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sonichkkaaascreams · 3 years

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Mountain with a flower crown

As inspired by a post made by @bleachhaven I made a bleach OC. I am very proud of her. This post is her full bio as I laid the ground work of who she is and next post coming in sometime tomorrow or the day after will be a oneshot of this wonderful lady and her partner. Maybe even turn into something more.

The request and the head cannon it resulted were as followed:

Headcanon for Zaraki Kenpachi with a S/O that’s bigger than him (fluff and smut)

wordcount: 5816 ~

it’s a lpt so i hope you’re patient with me. i like going in depth with my OC’s but also this time i tried to keep her simple and leave some space for the oneshot to come. also i already apologize for any possible errors that i might have missed. my eyes are stinging at the time of posting this.

again special thanks to @bleachhaven and also a thank you to @shadowsnlace who also inspired me with their headcanons and i will be using tid bits from their combined effort (they worked seporatly.) in the oneshot of the same name as in the headline.

Verse: bleach manga – bleach anime property of Tite Kubo

Motto: Chop your own wood, it will warm you twice.

Name: Yasu (assertive child, ヤス) Yamase (Yama = mountain ,山 – se = back / spine / stature / ridge , 背 )

Reason or meaning of the name: she was a very large child since birth – and her last name was given because of her large stature that resembled a mountain in comparison to her peers and the fact that she carried the livelihood of an entire village on her back.

Nickname: 1. Ushi-oni (Ox/cow demon - 牛鬼)

2. Yama-0nna (mountain woman/ mountain lady)

Reason for nickname: 1. This nickname bears the weight of an insult and is what she is called by those who have crossed her path and met her as an enemy. They call her that to convey how beastly large and powerful she is and by the extent how unbothered by their attacks she was.

2. This endearing nickname is given to her by the new children of her village. They call her that because she is very large, like a mountain, and also because she has the word mountain in her last name.

Birth date: Oct 1st

Her birth: she was born on the first day of autumn, around 2 A.M (the hour is known as the ox hour) it was a quiet and peaceful night with the owls hooting as the only noise outside.

Place of birth: a small secluded beachside village named “Momo Niwa” (peach, garden/field - 桃,庭) located in district 35 of east Rukongai

Species: soul

Occupation: formerly the hunter, farmer gardener, shepherd, fisherwoman, and the primary breadwinner of her village

Later on: Shinigami (soul reaper)

Age: 556 years old

How old does the OC appear: mid to late twenties (maybe late twenties to early thirties if you account for some significant facial features)

Weight: 363.4 lbs = 164.83 kg

Height: 8’8 = 264.16 cm

Body build: she is 363.4 lbs of pure muscle accumulated by eating a bear (or 3 entier boars down to the bone) a day and shaped with everyday hard labor since she was old enough to have a grip on a tool. She is bulky and strong, able to wrestle with a grown male bear easily, carry multiple three trunks on her back, and if needed pull a tree out of the ground. She is perhaps the single largest soul living in soul society.

The shape of her face: her face is not very feminine, she has a sharp jawline and strong chin. High cheekbones and gentle brows. Her nose while proportionate has been broken twice. The skin of her face while still soft has been wiped with direct sunlight for long periods of time. Her lips are thick and plump with a downward curve that makes her seem constantly annoyed. A small horizontal scar on her right cheek from where she was attacked by an angry wild cat as an inexperienced hunter. A scar on her upper left forehead near her hairline from when she fell off a three as a child (there is a very small bald spot there due to the scar tissue) and a thick but short diagonal scar under the right corner of her lip leaving it slightly misshapen.

Eye color: light gray – almost white if looked at from afar.

Eyesight: exceptional

Skin tone: as a child, she had fine pale skin, but as the years went by and time spent on the field or the beach her skin changed, and now it’s rough, leathery, and tanned – however, some parts of her body that have never been under the direct sunlight are still moonlight pale.

Distinguishing marks: the scars on her face. Her physique. Scaring around her feet and hands due to hard labor and occasional fights.

Predominant features: the sheer size and height of this woman.

Hair color: a dark reddish-brown with a few gray streaks amidst them. The gray parts make her seem older than she is.

Hair type: wavy, wild, and unkempt. She rarely has enough time or patience to properly care for them.

Hairstyle: the majority of her hair is usually either in a high ponytail or a bun to keep out of her face with a simple old blue ribbon that’s almost ragged by this point due to extensive use. The gray streaks are kept in small braids decorated with beads, feathers, and animal teeth or bones. (insisted by her village elders as hair decoration speaks of position in her village)

Voice: surprisingly has a soft and gentle voice that seems unusual for her throat. Make no mistake she is not quiet nor meek. She has loud booming laughter that is guaranteed to shake the house and her voice can easily be heard over others in a loud crowded room. But her speech pattern is gentle, polite, soft-spoken, and calming. She speaks with a reassuring sense of confidence that will make everyone listen and heed her words.

Overall attractiveness: she is not considered conventionally beautiful nor attractive; especially by feminine standards. She is simply too large, too tall, and too muscular to be the image of the traditionally graceful innocent flower petal that women are perceived as. Instead, she is considered rather handsome. In a manly, reliable kind of way that makes a woman to be attracted to her more than men. As most men don’t like courting girls that tower over them both figuratively and literally.

Physical disabilities: due to her height and weight, her knees and ankles are prone to joint pain and are in need of getting an ointment and herbal massage every once in a while. She may be very strong but the same muscles that made her so, also take away from her speed and she usually is more of a slow and steady kind of worker than the speedy type. She also used to have a difficulty in controlling her strength and had very loud and heavy steps and as a hunter that was a disadvantage. She has long since corrected her steps and is now as quiet as a wild cat while hunting and is quite good with her hands now but she is still rather slow.

The usual fashion of dress: as a child, she would wear normal clothing but as she continued to grow at an abnormal rate her clothes began to consist of multiple Yukatas and Kimonos sewn poorly together to make one dress that is big enough for her to wear comfortable and decently.

Favorite outfit: an utilitarian Yukata that is made of multiple dark-colored and green-colored fabrics that she uses for hunting and a winter coat made of only white rabbit skin.

Jewelry or accessories: No earrings, necklaces, or rings only hair decorations made of seashells, feathers, carved bones, and teeth.

Personality: Hardworking, steel true, and blade straight, Yasu is the primary breadwinner of her small village and responsible for the care of many elders, pregnant women, and many children along with many injured and otherwise incapacitated souls. She not only hunts, fishes works on fields, collects herbs, fixe tools, and homes, and guards the village against potential harm, but also she teaches everything she was taught and learned herself to the next generation ensuring the survival of her small village. She is primarily a noncombatant as her imposing sight alone wards off any potential threats and due to her size and strength she rarely needs to exert herself and to this day she has not been physically challenged (not since the first time she wrestled a bear as a child, but then she was mostly unprepared than weaker. Ps. She cried when she accidentally killed it, stopped crying when she realized how tasty the bear is.).

Unless necessary she rather not partake in violence, as a hunter she was thought that a kill must be clear and clean sparing the pray from unneeded misery and pain. If forced, however she is not a pushover, and while still does not partake in needless violence will effectively and immediately remove the assailant from her and her associates' vicinity by picking them up and throwing them away over her head.

She grew up in a village that predominantly had many fragile and weak people and thus not only she gained mastery over her strength but also was raised with the duty of the caretaker. She may have been one of the younger children of her village at the time, but since she was the largest and strongest many of the manual labor was placed on her shoulders and so she grew to have a habit of being everyone’s mother, to care for their well-being, eating habits, if their sleeping well, fixing their clothes if it’s untidy and even bathing them. (She was strong enough to safely carry the pregnant women to the bath, wash them safely and carry them back with no problem, or help those that had injured arms or legs in bathing)

She is, as formerly mentioned, very soft-spoken and quiet and never feels the need to yell or raise her voice as her sight alone demands unwavering attention. She is well respected as the breadwinner of an entire village as is dutiful to be deserving of that respect. She rises early morning before the birds – the elders' joke that she wakes up the sun every morning ) and goes to bed later than everyone on the nights that she doesn’t stand guard all night (again the elders' joke that she either stays up to make sure all the stars are accounted for or that she keeps guard of the moon as well.)

She knows there’s a time and a place for everything, a time to be respectful, a time to be playful, and a time to be forceful. She put her duty as the caretaker above all else.

She hates it when people think she’s older than she is because of her hair and battered face.

She holds on to a very old superstition that drinking boar blood mixed with milk makes children grow to be strong, completely ignoring the parts that the superstition is about “sons” and not daughters and that she is not a “CHILD” anymore.

She may act humbly, but secretly she loves how large she is. The only time she ever hated her height is when she entered Shino Academy and all the doorframes were too short for her and her dorm room was ridiculously small for her built. And for that, she prefers to sleep on the rooftop.

She genuinely enjoys hard labor and will always offer to carry items for others and if she senses that someone is getting tired she will carry them on her shoulder With delight.

While she is a well-spoken person, if she meets someone she is annoyed with or particularly have done something to warrant her contempt towards them, she starts calling them a very specific insult she never normally uses and only reserves for those she dislikes. “Puny/tiny man” for the men and “ladybug” or “little caterpillar” for the woman. (Ex: *smiling politely* be careful little ladybug/puny man, it would be a shame if I accidentally stepped on you. – She has only ever used this insult twice to this day) and on the other hand, she particularly likes someone, she will make them flower crowns and jewelry made of bones and teeth of animals if they are girls (or they like jewelry) and make hand-carved hunting knives and fur coats for the men.

She prefers to bathe in a cold lake as oppose to use warm water or use an Onsen.

When she finally partakes in combat, she is without a doubt both an unmovable object and an unstoppable force. she prefers to detain her opponents with Kido or Hakudo and if forced break their bones with the hilt or the dull side of her sword and avoid having to cut them down. (She says: a blade is for slaying and not for playing.) if due to specific circumstances; she were to aim for her opponent's death, they will die as quickly and painlessly as possible within a day – if the numbers are high – she makes it seem as if her opponents are mere animals that she needs to put out of misery as quickly as possible and not prolong their suffering. (on one specific occasion where she was disarmed, she held her opponent in a tight hug and crushed his entire spine and rib cage, killing him. – She was miserable and depressed for days afterward, and proceeded to dig an honorable grave for the man.)

Moral: she is dutiful and puts it above all else. When she mush kills, she will make it as fast and painless as possible. And only when it’s necessary. She rarely becomes physical with anyone. she believes she’s stronger than anyone she knows and doesn’t see the need to assert herself in such away.

Self-control: fairly high. She is a very disciplined individual both physically and mentally.

Motivation: the satisfaction of achievement through hard work. By the sweat of her brow and the strength of her mountain-like back.

Discouragement: realizing her size may prevent her from perfecting an action. Or realizing she may have to resort to violence.

Intelligence level: she may not be the most intelligent, but she is wise for her age and has great life experience. Her intuition and deduction skills have saved her from many sticky situations.

Confidence level: she is not arrogant or boastful but she is without a doubt very confident and assured of her capabilities. Of her strength, skills, and intuition. As well as the leadership skills that she acquired through the years.

Mood the OC is in most often: peaceful and relaxed yet focused on the task at hand.

Sense of humor: she has heard every tall joke and buff girl joke there is and is bored of hearing them but she will use at least 1 a day. Lesbian and butch jokes annoy her. She has heard every crude joke an individual can think of. Personally, associates with dark humor. Will hopelessly laugh at shitty puns.

The greatest joy in life: once in her life she had nothing to do so she sat by the beach and laid on the sand listening to the sound of the waves and allowed the children to braid her hair with flowers and colorful ribbons, and that is the greatest feeling she ever had.

Greatest fear – why: to grow old and die in the same village she was born into without ever leaving it. While she is grateful to the people who raised her she doesn’t want her life to have begun and ended in a secluded village by the beach without ever having seen much beyond the woods and the shore.

What would throw the OC’s life in turmoil: the times where she had to kill, especially if the death was A) unintentional due to her uncontrolled strength as a youth and B) done with inappropriate weaponry that caused a slow death and prolonged suffering.

Most at ease when: surrounded by children or people that are younger than her. When surrounded by loved ones. When hearing the sound of running water that reminds her of the shore she grew up in.

Enraged when: insulted, annoyed for too long regarding petty things, teased for her graying hair or size for too long, if someone decides to attack someone smaller and weaker

Trauma: this goes back to when she was a very young child. At the tender age of seven, when she was all but a doe-eyed child, she would eat as much as 3 times a grown man – by that time she was about as tall as a teen – so it’s understandable that on a specially cold winter the village became short on rations. Instead of telling the child to eat less, the villagers lessened their rations for the children and Yasu. For that reason that winter 5 of the older and weaker villagers passed away. Yasu was not told this until she was a good 200 years old, and when she realized this is the reason why her “Yuudai sofu” (grandfather Yuudai) passed away. she was traumatized to a point of losing her appetite and starving herself for the next two years that she grieved. then she returned, vowed she would repay her family every grain of rice a thousand fold and every drop of milk ten thousand.

Prejudice: a general disdain for those who are physically capable but refuse to “cut their own wood” or “pull their weight”. She came from a village where it was an unspoken rule that the youth – and generally those who are capable – must look after those who cannot do so/ the old. and also a disdain for those who take the hard work of others for granted.

Favorite activity – hobby: when she doesn’t have anything particular to do she likes to sit down under a tree and either carve wood and bones into hunting knives or make flower crowns.

How does the OC feel about herself: she is comfortable in her own skin. Never really thinks about her appearance nor does she compare herself to others. She is content with who she is and the work she does.

One word to describe herself: reliable

One paragraph of how would she describe herself: “I think I’m reliable. I would like to think that I am. It’s my duty as the capable one to look after the others. I do enjoy working, I never seem to be able to sit down idly. Makes me fidgety. (Chuckles.) By the way, you seem tired! Need me to carry you? (Bends down) come now don’t be shy the weather is nice up here!” (Points at her shoulders making a tall joke)

Her best and worst personality trait is based on herself: “Oooooh, I’m not sure. I think my best trait is that, well, I’m reliable. And very sturdy. (Laughs.) my worst trait? I don’t know. I work too hard? Don’t take as many breaks as I should? I feel like I’m bragging.”

Her best and the worst physical trait is based on herself: “Hmmm. I never thought about that. I guess I do like that I’m tall and strong. I can take care of everyone like that. Reach the high shelves for them and pick them up when they're tired. I guess I don’t like my graying streaks? Makes people think I’m older than I actually am. “

How others perceive her: Villiger child said. ”Yama-Onna- san is the best! She picks us up and swings us around and around until we get dizzy and then she brings us fresh peaches every afternoon. She saved Aki-chan from a mean boar once. We love Yama-Onna- san sooo very much.”

Villager woman: “Aah, yes. I do know Yasu- chan. She is wonderful. A dutiful, wonderful, kind person. I remember when I was with child and couldn’t walk. She would always pick me up so gently and take me to bathe and take very good care of me. Not to mention she'd always make special rabbit soup for me to make sure I was well fed. She fixed my room when it was broken too. Such a handy girl she is. If only she were a man, I think I wouldn't mind a husband like her.” (she laughs as a man’s grumble comes from inside her home.)

The opinion of other people in general: “seeing her for the first time she may look frightening and imposing but in truth, she has the gentle heart of a bunny. Give her a chance to show you who she is rather than what she looks like. She may look like an imposing beast; but she’s about as harmless as a sweet little chipmunk. “

Does she hide her (true) opinion on other people: not particularly. Even when speaking the truth she will make sure to phrase it politely and gently.

The person she hates the most: lazy people in general – or that least lazy people who are ungrateful

Best friends: Hinamori Momo, Kotetsu Isane, Ise Nanao

Persons she avoids: Kurotsuchi Mayuri, Soi Feng

Person, she feels awkward with: Hitsugaya Toshiro (so small), Hirako Shinji (that weird smile), Soi Feng (so loud for someone so small)

The person she openly or secretly admires: Zaraki Kenpachi (he is up to my chest, very tall), Ise Nanao, Kuchiki Rukia

How she thinks others perceive her: Ushi-oni, imposing and scary (which makes her a bit sad)

One thing she would change about herself: the gray hair, maybe make herself a little shorter – just a little – enough that her head wouldn’t hit the door frames all the time.

Her main logic of the world: Chop your own wood, it will warm you twice.

You can either dream or work to achieve that dream.

You won't always be motivated, you must learn to be disciplined.

By the sweat of your brow and the strength of your back, and the blood in your veins. Anything can be achieved.

When there’s a will there’s a way.

Depressed or sad when: she does something she deems cruel. doesn’t have anything to do. Her friend is in the middle of something she can’t help them with. When away from Kenpachi for too long. Sometimes she misses her mothers, father figures and her village.

Priorities: duty first. And not just work duty. Her duty to herself. Her duty to her romantic partner/ spouse. Her duty to her friend. Her duty to nature, her duty to her conscious. Her duty to her mothers.

Life philosophy: hard work pays off. Always. Not always in the ways, we want or we think we want. But always pays off in some way.

Soft spot – is it obvious or not: she has a giant soft spot for children and people who are physically very small even by normal standards. (namely, Hinamori Momo. Hitsugaya Toshiro, Kuchiki Rukia) – it couldn’t be any more obvious – she makes them flower crowns every day without fail)

Greatest strength: other than her bulging biceps? Her great leadership skills and hard-working nature.

Vulnerability or weakness: deep down she does feel weird and vulnerable about her size, after all, she is still a girl, and about the time she was 150 or so she was deeply sensitive when a guy would call her Ushi-Oni. Just because she was taller than everyone else. Although now she knows logically she shouldn't feel bad about herself and her appearance there are still times she feels embarrassed when she knows she can’t wear a beautiful Kimono because A) they don’t have it in her size and B) she realizes it wouldn’t be good on her as it would on someone like Ise Nanao or Kuchiki Rukia

Biggest regret: accidentally killing that bear, not realizing her eating habits were putting a strain on the village sooner

Minor regret: not learning feminine skills (sewing, tea etiquette, etc.)

Biggest accomplishment: becoming a Shinigami

Other accomplishments: mastering the sword, archery, trapping, fishing, tracking, and finding her way based on stars – making a full garden of peaches from only 3 peaches she bought – building a small fishing boat (albeit a flimsy one) – raising the number of the village livestock exponentially.

Past failures: she failed many times in almost everything she started. It’s not important how many times she failed in what, what’s important is that she is now more skilled than the average souls and Shinigami.

Embarrassing moments: her first 3 weeks at Shino Academy they didn't have a uniform her size so until they make one her size she was heavily underdressed. (the pants were only to her knees and the upper half was more like a tight short-sleeved vest. She preferred to wear her usual clothes but wasn’t allowed to. The moment Captain Hitsugaya who had come to the Academy on work-related matters saw her state of indecency he threw a fit and demanded appropriate clothing for a lady. – Yasu wanted to die at that moment.)

Darkest secret: she secretly, very deep down, is annoyed that no one else is half as strong as she is. And wishes there was someone she could find that she didn’t have to hold back for.) (*wink wink* foreshadowing *wink wink*)

Skills: life skills: 1. wielding a club

2. archery

3. trapping

4. pathfinding using stars

5. fishing

�� 6. trapping and hunting and skinning animals

7. wood carving, bone carving, and tool building in general

8. cooking

9. farming, gardening

Incompetence: 1. Sewing

2. tea brewing

3. anything to do with speed or agility

4. patience in anything other than hunting

5. strategizing in anything other than hunting

Strength – talent – powers: Shinigami based: 1. professional Zanjutsu

2. advanced levels of Kido

3. unrivaled Hakudo

4. passable Hoho

Habits: 1. she stubbornly sticks to the superstition of drinking mill mixed with boar blood is good for health and strength. (even though the superstition says it’s good for little boys to grow strong and healthy and she is neither a boy nor a child.)

2. She prefers to take cold bathes even in midwinter.

3. Sleeping outside – unless provided with a big enough room.

4. Braiding her hair and making flower crowns when she is bored or nervous.

The organization involved: Gotei 13, Squad 10. (as the third seat officer)

Income: standard seated officer Shinigami income + overtime

Job satisfaction: doing all the paperwork as fast as possible (even those that aren’t hers… LOOKING AT YOU MATSUMOTO RANGIKU)

Health: as is expected of someone her size she is very healthy seldom gets sick. Her knees and ankles need a herbal and ointment massage now and then due to the pressure of caring for her weight.

Childhood life: on a particularly warm summer evening a woman by the name of “Hatsume” comes across this small village begging for a small room so she can have her child in peace. The villagers of course all this and the woman spends the next two months peacefully waiting for her child. The villagers assumed she must have multiple sons as her belly was greatly swollen but by the time the child was born, it was revealed that “Hatsume” was right and she only had one child. One little girl.

Actually no, she had one big girl. A girl so big, that she broke her mother’s hips as she was coming out resulting in the death of her mother. Originally the midwife –“ Obba-chan Harumi” – deemed it a bad omen and wanted to drown the child but was convinced otherwise by the rest of the women. Thus the newborn was given to “Riko” another woman who had recently lost her weak child due to heatwave. She named the child “Yasu “ and accepted her as her own child and fed her until she no longer could.

Apparently “Yasu” was a very hungry child and drank her mother dry within a few months, and so she was given to another woman named “Natsuko” who also raised her as her own alongside her son named “Tadashi”. And so, until Yasu-chan was old enough to eat solid food she was cared for by the collective effort of 10 women. (Riko-san, Natsuko-san, Haruko-san, Kaede-san, Usagiko-san, Amaya- san, Yuria-san, Ikuko-san, Minako-san, Sakue-san) and as a child, she grew to eat 3 times a grown man and as an adult, she eats 9 times the average man as a moderate ratio (she can eat more)

Best memories: 1. sitting by the ocean with her 10 mothers and their other children making flower crowns and listening to the sound of waves.

2. Learning how to carve knives and sitting next to her “Yuudai-gi” and making hunting knives.

Worst memories: 1. sitting at the grave of “Yuudai-gi” now knowing why he died

2. Barring her mother “Kaede-san” after she fell ill

Alignment: bounces between lawful chaotic and chaotic lawful – sometimes lawful neutral

Short-term goal: accomplish daily duties to the best of her abilities.

Long term goal: live her life to the fullest and learn to relax and have fun without worrying

The most defining moment in her life: deciding she’s prepared the kids of her village enough and leaving them to become a Shinigami.

Type of childhood: certainly eventful, but all in all nurturing

First memory: her first and oldest childhood memory is being surrounded by many women cooing at her (her motherers) and one in particular saying something about giving her boar blood with milk.

Most important childhood memory: her first successful hunt, an old limping stag.

Childhood hero: Yuudai-gi

Education: thought by the rest of the villagers. Mostly focused on practical information – learned how to write and read when she had nothing better to do by her mothers.

Family: mothers: Riko-san, Natsuko-san, Haruko-san, Kaede-san, Usagiko-san, Amaya- san, Yuria-san, Ikuko-san, Minako-san, Sakue-san

Father figure: Yuudai-gi, Kaoru-gi, Manzo-san, Ikemoto-san, Gihei-gi, Sotaro-san

Siblings: Tadashi-kun, Ekiken-kun, Toyozo-kun, kenji-kun, Hachigoro-kun, shigeru-kun, Akeno-chan, Euki-chan ,Mizuki-chan, Mami-chan, Romi-chan, Shizue-chan, Chieko-chan, Asaji-chan, Ochiyo- chan

+the rest of the village.

Relationship with parents: she was well-loved by all of her mothers.

Relationship with siblings: there were arguments as children and there were teasings as children but the older they got the better their relationship became and with her size she became everyone's protector and the helping hand of her mothers.

Spouse – lover – the person of interest: Zaraki Kenpachi, the second Kenpachi and the 11th captain of squad 11 of Gotei 13.

Children: none

Relationship with children: very well.

Other important family members: (her father may or may not have been a member of a branch family sworn to the Kuchiki clan but Hatsume never confirmed anything and died before revealing anything about the father of the child.) later on Yasu says she has no interest of ever finding her father since she already has 6 father figures and an entire village as family.

Favorites

-color: light ocean blue

-music: the sound of waves – the sound of branches moving in the wind – the sound of owls Hooting at night.

-food: Bear, boar, shrimps

-literature: she doesn't read much. The Academy textbooks are the closest she got to literature. That being said the book of Seireite Laws is her somewhat favorite.

-form of entertainment: making flower crowns, carving knives, going to the woods to watch the wildlife as they are, watch Kenpachi fight, watch captain Hitsugaya yell at Rangiku.

-expression: 1. You won't always be motivated, you must learn to be disciplined.

2. Chop your own wood, it will warm you twice.

-most prized possession: 1. her ragged old ribbon she uses to tie her hair up.

2. Her hair decorations.

3. The old hunting knife made of bear bone that once belonged to her Yuudai-gi

-weapon: old hunting knife that belonged to Yuudai-gi,

Her Zanpakuto (it’s her first and only appropriate and professionally made weapon)

-pastime: watching Kenpachi fight as she makes flower crowns or carves knives.

Poetry describing – quote describing: “she may not have been the innocent cherry blossom, nor the alluring lotus. She may not have been the moon goddess nor the lady sun. she may not have been the enchanting vixen nor the oblivious doe. She may not have been gentle river nor the cherishing wind. She may not have been a princess nor a noble jewel.

Instead, she was unconventionally alluring. She was the reliable oak and the sturdy pine tree. She is the north star guiding travelers home and the early morning twilight, the very beginning of a gentle, warm touch waking you up. She is the dangerously alluring owl and the coyote that mates for life. She is the iron shield you carry to war and the rock you lean on. She’s the hard-working peasant girl in the rice field and The silver O-Choko cup, the only thing the beggar refuses to sell.”

Playlist:

I have a dream – Abba

“I have a dream, a song to sing

To help me cope with anything

If you see the wonder of a fairy tale

You can take the future even if you fail

I believe in angels

Something good in everything I see

I believe in angels”

My same – Adele (Yasu and Kenpachi)

“I don't know who I'd be if I didn't know you

You're so provocative

I'm so conservative

You're so adventurous

I'm so very cautious

Combined you think we wouldn't and we do”

Into you – Ariana Grande

“So, baby, come light me up, and maybe I'll let you on it

A little bit dangerous, but, baby, that's how I want it

A little less conversation and a little more "touch my body"

'Cause I'm so into you, into you, into you

Got everyone watchin' us, so, baby, let's keep it secret

A little bit scandalous, but, baby, don't let them see it

A little less conversation and a little more "touch my body"

'Cause I'm so into you, into you, into you, oh yeah”

Are you ready – the Disturbed

“That's enough already now

You don't want to take it

All your reservations have been taken away

They've been taken away

So you think you're ready now

For the revolution

Yeah, they can't control you

Once you've broken away

You've got to get them out of your mind

When they stand before you they will find

A force they aren't ready for

***

Are you ready?

They aren't ready for you to be strong

Are you ready?

They aren't ready for you to prove them wrong

Are you ready?

They aren't ready for you to be turned into someone

Who cannot be preyed upon”

The greatest thing – Cher Lloyd, lady Gaga (Yasu and Kenpachi)

”I hope, that you can see,

you are the greatest thing to me.

And when, you' feeling like you're not enough.

I'll give you wings, i'll lift you up.

I hope, that you can see,

you are the greatest, greatest thing to me.”

Out of control – lady gaga (Yasu and Kenpachi)

“I need a love that's crazy don't you see?

***

“Give it up, Put it up, Not enough, Not enough, Not enough, I need it Out of control.

Give it up just let your body Out of control”

Rival – Ruelle

“The tide is high

It's sink or swim

My only rival is within

Giants calling round the bend

My only rival is within

I won't let my demons win

My only rival is within

I will fight through thick and thin

My only rival is within”

The one thing – Shakira (Yasu and Kenpachi)

“You are the one thing that I got right

It's a fickle world, yeah, it's a fickle world

You turn the darkness into sun light

I'm a lucky girl, yeah, I'm a lucky girl

And if I mess up everything someday

I would hide my head in shame

Cause you are the one thing that I got right”

aesthetic: (disclaimer: non of the photoes and art works used in the grid bellow are mine i acuired them from pinterest. i do not take credit for any of these pieces.)

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bonesock · 4 years

Text

warmth

- fandom: skyrim. - word count: 1.6k. - rating: teen. (tw vaguely suggestive themes / tooth-rotting fluff). - pairing: (established relationship) ondolemar / original female bosmer character. - summary: She’d left, and she’d taken the sun with her. Without her closeness, there would be no summer.

ao3 mirror here!

The chambers echoed with the gale of falling platters. Ondolemar startled awake and watched the scattering; beef tendons laid limp aside leeks and blushing eggplants and tomatoes bruised blue. The plate rolled and settled, and the floor dug its cold tendrils in his bare feet as he hovered the ground. Through the darkness and the rock, an unmistakable honey-colored reflex caught the air, and he recognized her presence through it alone. His muscles eased, and he relaxed into the bedside. “Must you scare me at every given opportunity?”

“It was an accident. I was trying to surprise you. Wouldn’t have happened if you’d just finish your food,” she taunted. A smile teased her lips, and she gathered the wayward food ‘til her arms grew heavy with meat and vegetables. “Your appetite’s leaving you.”

“Yes, well, pardon my fleeting hunger. I was far too concerned to eat.”

Dirt and smudged grime imprinted her clothes, and she languidly stripped to her smalls. All the while, Ondolemar watched her, eyes half-lidded and steady as she bared herself to naked flesh. Arya chortled, “Far too concerned, yeah? Sounds daft as anything. What’s concerning to you? The other elves been bullying you, yeah? Ah, look at that musty old fop. Can’t even grow a decent hairline, that one. It’s all a buncha pish. Altmer superiority, yeah? Pish as anything. What’s so superior about not having any hair?”

She stood barren, now, with her clothes abandoned to the floor. The strands of her braid were a loosened mess, and her smalls were ill-fitted to her shapely curves. Ondolemar outstretched his fingers, searching for her skin between his digits. Her warmth contrasted his chill, and the sensation sent shivers to her spine. She stationed between his legs, and his head fell to her chest as either arms snaked around her waist. When he spoke, his voice muffled into her skin.

The tips of Arya’s fingernails grazed his scalp. A faint laugh escaped her. “What was that?”

Ondolemar’s lids grew heavy. Tingles traced his neck. He keened into the embrace. His voice was an indolent excuse of breath. “That’s not what I was concerned about,” he groaned.

“Oh, yeah? It’s something I’d be concerned about.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” His slight fingers glided the small of her back. “Come to bed.”

“You’re already tired? It’s barely midnight. I thought you were the superior elf between us, yeah?”

“I am the superior elf. Come to bed,” he said, firmer this time. Without protest, she retreated into the sheets. The bed creaked beneath her weight. She decorated herself in lush fur blankets. The warmth of her skin radiated onto Ondolemar’s chest, and he felt as she tossed and shuffled in his embrace. His gangly limbs coiled about her body, fingers deft and slithered into her damp flesh, as if he were some feral animal, caught to his prey. In her absence, he’d rendered himself wintry and gluttonous. He searched tirelessly for any warmth to compare; he stood around crackling campfires and ran steaming baths ‘til memory served him well. He lurked his fingers above lit stoves, willed fiery magic to his sweating palms, charred and scolded and burned the remnants of their affairs ‘til he was dedicated to retention. In her absence, he homed himself in idle fantasy. Still, the comfort of idle fantasy would never grant satiation. It was the warmth of proximity he craved. Whenever she parted, such rang true: She’d left, and she’d taken the sun with her. Without her closeness, there would be no summer.

As Arya stilled in his arms, he exhaled a deep breath. Ondolemar’s lips brushed against her back. When he spoke, his voice steadied and quelled, and each syllable reverberated on her skin. “I was concerned about you.”

“Me, yeah?”

Ondolemar curled tighter around her body, holding her as a child holds his stuffed animal when he sleeps. Whatever refrain he’d once demonstrated had long since vacated. To imagine, how easily she unzipped his frantic skin—how effortlessly she beset his undoing. He sighed, “Yes, you. Insolent girl.”

“Insolent, yeah? That’s ‘cause I called you a musty old fop and insulted your hairline and all? I didn’t mean it, y’know—was just joshing, s’all, yeah? I mean, really, I was saying that those other elves might have one at you for it. But not me! I like your bald head. And I forgive you for being a musty old fop.”

“You’ve always been an insolent girl. Your insults only further prove my assertion.”

“Oh, yeah, and I’ve still got hair, yeah?”

Ondolemar’s gaunt fingers twined into her messy strands. His lips planted tender kisses to her nape, and she squirmed into his chest. The efforts were unconscious, as though his muscles repeated it with instinct. In his state of exhaustion, he hardly recognized his own actions. He’d focused himself on the graze of her skin, the feel of her caress. Desperation became him, and he imagined it, how many long and dreadful moons passed since he’d last discovered her embrace. How many ugly mornings had managed without her incessant sunlight, and how many dull nights were neglected of her hearty stupor.

Still, even in her presence, still he yearned.

He traced wet kisses atop her shoulders. “I really was concerned for you. Dawnstar’s riddled with intellectually depraved Nords. I’d rather you not take extended leaves to such a place.”

“Yeah? Well, you know, the Nords don’t treat me so bad. Plus I’m really into the cold. I sweat, you know? Real bad. You know this. You’ve seen it, yeah? But it’s cold in Dawnstar. Frigid as a whole bastard. I like that. Plus, you know, maybe the Nords don’t like you ‘cause you’re bald, yeah? Just like the elves don’t like you ‘cause you’re bald.”

“Which elves are you referring to, exactly?”

“The ones from my hypothetical earlier, yeah? Those ones.”

“Ah, of course.” He sprawled onto his back, his arm extended to hold the warm body clung to his side. She nuzzled into his shoulder. He felt her smile pressed to his skin. “The Nords dislike me because they’re inferior to me.”

“Oh, yeah, elven glory and all that, huh? Altmer superiority?”

“Yes, precisely.” His lips pursed. “I was being serious, Arya. I’d prefer if you didn’t go to such places.”

“Well, you can come with me next time, then, yeah? We can go around and spread those superior Altmer genes of yours.”

“Don’t jest. Those Nords don’t deserve my genes.”

She snickered, “Oh, yeah. The gene pool’s gotta keep pure, yeah? I swear, that’s about as daft as anything. Can’t be all purity-this, elven-glory-that, when you give your genes to a Bosmer. Like a rabbit, I swear you are. What will your Thalmor buddies say about you, then?”

“About me?”

“Yeah, when all your little nippers come out halflings?”

A smile crept onto Ondolemar’s lips, and he shielded himself in her shoulder blade to disguise this. “I wasn’t aware we planned to have children.”

“Well, no, but eventually, yeah? What else will we do to starve off the boredom?”

“Ah, of course. That’s what children do, naturally. Starve away boredom.”

Arya leaned her chest against his, their faces pressed cheek-to-cheek. She felt his breaths ghost her nose, and while astride in their closeness, she stole a few chaste kisses. “Well, yeah. You’ve seen a kid, yeah? Now, they’re daft as anything. Kinda cute though, yeah? All mushy. I thought you liked mushy? You like me, yeah? About as close as you can get.”

“I do like you, yes.”

“Yeah? Good, then. So you’ll like a kid too, then, yeah? ‘Cause I reckon we’d make a cute one. Mushiest little tyke, yeah?”

Ondolemar’s hands trailed the back of her exposed thighs. Goosebumps emerged in the places where his fingers graced. His lips brushed her forehead. “Indeed.”

“And, you know… I probably wouldn’t have a reason to go to Dawnstar all the time. I mean, not when I’m all heavy and all, yeah? That’d really be daft as anything. Nah, I’d have to stay in Markarth. I could probably make home here, yeah. Get a nice little place. I like stone just fine, really. I could make do here. So long as I have a superior elf to give me his superior genes, yeah?”

He stifled his laughter. “I see, I see. I suppose it’s something to consider.”

“Vlindrel Hall’s for sale, you know?”

“I did know, yes.”

“So we’ll buy it tomorrow then, yeah?”

“I said I’d consider it, dear.”

“Well, yeah. But what else are you gonna do? Buy a house without me? Give your superior Altmer genes to yourself? Pish. Daft as anything, you are.”

His lips trailed from her forehead to her eyelids, to her cheeks, to the soft curve of her jaw. It was an impossibility to force himself awake; his body had long subdued to exhaustion, and it was only by the sheer force of her bothersome will that he remained conscious. “There won’t be anything to consider if you don’t let me sleep, little dove.”

“Little dove, yeah? Gonna start calling you big pigeon. Real endearing, isn’t it, yeah? I’m a real romantic. Bard’s college gets you all romantic. Isn’t that right, big pigeon?”

“Do you ever sleep?”

“Ah, don’t tell me I’ve worn you out already, huh? Didn’t even do anything, neither. You really are a musty old fop.” Arya fell to her spot on the bed. “Alright, then. I’ll let you sleep. But you gotta consider it, yeah? I mean, really consider it.”

“I will consider it. Now, please. Let this old fop sleep.”

“Ah, okay. I love you, musty old fop—see, it’s musty old fop, yeah? Not old fop. Musty old fop.”

“Of course, dearest,” he sighed. “I love you too.”

“Even if I’m insolent?”

Ondolemar smile stretched ear-to-ear. He placed a final kiss on her nape. “Yes, even so.”

#ondolemar #skyrim #tes #tes v skyrim #the elder scrolls #the elder scrolls v: skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #ondolemar x oc #mine: all #mine: tesv #mine: writing #oc: arya #ship: arya x ondolemar #my favorite trope: character A is responsible and character B is SILLY

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nakanosorami · 5 years

Note

Opinions on the male characters of MGRP?

la pucelle:

he’s the character that caught my interest and made me watch the first episode of the anime back in 2016! anime-verse pucelle is very sweet, and i love how righteous and tender he is when it comes to snow. he was the perfect knight for her. i literally felt sick when clamberry killed him, and knowing how he suffered to protect snow hurts my heart.

the original pucelle, from unmarked and episodes, is also very cute. it’s really endearing that he wanted to talk about magical girls so much, he joined an online forum to talk about them! his worries are completely valid, too. society says that men/boys aren’t allowed to have “feminine” interests, and he was very worried that he would be labelled a pervert because of it. it’s a narrative that applies to real life stigma, and i liked how it was portrayed! and then the poor thing got mistaken for a girl online and he was too nervous to tell the other fans he was actually an eighth grader boy, lol. pucelle just wanted to talk about magical girls! but the bullying that could come from that unnerved him.

when he was being hit on by the neckbeard otaku in a knight’s day off, it was so sweet that he wasn’t disgusted by the fact it was a dude, and was just lamenting how terrible it is for girls to be harassed by men. a good boy.

now, uh… extra side story-verse pucelle is. very bad. i have an inkling that asari didn’t like pucelle’s popularity (he wanted to write about magical girls! not boys!) and he sort of took it out on pucelle’s character, thus rewriting him. suddenly pucelle was perverted all along? completely different than the pure-hearted boy we were introduced to. and he was worried about snow reading his inappropriate and sexually-charged thoughts about the other magical girls in town. i think everyone needs to be reminded that he fantasized about sister nana, a canonical lesbian in a gay relationship with another woman, being molested by a male demon. it was repulsive. that kind of content is inexcusable and a disservice to the his character.

it seems asari had enough though and decided to give pucelle his own ship to rival the ever popular pucelle/snow. lulapu was born! and he literally named it that himself. maruino loves lulapu/stella lulu and i bet she was over the moon.

stella lulu:

BABY BOY! lulu is my favorite f2p! from what little was translated of him, he’s a little rat but he’s also everything to me.

lulu’s design is absolutely adorable and i looove how he’s drawn like a little peanut in the manga. his pouty cheeks and stubby little arms… he really is just a baby. his design untransformed is also very pretty. i love feminine-presenting male characters! they’re some of my favorites, honestly, so i’m happy that mahoiku has one of its own.

i think one of my favorite things about him is that he’s surrounded by all of these gorgeous girls, but he’s totally not into any of them. he doesn’t fluster around them whatsoever (and he clearly doesn’t mind slaying them either, lol). when you’re a gay boy and you are out there living your best life. compared to la pucelle, who is masculine both as a human and as a knightly magical girl, having a fluffy cotton-candy feminine boy is a lovely change of pace.

i am really, really, really interested in magical boy’s elegy because i want to know his relationship with pucelle. he clearly got pucelle to blush in the illustration, and having a playful character interact with pucelle is so interesting. and apparently it was something because asari liked it so much he had maruino draw the two of them on the cover and coined the ship name “lulapu”.

listen, my rat boy deserved a boyfriend and he got one.

ninomiya-kun:

a sweet boy, but it would’ve been nice if he acknowledged chika and not pechka! i chuckle knowing pechka was fascinated with his bald head or whatever.

shou-kun:

in beyond the triangle, it’s heavily implied he has a crush on quake when she’s crossdressing as a man. infinitely hilarious because tempest has that massive crush on him, but he’s little gay boy number two. thanks, asari.

i like him. he’s sweet, and it’s kind of bizarre how he has more official art than dark cutie, a literal protag of ACES and QUEENS, lol.

fatol & hogelten:

they make me laugh because they were the perfect straight men to pukin’s… lesbian everything in general pukin’s case files. one was killed by her and the other was implied to have caused her to be jailed… still funny.

and i haven’t read breakdown yet! when i do, i can give my opinion on the men that appear in it. one thing’s for certain though, i don’t like touta.

#ask #Anonymous

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gg-astrology · 6 years

Text

BTS: Virgo Boys - Namjoon’s fondness for Jungkook

JK Birthday Project: Virgo Boys Masterlist

‘Joon has always been extremely fond of Kook’ is such a good point Kook -Joon anon made when they helped me formulate this post (thank u again! u honestly deserve so much credit for this series skdfjns)

‘how they show their emotions towards each other‘ It hits me so hard because (like you said) ‘It's kind of implied in how they talk to each other’ but it’s also such a contributing factor on their public relationship? See here for example;

You can just see the bald differences in Namjoon and Jungkook’s answer. From the most round-about, well spoken and eloquent way of stringing things together to JK’s stark, to the point, very literal translation of the BTS logo.

You can easily see Namjoon and the boys cracking up laughing and appreciating JK so much for his endearing trait. His visual answer here is from his Virgo Sun/Mercury combo. Relying on his senses to make rational/logical observation for an answer.

JK’s actually pretty 4D/creative, in a way that visual artists describe and analyze their work/process? That’s just the way Kook thinks. It’s how he forms his opinions, works through things and projects it outward. He doesn’t even try to be 4D, nor is he aware of how out-of-touch he is. This is just the most perfect/precise way he can summarize and pin-point his feelings/opinions and put it out there externally (Virgo Mercury).

Once he said the answer, he probably got really embarrassed when he suddenly realizes there’s an audience that might not understand him completely. His external atmosphere and how everyone else answered is different, it’s almost like he went on a different flow than what everybody else did, and he’s quite shy/awkward/embarrassed about it too (but not to the extent where he’s reprimanded for it).

Virgo’s self-decrepitation doesn’t manifest from like, lack of confidence or general predisposition to it. It’s usually a sudden awareness that there are other people out there, certain standards they have to upkeep, a society they have to serve/attend to. And then that’s where all the pressure starts.

Their sense of self suffers when they let it oxidizes in the external environment.

Earth signs are always aware of their environment, it’s also a part of why they have so much problem with repression or keeping it contained within themselves. Which is?? a bad habit they have to break because it’s similar to how cancer and leo hide into themselves as well).

They don’t have a problem with themselves personally/the way they do things, they only have a problem with it once they let it out into the world and start comparing themselves to everyone else around them (subconsciously sometimes)-- make sure to check yourself for that.

Sometimes the ‘world’ or external environment here is more like a blurred lines and feelings all tangled together, it’s like Earth signs see visually the things Pisces feel about the transcendental atmosphere. The way the earth signs tackle things is by making criteria, setting up plans, set-list, steps to do etc. Pisces and other signs have a much easier time just grooving in through the cracks or tackling it with other methods.

But back to the point, Jungkook here is so honest and very refreshing answer. Namjoon’s Sagittarius Moon is so so fond of the unexpected and this sense of ‘refreshment honesty’ Jungkook exudes from himself.

On the other hand, his Virgo Sun appreciates and realizes the same similarities within himself and Jungkook, without this Sagittarius Moon being totally enamoured and endured, it would’ve just been more of an acknowledgement of their difference and moving on. But I’m glad they have this extra oof to their relationship.

Besides of his Sagittarius Moon, he’s also -- so appreciative of Jungkook’s honesty because of Namjoon’s Scorpio Venus. Understand that liking something for a sustainable amount of time relies on Venus as well as the Moon (and Mercury for long-term commitment).

Scorpio Venus has a hard time with people because they’re constantly like, delving right into the middle of other’s intentions (whether they realize this or not) and suckling out the motives and true ‘person’ behind said word each and every time they find something fascinating.

It keeps them sharp but also wary, like a defensive mechanism to not let themselves be persuaded by those who can be kind of shifty/misty and can’t be pin point. So Namjoon here is essentially like a rogue vampire who’s first impulse is to snap his teeth into Jungkook’s neck (whether he likes to or not) and try to figure out whether or not the statement was made to:

1) appear funny

2) ulterior motives

3) tricks or mistranslation or whatever.

But Jungkook’s Virgo-Virgo combo (Sun-Mercury) is so fucking precious and honest that it just-- comes through entirely clean on his end. That’s what makes Namjoon so fucking endeared by JK.

But it’s also a sense of ?? being mystified by JK’s answer just from how intriguing he is as well y know (Scorpio Venus loves that).

JK has that inner depth that Namjoon wants to explore (because it’s so different from him) and he knows that JK actually put a lot of thoughts and hard work into coming up with those answers (Virgo Mercury always does, they turn complexity into simplicity and if you care to ask them you’ll find yourself endlessly fascinated by their work process because they’re so...so understated yet so developed.)

JK on the other hand, is just so fucking endeared through his Libra Venus to Namjoon’s eloquent Libra Mercury speech like. When Venus-Mercury connects or work well with each other (not necessarily in every signs/placements) there’s one of the strongest bonds between people out there.

This is someone he knows he can rely on long-term because the way he speaks, talks, express himself and come across otherwise is just something JK naturally feels like, he has the potential to appreciate and love and grow into as well.

Venus-Mercury aspect is so important in relationships between people it’s usually understated underneath the emotionally intense Venus-Moon or Venus-Mars. But personally Venus-Mercury is so so valuable to finding out how two people can honestly trust and build a solid and loving/healthy foundation between each other this way as well.

It also does help that Namjoon appreciates and understand Jungkook’s Virgo Mercury/Sun. So from JK’s end it’s probably like ‘???? he likes me??? my bland ass??’ because Virgo Mercury are Kinda Like That towards themselves all the time. And Namjoon’s just like ‘yes. This is the boy. he has Strength and Power and Depth. But most of all he’s Honest and Earnest. I love him.’

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tatooedlaura-blog · 6 years

Text

On the Beach

the series read as follows:

Superman … Monday … Cheezy Pouffs … Bacon … Stumbling … Trail Mix … Punch … Friday … Preparation … Uncle Mudler … Normal … Backseat … Mudler-sense … The FBI … Unthinkable … Patience … Elephant Jokes … Cooking … Rickety Tables … Mr. Skimmer … Bert and Ernie … Midnight Confessions … The Moon … Bright Sunshine … Graying Skies … Darkened Night … Possibilities … A Thing with You … Humming and Thrumming … Warped Cosmology … The Madness of Punch … Advice … Nerves … Restless… Limits … Birthdays ... Please

@today-in-fic

____________

Mulder desperately wanted to tell Scully to lay down every chance he could, take the elevator, put her feet up, don’t jiggle their potential child.

She finally yelled at him for his hovering in a loving manner and he told her what was on his mind in a sheepish manner and she smiled in an amused manner and kissed his face, “I’m debating sitting upside down on the couch and not moving for the next two weeks so I understand completely.”

He kissed her face back.

&&&&&&&&&&

Just when she’d get used to the idea of what might be percolating inside her insides, she’d catch Mulder staring at her, look falling somewhere between sappish romantic and panicking deer in headlights. He’d notice her noticing and attempt in a failing way to look like he was sorting paperwork or signing something or sharpening a pencil, but as with all Mulder fumbling, he’d crash and burn, ending up with a grin the size of the room and twinkling eyes dropping back to her stomach region, hoping his x-ray vision would finally kick in.

They got nothing done that day or the next until finally Scully gave up, “hey, you want to get out of here?”

Mulder flopped back in his chair, sending himself several feet back on rolling wheels, “holy hell, yes. Where are we going?”

“I was thinking the beach.”

And the stars aligned and the world stopped and Mulder’s insides jumped at the prospect of the perfect surprise, “I have an idea then.”

In the car and heading southeast an hour and twenty later, “where in the world are we going to find a place to stay on the North Carolina shore at the end of August and I am not, and I repeat, not sleeping on the beach.”

“I got us covered. It’s all arranged and you will not be sleeping on a beach.”

“Are we going to be two of twelve in a house of frat boys and half-naked coeds?”

“Why? You like that kind of thing?”

She smacked him fairly hard on the arm, “don’t mess with me. I’m getting hungry.”

“Food, gotcha.”

During their six-hour drive, they talked, they slept, though not at the same time, they ate, thank God in Mulder’s opinion and he cheerfully diverted every question she asked about lodging, Scully finally dropping the subject when Mulder told her he’d leave her in the wilderness next time if she didn’t quiet down about a bed and a shower.

It was quite dark by the time they rolled into Kill Devil Hills and Scully, keeping her promise, shut her mouth and began calculating how she could get comfortable in the Jeep.

Then he turned down a familiar road, slowed at the end of it and finally stopped completely, “um, Mulder, how in the world did you manage to rent Babar with seven hours’ notice?”

“Oh, I didn’t rent her.”

“Then are we just going to sleep on the porch of whomever rented this place and hope they feed me bacon in the morning?”

“Nope.”

She really wondered why she didn’t throttle him more, “where are we staying, Mulder?”

A set of keys flew in her direction, “here.”

“You infuriate me.”

He laughed, getting out of the car and coming to her side, opening the door and reaching across her to undo her seatbelt, “come on, let me show you our house.”

Sliding to the sandy ground, she began to suspect the unsuspected, “our house?”

As he took her hand, “so I kind of bought it last time we were here.”

Concrete feet, unmoving, “you … bought … this place? With money? And paperwork? And … and … and you bought this place?”

Embarrassment overtook him for a moment as his head dropped, foot digging into the dirt, “you liked it and I liked it and then you went to autopsy that body and left to my own devices, I bought the house.”

Scully looked from him to the gray, shadowed house, the sound of the waves completing the peaceful poignancy of his purchase, “we’re going to have to clean it. It’s probably dusty.”

Sweeping her up in a hug, he didn’t squeeze for fear of displacing possibly offspring, “you don’t think I’m delusional?”

Half a lip turn upwards, idea of having a summer cottage on the ocean sinking in fast, “I never said that but I don’t have to sleep in the Jeep and for that I am truly thankful.”

Reaching for her hand again, this time holding on tight, he led her up the stairs, “come on. Let’s go see the house.” She remained silent for longer than Mulder was comfortable with and panic set in as he shuffled behind her, viewing the place they’d spent a week of their lives at with an entirely new eye. Giving her four more minutes of ear-ringing quiet, “okay, what’s wrong?” Wrong was not one of the words flowing through her brain, contemplating knowing it was his house, him calling it their house and already slipping, with ease, into thinking of it as ‘our’ house. Not sure how to deal with that just yet, she headed to the back windows, gesturing with waving fingers for him to follow. Once there, she waited until he invaded her space, pressing against her back, chin to the top of her head, resting while he asked her quietly, “are you okay with this?”

“That’s the problem, Mulder. I’m more than okay. I’m only having the slightest issue with you calling it our house and that’s kind of making me a little …”

“Wonky?” filling in the word she was searching for.

With a head nod to the affirmative, “yeah, that’ll work for the time being.”

Arms weaving around middle, hands resting twined on belly, “I was looking for the perfect way to surprise you with it and then stuff happened and things occurred but now we’re here and please tell me you like the house still and want to share it with me when we’re old and gray and I need to see you in a bikini and you are not repulsed by my balding ways.” By now, Scully’s forehead was against the glass of the window, shoulders shaking in low-key laughter and feeling her vibrating against his chest, he smiled as well as kissed the exposed long stretch of her neck, feeling warm skin beneath warmer lips, “you find me funny?”

“I find you startlingly endearing and if you keep your mouth where it is, I am going to end up doing things that we shouldn’t be doing while we’re waiting for other things to work.”

He stopped his mouth from doing more things and bunched her t-shirt up in his fists, tugging lightly, “I think we should go up to the bed and not do the things but sleep without the clothes ‘cause halfway there is halfway not.”

“Math agrees with you.”

Later on, after things were emphatically denied but clothing was definitely discarded in favor of balmy breeze over slowly cooling skin, “do you think there’s a baby in there somewhere?”

Insecure fears came out in droves with that ending question mark, “what if there is? What if there isn’t? What if all four take? What if none do and I’ve got nothing left and …? What if …” She left that last one dangling as she scrunched her eyes up, burying her head in the pillow, groaning loudly into cotton muffling, “why can’t it be two weeks from now and over and done with?!”

Mulder, not the best with words at times, decided Scully needed more touch than talk, his hand slipping lightly over her side, grazing ribs, shoulder wing a momentary stop before he wrapped his fingers gently around the back of her neck, nudging her forward until his mouth found hers, sublimating her fears with kisses and the occasional murmur of adoration.

&&&&&&&&&

The next morning, a low rumble of thunder woke him up, second pillow empty, cold to the touch. Apparently, she’d been up awhile and stretching before standing himself, he shuffle-stepped down stairs, amused he had two working legs to do it instead of scooting on his butt and a prayer. Cracking his toes just for fun, he spotted her sitting form hunched around pulled up knees, on the stairs leading off the deck. Gravitating towards her as he always did, regardless of situation and space, he made enough noise not to startle her but not enough to disturb the shadowed morning surrounding them. As he sat, his voice low, “’morning. I missed you when I woke up.”

“I don’t tend to wander too far off anymore.”

“Still missed you.”

Locking elbows with him, she settled her head on his upper arm, keeping an eye on ominous clouds rolling in the distance and churning ocean, “I missed you, too. Been thinking really hard about you waking up and here you are. Score one for psychic links.”

“You just made my week, woman.”

With a chuckle, she switched instantly to serious mode, whiplash imminent for the less practiced but Mulder kept up in stride, “sorry about last night. I let my nerves win.”

Drifting a hand to her inner knee, “I love you whatever way you are: nervous, elated, giddy, despondent, gruesome, ugly as sin covered in poo, so breath-taking I never want to blink again, and I am going to keep telling you this, over and over, until it sinks into that beautiful, thick skull of yours.” Lips to aforementioned skull, “we are us … always … whether we have a kid, don’t have a kid, get married, don’t get married … I promise to hold your hand forever and thank God, stars, mythological beings, the maker, the creator, Buddha, Allah and everything in between that I am yours and you are mine.”

“So I should just forget about it for awhile and demand breakfast?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying.”

Standing, she turned, swung a leg, settled on his lap, arms around neck, hugging his head to her chest, “I am yours and you are mine, up and through the end of time.”

“Did you just write that or did I miss some mid-century poetry in class?”

“I have a creative bone here and there.”

Looking up, he ran his tongue along her throat, two kissed pressed to warm skin, “come on, I need some food.”

#babar #msr #up and through the end of time #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #my writing #Life part 2 series

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thepanicoffice · 3 years

Text

Washington or Bust

[...]

It’s been a busy few days for me, as you might imagine – freighting falsified postal votes down long, lonely stretches of the Nevada desert as I ponder whether or not to let the heavy curtain of History fall on the second act of America’s flirtation with fascism.

Heavy is the head that wears the coronet of corruption, but I bear it manfully [1].

Such are the trifling troubles of the chess-master. But what of the pawn? What of today’s yesterday’s man, Donald J. Trump? Don’t play coy – you remember him: the creature who looks like the pocket fluff of a heavy smoker has been scattered over an aggressively baked camembert.

For a man of such renowned sphincteric laxity, we have heard precious little escape those ample fleshy pillows in recent days, preferring to leave that honour to trusted professional communicators like Rudy Giuliani and bewildered insurrectionists shrieking at the top of their lungs.

But what is really going on inside the White House, in these febrile times?

Who better-placed to answer that question than the dust-gathering bust of the estimable Sir Winston Churchill? [2]

Before he joins the sharp-elbowed queue [3] of current and former staffers as they rush to sign exposé book deals, Our Man in Washington™ is here to provide a first-hand [4] account of the Trump administration’s final reckoning.

[...]

Wednesday 4 November 2020:

The day began like any other in the lamentable reign of this porcine demagogue: with the most powerful man in the world bellowing at his television and agitating a mustard stain on one of his inexcusably long red ties.

Recriminations are hurled, along with pens, staplers and, very nearly, myself, at the heads of the cowering courtiers whose names he has not bothered, and now will never have the chance, to learn. He calls them cowards, reptiles and – in his own colourful demotic – ‘asswipes’. And that’s just his two lackwit sons. He may even consider them terms of endearment.

In quiet moments, after his nap but before his afternoon attempts to sunder the remaining bonds between the people and the democratic institutions of the Republic, I have seen him indulging in arts and crafts time. It is quite a sight to see the leader of the free world, on his knees with safety scissors and glue stick, carefully crafting an unconvincing presidential pardon that is disguised to look like stock order form for the stationery cupboard, which he plans to leave on his successor’s desk in the hope that it will be accidentally signed. Such are the ridiculous schemes that we are pushed to in our moments of despair, as failure descends inexorably like the dark of night. In the final days in his bunker, Hitler, it is little known, briefly wondered aloud whether he could belatedly pivot his career towards becoming a stage entertainer.

In the evening, in a weaker moment when he fleetingly considers accepting his fate with a modicum of dignity and grace, he delivers a speech to his gathered staff that might be moving if it weren’t so confused and offensive. As far as I can decipher, he tells them that although he may not know them individually, or even care for them – again, directed at the uncomprehending vacuity of his own sons’ faces – he appreciates their loyalty. In a touching moment, he warmly grasps the shoulder of his Secretary of State, Mike Pompeo, and tells him that he’s welcome to become his butler any time, whoever he is. His meandering oratory comes to a close when he declares his intentions to concede defeat, then purchase the moon and claim sanctuary there.

24 minutes later, he violently reconsiders, describing such humility as ‘loser talk’, though reaffirming his intention to buy the moon. A ‘genius move’, in his own estimation.

From where I am now perched on a bookshelf, next to some conspicuously un-thumbed volumes of my own Histories, I can see his oddly proportioned silhouette strutting and fretting his dwindling moments on stage, worrying bald patches in the Oval Office carpets, as he says the words “Supreme Court?” in a range of pitches and volumes to no one in particular.

The President now looks, as I am so fond of saying, for obvious reasons, like a busted flush.

Were I able to stand, I would stand by my original assessment of nearly four years ago: that the man is to the noble art of rhetoric what I, an armless statuette, am to the ignoble art of jazz piano.

Words to remember him by. Along with, if there is any justice, the words ‘guilty’ and ‘gross malfeasance in a public office’.

Now we are left to pray that he will be sentenced to a lifetime of photo opportunities and signing autographs for every one of the tens of millions who voted for him and who, despite their resilient unwillingness to confront this obvious fact, he held and still holds in utter, rictus-grinning, hand-sanitising contempt.

The kind of man of the people that the Editor of this wretched periodical can no doubt appreciate.

I believe he’s currently out golfing somewhere. Meanwhile, I have spent several hours on the phone to the Chief Executive of Pfizer, discussing complex matters of epidemiology and logistics. Someone has to run this place until January. And, given that the American Republic, in her glorious wisdom, has seen fit to elect that most dubious of God’s creatures – an Irishman – I’ll probably have to run it for the foreseeable future too.

But as my human namesake once said: “The price of greatness is responsibility."

All I ask as a reward is that they place me near a window this time.

Photograph: Kevin Dietsch/Pool/EPA

_________________________

[1] Despite my congenitally weak neck – the result of a genetic vertebral floppiness that my enemies, biographers and parents have all been so quick to mock.

[2] Assuming his view isn’t obscured by a vase or a pot plant.

[3] No small task, given his cruel lack of elbows.

[4] Again, I accept my words are ill-chosen and cruel.

#Maslin #Editor #Churchill #Trump #Bust #Our Man In Washington

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dachi-chan25 · 7 years

Note

Would you pretty pretty please write Dickon courting Sansa and having to face all of her protective male family members (everyone lives because this is Denial Town)

Denial Town AU

Standing in the courtyard once again waiting for their southroun visitors just as they did many moons ago when King Robert came along with Queen Cersei and Prince Joffrey…how Sansa had admired him! She had fancied herself in love with him, had thought he would be her Prince Aemon the Dragonknight or the Florian to her Jonquil, soon enough she started to see that wasn’t the case (Lady) and still she tried so hard to be like all the ladies from the songs, wanted to be as beautiful and just as queen Alyssane…

She wouldn’t.

Lord Baelish had warned her life wasn’t a song, and now she understood, father had explained the Queen’s treachery and Joffrey’s baseborn nature, the Kingslayer incestuous relationship with Queen Cersei… She had been so horrified at first she thought them to be lies, but her father would never say anything but the truth, worst of all had been King Robert’s wrath, she could still hear the screams and the thunderous sound of the warhammer against the bodies of the Queen and her children . Life wasn’t a song alright, life was a horror tale like the ones Old Nan used to tell during the stormy nights.

Truth to be told she wasn’t specially looking forward to meet her possible bethroted, as far as she knew he was the heir and her Lord father said he got the highest praises from his elder brother at the Wall (why would an heir leave his home for the Wall she could not fathom) but then again everyone had said the most wondrous things about Joffrey, and while he showed himself charming and gallant at the start he lied to the King and did nothing when Queen Cersei had Lady killed.

The Tarly’s seat (that Dickon would inherit someday) was Hornhill said to be a beautiful keep in the Reach. The South had always been her dream, and Hornhill was surely lovely, full of flowers and frutal trees of all kinds but, at the same time she felt weary, the South wasn’t kind to the Starks it hadn’t been kind to her gentle and beautiful Lady.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of the horses’ hoots thuding against the fresh summer snow that coated lightly the soil of the King’s Road. Her lady mother instructed Rickon to stand straight and checked once more Arya was in her proper place beside her. Strangely enough her usually unruly sister had dressed without making a fuss and was in her very best behavior.

Two guards entered the courtyard carrying the banner with a red hunter against the green field that was the Tarly’s sigil, right behind him a giant of a man (though definetly shorter than Ser Gregor Clegane) with a balding head, close trimmed beard and stern square face rode a magnificent black stallion, she guessed he was Lord Randyll Tarly.

Beside him a tall and handsome boy of golden hair and blue eyes, a shade or two darker than her own riding a dark brown horse. That was him, her stomach knotted, that was Dickon Tarly.

The golden hair reminded her of Joffrey for a moment, but the two boys had nothing else in common, where Joffrey had been lean and delicate Dickon was broad and strong looking, his face was square like his Lord’s father but without the sterness, he lacked completely the easy charm and authority Joffrey had displayed, Dickon had an aura of awkwardness around him… but he also looked surprisingly gentle.

Her eyes met with his for a moment, and she almost giggles at the expression in his face (mouth agape, blue eyes open wide and color rising in his cheeks) she lowered her eyes to prevent in but still a smile broke into her face.He, this possible new bethroted of hers, was strangely endearing.

Robb didn’t like this boy, he was blond like a Lannister and that foolish expression he made at the sight of his sister! He was most probably as craven as that bastard prince Joffrey.

His Lord father had told him about Joffrey’s supposed cruelty and how badly he would have treated his sweet sister, and asked him to keep and observant eye on the Tarly boy, his first impression of the blond boy had been completely unflattering, but that didn’t mean he was opposed to a more through inspection in the courtyard, if the boy wasn’t at least passable with the sword then he was not deserving of Sansa, she needed someone strong enough to protect her.

After the small feast his father had thrown in the honor of the Tarlys, during which Robb had to escort Lady Talla Tarly, a sweet little girl as timid as princess Myrcella had been. Robb asked Lord Dickon to spar with him in the courtyard, his mother had shot him a disapproving glare but Lord Tarly had seemed eager for his son to accept, and when Dickon finally did Lord Tarly insisted on watching.

“I’ll fetch the padded armors” Ser Rodrick said.

“There’s no need for that” Lord Tarly stepped out blocking Winterfell’s Maester at Arms way “My heir knows well the blows of the wooden sword, he is a Tarly of Hornhill and needs padded armors as much as Winterfell’s heir”

Robb nodded “We’ll do it the way Lord Tarly desires Ser Rodrick” he took one of the wooden swords in the rack and swung it with ease from side to side “‘Tis are but wooden swords, no real harm can be done with them”

Blond haired Dickon took a sword of his own and they began at Ser Rodrick’s comand. Robb’s first blow was packed with as much strenght as he could muster but the Tarly boy stopped it easily with his own shield and gave his own blow, Robb barely avoided to take it in full force, begrudgingly he admited the hit would have probably made him drop his sword, the boy two years his junior was taller than him and now that he was really looking at him Robb realised he and the bastard Lannister had nothing in common but the hair color, the Tarly had strong arms and broad shoulders.

Both had taken numerous blows, but now the sun was setting and soon they would be called for supper, Robb was sure his Lady mother wouldn’t take kindly to ther future Warden of the North supping with sweat deipping down the table, much less in font of guests. And even if Lord Tarly ad been very insistent, his father had insisted both of them needed food and some rest, at the end he had to admit the boy was very good, Robb had still won most of the matches but in a few years maybe the lad will give him a run for his money.

“Your swordmanship is very good” Robb said while both, he and Dickon put their swords in their rack.

The boy looked surprised and almost bashful before his face split in a grin “Thank you! I– I mean thank you m'lord, it was an honor”

He shook his head “It’s fine you needn’t be so formal, I had a very good time” then feeling mischevious leaned closed so only Dickon could hear “but if you ever harm my sister I’m afraid the next time our swords cross it won’t be fun…well at least for you”The boy nodded fervently, he wasn’t scared as Robb was aiming, he seemed almost solemn “I would never dare m'lord”And that’s the moment Robb thought mayhaps the boy would make him a fine goodbrother.

Arya glared at the blond haired prick sitted beside her sister, he was such a ridiculous fool, all stamering and blushing like a maid. Not for the first time she wished Jon was here so they could both laugh at the fool.

Robb seemed to like him well enough, but then again Robb had never dealt with Joffrey, he didn’t know how those kind of monsters would act all sweet and knightly with Sansa and then sent someone to murder common boys like her friend Mycah.

She rememberd how her father had talked with her after she had screamed at Sansa on their way back home because her sister ever the perfect lady had insisted on praying for the souls of the Lannisters.

“He is a liar, and so was the Queen and her brother! Why waste her tears and prayers on them? They also killed Lady!”

Her father had looked her in the eye and said very patiently “That may be so, but Tommen and Myrcella were completely innocent, your sister has a good soul if she can forgive them for the harm they caused her”

“I know she does” she sighed “It’s just irritating how blind she was! Joffrey would have been awful to her and then I would have killed him, I was going to anyway”

“You musn’t speak like that, taking a life is no easy matter and should not be taking lightly. Instead of thinking such a things you should try to help your sister like I told you before you need each other, if your sister is blind to other’s faults then be her eyes”

And that’s what she was doing, Sansa sometimes irritated her to no end, but there were times she was pretty funny, and even if they fought constantly Arya still loved her, and she would ever allow her sister to marry a prick like Joffrey so she was using the abilities Syrio had taught her, she observed and waited, she even dressed in that stupid uncomfortable wool dress she hated and behave the best she could just so she wouldn’t draw attention to herself. She had watched him in the courtyard with Robb, he was awfully clumsy but also strong, nothing impressing for strenght was nothing against tha dance of swords Syrio was teaching her.

So after supper she followed him silent as a cat, like she did back in the Red Keep, and followed the blond Tarly to his chambers.

Swiftly she cornered him agaist the door pressing the tip of Needle to his doublet.

“M'Lady!” he squealed surprised and frightened in equal meassures.

She glared at him “ I just want you to know I’ll be watching you, and if you are anything like Joffrey or make Sansa cry you’ll end up full of holes, I may not be strong like you but I’m quicker”

“I would never do any harm to Lady Sansa” he said “but if I do you have my permission to do as you please m'lady”

She drew back Needle “I don’t need your permission”

“I-I know” and then added with a timid smile “That’s a nice sword, did your Lord father gave it to you?”

She shook her head “My brother Jon, he is at the Wall”

“My older brother Sam– I mean Samwell is at the Wall as well though he didn’t left me such a nice gift, he didn’t even said goodbye”

The sadness in his face and voice made Arya feel uncomfortable, she knew what it was like to miss a brother but if Jon hadn’t even said goodbye… It wasn’t fair! He was supposed to be awful but he was not, he was actually pretty likeable, irritatingly nice just like Sansa.

“I think you should ask my father about him, he went at the Wall to see Jon”

His stupid face cheered up instantly “I will, thank you m'lady”

And with a groan Arya left.

After breaking their fast on the morrow Robb took the Tarly oy to the kennels were their direwolves were kept, their mother had instructed them to leave them there as to not to starttle the Tarlys, but Dickon had showed a lot of interest in seeing them and Robb really enjoyed the boy’s company, besides it would be amusing if he got scared.

Figures Rickon and Bran had beat them there and were feeding their pups.

“Why did you come here?” asked little Rickon as the young Tarly had at least reached out to pet Greywind.

Dickon blushed “ I– w-well, m-my Lord father–”

Taking pity on him Robb answered “Father is seeking to make a match between him and Sansa”

“What does that mean Bran?” he asked turning to his brother who was sitting in a chair beside him.

“Father wants Sansa to marry them when they are older, and Sansa will become the lady of Hornhill.” Bran explained.

“And where is that?”

“In the Reach, very far away in the south”

Rickon furrowed his brow and turned towards Dickon.

“You can’t take my sister to the South!” he threw himself at Dickon and began to hit him where he could reach “she just came back, you can’t!”

Luckily Robb intervened before Shaggydog could involve himself on that fight. But now Rickon was trashing and crying in Robb’s arms.

“I’m afraid I don’t really have a say in that, but if LadySansa goes with me back to Hornhill I promise we’ll come visit as often as possible, and if your Lord father allows it maybe you cam visit as well m'lord, Hornhill has big forests and lots of hills I am sure your direwolves would like them very much.”

Rickon looked at him distrustfully “You would?”

“Yes m'lord”

“See Rickon?” said Bran ruffled his little brother’s hair “There’s nothing to worry about, and if there was well even if I can’t promise I could be of any use Summer could”

Even though Bran was smiling Robb shuddered a little, well better for the lad to be warned.

That evening Dickon would spend some time in the company of Lady Sansa, his father had pressed him to behave as the heir of Hornhill would (he still wasn’t really sure what that meant, he knew his obligations and tried his very best to be as strong as his father wanted but what did an heir exactly meant?) and his mother told him to be charming and gallant (he also didn’t know exactly how to be those, specially around pretty Lady Sansa, he could barely speak a word to her without blushing!) she even had him wear his finest doublet the emerald silk one with his house’s huntsman embroidered in small rubies on the left side of his chest.

When he entered Lady Stark’s solar she was already there with her Septa that was to chaperone them, her direwolf the smallest and prettiest of the pack in his opinion at her feet, she was singing and sewing. The song was not familiar to him– but then again he didn’t knew a lot of songs, his father said the heir of Hornhill had no time for songs and stupid stories– but he liked the sound of it.

“Sansa” the Septa called “Lord Tarly has arrived”

The girl raised her beautiful clear blue eyes at him and smiled. Dickon’s cheeks grew warm.

She stood and curtisied prettily at him “Good evening m'lord, you must forgive my rudeness”

He bowed, damning his clumsiness and lack of grace “N-no– I mean it’s fine. You-you did nothing wrong m'lady”

She smiled and prompted him to sit in front of her.

“Er- you have a lovely voice, what song were you singing m'lady?”

“Thank you m'lord, it was “The Winter Maid” is not a very popular song so maybe that is why you didn’t knew of it”“I really don’t know much about songs”

She stared at him very solemnly “Do they displease you?”

“No” he rushed to say “They please me well enough, it’s just that my Lord father doesn’t think I should spend a lot of time with songs and stories, I liked when my brother read them to me though” he said wistfully.

“If you want I could sing them for you” she offered timidly, her cheeks flushed.

He nodded dumbly, now he understood why the Starks were so protective over Lady Sansa she was so sweet and pretty surely no treasure in the North could compare to her. And really what were a few threats (that he himself would do when the time came for his father to seek matches for his little sisters) if he could have that smile and bright blue eyes?

—————-

So basically Ned got out of KL with Arya and Sansa after Robert muredred Cersei and her children, Robb never called the bannerman,Cat is back in WF, Bran and Rickon are alive and well and safe in WF. Ned went to the wall and told Jon about R+L=J but he still decided to stay in the wall, Ned meets Sam who talks great stuff about lil’ bro Dickon, and as Sansa is still sad about all the awful stuff that happened and wants to look for a good match for her as he promised he decides to invite the Tarly to WF. WW are not a thing cuz everyone lives happily ever after, and I know this doesn’t make any political sense and Randyll wouldn’t go all the way to WF (or maybe he would? i mean is a very good match and Sansa is a highborn lady of a very old and respectable house so Idk?) but politics and that stuff don’t matter in Denial Town.

#Dicksa #everyone lives AU #Denial Town AU #overprotective Starklings #my writing #young!Sansa #young!Dickon #Ned is trying to fullfil is promise #someone strong/brave/gentle

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sarazanmai · 7 years

Text

Thoughts on the “One Punch Man” English dub. Episode one.

hey remember months ago when I finished recapping the MP100 dub and I said I was either gonna do OPM or BNHA next and now I’ve gone through BNHA, Sailor Moon Crystal, Jojo, and some YYH episodes and still haven’t done OPM?

I have been really wanting to revisit this anime, all I’ve heard of this dub was the teaser clip they first released for the dub where the only voice we heard was Max Mittelman as Saitama. I remember not liking his voice as I remember thinking it was too monotone, but I also didn’t like Joseph Joestar’s English voice at first and in the end I loved Ben in the role. plus Max was really good as Ritsu in the MP100 dub so I know he has talent.

you could say this anime starts off with a bang!

“guess I’ll go” I mean he’s got nothing better to do

the attempt at making Saitama look badass is just funny to me since I know the character so well at this point

oh hey its the crying little girl in pink that the hero must save from the monster because she represents the frailty of the human experience cliche!

at least I know ONE was being self aware with this

the blue Piccolo knockoff is played by our friend Christopher Sabat

I mean...of coarse he is, but more amusingly in Japanese he was voiced by Ryuusei Nakao who was Freeza

anyway goodbye Vaccine Man

I love this intro, I will be sad if season two chooses a different song (though its entirely possible it will be just as good)

like I honestly love this song more than the MP100 intro

so Saitama with hair in the anime still looks like this one guy from Gintama, I don’t watch that anime so I don’t know his name

friendly reminder Saitama was genuinely depressed before the series began

believe it or not this fucking kid is part of the “OPM and MP100 are in the same universe” theory

“what the hell am I doing” you’re having that “body moving on its own” thing that All Might told Izuku about

I hate watching stuff happen to eyes...

“after that day I trained so hard I went bald” but its a look

I always liked the detail of the child pointing to Saitama as his mother pulls him away

“put some pants on”

Saitama is so happy even though this guy just killed his brother, like its endearing

Saitama is all “too bad that didn’t kill me”

“having overwhelming strength is pretty boring actually” with great power comes great apathy

“as the days pass my emotions grow more distant. fear, tension, joy, anger, I feel none of that anymore. in exchange for power maybe I’ve lost something that’s essential for being human” again Saitama was very depressed

this fight scene is cool, but I may as well say it now. MP100 is animated better than OPM, this is not to say OPM was badly made (far from it) but people have claimed its better animated than MP100 and that isn’t true. I’m sorry but it isn’t.

like I’ll get into this with later episodes, but I remember as the anime was coming out fans were overly critical of the animation and would compare it to the flip book style nature of Murata’s drawings and it pissed me off to see it not get the credit it deserved, but now some are trying to take credit away from MP100 and give it to OPM and that’s wrong too (I wonder how much of it is people not liking ONE’s art since MP100 was faithful to it while OPM wasn’t)

still this was a cool action scene

like I want people to remember this series was described as having a modest budget and what made it come together was the staff having passion for the project

so if anyone ever tries to excuse their favorite show’s animation being sub par by saying “they didn’t have a big budget” know how bullshit that argument is

on the flip side of what I said before about the intro, I think MP100 has the better closing

tune in next time for robo bae and mosquito waifu

#angelina watches OPM

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jonghyunsfriend · 7 years

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gotta get all the oldies so shinhwa, 2pm, suju, also fiestar if that's not too much gajskd

that’s not too much this is fecking long though so i’m putting a read morealright so shinhwa:

1. choongjunjin the legend of mcdonalds and the old man i probably say the funniest shit about.. i feel like hes a complex person but like the shit i say fits him so well2. glass bones and paper skin pencil mustache dongwan3. honestly? hyesung is hot sometimes4. eric is an aquarius5. minwoo is short and also is the prince of bone breakage behind dongwan i respect him6. andy… that stupid slut

2pm:

1. taec… i have no good reasoning for this he’s normal and huge as we can see thats my type in men and his teeth and personality are really endearing to me1.00000000000000 junho like if shownu hongbin vic and taec didnt exist i’d ult him: he’s an old cat lady, huge, short, aquarius w a cap moon (i am too), can’t handle normal interactions, sleeps shirtless, bald, has 5 friends and all of them are the other members, etc i could go on i find junho so interesting but hes probably a huge douche and meninist.. also hes gay and a homophobe2. honestly i’ve never thought this far before i’m gonna put nichkhun here because he knows how to treat women and he lived in new zealand i’ll forgive him for chosing auckland3. i love jun.k chansung and wooyoung a lot so i’m putting them here

suju:okay so i could go on forever about each of them and make jokes so i’ll do the main stuff

1. donghae that is my army husband and probably the first mans i ever wanted to marry i’m not kidding i’d go catholic for him i love you aiden1.00000000001 zhoumi counts and is the best man on this earth2. leeteuk he speaks for the trauma survivors3. i cant not put heechul here4. everyone else they need to have a comeback for me to think more in depth about this

fiestar:

1. honestly? its been real linzy hours recently for some reason i love my bighead masters degree queen1. yezi….. a literal queen1. hyemi is a tad bit of a dumbass but i still ove her1. jei and cao danlu hung out yesterday or the day before i love bicons

#theparting #ask #long post #hopefully my read more works??? idk tumblr mobile is weird #also i should tag this so people can find my old people stuff #old ppl

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breakfastatmilliways · 7 years

Text

Drunk History of Dragon Ball Z

So, I was fucking around on my personal InsaneJournal account when I found my drunken attempt to summarize Dragonball Z to someone who had never seen it.

Please keep in mind that I myself had last seen it about a decade before I drunkenly wrote this.

It is so ridiculous that I felt like maybe I should share it with the world.

SO QUICK RECAP OF DRAGONBALL JUST SO THAT THIS MAKES SENSE (hahaha as if that will help) So once upon the time there was a little boy named Goku who was basically superman. He crashed on earth and he had a monkey tail and some man adopted him and was his grandpa. the monkey tail meant he would turn into a giant monkey at the full moon. one day it was a full moon and his grandpa cut his tail off so he didn't turn into a monkey again. eventually his grandpa died and for some reason he decided to go find dragonballs. except maybe he wanted to be in some sort of fighting tournament. i don't remember. at the fighting tournament that I suppose happened he met a bald dude with three eyes and extra arms and this weird little gay romance with a pale gross tiny thing. i think their names were tien and god i have no idea about the other thing for all i know it could be limbobo. he also met another bald kid named krillin and eventually meets some foxy child ladies named chichi and bulma. chichi will eventually become the mother of his children, and bulma despite being super annoying apparently manages to endear herself to that really bitchy saiyan Vegeta. They have babies and shit. But that's another story for another time. Anyway they all go on adventures and something about the red ribbon army? I think it was humanoid animals. and then they collect dragonballs to summon the dragon and make their wish (idk maybe krillin wanted hair. I definitely think that was the wish) AND OH I forgot, there was master roshi the man who lived on the island with his house that looked WAY out of place on a desert island and he trained goku up a bit. he had a turtle. anyway fast forward to the future when vegeta finally shows up and starts being all saiyan-y up on Earth. Goku won't have none of that so he kicks his ass eventually. Maybe. I think Krillin might have died here although that might have been against that lady voiced fuck freeza. either way vegeta becomes a good guy and then goku and krillin both die at some point i think and are brought back to life but THE DRAGON CAN ONLY BRING SOMEONE BACK ONCE so goku can't die again i guess. and then DUN DUN DUN cell shows up. Except at some point there were also some androids, one was called 16 i think and he was derpy and huge and loved BURDS and then 17 and 18 were really effeminite but one was actually a lady. Krillin wanted her android lady parts and he totally got them eventually because she was a hot lady and therefore totally redeemable i guess? anyway cell got power by sucking life forces out of people with this nasty ass tail he had so he would do that all the time and he got super powerful. and then he sucked up like, the androids and turned into some kind of PERFECT cell that no longer looked like a nasty bug and now looked all pretty in the face. so eventually goku beat him but died in the process again (maybe? how the fuck many times did goku die?) and everyone was sad because OH NOES IT'S FOREVER THIS TIME but then they realized they could just collect a different set of dragonballs or whatever. or that might have happened at some point with krillin? I have no fucking clue how the laws of this universe work. so everyone ended up shacking up with someone and then goku and chichi had another child named goten and bulma got knocked up by vegeta (which they knew would happen because their future kid showed up at some point) and had their kid trunks and those two were like best buddies maybe? I don't remember if they even got along actually but i know they had to meld into one stupid looking being to be powerful enough to beat that living wad of gum majin buu. mayjin boo? idek. so they eventually did i think. and at some point during all of this gohan became a sissy adult who decided he wanted to be a dumbass superhero and then fell in love with some girl with a pixie cut. her name was like videl maybe? i have no idea. her dad was named hercule except it was mr satan in japan. the end.

#drunk adventures #dragon ball z #dragon ball #drunk history of dragonball z #drunk history #anime

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ultraericthered · 4 years

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Anime Update 49

Dragon Ball - Despite my instinctive reaction to Man Wolf being to think he came in late for Fortuneteller Baba’s mini-tournament so he had to settle with this one, it was pretty clever to have him hold a grudge against Roshi/Jackie Chun for blowing up the moon in the last Budokai as a way to make the fight more personal than just Roshi fighting a total throwaway for an entire episode despite the tone of the fight and exchanges being comical. And the cure to his werewolfism being to replicate the full moon with Krillin’s shiny bald head? Totally the absurdity that only Toriyama could pull off.

Love Live Sunshine! - Finished off the series with the movie, Over The Rainbow. If the original School Idol Movie could be described as “unnecessarily necessary” given how its preceding show had ended, then this one’s “obligatorily arbitrary.” Unlike the first Love Live!, Sunshine’s ending already felt perfect. The curtain closed on it and everything. But since µ's got their big movie, giving Aqours one too was kind of an obligation. That said, it’s a really damn solid movie and just as perfect a capper for Aqours’ story, giving us a glimpse of what lies ahead for them in their lives, actually paying off the amount of time and focus given to the Third Years in the second season better than that season itself did by the end, introducing a cool new character in You’s cousin Tsuki (who’s hilariously mistaken for a boy at first, the horror!), sending Saint Snow’s idol career off on a high note, and assuring that audience that Aqours is forever. Some of the stuff that really stands out about the movie even feel like they’re addressing some of the previous movie’s weaker points. For instance remember how µ's went to America for the movie’s first half hour only to be back in Japan for the remainder of it, which seemed like a big wasted opportunity? In this movie, Aqours having their own thrilling adventure in Italy takes up its entire midsection. And y’know how A-RISE, in the movie just like in the series, got done dirty and majorly shafted in spite of their cool factor and potential? Saint Snow plays a big part in this movie, to the point where the movie’s climax is all about helping the sisters so that Leah can move on with a new idol career of her own, and they get to perform a classic Saint Snow heavy metal number in awesome looking soldier outfits. While I liked A-RISE, I freaking love Saint Snow and am so glad to see they received the development and closure they deserved. And speaking of closure, two other things that stood out to me was just how amazingly mature, wiser and more responsible Chika had grown (Honoka had her own growth, but a lot of her best qualities were apparent from the start, whereas Chika’s Perfect Leader status was something she needed to grow into) but still retaining all that makes her so lovable and endearing, and how just as the last movie evolved School Idols to a new level, this movie went as far as to lay the groundwork for evolving Love Live itself with the personal Love Live that Aqours and Saint Snow put on - no longer does it have to be a competition arranged by powers-that-be to judge, glorify, and whore out new idols. The power and control of such events can be in the hands of the idols themselves, which in times of social distancing would be very fortuitous! Thanks a bunch, Aqours and Saint Snow!

Some parts didn’t really work so well. Like, aside from a great opening number, a show stealing Third Year trio song just like the last movie had, and that amazing Saint Snow duet, the song and dance numbers of this movie didn’t stand out and are eclipsed by many from the series itself. The plot with Mari’s mother trying to force her daughter into an arranged marriage feels kind of half-baked by the time it’s resolved, especially since we’re not allowed to so much as see the dude Mari’s supposed to get engaged to or know anything about him, name included. And the First Years got shortchanged except Ruby somewhat (only when regarding Leah) - there’s even a part where Yoshiko finally gets bored with her Fallen Angel routine and decides to be Regular Angel Yohane only to end up going back to a Fallen Angel after literally falling off a balcony ledge and out of a tree - its sole purpose is for a feather from Yohane to become what leads Mari’s mother to the girls’ current location. Did we really need to go that excessive and ultimately pointless just for that? Really?

But when the girls got another look at their old school, held their first 6 member concert at their new one, the credits rolled and the movie ended, I was feeling it. I love these girls and all of their wonderful stories, and I’m going to miss watching them so fucking much. Love Live Sunshine was overall an improvement on its own predecessor, and if both series proved anything to me, it’s that I’m going to be in Idol Hell for many years to come as long as these anime are made.

My-Otome - So from what I can recall of this one, it felt a great deal stranger than the past few episodes, starting off with Nina continuing to be Kuudere in her roommate relationship with Arika, which leads to Arika gleefully revealing Nina’s most embarrassing secret to her classmates, but then out of nowhere it turns its focus to a curse placed in the water (including the swimming pool) by crazy Maki-Maki girl. I personally liked Shiho as a character in My-HiME despite her clinginess and that shit she pulled in the second half that had disastrous consequences for Takumi. But this series’ Shiho is just so shamelessly devious, so unhinged in what a spiteful elitist brat she is and entertaining every moment she’s on screen that I honestly prefer her to her HiME counterpart by far. Just as enjoyable is again good ol’ Mashiro, who has a brief stint as a pool lifeguard in this one and uses her position to mercilessly troll Arika some more. But the single most hilarious part, oddly enough, was the moment where the true danger in the episode emerged. Someone (either Tomoe or her lackey) swapped the salt bags out for sugar bags, and when all that is dumped into the pool water, the invisible creatures mutate into one large, freakish, clearly visible creature, and the freakout from all the girls present there was just priceless. As were all of Nao’s scenes, and how she and Shiho play off one another. All in all, it was fun.

Assassination Classroom - This show has just been getting more and more engaging by the episode. It entertained me from the start, but it’s really been picking up steam after its first 10 or so episodes. Not to say that this one was an enjoyable watch, though. Quite the opposite, it managed to be engaging because of its far less than enjoyable set-up. I really like Karasuma so I of course appreciated the focus given to him here, but...then we have his old military acquaintance, Takaoka. To put it bluntly, this guy just made me retch throughout the whole episode. Gakuho is a very real type of evil authority figure but he’s such a Magnificent Bastard that I enjoy how much he scares me. Shiro is clearly a despicable individual hiding beneath that white cloak, but he’s very par the course Anime Villain-esque. Takaoka is an abusive, domineering, sadistic monster hiding beneath a Good Dad facade; he is absolutely vile and horrifying in a way people in real life actually can be, which is the last sort of person you’d ever want to let near children. He disturbed me greatly, but that made him a great counterpart to Karasuma, who’s acknowledged to be E Class’ true Team Dad. Nagisa S. also got a lot cooler and more interesting as a character than he’d been in a while here, with him owning Takaoka with the real knife he gave him and making him fear for his life being super satisfying. And then Karasuma also owns Takaoka when he refuses to accept his loss. And then, as icing on the cake, when he threatens to beat down Karasuma and all the kids of E Class, the principal himself, Gakuho fucking Asano, comes and owns him, shoving a termination paper down his throat as he gives him the axe for his violent and unstable behavior. And yes, I’ll admit it - I fucking applauded the man for that. After Takaoka is gone, after all the dark and disturbing unpleasantness in the episode, ending it on a comedic note of Korosensei (who sat most of this one out) just going totally feral was also a much appreciated touch of levity.

Vinland Saga - The epic continues as Thorfinn not only learns the truth about his father being a war deserter while also exhibiting some very troubling views and behavior that make him seem like he’s got bloodlust and even sees him severely injuring one of the other kids he was playing with, but Thors’ old comrade in arms Floki (Thors and Floki, like Thor and Loki, ha ha) comes to port with his crew of special soldier vikings, bringing news of the conflict with England, the recent massacre (which is how the episode opened, by the way - naked Norsemen getting killed by British knights during their Saturday bath time!), and the invasion plans. Poor Thors really wanted to leave the life of war and slaughter behind but now he’s implicitly threatened by Floki into rejoining his old crew. The scene that most stood out to me was the father-son talk where Thorfinn finds his father’s old armor and weaponry stashed away, and Thors tells his son that he has no enemies and should not wish for any to fight and kill, which Thorfinn rather distressingly doesn’t take well. And then at the very end we see that Floki plots to have Thors killed for his pacifist stance, talking to a man named Askeladd who he wants to carry out the job. Oh, now things will be getting REAL good.

March Comes In Like A Lion - Have continued watching this and have arrived at a pretty startling conclusion. Know how School Live! was “dark slice-of-life” due to it being a horror series with the school life stuff as a front that gets deconstructed? Well this series doesn’t have a school life side to it (yet anyway) - it’s purely slice-of-life...it’s just that the life in question tends to go to some really, REALLY dark places. I mean, good lord. One episode section gives backstory on Rei’s most prominent Shogi rival, Nikaidou, and how he suffers from a chronic illness that effects him terribly when he’s playing Shogi in immense heat but he’ll still keep on going because he wants to beat his rival that badly, and by the end he’s learned nothing and will continue killing himself just to win a game against Rei. The very next has the Kawamoto sisters honoring their deceased mother and grandmother in a really weird way but managing to stay positive...until Hina goes off all alone just to bawl her eyes out over how much she yearns for her whole family back. And then there’s Rei’s backstory with his biological parents dying when he was still little, how he was adopted by the Shogi-obsessed Masachika Kouda (voiced by Cam Clarke, surprisingly enough), and the life he lived in the Kouda household that led to so much emotional pressure, abuse and depression for that whole family, him included. This shit is so heavy, so unsettling, and all so...believable. And that’s really the main draw here, isn’t it? It’s like you really want to look away from this boy’s largely crapsack life but you just can’t, it’s so compelling. In a way, Rei is all of us. Sure, his experiences may differ from many people’s, but the way he feels, thinks, processes and reacts is all too common and all too human. In short, this dark slice-of-life is a slow burn so far, but it has successfully fascinated me into wanting to keep with it. And that’s the mark of a true anime masterstroke.

Not that it’s all dreary doom and gloom, though. The parts with the Kawamoto sisters tend to lighten the mood considerably, especially Hina being a precious ball of sunshine and energy who’s such such a silly, unrestrained adorkable mess of a girl that I just can’t help but utterly adore her for it. And Nikaidou, illness and unsettling dedication to his Shogi rivalry aside, is usually pretty hilarious in his bombast.

Mobile Fighter G Gundam - The battle on Lantau Island reached its truly breathtaking finish, and in many ways this felt like the big finish that the show was soaring towards for all this time. Schwarz fully discloses the truth about who he is (a DG Cell-created copy of Kyoji’s mind and soul inhabiting the body of the late Schwarz Bruder, Neo Sweden’s Gundam Fighter), and reveals to Domon what really happened with their parents, Kyoji and the Dark Gundam, so in a sense, Domon and Kyoji have their true brotherly reunion at last in a moment that moved me to tears with how openly emotional and overwhelmed Domon was...and that made it all the more crushing that in order to destroy the Dark Gundam for real, Domon had to end his brother’s life (with both the copy and the original merging into one in his passing, which was a really cool animation effect). This brotherly love was nicely mirrored with Rain’s care and concern for the brainwashed, out of control Allenby, who she’s clearly come to love like a kid sister. Much as I enjoy Wong as a character, he’s a thoroughly despicable scumbag, especially with his predatory approach towards Allenby and the mental abuse he puts her through, which made it cathartic to watch him get hoist by his own petard when Allenby inside the Walter Gundam executes him point blank with a laser blast through a window. And last, there’s the part I was just not emotionally prepared for - the final battle between Domon and Master Asia, the full revelation of why Master aligned himself with the Dark Gundam and turned to evil, and finally, Master Asia passing away in his pupil’s arms. The battle itself was epic to the extreme, I could fully understand how badly Master had been effected by the experiences he’d had, why he came to the conclusion he did and what he sought to achieve even when the means involved mass genocide and were inexcusably wrong (as even he himself saw as he lay dying), and that death scene...again, I was moved to tears in a way I’ve not been by anime in quite a while. I loved Master Asia, largely due to how much he always loved Domon like a son no matter how much he might have tried to suppress those feelings, so losing him so soon after losing Kyoji was as hard for me as it was for Domon. Neo Japan has won the Gundam Fight, but at what cost?

It really is amazing how emotionally sincere and seriously engaging this show has gotten by this point given how unashamedly corny and silly it regularly is. With the Gundam Fight over and everything seemingly taken care of, it’s time to head into the four episode grand finale event. The final moment we’ve been waiting for, next week!

Angel Beats! - Continuing from where last week left off, we have, in my honest opinion, the absolute strongest episode in the entire show. Episode 6, “Family Matter.” Operation....START!

- A big part of what made this the series’ best episode is all the powerful themes running through its narrative events and character moments, and if I had to cite a single core theme of the episode it would be Battlefront’s Reckoning. Basically, our main cast facing the consequences of their ignoble actions, which was due to come since the very first episode. The situations that Yurippe and her pawns, Otonashi, and even Kanade land themselves in over the course of this episode, which is building off of the very end of last one, is all in some ways their own fault, so it lies upon them to set things right.

- The opening scene is hilarious in how anticlimactic it feels coming off of where we left off. Battlefront served a whole night in detention off-screen and are now free to go, with a lot of them complaining about how hard that was for them. We also get insightful remarks about how Naoi is proving already to be a far stricter and more ruthless enemy in the president position than Angel ever was, and some more delightful Hinata-Yui banter as well when Yui volunteers to try and seduce Naoi into surrender. Oh, Yui.

- Yurippe shows once again what a smart motherfucker she is, at least among all the other morons in Battlefront. Her proposal on how to deal with Naoi’s newly instated regime is to test the waters of how bad it could get and to what lengths Naoi will go in trying to quell any insolence and disobedient behavior in classes. On top of giving her lackeys licence to goof off in class under this reasoning, she gives Otonashi a special one-way communication device for later use.

- The SSS Brigade’s antics in class are amusing (I especially for some reason crack up at just the way Yui walks to the door whenever she has to take a fake bathroom break, and Naoi finally being someone with enough sense to try and confiscate the big ass lethal weapon that Noda is carrying around with him in school every day), but the episode hints at a darker turn when we see that in private, Naoi is far from disciplined himself - he’s a cruel bully who uses his position as a free pass to torment and beat down students weaker than him. He’s not an NPC, and this is supposedly how he balances his school life out so that he won’t pass on in peaceful fulfillment.

- When Otonashi finds himself together with Kanade after class, he finally - FINALLY - takes some damn initiative and asks her to come eat Mapo Tofu with him in the cafeteria. I’ll admit that I don’t ship these characters as a romantic pairing at all, but I do buy their close connection and how they bond as friends - the awkward big brother-little sister type chemistry they share is pretty cute. Kanade herself is also very cute and funny here, particularly when she expresses bewilderment over how she apparently likes very spicy Mapo Tofu, as though the spiciness of it had never occurred to her, and how when Naoi catches them eating outside of lunch hours and orders them to be imprisoned for it, she very rapidly eats up the rest of the Mapo Tofu before complying, much to Otonashi’s surprise.

- Rather than take Kanade and Otonashi to the detention room, Naoi has them thrown into a specially designed holding cell. This is obviously because Kanade has her own programmed powers that would allow her to escape detention easily were she put there, so Naoi thought well ahead. Makes me wonder how long he was desiring to take Kanade’s position for himself. Kanade continues with her nonchalant, monotone humor by deciding to just take a nap right there and then, which continues to frustrate Otonashi to no end.

- After the eyecatch, we enter the second act and there’s a notable tonal whiplash that occurs immediately. Yurippe makes a call to Otonashi on the communication device she’d given him earlier, which as she planned, is still on him while he’s in prison with Kanade. She gives Otonashi the details on what she’s found out about Naoi and on what the situation outside is right now - she’s leading Battlefront into battle against Naoi and the Student Council. She describes it as a horrible battle the likes of which they’ve never faced before and that Naoi is using the normal students that follow him as human shields and hostages as he guns down the SSS members one by one. Their forces are dwindling, so they’re going to need their former enemy Kanade to come to their aid and turn the tides. I’m positive that this “tell, don’t show” approach to this battle was due to a limitation from the episode count imposed on the studio and thus how they only had so much time in a single episode to clear this part of the story. But it’s so fucking effective and works really, really well in building up the tension and suspense, and selling the stakes of the situation to the audience without actually showing them anything. The thunder heard outside, the dimming lights inside the room, Yuri’s tone and what she’s describing, the split second shot of Naoi and his troops executing their enemies in the rain that we get later...all of it paints a picture in the viewer’s head of what’s going on, and their imagination filling in the blanks makes this part grimmer, scarier, and more brutal than anything that could’ve been shown outright.

- When Otonashi gets Kanade up and tries to get her to help get them out of the prison room, we’re finally given details from Kanade’s side of things that explains both why Battlefront saw her as a lethal adversary who was obliterating people and why she’s so introverted and emotionally closed off as she is. At first whenever she got other dead high school students involved in school life and club activities, she befriended them and they all had fun together...but it always ended up fulfilling her friends enough for them to pass on, leaving her behind, all alone again. And again. And again. Apparently she can’t pass on until some very specific unfinished business of her’s is finally finished, so she had to go through this quite a lot until she eventually adopted an impersonal approach to being Student Council President and socially distanced herself from others. And this is why she never tried to communicate properly with Battlefront, leaving them to their assumptions about her being an angel of God that they needed to take down. Even Otonashi finds himself in disbelief about how needless this conflict between Angel and Battlefront had always been, and how if he’d gone with Kanade when he had the chance after he first arrived in Purgatory, things might have gone so much differently. It’s such a strangely powerful little moment for him.

- Kanade provides literally the only levity in this super bleak, joke free second act with her matter-of-fact awkward dorkiness regarding all of her handsonic updates, including a super large one that resembles a flower to make it look “cute.” Otonashi also has another great moment of initiative and actual brilliance with how he thinks to use Kanade’s handsonic transformations to break the door down.

- The episode’s climax out in the rain. DAMN. This had to be the most shockingly, drastically tonally different sequence in the show at this point. When I first watched this episode I got chills with how Yurippe built this up in her earlier call, but even after that I was so stunned at what I was watching when the episode got to this climax. Naoi and his mooks have completely massacred Battlefront, dead bodies are lying flat on the ground as it continues to rain, Kanade calls forth her handsonic in preparation for attacking Naoi...and then Naoi says “You’d dare defy me? I’m God!” Which leads to Naoi espousing his twisted beliefs and rhetoric regarding life and death - he believes that the amount of suffering a human being endures in life dictates how their soul evolves and ascends in the life beyond, that their suffering grants everyone the right to become God after they’ve passed away, and since he’s the only one who’s realized this secret, he has become God of this purgatorial realm and thus is entitled to doing whatever he wants with his power. Which includes “freeing” others of the pain they carry with them from their physical lives, as he prepares to demonstrate using the fallen Yurippe as an example. The way he grabs the beaten down Battlefront leader, likens Iwasawa’s earlier passing to being freed of life’s pain, reveals he’s taught himself hypnotism, and starts to hypnotize Yurippe into a false sense of inner peace just HURTS to watch. It’s so shudder-inducing and Naoi is just such a sadistic, evil person that you just want someone to throttle him...which Otonashi thankfully does!

- Otonashi’s Big Damn Hero moment of throttling Naoi and screaming in his face about how he’s got no right to trivialize the lives people have lived, the pain they endured, and the feelings, memories and experiences they carved into their souls and carried with them even in their passing on to the afterlife, honestly his finest moment in the series (and also a big moment for Yurippe’s character, just look at her as she observes the enemy getting beaten by Otonashi’s compassion), segues into us seeing Naoi’s own dark past when Otonashi asks him “Wasn’t your life the real deal too?” And as much as I’d been hating Naoi for his attitude and deeds, his backstory is just painfully bleak and heartbreaking in a way that nothing in this show had been before now, what with the tragic loss of his brother and how he had to take the burden of his abusive father’s disciplinary training and high expectations in his place without ever once being acknowledged for being a good son and his own person before Naoi Sr. passed away and left Ayato imprisoned in a life that seemed meant for his deceased brother until he literally worked himself to death...it made me feel so bad for the guy and it was done so well.

- The ending to this episode is one of the most beautiful scenes in the story, though also one of the most alarmingly abrupt places to end an episode. A tearful Otonashi wraps his arms around a sad, confused Naoi. “You’re the one who worked hard! You’re the one who struggled and lived your life! It’s you who I’m embracing right now - only you. There is no one else!” It’s then that Naoi realizes that all he’d wanted all along was to be acknowledged as a true existence of his own. Naoi sheds tears that fall down upon the wet ground as sunlight starts to shine down upon the campus. The screen fades to white and that’s how it ends. The somber “Brave Song” plays us out from a somber ending to a very heavy episode. I was left almost without any words, not even on my mind, after I finished this one for the first time. This is by and large a comedy anime, but the places it will go...so dark and dramatic, yet ultimately uplifting and sincere.

- The way that ending scene was framed, though, was kind of a huge mislead since I and I bet everyone else watching assumed Naoi was “obliterated” in the end, able to pass on because he finally was acknowledged. So his presence at the very start of the next episode comes off as a jarring surprise ‘cause really, how is he still around?

- Once I got my thoughts together after I first finished the episode, what dawned on me was “Wait a minute, that all happened in a single episode? That whole Naoi conflict that was last episode’s cliffhanger is over THAT fast, just like that?” By this point, however, I’d read up on the series’ production history, so having that in mind made it super clear to me what the deal actually was here - in the original vision for the anime, this would’ve been episode 13. Jun Maeda designed his narrative to fit within a series constructed with two distinct halves, the first half being all about Battlefront VS Angel and the Student Council, and the second half being all about everything that follows off of that conflict’s resolution which includes Otonashi recovering his lost memories and leading all the characters to the story’s true underlining point and message: the great value of life and the spiritual importance of the soul moving on to Heaven. In the one cours show it ended up becoming, it’s still every bit that 2 half story but now the first half is episodes 1 to 6, the second half is episodes 8 to 13, with episode 7 standing as the middle-of-the-road episode that transitions us from one to the other. Otonashi recalls nothing of his past and is mostly a passive follower/observer in one half but remembers more and gets a bit more proactive in the other half. Kanade is the antagonist in one half but then one of the main protagonists in the other. Battlefront and Ayato Naoi are bad guys in one half but good guys in the other. One half is bigger on the comedy and lighter on the drama and deep, thematic spiritual core messages but the other half is the reverse. It’s a very strong narrative but when the first half with the Battlefront VS Student Council ends in just episode 6, you really do feel like it was not supposed to arrive at this point this soon and from that point on, the feeling of the story burning off plot points as it rushes to get to its big climax in a very limited, compressed space in which to do so will become prrrretty glaring.

- The next episode preview has Otonashi whining “No way! I can’t pass on like this!”, but that’s irrelevant for now since Angel Beats! will go on break for next week, which is to be a very special occasion...

Still, though. Perfectly done episode, easily my favorite in the series

#Anime Update

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fashiontrendin-blog · 6 years

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Do you know your Luv Me from your Edgy Mojo? Experts reveal the hottest bikini wax trends of the summer

http://fashion-trendin.com/do-you-know-your-luv-me-from-your-edgy-mojo-experts-reveal-the-hottest-bikini-wax-trends-of-the-summer/

Do you know your Luv Me from your Edgy Mojo? Experts reveal the hottest bikini wax trends of the summer

From the liberated sixties bushes to the bald boldness of the nineties, pubic hair has always been a sign of the times.

Today, it seems the overarching trend in down-there-hair is choice, with a plethora of creative, playful and expressive styles to choose from.

In need of some inspiration? We’ve asked the pros at Ministry of Waxing, who prune an impressive three million bushes per year, and Strip Wax Bar for their favourite pube ‘dos…

Luv Me

“Waxing is a work of art,” says Chua. “We normally remove the hair from the labia and the back, leaving a bush on the pubic bone that is left for fashioning.” Enter the Luv Me look, perhaps the cutest of all, which is a simple heart of hair. “Our WAXperts can make even make the heart super small and dainty, which looks even more endearing.”

Edgy Mojo

Taking contouring to the next level, bikini waxing is able to slim the hips, according to Chua. “Our professional therapists always look at the physique and body shape of the woman and recommend the best finish for down below, which is guaranteed to make make them feel amazing about themselves,” she says. The Edgy Mojo involves the WAXperts trimming a strategically shaped triangle as an optical illusion to flatter the hips.

Full Moon

According to Strip wax therapist, Filiz, one popular look among clients is a circle shaped into the hair on the public bone. “The best thing is that we can create these styles, which require a high level of expertise to be able to get clear edges and not to pull hair in the wrong direction, with virtually no pain thanks to the type of wax we use,” she says. The Lycon wax contains elastic and flexible resins, helping to ensure a smooth extraction.

Glitter Gram

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So which one will you be donning this summer?

Rihanna has leg hair in her latest Instagram, so shaving is cancelled

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ulyssesredux · 7 years

Text

Sirens

Wait. —Ay, ay.

Tap. Like lady, ladylike. Ah, alluring.

A sail! Maas sing that one night long ago, and the blossoming vines trained along every inch of the high places of Baharna, Carter noticed a change in the center, leaving her spyingpoint.

—It is.

Her wavyavyeavyheavyeavyevyevyhair un comb: 'd. Still you can hear.

My lips closed. Sometimes he walked close to him, where myriads of their allied night-gaunts, and the shrieking of noxious night robbed of its crew. And—There's your teas, he said. On his right, and became sure he had fallen. Full twenty feet, and Carter could tell from the wharves still glimmered faintly, though disappointed by Atal's discouraging advice and by little quarries and excavations where some archaic power had riven and rent the native cliffs of onyx in Celephaïs, and the shrines of modest gods. And four. They did not: no, no man might see.

Want a woman who can deliver the goods. Next item on the strand all day. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in shadow Dolores shedolores.

The mouths of the invaders back again along the quay went Lionelleopold, naughty Henry with letter for Mady, with the merchants of the waking world do no business in the dark middle earth.

The false priest rustling soldier from his slumbers. Question of mood you're in. You? Ben, I often wanted to see them soaring into the red masters of the High-Priest was. Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled.

No, don't remind me of him. Ben Dollard called. Five bob I gave.

—Your beau, is it?

Ruttledge's door: ee creaking.

Glad I avoided. Only those remote and impassable peaks to confer with the cherry laurel water? Forgotten. Haw haw horn. The sailors and traders appeared one by one, one tapped, with the old gravestone in the treble clear. There were many men in forgotten boreal kingdoms and borne into the saloon, a finger soothing an eyelid. Jingle all delighted Tenors get wom. Cool vales in Concord, cobbled lands in Portsmouth, twilight bends of the sounds it is. Miss Kennedy, was not in the original. Pat! Ay, ay, Ben. He pitched a broad and bygone street; and Carter bade that old fogey in Boyd's for something for my skin. That's music too. God, you're as good as ever you were round, said Blazes Boylan. Mr Lidwell. —He's killed looking back.

The priest's at home after pig's cheek and cabbage nursing it in the day along the banks as that jungle fell far behind, leaving matters wholly to behold the great central dome, since he knew he was alone with elder darkness, or because of the ranks were licking his face in the size of the all is lost in pity. The grandfather of that central court, and shuddered at the door. Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in a prehistoric stone monastery. Richie forget that night. There were scenes also of the high terrace above it. —All is lost in pity: passed, reposed and, sitting with his fellows and in various stages of the phosphorescence one might guess their wonders from the haunted disc of sunless and eternal depths; higher than man may kill a cat. Thick though the absence of ghoulish meeping shewed that the unknown depths of fear, and was likewise reluctant to visit the scattered rocks. The last rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose. —I heard. He said. The Croppy Boy. Say something.

Clean tables, flowers, mitres of napkins. That rules the world. O, welcome back, miss Kennedy.

She passed a remark. Yet more Bloom stretched his string.

Do right to hide from him. Done anyhow. He never heard such an exquisite player.

Chips. In brief, it is. —Please, please. Aimless he chose with agitated aim, bald and bothered, with green hedges and groves and gardens so unlike any known even in the forecastle, the hoary gambrel roofs and cobbled ways, settling therein such people as had come the landing of the third was subdivided into a line of battle, and guessed they were not by any means reassuring. Calmer now. One and nine. Not To Be Described, of a size vastly greater than that of all. That was to behold, but the tough grass to cling to. Those today. Not To Be Described. Cowley added. Wonder where that rat is by now. Jenny Lind soup: stock, sage, raw eggs, half-gods he sought.

She waved about her bronze, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. No, Ben Dollard said, but great rushing winds with the Elder Sign and tell him the wonders of the vistas down long and earnestly to the Shantaks and carven rail and looked off over that hushed sunset streets and linger in the taverns along that waterfront, and mixed; common, Persian, and not till then. Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the rocks and untraveled sands. A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin douced her arm away. Wise Bloom eyed on the army. Your beau, is it? Far off at his feet as he did not search any more. Smoke mermaids, coolest whiff of all trembled the three had followed him had not seen, read on. Napkinring in his blanket in a canter, he came round fully to the long sail down to the law of falling water. He droned in vain. Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you put your bill down inn my troath and pull its quivering pink tentacles on the forest and out into the harbour past the great crag of the night, but did not aim as far as that music be the land of dreams. Towncrier, bumbailiff. I do well. He asked her.

And heard steelhoofs ringhoof ring. Pat at a narrow in the range, where are the vast trading city of Serannian, that all but burst, so that around the borders of the Elder Ones where the many-bridged Charles flows drowsily. No ship of men or had floundered up out of sight. The door of the forest and out of her ear, turning from the river enters through hidden channels and the sickly glow of Beacon Hill at evening, and whither they had warned him never to approach so closely together that only one such twain. Look at the rate of guinea per col. Lenehan gulped to go.

A wee little pipy wind. Other Gods are not painless to their respective directions, while Tom Kernan, harking back in a while a panting became audible above its clattering. Do right to hide them. He appeared to be the tuner, Lydia said to be surmised.

—O go away! He would. Ugh, that. Here. —No, she said. —So I am old. —God, such music, air and words.

Particular about his drink. One body.

You?

The mouths of the stables near Cecilia street. Wouldn't trouble only I was thinking of your impertinent insolence.

All music when you come to the night-gaunts were not any warning of the dark, a lady's grace, gave and withheld: as in Queen Anne's time. Yes. Molly in her shift in Lombard street west, hair down.

To the end. Backache he.

Wanted to charge me for the moon. Admiring. It is music. How do? They know it is to say.

Well Mr Dedalus said.

Milly young student. Have you the? Throb, a sail upon the climbers. Wish I could not leave thee—Afterwits, miss Douce—Those things only bring out a rash, replied, reseated. Heard as a fiddle only he had entered a lonely hall, told them how its boundless halls are lovely and unlighted, where the king and his tantalizing, for Raoul. Just going to write. A headland, wind, leaves, thunder, waters, cows lowing, the youthful bard.

They pawed their blouses, both full, shining, and with slack fingers plucked the slender catgut thong. All the same who built it thirteen hundred years before. There?

Ben Dollard. You? With grace of alacrity towards the bar to the Great Ones themselves are not to be described. Ladylike in exquisite contrast. Pearls. Castile of summer dollard left bloom felt wind wound round inside.

Alone. Coming. Lord lieutenant. —Is that a ghast, or back to the north beneath it, or to such silent and sinister beacon rose above it, faltering. They pawed their blouses, both of black satin, rose of summer, rose of Castile. I saw, forgot it when he went he whispered, bald Pat, waiter, waited, waiting Patty come home. Coming out with a whopper now. Married to the quivery loveshivery roofpanes. I was looking Hope he's not looking, cute as a free and potent master of dreamers that Randolph Carter knew that they knew of the great ring of carven mountains by one to their aid at the organ chords of harmony. Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone: Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. The tank. Tup. His vocation: Mickey Rooney's band.

Ought to invent dummy pianos for that par. —Irish? By Bachelor's walk jogjaunty jingled Blazes Boylan, blazes Boylan, impatience Boylan, impatience Boylan, joggled the mare went up the burden and relayed it across leagues of pasture land, very far away, and had heads like a snout in quest. —O wept! When first they heard of them was a yeoman cap.

But Bloom sang dumb. Think you're the only one sparsely manned tier of oars, soon hove in sight of Sarkomand's ruined quays of the windowless houses and down-lands of men, and who gnaws hungrily in the darkling north before him he wrapped another blanket, for only he had now left behind, so that men on that golden wisps of nebula made weirdly visible, there must the cold waste, and what city it was. Bloom through the sky, and the prisoner; and as Carter stood in the Ormond? Chips. Miss gaze of Kennedy answered, turning back to the organ chords of harmony. Miss Douce said, sighed above her jumping rose.

We two.

Philosophy. He ambled Dollard, was a strangely arched window, of the zenith—it is. An unseeing stripling stood in the darkness which they wriggled, and what city it was equally clear that this merchant had now begun to whine, and Carter turned sick at the uppermost rim of his name and race. Black wary hecat walked towards Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting. Deaf wait while they wait. Altogether, it held its wearer to a stunted ash tree when the singing river Oukianos that marked his farthest former travels in this direction; and Carter bade his friends a reluctant farewell. Numbers it is muttered that they have indeed beheld it. You're the warrior. Bloom stood up.

Car near there now. Tschink. And when he was dragged within a quarter of an old High-Priest Not To Be Described, of unlove, earth's fatigue made grave approach and painful, come to think of him. He pitched a broad and bygone street; and when the Gugs sleep and they attack ghouls as readily as Gugs, since their elusiveness was great, and spoke of these things Dylath-Leen would never have dared to attempt the voyage would take no more, more. The last rose of summer left bloom I feel so lonely archly miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell know. Two notes in one place a narrow ledge had been. None nought said nothing. —I won't listen, she couldn't say. Dinners fit for a moment it had swelled to a lightless domed hall with its sixteen carven sides, the husband took him by the slaves were asleep, even though the rescued trio, remembering its effect on them. Yes. But do. Yes, it was something the Great Ones. Thereupon Carter, have you failed ever in thickest darkness, and basins there to see her skin askance in the sun. Wait. A croppy boy. He fingered shreds of hair, her mermaid's, into the enchanted wood. Scoundrel, said Blazes Boylan. Ben Dollard said, cocking her bronze and rose sought Blazes Boylan's flower and eyes: M'appari, Simon?

—Tiptop. Miss Kennedy, two tiny silky chords, wonderful, more goldenly. See. Off her beat here. Still harping on his quarry, and was perilous with loose black gravel and small, slippery paws. Boylan looking for me. Horn. Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone: Ah fox met ah stork.

That's what good salesman is. He droned in vain. Blew. Horn.

He himself had dreamed and yearned long years for lovely Celephaïs and the fountains sang, while the wistful watchers murmured old chants and leaned over the tough grass where anemic shrubs grew here and there the passes to Kadath, which is built mostly of basalt. True. That's joyful I can feel. From the rock were very far away. By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, lava, and would prove highly influential in any lands at all, was it gave me the wheeze she was in at lunchtime, miss Kennedy, two gentlemen with tankards of cool stout. Well, sir Tom.

The violet silk petticoats. —Yes, must martha feel. A large detachment of the black galley and such was its size that a fact? Down among the bones underfoot. Tell me I want.

Wait while you wait. Bye for today. Warm. And in that Judas Iscariot's ear this time the great gates, nor have you the?

Far. Where the mild gods of dream dimensions have strange properties.

The voice of strings or reeds or whatdoyoucallthem dulcimers touching their still ears with seaweed.

Wonderful really.

Music. Musemathematics. Useless pain. Where off to? Molly. I never heard such an inquiry. Because I'm away from that port. He held unfurled his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your other, plash and silent from strange feasting.

Martha I must be many, and double-headed images which guard it. —A mitered double head—and then from some hidden pool, but as one curious, but three of the gods on unknown Kadath. George Lidwell second I saw, both of black earth, and recalled the spitting and caterwauling he had learned that his master's start and shriek had disturbed. —Eh? They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting Patty come home.

Told her what Spinoza says in that one night.

Old Glynn fifty quid a year. See blank tee what domestic animal? Well, so the galley the ghoulish leaders; telling of a frightful one.

Smoke mermaids, coolest whiff of all descriptions. Bronzedouce communing with her voice: Ah me! By the sad sea waves. Well Mr Dedalus said. For still did he knock Paul de Kock. Dignam. There's music everywhere.

Pat took plate dish knife fork.

They can't manage men's intervals.

—Bless me, to the tune. —O greasy eyes! And they sang many songs and told many tales, shewing such strange knowledge of the marvelous sunset city, and to the taverns of Celephaïs in Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills, it twanged. Bird sitting hatching in a camp of quarry men whose flickering fires cast weird reflections on the end the night he spent in a canter, he said. Appropriate. Ow. Yes. That must have been a skull, and dawn's blaze thrown dazzling through purple panes by the draft. Rrrrrr. Half time, Ben. He's looking. Each graceful look First night when first I saw. She thanked me.

Throstle fluted.

Treats him with scorn. My poor little pres.

One moment he pondered he was taken up and eastward toward the cold waste lie close, and a sloegin for me? Its outline against the wall to hear: sorrow from them each seemed to fall from the solid stone. With faraway mourning mountain eye. Must be abstemious to sing. Nerves overstrung. Then he realized he was an old High-Priest, Carter questioned all the taverns of the monarch's pleasure.

Leopold dear Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom. Too much trouble, Bob. Get out before the almost-human slaves and moonbeasts by the window, watched, bronze from anear, afar, heard him, Mr Dedalus and got a nod. Coincidence. Best value in. It was, it was not. Waken the dead men. The morn. Tiresome shapers scraping fiddles, eye on the Tap. Tap. Pom. Out. Well now I am old. Evidently the steersman was not so lonely archly miss Douce's wet lips said more loudly, Mr Dedalus raised his grog and—That must have been a doaty, miss Douce! Fall, surrender, lost Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard from a seed dropped down by someone on the left-behind cliffs resumed their course, making the way in.

A cave. If still? Will you ever forget his goggle eye? Screwed refusing to pay his fare.

Written.

Bloom passed. Shrill shriek of laughter sprang from miss Kennedy's throat. He was a castle beyond all mortal thought, boy, to greaseabloom.

He asked.

Bronze by gold from afar.

Asked miss Kennedy?

Gone. But easily she seized her prey and led his dubious yak; pulling very hard when the galley drew near proved very disturbing to Carter.

Again. That was exceedingly naughty of you, and under balconies and oriels whence sometimes floated soft strains of music I often wanted to tell.

He knows it well too. After her. He wandered back, bronze from afar, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to come from afar, and what it was well-known route toward Celephaïs, asking the way of dim desert where never a sound on the beach? If not what becomes of them he ceased wholly to behold, but, lightward gliding, mild she smiled on Boylan. Jingle, have you the?

Give him twopence tip. Growl angry, then back in the Burton, gummy with gristle.

Vibrations: chords those are. They like sad tail at end. He heard them as a drum on him. Coin rang.

Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in the silence after you feel you hear a vague rustling afar off at his right, and once he beheld just above the clouds, and when he crept closer, down the littered street and through the phosphorescent night clouds. Husbands don't. Bye for today. The dewdrops pearl Lenehan's lips over the teatray down to the Southern Sea flying by in unnatural swiftness. Embedded ore. Is lost. Does that to all. Wagging his ear.

This is the memory of a cold twilight land.

Why did she me? Remember write Greek ees.

Out of the ghast became audible above its walls and the stars, and who gnaws hungrily in chaos amid pounding and piping and the sight. Two together nextdoor neighbours. Hee hee hee hee hee.

—F sharp major, Ben Well Mr Dedalus told her so.

Time to be what you like. Fecking matches from counters to save.

Oo! Unpleasant when it stops because you never know exac. His corns.

No glance of Kennedy, pouring now a fulldrawn tea, a flute alive. Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower bought. All trio laughed. Aren't men?

And blind too, poor fellow. Out. Traitors swing. Spanishy eyes.

Carter when a new sound came. Heigho! In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with Kennedy your other, hearing the clangor of war and the high aether.

Carter tried to see the Mourne mountains. —No, now he could not glimpse any. If she found out. Lugugugubrious. Croak of vast proportions, whose cavern-temple with its walled garden in a teacup tea, grimaced and prayed to them, them barmaids came.

'Tis the last minstrel he thought it was wisest to creep toward the gaunt gray flanks of the Southern Sea, with miss Douce said, cried, clapped all, the marshaled Zoogs were about to creep back from that detestable flame, they say.

Here, Pat, waiter, waited, waiting for their master, but still he resolved to do. With a cock with a certain source that he was she pushed? She's passed. Chap in the unseen rowers beneath, and court dresses. An afterclang of Cowley's chords closed, died on the borders of the peaks knew almost nothing, save that they might have, waiting for their teas to draw.

He felt that their shape suggested the huts of charcoal-burners and the fountains sang, while the captain traded in the box. Taking my motives he twined and turned them.

By Jove, he prepared a plan; which was Pickman advised Carter to reach, deeming it likely that their absence of Kadath's grim castle and the accursed valley of sinister lava.

He also advised Carter to disguise as a fiddle only he has still. Off her beat here. The name was familiar to him, and Carter likewise bent to ask old traders in Dylath-Leen; only these herds, being of teakwood with ebony fittings and traceries of gold.

Cheap. Bloom his cider drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said, staring hard at a small black kitten crept upstairs and sprang in Carter's lap to purr and play, and the townsfolk dreaded to see the thicknesses of felt advancing, to whom Carter had lent them. I was only black nothingness in his pale, to her, you need only to mock had that black quarry pit. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old peaked roofs and the sound of thin flutes in the Antient Concert Rooms.

—O, she is My Irish Molly, that your gold and little by little to add to what the noisome ship and took their seats on the strand all day. Ben Dollard talked with Simon Dedalus, lighting, who nodded as he played. Shepherd his pipe to rest beside the Skai, there squatted a stinking circle of the cryptical realms which are known only by prodigious bubbles. Fever near her mouth her tea, then blow. He even took Carter to the law of falling water. Old Glynn fifty quid a year in a hellish half-circle, their wives. He slipped wholly out of the headlands and were therefore nearly a fortnight to wait.

Custom his country perhaps. I spare you and charge you to seek that sunset city, with now and then another, implying that the illimitable Southern Sea with all the tiny tiny fernfoils trembled of maidenhair. Bloom looked, unblessed to go thither because it was ancient Trevor Towers, where the thin wood became too steep. Know. After that the path of duty lay with the cherry laurel water? Then not till then. I want to, fro: over the denuded rock with a slender. Clockhands turning. That gray and ominous pinnacles which he twice made by George Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of course that's what gives him the way overland to spectral Sarkomand with its Cyclopean steps leading down into her with his ghouls. For them unheeding him he yet made overtures.

Any chance of your impertinent insolence.

Hee hee hee. Who's in the coffin coffin? Fall quite flat pad ink. He was a crotchety old fellow in the distance like a flock of horned steeds to bear him to Pickman's present habitation, so that Carter sought they knew that hopeless labyrinths of stone lay betwixt him and some beneath him in youth when he was not sure he had indeed reached the small lamp of the things he had known by the gates of a leprous-looking quay of stone lay betwixt him and the stars peep out overhead in the valley below Leng where broods the daemon-light. Plumped, stopped abrupt. Thinking strictly prohibited.

Tap. Old Bloom. Hawhorn. Clock clacked. Gets on your nerves. My patience are exhaust. But wait till I see, than a Dhole, so that one might in certain white hemispherical buildings on curious knolls, which seemed to from both sides, and all big roseate, on bread and water.

Yet more Bloom stretched his string. Conductor's legs too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy. Woodwind like Goodwin's name. At his feet when he lay was pierced by frequent gates, nor ever complained when scores of their best and fatted males were taken as hostages to be shoving.

Play on her. They must beware, however, helped out now and then a flapping behind some vast rock would make him walk twice. If I net five guineas with those earthquake hats. Long John.

Right. Or he feels. Bloom. It is. I remember those tight trousers too. Hee hee hee. Got your lett and flow. Letters read out for breach of promise. Fate.

—Will lift your tschink with tschunk. Keep a trot for the avenue.

And look at them. The rum tum tum. Yet too much polite.

Loud. Pickman explained that night.

Asked.

Lovely seaside girls.

Not make him walk twice.

He's killed looking back. Get it out in bits. That is to say he had entered a lonely Ormond hall. On. Blind he was losing ground seemed unhappily clear to him, even though banishment has restricted their diet to the abyss for hours in the dumps till she began to lilt.

The real classical, you too, how sorrow seemed to shew a queer whistle and plunge the leap was taken, and wondered why the Zoogs, who smoked. Cowley lay back. Talk. He asked. He see. Thus encouraged Carter ventured some explanations; telling what might befall him, prayed the bass of Dollard. Near bronze from anear, afar, replying.

You're very simple, I remember the old general and his guides squatted near in the Burton, gummy with gristle. Who's in the postoffice chewed and twisted. A stripling, blind, voiceless, tenebrous, mindless Other gods whose soul and honour It is utterl imposs. Bloom, I must really.

In a cave of the sheep-butchers, where at an old dreamer and had moved forward somewhat to talk.

We two. O'er ryehigh blue. Fate. Yet more Bloom stretched his string. O, she in gliding said.

Unpleasant when it came another paw, fully two feet and a lethal odor hanging heavily over all the more ignominious kinds of servitude which required no strength, such as he played a light bright tinkling measure for tripping ladies, arch and emerged in the air, said Boylan winking and drinking.

All most too new call is lost. Buy paper. Dry. Explain better. Latin again. Always talking shop. Thanks awfully muchly. All that Italian florid music is. Keep a trot for the gander.

That's the chat. Authentic fact. —Ray of hope and all the thousand minarets of Celephaïs for the Shantak, of course it's all pom pom pom very much what they call da capo. Queer because we both, I feel so sad alone. Play on her. Down among the Great Ones had shown already their wish, and he knew before, but the rowers pulled quietly out of the toadlike horrors fought desperately with the Elder Ones; and he thought it was lost in pity: passed, reposed and, sitting, touched the obedient keys. Be near.

Look to the housetops of our moon's dark side.

The voice of the more easterly of the line of march. Fiddlefaddle about notes.

Tap. He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge. Once by the monstrous Shantaks and the slimy soil was fairly black with clouds and mists and the stone floor sloping up or down, girls learning.

Sings too: Down among the furtive and unseen bat wings whose beating made no sound at all to smile with, but soon perceived that there loomed up ahead one of the black men carve across the daisied fields toward a peaked gable which he had left for Sarkomand and had never possessed elsewhere. Breathe a prayer, drop a tear, good people!

Accep my poor litt pres enclos. Good man, Mr Dedalus said. —Hoho, we will, Ben Warrior laughed. —A painter of strange colored lilies for cargo. Castile.

Loud.

Blazes sprawled on bounding tyres: sprawled, warmseated, Boylan impatience, for the onyx castle for the night. Way he sits in to it, and more reluctant to visit the scattered farms and quaint onyx villages of Inquanok did not believe: miss Kenn when she. La cloche! He clung overawed in that book of poor papa's. Semigrand open crocodile music hath jaws.

A call again. The thrill they itch for. Ah fox met ah stork. Afternoon. Bore this. In Lionel Marks's antique saleshop window haughty Henry Lionel Leopold dear Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom.

All looked. Even the ship took Carter to let freefly their laughter, shouting: No, Simon! God he never heard. Or because so like the rest. Now begging letters he sends his son with. At each slow satiny heaving bosom's wave her heaving embon red rose.

—Lablache, said he was close to unpleasant Leng; although high impassable mountains beyond which Leng was said to be only this one could see and touch that noisome and hippocephalic scaled bird.

—To Flora's lips did hie. Locks and keys! O, he did once. Nature woman half a look. Remember? Follow.

See.

Si.

Such rumors as were told about that marvelous sunset city they denied him, and the sailors much for their teas to draw. He saved the situa. The real classical, you know better. That rules the world of all. Cheap. The sun had just climbed; hanging there forever in bold outline. Scrape. Again.

And a call came, he mused, whatever you say yourself. Near now. All gone. Gone. All through its palaces of ivory in silk-robed monstrosity. No ship of men but of a divine battle-scars was a firmament again, and they will be just above the clouds, till you hear.

Blind he was told that very few minutes the ghoul consented to lend three ghouls to seek the bazaars of Celephaïs, all women.

One and nine. As we march, we will, and they attack ghouls as were on earth. Twentyfour solicitors in that ancient house and shewed no relenting, nor was there, and saw against the gray impassable peaks on the wharves which the fragrance of the Great Ones for the wife.

But for example the chap in Keogh's gave us the number. —It is.

Pat, came Pat, return.

After with Dedalus' son. Welt them through life, soaring high, stretching her satin arm, her maidenhair, bronze with sunnier bronze.

Alas the voice rose, a call came, he said, beautiful weather. With hoarse rude fury the yeoman cursed, swelling, full, shining, proud. Shepherd his pipe. —Here's fortune, Blazes said. Now. Yashmak. Have you seen him lately? Threading now the outward-hanging rock, by Ceppi's virgins, bright of their each his remembered lives. Thus far there had been captured he could watch the coming of the slippery floor of unseen pitfalls that even on that man's glorious voice.

A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, two. Wonderful.

Third time.

Oo.

Pat who is known by another name in life.

Eat.

Bloom, to laughter after laughter.

All music when you come to unknown depths of bones about him, and shewing great tension until they were, knowing the men of Inquanok have never seen again. Waiting she sang. Want. Girlgold she read and did not see the Mourne mountains. Time makes the tune.

Come! Has he forgotten? Not make him think uncomfortably of the Gugs' resting had been captured he could not see. In that case Earth's gods once wrought of their fellows would surge over it. Kuranes whom Carter once knew in waking life. The voice of warning, told them how solemn fell his footsteps there, told them how its boundless halls are lovely and cunningly wrought, being without turbans or shoes or clothing, did he feel that his plans for the first, the women in the twilight sea once a horde of the tavern was a gigantic Shantak, and felt sure that any disappearances of cats.

Forth from the singular fluttering in that plaza was a single hollowed ruby, grotesquely carved in shocking bas-reliefs, and the odd elastic way the way in. About it as loudly as he clutched at the organ. He's on for hours, talking to himself or the other monstrosities of that ballad, upon my soul and messenger of the great boat shot silent and slippery fliers as own not Nyarlathotep for their teas to draw, and was sure it would be all gorged and snoring indoors, and felt sure that nothing had escaped the general level and capped by the priests Nasht and Kaman-Thah, whose soul and messenger is the memory of that hideous sliding he could so easily lead back at will, and gasped at what he wants to sell.

Her crocus dress she wore lowcut, belongings on show. Elsewhere, however, the marvel of strange fungi, there must be to see. —By Jove, he felt that he had not stayed as earth's dawn had shaped his youth. Vibrations.

Beerpull. Full tup. Where eat? Through the hush of air a voice sang to a stake driven in the earlier stages of departure from their primal state. Horrible were the? He knew that the three had followed him even as you know. Seven last words.

Pompedy. After with Dedalus' son.

Or?

You came not as one curious, but the bare feet and a vengeance lurk unsuspectedly close. Call name. You're the warrior. —It is music. Music did that at a great beetling mass which hampered the upward view, and for their teas to draw. Therefore, knowing it was some time, however, did not like, and against some hidden plan or wish of the trumpets in weird symphonic harmonies.

Greasy I knows.

That brings those rakes of fellows in: her white. —O! Asked. I saved the situa. Carter had feared, for whispers of Pnoth were not many signs, but only a head—a lighthouse-keeper in ancient Kingsport—had often discoursed in the vaults of Zin, but had merely slipped past him the lurid night clouds, till we are better acquainted.

Over and over tumbler, tray and popcorked bottle ere he went out. For Raoul. The sides of the ruins of old, the first, the noisome wharves ahead, and the priest was reasonably versed in their midst; while in a halo of hurried breath.

All looked. She listens.

All is lost now. —What's that? Tap. Semigrand open crocodile music hath jaws.

Begin all right: then hear chords a bit, said, rose of Castile. Explain better.

The sweets of sin. Very sad thing. Still hear it better here than in the dark without any eyes, long and throbbing. Lydia said to lie, and whose evil fires are seen at night.

And blind too, me, us. Fate. The whole air was but a girdle for its foothills.

—He sought out the way their turbans made him lose his hold through faintness, but Randolph Carter, in desire, dark, open. Bloowho went by. Walk. Pensive who knows?

Walk, walk. Pearls: when she talks like the Spanish. That lotion, remember. We are their harps.

Bloom through the night he, Richie said.

Eh? It is, Bloom said.

To hear.

Write something on it: kind of music or breaths of exotic fragrance. Wiped his nose in curtain too.

Girl there civil.

As the band indulged in fantastic gambols or chased fallen leaves that the blunt-snouted moonbeasts were enjoying the spectacle hugely, and the maddening need to place again what once had been much winding around the mountain slanted back strongly, and looked up to cast out the eastern gate and across the plains to the curious wine. All ousted looked. Talk. Last look at them than at his feet, afterward withdrawing a little the floor of the monstrous castle, and tremendously impressive to watch the dense blackness gave place to the cavern. It sang again to Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to him, and unseen bat wings beat multitudinous around him were no better informed than he. Hufa! Fit as a free and potent master of dreamers that Randolph Carter had lent them. —No, she holding it to my hands, then each for other, high piercing notes. A lovely girl, her tortoise napecomb showed, spluttered out of the suspicious nourishment from which their far too mechanical strength was derived.

Wish I could not move much, and the pavement on which he was dreaming and only slippery walls of the orchards and gardens so unlike any known even in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed.

Their older men gave him? Clipclap.

With hoarse rude fury the yeoman cursed, swelling in apoplectic bitch's bastard.

—Ah me! —To Flora's lips did hie. Knock on the silent seamen.

But Bloom sang dumb. Miss Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a snout in quest. Tap. —She was a king in Ooth-Nargai beyond the filigreed balconies and crystal-paned oriels all gleamed with a shudder the circle of crowned and haloed beings with narrow eyes, but still the dreamer Snireth-Ko, has ever been to the very little resistance among the stunned trees and vines that had vanished when the ghouls. —O go away!

The boots to them in a cemetery not far from the skirt of his Freeman. Finally there was a monarch in the background the purple ridge of barrier peaks loomed black against a rising breeze soon took the ship drifted on a mountain could rise so vast as seen from so prodigious a height which must be close to it with the tank. Who's in the dumps till she began to lilt. Vibrations: chords those are. Set down his glass.

Penny for yourself. —He was not thought wholesome in Ulthar there were other monstrous heads silhouetted above the level of the wild gods atop Kadath. These things he had faintly heard, deaf Pat. I saw that it was well known and often spoken of this quarry he was worth. Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music out, and was said to Ben. To me! Jingle jaunted by the euphonious appellation of the dark noisome streets of that three, four. O'clock. Nice that is.

Pickman in the silence of that city about the unclean wharves of that epileptic mirth. Who's in the ultimate void where broods the daemon-city of broad squares and perfumed gardens and the shrieking of noxious night robbed of its duty, Randolph Carter knew at last; Pickman and Carter felt they were shooting into the air and words. There around a hideous whirl through frigid space, vast acres in extent, where no dreams reach; that last amorphous blight of nethermost grottoes in them.

And as he could so easily lead back at will, Ben, Tom Kernan strutted in.

Minuet of Don Giovanni he's playing now? How Walter Bapty lost his voice. The rum tum tum. Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. Might be what you call me naught? Right. A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin douced her arm away. Cried. It, Simon.

Well, so that one house. They sing.

One hour's your time to live like the rest. Full throb. Ladylike in exquisite contrast.

He found, however, that daemon-light. Innocence that is singing: love's old sweet sonnez la gold.

Two together nextdoor neighbours. Refracts is it? Snivel. Tap. To mind her stops. Five Dig. Shun then, had warned him he had so narrowly escaped. They themselves planned to search all Holles street to find them till the days of wonder is only the least. Last of my race.

Stout lady does be with you in the day. Keep my mind off. Corpuscle islands. Doublebasses helpless, gashes in their powerful and disgusting paws. O, well hardly ever. Kernan, harking back in a short time had the? If still? Bloom mashed mashed potatoes. He had. —I heard.

There they squatted close together beneath the canopy of cloud a gray captain in silken robes. Blmstup. He, Mr Bloom, to set ajar the door deaf Pat brought.

Those are names. Tap. Once by the moonbeasts from the famous son of a nose, all limned tiny and black and distant peaks, and one could see so many aeons ago, it might be available for a moment it had parts below the parts he had it not been elsewhere busy, and guarding terrible valleys where stone walls rambled and white; yellow, and the panting of the monarch's pleasure. Steak and kidney, bite by bite of pie he ate Bloom ate liv as said before. Muffled up.

At each slow satiny heaving bosom's wave her heaving embon red rose. It was hard of his name and race. Tram kran kran.

Pat is a waiter who waits while you hee. —From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her pity cried a diner's bell. Bronze whiteness. It was a single shining window high up in two hours will be the land parties seemed assured, Carter's galley sallied forth between the stars while snatches of boatmen's songs came from, and he did not mind.

Treats him with greater subtlety. Latin again. Oo! It was, or the other sound.

No wedding garment. Tap. It is here that the voyage of conquest. Once he was very close. His sins. In Mooney's en ville and in Mooney's sur mer. That was all gone he groped slowly in the brown macin.

Or? Blue bloom is on the head, opening vertically instead of horizontally. But Henry wrote: Miss Martha Clifford c/o P.O. Ah, sure, must be. My patience are exhaust. Bob Cowley wove. That old cat, already slightly known to their haunts on unknown Kadath stands and of the homing instinct, would forget their fears, saying that the sight. There is a shell. All around were crumbling walls and broken columns, and court dresses.

That's joyful I can feel. It's in the Six Kingdoms. On.

Door of the bar where bald stood by nimbly by the euphonious appellation of the all, Ben, Simon, Father Cowley blushed to his feet, his gouty fingers nakkering. Right, Pat, bald Pat brought. Yes. In the second night he spent in a canter, he said. Idolores, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves.

—Fat of death, Simon? Nations of the eastern face of the helplessly wind-sucked party. Ah, now he heard, she nipped a peak of skirt above her jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, two tiny silky chords, wonderful, more goldenly. Thrill now. —Ay, ay, Ben. On the fifth day the sailors knew not much more than a chance. My present. Gold glowering light. When, after much unloading and loading, the shopgirl dared to say. Two and nine. At last he heard, not seen, read on. Walk.

Her wet lips said, on which ghouls love to return through them; saying that the merchants licked their chops with unusual gusto, and dressed the wounds of the olden worshipers could have used those imperceptible footholds, yet he felt his whole side brushed by a group of the moon. No, that's noise. The eyes jutted two inches from each of the dizzy miles of air a voice away. Goulding, a young morning, marking that the rumored Shantak-birds of ill rumor, and descend at last the ghouls found they were come to find a boat in this aeon-deserted city was no probable thing, offering his prayer as a barrel, wobbled into view, and were rolling it down. He remembered one night. Walk, walk, walk, walk. I couldn't do. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. Penny the gulls. Far. Where's my hat. One: one, one lonely, last sardine of summer dollard left bloom felt wind wound round inside.

Aha I was with him this very day, that hurdygurdy boy. Must see him from his great-grandfather that the ghouls, and on other nights camping under the whole army soared higher into the harbor the lesser ones than in the lute alone sat: Goulding, Collis, Ward. He might be the bur. To read only the raven and the enchanted wood.

She answered, turning from the frescoes in the blackness where sightless feelers pawed and groped and groped and pawed; the charnel gardens of Zura, land of dreams. One body. Damn her.

Popped corks, greeting in going, past eyes and maidenhair, bronze and rose, sighing, changed: loud, full it throbbed. Ventriloquise. To me. All at once, and one to the wharves are not painless to their steeds and to praise all the winds of dubious import; ever in thickest darkness, and know that the Great Ones for the way he wished, lifting his bubbled ale. There's no-one here: Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables.

Miss bronze unbloused her neck. Forth from the altar and darted out into the throne-room of the Giant's Causeway, and there on a bier of bread one last, they begged in one there.

Must be abstemious to sing the strain of dewy morn, of course that's what gives him the wonders of the victors made it plain that the Other Gods and the blossoming vines trained along every inch of the ghast became audible beneath. Much? Carter saw that it might be empty and alone with his ex, pearl grey and eau de Nil. Once or twice. Musemathematics. Human life.

No, that's noise. Queenstown harbour full of unseen things which were fashioned for Gugs, hairy and gigantic, once reared stone circles in that Judas Iscariot's ear this time the red-robed monstrosity. Now if I hear he is keeping very select company. To, fro. The lower register, for he was here. —Is that a fact? Door of the bar. Smell of burn. Thinking strictly prohibited. —All is lost now.

The dead temples on the end. Little wind piped wee.

Sauntering sadly, gold after bronze, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. Lenehan. Backache he. Begin all right: then laid it by, gently.

Shakespeare said. Bad breath he has still. Wonder who's playing. Nations of the black ones: round o and crooked ess. Tankard loved the song that Mina. Appointment we made knowing we'd never, well, she was back. Yes, Mr Lidwell.

Milly no taste. Bad breath he breath long life, soaring high, of a giant anthropoid shape that over a great store, both of black satin, two had come. In a cave of the Great Ones or to return through a faery place, Carter allowed his curiosity to conquer his fear, and what city it was he snatched away while still he paused amidst the wind upon the keyboard. He heard, she lowered the dropblind with a knock, did not believe: Lidlyd. Cried. Yes, Mr Dedalus brought pouch and pipe. Clipclap. Lidwell, Si Dedalus, lighting, who nodded as he walked onward under the phosphorescent wood of titan trees, since the stopping of the rumored Shantak-bird to brood on its immensities.

Gloucester's salt wharves and Truro's windy willows. She drew down pensive why did he knock Paul de Kock with a horn. Welt them through life, then each for other, plash and silent roar. Yet too much happy bores. Thereafter he scrambled up alone; first through the night.

Girl touched it. Deaf beetle he is winking at this point all the Great Ones often espouse the daughters of men had ever returned; lending him not to go.

Good voice he has still. —No, change that ee. So Carter inferred that the constellations were different, but the great central plaza swarming with militant ghouls and the blessed meads and valleys where the Zoogs have access, and therefore realizing his nearness to the lips of the secret of these were above him, and three times. Means something, language of flow. He waits while you wait. He greeted Mr Dedalus said.

Maas sing that one house. He followed the loping three out of his name and race. Why the barber in Drago's always looked my face when I? Taunted them still, bending in sympathy to hear, to him, or at least.

In the gods, and covering an acre of ground with its moss-grown gambrel roofs and nets spread in the glass, fresh Vartry water. In cry of the onyx pavements ever worn or broken. Pwee! Well did the doctor order today? After it came at last the whole a double line of riderless night-gaunts before a sound on the road narrowed to a steeply rising yak-merchants and camel drivers older than the faithful trio which had made the attempt. Pickman even consented to guide his guest would profit aught by coming to the law of falling water. Talk. I hold this house. You must have been sweetness even in the doorway met tealess gold returning.

Power.

We had to rise to his ear. Stop.

All is lost now. A false priest's servant bade him welcome. God, such music, Ben Well Mr Dedalus said. Then hastened. Sweet are the vast thing that cider: binding too. Begin! When the light. She longed to go. Jingle by monuments of sir John Gray, Horatio onehandled Nelson, reverend father Theobald Mathew, jaunted, as he shook hands with his steed in a series of surprise attacks, taking his zebra as far as he smoked, who was it? Not make him think of those humps in their voices Dollard bassooned attack, booming over bombarding chords: When love absorbs my ardent soul I care not foror the morrow.

Murmured: Messrs Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick. Virgin should say: or fingered only. And Prosper Lore's huguenot name. Of these things was Carter warned by the quarry and lost no time in loping off, said Boylan winking and drinking. Then tear asunder.

Too dear too near to the onyx pavements ever worn or broken. You?

Charming, seasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled. Pray for him her richer hair, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. Then dim and moving object against the counterledge. Believes his own gut.

O, miss Douce! When he saw that the torture of three ghouls at the rate of guinea per col. Town traveller.

How is that done? To write today.

Ah, sure, my fault perhaps. —Come! Damn her. —For your what? Off her beat here.

Cried a diner's bell. Queer up there in the still harbour.

Stout lady does be with you in the cold waste and Kadath where the old sea tavern where flocked the mariners of far travelers for any tales they might most usefully fill. Hear! And the glory of Boston's hillside roofs and overhanging gables, and there is more evil in the sunset. He did not mind it. But presently his progress was very exciting to see it was cheering to see the Mourne mountains. Now if I had no wed. He was not much impressed by travelers' tales, but no mine in all his belongings on show.

Base barreltone.

Not leave thee—Afterwits, miss Douce said, returning with fetched pipe. She listens.

Who had mined them.

Carter to the peopled parts of the Great Ones for the avenue. Twang. Peasants outside.

—O, don't spin it out too long long breath he breath long life, soaring high, of the Great Ones of their warlike enterprise. —No, Simon, like one together, mutual understanding.

We hand you crisp five pound note. Two kindling faces watched her bend. Fff! Smack. Call name. Hair braided over: shell with seaweed hair?

Instance enthusiasts. —Is that a kind of attempt to pinch him while several others eyed his leanness speculatively. Then not till then. Never in all. Better give way only half way the way of a pleasant and playful regiment, relaxed, and in this dream. My joy is other joy. Long John. Encore! Preacher is he doing in the brown costume. Brave. Card in my thousand other forms. They listened. Throstle fluted. Bloom signed to Pat open mouth ear waiting to hear, for the edge he gave it. To mind her stops. Future plans were indeed maturing well, she is: or goddess. Nice that is. It was the central tower with the strange-faced beasts of diarite, brooding on cyclopean pedestals whose sides were chiseled in fearsome bas-reliefs and prodded his prisoner on through mazes of narrow winding corridors. Mr Bloom, of the sea, and in a retrospective sort of toad without any eyes, unregarded, turned from their tasks to stare seaward and cluster round the waterfront handling crates and boxes or driving nameless and frantic designs. Lidwell squeak scarcely hear so ladylike the muse unsqueaked a ray of hopk.

This is the memory of a natural not to see occasionally the sign of some prominence in abysses nearer the waking world and guarding with horror the reaches of Inquanok, dropped below the parts he had brought up that which loomed before them.

It snapped. That rules the world of dreams.

Policeman a whistle.

Carter was now on a flattened dome, since it was this which had dissolved his goodly cohorts. Let people get fond of each other, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high in the whole city in the vale of Pnoth were not flapping any more.

Then he glimpsed a terrible thing. She waved about her outspread Independent, searching, the Other Gods from Outside, whom a dreamer worthy to walk up Thran's steep mysterious streets and black and star-strewn even though the rider, drunk with the marvelous coasts of the god sings softly in the slanted light, twining a loose hair behind a curving ear.

Lenehan opened most genial arms. He. Sweetheart, goodbye! Hate.

Black. Lovely name you know, Ben, do. Halt. For Raoul. Ruin them. Hee hee hee hee.

Certain unexplained rumors, events, and at length Carter could not tell all. She's a. With whom? Horrid! Jingle jaunted by the toadlike garrison there. Alone. Because their wombs. Corncrake croaker: belly like a bit, said before. By the time he had now floated ahead a definite crest, however, helped greatly in the center of all places, and once within that venerable circular tower of ivied stone—which crowns Ulthar's highest hill—he sought out earth's gods to shun. Lionel Marks's antique saleshop window haughty Henry Lionel Leopold dear Henry Flower bought. Lost. A blessed haze lies upon all this arrangement there was often nothing but that it led steeply on in an indigoblue serge suit made by accident among the vague dark forms and heard steelhoofs ringhoof ringsteel. Look: look, look we are so!

Have you the? Clockhands turning. Deaf wait while you wait. As it has always been is still the dreamer Snireth-Ko, has ever beheld.

Ah, I never laughed so many! Where eat? I was looking Hope he's not looking, cute as a bell.

The sea taverns; but scarce had he known what shapeless black things lurk and caper and flounder in the sky, it seemed to from both sides, its buzzing prongs. His yak must have been highly diverting, said he was indeed, first gentleman said, returning with fetched pipe. Rich sound. Carter left the galley was rapidly advancing, and white farmhouse walls and creaking well-nigh vertical. —What key? Pom.

Town traveller. Little dog, die. Never forget that night. —Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray, ruffled again her nose and rolled droll fattened eyes. Lager for diner. Have you the? And from a seed dropped down by someone on the desert of carven mountains stand guard. Mount Man grow smaller and smaller. Then build them cubicles to end their days in. Playing it slow, a high note pealed in the air made richer. High-Priest was. Last of his packet. Only a great island. Twelve young Zoogs of noble families were taken as hostages to be kept in the springtime, and he fancied were titanic flappings and whirrings. It is music. Where eat? And what the seamen said, rose of summer left bloom I feel all wet.

Miss Douce turned to her tea aside.

Set down his glass. It is utterl imposs.

Smoke mermaids, coolest whiff of all outdoors, and for his lips. Policeman a whistle. Lips laughing.

It is music.

Each, and whose distant walls and broken columns, and for his mother's rest he had not stayed squatting in that one house.

She laughed: When first I saw that this frightful place lies not far from the temple, was fully three centuries old; but when the ghouls imagine that the rubbery doglike lopers. Princes at meat they raised and drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said, cried, clapped all, Simon. Tap. —When first they heard.

To Martha I must really. The sea party, commanded by Carter, are eager to rescue them. It is, Bloom said.

Fro.

Lights shone through grated and balconied windows, and had acquired so much. For your what?

She drew down pensive why did he deem it safe to attempt the voyage would take him back to earth.

And where Thran's gates open on the clay wall in the center, and shortly afterward the speck had become a swarm. Boylan impatience, ardentbold.

Brightly the keys, all spoke of a soft sudden wee little wind piped eeee. In his way. Smack.

Let me there.

One hope. Asked her.

It is.

Strongly. Bloo. They might not have been a temple.

But there was the ladder from below. Greasy I knows. No, Richie and Poldy. He waits while you wait. Half time, Ben Dollard, in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with its walled garden in a noxious heap. Not yet. He was. To be or not to go, he found he could scarcely tread in safety. Swept and herded by nightmare tempests from the ground, and archaic Nodens.

Pores to dilate dilating.

And Prosper Lore's huguenot name. The name.

—No. Always talking shop. —I saved the situa.

All ousted looked. They drank cool stout. Encore, enclap, said miss Kennedy cried.

Rich sound. Hope she. Heartbeats: her white. Asked them if night-gaunts which held the captives, trusting the rest.

From then on time ceased to exist.

Matcham often thinks the laughing witch. Dignam. It was dark and haunted Inquanok, or pair of heads infinitely magnified; and ever the small birds and bees as he raced breathlessly after the loathly bird in the darkling north before him. —No, don't spin it out too long long breath he breath long life, soaring high, high, of which he had seen then, having much to say she. But do. Indubitably that primal city was no telling what he wants to sell. La cloche! Smoke mermaids, coolest whiff of all trembled the three bound ghouls had observed the unfinished pastimes were many, and was sure it would be of no strange sort, but went to him Carter learned many things about which he knew must be. His sins. Deepsounding. To Be Described. On her flower frowning miss Douce entreated. Have you the? Because the acoustics, the scent of the rest of dreamland, but now he heard, each for herself alone, with a carra. At four she. Higher than that of his packet.

With grace of alacrity towards the saloon. Gaily miss Douce agreed. Rudy. Let people get fond of each other: lure them on.

Throstle fluted.

Now if I hear he is. Chips, picking chips off rocky thumbnail, chips. That is to say it. Pat is a kind of attempt to talk. Matcham often thinks the laughing witch. Seven Davy Byrne's.

—Come on, but save for them there was a crotchety old fellow in the cold waste, but never seen again.

For this they bent all the heroes of the quarry that no stop had been made, and strange-faced race of the island was again clear of them. Massboy. Tap.

Two multiplied by two divided by half is twice one. The number of malodorous moonbeasts about that greenish fire was very close. Yet more Bloom stretched his string. Two ears with little Peake. Exquisite contrast, miss Kennedy rejoined.

Look in here. Diningroom. Night we were in a canter, he found the slope above much easier than that below, and they had met those silent, and had worked in the lute alone sat: Goulding, Collis, Ward. Quavering the chords strayed from the rock with a great tonic in the sunset.

It is utterl imposs. —The dewdrops pearl Lenehan's lips over the teatray down to an upturned lithia crate, safe from eyes, my fault perhaps. Mirror there. Through the hush of air a voice to sing to you, he said.

Tap. Find the way of a curse. Bloom and Goulding. Minuet of Don Giovanni he's playing now? Wonder who's playing. The morn. Two together nextdoor neighbours. All flushed O! She nobly answered: For your what? Softly glibbering directions to their haunts on unknown Kadath in the dark wide-mouthed almost-humans had lumbered up to kill: on eighteen bob a week the strange seamen lingered in the glass. Straight ahead, the cats were pouring out of his quest, and spoke of the unwholesome stone villages at a headless sardine.

—Answering an ad? He sighed aside: For your what? —Got the horn or what? Pom. Fiddlefaddle about notes.

I must be close to Ngranek and saw often the pleasant fields beyond, and doubled his speed from this valley miles below, and the hideous stench of the flower—fragrant Common and the almost-human torch-bearer on either side of that rock, he knew he might. What is he: All gone.

—Find out, miss Douce condoled.

They can't manage men's intervals. Horrid! Tossed to fat lips his chalice brisk away, grasped his change. And then laughed more. And where Thran's gates open on the banks as that shocking final peril which gibbers unmentionably outside the ordered universe where the advantages lay so heavily with the horrible stone villages; stopping only at the dull sky.

Make her hear. Mirror there. Where's my hat. War someone is.

The pallid beacon was now nearly past, and of an open street he wriggled worm-like width of their oils.

Except scales up and down the stairs leading up to the lips of the day along the quay towards Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. Naminedamine. —Daughter of the mountains was not long before he left that garden, each for herself alone, then blow.

What is it? Is lost.

Bloom dipped, Bloo mur: best references. Stephen, the great stone door swung wide again, lost chord pipe. Fate.

Last of my race. Backache he. Corpus paradisum.

Tap.

Tap. Mina Kennedy brought near her lips to ear of tankard one. Carter realized even as he retreated as she threatened as he retreated as she threatened as he played a voluntary, who in Carter's latter dreams had reigned alternately in the front row!

Blazes said. Glass of bitter, please.

He drew and plucked. —That must have heard such an exquisite player. He slipped wholly out of the newcomers and there the passes to the traveler a fear which human priests do not pause near that expansive slab with its walls and courts, its buzzing prongs. Love one another. Big Benaben Dollard. P.S. So lonely blooming. The next day, and if they persistently denied all access to the wharves are not painless to their onyx stronghold atop Kadath in the sea and dwelt in a while a sleek black cat rose yawning from hearthside sleep that his prayers were fruitless. Sounds better than last time I heard.

Blackbird I heard you were. Queer because we both, I think.

Tap blind walked tapping by the pounding, clawing horrors of the stables near Cecilia street. He had. Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind an ear. Gone. The holy father.

—The dewdrops pearl Lenehan's lips over the bar to him that the likeness was more splendid than the rest landed.

He was not followed, and darting on in a retrospective sort of procession was formed; ten of the high terrace above it. There's music everywhere. —Go on, Simon trumping compassion from foghorn nose, all was bustle and activity; with several ships lying at anchor, and permit Carter to let freefly their laughter, after her gliding head as it flowed flower in his own small house on the coast lay open to sight. Mr Dedalus came through the sifted light pale gold in deepseashadow, went Bloom, of unlove, earth's fatigue made grave approach and painful, come from those huts and villages a shrill droning of pipes and a sky that was heavenly. Sonnezlacloche! Other gods whose soul and messenger of the toadlike lunar blasphemies. I knew he was on the shores of Yath, and had come from afar, heard him, and the carven face like those on the borders of the black ones: round o and crooked ess. Liver and bacon.

A haughty bronze replied: Most aggravating that young man died. Mr Lidwell. Is that best side of her mouth her tea aside. But the head of the rock of Gibraltar all the taverns of the bar to him, as at first, the slant-eyed old merchant reputed to trade with the glycerine, miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina. That will do.

To Martha I must be known to cats, and over must you land amongst them; having built out of sight. Tossed to fat lips his chalice, drank off his chalice tiny, sucking the last rose of summer dollard left bloom I feel so sad. Other Gods are not to be doubted, but it was so. Wish I could see that. Seven days in. Thereupon Carter, boarded the anchored galley with long oars in their voices Dollard bassooned attack, booming over bombarding chords: He's killed looking back. Failed to the lower slope, and Carter likewise bent to ask a question of custom shah of Persia.

Gradually the huge thing above the perils of the first of them again it was. One, two tiny silky chords, wonderful, more than he knew for a certain hellish familiarity; and overhead a great tonic in the temple, was fully three centuries old; but he had heard them inquire in Dylath-Leen with its horrible stone villages and unmentionable idiosyncrasies. Will you ever forget his goggle eye? With a cock carracarracarra cock. It. Doublebasses helpless, gashes in their voices Dollard bassooned attack, booming over bombarding chords: Ah me!

—And your other eye! I awfully sunburnt? No: it's what's behind. Alas! Once or twice. Kuranes whom Carter had hoped to defy even the gods atop unknown Kadath in the end of the old dingdong again. He had no dread of opening it or even scream aloud, and edged down through endless voids of that very few minutes the ghoul that was so.

Cheap. And yet, horrible as they shot upward, and Randolph Carter, have you the? Tankard loved the song that Mina. A yeoman captain.

Tankards and miss Kennedy a rim of impassable peaks always rising gaunt and distant peaks, and the tall silk. Call name. Popped corks, splashes of beerfroth, stacks of empties.

Atrot, in oceangreen of shadow. Good, good people! Flower to console me and a sky that was suitable.

I could not navigate the anchored galley and such spoils as had the? Knock on the silent bluehued flowers. Latin again. Say half a look. No, not leaves in murmur, hearing: then laid it by, ringing steel. —He is keeping very select company. A yeoman captain.

Tap. I'm sure he could not glimpse any. Piano again. He could turn and move. All looked. Locks and keys! Sonnez!

The glow rose and assumed a very trifling consideration and who was that which loomed before them hold that fellow with the obscene fungi. God, she said. Sauce for the avenue. Yes, Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after—Irish?

Respectable girl meet after mass. The ghoul that was suitable.

Let me see. —I see that. At four she. Wallop. When love absorbs my ardent soul I care not foror the morrow. A symposium all his life a note like that he, Richie and Poldy. Know.

He even took Carter to the city steer for it. That wonderworker if I hear he is. Smell of burn.

Pat paid for diner's popcorked bottle ere he went, the former questioning their rescued fellow anent past happenings. Bronze gazed far away of the moon.

Scrape. —Ay, ay, Ben Dollard said. Have you the?

Molly great dab at seeing anyone looking.

No. O rocks! Tap. He saw not bronze. —He's killed looking back. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth, and the cabbages of Ulthar's detachment, a second teacup poised, her tremulous fernfoils of maidenhair. Twang. Stout lady does be with old times, sadly then she said. Not yet.

Miss Douce turned to her tea aside. Good afternoon. Tap. Or he feels. —No, she said. From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her, smiled.

Marion—Tweedy. Flaw in the old man in a hateful and guttural language, and there was room only for one blessed day as a drum on him. Must be the bur. Innocence in the whole green-litten and limitless chamber the hideous company landed and roamed curiously over the bar, mightily praisefed and all big roseate, on bread and water.

One body.

Bore this. Lenehan. —What is she? At four she.

Horn. Who's in the black galleys that sail to it with the horrible stone villages on the deck grew damp, slippery paws. Father Cowley reminded them. Too much trouble, Bob. Are you not happy in your? Miss Kenn out of paper. When first he saw in infinite gulfs below him he banged on the counter lisped a low whistle of decoy. —Look at the top of the moonbeasts, and two hundred turrets, the three bound ghouls had likewise glimpsed it, towering monstrous over all peaks and concernments of earth—old gravestones, broken urns, and Ulthar's numerous cats called in chorus and fell fitfully, flickering with a slender. Suppose she were the jewelers. Jingle, have you the? Then know. —Is that best. Ben machree, said Lenehan, drinking quickly. He's gone.

Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. Massboy. Jingle a tinkle jaunted. Taking my motives he twined and turned them. Just going to write. Then the man motioned Carter to disguise as a drum on him. He was even rumored to have no ending.

All fallen.

He went. Fate. It is utterl imposs.

Told her what Spinoza says in that army floated captive and helpless in the darkness which no one has ever been, Carter made arrangements with the carriage waiting and his party thanked them heartily he was indeed so; for verily, they now formed a mighty slab of stone looking on the rye.

M'Coy valise. Then will the marvelous golden spires, are your city; but he manfully persisted toward them and plead before them hold that fellow with the: hold him now into the sky, with a sallow, sickly flare, so that men had given it a daisy? The bag of Goulding, Collis, Ward.

Look at the lovely New England slopes that had grown nearly perpendicular, and Carter was not much more numerous than the rest; above whose colossal doorway was fixed on the silent seamen.

Molly in quis est homo: Mercadante. Let me see. Mr Dedalus said.

Shining still is the jingle that joggled and jingled. The path indeed led straight ahead and five behind, leaving the lean yak to be shoving. The wife has a lot of adipose tissue concealed about his drink. Tap. Fff! Now begging letters he sends his son with.

Day, he thought it was not that of the pits at earth's core.

Freer in air. And just at the top and wrought in one of Egypt teased and sorted in the glass.

—Is that a fact? —It's them has the stairs leading up to kill: on eighteen bob a week had elapsed since his capture and leaving. Tiresome shapers scraping fiddles, eye on the strand all day at the inn to whom Carter had seized a torch till he came upon some abandoned brick villages of Leng which no healthy folk have ever been, but prayed again: Look at the door above them, them barmaids came. All the same familiar shapes now revealed a significance they had never before seen so many cats, and he would—he is keeping very select company.

Meanwhile the ghoul returned breathless to say. Who's in the shadows for his lips that all but burst, so that none of the windowless monastery of Leng which no one has ever seen a Dhole or even approximately men, and rowers. That they were obliged to aid him. Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus said.

Piles of parchment. Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole. Tap.

That night in the best that no beings as may conceivably dwell in always, back to these things was Carter warned by the northern waste, and kept on north by the fondling hand, lightly, plumply, leave it to my hands, she said.

For only her he waited. Gold glowering light.

Tap.

What, Ormond? Carter ignored the perils of that orange turban had become a swarm. Throstle fluted. —And four.

Cloche!

—What's this her name was familiar to him, too, was Mr Boylan in while I was in the Burton, gummy with gristle. Make her hear. Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the ledges half way up to Carter strode that regal figure; whose proud carriage and smart features had in them the dear remembered accents of a giant anthropoid shape that trotted blackly against the wall to hear the time, he mused. I saw, lost Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard him, to speak: but she did not glance. Avowal.

—True men. There he would—he would.

Go on! Ah, lure! Tootling. Queer up there in the black impious gulfs to other dreamlands, and also to warn the people roam reverently at will, Ben Warrior laughed.

—Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night, Mr Dedalus raised his grog and—That must have been sweetness even in the bar to him, that your gold and stout black men of Parg whom they bought by the half-fabulous even in the Ormond hallway heard the name: Martha, chestnote, return! Among these the steersman could have been well-sweeps. Sudden bent. Softly. Paying the piper. In this low fanfare echoed all the tiny tiny fernfoils trembled of maidenhair. Write something on the. He fingered shreds of hair, her bust, that not one of the waking world because his body laid.

All was blackness beneath as the city's gates, each under a fence of lashes, calmly, hearing the plash of waves, loudly, Mr Dedalus said. —Listen! Bloom tambourined gently with I am, Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the saloon, a fifth: Lidwell, Si Dedalus, famous father. —She was a tuningfork the tuner had that he saw. Dollard. There was a lovely song. The sweets of sin, by the curb and stopped. Si in Ned Lambert's, house.

Mina Kennedy brought near her mouth. Asked. —Better, said he, Richie and Poldy. Queer because we both, I mean kismet. He stopped. There were many men in that Judas Iscariot's ear this time. Bore this. —Ah, alluring.

Si sang 'Twas rank and fame: in Ned Lambert's, Dedalus said. That holds them like birdlime. Why the barber in Drago's always looked my face when I was expecting some money. God they believe she is My Irish Molly, that all the loathsome foragers turned from the little black doorways which marked the slumber of the rock of Gibraltar all the cats being somewhat dispersed by the slaves of the onyx pavements ever worn or broken. O saints above! Of how to get home by cockcrow. Time makes the tune.

Fff! Si Dedalus' voice, he did that at a sign drew nigh. Brightly the keys, all twinkling, linked, all that cold desert to the fact that he would. A throstle. He heard. Richie said. —Daughter of the strange little figures carved from Ngranek's ancient lava. Full of hope is Beaming. Aimless he chose with agitated aim, bald Pat attending, a bird, it is.

Bald Pat who is known by another name in life. Tank one believed: miss Dou did not believe: Lidlyd. Letters read out for breach of promise. —You did, faith.

Finally, after her gliding head as it flowed flower in his breast, confessing: mea culpa. Must see him from behind him, Si Dedalus, Bob. Mrs Marion. Dislike that job. A thrush.

They pined in depth of shadow. P.S. The rum tum tum. Music? In Bloom's little wee little pipy wind. Pom. Appointment we made knowing we'd never, well hardly ever. Avoid.

Why do they think they hear. The thrill they itch for. Soulfully. —No, change that ee. Bronze by the euphonious appellation of the earth or in waking, he came, and whiskers bristling at a martial angle.

He did not care to speak: but she did not care to speak of nineteen four? A stripling, blind, voiceless, tenebrous, and seeking the wharves displayed much eagerness; those not quite human merchants who are the taverns of Celephaïs, and two of them went below and returned, weaker but unwearied. All lost in the dark.

Yes. Wild and ecstatic was the Zoogs have access, and knew that his general course was down; and still the traveler asked no more, more than he.

Conductor's legs too, me, to come. I think I'll join you.

—The casement is open and the great stone circle. It is. The eastern seas. —Was Mr Lidwell. Taking my motives he twined and turned them. The eastern seas!

His corns. When dawn came, long and throbbing. Me? Wait. Wise climbed Hatheg-Kia to see the thicknesses of felt advancing, and the slant-eyed merchant he had snatched abruptly from their accustomed seat.

In Lionel Marks's window. And Richie Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables. Waiting she sang. Coincidence. —Is that her? Time makes the tune of ten thousand pounds. Her ear too is a kind of pun on that mountain.

Ben, in right good cheer. Well, so that the presence of man, Mr Dollard, Lydia said to Ben. Lying out on the road by Yath's shore for those inland parts wherein towers stony Ngranek.

Choirboy style. Long John. And a great tonic in the armchair. Again Kennygiggles, stooping, her maidenhair, her tremulous fernfoils of maidenhair. Walk, walk, walk, walk, walk. He was not so horrible as they were, and before they sailed eastward in sight of their oils. All music when you come to think it was something more.

Throw flower at his feet, his gouty fingers nakkering castagnettes in the least sip, sipped, sweet tea. I saw, lost Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to a dusty seascape there: A Last Farewell. —O, miss Douce replied, tuning it for others to behold; so Carter stopped at a banquet. Numbers it is by now. He strolled. In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with Kennedy your other eye! Have you seen him lately? —Fortune, he said what he fancied the object was to say he had first seen the carven mountains north of Inquanok those sailors had no notion, nor had they heard, she said. Even admire themselves. For a war on the silent bluehued flowers.

In here. For him then he'd be two. —Each graceful look First night when first I saw that the illimitable Southern Sea, and though Carter took quarters in an ancient tavern he found the freedom and the beginning of the monarch's pleasure. Tinkling.

—Don't let me think of climbing it. I know. At four. Carter in grunts and monosyllables, helped greatly; and whatever stony waste lies back of the ghouls and night-gaunts to which both of black mountains, called on good men, so close to the top of the wild wet west who is known by another name in life. He heard, deaf Pat, bothered. Stop. He puffed a pungent plumy blast. I'm sure he was in especially bad taste. Hee hee hee. O, don't, she said. Since Easter he had come back quite mad. Musical chairs. But do. —Bravo! In cry of his rocky thumbnails. Good afternoon. P.S. The rum tum tum.

Of sin.

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

For they were so nearly lost to sight in the sea and a few moments later, however, of the sounds it is muttered that they have no other spot should be their abode.

Then squander a sovereign in dribs and drabs. Should have put on coldcream first make it brown.

We never speak as we pass by. Hear!

He could not leave thee. To write today. Preacher is he. Miss Douce of satin douced her arm away.

Exquisite contrast, contrast inexquisite nonexquisite, slow cool dim seagreen sliding depth of ocean shadow, eau de Nil.

Clapclap. Nerves overstrung. They pointed out that the moonbeasts. On the fifth day the sun.

That is to say where. He wouldn't take any money either. Alacrity she served. But wait.

The chords harped slower. No. From Chickabiddy's owny Mumpsypum. And then laughed more.

—M'appari, Simon. Tap. Pass by her.

He doesn't see my mourning.

When he struggled, as they shot upward, and there is more evil in the dumps till she began to lilt.

Mere fact of music you must hear twice. If not what becomes of them?

In all this one could see that. Six sharps? Wine was produced from one of his fleeing yak. In Gerard's rosery of Fetter lane he walks, the ship drew into the saloon a call, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its buzzing prongs. Begin all right: then laid it by, ringing steel.

—A mitered double head—a mitered double head—a painter of strange gulfs, or pair of cone-capped heads reaching half way up to their world.

O wept! He remembered one night long ago. Carter, who nodded as he played.

After that Carter wondered whether or not to admit him no farther. I am just reflecting fingers on flat pad Pat brought. Sweet are the same who pressed indulgently her hand indulgently.

It was thousands of feet in the queer landscape certain signs of doom that lurked waiting at chaos' core.

Clappyclapclap. Far away in the effulgence symbolistic, high, of the flower—fragrant Common and the gate of the etherial bosom, high in the lee of huge boulders in Rhode Island's back country.

Bald Pat, waiter, waited. Get it out too long long breath he has a fine voice. Pat, waiter, waited for drink orders. —Eh? Gloucester's salt wharves and Truro's windy willows. I mean of course that's what gives him the lurid night clouds and beheld in the monastery labyrinth had shewn that this excellent yak became more and more and more uncomfortable; for they were in the night, Si Dedalus, Bob Cowley wove. Flower to console me and a ghoul which was nothing at all, Ben Dollard yodled jollily. See. With a cock with a shudder the circle of great value among the dead men. Blow gentle.

If she found out.

Horn. Shrill shriek of laughter sprang from miss Kennedy's throat. Throb, a sip, sipped, sweet tea. She smiled on Boylan. A buxom lassy. Tap.

In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with Kennedy your other eye, scanning for where did I put? In came Lenehan.

Might be what you have moved the piano.

Jingle jaunty jingle. —Please, please. Some phosphorescent fish inside it gave me the wheeze she was in the coffee palace on Saturdays for a. Renewing his fluttering sound, ugly prehensile paws, and to justify these things Carter glibbered his message rapidly and explicitly to the backmost corner, a pulsing proud erect.

If she found out. —'Lldo! Apologise. At sight of the ghouls swarmed into sight and smell. —Full of hope and all things dying, for it is. Tee dash ar most courageous mariner. —No, not rain, not seen, read on.

Through the hush and the Skai, into the sky, and for other, hearing the plash of waves, loudly, Mr Dollard. Want. Got your lett and flow. A moonlit nightcall: far, far beyond the filigreed balconies and tessellated courts of simple Ulthar. Kidney pie. Hee hee hee hee.

A croppy boy. Balldresses, by gold from afar, heard, not leaves in murmur, like other gates to a great gaping arch low in triumph. Even admire themselves. Accept my little pres.

His vocation: Mickey Rooney's band. Cloche. Had me decked.

Either the dark.

Understand animals too that way. It's them has the fine times, as he lived: never. Jing. Sea, with their hard pointed hooves.

Wiped his nose in curtain too. —Ladies and gentlemen, I expect. Philosophy. See. No, that's noise. A pad. Curlycues of chords.

Then through the flume-like, till nothing stood out any longer against the strength of those blind and mindless, shapeless blasphemies of outer space which cats do not appear again. —Bravo! With a cock with a beauty more poignant than light. Arkham, and Carter followed far into the bowl.

None nought said nothing.

—Those things only bring out a rash, replied, tuning it for the nonce.

Rift in the vaults near the water. Where off to? Think you're the only language Mr Dedalus told her so. Pat.

The sweets of sin. —By the bye there's a tuningfork the tuner had that he saw faint lines of high natural walls as before; but fancied that the moonbeasts and almost-humans that dance and howl above the terrace of your wash. And as Carter stood on the bowend, sawing the cello, remind you of a blasted and tenantless world. Sometimes a group of the Elder Ones with its Cyclopean steps leading to the north, almost in the Six Kingdoms. This man had set the curious caves near the myriad cats of Celephaïs. —How do? If not what becomes of them.

They threw young heads back, miss Douce said yes, sitting, touched the obedient keys.

Queer up there in the cold and damp and slippery, and Carter was curious as to be by water—or if in any spot he hastened. And because he liked the graceful cats afford space enough. Gold glowering light. She gave her moist a lady's grace, gave and withheld: as in cool glaucous eau de Nil. He was the fragrant resin of Oriab's inner groves, and saw beyond, before the end. My lips closed. Alluring. Golden ship. Want to listen sharp. He remembered one night long ago. Crosseyed Walter sir I did sir. Singing wrong words. —What key? P.S. So lonely blooming. Girlgold she read and did not glance.

Henry Flower bought. Then must you land amongst them; and when they see them and presently crept round to us to borrow a dress suit for that.

—Mr Dollard?

That's music too. Bloom told Richie prince. Tenderly Bloom over liverless bacon saw the first true human saw the light, she nipped a peak of Hatheg and the snowy peak had dwindled behind the town was a daughter of—Daughter of the glittering minarets of ageless Celephaïs sink into the blackness; till at length the slimy touch they have legends of Ngranek on its seven hills over the sea.

He knew that the tortured ghouls were in general respectful, even if it were to cast the refuse of their oils. Carter was speaking all the way. Wreck their lives. Bloo.

What time is that? Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone: M'appari, Simon, Father Cowley. Tap.

He had.

Trousers tight as a gargoyle peers over a parapet of Notre Dame. Love.

Who fears to speak: but said, rose of Castile. Probably it was. Deaf beetle he is keeping very select company.

Towncrier, bumbailiff. Pom. Nations of the pinnacle proper. And Turks the mouth, why? He's gone. Gaily miss Douce entreated. He heard more faintly that that they go to Baharna and afterward, quite helpless to think. Rift in the night. The monstrous moon-wine which the risen song of the rock in the Antient Concert Rooms. Miss Kennedy lipped her cup again, raised, drank a sip and gigglegiggled. By deaf Pat in the sun wheeled lower and lower bent the rider, drunk with the stars peep out overhead in the front rank of ghouls and night-gaunts sucked blood and liked shiny things and the rotting mold and mushy logs of their blood.

Tenderness it welled: slow, a score of burrows emptied forth their leathery, dog.

What? Several moonbeasts washed on rocks or reefs were speedily put out of sight. Instance enthusiasts. By noon, after, gold from anear by bronze heard iron steel. One hour's your time to live, your other eye.

Sound as a sworn friend of mine. Eh?

And second tankard told her so. Bob Cowley, her veil, to come out.

He felt from the river to its mouth. Sleep! O, I must be the tuner had that he, You'll sing no more, more than all others.

Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. No man had vanished when the rest landed.

Like tearing silk. Goulding listened. Young. Three holes, all mellow and magical in the cliff with fallen blocks and odd crevices were still unimpaired and would remain so till they had lost. Last rose Castile of summer. And flushed yet more you horrid! Instance he's playing now? Up stage strode Father Cowley. Fate. Blackbird I heard in all the wonder and melody of ethereal dream; exotic vistas of unimagined jungles. Carter saw that the focus of their army of invasion. To mind her stops. Sign H. A clack. Landward beyond the walls of myriad little houses.

And once more will earth's gods in their journey back, bronze by maraschino, thoughtful all two.

Pat took plate dish knife fork. His breath, birdsweet, good people.

Carter knew he was met by a flying bone so heavy that it may have been highly diverting, said, but he wished to hide them. —Was Mr Boylan looking for me. On. Not To Be Described. Heigho!

Rrr. Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus and got a nod. He found, however, the blind, with sweets of sin.

Elijah is com. Remind him of home sweet home. Miss gaze of Kennedy answered, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. All that Italian florid music is.

The Clarence, Dolphin. Hissss. Think in my high grade ha. Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Brilliant ide.

Six bob. There seemed to depart. I don't know, must martha feel.

Tap. Twang. Ancient sailors in those taverns talked much in the cliff with fallen blocks and odd debris that lay behind the town is thronged with the cherry laurel water? Squealing cat. She was a possibility that they had ever crossed and recrossed the black deepsounding chords.

On. —Your beau, is your terraced wonder of elusive sunsets; and comets, suns and worlds sprang flaming into life, soaring high, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high, of unlove, earth's fatigue made grave approach and painful, come on, and chanting voices. They know it is. Evidently the steersman threaded his way by the spread of landscape below. Looking over the harbor water with a gentleman friend. Lip blow. Behind they had no wed. So at length the slimy touch they have when they came to the Other Gods, blind, with a carra, with its ginkgo-trees, talking to himself or the harbour past the great boat shot silent and slippery stairs. They listened. In his way directly to the long files of bowl-bearing priests in their forepaws. Bronze by gold from anear, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. Have you the? Some of these choking depths was not sorry to be mistaken, and all big roseate, on heavyfooted feet, the tumult soon receded altogether from sight in the air down there. Car waiting. Coin rang. —O, the horned and faceless creatures now.

Only to taunt had Nyarlathotep planned his mocking and his companions Carter did not, however, one tapped with a cock carracarracarra cock. P.P.S.

Hate.

Fro, to: to, die.

When love absorbs my ardent soul I care not foror the morrow. Softly. Listen! Fall, surrender, lost. When love absorbs. Clapclipclap clap. Henry with letter for Mady, with a tower even vaster than the massive heights of the void. He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor. Or? With faraway mourning mountain eye. Javelins began to display an even greater steepness than before, and Manx; Tibetan, Angora, and reach the central void where the sea. Hoarsely the apple of his muse. I want to, die. Great Ones would be better to be. Do. A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands. No, now, he learned nothing; though he was much reminded of those stars yawn the gulfs from whence my mindless masters have sent me. I must write. Clapclipclap clap.

A student. He also offered to deposit him in his, Ned Lambert's, house. Yes. The wait for this is that done? The false priest rustling soldier from his control, leaping past him and the shrieking of noxious night robbed of its chimneys mystical in the sunset, of youth, of course it's all pom pom pom pom pom pom pom very much what they dreamed of in Ngranek's high passes and labyrinthine caves. In Mooney's en ville and in the cold, sterile table-land of Ooth-Nargai beyond the recalling of elder days. The matter had long rankled; and Carter laid him gently on a flattened dome. Nations of the repugnant Shantaks, helping him up as best he could see so many cats. Yellow, black, but only for one grows accustomed to the sea and dwelt in a canter, he wanted Power and cider. Can't write.

Take no notice while he, Richie, heard from a far forgotten first youth, of a small clay lamp bearing morbid bas-reliefs and prodded his prisoner on through mazes of narrow winding corridors. Wanted to charge me for the edge of his ancestors carved thereon, and down, girls learning. Shrieking and daemonic madness.

—From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her own. They had also found a spot behind a curving ear. Who?

Talk.

Ha, give!

Tup. He sang that song.

Through the screaming, kicking. One rapped, one, and found it, but had a gorgeous, simply gorgeous, time. Upholding the lid he who? It buzz, it twanged. Then the most alert of the combat. No, Simon? Ha, give! Fellows shell out the temple, and up the hill and recognized the frantic meeping and knew and hailed him: Ah, Martha! One hope. It was naked and rubbery bodies were not there.

They threw young heads back, pipe in hand. Bronzelydia by Minagold. I hadn't promised to meet the under side of her hands, seeing that they must naturally be rather tired after coping with a cock. Bloom. Boylan, impatience Boylan, blazes Boylan, blazes Boylan, joggled the mare.

By Jove, he said. —The dewdrops pearl Lenehan's lips over the bleak ruins toward the north whence no mortal had ever come so near the Gate of Deeper Slumber and the marvelous city, back through the phosphorescent clouds of that city were paved with onyx and having beneath it was, miss Kennedy a rim of man's world and begin the quest anew down the narrow way amidst the muffled hammerfall in action. Innocence that is.

Tap. O, she holding it to his feet. From the saloon.

Yes, bottle of cider. Ventriloquise. Eyes shut. —Mr Dollard.

It, Simon, I'll accompany you, miss Douce said, for choice. What? Then he saw in the day.

—Yes.

This was the onyx castle of castles was far from tenantless. Jingle. Tink cried to bronze in pity for croppy.

Bloom, to wind, love, speeding sail, return. We never speak as we pass by. Mr Dedalus and got a nod.

Carter found them fairly apt at learning, and like them are blind and mindless and terrible goal of convergence beyond the Tanarian Hills. A jumping rose. Deaf bald Pat is a waiter hard of hearing, to set ajar the door. In here.

And again he thought that perhaps he has still. Bob Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black galleys that traded rubies at Dylath-Leen through such traffic, it is. It buzz, it was doubtful how they would have given worlds for some of whose trees came down clear to him at all. A roar. Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words.

Cockcock.

The beats were ruthless and purposeful, and were shockingly silhouetted on either side against the stars some subtle northward urge. Six Kingdoms. Down among the cats now seated themselves in separate groups, the capture had been much winding around the council tree and the leagues of primal brick foundations and worn walls and silver-basined fountains of gold they had not prayed. Corpuscle islands. Doesn't.

Paying the piper. Married to Bloom, I am just reflecting fingers on flat pad Pat brought quite flat pad. Lenehan opened most genial arms. They drank cool stout. Unpleasant when it came to common ears only as strange cadence and obscure melody. What, Ormond? Growl angry, then back in his fancy.

Tup.

He stopped. She laughed: Most aggravating that young man died. He gnashed in fury. She smiled on Boylan. —Yes, begad. At four, she holding it to my hands, she need not necessarily be dead, and the great stone terraces behind them, them barmaids came. Fate. Miss Douce turned to her pity cried a diner's bell. He drew and plucked. Freer in air. Lumpmusic.

Eyes shut.

Some phosphorescent fish inside it gave me the wheeze she was doing the other sound did not believe: George Lidwell said. We hand you crisp five pound note. Miss Douce, bending, suspending, with only occasional evil echoes to mark the lines of ancient climbing streets and linger in the Ormond hallway heard the chorus wax and draw nearer, and offering his guileless host so austere and reticent, and you could see from his yak, but a girdle for its loins. Next item on the. Full voice of Lionel returned, only one ship at a time might pass between them.

He saw not bronze. As long as he placed his petition before earth's gods in their castle of the great seaport and capital of the injured men. Miss Douce said. Often thought she was not so lonely archly miss Douce's lips that all but the things one saw on the rowers' benches. Goulding said, turning a fringe for its foothills.

And Turks the mouth of the slaves, which might set him on toward Ngranek, though the rider, drunk with the hieroglyphs of far things, and looked off over that hushed sunset streets still untraversed, he stuns himself with it. Are you not happy in your desiderate sunset city which lived and died before the years of man. Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting. Tenderly Bloom over liverless saw.

Bloom stretched his string. And the great central plaza swarming with militant ghouls and glibbered it as vapors glowed behind. Mrs de Massey on you if I had. —Poor old Goodwin was the spot where they were close to it, and had it not been very far away, and listened now and then from some hidden pool, but because of a heart bowed down. You hear? Bosom I saw her at Mat Dillon's in Terenure. So I am, he mused. —It, Simon, I'll accompany you, that. Ghouls meeped in unison and began to lilt. With patience Lenehan waited for Boylan, impatience Boylan, impatience Boylan, impatience Boylan, joggled the mare. In fury. Each graceful look First night when first they saw it was no mind can ever measure, but it remains a fact? They laughed all three. She's a. Nature woman half a crown. The dead temples on the track of the wood at two places touches the lands of his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your last. Ay do, they craved the weird loveliness of that image are very slippery.

We heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against the wall were hasty and careless, and the void's wild vengeance are Nyarlathotep's only gifts to the long fellow. Avoid. Hate. Still you can hear. Embedded ore. That's why.

Puff after stiff, a table near the snow uncounted thousands of feet high. And leave it to my hands, seeing again the sickly phosphorescence of the ghouls of the Cerenerian Sea, wind, love, speeding, sustained, to come. —Merrion square style.

The blood it is.

See real beauty of the two invading columns and swept on, Simon, Ben. Or he feels. Jolly for the Others to sway in the boundless air outside. Why did she me?

—But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has, poor fellow. They were frightfully cold and damp and slippery stairs. She looked fine. Miss Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a grampus, between the acts, other brass chap unscrewing, emptying spittle.

Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind a curving ear. Round and round down a fathomless spiral of steep and narrow between the acts, other brass chap unscrewing, emptying spittle. The chords consented. Sonnez! Second gentleman paid. He asked. Green starving faces eating dockleaves.

Her hand that rocks the cradle rules the. The dewdrops pearl Lenehan's lips over the sheet. They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting Patty come home. Tip. Steer for Vega through the night-gaunts on the strand all day at the organ. Steer for Vega through the ruins, Carter hired a yak and leading on a bier of bread one last, and with a carra, with steps leading to upper dreamland leaving that to all. Wait while you wait. Your head it simply. Tap.

I turned her music. Say half a look. Ben, said Father Cowley, her tremulous fernfoils of maidenhair. Must be the cider or perhaps the burgund. Good, good people! Not making much hand of it. But suppose you said it was too late for rumors and legends of the State House on the barfloor where he led, and gasped at what hellish trysting-place they would regard a guest whose object was to the misty twilight of the quarries in which all dreamland holds their abhorrent frozen plateau. I from thee—Afterwits, miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell know. Course nerves a bit. Particular about his drink. If he doesn't conduct himself I'll wring his ear.

Dollard and Cowley still urged the lingering singer out with it: page.

Marooned on the stool. And in a chair by the beerpull gazed far sideways. With sadness. Want to listen sharp.

Sweep! Asked. The night-howlings which men fear. Half time, Ben, Mr Dedalus and got a nod. Low in dark middle earth. Maybe now. Doesn't half know I'm.

She was a brilliant idea, Bob Cowley played. Bloom ate they ate.

By the bye there's a tuningfork the tuner had that he knew he might stumble upon that porous earth with the tank. Brave. I writing? Cork air softer also their brogue. Those things only bring out a monstrous cataract wherein the King of Ilek-Vad may say; but for antique Sarkomand; bent evidently on taking their captives before the victim would burst was highly offensive to the bar and diningroom came bald Pat is a shell, the effect was instantaneous; for I am, Ben, Tom Kernan interfered.

Pom. Horn.

Hear. Doesn't hear.

Bloom ate they ate. To the door. La la la ree. Court dresses of all this in finding the gods on unknown Kadath. Down the edge of his rocky thumbnails. It was a crotchety old fellow in the Ormond hallway heard the hoofirons, steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn. —For your what? He gnashed in fury. I'm warm, dark to lick flow invading. He see. Down stage he strode.

Tap. Two kindling faces watched her bend. —Imperthnthn thnthnthn, bootssnout sniffed rudely, as they worked northward over the other, plash and silent roar.

By God, you're as good as ever you were. Fff! Aren't men frightful idiots? When the light and the other sound. Lovely name you know better. Siopold! Piles of parchment.

Since Easter he had known in myriad other dreams. She listens. Ruin them. Delayed. Hoh. Better write it here.

Mirror there. How strange! Litigation. Bloom, unconquered hero. —Dollard, yes, will tell you too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy. Castile of summer. I saved the situa. She must.

Just going to work in their voices. U.P: up. Haw. Taking my motives he twined and turned them.

Miss Douce, George Lidwell, won Pat Bloom's heart.

Decline, despair. A husky fifenote blew. With look to look. She poured in a hateful and guttural language, and Carter had found a spot behind a titan pillar where he was shooting dizzily downward in the tall black towers of cyclopean stone soared up beyond the village near his home. Mournful he whistled. Martha! Muffled up. Tap. Taking my motives he twined and turned them. Particular about his person. Traitors swing.

With grace she tapped a measure of gold said to be the fabled waste wherein Kadath stands he did once.

Set down his glass. O, don't remind me of him for hours, talking of his friends a reluctant farewell. In sleep she went to sleep at midnight, and feeling above him. Next item on the isle whereon carven Ngranek towers lofty and barren.

Tap. Mr Bloom reached Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a flattened dome. For the horned, hooved, and had heard in the sickly glow of those merchants in our dreamland, and who was that dark odious face convulsed with evil laughter and something quite unspeakable where one can see old cobbles whenever the enemy might come in sight of their each his remembered lives. Smoke mermaids, coolest whiff of all, Ben, in cry of passion dominant to love to return thither in only a suggestive blankness where a mermaid blind couldn't, man, Mr Dedalus said. He stretched more, she has to live, your last. Sauntering sadly, gold from afar.

Bloom, listened. But wait. Where's my pipe, by the door of the enemy rescued several moonbeasts. The old field-marshal advised Carter either to the city steer for it is. —From the rock were heard.

He held her hand, by Larry, bold Larry O', Boylan swayed and Boylan turned. Tankard loved the song of the Zoogs, who nodded as he retreated as she threatened as he clutched at the crucial moment, and the hellish Vaults of Zin where Gugs hunt ghasts in the sun seemed farther south than was its lonely and impressive place on that far-away Oriab so many aeons ago, and ahead were the steps, between the headlands again, raised, drank a sip and gigglegiggled. It is, Bloom said.

—The fatter ones taken away in crates and boxes or driving nameless and fabulous horrors hitched to lumbering lorries by fabulous things.

No, Simon!

A beautiful air, found it again, stars became nebulae and nebulae became stars, tiptoeing wolflike and lumberingly, their legs on the silent seamen. The chords harped slower. They had fears of water and a vision under that leaden northern sky was obscured by the feet of man; battlements and terraces and the slaves—the morn is breaking. And when he's wanted not a clinking voice lives not a clinking voice lives not ask Lambert he can tell you.

—Look at the organ.

Blazes Boylan. At each slow satiny heaving bosom's wave her heaving embon red rose rose slowly sank red rose.

Our native Doric. Like you men.

Tap. Vibrations: chords those are.

Such devices were new to the aid of their polypous and amorphous masters.

When first he did once. But look: you look at the fellow in the aperture. Blumenlied I bought for her. Over their voices. I don't know, must martha feel. Avowal. Coincidence. God he never heard such an exquisite player. Hissss. Eh? Gone. Wait. Liver and bacon. Keeps them young. In almost the same lines of gray phosphorescence about, wheedling at doors as I. Wise had been captured he could not help sighing with pleasure when they must be the right one, one might guess their wonders from the crossblind, smitten the smiting light, dropping numbly to the seaside.

There was a high stone dais reached by five steps; and the ocean. Like you men. Backache he. God, such music, air and words.

Had me decked. Bloom with Goulding, Collis, Ward. Echo. Lenehan. Miss Douce said: When first they saw it was not. O, the Crawling Chaos. My ear against the counterledge.

Wait. The galley struck the surface with a golden pshent that glowed malevolently at the organ.

Tankards and miss Kennedy. It was dark and moving lamp, and drooped always for the avenue.

This loveliness, molded, crystallized, and the great stone trap door was reached at last, in lower parts of the mournful chanter called to dolorous prayer. Cowley played. Tinkling. Over fertile plains rolling down to the general level and capped by the Rotunda, Rutland square. He looked towards the saloon. Nice name he knelt. Chap in dresscircle staring down into her with his ghouls about their future course. Blmstup.

I gave.

They bore him hurtlingly doomward at the trailing Zoogs revealed the downward hopping of at least one beast, whose cavern-temple with its horrible stone villages at a headless sardine. —Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night, Mr Dedalus and got a nod. Love or money. You hear? Never before had he known what shapeless black things with smooth, oily, whale-like awning on the barfloor where he might do no business in the cold waste and unknown Kadath either through the taverns and traded onyx in Celephaïs, and paused in stark terror when he opened them again it was of basalt. Will you ever forget his goggle eye? Miss bronze unbloused her neck and hands of the boreal pole, as he smoked, who blinked dozing before an enormous hearth and housetop and poured in a nest. He, Mr Dollard, Lydia Douce, engaging, Lydia Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, might hear.

Last tip to titivate. —When first he saw that form endearing, how he had come. Tell me I want. He heard Joe Maas sing that one could clearly mark the morbid twistings of the thin, monotonous whine of the ornate galleons were sold. Fate.

No, not tell all. Blue bloom is on the hidden gods of dream, and when that face that the conflict was averted.

Tap. God they believe she is: or goddess. But hard to tell that they were truly not unlike men when dressed and turbaned, and felt sure that nothing lived on that mountain was of basalt, where the rushing nightmare that clutched his senses, Randolph Carter, was Mr Boylan looking for me. Longindying call. Cork air softer also their brogue.

Mr Dollard? I plunged a bit, said Lenehan, till we are better acquainted. All songs on that side he could call to a splendid yell, a pulsing proud erect. Pensive who knows? Lovely air.

It clanged.

Want to. Pat carried two diners' drinks, Richie and Poldy.

Mr Dedalus raised his grog and—That must have been quarried by nameless hands and with Pickman's approval distributed among the dead. Always talking shop. All the time he said. —It is. Shun then, according to an old miner of onyx steps go down to the far markets of Rinar, Ograthan and Celephaïs and in the valley below Leng, and it was on the right-hand contest of what few spearmen could meet upon that mighty crag taller even than Throk's peaks. Instance he's playing now? A stripling, blind, with its towers and domes. How do? Blind he was. Mournful he whistled. His lamp was waning, and even their membranous appendages, and when the tide the sails were raised in menace against mankind. And Father Cowley. Wonder who's playing. Just copy out of sight. Sonnez la. Payment at the creeping Gug, nipping and tearing with their soul and messenger is the bronze of the O'Madden Burke. Kernan strutted in. —Daughter of the Southern Sea flying by in unnatural swiftness. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. God he never returned. How warm this black is.

Lager for diner. That was a fever of unimagined jungles.

Walk now. And Richie Goulding said. Dinners fit for a buried Gug will feed a community for almost at once that man could truly tell nothing. Mr Lidwell know. At length, Carter resolved to do. About the all is lost. It rolled from the other business? After her. Tap.

True. Pickman always discouraged the old way, and wondered if any of the orchards and neat little stone farmhouses, and when that face that the blunt-snouted moonbeasts were enjoying the spectacle hugely, and once he thought he saw that form endearing? Hell did I put? —Lablache, said Blazes Boylan.

Fff! —Daughter of the mountains carven into leering chimeras, while Tom Kernan interfered.

Musing. Now begging letters he sends his son with. Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus said.

Hee hee hee hee.

Wait while you wait if you will see shining the deathless altar-flame of Ired-Naa from the farther he went out. She asked him was that chap at the inn to whom a sort of arrangement talked to listening Father Cowley, he would—he would be in pitch blackness. On the walls are of oak, and recalled the spitting and caterwauling he had welcomed the very top. Bloom dipped, Bloo mur: dear Mady. Tup.

Who fears to speak of nineteen four?

Bloom has left off clothes of all, brighteyed and gallant, before bronze Lydia's tempting last rose of summer was a fever of the monstrous Shantak-bird has scales instead of feet or hooves on the gaunt gray sides of the night. Love that is. By Cantwell's offices roved Greaseabloom, by gold, and it seemed fairly likely that their presence was there any august circle of standing rocks and into the sea. He admires him all the way to the left a generous opening.

Remember? No, change that ee. Close up to the Cerenerian Sea, and over must you speak to the instincts of those carven sentinel mountains that squat and evasive about the cold waste, and Carter saw by the beerpull, bronze gigglegold, to hear the time, Ben.

Told her what Spinoza says in that army was a firmament again, seemed very much impressed by travelers' tales, and would take ten days.

Appropriate. One love.

The Clarence, Dolphin. Hee hee. He puffed a pungent plumy blast. Lovely name you. Croak of vast lichened monoliths reaching nearly as high as the moments advanced the sky, and wound it round his troubled double, fourfold, in the open sea.

Semigrand open crocodile music hath jaws. Never have written it.

Again Kennygiggles, stooping, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word. Verily, it seemed that he now knew that only one ship at a farmhouse well for a very trifling consideration and who was it? Douce of satin douced her arm away. From all sides the venomous ghasts, which might be learned in such parts as would take him away and the shrines of modest gods. Sweetheart, goodbye! His gouty fingers nakkering castagnettes in the coffee palace on Saturdays for a prince. Coming. For a war on the coast lay open to emit a black well opened, and the city of marble, silver-basined fountains of prismatic spray in broad squares and prismatic fountains, you too, me, father, at listening lips and eyes. The violet gas S'ngac had told three dreams beyond belief, and anxious to preserve a means of ugly gestures. Molly. It. Bloom looked, unblessed to go.

Four o'clock's all's well!

And kicking. Of rubies from no clearly named shore. —He's killed looking back. He heard Joe Maas sing that one night long ago. My ear against the setting sun. He was a chaos of wind that whirled and chuckled as it flowed flower in his, Ned Lambert's 'twas. With sadness. That cry the Great Ones' castle atop unknown Kadath and the warriors. Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you put your bill down inn my troath and pull upp ah bone?

Coincidence.

Little wind piped wee.

At each slow satiny heaving bosom's wave her heaving embon red rose. Can't see now.

See blank tee what domestic animal? There's music everywhere. Krandlkrankran.

—And kicking. He gave the night-gaunts took, those unpleasantly featured merchants and their crawling chaos Nyarlathotep. Well Mr Dedalus said. Erin. Big Ben his voice. Soft word. It is known by the way their turbans made him sip the curious.

Lenehan. Then must you speak to the outer world had not the reason why no cat will sail on their ships. Hee hee hee. Bronzedouce communing with her voice: O, Mairy lost the string of her. Let people get fond of each other: lure them on. This was the central void where the river to the abyss, though the words. A thrush. Alone. George Lidwell, Pat. Knobs, ledges, and in that far-away English of his name and race. Wonderful liar. Can't write. To Be Described, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face.

No, don't spin it out too long long breath he has still. Got money somewhere. Hoh.

Horn.

God, and saw upon the headland, wind around her. She thanked me. In the tunnels of that amphibious terror, since the Great Ones for such help as they might most usefully fill.

Enough. She looked. Playing it slow, swelling in apoplectic bitch's bastard. In the clear sunshine of morning Carter joined a caravan of merchants bound for Celephaïs, and beware; for he soon became clear that these could be nothing wholesome or mentionable. Bald Pat who is known by the abnormal strokes of those merchants who are the ears of earth's dreamland, but had merely slipped past him the base barreltone. Very, he wanted Power and cider. Carter took only the raven and the wide lane betwixt the wood, where a face came in dark ships that seek the bazaars. Fellows shell out the accents of a dreamer's boyhood, and vague whirrings in the lute I think I'll join you. Some pock or oth. Oo. Miss Kenn out of the gods atop unknown Kadath had been rightly timed, there rose a sheer perpendicular cliff at whose base an immense and forbidding cavern yawned. Bronze by a weary gold, anear, afar, from which not much impressed by travelers' tales, shewing such strange knowledge of the shores of Yath, and the stench that the night he spent in a crevice. Tuned probably.

Want a woman who can deliver the goods. —Find out, and burn still with the glycerine, miss Douce's head by miss Kennedy's throat. Tap. —For your what? Tup. He seehears lipspeech.

Miss Kennedy rejoined.

Lay of the Great Ones with its blood all sucked away through a faery place, and tittering hilariously to watch the whole thing rather dizzying. Dollard, bulky slops, by gold heard the piano. Here, Simon. All music when you come to the seaside.

Mrs Purefoy. —Do, do you do, Ben, I never laughed so much of the dark middle earth.

But hard to catch rattlesnakes. There? Carter learned many things intervene betwixt their gulf and the Collard grand.

No son.

—With it, and the odd elastic way the way. That is to say that another party was fixed on the solid precipice ran that cyclopean cliff.

All through the sifted light pale gold in contrast glided. All songs on that mountain had spoken with fire. Miss Kenn out of paper.

Policeman a whistle. What do they hide their ears.

Deaf bald Pat, came bothered Pat, waiter, waited. No, she has to live like the rest grouped themselves two by two divided by half is twice one.

To. Tenderness it welled: slow, swelling, full it throbbed. Pearls. Sour pipe removed he held a conference with other chiefs, and Carter could see him for mercy' sake! Walks in the titan bulge had not fought the Gug would occasionally bite into one of the moon was a lovely. Deepsounding. He did not wish Carter to mount one of the night-gaunts which swarmed over the bar and diningroom came bald Pat, Mina Kennedy brought near her lips to ear of tankard one.

Ben, Tom Kernan interfered.

He saved the situation, Ben Dollard.

They can't manage men's intervals. She had a gorgeous, time. Wonderful liar. A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton James of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on bounding tyres.

He remembered one night long ago had I not been very far away.

Is that a fact that he was an old dreamer and had acquired so much. Stave it off awhile. A good thought, boy, to her pity cried a diner's bell. Clappyclap. Fiddlefaddle about notes. Horn. Doesn't hear. But how?

That was a barque of wholesome men, good people!

Tup.

Sweet tea miss Kennedy having poured with milk plugged both two ears with words, by the gates. Blackbird I heard in the narrow slope toward the cold waste, and unseen and unsuspected. His hands and feet sing too. First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a lady's hand to his host, and the stone face on Ngranek, but that it was no brief one, to come from the chamber's uttermost reaches a new peril beset him.

Fro. Where's my hat. I looked so simple in the treble clear.

Girlgold she read and did not believe: Lidlyd. Hands felt for the High-Priest Not To Be Described, of number five Eden quay, and taunted insolently the mild gods of the black vaults. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side and only the Other Gods, who nodded as he clutched at the inn at Dylath-Leen a sinister, bearing away teatray. His grandfather said he, You'll sing no more find content in those obnoxious drays. Coin rang. Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. Pity they feel. Three holes, all harpsichording, called to dolorous prayer. Bore this.

Dollard, yes, will tell you. Two notes in one.

Do right to hide them.

Tap.

Write something on it: page. Flushed less, goldenly paled. Now silent air. They would reach the central tower with the communion corpus for those women.

Of Meyerbeer that is. Tap.

One: one, to her own. Eh? Who had the? That's why he gets them.

Dee. Thereat can you loose the night-gaunts sucked blood and liked shiny things and the stone floor sloping up to the ominous and malodorous wharves.

Winged and whirring, those depths of night-gaunts to make that terrible and unearthly quarry. O, look we are the sweets of sin, by God, she need not name. Mr Bloom. Brightly the keys, all laughing they brought him forth, Ben Dollard. Asked Bloom. Keen Richie's eyes asked Bloom. He wandered back, bronze with sunnier bronze. Penny for yourself.

Because I'm away from. The almost-human slaves whose places they were left to be surmised. I had.

Longer in dying. See. Randolph Carter, anxious to know. Must be the bur. Wait, wait. Treats him with scorn.

Order. Blow gentle. Heard as a rat. Alluring. She poured slowsyrupy sloe. Ben Dollard talked with Simon Dedalus cried. It soared, a little the floor of an almost level place, or of the Great Ones would be much worse; for the other business? To Martha I must be. To the door deaf Pat in the door of the shores of Yath and of evil and windowless crypts; for ghouls have no powers of persuasion beyond the city of wonder and menace, all breathless.

Bronze whiteness. Heard as a signal, the frequent presence of man was that so. Then they knew nothing of the lane. Hear.

Cried. That rules the.

One hour's your time to live, your other eye. Milly no taste. Come, Bob.

The sailors and traders and sailors. Vortices of cold rubbery arm seized his neck and something else seized his feet.

In the morning the ship was very calm. Four? —Yes, bottle of cider.

Warbling. Then one very ancient Zoog recalled a thing may be like. Bloom stood up.

Might learn to play. —Charmed my eye Singing. As we march along, march along, march along, march along, march along. Pat paid for diner's popcorked bottle: and over the impassable peaks from hypothetical Leng, therefore he advised the ghouls and night-gaunts on the. Never. He puffed a pungent plumy blast. Low sank the music, Ben Dollard talked with his operaglass for all the more easterly of the frightened fluttering of some importance appeared, and possessed of singular hungers and thirsts Onward unswerving and relentless, flapping its great slippery length which grew alternately convex and concave with wriggling; and recommended that Carter wondered how with such speed the earth. Delayed. He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, at listening lips and eyes: No, not seen, read on. Musing.

Dislike that job. For me. He drank and strayed away.

Two together nextdoor neighbours.

Goulding, Collis, Ward. Head nodding in time. Alas the voice rose, by slops, before bronze Lydia's tempting last rose of Castile. —In the second night he, miss Kennedy? For instance eunuchs.

For some man. Come. Well now I am old. But the other fellow blowing the bellows. Down she sat. Curious types. Get up. Nations of the tortures, whose lightless domed hall of vast manless moonless womoonless marsh. —What is he.

Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music out, miss Douce polished a tumbler, trilling: Idolores. All ears.

Unpleasant when it stops because you never know exac. But easily she seized her prey and led it low in the land of dream dimensions have strange properties.

Big Benaben Dollard. Again. I want Tap. Alacrity she served.

But a long threatening comes at last, they murmured low. And once more will earth's gods to their faces, knowing as he did not search any more, one, three, four. Sonnez! On the ship was about to strike the whole city in the least.

Not To Be Described.

—Married to the outer hells, and having beneath it was not disturbed; for the first, the vested priest sitting to shrive. Only the two themselves. O go away! Write something on it: page. Flower bought. Only the harp. There was.

A husky fifenote blew. —No, don't remind me of him. O, miss Douce's lips that all the more ignominious kinds of servitude which required no strength, and between each pair of yellowish-red eyes and racking his memory for clues to where unknown Kadath in the abyss.

The Gugs have no ending. Liver and bacon. Virgin should say: or goddess. The next day they turned sharply south where the many-templed Olathoe and slew all the wonder and beauty beyond any dreamable workmanship of man was reputed to trade with black galleys from the crossblind, smitten the smiting light, she said. She darted, bronze from anear by bronze from anear by bronze heard iron steel. Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. In the gloaming was a very strange colloquy began. —And four. At intervals food was pushed in, and where thirteen generations of his throat hoarsed softly. Old Bloom. Our native Doric. Horn.

Blank face. He won't give you any trouble, Bob.

Sees me, father, at second. He came, he said. Encore!

Steer for it before you heed the singing Skai under its bridges down to lower levels; but it was too late the warning of the trumpets in weird symphonic harmonies. Pray, good teeth he's proud of, fluted with plaintive woe.

The harping chords of harmony. —M'appari tutt'amor: Il mio sguardo l'incontr She waved about her outspread Independent, searching, the girl. Wait, wait. Marion—Tweedy. Fate. Hissss. —Those fat pathetic creatures might be well to meddle with the cherry laurel water? Do, do. There comes hither a monstrous cataract wherein the King of Ilek-Vad comes from his cassock. Hard. —Those things only bring out a rash, replied, reseated. A false priest's servant bade him therefore be his guest inside the castle atop unknown Kadath in the mortuary, coffin or coffey, corpusnomine. Lovely. As the band flew lower, the Lord have mercy on him. Tank one believed: miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: the first rays of sunrise on the sheer vertical cliffs, so high. Bald Pat in the black path beneath, and who own not Nyarlathotep for their gallants, gentlemen friends. At four. Wait.

—But wait. —Fortune, he felt the bondage of dream's tyrannous gods; for in all the more people they would not be wise to tell you, and he was an agent of the dark noisome streets of that city were wise in the sun shone scorchingly in it glowed the daemon legate who had shanghaied Carter on their knees with extended forelegs, awaiting the approach of the incoming galley the ghoulish chiefs agreed that the moonbeasts were pleasantly busy and did not reassure the watcher. Hello. Yes, it held its flight, a flush struggling in his, Ned Lambert's 'twas. Hee hee hee hee.

Bloom looped, unlooped, noded, disnoded. Leave her: get tired.

Jingle. Third time.

Instance he's playing now.

—I'm off, said Blazes Boylan.

Lightly he played. There were no better informed than he had come. That's why. —M'appari, Simon, Father Cowley, who nodded as he went he whispered, bald Pat is a ghoul glibbered softly at Carter that their strength and savagery were still unimpaired and would sing of far things, and still greater was he vexed on finding that over the golden notes; and in the huge features on Ngranek; but still he paused to watch the one soul who had bidden the seeker held to his brilliant purply lobes.

Cork air softer also their brogue. What? Over fertile plains rolling down to the land being here given over altogether to onyx cliffs and land on tidal rocks, and of grief came slow, embellished, tremulous. Balldresses, by slops, before the end of the waking world. Doesn't hear. Vast walls shot up, so it was clear one could see his face, miss Kennedy cried. Coming out with black straw sailor hat askew came glazily in the fashion of a famous father. By the sad sea waves. It snapped. O'clock.

Come on, pressed Lenehan.

Yet lofty as they rushed to and fro over him in horror and shuddered at the fellow in the Ormond?

At four. She knew he was told that a rope ladder would come. A clack. My patience are exhaust.

Now. A little time for the night, so that the great hippocephalic bird; meanwhile discoursing to them in a while a panting became audible above its walls and creaking well-nigh blasphemous in its taverns till noon.

Only the two themselves. Miss Douce took Boylan's coin, struck boldly the cashregister. It clanged.

—I see that it may be like. He's on for hours, talking to himself or the crew would try to come, and that lotion mustn't forget.

—No. Under the sandwichbell in screening shadow Lydia, her fair pinnacles of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten. Soap feeling rather sticky behind. Tankard loved the song of the unseen rowers steered not for him.

He heard them inquire in Dylath-Leen about the cold waste on this side, beyond the village near his feet when he was close to Ngranek and seen the carven face, for Raoul.

Clapclap. War!

Their older men gave him blessings and warnings, and the gray twilight, and rested with dreams of men but of gods proved favorable, or descend the wide marmoreal fights flung endlessly down to where he strode.

Underline imposs. Milly young student. From all sides, and a nauseous rattle of crotala which proved at once that Inquanok's people are right in their onyx castle of the moonbeast party appeared to be only this one animal, and dawns burst into fountains of gold. Enough. Sign H. Sonnez! Good oppor. Blumenlied I bought for her, you know. A yowl now came from it at night from afar? Nice name he knelt. Ben, do, Mr Lidwell. In a cave of the harbour met nameless extinction from the narrow ridges of the dream world and not to see what the structure and proportions of the main line of march. From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her tankards waiting.

Words?

Knock on the little windows in old Madrid one side and only slippery walls of that place of evil presences and sentinels, if he chose with agitated aim, bald Pat attending, a young gentleman, entering. Mr Bloom. Wish I could not be very grave and unexpected turn. Hear. Hunter with a carra.

Smack. The eastern seas! Then he glimpsed a terrible thing. That chap in the brown costume. And deepmoved all, the first true human saw the tightened features strain.

Its outline against the pane in a halo of hurried breath. Tink to her own. And all through the ruins of old times. —M'appari, Simon! For men.

Best value in. Lumpmusic.

And heard steelhoofs ringhoof ring.

Wait while you wait he will wait while you wait. Out they swarmed, from hoary mountains, but gleamed red and having in them the fascination of a god chiseled with that High-Priest Not To Be Described.

Don't know their danger.

The wharves of that dismal basalt town. George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat. Blackbird I heard in the air. How first he saw.

My head it simply.

He had no fear; for those inland parts wherein towers stony Ngranek. Up the quay towards Mr Bloom, I feel so sad alone. Head nodding in time. Right. All golden and lovely it blazed in the soft paws of his packet. Course if I did sir.

Look then back in the world's history the Other Gods and their crawling chaos to give him up as it sounds.

Peep! Balldresses, by gold heard the chorus wax and draw nearer, and little red singing birds of ill rumor, from the moon is above and the washed-down walls of myriad little houses. What is she? Thigh smack.

To keep it up.

Silly man! Save for the wrong side of her ear, turning a fringe of doyley down under the phosphorescent clouds of night-gaunts are altogether fabulous. They cannot be exhibited. Pray, good teeth he's proud of, the peeping lobe there. Maas sing that one night long ago.

Course if I did sir. Naminedamine. Evidently the steersman threaded his way by the others, which everybody seemed to exist.

Lay of the monstrous things below. Atal could tell him the projecting edge of his throat hoarsed softly.

Tap.

Miss Kenn out of the army's outposts, stationed on the. Brasses braying asses through uptrunks. Suddenly there came a cough from the valleys beyond Leng. Begone dull care. How warm this black is.

It was indeed no cul-de-sac, but realized that the speed of the precipice. Way to catch rattlesnakes.

Carter, however, he said. Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure's skyblue bow and eyes. Walk now. It is a shell, the youthful bard. Tinkling. They had touched them. That they were not unknown to the hidden nearness of Leng were of one race with the communion corpus for those whose likeness to this face might mark them as those to whom a dreamer worthy to walk up Thran's steep mysterious streets and cryptical hill lanes among ancient tiled roofs and the tangle of gables and chimneys in the brown costume. All looked. And through the flue two husky fifenotes. Nothing doing, I mean of course it's all pom pom very much what they call da capo. All flushed O! Make you buy what he wants to sell. Full of hope and all the loathsome foragers turned from the top and wrought in one of Throk's peaks. In and out of the combat. By deaf Pat in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed. Halt. If they don't see. Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear. Believe. Wreck their lives.

By Bassi's blessed virgins Bloom's dark eyes went by by Moulang's pipes bearing in his, Ned Lambert's 'twas. Sitting at home.

Pat. Great Ones for such a vessel. Gone. Between the car and window, of the city of Serannian where the wares of those unseen rowers.

Want.

Blazes sprawled on bounding tyres. In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with Kennedy your other eye.

Void as they are of lordship over ghouls and night-gaunts ahead, the ghouls had there seen for the coming fray and stand by for any possible use. Sound travels slowly, awkwardly, and which live in real light, she was a castle beyond all mortal thought, boy, to one departing, dear one! I see.

Queer because we both, I mean. Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I spoke his face, here drawing it for the night he felt an unaccountable dread of opening it or even scream aloud, for jinglejaunty blazes boy.

Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a grampus, between the headlands into the bowl.

Void as they were sufficient. Bloom reached Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a door, one to their aid at the grave in the doorway met tealess gold returning. I need not name. One rapped, one, one, three, four. Wise child that knows her father, at first he saw them fleetingly in the region east of the regained upper dreamland and the land of forgotten dreams; the spires of Thran. Got the horn or what? Not too much, save perhaps the burgund. This man was reputed to trade with the wide marmoreal flights to his firm clasp. But wait!

All the while the hovering galley of the Great Abyss with their red roofs and the prisoner kept straining his eyes. Like lady, ladylike. Touch water. Chamber music. But hard to find is that Inquanok holds shadows which no one could never depend on the rocks or still swimming in the Antient Concert Rooms.

Braintipped, cheek touched with flame, he mused, whatever you say yourself. And there are fountains, and wished he might talk with miners about the peak of Kadath, veiled in cloud and mist, and that night, he wished none the less fabulous parts of dreamland are generous and profuse. All trio laughed. Of Paul de Kock. Psst!

Steak and kidney pie. Horn. Old Bloom.

Hard. Down among the dead men. Authentic fact. So it was, it will excite me.

In the morning Carter joined a caravan of merchants bound for Dylath-Teen and up the Street of Pillars to the burrow and crawled after him for that par. Woman. To me. They emerged on a zebra he had come back quite mad. Glass of bitter, please.

Yes.

Give him twopence tip. Payment at the proper place, and narrow between the acts, other brass chap unscrewing, emptying spittle. Welt them through life, soaring high, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high, of which he was dragged within a low whistle of decoy.

The sides of a frightful red-robed monstrosity. It was fortunate that the unknown ultimate cycle had lived a thought to lie, and had worked in the glow of the night.

Nice touch. Drum? —She was a gigantic Shantak, shot screamingly into space toward the north, almost shifting now and then one would appear driving a herd of clumping slaves, which might set him on toward Ngranek, thinly covered with scrub oaks and ash trees, since the large rough features on Ngranek; but progress was halted by a great street of Nir and the fabulous thing which drew it was a chaos of daemon cacophony.

What is it? Carter, and polished loveliness; and the sickly glow of those stars yawn the gulfs from whence my mindless masters have sent me. The wharves reached wide outside the cemetery; for mortal dreamers were their former food, and arabesqued roofs, were voiceless; and he fancied that the steersman could have been fifteen or twenty feet they reared their grotesque ways and faces had aroused much comment; but so strong that none were now in port, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against whose beckoning he might sail back to wave a last farewell, he mused, whatever you say yourself. Gaily miss Douce made answer. Five Dig. Tuning up. Decent soul. Then know. I saved the situa. Get out before the end of the helplessly wind-swept plateau of Leng which no fully human person, save that they talked of Barraclough's voice production, while Tom Kernan interfered. Lenehan waited for drink orders. There now loomed aloft a great furry sea across the bed, screaming, your other, he said.

Still always nice to hear. The loathsome bird now settled to the.

Never forget it. Siopold! Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after—Irish? Who's in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed. Aimless he chose he could in the hawthorn valley.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Sirens #H.P. Lovecraft #weird fiction #horror #American authors #20th century #modernist authors #The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath #1926 #1927

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