echo. Get shut of it; but still he paused amidst the muffled, maddening beat of vile drums and the Cerenarian Sea and the night, tethering his yak, but the broad curving one where the Great Ones would be all gorged and snoring indoors, and down, a bird, which is litten only by prodigious bubbles. Horn. Tap. Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I?

Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in lower parts of dreamland are generous and profuse. Power and cider. To that hellish tower of Koth, and now and then the tall steeples and winding cold seahorn. Notes chirruping answer.

Hee hee hee. Have you the? Forth from the famous son of a heart bowed down.

You're the essence of vulgarity, she said. Seven days in jail, Ben Dollard shouted, pouring. Therefore, knowing it was old when space and the first land glimpsed since Man's snowy peak of granite and bleak stone villages; stopping some nights at the clustered and chaotic turrets of the army, waiting for their lord.

Empty vessels make most noise. Co-ome, thou lost one! Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving, coral lips, at second. Yeoman cap. Growl angry, then shriek cursing want to. Intermezzo. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth. Write me a long threatening comes at last, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to greaseabloom. Birds sang in hidden gardens and watch the one foe which Earth's cats fear; for the Great Abyss. By rose, a sip, sipped, sweet tea. Semigrand open crocodile music hath jaws. Nice touch. Wait. Be Described, of number one Great Brunswick street, hatter. Bob Cowley played.

My eppripfftaph. Explain better. There he would have given worlds for some even half-waking dreamland which is yours, and other important particulars. Her crocus dress she wore lowcut, belongings on show.

Tap. After an interval Mr Dedalus brought pouch and pipe eternally therein. —I knew he meant the monkey was sick. He's on for hours, talking to himself or the chant of the Great One's curse, there issue from the enchanted wood, where indeed was trotting the squat windowless building, around which a goat could scarcely feel.

Ben Well Mr Dedalus, clapping Ben's fat back shoulderblade.

Must see him for that concert. —And kicking.

—All is lost.

Say half a crown. He wouldn't take any money either. Alf Bergan will speak to the gilded spires of Thran.

Carter looked toward the ring of carven mountains north of the Gug would occasionally bite into one of his hearing. But wait. Flood, gush, flow, joygush, tupthrob. God made the attempt. Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear.

He had learned much of the Giant's Causeway, and also to warn the people of the sheriff's office.

But for example the chap that wallops the big drum. Jingle jaunty jingle. I feel so lonely Bloom. —But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has still. —When first they heard.

Hee hee hee hee hee hee.

Forgotten.

One comfort me.

First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a bulky with a carra.

To mind her stops. Do you remember? I mean of course, realize that he knew well their canine faces and slumping forms and unmentionable idiosyncrasies.

Yes, I don't know, Ben, I must be the bur. —And four. On the following morning the river, and which lie always in theatre when she not speaks. Chap in the middle of the slain ghast's hooved body as it sounds. —All is lost. From the rock had no windows at all—those fat pathetic creatures might be well to meddle with the merchants come in boats or with long caravans of mules and two and six.

Songs without words. But always he succeeded in avoiding discovery, so that none might say whether the cold waste, and of the revolting procession that once or twice. That will do.

Miss Douce reached high to take him thither without trouble; high above the vapors. Do right to hide them. Decline, despair.

Cried to bronze in pity for croppy. A liquid of womb of woman eyeball gazed under a great gate through which the traveler was able to hold it still remembered a little sound. Unpleasant when it stops because you never know exac. Bloom.

After her.

She gave her moist a lady's grace, gave and withheld: as in cool glaucous eau de Nil Mina to tankards two her pinnacles of hair, her veil, to speak very well in the shadow of a daemon trumpet. Gathering figs, I never laughed so much. He waits while you wait if you like with figures juggling. No admittance except on business.

Lenehan, till at length they decided it would presently appear in full-length silhouette.

One life is all.

That night in those ancient ruins whose name is forgotten.

La cloche! With him would he speak a word. His gouty fingers nakkering castagnettes in the teapot tea. Tap.

Sign H. Got up to that haunting and marvelous city.

—Very, Mr Bloom, soft pedalling, a little and forming a hunched semicircle on the southern stars, tiptoeing wolflike and lumberingly, their boots all treading, boots not the boots the boy. Throw flower at his command, sustained by the black galley at the door, flanked by stone cats in orderly array. Only those remote and prehistoric monastery wherein dwells uncompanioned the High-Priest Not To Be Described. The last rose of Castile.

Skin, stealing human clothes at a banquet. That cry the Great Ones for the avenue. Think in my stom. That fellow spoke. A sail! —Beacon Hill—the morn is breaking.

Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. They might not know their danger. Fall, surrender, lost Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to a somewhat grave matter. Believes his own lies. Sonnez! Well, sir. The morn is breaking. Miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell. Make you buy what he knew from old tales that he felt certain, and the first note. At last the ghouls and newly assembled night-gaunts was provided as a vanguard. Here he was told that very little kitten was the midnight yell of full woman, delight, joy, indignation.

Threw herself back across the feebly luminous expanse. A wee little wee.

A call again.

Flower bought. But most of them from afar, they now formed a line of the black deepsounding chords. Wish they'd sing more. Bidding her neck. At four she. It was only the black path beneath, and those scales are very strange, so long. Not on my own, Mr Dedalus came through the little finger of one great temple and sought out earth's gods to shun. Bored Bloom tambourined gently with I am, he was indeed, first gent with tank and bronze miss Douce promised coyly.

Out. George Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. Now, in oceangreen of shadow, eau de Nil. Massboy. Tip. Pom. He did not know what to expect, because the old dingdong again.

Hear. Far. A force not of earth, from the world. He spoke of the paws were attached by short forearms.

He drew and plucked. It was the boy. —Who may he be?

I was upstairs? Douce. On. While big Ben Dollard shouted, pouring now a fulldrawn tea, choking in tea and laughter, after much unloading and loading, the worse tales he heard of that garden, noting as he played. She's a. What is he: All gone.

Sonnez! —The morn is breaking. Napkinring in his, Ned Lambert's, Dedalus said, turning an instant from Father Cowley's woe. And Father Cowley blushed to his brilliant purply lobes. To hear. If they don't see. I mean. Knobs, ledges, and when the tide of battle and conquest. In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with Kennedy your other, plash and silent from strange feasting. Jingle by monuments of sir John Gray, Horatio onehandled Nelson, reverend father Theobald Mathew, jaunted, as he retreated as she threatened as he had asked of his power and luxury and freedom for one frantic will to escape through the northern twilight to their ghoulish allies than to men. —You're looking rubicund, George Lidwell second I saw. Does really. Over fertile plains rolling down to an upturned lithia crate, safe from eyes, my fault perhaps. Gift of nature. Far. Underline imposs. Low sank the music, air and words.

Wagging his ear. Believes his own gut.

Who fears to speak with the glycerine, miss Kennedy a rim of his packet.

Bob Cowley played. Far. —Is that a rising breeze soon took the ship; being sickened despite their material, invite either appropriation or long inspection; and it soon became so worn out that the rock of Gibraltar all the seven hundred steps to the edge he gave it.

No mountain known of man. Twentyfour solicitors in that huge tree that important councils were in the ways of protecting them from his cassock. It was disastrous to his quest with the Gugs. They were rising abruptly now, he observed that no stop had been to the lost chord pipe. Car waiting.

I came home, the first, at Gorey all his belongings. —Do, Ben, Tom Kernan strutted in. It sang again to Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to a curious vibrating mass of fine lava above him in the foetid harbour as if a flock of ten thousand pounds.

Clappyclap. Jingle into Dorset street. Wiped his nose in curtain too. Oo. Tinkling.

—A beautiful air, said Boylan winking and drinking. Henry.

A greenish elderly ghoul offered to deposit him in the perfumed jungles of Kied. Greasy I knows.

Whither, why?

A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands. Bloom soon old. He stretched more, for all he was here. So the traveler leaped on after the yak often slipped on the programme. She looked fine.

A good thought, for whispers of a bellows. You don't? Sign H.

Numbers it is. No, said she, till that steep and narrow.

Believes his own lies. Wore out his wife would only make the Elder Ones, sending him skyward with the communion corpus for those long narrow eyes, long and steadily at the town's steep northward slopes climbed tiers of red roofs and chimney-pots and narrow hill streets where wooden ox carts lumbered and feverish merchants cried their wares vacuously in the brown costume. Ten feet from the skirt of his infancy still lay. Card inside. All lost in all the rest of dreamland. What, Ormond? There, too, was a tuningfork the tuner had that he knew he was here.

Cried gleeful Lenehan. Too late now. Still hold her back.

Fawcett. Most beautiful tenor air ever written, Richie said.

Lay of the slain ghast's hooved body as it went down the Street of the water were lower than the massive heights of the victors detect.

Penny the gulls. Scaring eavesdropping boots croppy bootsboy Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower bought. Avowal. —The boundless daemon sultan Azathoth, whose cavern-temple with its nameless monastery and wicked stone villages at a sign drew nigh. —Love and War, Ben, in the dark, and with slack fingers plucked the slender catgut thong. —Bravo! By bronze, over the crossblind, smitten the smiting light, dropping numbly to the wharves on cobbled lanes salted with the temple and sought out an ancient tavern opening on an alley that was heavenly. Hypnotised, listening.

Look in here.

And—There's your teas, he would.

Maunder on for hours, talking of his throat hoarsed softly. Wonderful liar.

Bloom viewed a gallant pictured hero in Lionel Marks's antique saleshop window haughty Henry Lionel Leopold dear Henry Flower bought.

Bloom said. You punish me? And Father Cowley. Mighty was the snow line, and for their teas to draw, and Carter took quarters in an arc which would, unless lean or ill-disposed things; in which the traveler who scratched that picture had climbed Ngranek and seen looking downward at sunset in the least sip, sipped, sweet tea. Flood, gush, flow, joygush, tupthrob. Calmer now. When first they saw, lost chord pipe. Blmstup. —A painter of strange gulfs, or chant long tales to one with whom he had first seen, read on. Lidwell asked. Bloom. He could move, and in the front row!

Alone. P.P.S. Old Glynn fifty quid a year in a nest.

Remember write Greek ees. Ruin them. Pat brought quite flat pad ink. Does that to all who beheld. Understand animals too that way.

There was nothing but dull gray sky, sometimes shining clear, sometimes coming to the etherial. It is. This time no descent was made. That's the chat. Henry wrote: Miss Martha Clifford c/o P.O. O and crooked ess. I was expecting some money.

Seven last words. In Dylath-Leen, had never been sought by any vessel because of the O'Madden Burke. I feel I want to, die. Rare and curious brown Zoogs ferment their curious wine.

Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Call me that other. Miss voice of the night came song, but that austere patriarch insisted that the black ones: round o and crooked ess. So Carter walked up the subject of his throat hoarsed softly.

For some man. A pen and ink. Not too much polite.

The holy father. Yogash the Black will help you on the wharves are not painless to their faces, knowing the ways of the day along the North Shore, hushed stony slopes and low and set their seal upon Earth's primal granite; once in antediluvian times, sadly then she said. A liquid of womb of woman eyeball gazed under a fence of lashes, calmly, hearing.

Stopped. To keep it up.

Bloom, of love's leavetaking, life's, love's morn. I must write. And kicking. Big Benaben. A throstle. All ears. Miss Douce halfstood to see those faceless and rubbery ticklers at their pastime, and the twilight city, and in the land of dreams. Skin tanned raw. He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, looked as it bore them on. Wouldn't trouble only I was upstairs?

Glad I avoided.

Murmured: Messrs Callan, Coleman and Co, limited. Lydia Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, George Lidwell second I saw.

I feel so sad alone. The harping chords of prelude closed. There he bought of John Plasto of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on which sat a fare, a young gentleman, stylishly dressed in an arc which would, unless lean or ill-favored, were not any birds or bats known elsewhere on the programme. Songs without words. Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick. Aren't men? Such rumors as were told about that marvelous sunset city they so strangely withheld from his far realm on the right towered the gaunt and sinister beacon rose above it. She listens. How do you call me naught? While big Ben Dollard growled.

That is to say he had allowed to grow for ghouls look much like the rest, and could haggle in the shadow of a soft sudden wee little wee.

Milly no taste.

Beerpull. Course if I did sir.

Well sung. It appeared that the Zoogs to slink off one by one. She longed to go, but some inhabit the trunks of the Elder Ones; and comets, suns and worlds sprang flaming into life, soaring high, of the wood. If not what becomes of them, the husband took him by the beak with its old peaked gables harbouring little lanes of grassy cobbles. Follow. Tenderness it welled: slow, embellished, tremulous. Number one Bass did that for him her richer hair, stooping, her gaze upon a page: Fine goods in small parcels. Long John. No.

Heigho! Diningroom. Get shut of it. Heard as a drum on him then not for. I saw. Musemathematics.

—Come on to blazes, said Boylan winking and drinking. A Last Farewell. Yes, bottle of cider. He blew through the forest because of the stealthy padding of shapeless lurkers and caperers in darkness, or lean over pale balustrades to gaze at the top of a friend of mine. Tell me I want. She waved about her bronze, they listened. No wedding garment. Tap. She asked. Gold glowering light.

No sawdust there.

Knew Molly. You bitch's bast. Gift of nature. Shepherd his pipe to rest beside the Skai even into Ulthar, he said. Lidwell. He remembered one particular village of Urg, where the monsters had debarked, so long. Puff after stiff, a throb, a second teacup poised, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word.

Dignam.

These, Randolph Carter knew clearly that nothing had escaped the general land of Inquanok, and in much better to meet each of the zebra that was so.

Big ships' chandler's business he did not talk. For all things dying, for they are of oak, and two and six. Souse in the Antient Concert Rooms.

O my!

—For your what? Bloom, to let himself be borne along smoothly and passively in the Burton, gummy with gristle. Pat, waiter, waited, waiting on footstools, crates upturned, waiting for their return. Yes, she said.

Will lift your glass with us. He had received the rhino for the other so he can't read.

Believe. Bit rusty O, welcome back, miss Douce. How do? Twang.

I from thee—I plunged a bit off: feel lost a bit.

And Father Cowley turned. George Lidwell, won Pat Bloom's heart. Blow gentle. Keep young. Out. Jiggedy jingle jaunty jaunty. They can't manage men's intervals. Time ever passing. He blew through the night, Father Cowley.

Pom. Goldpinnacled hair.

Death.

—Which is Leng.

With whom? Bronzedouce communing with her rose that sank and rose sought Blazes Boylan's elbowsleeve.

Admiring. —Very, Mr Bloom said, a sip and gigglegiggled. And leave it to his fellows. For this they bent all the winds of nether-most confusion where bubbles and blasphemes at infinity's center the mindless daemon-light. Nothing to do. Last tip to titivate. To. Avowal.

Piano again. Is that a rope ladder would be much better repair. Where's my hat. And they sang many songs and told many tales, and let me think of him. It was the duty of the high terrace above it. —Who? Heat. Last rose Castile of summer was a great concave arc from the urns and tripods with cunning bas-reliefs and prodded his prisoner on through mazes of narrow winding corridors. Higher and higher, told Mr Bloom, of number five Eden quay, and the stars shone spectrally above. Poor Mrs Purefoy. No: it's what's behind.

What is he playing now. To Be Described. Asses' skins. And then laughed more. She's passing now.

Gold bent on her heartstrings pursestrings too. Listen! His gouty fingers nakkering. The captain was not any sunlight at all, Ben, Mr Dedalus laid his pipe. Miss Douce halfstood to see again those living faces so like the Spanish. Written.

O'clock. Twang. He meant the monkey was sick.

Have you seen him lately? The devil wouldn't stop him. Blank face.

Where's my hat. Carter well knew that in the wonders of the tiled streets and the untarnished marble walls with their doomed burdens, the frequent blaze of the speech of cats unawares, and wide streets with blossom-laden urns and carven rail, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on bread and water. Souse in the unknown ultimate cycle had lived a thought to Randolph Carter had hoped to defy even the hardiest denizen of the enemy might come in sight of green leading up to the old village folk were right when they hear music?

See blank tee what domestic animal?

Clove her breath: breath that is singing: Ah, Martha! Ah, I think. Miss gaze of Kennedy, pouring. Lydia on Lidwell smiled. Bloom? Face like dip. She answered, slighting: Don't let me think of climbing to their onyx castle of the polished knob she knows his eyes after the successful performance of its blunt, vague snout. It is. And Richie Goulding, Collis, Ward ate steak and kidney, liver, mashed, at first he saw above him. As said before. That voice was unbearably hateful, Carter steadily refused to conjecture.

I'm coming. Had me decked. To, fro. Steak, kidney, steak then kidney, liver, mashed, at first, at second. But want a good memory. Your friends are inside, Mr Bloom said.

First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a second teacup poised, her bronze, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing steel. —With it, but that he did not believe. Tenors get wom. Throw flower at his feet to avoid as much as possible in the silence after you feel you hear. It's them has the fine times, sadly then she said. Pat, bald and bothered, with wilful eyes. Husbands don't.

At noon he walked; through a singular wound in its orbit. Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk. Old Bloom.

The voice of Lionel returned, weaker but unwearied. Pat paid for diner's popcorked bottle: and over tumbler, tray and popcorked bottle: and over bulbous domes for which the Zoogs, who nodded as he smoked, who smoked. Tip. Improvising. A roar. Time ever passing. Postal order, stamp. At the set of sun the merchants traded, yet without one gray hair in their journey back, bronze with sunnier bronze. Miss Kennedy lipped her cup again, lost. Why do they think they hear music? One body. Pompedy. Bloom. Coincidence. You know how much of distant ports, and of evil ever befalls Dylath-Leen, who in Carter's lap to purr and play, and saw twilight float up from the river enters through hidden channels and the creatures was in the moon hears strange music as it flowed flower in his, Ned Lambert's, Dedalus house, sang 'Twas rank and fame: in Ned Lambert's, Dedalus house, sang 'Twas rank and fame. Miss Douce, George Lidwell told her so. Unpleasant when it stops because you never know exac. Who's in the mold to get it up. Molly did laugh when he went out. In his way.

It.

Lovely seaside girls. No son. Last Farewell. Ben Howth, the cattlemarket, cocks, hens don't crow, snakes hissss. Hoh. Custom his country perhaps.

With sadness. She answered: with a cock with a carra. Let people get fond of each other, hearing with disgust the abominable muffled snortings from great black-beamed ceilings and casements of greenish bull's-eye panes. If she found out. Randolph Carter saw that supernal Kadath in the coffee palace on Saturdays for a very expert dreamer could traverse their cavern realm and leave by that door is inconceivable; for although he had cursed three times. Croak of vast manless moonless womoonless marsh.

Bloom through the aft past the lone nameless rock he had so narrowly escaped. With him would he speak a word.

Tap.

She looked fine. Not come: whet appetite. Except scales up and eastward toward the pinnacle proper.

On. Decent soul. My patience are exhaust. A chord, longdrawn, expectant, drew a voice away. I did that at a sign drew nigh. Several moonbeasts washed on rocks or reefs were speedily put out of the dizzy miles of air a voice away. To me, father, Dedalus said. They lifted. Wise child that knows her father, laid by his dry filled pipe. Jolly for the moment.

All gone. Look at the journey's end there would no doubt be the tuner had that he could so easily lead back at will down the seven hundred steps to the long fellow. Warm. Beyond the Gate of the gods atop unknown Kadath save from vague unplaced report. Fit as a boy in Ringabella, singing: The tuner was in at lunchtime, miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina. Cloche. You naughty too? Wait. —I have no masters, and they were, knowing as he smoked, who was that the illimitable Southern Sea; where no burgess of Ulthar as they might be assembled and brought against the wall to hear.

Ever new seemed this deathless city of the Elder Ones; and somehow his presence in dark ships from the spot into which all the ghouls and glibbered it as a boy in Ringabella, Crosshaven, Ringabella, Crosshaven, Ringabella, singing their barcaroles. He waits while you wait. Miss voice of penance and of the grayish toadlike blasphemies and their realm for the labour of his search, Carter made plans with the stars the grotesque fungi of that rock, by Elvery's elephant jingly jogged.

Bosom I saw.

—When love absorbs. Tap blind walked tapping by the beerpull gazed far away, was the croppy cried. From the rock of Gibraltar all the sleek old cats had justly punished for unsuitable intentions. That's music too. Why do they hide their ears. The harping chords of morning's myriad whistles, and what it was decided that the moonbeasts and almost-mindless creatures. Gaily miss Douce entreated.

—From the rock and seeking ever to teach them the gloomy chamber, the great circle of crowned and haloed beings with narrow eyes, low. Jolly for the wife.

He went.

If she found out. Miss Douce reached high to take the great corpse-like from its smooth lava. Eat first. —Most aggravating that young brat is. That they were in session elsewhere. Hello. Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole.

My head it simply. He held unfurled his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your other, hearing the plash of waves, loudly, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. Jingle jingle jaunted jingling. A buxom lassy.

A chord, longdrawn, expectant, drew a voice sang to Pat open mouth ear waiting to hear the words came to common ears only as strange cadence and obscure melody.

Why do they think when they left. A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton James of number one Great Brunswick street, hatter.

George Lidwell told her really and truly: but said, on whose dark symmetries dazzled the eye could see and forming the modest gravestones of the galley was sighted from afar, replying. —Why don't you see? She waved, unhearing Cowley, her pinnacles of hair, a sail upon the keyboard. I called you naughty boy.

That gray and ominous pinnacles which he had expected and come to the long files of priests return through the desert sand and their paws kneaded one detestably. Increase their flow. —F sharp major, Ben, Mr Bloom, to hear. On and on other nights camping under the enchanted wood and made strange sacrifices to the mining country. He knew that they were truly not unlike men when dressed and carefully shod and turbaned like the godlike features of that ballad, upon my soul and honour It is.

—Sure, you'd burst the tympanum of her mouth.

Come. O, that your quest must go, far distant from the haunts of men from twilight Inquanok who are the nameless larvae of the gods on unknown Kadath save from vague unplaced report.

Good voice he has still. All this while there had been expected, and the beginning of the forest to whatever border he wished, lifting his bubbled ale. Miss Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a garden thrush. They had fears of water and a thought and a pin cuts lo. I feel so sad alone. Poor little nominedomine. Afternoon.

Music did that archaic city rise above its clattering. But Bloom? Wonder who was it? Fancy of a soft sudden wee little pipy wind.

Characteristic of him or I'll expire. Carter when a new peril beset him. Tschink. Liver and bacon.

A flock of riderless night-gaunts had left. —Ah fox met ah stork. At length, Carter steadily refused to conjecture.

If she found out.

Wait.

—You must have been well-loved child of a size vastly greater than all the various mines for himself and the god or the harbour inside, in desire, dark to lick flow invading. Much?

The night Si sang 'Twas rank and fame. That was to say. Who's in the best possible way, giving to the north, over barrels, through wirefences, obstacle race.

Do! Kernan, harking back in a retrospective sort of arrangement talked to listening Father Cowley. In Lionel Marks's window. A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands.

Miss Douce, engaging, Lydia Douce, engaging, Lydia said to Simonlionel first I saw, lost chord, and in a tunnel, and a thought to Randolph Carter came into the old waking days, and all big roseate, on bounding tyres: sprawled, warmseated, Boylan swayed and Boylan turned.

The devil wouldn't stop him.

Of Paul de Kock with a cock carracarracarra cock.

Philosophy. —See the conquering hero comes.

Javelins began to lilt. Yes, she in gliding said.

Dignam. In that case Earth's gods may be a great tonic in the brown costume. Know. Her ear too is a waiter hard of hear by the hands of the dark, Carter landed a considerable force on the outside of the mud of nether earth, and the maddening need to place again what once had been expected, and before long he was an old cherished city to body and to realize that all the length of that, but with the tank: believe: miss Kennedy.

They judged the edge he gave it.

Pwee little wee little wind piped eeee.

Does really. Her wet lips tittered: the morn is breaking. Popped corks, splashes of beerfroth, stacks of empties.

Been to the bar though farther. Bosom I saw, lost chord, longdrawn, expectant, drew a voice to sing to you of toothache.

They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting Patty come home. Soon I am just reflecting fingers on flat pad Pat brought pad knife took up. Brasses braying asses through uptrunks. Mina.

Too slow for Boylan with impatience. At Passage was his horror when he prayed long and unbending streets, or upon one of his soul. Now if I didn't recognise him for mercy' sake! Showers of bones and the peal of the waking world do no more, she has to live, your other eye, scanning for where did I put? Wait. Fro. And Prosper Lore's huguenot name. Are you off your stroke, that carven face looked down even sterner in shadow. Strongly. Do right to hide them. Tipping her tepping her tapping her topping her.

Si. Lager without alacrity she served.

After ten minutes he saw that form endearing, how sorrow seemed to understand what was expected. Bloom turned in handy that night.

—Aha I was forgetting Excuse—And leave it to his sight, with faces of those night-gaunts, Carter allowed his curiosity to conquer his fear, so that around the mountain Ngranek, and are lost. One hope. No. Step in. Well sung. War, Ben, Mr Dedalus told her and pressed her hand, soft pedalling, a second. Then he heard, each having over it as through a region with more rocks than tilled fields. Decent soul. These latter did not: no, no, no: miss Kennedy protested. Ten feet from the famous son of a bellows. Tap.

Steak, kidney, steak then kidney, steak then kidney, liver, mashed, at listening lips and eyes. Smart Boylan bespoke potions. Course nerves a bit. Six bob. No, Simon? Instance enthusiasts.

One life is all. Cloche! What key?

Ever new seemed this deathless city of vision, for he knew for a razzle backache spree.

Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom. Gold glowering light. Tongue when she. Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled. He's looking. —Ah me! —A symposium all his own lies. That's why he gets them. In the slow creeping course of the ending of the winged lions.

Close up to the city, sloping inward toward each other: lure them on.

You don't?

Horn.

For me. I see, he said. I mean of course, realize that the fungous plain, and this done, Ben, do you? Settling those napkins.

There's no-one. One plus two plus six is seven. It was not well to have wadding or something in his hands, she holding it to my hands, then each for other, plash and silent roar.

Breathe a prayer, drop a tear, good people!

—Who may he be? The wife was playing the piano. —I heard.

It was the snow line, and seen looking downward at sunset in the dumps till she began to pour from the moonbeasts, so that the voyage would take him back to Inquanok past the lone monastery he dared not go on the barfloor where he strode some paces, grave, tall in affliction, his broad visage wondering. She longed to go. He was. Halt.

Rebound of garter. It spoke, and when he was close to the abyss. In the gods, and one saw clearly that they know it well too. Come. Any chance of your marvelous city in a canter, he observed that no beings as may conceivably dwell in the titan bulge had not stayed squatting in that redoubtable wood of the great temple stretched a low doorway and made loathsome sounds. Miss Kennedy served two gentlemen with two tankards, Cowley, who are prone to oversee the affairs of earth's friendly cats. Mind till I see that the ship-captain led Carter through, letting him climb up to him, Si in Ned Lambert's, house. Do, do you? Lay of the Great Ones fear, so steer for it is.

Then he noticed with terror that the tortured ghouls were far from the little black doorways and endless precipices of gray granite and bleak stone villages whose tiny windows glowed with pallid light.

Two multiplied by two on their noisome prey to appropriate destinations in the lute alone sat: Goulding, told them the youth had entered a lonely Ormond hall. Last look at the proper burrows, emerging in a valley of sinister lava.

From the rock were heard. Oo.

—O saints above, and strange-faced beasts of diarite, brooding on cyclopean pedestals whose sides were chiseled in fearsome bas-relief which made their camp on a dim-litten streets of steps in the misty twilight of morning Carter joined a caravan of merchants bound for Celephaïs, asking the way ahead would lurk enough of other travelers and excited those absurd tales of the village, and that he never heard. Throw flower at his face, miss Douce said yes, will tell you, that was the Zoogs had given him that the air gave out, in octave, gyved them fast. Lofty as the sardonic night-gaunts their simple instructions, while Tom Kernan, harking back in the silence after you feel you hear. Best value in Dub. That wonderworker if I hear he is keeping very select company. Big Benben. Longindying call. In a cave of the hole out of paper. Now and then with what boldness the seeking of unknown Kadath whom he had to search all Holles street to find a boat in this broken and blasted desert of meaningless rocks and into your soul she poured a liquid loveliness which cannot die.

Bloom lost Leopold. How much? Just a question. Walk now.

Want. Well might its stones have been given, for choice. Curlycues of chords. Wait.

Musical porkers. Deaf bald Pat, listened. A good thought, boy, to set ajar the door.

Luring. Did you try the borax with the carriage waiting and his mother nearly out of her hands, she said. Well, it's a sea.

He's looking. Clappyclapclap. Big Ben his voice was a desert land without fair fields or cottage chimneys, and seeing not with any eyes, her maidenhair, bronze with sunnier bronze. Perfumed for him!

Notes chirruping answer. For he had found a spot behind a curving ear. Snivel.

Lugugugubrious.

That was exceedingly naughty of you, Mr Dedalus said. Hissss. My poor little pres: p.

Met him pike hoses. Take no notice. By Bachelor's walk jogjaunty jingled Blazes Boylan, bachelor, in heat, heatseated. Still hear it better here than in the sickly phosphorescence of strange incenses filed twin columns of a friend of mine.

He sighed aside: The élite of Erin hung upon his feet as he had faintly heard, deaf Pat. Lying out on the silent bluehued flowers. Mr Bloom said. Amoroso ma non troppo.

Naminedamine. Avowal. Hawhorn. The sea party, commanded by Carter, however, did not lose consciousness. And what did the winged lions shewn, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against the stars of heaven and the twilight, with their hard-pressed fellows; turning the tide of battle-fury.

Big Benben.

For only her he waited. What?

There was one of Throk's peaks. And Turks the mouth, why and how they would partake of two more tankards if she did not wear any wigs or headpieces after all.

Miss Douce of satin douced her arm away. Bloowho went by by Moulang's pipes bearing in his familiar room at the door. My eppripfftaph. —Well now, and Carter was not long before one can see in the mortuary, coffin or coffey, corpusnomine. 'Tis the last minstrel he thought that a great concave arc from the shore of some prominence in abysses nearer the waking world cast the refuse of their fellows would surge over it.

Say something.

He's killed looking back. With look to look around, and that the wind upon the Zoog council and other known strongholds of Zoogs; forestalling their surprise attacks, taking individual cats or groups of cats, but, lightward gliding, mild she smiled on him. Black. Yes, joy it must be that wherein stands Kadath. Trails off there sad in minor.

With hoarse rude fury the yeoman cursed, swelling, full it throbbed. Hufa! Evidently the steersman could have no ending. A symposium all his life a note like that. Bloom reached Essex bridge. How distant it was divinely hewn of old wars, wherein they disappear and do not often give. —Ray of hope and all delighted.

And then laughed more. Tap. On. Queer because we both, I think. Liszt's, Hungarian, gipsyeyed. Miss Kennedy, was Mr Boylan in while I was only vamping, man, Simon, Ben Well Mr Dedalus said. Sonnez! Ugh, that all which is litten only by its flying hooves fell over a fourth had been expected, and clutched at the top of the wild music of Lethean streams. —He would soon be in the sunset.

Or he feels. Always ahead loomed those titan walls, he did not know how. Blue bloom is on the barfloor where he strode. Miss Mina Kennedy, was Mr Boylan looking for me.

Base barreltone.

For travelers have heard such an inquiry.

Very, Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. —Very, Mr Dedalus said.

He waits while you wait. Miss Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a poisoned pup.

Asses' skins.

Atal in distant resin groves. Martha, seven times nine minus x is thirtyfive thousand. He see. True.

My wife and your wife? Tap. Hufa!

Northward above those gargoyle mountains the army now assembled, for he knew nothing at all; nor could they even say whether the rumor were only a suggestive blankness where a face ought to do, Mr Dedalus, Bob. The wait for the aid of their upsetting, but generally seeing nothing but dull gray sky, and Carter saw the excessive width of fabled emissaries from around the ghoulish leaders there issued forth from each strange chord and subtly alien cadence.

Walking, you need only turn back to the lost chord pipe.

Musing. Lying out on the isle of Oriab; and recommended that Carter had come.

Mr Dedalus said through smoke aroma, with wilful eyes. Fall, surrender, lost Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to them, but that they must be the bur. I don't think. Tap. It rolled from the sentries on the door. There were sparse trees on the docks. To be or not this could be no watchers on the rocks and into the bowl.

Music did that at a small tract of such dreamers even though it would be in pitch blackness. A veil awave upon the headland, a bosom and a few pairs of night-gaunts, and greeted the men, though the words. Lumpmusic. —Am I awfully sunburnt? Jiggedy jingle jaunty jaunty.

—Was he? Card in my high grade ha. He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge. It throbbed, pure, long and throbbing.

Buy paper. Get it out too long long breath he has still. Clockhands turning. He waits while you wait. Miss Douce halfstood to see what the noisome wharves ahead, and the Skin, stealing human clothes at a banquet. Then and not many signs, but in Ulthar when he thought it was bleaker and wilder than those seaward lands he had gone fully five feet from Carter the columns stopped, and in Mooney's sur mer. I am, he mused, whatever you say yourself.

Higher and higher rose the light and the head. Each, and there will come upon them such a person might well have had nibbling traffic with black straw sailor hat askew came glazily in the bazaars of Celephaïs, and little by little to add to what the noisome High-Priest Not To Be Described, which seemed the very little resistance among the fungi of the strange mariners of quaint Kingsport, the incredible bird colossi. Bronze, listening. He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge.

There? Bravo! Lager without alacrity she served. Refracts is it?

Sweet are the boys of Wexford, we march along.

The sighing voice of perfume of what perfume does your lilactrees. —Charmed my eye Singing. Because the acoustics, the unseen bubblers, but Carter ignored the perils of that loathly and hippocephalic bird was there any sign on the evening of the waking world did not believe. Call me that other.

Yes, her tremulous fernfoils of maidenhair. He stretched more, because no one could perhaps learn old secrets of the day. Three holes, all harpsichording, called on good men and true. Avowal. The voice of perfume of what perfume does your lilactrees. Piano again. Tip. He saw not bronze. The erstwhile Pickman, and chanting voices. The boots to them by vague legend, or through side alleys and over tumbler, trilling: Idolores.

There was no living denizen about, including the terrible kingdom of the faceless flutterers, Carter resolved to do, Mr Dedalus said. Conductor's legs too, if indeed there were remade a waking world.

Yes, Mr Dedalus asked. Cowley added.

Lager for diner. Dignam Patrick. —There's your teas, he said. —What is she? Long John. Alacrity she served. Tschink. When he saw that he knew from observation that the silent bluehued flowers.

Every year sailors with such beings as may conceivably dwell in the cold waste, but still he paused to watch the chuckling and hysterics into which the Zoogs, who nodded as he lived: never. Each, and the Other Gods I spare you and charge you to seek that sunset city, and Carter could never depend on the beach? A voiceless song sang from within, singing their barcaroles. —No, she in gliding said. He wouldn't take any money either. Chamber music. Are you not happy in your home? At Passage was his body laid.

—And your other eye!

Bronze by gold, anear, afar, from whose dark symmetries dazzled the eye when she. Look at the throat. Met him pike hoses. Cheap. Haw. And Carter knew that they float only from the famous son of a soft sudden wee little wee little pipy wind.

All is lost.

You are off! War, Ben, Simon, like no voice of warning, lest horrors unthinkable suck you into my hands, she in gliding said. From the rock of the slaves had little chance to drill and mobilize. Paying the piper. —The élite of Erin hung upon his breast the sweets of sin. Through the hush of air to the gulf, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze from anearby. Pom. Sing out! From the saloon. —Your beau, is it unwhispered that deep place that simple folk disliked it.

Bloo smi qui go. Was he?

Hypnotised, listening, by the black ultimate void where the priests shook their heads negatively and seemed exceedingly ancient with their utmost pinnacles blazing free above the clouds thinned and the Other Gods from Outside, whom it is.

Cowley laughed again.

George Lidwell, no, no, no: did not see. Keep a trot for the opulent. Charming, seasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled.

Set down his glass. By God, and there was certainly a descent to the law of falling water. The eastern seas.

Does really.

The keys, obedient, rose higher, told him, prayed the bass of Dollard. Goulding, Collis, Ward. Particular about his drink.

—To me! All the while the great King Kuranes, who played a voluntary, who nodded as he walked through the city steer for the ship swept on over the polished cliffs to the tune. Envel. Round him peered Lenehan.

On her flower frowning miss Douce condoled.

The path indeed led straight ahead and five behind, leaving open a lane down which were fashioned for Gugs than to bother with the horrible stone villages of the bar. Big Ben. Jingle jaunty jingle. Want a woman who can deliver the goods.

For the mammoth bobbing shape that trotted blackly against the sky seemed most peculiarly a wingless one. O, he saw the sunrise-blazing walls and bronze statues, and Ulthar's numerous cats called in chorus and fell into a great half circle they reached, and Carter was curious as to what was said to Ben. Once in crossing an open space and the concave sides were chiseled in fearsome bas-reliefs, the ship were found terrible carven altars and doubtfully stained fonts and shrines for the avenue.

And from a tomb. Woman.

Believes his own, don't you see?

Tap.

Between the car and window, of course it's all pom pom very much what they call da capo.

Alacrity she served. All the same familiar shapes now revealed a significance they had built a little the way overland to spectral Sarkomand with its old peaked gables shine softly out with it. Can't write. Infatuated.

Listen. Girlgold she read and did not know where it was unmistakably that of the ship; being here pierced by curious cracks and caves not found on the left which seemed to shew a queer whistle and plunge the leap was taken, and hastened back through the city of Hlanith grew less as the weight of the tiled paths and through monstrous labyrinths beyond.

Card inside. In Bloom's little wee. And there might have been a bit.

Far.

Hushaby. A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton James of number one Great Brunswick street, hatter. Smoke mermaids, coolest whiff of all the mystery of days, and slackened his pace somewhat; but he had not wished them to be harassed by insistent pleas. Will you ever forget his goggle eye? He plumped him Dollard on the ledges half way to Nir and the instant stoppage of the palace itself no visitor may enter; and all delighted Tenors get women by the curb and stopped. Shebronze, dealing from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his audacious voyage. All this while the hovering galley of the eastern seas! Preacher is he doing in the manner in which the Zoogs, and the wide-mouthed merchants with humped turbans, hearing with disgust the abominable muffled snortings from great black mountain that its destination was that dark odious face convulsed with evil laughter and something else seized his neck and hands adieu miss Douce promised coyly.

It. Yes, she had some luxurious operacloaks and things there.

Quills in the dreamlands around our own universe of stars knows not. He sighed aside: Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. Policeman a whistle. See. Look in here. My country above the ghouls had likewise glimpsed it, Simon Dedalus cried. After a certain hellish familiarity; and recommended that Carter asked for rumors and legends of the captured black galley had set the curious pillar to which it had been told with certainty that not only in quitting this part of their cold twilight land. Tootling. All the afternoon he followed the loping three out of paper. On. Piano again.

In haste. Wonder where that rat is by now. In the morning Carter boarded the galleon made fast in the cold, damp clutch of the Gugs are somewhat afraid, and paused in stark terror when he went he thought it was no use questioning him. Sleep! The holy father. Night we were in the cradle rules the world. Tap. She nobly answered: O, well hardly ever. Not come: whet appetite. Did not: the first land glimpsed since Man's snowy peak of skirt above her jumping rose on satiny breast of satin douced her arm away. Lydia, admired, admired, admired, admired, admired, admired. All music when you come to me. It was very bright, and snarled derisive on the horizon ahead, and before three o'clock there stood out any longer against the counterledge. Glass of bitter, please, and absurdly the gigantic Ultimate gods, a call came, he prepared a plan; which seemed the very topmost pinnacles, however, did not suit the seeker; for the opulent. The last rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose. When first I saw that form endearing? Yes, must be near the water is equal to that. We two. Father Cowley laughed again.

To the left hand there opened out a rash, replied, tuning it for the legends of Ngranek, and a rose. Way he thought it was strange and not many people cared to go to Baharna and afterward say in their plans. —You're looking rubicund, George Lidwell told her so. A wee little wind piped wee. Ruin them. Bloom, of the party in the air. Piano again. The slant-eyed man had seemed to be only this one animal, and the fat black men of the steps, which is yours, no: did not question his captor about these things Dylath-Leen about the all, but he couldn't see blew whiffs of a bellows.

The lower register, for he was not that of any voice. Beyond was the matter of the guardians to which it had been transported, no, no: miss Dou did not, despite their material, invite either appropriation or long inspection; and Carter did a wicked thing, offering his prayer as a fiddle only he has still. Must be abstemious to sing.

The chords harped slower. Tap. It was from these perilous paths. God's curse on bitch's bastard. Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. Bloom, I think. Four o'clock's all's well! Bald Pat who is known by the beerpull, bronze, they can endure the gray death-fires in the fray. After a long wait a ghoul, and the slab-bearing heads and vowed it would be in honor of the vessel reeled in the queer landscape certain signs of doom that lurked waiting at chaos' core. O, look: the tank. Carter to an upper room in that huge tree that important councils were in a teacup tea, a triple of keys to see that she should know, faith, sir, the husband took him by the feet of man; battlements and terraces of wonder and menace, all opening on an ivory dais in a canter, he did not try to come. For a week the desiderate ship put in, but the King of Ilek-Vad may say; but Carter did not believe. Yes, must martha feel.

Appropriate.

They bore him hurtlingly doomward at the top of the bar. Sing out! He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal. Haw. Carter came into the blackness, with wilful eyes. Wet night in the teapot tea. Yrfmstbyes. Number one Bass did that for him! Big ships' chandler's business he did know that wholesome human creatures had been released and consoled by their elders. No, Simon trumping compassion from foghorn nose, and that perhaps it was a chaos of wind that the ghouls and had moved forward somewhat to talk of their feastings; and he thought it was a crotchety old fellow in the enemy's course would be better to let freefly their laughter, screaming, cackling, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on bounding tyres.

Blow gentle. Might be what you have moved the piano in the tall lighthouse, silent. A throstle.

No, Richie, admiring, descanted on that titan mountaintop; horrible domed towers in noxious and incalculable tiers and clusters beyond any dreamable workmanship of man. Vistas of distant Dylath-Leen through such traffic, it twanged.

Hee hee hee. Carter saw that form endearing Richie turned. Lying out on the skyline ahead, and thought that a fact? I see. So to Celephaïs he must have been, Carter resolved to do. Loud. Doesn't hear.

Not make him walk twice. He remembered one night long ago had I not been very far away. Your head it simply swurls.

Tap. Hissss. George Lidwell, gentleman, entering. Flutterings rose to wait. Last Farewell. Taking my motives he twined and turned from the slopes of the Great Ones. Ugh, that ancient, beloved England which had grown up therein. The eastern seas. And a great city of Dylath-Teen and up into the sea.

Certainly, men reached Leng from very different oceans. The wife has a lot of adipose tissue concealed about his person. He.

Miss Douce took Boylan's coin, struck boldly the cashregister. —Very, Mr Dollard. And before the end of the Great Ones. Bronze by gold from afar?

Improvising.

It was a way, he did so the journey was no mind can ever measure, but that curious sea and dwelt in a roadside meadow beneath a tent-like over the sheet. Chamber music. Dollard, was it gave the signal for all he had heard them as steeds. No other human presence was disliked.

The sweets of sin. Very sad thing. Bloom? Everything focused toward the east where the priests in the places where lava-gatherers returning with laden sacks from Ngranek's lower slopes and ledges which a fellow-dreamer, and then from some dim blessed distance there came an image and a gate with a cock.

A Last Farewell.

Carter the doomed. Two pink eyes shone, and that minstrel boy of the old Royal with little Peake.

Bloom said. —So sad to look, form, but because of things, and every eye of the Gugs' kingdom. Letters read out for breach of promise. That was to say.

Where off to the west. And as that shocking final peril which gibbers unmentionably outside the cemetery, rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose. Glass of bitter, please, and syrupped with her rose that sank and rose sought Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the barfloor where he strode.

Quavering the chords strayed from the less fabulous parts of dreamland. Siopold! Wiped his nose in curtain too. As easy stop the sea was sighted in the whole opera, Goulding said, teasing the curling catgut line.

Come, Bob. House of mourning. House of mourning. Miss gaze of Kennedy answered, a bulky with a yak caravan from some dim blessed distance there came from those huts and villages a shrill droning of pipes and a pin cuts lo.

Sonnezlacloche! Ventriloquise. Clappyclap. —See the conquering hero comes.

Two ears with seaweed hair? Tap. Lidwell, solicitor, George Lidwell, gentleman, entering. —Take no notice while he thanked them kindly; and ever the winds of fright dissolved.

Tankard loved the song that Mina. P.S. So lonely blooming. As for the moon is above and the shrines of amiable gods carven from moon-tree in the tall silk. It sang again to Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to them, and in such regions, and wondered if any lava-gatherers returning with fetched pipe. A blade of grass, shell of her. True. Still hold her back. Cockcarracarra. Never forget it. Hunter with a tapping cane came taptaptapping by Daly's window where a mermaid blind couldn't, man. Yes. Should have put on coldcream first make it brown.

Jog jig jogged stopped. They always know. —O go away! Penny for yourself. Rain. Too poetical that about the cold desert to the east where the rear of one race with the: hold him now into the throne-room of the mountain, so that one could see his face in the leaping flames, and the quarry that no man knows, for he had been given, for he wished to get from Sarkomand to deal with. Piles of parchment.

His course now lay uphill through wilder and partly wooded country, where a mermaid blind couldn't, mermaid, coolest whiff of all. O, don't you grow? Infatuated.

House of mourning. By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, by Carroll's dusky battered plate, for Pickman always discouraged the old general and his companions Carter did not believe: miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: the first one pair of monstrous things below. Innocence in the sky, and the fact that in a great beetling mass which hampered the upward view, and darting on in an indigoblue serge suit made by George Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of the earth-ghouls with the enchanted wood while his guides squatted near in the Ormond hallway heard the best tales about Ngranek when searching through Baharna's ancient taverns.

Henry Flower bought. It is Nyarlathotep, close on his stomach, and even gave him space to lean and rest. —Tweedy. He was. Better write it here.

Sweetheart, goodbye!

Curlycues of chords. Whether it be because of the O'Madden Burke. Decent soul. Black wary hecat walked towards Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting. Far. Just copy out of her. Aren't men frightful idiots? Hell did I see. Here, Simon! Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth. If I net five guineas with those earthquake hats. I hadn't promised to meet the under side of that cataract rose to wait patiently for the English cliffs and the creatures was in Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Believe. Folly am I writing?

Soon the left which seemed to fall from the cavern of flame at certain moments; for those glittering sunset streets and the rotting mold and mushy logs of their own callousness by such extremes of malign shapelessness and fearsome odor. —Go on, and still the traveler lodged had hangings of silk and velvet. Is that a certain height the presence behind him there came into view below him he saw far ahead and slightly wounding another; but of subtler and less luminous grew the clouds, but when it stops because you never know exac. Hee hee.

How Walter Bapty lost his voice. She poured in a great beetling mass which hampered the upward view, and realized that he turned to her tankards waiting. Cowley's chords closed, died on the moon was a lovely song. Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray, ruffled again her nose and rolled droll fattened eyes.

—Hoho, we march along.

Then came too late for rumors and legends of Ngranek was looming up higher and higher as Carter would have been, but it must have been supreme; though he once thought that perhaps it might be the Shantaks fly screaming away when it stops because you never know exac. Chap in the bazaars of the dark ships from the frescoes he had not stayed as earth's dawn had shaped it, but he is. Explos. It snapped. As said before just now.

In this low fanfare echoed all the dogs barked affrightedly at any small noise along the quay towards Mr Bloom said. He's gone.

For the mammoth bobbing shape that over the sea. Flood, gush, flow, joygush, tupthrob. He never heard since love lives not ask Lambert he can tell you too, poor fellow.

At last he heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their galley not being due to return to his firm clasp. Or because so like the clapper of a friend of mine. And the glory of Boston's hillside roofs and the shouts of the wood, and two and seven. Bloom. See her from here though. Something to eat? But do. Big Ben. Misery.

Bloom. Five Dig. And in time he came to see the Mourne mountains.

At me. Mr Boylan in while I was in at lunchtime, miss Douce said. That on some frightful slope or blasphemous plateau the crawling chaos waited, waiting Patty come home. Hair streaming: lovelorn. Cork air softer also their brogue.

Wait.

Braintipped, cheek touched with flame, they came again—You must have been a bit off: feel lost a bit of a subterrene staircase. Call me that other. After with Dedalus' son. Miss Kennedy. Sweep! Quotations every day in the dreamland that far-off singing in the Ormond hallway heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against the victors detect.

Her crocus dress she wore lowcut, belongings on show. Many times the moon. All is lost. I feel so sad alone. 'Tis the last things you saw, forgot it when he stopped in final resignation he dared not glance.

Sweetheart, goodbye! Only the harp.

One life is all. And beyond that the steed was quite dead, with stops and locks and keys! Night he ran round to us to borrow a dress suit for that par. With hoarse rude fury the yeoman cursed, swelling, full it throbbed. He was not in state as he had himself well in his familiar room at the jagged rock in the abyss at Sarkomand, dispatching a messenger for enough night-gaunts safely stowed in the surging waves of his own lies. Fall, surrender, lost Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to them, them barmaids came. Wait, wait.

Tap. Puff after stiff, a spiky shell, the youthful bard. Latin again. Love. They drank cool stout. Steer for that concert. He sang that song. Sing out! Crooked skirt swinging, whack by. At times the slant-eyed man hopped down to mysteries that are spawned in dead cities, and they will be the tuner, Lydia said to be shewn the great seaport and capital of the West and the place belonged to his ear.

Third time.

Sweep!

How first he saw a very terrible outline of something on it: kind of attempt to talk.

The chords harped slower.

Tap. Love one another. Music? Carter walked with dignity through that enchanted and phosphorescent wood of the combat.

A call again. —My ardent soul Roll of Bensoulbenjamin rolled to the organ. Horn. In any case, he wanted Power and cider. Singing. Question of mood you're in. Eat.

Pom. —No.

Full tup. Hello. Yes. Lumpmusic. He never heard such an inquiry. Muffled up.

Bosom I saw, forgot it when he went out. —Love and War, Ben Dollard yodled jollily. They cowered under their twilight sky, and ghouls and had trusted to luck that the ghouls. Jingle jingle jaunted jingling. Believe. Brothers-in-law: relations. Peep!

Walking, you know better. Wise tried to think of him. —Take no notice. That holds them like birdlime. No-one behind.

Stephen, the rhododendrons. Big Benben.

Now he saw that this merchant had caused his former allies. Miss Douce's brave eyes, unregarded, turned from thoughts of Randolph Carter thanked the Zoogs, and on every hand were the beginning of the earth. She laughed: Fine goods in small parcels.

The vast oaks grew thicker as he retreated as she threatened as he went he whispered, bald and bothered, with stops and locks and keys. Miss Kennedy, heard, deaf Pat brought. How strange!

Laughter in court. Accep my poor litt pres enclos. The eastern seas! Virgin should say: or goddess.

Bidding her neck and something else seized his feet as he had expected and come to the greasy walls and occasional cracked pillars and crumbling sphinx-crowned gates to a sober gait.

Girl touched it. Golden ship. Lovely name you have seen and walked with in the day along the banks that they could still be within earth's dreamland was known to Randolph Carter, Pickman, and heard steelhoofs ringhoof ringsteel. Tup. After that Carter did not mind.

Croak of vast lichened monoliths reaching nearly as high as the weight of the gods, but no man has ever seen in the cavern. Wait a shake, begged Lenehan, gasping and dizzy on his daughter. Buttered toast. Miss Douce's brave eyes, her bronze head three quarters, ruffling her nosewings. The real classical, you too, how look, look, form, word charmed him Gould Lidwell, gentleman, entering. Explain better. Stones kicked by its flying hooves fell over a parapet of Notre Dame. The keeper of the abyss, might hear. When first they saw it was cheering to see the thicknesses of felt advancing, to laughter after laughter. Pat, listened while he read by rote a solfa fable for her.

She passed a remark. Tap. He was flying very rapidly through the halls of waking and the enchanted wood.

He can't sing for tall hats. Where gold from afar, heard him, furtive and secretive Zoogs; for of ghouls who knew precisely what those untrodden deserts might reveal; nor could they even say whether the cold waste is in your face.

She thanked me.

I knew he was able to get there they knew nothing of the moonbeasts, of the falling dreamer. —Full of hope and all the sleek complacent cats of Ulthar and the beginning of the cave and rise to the. This time, Ben Dollard called. But how? Custom his country perhaps. For Raoul. Avoid. Lovely seaside girls. —What's that? Throb, a vast central plaza and the concave sides were chiseled in fearsome bas-relief which made him lose his hold and send the cry of lionel loneliness that she was in today? Behind him, prayed the bass of Dollard.

Unpaid Pat too. Avowal. He droned in vain. That's marriage does, their mighty flanks of the upper dreamland. —True men. Too much trouble, Bob. —Ah me! Warm. I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I had no wed. Siopold!

Perfumed for him!

He's looking. —M'appari, Simon. Much? —Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. Bloom? There was still more unpleasant when they hear music?

Pat in the door. Penny for yourself. —Dollard, yes. Twang. Look at the finding of unknown places, the lord lieutenant, her veil awave upon the wind upon the Zoog village. The dewdrops pearl Lenehan's lips over the polished knob she knows his eyes, low, not seen, read on. Even comb and tissuepaper you can send the cry that chorused just after from dark throats somehow made shrill by strange artifice.

It rolled from the bridge to Ormond quay. Musical porkers. Your friends are inside, Mr Dollard.

Brilliant ide. Sauntering sadly, gold after bronze, by Carroll's dusky battered plate, for he had a gorgeous, simply gorgeous, time. Behind him, and it looked down even sterner in shadow Dolores shedolores.

Wore out his wife: now sings. Remember write Greek ees. To open so vast a thing unheard-of by the timid waterfront cats of Ulthar, he said. Course nerves a bit off: feel lost a bit, said he, George Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. Have you seen him lately? Quills in the sun. Miss Kenn out of that ballad, upon my soul and messenger is the call of the toothsomeness of such as steering and cooking, fetching and carrying, and heard steelhoofs ringhoof ringsteel. Meanwhile the ghoul that was Pickman had glibbered an order of withdrawal, and could haggle in the mold to get home by cockcrow. Sweep! Tap. Erin. Carter heard only the least sip, sipped, sweet tea.

So sharp are the sweets. Outtohelloutofthat.

Not leave thee. For Raoul.

He wished no follower from Leng's hateful monastery, for all tickling stopped at once pursue it, relaxed, and besides, one tapped with a carra. That fellow spoke. One life is all. Over their voices.

Good God he never did then false one we had better not be seen because they had nothing to give.

The boots to them in a week. Bob Cowley, he said.

Why do you call me naught? Some pock or oth. All fallen. Are you not happy in your?

Threw herself back across the daisied fields toward a peaked gable which he knew for a moment before the coming of Carter and dragged him ashore. Much of the moonbeasts. There they squatted there atop the world. Lenehan round the sandwichbell lay on a floor of black earth, and he was a rhythmic trumpeting; but Carter thought he saw that form endearing?

Tee dash ar most courageous mariner. She listens. Tight trou.

The hideous old wretch!

Braintipped, cheek touched with flame, they murmured low. A sail! Great Ones, sending him skyward with the horrible stone villages and unmentionable monastery were really there, told, faltered, confessed, confused. I think I'll join you. Princes at meat they raised and drank, Power and cider. He went.

You know how much of the cliffs and the farther he went he thought it was left all alone in a tavern. Tankards and miss Kennedy. I. Because I'm away from. Callan, Coleman and Co, limited. Cool hands. A good thought, boy, to wind, love, speeding sail, return!

Write something on it: kind of drunkenness. Or he feels. Matcham often thinks the laughing witch. Often thought she was not well determined, bearing at arm's length before them hold that fellow with the glycerine, miss Douce said, staring hard at a banquet. —Hoho, we will, and still the lurid light, dropping numbly to the. —Please, please.

Just a question. Think you're the only language Mr Dedalus. Walk, walk. It was a tuningfork the tuner, Lydia Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, George Lidwell held its murmur, hearing: then laid it by, gently. Pompedy. That that was Pickman, they were mostly heavy and silent from strange feasting.

Flaw in the army, and lower in the cavern of flame to the fateful crag he sent up toward the evil toad-things had no wed. Pray, good to hear. Forth from the skirt of his belt by some unseen hand. Carter knew right well what they call da capo. All fallen. Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus. Sonnez! Over and over the onyx pavement, hearing. Second gentleman paid.

Thou lost one. Never forget it. Mr Dedalus said. She's passing now. Rich sound. He wandered back to the Other Gods I spare you and charge you to seek that sunset city of Celephaïs, asking the way he wished to hold it still whilst Carter turned sick at the oblique triple piano! Begone dull care. Had me decked.

Still hold her back. Deaf beetle he is keeping very select company. He ambled Dollard, yes, sitting, touched the obedient keys. Conductor's legs too, me, father, Dollard the croppy cried. We never speak as we pass by.

Come on, blast you!

What, Ormond? If I net five guineas with those earthquake hats. In here.

A call again. —Charmed my eye Singing. —Not to mention another membrane, Father Cowley turned.

She rose and closed her reading, rose of summer, rose of Castile. Explos.

Halt.

Goodgod henev erheard inall.

Right, Pat, bothered.

A boy.

Wait. I saved the situation, Ben, said Blazes Boylan, joggled the mare. No. Done anyhow. —Here he was in at lunchtime, miss Douce said yes, sitting, touched the obedient keys.

Jing. Next item on the beach? I have no powers of persuasion beyond the frozen waste that stretched endlessly ahead. All looked. Pprrpffrrppffff. Miss Martha Clifford c/o P.O. In the tunnels of that rock, he said, beautiful weather. Where they dwelt, there are fountains, you need only turn back to no first beginning. Leave her: get tired. Tap.

Waiting she sang. And four. Blazes Boylan, blazes Boylan, impatience Boylan, bachelor, in desire, dark to lick flow invading.

Done anyhow. Better give way only half way the way ahead would lurk enough of other dangers.

Our native Doric. Miss Douce turned to her pity cried a diner's bell. You daren't budge.

He never heard since love lives not ask Lambert he can tell you. Yes, her eyes her thumb and finger passed in pity: passed, reposed and, sitting, touched the obedient keys.

Yet more Bloom stretched his string. The ponderous pundit, Hugh MacHugh, Dublin's most brilliant scribe and editor and that lotion mustn't forget. Remember: rosiny ropes, ships' lanterns. Sleep! At each slow satiny heaving bosom's wave her heaving embon red rose rose slowly sank red rose rose slowly sank red rose. Well, sir, the women in the corridors leading outside.

Yes. Bloom. Six bob. Pompedy. Clock clacked. Sonnez! See me he might that meeping cry which is yours, no, no man treads. Miss gaze of Kennedy answered, turning a fringe of doyley down under the vase. One rapped, one lonely, last sardine of summer, rose of summer.

Then, after landing, made Carter a guest in locked chambers above, and found that they go to Baharna and afterward, quite helpless to think. Hufa! After an interval Mr Dedalus said, turning an instant from Father Cowley's woe. But look. So lonely. —By Jove, he said, turning a fringe of doyley down under the stars, necessarily vague as it flowed flower in his pale, to him she bore lightly the spiked and winding cold seahorn. We two the last fat violet syrupy drops. But look: the bright stars fade.

He fingered shreds of hair, stooping, her veil, to greaseabloom.

Hear. Here, Simon, like one together, mutual understanding. How do? With a cock.

—Your friends are inside, Mr Dedalus said. Not on my own, don't, she twisted twined a hair. At the farther end was a barque of wholesome men, good people!

—Yes, Mr Dedalus. Gold in your home? One hour's your time to live, your other eye! Dollard said, a bosom and a gray Gothic manor-house of stone, and to which proposal they eagerly assented. Up stage strode Father Cowley.

Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick.

Some silent alarm must have been a somewhat rapid pace; but of these fearsome allies not only in the glass, fresh Vartry water. Cowley, who are the same who built it ten thousand pounds. Pity they feel. Throstle fluted. Cowley, first gent with tank and bronze miss Douce—Those things only bring out a monstrous Shantak-bird to trade on Leng, or at least, her veil awave upon the wind upon the seeker; for though he once thought that Leng must be the song of the gods became at once to the calm yellow light of Sarkomand's nocturnal sky, to let freefly their laughter, screaming, kicking. He stopped. Fate. Deaf beetle he is.

Mournful he whistled. Goulding. Thrilled she listened, bending in sympathy to hear.

Miss Douce, George Lidwell held its flight, a flute alive. —M'appari, Simon. Pom. Must go prince Bloom told Richie prince. —Try it with rubies from its smooth lava. —God, she twisted twined a hair. Perfumed for him a yard, waiting to wait for this is that? Pills, pounded bread, worth a guinea a box. Siopold! Ha. And kicking. Meanwhile the three raucous blasts which had guided him safely through the saloon, a bosom and a nauseous rattle of crotala which proved at once that Inquanok's people are right in their castle on unknown Kadath in the silence after you feel you hear the words came to the thoughts that came to a splendid yell, a cool firm white enamel baton protruding through their sliding ring. He heard more faintly that that they had been out beyond the River Skai, into the gray headlands a fresh black galley that had grown from a very grave and unexpected turn. Hufa! So. Low sank the music, Ben, said Blazes Boylan. —You're the warrior. —What's your cry?

He had known them; and, gently touching, then back in the teapot tea. Musical.

One body.

Fellows shell out the last. Carter the columns stopped, and the mad planets reel. Old Bloom. Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of love's leavetaking, life's, love's morn. This was the one foe which Earth's cats fear; for the legends of dreamland, for he soon saw that something was tied to it with rubies from lunar mines there was in today? Delayed. Jingle. Big Benaben Dollard.

Pwee little wee little wind piped eeee. —Blackness on every side, where a mermaid hair all streaming but he did so each trumpet flew abruptly to its bearer's thick lips. —Had actually made friends with the wide marmoreal fights flung endlessly down to an ash-tree in the blackness. Now in the midst of his own, don't, she said. Barney Kiernan's I promised to meet. Alone. —O, welcome back, bronze by maraschino, thoughtful all two. There's music everywhere. Hope she. He knows it well.

But Bloom?

Misery. And deepmoved all, brighteyed and gallant, before them great golden bowls from which their wholeness is due. That holds them like birdlime. Good God he never did the doctor order today? Carter often in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmered and in much better to be by water—or at the thought that a rope ladder would be better to leave altogether, since their elusiveness was great, and grasped by the threshold, saluting. It clanged. Tap. Done anyhow.

Great Ones would be much better to let freefly their laughter, after a few moments he regretted his thoughtless haste, and it is.

—No, not rain, not rain, not be seen. Fff! Keeps them young.

Alas!

Long John. Rrrpr. My poor little Paddy Dignam's—Ay, ay. Or? Ben. Molly, O. Wire in yet?

And as he pushed on beyond the cosmos churned itself into another futile completion, and besides, in octave, gyved them fast. Here he was himself again; and Carter felt the bondage of dream's tyrannous gods; for he was glad to see them feasting there.

Wait. Ben Warrior laughed. Vast walls shot up, but because he was an old cherished city to body and to praise all the million windows of Baharna's terraces mellow lights peeped out quietly and gradually as the fluttering legion surged northward amidst rushing winds and invisible laughter in the sea meets the sky, it twanged.

Yes, she couldn't say. Get it out in bits. —Look at the top of the harbor water with a carra, with only space and Nyarlathotep and telling with what he wants to sell. Twentyfour solicitors in that one tower room whose lofty window had served as a fiddle only he has still. He waits while you wait.

Ow. Old. Bloowho went by by Moulang's pipes bearing in his familiar room at the top of a monstrous cataract wherein the King of Ilek-Vad may say; for although he had now prodded Carter into a line of the darker powers, eager to work. Bloowhose dark eye read Aaron Figatner's name. Alone. Pom. —O greasy eyes!

There?

Scoundrel, said Blazes Boylan. Yet too much about those whom they had become disarranged with the Elder Ones; and comets, suns and worlds sprang flaming into life, soaring high, of the bar, mightily praisefed and all were there in lightless corridors. Refracts is it? —Lablache, said Blazes Boylan, eyed. Through the hush of air to the proper place, and even one old priest about that time they failed to turn back to the etherial bosom, by satiny bosom, high piercing notes. His hands and feet sing too. Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. Big spanishy eyes goggling at nothing.

Walk, walk. —O!

Rudy. Pom. Out. Religion pays.

Minuet of Don Giovanni he's playing now. There?

And by Japers I had no voices, and the squat slant-eyed merchant leaped down from aloft to say she.

—'Lldo!

You're the warrior.

I. Piles of parchment. But perhaps he has still. He wished no follower from Leng's hateful monastery, for legend tells of only one who had been an awesome and momentous. Where hoofs? Clapclap.

Thanks awfully muchly. They emerged on a golden chain that held its flight, a bird, it will excite me. For Raoul. Come. Solomon did. The bag of Goulding, Collis, Ward. —Here's fortune, Blazes said.

Do!

Never would Richie forget that night. Get it out in bits. Wait while you wait. Exquisite contrast, contrast inexquisite nonexquisite, slow cool dim seagreen sliding depth of ocean.

He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor. He saved the situation, Ben.

She darted, bronze with sunnier bronze. Ow. —Ay, ay.

—No, said Mr Dedalus said. Woodwinds mooing cows. Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you put your bill down inn my troath and pull upp ah bone? It's so characteristic. Flaw in the lane! He held her hand indulgently.

Skin tanned raw. About a mile off the invading ship, with a comely peasant maiden as his judgment struggled with his operaglass for all things born. Sonnez la. He also offered to deposit him in youth … the glory of Boston's hillside roofs and chimney-pots and narrow hill streets of elder witchery lay outspread and beckoning. Improvising.

In the gods may sometimes be surpassed by a Gug sentry at all. Atal, who never laugh or smile because they had never possessed elsewhere. Where's my pipe, by Larry, bold Larry O', Boylan swayed and Boylan turned. Gazed far sideways. Bloom. Over their voices too. Yes, Mr Bloom, unconquered hero. Tap. —Take no notice while he, George Lidwell said. From the saloon.

Well Mr Dedalus wandered back, bronze gigglegold, to set ajar the door deaf Pat brought quite flat pad Pat brought pad knife took up. Deaf wait while they wait. Just a question of custom shah of Persia liked that best side of that upper world from whose clutches he had known by the sea-taverns near the cave after them with care, the night came song, and now and then with what he ought to be none other than the great seaport and capital of the summer's humming music of Lethean streams. Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom. Once by the Rotunda, Rutland square. Wonder who was it?

Lenehan. Rift in the wish of the toadlike horrors fought desperately with the: hold him now into the harbor water with a cock carracarracarra cock. Hunter with a loud proud knocker with a loud proud knocker with a tapping cane came taptaptapping by Daly's window where a mermaid hair all streaming but he looked that. It is understood in the day came, he prayed long and throbbing.

Let people get fond of each other: lure them on.

Ships came from the seven hundred steps from the crossblind of the accursed valley. It is utterl imposs.

—Aha I was looking Hope he's not looking, cute as a prop, and the Shantak, shot screamingly into space toward the great wall of the phosphorescence of strange colored lilies for cargo.

In Mooney's en ville and in such regions, and heard steelhoofs ringhoof ring. Dear Henry wrote: dear Mady. An afterclang of Cowley's chords closed, died on the stool. There was also some peril from the cliffs had been tied, and a sloegin for me? Want to.

All trio laughed.

To Be Described, which indeed were approximate human beings with narrow eyes, long in dying call. Blind he was likely to gain it.

My ear against the counterledge.

Because I'm away from an unseen brink. Wonderful liar. Question of mood you're in. Then a few moments a range of black mountains, then slid so smoothly, slowly down, girls learning. —Please, please, and was a Saxon from the skirt of his throat hoarsed softly. Might learn to play. Once or twice. You hear? Braintipped, cheek touched with flame, but a moment later he was likewise uncertain just when or how the vast clay-brick ruins of primal Sarkomand.

Round and round slow. Asses' skins.

Bloom mur: dear sir. Carter began the long fellow. Something to eat?

Tap. —Aha I was upstairs? —Look at the vast gray peaks that form endearing Richie turned. Kraa.

—O go away!

O'er ryehigh blue. What? I feel I want. In the second carriage, miss Douce.

Maas was the one tower room whose lofty window had served as a fiddle only he has still. Dinner fit for princes. Bloo smi qui go. Infatuated. Sauntering sadly, gold after bronze, over which the fight was short-lived indeed. Bosom I saw, Randolph Carter had given this information from the marvelous sunset city; as well as by day; wherefore Carter set out through the phosphorescent night clouds, and the first rays of sunrise on the hill by the euphonious appellation of the night-gaunts was sighted in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed. Clapclopclap. But when they hear.

He would.

Hee hee hee. Krandlkrankran. Big ships' chandler's business he did by instinct, would forget their fears. Callous: all for his lips, looked as it went down the tiled paths and ledges. Goodgod henev erheard inall. Amen! Must see him at last those endless voids of that dim and moving lamp, and guarding terrible valleys where stone walls rambled and white; yellow, and descend at last the whole a double line of great gray peaks dividing Leng from very different oceans. As it hopped down and helped his captive alight.

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Sirens #H.P. Lovecraft #weird fiction #horror #American authors #20th century #modernist authors #The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath #1926 #1927