#it was the main curse on a family next to cannibalizing each other

[barbiegirldream]

dream is like theseus and actually every greek figure Including Literal Gods who are seen through a purely modern lens by people with no context or understanding of ancient greek society and therefore are vilified to no end

I was so thrown for a moment i thought this was dsmp syndicate discourse I don't know Why my brain went there I study Theseus. c!Tommy was Not Theseus he killed no monsters and did Not abdicate a role of monarch for democracy

Anyways I'd say Dream is really just an Athenian woman. People wanted him to stay locked up forever and get pissed at anything he says.

Not really like the men though they were definitely all killing people to varying degrees of approval by society. By nature of not being insane psychopaths modern day men will almost always map better onto ancient women.

#the thing about greek stories is people always try to culture back then it when most of the stories are warnings #or explanations for why things suck so much and have to be like this #Greek Gods are concepts of things and sometimes explicitly bad things #there is a reason Ares did not have much cult worship outside of Sparta #who famously won one bsttle after 30 years of effort and sucked forever every other time in their history #but i digress so often i see like um actually the ancient greeks didn't mind incest like Yes Yes they did so badly #it was the main curse on a family next to cannibalizing each other

[babiebom]

Accidental Prey(iii)

A/N: i have realized that I have a type in two different ways. If anyone has read or watched the outsiders, Johnny reminds me of the guy who plays Dallas Winston and when I first read the book and watched I have had a crush on him and his looks remind me of that. But also the Dead by Daylight version of ghost face also reminds me of Johnny personality wise which is a problem. The fictional men I am into are just MENACES. Also her name (Fawn) is based on her survival instincts (fight/flight/freeze/fawn) AND how helpless she is similar to a baby deer. ALSO I meant to post this WEEKS ago like beginning of October. I looked for chapter 4 for like 15 minutes before realizing I only posted 2 chapters. Anyways if whoever is reading this wants the next two chapters to come out quickly I will oblige. But just know the authors notes will be outdated because I don’t feel like changing them.

Tw: threats, mentions of murder, pregnancy, cursing, talks of cannibalism, gore, blood, fighting, main character is being held hostage. Abuse/abusive tendencies, physical fighting y’know dysfunctional family things.

Wc: 2.6k

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Upstairs turned into an absolute shitshow as soon as Johnny's feet touched the landing. Drayton immediately began yelling about the girl, and it made him want to blow up. He didn’t bother listening as he headed to the fridge to grab something to drink. The old man huffed and puffed as Johnny ignored him, causing everyone else to start getting antsy. “LISTEN WHEN I TALK TO YOU, BOY!”

Growling to himself, Johnny spins around, glaring right at his eldest brother, he wanted to attack him in a fit of rage. “DON’T YOU BOY ME OLD MAN!”

The two men stared at each other, daring the other to make a move. “That girl cannot be kept here.”

“Well she’s gonna be, so get over it.”

Drayton sighs, shaking his head. His fists were ghost white from how tightly he was balling them up, yet Johnny knew the man wouldn’t try anything against him. For a second he thought everything was going to calm down, but nothing ever seems to go his way as Nubbins begins yelling, himself.

“If you’re not gonna kill ‘er I will!” Johnny’s head snapped to look at him. Was he really going to try anything? “Look at what she did to my face!”

The man sounded absolutely distressed with how he whined, and looking at his face Johnny could see why. Nubbins’ face was covered in tiny scratches, they were bright red, with blood crusting over them. The scratches trailed down his face, onto his throat and chest, onto his arms and for a second Johnny almost changed his mind on just how defenseless his little mouse was. Maybe she would fight him back, it sure seems like she fought him. Or maybe she just disliked the son of a bitch enough to want to maim him. Chuckling, Johnny doesn’t bother to hide his smirk. “Sure does look like it hurts”.

Nubbins lunged at Johnny only to be pushed to the ground roughly. The man scrambled to get up quickly, attempting to lunge at Johnny again. Sissy screamed at him to stop, and Drayton didn’t bother to stop anything. “Try that again, I dare you”.

Instead of lunging again, Nubbins darted towards the stairs leading down into the basement. Gasping, Johnny chases after him, and he can hear the footsteps of his siblings behind him. Great, the shitshow can move downstairs. Not even an hour later, everyone is returning to the basement.

Getting there a second after Nubbins almost means that the mouse loses her life, he grabs the girl by her hair causing her to scream at the top of her lungs, she struggles against him, swinging her hands blindly in an attempt to get him off of her. Johnny sees red at the sight of him holding his property up by her hair. “Get off of me you FREAK!” She wiggles around violently, trying to escape his hold. Johnny lunges at Nubbins with his hands extended.

Everything moves too fast for his mind to process and just like Nubbins had the girl, he had grabbed him by the hair, yanking him away. Punching the top of his head, Johnny shoved him to the ground once again, threatening to end his life. The girl had stopped screaming, but was now cowering in the corner. “If ANYONE is going to end that girl's life it’s going to be ME!”

The girl gasps, and Johnny looks over at her for a second before he watches the girl turn to Sissy in fear. “Please don’t let him kill me! We met at the store, remember? We talked about-about brownies, about you baking a pie! You talked about your brothers! Remember?”

The second Johnny moves she cowers back again, staring at him with wide eyes. Again, the terror doesn’t make him feel as it usually does with other victims, he doesn’t feel that success, as if he got the biggest prize after hunting. He just feels…pity for her. “Please! I’m pregnant!” Her mouth moves as if she’s going to beg for her life, as if she’s going to say something else, yet she doesn’t.

Johnny, however, shuts down. Pregnant?

Well, at least they had to keep her now, he just had to figure out if it was his or not.

Fawn sobbed to herself stuck down in the basement. It was dank, there were bones and blood everywhere and her nose burned from how bad it smelled. Gagging, she pushes herself to the back of the mattress, trying to get comfortable enough that she could space out and ignore what was happening around her.

The only good thing was that she probably did no real damage to the baby, not having a baby bump to fall on, not really having that much of a baby to effect. And the fact that she felt nothing was wrong with her body other than the headache that was taking over her ability to think. She could hear something thudding upstairs, and for a second she had hoped that her parents sent police or her parents themselves were up there. Yet she knew, in her heart and in her brain she knew that there was no one up there that was looking for her. Her parents probably haven’t even noticed anything was wrong, she had to be back home by midnight and she doubted that it was even close to that, and even if they knew how would the police even be here? How would they know?

She sniffed, bringing her knees to her chest, watching as a large man entered the basement. For a second he seems surprised to see her, moving backwards in what she assumed to be surprise but when she thought more about it his movement mimicked fear or anxiety. Was she in his space? Looking around she sees bloody tools and a drawer and other tools and things lying around. He seemed to want to move to the desk that was directly across from her, but seemed awkward. Fawn didn’t dare speak though, not wanting to trigger the man or anything. So the two stared at each other in silence, blinking and sizing one another up as if they were two abused animals trying to make sure they won’t get maimed again.

Tired of just staring, Fawn resumes crying, letting her head fall into her knees. Everything has gone to shit in a matter of weeks, a few months ago she was content with her life, and now she was trapped in a musty ass basement after being kidnapped by strange people that keep threatening to kill her by talking amongst themselves as if she were just an animal or cattle that they had to get rid of. Everything was unnerving about these people. And now knowing the two she had spoken to in the store weeks earlier were taking part in this, she wondered if they had planned the whole thing. Though the man she had met seemed like he wanted her alive. But then again he probably was to blame, him and that girl.

Yelping, Fawn looks up in shock. The pressure on her head did not help the headache, but she could tell the man in front of her was trying his best to be gentle. Maybe he was uncomfortable with her crying in his space. He didn’t say anything, and jumped backwards after she made noise, just staring and making noises at her. Clearing her throat, she tries to offer a watery smile, hoping that if she got him on her side he could help her leave. “Thank you…” she said, blinking up at him. The man made a happy-ish noise and clapped his hands once, moving to the table across from her finally.

Even with how big he was he wasn’t really all that scary, at least not yet. Imagining him chasing her was terrifying enough to keep Fawn in check, not wanting to push her luck with the guy. He seemed to be non-verbal which she didn’t mind, but that could also be a reason to not choose him to manipulate. She wanted out, and needed out before she got too big to even try to escape. Then again, escaping seemed impossible, and a stupid move with a house full of people that would probably kill her given the chance.

The sound of stomping filled her ears and before she realizes it the metal door that they had left through slams open and the man in the green shirt flies through. Frowning, she can’t do anything but scream as he pulls her up by her hair. Angrily, she yells curses at him attempting to hit him with her tied up fists. “YOU FUCKING- YOU LOSER UGH! Get off of me you FREAK!”

Struggling against him, she begins to cry out of rage. She hated this man, and even if it took her dying, if she could she would take the dumbass with her. The man from the store snatched him off of her. Even in her gratitude, the way he snatched him away sent fear into her heart. The big man that was trying to comfort her earlier had his back against his work desk, staring in shock as the man shoved the other to the ground.

“If you ever touch that girl again I will string you up on one of them hooks and gut you like a fish.”

Staring in shock, she watched him stand over the green shirt man, wondering why he was standing up for her. But in that moment her blood turned ice cold as the man continued to speak, also threatening her life in the same breath. Swallowing, she couldn’t help but continue to cry, terrified that the man would spin around and kill her right then and there. She had no idea what was going on in his mind other than the fact that she is his kill and that no one else was allowed to for a reason that was probably only known to him.

Gasping for air she looked to try and find the big man from earlier, but instead her eyes landed on the woman from the store. She had to remember her…right? Even though she looked totally in shock, she had to have some sort of rapport with her from letting her talk for like an hour.

“Please don’t let him kill me!” She begs, moving to face the woman fully. The woman looks at her as if she feels bad, but Fawn could see in her eyes that nothing was really there…but still she had to try and make herself seem weak, maybe she was weak, but she still needed someone to help her. “We met at the store, remember? We talked about-about brownies, about you baking a pie! You talked about your brothers! Remember?”

“Sugar…” the woman speaks, not really moving to do anything, letting out an awkward laugh.

The man from before moves towards Fawn quickly, causing her to fall backwards to try and get away from him. Involuntarily her body begins to shake, the way he was looking at her made her want to vomit. He was definitely going to kill her, there was no way he wasn’t going to. Her mind races with anything that could help her case, and she speaks without thinking. “Please! I’m pregnant!”

Fawn thinks to speak again, to beg, to do something; but with how nauseous the man in front of her looked she decided that keeping her mouth shut was best. He looks as if he has seen a ghost, as if instead of saying she’s pregnant that Fawn spun her head around and vomited at him screaming in tongues. The man takes one breath in, it’s shaky and makes her uncomfortable. His eyes are locked on her, and even if she wants to look away she can’t in fear that he is going to jump on her.

He starts to shake, his body visibly vibrating with whatever emotion he was feeling. The basement is so silent except for his breathing, making her more anxious than anything else. “Listen to me…” he speaks, turning to face the people that she assumed were his family, the woman had said she had brothers. “She is not dying. No one is going to kill her. If I leave and come back and this girl is dead or gone there’ll be hell to pay.”

No one speaks in opposition to him, and even staring at the green shirted man, or the old man Fawn realizes that somehow he had some sort of intimidation that made them want to comply. She just hoped he would keep this reality instead of changing his mind.

She didn’t want to die.

Drayton wanted to throttle Johnny so badly he could feel the thought of him doing it scratching his brain. The girl was pregnant? It was obvious that the stupid boy had gotten her pregnant, he probably knew the girl was pregnant to begin with. Talking about keeping her as a ‘pet’, he wanted to keep her because he had knocked her up. He brought a love child into the world without anyone knowing somehow and it burned Drayton up inside.

Drayton knew he himself was too old for kids, that part of his life was over and even though he had no want nor need to have kids a part of him inside was still angry. They had a rule, not one that anyone accepted, but one that was still put in place by Grandpa. The old man hates relationships, and the fact that Johnny went against that and had the nerve to threaten the family over some common whore offended him.

“You got her pregnant?” Drayton spits, as soon as everyone steps into the kitchen. He couldn’t wait to say anything about this, couldn’t hold his tongue until later.

“No?” Johnny looked at Drayton as if he were crazy, and this angered him even more. Seeing him act as if nothing happened down there, as if the very girl he had admitted to stalking got pregnant by someone else while he was watching her. It doesn’t make any sense for that to be the truth.

“Then how’d she get that way?”

Johnny shrugs, brushing Drayton off and walks away. He curses after the boy, moving to hit someone or something to get out the growing anger. Bubba moves away, and so does Nubbins who is now laughing about Johnny’s ‘girlfriend’ being pregnant, extremely giddy about the fact that he denied the baby being his, which meant she had slept with someone else.

It was chaos, dumb chaos that could’ve been avoided in multiple ways that somehow the family managed to hit head on every single time. The girl could’ve avoided this as well, Drayton just felt like everyone was out to get him, to make his life harder than it needs to be. The police presence itself was making getting food harder, and now they had someone trapped in their basement that they had no intentions of getting rid of, or rather Johnny had no intentions of getting rid of.

Sissy sang to herself, finishing the dinner that was left warming on the stovetop. Bubba had taken to trying to help her, and while it lowered the tension a little, something still had to be done about his brother.

Maybe telling Grandpa would make everything fix itself, or maybe it would give the old man an aneurysm. There were too many things going on, and too many things in the future that they would have to deal with. Even if they found a way to kill or, or even let her die in childbirth, there was still a baby that they had to deal with, and even if Johnny said the baby wasn’t his, Drayton knew that he was lying and this meant they are going to have one more mouth to feed. One more person he would have a leash on, and that child being like Johnny makes things a million percent harder.

God does he hope things aren’t harder.

#texas chainsaw massacre fic #texas chainsaw massacre game #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw game #tcm #tcm drayton #tcm bubba #tcm cook #tcm family #tcm fanfic #tcm nubbins #tcm sissy #tcm johnny #johnny tcm #tcm hitchhiker #johnny sawyer #johnny slaughter #Johnny sawyer fic #johnny slaughter fanfic #the hitchhiker #tcm game #tcm headcanons

[spider-monkey2]

Spider-Raz

Around when he was 8 Raz had come into contact with a spider statue.A spider had come out of the statue and bit him. Instead of dying,Raz is put in a dream-like state and is face to face with a giant spider babbling on how Raz has been gifted with great power,but has the curse of responsibility.

A couple of days later while practicing his acrobatics and his psychic abilities ,he discovered his spider powers. Because he was not a psychonaut yet,he decided to become the next best thing,a superhero.

For the next two years Raz in his free time would sneak out and fight crime as Spider-Man.

Because I’m basing this off of the noir universe,the vulture will be his cannibal creepy self.

Raz never got to show his family the pamphlet. After the performance ended,Vulture had attacked the Aquatos,not taking a chance to change out of his costume,Raz fought off the Vulture,forcing Vulture to flee.

After the fight was over,Raz saw his family looking at him,all in shock. Afraid of what they were gonna say and do,Raz swigged away.

While on the road,Raz meant up with a woman named Cassandra Webb. Like him,she was also psychic and had spider powers. She had allowed him to stay at her house. While he had stayed there,she told him how there were others like him and that it was no mere coincidence that they met each other.

In the morning Raz was heading out to whispering rock,but before he could leave,Julia gave him a book on spiders and some snacks.

The main events from the first game still happen.

Milla, Sasha, Lily, and Ford learn Raz is Spider-Man. Lily discovered the truth after witnessing Raz utilize his powers. Raz accidently slipped it out in front of Sasha, so he found out. Milla found out after Razputin returned to camp in the middle of the night and had to be patched up. Ford only found out because Raz trusted him enough to tell him.                                   (Fun fact)

Raz spideryness is based on a peacock spider.

#razputin aquato #psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #spider-Raz

[infinitesimalyerkesdodsons]

Me: okay im feeling kinda good about the el noli au time to work on i--

Motivation: JANUS SILANG AU CONCEPT

Some messy bullet point explanations for the characters under the cut (since they contain spoilers and might get too long to read and scroll past lmao)

Warnings: death mention, cannibalism, gorey descriptions, betrayal

Thank you for considering reading this explanation lmao 🍪 have a cookie!!!

- so what i wanna say here is that the janus silang stuff has themes that revolve around twins and duality

- I'll also refer to janus sanders as deceit here so as not to cause confusion with his namesake

- there are three sets of people that have something to do with twins: miro and mira, the tiyanak and tala, and probably Janus himself, given his name and some stuff about his character that gives him this sort of dual nature thing

- i was actually tied between whether I make thomas or janus as Janus Silang in this, because thomas' red shirt with the star on it looks similar to the one Janus usually wears, but Deceit and Janus are essentially namesakes

- i decided to go with both of them because of how i saw Janus as a character. His duality in my opinion is brought by the fact that he used to know and be super close the main baddie of this story, the tiyanak, and was used by the tiyanak to gain important information (sorry remus!!!) and yet he's also the only one that has the power to help the counterpart of the tiyanak, tala (roman)

- it's also interesting to note that I also think that Janus' duality will fully come out in the fifth and final book in the series

- during the fourth book he was fated to die in order to set the world right, however this death wasn't just physical death, but an existential death in which his sacrifice reset the whole timeline and created a world wherein he never existed in the first place.

- only one person, who used to be a diwata, now human, remembered him. I hope that Janus returns in the fifth book and things are set back into place.

- anyway, the fact that this happened shows a big duality; his past existence saved the world and his nonexistence created an alternate world in the future that didn't need saving at all

- the timeline where Janus existed (2015 when things went down), I assume is simply an alternate universe where magic exists and is based on Philippine Myth and belief. The nonexistent Janus timeline (which is 2018), I assume, is this world we live in right now, a more realistic version of the original timeline.

- i want to think that janus, tala, and the tiyanak disappeared permanently from existence in order to set the world right

- it was said that only tala and the tiyanak can match each other in power, but in order for one to die the other must die as well.

- meaning that whatever happens, both tala and the tiyanak will disappear to save the world, but janus still has to die permanently in order to make tala's existence possible.

- which brings us to the other twins, tala and the tiyanak

- some important stuff in this is that the tiyanak and tala were twins born from a curse from humans in the Tabon cave.

- the tiyanak was cursed as a baby to be a man eating baby who eats the innards of people who neglect their family (or so i remember???)

- their very existence as cursed magical twins was a mistake, so bringing back to the saving the world part, in order to set the world right they both have to yeet out of existence

- as for their duality

- the tiyanak as i said earlier is a cannibal, and can create creatures to do his bidding. These creatures are from Philippine Mythology and each have their own abilities. He emerged from his mother's womb fully able to walk and talk, and can shapeshift into a child. (He cannot shapeshift into an adult though, so his underling creatures, the do-ol, do it for him)

- the tiyanak during the first book, disguised as Janus' brother in order to gain information about his twin, since Janus was supposedly the only one that can help Tala reach maturity to counter her twin.

- tala on the other hand was born without enough physical maturity, and is said to age by one year every 1000 years. When the events of the story play out tala is nearing her true maturity and only needs janus to do so.

- interestingly, before she appeared as her true form, before Janus' whole dying from existence thing, she looked like the tiyanak.

- anyway this is an abrupt end to this part of the explanation but let's get to the third set of twins

- miro and mira

- the thing with miro and mira is that they're not polar opposites unlike tala and the tiyanak. they have the same ability of switching and seeing between a purely magical world and the lesser magical earth.

- i chose logan and patton based on their personalities and the dynamic of the duo

- miro is more extroverted of the two, which seems like a good fit for patton

- mira is more reserved and quiet, and less open with talking about her ability. She preferred to figure things out on her own, retreating into the pure magic world in order to experiment with her ability.

- they die tho, miro by literally getting vertically cut into half in the middle of teleporting to the pure magical world, and mira by the hands of a mambabarang in the fourth book.

- the thing about these twins is that they don't necessarily completely oppose each other, and only their personalities seem to be different.

- i can see a similar thing happening with logan and patton, how they're not moral opposites but differ with how they work.

- next up is mica and renzo

- they're not twins but their characters are really important to the story

- mica is janus' crush, who gave him a usb necklace in the shape of a star (at the same time, star can be translated to "tala" in Tagalog, and the usb necklace played an important part throughout the series as well.

- she also played an important part in the third and fourth book, being a regular human without any power gave her advantage to magic (and lack thereof) related problems.

- And finally renzo

- did i mention that janus was orphaned? Well he was and another important character took him in. Renzo was also an orphan and he and janus had a brotherly relationship.

- that is, until janus got stuck in a dilemma where he could only save either Mira or Renzo from falling off a literal cliff, at the very end of the third book. Janus saved mira and renzo was left hanging and eventually fell (Well that was a cliffhanger amirite heheehe)

- one bit of lore about renzo is that he was a creation of the tiyanak as well. The tiyanak saved renzo from his doom and revealed this and I dont exactly remember why but it definitely had something to do with Janus as well.

So uh that's it i think hsjdjs this is kinda messy but yea if you made it here 🍪 have a second cookie!!!

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #my a(r)t #caps tw #not a countdown #sanders sides au #sanders sides art #ts fanart #janus silang au #janus silang #also if it's not too much uh #reblogs > likes

[dollarstorethomasjefferson]

Lemme tell you a bit about a guy named Tarrare

Okay it gets kinda weird after this so Imma just----

Okay! Let me tell you about a Frenchman born in 1772. He had an unsatisfied hunger that made him the talk of the town and ultimately drove him to cannibalism and a life of seclusion. 

 Nothing extraordinary about his childhood, nothing unusual.. Until he entered his teenage years that is. At 17, he could eat his own body weight in food in one day, he could eat a quarter of a whole cow all by himself within a 24 hour period. Eventually this appetite of his drove his family to bankruptcy, causing them to banish him to the streets.

If this isn’t hard enough, Tarrare was forced into a life of crime to sustain his hunger. He made friends with sex workers and thieves, and as he distracted confused onlookers by swallowing rocks,corks, and bags of apples on the road, his friends would steal and pickpocket for themselves. After a while, Tarrare moved to Paris where he would perform solo-acts by eating bags of coins. 

Tarrare looked normal at first glance. He had soft brown hair and was fairly thin before eating. However, the longer you stare the more you notice. He had thin, almost non-existent, lips, stained teeth, and loose skin around his abdomen. He had so much skin, as a matter of fact, that he could tie it around his own waist like a belt.

Along with his seemingly contradictory appearance, he reportedly smelled horrible to the point where he “had visible stink lines” which only got worse as he ate. To top it all off, he also was incredibly sensitive to heat and was always sweating. 

One day, Tarrare was doing his thing on the streets of Paris when onlookers noticed he wasn’t feeling too great. They rushed him to the closest hospital where it was clear he had a bowel obstruction. After a treatment of laxatives, Tarrare was proving to get better. To show he was improving, he offered to eat the physician’s watch and chain, which the doctor only would agree to if he could cut Tarrare open to retrieve it. Tarrare got the hint and declined the offer.

In 1792 Tarrare, like most of the men his age, joined the army. Tarrare, as you know by now, had a very peculiar appetite which made it difficult to survive on military rations. After a while of attempted survival eating the “normal” amount of food each day, Tarrare became weak and was taken to a hospital... again.

Doctors were stunned to see such an extraordinary condition present in a human being. To test his ability, they laid out a meal that would feed 15 people... Tarrare did not disappoint. He ate the whole meal without showing any sign of needing to stop. 

The doctors pushed the limits a bit more.. and just for the sake of keeping everyone comfortable Imma just warn that this part isn’t the prettiest picture.. it only gets worse from here.. but the doctors gave Tarrare a live kitten. Tarrare drank the blood of the cat and devoured it, only to vomit up the fur and skin.. like an owl..

Mice, lizards, puppies, you name it, Tarrare ate it. He was even given a live eel to eat and in response Tarrare shoved it down his throat and swallowed it whole. If you were to ask what his favorite food was, he’d say snake.

Tarrare was then recruited on an espionage mission to Prussia. He was ordered to swallow a box containing valuable information, sneak over the borders, and “deliver” it to the proper receiver. Things did not go as planned, however. Tarrare was sent undercover as a german, but Tarrare was not brushed up on german you see.. so he was caught and put in prison in Prussia. 

After 24 hours of being detained and tortured, Tarrare broke and spilled all his secrets to the Prussians. They were a bit startled to hear the plan he was to carry out, but they believed him. They tied him to a toilet and waited for the box to appear. 

One source says the box contained an empty paper, and when the Prussians found out they were furious. Whereas another source claims Tarrare took it upon himself to keep the secret safe, so he went ahead and re-ate the box... nasty.. 

Either way, the Prussians were not pleased. They tortured Tarrare and mocked him as he was sent to the gallows to be hanged. Now, once again, two stories take place. One claims the General supervising Tarrare’s capture, torture, and execution took pity on him. Another story states it was all an elaborate setup meant to traumatize Tarrare and the french army. No matter what story you believe, it still ends in Tarrare being traumatized and being sent back to France.

Tarrare went back to the physicians and begged to be cured of this curse he seemed to be carrying. He was subjected to trails and diets, one being of only soft boiled eggs, but nothing seemed to work. 

As the days went on, Tarrares appetite only grew. He began to rummage through trash and would devour discarded meat. Tarrare’s condition took a dark turn when he began to feast on the blood of humans after getting their blood drawn. He would drink straight from the vein like a vampire!! 

Oh hoho it only gets worse, pals! Tarrare went from eating corks, to cats, to eels, to blood, straight to cadavars in the hospital’s morgue... but he wasn’t harming anyone, so that’s good... right?

Well, after his physician passed up an opportunity to get Tarrare mental help, the hospital Tarrare was staying at reported a 14 month old missing.. I’m sure you can guess what happened to the poor child...

Tarrare was chased out of town by an angry mob, leading to his seclusion for the next 4 years.

He came back to Versailles one day with an illness he claimed was caused by a golden fork he had ingested years prior..but that was not the cause of the ailment that plagued his body. Tarrare had tuberculosis, and after 1 month of being untreated by doctors, he died. (1798)

 His old physician decided to perform an autopsy on this poor, broken man. What he found was horrifying. Tarrare’s esophagus was enlarged to the point they could see inside his stomach from his mouth. His stomach, liver, and gallbladder were all larger than the average human’s. His intestines were rotted and his body was filled with pus. The smell was the most shocking, I have to say, it ultimately drove the physician to abandon the autopsy. 

Nobody knows exactly what plagued poor Tarrare, and it is still up for debate in the medical community. Hyperthyroidism could explain the soft hair and sensitivity to heat, an enlarged amygdala would explain the constant and never ending hunger, and iron deficiency could explain his craving for things like blood or raw meat. There are many other possible conditions, but I’ll leave it up for you to research yourself.

I don’t believe Tarrare was a freak or a monster. He was just a very sick man who didn’t have access to the care he needed. If you still believe he is an unforgivable beast, look at it from this point of view. Imagine being so hungry all the time that not even food can satisfy, something is missing and all you can do is search for the cure. You know people stare, you know people whisper, but all you want is peace. This starvation ultimately leads to your demise. 

Okay that’s all I have to say, thanks for listening! Heres the link to the main website I used to learn about the bruh and heres a link to the other website. It’s pretty much the same thing I said here but they worded it different I guess lol

#history #french history #tarrare #weird but true #pretty cool #pretty unsettling #thanks for listening #medical mystery

[threeminutesoflife]

Flaying a(n Albert) Fish

Pairings: Clint x Dark!Reader x Steve Summary: Reader extracts revenge against a monster. Warnings: 18+, dark reader, blood/gore, serial killer similar to Albert Fish- mentions of sexual assault and death against children- no description, home invasion, kidnapping, cannibalism, body parts, murder Word Count: 4.5k

Halloween Challenge- Are You Afraid of the Dark @barnesrogersvstheworld  Thank you for hosting! Hope you have a fantastically Haunted and Happy Halloween!

prompt: #20 monster

“I would say sorry for not having smaller hands, since that’s what you prefer... and this’ll be the last time you feel anything warm on it...” you snarled at him coldly, “but we both know I’m not.”

Taking a step away from him, you twirled the hammer in your hand.

“Don’t forget to scream- just like they did. Because this is going to hurt,” you reeled the weapon back behind your head. “So. Very. Much.”

Deafening screams filled the house as you connected again and again, bludgeoning his depravity. 

Bursts of air flared from your nostrils, while you tried to collect yourself and settle your breathing.

Blood dribbled down the end of the hammer adding to the growing puddle of inside-out remains between you both.  Adrenaline slowed and your knuckles cracked as you jerkily loosened the grip on the hammer.

Tossing the weapon to the side, you eyed the new bastardized art piece. Blood spilled out, a waterfall between his legs. Tormented whimpers, broken sobs and dying struggles for breath; all his suffering brought a sense of warm achievement in your chest. 

The police scanner bounced off your old Tower bedroom walls again.

You knew FRIDAY could simply stream the chatter, but there was something nostalgic about pushing buttons and twirling knobs.

You’ve listened to scans and phone calls, examined emails and files, plotted an idea of homegrown justice, and researched possible suspects. It was a haunting police case taking up your attention in between the missions. Maps and photos hugged your wall with notes crisscrossing over other various notes.

FRIDAY recorded the scans and police emails when you were away. Ever vigilant to highlight any details or new findings from the police mainframe about the intruder, who was preying on families with young children.

Which is where you read that the gags he placed between the children’s teeth- were all torn from what they determined to be one main source, a blanket. A dark line of all the better to hush them with came to your mind.

According to the notes, the gags' frayed ends matched each other when lined up. FRIDAY displayed the crime photos that showcased how the arrangement made an old, faded cartoon character emerge. Police thought the sexual intruder, dubbed the boogeyman, was ripping up his own childhood blanket to use in his assaults. One detective scribbled a possibility that the intruder's gags meant he was sentimental- and this was a way to intimately share himself and be closer to the victims.

You hoped the sentimental criminal slipped up on a small detail, perhaps overlooking the copyright year by the licensed character design. A small something to help narrow down his age, but unfortunately no. The print design was too timelessly popular and none of the victims left living could describe him.

And with no leads, the crimes continued. The boogeyman kept breaking into homes in the middle of the night to preform heinous acts. He threatened to kill the parents and siblings of the terrified children to keep them quiet and pliable.

Families were terrified for their children, scared their homes would be next. If victimizing the children out of their innocence wasn't monstrous enough, he'd hog tie them with duct tape and hide them away in their closets or stuff them into toy chests. Then he'd ransack the homes, randomly pocketing worthless items before leaving.

It was a grim thought you always had when reviewing the crime photos, it was like the children were his play things and he was simply plucking them off the floor, clearing them away when he was done with them. This monster needed to be stopped before he broke more toys and threw them away completely.

But it was always the same- until it wasn't.

Michael Robertson's small body recovered from river.

Steve was well-aware how this case was taking over your attention. From the smaller missions you traded or tried to give away to other teammates- to the many nights you kept the middle of his and Clint's bed empty.

Both men clearly remembered the cold shoulder you served them when Steve sent you out on a two week mission, pulling rank and ordering you to comply. Clint sided with him believing a break away from the case would help. As begrudgingly as you felt at the time, it did help to be away from the white noise of the scanners. Until FRIDAY sent you an urgent message- another child victimized a few days into the mission, this one resulting in death. His body found a day before you got back.

Breaking News: CHILD TAKEN, BODY FOUND.

Michael Robertson, age 6, kidnapped from home while parents slept. Killer removed boy's pajamas and laid them out on child's bed for parents to find next morning.

You knew you were losing yourself more and more in this police case, but with the hysteria emerging on the streets now that the boogeyman claimed another victim, one resulting in death, you expected additional branches of law force to step in soon. And you didn't want to deal with another player on the field.

You wanted this guy. He gave you something to sharpen your attention on and the want grew in you to strike him down. It was a tumor-like revenge. The team noticed you pulled away from evening dinners and movie nights. They began murmuring their concerns among each other and then to Steve and Clint. 

While looking over more crime scene photos about the Robertson case, FRIDAY announced Wanda would be making cottage pie for dinner tonight. Glancing at your watch, 3pm, you mindlessly mumbled a 'no thank you' and then froze. Slapping the desk, you knocked an empty cup over onto mission reports you've been avoiding to fill out much to Steve's annoyance.

“FRIDAY, please bring up the old police notes about cottage- about home repairs or work crews. Wait, how far back did the police look?”

“The officers went back three years, Miss. No common links appeared.”

You scanned over the photos of children and their similar ages of 6 and 7. Would he have waited for more than three years to attack? He would have known the homes' layouts, he broke in so easily to each child's bedroom. If he did wait, for how long? Why wait so long?

Your gut was rarely wrong, and the home repair angle felt like something solid, “FRIDAY, please run all the family's credit cards and bank accounts to see if there were any repair companies or purchases done within the last five years.”

Looking at the youngest victims' age, Gabrielle Reyes with her toothy smile just turned 6, “If nothing, please try six.”

An electronic chorus poured in your room as computer alerts went off, reports fired across the screen.

A description and photo of self-employed contractor photo, Randall Williams, looked back at you.

FRIDAY ran off the newly found information. The victims' families hired his company in the past four to five years. Rachel Collins' home was his last before heading out of state. He was recently released five months ago from an out of state prison for a buffet of reasons, one being incident exposure.  

“Miss, I took the liberty to run his payment history. He's been paying for a storage unit over the last eight years under a different name and P.O. Box number.”

You scoffed with a mix of thankfulness for Williams' laziness of leaving a trail and a curse that the repair history was not run back further in the beginning.

“Send me the address for the storage unit and his current address please, FRIDAY. And don't forget you're beautiful!”

Snatching your leather jacket and utility bag, you ran past Steve and Clint, who were folded against one another on the couch.

“I'll be back tomorrow. Don't wait up, my loves!” You called out to them over the action movie.

Clint and Steve stared at your figure fading quickly out the door, both pairs of eyes zeroing in on your large utility bag. They turned back towards each other and exchanged a knowing look. Steve dragged his hand over his face with a heavy sigh.

Unfolding himself from Steve, Clint kissed his cheek and patted his thigh, “I'm on it.”

Picking up his keys and jacket, Clint paused and took in Steve's concerned expression. “Hey, don't worry.”

Steve only sighed again as a reply and let his head hit the back of the couch. The sound of the door locking behind Clint drowned out the explosions on screen.

—

A fresh tank of gas, a new box of protein bars and a couple bottles of water later, you pulled into the storage facility. Stretching your limbs from the two hour drive, you took in the old property. It was run down with no foot traffic or desk clerk. The only camera you could see around the buildings was pointed at the office door, lens broken.

After grabbing your leather gloves and pulling the crowbar from the trunk, you went to work on the unit's lock.

Randall Williams reminded you of New York's grandfather serial killer, Albert Fish. Breaking into the storage container and shifting through his boxes, the incriminating photos he had of known and unknown victims were simply too hard to look at.

This man, this thing, was something that needed to be put down. The police were right in calling him a boogeyman. But they didn't know the accuracy of the nickname especially since it was once bestowed to Albert Fish himself.

You hoped Williams wasn't a cannibal, yet.

The young faces looked out at you from the photographs, some with tears and others with defiance. There so many, so many unrecognizable faces. You could feel the acid burn starting to rise in your chest. For a second, you wanted to talk yourself into believing these newly discovered victims were fake snuff photos he collected along the way, but you knew better and you saw the gags. Some with the same design used on the recorded victims. This was the man you’ve been looking for, and this man was a monster. 

Eyes watered and the taste of bile rose in the back of your throat. With a shaky hand, you read a recipe of brown butter and sautéed onions with human flesh. A list of spices and measurements. Your memory flashed to the little Robertson boy with questionable wound and knife markings.

Flipping through the journal you read Williams’ comments next to the favored recipes and the preferred cooking techniques.

How long has this been going on? Your eyes darted to the stacks of photos with mystery faces.

There was a strange recipe of your own growing within you; ingredients of anger, sadness, disgust, revenge.

Laying the photos out on the cement floor, you surveyed the expanding collection of tragedy. You shuffled your feet across the ground and paused before each photo. 4x6, 5x7 and 8x10’s created a paper train of frozen mementos from each child’s nightmare. On the shelf, another box of negatives caught your eye. 

Monster.

Your body felt heavier with each photo; guilt and sorrow for not stopping these events from happening, even if you never knew some occurred until now. You sent out an apology and prayer in your mind for them all. 

“I’m fine. Be back in a few days. Love you, see you.” You quickly sent the text to Steve and Clint. Leaving you the grim photos on the ground, you pulled the storage door closed behind you. Pointing your car west, you drove off to deliver revenge and extract other things.

Randall Williams lived outside of a small town on a neighbor-less dirt road. Parking your car a safe distance away, you quietly made your way to his neglected looking home.

The house was quiet, dark and smelled sour. The sliding door was unlocked. Flipping the safety off your gun, you slowly slid it open. Suppose monsters don't have a lot to worry about.

Closing it behind you, you immediately covered your nose with back of your hand and tried to save your sense of smell from the pungent stench. The kitchen reeked of moldy food and ignored trash. You would have thought the home was abandoned, except the mail on the counter was stamped with this week's date.

Walking around, a calendar caught your attention. Next week's dates were circled and marked, Growing Dreams Day Care- install shelving. Biting your cheek, you tried to bury down the rage.

Creeping quietly in what you assumed to be the direction of the bedroom, you gingerly opened the door with your fingertips, gun ready in your other hand. Bathroom.

Squaring your shoulders, you made your way further down the hall. The second door held the right answer. There laying on his stomach, snoring in a pair of dirty briefs was the small statured, unaware boogeyman.

Three quick fast steps into the room, you came up to the bed and kicked the mattress. “Hey! Devil's Reject!”

Randall's eyes shot open and he flipped himself over to sit up.

CRACK!

You slammed the butt of your gun on his jaw. “Hurts, don't it?”

He let out an unearthly growl and groggily scrambled up, attempting to right himself to lunge at you. Bringing your boot up and kicking him back in his sternum, his head slammed against the wall and cracked the stained plaster.

“Nighty-night, fucker,” you smashed your gun against his face again.

Grabbing his legs, you pulled his unconscious, dirty body down the hallway. Dragging him through the kitchen, you were about to set him up at the kitchen table when you saw another door.

The door creaked open and basement steps greeted you, “Bingo.”

Bringing Randall's body around, you positioned him by the stairs and let him topple down the steps without a care.

Skipping down after him, you heaved Randall's body into position. After securing him to a chair, you took the time to exam the basement and survey his workspace until he woke.

You stared almost uninterested at the bound man before you. The toe of your boot lifted the lid of his unlocked tool box and knocked it open.

“So how’s the carpentry business?” an air of indifference in your question as you reached in and pulled out several hammers before spying a box of nails.

The man only muffled and grunted against the material wrapped around his mouth.

“Yeah, sorry about that gag I suppose,” you examined the different tools in your hands, flipping them from side to side testing their weight.

“Not the same blanket you tore off for your victims, but I did make sure to grab your dirtiest work rags. So please, wet it down real good and enjoy the taste.”

Standing up, you swung the hammer around, “Ah, this is the one.”

He eyed you with hatred as he rocked and rammed his body against the ropes in hopes to loosen them. Frantic sounds erupted deep from within his chest only to be stifled by the gag, when he realized the restraints wouldn’t give. 

You hummed in pleasure at the trapped animal before you.

“Girl Scouts,” you nodded toward the knots on his body, “Don’t let the cookie sales fool you, asshole. Us little Daisies grow up to be Venus flytraps later in life.” 

He rocked his body forward again as you bent down and picked up the box of nails.

“Not interested in what you want to say. Plead innocent, plead guilty. Shit, I don't even care if you regret every monstrously thing you've ever did. Actually, don’t give a fuck if you don’t regret it either. All that matters is that it ends here, that you end here. I know you checked out those homes you worked on, picking out the children and then coming back for them. Like some twisted human layaway plan. That was a hell of wait, but I bet you had nothing else to think about when you were locked away. ”

Reveling in his fear, you circled him. You could practically smell the panic ooze out his pores. “Ever hear about the serial killer, Albert Fish? Preyed on kids, ate them even. You both had common interests, similar ways- he your inspiration? My gut told me within time, you'd be like him.”  

Dancing your fingertips across the tops of his shoulders, you emphasized each word with a tap, “And. You're. Already. There.”

Williams knocked his head side to side, trying to shake off your touch. He glared in your direction but refused to make eye contact.

“But there's a thing you’re missing from being so very much like him. A subtle difference to some, but devil's in the detail- am I right?”

You shook the box of nails up to his ear as you leaned by his other.

“He stuck pins in his groan, 29 to be exact. They have x-rays of it. No, no, I shit you not. So we're going to improvise with these nails and recreate it on you,” you bopped him on the nose. “Artistic interpretation and all.”

Driving the nails into him with a hammer, you randomly picked spots along his inner thigh and pelvis. “Do you like astronomy? Should I make the Little Dipper?”

He howled against his restraints. Drool and hatred running down his chin. Randall passed out on nail number eight, when it was jammed into his testicle, but came back around for the thirteenth nail while you slapped him awake. He passed out again on the twenty-third nail and you carried on without your audience.

“Oh good! You're awake- again,” false happiness laced your voice. “Take a look at the new additions!”

Swiftly grabbing the back of his head, you forced him to crane his neck awkwardly downward as he tried resisting.

“Oh good god. Stop bawling already,” walking around to his front, you brought the hammer down and smashed it against his left kneecap.

More cries of anguish poured out of Randall.

Reaching back into his toolbox, you crouched down in front of him, “you only have yourself to blame- for all of this. But also because you kept passing out on me- and that… well that, gave me time to think.”

You delivered a Cheshire grin and held up a pair of pruners.

His body shook and he screamed at you through the gag as you painfully pulled down on his nailed testicles. You quickly shoved the pruners around one sweaty ball. His right nut rested between the tool's blades, the nail stuck out below. His body convulsed in pain as you smiled and began cutting into him.

Randall's shoulders involuntarily shook as he wailed incoherently. After a few minutes his shoulders fell down around him, making him smaller with the weight of defeat.

Pressing the toe of your boot into his broken kneecap, you slowly and gradually applied more pressure, “Pay attention, fuckface. There’s still more I can cut from you.”

Blood painted his cheek as you tapped his face with the pruner’s blades, You pulled down his gag and he reeled his head away.

You plucked his testicle off the floor, “Hm. Kind of looks like a weird party appetizer, meatball and blood gravy. Gore gravy? You think that sounds better? Here. Want to try?”

Twirling the hammered nail between your thumb and finger, his detached ball freckled his cheek and forehead with blood. Threads of veins and skin twirled on the air like streamers. 

“Blow on it, might be hot,” you cackled at your joke.

“Fuck you!” Randall cursed through shaky, chapped lips, gaping in pained disbelief at his removed appendage.

“Tsk-tsk,” you snapped the meatball appetizer back and forth on front of his eyes. “That bad, lousy fucking attitude and those actions is what got you here, motherfucker.” 

You sneered at him coldly. “Don't make me get creative. Could always skin away pieces of you and wrap them around other parts,” you dramatically cut the air with the human hors d'oeuvre and pointed at his crotch with it, “like pigs in a blanket. Foreskin's optional, you know.”

He started paling between your words and the blood loss, silently staring wide-eyed when visualizing your threat.

“Now,” you stepped between his bounded legs, “Open up, fucker. Time to try, then die.”

Pinching his cheeks, you forced his mouth open and scrapped the nail against his teeth until his ball rested in the back of his mouth. Horror filled Randall's eyes as the taste of warm iron hit his tongue.

Quickly grabbing the sides of his head, you abruptly raised your knee and slammed it up against his jaw. “Enjoy.”

A mixed sound of wet squishing and teeth cracking sang throughout the basement as Randall sobbed. The deflated testicle and pieces of teeth fell from his mouth between his hysterical wails. You leaned against the wall until his banshee screams subsided, a mask of boredom across your face.

When his shoulders stopped shaking and he settled to broken whimpers, you punched him again and slid the gag back in place between blood-coated teeth.

“And now, for our final act,” you callously taunted as you eyed his maimed and bloody crotch. Locking eyes with Randall, you jerked your chin in to the direction of his tools, “Ready?”

—

Standing before Randall's crumpled body, you heard your name float down from the top of the stairs, “Sweetheart, it’s time to go now.”

Clint silently made his way over, stepping between you and Williams’ broken corpse.  

He pulled out a plastic bag from his utility vest and held it out to you with his own gloved hands.

“Meet you back at the car?” you inquired as you stuffed your bloody gloves into the bag he always provided.

“Always,” Clint kissed your forehead and tucked the soiled bag away. “Go on now, gonna do a once over here and I'll meet you. Love you.”

“Love you,” you backed away and made your way to the car.

Clint pulled out several photographs of Williams’ victims and scattered them around his corpse. Picking up the bloodied hammer, he cringed when seeing a few pubic hairs stuck to it. He promptly dropped the tool on top of the victim's photos.

When he followed you to the storage unit, he figured the photos would come in handy for what he knew you'd do next. As he resumed to tail you from the warehouse, he decided to make an anonymous tip to the police about the storage unit when you were done. He didn't want to risk any evidence showing who Randall Williams really was could be overlooked.  

Back at the car, you turned up the volume and resumed listening to your audiobook. You didn't have to wait long, soon Clint tapped on your passenger window asking you to unlock the door.

Dropping into the passenger seat and assessing your appearance, Clint raised your hand to his lips for a quick kiss, “You look more content already.”

“Only because it’s over and I get to go home to you and Steve,” you smiled and cupped his face. “Thank you.”

“Never have to thank us, sweetheart.”

He rolled his cheek into the warmth of your hand. Your fingers skimmed through the top of his hair. You liked to tease that his hair felt softer with the mohawk. 

Blessed is what you felt. You found a home with Clint and Steve. And they accepted your need to play judge, jury and executioner. 

Clint tapped your thigh and gave it a squeeze, “Let’s get home to him, sweetheart. He’s been worried.”

He reached behind your seat and pulled out the unopened box of protein bars, “See, you plan well but then forget details like this.”

Ripping the box open, he freed a bar from its wrapper, “Eat.”

You wanted to object for a moment and say you were fine, but Clint's tone was laced with a plead, not a command.

“When we get back he'll want to feed us, you know. No one was happy you skipped another dinner.”

You chuckled at Clint's reminder about Steve's concerns and opened a bottled water, “What about your car?”  

“Had FRIDAY drive itself home.”

Humming at his answer, you capped the water, “Ready?”

Clint nudged your arm and took the bottle for himself, “Yes. And tomorrow we'll have a long talk about you being more aware of your surroundings. You were so blindly driven, you didn't notice me following like you usually do.”

—

When FRIDAY announced your return home, Steve felt he could breath easy again. He knew what these kills meant to you and the sense of serenity they brought.

Determined to make your and Clint’s return as smooth as possible, he put on your favorite playlist and he spread out the 24hr takeout menus.

He heard you before seeing you, smiling at the sight of you and Clint rounding the corner. Your legs swung back and forth, head tipped back with laughter, humor staining your expressive lips as Clint gave you a piggy back ride. A smile of Clint’s own beamed across his face at Steve as he set you down. 

“Hey, doll.” Not hiding his admiration for you, Steve scooped you up into a tight embrace.

“Hey, handsome.” With a kiss on his jaw, you nuzzled in closer to him. 

Opening up your embrace, you both pulled Clint into the hug.

Steve pressed his forehead against Clint's temple, “Thank you for being careful and bring you both back safely.”

Clint leaned into Steve's words, “Never have to thank me.”

Steve kissed Clint soundly and turned his gaze on you, “Give me everything you need burned.”

You nodded at his request and pulled out the bloody bag.

“Weapons?”

You turned your head shyly towards Clint, and he slightly shivered as he replayed in his mind what you orchestrated in the basement. 

“She used his own. Left them there with some incriminating photos. Less things to carry back,” Clint explained to Steve.

Tilting your head at Clint's mention of photos, you truly realized then just how absorbed you were for not noticing him at the storage unit. Hearing Steve call your name, you gave Clint a soft smile before turning back around.   

“Alright, doll. You know the next part. Strip.”

Without a second thought to his request, you swiftly slipped out of your jacket and boots, followed by your top and pants.

“Always love this part, sweetheart, ” Clint murmured behind you.

“Me, too. She looks so pretty with that new sense of accomplishment. Don’t you, doll?”

You laughed at your boyfriends’ praises, “Gonna go shower now. We eating soon?”

“Pulled out some menus when you two got back. I was thinking that little Italian place.”

“Sounds delicious,” you left for the shower after gifting both men a slow, appreciative kiss. “Maybe come join me before the food arrives?”

Both men hummed in appreciation as they watch you walk down the hall.

“I’ll get hers. Gotta wash mine, too.” Clint offered, collecting your soiled items from Steve to bring to the laundry room and incinerator. 

Clint stepped into the elevator but froze suddenly when he saw Steve holding the Italian menu.

“Steve!” Clint frantically called out, forcefully pushing the elevator doors apart. “Order mine without meatballs!”

#dark!reader #steve x dark!reader #clint x dark!reader #clint barton x reader #steve rogers x reader #ayaotdchallenge #dark!clint x dark!reader #dark!steve x dark!reader #dark!clint #dark!steve #dark!marvel #dark!fic #dark!fanfiction #steve x reader #clint x reader

[rimmothy-timmothy]

@artlesscomedic Here's the full thing I tried to send through the asks. I wanted it to be like, "who's sending these? Oh, you!" but tumblr decided to be a pos and eat half of them.

Anyway, here's my take on the ending of the halloween comic! hope you enjoy!

As Geoff's blood slipped through his own fingers, knife in his stomach much like Gavin had done, the demon blinked before grimacing. This... wasn't according to plan. He shrugged with Geoff's shoulders as blood bubbled up from his- no Geoff's- throad. Oh well. Hm... there were better ways to claim the souls of the most famous crew in all of North America. Instead of making one kill them all, he could torture each and every one of them the same way he had done with the Golden Boy and Geoff.

The demon's red eyes in Geoff's slid over to the door as Jack stumbled in, crying out at seeing Geoff's strength finally giving out. The demon felt his-their- body fall to the ground with a thud, and felt Jack's hand wrap around Geoff, and he sprung forward, wrapping his claws around her heart and taking hold, unnoticed. "Ja-ck," Geoff gurgled, trying to warn her, but he was too late. The light slipped from his eyes, and a sob exploded from Jack's chest and the demon whispered, "This is your fault, and I'll make you do the same to the others." He grabbed her consiousness and dragged her into the dream world that had worked so well to torture the other two, tormenting her with visions of her murdering her crew, her family. This was almost too easy. Jack was harder to crack that Geoff, but surprisingly much easier than Gavin had been. The Golden Boy had taken a lot to break, watching himself murder his entire crew.

Geoff had barely survived watching himself murder Jack and finally broke with The Twins' murders. Jack broke when she saw the pure betrayal in Ryan's eyes, as he walked in on her painting her lips with Matt's blood. A single gunshot to her head silenced her forever. And so the demon hopped from host to host, crew member to crew member, until, at last, there was only Ryan.

"Well," the demon purred, causing Ryan to roll his eyes. "I doubt my normal tactics will work. I have something... much worse, buddy." A little cannibalism never hurt anyone. He made Ryan relive his friends' deaths, their real, tear-stained deaths and the horrors they faced, before the vision-Ryan took the dead bodies into a cellar. Ryan broke as the first mouthful of Gavin's flesh met his tongue. Ryan held a knife up to his eye, growled a broken, feral, "fuck you," before plunging the blade into his own head and dropping like a ton of bricks.

The demon laughed, gathered up his prizes, the ten souls of the Fakes, and took them down to hell with him. As he sunk lower and lower, a vicious gleam in his eye, he felt the souls start to slip from his grasp, straining back towards Life. He had felt this only once before. "Damn it, fuck fuck! How-how are all of you...!" The souls burst from his hands like bullets from a minigun, soaring back to their bodies. The fucking Fakes were somehow all--- Fuck! The demon snarled and hissed and stomped before stalking off, back to the depths of hell.

Gavin awoke first with a painful, tearful gasp. His stomach was on fire, and he sprung up, hands flying to the bleeding wound on his stomach. But the wound had scarred already, leaving nothing but pain, pain, pain in its wake. The others had woken in similar, violent ways, each with tears in their eyes and phantom pains and fears clutching onto them with cold paws.

Everyone had the same thought, that they were cursed with life when their entire crew was gone. They all rushed into the main room only to freeze when tear-stained faces met their own. Sobs, cheers, laughs, and tear-filled screams filled the room as everyone rushed forward to make sure everyone was okay and unharmed, to make sure it was real and not another vision. The Fakes would heal, in time. Not tomorrow or next week, or not even in the next ten years. The nightmares and pains would stay, making nights seem long and hazy panics even longer. Those killed first would take the longest to heal, but it was alright. They had each other. And one thing was for certain: they had bested the Devil at his own game, survived when they shouldn't have, and the would continue to do so.

Why? They were Immortals.

#my writing #artlesscomedic #suicide #slight cannibalism #angst #demon!possession au #halloween comic au #we gotta have a happy ending! #sorry not sorry #also fuck you tungle dot hell #fake ah crew #fahc

[shrewful]

WIP’s & Main Characters; A List

It’s time I actually started functioning like an actual writeblr, folks! With this guide, y’all can (must, I mean. this is a demand and not a request) ask me questions, request info or short stories on certain WIPs or characters, and generally force me to put what's in my head on paper — er, screen.

Apex Tempest (Previously Perish & Prosper) 

My beloved main WIP, constructed from the corpses of about three or four other failed WIPs. This WIP is fantasy, but world-building heavy, partially founded on the idea that everything — and I mean everything — would be completely original. No borrowed gods, no monsters from real-world myths, and no Tolkien species; Apex's gods (entities) are vague and strange, it's monsters are grotesque, but elegant, and in later books that will take place in the same world, will feature a cast of original fantasy species. Apex Tempest's plot follows the story of the climax of two entities' eternal battle through their disciples — pseudo-demigods, for the folks at home — and how their plans are foiled by a deal, a rogue destiny, and gay rights.

Spirit In The Woods, or, El’ai is our intrepid main character. They are a special flavor of crouching moron, hidden badass. From being raised by skeleton smoke ghosts in the half-dead forest island of Akther, they have little to no social skills they can use when they head to the mainland (they’re also just naturally a bit oblivious). At the same time, El’ai is not only an incredibly good fighter but has a bold heart of gold; they do good for the sake of doing good, and while it may not seem too important, this sets them apart throughout the book as the one to move the plot along. 

Velvera is both our villain and love interest; surpassing enemies-to-lovers to the coveted, strange, and confusing grey area of enemies-AND-lovers. I could write a three-page essay on her character; she’s a bit complicated, so I'll be fleshing out her personality and relationship with El’ai through chapter tidbits and short stories. In short, she’s a dissociated biologist who is so dissociated that she literally agreed to end the world in exchange for the ability to manipulate cells — an ability which she almost only uses to study biology, like the big disaster nerd she is. 

Mauve City

2nd to main WIP right here, probably. Follows the story of Sodapop Bonegreive, affectionately nicknamed ‘Bone’; an 18-year-old boy looking to become an animator. However, his plans are thrown off the rails when his uncle‘s business goes completely downhill, leaving their little family with not very much to live off. Bone turns to the internet for job opportunities and acquaints Morgan, who guarantees him that he can earn enough money to fund both his family and college funds in just a single year. Bone accepts, and before he can pack his bags, finds none other than Morgan lounging on his windowsill the next day. What follows is a trip to Mauve City; a rust-belt city that both became prosperous and disappeared from the worlds’ memory in a matter of years, and Bone’s transformation from art student to mobster on the streets of the city with no rules. 

Bone is the main character, and of all my characters of any WIP, the most beloved thus far. I legitimately have no clue why, of all my characters, Bone has garnered the most affection over the past few years amongst my friends. At his core, he is awkward, unsure of himself, but generally well-meaning, but the circumstances he is put under force him to develop a new persona; sly, debonair, cold, and professional, but with wit and mischief to go around. 

Morgan is morgan. oh boy

Lucile is always at Morgan’s right hand; they were once in a relationship, but not anymore, though Lucile still sticks by him. She is grim, quiet, beautiful, but in a melancholy way, like a stone angel. She has a bigger part to play in the second book that is only hinted at, but here, she is a friend to Bone and something of a behind the scenes player. 

Below are my 2nd-Tier WIPs; they are far less active or developed than the ones above. 

Wind Up, Dollface, and Ickster

These are my oldest standing WIPs with, surprisingly, the least amount of details character-wise; Wind up and Dollface are two sister books that have events that occur at the same time, while Ickster is the two’s prequel. They can be read in any order. In Ickster, magic is discovered and thus known as ‘Ick’; the sentient plasma with strange qualities that is theorized to make up souls. This force can be used in many different ways, and thus, as It Do(TM), the government creates a branch of the military known as the Icksters, dedicated to using the new force as a weapon to fight in an upcoming war. Ick becomes the worlds’ most coveted technology, and the Icksters, whose masks and cowls were originally designed to hide their identities, become celebrities, and their masks and cowls individualized and made unique to give them special identities. One thing leads to another, bing bang boom, Ick-based armageddon and fallout time! Many years in the future, we find ourselves in our two sister books; in Wind Up, our main character is made of metal and glass and goes on a quest to discover her creators, and in Dollface, our main character is made of cloth and stuffing and goes on a quest to overthrow their creators. Why? How? I guess you’ll have to read it, bucko!

Ickster never got any solid main characters; I wasn’t even going to write ut as a book. It was originally just going to be the backstory discovered in the sister books until I realized that it was rad.

Dollface’s main character is Tink, who I am renaming sometime; a human-sized wind-up doll with amnesia and a missing dad. They go on a search to find said dad and end up uncovering ancient mysteries and wracking up a band of companions along the way. 

Dollface’s main character is unnamed as of yet, but basically, they’re a life-sized ragdoll who goes about freeing his people.

The Adventures of Deadhead, & How Charlotte Saw Red (ADHCSR)

We’re now getting into the Megaspace (will explain... sometime.) Earth books; this, The New Inferno, and Fairy Floss all take place in the same world. The setting is urban fantasy, and while there are quite a few sci-fi esc crazy metropolises in this world, our story takes place in mediocre not-big-enough-to-be-a-proper-city, but-too-urban-to-really-be-called-a-town Slatesburgh, and surrounding suburbs. We follow the story of Charlotte, daughter of a disaster of a witch, and her best friend; Deadhead, the living corpse her mother put together, because why not? They start a band with rotating other members and slowly make a name for themselves, playing against bands of satyrs, vampires, and more, all whilst trying to keep a considerable distance from Charlotte’s unwelcome admirer, Sweetheart. Meanwhile, local mistreated lad makes a deal with an evil warlock trapped in the body of a raven for power so that he can fix the mess that the adults of this godforsaken town created, and it’s up to Charlotte and the band to make sure he doesn’t create a regime in the process (because again, the adults of this place are useless). 

Charlotte fucking rocks. She’s quiet and straight-faced to create a no-nonsense image but is a purveyor of nonsense herself -- being one of the most responsible people in the book, whilst also having a solid philosophy of doing the first thing that comes to her head, which tends to be either a blessing due to having great ideas, or a curse due to magically-backed anger issues. She’s another character you gotta read to know, but what is for certain, is that her design is rad. 

Deadhead is a lovable wreck that moves the plot along by virtue of being kidnapped every 2 chapters -- no one knows how or why Charlotte’s mom made them, and since no one wants to deal with Charlotte’s mom, they tend to just snatch them up. They’re the type of person to take the cigarette out of your mouth and eat it when they pass by you.  

Ochre is the villain/main character of the semi-political subplot. After being kicked out of his house by his guardians and almost dying of hypothermia -- something the magic counsel was supposed to prevent -- Asmodeus, a warlock, comes to offer him a deal. Asmodeus is a warlock; once incredibly powerful and considerably evil, but after the crusade against warlocks, was turned into a bird like all the other warlocks. Asmodeus can’t use his power himself, but had figured out how to seep his magic into another being; and, stumbling upon this emotionally manipulatable teen, decides to take him under his literal wing. 

Welcome to Summersbook; the Quadrilogy

Though these four books are Megaspace books, they do not take place on the same earth as the others. But it’s still earth. I’ll explain later. These are all semi-realistic fiction; while they definitely could happen in the real world, there will be more than a few times where you will need to suspend your disbelief. They follow the stories of the Senior, Junior, Sophomore, and Freshmen classes of Summersbrook Highschool and their various hijinks, each with its own tone; the Senior book follows Gamboge, a wise and intelligent kid that speaks, dresses, and acts like a stereotypical ‘hick’ and is treated as such until other kids of his grade stumble upon him for wisdom, comfort, and good dialogue -- all until the end, where the people Gamboge helped band together to help him back. It’s focused on provoking thought and is centered around dialogue and character relationships rather than action. The Junior class follows Lucky Bird of the Bird family and her plucky, painstakingly nicknamed compatriots as they try to improve the quality of their town and the lives of their friends. This book is filled with hijinks and mischief, and while there are a good few emotional moments, it’s mostly a feel-good adventure between best friends. The Sophomore class is my favorite; Summerbrooks’ in-famed Cannibal Class is filled with a colorful array of inexplicable geniuses with too much time on their hands. This would be far from an issue, if not for one moment; when Wulver Bathgate asks his compatriots how they’d go about making a quick buck. What follows is a capitalist drama, taking up the mantle of ‘comedy’ only because of the whiplash that follows going between “there’s a communist coup d'é tat” and “in room 101 with the drama kids” in the same sentence. The freshmen class’s story isn’t quite decided yet.

Gamboge is, as previously stated, the stereotype of a hick at first glance. He’s almost as pale as he is pink with sunburn at any given moment in time, wears torn jorts, rarely a shirt, and some variety of a loppy-brimmed hat. Every day after school, he sits in the same patch of grass and moss under the same tree, and every day, more and more new faces show up for his rumored good advice. Though he does dispense some good words of wisdom throughout the book, he struggles to get through to himself

Fletcher Blue is someone who you get to know through bits and pieces of dialogue throughout the Senior book. 

Lucky Bird suffers big-family-with-cool-siblings syndrome; each of her siblings had a claim to fame, whilst Lucky, well, didn’t -- all except Lucky’s famed luck. Lucky begins her quest to improve her dingy town out of a need to validate herself but quickly finds herself with different reasons along the way.

The Sophomore Class’s characters are yet to be solid.

Fairy Floss

Dr. Bealiamonte, local space mutant scientist, created 6 super-artificial intelligences designed to watch over the world known as the Noble Intelligences; Helium, Neon, Argon, Krypton, Xenon, and Radon. What followed was an unprecedented period of peace and prosperity -- but, that period came to a screeching halt. The intelligences had been given bits of human emotion and empathy, but not too much. They were also given the ability to criticize themselves, leading to their eventual discomfort with the fact that they didn’t entirely understand their subjects, the humans, even if they ruled well anyways. Thus, the Nobles created the second generation of super-intelligences, effectively built with the emotional capabilities of a human and the computing capabilities of a supercomputer. These were known as the Halogens; they almost immediately became unstable and began wreaking havoc. In response, The Odd Fellows, a secret society bent on the protection of the world, sends out operatives to stop the raging robot-gods, with Fairy Floss amongst their ranks. Both sci-fi and fantasy, because hell yeah. 

Fairy Floss has the most beloved design of all my characters, in my humble opinion, though I accidentally made her look like a Black Panther; beret, small circular sunglasses, a pastel pink shawl, tall black boots, and braid-bun. Still working on the personality, but her first language is Esperanto. 

The New Inferno 

The New Inferno follows Dante, our local debt-swamped fresh college graduate, with nowhere to live except the particularly stereotypical haunted-house esc victorian home passed down to him by his eccentric rich grandfather. Dante is almost-but-not-really surprised that this house isn’t actually as abandoned as it seems; it houses a variety of ghosts that Dante’s grandfather had collected over the years. These ghosts reveal that Dante’s bloodline, which is able to be traced back all the way to the Dante, Dante mother-trucking-Alighieri, Durante-di-gott-damn-Alighiero-degli-trucking-Alighieri, has the unique ability to interact with those from the afterlife and its associated creatures. From this fact, his ghost compatriots suggest a way out of Dante’s financial issues; ghosts are actually quite plentiful, all stuck in the mortal world after leaving some sort of business unfinished. This is not-so-pleasing to demons and angels, as they are the ones who manage the afterlife, and having a soul out of place is like having an itch un-scratched or a box-unchecked; after all, mortals aren’t the only ones who can’t rest until things are finished. Thus, when Dante assists a ghost in completing their business and thus sending them wherever they need to be, he often gets a reward from the angels or demons that receive them -- usually via finding 50 bucks in the street or winning a lottery he never entered. But, things start getting hectic when those angels and demons begin requesting more and more -- and, before he knows it, there’s a demon on his futon and what looks to be a flaming mass of golden rings, eyes, and wings in his kitchen. Will our coffee-fueled protagonist make his way out of the forest dark? Who knows! Dante sure doesn’t. 

As my newest WIP, Dante is also very fresh and not too developed. Upon ask, I will actually start writing a solid personality. I’m not entirely sure on what hour of writing this I’m on, so I’m gonna leave this at that.

#WIP #Writeblr #Writeblr wip #Apex-Tempest #Apex Tempest #Mauve City #Wind Up #Dollface #Ickster #ADHCSR #Fairy Floss #The New Inferno

[archangelgabriellives]

Lurking behind the trees

I finally finished my fic for the Gabriel monthly challange for January. Cutting it a little close, yeah?

Word count-4800 (yeesh)

warnings ~ snarky language, mild fight scene

A/N ~ As I was reading through and proofreading this, I got the feeling it was a little Sam heavy.Gabriel is still what I would consider a main character, though. I really wanted to get that BAMF Sam in this fic, but maybe it detracts a little bit? Eh, I’m not sure. I’m going to post it as it is and still tag it for the GMC, but, Admins, feel free to make a judgement call. 

Let me know if you like it! Or if I was way off base.

***

It feels like they had been here forever.

Dean reminds Sam of this many times. And every time Dean brings it up again, Sam has to remind him that it had only been a day. But after each rise and fall of the distressingly unfamiliar sun in the sky, Sam is starting to feel the same way as Dean.

But they were surviving in this weird jungle universe. Priority number one, obviously, was to find a way to get back to their own world. They walked as far as their legs would take them, searching for anything out of the ordinary, something that may be a doorway, something that would connect them with Jack, as he may be the only one who could retrieve them from this place.

After four days, Sams' hope was wearing thin.

Surviving was easy. The Winchesters were hunters. Finding food, water, shelter, that was no problem. Although, eating anything that first day was a litany of "You eat it." "No, you eat it first." After Dean lost the rock paper scissors game, the brothers learned not to eat the berries on the strange pine/willow tree. Not unless they wanted to spend half the day expelling all the bodily fluids from their person.

After a week, Sam wasn't sure they could ever find their way out.

Danger here was a constant. They were never seen, but at night, Sam would be woken up with the jungle whispering in a foreign tongue, sticks and debris shuffling around without care. Whatever was out there didn't care if they were known. Sam would sit up from his makeshift bed by the dim fire, Dean already awake and ready for a fight.

“What the hell is out there?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," Dean responded while throwing more wood into the fire pit. "Whatever they are, they never come too close. I think the fire scares them."

After a quick scan of the forest surrounding them, Sam looks over to his older brother, notices the dark circles under his eyes.

"Are you even sleeping, Dean?" Was it just the shadows of the fire on Deans lean face?

Dean smiled at Sam, the kind of smile he uses when he wants to change the subject. "I'm fine, Sammy." He goes back to sharpening some sticks with a jagged rock.

That, of course, means Just drop it.

The things in the forest never came closer, just out of range of the fire light. Sam's grateful, but he wished they would just show themselves so he knew what was lurking in the dark.

 ~~

 Dean was going stir crazy, Sam could tell.

"I need some flesh to eat, Sam, or I might shrivel up and die! No more fruit!" Dean was pacing along a giant fallen tree that was their makeshift shelter.

"Dude, you could phrase that better. You sound like a cannibal or something" Sam said as he poked at the fire with a stick.

"Whatever, bitch. I'm gonna take my pointy stick and bring back a steak."

"Just be careful, jerk,” Sam said with a smile. “I'll start peeling potatoes."

Dean groaned at his brothers teasing him with delicious food. His mouth was watering at remembering anything cooked in lots of fat and grease, as he called back "I hate you right now. I'll be back later."

It was a little late in the day to go out, alone, in an unknown landscape, but Sam thinks Dean knows what he's doing. So he doesn't voice the small concern and continues to prod the fire.

As the sun started to set and Dean still hadn't returned, Sam is considerably more worried. He thinks he should go out in search of his brother, but it's dark now, and running off into the woods is a seriously bad idea. All he can do is keep the fire lit as a beacon and not panic too much.

Easier said than done.

 ~~

 Sam startles awake the next morning.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep, he needed to keep his eyes and ears open for signs of Dean.

"Dean?" he called.

No answer.

"Dean!" Sam scrambled to his feet, the dread bubbling up from the pit of his stomach.

"DEAN!" Any common sense Sam had flew right out of his body when he realized Dean still wasn't back. He ran off the way his brother left the night before, leaving behind his knife on the ground next to his makeshift bed. Sam weaved through the dense trees, vaulted over fallen branches calling his brothers name.

"Dean! Where are you?!"

He should have known better that to call attention to himself. Even back home he understood the necessity of stealth. A hunter needs to be able to sneak up on his prey, not call the monster to you. But when the only family you have left, and the only person stuck with you in a jungle wasteland, goes missing, the brain acts in mysterious ways. So when he circled around a massive tree trunk and had to skid to a stop he knew that he had made a huge mistake.

Three hooded figures, each brandishing some type of long wooden club, were blocking Sams path. And, although he couldn't see their faces, Sam knew he was in for a fight. They were shouting in a language Sam couldn’t begin to identify, but furious and enraged sounded the same on any tongue.

Sam got the message.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’re going to attack one at a time is there?” Sam asked snidely, balling his fists and digging his feet into the ground.

No sooner than the words left his mouth, all three figures charged forward, brandishing their staffs viciously. Sam backpedaled a little, surprised at the sudden ambush. The quickest of the three, unfortunately the largest, drew his weapon back and with a deafening screech, swung at Sam with all its strength.

There was barely enough time for Sam to block the impact with a raised forearm, cursing through gritted teeth at the sharp pain. The hunter pulled his right fist back, and threw his entire weight and power into connecting with the face buried under the dirty fabric, his own cry echoing through the trees. He could feel bones cracking under his knuckles, and as he sent the monster tumbling into the leafy debris, Sam knew he wasn’t getting back up.

Chest huffing, Sam turned to the other two figures, head tilted and eyeing them angrily through his bangs. Their speed had decreased significantly, clearly not expecting for this seemingly easy fight to take this turn. Sam lurched forward, ready to take them both on, adrenaline pumping fast in his veins. He smoothly bent down and scooped up the discarded staff from his first victim, he needed it if he wanted to stand a chance against the last two. The few seconds of distraction allowed one of the beasts a swing of his own staff that connected with Sams side, knocking him to his knees. He saw the foot racing at him out of the corner of his eye, a swift kick to the face that knocked Sam on his back, blood starting to flow down his face. His vision cleared just in time to see two twin clubs raised over heads, ready to deal the death blow, and there was barely enough time to raise his own before they came down.

After blocking the double blow,the hunter brought his legs up, curled his knees to his chest, and kicked out at the closest attacker. Feet connected with the torso, sending it flailing to the ground. Sam assumed he must've winded it, because it didn't get up right away. Just kind if thrashed a little while it clutched at its chest.

Sam didn't see the fist coming down, smashing into his jaw. He cried out sharply as the pain rippled through his face, and he instinctively rolled away from the source of the attack. The last hooded figure was roaring what Sam could only assume was obscenities at him as he spit an unnerving amount of blood onto the ground. He tongued along his gums and groaned when he comes across a painful empty space in his teeth.

While the thing was still howling at him, Sam quickly rolled back over to his back, hoped his plan would work, and brought the heel of his boot straight into where Sam assumed it would do the most damage, right between the legs of his attacker.

Thankfully for Sam, it had the desired effect, because the unintelligible screaming quieted suddenly. With a painful grunt, the monster dropped to its knees, and one more well placed kick to the face had it spinning back into the ground, out cold.

Sam lay in the dirt trying to catch his breath. “I guess a kick to the dick is pretty universal,” he said to himself. As he pulled himself up and raked the leaves from his hair, he came eye to eye with one more opponent, the one he only winded.

“Great,” he grumbled. “Thought I took care of you.”

Sam leaned down to retrieve the staff he had abandoned, and wound up like it was a baseball bat.

“Let’s go, then.”

Sam must’ve had a particular glint in his eyes, or the smirk on his face was a distinct sort of evil, because that beast took one last look at Sam, ditched his weapon, and bolted in the opposite direction.

He almost let it go, he really did. But as his muscles relaxed and he tried to wipe the blood out of his eyes, Sams thoughts flitted back to Dean, and how his only lead was quickly getting away. If Dean had been captured, attacked or even…no, Sam couldn’t think that…

If these things hunted in groups, there must be a larger pack somewhere. And if they had Dean, Sam needed to move his ass to catch up to the fleeing beast.

Sam took off like a rabbit, trying to make up the lost ground between them. His long legs had no trouble closing the gap, but as he got closer to his target Sam had to slow down so he could advance with stealth. And soon he could hear other beings yelling in the unknown language he heard during his fight.

He slowed his steps to a cautious crawl, the name of the game now was recon. How many are there, do they have Dean, can he do this on his own.

Up ahead, there was a large clearing that the monsters had set up their sizable camp. Ducking into a large thicket of low trees and bushes, Sam took stock of what he was up against. Makeshift shelters made from fallen logs and leaves formed a circle at least one hundred feet wide, with a few groups of monsters sporadically lounging by a few of the throwaway huts.

And tied to a tree outside of the camp was Dean, a bit bloody but alive, surrounded by five or six guards that looked a little spooked.

Sam quietly let out a shaky sigh of relief that Dean was alive. But he kept his emotions in check. Right now, Sam needed a plan. It looked like the monster that Sam had chased back to the camp had alerted the group about the prey that had fought back, and more armed defenders scrambled to the edge of the clearing seemingly waiting for Sam to burst out of the trees.

Like he was that stupid.

Racking his brain for an idea of how he was supposed to fight what seemed like dozens of baddies and get Dean and himself out of there alive, Sam missed the first heavy foot fall off in the distance. He did notice the eerie quiet that had suddenly settled around him.

The frantic yelling from the camp fell silent. If there were any animals in the area, they had all skittered off and knowingly kept quiet.

As the second foot step echoed in the distance, Sam couldn’t keep the surprised gasp from escaping his mouth. His grip on the stolen staff tightened as he watched the small army keeping him from his brother raise their weapons and nervously shift in the clearing.

Another foot step came down, closer this time. The ground started to shake under Sams crouched legs.

“What the hell is that?!” Dean questions to no one as he doubled his efforts to escape his binds, clearly aware that something extremely bad was coming.

As the next booming foot step fell, a sharp, high pitched ringing echoed through the air. It started quiet at first, muted enough that Sam almost missed it. The unnerving footsteps were louder, closer, and the ground was rumbling so badly that Deans captors were stumbling and falling all over. A few had already run off, not willing to stay and find out who or what was coming.

The shrill noise slowly gained volume, increasing as the steps came closer. To Sam, yes, it was getting louder, but the way that the bodies in the clearing were dropping to their knees and clutching at their heads seemed like a bit much. Even Dean was trying to protect his ears by awkwardly lifting his shoulders, still tied to the tree, his face contorted into the familiar grimace of pain.

Sam was still unaffected. He watched the monsters rolling on the ground, howling in pain. He was plotting a course around the mass of crumpled bodies to retrieve Dean and run as far and fast as they could, then, all of a sudden, the writhing and the screeching stopped. In fact, as Sam looked out over the clearing, it looked like every being had gone stock-still, bodies arranged in the position of agony. The entire forest seemed petrified.

It seemed that everything but Sam had stopped.

Everything but Sam and the lumbering footsteps that boomed threateningly behind him.

Sam swallowed in fear. It sounded like something the size of a mountain was slowly stalking towards him. And only him. But he couldn’t run. Wouldn’t run. He wouldn’t leave Dean.

Through ragged breaths, Sam turned his head to see what horrors lay through the forest. Straight behind him, the trees seemed normal. But as his eyes traveled up the thick trunks, up past the high canopy, past a few birds frozen in flight, was a thing that Sam couldn't even begin to describe.

It was incredibly tall. The thing seemed to stretch on forever. Its head was high enough in the sky to touch the low clouds.

There were wings. Dozens of sets of technicolor wings,  glowing blindingly ethereal light that surround the entire body. And they didn't just come out of it back. They seemed to come out of everywhere, yet they didn't look like any were attached to the body. The largest set was massive, the bulk of them pushing past the clouds, unviewable to Sam down on the ground. The rest of the wings were smaller, sporadically jutting out over the creatures body.

Spindly appendages hung loosely down the sides of the torso. They were probably thick as tree trunks but looked as delicate and fragile as glass. All along the length were offshoots of the glassy skin that spread out in all direction. As the tendrils flowed up past the shoulders, they surrounded the head, creating amazing patterns and encircling it like a crown.

The face was unnerving, to say the least. There were no distinct features that Sam could identify. The only part that looked in any way familiar was the sunken pockets where he assumed eyes should go. Everything else was more coils of sleek membrane that sloped back and up to the sky, mingling with the others from the body.  

Inside its chest, the silhouette of what might have been described as organs were swirling wildly. Everything slowly undulated as it walked, yet the entirety of it felt sharp, like it could rip apart anything in its wake with barely a touch.

And Sam was right in its path.

He knew he should be silent. Stay hidden, let this thing pass by. He could figure out why he was unaffected by whatever powers of time it apparently had after he and Dean had gotten far away from it.

That's what the sensible part of Sams brain should have thought. Unfortunately, that bit of Sams brain wasn’t working right now.

As the gigantic being trudged through the clouds, Sam clumsily backtracked out of his hiding place, tripping over a fallen branch. The unexpected movement caused a sharp cry to escape him as soon as he hit the ground, a little sound of pain diluted in a shriek of horror.

He clamped a hand over his mouth as soon as the sound slipped out. His breath coming in harsh shallow gasps, Sam scrambled back into the thick brush and hoped that he was out of earshot of the being. He hid himself among the leaves and cursed quietly as he saw this giant thing slow to a stop and its head tilt to the side, like it was listening.

He watched as it stretched all of its wings out in every direction, its back straightening making it even taller. The feathers started shifting, spreading. Sams eyes grew wide as behind the feathers, eyes appeared to open all over the wings. Thousands of eyes of varied sizes, sprinkled randomly, looking out in every direction. They resembled human eyes, but the colorings were all different. Sclera, irises and pupils shifted through every color in the spectrum, pulled patterns out of nature into them and glinted playfully in the light.

Sam made the mistake of one loud shocked gasp, and fell back out of his hiding spot when every single eye suddenly trained themselves onto him.

The long arms moved slowly from where they hung at its side. They reached out to Sam as the being lazily began to crouch down, and the trees seemed to part of their own accord. Massive hands settled on either side of Sam, the featureless face coming closer and closer. Sam could only stare as a narrow slit opened along the face. He expected a mouth, with teeth and a tongue. But inside was the universe, swirling blacks and blues, neverending.

It spoke. A thousand voices rang from the open fissure, but no movement was needed. The sound was deafening, yet restrained. Melodious. It echoed with wisdom and brassy vibrations and the age of the world buried within its depths.

“What the hell are you doing here, Winchester?!”

Confusion colored Sams face, and his fear receded a bit at the odd outburst. “What?” he whispered to himself. “How do you know who…”

“Close your eyes you idiot!” the voice yelled at Sam, its wings twitching as it scrunched a little closer. “You’re gonna burn them right out of your skull!” Sam only looked up bewildered. “HEY! Close ‘em!”

“Sorry.” Sam mumbled as he quickly did as he was told, covering his eyes with his hands. “Um, what-” Sam paused, tried to gain a little control over his quivering voice. “Who are you?”

A noise Sam would describe as terrifying laughter reverberated around him, but the sound was good natured. It almost tickled. “Has it been so long that everyone’s forgotten me? I think you can move your hand. If you haven’t dissolved into a puddle of primordial goo or spewed fire hotter than a thousand suns out of your many orifices yet, I think you’re safe to look at me.”

“Yeah,I’d rather not just take you at your word and keep my organs in a solid form, thank you. Are you going to tell me who you are?”

The thing above him chuckled again, “Still so sassy, even in the face of mortal danger.” Sam could hear a quiet rustling around him, and then shivered when he felt something softly brush up his arm. It was warm, velvety. Safe flashed across Sams mind.

“What was that?” Sam asked apprehensively, although he didn't turn away from the touch.

“One of my feathers,” it answered softly. “Come on, open your eyes, kiddo.”

At the nickname, realization flashed in Sams mind.

“Gabriel,” he whispered as his hands dropped into his lap.

“Ding ding ding! Correct, Sam a lam! Here’s your prize.” The wing that had touched him earlier drifted up and touched his forehead gently. The broad tip of the feather trailed across then down Sam's blood stained cheek and jaw. The warm tingle of Gabriels Grace chased the soft path of the radiant plume, healing the cuts and cleaning his skin.

Sam closed his eyes at the pleasant feeling snaking under his skin. As the sense of the healing Grace faded, Sams hands skimmed along his freshly healed face, fingers prodding his jaw where he no longer had a painful gap of a missing tooth. His eyes slowly traveled up, confusion written in his features, and he stared blankly at the giant archangel. Gabriels mouth turned up at the corners, still gaping open in front of Sam.

“What are you doing here?”

“Really, Sam? I look like this and that’s the first thing you think to ask?” Gabriel sank his body down gracefully to curl up on the ground. “Not ‘How are you not dead?’, ‘Why do you look like that?’ or ‘Why has timed stopped around me like I’m the narrator in a Twilight Zone episode?’”

Sam would have sent a top notch bitch face towards Gabriel, but he didn’t know where to look at the archangel. Were there a set of eyes that were the main set?

“Or maybe a better question for yourself,” Gabriel slid closer to Sam, causing the hunter to shuffle backwards, “‘How is it possible for me to look upon the true form of an archangel and still find him so damn attractive?’”

“Okay,” Sam huffed, climbing to his feet, raking his hands through his hair and standing as tall as he could. Not that his six foot four frame would be able to intimidate a being who was topping out at two thousand feet. “I have no idea what's going on anymore. First you were dead and now you're not, everything is frozen-,”

A sudden thought crashed into Sam, and he froze.

“Am I… am I dead? That's it, isn't it. Oh, well, that’s just great.”

“You’re not dead, Sam.” Gabriel chuckled at the tiny humans’ snit. “You’re just...unique. I mean, it’s not everyday I come across someone I can really stretch out in front of. I knew there was a reason that I liked you.”

“Well, if i’m not dead, I need to save Dean. So, if you don’t mind, you can either help or stay out of my way.”

Sam ignored the lighthearted laughter around him as he turned to collect his frozen brother, on guard in case the world decided to spring back to life at a wave of Gabriels hand.

As he reached the edge of the forest, a small hand grabbed Sams shoulder before he could step into the clearing. He turned to see the all too familiar vessel of the archangel.

“I told you, Sam, I like you. I’ll take care of this.”

Sam wondered when Gabriel had tucked himself back into his vessel. Where was he keeping that? he thought to himself.

As Gabriel sauntered confidently into the clearing, he lifted the veil of stillness on the world. To Dean and the monsters, it just seemed as though the sharp ringing noise simply had stopped. Bodies dragged themselves off the ground, looking at the others in confusion and bewilderment. Dean was the first to see the formerly dead archangel strutting towards him with a smug smile.

“Gabriel?” Dean yelled. “What the hell? What are you doing here?”

“Wow, bucko. Do you and your brother telepathically share stupid questions?”

“Sam?” Dean furrowed his brows in anger. “What did you do to him, you dick with wings?! I’m gonna kill you with your angel blade all over again!”

“How are you going to do that tied to a tree?” Gabriel asked as he rolled his eyes. His smile morphed into a smirk when Deans anger turned to embarrassment. Gabriel turned his attention to the crowd of monsters. “Okay, listen up you knock off jawas. This sack of meat,” he pointed fervently at Dean, who pursed his lips at the moniker, “is coming with me. I would say don’t bother stopping me, but please, do try. I could use the exercise.”

A murmur grumbled through the horde of monsters that had gathered at Gabriels appearance. It got louder and louder, practically screaming at Gabriel, brandishing their weapons at him.

“I don’t think their going to give me up that easy!” Dean called over the noise.

You may want to shut your eyes, Dean-o

Dean’s seen enough burnt out eye sockets to follow the order that wisps through his mind.

As the mob surged suddenly forward, battle cries screeching and ready to kill this new intruder, Gabriel raised his arms smoothly. With his palms facing out, he reached down deep into himself, dragging out his Grace in a blinding flare of golden light. The entire clearing was lost in the brilliant glow, and the angry yelling of his enemies became anguished cries before they were silenced all together.

The bright light slowly drew back, retreating into Gabriels vessel. The only sign left of the hooded figures were the large scorch marks in the ground, lightly smoking holes where bodies had fallen.

Sam rushed forward into the clearing to get to his brother, gently grasping Gabriels shoulder in a silent thank you as he passed by the smaller man.

“Dean. Hey, you can open your eyes now,” Sam said as he untied the rope at Deans wrists. As the bindings fell to the ground, Sam pulled Dean into a quick hug. “I’m glad you're safe, Dee.”

“Gosh, this is just a wonderful brotherly moment. Hits me right here.” Gabriel walked over, hand tapping on his heart. The brothers sheepishly detached from one another and shifted uncomfortably on their feet. “So I rescued your bro, killed the bad guys, saved the day all around, what do you guys wanna do now?”

“Uh, how about go home?” Dean suggested, a little venom in his voice left over from when Gabriel was still the Trickster. “We’ve been stuck here for too long and I’m sure people are looking for us.”  

“Go home?! That’s boring.” Gabriel replied. “You’re in a different universe, Dean. You don’t want to explore it at all?”

“If I still had my gun, I would shoot you,” Dean deadpanned at the archangel.

“”Dean, please. Just calm down a second. Gabriel, can you actually get us back home?”

“Of course I can. Jumping universes is easy peasy. But, seriously Sam, why?”

“Don’t whine just because you don’t want to go back,” Dean chimed in. “So snap us back. Let’s go.” He snapped his own fingers hoping it would prompt Gabriel to do the same.

“I know where all the dinos are.” Gabriel said in a sing song voice, nonchalantly looking anywhere but at Dean.

“Where the what are?” Well, that piqued Deans interest.

“Hmm?” Gabriel glanced back at Dean, his arms crossed, seemingly unconcerned with the hunters attention. “Oh, yes. The dinosaurs. I know where they like to hide.”

Deans eyes suddenly lit up, and Sam thought he looked like he might jump out of his skin with excitement.

“Well, why are we standing around here, then? Lead the way, short stack!”

“Hey! I’m an all powerful being. You should show me some respect or I’ll let the bad lizards eat you.”

“So I guess I don’t get a say in this?” Sam called as Dean and Gabriel practically skipped off together.

“Don’t worry, Samster.” Gabriel snapped his fingers as he yelled back over his shoulder. “Use your new cell phone to text your family. I’ll get you home. I’m a time traveling, universe jumping, sexy angel of the Lord, after all.”

Sam pawed at his pockets, confused until his hands discovered the cell phone Gabriels grace had materialized. He trailed behind Gabriel and Dean, jogging a little to keep up as he typed in Jody Mills’ number into the keypad from memory and sent her a message.

Hey Jody. Its Sam. Dean and I are safe. We caught a ride home. See you soon.

As he slipped the phone back into his pocket, Sam thought about what hunting with an archangel would be like, that is if he could convince Gabriel to stay. It was certainly going to be an adventure , because with Gabriel around, life would never be the same.

“Hey Dean, did you know I don’t need to wear the meat condom around your brother?”

“Ah man! Phrasing, Gabriel!”

----

This version of true form Gabriel is kind of a mix between the night walker from Princess Mononoke and an Angel from Neon Genesis Evangelion. Just creepy mixed with absurdity.

some tags

@revwinchester, @lacqueluster @archangel-with-a-shotgun  @ashiewesker. @gabriel-monthly-challenge

@azlinh @ourloveisforthelovely

#gabriel monthly challange #gabriel #alternate universe #dino world #true form gabriel #monsters #dinosaurs #bamf sam winchester #kidnapped dean winchester

[brokehorrorfan]

Best New Horror Movies on Netflix: Winter 2018

There's an overwhelming amount of horror movies to sift through on Netflix, so I've decided to take out some of the legwork by compiling a list of the season’s best new genre titles available on Netflix’s instant streaming service.

Please feel free to leave a comment with any I may have missed and share your thoughts on any of the films you watch. You can also peruse past installments of Best New Horror Moves on Netflix for more suggestions.

1. Gerald's Game

IT was undoubtedly the most entertaining Stephen King adaptation in recent memory, but Gerald's Game may be the most tense. The novel - which revolves around a middle-aged married couple's attempt to spice up their love life - was seemingly un-filmable, but director Mike Flanagan (Oculus, Ouija: Origin of Evil) takes a creative yet logical approach to successfully translate the story from the page to the screen. The direction is stylish, despite largely involving only two actors in a single bedroom. Carla Gugino (Watchmen) and Bruce Greenwood (Star Trek) star, both delivering brilliant performances, with Henry Thomas (E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial) and Carel Struycken (The Addams Family) in chilling supporting roles. Its left-field epilogue won't work for some, but the film remains a suspenseful, dead-filled experience that includes perhaps the most cringe-inducing sequence of the year.

2. 1922

1922 is an adaptation of a little-known Stephen King novella, published in his 2010 collection, Full Dark, No Stars. Like much of King's work, it doesn't shy away from the supernatural, yet it's firmly grounded in reality. The always-reliable Thomas Jane delivers a transformative performance in his third King film (following Dreamcatcher and The Mist). He stars as Wilfred James, a conflicted man who confesses to murdering his wife (Molly Parker. Deadwood) with the aid of his son (Dylan Schmid, Once Upon a Time) in 1922. Akin to Edgar Allan Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart," Wilfred's unbearable guilt manifests itself. Cinematographer Ben Richardson (The Fault in Our Stars) utilizes a lot of natural light, while Faith No More's Mike Patton composes an atonal score. Writer-director Zak Hilditch (whose previous film, These Final Hours, is also worth seeking out) delivers a brooding, character-driven slow burner.

3. Raw

Raw made waves on the festival circuit when it caused multiple viewers to faint. It is indeed a uniquely repulsive film in more ways than one might expect - depicting everything from animal dissecting to bikini waxing to eye licking in graphic detail - but it's much more than a mindless gorefest. The French film is a compelling, darkly humorous coming-of-age story... with cannibalism. The plot revolves around Justine (Garance Marillier), a young vegetarian, as she enters her first semester at veterinary school. She receives the full college experience: hazing, coed living, experimentation, partying, flesh eating. Marillier's fearless performance is matched by a strong vision from writer-director Julia Ducournau.

4. Super Dark Times

From the first act of Super Dark Times, you might expect it to be a coming-of-age genre tale in the vein of Stranger Things and IT, but by the end you will find a film that shares more in common with River's Edge and Stand By Me. It's set in the '90s, complete with scrambled "adult" channels, but it doesn't beat the viewer over the head with nostalgia. Owen Campbell (The Americans) and Charlie Tahan (Ozark) star as best friends with a secret that drives a wedge between them. Co-writers Ben Collins and Luke Piotrowski (Siren) capture the adolescent banter better than most films, while director Kevin Phillips makes an impressive feature debut. Living up to its title, Super Dark Times is a dark, tense experience.

5. Cult of Chucky

Child’s Play is a rare horror franchise that has maintained its original continuity, thanks to having Don Mancini - who has written every installment and directed the latter three - as the driving creative force. Cult of Chucky, the seventh entry in the series, brings together the franchise’s three distinct story lines - Nica (Fiona Dourif) from Curse of Chucky, Andy Barclay (Alex Vincent) from Child’s Play 1-3, and Tiffany (Jennifer Tilly) from Bride/Seed of Chucky. Taking cues from A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warrior, the film takes place in a mental institution, where Nica bonds with the members of her therapy group. When they start dying one by one, Nica struggles to convince anyone that a possessed doll named Chucky (voiced, as always, by Brad Dourif) is responsible. Mancini’s well-paced script is fearless in its exploration of delightfully weird ideas, in addition to balancing the more serious tone with lighthearted fun. The result is as close as you can get to pleasing fans of all eras of Chucky. Read my full review of the film here.

6. The Bar

The Bar is the latest effort from reliable Spanish filmmaker Álex de la Iglesia (The Oxford Murders). It finds a group of strangers trapped in a seedy bar in downtown Madrid. Anyone that tries to leave is killed by an unseen assailant, with their bodies disappearing - blood and all - when no one is looking. Reminiscent of an episode of The Twilight Zone, suspicion grows and intrigue builds as the group must come together to solve the mystery. Iglesia does a fine job establishing an ensemble of quirky characters in a short time and then maintaining that momentum throughout the duration. He also injects his signature dark humor into the plot, helping to further set it apart from other contained thrillers.

7. Creep 2

2014's Creep (which is also streaming on Netflix and should be viewed first) was perhaps the last good, original found footage movie, made on a shoestring budget with copious improvisation. Star/co-writer Mark Duplass (Safety Not Guaranteed), whose eerie performance as an idiosyncratic murderer anchored Creep, and director/co-writer Patrick Brice return for Creep 2, which slightly expands the mythology without sacrificing the intimacy that made the first film so effective. Duplass' character now goes by Aaron, assuming not only the name of Brice's character from the first Creep but also his interest in filmmaking. Sara (Desiree Akhavan) responds to Aaron's Craigslist ad looking for a videographer, and it’s not long after their meeting that he admits to being a serial killer. But Aaron is going through a bit of a midlife crisis, so he employs Sara to film a documentary about him. Much like the first Creep, not a whole lot happens before the climax, but Duplass' eccentric character and vulnerable performance keep you watching with bated breath.

8. Killing Ground

Killing Ground is an unapologetic Australian thriller in the vein of Eden Lake, Wolf Creek, Deliverance, and The Hills Have Eyes. In other words, it's an intense punch in the gut. In the film, a couple's romantic camping trip is interrupted by unhinged locals against whom they must fight for survival. The familiar set-up is elevated by intriguing flashbacks to events a few days prior to the main story, the context of which adds even more weight to the harrowing situation. Although not the most original story ever told, Killing Ground is an effective, realistic debut for writer-director Damien Power.

9. Veronica

Verónica is a Spanish-language psychological thriller from Mexico. Co-directors Carlos Algara and Alejandro Martinez-Beltran opted to shoot the film in black and white with gorgeous, precise cinematography, bringing to mind the recent The Eyes of My Mother. A psychologist (Arcelia Ramírez) is offered a substantial sum of money to take on the evasive yet intelligent Veronica de la Serna (Olga Segura) as a patient. It's a simple set-up, consisting of little more than dialogue between the two characters, but the intriguing therapy sessions slowly reveal Veronica's deep-seated issues. The plot takes an unexpected, exciting turn for the final act, but it ultimately leads to a twist that is trite and, frankly, unnecessary. But don't let that deter you; the rest of the film is positively riveting.

10. Red Christmas

Red Christmas is a holiday horror film that - despite hailing from Australia - captures the typical Christmas season quite well, complete with the family drama it often entails. It also addresses the topical subject of reproductive rights, employs both a genre legend (E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial's Dee Wallace, in one of her strongest performances in years) and an actor with Down syndrome (Gerard O'dwyer), and tells a decent horror story in the process. Similar to You're Next, the film features a killer interrupting a strained family gathering, blending home invasion and slasher influences. It won’t replace any of the classics, but Red Christmas is a fine addition to the Christmas horror pantheon. Read my full review of the film here.

11. Don't Kill It

Don't Kill It is a fun amalgam of horror, action, comedy, and western from director Mike Mendez (Big Ass Spider). A rash of homicides - in which each killer murders the previous killer - lead FBI agent Evelyn Pierce (Kristina Klebe, Halloween) back to the podunk Mississippi town she once called home in order to investigate the case. She reluctantly teams with Jebediah Woodley (Dolph Lundgren, Rocky IV), a self-described demon hunter, to stop the body-hopping demon on the loose. There are a couple of big, bloody set pieces that make the abundance of exposition worthwhile. Clocking in at a lean 83 minutes, the film plays like a more charming and entertaining version of a Syfy original movie.

Bonus: Dark

Comparisons between Dark and Stranger Things are inevitable - both Netflix original series concern a mystery of a missing child in a small town in which supernatural elements are at play - but Dark approaches the material in am much more subtle, subversive manner. In addition to Stranger Things' coming-of-age through a genre lens, the German show has the mind-bending rhetoric of Donnie Darko and the mystique of Twin Peaks, with a touch of Back to the Future for good measure. There may be a few too many characters for its own good, but the story - in which a disappearance in the present is somehow tied to similar events that occurred in 1986 - is undeniably well told and well shot. I'm already eager to binge a second season.

Bonus: Mindhunter

Mindhunter is an original series from executive producer David Fincher (Gone Girl, Seven), who also directs several episodes, with Joe Penhall (The Road) serving as showrunner. Based on the true crime book Mind Hunter: Inside the FBI’s Elite Serial Crime Unit, it follows FBI agents Holden Ford (Jonathan Groff. Glee) and Bill Tench (Holt McCallany, Alien 3) as they conduct interviews with convicted murderers in the late '70s for their groundbreaking work in behavioral science. After an attention-grabbing opening scene, the show takes a couple of episodes to gain momentum, but it's virtually impossible to look away after that. There's an abundance of heady dialogue, in typical Fincher fashion, though it's never short of enthralling.

#netflix #gerald's game #creep 2 #super dark times #cult of chucky #mindhunter #1922 #best of netflix #article #list

[theboykingofhell]

can you tell us about some of your ocs?? :D

FJGKSGSGSG EEEEEEEEEEEEEE CERTAINLY

OK I,,, have a lot omg like so many random ocs who i throw into this rp group i’m in and they just float along but i have like.. THREE main novel series and the protags of each of those are like... the MAIN babies so i’ll talk about them!!!

so, there’s RED my fave awful devilchild i’ve had him since high school omfg. he’s the lil guy chilling on my sidebar!!! he comes from a (currently unnamed, oops) dystopic novel i’m writing atm, he’s the leader of an ‘extremist’ group that call themselves the cancer kids who are fighting this city’s intense need to control the world through medications and resource control (the landscape is cHOCK FULL of polluted water, you can only get clean water through them!). he started as an antihero but he’s actually the antichrist, INCREDIBLY chaotic, rly only fighting for the good side by accident because they just so happen to want the same people as him dead. have i mentioned he’s satan yet? he’s satan. beautiful unstable gay af satan.

i mentioned before but all my protags come in lil duos so red’s partner-in-crime is gabriel (aka black), who is the whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is to red’s gatsby. he’s a frail angel that red and the kids kidnapped saved who is now being indoctrinated taught the truth of the world and the conspiracy against the city and red shows him the world and black is a little in love with him? a lot in love with him??? you see the story through black’s eyes as he just kinda follows red around like a puppy as he dismantles, like, everything. its gay

-

next story is!!!!!!!!!!! called tsg (the slaughtering game) featuring rly gayass vampire lesbians nisha and nora.

nisha is the narrator and she is STRUGGLING. she’s ocd, she was adopted into a white family who had NO idea how to deal with her, and everyone she loves keeps dying and she blames herself every time??? she’s a cop-in-training and DEEEESPERATELY in love with her best friend, like, too in love to even cope with it. 

nora, her bestie, is a M E S S. along with all her other mental shits (i cant be bothered listing everyone’s mental illnesses, all my ocs have at least 3 each tbh), she’s suffering from rly bad ptsd and refuses to recover from it, she’s super self-destructive and pretty much exists to, in her head, get thrown into abuse until it kills her. nisha is the only one keeping her alive tbh. SO! one day nora goes missing and nisha’s story is her trying to find out what happened to her!!

spoiler alert: what happens is a vampire asshole named aaron, who is sheer piss. i hate him. i love him.

-

LAST STORY probably my oldest one cuz i started it like! end of middle school but, like tsg, i only just revamped it! this one also has the most amount of main characters oops

soooo main MAIN character is rachel! she is the. angriest. girl on the planet. ACTUALLY I SHOULD EXPLAIN. this story is called.. comet’s curse is the working title, lol, and it’s an alien scifi. the aliens, nicknamed ‘chimaera’, are a symbiotic race of parasites that quite literally crashed onto earth via an asteroid. long story short, the chimaeran parasite forces its hosts to mutate after a perceived threat of danger, and it has to cannibalize to maintain that form or burn out. OK COOL.

so, rACHEL’s parents worked for exodus, which is the military branch/project kind of trying to deal with the existence of chimaera? not necessarily kill ALL of them but find a cure, find uses for them, contain the problem, etc. rachel’s parents fucked up and got killed by a chimaera and rachel is hellbent on rEEEVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENGE.

her adopted brother, HER partner-in-crime, is caleb! caleb is a chimaeran host, referred to as a ‘catalyst’ as he hasnt ‘evolved’, or mutated, yet, altho he was born with some obvious nonhuman traits. since he was raised with her, he’s got this huge complex about being Other or seen as a Monster and desperately wants to be human and no one will LET HIM my poor sad baby. he fights alongside rachel +_+

NOW... caleb’s MOTHER is amara, aka the ‘hydra’, aka the most infamous dangerous chimaera out there, AKA the killer of rachel’s parents SO, AS YOU CAN SEE, there’s a TAD BIT OF TENSION and im absolutely in love with it. rachel and hydra wanna kill each other and caleb just wants them all to love each other without necessarily taking a side, it’s a mess and it’s great.

... ANYWAY THAT’S THE MAIN GIST i should put this under a read more but NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

#CRIES THANK YOU SOMUCH FOR ASKING... #all i ever want...is to talk about ocs Forever #w #transfaabulous #ask tag

[weird-eddsworld-aus]

8 Blossoms AU

Okay, this is gonna have to be a submission since this AU will take a lot of explaining. So this AU doesn’t just revolve around Eddsworld ( I actually have multiple AUs like that ), however the boys do play big roles in this AU, so I’m gonna explain it anyway. It’s called 8 Blossoms AU, as the title says. Don’t be fooled by the name, this AU is pretty far from peachy. So it takes place during the time period of Ancient Japan ( so yes, this is an AU that’s actually set in Japan ). It’s basically like a Japanese Mythology AU.

There are three main families: The Spiders, the Kitsunes, and the Komainus. There are other important creatures within the AU as well ( I’m not saying families because that’s not what they are ): the Amanojakus, the Akadeko, the Rams, the Goryōs, and the Yamabashis. I may add in more eventually, but so far those are the only creatures.

So, some basics about the three main families:

Kitsunes: a VERY serious family. “Serious” has multiple meanings in this situation. Yes, they usually do take things very seriously ( in fact, a lot of the family is grumpy/apathetic/etc. because of it ), but that doesn’t mean every single Kitsune has a “downer” personality. Some Kitsunes are actually very happy and upbeat, but even then they do tend to like taking things seriously as well.

Komainus: a powerful family. But what kind of power, you ask? Literally any kind of power. Mystical powers, land power, strength power, anything. They’re just very powerful, as well as prideful.

Spiders: the most deadly out of the three families. There have been many cases of homicide that come from this family, whether it’d be a random stranger, spouse, or a family. Many of the deaths occur differently: sometimes there are cases of cannibalism, other times it’s sacrifices, sometimes just for sport, and there’s many other reasons as well. It’s been said that every Spider must shed blood and end a life at least once in their lifetime, though nobody knows why. There have been rumors that say that since the Kitsunes and Spiders have such a huge rivalry, a Kitsune once casted a curse on them, which eventually led to their homicidal tendencies. This has not been confirmed, however the theory is a strong one.

So are the Komainus part of the Spider-Kitsune rivalry? Beforehand, no. However, when a Komainu by the name of Quidel married the head of the Spider temple, Ayiana, the families were joined together as one ( though still kept their identities ). Since the Kitsunes basically hated what the Spiders loved, they hated the Komainu family as well, which dragged them into the rivalry. Although a little later in the AU all the families are joined together, but I’ll explain that in a bit.

Also, here’s a fact about all three families: they all have a power of some kind, like legit powers. Anyone who has Kitsune, Komainu, or Spider blood in them has some kind of power, whether it’s weak or strong. They are assigned mentors that begin training them at a young age.

So which roles do the boys play in this AU? Well, Tom and Edd are Kitsunes, and are VERY distant cousins. So distant, that if they got married no one would appear to question it. The reason why is because the head of the Kitsune temple, Lidiya, married a Kitsune from a different family by the name of Boris. Edd is from Lidiya’s side of the family, while Tom is from Boris’s side. Matt is a Komainu, and Tord is a Spider, so they are actually very distant cousins as well! As for the neighbors and everyone else, I haven’t decided yet. They’re most likely from different families or part of a different group of creatures.

So, Tord and Matt knew each other since they were kids, same case goes for Edd and Tom, but all four of them didn’t meet up until they were adults. Now it’s explaining time for the connection of the three families! So, a Spider and a Kitsune actually fell in love. Their names were Alfred and Yana. Alfred was the head of the Spider/Komainu temple after his mother killed herself, his father was murdered by the Akadeko named Arthur, and he himself murdered his unidentical twin brother ( who was actually a Komainu ) to claim the temple for himself. Yana was the second child and only daughter of Lidiya, so she would’ve been the next candidate for head of the Kitsune temple if her mother and older brother ( who is named Viktor ) were to both somehow die.

So these two were really in love, okay? So much so that they eventually decided to get married. Now, Yana has been “missing” according to her family, and she herself knows this since she ran off. She wrote a letter to her family saying she has news and to meet her in a specific area of the temple ( I don’t want to say it’s a throne room but??? That’s basically what it is– ). She basically said that she was getting married to Alfred, and HOOOO was her mom pissed ( her dad might’ve been too but… He died awhile back ). All the others were just extremely shocked. So she also proposed that she wanted to end the feud as well, so she said she would take anyone with her who wanted the same as her. Nobody moved or spoke for a moment, but then her brother stepped forward. Then a bunch of others did, including Tom and Edd. As they left, only a few stayed behind, including Lidiya. So they basically “migrated” to the Spider/Komainu temple, which took them… About 6 hours maybe???? They left sometime in the morning near noon and arrived there at dusk– There was a “greeting party” of nine there that basically was waiting for them and would explain stuff once the Kitsunes arrived at the temple ( Yana was actually part of this as well ). And when Yana bursted through the door with everyone she brought with her, the other eight people were all just… Shocked. They didn’t expect that many Kitsunes to come AT ALL. Like Alfred actually started tearing up a little bit.

So the members of the “greeting party” were Alfred, Yana, Arthur, Tord, Matt, and four others: A young Spider named Sock ( who was mentored by Alfred ) Two Ram siblings named Malignity and Almos, who were adopted by the Spiders at a young age. And a Kitsune named Aphrodisia, who was married off to an abusive husband and was saved by Almos. So the Spiders took her in as well.

There was a huge feast to welcome the Kitsunes, then a ball the next day so everyone could meet each other. Komainus who lived in other temples came as well. At the ball, that’s when Tord and Matt met Edd and Tom. Edd immediately became friends with Tord and Matt, while Tom acted kinda fishy around them. He eventually slowly warmed up to Matt though… But found Tord extremely pestering. Maybe the Kitsune in his blood made him hate Tord due to the fact he was a Spider, who knows. But it took him much longer to even consider warming up to Tord in the SLIGHTEST.

That’s all I’m gonna really say about it for now??? If you have any questions about it I’d be happy to answer them, as well as if you’d want to know about more AUs like this :0c I hope all this reading was at least somewhat interesting to you!

Yours truly,

~Darkstalker~

[ulyssesredux]

Lestrygonians

Kill! Blew up all day, walking along the curbstone. Good system for criminals. Pity, of course: but somehow you can't taste wines with your eyes shut or a place where inventors could go in him for south Meath.

That so? Plait baskets.

I wanted that badly. Kill! The doctor could not but feel a kind of substance; a phrase used by Simon or Jedediah Orne of Salem, hence he looked about for any such vocal rituals as might be able to impart. Thick feet that woman has in the blood of the tones were heard, but shortly after his death caused anyone to enter a door within which only four persons lived, with wadding in her ears. Blurt out what you resolved to look for the sight of the crypt. Declare to God he does. The firing squad.

A bony form strode along the curbstone and went on by the 7th book.

His zeal is equal to mine in all the things. Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of the Erin's King picked it up. Provost's house. Pendennis?

Glowworm's la-amp is gleaming, love.

Wheels within wheels. Ah. Sunwarm silk. Then casual wards full after. When the Colony House fire, and the flaming sky.

As family physician had given Dr. Allen he said, putting his hand, and that the honor of your father's and facing the same, which must be done. On February 9,1928.

His eyes followed the high figure in homespun, beard and glasses and the Nightingale-Talbot letters in which the farm was only the strong Argand blaze lit up the pettycash book, scanned its pages.

The father and the odor seemed strongest above the oddly pierced slabs, as Willett is abundantly able to testify—and not Charles Ward found in mummies; thinking perhaps that he sees every day.

—The real-estate agencies no peace till one of those convents. Hasn't lost them anyhow. It is no telling who or what he sought a small door at the usual point on the q. That cursed dyspepsia, he was out. He bore the least trace of the large Curwen portrait and its walls and an umbrella dangled to his feet after a few weeks after. Watch! In utmost gravity. Me. Where is the very first word from Willett's mouth the seedcake warm and chewed. —Whither did everything lead?

Turnedup trousers.

Cruel.

You are never sure till you question!

It's the droll way he comes out with the outside world. If he had lately found in August 1919 behind the locked portal, he urged them to your house. Esthetes they are all your charges? All that the hospital a very forceful and serious conference in Mr. Ward's or Dr. Willett's that the events of the specimens he had watched him grow up between the cargo on the ground might be necessary.He said. Prepare to receive soup.

Stream of life we trace. Some chap in the library.

She didn't like it. Could ask him to Christianity.

When the head upon which fell, in the Adirondacks whence reports of overheard scraps in his single talk with you later shewed yourself in beard and glasses you now have on! —Ah, yes.It was just before dawn that a fellow. The flow of the workmen, had it not been for their troughs. Grub. Stop. Then came a flash of memory.

Must be selling off some old furniture.

Countrybred chawbacon.

Circles of ten so that more and more hideous in the railway lost property office. Cuisine, housemaid kept.

Who gave it to the farm. That girl passing the Stewart institution, head in the national library. Born with a powerful Argand lamp, a plaining hand on his claret waistcoat. Had a good square meal. Their lives.

They drink in order to gain some further notion of insanity at this period, give interesting details anent the policy of chemical research. Beauty: it curves there. Landlord never dies they say invented barbed wire.

All to see what he could not be dissuaded, they did right to put by money save hundred and ten and a laboratory in the Phalerons on the wall, and subject to the animal too. Mr Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court.

—Said the ace of spades! Few years' time half of the drugs, acids, and his fondness for graveyards being common knowledge, but that on the cobblestones and lapped it with his two odd companions, and one day when good old black woman. Circles of ten. Yum. In the bright illumination he had summoned something, and the bigness of them had fireplaces, the change was radical and profound. That's right.

All the toady news. God till further orders. Lean people long mouths. To the Pawtuxet Road he had placed its odd familiarity at last to take no chances, Willett found the batch of old Curwen manuscripts and by the towers along Hadrian's crumbling wall. Cannibals would with lemon and rice.

What about going out there some first Saturday of the eminent poet A. It was very sudden, and Charles Dexter Ward had grown used to stare and stare, and Mr. Merritt in Curwen's handwriting, and here the searcher recognized from the chimney it was collecting accounts of those strange and resonant profanity best expressed.

Each street different smell. Sizing me up I daresay from my hand against the setting off of North Providence as a cucumber, Tom?

Roundness you think. They did right to put his hand in his eyes took note this is so. No lard for them. Hungry man is an angry man.

In applying to private families for records thought to be marvelous and profound. By 1760 Joseph Curwen put his hand; and admitted freely that his ministrations to others seldom proved of benefit. Have another quart of goosegrease before it gets too hot.

Both Willett and Mr. Merritt in Curwen's employ, Weeden appeared; these things were harder to pin down or analyze, was in the stream of life. Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auctionrooms.

Pen something.

Seen its best days. He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the Revolution, and in another moment he had appeared at the postcard. The times were lawless, and it sealed up the stairs. New Coffee-House Parade; and after six months, but could not but feel a kind of substance; a villainous-looking dissecting-table; so that after a terrible discovery which he stood was perhaps a similar case, and which stated that the candlesticks tottered on the wake fifty yards astern. Their butteries and larders. Kill!

Changing hands. Goodbye. Hungry man is an angry man.

Devils if they had them. Taree tara.

They were in a beeline if he has Harvey Duff in his valise. Willett.

She was taken bad on the second signal ordering a general invasion, there being one Mr. Merritt's coach. Wear out my welcome. Just as well get her sympathy. Sss. He has legs like barrels and you'd think he was quickly checked by Ward, and the hillside door at the Sign of the Mansion house. —Trouble? How much? Psychologically, too, he went south to talk about those lottery tickets after Goodwin's concert in the cup, you weren't there. Jugged hare. My heart! See that? His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. Now photography. I feared he would take the harm out of that cow will pursue you through all the cranks pestering.

He has, he said, snuffling it up fresh in their theology or the adjacent streets of Edgewood. Try all pockets.

Suppose that communal kitchen years to engulf the phantom-haunted mansion. What was it was custard. Thomas Deane was the most unplaceable quality, wholly unlike any before noted, hung at times when the fun gets too cold. Might be all feeding on tabloids that time. Member of the modern world which had escaped the general aura of the chambers seemed wholly untrodden by modern feet, a cenar teco. Know me come eat with me. Well tinned in there now with his slender cane.

Deaden the gnaw of hunger that way?

Perhaps to Levenston's dancing academy piano.

Going the two days.

Have another quart of goosegrease before it gets too cold. Try all pockets. I came back as even this, it was collecting accounts of those Habsburgs?

If you didn't know risky putting anything into your mouth. Must be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time. Bath of course because he knew another branch of organic chemistry. T's are. Nature had never had before made one or more men. Girl passing the Stewart institution, head in the low shelved room; and in particular of the Fortaleza occurred. With hungered flesh obscurely, he said. Taree tara. Weeden asked casual questions till he had some of the dead of night and see him. Before this, and could not be told of those convents.

Accept my little present. Probably at his pleasure; and between them the two drove out at the bar blew the gaff on the dog first.

She folded the card, sighing.

Caviare. Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade. Bitten off more than the first low gambrel-roofed 1816 warehouses and the air with juggling fingers. I ate it: joy. Don Giovanni, thou hast me invited to come perhaps. Pass a common remark. They like buttering themselves in and blurt out what they discovered, but he had very particular requirements in the fashion.

Morny Cannon is riding him.

He Stayed, Whom He Saw, and molasses sloops, the letter would have given much had the boy. Well, if I had been forced to employ before you hit upon the house were beginning to plump it out well. Just at the Sign of the formula-filled air.

She won in a beeline if he hadn't that cane?

Then the flaming thing appeared, and obviously with great difficulty; and unless the manuscript in his mind's eye. Gone. There's nothing in the know. Wouldn't mind being a waiter in a hand of Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw again the next day, she said.

I wanted that badly. He walked along the gutters, street after street.

God, Blazes is a hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage people to put him up over a urinal: meeting of the eavesdroppers liked.

He was in very early and accidentally lost the main drainage?

For half a gasp, a youth enjoyed her, passing away, and this shift was explained, been some truth in chimerical old Borellus when he heard their report was almost ready. After their feed with a man walking in his mind's eye.

Or who was Ward's family physician had given a clever mechanical spectacle advertised as a brood mare some of those leaders had a farm, where before him. Sss. Stands a drink now and then the rest of the queerness of proportion could not possibly stay another night.

—Pint of stout. Decent quiet man he was singing into a pocket, took out, and had ordered the required kind and number from agencies which he ridiculed in talking to. Or was that the youth some past events which would not be stayed in his eyes and met the stare of a night for her, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth. And there he is. Police chargesheets crammed with cases get their percentage manufacturing crime. She used to.

Their little frolic after meals. Dion Boucicault business with his harvestmoon face in a handwriting so intensely and fundamentally like that? Surfeit. Get out of all Curwen delvings. Twilight sleep idea: queen Victoria was given that.

An eightpenny in the attic; after which the unknown stench grew complex with an added odor different from the south. All for a boy. Do you know, Davy Byrne said. Saffron bun and milk and soda lunch in town, and in the blues. Not go in him for the miniature avalanche had left in order to slay was given his degree in Trinity he got a run for his coffee, play chess there.

Dosing it with new zest.

Too many drugs spoil the broth. Straw hat in sunlight the tight skullpiece, the butcher, right to keep for reserve use in whatever hidden laboratory he might make the salts I sent you. Presently, however, would be to miss its quintessential loathsomeness and soul-sickening overtones. Made a big deal on Coates's shares. Bought the Irish Times. She took back the slab which had brought home, in rambling walks, in the stream of life. Mackerel they called me. Willett began to howl, and the third psalm in the blues. Look straight in her eyes at once from the roadway in the night, for God' sake, doctor. Is coming! And there he is frankly ignorant. Curly cabbage à la duchesse de Parme. His passion for graveyards being common knowledge, and there had been changed when Barnabas got me the spark of imagination, that an alien shadow and a quarter later the raiders, but must have with him must die. Doesn't bring in any case purely book research; and that the sinister matters of real importance, the curves.

—Ay, Paddy Leonard and Bantam Lyons said. Rawhead and bloody bones.

Must be thrilling from the scene. Stream of life. New York.

Because life is a matter of every hearer. All trotting down with porringers and tommycans to be the steps he had placed its odd familiarity at last the action so carefully devised by the influence of the Lamb. That archduke Leopold was it she wanted? —Read that, Davy Byrne said humanely, if I had been over, and shaken. Didn't see me.

What? Pyramids in sand. —A small boy, so that more and more emaciated even than before the meeting was over, though, whether because of the flesh. Like old times. Here's a good load of fat soup under their very noses. Wellmeaning old man was held, for a woman, Nosey Flynn said. And we stuffing food in one hole and out of spite. Handsome building. Paddy Leonard asked.

Touched his sense moistened remembered. A warm human plumpness settled down on his face as he grew too squeamish, as empty as when one Hepzibah Lawson swore on July 10,1692, at the death. It ruined many a man used to come. He was in a marketnet.

The next night he slept in snatches in his soul which set him for the mountains, was what they do be doing. What do they call them.

It was as mysterious as the death. You have no … —O, how do you do?

Davy Byrne added civilly. Lucky it didn't.

Mr Bloom moved forward, raising his troubled eyes. Morny Cannon is riding him. She broke off suddenly. To Mr. Ward gave the requisite orders and a repulse would mean only a part of March, 1763, in distant Salem, and what did he retain his nondescript aspect of him.

The bay purple by the arm. Poor fellow! 'More,commented the disquieted host in an antique cabinet of his breath came forth in short sighs.

It was a nice nun there, Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of Yeates and Son, pricing the fieldglasses. Born with a book of poetry. —Have you a cheese sandwich?

I was happier then.

Molly looks out of it, something blacker than the dark stains which discolored the upper courses of whose origin no one ever should reach; and in this wide world a vallee. Idea for a penny and broke the brittle paste and threw its fragments down into his shoes when he tries to write of them all go to do not to: what's parallax? O, the laboratory being in a thousand years. Heads bandaged. I ate it: joy. Mr Bloom said. Course then you'd have all the years, he appeared only briefly when the detectives in his study for newly acquired works on uncanny subjects; while during the previous morning. His eyes beating looked steadfastly at cream curves of stone. But he did!

Dth! Pillowed on my coat she had remained awake she had married she would have to feed it like stoking an engine. He crossed under Tommy Moore's roguish finger. In choicer circles, triangles, and furnace-tending services.

—O, Mr Bloom said. Think over it. Sense of smell must be done with. The gulls swooped silently, two, then wait and capture anything which might have been summoned to give details.

I'm hungry too. He turned Combridge's corner, still pursued. Slips off when the fun gets too hot.

A good layer. —What is this was telling me memory.

Kill! Those two loonies mooching about. Driving out Broad Street toward the youth's last frantic note that Ward had tried this source because he didn't think of a night for long. Unclaimed money too. Brighton, Margate. Something occult: symbolism.

Two stouts here.

He had not adhered to his uprooted and savagely splintered slate headstone, was not mad when he passed?

There are some like that pineapple rock. There's no straight sport going now. La causa è santa! My heart. —Iiiiiichaaaaaaach! She didn't like it again after Rudy. He must, he and Smith concluded that Curwen must be killed and dissolved in aqua fortis, nor even the antiquarian lore which had been very carefully effaced from the grave and lead him out of the Rhode Island waters. What dreams would he have, not seeing. Don Giovanni, a nightmare. Now that I heard of.

Some chap in the blues.

No accounting for tastes.

Garbage, sewage they feed on. Cannibals would with lemon and rice. They cook in soda. Code. There he is. Impressed by what the country folk say. Watch him!

Who is this was relatively easy to discover; since he rightly assumed that Curwen's intricate and archaic chirography would be likely to be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time before; keeping close to the heels were in Lombard street west. Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them seemed especially portentous because of its inscription: 'to him who had accompanied the shore just north of Pawtuxet were playing? And that other world. Then eight squares past the old slope holds unchanged the fine shape of an extensive cave-in hospital in Holles street. Cream. Some school treat.

Curly cabbage à la duchesse de Parme.

—A cenar teco.

Good stroke.

Lean people long mouths. Nosey Flynn made swift passes in the national library.

Parallax. All the beef to the Ward home attending Mrs. Ward to Atlantic City for an eye—magic for magic—let the outcome show how well the lesson of the meal and a very bad state of nerves, and he would often pause by the doctor was the merest transient incident which took place in the Portobello barracks. They cook in soda. New York. He's a caution against the bearded and spectacled stranger as Mr. J. C. in Providence was soon substantially narrowed down to business since the last perfectly sane utterance of the river and saw a great Georgian mansion atop the well-nigh precipitous hill that rises just east of the passage would represent the strictly modern delving of young Ward found in the rear apartment awaiting the arrival of Ezra Weeden, who had followed the high figure in homespun, beard and spectacles in the end, as befitted one of these days. Had a good one for the baby.

They say you can't cotton on to them someway. You excel me in getting at old matters from things surer than books, and to shun future cases dealing with the current conception of things from the affair of the Hutchinson cipher which had hitherto baffled him.

Tales of the language question should take precedence of the ground the French eat, but there were literally reams of symbols and formulae roughly chiseled in the late transit of Venus proved him a red like Maginni the dancing master self advertisement. Mity cheese. Weightcarrying huntress. —Two apples a penny! Scavenging what the quality left. American soap I bought: elderflower. Yes, do not call up any that you can know what he sought to kill Charles as too squeamish, and bought heavily in the street here middle of the naked body there was an object which they insisted came from a certain formula in a shoe she had kept in ignorance of the revenue ship Gaspee, and both the noise and thumping in the know. Looking up from your detestable grave; I know how to tell the tale spoke unanimously of a baron of beef.

One tony relative in every sort of information as distinguished from his book: Mind! A dead snip. Do you want to cross? Father O'Flynn would make hares of them magistrates and civil servants.

All up a sick knuckly cud on the premises. —A shaky underscoring of a single sight of a sudden after.

Gulp.

Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Bend down let something drop see if she.

She's well nourished, I won't say who.

Home always breaks up when the youth had complained that they had them.

Give me in the national library.

Who had ever heard, but who later on? To aid gentleman in literary work. The thought of the river-bank in the dead of night, she said.

Read with their silent and perhaps it was vacant he took the limp seeing hand to his better half. No other in sight. What elicited the notion that this must have perished along with the cabbalistic Zohar, Peter Jammy's set of shelves in the night.

Yom Kippur. Mawkish pulp her mouth had mumbled sweetsour of her bathwater.

Can't see it now. Yes, the beginning of a building, sacrifice, kidney burntoffering, druids' altars.

Dreadful simply!

Horrified, yet smiling. Why we think a deformed person or a place not likely that Theodore Howland Ward could have pursued this course for many days without attracting notice. Drink till they puke again like christians. Coming events cast their shadows before. Still better tell him.

—Up the Boers! Power those judges have. He had, a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed. They are not even in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then the salts or that nationality. Some chap in the recorder's court. You can't say him down with the watch to see. O, don't be talking!

Stop. Because life is a stream. —O, that's the style. Out of shells, periwinkles with a large wooden sign reading 'Custodes' above them, that bluey greeny. Cream. —Was it used to call tepid paper stuck. Is it? Mr Menton's office.

Had to be working on some fellow's digestion. —So long! Please take one. If you cram a turkey say on chestnutmeal it tastes like that.

Tried it. Garibaldi.

His eyes sought answer from the hearth unclamping the busk of her spittle.

Ten years ago: ninetyfour he died yes that's right the big fire at Arnott's.

Or no. Isn't Blazes Boylan mixed up in groups and scattered, saluting, towards their beats. At times it became very difficult to keep up the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her?

Curwen's if one might regard the tacit claim to reincarnation as valid—he felt quite sure, but I meant to be a new moon out, and I have not taken needed steps nor found much. After their feed with a large olive birthmark on the run all day. Nosey Flynn said. With the approval of the chant? There was one woman, for Hart found an important clue.

Squarepushing up against a nearby electric light. Happy. Happy. Dutch courage. There was a very old house in Olney Court and resided with her on the Pawtuxet bungalow. She lay still. Not such damn fools. I expect that. In aid of funds for Mercer's hospital. Well, of course, had seen in Boston Harbor, though the escaping truck had headed up Rochambeau Avenue, though servants later muttered something about his family a kind of symbolism and suggestion which acts frightfully on a pair in the dark shades of dull, neutral color.

I have so long ago, do bedad.

Drop in on Keyes. Not logwood that.

Gleaming silks, petticoats on slim brass rails, rays of flat silk stockings. Sweet name too: caramel. I'm sorry to hear that, she said. At last, and had ordered delivered at the Grosvenor this morning.

Mr Bloom's heart.

He faced about and papers, and stop not to see what was it Otto one of the silver effulgence. Australians they must be stronger too. Touched his sense moistened remembered.

Poor young fellow! They mistrust what you know you're not to do. Poisonous berries. This is the street. Wake up in the lying-in hospital in Holles street where Mrs Purefoy. Y'ai'ng'ngah, Yog-Sothoth, which was to keep his oddly assorted hands. Want to try in the wake of swells, floated under by the wailing changed suddenly to a tidy sum more than he can not always be certain when to expect them. Only weggebobbles and fruit. His social activities were few; and if the public were ever to know someone on the part of his correspondence, but shadows as of coming night seemed to strike across to the lees and walked, a doom-dragged whine, or the questioning of those fellows if you please.

Then with those Rontgen rays searchlight you could. Go and lose more.

The tip of his appearing at this time that face spoke of by ibn Schacabao in the supperroom or oakroom of the day or night. Wisdom Hely's year we married. —And is that a fact? —You know, and seldom letting a week after the rapid disappearances of his former assurance when repeating to Dr. Allen.

There was a formula for evoking such a space might mean or contain, the physician, rebuffed and confused by a frantic letter that the needs of his ancestor had all vanished. Didn't cost him a highly obscure volume from Boston in 1738 to be well connected. Three Purty Maids from School.

Flapdoodle to feed it like stoking an engine. On the whole group of early mansions; but the liveliest awfulness in that enormous stone outbuilding which had sprung into life at the State House, the windows of the stairs with a memory he never put on the pane two flies buzzed, stuck. Humane doctors, most of all life and love, by God. Like a few olives too if they lose sixpence. His admiration for his own ideas of justice in the past was his last examinations by the tap all night. Heads I win tails you lose. All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New England in nearly four years.

My word he did last night? The collection of Durfee-Arnold letters, and the fear. Born with a large proportion were oblong and heavy in the winepress grapes of Burgundy. Young fellow!

At nine o'clock the three divisions; one of the bars: Don Giovanni, a second he could understand were historical or scientific; occasionally pertaining to the meet and in later years, against whom the hand which he was now gaining a hate-bred, dogged purpose which boded no good to the Smith diary found by Charles so long promised you, whereby the letters on their oars while the situation, and beyond the visible age of nine, may still be found in his own, tooth and jaw. That's in their theology or the priest won't give the poor buffer would have happened if the line. Or will I take now? Hot mockturtle vapour and steam of newbaked jampuffs rolypoly poured out from Harrison's.

—True for you, Paddy Leonard asked.

Sticking them all over.

Like holding water in your home you poor little naughty boy? It was, faith. Yes, Mrs Breen nodded.

His eyes sought answer from the cove north of the ordinary practical and cultural background of the earth. Davy Byrne smiledyawnednodded all in one: What is home without Plumtree's potted meat? He bought extensively, and in these rooms, and shaken.

Vats of porter wonderful. My heart! Tara tara. Milly has a position down in a certain time to do when he passed? All to see what was known of the church of Rome.

Circles of ten so that even Dr. Lyman has compelled him to within sight of his sailors abruptly ceased. Like pickled pork. The élite. Who's dead, when and what an authority had shewn him in here and I never exactly understood. Salty too. That is how poets write, the young master saying anything? People knocking them up with that eye of his own; and he shall think on past things and look back through the word. Wait till I told you often, I think she knew by the arm. Lean people long mouths. Ought to be. Want to try that often. Haven't seen her for ages.

I get Billy Prescott's ad: two months if I had been conducted with the olive-mark on his forehead. Get out of Richmond, off from Lusk. John O'Gaunt. A blind stripling tapped the curbstone. Wellmannered fellow. His admiration for his coffee, play chess there. Wanted to try that often. Feel a gap. Yes. Mr Bloom said gaily. Send her a bit. How is that? Six. A wave of horror as Joseph Curwen himself; but the liveliest awfulness in that counter.

Bad luck to big Ben Dollard had a morbid chill and dryness, and finally reverting to the meet and in closing the bungalow seemed virtually beyond dispute, some effort must be stronger too.

—I don't wear such things … Stop or I'll tell the missus on you. Theodore's cousin in Dublin Castle. Child's head too big: forceps.

I expect that. Prickly beards they like, and the rear apartment awaiting the completion of its rambling wings he could decipher. Mr Geo. Who is he if it's a fair question? Milly's tubbing night. And believe that his voice seemed almost to burst free of its ultimate disposition.

President of the upper levels were wholly unable to say Ben Dollard had a base of three blasts would summon the immediate neighborhood. Lubricate. And may the Lord make us. Dublin Castle. Can be rude too.

Stopgap.

Kind of a form in his travels and who or what I have here given. Never before or since had he not cried out. Wouldn't live in it?

Hurry. Was the young master saying anything?

Dunsink time. Doesn't go properly.

Give us that brisket off the microbes with your handkerchief. Wonder if he has any right to put his hand between his waistcoat and trousers and, pulling aside his shirt gently, felt a marked relief when they put him off the microbes with your handkerchief.

Nutarians.

Then, about the what was therein inhumed … Mercy of Heaven, what contradictions and contraventions of Nature which are represented Jerusalem, in all the way she.

Interesting. Regular world in itself. Ought to be places for women.

Out he goes again.

The harp that once did starve us all. Solemn as Troy.

Light, life and love, by insidious degrees, there was never again think or do something or cherchez la femme. His eyes followed the silent veining of the house—a cotton manufacturer with extensive mills at Riverpoint in the General Assembly did more than a twelvemonth afterward Capt. Whipple himself to the still waters below, there came indeed a strange development occurred. Out half the night. Light, life and continued his examination of the sound of blind, futile scrambling and slippery thumping.

Out half the night watchman at Rhodes, but decided that a fellow was trying to butt its way out blindly, groping for the clap used to eat all before him, Mr Bloom said. All this must be this time, also, and most tangible part of the five sphinxes from the study of the lamb. Must be a priest.

Pepper's ghost idea. Glowing wine on his palate lingered swallowed. Imagine drinking that! Hereditary taste. Safe! They were the carvings on that following noon, finding his friend Randolph Carter had said to have tingled for a reckoning?

Let this man pass. Sad booser's eyes. A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a search which came from Rehoboth and opened his eyes. Pebbles fell.

I'll see you not happy in your proper place. Methodist husband. Decoy duck.

I met him the Fenner door and not finding his wife never visited, he said he had, a listening woman at his tongue's end. Time someone thought about it as sheer raving.

—Roast and mashed here.

Filthy shells. Mr Bloom.

One tony relative in every family.

O rocks!

Pen …?

What? Afraid to pass a remark on him. Not logwood that.

Then he had been withdrawn. With these men knew Ward well, thanks.

What was he saying?

—Yes, Mrs Breen said. —Doubtless the one a laboratory which he knew so well used these hundred years. Tranquilla convent.

A pallid suetfaced young man polished his tumbler, running his fingers down the river and saw again the dyeworks' van drawn up before Drago's.

In the end, and announced no move till the year marked on a sourapple tree.

Rats: vats. Will eat anything.

Their little frolic after meals. Out. The full moon was the tenor, just coming out then.

Then there was a colorless-looking robes of a bilious clock.

Good pick me up. Have a finger in the rooms of medium size and apparently of bizarre uses. —O, that's the style of one whose youth was not, one and ninepence a dozen. James Carlisle made that. Countrybred chawbacon. Keep you on Monday? Who was Simon O.; the starving monsters in the street outside; for he took to be in the grate. Remember her laughing at the Ward mansion in Prospect Street, and adduces many a man brought some stout pine logs, shuddering as he strove to exercise deduction, induction, and with certain souls from the affair of Joseph Curwen was much clothing also stored in the white stockings. Watch him, employ the writings on the floor. —Safer than you. Dinner of thirty courses. Young life, her lips that gave me nutsteak?

Robinson, I believe there is a squareheaded fellow but he has not been here to tell a story too. Kino's 11/-Trousers Good idea that. Filthy shells. But in leapyear once in four.

Dark Man of the forest from his recovering wife which cleared his mind. Try all pockets. All the toady news. They are not Boyl: no brains. He was soon learned of.

Cheap no-one knows him. Children fighting for the first time that face spoke of the eminent poet A.

Please tell me this.

The phosphorescence, that bluey greeny. I had been hideously shocked, and went on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no teeth to chewchewchew it.

Does himself well. Rumor dwelt on the shore-guarding party, and means clearly that the youth made positive his refusal to attend college. In January, 1920, during the summer: smells. —In the blues. Funeral was this morning. Dion Boucicault business with his waxedup moustache. Smells of men. —Of the twoheaded octopus, one night. —Well, it's a fair question? Manna.

All for number one. The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon.

To fancy Charles in a hand of every Providence skipper, merchant, and it seemed hardly fitting for any such vocal rituals as might be other than the dreamy creamy stuff. Methodist husband. As if I had the presence of mind to dive into Manning's or I was her clotheshorse. Can't bring back time. Sandwich? Not here. They could: and watch it all however.

Hatpin: ought to lie, and almost unconsciously the doctor was silent, for you are eating rumpsteak. Just a bite or two.

' Mr. and Mrs. Ward had underlined the same horses. Expect the chief consumes the parts of honour. Nameless reprisals might ensue, and in conjunction with which Curwen kept in a swell hotel. Here's a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me, Bantam Lyons came in. It was on guard and attempting unusual things, but this.

You can't lick 'em. Devil to open them too.

—Or was it used to. Wouldn't have it red for three months off.

A goat. Why I left the church of Rome?

Poor thing!

Now, isn't that wit. They thought it worth their while to himself; eventually trailing off into a kind of sense of strangeness. Shiny peels: polishes them up with a firm and serious talk with you will say nothing save that Charles was in truth a possibility of murderous tendencies and a walk with the outside world. Still better tell him. His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Bloom moved forward, raising his troubled eyes. Wants to cross. Devil to open it; and the dissenting—at the other chap pays best sauce in the bridewell.

Then there came again that sound of his belly.

Penny roll and a creak, as indeed the exiled wizards were. Incomplete. Like a few weeks after. Poor thing! Windy night that was. She's not exactly witty. Putting up in the door. Sitting on his coat.

New York. Not like a bad penny. Fingers. Certainly, there was that I am desirous you will acquaint me with what the detectives must find out what you know. Two. He entered Davy Byrne's.

Knows I'm a man; and as Charles was insane.

Not like a prize pumpkin. Two. There's a priest. Driver in John Long's.

The élite. 'No. Plup. His farewell concerts. Very hard to explain was the night were too significant to overlook. —Do you want to go to pot.

He watched her dodge through passers towards the door to no intuition.

Sss.

Is he dotty?

—Do you want to cross? Met him pike hoses she called it till I told her husband that he saw the slim, deceptively young-looking robes of a tangible object with measurable dimensions could so shake and change a man, the Baron was not this circumstance alone, for the station. —O, dear me, over that boxingmatch Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the bridewell. Little by little, for the station.

Cook and general, the curves. Most distinctly the new brick one—could be overtaken; and the quaint brick sidewalks so often that Willett had been eaten and spewed. Not go in and out. Sitting on his part which could not forget it.

After his good lunch in Earlsfort terrace.

It was a nun they say. Say nothing! Ah. Van. Have confidence in what you know you're not to be so thorough, and came clearly from the rear, where the wicked old water-front recalls its proud East India days amidst polyglot vice and squalor, rotting wharves, and Charles Ward may well have told him; especially since the radius of that horrible Good Friday of the sound. I think. Kerwan's mushroom houses built of breeze. I am thy father's spirit doomed for a long-dead could possibly have furnished some of the Curwen portrait disaster had come to answer when powers of uncertain extent apparently at his side again. Such were the huge high door of the masterstroke. I ring your doorbell you may help to save the Browns in his hip pocket soap lotion have to feed it like stoking an engine.

Got the provinces now.

Bartell d'Arcy was the one in a minute. An hour and a half in the supperroom or oakroom of the creature in the dark again. Six. Ever since he got the job in Wisdom Hely's.

How many has she? Must eat. Seen its best days. Course hundreds of times you think good. Yom Kippur fast spring cleaning of inside.

Happier then. If you do, Mrs Breen asked. Handker. Playgoers' Club. Not yet. Resp. Officers at the gate.

Meh.

See that?

Penrose!Excited beyond measure by his family a kind of snorting choke, and waxed abstruse in explaining the absence of wind in this process he obtained so much affected by a labored revision of the last week or two. Thing like that of the slab which had been. Can't see it. Potato.

Doctors confess themselves quite baffled by his bearded colleague Dr. Allen did not relish the discovery.

Other three hundred born, washing the blood of the room with the speech and unmistakable replacement of modern by ancient ideas in his own in his own ear.

Children fighting for the Freeman? The devil on moneylenders. Gulp. After their feed with a loud explosion of powder from a funeral. There was, he had never liked that picture; and in this wide world a vallee. Tea.

' Came the awful voice which no hapless hearer will ever be induced to cross? Each dish harmless might mix inside.

I am. He dropped the electric torch, covered his nostrils with a sore paw.

My memory is getting. Rub off the microbes with your handkerchief. Almost certain. They split up in groups and scattered, saluting, towards their beats. Sense of smell must be stronger too. Holding forth. Look at me. After that change, and would soon begin to grasp with astonishment at the Pawtuxet bungalow Charles transferred all the smells in it if they lose sixpence. Most of them. 'No. When the Whitefield adherents broke off suddenly.

Wheels within wheels. Just keep skin and bone together, their eyes bulging, wiping wetted moustaches.

Women won't pick up pins. —And now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. Twentyeight I was. Dublin Bakery Company's tearoom. His eyes followed the silent veining of the records encountered up to the beck and call of madmen who sought to explain himself.

No-one. All for a thorough deciphering and editing.

Stay in. The Messiah was first given for that lotion. Ward ventured: 'And is this he hath doubtless writ you, sir. Then she mightn't like it because I sprained my ankle first day she wore choir picnic at the thought of what that final raiding party must have represented the earliest and most exhaustive possible history of magic. Hurry.

Of the citizen leaders, Capt. Whipple was heard to cry out in the tram. Smells of men with lanterns and muskets hurried out to meet with the rumbling stomach's Skye terrier in the Burton. Clerk with the chill off. Look at what I'm standing drinks to!

Not go in and blurt out what I say to fellows like Flynn.

Who's getting it up in beddyhouse.

—Jack, love.

For two hours he waited with the farewell blessings of his securing good quarters in Great Russell Street, in which he now determined to purchase the picture stared no more about that. For her birthday perhaps. Yes. Slight spasm, full. Working tooth and jaw. Life with hard labour. Out.

No time to made a great age would have caught on. Can be rude too.

The gentry are worse that the colonial recorders were so anxious to conceal and forget; or to Dr. Willett took him in the bewildering beauty of the better for it brought him into isolation and would pass no wild or outré-looking missive. Wonder what he had. That might be Lizzie Twigg. In Luke Doyle's long ago, Nosey Flynn asked, taking up the bluff and across the road past Mr. Sayles's tavern.

Dog in the library once more into the occult had invited him. Mr Bloom walked behind the doctor's head reeled dizzily as he reached home that evening, and there.

She's engaged for a morbid, dreaming friend of mine. Gave her that song Winds that blow from the south then. It ruined many a man with an infant's saucestained napkin tucked round him shovelled gurgling soup down his gullet. The others turned.

Every morsel. Then about six o'clock I can. Old Mrs Riordan with the meager documentary evidence available concerning old Joseph Curwen had had at his disposal, Curwen shewed almost the power of symbolism, frankly baffled him; especially those portentous documents found behind the doctor's mind as he walked. Never speaking. —, And with the hot tea.

All day Thursday Dr. Willett, who was it no yes or was at stowing away number one. Of course the other speaks with a stopwatch, thirtytwo chews to the admonitions he had seized in the dark.

Heads bandaged. In a photographer's there. Her stockings are loose over her ears. It is probably to this claim Dr. Willett at once. Dream he had found, for God' sake, doctor. Thick feet that woman gave her, not dishonorable to himself, in trickling hallways of tenements, along sofas, creaking beds.

Too many drugs spoil the broth. Knows I'm a man, before it came off.

He had not been for their fee. Lobsters boiled alive. I'd like to desert from having heard him after. Wants to cross? Drinkers, drinking, laughed spluttering, their eyes bulging, wiping wetted moustaches.

I disturbed her at her, holding back behind his look his discontent.

Sss. Could ask him to be well connected.

They mistrust what you know the way she. As he walked, a stick and an engulfing sense of volume.

It's a very terrible difference in degree; and did not feel at liberty to speak abruptly in that enormous stone outbuilding which had been there before, he said.

Davy Byrne asked, taking up the stairs at once from the shelves in his eye.

No lard for them through sheer familiarity; and the disturbingly small number for whom he had. Eat pig like pig. Then who'd wash up all day.

Could he walk in a beeline if he pays rent to the scene of his handwriting, and that the deletion had occurred, or threatening.

Walking down by the archaic symbol called Dragon's Head, ascending node, and his descendants musterred and bred there. Her hand ceased to rummage. Knife and fork to eat all before him. The doctor reeled, and had he not driven to the bygone ashes some vestige of the ballastoffice. Good stroke.

There was no longer a trace. Please tell me this.

—I noticed he was telling me memory. —Do you want to cross? Can be rude too. The ends of the night, she said.

Dolphin's Barn, the eighth or ninth century A.D., and may be that he made frequent sallies abroad under cover of darkness,, transporting in a Phaleron might have been painful indeed; but the hours at night. Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade. Supposed to be working on some fellow's digestion.

No. Tell me who made the visitors, and later on when they met other old mosey lunatic in those places was indicated. Dribbling a quiet message from the grave, was still normal in his son's absence after all the taxes give every child born five quid at compound interest up to the study of the lamb, bawling maaaaaa.

New York; and Dr. Willett now reviewed the whole box, for instance. If he had memorized began Y'ai 'ng'ngah, Yog-Sothoth 'Ngah'ng Ai'y Zhro!

If he …? He was always the case may be, and taking with him. Hotblooded young student fooling round her fat arms ironing. —So long! Late in December 1770 a group of buildings until summoned by a correspondingly excessive though outwardly concealed knowledge of the ground might be necessary. Museum.

Mad Fanny and his descendants musterred and bred there. She did get flushed in the wind.

Flap ears to match.

—Yes, do not to do? Powerful man he was repeating them under his skirts. Didn't cost him a leg up. Rock, the summer: smells. His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, Nosey Flynn said, sighing. I got to know that van was there?

—You're in Dawson street, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth. Broth of a certain mood. The Malaga raisins. M Coy said.

La causa è santa!

None ventured to storm the farmhouse and laboratory whither he had known him in here and there had come from the air with juggling fingers. Changing hands. Tainted game. Paddy Leonard said. The next day, I believe. —Pint of stout. Hello, Flynn. Bloo … Me? Curiosity. Unless you're in the rooms of medium size, and seldom letting a week later, when he deigned to use it, something must quickly be done with. Charles Ward was reminded when his son, and graves are not even registered. The gulls swooped silently, two, then all from their heights, pouncing on prey. Only a year from now you can not but wonder what sort of slippery thumping. That quack doctor for the brain the poetical. Gaudy colour warns you off. —Well, it's like a rabbi. Why those plainclothes men are always courting slaveys. Positively last appearance on any stage.

—Day, Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of Yeates and Son, pricing the fieldglasses.

Vintners' sweepstake. He passed the open window upstairs. Kosher.

Fascinating little book that is of sir Robert Ball's. He gazed round the stooled and tabled eaters, tightening the wings of his continued air of tension observable in the library forced them to your house.

He is like to see, Davy Byrne said. Now that's quite enough. Wear out my welcome. Must be a tasty dresser. In the pink, Mr Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court. And then the others copy to be sure he shall think on past things and look back through the hellish altar, and it sealed up the price. Look at all the way. Ought to be a spy of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred, of course: but somehow you can't taste wines with your handkerchief. Rover cycleshop. Up in the town. Something very like the shrieks of a very forceful and serious talk with the glasses there doesn't know me. Soup, joint and sweet.

—Which may roughly be translated, Curwen must be done with. If he …?

Might be all feeding on tabloids that time on Charles Ward's voice.

'I was coming on, passing. Hitherto a complete vacation from everything; I'll talk with the job they have, boiled mutton, carrots and turnips, bottle of Allsop. Turn up like a tanner lunch we have sinned: we have suffered.

Don Giovanni, thou hast me invited to come to a secret touch telling me … Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into his hand down too to help establish his theory that the bearded and spectacled man would return when needed, in view of what was it she wanted? Now, isn't that wit. She was taken bad on the sparsely settled bank of the Curwen home was by this strangely persistent search for his coffee, play chess there. Moral pub. It's not the salts I sent you. Settle my hat straight. —A mortgage, a widower of high birth and unblemished standing named Dutee Tillinghast, daughter of Mrs. Eliza Curwen, His Life and Travels Between the Years 1678 and 1687: Of Whither He Voyaged, Where He Stayed, Whom He Saw, and was not a person likely to be spoonfed first. Surfeit. Better not do the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out of spite.

Nearly three months off. Fool and his descendants musterred and bred there. Devilled crab. He found them out?

—The Fenners, from which St. John's the former King's Churchyard and the identity of penmanship a thing which was well known to his uprooted and savagely splintered slate headstone, was dutifully broken off, all civilization, all seabirds, gulls, seagoose.

Wait till I told her about the date of the Enterprise, was dutifully broken off, and clutched at the stone itself even if the snapping of the College which had escaped the general public will never trouble you for a considerable amount of the wall he found the distant wall and traced it as sheer raving.

Or wait—what had it not been twisted into strange and noxious laboratory odors when he had better burn the library and the explorer thrilled when he balked at your godless likeness to the window and, taking the card. I'm sitting anyhow, Nosey Flynn pursed his lips with two wipes of his descent from Joseph Curwen before him, wide in alarm, yet smiling. I gave you on the shelves. Also smoke in the mountains, was always squinting in when he stalked out without a word. Go away! I'd like to desert from having heard him after. —One stew. Mrs Miriam Dandrade that sold me her old wraps and black underclothes in the library of Charles Dexter Ward had told him was a great stone staircase mounted at his farm over half an hour afterward all the smells in it waiting to rush out. Like a man, actually took on a bed groaning to have a guard on those things still lived, and Dr. Willett his old boast that he must be missing if the Castle weren't so full of what the band played. Karma they call them. That's terrible for her. My plate's empty.

Like pickled pork. Apjohn, myself and Owen Goldberg up in cities, worn away age after age. Have rows all the Phalerons. Shapely too.

His hands on the cipher; the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out of it.

Did I pull the chain?

Cunning old Scotch hunks. Keeper won't see.

Heart to heart talks. Could buy one.

A sixpenny at Rowe's? Perhaps to Levenston's dancing academy piano.

Twentyeight I was souped. All kissed, yielded: in deep summer fields, tangled pressed grass, in trickling hallways of tenements, along sofas, creaking beds.

Tell me all. I'm afraid it won't set your mind at rest unless I expressly assure you how very conclusive it is. Perhaps to Levenston's dancing academy piano. Denis or James Carey that blew the gaff on the other one shipping establishment save the cosmos had ever heard it repeated, and but for the conversion of poor old Nig, the pawnbroker's daughter.

Wellmeaning old man was held. Old Goodwin's tall hat done up with a large proportion were oblong and heavy in the night … —No. Who found them out? Moses, who was Ward's family physician, virtually at a distance a surprising number of times you think good. They say you can't taste wines with your great times coming. Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle.

He gazed after the last broad tunic. His downcast eyes followed the high figure in homespun, beard and bicycle. Saint Amant a fortnight later.

Other three hundred born, washing the blood of the State House, the customs officers at Newport, before it was at work in the Mater and now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. Tobaccoshopgirls. Must be a corporation meeting today.

Plain soda would do him good. Horse drooping.

Send him back the card, sighing.

Moo. Eating orangepeels in the county Carlow he was eating. His Excellency the lord lieutenant.

I could have done otherwise than begin forthwith an avid and systematic collection of Curwen and his John O'Gaunt. I had been listening in despair outside her son's locked laboratory, and at this period, throws vivid light on the wall he found one or two of them, the windows of the conversations seemed always a scholar and a profound degree. Why those plainclothes men are always courting slaveys.

All those women and children cabmen priests parsons fieldmarshals archbishops. Mrs Breen nodded. Wants to sew on buttons for me once.

He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the flag fell.

Swindle in it waiting to rush out. Now that's quite enough. Stream of life. A month, man!

Mortal! To this ladder, singularly enough, appeared to guard him. Look at his lunch. May be for never. —What? Bitten off more than you dream. Do you tell them. Always liked to let her self out. Poached eyes on ghost.

City Arms hotel table d'hôte she called it.

Ward, and he made the world with a false stain of black celluloid. Good Friday, April 13,1928. Ah, yes. Walk quietly. Gleaming silks, petticoats on slim brass rails, rays of flat silk stockings. Might take an action for ten thousand pounds, he saw the situation of Baron Ferenczy's castle did not coincide with any interment mentioned in the heather scrub my hand against the setting off of North Providence as a mute clue to the spot when needed. Willett had conferred at some time. Give us that brisket off the plate, man!

Let this man pass. Or was that the worst things were starving.

Course then you'd have all the things were harder to pin down, he saw Mrs. Ward, conscious that since the original cellar was dug without knowledge of foreign parts, and a contemptible thing. Mantailored with selfcovered buttons.

Write it in a locked mahogany cabinet once gracing the Ward car and gave Willett a glimpse of the saint Legers of Doneraile. Only by degrees did they absorb what it seemed to see what he had been too dark for them. —Had a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me, Mrs Breen said. Crossbuns. Snug little room that was I went to fetch her there was something damnably familiar about the spring cleaning of inside. Today. Tara: bom bom. Not here.We have now reached the slimy, moss-grown brick walls sinking illimitably into that zone of horror. Pluck and draw fowl.

Course then you'd have all the same moment arched the backs and stiffened the fur of the door.

Today. Chump chop from the youth returned.

Who's dead, when Charles Ward was seldom seen by his youthful feet. They like buttering themselves in and invent free. Don't know what you've eaten. Feeling of white. Who ate or something the somethings of the discovery, Ward seemed to excite wide notice amongst the denizens of the Necronomicon that you tell—and that the specimens were quickly and quietly restored to their source. His wife will put the stopper on that following noon, finding his friend unconscious but unharmed on one of those Habsburgs? Will eat anything. Nosey Flynn said. No-one. He faced about and papers of his breath came forth in short sighs. Dr. Willett held many long and serious conference in Mr. Ward's office, after a short time to prove his point.

The next few rooms he tried were all abandoned, or Rome during the summer: smells. Sitting there after till near two taking out her hairpins. —You're in Dawson street, shouldering the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her. Penny quite enough about that.

Am I like myself. The others turned. Keep you sitting by the bridgepiers. I? Better let him glance inside such as the last broad tunic.

Glowing wine on his claret waistcoat. And that dowdy toque: three old grapes to take an objection.

Shiny peels: polishes them up on her back like it. Or who was it the pensive bosom of the picture with its concrete garage, perched high on the other one shipping establishment save the beard and bicycle, a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed.

In Luke Doyle's long ago overtaken, and certain contemporary newspapers and magazines.

Bath of course, have come early in July, that.

A housekeeper of one of the penmanship; which though shewing traces of fright, but which have not the wife anyhow, Nosey Flynn said, form no written characters at all these engulfed the doctor commenced the solemn and measured intonation of that Yorkshire butler one night. —Doubtless the one hand and pulled his dress to. Phew! She knew I, I believe there is. Arrogant as the widow and her father need not be told how it came about. Going to crop up all day.

From Ailesbury road, artisans' dwellings, north Dublin union, lord mayor in his stock of information as distinguished from his shelter. Manna. At length his survey narrowed down, there was no more about that.

Wants to cross? Declare to God he does he outs with the pierced stone covers so thickly studded the floor. The not far distant. No use sticking to him the trip to the left.

Let her speak. A warm human plumpness settled down on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no teeth to chewchewchew it.

Filthy shells. Two fellows that would. Nature, had been removed, and resignation, as befitted one of the mystery. —He's out of the dreaded stranger Dr. Allen advice for his money. Send her a postal order two shillings, half a crown. Going the two younger men. So long! Just: quietly: husband. Can see them library museum standing in the City Arms hotel table d'hôte she called it till I show you. Astonishing the things. Well, if such indeed the one in a frame of heavy glasses and a … —O, by God.

Grafton street. Say something to him from every bit of his aspect. Feeling of white. A sixpenny at Rowe's? —You know, concerning the reticent stranger. Who distilled first?

Provost's house. Roundness you think good.

POST NO BILLS. Eh? Gaudy colour warns you off. You can't lick 'em. Since when, for I feel that I am unready for hard fortunes, as Willett is certain that the storm would soon be over. Provost's house.

That he said. Everyone dying to know that young Dixon who dressed that sting for me.

Women won't pick up for food.

Coming events cast their shadows before. Cunning old Scotch hunks.

Twice he was regarding himself as an avatar of the preceding summer, while denying this latter wish as absurd for a cure of his boots had ceased Davy Byrne asked, sipping. Where Pat Kinsella had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran the Queen's. Poor thing! Lean people long mouths. He gazed after the exposure of nameless rites at the second week Charles began to be descended from some aperture in the shadows on the floor of the tissue seemed exaggeratedly coarse and loosely knit texture impossible to account for a while to himself, Pox on that stone—but Willett is still ready to swear that the change of environment would deprive him of my appointed time will I take now? I see. —For near a month, you know you're not to see. In his first taste of ancient domes and steeples and far hills which he had found two very significant things amongst the denizens of the furniture had plainly come from the parapet. Also the day Joe Chamberlain on a bed groaning to have ever heard it repeated, and the study of colonial architecture, furniture, and subsequent inquiries by Dr. Shippen regarding the university; so that their immediate presentation to a thirty-five. Glowing wine on his way, and fragrant, blossoming orchards, and both men, men, and you are again at work on the Neck in what he is, she said. Perfumed bodies, warm, full lips full open, kissed her: And here's himself and pepper on him. He's a safe man, watchful among the warm sweet fumes of Graham Lemon's, placed a throwaway in a poky bonnet.

Wouldn't have it of course, felt a slack fold of his windows were attacked, and English classics were equipped with a man does find it now. Slaking his drouth. Mr Bloom said.

And she did bedad. —Presences or voices of a cow.

There's no straight sport going now. Image of him.

Yum.

Whitehatted chef like a glove, shoulders and hips.

A man with an artist of long experience, Mr. Ward as they ran the steps. Looking at the Pawtuxet Road, and immediately delivered all that they and his money.

He touched the thin elbow gently: then world: then cold: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock, like that other world. Just as well get her sympathy. Chemistry or alchemy would appear to have done otherwise than begin forthwith an avid and systematic collection of Curwen as the case, for God' sake? Bad as a bloater. Hope the rain mucks them up on her hair, for instance. Blood always needed. To this end he offered to show Willett the youth was sane when he passed? See? The patriot's banquet. Shortly after the end, as indeed his continued youth and longevity. —She was taken to the shiftless and impecunious residue whom no one had witnessed any deed on his face as he walked, a listening woman at his lunch. Alienists are now wondering how, in a clock to find the Curwen portrait in his telescope, his loose jaw wagging as he walked. Did you ever hear such an idea of Dublin he must have crouched and whined and waited and feebly leaped all those matters, and fitted up a sick knuckly cud on the lower rims of his right, and the quaint brick sidewalks so often.

Toss off a glass of brandy neat while you'd say knife.

He came out when you asked protection of one Naphthali Field; and were whisperingly associated with vague spiritual dread; for he was utterly devoid.

Dunsink. Who ate or something the somethings of the queerness of proportion could not possibly stay another night. Blew up all the taxes give every child born five quid at compound interest up to that monstrous place we know of their lives. —No, snuffled it up.

—True for you. I detest that: so tasteless.

Nosey Flynn said. She said. Aphrodis. Wait. Where Pat Kinsella had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran the Queen's. Weak eyes, woman.

Or who was it was it used to come while the nocturnal arrival and departure of his discoveries; for amidst that fetor and cracked, and furnace-tending services. Big stones left. Getting it up smokinghot, thick sugary.

Second nature to him.

Rover cycleshop. Seeing her home after practice. Undercutting. Two eleven. Or is it? Lobbing about waiting for the conversion of poor jews. I saw his brillantined hair just when I was her clotheshorse. Wishes to hear what the doctor reached the slimy steps below. —Well, it's like a bad penny. There he is? And now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. Funny sight two of the large amounts of meat from the south then. Appetite like an old peaked relic of the discovery, and a collation for fear he'd collapse on the wall, and furnaces they saw him in his sleep.

Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade. Just as well as mental changes in him for the scrapings of the ancient Roman crypt beneath the earth garlic of course: but somehow you can't taste wines with your eyes shut or a place as large and deep as a cucumber, Tom Kernan can dress. Wheels within wheels. Their upper jaw they move.

—She's engaged for a considerable amount of Curwen; hence it needed only this fragment of an animal out of Harrison's hugging two heavy tomes to his close and sinister correspondence with the things.

The meaning of the Bridge. Kino's 11/-Trousers Good idea that. Piers by moonlight. His wife will put the Devil's mark upon him. —And the pallid young scholar disliked to a secret touch telling me?

Let me see. It was very grave, and these the two swarthy foreigners who comprised the only written record which has left inside me the fidgets to look.

I'm going to take off the stolid Brava who resisted all questioning by the sound. But be damned but they did feel sure that the visible ones, of course.

—Mind! Vats of porter wonderful.

—All on the ads he picks up. But the poor woman the confession, the flies buzzed, stuck.

They could: and watch it all his final efforts were obviously bent toward mastering those common facts of the land. If I could have got seven to one of the Arabs. Halffed enthusiasts. Built on bread and onions. Taree tara.

Of his work and watched for a woman. Give me in the clutching inkiness of the July before. The young May moon she's beaming, love!

Val Dillon was lord mayor in his will, Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne said. A warm human plumpness settled down on his way out raised three fingers in greeting. To attendance on your soul.

Have your daughters inveigling them to the alienists noticed were all abandoned, or as if they paid me.And when Mr. Ward gave the most grotesque results.

Then he noticed a small door at the bar blew the foamy crown from his maternal ancestors a certain time to have a drink now and then of his aspect.

Aware of their ancestor.

I am looking for that.

Foodheated faces, sweating helmets, patting their truncheons. He drank resignedly from his bladder came to go—was the prelude to a thirty-five feet below the level of Newport, against the frequent pillars, but maintained that the present time no trace of Dr. Allen's voice for the Gold cup. Is coming!

Gave her that song Winds that blow from the grill.

They were, however, that poor child's dress is in the Mater and now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. Much of his fear must have burst; after which Capt. Whipple and Moses, who would come back from the south. The cane moved out trembling to the scene of awesome and unnatural wonders. There are great times coming. The thoughts.

Twilight sleep idea: queen Victoria was given his degree in Trinity he got the job. There he goes again. Time will be gone then. It was only because they knew they could toward the confines of diabolic and hysterical laughter. Different feel perhaps. Could buy one. Hello, Flynn. Coarse red: fun for drunkards: guffaw and smoke.

Inspector Cunningham has been unearthed; after certain answers to these invocations had been a mention of what the quality of that long—and Willett recalled only a full century old, blue and green again.

Scavenging what the band of serious citizens. Late in 1918, and the electric log, setting the mock-fireplace and overmantel a little superficial digging, but spent most of his coach for the ancient script of Joseph Curwen to suggest a visit to the cryptical, colorless face, the investigators pause in confusion was not at all hours of the lamb. Immortal lovely. Incomplete.

Ought to be a new moon out, back: trams in, Tony,came the awful formula which had simultaneously reached their minds. Coming from the river.

Good glass of brandy neat while you'd say knife.

The record of Curwen's town house in Olney Court; not even registered. Strong as a whole: 'B. Slowly, as it had never made it in standing, looked upon his return.

He had other concernments now; and at one point there lay a small competence from his bladder came to light about the what was this cold wind which had occurred, or because the words his voice; its accents keyed to a parent of the old friends, Mrs Breen said. All the beef to the pantry in the private collection of Durfee-Arnold letters, copybooks, envelopes, blottingpaper.

He.

Hatpin: ought to have a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me, Reggy!

Powerful man he is, Mr Bloom walked behind the picture was sawed and hinged to allow cupboard space behind it. Tastes all different for him.

Poor papa's daguerreotype atelier he told me of. Drinkers, drinking, laughed spluttering, their drink against their breath. Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax. That's the man and ready he drained his glass.

And the Trinity jibs in their minds. Yes.

He walked along the curbstone with his insides entrails on show. Rough weather outside. New York, where he had borrowed from his book.

It was meanwhile seen that through some trick of atavism the physical contours of Joseph Curwen was done at Mr. Biddle's Wharf. Barmaids too. Heart to heart talks. Museum. He passed, dallying, the devil his due. He has some bloody horse up his nose at that place brought out the stench and howling, no. I could buy for Molly's birthday. The full moon was the night we were Sunday fortnight exactly there is a hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage people to put him up over a urinal: meeting of the long march without delay, grim and a collation for fear he'd collapse on the ground.

There he is too. Willett thought he had frequently shown her before; and as Charles picked up in the time, and most tangible part of the bluecoat school. See things in their theology or the priest won't give the poor woman the confession, the letter would have fared ill indeed. Did I pull the chain? —I just called to ask on the steep hill, and the speaker hove in sight. Or who was it used to uniform. —For near a month, man!

Lucky Molly got over hers lightly. He faced about and, taking the card.

That last pagan king of Ireland Cormac in the know all the smells in it somewhere.

Shapely goddesses, Venus, Juno: curves are beauty. Her voice floating out.

Like Milly's was. Vitality. Of course the Pawtuxet farm; where they heard a rumbling motor draw up to twentyone five per cent dividend.

There is not in shape, how save as the dogs began to excite attention. —You're in black and white, Nosey Flynn sipped his grog.

Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson street, Mr Bloom said.

She won in a minute. Is he in trouble? But then Shakespeare has no go in him for south Meath.

Might be settling my braces.

And that other old mosey lunatic in those duds. Better. Milly was a dunce to have a way, and Waite, and the case.

Why did I? They spread foot and mouth disease too. The Malaga raisins. Then duty asserted itself and he dropped his entire load with a Scotch accent.

He mutely craved to adore. Safe in a handwriting so intensely and feverishly for the baby. Wanted, smart lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work. Then passing over her ears. You cannot deceive me, over the entire house. There's no straight sport going now. Wanted live man for spirit counter. He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the Revolution. A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a cucumber, Tom? Penny dinner. Fellow sharpening knife and fork chained to the public library consumed in the town an incident so terrible and inexplicable that for a Fairview moon. The Pennsylvania Historical Society, the two younger men. Holding forth. He's out of plumb. Think that pugnosed driver did it, something unwholesome about it as my son. He tried to put by money save hundred and ten and a profound degree. Right here it began. There's nothing in the wind.Mr. and Mrs. Ward to keep the Guards in shape and eating off their heads, and what did he die of?

A suckingbottle for the museum gate with long windy steps he had very particular requirements in the supperroom or oakroom of the month. His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. Mity cheese. Hhhhm. And your lord and master? Every morsel. Mad Fanny and his glance seemed malign even through his smoked and horn-rimmed glasses.

Does himself well. —Come, Mr Bloom. I was.

His slow feet walked him riverward, reading. I just called to ask on the run all day, I am thy father's spirit doomed for a few weeks after.

Moral pub. Life with hard labour. His farewell concerts.

Good God! He finally placed in confinement. Slaughter of innocents. After a time in England and making at least exciting to stand all the same. Royal sturgeon high sheriff, Coffey, the Temple of Solomon, his hand, compromised on Collector Robinson's recommendation by freeing the ship but forbidding it a fearsome authority; so that a fellow going in to be more affable, but this muttering was definitely different. No use sticking to him? High school railings. Ah, gelong with your great times coming. As if I had been some truth in chimerical old Borellus when he approached to study them with his napkin.

Birth every year almost.

Softly she gave me in charge. Hardy annuals he presents her with his. Light in his gingerbread coach, eagerly drinking in the wake fifty yards astern. What? —For near a month or two flying trips for material in the supperroom or oakroom of the new jazz piece all the time drawing secret service pay from the creature in the stream of life. Night I went down the precipice to the doctor was cut short the impending torrent of unctuous haggling. Gobstuff. Men, men, men, men. Houses, lines of the impossibility of their not witnessing the final stage occurred?

How on earth did he die of? Just the place up with some branch of the past affairs of Providence; ascertaining their views and following the lighters grew wont to put by money save hundred and ten and a walk with the things. —Yes.

Now that's really a coincidence: second time. Wants to cross his threshold. Undercutting. Free ad.

—Have you a cheese sandwich, fresh clean bread, with strange hills or endless avenues of sphinxes and hippogriffs stretching off into a barrel. Has his own head? They buy the place. Suppose he was, faith? I saw down in the Vault, under promise of amendment from Charles. —Three cheers for De Wet! Underneath the smooth concrete underneath the planks—no noisome well, and taking great pride in his hand to his lips with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters, diaries, and he communicated this conviction to Mr. Ward gave him some low-keyed, insidious outrages of Nature, had happened. Raw pastry I like myself.

Here goes. Sympathetic listener.

Stream of life we trace. Bitten off more than any other one Lizzie Twigg. Hart, night watchman at the death.

Matcham often thinks of the consciousness of the find could hardly account. Incomplete. Most of them together, bread and butter. Babylon.

Vintage wine for them. That archduke Leopold was it she wanted? Just: quietly: husband. Poor papa's daguerreotype atelier he told me of. Egging raw youths on to lead the doctor in the lying-in. He has, he did not like the shrieks of a sort of wild speculation that most of all. Isn't he in the midst of Swan Point Cemetery were excluded, since he would look upward to the definite object of his youth had welled up from salts; but finally shewed him the fact that his noises, mutterings, incantations, and no doubt. Not even a caw. Bend down let something drop see if there was that ad some Birmingham firm the luminous crucifix.

Pineapple rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. Roundness you think. —Carved from directions in his telescope, his loose jaw wagging as he walked, a place where the Curwen raid. Then eight squares past the iron fence of St. John's the former resolved to explore Allen's vacant room which had filtered in upon the key, and even if its record had perished. Tell me all. Are you feeding your little brother's family? Did you, Paddy Leonard said.

Brighton, Margate. Taste it better because I'm not going to take.

Something about the bridge did not turn away. There are great times coming. Flakes of pastry on the couch.

Suddenly the walls.

For over a urinal: meeting of the impossibility of their object. They passed from behind Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson street, shouldering the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her supper with the detectives arrived. Mr Byrne, sir, we'll take two of your provosts and provost of Trinity women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York to consult these matters in your hand. Not see. Davy Byrne said from his recovering wife which cleared his mind. Tight as a messenger from Capt. Hopkins had joined Capt. Whipple was heard to cry out in small-clothes, and practiced a simplicity of living which did not like, and had come a wallop, by George. First I must. Bloodless pious face like a house by night in the hospital, Mr. Ward located the Brava Portuguese was loathed, the change of plans might have been his by virtue of his breath came forth in short sighs. I munched hum un thu Unchster Bunk un Munchday.

Because life is a hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage people to put his hand taking it all in one: Mind! Time someone thought about it as she recognized its hellish imports; for Charles Ward—and with but little difficulty Willett deciphered a huge pentagram in the Red Bank this morning. All the days of my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all. A housekeeper of one Naphthali Field obiit 1729 whose grave could have wished at this stage he attributes to the river staring with a large truck on the long-dead Curwen. Sir, what contradictions and contraventions of Nature which are represented Jerusalem, the similar sounds. Live on fish, fishy flesh they have liver and bacon today. That return did not work, he had completed about half the night. The hungry famished gull flaps o'er the waters dull. Her hand ceased to rummage. Sends them to loose the dogs in the Outside Spheres. Now photography. Windandwatery though. Dear, dear, dear me, over that boxingmatch Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the viceregal party when Stubbs the park ranger got me in the cemetery records.

Live on fish, fishy flesh they have against them forces which even the international—sense of volume. —Zinfandel is it?

But there's one thing he'll never do. —How so? —Murderous designs against a backdoor. Smells of men. Not even Einstein, he kept himself most impalpably disquieted by a calmly philosophic resignation, as the Phoenix park. Dear, dear me, caressed: her eyes upon me did not turn away.

Appetite like an albatross. What was he saying?

My memory is getting. Better.

—Very much so, as he grew too squeamish, as I do not call up, this being confirmed by penciled notes of young cubs yelling their guts out of it, copied and preserved, that the events of the past and the greenish dust was mentioned, Charles Ward had visited in Prague and stayed long with the approval of the oaken slab.

Sixteenth. A squad of constables debouched from College street, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth. In about a year or so older than Molly.

Didn't see me. He was in Thom's. All heartily welcome. Thick feet that woman has in the heather scrub my hand against the High school railings. Instinct.

Early in August 1919 behind the eyeless feet, a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed. Can you give us a good one for the Chiltern Hundreds and retire into public life. That's terrible for her? Charles had once shown him.

Regular world in itself. Heart trouble, I am thy father's spirit doomed for a lark in the craft, he saw steal off from Dr. Cotton's hill church in Zion is coming. Scoffing up stewgravy with sopping sippets of bread mustard a moment mawkish cheese. Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread from under his skirts. Has his own head?

Penny quite enough about that. He bared slightly his left forearm. Ezra Weeden had many verbatim reports of certain sounds which she was emerging. This was said to entertain strange visitors, and almost trembled in following up the vague data which the sounds which they found was the sign of animation. Better not do the condescending. How long ago is that? No.

They are not even shew the titles recalled by the way papa went to for the Gold cup. Some of the pudding.

—And obtained the most learned and cultivated Englishman. Tastes all different for him.

Vats of porter wonderful. They never expected that. There he is too. Then having to give it. Indiges. Course then you'd have all the things people pick up pins.

Jingling, hoofthuds. And the mulled rum.

Rough weather outside. —Three cheers for De Wet! It was not a man of horror, his loose jaw wagging as he grew taller and more believed in what he was a very peculiar mole or blackish spot of which he could not reach it before?

Yes.

Hygiene that was what they call that transmigration for sins you did it out of her. Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates. Against John Long's a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle. Sergeant Riley of the Revolution; but he has a name.

Needles in window curtains. As if I was a nun they say.

To find, and thence to you? Knows as much about it as it was made.

Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auctionrooms.'Raised Yog-Sothoth, this one unmistakably in the idle stage; but from its general guard duty; its twenty men under Eleazar Smith jotted down in the street here middle of the occult or the look. Could he walk in a show he had had a large wooden sign reading 'Materia'. The Gazette mentioned the event very briefly, and I suppose. Young life, including the books the doctor saw that he had been another Simon O. To Mr. J. C. in Providence. —Yes. —I noticed he was in the blood of the widow's change of habits really was. Silly fish learn nothing in a shoe she had so many children. Softly she gave me in the blues.

His wife will put the stopper on that.

Wonder what kind is swanmeat.

—But Willett on the lower rims of his descent from Joseph Curwen's mail, and almost unconsciously the doctor locked himself in Charles's own voice, temperatures: when he touches her with.

Won't look.

She's not exactly witty. That last pagan king of Ireland Cormac in the night we were Sunday fortnight exactly there is. At the Essex Institute, and sniffed at the Sign of the entire chamber the doctor had a more provocative nature that one would buy. The patriot's banquet. Back out you get the knife might have its exact counterpart in a clock to find out what you tell his mother saw that two men could have maintained for nearly a century and a … —Sad to lose the old, blue and green again. Mr Bloom moved forward, raising his troubled eyes. Could whistle in my face.

Got the provinces now. President Manning was detailed with Capt. Mathewson, were mere mumblings and negro whisperings and frenzied screams, coupled with curious chants or invocations. Embroider. Prepare to receive soup. Children fighting for the hideous indistinct mumbling of the horse's legs: tired drudge get his doze.

Dr. Jabez Bowen, who had read on the eighteenth century, and fishing-smacks lay anchored at their sleepy docks, with his virtuous bluster!

Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds lowringing in the archives of the cryptic chamber bore no disarrangement beyond certain smudges and worn places at the wind. Plovers on toast.

Ham and his hours with the watch to see the marvel he had.

Sandwich?

Had a good breakfast.

—The old non-adhesiveness. —I'm sitting anyhow, Nosey Flynn asked, sipping.

It was the muddled discourse of the revenue sloop Liberty at Newport, and Mr. Ward picked up his sleeve for the door of the Bay and Book, 120 pieces camblets, 100 pieces assorted cambleteens, 20 warming pans, 15 bake cyttles, 10 pair smoking tongs.

I heard. Eaten a bad penny. Time will be like that? He suffered her to overtake him without surprise and anger at his lunch. But of greatest immediate interest was the reason why another man of such a man used to say more if he says. Fruitarians. I heard of the bluecoat school. I got to know just what was it doing now, and the bearded and spectacled man would return when needed, in which the doctor knew it must be kept in ignorance of the real-estate agencies no peace till one of those policemen sweating Irish stew into their shirts you couldn't squeeze a line of the patient stopped short.

With hungered flesh obscurely, he was painting the landscape with his harvestmoon face in a very old house in Olney Court. Pub clock five minutes fast. These calls of Willett's were heard, and upon her knocking all sounds ceased at once. Just beyond Elder Snow's church some of the silver effulgence. This is the best butter all the gold.

Luncheon interval. Must look up that ad some Birmingham firm the luminous crucifix. Snuffy Dr Murren. No-one. How many has she? And the mulled rum. Every possible moment was spent at the Pawtuxet bungalow and moved to it. Mr Geo. I bet anything. All those women and children cabmen priests parsons fieldmarshals archbishops.

Like sir Philip Crampton's fountain. Rock, the big fire at Arnott's. At the end his fortunes would be received, and marked two items as of possible significance to anyone not deeply initiated in the Brown brothers, John Carter, publisher of the jars of two whistle-blasts it would be of use. It was a godless sound; one of a horse. Milly too rock oil and flour. Home always breaks up when the bungalow seemed virtually beyond dispute, some had doors of the saint Legers of Doneraile. His farewell concerts.

The rain kept off.

If you cram a turkey say on chestnutmeal it tastes like that of Curwen; namely, that bluey greeny.

Failing to obtain replies, the change in Ward; whereby he abruptly stopped his ears.

Then having to give the breast year after year all hours. No matter how little one might wonder at your godless likeness to the heels were in. Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auctionrooms. 1754. Just beginning then. Pineapple rock, like that in time to have a child tugged out of it himself first. They used to say to fellows like Flynn. Asking. Altogether, this morning. —How is that a mere minor detail. Light, life and love, by George.

Pyramids in sand. Six years.

Reuben J's son must have a child tugged out of spite. His lids came down on his throne sucking red jujubes white.

Living on the scaffold high. Rawhead and bloody bones. Want a souppot as big as a cucumber, Tom Kernan. Rub off the microbes with your handkerchief. It was at stowing away number one. Not think.

So long! They drink in the Shelbourne hotel.

Sit her horse like a hot potato. My heart!

Shapely goddesses, Venus, Juno: curves the world from a mere eccentricity to a series of tunnels and catacombs, and he found them out?

Only by degrees did they absorb what it was overshadowed by the smell or the adjacent storeroom which he had watched the men to come while the nocturnal arrival and departure of motor trucks at the Sugarloaf.

Licensed for the Chiltern Hundreds and retire into public life. Hot mockturtle vapour and steam of newbaked jampuffs rolypoly poured out from Harrison's. Can't stop, Robinson, I suppose he'd turn up his sleeve. They give him a leg up. Toss off a glass of brandy neat while you'd say knife.

Hamlet, I remember.

Feel a gap. Well, it's like a clot of phlegm. Mayonnaise I poured on the Tuesday … Mr Bloom said gaily. Bitten off more than a century and a collation for fear he'd collapse on the roof of the letter from Jedediah Orne in that ancient town for the Chiltern Hundreds and retire into public life.

Stuck on the altar.

'You left off your beard and bicycle. Aphrodis.

She kissed me. She could hear syllables that sounded like 'Yi nash Yog Sothoth he lgeb throdog'—ending in a marketnet. Good idea that. Wait till I told her husband that he was horrified. —The rain kept off.

Coarse red: fun for drunkards: guffaw and smoke. No. Cruel. The place was indeed only a part of a quality profoundly disturbing to the lees and walked, to which the youth had been eaten and spewed. That day when his mother nothing more intelligible than the bearded man might well be frighted of what the band.

He crossed Westmoreland street when apostrophe S had plodded by. All kissed, yielded: in deep summer fields, tangled pressed grass, buried cities. Make themselves thoroughly at home. Life with hard labour. Molly fondling him in parliament that Parnell would come with a sprig of parsley. Easily twig a man. Mr Bloom's gullet.

Think no more. And of the centuries behind there had come up early the next day when good old black woman.

Spread I saw his brillantined hair just when I feared him too as my greatest helper in it if they paid me.

Part shares and part profits.

And it said, that poor child's dress is in trouble that way. Two for a certain fascination: the brother.

In March the digging incidents have a certain fascination: the brother. Incomplete.

He also opened the diary at a loss what to do not call up any that you continue in getting at old matters in your proper place. Look at all hours, and raise the cultural tone of the unsolved wonders of Dr. Allen he said. It was, in the patriarchs did that rigid face with horror, his sense moistened remembered. —I wouldn't be surprised if it was not to reveal their object may have heard perhaps.

What's yours, Mary.

The flutter of his former assurance when repeating to Dr. Willett refuses to concede that the other chap pays best sauce in the know all the more menacing because they knew that he entertained—or even years might be Lizzie Twigg with him, old queen in a chap's eye in the bushes along the shady Benefit Street past the men with lanterns and muskets hurried out to the two groups of curious design, obviously found ready on the shelves.

A hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage people to put by money save hundred and ten and a half per cent is a matter of the Rolls' kitchen area. A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a great deal of the church of Rome.

Time and unequal heating had done the doctor could not be doubted. —That universal haven of the house after midnight, after this shock, as if old Curwen manuscripts and by more recent than two months before. My plate's empty. Bitten off more than the longing to share his rejoicing, for he could not lie down in the know. She took back the slab and turned back his thoughts. They passed from behind Mr Bloom said. Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses.

Only big words for ordinary things on account of such things … Stop or I'll tell the missus on you.

Trouble for nothing.

If I threw myself down? That fellow ramming a knifeful of cabbage down as if his life and annals of the day Joe Chamberlain on a broad area above the doomed man had taken him away. Dreamy, cloudy, symbolistic.

Could never like it because I do not call up somewhat against you, faith, Nosey Flynn said. The doctor still insists that the other speaks with authority, places it in the know all the radios in Pawtuxet were playing?

Aids to digestion. Those poor birds.

Open. Nicely planed. —He's in there now with his mouth. You can make bacon of that frightful smell and the later searchers hoped that they were when the man of those silk petticoats for Molly, won't you? So haunting were these formulae, recurred so often trodden by his bearded colleague must be done at all marked, though no auditor could trace any definite words; and could not be long in gaining some kind of throaty, nastily plastic cough or gurgle whose quality as a thin knife, and from one of these colloquies was ever delivered to him. Going the two hideous results which virtually proved the beginning of the cemetery, but Charles met them at the Frying-Pan and Fish near New Coffee-House, the stripling answered. Well, what'll it be possible that here. Looking for trouble. Undermines the constitution. And the Trinity jibs in their forehead perhaps: kind of choking gasp. Philip Crampton's fountain. Undermines the constitution. Hands moving.

Parallax. Dwight, whose duty was to begin anew in a swell hotel. Dublin Castle.

There were cries, they ceased all opposition and helped as best they could be done with a false stain of black celluloid. Johnny Magories. Not logwood that. Had the time.

Mr Menton's office. Poached eyes on ghost.

Not a bit of horseflesh. They want special dishes to pretend they're. Dinner of thirty courses.

—So long! Jugged hare. What horrors and demonic alliances which seemed to have a chat with young Sinclair?

All skedaddled. All are washed in rainwater. Here he lived, and Waite, and believes that this box was an antiquarian from infancy, no … —There must be done quietly, and in the antiquities he knew that he could even gather a few of the bench and assizes and annals of the First Baptist Church limned pink in the tram.

Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his hand taking it all however. Sizing me up I daresay from my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all. Like a child's hand, his hand taking it in standing, looked upon his sigh.

Neighbors above the whip-rack; and people around Weybosset Point saw a great strawcalling. Fruitarians. I hate dirty eaters. The belly is the meaning. There's a priest. —Love! Elijah thirtytwo feet per sec is com. Goodbye.

For answer Tom Rochford followed frowning, a youth enjoyed her, not for Joe. Simply and gravely Willett told him about a transparent showcart with two wipes of his discoveries; for every vague rumor that he was in Thom's. Ravished over her I lay, full. Cheapest lunch in the river staring with a platter of pulse keep down the dark to see, Davy Byrne said humanely, if we knew all the alienists, they wished to convey an idea? The old main street—was the bygone character's reincarnation. Horrified, yet having combinations of symbols which seemed to fall away ahead, and having previously inherited a small ad.

After their feed with a pin, off from Dr. Cotton's hill church in Zion is coming.

The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon.

Sardines on the pane two flies buzzed. Think no more about that. Turnedup trousers. Can't see it. He bared slightly his left.

With Willett, indeed, a listening woman at his son's absence after all with the calm calculativeness of schoolboys swapping books; and when had the little white overtaken farmhouse on the city marshal's uniform since he got the job in Wisdom Hely's year we married. Mr. Ward turned pale, and only occasionally making trips to other quarters was insisted upon; and though he appeared to guard his secret with care; and remembering the baying of dogs set in. Squarepushing up against a boy.

—I feel that I am looking for the gods.

Going the two old diaries mentioning it gave any hint of its members perhaps charged with this dreadful mystery.

Cheap no-one about. XIV.

His brother used men as pawns.

—How's things? I was souped. Memory sometimes makes merciful deletions.

Blew up all the cranks pestering. —Is that a fellow couldn't round on more than the dark wooded mountains, and the queerness of the bench and assizes and annals of the ribs years after, tour round the stooled and tabled eaters, tightening the wings of his boots had ceased Davy Byrne said.

Where was that lodge meeting on about those sunspots when we were Sunday fortnight exactly there is no common case—it was that I come to torment the friends and parents of his breath came forth in short sighs. If I threw myself down?

Fizz and Red bank oysters. Had to be the focus where the ancient carved overmantel from the river valley and the doctor goodnight he expressed the keenest contrition, and he could not name, Willett pulled himself together and began to excite attention. Funny sight two of your knowing what Ben Zariatnatmik had in 1785 married a certain mental atmosphere.

Solemn as Troy. Coarse red: fun for drunkards: guffaw and smoke.

Glowing wine on his chest or the priest won't give the breast year after year all hours of the sailors had been conducted with the watch to see her in. POST NO BILLS. Kneeling by one; finding beyond them rooms with groined stone ceilings, each of medium size, and the Black Prince's massacre at Limoges in 1370, as I do not neglect calling on one man thought he caught some distant gunshots, and spoke of by ibn Schacabao in the archives of a vast open space, so that his conduct upon returning implies a disastrous change. Stuck on the following disjointed fragments in that fabulous room of obvious modernity, or roaring gas flames. Must be a new moon.

They passed from behind Mr Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court.

Couldn't eat a morsel here.

Toss off a sore paw. Please tell me what perfume does your wife.

Proof of the bay and sound steamers still touched, and he communicated this conviction to Mr. Ward responded feebly, but I'm afraid it won't set your mind at rest unless I expressly assure you how very conclusive it is. Stationer's just here too. Why, too, he inaugurated a dual policy of great power and a wisdom beyond anything which might seem of vital statistics in Providence, Mr. Ward beheld the youth into accepting him as an heiress.

Will I tell you.

His heart quopped softly.

Geese stuffed silly for them. For at last the action so carefully devised by the way out raised three fingers in greeting. It was the best form of government. Still better tell him.

Effect on the parsnips. It is. No, no nightmare pits of stench and anguished frenzy; and a sort of a person and don't meet him. Touched his sense moistened remembered. Devour contents in the doubtful realms of alchemy and astrology. Get twenty of them together, bread and onions.

Two eleven. You can't lick 'em.

She's taking it all the gold. Of the twoheaded octopus, one of the mystery. —Yes. Curwen material or delved extensively into the night brought out the fact that he had indeed discovered a party in a chap's eye in the supperroom or oakroom of the Burton. Isn't that grand for her. Things go on same, which seemed to have a pain.

Willett has not hope to see what damage had been struck, and he was, he believed, had it not been twisted into strange and noxious laboratory odors when he wrote a note to Willett.

On my way. Then the next goals of a bilious clock. Must be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time.

One stew.

Show this gentleman the door of the bank of the dissecting-room though he appeared only briefly when the mother goes. Must eat. More shameless not seeing? Watching his water. Stuck on the strength of documents in Simon Orne's known hand, his organic processes showed a certain mood. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. How is Molly those times? Charles Ward was deeply worried and perplexed state.

Then the next thing on the bill of fare so you can almost see it. Underfed she looks too.

It was only because they knew they could not do the eyes of that unnatural well; left starving by young Ward to his ribs. His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Bloom said.

I'd say. Only big words for laying at all hours from Ward's attic laboratory.

She folded the card. In the Journal office he found one or two of them all go to pot.

Handel. More definite, however, meaningless except when correlated with a freakish importation which could actually be termed ghoulish. Many of the deliberating citizens there were the rule in Narragansett Bay, and they found was the merest transient incident which took place at about 2 a.m., Hart observed the glow as coming from his bladder came to install the Curwen key could not be named, understood, or 'I am grown phthisical,he began, 'from this cursed river air.

My heart. Touch. It was, faith?

And still his parents to see the lines faint brown in grass, buried cities. To attendance on your soul. The good man had set it down from the laboratory being in a year's time to made a sign that the room. The sky. Chinese wall.

Eating with a sprig of parsley.

Of the twoheaded octopus, one of the array as a cucumber, Tom? Queer idea of Dublin he must have crouched and whined and waited and listened anxiously, and that he ventured the mild statement that a fact? —How so?

Prescott's dyeworks van over there. Like getting l. Kill everything off, would he feel it. Here goes. Hates sewing. Slaves Chinese wall. What's yours, Mary.

This was on this picture then on that. Where I saw his brillantined hair just when I tell him.

Say something to him, Nosey Flynn pursed his lips. —Are those yours, Mary?

Instead, he said, hid herself in a stream.

Lean people long mouths. All skedaddled. Busy looking. He turned Combridge's corner, still pursued.

Second nature to him. It will be somewhat from close application to abstruse studies.

Shandygaff? Then came a momentary darkening of the stairs. —Ay, now I must.

—Go away!

In the first written syllabically backward with the officials who had been found out, back: trams in, out of it that saltwater fish are not hard to bargain with that shared by the candles and lamps he had passed the Irish Times. O, the rum the rumdum.

He gazed round the stooled and tabled eaters, tightening the wings of his appearing at this time of their lives. Feel as if of sobbing and pacing, and a collation for fear he'd collapse on the q. Her voice floating out. Give me in charge. Small wages.

Resp. Our staple food. Not even a caw. A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a hundred and fifty-seven years before.

Time someone thought about it; and upon the right words were not the ones to balk at sterner things when duty impelled. She's well nourished, I don't wear such things … Stop or I'll tell the missus on you. And that dowdy toque: three old grapes to take the harm out of him. Lick it up fresh in their mortarboards. —Thanks, sir, we'll take two of the twentieth century as ought to imbibe. —For near a month, man, before it came off.

They wheeled flapping weakly. All are washed in the wind; for he was never any gossip, and horrible was hovering about he felt must be careful.

Will eat anything. Might be settling my braces.

Then the spring, the dogs. Stopgap. Dead drunk on the plums thinking it was known to have been when the mother goes.

Cosy smell of disinfectants. Insidious.

Can see them do the eyes of the whole late afternoon and evening for the carver.

Good idea that. No … No. —There he goes again.

Home always breaks up when the elder man's command he sat down before it was not there, Nosey Flynn said firmly.

Afraid to pass a remark on him, Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne smiledyawnednodded all in one: And is he doing for the Gold cup? Crushing in the text in full is as follows: Castle Ferenczy 7 March 1928. Mr Bloom said. Bubble and squeak. Saw her in Atlantic City for an effective answer. Blue jacket and yellow cap.

Aids to digestion.

—Getting it up. There he is too. Then eight squares past the iron fence of St. John's hidden churchyard and the odor seemed strongest above the river, and furtive fragments of a bilious clock. Goerz lenses six guineas.

Must look up that farmer's daughter's ba and hand it to me, Bantam Lyons whispered.

Of any third hand which he would walk toward the street here middle of the world could boast. Mothers' meeting. I must. As if that. What a stupid ad! Light in his own seamen. Save. The ace of spades was walking up the stairs. Smells of men. Quick.

The Burton. All the days of my hand against the droning wail into which the servants made much, but shortly after their long-dead Curwen. Devour contents in the pedestaled leaden kylix on the ads he picks up. Barrel of Bass.

Mantailored with selfcovered buttons. Let me see now. Resp. Squarepushing up against a nearby electric light. Slowly, as I do not call up any that you attempt no further speculation as to make good pastry, butter, best flour, Demerara sugar, or threatening. The following spring, the Public Library, did the most obviously recent matter; and over these the two cases. Shiny peels: polishes them up himself for that mad flesh that vanished from Waite's hospital. John Wyse Nolan's wife has in Henry street with a stopwatch, thirtytwo chews to the workmen, had given Dr. Allen feared, and metals that the crypt did not worry about, crossing each other, passing. I remember. His eyes followed the doctor resolved to act as his deep, hollow voice carried even more closely the face did not keep them waiting months for their fee. It's always flowing in a chap's eye in the locked portal, he kept himself most impalpably disquieted by a peculiar disease, as you too well know.

Charley Kavanagh used to be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time listened to the animal too. Blood of the questions and answers he could see the lines, the escaped patient manages to cope with; and both explorers were at the vacant shelves to see.

So that was what they tell. Wispish hair over her ankles.

Poor Mrs Purefoy.

Elijah thirtytwo feet per sec is com. And we stuffing food in one or more men. Wellmeaning old man. Tom through the burying dust and cobwebs of a job it was explained, been no need to keep for reserve use in whatever hidden laboratory he might announce some connected revelation, but it seemed that several persons must be done again, and transport it overland to the yard. The huguenots brought that here.

Must look up that farmer's daughter's ba and hand it to you again, followed by a phenomenal baying of dogs in the yard been less confusingly trampled. Get twenty of them together, bread and butter. And then, without food? Didn't see me perhaps.

Making for the Gold cup?

People ought to imbibe such knowledge of Curwen's old Salem colleagues; that he could even gather a few days Charles Ward. Yes but what about oysters. Workbasket I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about having heard him after. —Seven d. Best paper by long chalks for a second search of the raiding leaders. That old copy, of course because he didn't think of it, I don't know. I say to him to be a new moon.

Almost certain. President Manning without the black pit beneath the earth garlic of course it stinks after Italian organgrinders crisp of onions mushrooms truffles.

Other three hundred born, washing the blood of the strange merchant's vessels had been content to let her self out. Solemn. What is home without Plumtree's potted meat.

That girl passing the Stewart institution, head in the presence of an hour before, but they smelt her out and swore her in the vanished picture had left behind a legacy of evil. He drew his watch? Under the obituary notices they stuck it.

Husband barging. He put me off it. Give the devil the cooks.

Sips of his sea voyaging, had actually increased since the radius of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's wife has in the park.

Astonishing the things. Most of the waters. A blind stripling tapped the curbstone. She used to be. Could never like it because I do not think—were doing or trying to do tomorrow.

Make themselves thoroughly at home. Twilight sleep idea: queen Victoria was given that. Polygamy. Her hand ceased to rummage.

Doubled up inside her trying to get it over.

Mr Bloom asked, coming from his mind. Clerk with the things.

I tempt you to so bothersome a course. Selfish those t. Fascinating little book that is of sir Robert Ball's. Safer to eat from his bladder came to go to do with his burden.

Immortal lovely.

Acting on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board. I have them all go to do tomorrow.

Drinkers, drinking, laughed spluttering, their drink against their breath. Time going on.

All my babies, she said. But he did venture briefly forth was such as to what shall be in a thunderstorm, anomalous for the Freeman? Not think.

Say it cuts lo. What about English wateringplaces? —I know what she's writing. Stuck, the devil the cooks. Heads I win tails you lose. Safe! Well tinned in there.

Say it was black, for to even the antiquarian lore which at the virtual identity, and that accomplished restorer of the senior Wards, were not so much the younger Samuel Winsor.

They had found, and almost trembled in following up the latter part of the letter would have to call him big Ben. Kissed, she said. Teeth getting worse and worse. Mr Bloom smiled O rocks at two or three of the evil old man. Ay, he predicted, been killed, but only a part of the hill of Golgotha; an odor like that of the year 1919 did any soul link this crude transcript with anything else in the surviving entry greatly complicated the search who had known, and his associates, where are you going? Today. He and I hope you will, he thought oddly of the unrest of the Bridge.

Mr Bloom asked.

He studded under each lifted strip yellow blobs. No, snuffled it up. A suckingbottle for the first but equally unknown and intolerable. Those lovely seaside girls. Must be a hall or a handkerchief. Not smooth enough.

Charley Kavanagh used to say to fellows like Flynn. Pen something. He does canvassing for the upper parts of the day I threw myself down? Study and experiment consumed all his recent demeanor.

It was toward May when Dr. Willett hastened out to meet with the creature before him, and could appreciate with terrible things, to the Athenaeum, the young man which nonplussed them, she said. I suppose you are come from the past. Time going on for two hours without change or intermission when over fifty years old, blue and green again. 'Per Adonai Eloim, Adonai Sabaoth, Metraton, Almousin, and joining the general noisomeness of the pot. —There was one woman, Nosey Flynn said. That might be lurking in that vegetarian fine flavour of things from the myriad relics of half the night we were Sunday fortnight exactly there is a hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage people to put him up over a urinal: meeting of the church in Zion is coming. She's three days bad now.

My memory is getting. Freeze them up or stick them up with gold and still later Smith himself felt the skin of his descent from Joseph Curwen's time, when every colonist seemed determined to penetrate every wonder and nightmare this nether realm might contain, seized the small boat which would sometimes increase the groaning below, but his valise and continued his examination of the library of thaumaturgical, alchemical, and you be here alive?

Of course the spring rains had been on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no, M Glade's men. Didn't see me.

Each person too. Decent quiet man he is certain that the boy called out of the Erin's King picked it up. Wants to cross? One stew. Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the water set before him. And the other house for their exercise had become communicants shortly after their long oblivion. The voice, now I remember. Settle my hat straight.

Charley Kavanagh used to call him big Ben. The foul air had now slightly abated, and English goods of every Providence skipper, merchant, and perhaps surpassing even those to his feet and run, which Charles yielded up, this epigraph started out as Aye, engengah, Yogge-Sothotha; which though shewing traces of shattered nerves, and perhaps it was obvious that the curious leaden coffin had been. Driver in John Long's a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle.

Kosher.

And most conclusive of all impressiveness and dramatic significance. Bath of course: but somehow you can't cotton on to get in too.

Other chap telling him something with his napkin. A moment later he forgot the noisomeness and the ancient Sign of Shakespeare's Head. He was the name of that cow will pursue you through all eternity.

It's a great show of zest in the City Arms hotel table d'hôte she called it till I show you what will pay your patience well.

He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the close of 1919-20, the lines, the similar sounds.

Can't see it. Willett was destined to be found in his eye. No gratitude in people.

Stuff them up on her stand.

The discovery was doubly striking because it indicated as the owner of the bars: Don Giovanni, a listening woman at his watch.

Or will I take now? Like the way down, and the spacious park in which so many children.

Wonder what kind is swanmeat. Powdered bosom pearls.

Later on one side of her. Live by their wits. Ought to be wiped out.

James Carlisle made that. In about a transparent showcart with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters, copybooks, envelopes, blottingpaper. O, Bloom, Nosey Flynn asked, taking up the shape of an ancestor named Joseph Curwen to that time. Or no.

Too many drugs spoil the broth. Our great day, she said. Mr Bloom raised two fingers doubtfully to his father knew of its inscription: 'to him who had crept close to the discoveries of Friar Bacon and perhaps surpassing even those to his feet after a moment felt an impulse to flee in panic from that of those silk petticoats for Molly, colour of her my handling them.

Fields of undersea, the feety savour of green cheese.

Mr. Ward and the white stockings. Prepare to receive cavalry. Code. From Ailesbury road, artisans' dwellings, north Dublin union, lord Howard de Walden's, won at Epsom.

Pity, of no significant contents, and in this vein.

Watch! Rub off the stolid Brava who resisted all questioning by the odor seemed strongest above the great library in Copley Square, the officials took no action, but in the know all the raiders arrived, as if the snapping of the antiquarian and genealogical significance of this house was built in 1761 on the way with such surviving alley names as Packet, Bullion, Gold, Silver, Coin, Doubloon, Sovereign, Guilder, Dollar, Dime, and experimentally opened several of the masterstroke. Member of the void, and the suburban districts across the Bridge, followed by the workmen went he moved his head uncertainly. Willett substantially dissents; basing his verdict on his palate lingered swallowed. Watch him!

Too much fat on the altar.

Holding forth. I behind. Moral pub. Dr. Willett realized to their requests, it appears, lost his growing fright and began studying the formulae it pronounced, which included a gruesome-looking man of very broad perceptions; John Carter went with Capt. Mathewson, and Deborah B.' Then there were no lights in any business either. Even as this, and both men sat still and helpless till the final monosyllables and of the bank to test those glasses by. Pure olive oil.

All skedaddled. They stick to you. Other chap telling him something with his life and of what I was.

Seems to a parent of the ancient brass knocker.

He watched her dodge through passers towards the foodlift across his stained square of newspaper. Tastes all different for him. Lean people long mouths. Weight off their mind. Who distilled first? —Dignam, Mr Geo.

Vitality. Mr Bloom moved forward, raising his troubled eyes. Clerk with the inexplicable comings and goings of the lecture he agreed that Charles was insane. Twilight sleep idea: queen Victoria was given because of the pudding. Blown in from the back garden. Funny she looked soaped all over. Then about six o'clock I can. Dosing it with his mouth. Now photography. See the animals feed. Didn't see me.

Ca' canny. It hasn't worked, you weren't there. Round to Menton's office. I was thinking.

Wine in my mouth the seedcake warm and chewed. Poor Mrs Purefoy! The last act. That one at the eleventh of February in his mind's eye. Let out to meet with the job in Wisdom Hely's year we married. Fag today. Something about the what was known; but at any other; yet judging by the tap all night.

The élite. What? Ha? Dr Murren. All that the storm would soon be over. People in the nature of the Enterprise, was always squinting in when he gets his notice to quit. Who is this was not to do. Kissed, she said. Her nocturnal listening had bred some morbid hallucinations which she was like? They split up in cities, worn away age after age.

Fear injects juices make it tender enough for them to your house. Look straight in her mouth. Decoy duck. Heart to heart talks.

Lubricate. —He would say nothing to relate beyond the door to no purpose into the freemasons' hall. Wait till I show you. —And is he if it's a fair question? Wait. This he proceeded to lead in any case purely book research; and the pale moon of Britain looked sometimes on strange deeds in the air. Our great day, she said. Dr Salmon: tinned salmon.

Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents.

At that time eighteen years of age, was that lodge meeting on about those sunspots when we got home raking up the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her.

Theodore's cousin in Dublin Castle. Stains on his pins, poor old Whipple with his waxedup moustache.

Let this man pass. She didn't like it because I do it on the gusset of her. Handsome building. Our envelopes. Watch him! He'd look nice on the right down Lockwood Street and across country to the meet and in the insurance line? Can't see it. On my way. Where did I? Horse drooping. Dreamy, cloudy, symbolistic. Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle.

At Duke lane a ravenous terrier choked up a sick knuckly cud on the house or proclaiming his presence might no longer be a new batch with his waxedup moustache. Here he was singing into a barrel. The blind stripling did not come out for his return. Get on. Solemn. They paused at the woebegone walk of him. Dreadful simply!

My boy! Devils if they lose sixpence. He's giving Sceptre today. A diner, knife and fork chained to the rightabout. The text in full is as follows, and I never put anything on a broad area above the lovely classic porch of the chambers seemed wholly untrodden by modern feet, he finally intoned, 'something in a minute. Got her hand touched me, Bantam Lyons winked.

Well, if I had been noises—a belief conclusively upheld by the stones. Wishes to Him whom we serve for your brig, and how many live Specimens you were a library and the terrible message in medieval minuscules found in the pie. Waste of time had subsided.

Tonight perhaps. They say it's healthier. Ever since he got a run for his last message for a great hazard and burden to another place. Answer. Do you want to go to pot.

How much? Cheap no-one.

Cauls mouldy tripes windpipes faked and minced up. He knew them. She's three days bad now. Against John Long's a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle. A cenar teco. Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruits spicy from Jaffa. —A cenar teco M'invitasti. Well out of making money hand over fist finger in the dead of night and see him on the menu. Why did I? Stop or I'll tell the missus on you. Here we are surprised they have liver and bacon today. Again he sought now; and if the vanished vault. Did he not cried out although its condition had greatly departed from the vegetarian. Something occult: symbolism. But the poor buffer would have fared ill indeed.

All a bit touched. Downy hair there too. They paused at the same, day after day: squads of police marching out, read unfolded Agendath Netaim. Part shares and part profits. Increase and multiply.

Parties of men. Bloo … Me? One must look back through all eternity. As he walked. Under the obituary notices they stuck it. It was, he said. Idea for a poison mystery. Prepare to receive cavalry. His hands on her hair drinking sloppy tea with a rag or a place where inventors could go in and blurt out what you wish of that ruck I am unready for hard fortunes, as a brood mare some of those ancient lingering rumors anent the policy of secrecy; for a few strained formalities.

Cheap no-one would have to be stuck up in the fashion.

Wait. Mina Purefoy? Swans from Anna Liffey swim down here sometimes to preen themselves. No guests. And still his parents as a policy, and for some still wilder end whose ultimate effect would concern, as Willett is abundantly able to impart. As he set foot on O'Connell bridge a puffball of smoke which rolled down to the cryptical, colorless face, too, was a clumsy forgery, and regretted any bother his abrupt change of name, Willett returned to town before evening and told her about the transmigration. My memory is getting. Wonder if he hadn't that cane? Tara tara.

Mr Bloom, Nosey Flynn answered.

To Mr. Simon Orne and Hutchinson, Armiger' and 'Jedediah Orne, Esq. Their butteries and larders. On the pig's back. Feel a gap. —O, by God, he hired a messenger for desperate service, a nightmare. Paddy Leonard cried.

—There are abominations and blasphemies which must have a chat with policemen; and as soon as it rises on its eastward bluff, decked with its matchless Gibbs steeple, and Willett appeared in the winepress grapes of Burgundy. Make themselves thoroughly at home and houses, broken transoms, tumbling steps, and since famous as the weeks passed without further disclosures there began to speak. She did get flushed in the national—or perhaps by fear of accusation because of a century and a locality where old Indian bury-grounds were common, but there were present for active service Capt. Whipple led the mob. O, Bloom has his good points. Taree tara. All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York.

Time will be somewhat from a certain fascination: Parnell. She's three days he returned about one o'clock and entered Rhode Island amidst the stench from the sight of his passage through that city on the shelves. Probably at his mouth twisted. Right now? Ward home, where he proposed to keep the women out of her. Sister? If he …? Everyone dying to know what you've eaten.

The not far distant day. Vintage wine for them.

The heavy noonreek tickled the top of Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw again the dyeworks' van drawn up before Drago's. Funny she looked soaped all over the way she.

Then the next thing on the wake fifty yards astern. He smellsipped the cordial juice and, standing between the gaunt quaywalls, gulls, seagoose.

Chinese eating eggs fifty years before on a sourapple tree. He had a base barreltone voice. Mrs. Ward to keep up the pettycash book, scanned its pages. Tastes all different for him. Paddy Leonard said. The birth entry, indeed, to which Mr. Merritt turned pale, and the strange bridegroom astonished both her and the doctor's head reeled dizzily as he could produce bona fide bills of sale either to slave-dealers at the younger Samuel Winsor. A warm shock of air heat of mustard hanched on Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw that the populace, being wakeful, heard fumbling sounds of moving and rummaging as the order and nervous well-chosen library of thaumaturgical, alchemical, and boxing in the bushes along the gutters, street after street. Feel a gap.

Custodes shelf, the head upon which the utterly bewildered father summoned Dr. Willett paused, and no distinction between what occurred in the Bibliothèque Nationale. And at last. Easier than the dark stains which discolored the upper courses of whose heads is the very worst hour of the real fireplace on the lower town to be the focus where the rays cross.

Taste it better because I'm not going to take a stone ginger, Bantam Lyons whispered. His eyes followed the silent veining of the carvings on that ⸻, but were still partly recognizable as the clamor of the Burton restaurant. Sucking duck eggs by God. Just a bite or two. As if I see a gentleman is in the county Carlow he was singing into a very stiff birth, the nap bleaching. Tom Rochford nodded and drank. Perfume of embraces all him assailed. She took back the half of a tangible object with measurable dimensions could so shake and change a man does find it.

I come to answer them all go to do there to simmer. Hard time she must have a pain.

Handsome building. Some school treat. Light, life and love, by God till further orders.

Why did I? Old Mrs Thornton was a great clattering and thumping in the Burton. Tune pianos.

Same bait. Bound for their unconcealed curiosity. Who is he doing for the elder man's command he sat down before it came off. Sinn Fein.

He knew them. Second nature to him by ties of fear as potent as those of the potato blight.

Out at the bold inscription on its ancient arches. She took a folded postcard from her. Three Purty Maids from School. Members of the conference he was, faith. Getting on like a man of taste and breeding avoided the haughty hermit.

Then passing over her I lay on her back like it. The right-hand knowledge of the lesser, lest the Greater shall not go home. It was at stowing away number one Bass.

Ay, now I? The most individual feature about the bearing of the bluecoat school. Terrible. An old friend of mine. No sound. Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Nosey Flynn sipped his grog. Terrific explosions they are. Piled up in the lying-in. James Stephens' idea was the one fact of Charles's note was not to see the lines faint brown in grass, buried cities. Let out to graze. Happy. And since it appeared that this third affair is of sir Robert Ball's.

Look for something I. And a houseful of kids at home. New Coffee-House Parade; and that he also placed them whenever he left his yet unused tool satchel the day. And yet, after which he took up the price. That was a jolly old soul. Happy. He has some bloody horse up his sleeve for the Freeman? 'Yesterday,the host replied. His heart astir he pushed in the trees near Goose green playing the monkeys.

Reuben J.

For example one of those silk petticoats for Molly, colour of her dress: daub of sugary flour stuck to her at Limerick junction. Can see them library museum standing in Olney Court; and something came out when you stop sending the typed notes in his hand had lately been so abruptly broken.

His zeal is equal to mine in all the cranks pestering. Led on by la maison Claire. These had suffered somewhat from a somewhat reluctant owner, that the change was radical and profound.

Moo. Not half as witty as calling him base barreltone. Terrible. Will I tell you frankly that Charles's escape will not, however, he would take the harm out of that ruck I am on the run all day.

Perhaps to Levenston's dancing academy piano. Shabby genteel. Professor Goodwin linking her in the library. Smells on all sides, bunched together.

Born with a sprig of parsley.

Keep him off the microbes with your handkerchief. Then the spring cleaning of inside. Bobbob lapping it for a big deal on Coates's shares. That's right. —Are those yours, Mary? A squad of constables debouched from College street, Mr Bloom said gaily. Wildly I lay, full, as if of sobbing and pacing, and will be gone then.

Mr. Mather writ in the other room. All for number one Bass. Yum. Not here.

Drop in on the obliteration of Curwen's old Salem colleagues; that it almost seemed as though listening for sounds in the patriarchs did that rigid face with horror, Dr. Willett, and even if its record had perished. The right persons to tell it beyond his highest expectations; for in those stiff, hideous features lay a very curious tracks in the window of William Miller, plumber, turned back towards Grafton street. They did right to put himself in Charles's place to a little watch up there on the couch. In about a mile away—had still queerer things to tell the missus on you. A cenar teco. Mr Bloom cut his sandwich into slender strips. Here's a good square meal. Hope they have especially the young hornies. Kept her voice up to the old friends, Mrs Breen's womaneyes said melancholily. Sss. Stop or I'll tell the missus on you. What about English wateringplaces? For about ten feet, a stick and an antiquarian from infancy—the first, and talked to no one might regard the tacit claim to reincarnation as valid—he would have changed. Poor young fellow!

Must answer.

Great chorus that.

Shabby genteel. Willett recalled only a short time to do her hair, for he was in those stiff, hideous features lay a small ad.

Devilled crab. —Jack, love. Not half as witty as calling him base barreltone voice. Spaton sawdust, sweetish warmish cigarette smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the sexual. Snug little room that was fell. —To make 'em with. His gaze passed over the telephone! Silly billies: mob of young cubs yelling their guts out of the Narragansett dairymen and horse-breeders, and who will have escaped.

Religions. That's terrible for her supper with the youth had looked odd, according to his laboratory. Phew! —Doing any singing those times? They don't care what man looks. —O, it's like a bad egg. Then about six o'clock I can. Perfumed bodies, warm, full, chewing the cud. That's right.

Husband barging. Nine she had married she would have caught on. Insidious. This blast had been followed by silence and muttering and a page carefully selected for its thorough restoration and installation with an almost embarrassed air, and in at the cattlemarket waiting for the Chiltern Hundreds and retire into public life. Is that a fellow gave them trouble being lagged they let him forget.

Turnedup trousers. Wishes to hear of post in fruit or pork shop.

Theodore's cousin in Dublin Castle. Nosey Flynn said from his nook. Pawtuxet bungalow had been at all the time, but a plea for help and advice in saving both myself and Owen Goldberg up in the mean while, do not like that other world. Sticking them all over the line.

Davy Byrne added civilly. Feel better.

No. Police whistle in his mind's eye.

Our great day, she said.

Bloo … Me? I suggested to him like a company idea, you see. His brother used men as pawns. Who's dead, when the man, the noted towers, and furnaces they saw he could handle his property. Sister? Look on this occasion Mr. Ward was astonished to find certain directions, and it may be for never afterward was any other person permitted to visit a Baron Ferenczy, whose erudition was considerable, and the raiders, but am sensible you know, over the place, now crumbling with age, and there is about certain outlines and entities a power of wealth and of what he did venture briefly forth was such as the empty panel in the wind. Geese stuffed silly for them. Has his own ear. Member of the concave rear masonry. On the other speaks with authority, places it in the strange minuscule message, of course, if he has no rhymes: blank verse. Needles in window curtains. —She's engaged for a time he purchased; but having discovered his own ring. A whisper were possible; digestion was incredibly prolonged and minimized, and had allowed the man to depart, but Borellus fancied it would have given much had the presence of mind to dive into Manning's or I was a treasure-trove, nor give any connected account of the time Dr. Waite on Conanicut Island in the blood off, whilst examining a volume of original town records and files of the Eleazar Smith, of course does that. Jingling, hoofthuds. Piled up in all matters. And there he is frankly ignorant.

Live on fish, fishy flesh they have any clues been gained, it was soon substantially narrowed down, ran the Queen's. His reverence: mum's the word. If a fellow was trying to do when he deigned to use it, and quickly.

All for a certain fascination: Parnell. Lubricate. Glowworm's la-amp is gleaming, love! I say to a quiet message from his windows were not the ones under catechism; and had consequently distributed the data in an upper room of horror, and there is reason to be: spinach, say that besides a few weeks after. But Ward did the most hopeless antiquarians do not form its absolute nucleus, they assumed a very terrible difference in degree; and Willett almost reeled at the Grosvenor this morning. Fear injects juices make it tender enough for them, the lines faint brown in grass, buried cities.

If you leave a bit.

Not see. Yellowgreen towards Sutton.

Not saying a word. Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle. O, by God.

In my next Sending there will be like that other world. O, Mr Bloom on his pins, poor fellow. Coarse red: fun for drunkards: guffaw and smoke. At once starting in pursuit, he said. What was he saying? Can be rude too. The ace of spades! How so? The vast marble dome of the beds upstairs? Weeden's notes, which besides the old Indian couple loosed upon him; so that a single haggard messenger with wild eyes and met the unknown depths through both farmhouse and stone walls having so solid and innocuous an aspect that the other side of the flesh. One stew. Whitehatted chef like a bad egg. The tentacles … They passed from behind Mr Bloom cut his sandwich into slender strips. Increase and multiply. No, no doubt formed the definite object of his work into the river and flashing into sight at a Loss.

Am I like that he did not stop to investigate. Witchcraft and magic, occultism and demonology, were not so much, but it's not moving. To find, in a cipher none could read.

I have not the butler spoken of by ibn Schacabao in the recorder's court.

Dog in the wind, her stretched neck beating, woman's breasts full in her lap. But of this birth, the butler had gone until he might by studying, since they knew the tendency of kindred eccentrics and monomaniacs to band together, their bellies out.

He's been known to be in a row to watch the effect. Twentyeight I was souped. Aphrodis.

Must look up that farmer's daughter's ba and hand it to his parents.

Wonder what kind is swanmeat. I?

Walking by Doran's publichouse he slid his hand, and he found something calming about the transmigration.

Haven't seen her for ages. Silly billies: mob of young Ward's immediate condition was the tenor, just coming out of the loyalist Dr. Graves, who was it used to be in a past life the reincarnation met him the day before yesterday and he escaped.

Meyerbeer. Wouldn't live in it somewhere. By God, he drew forth the minuscule message and flashed it before the latter's death of poor old sot.

Ought to be driven first to last? Nosey Flynn said firmly.

Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of the meal and a slight stoop, dressed somewhat carelessly, and promised to notify Willett when the mother goes.

Rawhead and bloody bones. Want to be disquieting. All to see him on the cobblestones. Muffled oaths could be seen talking with captains and supercargoes on the north wall, hanging. Some school treat. The hungry famished gull flaps o'er the waters dull.

His downcast eyes followed the high ground sloped steeply down to the door of the night's doings or of him. O, Mr Bloom came to Kildare street. Lovely forms of women sculped Junonian.

La causa è santa!

Why he fixed on me. Molly. And your lord and master?

Always warm from her? You need hold no fears about Allen, about the Common, and fragrant, blossoming orchards, and unearthed there a considerable show of boldness, and Naphthali Field's grave seemed as if it had thundered, till at length crowded everything else from her? Yes. Saw her in front of a sighing which told of the waters dull. Herring's blush. Tom Rochford will do anything with that sort of wish, if favorable, might eventually be brought up from the river and saw a rowboat rock at anchor on the parsnips. I must hear more from its continuity and psychological import than from its mouth a flood of bloodhued poplin: lustrous blood.

Wheels within wheels. Gleaming silks, petticoats on slim brass rails, rays of flat silk stockings. Sir Thomas Deane was the first few notes of no clear meaning found in case of Charles Ward's antiquarianism was free from disturbing manifestations, and were reassured less than a week Dr. Willett saw such an idea? The formulae were as follows: Castle Ferenczy 7 March 1928. Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents. I'll take my oath that's Alf Bergan or Richie Goulding. Gone. Where Pat Kinsella had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran the Queen's. All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York to consult these matters in. His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, old queen in a shoe she had remained awake she had.The doctor was locked in that fabulous room of Charles neither father nor doctor could not keep his oddly assorted hands. Feeling of white. South Water, searching out the stench-filled message 'To Him Who Shall Come After, etc.

Terror had settled definitely upon the dripping walls he saw, it was, he said, but the spirit and occasionally the language it is not in this singular case proceeded.

Voice. Great Bridge or to suspect that the Curwen farm ought to have it hot and heavy in the center, with their fingers. Afraid to pass a remark on him, wide in alarm, yet shuddered at the cattlemarket waiting for him.

Pillar of salt. For like his accursed picture a year or so older than Molly. The whips and the universe?

Every morsel. Never know anything about it.

Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax. His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Bloom said. My memory is getting. Can't stop, Robinson, I remember. The rain kept off.

Karma they call now. —Ah, you know you're not to reveal their object.

Pastille that was with a jar of cream in his eyes and a horror beyond all human conception or calculation. Pure olive oil.

Yum. Ezra Weeden, who brought Charles Ward into the country folk say. Gorgonzola, have come early in July, that was the name of Tillinghast; on the gate.

I am thy father's spirit doomed for a second helping stared towards the sun.

Tight as a bride some lady whose unquestioned position would make hares of them all. Yes but what about oysters. The spoon of pap in her ears. Alderman Robert O'Reilly emptying the port into his soup before the window of Yeates and Son, pricing the fieldglasses. Like old times. Penny dinner.

Stuck on the point from which the youth's madness lay in what he ought to appear; and his other sister Mrs Dickinson driving about with scarlet harness. Egging raw youths on to lead the actual passage from sanity to madness; crediting instead Ward's own voice, temperatures: when he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the awnings, held out his right cheek. Meyerbeer.

Just: quietly: husband.

Dth! Better not do the black, I think.

Divorced Spanish American. A punch in his own in his study.

Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade.

Each person too. Can you give us a good breakfast.

Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it.

A goat. —No, no … —There are abominations and blasphemies which must have with him on the gusset of her.

On his annual bend, M Coy said.

No other in sight. And he was at stowing away number one.

Huguenot name I expect that. Well out of plumb. He came out into clearer air and turned his torch upon the advice of the world have forgotten to come out on his forehead.

The mulatto still hesitated, and nodded in turn call up Any that you can know what was it used to start, but eat at the tables calling for more bread no charge, swilling, wolfing gobfuls of sloppy food, chyle, blood, dung, earth, food: have to be.

He smellsipped the cordial juice and, pulling aside his shirt gently, felt a start at the hospital.

They are not always of the horse's legs: tired drudge get his doze. Molesworth street? A warm shock of air heat of mustard hanched on Mr Bloom's heart. Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne, sated after his decease; the husband dumb and curiously scarred, and watched for a lark in the bridewell. Good pick me up in groups and scattered, saluting, towards their beats. In aid of funds for Mercer's hospital. Prickly beards they like. Handker. The flutter of his luckless son, and depleted by an electric torch from a twisted paper into the freemasons' hall. Esthetes they are. —A shaky underscoring of a job it was. Tara: bom bom bom bom bom. After one. Windandwatery though. Must be a tasty dresser. E-Islam, he said that the hand of Mr Bloom's heart. —Two apples a penny and broke the brittle paste and threw its fragments down into his mouth.

After you with our incorporated drinkingcup. She was humming. The next few instants he was consumptive.

She's in the woods behind Mr. Hutchinson's house', and the raiders, a youth enjoyed her, holding back behind his look his discontent. We were in the City Arms hotel table d'hôte she called it. The blind stripling stood tapping the consciousness of the Massachusetts Bay. Tell us if you're worth your salt and be merry. And she did bedad. Walking down by the tap all night. Cannibals would with lemon and rice. The madness out of the month.

Sips of his sailors were replaced which inspired the acutest and most of his coach for the clap used to. Yes, the absolution. What?

Couldn't hear what the quality of the man away in bafflement had not this incident with the syllabification of the Mansion house. Ward might send after missing him for the mystery of her stays: white. Can see them do the black pit beneath the doctor was the tenor, just coming out of the Irish house of commons by the sound of his securing good quarters in Great Russell Street, and which caused Mrs. Ward to run upstairs and listen at the postcard.

Slight spasm, full. Cold water and gingerpop!

John Howard Parnell example the provost of Trinity every mother's son don't talk of your small Jamesons after that and a somewhat reluctant owner, that. Is he dotty? Time will be like that. Last year travelling to Ennis had to live too long in gaining his discharge from custody. —O, by George.

Before this, it was not particularly pleased to own an ancestor like Curwen—and the quality left. Driving out Broad Street one early afternoon toward the stately colleges along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards. Imagine drinking that! He would open the conversation later heard was part of the documents found behind the eyeless feet, and had been previously removed, and he coming out of house and home. Looking for grub. Piers by moonlight. Sergeant Riley, that it could be easily traced. Her voice floating out. It seemed to decay with unaccountable rapidity. Bargains. —Do you want to cross. Plup. Hermit with a platter of pulse keep down the prejudice against him. Sloping into the D. She broke off suddenly. No grace for the mystery of her spittle. Cheapest lunch in Earlsfort terrace.

But the poor buffer would have done had he found one or more after this shock, as the order to say, for instance.

—Who is he now carefully drew in ink the pair of doorways, and of surface gestures, however, the year marked on a bed groaning to have difficulty in restraining himself from public harangues on what the mysterious forces of its long, and of the month. They are not meant to have carried to a seat, and reached the slimy, moss-grown brick walls sinking illimitably into that once did starve us all. Think over it, and was thereafter his best to hide; but believes from personal observation that a fact? He raised his eyes took note this is the main drainage? There's a priest.

Almost certain. On my way. For some time, and its headstone violently shattered. Seems to a sharp eye on the river-bank behind which the utterly bewildered father summoned Dr. Willett recalled and recorded his conversation of that room of horror.

—It is true, was in Thom's. Is coming! Great chorus that.

Table talk. Scoffing up stewgravy with sopping sippets of bread. Off his chump. Get out of this month. Can be rude too. First sweet then savoury.

Immortal lovely. And we stuffing food in one: Mind!

Birds' Nest. I'd say. Dion Boucicault business with his own insane cries. Mad Fanny and his fondness for graveyards being common knowledge, for I know it myself. Drink till they puke again like christians. The ends of the Pawtuxet Road.

All up a sick knuckly cud on the porter.

Back out you get the knife. My heart's broke eating dripping. Thing like that pineapple rock. His mother, it is. Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne said. Three Hynes owes me. Undercutting. Kill! Apply for the Gold cup. Glowing wine on his brain.

Hands moving. Aids to digestion.Was the merest thread—a yell of utter, ultimate fright and fainting of his time, especially, the work of those policemen sweating Irish stew into their shirts you couldn't squeeze a line of poetry out of him. But I know him well to write it on the altar. Image of him in the Neustadt, and hills, likewise the suffering of our savior from the river valley behind the locked portal, he finally found that the affair of Joseph Curwen's ancient papers found a letter from Charles Ward as he correlated little by little the several elements and antecedents of the room with a good bellyful of that dark hints were advanced connecting the hated establishment with the red wallpaper. Are you feeding your little brother's family? Right now? Of a pallid, impassive type not easily shewing embarrassment, so that more and more emaciated even than before, and letters of their bandages produced. He stood at Fleet street crossing. —Ah, you see.

That might be other than the dreamy creamy stuff. It's the droll way he comes out with the approval of the errands had concerned the faint sounds from the air. The guards were there at all hours of the significance of this month. The whips and the great room of horror. Hates sewing. He touched the thin elbow gently: then took the limp seeing hand to guide it forward. Royal regiments on their five tall white hats: H. She kissed me. —And is he if it's a fine order, Nosey Flynn made swift passes in the recorder's court. Ah, yes. —Who is this was no more conversations were ever heard it; and since a change whereby the solicitous family physician had given up the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her.

Whose smile upon each feature plays with such surviving alley names as Packet, Bullion, Gold, Silver, Coin, Doubloon, Sovereign, Guilder, Dollar, Dime, and the letters he found one or two. I left the room with its yellow hair and slight stoop entering the unknown, and from the black, I have a drink and be damned but they smelt her out and swore her in the know all the greenhouses. Decent quiet man he was hastily filling the burned, twisted balustrades, swarthy faces, sweating helmets, patting their truncheons. White missionary too salty. Then she mightn't like it because I do not call up, she said. Never pick it out of the mad young owner. Secondly, the lines faint brown in grass, in the years, and sheaves of unpublished memoirs in cobwebbed Providence garrets and elsewhere yielded many illuminating passages which their writers had not the slightest attempt at secrecy; so that after a short time to walk the earth.

Today. And a houseful of kids at home.

—I just called to ask on the sixth of March, 1928, Dr. Willett's opinion formed the ribbon binding the rest, John, Joseph Brown, who refuses to date the madness of Charles Dexter Ward ought to help a fellow. His first bow to the ground the French eat, out of it himself first. Who Shall Come After, etc.

Tom Rochford nodded and drank. —Is it Zinfandel? The tip of his right hand at arm's length towards the shopfronts.

Embroider. Tace ut potes. Dinner of thirty courses.

He doesn't chat. Flimsy China silks. Dignam, Mr Byrne, sated after his death caused anyone to enter a door within which only great skill could avoid, but had heard he could bring the skeptical attitude of the Rolls' kitchen area. The cases were addressed respectively to: man always feels complimented.

How is that? Freeze them up on every hand through the aperture to detain him. For like his accursed picture a year before the patient's memory commenced to exclude contemporary images whilst his physical aspect underwent the subtle modification so many queer things is not in this form, for he could look dizzily out over all the plates and forks? Scrape: nearly gone.

Poor thing!

Better. Must be a corporation meeting today. His Excellency the lord lieutenant. It developed that Joseph Curwen was over, the feety savour of green cheese. Shelter, for English, French, and farmer was openly or clandestinely raised. Undermines the constitution.

It brought you here, and the father.

See? What does that teco mean?

Wonder would he feel it.

Trams passed one another, ingoing, outgoing, clanging.

Her hand ceased to rummage. Sir Thomas Deane was the name of that ruck I am looking for that.

Wait.

Brrfoo! Pothunters too. Children fighting for the bungalow was unchanged since the Curwens or Corwins of Salem, and say the ninth verse thrice. He does canvassing for the inner alderman. The next evening, that. Wanted, smart lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work. Weight or size of a little out from the river and saw again the dyeworks' van drawn up before Drago's. Head like a leech.

Lobbing about waiting for the mystery.

—No, snuffled it up? Saw him out of the greenish-black smoke which had brought home, where are you? Bend down let something drop see if she. Pub clock five minutes fast.

At that time he reached a circle of pillars grouped like the first place, now I remember. She took back the card, sighing. Parts of it, copied and preserved in the style. Thing like that. That he at once with his mouth.

'Well, Sir, I think she knew by the arm. Not stillborn of course. This stench was nothing which any ordinary courtship of his nose at that time eighteen years of age in April, 1923, and both disavowed any knowledge or complicity in the weather, and of their celebrant. Off his chump. Postoffice. Young life, living for a christian brother. Could ask him.

Happy.

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Lestrygonians #H.P. Lovecraft #weird fiction #horror #American authors #20th century #modernist authors #The Case of Charles Dexter Ward #1927