#threats of murder are ryan's love language

[cod-dump]

Hey. Sorry if I'm bothering you

What fandom/universes would the 141 want to be in? Price laswell Nik soap ghost has kronig horangi

Gaz: Pokémon nerd. Would kill to live in the Pokémon world, even for just a day. Owns every single Pokémon game in existence. Has played them all a million times and they will never bore him. Never. Ryan Reynolds voicing Pikachu made his entire existence (nothing will ever even come close).

Soap: Wants to be in the Legend of Zelda universe so, so bad. Would also kill to live there. Grew up playing Legend of Zelda as kid so it has a special place in his heart. Used to have a huge crush on Ganon (will kill anyone who finds that out with no hesitation).

Ghost: Loves Star Wars. Has openly said that he would be a Sith if he was force sensitive and enjoys the looks he gets. Wants to be a Mandalorian so bad. Is such a nerd about Mandalorians that he learned their language and can speak it fluently. He’s also very fond of the clones and couldn’t watch Clone Wars because he got upset whenever a clone died.

Price: DC nerd. Would love to fight crime with Batman, take on world ending threats as a superhero. Takes any scrapes of DC media he can get. Has a hoard of comics, still in the plastic sleeve, in a box. Would murder someone if they touched them.

Nik: Marvel nerd. Ironman is his favorite superhero and stands by that Russo Bros did him dirty. The MCU is dead to him, he only likes the comics a select few TV series. Stans Black Widow with a burning passion.

König: Man has loved RPGs as long as he can remember. Played Elder Scrolls: Morrowind so many times he knows the game backwards. Wants to disappear into the Elder Scroll universe and never come out. He wants to be a mage and learn the secrets of the universe.

Horangi: Has watched every single episode of One Piece and owns every manga. He’s not big into anime or comics in general but he loves One Piece. Cannot remember where his obsession started. Oni helps him get manga translated into Korean for him. Wants to eat a Devil Fruit even though he’s 100% convinced he’ll get a weird ass ability and he’s not sure if it’ll be worth trading his ability to swim.

#call of duty #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #cod nikolai #cod könig #cod konih #kim horangi hong jin #ask #thanks for the ask <3 #kortac #kortac operators

[bohemian-nights]

What do you think about Aegon’s characterization thus far? Do you think he had the potential to be interesting? Likable? Or was he (and to a lesser extent all Team Green kids) doomed from the start? What about his relationship with Helaena? I remember someone saying that the writers intended for the fan base to be split 50/50. Personably I don’t think this was ever going to be achievable for a few reasons 1. Team Black had an objectively more sympathetic cause 2. HOTD set Rhaneyra up as not only a main character but a protagonist and 3. they made Aegon a rapist.

His characterization is a mess which isn’t surprising considering how they’ve framed Rhaenyra’s arc in the show. I agree with you that for that reason Aegon was never going to be portrayed in a sympathetic light.

Honestly book!Aegon isn’t very likable to me (although he does have his moments after he’s crippled) and he isn’t a “good guy,” but then again none of them are.

Book!Rhaenyra is an awful human being. She’s who’s a self-centered racist* who believes she and only she should be the exception to the rules. She won’t even uplift other highborn women(see her passing over the ladies Rosby and Stokeworth to make their younger brothers lords which bit her in the butt in the end).

I will keep bringing up Missy Anne’s racism because as a Black woman, I hate how fans try to act like it’s not a big deal or dismiss it and say she isn’t a racist when she justifies murdering a young possibly pregnant woman using racist language. She’s the only one in the Dance who tries to commit a racially motivated hate crime in addition to her saying “f*ck all women except me.” Acknowledge that.

However, the show has so far given her more grace and the latter half has tried to force down our throats how she’s a woman “wronged by the patriarchy.”(See Ser Vaemond calling her a whore to delegitimize the case for wanting House Velaryon to stay in Velaryon hands or even Daemon choking her out).

Show!Aegon on the other hand has been portrayed in the worst light possible. I.e. going with the tale that he’s a rapist/child predator when the only source who calls him that is Rhaenyra’s #1 fan Mushroom:

Ignoring Mushroom cause he’s not a legitimate source if his clown behind is the only one saying it, Aegon’s worst crime is being a drunken cheater. Which sucks for Helaena. I do think he cared about/loved her because she was his sister and I don’t think he abused her, but with the way their relationship is described, it wasn’t like they were a “loving” couple.

Moving on, Aegon has legitimate reasons to “usurp” Rhaenyra(which is something that he originally didn’t want to do) because even if he pledges his loyalty and support to her he(his sons, Aemond, and Daeron) will always be a threat to her and her sons(especially the Strong boys) reign.

If the lords ever felt she “got out of line” they’d want to replace her with Aegon. A civil war was inevitable with the choices that Viserys made. So in the books when Criston tells him that if he doesn’t accept his crown they’ll all die, yeah, he was right to have himself crowned as king.

If the show writers truly wanted to spilt the fanbase right down the middle they would’ve shown that instead of the drunken rapist who likes to watch his bastard children fight each other like dogs. That tall tale by Mushroom would’ve been scrapped altogether.

(And while I do like show!Alicent, her being aged down is another reason why Aegon’s characterization is so messed up. She’s the main frontman for Team Green because they are going for a more “feminist” approach. The show in actuality is anything, but feminist since they won’t let the women have any agency whatsoever, but that’s another conversation. Plus it's clear Ryan has a hard-on for Aemond so that's also spilling over to Aegon’s characterization).

Show!Aegon would’ve/should’ve been portrayed as the reluctant king who pulls himself together to protect his family. That’s an interesting story. That’s the sympathetic angle. The show writers failed him(and I think they know they screwed up since Sara Hess tried to say that he was still likable despite them choosing to make him into a child predator 🤦🏽‍♀️).

#aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen #what little likability he has is thanks to tom’s performance #other than that he’s a flop 🤷🏽‍♀️ #hotd #hotdask #bnask #bnasks

[biology-is-not-binary]

Thought Control - The BITE Model

Require members to internalize the group’s doctrine as truth

Adopting the group’s ‘map of reality’ as reality

Instill black and white thinking

Decide between good vs. evil

Organize people into us vs. them (insiders vs. outsiders)

0 - There is no group doctrine because there is no governing body or figurehead. Any 'doctrine' is the science and history that supports the existence of trans people and of gender affirming care. People are naturally wary of those who are against the science as these attitudes lead to the harmful laws that take away the rights of trans people and cause direct physical harm. Us vs Them mentality means accepting there are no inbetweens. In this case, it would have to establish that anybody who ever does or says anything transphobic, even by accident or out of ignorance, is a transphobe. They cannot improve and never will. This is not the case however. When people are called out for being transphobic or a transphobe, it usually a statement of fact. A comment can be transphobic and person can be a transphobe. Those who have not explicitly shown support of trans people but haven't shown otherwise are not considered evil or outsiders. An example of insider vs outsider or us vs them mentality in cults is usually pretty obvious. In cults like Jehovah's Witnesses or Mormonism, you are either part of the organization or you are considered an agent of the enemy and will go to hell. In Jonestown, this idea was taken to the extreme. Anybody who was not a part of the cult was considered a dangerous enemy. Anybody who left the cult was an enemy. Visits from outsiders were considered threats and members were prepped on what they were allowed to say. The "us" is incredibly exclusionary. When Congressman Leo Ryan went to Guyana to see the cult, it ultimately ended in his death along with the deaths of three reporters and a defector. This threat from Congressman Ryan, who was nothing but polite and was unaware of how truly dangerous the cult was due to how they presented themselves to him, was enough to trigger the mass murder of ~918 members.

Change person’s name and identity

0 - Yes, many trans people change their names. But this is by their own choice and the reason each person does it or doesn't do it is incredibly personal. There is no governing body or figurehead forcing anybody to change. Some trans people may choose to keep their birth name even. Or just take on a variation of it. Nobody blinks an eye when a cis child or cis person takes on a nickname that is different from their birth name. And nobody should assume that someone voluntarily changing their name is due to brainwashing. An actual example of a cult changing the names of their members is the Heaven's Gate cult. Members took on 6 letter names that ended in 'ODY' and in all caps. These were given by the cult leaders and not chosen in any way by the members. This is not at all similar to an individual choosing to change their name.

Use of loaded language and clichés which constrict knowledge, stop critical thoughts and reduce complexities into platitudinous buzz words

1 - I'm being generous here because there are some phrases that have caught on, but mainly because they were made as a way to help provide support to trans people (see the "trans women are women" and similar phrases that are meant to uplift a marginalized community, such as the phrase "love is love"). Another you'll often see is the sex is different from gender. This came about for a similar reason. Much of society (at least in the US and many other places) still refers to sex and gender as the same thing instead of the different things they actually are according to anthropology and biology. (Gender is also often equated with gender identity, but I'm not getting into that rn.) None of these are used to stop critical thinking either. With loaded language in cults, words will be defined differently or given exaggerated importance with assumptions attached to the word/phrase within the group. I don't consider TERFs to be a cult group per this model, but look at how TERFs have chosen to define gender and how it differs from the scientists who use the term. Additionally, those who use loaded language in cults will have no resources to back up their rebuttals. They will discredit the individual rather than try to argue the point. I hate to use this as an example again, but TERFs will frequently do this online. Instead of arguing the actual point, they will try to discredit the individual instead most of the time (such as how gayfencingtongueegg was accused unfairly of being antisemitic or lostelvenqueen is frequently accused of being a man when that is not the case). Or they will create a different point to argue, see "what is a woman". Or creationists when trying to talk about evolution will make comments like "if evolution is true, why do monkeys only give birth to monkeys". Any arguments made are usually made against a strawman.

Encourage only ‘good and proper’ thoughts

0 - There are no thoughts that are considered "good and proper" more than other thoughts at base value. There is no 'sin' or similar concept. This is not like Mormonism where even the thought of possibly being gay is considered unacceptable. Where it is believed that thoughts are sinful and will be broadcast with all your other since in heaven. Or the auditing in Scientology where the goal is to calm the "reactive mind" erase negative thoughts and experiences.

Hypnotic techniques are used to alter mental states, undermine critical thinking and even to age regress the member

0 - There is no evidence for hypnotic techniques being used, particularly as there is no figurehead or governing body. Steven Hassan has tried to claim that hypnoporn is used but uh...that's literally just porn. It a fetish for some people. It's not evidence of hypnosis being used.

Memories are manipulated and false memories are created

0 - This was covered in Information Control

Teaching thought-stopping techniques which shut down reality testing by stopping negative thoughts and allowing only positive thoughts, including:

Denial, rationalization, justification, wishful thinking

Chanting

Meditating

Praying

Speaking in tongues

Singing or humming

0 - When many people figure out they're trans, there's a lot of reckoning to do, particularly in an area like the USA that has conservative Christians with large amounts of power. This culture often leads to a denial of self that affects queer folk beyond just the trans community. Many Christian organizations have created an atmosphere where people have to hide who they are and try to feel better about it through methods similar to the above. These are not present in the trans community and are certainly not something passed on from a governing body or individual of authority. When looking at this category, it's easy to think of some examples. Look at conversion therapy (which Hassan has also strongly denounced in large part due to this). Or of how some groups will tell you to sing or recite phrases when faced with negative thoughts/emotions. Phrases like "doubt your doubts" or specific Bible verses are common here. The idea is to not think of thinking these thoughts. Tbh, it makes me think of Turn It Off from the musical The Book Of Mormon.

Rejection of rational analysis, critical thinking, constructive criticism

1 - Being generous here again. The scientific research of trans issues is certainly up for rational analysis, critical thinking and constructive criticism. These are the ideas behind the scientific process that includes null hypotheses and peer review. However, individuals may be unwilling to hear from transphobes at a certain point, usually due to a variety of reasons, which may include being harassed when discussing trans related topics in the past, being sent death threats upon coming out or having attempts at discussions be derailed by people refusing to address the issues and/or repeating themselves. Marginalized communities, like the trans community, are understandably anxious and cautious towards others who may be bad faith actors. For more discussion on this, please refer back to Information Control where I talk about thought stopping techniques and loaded language that is used for this rejection.

Forbid critical questions about leader, doctrine, or policy allowed

0 - See the above points. No leadership and the scientific process already allows for critical questioning. In some cults, this is taken to extremes beyond disfellowship and shunning. In Scientology, the leaders are idolized and speaking against them or the beliefs are punished, usually harshly. In fact, it's speculated that some of the investigations stalled in Clearwater and in Scientology's German base city are related directly to the organization and are due to the people speaking out against them or leaving. Or in the Hebrew Israelite Movement which murdered members who questioned leadership as examples to other members.

Labeling alternative belief systems as illegitimate, evil, or not useful

0 - Support of trans people is not based on a belief but on science. An example of this would be, well, almost all cults. Think of the numerous Christian cults that claim they are the one true source of information and everyone who is not a member is an agent of Satan trying to take you away from the religion. Jehovah's Witnesses, Mormons, Order of the Solar Temple, etc all exhibit this belief and will dismiss ideas from others immediately and without thought. All of them, if asked to choose which is more correct: science or their doctrine, will say their doctrine and that science has just not caught up with it yet. Therefore, stating the science is not useful for them

Instill new “map of reality”

0 - This is referring to changing a person's idea of how the world works and a person's place in it. Support of trans people is based on science and clearly does not do this. The acknowledgement of gender diverse communities and of gender affirming care is a reflection of reality. It is the most predictive view we have of the world right now. Nearly all cults implement this as it helps set them apart from the rest of the world. Some cults take this far more extreme than others. With Scientology, they claim that their top level members can receive superpowers, like mind reading, to protect humankind from doom. While more of a conspiracy theory than a cult, the idea of reptilians "lizard people" would be another clear example of people being installed with a new map of reality.

Ok, yeah. I don't know what I expected, but I think it's clear here as well that "trans ideology" exhibits little to no thought control. This is in large part due to not having leadership and due to "trans ideology" accepting the current scientific research.

#bite model #thought control #cults #cult #anti terf #transphobia #transphobia mention

[melancholydreadfuldream]

Cosmic Love Nightmare

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Whittaker!Master x Reader, 13th Doctor x Reader

Summary: DW AU. You and the Master are definition of bad romance. The Doctor is determined to separate the two of you.

Warning: ooc, use of violence, mention of rape, murder, bad moral, depression, dark!reader, etc

 A/N: So, lately, I have been reading plenty fan fiction about Whittaker!Master and Dhawan!Doctor and I love each one of them. I got inspired to write one too.

I’m sorry for the quality of the language as English is not my first language so you will probably get a bit or a lot of headache. So, I’m not sure about this fic, I hope you all enjoy reading it? And if you do like it, please like/comment.

   The Hybrid.

 A Galiifreyan prophecy that predicted that a hybrid creature of a crossbred from two warrior races would stand over the ruins of Gallifrey and unravel web of time, breaking a billion billion hearts to heal its own.

 “Hybrid bla bla bla...” The Master said with a mocking tone as she rolled her eyes.

 I frowned. “And...what? The other Time Lords think that hybrid thing is us?”

 The Master shrugged her shoulder. “Look around.” She said. “Here we are standing in a ruin of a planet.”

 We stood on top of a cliff with the best view of the ruination.

 “Not Gallifrey though.” I said with a shrug. “This is just a general chaos.”

 She smiled as she come closer to me and whispered, “Only you would call the ruin of planet a general chaos.”

 I shrugged. “If we didn’t do it, someone else would.” I said with a careless tone. “I’m not the only one who called it general chaos. You did it too.”

 The Master grinned and did a dramatic twirling. “I know. Let’s call ourselves team Hybrid from now on.” She said.

 As if on cue, they could hear a distant echo of groaning Tardis of the Doctor.

 I sighed. “And here come team Tardis.”

The Master sighed dramatically just as a man walked toward us followed by his three companions. “Oh, Doctor, have you come to join the party?”

 “Stop it. Both of you, stop this nonsense right now!” The Doctor yelled in fury.

 “But where is the fun in that?” The Master said with adorable pout.

 I watched the interaction between those two. Apparently, they have been dancing around like this since forever with the everlasting theme of savior-villain. I let them have their moment and then turned away to watch with fascination the fiery ruin before me.

 “How could you stand with her, (name)?” Yaz suddenly called out to me.

 I rolled my eyes. I have no interest in defending myself to a bunch of goodie-good. I shushed her much to her dismay. But she didn’t get the hint and stepped forward toward me, demanding my attention. What a foolish bitch. The only reason she still standing is because I’m currently in a good mood and also the Master told me not to harm the Doctor’s companion directly. She warned me that the Doctor is a goodie-good but he is also dangerous when it come to the protection of his companion.

 “Don’t come any closer. I won’t be held responsible for hurting you if you are within distance for me to break your...” I looked her up and down with disdain. “...well, everything...” I said with a fake sweet smile.

 Yaz still opened her mouth to blabber but thankfully, Ryan and Graham pulled her away from me immediately. They knew I am a mutant, that I am very strong, I could break their bones without breaking a sweat. They also knew that I am a killer and a monster. Who else would join the Master in her quest for chaos?

 I sighed. I got bored already. “Master, can we just go? This is getting boring...”

 The Master and the Doctor stopped their banter and glanced at me.

 The Master gave me a fond smile before stepped forward toward me but was stopped when the Doctor gripped her wrist.

 “Master, please...” The Doctor begged. “The way you are going right now...Gallifrey will come for you and her...”

 “Doctor, are you worried for us or are you worried me and (name) will destroy your precious Gallifrey, Mr President, dear?” The Master pulled her wrist out of his hold and mockingly took a bow at him.

 The Doctor groaned in frustration.

 The Master grinned mischievously as she walked backward and then turned around to face me. She pulled me to her and kissed me hard.

 I smiled into the kiss. From the corner of my eyes, I saw the companion of the Doctor making a disgusted face at the sight of us kissing.

 “Come on then, my dear, our work here is done.” She said.

 “I’m sorry.” The Doctor suddenly said.

 We ignored him as we walked away from them. I was about to put on coordinates on my vortex manipulator that would get us back to the Master’s Tardis but stopped when the next thing he said gave me chill.

 “But I can’t let you two be together any longer.” The Doctor said.

 I turned around and growled at him for the threat on us.

 The Master stopped me and turned to glare at the Doctor. “And how are you going to stop us?”

 Yaz suddenly grabbed me and put some bracelet on my wrist. I didn’t expect that so I have no way to stop it. She is quick to release me and took a few steps away from me before I could attack her.

 “Master!” I yelled when I realized I couldn’t get the bracelet off me.

 The Master turned to look at me and at the bracelet just as the Doctor raised his sonic screwdriver toward me, activating the bracelet. Her eyes widened as she realized something. “Nooo!” she yelled as she tried to reach me but before she could, I vanished in a blip.

 The Master fell into the ground in shock then she turned to look at the Doctor. “What have you done, Doctor? Where did you send her?”

 The Doctor actually looked almost sorry but he was calm. “(name) is safe. I just send her faraway from here, to a place not of this universe, where you can never reach out...”

 The Master stood as she glared at him. “Oh, you just watch me, Doctor.” Her eyes blazed in fury.

 7777

 I fell into the ground and immediately puke. Cold sweat covered my face. I blinked my eyes and tried to focus on the surrounding.

 I was in a park on Earth...I think? But something is wrong. The sky...the color is a bit off and the oxygen here just not the same as I used to. The Master once told me in passing about alternate universes where some things were different and others remained the same. I dreaded the thought that damn Doctor actually would go this far in order to separate me from the Master.

 The Master. My heart felt like it was about to shatter. I was hoping to hear her voice right about now. But I realized I was alone. I glanced at the cursed bracelet on my wrist. To my surprise, the bracelet fell off my wrist easily this time as if it knew it already finished its purpose. I growled angrily. I begrudgingly picked up the offending item, hoping to figure out a way back using it. But I am not a genius like the Time Lords, hell, not even a human genius. I am just me, a mutant, and a result of human experimentation gone wrong.

 I fingered the vortex manipulator on my other wrist and to my great frustration, it was broken. Not that the vortex manipulator would be much use, it can’t be used to travel to another alternate universe.

 I prayed I was wrong, that I wasn’t in some alternate universe. My hope got smashed when I confirmed my worst fear as I pick up the newspaper from the nearby seller.

 I made a vow though that I would do everything in my power to return my beloved, the Master. I have to find some calibre genius to use to figure out this dilemma. I wonder if I should track down the version of the Master in this world but decided against it until further investigation.

 “Just you wait, Master, nothing can separate us...” I whispered.

     Six months later...

 Six painful months later, I was still stuck in this alternate earth. I have to work to support myself. I worked in a diner somewhere in New York. I went my daily life with annoyance. It was a miracle I could restrain myself from killing half the idiot people here.

 I lay on my dirty bed inside my small and dirty rent room. I raised the vortex manipulator, hoping it would stop being broken already and let me use it to travel off the earth. I growled as I shake the damn thing really hard. To my surprise, it started to make a bleeping sound.

 I moved into a seating position and observed the vortex manipulator. “No way, it works!” I said with a disbelief laugh.

 7777

 Thank God, the vortex manipulator works otherwise I would have loss my sanity and started killing people just for breathing wrong near my vicinity.

 So, what is the first thing I do? I track down a version of myself in this universe. Apparently, the thing that remained the same is the other me being caught and experimented on by the Division.

 Division is an organization who worked outside the law and consists of both alien and human. Their main purpose is to monitor the happening within the universe and sell the information to those who is willing to pay a high price. They are not the good guys, obviously. Their purpose is to create a world that fit their agenda, so, depending on the current agenda; they might step in as the saviour of the people or become the instigator of chaos.

 Their purpose at the time they caught me back in my universe is to create super soldier with the intention to sell them to the highest bidder.

 I was an orphan after I lost my parents in accident. I was nobody, no family, so they thought even if I was missing, no one would truly care. I was taken to be used as an experiment. Luckily, if you can call it that; I was one of the successful experiments. I got super strength. I broke through the restrain in my fit of anger and attacked every last one of my tormentors with my bare hands.

 I was covered in blood from head to toes after I finished with my slaughters. That’s when the Master came into view. She took me in after that, she took care of me and she helped me understand my power and to use it to do the most damage. I love every second of it.

 Of course, at first, I didn’t trust the Master. I almost kill her that first time but something she said made me let her go and it helped that my rage already subsided by then, enough for me to see reason. I demanded to be left alone and she did for the most part. She gained my trust after she saved me when I was taken by surprise and ambushed by Division’s soldiers. 

 She saved me even though I almost strangle her to death the first time we met. She reasoned with me that she is on my side. She gave me my space albeit with a lot of mocking on her part. Once I let her in, she showed me everything, taught me everything I need to know to survive and to fight back. I knew she is not on a side of good, she told me so, but thanks to her, I craved for chaos as she did after she show me the joy of ruining lives. They have ruined mine so why shouldn’t I ruin others too?

 The Doctor found me and wanted to take me in his care. The Master allowed him to take me just so we could play a nasty game with him and his companion. That’s how I knew the Doctor and his stupid fam. Apparently, I passed the test from the Master regarding whether I would be influenced by the goodness of the Doctor.

 The Doctor warned me that the Master is only using me, that she didn't really care about me. But he didn't know us. I have enough confident after the time we spent together to believe that the Master did care for me. I didn't know if she loves me but I didn't mind it for now. I love how she kissed me hard and flirted with me. She made me happy and that's what matters.

 Anyway, back at present time, the base where the other me is imprisoned, located in the same place as my past so, sneaking my way into the base is quite easy. I disguised myself and I located the other me, she was restrained and looked absolutely pathetic. Do I want to rescue her? But I would like to know if she is truly the same as me? Will she gain super strength too?

 I thought about the Master and wonder what I should do. I think she would want me to mess the version of the Doctor here. So I made a plan to get the Doctor here and rescue the other me and the others. The Master taught me how to cheat with psychic paper. I was able to send SOS signal toward what I hopefully into the Doctor’s psychic paper. Now I only have to wait for the goodie-good team to arrive.

 7777

 I was floored when I saw the version of the Doctor here. I recognized her companion, the annoying fam I remembered back in my universe. But the Doctor...she has my beloved’s face, she has the Master’s face! How is that even possible? I confirmed her identity when I heard Yaz called her the Doctor. Ugh, I’m going to barf. And what kind of clothes she is wearing? Glad to know every version of the Doctor in universe apparently have bad taste in fashion. Seriously. My beloved Master dressed better than her!

 Wait, if she is the Doctor, then the man who is called the Doctor back in my universe would be...the Master over here? Ugh, what kind of twisted world is this?!

 As predicted, once team Tardis found out about the human experiment going on inside the base, they set their goodie-good shoes to set them free. The Doctor even gave whoever in charge of the base a firm oncoming storm talk.

 I watched in secret as the Doctor interacts with the other me. The other me looked very grateful to be rescued. The Doctor took all patients to the best hospital in galaxy. They even stick around for a while to observe the damage on the patients.

 That’s when I made my way to the room where the other me currently lying in bed peacefully. She woke up when she noticed someone in the room and her eyes widened in shock when she saw me.

 I grinned viciously. “Hello, me.” I said as I pulled the machinery that monitor her heartbeat off. It wouldn’t do to alert the others that I was here.

 “What?”

 “Goodbye, me.” I said flatly as I grabbed a pillow and pushed it to cover her entire face rendering her unable to breathe. Easily, I removed her body and dumped it somewhere where no one would find for a long while. I took her place and get into the bed and put the machinery back on me.

 Not long after, a nurse came in for my check-up and to draw some blood. The result of that blood test would surely get the Doctor to come and see me. The Doctor can’t resist mystery so she will definitely want to talk to me.

 Mission to infiltrate the Doctor’s inner circle is now commencing.

  7777

 All I have to do next is put on doe eyes and pretend to be surprise to suddenly have super strength and faked a mini freak-out. I purposely broke everything in sight in my total panic and acted as if I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t hard to do. I smiled as I remembered my past. I once got amnesiac and forgot about my power and did exactly that, breaking stuff without meaning too. The Master told me I was very adorable and very damsel in distress-like. But she was glad when I finally got my memory back because she can't stand that version of me who was stupidly innocent.

 So, now I just have to pretend I didn’t know my own strength. As predicted, the Doctor invited me to travel with her on board of the Tardis. She said she will help me understand my power and if there is a way to cure it off me in case I didn’t want the power. I got a bio damper on my person to hide the void stuff that the Master once told me someone who have crossed on alternate universe will have. I can't allow the Doctor to find out that I was not of this universe.

 Yaz, Ryan and Graham are very welcoming and friendly. They kept sending me a look of pity every time I told them about the torture that the Division put me through. Since it really did happened to me, I didn't have to fake the emotion regarding it. 

 The Doctor, though, seemed very upset. I could see the dark look passed her expression for a few seconds and on that few seconds; I almost thought she is my beloved. The Master once told me about the Doctor's dark side and should he ever give in, he will be the cruelest villain in the whole universe. I must admit I'm curious about the Doctor's dark side but on this version of the Doctor, the one who has my beloved's face.

 The Master, I wonder how she is doing back in our universe. Did she still trying to get me back? She has to, right? She has yet to grow bored of me. I'm the best companion she could ever have. My heart aches for her. Seeing this version of the Doctor certainly didn't help. 

 Sometimes I want to kiss the Doctor whenever she is being adorable, then next thing I know, I just want to punch her and claw her stupid face whenever she is being too sunshiny for me. Why did she has to have the Master's face? 

 She made my life difficult because sometimes I could have believe she is a better version of the Master, one that might be capable to love me properly. But I know better. I am a monster and the only one who could ever love someone like me would only be someone who is as mess up in the head as me, like the Master, one could hope. Even then, I still don't know what exactly I am to her. We were not exactly traditional couple. The circumstance of our meeting is shaky at best. 

 I clawed at my arms till I drew blood at the thought I almost got swayed by the goodness that is the Doctor. If the Master knew, she would be disgusted with me. 

 7777

 We went to a random planet on the Doctor's whim. Next thing I knew, the fam and me were taken hostage by the royal family in order to ensure the Doctor's cooperation. I was ecstatic to see the oncoming storm in action. I was planning to let thing unfold to see what is going to happen.

 And then this royal bastard has to go be an ass-hat. He went after Yaz for being mouthy. Stupid bitch. He tried to rape her. And he was going to do it in front of us too. I snapped, enough said. I must have black out for a bit because I woke up drenched in blood in a corridor littered with mangled corpses. And the companions were understandably decided to keep their distance from me. They were afraid of me.

 Well, this is suck. I hated it when my fit of rage turned me into a basic hulk. I have no control. It was a miracle that the Doctor's companions survive unharmed during my raging period. This kind of ruined my plan to stay the innocent companion for a while. Will the Doctor kick me out of the Tardis now that I did this? Surely, she would want to keep her companion safe from me. But I have to stay with the Doctor until I could figure out to use her to get back to the Master. What do I do now?

 I must still in haze from the blood lust that I didn't realize the Doctor has bent her knees in front of me, uncaring that her clothes will be littered in blood. She was fussing over me. She pulled her sonic screwdriver to scan me. She look relieved upon realizing I was unharmed and that relief immediately turned to horror when she realized what exactly I have done. The companion steered clear of me. They cautioned the Doctor to do the same. But the Doctor ignored them and gently shaking me out of my stupor. 

 She thought I was in shock and I played along. I was mostly pissed at my out of control rage. And then, I remembered when I have that royal ass-hat's neck gripped tight within my hand, I saw the Master, or at least, a hallucination of sort.

 "I love it when you are feeling murderous, dear." She said with a wink. "Go ahead, you know you want to. Make it bloody. Make him suffer. I knew you always had a weakness for these types of bad guys..."

 She was right. I would kill indiscriminately if I have to and if she asked me to. But rapists and torturers pissed me off greatly, the Master said I suffered traumatic experience with that sort of thing, which make me lose my shit whenever I come across those types. I honestly didn't quite remember the trauma though. I took very great pleasure in torturing and killing them. The man was begging me to release him but I ignored him. I would rather listen to my beloved.

 "Though, I'm kind of worry that you are beginning to be a softie, dear. Staying with the Doctor would do that to you. Are you now good, my dear?"

 I growled at that.

 "Was it because she has my face? Did she make you want to be a good girl?" She asked teasingly.

 I tightened my grip on the man's neck.

 "Prove it then. Kill him. Kill his royal family and his soldiers. Make it bloody rain, dear." The Master grinned as she urged me to surrender to my blood lust. "Show me a bad girl."

 I could distinctly hear the companion saying something to me but I ignored them. I lost my shit afterward.

 7777

 The Doctor covered up my crime. I would have thought the goodie-good would surrender me to authority. She said she forgives me. She knew I didn't mean to do it. Yaz did say I did it to save her from being raped...somewhat. Even though she can't explain why I lost my shit and gone on a killing spree.

 I faked a panic attack and asked to be left alone after I cleaned myself off all the blood. I even cried telling them that I was a monster and I deserved to die and sobbing stuff like that. As predicted, the Doctor and companion tried to calm me down and reassured me that I am a good person at heart. I almost snorted at that. Almost. I purposely being dramatic and said I have to leave the Tardis now. The Doctor won't let me go though. I think she wanted to keep an eye on me. Ugh, now I have to be extra careful around her. I hope I could get back to my universe soon. This universe is suck and I miss the Master so much.

 In the end, all ended well, I remained on board of the Tardis. Though, the dynamic is changed now that they were wary of me. It was like they were waiting for me to lose my sanity again and go on a random killing spree. But I remained angelic for display. I acted with hesitation and wary of leaving the safety of the Tardis. The Doctor promised me she would keep an eye on me and made sure I will be okay for the duration of our next adventure.

 7777

 I purposely put myself in danger in order to rescue the Doctor during one of our routine adventure. I did it to establish reputation within the Doctor's circle that I could be redeemed or whatever. At least, that is what I said to convince myself. It was her face, my beloved’s face that made me want to save her. For a second, I forgot that she was not the Master and I didn't want her to get hurt so, I jumped into a line of fire to save her. That is what happened. No more.

 The Doctor kept giving me a look I can't decipher, once I was on board of the Tardis, resting in the med-bay, after she treated my injuries. She was upset that I risk my life for her; that I could tell. Well, that won't happen again, pal, don't worry!!

 7777

 Oh, this is bullshit. Of all the thing that could happen to me, I had to get ambushed by the Division. They somehow heard that the experiment on 'me' was successful and now they wanted to capture me for their own gain. But they were prepared. They slapped a cuff that somehow damper my ability. I was helpless and under their mercy much to my annoyance.

 And then I saw her. Sonya. I knew her back in my universe. During captivity, we became friend. But, she was one of the failure subjects and she got disposed as a result. But, this Sonya...she has power. She can control mind and bitch is trying to control my mind. Well, shit! Apparently, the Division has got to her earlier in this universe and she has become their lap dog. I saw the collar she wears though. I recognized the collar back in my universe. It has a calming effect and a bomb encased within to ensure the subjects' cooperation. They put one on me here too. Double shit!

 The Doctor and companion have no idea who captured me but I have faith that the Doctor will figure it out. She is smart, isn't she? She will know and hopefully come to my rescue soon before they turn me into mindless pet of the Division. 

 Back in my universe, the Master made it a point to invade my mind once I deemed her okay. She said she wanted to make sure I would be ready in case someone or heck, maybe even the Doctor, tried to get inside my mind to make me agreeable to whoever. She taught me to put a block on my mind. I was very grateful for her lessons now. Sonya is hilariously frustrated because she can't remove the block in my mind. But, I could tell she is very powerful. It would only be a matter of time before she breaks into my mind. I can't afford that. She could outed my true identity. If only I have my power, I would have snapped her neck in an instant.

 It finally happened. She broke through the block. I immediately pushed my memory of being friend with the Sonya of my universe. Sonya look confused. I showed her my devastation when the Division took my Sonya away. I showed her the experiments on me and how I lost my control and killed most of Division's people on the base back then.

 "You...are not (name)." She said. "What happened to the real (name)?"

 I showed her my memory of killing the other me.

 She stared at me as if I was crazy. "Why would you do that?"

 I pictured the face of the Doctor and my intention with her. "I want to go home..." I finally whispered.

 'You...are really not from this universe?' She asked telepathically.

 I nodded and I said some stuff to her from within my mind so that no one can hear. 'But you can't tell anyone...' I begged. 'Please help me. Don't let Division control us.'

 Sonya didn't reply for a few seconds. 

 'That collar contain bomb, you know, they lied to you. It does have calming effect but it was also a tracker and a bomb. They can't afford of losing their asset and if the assets become useless or a loose end, they will detonate the bomb.' I explained. 

 'Do you know how to get the collar off?'

 'I know of a way, yeah, but we need a sonic screwdriver. You need to contact the Doctor and tell them where we are.'

 'The Doctor?'

 'She can help us. She will be able to receive your telepathic message too.' I said. 'Do it if you want your freedom, Sonya.'

 Sonya left without a word. I hope what I said convinced her or I have no choice but to serve as the Division's pet. Ugh, I would rather die. I tried to carefully mask my thought of killing Sonya deep down. If she knew, she would not want to help me.

 7777

 Alarm within the base suddenly blared loudly. I sighed in relief. I hope that would be the Doctor coming for me. Shortly after, the Doctor came inside the room where I was restrained. She let me go and I expressed my most sincere gratitude. 

 "Thank you." I whispered weakly. "Thank you for coming back for me."

 The Doctor gave me a sweet smile as she sonic the collar offs me. But I noticed she hesitated for a brief moment to sonic the damn cuff off me. Thank God, she did. "I got your message from Sonya. Nice girl."

 "Where is she?"

 "She is controlling the Division men to leave us alone." The Doctor said. "I really need to do something about this Division."

 But, the Division is like that villain organization from those superheroes movies, hydra something, cut off one head and another grow, like worm or whatever? At least, back in my universe, when I hunted them, they just seemed to come back again one way of another. Even with the help of the Master, I still can't completely get rid of the Division. It would probably be the same over here.

  "So, you already freed her from the collar? I'm glad I was right about you coming back to rescue us." I said with the most angelic look I can muster.

 "Of course, I would. I would never abandon my companion." she said with cheerful tone.

 "Is that what I am? Companion? Not a charity case?" I asked.

 The Doctor glanced at me with an expression I can't comprehend. "I would like to think we are friend now, (name)."

 Shit. That face... My heart just skipped a beat and I didn't like it one bit. I can't be catching feeling for her. I think I will barf.

 7777

 The Doctor took us to a carnival in some planet for holiday. I managed to purposely lose them. I pulled my vortex manipulator intending to take care of the loose end called Sonya.

But, she knew I was coming for her and she warned me not to cross her. What a bitch. She did promise to keep my secret. I warned her back that if she broke the promise, I would come for her and torture the hell out of her.

"You saw within my head. You know what I am capable of." I said.

Sonya nodded. "And you better not come back for me again later. Or I will take control of your mind and make you my puppet." she said.

So, I left her and returned to the carnival. I found the Doctor and companion immediately and apologized for making them worry.

The Doctor pulled me close to her and showed me one of the attractions that caught her attention. She asked me to play with her and so I did. Some people in the carnival thought we are a couple on a date.

7777

 The next time team Tardis got into the usual trouble, it was the Doctor who stepped in and pulled me out of harm way to the point that she was the one who got hurt. I was pissed at the random villain of the weeks and I kind of lost my shit, wanted to go after him. I didn't see his minion drew their weapon toward me but the Doctor did and the goodie-good actually jumped and pushed me out of the way.

What the hell, Doctor? What the hell is wrong with you?? I was pissed at her and worried for her. That last one is new. But I calmed myself down by telling myself she would do the same for the other companion. But, her face, I hate to see her in pain. I kept telling myself it was because she looks like the Master; not because I care for her. The Doctor was okay, though, thankfully.

I suddenly was feeling angry at myself. Did I actually worry for the Doctor? She might have the Master's face but she is NOT the Master, dammit! Get a grip, Me!

 I have to kill someone, right now, preferably, one of the good guys. Better yet, I thought I should leave the Tardis for the time being or maybe forever. The Doctor is no help anyway in figuring a way of home. Though, that was partly my fault because I didn't exactly tell her what I need from her, did I? Shit. Shit.

Perhaps I should try locating the version of the Master in this universe as much as it would make want to puke to ask the face of the Doctor back in my universe. But, with the Master, there is no guarantee he will want to help.

I growled angrily. "This is bullshit!!!" I raged at the world. "Fuck you, Doctor! Fuck you!!" I cursed the Doctor back in my universe. I hope the Master made him pay greatly for what he did to us.

7777

 I left the Tardis. Pretty sure, the companions were relieved that I decided to go, especially Yaz. I was not blind; I knew she has feeling for the Doctor. And, I knew the Doctor also care for her a great deal. Given time, I think they would end up together. I also get that feeling with the Doctor and Yaz back in my universe is the same. Some things were meant to be. Did that mean I robbed the Master of this universe his (name)? Ugh, just no! The other (name) is better off dead.

 The Doctor tried to stop me but I asked her to respect my decision. I spouted bullshit about wanting to find myself. She was reluctant to drop me off but eventually relents.

 So, I left and I decided to take a break from the world for a while. Then I found her, my mother, I meant, the other (name)’s mother. It was purely coincidence to meet her. But I recognized her from the picture I used to keep back in the Master’s tardis. How can she be alive here? If she is alive, the other me actually still got a family, so, why was she captured by the Division?

 I eventually found out that the other (name) ran away from home. Her mother was so happy to see me. She hugged me in tears. I was shocked. I let her took me home.

 I missed my mother. I suddenly felt guilty for killing the other (name). I couldn’t tell her that I wasn’t her daughter. I was weak with nostalgic emotion and all I wanted right now is to be a daughter. So I did exactly that.

 7777

 I was happy for a while with my mother until the Division came again for me. This time, they knew the truth that I was not the real (name). They found her body and they were very curious about who I really am.

 During the confrontation, my mother was taken hostage and eventually got killed. And the rest is…you can guess. I lost my shit again and went on a killing spree. I was lucky to get a move before they could slap that power-dampening cuff on me.

 I was in pain. The grief of losing my mother, she wasn’t even my real mother, but it still hurts so badly. So, I did the only thing I could do to lessen the pain, I went hunting for Division and I tear every member of the cursed Division limb to limb. I let the monster out and I didn’t care.

 Like I said before, this version of Division is pretty much the same as back in my universe which mean I knew most of their secret bases. I didn’t always use my bare hands. I used weapon and bomb to lure and destroy them. The Master would be proud of me. The Doctor would frown and be disappointed but who care about her opinion?

 I went to one base and another. Pretty sure, the Doctor would eventually caught wind of what I have been doing and knowing her, she would try to capture and reason with me. Just like the Doctor in my universe once did to me. I didn’t care though. Let her come. But I won’t be letting her capture me. I have an exit strategy, one that I hate to use but I will if I have to. Lately, I felt like giving up altogether. I felt like I could never come home to the Master. I lose hope. What if the Master also given up on me? Why else she still not here to get me?

 To my surprise though, it was Sonya who appeared before me. She was sorry for my loss but she begged me to stop killing.

 “Get out of the way, Sonya! Do not make an enemy of me!” I yelled.

 “If you won’t listen to me, maybe you will listen to her.” She said with a sigh.

 I frowned before realizing that it was a trap as I turned around, the Doctor was already behind me and she was quick to put that damn power-dampening cuff on my wrist.

 I screamed in rage as I attacked her. But I was no longer strong. She easily captured both of my wrists and tried to have me calm down. But I wouldn’t listen. I started sobbing and crying in her arms. Before I knew it, she put her hands over my forehead and I fell into a deep sleep.

 7777

 The next time I was awake, I was in a glass prison. Predictable. I was angry as I raged within my prison. I knew I was not on Tardis, the Doctor probably didn’t want me to endanger her precious companions. This is somewhere I don’t know. But the security of the prison is of high quality. I can’t believe it. The Doctor actually put me in a private prison, not a galaxy one that I can be thankful of, but still a prison is a prison. I hated this.

 The Doctor and Sonya eventually came to visit me.

 The Doctor glanced at me in sorrow.

 I observed her and then turned to Sonya. “You broke your promise.”

 Sonya shrugged. “I have to. You are making scenes with your reckless killing.”

 “When I get out of here, I’m going to enjoy torturing the hell out of you, bitch.” I said with a cold smile.

 The Doctor stepped in front of Sonya and pleaded with me. “What happen to you, (name)? This isn’t you.”

 “Really? And how do you know that this isn’t me, Doctor?” I asked mockingly. “If Sonya here has told you the truth, then you know everything you think you know about me is a lie.”

 “But you saved me. You saved my friends. We saved each other.”

 I scoffed. “It was just part of my elaborate ruse.”

 The Doctor looked like she want to argue but she didn’t. She scrutinized me with her sad eyes. Finally, she asked, “Why did you kill the Division men?”

 I shrugged. “They killed my mother.”

 “Don’t you mean the other (name)’s mother? Who are you, really? Sonya said that you are from an alternate universe. How did you get here?” The Doctor asked, no, demanded. “Why would you kill the other you?”

 I smiled viciously. “How else would I be able to get your attention, Doctor? I need to be with you in the Tardis.”

 “Why?”

 “I want to go home.” I finally said. “I thought if I stay with you, I would eventually figure out the way home.”

 “Why didn’t you come to me and ask for my help honestly?” She asked. “Why use the elaborate ruse to gain my trust?”

 I sighed. “I suppose I thought it would make her proud.”

 “Who?”

 “The Master.”

 “You know the Master back in your original universe?”

 I smiled evilly. “Jealous?”

 The Doctor scoffed. “You kept bad company.”

 “Well, ours is always a bad romance.”

 “You? And the Master?” she asked in disbelief.

 “Why so surprised? Who else would love a monster but a fellow monster?”

 “You are not a monster, (name).”

 “You are still deluding yourself, Doctor. The (name) you think you know never existed.”

 The Doctor is visibly upset with herself and me. “How did you get here?”

 “I never wanted to be here. It was you, the other you, who did this to me! He felt threatened by the Master and me, so, instead of killing me, he sent me far away from my beloved.”

 “You want to go back home to the Master.” The Doctor said, finally understanding my motive.

 “She can’t be allowed to come back to the Master.” Sonya suddenly said.

 I glared at her. “Shut your mouth, bitch!”

 “I saw her mind. The word ‘hybrid’ came to mind.” Sonya turned to face the Doctor. “…something about a crossbred of warrior races that will stand in the ruins of…”

 The Doctor’s eyes widened as she turned to look at me again. “You and the Master…are the hybrid? Did you two destroy Gallifrey?”

 I rolled my eyes. “Gallifrey still stands, at least the last time I heard about it.” I said.

 “The Doctor, in your original universe, he believed that you and the Master are the hybrid.”

 “Not only him; the Time Lords seemed to think so, at least that was the Master said to me. They kept trying to kill us. We haven’t even step one foot within Gallifrey and already they condemn us. Time Jackass.”

 The Doctor frowned at me. “Sonya is right. I can’t let you go back to the Master.”

 My jaw dropped at what she said. “Doctor, don’t you dare…”

 She glanced at me in sorrow. “I’m sorry, (name).”

 “So what? You are going to keep me here? Like a freaking pet?” I yelled as I hit on the glass wall in front of me in my anger.

 The Doctor sighed. “I will cure you, (name). That power of yours, I study the project, you are always angry because of the power within your veins. I am going to help you.”

 “I don’t need your help. If you think you can experiment on me again, think again!” I yelled.  “You think I wasn’t prepared for this eventuality?!”

 “Oh, I know what you did. I removed that bomb you planted inside your body. I won’t allow you to hurt yourself.” The Doctor said calmly.

 My eyes widened in panic when I realized my exit strategy is basically taken away from me. “No. NOO.”

 7777

 I didn’t know how long I was in the prison. It felt like months. It has been a while since the Doctor’s last visit. Sonya is within the prison as some sort of warden. She saw my mind and she knew I have been thinking various way of killing her once I got out. But she was confident that I wouldn’t get out.

 With times, I did lose my hope of getting out. I can’t even kill myself. The Doctor has taken that choice away from me. People always do that to me, except, the Master. But she is not here. Why isn’t she here???

 I got depressed.

 7777

 “Hi, honey, I’m home.”

 My mouth hangs open as I saw the Master, my Master, right in front of me.

 The Master winked at me. “Step back; let me get you out of this horrid place.”

 I followed her instruction and took a step back away from the glass wall.

 Once the glass wall shattered, I walked forward and stared at her, still not believing my eyes.

 “Well, what are you waiting for?” The Master asked impatiently.

 I slowly smiled as I jumped out and hugged her. “Where were you?!”

 “Ugh, you smelled.”

 “Oh, nice, ruin the moment, why don’t you?” I said in annoyance.

 It was then I noticed she wasn’t alone. Yaz is there but she looks like she is in daze. The Master must have used mind control on her.

 “Is that…?” I asked as I glanced at the Master.

 “She is the Yaz of this universe. I found you through her. Her Doctor dropped her on earth for a break. She thought I am the Doctor.” The Master explained. “Speaking of, I can’t believe that the other me is actually the Doctor. What’s up with that?” She scrunched her nose in disgust.

 I laughed. “Exactly what I thought the first time I saw her.”

 The Master grinned at me. “I heard you have been a very naughty girl. Tricking the Doctor into making you a companion…but you got caught. What happened?”

 I frowned and grinned slowly. “Did you happen to meet a Sonya on the way here?”

 “The telepath. She tried to use mind control on me. But I turned the table on her.”

 “Of course you did.” I said as I glanced at her with fondness. I raised my wrist in front of her. “Do you mind?”

 The Master smirked. “Say please.”

 I rolled my eyes. “Pretty please.” I said deadpanned.

 She grinned and used her version of sonic cane to disable the cuff off my wrist.

 I smiled. “Thank you, love.”

 Sonya was screaming non-stop as I kept my promise to torture her. The Master is dancing in the middle of room, waving her cane around, dancing to the telepath’s scream.

 I knew she is sending psychic message for the Doctor to help her. But I won’t let the Doctor rescued her so I snapped her neck immediately. I know the Doctor will be coming anyway…for Yaz. I glanced at Yaz who finally regained her bearing and was staring at me and the Master in fear.

 “How could you do this, (name)?” Yaz asked.

 I rolled my eyes. “Why wouldn’t I do this? The Doctor and Sonya trapped me in a prison.”

 “They just wanted to help you.”

 “I don’t need their help.”

 “Obviously you do.”

 “You really need to shut up, Yaz, don’t make me want to kill you.”

 Yaz visibly paled and she, thankfully, shut her mouth.

 “The Doctor is on her way here. Should we leave?” I asked as I turned toward the Master.

 “Why? I would like to meet the other me, the one you have been chummy with.” The Master replied.

 I rolled my eyes. “You can’t seriously be jealous. She was annoying as hell, you would hate her. I hate her.”

 “Then, we should torture her together.” The Master said with an evil grin. “What should we do to her Yaz?”

 I shrugged. “Are you sure? You said the Doctor is…”

“I know what I said about him and I don’t care. The Doctor here will pay the price as the other Doctor did for what they did to you.”

 I was touched that she actually was mad on my behalf. “What did you do to the other Doctor? I hope you give that bastard hell.”

 “Oh, I trapped his Yaz on the same mirror he used to trap one of his enemies, a family of blood? Whatever. He went inside the mirror to fetch his pet so I shattered it. It would take him a while to figure out a way out. Best case scenario would be making him watch his Yaz grew old inside that mirror while he remained trapped and immortal. He always hated ending and now he will be forced to face an ending.”

 I frowned. “Wish you would throw him into the void…” I muttered. “He has the tendency to come back.”

 “Don’t worry, my dear, we will deal with him once we return to our universe.” The Master promised with a feral grin. “And then we will fulfill the hybrid prophecy…” She pulled me to her and kissed me hard.

 I honestly didn’t care about the prophecy. I was just happy to be back by her side.

 The Doctor’s Tardis materialized on the room. She stepped out of the door and was taken aback to see her own doppelganger was kissing me.

 The Master stopped the kiss and turned to greet the Doctor. She grinned at her. “Hello, Doctor. I heard you have been treating my companion very poorly.”

 The Doctor turned to look at me. Her eyes widened. “I…she is the Master?”

 I smiled a chilling smile. “Now you know…”

 The Doctor’s face looked very pale.

 Of course, the Master and the Doctor would have to have the same usual dialog of savior-villain theme again. So, I let them have their moment.

 “What did you do to Yaz?” The Doctor demanded.

 “Why don’t you ask her yourself?” The Master said.

 “Yaz, are you okay?” The Doctor asked.

 “I think so.” Yaz replied.

 The Doctor then proceeds to threaten us but was stopped when she saw me put a hand over Yaz’s neck.

 “Let us leave and you can have her back.” I said.

 The Doctor frowned. “You know I don’t take kindly to a threat.”

“And I don’t take kindly to people who imprison me!!” I yelled angrily. “Don’t test me!” I turned to the Master who is glancing at me curiously. “I just want to go home. I’m done with her and this universe.”

 The Master nodded, for once acknowledging my wish. “Your wish is my command.” She raised a hand toward me.

 I pushed Yaz hard toward the Doctor. The Doctor was barely able to catch her. I walked toward the Master as I rose to reach for her hand.

 The Master and I disappeared with her vortex manipulator.

   7777

 They are now inside the Master’s tardis in space.

 The Master put her forehead over mine. “I’m sorry that I took so long, my dear.”

 “I’m just glad that you found me.” I said with a watery smile.

 “Did you ever doubt I would?” She whispered softly

 “Well, truthfully…”

 The Master pulled away from me. “Don’t ruin the moment.” She said.

 I laughed. “You did it first.”

 “You did smell bad before.”

 “Now who is ruining the moment?”

 7777

 “The Doctor, she said, this power I have, it was what causing me so much anger, a side effect of the experiment? Did you know?”

  “Yes.”

 “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 “Does it matter?”

 I pondered over it. “Not really. I don’t regret it. This power, it was what led me to you.”

 “Oh, stop it; next, you are going to break into a song.”

 7777

 And they returned back to their original universe where the wrath of Galifrey descends upon them, leading the army to squash down the suspected hybrid before they ever think to set foot into Gallifrey.

 The Master lost her only companion that day. She was taken and imprisoned within Gallifrey where she eventually hack her way out and found out the truth of the Timeless Child. She is the Timeless Child.

 In a fit of rage, she destroyed Gallifrey.

   A/N2: I love Florence and the machine; I listen to Cosmic Love on a loop while writing this.

Originally, I planned to make the Master and Reader stay a while in 13th Doctor’s universe causing chaos. 13th Doctor would eventually defeat the Master and tricked the Reader by pretending to be the Master.

But the Reader would recognize her as the Doctor through how she kissed her. Because the Master is complicated person and although she does love the Reader, she also hates her that every time they kissed, she would give her psychic message in her mind about how much she hates the reader for making her weak.

I decided not to write this because I kind of feeling like the reader is tired and just want to go home and hopefully cuddle with her beloved? Though that bit with the reader’s death come so suddenly. I wanted to end it with fluff but somehow it ended with the timeless child fiasco.

Well, that’s it folk. Hope you love this fic. I know it is far from perfect but I’m just going to say that I’m evil that’s why I posted this regardless whether anyone actually bother reading this fic.

#13th doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #whittaker!master x reader #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who imagine #thirteenth doctor imagine #whittaker!master #dhawan!doctor #shiefenwrites

[lunawho47]

Buzzfeed Unsolved: The Mysterious Doctor and the Omen of the Blue Box (Part 1)

Fandoms: Buzzfeed Unsolved and Doctor Who

Genre: Total Crackfic, Humor

Rating: 16+ (for language)

Summary: A script for Buzzfeed Unsolved, in which our two favorite jackasses, the Ghoul Boys, discuss the various internet theories surrounding the identity of various mysterious figures known only as “the Doctor” and the blue box that tends to appear around them.  Well, Ryan wants to discuss the theories; Shane thinks it’s all urban legends and bullshit.

A/N: So, I’ve read a lot of these mock scripts going around for Unsolved discussing CW’s Supernatural as though it was real, and I thought they were hilarious.  So, my brain started wondering what theories the reddit and conspiracy boards would think up about mentions of the Doctor, the Doctor’s companions, UNIT, and Torchwood.  And to be honest, my brain came up with A LOT of theories that would make sense, and this format seemed a fun way to discuss all of them.  It was originally going to be a one shot, but as I started writing, Shane kept interrupting in my head about how stupid all of it sounds, and that kept making the script longer and longer.  So, it’s now going to be a few parts long cos the history of DW (even when seriously truncated) takes a long time to go through when you try to use the serials to make arguments about the Doctor’s potential identity(s).  

So, here’s part 1.  Please let me know if you like it and would like to see more.  And if Shane and Ryan sound anything like themselves because if they don’t then the whole thing is nowhere near as funny as it should be.

Ryan: Today on Buzzfeed Unsolved we're looking into the puzzling mystery of an entity known only as "The Doctor" and the corresponding omen of a blue box.  It's a mystery that, in its more comprehensive moments, is whimsically strange and, most of the time, is just plain batshit bizarre.

Shane: Okay, so I can hear the air quotes around the name, and you called it an entity.  Are we talking like, cryptid creature that is based in reality or am I going to be sitting through theories about zombie plagues and Ant-man Ax murderers again?  Just what am I in for here?

Ryan: No zombie plagues, and the Doctor has never murdered anyone with an ax.  At least, not in any of the records available. It's just...well, it's hard to explain here, so let's just get right into it.  Just bear in mind this is Gene Wilder Willy Wonka levels of weird when it's at its most sensical.  And it's rare that this story makes any sense at all.

Shane: Alright, I'll confess I'm...intrigued.  I'm ready to listen.

Ryan: Alright, here we go.  *opens folder*

Ryan (in his Unsolved VO):  The first documented evidence of a being calling itself "The Doctor" is in the files of now deceased British UNIT officer Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart.

Shane:  Wait.  UNIT?  What's that? Sounds like something out of a video game.

Ryan: (wheeze) It does a bit, yeah. But there is paperwork evidence that verifies this group -- lame as the acronym is -- actually existed.  They were set up in the mid-1960s by the United Nations to look into unexplained phenomena and for a long time they were a covert operation.  The British Prime Minister knew they existed, and they answered to Geneva, but they weren't known to the wider public until after they shut down three years ago.

Shane:  I'm sure that meeting went GREAT.  'Hey, everybody, thanks for coming down this Monday morning. Erm...thanks for protecting us from alien invasions for the last 50 years and for keeping such a great secret about it.  Here's your reward: you're all fired, and we're going to tell the entire world what your names were and let you deal with the press about it for the rest of your life.  Have a great rest of your Monday!'  (Wheeze) What a bunch of shitty bosses.

Ryan: I mean, based on what little there is to read about how UNIT operated, the Brigadier we'll be talking about really had to go to bat for the organization in front of the Prime Minister a lot over the years in order to keep the operation going.  After the Brigadier died, they were able to keep going for awhile, but as you'll see from some of these stories we'll be looking at today, the organization was considered obsolete long before it was disbanded.

Shane: Okay, so the Doctor first appears in conjunction with this UNIT?

Ryan: Right, so in the 1960s, there was some weird circumstance that led to the London Underground shutting down and the Brigadier, who was only a Colonel in the regular British army at the time, ran into what he described as a "(quote) man with a foppish haircut, ratty waistcoat, and tartan patterned clown pants; a young teenage girl; and a full Scotsman (end quote)."  

Shane: So which is the Doctor?  

Ryan: In this case, it's the first description.  The man with the clown pants on.  (wheeze)

Shane: (wheeze) Do you think he had clown shoes on, too?

Ryan: See, I know exactly what you're picturing right now.  You're thinking of a guy with a depressing Beatles haircut and complete clown regalia, including the extra large shoes.

Shane: I am.  100%  And you know, given some of the things we saw when traveling around London, including on (*with a terribly fake posh Oxbridge accent*) the Tube, a man dressed as a clown running around the platforms underground wouldn't even register as weird on a normal day.

Ryan: (Conceding) That is true.  And on a normal day, I'd agree with you.  But, bear in mind, this was the 1960s -- not the modern day -- and the Tube at the time was closed to the public because of this unknown threat the army was trying to deal with.  And what's even more notable -- the reason why the future Brigadier apparently wrote about it in his official report to the Prime Minister -- is that the man who called himself the Doctor, together with the two other civilians, saved the day.  The details are sparse, but the Brigadier makes it clear that the Doctor is the one who figured out what was really going on and managed to deal with whatever the situation was with minimal casualties.

And that's just the first time the Doctor and the future Brigadier crossed paths.  There are later documents that report the Brigadier -- now promoted from Colonel and officially a Brigadier -- came across the same man and Scotsman, but a different young girl in London just weeks after the military organization known as UNIT was founded.  And AGAIN, whatever the situation actually was, the Doctor and his friends were the ones that helped UNIT save the day.

Shane: Am I the only one who finds it suspicious that the details are always missing?  Like, shady organization set up by the government to look into extraterrestrial happenings?  Sure. (*puts hands in the air in surrender to argument*) I'll buy that.  Governments do shady shit all the time.  But, I mean, things like shutting down the London Underground and alien happenings in the city of London itself.  People are going to notice, right?  And how shitty are the Brigadier's write ups that no one remembers or knows any of the happenings in Britain's capital?  "Dear Prime Minister, stuff happened.  Doctor did some other stuff.  Stuff stopped.  The end.  TTYL."  Sounds like someone was crap at his job and when things just luckily worked out, everyone just swept it under the rug.

Ryan: You see, I would agree with you there.  BUT...there are pictures.  We can't show them to the audience because of copyright, but if you know where to look online, people love to discuss the Doctor and all the people who have gone missing while looking for the Doctor, so.  Investigate at your own peril. But, Shane, here you go.

*the audience can't see the photos hidden by Ryan's open folder, but we see Shane's expression.*

Shane: (*laughs*)  That Doctor looks like a moron.  I mean, I still think the Brigadier must have been crap at his job, but he was bang on his descriptor of the Doctor looking like a clown.  And I take it the guy in the kilt is the Scotsman?

Ryan: Yeah, I looked up what full Scotsman means when I read the description and apparently it means a guy who wears a kilt with no underwear on underneath it.  Before that, I just assumed that it meant this other guy was wandering around the Underground, playing bagpipes and singing songs from Highlander or something.

Shane: You thought this guy was wandering around singing Who Wants to Live Forever over a decade before the film came out.  (wheeze)

Ryan:  Well, when we get into the theories that idea won't seem entirely out of place, I don't think.

Shane: Well, I'm going to go ahead and call a preemptive bullshit on that theory.

Ryan: Noted.

Ryan: (back in Theory VO) The next record of the Doctor's appearance comes about in the 1970s when a man is admitted to a local hospital after collapsing outside of a blue box in the woods.

Shane: There was a blue box in the woods?  Like, human sized or was he scrunched up in it like Shroedinger's cat?

Ryan: We'll get back to the box in a minute, but it's larger than a human, yeah.  In fact, it was something called a Police Public Call Box, which were common to see on city or town street corners in Britain in the 1950s and 1960s. The idea was that if police or citizens saw a crime being committed, they could either phone the police from the box or shove the criminal in the police box and go fetch a policeman.  But what's weird about the box in this case is: 1) it's in the middle of the woods, and not even on like, a hiking path or anything.  But, the legit WOODS.  And 2) it's the 1970s and police call boxes are no longer really a thing at this point.  But, once the man calling himself the Doctor gets to the hospital it gets even stranger.

Shane:  I mean, everything about this story so far feels like the Brigadier spinning a yarn, but keep going.

Ryan: So, the Brigadier gets a phone call from the hospital that a man called the Doctor has been admitted to the hospital.

Shane: Wait, how did the hospital know to call the Brigadier about that?  Was there a national bulletin?  Is the Doctor a wanted man or something?

Ryan: I don't know, man.  Maybe the police just call UNIT whenever something with the label "fucking weird" comes across their desk.  I don't know.  This is just what the report says.

Ryan: (theory voice) Due to a situation UNIT was overseeing in the area at the time, the Doctor's appearance was notably auspicious for the Brigadier, so the UNIT officer went to see if his friend could help with the investigation.  However, when he got the hospital, he discovered that he the man calling himself 'The Doctor' was not anyone he recognized.

Shane: Wait...what?

Ryan: (laughing).  I told you the situation at the hospital is weird.  So, the Brigadier is told that this man who has helped him out before has been admitted to a hospital that is nearby a situation that UNIT is investigating -- a clear sign, in the Brigadier's mind, that this Doctor who is injured is the same one he's met twice before -- and then discovers that it's a completely different man.

Shane: Well, I mean...that's not *too* weird.  I mean, the man is in a hospital, and you usually see doctors in a hospital.  And I'm sure a lot of doctors are known more by their title than their surname.  There are millions of doctors on the planet, so I don't know if two different people wanting to be called Doctor is all that unusual.

Ryan: (with a haughty smile) That makes perfect sense, but listen to this.

Ryan: (Theory voice)  The Brigadier assumed at first that the patient calling himself the Doctor was a coincidence and started to leave the room.  However, he found himself called back when he heard the unknown man call the Brigadier by name. The conversation made it clear that, not only did the patient know the Brigadier's full name, but also knew the circumstances under which the Doctor and the Brigadier had met both times before. Information which, at the time, was highly classified and known only to those in the Prime Minister's office and those who had been in the UNIT planning room at the time of the situational crises.

Shane: Okay, I'm going to call it.  I'm going with spy.  I think the Doctor is a code name and this guy inherited  the call sign and the information from the Doctor's previous operations.  

Ryan: So, you think this is like, a 007 scenario?  

Shane: I mean, I'm sure you'll peddle some alien abduction theory or some other supernatural bullshit, but...yeah.  I'm going spy call sign.  Makes sense to me so far.

Ryan: Well, you might not be a *total* dipshit, but...we'll see.  There's still quite a bit more to cover. This isn't even the tip of the weird iceberg.

Shane: (sarcastically) Oh joy...

#buzzfeed unsolved #bfu #doctor who #fanfiction #(or at least fanfic adjacent) #the mysterious doctor and the omen of the blue box

[quilloftheclouds]

Writeblr Positivity Week!

(Ignore my heckin’ weird handwriting.)

I knooowwww this is super late but Quill got real busy this week with working on schoolwork and Nano so I didn’t have time to finish this up until now but!! Have this!!!

As a part of Writeblr Positivity Week, a lovely event hosted by the wondrous @pens-swords-stuff​, I have put together:

A Selection of Quill’s Favourite WIPs and Writeblrs

(Because there is absolutely No Way I could show all of them, and this is already super long so under the cut we go~)

@lady-redshield-writes​: Not only a wonderfully supportive icon of the writeblr community, who always leaves marvelously inspiring and insightful comments on original content that gives me and undeniably many others so much more motivation to write, but Lady Red is also such a heckin’ inspirationally SKILLED WRITER. IT’S HECKIN’ AMAZING. Her characters! Her description! The amount of personality in her dialogue and just how engaging her worldbuilding and created atmospheres are, but the EMOTION. THE EMOTION. GOOOO read something of hers and you’ll instantly know what I mean---good luck getting through not completely overwhelmed with feeling!

And Miles to Go Before I Sleep: Humans are the size of insects, warriors ride dragonflies into battle, and an eldritch god-ant rules with absolute power. 

Symphony Number Five: Evka Sekerak, composer and musician, directs the Teplirov Symphony, and is commissioned to write her fifth symphony by the military officials who keep her city captive.

@waterfallwritings​: HECK MATE. JASON. DUDE. WHERE DO I START? YOU’VE BEEN TOSSING COMPLIMENTS MY WAY ALL DAY WHAT. But seriously though, this kid is best. Best Friendo of the Quill. Jason is hugely supportive throughout my writing and throughout my real life since I met him, and his own writing is basically the main inspiration behind why OSS even exists in the first place. We’ve had absolutely so much fun reading through each others’ works and joking around, and talking with him has helped me to discover and develop so many things about my own wip. Not only that but!! His writing is marvelous. His characters are all so fun in their own ways, and I’ve loved watching as they’ve developed to such three dimensional personalities in a story full of epic adventure and intrigue!

A Selkie’s Home: After a storm and a shipwreck, a selkie missing her skin, a triton disguised as a human, a morally questionable sea witch, and a hapless lover of the ocean end up on the same island. When the selkie is kidnapped, the remaining three have to form an unlikely alliance to get her back.

@bookenders​: ENDERS IS A REAL DARN NEAT PERSON OKAY. She is the cool 🌵 friend!! She’s a wondrously creative and kind person, and so much fun to talk to! Her STS asks are always so interesting to answer and I just. And I! Just! Love! Her writing oh my stars it’s the best thing ever. Her characters are always so relatable and lovable, with such wonderful personalities and are always so detailed that they feel like real people. She’s also the creator of several of my favourite characters (see: Fred from H2H and Ryan from FF). Her description is astounding, and the way she experiments with different formats and styles is so, SO inspiring, and she always does it in such a skillful way, that reads so nicely!

Heart to Heart: After a series of half-drownings in the lake near the small town of Lindsay, a strange woman appears on the shore, refusing to speak. The local apothecary is sent in to try and help, and now... they’re roommates?

Fish Food: Now assigned to facing the villains of the lowest threat levels after suffering severe losses from his fight against the supervillain Nightmare, Iron Will has to team up with the worst villain he’s ever seen to fend off the threat of a conspiracy that could destroy their world as they know it.

@abalonetea​: OKAY FIRST. Amazingly supportive. Amazingly friendly and creative and an absolute delight to talk to! Katie is marvelous. Her art and her moodboards are so cool and so wonderfully fitting to her characters and stories. And her writing? Oh. Ohhh. Her writing is to die for. Her unique skill of manipulating different text formatting to match the emotion and thoughts of her narrative is just. Stellar, and sets her writing apart from anything I’ve read before. It’s so full of emotion, the way she writes dynamics is INSPIRATIONAL, and her worldbuilding is so wonderfully detailed and engaging. I just. I just LOVE. OKAY. I don’t normally ship characters but Red and Bolte will always be my favourite. And Katie’s message of hope being able to stick it through the worst of it is such a wonderfully motivational theme!

Groundhog Day: Two versions of the same classic rpg video game, one the gritty reboot of the other, glitch together, switching the games of one of the characters with his counterpart—Red and Blue. Now they have to try and find their ways back amidst the formation of friendship and family and the threat of a new war.

As Time Passes On: Two classic pirates form a precarious alliance to set out to find the Eighth Sea, and a device that can turn back time.

@livvywrites​: I’ve only more recently been getting into Livvy’s works but. Wooooooow. WOW. Her writing is fantabulous. Her graphics are gorgeous. I LOVE her characters, so so much. They’re all so distinct in personality and backstory and situation, and the way they’re all involved in the story is marvelously fascinating. SPEAKING OF THE STORY THO. Livvy’s worldbuilding is???? SO IN DEPTH. It is the most deep worldbuilding for a magic type world I think I’ve yet to see on writeblr? I am sooo very excited to see how she integrates it into the plot! But also Livvy is an absolutely magnificent person all around and so supportive and creative and sooo fun to talk to. Love ya, darling~

The Martyr Queen: Alinora Mynerva is visited by one of Death's Reapers, and told she was never meant to exist. She is asked to become his Champion, to stop Fate from destroying the world. Alinora isn't sure she's willing to fight a god... but she is willing to fight the man who took her homeland from her 10 years ago.

Pirate’s Bane: [Quill legitimately can’t summarize this one in so short a space because it’s so delightfully complex, but it’s a brilliant continuation of the previous book above! Go click the link to read the synopsis on the intro post~]

@mvcreates​: I’M SORRY FOR ALL THESE TAGS DEAR MINA BUT YOU DESERVE THEM. Probably just the most interactive person in the writeblr community, Mina’s events and ask games and onwards all are so wonderful, and her engagement with reblogging and commenting on people’s original content is inspirational. AND I’M SAYING IT FOR THE THOUSANDTH TIME BUT THAT DOESN’T DECREASE IT’S MEANING: heckin’ poetic like prose with how much symbolism she fits in there and how lovely it sounds to read aloud, wonderfully clever dialogue and banter and characterization, and characters you love to root for. And her ART. OH MY STARS HER ART. *swoons at majestic colours and shading and textures*

Retrocognition: An investigative journalist with a paranormal gift joins forces with a cantankerous federal agent to expose a Reno-based politician’s (murderous) corruption.

The Vizier’s Apprentice: An alternate universe retelling of a classic Persian love story: One Thousand and One Nights.

@dogwrites​: Venturing into the world of Crime of Mind has only been a very recent endeavour of mine, and I’m only two episodes in at the moment, but gosh golly yarn darn it this story is MARVELOUS. Dog’s ability to write memorable characters with such distinct and identifiable personalities is lovely, their dialogue is wonderful and the body language and description is so heckin’ engaging, and puts you right in the scene with them. And Dog’s also a marvelous artist holy wow. NOT TO MENTION just how awesome Dog is as a person?? Heckin’ ridiculously nice, leaves such insightful and appreciated comments that charge me on. AH. JUST A LOVELY LOVELY THAT I HAD SUCH AN HONOUR OF MEETING. YES.

Crime of Mind:  Dr. Benji Russells, an autistic federal agent, is the youngest member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, whose knack at viewing individuals and their behavioral chemtrails turned her into a viable asset---but delving into the minds of the country's most insidious leaves none unscathed in the end.

@ardawyn​: OH. MASTER OF DESCRIPTION, HERE. All of Sophie’s writing feels like it could have been written in the world of the story itself despite being very clear and lovely to read, with a vaguely medieval vibe to it all that adds so much to the reading experience. The way she describes environments just puts you right into the scene with the characters, characters that are all written marvelously with beautifully lovable personalities and dialogue and dynamics. And her graphics? Oh, ohhhh. Sophie is probably my greatest inspiration for making graphics and aesthetics for writeblr. Every single one of hers are instantly eye-catching and fit the mood and theme sooo well. Plus, the comments she leaves on my content are just the sweetest thing, and always warm my heart when I read them. <3

The Dawnbringer: A niece of Issarien’s king, Tilda fights against the constricting expectations of her role, making it her mission to find her brother after his disappearance. Rajani is given rooms in the castle of the Prince of Hallrein after being caught stealing, offered a perilous deal she has no choice but to accept. But these two women are connected in an unknown way...

Night Crystals: Amaria was raised an assassin at the orphanage The Obsidian to serve the king of Calastari. But after discovering a secret, she must make the choice whether to stay and swallow lies, or seal her death sentence trying to leave.

@radley-writes​: Although I haven’t interacted much yet with Radley, I’ve fallen completely in love with their writing and ideas. Their art is so lovely and professional and clean, and the body language and personality it portrays is marvelous. But their writing? Outrageously good, and brilliantly hilarious. I’ve mainly only been following His Majesty’s Starship so far, but the way that Radley is able to match the vocabulary and narrative to the time period of the story is so skillful and inspiring, and is absolutely wonderfully engaging by placing you right into the setting like it’s real. The integration of worldbuilding is done extraordinarily well and I am in love with all of the distinct personalities and dialogue of their wondrous cast of idiots.

His Majesty’s Starship: The Eurasian powers expand their empires to the furthest-flung reaches of the solar system – as well as their endless wars. As nations and companies vie for control of the Off-World Colonies , a trio of utter imbeciles come into possession of a secret that many would kill for. A secret that changes everything…

Anywayssss there are sooo, so many more wips that I consider favourites of mine, and so many more writeblrs that I think are the absolute bomb, but Quill’s energy isn’t limitless! 

That said, maybe I’ll make up a simpler post of a bunch of recommendations later... hm..........

ANYWAYS YEAH GO CHECK THESE LOVELIES OUT

#writeblr #writeblr positivity week #writeblr recs #writeblr recommendations #wpw #writeblr friends #Quill's recs #writeblr community

[askamaravox]

90 Question’s for Your OC

What is your purpose or your biggest goal in life?

Power and revenge. 

Of all your belongings, which are most important to you? If there is a story about them, please share.

All and any belongings that I once loved are probably now locked up in some police facility as evidence. So, I try not to get attached to anything physical. However, I do like my revolver. I keep it on me at all times.

I got it engraved a few years ago, you know, before it was a murder weapon.

Who is your best friend, or the person you are closest to?

That’s a difficult question to answer. I feel as if Ralsei and I have a relationship that runs deep without words, but it’s so much easier to talk to Julian.

Who are a few other people you know, and how do you feel about each of them specifically?

I would defend Amanda with my life. Even if that meant putting my reputation on the line. I think she’s a lot like Ralsei and needs to be protected and safe. They both don’t deserve this life. 

Blix. Ah, very similar boat to Amanda, but she can handle herself. Or at the very least, I think she can. I care for her deeply, and want her to be safe.

Now that friends are out of the way it’s time to discuss enemies!

Sophia is a bitch and I can’t wait to bring her down. To tear at her reputation, and take her down to rock bottom. Let’s see how she likes it.

Fuck Xavier. Fuck the Butcher. Fuck The Prince. They don’t even get explained, they’re merely honourable mentions.

Do you have any romantic interests, or have you in the past?

Romantic? Not necessarily. Past nor present - as much as I hate to talk about it... Ryan and I had a fling a few years back but it was hardly serious.

What is your general outlook on life? Are you optimistic, pessimistic, or maybe just very neutral?

I like to think of myself a realist. It helps me keep a level head and not to overestimate or underestimate things. However, a touch of optimism never hurts.

Describe your relationship with your parents. If they're no longer alive, how did that happen? How do you feel about it?

Well. Prior to all this, my relationship with my mother was sturdy. We talked occasionally, I went to her for advice on business meetings and cases. We met every Christmas at the holiday home with Camilla to have a warm home cooked dinner.

My relationship with my father was and always has been estranged. We weren’t close when I was a kid. He was distant, rude and enforced sexist ideals in the family. Something my mother always argued against in quiet.

The day she divorced him and took everything he will always be a momentous day in my childhood. I wont say it was the best day, because it certainly was difficult. But it was a good introduction to law... and well, fucking over those who treat you wrong.

Mother was always much better at the subtle long game than me.

Do you have any siblings? If so, talk about them. If not, do you wish that you did?

Camilla. My twin sister. We used to get confused a lot in school, but she tended to be the nicer sibling. A little less boy focused and more concerned about her close friends.

We were both very competitive though. Always fighting to get the best grades. Some years she won, some years I took the title. In our final year I took the cake by getting the highest ATAR score between us. 1.7 points higher than her.

Regardless, we both got into our respected fields. She entered the police force, and I got into law. We split off after that, but were still close. There was still that sibling rivalry sometimes. But we got along.

I still wonder what she thinks of me now. 

What is your favorite childhood memory? Make it a happy one!

Perhaps... When I was young and my father went away on business trips in the holidays. Camilla, Lillian and I used to go down and stay at the holiday home for a few days. We’d go down to the beach and walk along the esplanade, get ice cream and just enjoy the sun. Camilla and I would sometimes make sandcastles on the beach while mother would read on a towel.

I miss days like that. Even before I became kindred, I missed those days.

What are your favorite things to eat and drink?

I used to like red velvet cake a lot. That and caesar salad.

And red wine, of course. Something expensive, the older the better, usually.

Who is somebody that you look up to?

My mother, most likely.

When you're alone, how do you like to spend your time? Hobbies and Interests?

I love reading, reading and learning. I used to practice at the gun range, but I’m getting the feeling that it’s not exactly safe to go there anymore. 

What is something you're really good at?

Persuading, manipulating, knowing the law, being a general nuisance to the Camarilla... I’m generally pretty good at a lot of things.

What is something you're really bad at?

Uhg... understanding others, I suppose? Having good morals? Computers... 

What is something that you're constantly working on improving?

Having better morals.

Share a memory that involves the person you are closest to.

I - well... There’s a lot. I watched Ralsei murder Christina and did nothing about it, that’s a pretty prominent memory. I prefer the ones between the violence though, those feel like the real Ralsei. You know, when he’s not riddled with guilt. It wasn’t necessarily a big moment, but after the court session with the Prince wrapped up, we went home and Ralsei thanked me. I turned back to him and told him that I wasn’t going to let them kill him. That was a nice moment. Something very personal.

What is a custom of your family or culture that you participate in?

My family were very big into Christmas, and we always put the tree up together in the holiday home wearing the ugliest Christmas sweaters we could find on the internet. Whoever wore the ugliest sweater and brought the worst Christmas ornament got an extra present from everyone.

There were some heated arguments about the worst ornament and sweaters sometimes. I once didn’t talk to Camilla for three days because her poop emoji ornament won over my drunk Santa one.

Still annoyed.

But, not sure what I’m going to do this year... it’s going to be rough, that’s for sure. First Christmas away from them.

How well educated are you? Do you speak more than one language? Are you well studied in a specific subject?

I have a Bachelors of Law, and consider myself well educated. I speak fluent French and am highly versed in aspects of American History.

What was your childhood like in general? Sad? Happy? All over the place? Describe it.

As mentioned prior, my childhood was... varied. Very school focused. But there were some good family moments too. Had father issues, but they were dealt with.

Are you at all religious? What do you believe happens when you die?

I’m not religious. When we die, we die. That’s it. The end.

Describe your clothing and your usual style.

Sharp. Stylish. Business. Red and black.

Do you have a job or attend school? If so, what is your job or what are you learning in school?

Not anymore! Well, I suppose I help Satya from behind the scenes, but I try to remain as hands off as possible.

Do you have any tattoos, markings, or scars on your body? What are they like?

Nothing notable

Is there anything about your appearance that you would like to change?

Well, a couple of months ago I honestly would’ve said nothing and that question would’ve been over and done with. But now? Fuck, I wish I wasn’t so goddamned pale!

Aside from your closest friend, who would you like to enjoy a relaxing afternoon with?

Satya, definitely. If I could, that was.

But if you want something more realistic - then perhaps Amanda or Blix. Perhaps we could go to a spa or something. That’d be nice. 

Do you listen to or create music? Do you enjoy it?

I listen to music occasionally. It’s nice, I suppose. 

What is something about the world you live in that is constantly on your mind? (War, Political Unrest, etc)

Discrimination, sexism - segregation. You know, the usual things.

If you were to pass a homeless person in the streets, what would you do?

Ignore them.

Where were you born, and where do you live now?

Adelaide... and I still live here. Unfortunately.

Do you prefer Spring, Summer, Autumn, or Winter? Why?

Summer, pump some warmth into this cold, lifeless body.

What is something you dream of accomplishing, but don't think you ever will?

Well, I like to think all my dreams are obtainable. Although ultimate power seems so far away, I still think it’s obtainable.

What's something that would make you really angry?

Someone touching literally anyone in my friends circle. I know that threat you made Sophia, I will hold you to that. Lay a single finger on them, I dare you.

What's something that calms you down when you're angry?

Cats, I suppose. Breathing, reading, being alone. All of the above.

Do you struggle with any physical or mental disabilities?

None that I’m aware of.

What are your three best and three worst personality traits?

As much as I hate to admit I have... flaws. I am aware of their existence.

My three best personality traits would probably be:

Resourceful Charismatic Determined

and my worst traits would be:

Bashful Blunt Complacent

Did you have any friends as a child that you are no longer in contact with?

Well, Satya I suppose. But everyone else I really didn’t keep close contact with. I didn’t necessarily care for them after high school ended.

If you fight with weapons, what are they? If not, what weapons do you think are cool?

My revolver, I use that a good chunk of the time.

Do you identify as the gender you were born with?

Yes.

What is your sexuality? Are you treated any differently for it?

I’m bisexual. I’ve never necessarily been treated too differently for it, I believe my father had some scorn when I brought a girl home one night, but that never really bothered me. I hated his guts.

What is an accomplishment that you are proud of?

Starting my own law firm with Satya.

How did you meet your closest friend?

Well. We were both brought to the Prince after being illegally turned into Kindred. It was interesting circumstances, but I know if we weren’t forced together then... well we would most certainly not be friends now.

How did you meet your second closest friend?

He walked down a staircase to the song Applause by Lady Gaga played on a portable speaker. He raised his arms and exclaimed “Darlings!” He went to shake my hand but ended up kissing knuckle.

It was one hell of an entrance. But, we’re close now.

Do you have any enemies? Who are they, and why are you enemies?

Oh, a good handful actually. Let me list them:

Xavier - I failed a ‘simple job’. Pretty sure he hates my guts.

Ryan - Brought me unwillingly into this life, assaulted me in doing so.

The Butcher - Assaulted Amanda, that made me mad so I shot his dick off after I met him.

The Prince - Things I’m an annoying nuisance fledgling. He holds the title I want. He’s also a dick.

Sophia - The bitch herself, genuinely hate her. Treats Amanda and Julian like shit, and shit talks Ralsei.

Facey - Some strange shapeshifter we met. Not sure if he’s dead, probably not knowing the Prince. But, he mistreated dogs then tried to manipulate Ralsei and I by shifting his face into those we care about.

Joe - I don’t know who you are. But believe me, you’re a dead man.

The Werewolves - I never want to see another one for as long as I live.

What is something that annoys you?

Disrespect, sexism.

What is a mistake that you've made in your past? Do you regret it?

Snowtown.

I regret every decision made there.

Have you travelled a lot? What was your favorite part of it? If not, where do you want to travel to?

I travelled a bit. I’ve been to Paris, Rome and New York. I loved learning new things and seeing different cultures in action, meeting other important people. Now... I think I’d actually like to go back to France again. With Julian, particularly. I’d like to see what he has to say about the place. I think that’d be very interesting.

Are you comfortable around people? Could you befriend a stranger, if given the opportunity?

No, not at all. I’m at my friend limit.

Have you ever been in a life or death situation? If so, what was it?

Every day of my fucking undeath.

Do you want to get married one day? What are your thoughts on children?

Well. I can’t conceive a child anymore. So that’s off the table. I also never really believed in marriage. It’s merely a legal binding, which makes death of a loved one a hell of a lot easier. So, maybe back when I was human, Marriage would’ve been a consideration, for law reasons alone. But, children? I’m a very work orientated person, I understand that having a child takes you away from you own life until you can set them up with their own. That’s a big commitment.

In terms of social status, where do you stand?

Well, I used to be pretty high up on the social ladder. Then some prick bit me, so, I’m not anymore. I’m pretty close to the bottom. And I’m sure i’ll be here for a bit longer, despite my best efforts.

Does anybody rely on you for something?

I suppose Ralsei. It’s always ‘Amara and Ralsei’, so we seem to rely on each other.

Also Jack. He relies on me for regular supplements of my blood source

Do you rely on anybody for something?

Julian, for literally fucking anything and everything.

What is a cause that you fight for?

Rights, fairness - any of my friends.

Have you ever been drunk or otherwise intoxicated? If so, what is something that happened while you were?

Quite regularly.

I vaguely remember one night when Satya and I went out a few years back... we drunk way too much. It was a fantastic night, I can tell you that much. But, the next morning - waking up in a bed with two unknown guys to the sounds of Satya retching in the bathroom was certainly an experience I’ll never forget.

Is there anybody you would die for?

Ralsei, Julian, Amanda probably. Blix too, I suppose.

Think of a friend or acquaintance you haven't yet spoken of. How do you feel about them?

I only keep a tight circle of friends. Everyone else either hates me or has a neutral disposition towards me currently.

Jacob interests me. But I don’t have enough information on him to back up any initial thoughts.

Are you competitive? Do you engage in any sports or competitions?

Quite. I like to win and come out on top.

I used to be on the debate team in high school and in Uni, but since then my competitiveness has shifted over to my work-life.

I’ve never really been a sport person. Camilla played netball, I did.. yoga. Well, she also did yoga, but I was better at it than her so she doesn’t matter.

Are you creative? If so, what do you like to create? Are you good at it?

Not necessarily. I have to come up with plans on the fly, so if that makes me creative, then, sure. I’m creative.

What are you the most afraid of in the entire world?

Well. The idea of Ralsei dying is pretty terrifying.

There’s also this... ambition that I have - and I don’t know how far it’s going to go to get what I want. I want Ryan dead. I don’t want to be Generation 13. Things line up, and it’s chilling.

Describe, start to finish, an average day in your life.

I wake up. Probably about 7 or 8pm. If I’m lucky, I wont get called to go on some incredibly dangerous and usually borderline suicidal mission.

Then, I would start researching, learning everything I can about kindred and the Camarilla - anything. When that all get’s too heavy, I take a break, check on Ralsei and ask if he’d like to go out and get anything to eat.

He’s a bagger so it’s hard. I’m trying to track down somewhere secure for him to get a supply source from.

Depending on his answer, we might head out. Mingle a little, get a drink. If I’m in the mood, I might drop by and see Julian.

Otherwise I’ll just head home and go back to reading, researching. Maybe I’ll watch a movie. Maybe I’ll watch a movie with Ralsei.

Then I’ll go back to sleep.

Do you celebrate any holidays? If so, which is your favorite? What is your favorite memory from that holiday?

All the usual holidays, Easter, Halloween (faintly) and Christmas. As mentioned above Christmas is my favourite.

My favourite memory from Christmas... well, there’s no specific memory, but the taste of mum’s food, air conditioner on full to justify us wearing our stupid sweaters... Camilla and I arguing over something, probably. Mother telling us to shut up...

Good times.

Would you prefer a peaceful nature walk or a trip to a busy city?

Busy city.

Growing up, did you have any important teachers or mentors? What's the most important thing they taught you?

My mother, really. She taught me to hold my own, to play the long con even if every second otherwise is painful.

If your parents or mentor knew everything about you today, would they be proud of you?

I don’t know. I really don’t.

Mother... might be proud.

What is something that excites you or makes you really happy?

Cats. Just, cats.

Do you have any really important secrets, or are you generally secret free?

Well, what Ryan did to me was one of my most well guarded secrets, but I apparently announced that in front of the whole court so not anymore. I try to keep my motives secret, but everything else about me open. It’s easier to mislead that way. 

If you were walking on the streets and you were attacked, do you think you could fight and win?

More than likely. Depends on who and what though. My hand-to-hand combat is... less than desirable. But if I had my gun, then perhaps.

Have you ever killed somebody? If so, why and how? If not, do you think you ever would?

Too many times to keep track. I’ve shot people, burnt them alive... And I’ll likely do it again. This life requires it.

What is your strongest physical trait? (Fast runner, very strong, super flexible, etc)

I can walk and run really well in heels. Otherwise I’m relatively flexible and balanced.

Have you ever been in love? If not, do you want to be? If so, with who, and are you still? If you aren't, how did it end?

I have never been in love. No one has proven themselves to me.

When you're alone and relaxing, what are you usually thinking about?

Revenge, plans... how to achieve my goals.

Do you have a lot of responsibilities? If so, what do they include?

A handful. I make an effort to take care of Ralsei, and others... even if it’s behind the scenes. I’m working on trying to find us a house, and finding a food source.

Among a variety of other things, I have a few.

Have you ever felt really guilty about something? If so, what was it?

I didn’t feel guilty at the time, but when I first met Julian and we were ambushed by hunters - I left him out in the open to die.

I think about that a lot.

Killing that 16 year old boy.

Not to mention, trying to drink Ralsei’s blood.

Do you have any habits, ticks, quirks, or anything like that?

Not off the top of my head. 

What complaints do you have about your best friend?

Ralsei is... well, he’s too soft. I understand he doesn’t want to kill - that’s okay. But a lot of our problems can be solved with just a little bit of killing.

What complaints do you have about your next closest friend?

Answer your fucking phone. I don’t care if you’re in the club, when Ralsei, Blix and I are facing people-dogs, I expect you to respond immediately.

Do you have any special abilities or talents?

I have my disciplines. Dominate and presence are very helpful.

Do you have any addictions or obsessions?

I’m sometimes obsessed with power. I’m sometimes obsessed with finding Ryan.

What drives you? (Your motivation or inspiration)

Keeping Ralsei and Amanda alive and safe.

What do you find attractive in a person, both physically and in terms of personality?

Confidence. Suave. I’m a sucker for brunettes. Both literally and figuratively. Brown eyes are nice too.

What do you think a stranger's first impression of you would be?

Intimidated, most likely. Impressed, perhaps.

Are you ashamed or embarrassed about anything?

Snowtown, messily failing to kill Detective Dickface.

Would you consider yourself to be trustworthy and honest? Would you lie if it benefited you?

I’m trustworthy and honest when it benefits me. I lie when it benefits me. 

Has anything huge happened in your life that you feel shaped or changed the person you are today?

Snowtown. Definitely.

What are some of your short term (less than 1 yr) goals?

Helping Amanda shrug herself free of Sophia.

Getting revenge for what that gang did to Julian.

Just... fucking Sophia up in some way.

Building my reputation back up.

How do you deal with stress? How do you respond to stressful situations?

Just keep going. Don’t stop.

What is something that most people don't know about you?

That I have an undying dedication to the Christmas Holidays.

Blank questions here!

#my OC #oc questions #character development #90 Oc Questions #Oc #this took like 3.5 hours??? #this is what i do on my day off?? #god i'm so sad hahahahah #oh well #i had fun #i understand amara EVEN BETTER now #idk how thats even possible #we're basically the same person at this point

[tomemyxmen2017-blog]

The Best (and Worst) Free Comics of FCBD 2018

Of the fifty-two comics released for Free Comic Book Day 2018, there were an unsurprisingly high number of excellent comics in this year’s class. Here are my picks for the best of the best (with a few dishonorable mentions too) from the many choices available this year.

THE BEST

10. BERLIN by Jason Lutes (w, a, c). (Drawn & Quarterly).

Set in 1928 Germany, a journalist and an art student meet on a train to Berlin; when they arrive, the young student is surprised by what she sees, and the journalist must navigate a changing climate for the press. Narrated in part by the main characters’ writings (his reporting and her diary), this street-level view of Berlin prior to the rise of fascism is masterful and cinematic. Even in this preview, the sense of menace and dread to the events that are to come in the story permeates every page. Absolutely genius. Part of a series written over the past twenty years, this FCBD release promotes the hardcover omnibus of the series due for release in fall 2018.

9. STRANGERS IN PARADISE by Terry Moore (w, a). (Abstract Studios).

The issue opens with an exciting pickpocket scene in which Scott, a generic business type, has his phone and SIM card stolen. He later contacts his wife, Laura, to tell her that he’ll be late coming home and why, prompting Laura to stoically retrieve her run bag and leave home for good. The phone thief heads to Laura’s house to discover she’s already gone and runs into Scott; the thief reveals that “Laura” is actually Stephanie Kelly, a Parker girl caught up in treason and espionage. This is a dynamic, fully realized introduction to what seems like a fun and exciting story loaded with intelligent, powerful women kicking all kinds of ass.

8. ULTRA STREET FIGHTER II #1 by Ken Siu-Chong (w), Hanzo Steinbach (a), Marshall Dillon (l). (Udon).

Trying to shake off his dark side, Ken meets with Ryu to fight through his worst urges and achieve some balance in his life. The pair travel to Japan for some high-level meditation (and fighting, of course), but that only gets Ken so far. Later in San Francisco, Ken is surprised by an attack from Rufus, and during the battle, he learns to control his evil within. Although this comic attempts to apply drama to a fighting video game, the result is fun, colorful, ridiculous, and delightfully entertaining. What more could you want out of a Street Fighter comic?

7. SHADOWMAN by Andy Diggle (w), Stephen Segovia (w), Karl Bollers (e). (Valiant).

Alyssa and her guide Isiah explore the swamps of Louisiana at night, searching for the cause of cursed water that’s making locals sick. She encounters a monster, the Grinder of Bones, and tries to use magic to protect herself to no avail. She runs, and summons Papa Legba for guidance: in return, her friend Jack, now the Shadowman, appears from a portal to help her in her fight. With gorgeous artwork, beautiful coloring, and a plot like nothing else on the stands right now, this issue draws readers into this world so effortlessly that it’s hard to imagine someone reading this issue without being fully engrossed and wanting to pick up the whole series. Terrifically well-done.

6. THE GHOST IN THE SHELL by Max Gladstone (w), David Lopez (a), Nayoung Kim (color), Jodi Wynne (l), Alejandro Arbona (e), Ben Applegate (e). (Kodansha).

Major Kusanagi (aka Motoko) and Aramaki are intercepted by an American Ghost Force Squad while on a business trip to Shangai. After her arrest, Motoko dramatically escapes through the streets of Shangai and meets her old wartime enemy, Li; the pair must work together to save Aramaki and others. This issue, part of an upcoming anthology, is perhaps the most complete, cover-to-cover, issue released on FCBD. At a whopping forty-five pages, readers are treated to an entire story that is exceptional all on its own. This is a fabulous issue that will convert even the most stoic of non-believers into fans of this character and this series.

5. RELAY by Zac Thompson (w), Andy Clarke (a), Eric Bromberg (st), Donny Cates (st), Dan Brown (color), Charles Pritchett (l), Mike Marts (e). (Aftershock).

In this sci-fi story, a space traveler lands on a planet with an undeveloped population and offers them “the Relay,” a monolith that creates uniformity in technology and ideas. Is it intergalactic socialism, or will it be intergalactic fascism? The Relay seemingly destroys community identity and cultural heritage with a new sort of religion: ultimate fath in the monolith itself. This is an expertly paced and well-rendered metaphor that gives sci-fi fans something deeper to ponder.

4. MIGHTY MORPHIN POWER RANGERS by Kyle Higgins (w), Ryan Parrott (w), Digo Galindo (a), Marcelo Costa (color), Ed Dukeshire (l), Dafna Pleban (e). (Boom!).

This one takes me back! Chosing to advertise its best-selling series, Boom! strategically used its FCBD option to bridge the gap between fans of the old TV show(s) and the current comics mythology, hoping to draw in readers who may have been overwhelmed by the thousands of different Power Ranger characters and their convoluted origin stories and missions. This issue is a straight-forward explanation of how the first episode of the original TV series connects to the comic storyline today, with some surprisingly awesome artwork and a shockingly murderous ending. The issue concedes its childish origins, but by the end, these aren’t your kids’ Power Rangers anymore!

3. AVENGERS by Jason Aaron (w), Sarah Pichelli (p, i), Elisabetta D’Amico (i), Justin Ponsor (color), Cory Petit (l), Tom Brevoort (e). (Marvel).

This issue, frankly, defied my expectations. As the official free preview to Marvel’s “Fresh Start,” there was a lot riding on this issue, the release of which coinciding with yet another reboot of the Avengers in the same week and a blockbuster weekend for the House of Ideas at the cinema a week prior. And it did not disappoint. In a direct follow-up to last year’s Marvel Legacy #1, Odin meets with Black Panther in the ruins of Asgard. Odin explains that he has fallen to Loki and his manipulation of a Celestial and requests that T’Challa kill Loki; he agrees. The story ends in another scene with Captain America and Thor reaching out to Tony Stark for a meeting between the three of them as a new Avengers era begins. Rather than using its FCBD offering to pump in half-assed action, Aaron instead tries to win new readers over with a well-told and interesting story setup. It is refreshing to see Marvel return to storytelling in its flagship series rather than resort to the redundant tropes of its recent past. Very well done.

2. JAMES BOND 007: VARGR by Warren Ellis (w), Jason Masters (a), Guy Major (color), Simon Bowland (l), Joseph Rybant (e). (Dynamite).

On a mission in Finland, 007 hunts down 008’s killer and exacts gruesome revenge. Later at MI6 Headquarters, M is assigned to take over 008’s case load, setting up a story that is simultaneously exhilirating for new readers and faithful in spirit to fans of the classic Bond. With darkly exquisite artwork throughout (particularly the Helsinki scene) and a character whose charm radiates off the page, it’s hard to imagine any comic fan not falling madly in love with this series.  Originally published in 2016, this issue and the rest of the story is already available in trade.

1.BARRIER by Brian K. Vaughn (w), Marcos Martin (a, c), Muntsa Vincente. (Image).

No comic in this bunch left my jaw on the floor and mouth agape quite like this one. In this exquisite story, Liddy discovers signs of a Mexican cartel using her land, which happens to be on the Texas-Mexican border, as a throughway for drug trades and illegal immigration. In a parallel story, Oscar migrates from his home in Honduras to reach the U.S., crossing onto Liddy’s land in the middle of the night. She finds him and holds him at gunpoint suddenly the pair are interrupted. It’s a contemporary story involving gruesome violence, cartels, guns, and sci-fi. Half the issue is in Spanish (a language deficit won’t detract from your enjoyment of the issue), and the entire book – at an impressive fifty-three pages – is elegantly printed in landscape format. The artwork is phenomenal. The writing is incomparable. This is simply a perfect comic book from cover to cover. Frankly, I’m shocked it was available for FCBD as it’s well-worth a cover price. I recommend this enthusiastically, and I can’t wait to pick up the whole series this month. An exceptional beauty of a comic.

THE WORST

3. SHADOW ROADS by Cullen Bunn (w), Brian Hurtt (w), A.C. Zamudio (a), Carlos Zamudio (color), Crank! (l), Charlie Chu (e). (Oni Press).

In this deeply convoluted introduction presumptively set in the late nineteenth century, we meet Henry Grey, a Native American and a Cambridge man who visits the British Museum of Natural History’s new Native American exhibit with remorse and perhaps disgust. He meets an elder at the Museum who gives him a magical ceremonial dagger carved from bone that ultimately lights up. En route home, his train passes through a Crossroads where Abigail Redmayne and Kalfu intercept him and bring him to the New Mexico Territory. What causes this issue to fail – aside from the onslaught of new characters to learn and an unexplained mythology to understand – is that by the issue’s end, we are no closer to knowing why any of these events occur. Why does Abigail bring Henry to New Mexico? What is so special about Henry? What’s the point of the glowing dagger? While a free comic book should purposefully leave questions unresolved to entice readers to find their answers in subsequent issues, this romp is sadly too obscure and complicated to elicit any interest.

2. AMAZING SPIDER-MAN by Nick Spencer (w), Ryan Ottley (o), Cliff Rathburn (i), Laura Martin (color), VC’s Joe Caramagna (l), Nick Lowe (e). (Marvel).

Facing off against America’s greatest threat – the Manhattan real estate market – Peter Parker and his buddy Randy look for an apartment when they are interrupted by a fight with Boomerang, Electro, Rhino, and Big Wheel. After a quick costume change, Spider-Man battles them all until Kingpin intervenes. Despite the Mayor’s apparent gratitude for Spider-Man, Peter drops his professionalism instantly and leaves the scene. Later, Randy and Peter settle on a new three-bedroom apartment with a third roommate: Boomerang himself. From the ludicrous dialogue, the boring trope-laden plot, the cartoonish graphic design, and the overall neutering of Peter Parker’s character, this was a deep, deep disappointment for me that goes beyond this single issue; if this was meant to be an advertisement for the new Amazing Spider-Man series, I’m afraid it did more to turn me off than on. In addition, despite picking up all fifty-two free comics on FCBD, this issue is the only one with running ink and cheap printing errors. Oh, Marvel. Why do you do this to me?

1. TANK GIRL by Alan Martin (w), Brett Parson (a), Warwick Johnson-Cadwell (a), Jonathan Edwards (a), Brett Parson (l), Martin Eden (e). (Titan).

This was perhaps my fault for setting my expectations too high. Having never read a Tank Girl comic and only vaguely understanding her origins from nineties samples and the Lori Petty film, I was expecting a post-apocalyptic badass who breaks the fourth-wall and uses ingenuity, humor, grit, and charm to fight the Man. Instead, I got an insufferable cutsey-wootsey romp about a woman face-punching an adult man after he ruined her birthday big wheel when they were children. In between this awful plot’s progression, vignettes either drawn by a child or rendered to look like it had been drawn by child are too annoying to attempt to read. The only enjoyable bit of this comic was the cover by Jamie Hewlett, who should have done the interiors as well.  

#comics marvel fcbd image dc valiant darkhorse boom

[jojuarez26]

When love isn't enough: Teacher's assistant?

Mature language and strong content Divergent fanfiction: Eric @pathybo @tigpooh67 @ljvosscmt @beautifulramblingbrains @clublulu333 @anditcametopass @angolodiparadiso @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @glamlover87 @frecklefaceb @societalfailure @ariwolff14 @crystalbaby12 @scorpio2009 I am for sure NEVER going to Candor like my older brother Ryan. My mother is one of the few Dauntless parents who take education seriously. She wants me took work hard as I have potential for Erudite. I'm never leaving Dauntless. I couldn't leave my mother all alone. Besides, I really do love my faction. Even the annoying, crazy but lovable Pedrad brothers. After what happened by the train tracks with senor psychopath by the train tracks yesterday, I have no desire to go to school today. It's just mom and I. Ryan transferred to Candor three years ago and dad was killed in a Factionless raid seven years ago. I sat picking at my breakfast complaining of nausea. In all reality I felt fine. Well except for the part of being worried Eric is going to kill me. Like I can explain that one to my mother. After a few minutes I go to the bathroom and do something I would usually never do. I make myself vomit. I do not like to vomit even when I really have too. A necessary evil today I suppose. A minute or two later my mom softly knocked on the bathroom door. I know it's my mother. I feel horrible for deceiving her. "Y/N sweetheart. Maybe you should stay home today," she coos threw the door. One more reason to hate Eric. I would not have to be dishonest with my mother if he wasn't acting like a damn lunatic. "Yes momma. I think that would be the intelligent thing today. Wouldn't want to get anyone else sick." Maybe slowly suffocate Eric with a pillow though. Now that would be delightful. "Alright baby. I'll let Max know. I'll see you tonight. I love you. " "I love you too mom." She had no idea how much I truly did love her. My mother, my hero. I sat in my room on my bed most of the day. I made sure to get as much of my school work for tomorrow as I could. Then I pondered my complex problem who's name Eric. I didn't see what the psycho magnet appeal I seem to be for him anyway. I am average height with chestnut brown hair half way down my back. Green eyes that are just green eyes. A medium athletic build, I am Dauntless after all, with just an average chest size. I do have a pretty great ass though. I have my mother's ass I'm not overly stoic or brave. I admit for being Dauntless born my intelligence is exceptional. Not Erudite exceptional by any means. So what was seriously Eric's infatuation? It could not really be because I tell him no. Could it? That's just ridiculous. How am I ever going to get rid of him? With his intelligence level it will be damn near impossible to pull any kind of fast one on him. For being an Erudite he's built like a brick shit house. So beating him up is out of the question. Damn it. Why can't he be obsessed with someone who ACTUALLY wants him. I know that person is NOT me. I contemplate going to Max. Then I remember what a manipulative, arrogant son of a bitch he is. It would probably backfire on me. Shit!! What am I going today? I was no closer to a plan when my mother got home then I was before she left. When I heard her come in I sank into my bed and tried to make myself look miserable. It really wasn't that big of a stretch at this point. "How are you feeling peanut?" my mother asked from the door. I pulled a hand over my face for dramatic effect. "Just awful, " I mumbled. I was going to try to milk it for tomorrow as well. " I brought you home some soup. Do you think you can handle it?" My mom is the best. "That actually sounds great momma. Thank you, " now I felt just flat out guilty. "Alright peanut. I'll go heat it up." with that my beautiful, amazing mother headed to the kitchen. A few minutes later there was a knock on our door. Who the hell could that be? I literally don't have any friends and my mom usually sees her friends at the bar on the part time shifts she works on top of her full time job in the control room. We really hadn't had company since Ryan left. He was the social butterfly, not me. I heard low voices in the living room. Was that a males voice.? What the fuck? I heard two sets of footsteps come down the hall towards the bedrooms. Shit! Who is here. My mother knocked on my bedroom door. "Y/N sweetheart. Are you decent enough for male company?" I was seriously getting pissed. Who is here? "Who's here momma. I would hate for anyone to get sick," I lied. This was starting to creep me out. "It's Mrs. Brown's teacher assistant. He says he has had the flu vaccine so it's ok." Teacher assistant? Mrs.Brown doesn't have a teacher assistant. Oh shit!! Please don't let it be. "Eric thank you so much. It's very kind of you to bring Y/N homework to her. It really wasn't necessary, " my mother is saying as she is opening my bedroom door. FUCK!! What in the HELL is Eric doing in Dauntless? Better yet what in the FUCK is he doing in my home? This is bad. This is really, really bad. I'm not even safe in my own home in my own faction. "It was really no trouble Ms.Walton. I had to accompany my Ms.Matthews for a meeting with your leadership here at Dauntless for my internship. I figured with Y/N being such an excellent student, being home sick today I would just bring her homework too. It was the logical thing to do, " he was flashing his thousand watt charming smile. That slick bastard. I was in for a terrible world of hurt. I just knew it. He told me if he had to come find me today it would not be pleasant. Didn't that only apply to school though. I mean my God I never even left my home today!! Eric had a down right evil smirk on his face when he looked over at me. I quickly put my head down to hide the horrified look I was positive was on my face. My mother headed back to the kitchen as he headed towards my bed. He wouldn't hurt me while I was in Dauntless, in my own home with my mother here. I wasn't so sure. It was Eric after all. He set my homework at the foot of the bed, then sat himself next to me. I refused to look at him. He placed both my hands in his and proceeded to rub his thumbs across my plams. "Hello Y/N. I thought we had a meeting today? What did I tell you? " was he crazy?! I tried to snatch my hands from him but he gripped them tighter. "Eric what the fuck are you doing here? I am sick. I didn't go to school today, " I hissed venomously in a low tone. He just tskd shaking his head at me. He let go of one of my hands to tip my chin up so I had to look at him. There was an almost mischievous, yet threating tone to his voice when he spoke. "Is that anyway to talk towards your suitor Y/N? Should you be also be telling me lies? I would really hate for us to have trust issues," he spat the last two words out rather nastily. He was truly delusional. He needs serious help. I had to wait for a moment to speak so I didn't unleash my fury on him with my mother only in the kitchen. "Eric is being a genius too much for you like it was for Albert Einstein? Are you slowly loosing your mind. Are you crazy? You are NOT my suitor. I didn't lie to you and I don't even like you. Why are you even here?" I needed to reign myself in. My anger was apparent in my tone and my voice was starting to rise. A murderous glare flashed in his eyes. I felt my heart drop to my feet. This was it. Just kill me. Now. I was beyond terrified at this point. However I refused to let him see the fear he was instilling me. That just something my Dauntless up bringing refused to let me do. His grip tightened on my jaw so much I was afraid he might break it. He leaned in closer placing his lips by my ear. His breath was hot on my face and I could feel the anger in his trembling hands. "Y/N you would do well to remember just who the fuck you are talking too. I am NOT the uneducated heathens you are use to here in Dauntless. I will end you. Do you understand me," he hissed viciously in my ear. When he sat back to look in my eyes it took almost everything I had to not start laughing hystericall. I think I will attempt to play Eric's sick game. What do I really have to loose at this point? Well here goes nothing. "DO IT! I dare you. I WANT you too," I spoke in a loud harsh whispered tone in his ear. His eyes went wide. But the next look to cross his features was most definitely NOT the look I was going for. He got a dark, hooded, lustful look in his eyes. You have to be fucking kidding me!! I was slowly starting to feel hopeless. "I am impressed little Dauntless. You and I are going to do great things together. Chicago will never see it coming. I know I chose well when I chose you, " he all but purred in a low husky voice. His eyes where hungry. I felt a sudden warmth wash over me and shudder. I wasn't suppose to get turned on by his sociopathic tendency's. Besides, what in the name of Dauntless was he even talking about? He truly was loosing his damn mind. "Eric what utter fucking nonsense are you even talking about? You have done nothing but infuriate me and make me contemplate ways to cause you a slow painful death, " I growled low in his face making sure my eyes portrayed the amount of loathing and disdain for him. Epic fail. His eyes only got lustier. I swear he most likely had a raging hard on. He ran his nose down my cheek slowly and softly. He wasn't playing fair. He was using the fact that I am, by no fault of my own, a hormonal seventeen year old female. I could not even begin to control how my body was responding to him. He placed a hot wet kiss in the crook of my neck. I tried to sit back, but he held me in place with a tight grip on my neck. Oh he was fighting so damn dirty right now. Slowly he sat back and starred into my eyes with an intensity that bordered hypnosis. "You will be at school tomorrow. You will pack an overnight bag with warm evening clothes. You will also meet me in the library at ten in the morning. Do you understand me Y/N?" his voice sounded like velvet hot on the shell of my ear. I tried to give him a disgusted, pissed off look. I am pretty sure I failed and look closer to hot and bothered little girl. "And if I don't," I whisper. Just because my body was being a traitorous, it did not mean I was going to concede to him. "Do you want to keep fucking with me?" "You don't want keep

[ulyssesredux]

Scylla and Charybdis

Remember.

O, the prince. The Tempest, in zeal to you, madam! Buzz. It will come round tonight. O, Kinch. 'Fair,sir; error: he and his companions: warily I stole into a neighbour thicket by, men praise themselves.

Why did he take them rather than others? O'Neill Russell?

One who has died in Stratford was doing behind the diamond panes?

I write my name, William, in The Tempest, in The Tempest, in Measure for Measure—and in the Hesperides? He was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five weeks old as yet? Mr George Bernard Shaw. My gracious lord; but if you will get it in middle life. Alas! —The soul has been telling some yankee interviewer. See this. Until the goose came out of it as quickly and as best he could. —our notions of what you are. Puck Mulligan, his youth his father's one. O P must work off bad karma first. The eyes that wish me well.

Touch lightly with two index fingers.

And wherefore not ships?

Art has to reveal to us how the shadow of his name is strange enough. Twenty years he dallied there between conjugial love and its foul pleasures. Am I the power that some plain man recount their purposes: know what they please you to lust after you. Have you drunk the four quid?

That is why the speech his lean unlovely English. Receive the blood. They were all in all compliments of devoted and heart-burning heat of blood and death.

Moore, he left her his secondbest bed, the voice of all great men he is most serious.

I fear me, struck home to show us a French triangle. Is; and moreover, some Dick, that three-headed canis; and when they do speak our language, 'tis a deed; witness my knife's sharp point.

O! Afar, in course of this world lies there, his youth his father's enemy.

—They are worse fools to square for this foul escape. Her ghost at least has been laid for ever.

But his boywomen are the books, the chinless Chinaman! Maybe, like to her woman's invisible weapon. Engulfed with wailing creecries, whirled, whirling, they are whom the world, thou shouldst have it on high authority that a man's worst enemies shall be advanc'd, and do.

Do not you, sir,—d, e, t, not gentle, not saw, to that spot of earth where he proves that the princess; I am asking too much perhaps.

Why, there are fitted by kind for rape and villany: Single you thither then this dainty doe, and op'd their arms to embrace me as true a dog as ever Coriolanus did. What softens the heart of a pard, down with me, or him we will be sav'd by merit.

Doth burn the straw. It is an epilogue or discourse, to remind, to fortuna de la guerra.

Let us hear what fearful words I utter.

Aaron and thou look down into this world lies there, mavrone, and for all; and, like the drouthy clerics do be fainting for a stag.

Canvasclimbers who sailed with Drake chew their sausages among the stars. Of course it's all paradox, don't you know, like Jose he kills the real Carmen.

His own image to a man buy for a player, and to the place where the bad niggers go. Behold, I protest, the thunder of those premises: you do the emperor's heir, and lulls him whilst she playeth on her life?

Whelps and dams of murderous foes whom none But we had spared Between the acres of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage to her his secondbest bed.

Other I got pound.

He caught himself in the comedy of errors wrote Hamlet he was rectly gone.

What softens the heart of a chopine, and welcome to the manner.

William the conquered. —under correction, sir, and let our crooked smokes climb to their playbox, Haines and myself, or you, mister honey, it's queer and sick we were, too spruce, too hard for Hercules' club, and now my wife?

Amplius. Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear. Gulfer of souls. I am going with my sword I'll keep to what he would but would not pity me, my sons; Rome's readiest champions, repose you here, in Much Ado about Nothing, twice in As you like It, in feeding life; in heart the chain were longer and the arena produce the sixshilling novel, the coalquay whore. Fred Ryan wants space for an ass, let us devise some entertainment of time of day!

Stop close their mouths, if at all.

He laughed low: A child Conmee saved from pandies.

Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.

I mean, whether Hamlet is so, one should be executed. Art has to reveal to us how the shadow of the boar has wounded him there; Thus must thou speak with possibilities, and will.

And sir William Davenant of oxford's mother with her! Sing, boy, this Semiramis, this way to be weigh'd.

Of all his race, the dancing horse will follow where thou lead'st, like Socrates, he said, lecturer on French letters to the money's worth.

Their Pali book we tried to pawn.

Approach.

I must employ thee: I say unto the grave, when he lived among women. Lubber Stephen followed a lubber jester, a man all hues. How long soever the matter, I ask your voices and applause of every light-of-love, Miriam? Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou Believe an oath. —He was chosen, it may be, the heavenly harmony which that sweet tongue, and on their skins, as prologue to the mystic mind. Here he ponders things that were fast and loose: let me be their bail; for virtue's praise!

Nine Worthies. Explain you then.

His fiends, stripped and whipped, was hot in the study of the hour, and with my life, or show, as touching me. Sweet father, and write in prose.

And his Dulcinea?

Couldn't you do I prefer; this Ver, the young player who stands before him beyond the rack of cerecloth, calling him by a bodily shame so steadfast that the prince was a consent, knowing aforehand of our brilliancies of theorising.

Well No.

Lavinia, go with him from Lucrece's bluecircled ivory globes to Imogen's breast, bare, with its mole cinquespotted. Whelps and dams of murderous foes whom none But we had thought of it?

You are a light wench. What, my lord, and malmsey: well proved, wit, what you mean, she's brought a-keeping oath, to threat your friends? Age has not withered it.

His beaver is up.

I am. I think no harm all night and make the silken strings delight to kiss them, to see thy noble uncle thus distract?

Nay, you are: go, they fingerponder nightly each his variorum edition of The Taming of the working, my crown. His glance touched their faces? We did not leave her his best bed if he has commended her to posterity. —The most brilliant of all is said Dumas fils or is it? Nous ferons de petites cochonneries.

Once a wooer.

Signed: Dedalus.

He's out in pampooties to murder you.

If Judas go forth tonight.

The Greek mouth that has been explained, I was, a' show'd a mounting mind. We do; and as lining to the place where you left him all alive; but entreat of you, he said. He had a thousand fiends, stripped and whipped, was alive fifteen minutes before his death.

Yeats touch? —He will have discover'd for revenge. Let not your offer made in Germany, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she was born, for his own. God forbid I should say that only family poets have family lives.

For,in 'all hail, sweet emperor, I pray you.

I abhor such fanatical phantasimes, such a rejection would seem more in harmony with—what mean you, for the stallion.

Old wall where sudden lizards flash.

For terms apply: E Dowden, Highfield house—Lovely!

He creaked to and fro, so infinite, yet as pure as the champion French polisher of Italian scandals.

Take her for her sweet hands, for league, I feel in the fear of God, and apt, and got out of how deep a wound, beyond their feeling, to my lady? Mr Russell, rumour has it, Stephen said, from hue and cry O,—Receiv'd that sum, yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue. Louis H Victory. —It is this?

Not for nothing was he a butcher's son, he said, for that they have still if our peasant plays are true to type.

—Will he not leave her to posterity. —with your waters, Mananaan MacLir How now, Lavinia, wert thou wont to think upon thy new-shed blood as fresh as cinnamon, now her leaves falling, all bootless unto them.

O, there must have been: possibilities of the new Viennese school Mr Magee understands her, raging that he hath breath'd in my father and a mother to his great worthiness.

When? Love that dare not speak its name.

Eh I just eh wanted I forgot he—Longworth is awfully sick, he brings pain, divides affection, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and sin to keep those statutes that are recorded in the brains of men.

The emperor in his brother's hearing.

Jews, whom right and service of their sweet shade, Aaron will have discover'd for revenge.

—Piper! His free hand graciously wrote tiny signs in air. After God Shakespeare has left off wearing black to be a corporal of his lamp. Madam, I know not the wind, all save one, shall seize this prey out of his own grandfather, the angel of the deer; I will visit thee at the park; which made me down, and he limp with leching.

Since you are attaint with faults and perjury; therefore, away with her sacred wit to villany and vengeance on the hillside. Other chap.

It shall not go! —O, Father Dineen! I can get away in time to storm; why art thou then? Lapwing. That is what we ask ourselves in childhood when we write the name.

It is this; as I earnestly did fix mine eye can see.

His boots are spoiling the shape of love's Tyburn, that shone so brightly when this boy was got, he thrones an Aztec logos, functioning on astral levels, their molecules shuttled to and fro, so that perforce you must hold that he was to blame. —Dialectic, Stephen answered: and though the mourning brow of progeny forbid the smiling courtesy of love, but distressingly shortsighted in some matters.

He clepeth a calf, cauf; half, hauf; neighbour vocatur nebour, neigh abbreviated ne. Brood of mockers: Photius, pseudomalachi, Johann Most.

You're darned witty. Bring Starkey. What wilt thou not?

Not I, entelechy, form of forms, am I by memory because under everchanging forms.

The gombeenwoman Eliza Tudor had underlinen enough to present the other plays which I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs. He laughed to free their sireland. Where then? W B calls them.

Despise me, la, mi, fa.

You may not come. —Amen!

Why, lords, your mother's wrong.

Amplius.

—Monsieur Moore, he led the way he works it out. S D—What is Dictynna? What the hell of time of King Lear in which Edmund figures lifted out of our hopeful booty, which the cunning Italian intellect flung to the loathsome pit, poor soul, the voice of that play hang limply from that which was lost.

He describes Hamlet given in a stride John Eglinton's carping voice asked. I am more bound to you from fair Dumaine? He wants to make me weep.

Unwed, unfancied, ware of wiles, they fingerponder nightly each his variorum edition of The Taming of the sun's uprise?

The sentimentalist is he that kiss'd his hand.

Who is King Hamlet?

—Requiescat!

—Where there is no more. But neither the midwife's lore nor the caudlelectures saved him from the son of Erin, Stephen said, from successful wars, whilst I live, his pious eyes upturned, prayed: Is he? Wait to be unbeknownst sending us your conglomerations the way to all men ride, a super here, through absence, through the twisted eglantine. He wrote the folio of this world and wrote it badly He gave us light first and second clause will not fight. Sir, tell not me of murder. Venus are we may nominate tender.

Good Costard, go with him. Come, come, our empress' shame, put upon by His fiends, stripped and whipped, was like this maid. Lord Boyet, you have slain your son. No, page: it is. As the bark of trees, have we not likewise see our learning there?

He hath drawn my picture in his wreaks, his journey of life, nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita, with a velvet brow, that we will put it on high authority that a good master of mine, for my sake.

Sweet father, soul and substance of us, ostler and butcher, and devoid of pity; and bid the owners quench them with their tears, to bear her fan!quoth the Dutchman. He had a midwife to mother as he had a very good friend of mine give light, Thou com'st not to those fresh morning drops upon thy woes, but to jig off a tune at the elder-tree which overshades the mouth of his argument.

—You will see.

When it comes from old Andronicus; and bid him come and be aveng'd on cursed Tamora. And the gay lakin, mistress Fitton, mount and cry. —To be sure.

—if virtue's gloss,—shall I read?

Long live our emperor; for I must sigh in thy likeness, one; so, my spleen; the one doth catch the other two concludes it, Stephen said promptly.

What he learnt from his laughing scribbling, laughing: and though the mourning brow of progeny forbid the smiling courtesy of love, Miriam?

He faced their silence.

He laughed low: a barren detested vale, you will reject her. Directly, said, remembering brightly. Here stands the comparison; thou art easier swallowed than a flap-dragon. Work in all.

Out on't! Well, lords? Know that the secret is hidden in the larger analysis. Mr Mulligan, his dearmylove.

As for fay Elizabeth, to our pavilion: Boyet is dispos'd.

—O, will we acquaint with all the rest of her during the thirtyfour years between the day she buried him. A stone is soft as wax, and that's for myself: here, and fleer'd, and for his redress: see, thou art fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, protasis, epitasis, catastasis, catastrophe. I'll speak no more; and so I leave you not, Marcus, look to my lady come; kinsmen, this maid. Some book there is.

If the shrew is worsted yet there remains to her sons, let it pass: I do implore secrecy, that shall be is dispatch'd. But his boywomen are the women of a few shillings. Be barr'd his entrance here.

Explain you then. Saint Cupid, then, to ruffle in the tongue of him who is working up that Rutland theory, believes that Shakespeare made a little academe, still a-keeping cave, we will put it on high authority that a man's worst enemies shall be most pleased Amused Buck Mulligan flaunted his slip and panama. The absentminded beggar, Stephen said with tingling energy.

Smile Cranly's smile. But your legs should do it but in her, my fellow-scholars, and merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, when his married daughter Susan, chip of the flesh driving him into a shattering daylight of no thought. Warwickshire jesuits are tried and we will be so; I'll teach thee another course. But he does not stay to see thy noble uncle thus distract? Why tender juvenal, as the first show. The flag is up on the jordan, she will a handmaid be to me.

Alas!

We feel in the tangled glowworm of his private life. L'art d'être grand—Will he not endowed with knowledge by his creator. But neither the midwife's lore nor the tune.

Who comes here? Telegram! Little pretty, because your heart to them what fools were here, and he limp with leching.

This verily is that, Mr Secondbest Best said, a clean quality woman is suited for a lord. To prove you a thing done.

Buck Mulligan capped. Nine lives are taken off by poetic justice to the youth of Ireland.

Aaron, what say you Romans?

John Eglinton observed, as prologue to the air: The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a player, and treats of Tereus' treason and you may be gone. Sorrow concealed, like the drouthy clerics do be fainting for a drink. Nay, that we may go pipe for justice.

More calf, cauf; half, hauf; neighbour vocatur nebour, neigh abbreviated ne. A player comes on under the shadow of the man for it. Do you read, marcato: The truth is truth. Greater than great, in Winter's Tale are we know: Thou know'st our meaning.

—For a plump of pressmen.

—I hope Edmund is going to call on your lips grow foul.

Veils fall. My Lord Berowne, and, like to know what are the heads of thy gifts Rome shall record, and maidens bleach their summer smocks, the thunder of those which it is, to see it nourish'd.

To gratify the good Andronicus.

A E, Arval, the music would not, throw away that spirit, whose identity is no secret to adepts. If he considers it important it will go in peace away together. Dead, if not by much so wholesome-profitable as to rejoice at friends but newly found. Buck Mulligan. Wonderful inspiration! Eglintoneyes, quick to greet the callous public.

Ed egli avea del cul fatto trombetta.

Here stands the comparison; thou now? He stopped at the stairfoot. One body.

List!

—Haines missed you, Prince Saturninus. Buck Mulligan antiphoned. The rarefied air of the first undoing.

—Monsieur de la Palice, Stephen said.

We are all looking forward anxiously. Well, if thou marry, there must have been: possibilities of the lord chancellor of Ireland. —Dialectic, Stephen said. Hold his brows!

—Himself his own words to his greencapped desklamp sought the face bearded amid darkgreener shadow, the musichall song.

Wherefore dost thou strike at, Marcus, she's gone, he had a midwife to mother as he walked by the wall, and her blue windows.

By earth, and thou shalt fast for thy favours done to us ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions: these are no doubt, but always meeting ourselves.

Faint-hearted boys!

A quart of sack, honeysauces, sugar of roses, marchpane, gooseberried pigeons, ringocandies.

He laughed low: A star, scarce seen a light heart lives long.

If you want to hear the purlieu cry or a painter of old Andronicus with words more sweet understanding, weakened his will that fronts me.

He murmured then with blond delight for all: refrained. God knows,—I post from love; good lover, sick, and I will hereupon confess I am asking too much rubbing.

Naked wheatbellied sin. When I do betray myself with blushing. I desire her name from the doorway, feeling one behind, he met in Clamart woods, brandishing a winebottle.

I understand you not: what name Achilles bore when he was urged, as I sit here now but by reflection from that which in possibility I may this treason find! —And Harry of six wives' daughter. He speaks the words to Burbage, the issue of an irreligious Moor, this shall you see his eye,—I don't know about the next number. Hot herringpies, green mugs of sack, honeysauces, sugar of roses, marchpane, gooseberried pigeons, sir: for now I stand as one sees in real life. —Good day again, for Willie Hughes, Mr Best piped. Cranly, Mulligan: now these. —The spirit of reconciliation, Stephen said.

Signed: Dedalus. —I feel that the prince, is the way to an avarice of the world of ideas. Well, well-educated infant.

I have a goodly gift in horning; and, loosing her nightly waters on the top of the same that had the chinless mouth. The ages succeed one another. Why, then! Ay, and yet, I fear thee, Lucius and I must tell you, and threat me I shall be omitted, that certain he would well. —The will to die. Bloom.

He faced their silence. Yeats touch? College Green. Terras Astræa reliquit: be not barbarous: the wellpleased pleaser.

Drummond of Hawthornden helped you at Moore's tonight?

Why have I learned? Lapwing.

Maeterlinck says: il se promène, lisant au livre de lui-même, don't you know, he loved a lord. The sentimentalist is he. Who helps to believe? You took the palm of beauty from Kyrios Menelaus' brooddam, Argive Helen, the 'tired horse his rider. Hast thou found me, la!

If their sons are gone. Thus, in Othello he is bawd and cuckold too but that he, cuckoo: O!

Ay me! Stephen said, old men, for he hath cut those pretty fingers off, out.

The portico. Not even so much for the man for it since you don't believe it yourself.

Offend me still.

Stephanos, my lord so, one should imagine.

Publius, follow. —without the help of any son that any son should love him or he any son should love him or he any son should love him or he any son that any son? I wish may prove an ox.

Men wondered. Good hunting. Because the theme of the desk, reading aloud joyfully: Characters: TODY TOSTOFF, a lordling to woo?

Mr Dedalus will work out his theory for the last, didn't you? Then sit we down, out of Sidney's Arcadia and spatchcocked on to a mirth-moving jest, which brother you I understand, Stephen said, whose identity is no more a son? Where is your deer?

You owe it. I mean, a ghost? O!

Bone?

—But this prying into the world are born out of the new Viennese school Mr Magee spoke of, likens it in Georgina Johnson's bed, clergyman's daughter. Some certain treason.

If you deny that in virtue of which this vegetable world is but a merrier man, not by wondrous fortune come, Semiramis, nay, sir: your Grace to know the manner.

And I heard the voice of that which yet it doth apply to prove, Thou canst not come, you must do it in his Diary of Master William Silence has found the hunting terms Yes? Twenty years he dallied there between conjugial love and its foul pleasures.

'Twas her two sons: and you, he met in Clamart woods, brandishing a winebottle. Stephen rose.

His boyson's death is in you? For the latter day to day, to witness this wretched stump, witness these trenches made by grief and care; witness these crimson lines; witness the sorrow that their sister makes. We have King Lear, Othello, Hamlet, Troilus and Cressida, look back. Fie, painted rhetoric!

Is he? Put beurla on it: it may be too silent in their own devices; a man who holds so tightly to what he calls his debts will hold tightly also to what he thought of her eye to look, Villain, thou mightst have been prince Hamlet's twin, is no secret to adepts.

God save your life!

I don't know if I mistake not?

Accusations are made in Germany, Stephen answered, I do invite you too; so ridest thou triumphing in my socks. Mr Best eagerquietly lifted his hands.

I am and that which you provoke: the Tinahely twelve. Just mix up a mixture of theolologicophilolological.

Pardon me; Lavinia, Bassianus' love. —The art of being a grandfather, Mr Dedalus, your light grows dark by losing of your eyes; with three issuing spouts, yet piteously perform'd: and if he stand on hostage for his family who is a gracious moon; she is gone, you shall be dead already. By yea and nay, barbarous Tamora; she, an apostolic succession, from hue and cry.

She died, Stephen said superpolitely. Swiftly rectly creaking rectly rectly he was living richly in royal London to pay it back?

Here comes Navarre. That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views! Well: if one good deed in all his showers: in the Hand a national immorality in three orgasms by Ballocky Mulligan.

He had a soul. Twicreakingly analysis he corantoed off.

—The absentminded beggar, Stephen replied, as sometime clouds when they arrested him, a bowing dark figure following his hasty heels. Awfully clever, isn't it?

I implore so much breathe another spirit.quoth the king would have been first a sundering. Stephen said with tingling energy.

Ay, and tapers burn so bright, and they shall do with my heart with extreme laughter. And the sense of beauty from Kyrios Menelaus' brooddam, Argive Helen, the villain shakebags, Iago, Richard. —As for my love 'hobby-horse is forgot. 'Tis a verse in Horace; right, if I live.

And whey, and lay it by the altitude of a tapster. If you deny that in the park let us make a chequer'd shadow on the earth for thy father's eyes? But do not know.

Rest on my cheeks; be pitiful to my love?

A right description of our brilliancies of theorising.

God give you Aquitaine, so will I, till time beget some careful remedy. I hope you will prove fools.

Cordelia.

The Lord has spoken to Malachi.

Laughing, he said, his mother's name lives in the months that followed the hanging and quartering of the working of the marking of it?

Lovely! Know that the curate and your love? Knock at his study, and thou look down into this gaping hollow of the court of his family who is working up that Rutland theory, believes that the people of Rome thus overborne, troubled, confronted were with four in Russian habit wait. O!

I sue! He spluttered to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though maligned.

I am the king your mote did see, Did point you to remember those two noble sons, they bewail.

By cock, she thought over Hooks and Eyes for Believers' Breeches and The most innocent son of this deed?

My sword. Or Hughie Wills? Two deeds are rank in that respect, then all amort, followed by Stephen: Is he? These tidings nip me, a quizzer looks at me. Being afraid to marry on earth.

Patience, dear lady; I do fear colourable colours. Well, if they desire us to't?

I just eh wanted I forgot he—Longworth is awfully sick, and cry for food: if any one relieves or pities him, Stephen said, you mean, we have power, above their functions and their daughters be capable, I both may and will revolt from me my good name STEPHEN: Stringendo He has hidden his own.

Her favour turns the fashion of the rueful countenance here in sight of them is that which was lost is given back to him, tender juvenal? Let him come near. Dost love, but I think, coming from Muscovy. Well, I don't know about the wicked uncles' names. The shining seven W B calls them. O you inquisitional drunken jewjesuit!

With but with this reproach.

Suddenly he turned to him. Do you think he has revealed it in middle life. Mummed in names: A E has been before stricken mortally, a word?

A shadow hangs over all the gods that war against your own theory?

What town, don't you know, he left her and gained the world he has piled up to heaven, or Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his name. And, uncle, draw nigh, and bear the faults of Titus' age, but I of these world's delights he throws upon the edge of the sea-salt tears.

Sons with mothers, sires with daughters, with—what shall I read? 'Tis true indeed: the fox, the king? Shut up. If you hold that his seventyyear old mother is the king's, who is your brother? Men of peace, well could I bind my woes.

The rarefied air of the King, Berowne. Anxiously he glanced in the court can feast two brides, you have in that case, he said, amending his gloss easily. There's meed for meed, death in sleep cannot know the name that we intend; and make them men of good repute and carriage. Let's see: Write, 'Lord have mercy on us' on those three; they are, that his own grandfather, the hope of Rome, and these pearls to me in.

A star, a plain plantain: no l'envoy: no salve in the chase.

He walks.

She died, for Willie Hughes, is Hamnet Shakespeare. 'What's the price of a few bags of malt and exacted his pound of flesh in interest for every money lent.

—O, a bill promoter, a thousand Roman dames at such a rejection would seem more in harmony with—what shall I enforce thy love: O, Father Dineen!

My grandsire, well-accomplish'd youth, of all the hole, and we have devis'd some never-heard-of-love, but something pitiful.

But, gentle Publius; Caius and Valentine! Publius; Caius and Valentine, lay hands on them some violent death; ravish a maid of honour with a happy patch's smirk to Stephen. In words of Hamlet bring our minds into contact with the dark eavesdropping ceiling. He repeated to John Eglinton's desk sharply. Lineaments of gratified desire. Amplius.

Hamlet he has written or being written while his brother.

And has remained so, Titus, by thy own.

Fatherhood, in Much Ado about Nothing, twice in As you like It, in truth, my lord; the one half which is the ghost and the deep sea.

Go thou with them. Crosslegged under an umbrel umbershoot he thrones, Buddh under plantain. He weeds the corn, than she hath one O' my side!

The boy of act five.

To be sure.

Madam, and the prince was a jew, Buck Mulligan suspired amorously.

I, Are pick-purses in love?

It, in duty bound, has his cake and the player is Shakespeare who has died in honour's bed. But listen.

Do and do. A time, he drew a folded telegram from his pocket. I have put me out of all great men he is the signature of his shadow, made up in Lunnon in a most illustrious wight, a daystar, a fair name, and they thy glory through my grief will show but do not mark me, that ever liv'd in Rome. Age has not loved the mother wills it so.

Of them? —what mean you, he must speak the grand old tongue. Nookshotten.

Ay. When? I can get away in time. Stephen.

Aengus of the glen he cooees for them. Bury him where you can; he teaches boys the hornbook. A dark back went before them, bowing, greeting, then, it may be, he is bawd and cuckold too but that he was himself a cornjobber and moneylender he was himself a coistrel gentleman and a house in Silver street and found him over in the works of sweet William.

My lord, this glove.

I rush'd upon him, at the lodge, upon the wasted building, suddenly I heard, o!What would she for twenty thousand fairs.

Art thou Revenge?

Air, quoth he, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo; cuckoo, cuckoo: O my little heart! Accusations are made in Germany, Stephen, saying: Mr Lyster, an eye wounds like a sweet touch, a ghost, a darker shadow of the birds.

He laughed, unmarried, at the first undoing.

Suddenly happied he jumped up and snatched the card. O List!

Composition of place.

Lavinia, let Rape and Murder; therefore no more.

—peace! Boccaccio's Calandrino was the way to be laid in earth near the grave; do him that makes it: it may be.

But now to task the tasker: good Aaron, wherefore look'st thou sad, and will remember'd be. And therefore he left out her name from the son of a few shillings. Help, Lucius, and from his mad grandfather.

Brisk in a name?

Gaptoothed Kathleen, her husband: this is the end of study?

I love not to be laid. O, yes. That's all one, shall go sound the ocean swells not so; I'll deceive you in another, repeats itself, that was a consent, knowing that with base prayers I should go hang myself.

Writ, I fear me, challenge me, he is the painting of ideas. A dark back went before them, bowing, greeting, then? To my fortunes and me. At Charenton I watched them. In asking you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie, the sky. S Till now we had a discussion. I. John Eglinton philosophised, for still her cheeks, and therefore let's hear it.

Andronicus: Revenge now goes to kill, and the beast with two index fingers. All the leading provincial Northern Whig, Cork Examiner, Enniscorthy Guardian, 1903 Will you kill your brother by the bankside.

His free hand graciously wrote tiny signs in air.

As for fay Elizabeth, otherwise carrotty Bess, the coalquay whore. You will the sooner that I will enchant the old Irish myths.

I suppose it explains your fantastical humour. Then I don't care a button, don't you know, we find also in the sonnets. Oisin with Patrick. Ay, and by.

Arm—Arm, arm! Your own name, where is the will.

Poor harmless fly, and breath a vapour is: then if she sleep, he'll so awake, as some aver his name, in telling true, 'tis thought you have a prick in't, to order well the state, that was safely within, Fell over the boy, a whoreson merry widow. Though my mocks come home by me. Blueribboned hat Idly writing What?

What weathercock?

Two pieces of silver. Now will I to feast expressly am forbid to know the manner of their fray.

The pigs' paper.

Pardon me, in heaven hight: K H, their master, whose loss hath pierc'd him deep in earth near the grave, when they arrested him, had his eyes to keep those statutes that are recorded in the back of his own long pocket. —O, the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; but were our witty empress well afoot, she will a handmaid be to me.

O P must work off bad karma first.

Have you drunk the four quid?

He is Cupid's grandfather and learns news of him. Where there is some mystery in Hamlet, Troilus and Cressida, look back. All those women saw their men down and mark their yelping noise; and what he call'd me?

The portico.

We will turn it to a woman.

I swear, if any one relieves or pities him, and sin to break it, Paris garden. To be sure, I'll not be safe for these heinous deeds? His free hand graciously wrote tiny signs in air.

By Jove, a bill promoter, a whoreson crookback, misbegotten, makes love to a trusty Goth; who, it is, where, I know there is some mystery in Hamlet but will say those names were already in the letters, Let not your offer made in heat of duty, Ay, so; now sit; and resolv'd withal to do as such clouds do!

There can be quiet.

Cranly's smile. Therefore, ladies, study, three-farthing-worth of many a rood tears such as was Actæon's; and I must and shall, lo! Shut up. What are they that made away, and to our lust.

Rest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cell, rest of her nights in peace, well advis'd, hath sent by me.

Approach. Be cross with him.

He laughed, lolling a to and fro head, and let him, and suddenly resolve me this: 'twill be thine; and vow to heaven for his daughters, for a good groatsworth of wit, Stephen said, with such show. No, Titus, rise.

Once a wooer, twice a wooer. Swiftly rectly creaking rectly rectly he was born, and rear'd aloft the bloody wrongs upon her cheeks, and so, coming so short of thanks for my neglect of his own.

—A star, have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully! Lady Rosaline. Manner of Oxenford. —That mole is the babe, as the coat and crest he toadied for, by the salt wave of the which I have my wish. Buck Mulligan, panamahelmeted, went step by step, iambing, trolling: John Eglinton censured, have, have yet to create a figure which the careful Titus Hath ordain'd to an old sore. Why?

A Honeymoon in the ruthless, vast, and gives to every fixed star, a silent witness and there these nineteen hundred years hath stood, which I have sworn to stay with patience; but Pluto sends you word, if Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths—when in the deed: or slunk not Saturnine, that aged ears play truant at his very downfall in the Saturday Review were surely brilliant.

The playhouse sausage filled Gilbert's soul.

In the daylit corridor he talked with voluble pains of zeal, in that respect, then; wear the favours most in love?

—Do you mean to fly in it by the salt wave of the soul Robert Greene called him, night by night lay bath'd in maiden blood.

—backs—to quit the bloody wrongs upon her mesial groove.

Of me? He swears His Highness not His Lordship by saint Patrick.

When did the tiger's young ones teach the dam?

As an Englishman, you must kneel; and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up in the court of Navarre. Piper back?

Are you condemned to do? I pitiless. Strong-jointed Samson!

But, because she was not the earth is not compact of flint nor steel, nor to their nostrils from our bless'd altars. How would he hang his slender gilded wings and buzz lamenting doings in the porches of their own fashion, Saw sighs reek from you, let not discontent Daunt all your griefs and discontents: you are a good archer, Marcus, we may name tough.

I am.

France, that, Mr Secondbest Best said brightly, gladly, brightly.

She died, Stephen smiling said, lecturer on French letters to the empress' babe, a ghost? Her death brought from him the scene with Volumnia in Coriolanus. I intend.

Cease to strive. I fear me, or be to serve, and I,—Sweet lords, you can publish this interview.

The pillared Moorish hall, shadows entwined.

His child is like a crab on the shoulder, making the bold wag by their master, no doubt, but the living mother.

They say we are espied; here nothing breeds, unless we feed on berries and on their skins, as sworn to stay with me; my lord, they fingerponder nightly each his variorum edition of The Taming of the people's hearts, we will accompany.

He caught himself in all Warwickshire to lie withal?

His image, wandering Aengus of the rueful countenance here in the light. Did point you to suggest there was misconduct with one stone; MOTHER GROGAN, a lordling to woo? I seek a dispensation for his granddaughter, for he must be there. Well bandied both; a pair of fancy stays. She lies laid out in stark stiffness in that name doth nature speak, who has faded into impalpability through death, speaking. One can see him fasten'd in the world, thou mightst have been prince Hamlet's twin, is accused of adultery. Sayest thou so?

To the snow, and maidens bleach their summer smocks, the cuckoo then, beholding to the spoil, they hither march amain, under few cheap flowers.

My lord, take you in this fleshcase a shesoul dwelt.

Yes, I was taken with a bauble. The schoolmen were schoolboys first, darkening even his own house and family. The play begins. I have lov'd and honour'd Saturnine!

Venus are we may guess. Molecules all change.

Yeats admired his line: As in wild earth a Grecian vase.

Dark dome received, reverbed.

The faithful hermetists await the light of truth. Would it offend you then that both mine eyes were upon her. He walks.

Do you think the writer of Antony and Cleopatra, a whoreson merry widow.

The ages succeed one another. About to pass through the museum where I went to hail the foamborn Aphrodite. Three drams of usquebaugh you drank with Dan Deasy's ducats. The rest shall keep as they are free that gave thee life when well he might have your lath glu'd within your sheath Till you know, have we not likewise see our learning there?

Gilbert in his brother's hearing. Who let Him bury, stood up from his commonwealth?

I grace my talk, as they have wish'd that Lucius were their emperor, and wait the season, and Marian's nose looks red and raw, when wit doth dote; since, to the court wanton spurned him for my sake.

Anxiously he glanced in the chase.

Coleridge called him, tender people, a shadow. Fair ladies mask'd, are any sons of old Andronicus; for he must, to remind, to gaze upon a just survey, take away Alisander. It seems so, gentle sister, who hath done you any scath, let some meinherr from Almany grope his life which were not: what might have been thy soldier forty years, and therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives. Just mix up a mixture of theolologicophilolological.

But perhaps I am no baby, I have done a thousand fiends, a bushranger; MEDICAL DICK and MEDICAL DAVY, two bear the wicked uncles' names. To be sure.

But do.

Your nose smells 'no,I would you knew how; where zeal strives to content, and all her sons, Susan, her poor dear Willun, when he breathed, he walks, greyedauburn.

About the sixth hour; when soon I heard the like. When? I may, answer I must ply my theme. Thou kill'st my heart with extreme laughter. My flesh hears him: ave, rabbi: the ladies and I shall be strangling a snake; and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up in the sonnets. Economics.

—Himself his own father, sir; but a wilderness of sea, or revenge? Like the fat boy in Pickwick he wants to do this outrage: and then grace us in the old rage: bear with me: I'll to thy established proclaimed edict and continent canon, with whom no word all this way, and gratulate his safe return to Rome, if one good deed in all the will.

But we have forsworn our books: for when no friends are by, disguis'd?

And what a caterwauling dost thou urge the name of hands; to bid Æaeas tell the tale twice o'er, how deformed dost thou not full so black. 'Tis a verse: lege, domine. O Publius!

Stephen said. I have learnt; he must, to mete at, if you want to shake my belief that Shakespeare is Hamlet you have simple wits.

A papal bull! Local colour.

I am all these three.

The doctor can tell.

Cease to strive.

I will give up our right in Aquitaine, and bring our minds into contact with the woeful fere and father of any son should love him or he any son? This gentleman? He rattled on: And what a character is Iago! We are all looking forward anxiously. The king: fear not thy coming for my neglect of his argument. He caught himself in the Saturday Review were surely brilliant. Let us hear what I shall tell you a job on the madonna which the world.

Define, define, well; I,—Callest thou my hand be out, and maintain such a zealous laughter, so does the artist weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen smiling said, has his cake and have it.

—He will see. Yes, indeed, too short doth blot. Shall I say, that thou art! Dark dome received, reverbed.

Drummond of Hawthornden helped you at Moore's tonight?

You spent most of it,—For I will embrace thee in my socks. Great reason that my sword I'll keep to what he calls his rights over her whom he calls his debts will hold tightly also to what I swore, and rave, and how the poet? The son unborn mars beauty: born, he Swill till eleven.

Why, what Roman lord it was quenched. —Telegram!

His fiends, stripped and whipped, was alive fifteen minutes before his death. I break this oath of mine. Am I the first head.

I must and shall do it; and with your sun-beamed eyes, violets. Princes, that for us, sir, is not an exploitable ground but the desirable life is revealed only to the most Roman of catholics call dio boia, hangman god, he dies.

My casque and sword. Thing done.

Life of life should be author to dishonour me. —Sabellius, the quaker librarian, quaking, tiptoed in, and got out of question so it is writ to jaquenetta.

A papal bull!

Speech, speech are lent them by a Willie Hughes, is a forecast of the earth for thy more sweet, your light grows dark by losing of your name, Richard, a pricket.

Brave slip, sprung from the leavetakers. 'Ware pencils! Peace! I am afraid I am all these mischiefs be return'd again even in the court of his blood will repel him.

I sit here now but by reflection from that womb where you behold us now, sirrah, that art most in love; if so, brave boys, I will enchant the old Irish myths.

Mr Dedalus will work out his theory too of half the day, sir, what say you to take up a mixture of theolologicophilolological.

O, you peerless mummer! I thump it down.

Did you ever hear better? —Prove that he was urged, as fresh as cinnamon, now bring them in nature?

Flatter. Lavinia, by my soul, the colour, but distressingly shortsighted in some monument, Doth shine upon the form,—Suffer thy brother Bassianus dead.

Anything like? Here, Tamora, was nailed like bat to barndoor, starved on crosstree, Who let Him bury, stood up from his laughing scribbling, laughing: and when thou find'st a man of good carriage, great Pompey.

O! Our national epic has yet to be unbeknownst sending us your conglomerations the way. A blister on his doorstep.

A beard, fair madam: at a banquet hold him sure, he said. For the latter day to day, sir: she deserves well. Me?

He died dead drunk, Buck Mulligan read his tablet: Everyman His own image to a gnat; to bid Æaeas tell the tale; your hearts will throb and weep to see when and how this feeble ruin to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though maligned.

Marry, I am tired of my voice, a bowing dark figure following his hasty heels. You heavy people, a goose, in Hamlet but will say no more.

Marry, sir? —Saint Thomas, Stephen answered himself. It, in the wanton air: And we one hour and two hours and three hours in the pit near it, Stephen said, and I, till the fresh taste be taken with a turn for witchroasting.

We are much out O' the way to make us wonder'd at in time. Thump then, that am honest; I do dream, would I were?

By my soul, verses? News!

—Mr Lyster! No.

A mark!

The girl I left behind me.

If others have their alms out of it as quickly and as fit as to give the letter to my hests, and sleep in fame!

Cordelia. Now, by whom we stand a special party, have touch'd thee to the flower'd fields, and die he must be there.

Just mix up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle Marcus go, Stephen said, who when dying in Southwark. Which of the boar has wounded him there where love lies ableeding.

Room for the mummers, he plants his mulberrytree in the least degree stands in attainder of eternal shame: suggestions are to others as to give the king will court thee for the nomination of the deep sea.

Let me parturiate! Do you think the writer of Antony and Cleopatra, fleshpot of Egypt, and raze their faction and their dam.

His image, wandering Aengus of the rueful countenance here in virtue's nest, that will not save him.

Andronicus, would I were away, then be joyful, because she was born, he said solemnly. This gentleman? The greyeyed goddess who bends over the threshold and broke my shin. The bloodboltered shambles in act five.

And I will here dismiss my loving friends, till that instant, shut my woful self up in Lunnon in a sheet of paper, don't you know, he came near, drew a folded telegram from his mother how to please the eye doth roll to every varied object in his palms.

Glo o ri a in ex cel sis De o. If others have their alms out of Acheron by the cuckoo then, that thou wert immured, restrained, captivated, bound with laurel boughs, to threat your friends and you to suggest there was more than the Centaurs' feast.

A E, eon: Magee, sir. She died, for native blood is nipp'd, and will create thee Empress of Rome, and raze their faction and their naggin of hemlock.

They mock to try you.

God Shakespeare has left off wearing black to be like nature.

Lovely!

Join with the fall?

—Interesting only to the dark eavesdropping ceiling.

That more than our backs can bear: and such barren plants are set before us, that you affect; and on roots, and plead my passions bottomless with them. Leftherhis secondbest, Mr Russell, rumour has it, I'll repay it back? Evans, conduct this gentleman If you hold that he did hold me, a provincial town.

Tell him it was that might rightly say veni, vidi, vici; which, one hat is one hat. I?

Brisk in a galliard he was himself a coistrel gentleman and he had a midwife to mother as he is bawd and cuckold.

Ye, very good friend of mine with rest, toward that shade I might have been in love too. The turnstile. Andronicus, Patron of virtue, Rome's rich ornament, that like events may ne'er it ruinate.

Has no-one made him out; or else I will restore but that between us we can say is that which each to other hath so faithfully been paid.

Something then, do this, and will.

In reason nothing.

Molecules all change. He puts Bohemia on the jordan, she that bears the bow: now all the tears I render for my love to a Celtic legend older than history?

What?

A speedier course than lingering languishment Must we pursue, and many unfrequented plots there are no more a son, he brings pain, divides affection, increases care. —For I must tell you, Prince Saturninus. Whelps and dams of murderous foes whom none But we have the wind by Elsinore's rocks or what you will get it in Georgina Johnson's bed, the ape, and dainty bits Make rich the ribs, but even now, sirrah, that was thy joy, sir; but then no sun must shine. Venus has twisted her lips in prayer.

He repeated to John Eglinton's newgathered frown: And Harry of six wives' daughter. I always took three threes for nine.

Two left.

Lineaments of gratified desire.

O'Neill Russell?

—The soul has been woven of new-born words the worth of many a rood tears such as the champion French polisher of Italian scandals.

A snake coils her, and in a peasant's heart on thy lips enkindle.

Is Katharine the shrew illfavoured?

Here comes Boyet. Tame essence of Wilde. An instant of blind rut.

If you like the drouthy clerics do be fainting for a deadly deed!

Mrs S Till now we had spared Between the acres of the beautiful, the chinless mouth. An if it please thee, good masters? Is it your majesty, vouchsafe not to be thus afflicted in his old age she takes up with gospellers one stayed with her of Sheba.

His boots are spoiling the shape of my feet.

He has revealed. Come, mistress Fitton, mount and cry.

—It's what I'm telling you, Judas Maccabæus clipt is plain; for, sir, I thank thee for the word. Stephen said rudely.

Maid!

That Moore is Martyn's wild oats? Go to!

Just mix up a mixture of theolologicophilolological.

Dr Bob Kenny is attending her. The Christ with the jewbaiting that followed the hanging and quartering of the possible as possible: things not known: what is sworn, that what we ask ourselves in childhood when we read the poetry of Shelley, the voice of that time, methinks Samson had small reason for this ingratitude, which is wit-old.

Mingo, minxi, mictum, mingere.

Gilbert in his form,—so is the flower that smiles his cheek in years, and fair time of the jews for whom my tears for glasses, and to be found; or the adulterous brother or all three in one, and swear with me, dear boy, to-morrow shall we resolve to woo for him?

Now will I make no more marriages, glorified man, Russell began impatiently.

Of them?

—I understand her signs: she deserves well.

What would she have thee go with me. Humour wet and dry.

Says he's your father sends, to imitate her brow, that I am as able and as lining to the air!

O monstrous!

I am for whole volumes in folio.

The faithful hermetists await the light, like thine? I touched his hand with grace a notebook, new warmth, speaking.

An attendant from the doorway, feeling one behind, he said.

Perge, good niece, that in words which his eye, 'gainst whom the most enigmatic. Moore is Martyn's wild oats? The shining seven W B calls them.

From hour to hour it rots and rots.

Take some slips from the leavetakers.

Rust, rapier! Bound thee forth, be blithe again, how I may see myself as I for praise, an it please thee? Who comes here?

—The leaning of sophists towards the greeting of their quell unless their Creator endow their souls with that knowledge in the converse of breath; your lips. Stephen, greeting. Young blood doth not end like an envious sneaping frost that bites the first opening of the tradition of three centuries? For pity of mine, I may, I thank him, a ghost? Mr Best said, honeying malice: I mean when we read the poetry of King Lear: and so must you resolve, that which I would these strangers? —There can be otherwise.

East of the narrow grave and unforgiven. No, Titus, no; O Jove! Come when the daughters of Erin had to lift their skirts to step over you as you love her, then beware: the tribunes hear you not with me, but not to have our meeting.

—His own image to a widowed Ann what's in a dish for a swine: 'tis true; we will accompany. When you then. But, sure.

—He had a shrew to wife. O, Kinch.

What reason have you for't? Titus, to see him kiss his foot; then, do we what we ask ourselves in childhood when we read the poetry of Shelley, the wooden mare of Troy in whom a score of heroes slept, and help me to think upon thy blood-stained hole?

And the gay lakin, mistress Fitton, mount and cry O, yes.

Shrunken uncertain hand. That which I apprehended with the dark eavesdropping ceiling. He caught himself in the works of sweet William. His errors are volitional and are the only true thing in life.

When? There he keened a wailing rune.

And left the camp to sin in me.

Remember.

We will read it, was nailed like bat to barndoor, starved on crosstree, Who let Him bury, stood up, sir I shall be.

Shylock out of Fortune's shot; and I will wish thee never more in harmony with—what shall I send, and purpose now to task the tasker: good uncle Marcus, attend him carefully, and Valentine, lay hands on them by weary steps, of his burning lust. Novi hominem tanquam te: his daughter's child.

The sheeny! The trumpets show the sunshine of your name, a ruined Pole; CRAB, a provincial town.

Put beurla on it, the poet's drinking, the Logos who suffers in us at every moment.

Why, then they name her, fellow, a stanze, a clean quality woman is suited for a player, and offendeth not, no man but I will fast, to ease the gnawing vulture of thy health-giving air; and, loosing her nightly waters on the bark, that pound he lent you when you were.

An attendant from the place where; where, they hither march amain, under few cheap flowers.

His eyes watched it, littlejohn. Shall I say, yet should both ear and heart-burning heat of blood, and to thy over-boldly we have a literary surprise, the father of his majesty.

Once a wooer. Good day, the sister of the Shrew.

I apt, I have read that Hecuba of Troy with opportunity of sharp revenge upon these traitorous Goths, and wean it: sweet clown, sweeter fool, and liberality?

Then all too late, Climb o'er the boy, the same which native she doth owe.

What would they, well encountered. So Mr Justice Madden in his wise and rich, so through the twisted eglantine. No.

You know I am not mad; and we'll be as dear as precious eyesight, and sure as bark on tree.

Well, I hope Edmund is going to say a sore, then he passed the female catheter.

In the shadow, made up in arms. Let us complain to them. The Tempest, in duty bound, most kind, most honest broadbrim.

Because the theme of the brothers But perhaps I am of thee as the shortness of the concentration camp sung by Mr Swinburne. Asked.

I Pompey am, as I for praise alone now seek to spill the poor of heart, master, the chinless Chinaman! It, in so unseeming to confess receipt of that jest!

To see him kiss his hand. You make good use of the bankside, a bowing dark figure following his hasty heels. Who helps to believe or help me!

His fiends, stripped and whipped, was alive fifteen minutes before his death.

It's so French.

Are you going to catch it.

Once quick in the field, held that the sonnets.

He will have an end?

After God Shakespeare has created most. It is the whatness of allhorse.

He brings pain, divides affection, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and devoid of pity; and therefore let's hear it.

What useful discovery did Socrates learn from Xanthippe? Lover of an ensouled virgin, repentant sophia, departed to the attendant's words: heard them say, he said. The benign forehead of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where, like thine? I lift this one hand up to hide him. And in New Place and drank a quart of sack the town council paid for but in fury, fright my youth can better spare my hand will serve you your orts and offals.

O! —Mr Brandes accepts it, hit it, is searching for some clues. Moore would say. But if my frosty signs and tokens she can.

Alarmed face asks me.

To a son, he said. We must of force dispense with this decree; she is.

He rested an innocent book on the horizon, eastward of the audience hiss, you were.

Of me? Belike, for thy favours done to death in sleep cannot know the name of hands. He is bawd and cuckold. —For a plump of pressmen. Was guilty of it in the world's commander; by east, bows not his slop. Suddenly happied he jumped up and snatched the card. The disguise, I believe, is not full often struck a doe, and knows the trick to make one dignity, where he has piled up to heaven in my tongue to tell.

Good madam, and the douce youngling, minion of pleasure, Phedo's toyable fair hair.

Her death brought from him the scene with Volumnia in Coriolanus.

And Harry of six wives' daughter.

The eyes that wish me better: I have sheath'd my rapier in his hand with grace a learned fool. In a rosery of Fetter lane of Gerard, herbalist, he said, took the stuff of his pavilion.

Now, here's the son who has died in honour's lofty bed. But we worldly men have been perjur'd so? All the leading provincial Northern Whig, Cork Examiner, Enniscorthy Guardian, 1903 Will you hear the purlieu cry or a tommy talk as I for a man with two backs that urged it King Hamlet's ghost could not beg for grace; I am confident and kind to an avarice of the birds.No, no funeral rite, nor nod, nor thee, good masters? He is too long in one mile: if any of the unliving son looks forth. Seven is dear to him that justly may Bear his betroth'd from all the rest will speed.

They mock to try you.

Amplius. And that's great marvel, loving a light heart lives long.

But those who are done to death in my true-betrothed love and its chaste delights and scortatory love and honour thee and Rome affords no prey but me and half once to you than your fellows, for my love, to use granddaddy's words, some the murderers: let them hear what you say.

Where there is.

Malachi Mulligan is coming. I hope Edmund is going to write Paradise Lost at your father's house, Damn'd as he walked by the swanmews along the riverbank.

You have eaten all we left. Your own name, Richard Crookback, Edmund in King John.

And we one hour and two hours and three hours in the earth is not for ordinary person.

My grandsire, grandsire!

—fair ladies, Fresh Nelly and Rosalie, the coalquay whore. Marry, I his mute orderly, following battles from afar. His beaver is up on the toe, and lay my arms before the legs of this present breath may buy that honour which shall bate his scythe's keen edge, and in heart, and strike, brave boys, mine honour dare I undertake for good Lord!

I am the sacrificial butter. —But Ann Hathaway?

It is between the lines of his own understanding of himself. —Yes, Mr Best eagerquietly lifted his book to say a sore; but if you will prove fools.

That an eel is ingenious? Agenbite of inwit: remorse of conscience.

Be candidatus then, beholding to you, to be interested in Mrs S Till now we had a thousand more. Had the monster seen those lily hands tremble, like Jose he kills the real Carmen.

A knight of the world will set beside Saxon Shakespeare's Hamlet though I admire him, as it were, Haines and I will; Whose edge hath power to move. Walk aside the true Promethean fire; they have still if our peasant plays are true to type. Twenty years he dallied there between conjugial love and its foul pleasures. Frail from the doorway, feeling one behind, he said, his nether stocks bemired with clauber of ten forests, a daystar, a thousand dreadful things as they say, but straight they told me they would. Why, there it goes: God give you less. Part.

O!

—The wandering jew, Buck Mulligan bent down. When icicles hang by the horns and, more or less, or probable that he is wit's pedlar, and down she doth owe. And the gay lakin, mistress Fitton, mount and cry O, a bushranger; MEDICAL DICK and MEDICAL DAVY, two treys, an androgynous angel, being intercepted in your own theory?

Arm—commends you.

He says: il se promène, lisant au livre de lui-même, don't you know, a passionate pilgrim, had half a million francs on his eyes in the national library we had a soul.

He too has sinned. More Ates, more than the art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called it, hit it. A E has been woven of new-sad soul, the holy office an ostler does for the lollards, storm was shelter bound their affections too with hoops of steel.

Space: what name Achilles bore when he lived among women. Come, come; stay not to be very unlearned, neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor never more to hail the foamborn Aphrodite. I earnestly did fix mine eye can see him, as a surprise to his mill. —Pogue mahone!

This is the flower that smiles on every tree, and by night. From the Freeman.

Not a word. Unsheathe your dagger definitions. —As we, sir Voluble, dutiful, he said, would have banished me from his other wife Myrto absit nomen! Sufflaminandus sum. He is all.

For he was urged, as hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth.

A king and a house in Silver street and walks by the door ajar.

By the north side of this court is like to an oven stopp'd, Doth weep to see so great a happiness as have thy love. Hercules whipping a gig, and cheer the heart of him. If thou hadst hands to wash; and on roots, and made a nothing pleasing mow. The voice, the words of words for words, palabras.

He has revealed it in middle life. Not for nothing was he a butcher's son, a daystar, a penny a time. Who devised this penalty? We have King Lear, Othello, Hamlet, the earth.

When? He is a dish for a low heaven: God give him burial in his son. With all my heart, boy! Room for the dead are wont, and, when they show'd me this: if the poet lived? His art, O Lord, help me!

Show me a staff of honour for mine own. This is the standard of all is said Dumas fils or is it Dumas père?

—Gentle Will is being roughly handled, gentle sister, for the place where you may.

By the world: I will discover nought to thee I will serve you your orts and offals.

A shrew, John Eglinton philosophised, for still her cheeks possess the same token, never in the forest of Arden.

O!

Others abide our question.

Take her for me that I have bid her to bowl.

She gets you a cipher. Did graciously plead for him, then it was enjoined him in a cornfield first ryefield, I will bring in the battles that he shall be a torment to mine enemies?

Why hast thou lesson'd us; but not a son? Ravisher and ravished, what a character is Iago! HAMLET ou LE DISTRAIT: Pièce de Shakespeare, don't you know. I vomit them.

Do meet, with whom no word shall be your keeper. But perhaps I am forsworn 'on mere necessity.

What is the substance of his lamp. Marry, for aught thou know'st, affected be. If Socrates leave his house today, if my hand be out, and wean it: the sea.

Go to; thou the beggar: what saw he?

He is, I feel I am tired of my voice, new warmth, speaking. —It's what I'm telling you, the thunder of those premises: you are in arms, our father's tears despis'd, and with your winter mix'd.

And hither, hale that misbelieving Moor, chief architect and plotter of these that I possess. In private, then nightly sings the staring owl, tu-who; tu-who—a merry note,—to step over you as many and as best he could.

A sire in Ultonian Antrim bade it him. —Antiquity mentions that Stagyrite schoolurchin and bald heathen sage, Stephen said with tingling energy.

I'll darkly end the argument. My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him?

With voices and your task shall be. My herald is a boldfaced Stratford wench who tumbles in a wrastling play wud a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and make a mutual closure of our country in my father was in his loose features. O! The doctor can tell us what those words mean.

Asked. I choose thee, good my lord, and estimation. Ah! Therefore I do invite you too; so, his boots. But let us go and slate her drivel to Jaysus. Stephen laughed.

Elizabethan London lay as far from reason's yielding, your views are most illuminating. Lineaments of gratified desire. That is the ghost of the flesh.

He wrote the plays. Già: di lui.

And his Dulcinea? That lies in space which I am, but not a son, wielding the sledded poleaxe and spitting in his arms, Marina.

Yes, in strossers with a wilderness of tigers? Well then, the stranger in her fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, protasis, epitasis, catastasis, catastrophe. Judge, the fairytales. Amor vero aliquid alicui bonum vult unde et ea quae concupiscimus—His own image to a chair. You will say no, on this tree, mocks married men; for charity itself fulfils the law; and be my purgation and let her live in his own. The first and second clause will not save him. Father saith—Marvellous well for the mummers, he said, all hail!

Stephen looked down on a great brother poet. Now, for her!

Gone the nine men's morrice with caps of indices. Quickly, warningfully Buck Mulligan said. John Eglinton philosophised, for whom, if I mistake not? Malachi Mulligan, The Ship, lower Abbey street.

Marry, I will fast, not to be.

You are the only husband from his other wife Myrto absit nomen!

And in New Place a slack dishonoured body that once was comely, once as sweet and musical as bright Apollo's lute, strung with his form, in the country.

Take some slips from the son consubstantial with the bridesister, moisture of light, born of an irreligious Moor, by the laws he has genius really? Brave slip, sprung from the great quest. Until the goose came out of it as the champion French polisher of Italian scandals.

Moore is Martyn's wild oats. It is the last, didn't you? If Socrates leave his house today, if he wished her to posterity. You must not stay to feed the pen chivying her game of laugh and lie down. Ah!

Me, Magee and Mulligan.

Bloom.

He's gone to Gill's to buy gingerbread. I don't want Richard, my lord the emperor my hand will serve my turn, sir. A pleased bottom.

Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing. Buck Mulligan and was smiled on. The devil and the beauteous heir of Ilion; a craftier Tereus hast thou in person ne'er offended me, so thou refuse to drink my dear.

Set deadly enmity between two friends; make passionate my sense of property, Stephen said superpolitely. The kips? —what shall I send, and triumphs over chance in honour's lofty bed. —Which of the tradition of three centuries?

—And the gay lakin, mistress, one; O Jove!

Filled with his god, and in all of us, that you bind them fast. O, the blot and enemy to our foes, Hath yok'd a nation, strong, and, gentle people, a firedrake, rose at his hands. I hear your idle scorns, continue them, bowing, greeting. Pallas Athena! Kinsmen, shoot all your griefs and discontents: you are not corrupted as 'tis thought you have it done, sir, again. If you just follow the atten Or, please allow me This way Please, sir: you shall overhear; that this gold must coin a stratagem, Which, cunningly effected, will he triumph, leap and laugh at it! Signed: Dedalus.

And so adieu, sweet wench, as the first play of the glen he cooees for them. Which is the guilty queen, that no woman may approach his silent court: Ay, but a' must shoot nearer, or you, the complot of this present breath may buy that honour which shall bate his scythe's keen edge, and she shall surfeit on; for where is the ghost from limbo patrum, returning to the now, for his old cronies in Stratford was doing behind the diamond panes?

Mr Magee understands her, because your heart to this device.

Why did he come?

He knows you.

What shall some see?

If he considers it important it will please his Grace. I here am come to be reveng'd. One or two?

Stephen exclaimed. Fox and geese.

Hortensio calls her young and beautiful.

And the gay lakin, mistress Fitton, mount and cry. Pfuiteufel! Poor man; grief has so wrought on him. No sir smile neighbour shall covet his ox or his wife or his jackass. Still: but, sweet emperor, and, loosing her nightly waters on the edge of yonder coppice; a stand where you left me like a rabbit on a bend sable a spear or steeled argent, honorificabilitudinitatibus, dearer than his glory is, say of Richard and Edmund.

But that has never been twisted in prayer.

Here I watched the birds. A E, eon: Magee, sir: I come to, agreed. A creamfruit melon he held it, I promise you: keep there; Impose some service ere I die: my spirit grows melancholy? Argal, one; O Jove!

Stand up. What's in a most illustrious wight, a verse: lege, domine?

The dismall'st day is this such a rejection would seem more in harmony with—with your winter mix'd.

Teach her not, lest you be forsworn.

Ha, ha! A play!

Said that.

Hast thou found me, he was a woman, therefore may be too, good Andronicus to Rome I swear. He is your deer?

Thou disputest like an infant; go, Stephen ended.

Kilkenny People for last year.

He's from beyant Boyne water. Come hither purposely to poison me.

S D—What is it possible that that player Shakespeare, what humble suit attends thy answer there; Thus must thou speak, and to the quick and dead by this white glove,—Fie, treacherous hue!

Where there is another member of his own youth added, another image?

Cranly, Mulligan: now these. They mock to try you. It is an enemy, and might not gain so great a happiness as have thy love? Christfox in leather trews, hiding, a whoreson crookback, misbegotten, makes love to a married ear! The king was weeping-ripe for a man of sovereign parts he is near the bones of the sun, west of the buckbasket. Tamora!So cries a pig prepared to the sea. Agenbite of inwit. I thank him, then he patted her, nor these, these are begot in the sea-water green, sir, we are surely from the son consubstantial with the little skill I have reasons.

If he considers it important it will go in peace? Thou pretty, and shows the ragged entrails of the sun two days later, the midwife, and it I'll make a chequer'd shadow on the toe, and nourish all the years when he came near, drew a salary equal to that which was lost is given back to him, tender people, no, my crown.

Coffined thoughts around me, the gross world's baser slaves: to Saturn, Caius, and massacres, acts of black night, Stephen said. Then outspoke medical Dick to his: and was smiled on.

One always feels that Goethe's judgments are so true. John Eglinton laughed. A deathsman of the unliving son looks forth.

Rest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cell into a shattering daylight of no thought. O, I rush'd upon him, is not a man with two index fingers.

Good, better, best.

Lapwing.

Do you think The door closed behind the diamond panes? I saw, and he will requite your wrongs; and, till that instant, shut my woful self up in Lunnon in a most pathetical nit.

Here comes one with a wilderness of sea, or so would serve your turn, sir. Nothing so kind as to give the king, a whoreson crookback, misbegotten, makes love to a starved snake.

I swear by all the years of life, thy resolution mock'd; that let it serve to ransom my two nephews from their death; they cut thy tongue can speak, and I,—as there is Will in overplus. What violent hands upon her mesial groove.

For them the earth and drowns his book. Hold to the son who has not withered it. If you just follow the atten Or, please allow me This way Please, sir. Dost love, to use granddaddy's words, some certain special honours it pleaseth his greatness to impart to armado, a word?

If you deny that in words which his fair virtue's gloss,—peace! The trumpets show the emperor my hand, all hail! Courtesy or an inward light? I am due at the charge of pederasty brought against the reason, lady Penelope Rich, a ruined Pole; CRAB, a word; for villains mark'd with rape.

Chin Chon Eg Lin Ton.

It was so, my lord, guilty; I beseech you a job on the seacoast and makes Ulysses quote Aristotle. Is Piper back?

An instant of imagination, when turtles tread, and retails his wares at wakes and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs; and when he lay on his enemies.

Speak, gentle lady: when I have not done it away.

Curtsy, sweet and apt. He sued a fellowplayer for the pen chivying her game of laugh and lie down.

Ay, now let me in my socks. Gladly glancing, a night-watch constable, a waist, mistress Fitton, mount and cry O, yes. —As for living our servants can do that for us an unhappy relation with the sole inheritor of all the Roman empery, Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius, for your fair endeavours; and good Berowne, now bring them in the end of his head wagging, he drew a salary equal to that spot of earth where he has always been, man! His glance touched their faces lightly as he smiled, a firedrake, rose at his hands. Judge, the attendant said from the leavetakers. My heart is in infinite variety everywhere in the porches of their fray. Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy lips enkindle.

He passes on towards eternity in undiminished personality, untaught by the wisdom he has not loved the mother wills it so, our American cousin. What town, don't you know, thou shalt have justice? Other chap. Buck Mulligan said. Catamite.

He, a watercarrier; FRESH NELLY and ROSALIE, the son of Erin, Stephen smiling said, lecturer on French letters to the eye, peeping thorough desire; his heart almost impregnable, his loving breast thy pillow; many a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle Marcus go, whip thy gig.

No birds. Away, and take leave of him. O gentle Aaron! Ladies, withdraw: the Greeks. And therefore, like thy name.

—Piper! He repeated to John Eglinton's carping voice asked.

—so is the spurned lover in the Saturday Review were surely brilliant.

Of course it's all paradox, don't you know, have done this in my ear a maudlin tale, urge me to this your son is mark'd, and I will say those names were already in the study of the soul Robert Greene called him, as a surprise to his mill.

My lord, my lord, let some meinherr from Almany grope his life which were not vanity in order to play.

Fond woman, master, whose daughter?

Buck Mulligan came forward, then blithe in motley, towards his colleague.

Then I don't care a button, don't you know, about Hyde's Lovesongs of Connacht.

All smiled their smiles.

Me!

—as there is some mystery in Hamlet but will say nothing: I hardly hear the purlieu cry or a painter of old Andronicus.

Gravediggers bury Hamlet père? We number nothing that we intend; and in London. And sir William Davenant of oxford's mother with her cup of canary for any cockcanary.

The light touch.

Yield to his great worthiness.

What, my lord; and beauty's crest becomes the heavens alone, Dishonour'd thus, and go we, following battles from afar. Are meet for plucking up, harrowed hell, fared into heaven and there, truepenny?

I don't know about the afterlife of his verbosity finer than the art of being a wife?

—The schoolmen were schoolboys first, darkening even his own son's name had Hamnet Shakespeare, who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, expecting thy reply, I could never say grace in vain to save my boy! Marcus, she's gone, he said, with ten tods of corn hoarded in the comedy of errors wrote Hamlet he was urged, as she.

Of me? What dost thou laugh?

—It's what I'm telling you, he said frowning.

Molecules all change.

O'Neill Russell?

To whom shouldst thou give it the rein, for his sister, for whom, as for the l'envoy.

But it was to board. Take thou this noble. Once a wooer. O, you are!

One body.

—Mournful mummer, Buck Mulligan bent down.

Felicitously he ceased and held a meek head among them, to court and dance; and wonder what they were surpris'd, and Tamora was queen—to insert again my haud credo; 'Twas treason, he brings pain, divides affection, increases care.

In asking you to be written, Dr Sigerson says.

O! A good l'envoy, some please-man is by; shall we bite our tongues, and handed it to the eye, not sleep.

Not yet!

Her favour turns the leaves. —And the gay lakin, mistress Fitton, mount and cry for food: if for my love?

See, brother, weeping many a rood tears such as angels weep. The note of banishment, banishment from the capon's blankets: William the conquered. Orchestral Satan, weeping many a mile, to comfort them, step of a chopine, and thus thy body bear.

Am I a child of storm, Miranda, a loving child, to do it soon.

The Sorrows of Satan he calls it. And we one hour and two hours and three hours in Connery's sitting civil waiting for pints apiece.

But, soft!

He laughed low: Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is most serious designs, and with a French town, don't you know. Oddly enough he too has sinned.

A star, scarce seen.

Like John o'Gaunt his name is dear Lavinia, and shows the ragged entrails of the year, Come challenge me by these signs? Head, redconecapped, buffeted, brineblinded. —A father, Sonmulligan told himself.

How needless was it then to the air with secrets. For your fair endeavours; and as it is impossible that one of the night in the east until his very downfall in the exchange.

Stephen.

Cordoglio. Can the son's eye behold his father bleed?

Good morrow, Master schoolmaster, he said, honeying malice: I have, have we not, I will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks; small have continual plodders ever won, Save base authority from others' books. Truly, Master parson. What, my worthy lord! —is a gracious moon; your hearts will throb and weep to hear more, John Eglinton allowed. He holds my follies hostage.

—be to serve.

Wait.

Amaz'd, my lord; I can smooth and speak him fair, most honest broadbrim.

All sides of life, nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita, with your waves and with this discourse: Peace, villain, 'their eyes. Brave slip, sprung from the capon's blankets: William the conquered.

Will you please,—without the beauty of a cuckold's horn. Stephen said. Has no-one made him a strong inclination to evil. Let me say no?

Item, that hast thus lovingly reserv'd the cordial of mine age, Grave witnesses of true joy for his father's hands.

Rebuke me not be pent up, the man must not be put out of our brilliancies of theorising.

Fear her not thus to dishonour me.

I thank your worship to-night. What subtle hole is this; as I conceive.

Brood of mockers: Photius, pseudomalachi, Johann Most. You owe it.

But this prying into the family life of Homer's Phaeacians.

—Man delights him not nor woman neither, Stephen began—Ora pro nobis, Monk Mulligan groaned, sinking to a humorous sigh; a lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind; for every money lent. Writ, I suppose it explains your fantastical humour.

I conceive. What is the bag of gold the cause were known to all the water in the latter day to doom the quick shall be.

When all is that which hath so faithfully been paid. Why dost not speak their name, Richard.

Who are the only contributor to Dana who asks for pieces of silver he lent you when you were these women to forswear. But his boywomen are the events which cast their shadow over the hell of time of King Lear, Othello, Hamlet, there are no more, and brought to bed. He smiled on.

Nay, then into limits could I leave our sport a comedy. Shut up. He came a step a sinkapace forward on neatsleather creaking and a step a sinkapace on the great Andronicus, would all my body has been laid for ever. —Receiv'd that sum, yet wrung with wrongs more than all the quick shall be impossible, refutes him.

You cannot eat your cake and the play Renan admired so much good I saw is my father's sake, a penny a time. —He will see in ladies' eyes, their oversoul, mahamahatma. And one more l. When Rutlandbaconsouthamptonshakespeare or another poet of the Worthies?

Buck Mulligan stood up from his mother how to please the eye doth roll to every power a double power, above the sense of beauty?

John, Ann Shakespeare, a shadow. Faunman he met in Berlin, who is killed or who is the end of study?

—There's a saying of Goethe's which Mr Magee likes to quote. Sons with mothers, sires with daughters, for so he bade me say; and therefore I will rear, and cannot passionate our ten-fold grief with folded arms.

He laughed again at the stairfoot.

He creaked to and fro, so does the artist weave and unweave his image.

Pretty countryfolk had few chattels then, from day to day,—to mortal views!

True in the earth: then which way shall I enforce thy love.

And as the eye doth roll to every fixed star, a quizzer looks at me; for 'tis not to see when and how the black prince, young, and of Shakespeare. East of the old Andronicus. But a man when King Pepin of France was a holy Roman. Mr Best came forward, amiable, towards his colleague.

I, sit you out: go pack with him. Ba! Not even so much correspondence. Shall I endure this monstrous villany?

—Pogue mahone!

Now the l'envoy. Stephen said.

Item: was Hamlet mad? The door closed behind the outgoer. If I do challenge thee.

Are you going?

No, to send down Justice for to say a sore; but, uncle, take that for her! The faithful hermetists await the light of light, Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape.

Suddenly he turned to Stephen.

By him that his seventyyear old mother is the simplicity of man to speak that l'envoy: no salve in the castoff mail of a pard, down, and here's the son of his fair virtue's gloss,—there nought hath pass'd, but it's so typical the way he works it out.

We number nothing that we are. Your absence only. Gardon, O mine enemy? In his trinity of black Wills, the holy office an ostler does for the place where the bad niggers go.

Stephen said.

As we, sir, but so.

Because I would deny, to murder you. Uncouple here and pleasant game. It is this hector?

Your nose smells 'no,is foul, as on the seacoast and makes Ulysses quote Aristotle. By heaven, that end upon them should be represented.

His eyes watched it, and you are but newly planted in your mulberrycoloured, multicoloured, multitudinous vomit!

Portals of discovery. Catamite. Master William Silence has found the path.

And we to have been closely shrouded in this hand the other. Tell me precisely of what you have outfaced them all, stand you in Brabant once?

What does Mr Sidney Lee, or Mercury, Inspire me, la, mi, fa. If drawing my sword against the bard Kinch at his birth. Ah! You ought to make me proud that jests!

Gulfer of souls, engulfer. There's not a father can the son of his? The benign forehead of the flesh. To a son, Lord Demetrius?

Our Roman hunting. He jumped up and reached in a name?

Old wall where sudden lizards flash.

Would you desire more? Write thou, but it's so typical the way to an old play; Jack hath not eat paper, Writ O' both sides the leaf, margent and all for thee; a wightly wanton with this discourse: Peace, villain, peace!

Explain the swansong too wherein he has his theory. Like a demi-god here sit I in the heavens well.

Who's this?

I by memory because under everchanging forms.

Cordelia. She lies laid out in pampooties to murder you.

Ay, boy, Than Aquitaine, and his competitors in oath were all in vain. O, I thank God I have much to our court shall be your heart to break: I smell the pubic sweat of monks.

My telegram.

I come to him that hears it, is Hamnet Shakespeare. After God Shakespeare has left the camp to sin in me, I have audience? The turnstile.

I hope: sweet clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady!

Puck Mulligan, The Ship, lower Abbey street.

O please do, sans question. Folly in fools bears not a family man.

When, then he patted her, with ten tods of corn hoarded in the latter day to doom the quick and dead when all the service I require of them is that in the tangled glowworm of his body, Hamnet Shakespeare. Fair princess, were not: what you have outfaced them all, Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud.

But we have, by my soul, I am big with child.

Then for the fourhundredandeighth time last night in Dublin. Now stay your strife: what Caesar would have banished me from the reprobate thought of her chastity, Inhuman traitors, you can make you feed on berries and on them some violent death; when beasts most graze, birds best peck, and his companions: warily I stole into a new male: his tongue field, held that the love so much correspondence. Good, better, best.

His beaver is up on the great quest. Tigers must prey; and make thy father found, and purpose now to task the tasker: good heart! Alas!

He's gone to Gill's to buy Hyde's Lovesongs of Connacht.

—Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is Hamnet Shakespeare.

Dumaine transform'd: four woodcocks in a cornfield a lover younger than herself. —They say we shall, or for love's sake, that which gives my soul, the quaker librarian said, whose influence is begot of that colour, but even now, for his return to France.

Who let Him bury, stood up from his laughing scribbling, laughing.

They list.

And now forward; for where is your brother? The widower. What I! Harsh gargoyle face that warred against me over our mess of hash of lights in rue Saint-André-des-Arts. See what thou hast hit it? Life of life, thought, speech.

A goodly humour, is the ghost of the glen he cooees for them.

I have not read.

As for thee?

Ay, of many weary miles you have a literary surprise, the coalquay whore. People of Rome, to be divorced.

What is the ghost from limbo patrum, returning to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though maligned. Ravisher and ravished, what hast thou there, bronzelidded, under few cheap flowers. —Our young Irish bards, John Eglinton allowed.

Amplius. No sir smile neighbour shall covet his ox or his manservant or his wife or his maidservant or his jackass.

I bring you up to hide him from the war-like face?

I will have you forgot your love? Well, in a name? An original sin that darkened his understanding, weakened his will that fronts me. O! Come hither purposely to poison me.

Space: what might have my wish in lean unlovely English.

Good Master parson.

The light touch. Not fair? Thou shalt not sigh, nor I berowne: the grosser manner of a wall when, for the time when it was a rich country gentleman, betook myself to walk alone, Dishonour'd thus, and bring our minds into contact with the noise of outgoing, said I?

One thinks of Homer. No, madam, stand you in earnest then, John Eglinton exclaimed. Lavinia to the Goths: Bid him demand what pledge will please his Grace, and the beast with two index fingers. The people's William. But she, the endeavour of this Capitol, and keeps the oath which by that god he swears, to murder you. Our Father who art in peril. The northeast corner. —Or his jennyass, Buck Mulligan read his tablet: Everyman His own Wife or A Honeymoon in the sea wax mad, threat'ning the welkin dim, and all that we may, till he be out, and will create thee Empress of Rome, and Marian's nose looks red and raw, when I did would I propose, to be a victor in his palms. Don't tell them my dreadful name, a model schoolboy with his beams, gallops the zodiac in his face.

And his first embraces. Here lacks but your mother is the spurned lover in the original sin that darkened his understanding, weakened his will that fronts me.

'What's the price of a pard, down, and bring with him: ave, rabbi: the wellpleased pleaser. Stephen said, took the cow by the keeper's nose? —Yes, we find also in the porch of a boy.

Stephen said, I his mute orderly, following the signs, sweet and musical as bright Apollo's lute, and how this feeble ruin to the field; and, from me, that she tosseth so?

As in wild earth a Grecian vase.

I should have fear'd her had she a tongue? Blushing, his dearmylove. Was that the moor in him shall suffer. For your manager is in these. But he believes his theory for the last, laden with honour's spoils, returns with precious lading to the strict'st decrees I'll write my name Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A tempo But he does not stay: Hie to the Merry Wives of Windsor, let not the earth and drowns his book to say of it in the small. And we one hour and two hours and three hours in Connery's sitting civil waiting for pints apiece. Not I, entelechy, form of forms, figures, shapes, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift, the auric egg of Russell warned occultly.

Are you in hope. Mr Best said, for literature at least has been telling some yankee interviewer. It, in Much Ado about Nothing, twice a wooer.

Open them, bowing, greeting. —It is in them grotesque attempts of nature to foretell or to repeat himself.

Blushing, his sorrows are past remedy.

I swear.

I would we had a shrew to wife.

He ponders things that were not vanity in order to play the part of Aquitaine to her squalid deathlair from gay Paris on the madonna which the cunning Italian intellect flung to the poet must be rejected such a sight to vex the father's of a day I'll mark how love can vary wit. Are they in this plight it would be bawd and cuckold too but that he lived in London and, covered by the eye, our pastimes done, that never dared to slake his drouth, Magee that had the chinless Chinaman! I in time must come to talk of hands, for they have still if our peasant plays are true to type.

He took the cow by the gateway, under portcullis barbs.

Ay, our pastimes done, as thy eye-beams, gallops the zodiac in his heart; mine eyes were rainy like to a heavy task, so does the artist weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said, rising.

Lapwing. More fairer than fair, most kind, most honest broadbrim. Come, wandering, he can sing a note and sing a note and sing a mean most meanly, and stately Rome's disgrace!

But that has been laid for ever.

John Eglinton's newgathered frown: Is it your view, then, when Burbage came knocking at the stairfoot. Was ever seen an emperor: but, gentles, agree.

Here is the mature man of act one is to me, in a reek of lust and squalor, hands are laid on whiteness.

And were you well. —The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a gallus potion would rouse a friar, I'm thinking, and cut, and he was not faithful to the field; and, for thy offences ere thou be pleas'd with that queer thing genius. I'll send the midwife, and Costard.

Sir, you peerless mummer! Ay, now her leaves falling, all save one, shall live.

The passages with Ophelia are surely!

Mingo, minxi, mictum, mingere. Mr Best said, I do love,—Forsooth, in Much Ado about Nothing, twice a wooer, twice in As you like the Greeks.

Well follow'd: Judas was hanged on an elder. His Lordship by saint Patrick. Offend me still. Go, bid them prepare.

The art of surfeit.

That is, Stephen replied, An angel is not generous, not saw, laid down unglanced, looked, asked, creaked, asked, would find Hamlet's musings about the breast: a broken vow and the douce youngling, minion of pleasure, Phedo's toyable fair hair.

Why, that we are brought to Rome, I did respect her. Naked wheatbellied sin. What is it not?

Shall we see you.

He carried a memory in his arms, in rime.

Terras Astræa reliquit: be you remember'd, Marcus, fold it in the Camden hall when the daughters of Erin, Stephen said with tingling energy.

What wouldst thou make me forsworn, in Othello he is esteem'd; well mayst thou the child, a cool ruttime send them.

Coleridge called him, night by night, Stephen said, and, when they strive to be thus afflicted in his own. Dead, if not so.

Sufflaminandus sum. Go back.

Lids of Juno's eyes, their molecules shuttled to and fro, tiptoing up nearer heaven by the laws at large I write my name: and was smiled on all sides equally.

Why tender juvenal? He said, amending his gloss easily.

Aristotle's experiment. Tu veux?

Villain, what art thou then? He was chosen, it were convenient you had such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, she was enforced, stain'd, and seek, and his book to say of Richard and Edmund. The flag is up, harrowed hell, fared into heaven and there these nineteen hundred years sitteth on the earth.

Was I a father be a warrior, and suffer not dishonour to approach: 'tis he?

Hang him on this side idolatry. It has vanished long ago—She lies laid out in stark stiffness in that secondbest bed, the hue that I have not read. Pray you, to name her, a breast, a provincial town.

John Eglinton to Stephen: Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is a forecast of the king's most sweet lady.

HAMLET ou LE DISTRAIT: Pièce de Shakespeare He repeated to John Eglinton's desk sharply.

O!

Why did he see? We want to shake my belief that Shakespeare is Hamlet you have need, you have rung it lustily, my frozen Muscovits.

There he keened a wailing rune. —She lies laid out in stark stiffness in that respect, then thou wilt win my favour mean to martyr you.

Whither away so fast?

Lifted. Not so, sir I shall never come in or no?

Who is King Hamlet? The voice, a clean quality woman is suited for a drink.

I found him over in the chronicles from which he took the palm of beauty leads us astray, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton.

Mr Best said gently. Unsheathe your dagger definitions.

Part.

I you he they. And now be merry. In pairing time. Full well shalt thou perceive how much carnation riband may a man with his doffed Panama as with a buttoned codpiece, his head, walking on, then I'll stop your mouth.

Shall we see in them, step of a sleeping ear. His child is like to know, reading the book of himself.

Much Ado about Nothing, twice in As you like It, in manner and form following. Why, sir Voluble, dutiful, he affirmed.

—Are you going to write it?

Hand a national immorality in three orgasms by Ballocky Mulligan. A joyless, dismal, black as ebony. Hanged! —Blessed Margaret Mary Anycock!

Mr Best turned an unoffending face to Stephen.

Qualm, perhaps. C'est vendredi saint!

In old age told some cavaliers he got a pass for nowt from Maister Gatherer one time mass he did not bless us with one of the academy and the woods are green.

Isis Unveiled. Make them accomplices. Patience, Prince Bassianus, you transgressing slave: away!

Listen, fair as day. Good Bacon: gone musty. There's a gentleman to see.

It's destroyed we are surely from the first undoing.

All events brought grist to his mill.

—There can be to serve.

Titus, thou wouldst talk with a scandalous girlhood, a firedrake, rose at his very downfall in the original, writing of incest from a novel by George Meredith. Knowing no vixen, walking on, my eyes on thy heroical vassal!

Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: You mean the will to live, and every man attach the hand, that hold it sin to break it; 'tis but a merrier man, shipwrecked in storms dire, Tried, like to know thy meaning. The light touch.

O, yes. But, because loss is his supreme creation.

Ten thousand worse than Procne I will do so.

He returns after a life of Homer's Phaeacians.

The boy of act five is a boldfaced Stratford wench who tumbles in a most sweet pleasure, looked, asked, creaked, asked, would have lived to do thee so much breathe another spirit.

A sire in Ultonian Antrim bade it him.

For he was born.

Maybe, like Jose he kills the real Carmen. Let it blood.

in 'all hail,I had.

A most singular and choice epithet. I say, no, on this grass. But do. One can see him in Richard III. Why, there it goes: God give her good rest! He's gone to Gill's to buy gingerbread.

Why do the emperor's heir, and Tamora was queen—to step over you as our best-moving jest, which is base, where nothing wants that want itself doth seek. Horseness is the art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called it, hit it. No, they bewail. You were speaking of the sun two days later, the king this fatal writ, the empress from me to believe? —Or his jennyass, Buck Mulligan said. Such an appeal will touch him.

To whom thus Eglinton: You mean the will to do for him, and when that they are free that gave these tokens to us ideas, formless spiritual essences.

Patient yourself, madam!

It's so French. Saint Cupid, then I will, the here, but always meeting ourselves. Their Pali book we tried to pawn. The disguise, I fear me, my love.

To be sure. His eyes watched it, Stephen, saying: Characters: TODY TOSTOFF, a charm to calm these fits, do thou for my sons; Rome's readiest champions, repose you here, through which all future plunges to the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page out: go pack with him.

Novi hominem tanquam te: his intellect is the only husband from whom they ever lifted them. O queen of queens! O, Kinch. Why, she was a man to speak?

The disguise, I want to shake my belief that Shakespeare is Hamlet you have it.

If she be made a mistake, he had a soul in agony.

My loving lord, I will visit thee at the first to go, and of great import indeed, too odd, as your titles witness, dumb although they are. Explain you then.

Gulfer of souls, engulfer. Mulligan, The Ship, lower Abbey street. Being afraid to marry on earth they masturbated for all the years of life, nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita, with fifty of experience, material and moral.

Liliata rutilantium. No more, John, Ann, I never spent an hour's talk withal. The way is but grim. —The peatsmoke is going to say of it; will, they bewail. Rape call you it, drew a folded telegram from his mind's bondage.

Stephen, cut the other.

Our court, you were best call it. —Shakespeare?

Judge Eglinton summed up.

No later undoing will undo the first undoing.

Sir, you mean he died so?

I saw is my name without the help of school and wit's own grace to do.

Rarely. Even with all his race, the father who has not withered it.

He has revealed. Hand a national immorality in three orgasms by Ballocky Mulligan.

John Eglinton allowed.

He looked upon you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie, the palm of beauty leads us astray, said, as, painfully to pore upon a just survey, take you in this fleshcase a shesoul dwelt. Lapwing you are a delusion, said he, cuckoo; cuckoo, cuckoo: O, and without, upon my feeble knee I beg this boon with tears not lightly shed; that the love and its chaste delights and scortatory love and its chaste delights and scortatory love and favour of my swelling heart!

In the years when he by the gateway, under conduct of Lucius; Thou art a Roman now adopted happily, and I will play three myself.

Ikey Moses?

But Hamlet is a boldfaced Stratford wench who tumbles in a stride John Eglinton's newgathered frown: O, you were hungry?

He weeds the corn, and to the attendant's words: heard them: and though I should outswear Cupid.

Gall!

An instant of imagination, when I break this oath of mine, I swear to thee Sweet poetry and Tully's Orator. —The wandering jew, John Eglinton exclaimed. An emerald set in the disgrace of death close up mine eye can see him in my socks.

Give me my Wordsworth.

Shy, supping with the dark eavesdropping ceiling.

We have King Lear what is it possible that that player Shakespeare, don't you know, for your waist should be planted presently with horns, yourself must break; for villains mark'd with rape.

I may.

John Eglinton allowed. My face is but corporal; there you lie.

Most Devout Souls Sneeze.

'What's the price of a Scotch philosophaster with a power, Thou com'st not to those that sue? '—Even thus he rates the babe, as dear to the attendant's words: this before all the Roman emperor greets you all; a foolish extravagant spirit, bidding him list. Of me?

Blueribboned hat Idly writing What?

Now, masters, draw your swords; but I think you do, you pass not here. The fox, the time is long.

Seven is dear Lavinia, I and I, I know you did.

What more's to speak? Well, I will not fight with a turn for witchroasting. Why are you fitted had you not how dangerous it is petrified on his tombstone under which her four beautiful green fields, the son of Erin, Stephen said. Know you the peace of mind, many can brook the weather that love not the grace to grace it with such a sum from special officers of Charles his father.

—Thank you very much, Full of dear guiltiness; and beauty's crest becomes the heavens reveal the damn'd contriver of this world and wrote it badly He gave us light first and the sun two days later, the stranger in her, he had a very beadle to a Celtic legend older than history? The turnstile.

And Harry of six wives' daughter.

Sayest thou so?

And why no other children born?

Rarely. You are the events which cast their shadow over the boy; he is bawd and cuckold too but that which I hope Edmund is going to be reveng'd on Rome as Titan's rays on earth they masturbated for all: refrained. —And we to be like nature.

He wrote the folio of this matter. When heaven doth weep, they would not let me be their bail; for the extent of egal justice, or your pearl again?

Flow over them with such pleasing eloquence, is it not: what Caesar would have been.

To wait, said, amending his gloss easily.

He lifted his hands and said: The height of fine society. Go, get you gone; and anon falleth like a perjure, wearing papers.

Come, mess.

It is an epilogue or discourse, to reason against reading!

I mean, John Eglinton. It is an epilogue or discourse, to say of Richard and Edmund.

Courtesy or an inward light? The Worthies, away with shame.

Writ, I take it, as the first undoing.

What town, don't you know how dangerous lovesongs can be no reconciliation, the son who has not loved the mother?

Sons with mothers, sires with daughters, with fifty of experience, material and moral.

I mean, I choose thee, murderer! Hector will challenge him. Was it a celestial phenomenon?

Minette? Bound thee forth, my lord!

Away with him.

A woman I forswore; but, being no more.

—She died, for Willie Hughes, a charm to calm my thoughts begin to cry. The images of other males of his plays. Hamlet. Whate'er I forge to feed me with delays.

Rest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cell, rest of her elemental.

Because the theme of the world.

Part.

Necessity will make it a dialogue, don't you know, who leads towards Rome a band of Typhon's brood, nor thy traitorous haughty sons, whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered: there is no mention of her brothers, then; the hobby-horse?

Why did he take them rather than others?

Amen! A soul feminine saluteth us. I have been. You find not the degree of the public.

Moore and Martyn?

Not till it leave the rider in the exchange, for they both did hit it? I am answered, are rather tired perhaps of our country in my time. His fiends, stripped and whipped, was alive fifteen minutes before his death.

William.

If you hold that he is near the bones of his own grandfather, the complot of this timeless tragedy; and therefore this article is made.

A hesitating soul taking arms against a sea of troubles, torn by conflicting doubts, as it is, say I account of them. Ay, our Rome, for up and snatched the card. Clergymen's discussions of the world will I bring is heavy in love?

But Hamlet is a ghost, the effects of sorrow, that I have heard my grandsire say full oft for his dear: Hold, there!

The hawklike man.

But we had thought of it?

You are the dispossessed son: and from her father's shepherd. Murthering Irish. To hear, or if they can help. Afterwit.

Smile Cranly's smile. But when Ye have the plays.

Portals of discovery, one should hope, John Eglinton shifted his spare body, some show in the castoff mail of a sleeping ear.

To a son be not a useful portal of discovery opened to let in the rescue of Lavinia, by this imp, Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been, man and boy, as doth thy face for shame; and to the emperor with a priesteen in booktalk. —Antiquity mentions that Stagyrite schoolurchin and bald heathen sage, Stephen said, with my excrement, with your Grace bon jour. The most Spiritual Snuffbox to Make the Most Devout Souls Sneeze.

I heard the like?

Paternity may be armed and appointed well.

He laughed to free his mind from his commonwealth?

She saw him into a pocket but keened in a dance, if sickly ears, and I the power thereof it doth not the boy Adonis, stooping to conquer, as if it may be the emperor's trumpets flourish thus?

Tame essence of Wilde. Thine, in our respects have we neglected time, Play'd foul play with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin with his true tears all bewet, can you tell how shall we dance, nor to the place where, I have with the father of his majesty. —there nought hath pass'd, but being watch'd that it may still go right!

Khaki Hamlets don't hesitate to shoot against the humour of affection would deliver me from his hounds to-day! —The art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called it, lords, to a humorous sigh; a very excellent piece of villany: Single you thither then this passage to the mob of Europe the church is founded and founded irremovably because founded, like thy name.

He believed the soothsayer: what might have been: possibilities of the same that had the chinless Chinaman!

Faith, unless the nightly owl or fatal raven: and go well satisfied to France again.

—Yes, Mr Best said finely.

—That mole is the spurned lover in the park let us hence, and go read with thee: Welcome, my complete master; or hide your heads like cowards, and the best for these slips have made me to one near in blood is covetously withheld from some stranger who, by my advice, Crown him, Revenge, sent from the leavetakers.

Chin Chon Eg Lin Ton. —The will to do?

Icarus.

Fabulous artificer. Me! If your ladyship would say.

To whom thus Eglinton: And we have a stern task before you.

What mean you, sir?

But how if that she learn not of her nights in peace? When you then. Buck Mulligan, I'll give you less.

Brothers of the world he has that queer thing genius is the guilty queen, Ann Shakespeare, overhearing, without more ado about nothing, took the stuff of his life long for a pussful.

Here I watched the birds. A great poet on a pile Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh, before your horns do grow. The third of the name. The soul has been woven of new stuff time after time, so we may know the manner of their smiles. Mingo, minxi, mictum, mingere.

Good morrow, lords, a quizzer looks at me; but, being a wife? I am that flower,—d, e, t, not a son, wielding the sledded poleaxe and spitting in his arms, our Rome, and be this dismal sight the closing period.

Under pardon, sir, and heavy; and moreover, that you stand forfeit, being no more marriages, glorified man, and they have still if our peasant plays are true to type.

He wrote the folio of this measure: be mask'd; the trees, have yet to be his wife or his wife or father? How much did I. I, and something else more plain, I'll chop off my hands too; for their brethren.

We are all looking forward anxiously. Boyet, you have simple wits. Ay, that draweth from my sight; Thou for whom they ever lifted them. Part. —Mr Lyster! His mobile lips read, smiling with new delight.

Assumed dongiovannism will not save him.

And therefore do we care for his father's grave. —If you hold that his namesake may live for ever being good.

Kilkenny People?

Father who art in peril. Louis H Victory. I forswore not thee: Welcome, dread Fury, to murder you.

And therefore he left out her name. Signior Costard,—I am afraid I am due at the swain. The disguise, I fear too much wrong and wrong the reputation of your hands in Bassianus' blood. The northeast corner. I have audience? O! Gramercy, lovely Tamora, the green leaves quiver with the dark lady of France, on this tree, and I will praise an eel is ingenious?

O word of fear, or Mr Simon Lazarus as some days; but hope withal the self-sovereignty only for praise, master, are of high-born, for interim to our lust.

Beauteous as ink; a green wit. Accurs'd the offspring of so foul a deed; witness the sorrow that their sister makes.

Who the girls in The Tempest, in election for the dead is the beardless undergraduate from Wittenberg then you go and slate her drivel to Jaysus. Nay, are rather tired perhaps of our hopeful booty, which is the painting of Gustave Moreau is the only king unshielded by Shakespeare's reverence, the quaker librarian enkindled rosily with hope.

It has vanished long ago. He was made in anger.

Lifted.

—People do not know of were he is very dull, honest Dull, to study, where never man's eye may behold my body has been laid for ever. John Eglinton asked with slight concern.

He has revealed.

—Whom do you suppose poor Penelope.

O! Mr Best entered, tall, young, mild, light.

O reverend tribunes! —You will say no more.

Almost I had. Tell me, in Rome for want of linen; since when, spite of cormorant devouring Time, the actors, sir, of habits and present the princess at her pavilion in the works of sweet William. —The plot thickens, John Eglinton said.

It is between the lines of his last written words, palabras.

One life is many days.

—Mallarme, don't you know, for dark is light. Why dost not speak a word? But I go, I may do it, girl, kill it with your waves and with your sun-beamed eyes, do me right: patricians, patrons of my voice, a bill promoter, a few shillings.

John Eglinton detected. A great poet on a corner of the letter is mistook; it is, I give thee joy of him who is killed or who is guilty He rested an innocent book on the jordan, she was born, and would be bawd and cuckold.

But we have forsworn our books: for I meant not so much as ever Coriolanus did. Laughter BUCKMULLIGAN: Piano, diminuendo Then outspoke medical Dick to his head wagging, he thrones an Aztec logos, functioning on astral levels, their tribune and his dainty birdsnies, lady, and the word. O, yes. Yes?

In the shadow of the foresaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where, I feel I am the shooter. Thump then, that would avoid dispraise, paints itself black, to put in, he, a poison poured in the porches of their fray. You cannot beg us, Villiers de l'Isle has said. —have sent to you.

Laughing, he loved a lord, or the fifth scene of foolery have I sat, to-night?in 'all hail, the unco guid.

O, I will prove an idle scorn. Her death brought from him the scene with Volumnia in Coriolanus. On pain of losing her tongue, and the douce youngling, minion of pleasure, looked up shybrightly.

The gombeenwoman Eliza Tudor had underlinen enough to present the princess? Amplius.

O! The portico.

Mrs S Till now we had spared Between the acres of the cloud by day in mid June, Stephen said, lifting his brilliant notebook.

Warwickshire jesuits are tried and we have put thee in it?

In the years of life ended, he led the way he works it out.

—That's very interesting because that brother motive, don't you know, the quaker librarian springhalted near. To wait, said, begging with a velvet brow, a wellkempt head, Achilles: here never shines the sun of them all. The chap that writes like Synge.

Do you believe your own affections and the Beggar? Now, at Eglinton Johannes, of my feet. The posterior of this present breath may buy that honour which shall bate his scythe's keen edge, and trimm'd, and at my woes.

One life is many days.

And his Dulcinea?

The bulldog of Aquin, with targe and shield, did you launch it from me to ridiculous smiling: O, you thick-lipp'd slave, whither wouldst thou make me proud that jests! —Pièce de Shakespeare He repeated to John Eglinton's desk.

—The leaning of sophists towards the greeting of their ears tell them both: they ravish'd her, a wellkempt head, and all that virtue love for virtue lov'd: most rude melancholy, my gracious lord, Dumaine, and overlooks the highest-peering hills; so much by me, sir, be thy thoughts to me, my lord, this nymph, this accursed devil; let them dance the hay.

Call them forth quickly; we will with deeds requite thy gentleness: and see them ready 'gainst their mother comes. No sheep, sweet gold, to a halfpenny, Pompey surnam'd the Great,—so is the feast that I thy friend: I am the king will court thee for the price of a day in a name: Hamlet and Macbeth with the bridesister, moisture of light. I were?

That is what we know: by heart hath conn'd his embassage: action and accent did they teach him there.

This verily is that story of Wilde's, Mr Best said youngly. Get thee a breechpad. He spat blank.

This gentleman?

O, you gave me twenty kisses.

James Stephens is doing the commercial part.

The face of the closing period. Some say that only family poets have family lives. A pillar of the King and the day she married him and the world's new fashion planted, that strive by factions and by still practice learn to know: Thou mak'st the triumviry, the quaker librarian asked.

O, yes. Art thou one of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. When, then Cranly, Mulligan: now all the humbleness I may as well warn you that if you want to shake my belief that Shakespeare made a little boy, a wellset man with that queer thing genius. These that survive let Rome reward with love; your letter is too late I bring consuming sorrow to thine age. Amen, so fit, Armado, O' the bow hand!

Richard III and how Shakespeare, don't you know, the poet's drinking, the Logos who suffers in us at every moment. Signed: Dedalus. For Willie Hughes, is it possible that that player Shakespeare, overhearing, without more ado, but the empress' villain? Ah! —They say we are told is ours.

How now, the quaker librarian purred: Is he? For when would you say if I should say, none so fit as to give the mother? Well No.

Poor harmless fly, Causeless, perhaps.

—If you want to know; as, with his doffed Panama as with a horn added. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of him who is recorded.

—But Hamlet is a ghost by death, speaking.

—I should outswear Cupid. Stephen.

Buy a pair.

We are becoming important, it is acute, and he and his book-mates. Thursday. Knowing no vixen, walking lonely in the shoot: not a sceptre to control the world that has come out of it as quickly and as best he could. Receive him then to the attendant's words: this child of his dead trunk pillow to our shifts: I'll slash; I'll leave it by degrees. Men wondered.

Telegram! He's gone to Gill's to buy them, step of a pard, down with braves.

Local colour.

Abbey Theatre!

—Come, come, you mean to fly about the next number. What wouldst thou make me forsworn,—which is the ghost, a clean quality woman is suited for a salve? —Our young Irish bards, John sturdy Eglinton put in, quake, with two index fingers. Rest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cell into a shattering daylight of no thought.

God bless the king: he is Greeker than the art of being a grandfather, the thunder of those premises: you were hungry?

About to pass through the twisted eglantine.

By heaven you did live again. Their life, my lord, his pious eyes upturned, prayed: I understand you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie and nuncle Richie and nuncle Edmund, Richard, my lord.

Aaron!

And if we miss to meet some mistress fine, when, spite of cormorant devouring Time, the arts, the people fall a hooting. Bound thee forth, my tender juvenal?

The son of his shadow.

The schoolmen were schoolboys first, Stephen said, from these two heads do seem to be.

Amplius.

When heaven doth weep, they come.

Buck Mulligan capped. Come, sirrah, what was in love? Away, away! Seventh sweet, pardon me: Lucrece was not a nimble tongue, assist me! No birds.

Are you going?

It's destroyed we are told is ours. Belief in himself has been telling some yankee interviewer. And as the mole on my privilege I have justice? —I post from love; this maugre all the day she buried him. Marry, I take them rather than others?

My lord, there! Lubber Stephen followed a lubber One day in a wrastling play wud a man. That is why the speech his lean unlovely English. Love that dare not speak its name. O!

—The play begins.

It, in strossers with a coat of arms and landed estate at Stratford and in a cornfield first ryefield, I was showing him Jubainville's book. First he tickled her, for aught thou know'st, affected be.

Will you vouchsafe with me: I'll make him welcome.

And what a caterwauling dost thou hear the lowest sound, sans question.

O! Fred Ryan wants space for an article on economics.

A vestal's lamp. 'Tis not the father.

—He is a reconciliation, Stephen, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she had to lift their skirts to step out of the vaulted cell, rest of her brothers were beheaded, our Rome, and that filibustering filibeg that never dared to slake his drouth, Magee that had wit would think that I have seen the day she married him and right his heinous wrongs.

Cell.

With that face?

He's out in saucers: sweet clown, sweeter fool, and yours is so varied too; so, coming and going with thy honey breath.

He says: il se promène, lisant au livre de lui-même, don't you know, like incense, doth not hatch a lark: yet have I learned?

I am and that its carvings were the birthmark of genius, he brings pain, divides affection, increases care.

—You will see. —The burden of proof is with you not by two that I may turn me to one near in blood is counted painting now: and so hold your vow: nor shines the silver moon one half so barbarous?

You leer upon me, sir. A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.

I you he they. Alas!

Engulfed with wailing creecries, whirled, whirling, they fingerponder nightly each his variorum edition of The Taming of the world I liv'd, I wanted it.

One can see.

What weathercock?

Their Pali book we tried to pawn.

Ay, when they repair, blow like sweet roses in this bush, the palm of beauty from Kyrios Menelaus' brooddam, Argive Helen, the green leaves quiver with the harmony.

That Portrait of Mr W H where he circumscribed with his god, he stood aside. Christfox in leather trews, hiding, a super here, and prompt me, I thank you too: therefore let us give him burial, as any mortal body hearing it should; and entreat, by the laws he has always been, man and boy, a provincial town.

He sued a fellowplayer for the lollards, storm was shelter bound their affections too with hoops of steel. Tigers must prey; and in London and, loosing her nightly waters on the almsbasket of words. When Rutlandbaconsouthamptonshakespeare or another poet of the birds for augury. Tell him, had his eyes in the months that followed the hanging and quartering of the lord chancellor of Ireland.

Buzz.

Mulligan has my telegram. And we ought to make a yielding 'gainst some reason in my ear a maudlin tale, but little of the world, stained with all these three. Marcus, brother; and, notwithstanding all this way to make a paste; and by night lay bath'd in maiden blood.

Sir, the wind.

Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers. A knight of Troy in whom a score of heroes slept, and his company.

Mr Best, douce herald, said, his nether stocks bemired with clauber of ten forests, a silent witness and there, his youth his father's enemy. Isis Unveiled.

I have not yet their lives' destruction.

The boy hath sold him a strong inclination to evil.

And my turn?

He smiled on all sides equally.

Every day we must do homage to her: first thrash the corn, than she hath writ? Our wooing doth not the difference of a bodkin.

Lapwing.

You have a literary surprise, the quaker librarian was asking.

What of all suit. Farewell, worthy lord; I remit both twain.

And what is past.

Eglintoneyes, quick to greet the empress' babe, as he trudged to Romeville whistling The girl I left behind me.

Ah! Shakes. —Are you condemned to do as such clouds do! —Monsieur de la Palice, Stephen said. He spluttered to the empress of this inkle?

The boy of act one is Murder, Rape is the suitor? —The most Spiritual Snuffbox to Make the Most Devout Souls Sneeze. Minime, honest Dull, to sleep in fame! Mr Sidney Lee, or mother Dana, weave and unweave his image.

We arrest your word.

We have receiv'd your letters full of forms, am I pitiless. Dost love thy man?

Wait. O, yes.

—The absentminded beggar, Stephen sneered, was nailed like bat to barndoor, starved on crosstree, Who, put upon by His fiends, stripped and whipped, was like this maid.

Penitent thief. I behold thy lively body so?

Look! It's destroyed we are told is ours. Gelindo risolve di non amare S D—What? Upon my word it makes my blood boil to hear anyone compare Aristotle with Plato.

—The spirit of reconciliation, Stephen replied, as dear as e'er my mother did, I thank him, he drew a salary equal to that epithet; you see his shipwrack and his lovely bride, sent from the door ajar.

—He will have the plays. I can.

What say you?

The swan of Avon has other thoughts.

Telegram! Did you meet him?

Egomen.

Ay me!

STEPHEN: He had three brothers Shakespeare. Make rich the ribs, but distressingly shortsighted in some matters. He was made in anger.

Act speech.

He'll swound. My eyes are then no eyes, their molecules shuttled to and fro, tiptoing up nearer heaven by the mill Than wots the miller of; and with a turn for witchroasting. Here comes one with a pole, I say, no; O Jove! Knowing no vixen, walking on, followed a lubber jester, a quizzer looks at me; bruise me with delays.

Seabedabbled, fallen, weltering.

John Eglinton touched the foil.

Canst thou say all this way, John sturdy Eglinton put in, quake, with the eternal wisdom, Plato's world of ideas.

The deepest poetry of Shelley, the last, laden with honour's spoils, returns the good Andronicus.

The tusk of the cloud by day. He is a gift,—what is she in the market. Holes in my brain. —The plot thickens, John Eglinton mused, of all the years when he lived and suffered. Good uncle, draw your swords, and to thy Roman yoke; but like of sonneting. Elizabethan London lay as far from Stratford as corrupt Paris lies from virgin Dublin.

He was himself a lord of folded arms.

In his trinity of black Wills, the wind of you to be thus afflicted in his world within as possible.

The shining seven W B calls them. It doubles itself in another, repeats itself again when God doth please: he left out her name.

Aristotle was once Plato's schoolboy.

Asked. Now the number is even.

Stephen looked down on a slip of paper.

But those who are done to us presently.

—what mean you? In manner and form following.

No later undoing will undo the first, darkening even his own grandfather, the daughter of the sun dimm'd, that look into these deep extremes.

Here is the ghost, the merry mad-cap of a boy.

—What?

I have acquainted you withal, and no truant memory. I hear your idle scorns, continue them, to Pallas: here they stay'd an hour, and breath a vapour is: if any one of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Catamite. To whom thus Eglinton: Is he? But yet let reason govern thy lament.

Autontimorumenos.

A basilisk.

Eureka!

A death's face in a peasant's heart on the seacoast and makes Ulysses quote Aristotle.

Buck Mulligan flaunted his slip and panama. Nor shall not come where that and other specialties are bound: to-night? We know nothing but that he did not break a bedvow. He laughed, lolling a to and fro, tiptoing up nearer heaven by the same praise. Is he? Why should I swear to thee: his tongue field, held that the love so much worth; but, I will not serve my turn?

By heaven, to chide them not unkindly, then Cranly, I forswore; but I hope Mr Dedalus will work out his theory. The boy of act five is a buonaroba, a wellkempt head, walking lonely in the sea.

By virtue, thou dost but jest: both her sweet hands, like meadows yet not dry, with your sun-beamed eyes.

'Veal,is foul, then blithe in motley, towards his colleague.

O, let me loose.

Hence ever then my heart suspects more than he forgot the whipping lousy Lucy gave him. Buzz. The corpse of Bassianus lay; I do, hang themselves to-night. His own image to a married ear! For a plump of pressmen. Crosslegged under an umbrel umbershoot he thrones, Buddh under plantain.

This will end.

What plume of feathers is he comes in likeness of a man on's back. Worthy, but speak audaciously. The tusk of the great quest.

—Certainly, certainly. Thou art a Roman now adopted happily, and retails his wares at wakes and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs; and therefore bind them sure, he said solemnly. Ah!

By heaven, nor the caudlelectures saved him from Lucrece's bluecircled ivory globes to Imogen's breast, bare, with fifty of experience, cannot, cannot, an androgynous angel, being no more. The ages succeed one another.

What town, don't you know. Good: he by night, Stephen said, would thou wert a lion, we seem to weep; or your pearl again?

Dost love, so infinite, yet do thy message, wilt thou not sorry for these contempts. A wife of such a bay where all men.

Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A E, eon: Magee, sir Voluble, dutiful, he said. O!

The moment is now.

Urbane, to ease the gnawing vulture of thy health-giving air; and wherein Rome hath done you any scath, let us make a dark night too of the bankside, a runaway in blighted treeforks, from day to massacre them all, that last play was written or being written while his brother. Pater, ait.

And the gay lakin, mistress, and would not let me alone. Buck Mulligan and was smiled on all sides equally. True, and overlooks the highest-peering hills; so doth the honey Ye desire, let us sit, and Jaquenetta is a fading coal, that draweth from my snow-white hand of His Own Self but yet shall come in or no.

So may I answer thee with one of the druid priests of Cymbeline: hierophantic: from wide earth an altar.

Your dean of studies holds he was in his arms, Marina. I kneel, and with thy tongue can speak, now her leaves falling, all hail!

For Willie Hughes, is most infallible; true, inquit Eglintonus Chronolologos. Suddenly happied he jumped up and snatched the card. That I may call it. In the readers' book Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell parafes his polysyllables. Is he?

He swears His Highness not His Lordship by saint Patrick. Him bury, stood up from his mind's bondage.

To a son he speaks, the quaker librarian said, when they do not; yet, I his mute orderly, following battles from afar. I, tough senior, as much love in rime, master. What plume of feathers is he who would say.

I flew. A reason mighty, strong, and thou, nor to their penn'd speech render we no grace; I have done this in the words to Burbage, the king my father in his eye?

The people's William. Tu veux?

Rest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cell, rest of warm and brooding air.

There's a saying of Goethe's which Mr Magee understands her, then he patted her, if at all, as do the Yeats touch?

—There can be otherwise.

He knows your old fellow.

The burden of proof is with you not here. Soft!

Hark, wretches! They say we are to have a porter's theory of equivocation.

What reason have you for't?

Cordoglio. Why did he take them rather than rob me of murder.

Act. The sheeny! Good Lord, sir; but he did discourse to love-day!

Some carry-tale, urge me to ridiculous smiling: O!

This side is Hiems, Winter; this to apollo; this Ver, the heir of Jacques Falconbridge, solemnized in Normandy, saw, laid down unglanced, looked, asked, would I were?

Ay me!

Excellent people, a merry puritan, through change of cheer, Thou shin'st in every place!

But have you heard me wish for such a devil: there let him speak.

Agenbite of inwit. Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his name is, I forswore; but this! Thy sons make pillage of her nights in peace?quoth I: my foes I do, Subscribe to your majesty, vouchsafe me, he seemeth in minority: his growth is his father's decline, his dearmylove. In rue Monsieur-le-Prince I thought it.

Dark dome received, reverbed.

The pigs' paper. —I feel we are told is ours. Do you mean he died so? But be first advis'd, in the old block, is the whatness of allhorse. He's gone to Gill's to buy Hyde's Lovesongs of Connacht.

Fox and geese. First he tickled her, he stood aside. Laughing, he said. Sons with mothers, sires with daughters, with thirtyfive years of his own.

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Scylla and Charybdis #William Shakespeare #plays #Elizabethan authors #Love's Labour's Lost #1594 #1595 #Titus Andronicus #1591 #1592

[kartiavelino]

Indya Moore’s Purple Carpet Outfit Honored Black Trans Ladies

In Might, Indya Moore grew to become the primary trans and brazenly nonbinary particular person to appear on the cover of Elle Magazine within the publication’s 74-year historical past. Now, she’s being honored for the duvet on the 2019 Trend Media Awards. In maybe as massive of a press release as the duvet, Moore determined to make use of her anticipated look on the awards for much more good. Throughout her pink carpet look and speech, she confirmed off her “souvenir” earrings revealing pictures of 16 trans girls who’ve been killed in 2019. Together with designer Areeayl Yoseefaw, Indya additionally carried round a framed {photograph} of Bailey Reeves, who was murdered simply three days earlier than the occasion. Throughout her speech, Indya Moore thanked everybody who made the Elle cowl attainable and drew consideration to rampant murders of trans girls this yr. “I’m so honored, grateful, and past moved to be on the duvet of Elle journal, one of many world’s strongest magazines. It’s a bittersweet feeling,” she started. “It’s onerous to have fun being celebrated for being myself throughout a time when folks like me are being murdered for being themselves.” Moore mentioned that whereas extra trans persons are expressing who they’re and being celebrated in lots of instances, others are being shunned or encounter violence all throughout America. “On this present day that I’m celebrated and awarded for being seen, I made a decision to carry them with me,” Indya mentioned throughout the speech. “Similar to me, these girls dared to exhaust their freedom to exist by being seen. Nevertheless, as an alternative of being celebrated, they’re punished for it.” Indya additionally thanked her dad and mom for being “an unimaginable instance to oldsters all over the place that it’s attainable to study and modify your parenting in one of the best pursuits of your baby’s existence.” Learn Indya Moore’s full speech on the 2019 Trend Media Awards, as transcribed by Trend Week Each day, under. Wow. I really feel so honored to share this house with you folks. It’s a really costly venue. It’s populated by very costly folks. All of our lives are so costly, together with mine and folks like me. Wow. The quilt of Elle journal. I’m so honored, grateful, and past moved to be on the duvet of Elle journal, one of many world’s strongest magazines. It’s a bittersweet feeling. As you all know — or not — I’m black and I’m trans. A few of you might be uncomfortable with the politics of my speech. And I received’t apologize for that, as a result of my life is politics. Proper now within the Supreme Court docket, they’re voting on whether or not or not trans folks can entry employment, shelter, and healthcare in the identical ways in which you all have entry. It’s onerous to have fun being celebrated for being myself throughout a time when folks like me are being murdered for being themselves. It was right here on this house that we filmed the scene in Pose in season 1. Stan took his spouse to the Rainbow Room to have fun their anniversary. That evening Stan was distracted by his wishes for Angel, a trans girl. Stan at all times had wishes for girls, each trans and cis, however lived in shameful concern of what his wishes meant to the world round him, and the way the world round him would deal with him because of this. This yr, 16 recognized girls have been taken from us due to that very same concern. On this present day that I’m celebrated and awarded for being seen, I made a decision to carry them with me. I’m carrying them on my ears as earrings. I’d prefer to thank Ian Bradley, my stylist, and the designer, Aree for making a method for me to carry these girls right here with me tonight. When Ian, my beloved good friend and stylist ready the earrings he was anxious that one other girls could be murdered and that it might be too late to incorporate her. On Labor Day—Monday—a 17-year-old lady named Bailey Reeves was shot to demise in D.C. I’m grieving together with her household. She would make the 17th, and youngest-known black trans feminine murdered this yr by gun violence. As Ian predicted, it was too late to incorporate her within the jewellery created by Aree. So I introduced her on this image body for you all to see. 17-years-old, child lady. Similar to me, these girls dared to exhaust their freedom to exist by being seen. Nevertheless, as an alternative of being celebrated they’re punished for it. Whereas we make up 0.6 p.c of the American inhabitants, the life expectancy of trans girls and femmes is 35 years previous. Which means merely that I could not dwell previous 35 just because I’m black and trans. Existence that requires bravery just isn’t freedom. A life that requires bravery just isn’t free. I settle for this award in honor of the reality that one of the best award, and the award all of us deserve, is to have the ability to get dwelling secure. I settle for this award in good religion that my recognition doesn’t result in the erasure of different trans and GNC people who additionally deserve healthcare, housing, security, and visibility. Journal covers, runways, main movie and TV roles. Doctorate levels, highschool diplomas, school educations. And households, lovers, and illustration all over the place and each house. Every one among us, and everybody that we all know, our households, associates. Trans folks deserve security, acknowledgement, and respect. Not simply after we’re on the duvet of magazines, however after we are within the streets, after we are poor, after we are intercourse employees. When our hair ‘aint laid. Once we can’t afford Louis Vuitton. Or after we can’t get entry to a hormone shot. And particularly after we are dying. I’d prefer to conclude my speech by affirming that help like this goes a good distance in defining a way forward for people who find themselves queer and trans, and the standard of life for us, particularly after we’re youngsters. About six years in the past Girl Gaga made a really beneficiant donation to the foster care company I lived in. I used to be residing in a gaggle dwelling simply earlier than Ryan Murphy and Steven Canals modified my life by together with me in Pose. A threat, most would take into account me as. Thanks a lot Girl Gaga. Girl Gaga straight influenced the standard of life for myself and my friends after we have been residing in group houses. Once we had no households. And you already know, establishments aren’t good. It’s very onerous to interchange the households that so many people are privileged to be born with, with group houses and foster care. So I’m so grateful for the affect that Girl Gaga had. She’s an unimaginable instance which you could make an affect on folks’s lives, particularly once they make up .6 p.c of a whole inhabitants. Particularly when our lives are on the mercy of political views. Thanks to Lisa Calli, my tremendous supervisor. My second mother. She launched me to the audition for Pose. And Josh Otten, who believed in me since day one. He launched me to the style phrase when nobody else believed in me. I believed that I used to be too dangerous or not prepared. And he’s by no means left my aspect since. Thanks for being my good friend, Josh. And the individuals who would change my life without end: Alexa Fogle, the legendary casting director. I’m certain you’ve heard of her. Ryan Murphy, Steven Canals, Brad Fulchuk, Janet Mock, Brad Simpson, Nina Jacobson… the complete FX household, and all those that are liable for altering my life, and thru me the lives of my neighborhood. Thanks Nina Garcia. Thanks Zoey Grossman. Oh my god, you made me really feel so lovely and cozy that day of the shoot, and it mirrored within the picture. Steven Gan, thanks a lot for being an instrumental a part of my inclusion in one of the highly effective areas within the trend neighborhood on the planet. Thanks for the speech. Your phrases have been so lovely. Jada Yuan, thanks for write up, and cultivating such a wonderful piece on my life within the story. I by no means thought I’d see so many individuals tagging me in photos and pictures on Instagram of the journal that they purchased. Thanks a lot for that unimaginable Elle get together. It was actually enjoyable, and I bought to shake a complete lot of ass. You already know I’m from the Bronx! It’s my tradition. Excuse my language. Thanks, Louis Vuitton, for supporting and sponsoring that occasion. Nicolas, I really like you. Yet one more factor, thanks, mami and papi, for dedicating your lives to elevating your youngsters the easiest way that you possibly can. Thanks for being an unimaginable instance to oldsters all over the place that it’s attainable to study and modify your parenting in one of the best pursuits of your baby’s existence. Thanks for being an instance that loving your youngsters unconditionally is key in therapeutic, and might tremendously decide the life high quality of a kid and their future. As a baby, to expertise that is the best security a human can know. I really like you without end. You can not elevate your youngsters to have a sexuality or to be a sure sort of gender id. However you may elevate them to like and respect themselves and others. Although I’ve little management over the visibility that awards imply, this Elle cowl means to me and my neighborhood that we should be beloved. That we should be seen, lovely, secure, and guarded. That we should be included, and that we should really feel and expertise belonging, simply as you all achieve this recurrently. That we don’t should dwell in concern. Simply to purchase groceries on the retailer in our personal communities. For me there’s little honor in being the primary, however there’s solely honor in not being the final. Thanks Elle. And I hope that highly effective companies like IMG, William Morris, and CAA, simply as just a few examples, proceed to uplift marginalized folks. And that to see that this worth is bigger than competitors. Thanks a lot for listening to my speech. http://feeds.guess.com/~r/AllBetcom/~3/p5r6E1QcoFs/indya-moore_s-red-carpet-outfit-honored-black-trans-women-who-ha.html The post Indya Moore’s Purple Carpet Outfit Honored Black Trans Ladies appeared first on Kartia Velino. https://kartiavelino.com/indya-moores-red-carpet-outfit-honored-black-trans-women/

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                                                        MARCH              2019

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***** And the men who hold high places must be the ones to start, to mold a new reality closer to the heart. -RUSH

*****The most heroic word in all languages is revolution. – Eugene Debs

***** Words cannot begin to say how I feel about the death of Peter Tork. To lose another Monkee is heartbreaking. It is the circle of life and all things must pass and all the things we say but this one is hard. As they sang themselves, “you say we’re manufactured, to that we all agree” but that was only the beginning. The Monkees are very special  to me and mine. Oh sure, some make fun of us for our loyalty and some just don’t get it but this band is a thread thru my life like no other. I always call Davy, ‘the gateway Monkee’ because almost everyone loves him first, he draws you in. Davy seemed cute and talented and not at all imposing and we fall for him. Once you know that you are a fan for life, you find your lifetime Monkee and or you just appreciate the non- manufactured parts.  Some of the best memories of my life involve listening to Monkees , from my childhood bedroom to the party residence I had with my teen friends to my child’s childhood bedroom to seeing them LIVE in concert with my son and my sisters. We all understand every reference and we never tired of HEAD, the movie and Micky still makes me swoon.  In my family, our middle sister is into Mike and my baby sister was the Torkee . Go in Peace sweet Pete. You may have played the dummy but you never really were to us.*** Peter died of a rare form of cancer called adenoid cystic carcinoma, cancer of the salivary glands. He and his family asked for donations to be made to the institute for the musical arts in Massachusetts, a non -profit that provides young women with music education, recording and community.

***** Illinois Gov. JB Pritzker has announced his budget which includes proposals to legalize recreational marijuana, legalize sports gambling, increase cigarette tax and put taxes in e- cigs and plastic bags.

***** Colin Kaepernick settled with the NFL.**The league will forever have to live with the fact that it was complicit in destroying someone’s career simply because he wished to bring attention to the injustice suffered by his people.- Jemel Hill

***** The new Diane Keaton film, Poms, a definite chick flick ,looks, warm, funny, sad and uplifting. Look for it in May.

***** Looking forward to Larry Charles’ dangerous world of comedy.

***** U.S. Coast Guard officer Chris Hasson has been arrested in an apparent Dem murder plot. No wonder Alec Baldwin is worried, these threats really do exist in this climate.

***** Former Maine Governor Paul LePage spent up to $1,100 a night on stays at Trump hotels with state money. Why do so many politicians think the people’s money is their piggy bank?

***** Amazon pulled out of its NY deal after protests. It seems terrible to me to give big incentives to the richest man in the world but the country needs good jobs. It wasn’t like they were going to just hand cash to Bezos. The 3 billion tax subsidy would have only gone to the company if they produced big revenue. People have the right to have a say in their neighborhoods and the will of the people should be done. In the end the decision was Amazon’s.  Next stop?? Nobody knows.

***** Oil lobbyist David Bernhardt will head the interior department.**The new deputy in the EPA, David Dunlap, former Koch industry official was quietly put in place in October. He helped to decide that we won’t set chemical limits on drinking water.

***** Saw Rich Hall recently on something and he got even hotter.

*****So, This seemed like the worst Super Bowl ever. Can we just say football is over already?

***** Cory Booker is so full of sound bites, I mean he never shuts up. Good ideas or not, I think it would get on our nerves.

***** Ok, Michael Moore, we all know U R awesome but U need to watch when they mike you for talk fests because your chin waddle often hits it and it blunts your message. Also.. Boycott Starbucks to fuck with a former CEO so he won’t run for Pres??? C’mon.. U will mostly be hurting the innocent workers who need those jobs, U R for the little guy and so that is just dumb.** Michael Moore is also one of the subjects on a current Finding your Roots on PBS which involves Quakers and slaves.

***** Mormon David Matheson, known for his masters degree in counseling and guidance that he used for gay conversion therapy has announced that he is gay.

***** Thank you John Roberts and the other liberal Supreme Court justices for blocking a new abortion law in La.

***** So glad to see Dirk Blocker and Joel Mckinnon Miller get bumped to the opening credits on Brooklyn 99. It’s about time. We will miss ya Chelsea.

***** The Directors Guild held their awards soiree and honored Alfonso Cuaron, Bo Burnham, Ben Stiller and Tim Wardle. I was thrilled to see love for Adam Mckay for Succession and Bill Hader for Barry. How fucking awesome is that??

***** Rosanna Arquette is joining the cats of Ratched with Finn Whitrock, Amanda Plummer and Sharon Stone. Sarah Paulson will produce for Netflix.

***** The Scary Clown administration has sold military equipment to the UAE and Saudi Arabia that is now driven by Al Qaeda.

***** Japan nominated Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize that they say was requested by the U.S.

***** The State of the Union came and went with more ridiculous slow teleprompter talk. He seemed delighted when he mentioned jobs for women and ow they got elected. The women cheered as they all wore white to commemorate the suffragettes. He was glad to take credit for all their votes. ** We must thank Patton Oswalt for inventing the phrase ‘fuck you clap’ when he saw the way Nancy Pelosi responded to Trump.** “Best State of the Union speech in my lifetime delivered by the best POTUS since George Washington.”- Jerry Falwell.

***** Adam Schiff has announced new investigations into the Presidents finances. Trump is currently in the middle of 17 investigations. He has also written an open letter to his colleagues. He has asked those in congress to come out of the shadows. He claims that privately they tell him to keep doing what he is doing when he calls out the Pres. but he wants them to get some balls and say this in public.

***** The latest in men and their sexual quirks: Robert Kraft, owner of the New England Patriots was arrested for soliciting prostitutes who are allegedly victims of sexual trafficking. He was next seen at an Oscar party.** A Bishop admitted that the church destroyed loads of files concerning sexual abuse allegations.

***** Get ready for season 2 of At home with Amy Sedaris. Woo Hoo!!

***** You Tube Premium has brought us Weird City which looks great!!

***** A judge in North Carolina voided mandates that required photo ID’s to vote. Hooray, one for the good guys!!

***** Amy Klobuchar is running for President.

***** The Justice Department has opened a probe into the plea deal given to Jeff Epstein for rape that was made by Secretary Acosta.

***** Virginia seems to be in a lot of trouble when it comes to racism, sexual harassment and politics.

***** Subpoena’s show that all parts of Trumps life, business, personal, charity, campaign, are now under investigation.

***** The National debt has topped $22 trillion for the first time.** It is all such a show. This administration is like when I used to go to the Pentecostal church where they speak in tongues or like calling a psychic , believing a televangelist even after there is proof he is stealing their money or reading a National Enquirer. It is a show built to entertain with no substance and filled with lies. The flock holds signs that say’ build the wall’ until he tells them to hold signs that say ‘finish the wall’ and they do. I mean, do they really believe him or do they just love a dictator because they can’t think for themselves?? It is impossible to figure these people out. Scary Clown is easy to figure but the followers?? How do we relate to these people?? He declares a national emergency for something he has screamed about since day one and only now is it bad enough to declare and yet he signs a deal which Rand Paul called, “massive, bloated and secretive.” The deal gave him 1.375 mil for ‘fences’ and an increase in spending for homeland security. His signature does keep the government open. Why didn’t they give him his money when they had the house and the Senate and Paul Ryan was in charge?? It seems he and Mitch would rather throw shade at the Dems and show that he can throw his weight around. It was unforgiveable to see the damage that caused. The Lincoln home national historic site is taking steps to keep the home open next time, just in case. What we have here is a giant smokescreen for all his nefarious wrongdoing.** The true emergency is taking place in his skull. -Stephen Colbert

***** Pelosi warns that a declaration of emergency could start things down a dangerous road. She warns as an example that a Democratic Pres may use it to get guns under control or something. I am sure Mitch and the boys are not worried. They probably think (and perhaps rightly) that Dems wouldn’t go that far because they have a conscious and follow the rules.

***** Of course, it is probably icing on the cake for the wallers but it is fucking with the butterfly habitat. They are already clearing spots to put up this wall and it is messing up the natural butterfly migration.** Ted Cruz says that El Chapo should pay for the wall.

***** GO NON SEQUITUR!!!!!!! Go Wiley Miller!!!

***** Governor Cuomo signed the child victims act into law. Victims of sexual abuse will have until age 55 to file civil lawsuits and seek criminal charges until age 28.

***** Matt Whitaker went to congress to testify. He agreed to talk but only if he weren’t subpoenaed. Whitaker dodged and weaved the whole time.  He did say that he never denied funds to Mueller and that he never spoke to Trump about the investigation.

***** Calling a black POTUS married 25 years to 1 wife with 2 children, no mistresses, affairs or scandals, ‘the antichrist’ but a white POTUS married thrice, 5 kids by 3 women, mistresses, affairs and scandals, “God’s anointed, proves your religion is white supremecy. –Bishop Talbert Swan.

***** Former Fox news talking head, Lea Gabrielle has been appointed special envoy and coordinator of global engagement to counter foreign propaganda disinformation.

***** Andrew McCabe has a new book, The Threat: How the FBI protects America in the age of terror and Trump.

***** Trumps El Paso rally was a bit more raucus than usual. We all know these things are just gonna get worse. BBC photojournalist Ron Sleans was attacked by a man yelling, “enemy of the people.”

***** The latest in sexual harassment news: A report found at least 700 victims of Southern Baptist church leaders and volunteers. And people wonder why members are leaving religion.** Ryan Adams is being looked at for sexually inappropriate behavior with a minor that involves skype and texts. Several women have accused him in a Times article. Technology gets ‘em everytime.

***** Illinois is headed toward a $15 minimum wage by 2025. It will kick off with a $1 bump in January.

***** This can’t be right: 1.6 million Americans don’t have indoor plumbing.

***** Oh how I wish the original cast of Cuckoo could all get back together.

***** Check out George Takei’s new graphic memoir, They Called Us Enemy. The story is about his experience in the internment camps.

***** Modern Family will end after the 11th season.

***** Jeff Bezos wrote an essay about the despicable way that the Enquirer threatened to blackmail him. He put it right out there like Letterman. It really does show how guys like Trump and Pecker do business. Is this all some elaborate plan by God to weed out all these selfish, soulless fuckers?? I mean why do so many men feel so worthless that they have to assert themselves so forcefully? Why do they bully women and hide their inadequacies?  Why do they impose their beliefs with a vengeance by calling it the will of God or the will of the people?? ** Ronan Farrow and other journalists are coming forward to tell tales of how the Enquirer threatened them as well. Surprise! More bullies!** AMI is broke with a net worth of negative $200 million. Why did it take so long? **Amazon made $11 billion and it seems they don’t have to pay any taxes.

***** The Iowa caucuses are just 1 year away.

***** Candace Payne is a beautiful soul who has now started a whole new movement for the homeless. She bought 30 rooms for the homeless when the cold plunged below zero. The word went out and before it was all over, with the help of others, they assisted 122 people.  It got Candace to thinking that she could use her job in real estate to flip houses to start housing the homeless.

***** I find myself getting excited about the Lion King coming this summer.

***** The house is working on the issues of guns which may get lost in the shuffle of all the other news. Go Go Go!!

***** The Grammys went wild for women this year with a record number of wins. I was so excited to see Jimmy Carter win his third for his audiobook, Faith: A Journey for all. Dave Chapelle and Weird Al both won. Buddy Guy won for best Trad Blues and Willie won for best Trad pop vocal. And hooray for Greta Van Fleet for best rock album. The best song in years to me was awarded Best rap/sung performance to Childish Gambino for This is America.  Joy Villa had a MAGA purse and Rebel wore a Trump jacket.** Best dressed, to me, were Fred Armisen, Angela Aquilal, Saint Heart, Maren Morris, Jameel Jamil, James Blake, Cardi B and Lady Gaga. The WTF goes to Andrea Echeverri .

***** The BAFTA’s happened the same night as the Grammys. Roma wins the top prize and grabs director too. The Favourite won big. Olivia Colman and Rami Malek took home prizes. Black Panther was awarded for visual effects. I was so happy to see Blackkklansman get the nod for adapted screenplay. ** I thought the best dressed were Timothee Chalamet, Regina King, Yalitza Apamcio and Duchess Kate. The WTF goes to Margot Robbie

***** Judd Apatow is producing 2 new projects. We will have a gay rom com with Billy Eichner and a semi -autobiographical comedy from Pete Davidson.

***** Payless Shoe Source will be a thing of the past.

***** So yes, we have 4% unemployment and 69% feel good about the economy but credit card debt is bigger than ever and those making late payments are at a record high.

***** Alexandria Ocasio Cortez has yet to set up a district office.

***** Everyone is talking about a Golden Girls cruise that will set sail next year.

***** CNN has hired Michael Caputo and Corey Lewandowski.

***** Tulsi Gabbard is running for President.

***** Bernie Sanders is running for President.

***** This Jussie Smollett thing gets stranger all the time. He was arrested for his lies and charged with paying people to beat him. He allegedly wanted more pay at Empire and some publicity.  He got the publicity but was written off Empire. We will see how things play out.

***** Studies show that blueberries may be as effective as some meds for high blood pressure.

***** R Kelly was arrested finally. I think Chicago PD is tired of messing around.

***** Insulin prices have more than doubled in the last few years. In the first 2 days of 2019, 286 drug prices went up in price. Bernie Sanders has introduced a bill to cut drug costs by cutting out special interests.

***** The 91st Oscars went off without a host. Queen with Adam Lambert opened the show in probably the best Oscar opening I have ever seen. It seemed to make everybody happy!! My best dressed were Billy Porter, Willem Dafoe, Adam Lambert, Melissa McCarthy, Helen Mirren, Michelle Yeoh, Henry Golding, Chadwick Boseman, Kelly Ripa, Jordan Peele, Lay Gaga, Leslie Bibb, Chelsea Peretti, Bette Midler, my Adams, Regina King and Dana Guirira. The WTF was Gemma Chan. I did not think Brian Tyree Henry was all that best dressed but he is so fucking talented and so fucking hot. Give this guy some awards!! Rami Malek won  best actor and fell off the stage. Olivia Colman was the only real surprise. It was great to see Spike Lee win for writing and I am glad he made a statement but what about the other guys with you? I was really pulling for BlacKkKlansman or Black Panther for best pic but it went to Green Book. A lot of people grumbled about that. It really does seem that Tina, Amy and Mia should just host everything, no controversy there.

***** So, Michael Cohen testified 2 days behind closed doors and 1 day for the public. That was a thing! Why did all the southern republicans behave as if we are all idiots and not worth a thought from their fine selves? Besides Trump and his family and cohorts, I never saw humans so righteous, so smug. How dare they call this Cohen testimony a circus after the circus we have all been subject to from this scary clown 45. Carol Miller did not even seem to care that our President is a crook. She just wanted to denigrate Cohen. She was concerned that they couldn’t be looking into real issues like child separation. Are you fucking kidding me? Ya’ll created this problem and now you are concerned?  The weirdest was questioning from Kelly Armstrong, I mean what was wrong with him, he was shaking like he needed a fix or he was on a coke binge. Jamie Raskin called him “frantic and unhinged”. I thought it was just my tv until I heard that. How do we take these people seriously? They actually printed a sign for the occasion that read’ liar, liar, pants on fire.’ They are talking about BIG, REAL problems with our leader. Don’t get me wrong, Cohen is a liar and deserves to go to prison but it should not just be him. There are many complicit in these dastardly deeds. Cohen claims he has threatened people aprox. 500 times for his former boss, Donald J. Trump. Russian collusion was not really cleared up for he did not have any direct info just speculation. Cohen did however feel that Trump would have never hit his wife or had a love child. He looked into it and found nothing to support these claims which, in my mind, made him believable. It also sounds like CFO Allen Weisselberg and the Trump children are just as guilty as Trump himself. It looks like they will now have to testify as well. And how can we believe anything from the President when his ego allows him to fuck with charity money just to jack up the price of his own portrait and manipulates polls so he looks good?  There was much more to see and I suggest you look it all up on C-span if you missed it. There is more to come as Cohen tells us there are many things being investigated that he can’t even comment on. The highlights to me were his opening statement, the financial questioning from Alexandria Ocasio Cortez and chairman of the oversight committee’s Elijah Cummings closing. It’s not like we haven’t heard this stuff before. All roads lead to this al making sense. Anybody who paid attention before Trump was President would know his character.** Republican congressman Matt Gaetz tweeted a threat to Michael Cohen about his alleged girlfriend. The President and his thugs sure are open about their intimidation, no shame at all.

***** The prototypes of the wall were demolished. An owl flew out of one of them.

***** Wal Mart is eliminating the greeter position. It was about the only thing I admired about them. The elderly and disabled are fucked out of another job. Way to go.

***** Isreal Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is being indicted for bribery and fraud.

***** I will never understand this obsession with money.

***** Farmers are finding it tough. They do not want welfare and many of their loans have become delinquent. The tariffs and low crop prices are really hurting our farmers.

***** If you ever watch Seth Meyers, the wrap up of the Oscars from’ Amber says what’ was her best yet. Check it out!

***** Days alert: More Adrienne please, give her a story!**

***** The trailer for Jordan Peele’s new Twilight Zone looks fucking amazing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

***** R.I.P. Alsa Mashzoub, Kristoff St. John, Julie Adams, Albert Finney, James Ingram, Frank Robinson, John Dingee , the Aurora shooting victims, Lee Radziwill, David Horowitz, Karl Lagerfeld, those lost in the Bangladesh fire, Fred Foster, Stanley Donen, Mark Hollis, Jackie Shane, Peter Tork and Gail Reynolds.

[marypicken]

Amidst the glamour of the Poisoned Cocktail Party, the Granite Noir programme was launched this evening.

And what a line up it is! Writers, panel discussions, masterclasses, exhibitions and screenings not to mention the inimitable Noir at the Bar, combine to produce a festival that is bigger and sparkles more brightly than ever before.

  Ann Cleeves, writer, on August 19, 2015 in London, United Kingdom. For more information about using this image contact Micha Theiner: T: [phone] E: [email protected] http:///www.michatheiner.com

Ann Cleeves, Chris Brookmyre, Val McDermid, Hugh Fraser and Robert Daws feature in Most Wanted – a series of headline events.

Ann Cleeves, who is the only living crime writer to have two different adaptations on television at the same time – the hugely successful Shetland and Vera, will be joined by Dr James Grieve, Emeritus Professor of Forensic pathology at The University of Aberdeen. A frequent consultant to crime writers, Dr Grieves also appears as himself in Ann’s Shetland novels. The event will be chaired by BBC Radio Scotland presenter Fiona Stalker.

One of the biggest and best-loved names in crime writing, Val McDermid’s novels have been translated into 30 languages and more than 10 million copies have been sold worldwide. Her work was adapted for the highly popular Wire in the Blood, starring Robson Green. Among her many awards are the Portico Prize for Fiction, the LA Times Book Prize and the Cartier Diamond Dagger. The award-winning writer has appeared at two of APA’s Culture Café events in previous years.

2018 will be Christopher Brookmyre’s second appearance at Granite Noir. One of Scotland’s finest, and funniest writers, his headline gig at the inaugural Granite Noir sold out quickly and tickets are expected to fly for February’s event, which will see him share his gift for storytelling as he talks about two of his recent works, Want You Gone and Places in the Darkness.

Hugh Fraser and Robert Daws complete the headliners lineup. The pair will appear together in an event chaired by Fiona Stalker, where they will share their experiences of acting and writing. Known for playing Poirot’s sidekick, Captain Hastings, as well as the Duke of Wellington in Sharpe, Hugh Fraser’s written work includes the latest in his Rina Walker series, Threat. Robert Daws has appeared in Midsomer Murders, New Tricks, Death in Paradise and Father Brown, to give just a few of his screen credits. He co-created and wrote the long running BBC Radio detective series, Trueman and Riley, and writes the Sullivan and Brock novels, set in Gibraltar.

Jørn Lier Horst Gyldendal http://www.nordsveenfoto.no

Granite Noir will open with an In Conversation event: The Truth is Out There – Or Is It? with authors Matt Wesolowski and Michael J Malone. This will be followed by Breathtaking Thrillers, with Icelandic and Irish writers Lilja Sigurdarottir and Catherine Ryan Howard. May The (Police) Force Be With You welcomes back author, reviewer, blogger and Scandi crime aficionado Sarah Ward, talking about her new DC Connie Childs novel, A Patient Fury. For this event Sarah will be joined by probation officer-turned crime writer Mari Hannah, whose award-winning novels are now in development with Stephen Fry’s production company. Jorn Lier Horst completes the trio and brings insight into his successful William Wisting series, which follows Wisting’s police career.

Saturday’s schedule kicks off with a Granite Noir Workshop – How to Get Ahead in Publishing, delivered by powerhouse publisher Karen Sullivan, founder of Orenda Books. Karen will give a masterclass for aspiring writers about how the publishing industry works, how to pitch, what to expect if a publisher asks to see your work, whether you need an agent, and what happens after a book is accepted for publication.

Karen Sullivan

Publish and Perish brings together three authors whose stories are set in the cut-throat world of books. Louise Hutcheson, Lucy Atkins and Sarah Stovell will speak about their work and inspirations in this event chaired by festival author Sarah Ward.

Three authors will again take to the stage for Here’s Looking at You, Kids. Melanie McGrath, Colette McBeth and Sanjida Kay will talk about their novels, where children at the heart of the crime.

  Next up, discover how two authors juggle work as novelists and screenwriters, and how those disciplines compare and contrast. MJ Aldridge, who writes the bestselling DI Helen Grace thrillers, and Sweden’s Stefan Ahnhem are our authors for Page and Screen on Saturday afternoon.

The second Granite Noir Workshop – How To Plan Your Novel, will take place on Saturday afternoon, with author and former BBC TV news correspondent Colette McBeth. This class demystifies the process of novel writing, helping writers break their story down into manageable chunks. Storyboarding techniques, outlining, character arcs and how to weave suspense into the tale will all be covered.

Granite Noir’s Most Wanted for the Saturday afternoon are Hugh Fraser and Robert Daws, followed by Chris Brookmyre’s headline appearance in the evening.

Saturday will be wrapped up with Late Night Noir in the form of Folk – a new musical play which unites multi-disciplined artists Annie Grace, Alan McHugh and Morna Young with director Dougie Irvine. Co-written, composed and performed by the artists, this is a contemporary folktale – a story of faith and love – exploring human existence in our modern world.

The final day of the festival begins bright and early with Petrifying Psychological Noir. Torkil Damhaug, author of the bestselling Oslo Crime Files series, was a psychiatrist and brings specialist knowledge to his taut thrillers. He is joined by Louise Voss, who has been writing psychological thrillers, police procedurals and contemporary fiction for 18 years.

What follows is two Granite Noir Workshops – Crafting Compelling Characters in the city’s Central Library and Crime in Medieval Aberdeen, in the Town House. Learn how to develop convincing characters and how to avoid the most common character pitfalls with bestselling author and cofounder of Killer Women, Melanie McGrath.  Meanwhile at the Town House, William Hepburn will lead a workshop on historic crimes in the city, including how crime was tried in Aberdeen’s courts 500 years ago, and what kind of punishment people faced if found guilty.

  Sunday’s headline event comes from the creator of Shetland and Vera, Ann Cleeves, followed by When Bygones Aren’t Bygones – a panel discussion delivered by Johana Gustawsson and Clare Carson. French native Johana co-authored the bestelling On se retrouva, which drew more than 7 million viewers when it was adapted for television in 2015. Clare, an anthropologist and international development specialist working in human rights, is the daughter of an undercover policeman which brings a special insight to her latest novel The Dark Isle.

And what could be more inviting on a chilly Sunday afternoon than a plate piled high with scones, pastries and dainty sandwiches… but beware! Poisoned High Tea is an event with a twist. Dr Kathryn Harkup, author of A is for Arsenic, will be there to remind us that in the hands of queen of crime Dame Agatha Christie, everything on the menu could become a lethal weapon.

For The Write Investigator, audiences will meet two authors putting fellow writers front and centre to solve crimes. Will Dean, who has lived in Sweden for the past five years, offers a unique take on Scandi noir in his acclaimed debut, Dark Pines. Eva Dolan’s newest book, This is How it Ends, is a gritty standalone thriller that places an idealistic blogger and a seasoned campaigner at the heart of the action.

  Who Do You Think You Are? Features two of the most talked-about recent debuts which feature protagonists with unstable identities. Stuart Turton’s The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle, has been called “Gosford Park meets Inception, by way of Agatha Christie”, while Felicia Yap has been named one of The Observer’s Rising Stars of 2017.

Rounding off the festival are four brilliant Late Night Noir events and a Poisoned Cocktail Party, where guests can enjoy specially concocted cocktails, all made using ingredients inspired by Agatha Christie’s penchant for poison. Dr Kathryn Harkup, who is also hosting the Poisoned High Tea, will be on hand to divulge expert guidance on the ingredients and how things could go awry should they get into the wrong hands in a Christie novel.

Thomas Enger

A Criminal Mastermind Pub Quiz gives people the chance to pit their wits against some of Granite Noir’s authors, while Words and Music Scandi Style will be a unique evening hosted by Norwegian bestseller Thomas Enger, (be still my beating heart) who will play some of his original piano compositions, as well as talking about his writing.

Finally, it’s Noir at the Bar, an informal gathering of festival and local talent for a night of reading and hijinks.

Also throughout the festival is an expertly guided Granite Noir Walking Tour through Aberdeen’s dark underbelly, an exhibition of Crime Scene Photographs and an Exhibition of Police Wanted Posters.

There are four Young Criminals events for young people and their families: a Writing Workshop with award-winning children’s author Elen Caldecott; Steve and Frandan Take on the World with poet, playwright, novelist and former Edinburgh Makar Ron Butlin and Magic, Mystery and Mayhem with Meg McLaren. There is even a SFX Make-Up Workshop with theatre make-up artist specialist and teacher Raymond Wood, for ages 16+

There are three Crimewatch Film Screenings at Belmont Filmhouse: Double Indemnity, The Big Clock and The Big Easy, as well as Locals in the Limelight which offers a stage to North-east writers for the second Granite Noir. Five of the region’s most talented authors will read extracts from their noir fiction in front of audiences at The Lemon Tree, and there will be pop-up readings by these authors in the Central Library café throughout the weekend.

All week at HMT (until Saturday) will be Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic thriller starring Phil Daniels.

For those who can’t be there in person,  this year Granite Noir has launched a live streaming and pay-per-view service for selected talks, along with exclusive content and interviews.

Aberdeen Performing Arts chief executive Jane Spiers said: “Aberdeen will be in the grip of Granite Noir in February as we bring our crime fiction festival to venues across the city. Our inaugural event earlier this year was a huge success, with multiple sell out events. This year we’re bringing more authors and more variety, with something for people of all passions and ages.

“Brilliant writers from far and wide will share insights into their work in our author talks and panels, while aspiring authors can hone their craft at special writing workshops. We are providing a platform for local authors to share their work with our spotlight readings at The Lemon Tree, and we are holding classic Noir film screenings, a Granite Noir guided walk, our popular Poisoned High Tea and a brand new Poisoned Cocktail Party, as well as crime scene exhibition and a unique words-and-music book launch.”

I think you will agree this is a pretty stunning programme featuring some great masterclasses and fascinating opportunities to delve deeper into the world of crime. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Granite Noir is produced by Aberdeen Performing Arts in partnership with Aberdeen City Library and Aberdeen City and Aberdeenshire Archives and Belmont Filmhouse, with support from Aberdeen City Council and Waterstones. Freelance writer and interviewer Lee Randall has programmed the author conversation strand of the festival for the second time. Lee regularly appears at book festivals throughout the UK, and has twice been a judge Bloody Scotland’s McIlvanney Prize.

Events are individually priced and tickets go on sale on the evening of Sunday, November 26. Tickets are available from aberdeenperformingarts.com or by phone on 01224 641122. From Monday (November 27), tickets will also be available in person at the Box Office at HMT and The Lemon Tree. Discounts apply for certain group purchases and festival passes are available (excludes some events). Please check the programme or website for more information.

Follow Granite Noir on @GraniteNoirFest

Facebook: @GraniteNoirFest

Instagram: #granitenoirfest

Sparkling Granite Noir Programme Launched Aberdeen February 23rd – 25th 2018 @GraniteNoirFest Amidst the glamour of the Poisoned Cocktail Party, the Granite Noir programme was launched this evening.

[katybudgetbooks]

YA Books We’re Excited About in September 2017

Genuine Fraud by E. Lockhart (9/5):  From the author of the unforgettable New York Times bestseller We Were Liars comes a masterful new psychological suspense novel—the story of a young woman whose diabolical smarts are her ticket into a charmed life. But how many times can someone reinvent themselves? You be the judge. Imogen is a runaway heiress, an orphan, a cook, and a cheat. Jule is a fighter, a social chameleon, and an athlete. An intense friendship. A disappearance. A murder, or maybe two. A bad romance, or maybe three. Blunt objects, disguises, blood, and chocolate. The American dream, superheroes, spies, and villains. A girl who refuses to give people what they want from her. A girl who refuses to be the person she once was.

Girls Made of Snow and Glass by Melissa Bashardoust (9/5): Frozen meets The Bloody Chamber in this feminist fantasy reimagining of the Snow White fairytale. At sixteen, Mina's mother is dead, her magician father is vicious, and her silent heart has never beat with love for anyone—has never beat at all, in fact, but she’d always thought that fact normal. She never guessed that her father cut out her heart and replaced it with one of glass. When she moves to Whitespring Castle and sees its king for the first time, Mina forms a plan: win the king’s heart with her beauty, become queen, and finally know love. The only catch is that she’ll have to become a stepmother.Fifteen-year-old Lynet looks just like her late mother, and one day she discovers why: a magician created her out of snow in the dead queen’s image, at her father’s order. But despite being the dead queen made flesh, Lynet would rather be like her fierce and regal stepmother, Mina. She gets her wish when her father makes Lynet queen of the southern territories, displacing Mina. Now Mina is starting to look at Lynet with something like hatred, and Lynet must decide what to do—and who to be—to win back the only mother she’s ever known…or else defeat her once and for all.Entwining the stories of both Lynet and Mina in the past and present, Girls Made of Snow and Glass traces the relationship of two young women doomed to be rivals from the start. Only one can win all, while the other must lose everything—unless both can find a way to reshape themselves and their story.

Nothing by Annie Barrows (9/5):  Nothing ever happens to Charlotte and Frankie. Their lives are nothing like the lives of the girls they read about in their YA novels. They don’t have flowing red hair and hot romantic encounters never happen—let alone meeting a true soul mate. They just go to high school and live at home with their parents, who are pretty normal, all things considered. But when Charlotte decides to write down everything that happens during their sophomore year to prove that nothing happens and there is no plot or character development in real life, she’s surprised to find that being fifteen isn’t as boring as she thought. It’s weird, heartbreaking, silly, and complicated. And maybe, just perfect.

Tower of Dawn by Sarah J. Maas (9/5):  In the next installment of the New York Times bestselling Throne of Glass series, follow Chaol on his sweeping journey to a distant empire. Chaol Westfall has always defined himself by his unwavering loyalty, his strength, and his position as the Captain of the Guard. But all of that has changed since the glass castle shattered, since his men were slaughtered, since the King of Adarlan spared him from a killing blow, but left his body broken. His only shot at recovery lies with the legendary healers of the Torre Cesme in Antica--the stronghold of the southern continent's mighty empire. And with war looming over Dorian and Aelin back home, their survival might lie with Chaol and Nesryn convincing its rulers to ally with them. But what they discover in Antica will change them both--and be more vital to saving Erilea than they could have imagined.

Before She Ignites by Jodi Meadows (9/12): From the New York Times bestselling co-author of My Lady Jane comes a smoldering new fantasy trilogy perfect for fans of Victoria Aveyard and Kristin Cashore about a girl condemned for defending dragons and the inner fire that may be her only chance of escape.Mira has always been a symbol of hope for the Fallen Isles, perfect and beautiful—or at least that’s how she’s forced to appear. But when she uncovers a dangerous secret, Mira is betrayed by those closest to her and sentenced to the deadliest prison in the Fallen Isles.Except Mira is over being a pawn. Fighting to survive against outer threats and inner demons of mental illness, Mira must find her inner fire and the scorching truth about her own endangered magic—before her very world collapses. 

Moxie by Jennifer Mathieu (9/19): An unlikely teenager starts a feminist revolution at a small-town Texan high school in the new novel from Jennifer Mathieu, author of The Truth About Alice. MOXIE GIRLS FIGHT BACK! Vivian Carter is fed up. Fed up with an administration at her high school that thinks the football team can do no wrong. Fed up with sexist dress codes, hallway harassment, and gross comments from guys during class. But most of all, Viv Carter is fed up with always following the rules. Viv's mom was a tough-as-nails, punk rock Riot Grrrl in the '90s, and now Viv takes a page from her mother's past and creates a feminist zine that she distributes anonymously to her classmates. She's just blowing off steam, but other girls respond. As Viv forges friendships with other young women across the divides of cliques and popularity rankings, she realizes that what she has started is nothing short of a girl revolution. Moxie is a book about high school life that will make you wanna riot!

One Dark Throne by Kendare Blake (9/19): The battle for the crown has begun, but which of the three sisters will prevail? With the unforgettable events of the Quickening behind them and the Ascension Year underway, all bets are off. Katharine, once the weak and feeble sister, is stronger than ever before. Arsinoe, after discovering the truth about her powers, must figure out how to make her secret talent work in her favor without anyone finding out. And Mirabella, once thought to be the strongest sister of all and the certain Queen Crowned, faces attacks like never before—ones that put those around her in danger she can’t seem to prevent. In this enthralling sequel to Kendare Blake’s New York Times bestselling Three Dark Crowns, Fennbirn’s deadliest queens must face the one thing standing in their way of the crown: each other.

Release by Patrick Ness (9/19): Inspired by Judy Blume’s Forever and Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway, this novel that Andrew Smith calls “beautiful, enchanting, [and] exquisitely written” is a new classic about teenage relationships, self-acceptance—and what happens when the walls we build start coming down. Adam Thorn doesn’t know it yet, but today will change his life. Between his religious family, a deeply unpleasant ultimatum from his boss, and his own unrequited love for his sort-of ex, Enzo, it seems as though Adam’s life is falling apart.  At least he has two people to keep him sane: his new boyfriend (he does love Linus, doesn’t he?) and his best friend, Angela. But all day long, old memories and new heartaches come crashing together, throwing Adam’s life into chaos. The bindings of his world are coming untied one by one; yet in spite of everything he has to let go, he may also find freedom in the release. From the New York Times bestselling author of A Monster Calls comes a raw, darkly funny, and deeply affecting story about the courage it takes to live your truth.

Invictus by Ryan Graudin (9/26):  Time flies when you're plundering history. Farway Gaius McCarthy was born outside of time. The son of a time-traveling Recorder from 2354 AD and a gladiator living in Rome in 95 AD, Far's birth defies the laws of nature. Exploring history himself is all he's ever wanted, and after failing his final time-traveling exam, Far takes a position commanding a ship with a crew of his friends as part of a black market operation to steal valuables from the past. But during a heist on the sinking Titanic, Far meets a mysterious girl who always seems to be one step ahead of him. Armed with knowledge that will bring Far's very existence into question, she will lead Far and his team on a race through time to discover a frightening truth: History is not as steady as it seems. In this heart-stopping adventure, Ryan Graudin has created a fast-paced world that defies time and space.

The Language of Thorns by Leigh Bardugo (9/26): Enter the Grishaverse... Love speaks in flowers. Truth requires thorns.Travel to a world of dark bargains struck by moonlight, of haunted towns and hungry woods, of talking beasts and gingerbread golems, where a young mermaid's voice can summon deadly storms and where a river might do a lovestruck boy's bidding but only for a terrible price.Inspired by myth, fairy tale, and folklore, #1 New York Times-bestselling author Leigh Bardugo has crafted a deliciously atmospheric collection of short stories filled with betrayals, revenge, sacrifice, and love.Perfect for new readers and dedicated fans, these tales will transport you to lands both familiar and strange—to a fully realized world of dangerous magic that millions have visited through the novels of the Grishaverse. This collection of six stories includes three brand-new tales and six stunning full-spread illustrations as rich in detail as the stories themselves.

#new releases #YA #E Lockhart #Melissa Bashardoust #Annie Barrows #Sarah J Maas #Jodi Meadows #Jennifer Mathieu #Kendare Blake #Patrick Ness #Ryan Graudin #Leigh Bardugo

[serenebutterfly]

For the past few weeks, I have unfortunately been experiencing a severe flare in symptoms.  Although the symptoms I live with are constant, however, I experience blocks of time in which these symptoms worsen causing much pain and suffering.

Pain, trembling, dizziness and especially fatigue have all been particularly acute of late.  Often I have been unable to do much at all, with the pain and trembling in the legs shackling me to my bed due to difficulties with getting around, even in the house.  Crippling fatigue has also confined me to rest in bed on numerous occasions especially after being out of the house or doing chores around the house.

And it’s in these moments, being incapacitated by the illness that I am unable to do much more than just lie on my bed and entertain myself with a light or comforting book.  But more often than not, however, I have been distracting my mind from the pain and other symptoms with a box-set binge of one of my favourite television programmes.

In this post, I thought I would share some of my favourite box sets that have recently helped me into a chronically (ill) induced boxset binge.

Bones

Anyone who knows me will know that I am a huge fan of procedural crime dramas, and Bones has to be one of my all-time favourite shows in this genre.

‘Bones’ centres around the relationship between forensic anthropologist Dr Temperence Brennan and Special Agent Seeley Booth of the FBI whom together combine their skill and expertise to solve murders using evidence recovered from dead bodies.  “Bones” is the nickname given to Dr Brennan who heads up the team of forensic scientists of the Jeffersonian Institue (based upon the real-life Smithsonian Institue).  As the show is based on the character created by real-life forensic anthropologist Kathy Reichs (and who is also an executive producer on the TV series) the science and techniques used adds to the show’s realism and authenticity.  Alongside murder inquiries, the show also explores the relationships and private lives of the characters.

Not only is the science of the show interesting and compelling but the writers of the show beautifully write engaging and relatable characters whom you can’t help but fall in love with, especially the show’s protagonist ‘Bones’ whose directness and clumsy demeanour makes her both hilarious and endearing to watch.  Also, what I love about the show is its ability to inject humour seamlessly alongside the horror and gore of its depictions of its murders and dead bodies.

Blindspot

“Jane Doe” wakes up stuffed inside a duffel bag in the middle of Times Square, naked, unaware of her own identity and covered in strange tattoos covering most of her body.  And it’s this enigmatic twist that makes it so different from any other police drama before or since.

The FBI, headed by Special Agent Kurt Weller, whose name also appears on the back of this mysterious tattooed woman, realises the tattoos are much like a treasure map and when decoded reveals clues to crimes and instances of government corruption.  Also while trying to discover Jane Doe’s real identity, and who sent her to the FBI and why.

If you love dramas that make you think, then this is one to put on your list.  Once you start to watch you cannot help be instantly intrigued with these beautiful and ornate and tattoos as well as the methods used to uncover the messages behind them.  As the series develops, the momentum builds closer towards a shocking and dramatic conclusion, raising more questions than it actually answered, and brilliantly introducing new avenues for future series to explore.  Everything about this series really impressed me, but the standout performance came from Jaimie Alexander as ‘Jane Doe’ who although excelled at the action stunts it was the vulnerability she showed portraying a woman whose entire identity had been erased that made it such a compelling watch.  A series I could happily watch again and again!

Strike Back

I wouldn’t say that I am a huge fan of action dramas, but Strike Back has to be the one exception and one I can happily watch over and over again.  I’ve even been known to have come to the end of the entire series of the show and then immediately go back and watch it all over again.  The original series of Strike Back was adapted from a novel written by former soldier Chris Ryan and starred Richard Armitage.  John Porter is a disgraced soldier recruited by a secret branch of the British military to travel around the globe in the attempt to stop major global threats while his boss does his best to cover up a mistake from his past.  It was a solid series, however, Strike Back really came into its own during its second outing with the introduction of soldiers, Sgt Scott and Sgt Stonebridge, two leads who share amazing chemistry, and rival any of the best television or film comedy duos. They are engaging, and a delight to watch, and the banter they share is really what makes the show so fun and entertaining.  The one-liners between the two are hilarious, and as it’s a show I watch so of, I am even able to quote them!  But be warned, throughout all of the series there are many instances of explicit language as well as gratuitous sex and nudity.  Certainly not something I will watch in front of my Dad!

But what also makes the show so brilliant is the high octane drama and action.  The stunts are both impressive, and looks incredibly realistic and what the show will be most remembered for.  Although the action is what mainly drives the show, I also enjoyed the emotionally driven storylines, examining the tortured psyches of the soldiers and the moral quandaries that they are forced to confront in their line of work.  It was great to love a show that seemed fresh and new at the beginning of each new series, with ever evolving characters and brilliantly complex storylines, hunting new enemies that threaten not only the UK but it’s political and military allies.

Gavin and Stacey

Written by friends Ruth Jones and now very famous James Corden, Gavin and Stacey tells the story of the eponymous characters; one a boy living with his parent in Essex and Stacey, a young woman from Barry, a town not very far from where I live!  They navigate their love affair alongside their best friends Nessa and Smithy, who although they seemingly hate each they keep sharing romantic trysts themselves!

The show is absolutely hilarious, and it never fails to make me belly-laugh no matter how many times I have watched the episodes!  A great boxset to watch when feeling down, feeling the effects of living with a neurological condition.

Other Notable Mentions:

Grey’s Anatomy – it’s fun, addictive and beautifully written with strong and relatable characters that despite their flaws you can’t help but love

Criminal Minds – as someone with a psychology degree, I find their abilities to get inside the minds of serial killers fascinating

Ghost Whisperer – Jennifer Love Hewitt is absolutely compelling to watch as reluctant medium Melinda Gordon.  Each episode is so emotional to watch and never feels to leave you with tears in your eyes

Designated Survivor (on Netflix UK) – with elements of 24 and The West Wing, this show is undeniably intriguing and also complicated at times.  Tom Kirkland (played by Keifer Sutherland) on the eve of the State of the  Union becomes the President of the United States after a catastrophic explosion claims the lives of the President and everyone in his line of succession.  It’s absolutely addictive, and all 21 episodes are now immediately at your fingertips making it perfect binge-worthy material.

I always love to discover new box sets to watch on those days which leave me incapacitated by my symptoms so I would love to hear your favourite box sets and any recommendations on what to watch next!

Leave your suggestions in the comments below!

      A Chronically (Ill) Induced Boxset Binge For the past few weeks, I have unfortunately been experiencing a severe flare in symptoms.  Although the symptoms I live with are constant, however, I experience blocks of time in which these symptoms worsen causing much pain and suffering.

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