#...people are sympathetic if you occasionally forget your lunch at home or you forget your great-great-great aunt's maiden name...
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To people of loved ones with poor memory:
It might be frustrating when they forget something (especially if it's important), but I can guarantee you that they are already beating themself up over having forgotten yet another thing. You don't need to rub that shame, embarrassment, and humiliation in deeper than it already is.
It is scary to forget things. It's humiliating to be told that the only reason we forget things is because we think nothing is important, that we're selfish and callous. Our brains are being pulled in every direction at the same time. It's impossible to keep track of this shit every picosecond of the day.
People like to conceptualize memory issues as a matter of lesser intelligence, that we're too stupid to even remember [minor detail]. I've noticed, though, that all of our brain power is kept toward other things - keeping ourselves alive, remembering a different thing, trying to regulate emotions or other disorders. Nobody seems to care that our workload is at least twice that of the "average" person's, I guess because they often don't directly notice it, or it doesn't directly affect them?
It's fine to be upset about the situation. You can't help that reaction, but you do not have to be cruel to people with memory issues, no matter the cause of it. Whatever they forgot might have been important to you, but there may be other things in that person's life that required their brainpower.
#disability#memory issues#memory loss#i've noticed that with a lot of conditions and issues that people are sympathetic up until it's a long-standing or chronic problem...#...people are sympathetic if you occasionally forget your lunch at home or you forget your great-great-great aunt's maiden name...#...but when it's chronic... when you forget your name or you forget where you're going or you forget something important daily...#...it becomes a you-caused issue. when it is the occasionally ill-remembered item that's a brain fart...#...it's something you can laugh off and forget...#...but if it's chronic it ceases to be a problem that's caused by other forces but is SOLELY caused by you...#...YOU are the one who CHOSE to forget these important things...#...that's what compounds the shame and grief and self-hatred and fundamental mistrust in ourselves and the world around us
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Back at it again…….
Just imagine..
You are over worked and exhausted.
You are going through a breakup, are working 40+ hours a week, and you are taking 4 college classes on top of trying to have any life at all.
Sleep doesn’t come easy and you are stressed to the point of breaking out into hives. You just want to stop and let your best guy friends snuggle you in between them, but you don’t have time to stop. There is so much to do and so little time. The emotional and mental toll it’s all taking is making you even more tired than ever before.
Steve and Bucky arrive on your floor one evening. After realizing they hadn’t heard from you in a few hours, and knowing you are home since you got off of work hours prior, they felt the need to come check on you. They see through the charade you’ve been fronting for them. Hell, Bucky is an ex assassin. He knew as soon as it started, but Steve wanted to give you some space to get used to the routine of things before trying to fix it all for you. Steve knows you want to be independent, but they both know you are getting near, if you haven’t already passed, your breaking point.
You are sitting in your bed, music ridiculously loud, typing quickly on your laptop. A cup of coffee sits on your nightstand, even though it is pretty late into the evening, as you attempt to get as much done as you can. Exhaustion crept up on you before you even got home, but you had too many assignments due in one week, so you just keep the music up to keep yourself awake and drink a cup or two of coffee. Your getting the jitters as you haven’t eaten anything since lunch time and this is your 3rd cup of coffee today.
Steve and Bucky walk right into your open bedroom door, but you don’t even notice them. From afar, the boys see the tremors in our hands, the way your legs bounce even as you sit. They know that look. You are over caffeinated and exhausted, on the brink of a panic attack, and you don’t even realize it. Your face is flushed and sweat is starting to bead on your forehead as the boys witness your anxiety build when you obviously make a mistake.
Steve walks straight into your en-suite as Bucky calls to you.
“Hey doll. You okay?” Bucky practically yells over the music. You jump and quickly scramble into a fighting position, swaying dangerously on your feet. Bucky steps forward to steady you. “I’ll take that as a no.”
Just as Steve comes in, you collapses into Bucky, no longer able to hold yourself up. Your breaths are coming in short and fast as you claw to get ahold of Bucky. Your weakness and sudden dizziness scaring you.
“I’ve gotcha.” Bucky murmurs as he catches you, hoisting you into his arms. Bucky begins walking toward the living room as Steve follows suit, grabbing your trash bin on the way out. This has happened before. Your nerves, plus your exhaustion, plus not eating, plus the caffeine, plus the anxiety attack normally makes you sick to your stomach. Sometimes nothing happens, but Steve knows to be prepared.
“Hey. Hey. Hey. Look at me beautiful.” Steve said as Bucky sat down with you in his lap, your back to his chest. Steve sits beside y’all, grabbing your face gently in his hands, attempting to make eye contact. “I need you to slow down for us. Can you do that?”
You shake your head, reaching up to grip Steve’s wrists. You squeeze your eyes and your mouth shut as the nausea climbs and you squirm in Bucky’s lap.
Bucky rubs your stomach above your shirt and leans his head on your shoulder, quietly shushing you in between saying sweet nothings. Both boys are trying their hardest to calm you down, but they are having no luck.
“Excuse me, I have requested for Agent Romanoff to come assist.” Friday breaks in.
Just as the AI informs y’all, Natasha walks in with a glass of water and a few pills. “Banner asked me to run these up for you guys. Friday informed him of her vitals while we were doing some paper work in the lab.”
“Thanks Tasha.” Bucky replies, reaching out his free hand to grab the items from the assassin. “We got it from here. Don’t wanna crowd her too much.”
“Of course.” Natasha replies, gently running a hand through your hair. “Feel better немного любви (little love).” Then she’s gone.
Steve has a sharp eye on you and is preparing to lunge for the trash can that he has as he watches your face turn a grayish color as your breathing picks up even more. Steve watches as Bucky puts the wash cloth on the back of your neck and resumes rubbing your stomach. Steve keeps his hands on your face even as you tilt your head back to rest on Bucky’s shoulder. The temperature of your face rises as the panic and nausea rises.
Just as the nausea hits its brink, your face suddenly goes a bit colder. Steve feels the change and lunges to shove the trash can under your chin. Bucky pulls your hair away from your face as you heave into the trash bin Steve provides.
You attempt to hold back the wave of coffee that threats to come up. “Ste- uuurk” You attempt to cry out, but that sends the coffee up and out.
“Shhhhh Hunny. I know. You’re okay.” Steve shushes you. At this point, all they can do is let it happen and take care of you. Steve and Bucky exchange sympathetic glances over your shoulder as they each attempt to soothe you.
You get sick multiple times. Occasionally, Bucky gives your back a few thumps when you sputter. The boys shush you and try to soothe your shaking and jarring form as they wait it out with you.
After a few minutes, you sit back, finally finished. You pant as Bucky pulls you further into him and Steve backs off slightly. The trash can is placed a bit away, but still within reach. Steve takes off his shirts, using the white tank top to clean off your mouth before handing you the water. Steve has you rinse and spit before allowing you to drink any water.
The room is silent as you all wait to make sure the water will stay down. After a few minutes with nothing happening, but the sound of you panting between sips, they get to work.
“Here Buck. I’ll take her. Can you go clean that out and make her something light?” Steve asks his boyfriend, reaching for you.
You allow Steve to take you as Bucky gets up with a nod in Steve’s direction. You snuggle down as Steve takes the glass and sets it on the coffee table. Your head rests on his chest as you listen to his heart beat and Bucky working in the kitchen. You finally begin calming down as Steve sits with you in silence, letting you match your breathing to his own as he holds you close, rubbing your back gently.
When Bucky comes back, he gives you some soup and crackers, telling you to eat some so that you can take your medicine. You comply, exhausted and knowing that he is right.
“You gotta quit doing this to yourself doll.” Bucky says as he hands the medication to you after you finish up.
Steve still has you in his lap. You are reclined back into his chest and he rests his chin on your shoulder. “He’s right. You gotta quit overworking yourself. You just literally made yourself sick.”
“I know.” You reply, tilting your head down. You feel ashamed that they had to come to your rescue because you couldn’t have better time management. “I just have a lot on my plate. I’m sorry.” Then the tears start falling.
“Hey. Hey. Hey. None of that.” Bucky says, gently tilting your face up and wiping at the tears as they fall. “We know you do, but you gotta take care of yourself.”
“Like stopping for meals, drinking more water, sleeping.” Steve says, rubbing your arms.
“I know. Sometimes I get so stuck in what I’m doing. I forget.” You sigh.
“We know. That’s why we came up.” Steve replied. “We hadn’t heard from you in a while. You’ve been like this since the breakup and we were starting to get worried.”
“Well, I’ve been worried, but we wanted to let you have some time to readjust. Half a year is a long time to be dating someone. Some people might think otherwise, but by then, you have routines and you’ve been with someone romantically and it can be hard to get used to being alone again.” Bucky says, fighting to be that vulnerable, but knowing you need to hear it.
“It’s been so hard.” You answer quietly. “I got used to always having someone to talk to, someone to cuddle, someone to watch movies with and eat junk food. Someone who I loved and thought I would spend the rest of my life with. *sniff* I feel so alone and working or doing homework makes me forget sometimes.” You cry, leaning further into Steve, curling up in his lap as you talk.
Bucky continues to wipe your tears. He pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and covers you with it as he sees the look of exhaustion on your face. The battle for sleep has begun now that your body has been fed and properly hydrated.
“We know sweetheart. We know.” Steve murmurs, tightening his hold on you. “We’ve got you now though. We will help you in any way that we can.”
“Yeah.” Bucky agrees, snuggling into you and Steve. “We can snuggle. We can watch movies and eat junk. We can even talk to you all the time.”
“It may not be the same.” Steve says, turning to kiss you on the crown of your head. “But we love you.”
“I love you guys too.” You say as you drift to sleep.
Later on, once they are sure you are asleep, the boys carry you to bed and lay down with you. Bucky clears the bed off and goes around your floor to make sure everything is off for the night before returning to you and Steve. Once Steve gets his good night kiss from Bucky, they both place a kiss on your forehead before laying down beside you to sleep.
#bucky x reader#mcu#steve rogers x reader#stucky#james bucky barnes#emeto#emeto tw#emetophilia#anxitey#steve rogers fluff#stucky fluff#bucky fluff
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An Order of Dandelions
He could never forget the scent of caramel coffee in the air, or the sight of the gentle smile that graced her expression as she waved him goodbye. It was a call for him to visit again, an urge and temptation he would never refuse.
Modern AU ✿ Illya/Alphinaud ✿ 3,464 words
"A new cafe again, young master?"
He's used to hearing that question asked to him as the scenic view of the city passes him by, his hand idly stroking a length of fur upon his lap as he answers with nothing more than a firm nod.
His chauffeur may not understand it, but Alphinaud was a firm believer of expanding your horizons, trying something new, or some variation of the saying.
He could most certainly not hurt to afford spending his money on the same few chain coffee stores near the campus or his home, and just a few years back he'd even expressed his disbelief at his twin sister's insistence on eating out at those rustic fast food joints rather than the far more trustworthy alternative of five star french cuisine. A disbelief that prompted him to visit a rustic cafe for coffee once, and ever since that first visit, he'd become a devoted convert.
He was enamored by the modest settings of cafe, the more often than not extraordinary decor that put even the fanciest of restaurants he's seen throughout his life to shame. The prices for the food and drinks were extraordinary too - extraordinarily low for quality he'd consider no different from alternatives 5 times the price.
He'd gone from curiosity of a naive rich man's son to a full fledged cafe hopping addict now.
This time, his sights were set on a quaint little cafe he's heard his classmates mentioned once in passing during their lunch time conversations. They said nothing more than the bare minimum to get him curious - that the coffee was delicious, the decorations were pretty and that the barista was apparently nice.
A purr snatches his attention, and the boy turns his head to smile down at the cat that laid belly up upon his lap.
"I shall watch over Romeo as usual, young master."
"My thanks."
Brief words of thanks are punctuated by the sound of the tires braking against the asphalt as the car stops gracefully outside of the quiet little building.
Rows of potted flowers hung just above the window that would give passerby a glimpse into the seating area within. White wooden tables and chairs neatly lined up against the wall where even more potted plants decorated the rustic white planks, green vines taking the place of the ever popular fairy lights he's seen a good number of cafes use. And though the window gave a good view of the handful of customers already seated within, and the sheer amount of plant life that shared that space, the counter is obscured from view behind the wall. He’d assume there would be a short line of people waiting for their orders to be taken.
A small sign was parked right above the window, framed by what else but a wreath of leaves and flowers of every colour of the rainbow.
The Lavender Brew
A suitable name for one so obsessed with plants, Alphinaud thought to himself. Not that it was a bad thing, of course. He hasn't even stepped foot outside the car and he's already sold on the concept.
"Let me know if there's anything else you need, young master." The bearded man in the driver’s seat finally turns to speak to him, and Alphinaud flashes a smile of gratitude in return.
"I will, Pierre. I shall return shortly."
Much to the dismay of the blonde cat that had just been resting so blissfully upon his master's lap, he's quickly scooped up and dropped onto the back seat, evidently less than pleased as it let out a low pitched meow.
Alphinaud is used to the demands of his cat however, and has no regrets with opening the car door and closing it behind him without even a second glance back.
A bell chime greets his entrance into the cafe, and he's immediately hit by the familiar scent of coffee intermingled with floral notes he was less accustomed to. He notes with a low hum that he was right about there not being too many people waiting by the counter.
A display refrigerator he hadn't been able to see from the outside stood proudly next to the counter, housing a myriad of palm sized cakes and pastries along with handwritten cards noting the name of each dessert and their respective prices.
Eye catching as the desserts were, his attention is drawn to the chalk board on the wall behind the counter, where more of the same handwriting now listed a menu of drink items with their prices. Espresso, mocha and lattes he's very much used to.. a subset list of both floral and fruit juices less so, but it further adds to the naturalistic theme this cafe seemed so adamant to follow.
His line of sight breaks upon catching a flash of white at the corner of his eye and he turns his head back down to finally look at the barista.
Long straight white hair fluttered to and fro after the girl as she rushed from one end of the station behind the counter to the other, frantically preparing the orders of the patiently waiting customers who were far more interested in whatever was being displayed on their smart phones. A pink ribbon broke the monotone of her pure white hair behind her head, and he notes to himself with a small amount of amusement that the white patterns on the ribbon were of lilies.
When the lady finally turns around to hand the customer a take away cup of their order, a timid little 'thank you so much!' breathlessly leaving her lips, Alphinaud's eyes widen slightly in surprise.
Wide violet eyes that practically glisten in the light, almost porcelain-like light skin and a button nose. The woman's sense of dress is simple, but most suited for her. Coupled with how she stood more than a foot shorter than even he and her youthful appearance, he'd garner a guess that she was no older than him, and perhaps even younger.
If this were the very same barista his classmate had been speaking about, he'd have to very much agree with their prognosis about her 'cuteness'.
Alphinaud may be rich, but he most certainly isn’t entitled. At least, he’d like to believe he isn’t, a claim so many others of his age had throw thoughtlessly his way with zero regards of his feelings. And so he has always made it a point to emulate the behavior of what his father titled ‘commoners’. From occasionally picking up groceries for himself, to the now comfortable routine of standing in line at a cafe as he takes in the sights around him.
He quickly scurries to the end of the queue and attempts to make full use of his time waiting by thinking on what he’d like to order until his train of thought was rudely disrupted by the rough rattle of the bell as the door to the cafe opened.
“Hey, lady! This isn’t what I ordered!”
A man stomps in, pushing past the first customer in front of the counter to slam his disposable coffee cup onto the table. It barely makes a sound, but the anger in his voice is enough to contort the barista’s expression into one of unbridled fear.
“U-um-- W-What was it that you ordered again, sir?”
“I ordered a goddamn Americano, not Macchiato, idiot!”
There isn’t a single pair of eyes in the cafe that wasn’t directed towards the bellowing man now. Though the gazes of the patrons within the cafe had ranged from mild curiosity to annoyance, the trembling barista behind the counter had been left alone with a wavering stare of terror.
“I-I’m so sorry! I’ll prepare a Macchiato for you right away, sir!”
“I ain’t got time to wait for you to make another shitty cup of your brew! You’ve already wasted enough of my time making me come back here to tell you this!”
Hushed whispers passed among the handful of customers that had been waiting in line, presumably badmouthing the audacity of the man to quite literally scream in the face of a woman who seemed about ready to fall to the floor. Inaction and idle gossip however, has never quite been Alphinaud’s style; it was never the Leveilleur style.
“There must certainly be a better way to express your dissatisfaction than to yell at a lady like that.” The boy’s words pierces through the air, and the man directs his narrowed glare towards him.
“What’s that gotta do with you, kid?! Stay out of it!”
“You’re making a scene, sir. You claim that she wasted your time, and yet are you not wasting the time of everybody waiting in line yourself?” Unwavered, Alphinaud folds his arms across his chest. “I’m certain the police would say the same if we were to call them here.”
The threat certainly seemed to get through to the man at least. His eyes almost spitting fire out at the insolent teen who seemed to have no intentions of backing off. The boy’s well dressed, probably well to do.. if he were to lay a hand on him, then surely no good would come of it.
Finally stepping back, the man hurriedly leaves the cafe, though not without leaving a final signal of his ire by slamming the door. The sound of the door smashing shut, and the echoes of the bell as it noisily chimed for the next several seconds was enough to cause the poor barista to jump in her skin.
“Don’t let jerks like him get to you.” one of the customers, a woman with a freckled face and curly brunette hair waved her hand to catch the young woman’s attention. “He probably won’t ever come back, anyway.”
The sentiment seemed to be shared by the other customers, who were quick to turn their attention back to their own business after sparing a final sympathetic glance at the woman behind the counter.
Alphinaud hadn’t expected anything out of the incident, really. Such actions was only natural, or at least something that should be expected out of the future heir of a corporation. He could not hope to lead others if he did not have the courage to stand up for what he believed to be right, or at the very least defend those with a lesser voice than he.
It was but a small unpleasant blight during an otherwise uneventful day.
“U-um... Thank you so much...”
It wasn’t until the other customers before him had been served and the line in front of the counter had dispersed that he heard her voice directed towards him. It was almost like a whisper, a single light chime in the wind. The girl’s hands clasped together in front of her chest as she stared up at Alphinaud with glossy violet eyes.
The sincerity in her words caught him unaware at first, but he was quick to shake his head and flash her a smile as a return.
“You needn’t thank me. I just did what was right.”
“B-but...” the girl stutters, fingers now fidgeting restlessly as her eyes darts to the planks of wood beneath her feet. “You...you protected me.. from that man and...”
Protected certainly is an unexpectedly huge word to be using for something so trivial, but Alphinaud could only imagine what such a valiant act would appear to be in the eyes of a woman who seemed barely capable of keeping eye contact with others.
“And I am certain many others would have done the same if they had the chance, miss.”
The girl averts her gaze, hands falling apart to allow one to brush strands of white over her ear. There’s no one behind him in line, but she still makes an attempt to recall her professionalism all the same.
“W-well,” she begins, her voice almost a whisper for a moment, before it becomes louder. “What would you like to order, sir?”
Alphinaud leans back slightly on one heel as he considers, glancing briefly at the blackboard menu decorated with small chalk drawings of flowers and leaves.
“How about you surprise me?” he asks pleasantly with a smile. He catches sight of her name tag as he looks back to her. Illya. “And call me ‘Alphinaud’, please.”
A light dusting of pink rises to the girl’s cheeks as she shuffles her feet nervously, still not quite looking at him. Pale pink lips tremble as she attempts to choke out his name as requested.
“Y-yes...S-si-.. Alphinaud.” Somehow, something twinges lightly in his chest as he hears her say his name. Perhaps the floral scent of the cafe is getting to him. “My name is...Illya.”
Her expression turns into one of consideration as she turns away from him slowly. He doesn’t think to tell her he’s already seen her name.
The light hiss of steaming milk fills the air as Illya begins preparing him her brew, evidently having decided upon something. Her movement is swift, evidently familiar with her station as she mixes a concoction of what he can tell to contain milk and some powder together. A minute later, she brings him the cup, lightly settles it upon the counter, and names the price.
“Ah...I sh-should have told you earlier...I’m sorry -- “
“No, no, it’s quite all right, nothing to worry about,” he reassures her, already pulling out his card to pay. The payment terminal makes a light beep as he taps it. He spares her another smile as he folds his wallet away. “What is it?”
“A-a...caramel latte.”
Oh -- he’s never had one of those. But he did ask her to surprise him, and she certainly did. He picks up the steaming cup and takes a sip.
It’s -- sweet. Almost cloyingly so.
Somehow, he manages to keep a grimace from rising to his features. Alphinaud has never been a big fan of overly sugary drinks. He’s used to the dark and bitter richness of his usual orders, but telling her he’s not fond of it, especially after what had happened earlier felt a tad cruel.
His panic spikes when she, hesitantly, asks him how it is, and he has to pray that he’s managed to remain composed.
“It’s...good.” Relief washes over him like a tidal wave as he sees her pretty violet eyes light up. “It’s certainly surprising! I’ve never had one of these before.”
“I’m so glad.” The sheer sincerity behind her words is near enough to take his breath away, though why, he’s not entirely sure.
“I-Illya,” he stammers a moment, internally cursing himself, as he nurses his cup and takes another small sip. “How did you come to own such a quaint cafe?” Ordinarily, he wouldn’t attempt to make such conversation, but it doesn’t feel right to simply leave, and there’s nobody else waiting either way.
“Oh...” Illya trails off, her gaze averting yet again. “I-it’s -- it used to be my parents’. My mother put me in charge of the cafe after I graduated high school.. A-And since I’ve always liked flowers, I t-turned it into a florist shop as well...”
One pale eyebrow quirking in surprise, Alphinaud turns slightly to glance at one of the many displays of flowers and plants festooning the establishment. Now that she mentions it, he can indeed see that some of them have price tags attached.
From an assortment of potted cactus plants and flower, to smaller trinkets that he assumes to be mini terrariums.. it’s plain to see much love and care was put into the array of plants that was put on sale.
“What a wonderful idea! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cafe quite like this before. I think it’s very unique.”
Dusts of red returns to the white-haired girl’s cheeks full-force, though this time a smile accompanies it.
“I’m...glad to hear that. I-it’s not that great though.”
Silence passes between them as the young man takes another sip of his drink. For some reason, he wants to say something else. Illya looks unoccupied, perhaps a little out of sorts, as she stands at the counter. The other shop patrons are sitting at their tables, some engaged in conversation, others nose-deep in their phones.
It wasn’t that he was exceptionally chatty. But something about the girl compels him to want to take an extra effort at conversation, somehow.
Come to think of it, Illya looks about his age, doesn’t she...? Does she man the cafe the entire day...?
“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” he asks her suddenly. She startles, eyes wide as she looks up at him from beneath her fringe of pale hair.
“U-um...I’m...twenty...”
Ah, so only a few months older than he is.
“Is that so? I turn twenty in about another 6 months myself.” he offers, since it’s only polite. “Are you...” There’s a brief pause as he rethinks his words. “In school?”
Whilst it’s common to begin university or college at the age of nineteen or eighteen..he’d rather not fluster or embarrass her if perhaps she’d started late...or had any difficulty...that’s simply not his style. And she’s already nervous enough.
“I...If you mean college... I never went.” Her gaze is downcast, shoulders tense in something that might well be shame. “I...my parents...we didn’t have enough...”
The hitch in her voice was almost enough to cause his heart to ache, and he can already hear a nagging voice in his conscious chiding him for being so foolish as to bring up such a sensitive topic.
“Oh. I see.” She doesn’t need to continue for him to understand. The taste on his tongue is sour, and he takes a mouthful of latte to soothe it. “I’m sorry.”
“I-it’s okay!” Illya quickly waves a hand to placate him. “I’m...I’m happy here. I-it’s all right.” For a moment, Alphinaud has the sinking feeling she’s trying to justify herself to him. But then --
“I’m happy that I get to carry on my parents’ hard work.”
The sincerity in her voice and expression is nearly enough to floor him, and he can’t believe he had been so self-centered and patronizing as to assume she might be...ashamed of working at a small little cafe filled with flowers. That soft, gentle smile --
He has to swallow around the strange lump in his throat.
“It’s certainly very admirable. I’m...glad I got to meet you here, Illya.”
He’s glad he wandered into this quaint little shop of warm drinks and pastries and flowers. He’s glad -- to have defended her, to have allowed her to send his preconceived notions and beliefs flying with those tiny hands of hers, for the warmth rising in his chest like a steaming coffee.
Illya’s violet eyes dart up to meet his, shocked. Before she can say anything else, there’s a light ring at the door as someone else enters the shop. Clearing his throat, Alphinaud gives the white-haired girl a nod and a smile.
“Thank you for your time today, Illya. And thank you for the...latte.”
He hesitates a single moment, and the girl is too flustered to say anything. There was a moment of silence between the pair as he waits, hoping for a response. He could not help the hint of disappointment he felt as he watched Illya avert his gaze, a hand moving up to comb strands of silky hair back behind her ear.
“Goodbye.”
Alphinaud turns, and just as he was about to fully step out the door he’d opened however, he hears her squeak out a question.
“W-Will you be coming back someday, Alphinaud?”
Like a javelin through his chest, he nearly stumbles from the skipping of his heart beat. Color rises up his face, almost dark enough to match the red of the roses that stood proudly among the display the shelves.
“Of course.”
Alphinaud dares to cast a final glance back, and immediately regrets his decision when she sees the bright smile that graced Illya’s face. Her hand raised, waving sheepishly at him.
He finally steps outside, but not even a gulp of fresh air was enough to steady the racing of his heart, nor did the impatient meows of Romeo who had peeked his head out the opened car window. The cup in his hand still feels warm, and yet it paled in comparison to the heat that filled his head.
Alphinaud raises the beverage up to his chapped lips, gulping in the last of the brew that tingled his taste buds and lets out a low hum at the tender sweetness. He feels immense regret at the fact that his cup was now empty, but that was simply all the more reason to pay The Lavender Brew a second visit.
He may well just have found his new favorite drink.
#ffxiv#final fantasy xiv#alphinaud leveilleur#illya skawi#we've come so far#fanfic#alphinaud#modern au#mine#THANK YOU TO LAURELISMUN FOR HELPING ME WITH A GOOD PORTION OF THIS FIC#WRITER'S BLOCK IS AWFUL YO#especially when you're like studying for exams difnioffasdaiod#this has been rotting in my drafts for several weeks#glad to finally be rid of this garbage#other verses
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As We Grow Older
chapter 1
Summer had come and gone. Days bled into nights and sun bled into stars as September rapidly approached. It had been warm and peaceful, quiet in the way that vibrant flowers grew over green fields, given shade by the confident trees and given life from the minimalistic designs of watering cans and the green-thumbs holding them; but thrilling in the way that rollercoasters flew through the sky, friends laughing loud and hard as they made memories they would never forget.
Remus Lupin appreciated the first much more, as he sat in his garden, book in hand, trying to enjoy the last few hours of his summer holiday.
This is, no doubt, in stark contrast to his friends. James Potter had bought a season pass to theme parks all around the country that his family had driven between for the entire month of July, stopping at Lily Evans’s holiday cabin any chance he got. Peter Pettigrew had enjoyed concert after concert, dragging his friends to a few and his presumably unrequited crush Mary MacDonald to most. He’d even heard of all about Marlene and Dorcas’ trip to Spain, a trip that they’d been practically begging their parents to pay towards and labelled as a ‘celebration’ of their grades the school year prior.
Then there was Sirius Black. Leather jackets and muscle t-shits, dark hair falling past his shoulders or loosely tied up in a bun that would come tumbling down minutes later. Brown eyes and perfect lips, spread over his face in a perfect grin that was usually accompanied by a hand clutching at his toned chest. He’d spent his time quite evenly between the three boys, thrill-seeking with James and his family, third-wheeling Peter and Mary and annoying every one of Remus’s neighbours with his antics. There was never a quiet moment in his summer, which was to be expected by the school’s most beloved trouble maker. All four of them were regarded as such, but Remus had always thought that Sirius was the main reason for their popularity.
He was also hopelessly in love with him.
Of course, this isn’t at all surprising. Most, if not all of the girls at Hogwarts High fawned over Sirius’s impossible good looks, his charm and flirty remarks, his laid-back, cool stance. Love letters flooded his locker and every one of his selfies got hundreds, if not thousands of likes and comments. He was certainly no stranger to the shallow pining, but Remus Lupin was a boy. A bisexual boy that wasn’t out to anyone. And he didn’t just like Sirius for his looks. That was definitely a bonus, something to make him swoon pathetically, but Remus saw much deeper than that. He loved his sense of humour, his laugh that could light up an entire room. He loved his personality, outgoing and confident but caring and gentle in the right company. He loved the way that his face portrayed every single emotion with such depth, and that his heart was worn on his sleeves. He loved everything about Sirius, but he couldn’t possibly tell him.
“Remus, honey, tea’s ready.” His mum called from the back doorstep. “Come in before it gets cold.”
Essentially, he was fucked.
~~
Sirius Black woke up to the piercing sound of his parent’s shouting at him and Regulus to “get the fuck out of bed” and “stop being so fucking lazy”. He could tell they were more aimed at him than his little brother, which filled him with both relief and dread. He was grateful that swim training didn’t start again until next week, considering how awful this was at 8, he definitely couldn’t handle the same at 5:30. A muffled groan escaped from his lips as he rolled over, feet twisted in his silk sheets and a hand carding through his hair. It was finally September, after 6 excruciating weeks of blinding sun, and school was starting again. Not that he didn’t appreciate the rest, its just the only thing he truly enjoyed about it was the thing he had the least of: his friends.
He’d spent as much time as humanly possible out of his house and away from his dear parents, but nothing could ever be quite enough. They’d been shouting a lot more recently, at him and each other, occasionally even Regulus, and his ears ached with the shrill voice of his mother and booming sound of his father. They weren’t even his mother and father, not really, that title would go to the Potters, whose house he promptly arrived at after he’d spent a good 20 minutes under the hot spray of his shower. He hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye as he marched out of his door with as much pride as he could muster, practically none of which was genuine.
“Pads! I was actually starting to think you weren’t gonna show,” James announced as he greeted his friend with a tight hug, as if he hadn’t seen him just the day before.
“Couldn’t miss the first day of school, could I? I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
“Sure you do, mate”
He punched James lightly in the shoulder as the two of them laughed away any inhibitions they’d had about the first day of school. The two took their seats at the breakfast bar as Mrs Potter placed plates of toast and fruit, always reminding her boys to stay healthy. She’d cut Sirius’s toast into 4 small triangles, exactly how he liked it, and they both ate as quickly as possible, excited for the year ahead.
“You boys better get going if you want to make it before second bell, I’d rather not have to deal with that on your record” The kind voice of Mrs Potter sang through the room. A voice that made him feel safe, like this was his home.
“Mum’s right, bet Moony’ll go mad if we’re late again” James added and finished with a kiss to Mrs Potter’s cheek. “Him and Peter are probably there already.”
He couldn’t wait to see Remus again. And Peter. And the girls.
“Well don’t just stand there Prongs, we have shit to start!”
“Language.”
“Sorry Mrs Potter.”
~~
Remus’ stomach flipped and churned as he saw Sirius approach their table, James strutting by his side. He’s your best friend. Get a grip. He watched James’s eyes go right towards the head of red hair beside him, freckles dotted all over her face and arms and jeans cuffed above her ankles. Prongs had been not-so-subtly crushing on Lily for a few years now, and it was getting quite depressing to watch. Remus had suspected for a while that she did in fact have feelings for James, but it wasn’t really his place to comment. Besides, she’d most likely be too obstinate to admit it even if she did. Across from him, Mary, Marlene and Dorcas were excitedly discussing their holidays, the latter two occasionally pulling each other close and sharing a few kisses. They’d been dating for almost a year, and needless to say everyone in the school shipped them. Someone had even made them a fan account, which Marlene had admittedly found a little creepy, but Dorcas adored.
“Moons! Is that a haircut I see? It suits you,” Sirius said matter-of-factly, taking the seat the other side of Remus, obviously growing bored of James’s childish pining.
He’s your best friend. Best friends compliment each other. “Wouldn’t take you as one to notice, Pads.” What? What does that even mean?
“Well, I did” he replied, before pulling out his phone and opening Instagram, mindlessly scrolling through and liking every other post. Sirius was one of those people who documented his entire life on social media, to the point where at any given moment the entire school knew where he was and what he was doing.
A few moments passed, everyone exchanging fun stories, laughing at Peter’s animated retellings, smiling as Marlene laid her dead on her girlfriend’s shoulder when she recounted care-free nights. He’d missed this, and he could tell Sirius had too.
They still had ten minutes until first bell, and they would all go to their first classes of the year. Remus had decided to take chemistry this year, a decision that he now deeply regretted after the amount of summer homework Professor Slughorn had given him, a decision that was definitely not made in the first place so that he’d be in more classes with Sirius. Definitely not.
Usually on an occasion such as important as this, the 8 of them would pull a prank. He secretly lived for those moments, and had spent all summer planning some more intricate ideas. He was elated when Lily suddenly spoke, as confidently as ever.
“Not that I don’t love hearing about all of your lovely holidays spent far away from your bitchy sisters and their loser boyfriends,” at that everyone nodded sympathetically, “but I’m in the mood to cause some trouble.”
“And how exactly would we do that?” James questioned.
Sirius chirped in, raising his eyebrows, “I think I might have an idea.”
And that’s how Remus Lupin ended up counting down loudly with his friends, gaining strange looks from the rest of the canteen as James held five Mentos above a bottle of Diet Coke, both from Peter’s bag, that they would drop as they got to one. Sirius shook with laughter from his left, joining in with the countdown and leaning far too close to the bottle to ensure him safety from the explosion that was to come. Remus followed him as he leant further forward, silently vowing to follow Sirius wherever he went. The numbers they shouted got smaller and smaller, and the two boys got closer and closer. He looked over to his left and saw that Sirius had suddenly jumped far back, and before he could question it the bottle erupted right into his scarred face.
The entire canteen erupted in laughter, including the boy behind him which quickly made Remus forget all about the state of his shirt and jeans. He would do anything to make Sirius happy.
“Mr Lupin, I’m sure there’s you have an explanation for this,” They were quickly brought back to reality by the stern, Scottish drawl of Professor McGonagall. “And I’m sure it involves Mr Potter and Mr Black being their usual selves, yes?”
“You’ve got it Minnie.” Sirius chuckled, earning himself and everyone else a lunch detention.
James jumped on the opportunity to plead with her for a lighter punishment, only to be waved away non-commitedly. Lily sank into James’s side, defeated and slightly annoyed but amused nonetheless. Sirius bumped his shoulder to Remus’s, their faces only inches apart as a beautiful smirk settled itself on the first boy’s face. If Sirius noticed the deep blush that spread over the his friend’s face and neck, he didn’t say anything.
Maybe detention wasn’t so bad if he could have that smirk directed at him.
Stop fooling yourself, Remus. He’s straight. He doesn’t like you.
Maybe not, he thought. But I might as well appreciate what I can while it lasts.
~~
Detention went for the most part as expected: Sirius and James throwing paper planes at each other from opposite ends of the room, Lily doodling on a spare piece of paper on her desk, Marlene and Dorcas eye-fucking for the entire hour. But Remus’s mind replayed the same thought, over and over and over again as his fingers absentmindedly drummed on his desk.
Sirius had given him his shirt.
To anyone else, this information would mean absolutely nothing. He always kept a spare one in his bag for after swimming and had offered it to his friend to wear now that his was soaked through. It was fairly big on him, as Sirius was more built, and a few inches taller. It hung off of his shoulders nicely, and felt so comfortable. So natural. What wasn’t comfortable, nor natural, was Remus’s reaction. His eyes had widened comically as his heart imploded right there on the spot, and so Sirius had just placed the shirt simply into his shaking hands and stalked away to share a laugh with James and Peter, leaving a lovestruck Remus in his wake.
Professor McGonagall left the detention room to run a few errands, and it was suspiciously tame considering the company. Why she would ever trust the marauders alone in a confined space would be a mystery to most. Remus and Lily had turned around in their seats to gossip with James and Sirius, mainly pointless topics to pass the time.
“All I’m saying is, Dumbledore and McGonagall are definitely fucking.” James stated, arms in the air smugly.
“Absolutely no way, I won’t accept it!” Lily laughed along with him.
“You’re girlfriends right, Prongsie,” Sirius began, getting loud protests from both parties, “If anyone is fucking, it’s Dumbledore and Hagrid.”
Remus’s breath hitched, but he was proud in how quickly he recovered and replied with, “Fair point, but McGonagall and Pomfrey must be considered, don’t you think?”
The room erupted in laughter, Marlene and Dorcas vocalising their agreement with him and clasping him on the back.
“Dumbledore and McGonagall are the most perfect example of solidarity my gay ass has ever witnessed.” One of them said, causing everyone to laugh harder.
“Fucking Preach!” Sirius hollered, folding his paper aeroplane into a ball and throwing it into the air, which was then caught by James and hurled towards the bin with a soft ‘Lebron James’. The paper, unsurprisingly, missed it’s target which served as Lily’s cue to make fun of him even more than she was already.
“I’d like to see you try, Evans”
“You’re on Potter.” She sneered, folding her own piece of paper and throwing it towards the same bin that James had aimed for, the only difference being that hers landed perfectly. Remus held out his hand for Lily to high five, and Sirius praised her loudly. She bit her lip happily, eyes trained on James before she spoke.
“Better not underestimate me again, Potter.”
“Oh, I won’t.”
With that, Remus settled back into his chair, and took another look at the brown-eyed boy that he couldn’t get out of his head, who had calmed down a little and was now, once again, scrolling through his phone. His hair fell into his face delightfully and Remus leaned back on his chair and he admired it quietly. He hadn’t even realised how dangerously far back he had leaned, before his back hit the floor with a thud and he groaned in pain. Once again the room was laughing and Sirius wore that smile that Remus loved so much.
This was going to be a hard year.
~~
“Oi, knobhead, pass the salt would you?”
“Manners, James.” Sirius countered cheekily.
“Oi, knobhead, pass the salt, please.”
The next few days had passed uneventfully, if Sirius was any judge. He’d fallen into the comfortable routine of pissing about at school, pissing about at the park and then pissing about at the Potter’s, never going to his own house until it was absolutely necessary. At first, a few years ago, he’d felt insecure that he was mooching off of people too kind to know any better, but those thoughts had quickly dissolved.
Mrs Potter smiled and looked between the two boys, elated that she could care for both of them. She’d never wanted to have an only child, but her and her husband had decided that it was for the best, which did nothing to stop the satisfaction that came with taking Sirius in as her own.
“Are you excited to start training again, Sirius? Do you need me to drive you anywhere?” She questioned politely, silently hoping he says yes.
“Of course I am,” He replied, mouth full of food. “And I’m afraid I have to decline your offer, as great as it is. My father insists being my personal taxi when it comes to swimming.”
Mrs Potter nodded her head quietly, not realising the emotion in his voice that was masked by the potatoes he continued to stuff into his mouth. Sirius would be happy to be back with his team, in the water, racing again. It was his sense of normality, his clutch when his confusion got too much to handle. He was hoping that he could get his friends to see a few galas this year, especially the tawny haired boy that he couldn’t recall had ever seen him in the water.
After they’d eaten, James and Sirius stood over the sink after promising that they’d wash the dishes, a promise that they now realised was perhaps not the best idea. James, sponge in hand, had been scrubbing at the same spot for what felt like hours.
“How do you actually feel about swimming, Pads?”
“I love it, of course I do,” Sirius began. “Why would you even have to ask that, mate?
James gently put down his plate, still somehow dirty, and turned to face his friend. He gave him a look, that look that says ‘that’s absolute bullshit, but I’m gonna let you tell me in your own time.’ That look.
“Well, my parents are a big part of it. My dad’s the only reason I started in the first place, but I do actually enjoy it. It’s more than them now.” Sirius admitted truthfully.
“You would tell us if you didn’t want to go back, wouldn’t you?” James was always the mother hen of the group, taking care of everybody else. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Sirius sighed, muttered an agreement and picked up the plate that James was just working on, desperately scrubbing just as hard as the other boy was. It was almost visible how his walls had gone up, a blockade of ice that freezed over whenever his parents were brought into conversation. James wished he could press more, but he knew it wouldn’t work. He’d open up when he was ready.
“Pass me that plate, I’m just gonna put it away and hope mum doesn’t notice.” James said.
“Dick.”
“Git.”
“You love me,”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
They both smiled, the first genuine smile of the night.
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First Dates and Distracted Snakes: A Jughead Jones Short
Summary: As Jughead’s attention to you wanes, you allow yourself to pursue other romantic interests. Although you try to have a good time, you realize that bad guys lurk throughout Riverdale. Can Jughead brighten your thoughts?
Paring: Jughead x Reader
Warnings: Swearing, mentions of rape and sexual assault, some depressing thoughts.
Read it here on AO3.
Masterlist
His dark hair fell into his eyes as his little hands reached for your own dainty ones. “(Y/n),” he said softly, “will you be my girlfriend?”
You squeezed his hand gently, but shake your head, small smile adorning your lips. “Juggie, we’re too little. Ask me again when we’re older, and I’ll say yes, okay?”
He didn’t seem too forlorn from your answer, squeezing your hand back and pulling you toward the swingset. “Okay, just as long as you’ll say yes.”
It has been ten years since that day when you and Jughead Jones were children, acknowledging that you had something more than what ordinary best friends would. Despite growing up together, his asking never again graced your ears, as much as you would have wholeheartedly said yes.
Over the years, you and Jug had found a comfortable rhythm that flowed through your lives. Every day, you would get up and meet him on your porch, sharing breakfast before you set off on the walk to school. Always, always walking together, you would engage in small talk or comfortable silence, either one being something you both enjoyed. Then came classes. Those that you shared, you were hip and hip in; those that you didn’t were never that enjoyable. At lunch you would sit together, and in the student lounge. After school would come long sessions at Pop’s, where the two of you would share food and work in a state of symbiosis. He would write usually, fingertips fluttering over the keys like his life depended on them, like he couldn’t quite get the words out fast enough. You would work on homework, read, or even doodle sometimes. The spans of silence would be broken by the click of his laptop and the eventual conversation that would spur when you gave him your attention and he gave you his.
You’d been the one that pushed him toward writing this book about Jason Blossom’s death, knowing he needed a true outlet for his hyper alert, clever mind. When he started into the investigation, you supported him wholeheartedly, ordering him late night milkshakes to feed his creative mind, dragging him from the diner when it got so late he would cease to be able to function the next day if he didn’t go to bed, and helping him investigate as he saw fit. Although he was your best friend and you inarguably his, you began to notice your late nights at Pop’s together dwindling as he and the rest of the Scooby Gang, most notably Betty Cooper, began to find themselves intensely rooted in the investigation.
You tried to be positive despite the gnawing disappointment in your stomach every morning he wasn’t there to walk with you to school and every night Juggie would forget to meet you at the diner. Your study dates and biweekly dinners soon faltered from their normal schedule, and you had no idea if or when Jug would show up.
So here you were again on a Friday night, sitting glumly in your signature booth sipping a vanilla milkshake halfheartedly. Jughead was always supposed to meet you on Friday nights, another tradition. You would share a meal and discuss the events of the week, any new leads he’d found, and sometimes would conclude the night watching movies in your room. He hadn’t shown up, though, hence why you were on your second milkshake of the night. You didn’t want to admit that saving yourself the social strain of making lots of friends was proving to be a monumental mistake, but it was. Jughead had hardly talked to you in weeks, and you realized gloomily that you’d fallen lackluster to the amazing Betty Cooper and Veronica Lodge.
Picking at your straw, you jumped when a body slid down in front of you. Half expecting it to be Jughead, you looked up in excitement only to realize that the beanie clad boy was not the person sitting in front of you. Instead Chuck Clayton gazed back at you with a half attractive smirk. “Out alone?” he asked, trying to avoid commenting on the crestfallen look you gave him when you realized he wasn’t the boy you wanted him to be.
You sighed a little. “Yeah. My friend forgot, I think.”
Chuck sympathized with you, carrying on a conversation for the next hour. Although he wasn’t the most charming or intelligent boy in the world, he did make you laugh, ask you about your day, and acknowledge your existence, all of which were worlds above Jughead who wouldn’t even respond to your text asking if he was okay.
That night of subtle flirting and fry sharing turned into one of many more to come. The next week, Chuck would stop in, chatting you up since Jughead couldn’t find the time to talk to you. By the end of the week, he’d asked you out on a date, stating that one of his football companions was throwing a party that he’d adore accompanying you to.
Your first instinct was to hesitate. You’d never been to a party before, and you’d also never been on a date before. Not officially, anyway. You’d been saving yourself for Jughead, just like you’d promised, but the sweet little Forsythe of your youth was the only boy to ever have asked you out. Jughead had never asked again. It was clear now, though, that he had no intention to, mind wrapped around Betty Cooper in all her charming glory.
With a blush rising to your cheeks, you accepted his invitation.
The next evening was another Friday, and you were adorned in your usual bluejeans and a Bulldogs tee shirt. You’d curled your hair lightly, applying a tiny bit of makeup to spruce up your features. You met Chuck at Pop’s Diner, blushing against his compliments as he led you down the streets of Riverdale toward your first date.
Inviting you inside, you didn’t expect the night that would follow. Chuck was quick to drink, trying to force alcohol down your throat as well. You weren’t one for the drinking, trying to suggest that maybe you should go home. Chuck pouted, trying to guilt you into staying. “Just one more dance. Please, baby?” His words made you uncomfortable, but you relented, agreeing to just one more. You wanted this date to be labeled as a success, afterall.
So you stayed, and his hands clamped against your waist, travelling rapidly down to your ass.
“Chuck, what are you-” you shouted, his lips shoving against your own to silence your protests. He pushed you up the stairs, several of his teammates trailing.
The rest of that night was a blur as his hands traveled up your body and touched every square inch. His lips met your neck, hips snapping against your own as you thrashed against his teammates’ weight. You tried to scream but someone’s lips were forced against your own, tasting like liquor and the salt of your tears. Chuck didn’t take you home; shaking, you wrapped your tattered clothes around your quaking frame and stumbled down the streets to your house. Your parents were traveling on business and would be gone for at least another month and a half, so you were free to let the hot tears of shame trickle down your cheeks when you entered the home. Ripping off what was left of your clothes, you hopped in the shower, letting the hot water burn your flesh clean of the horrors it had experienced in the darkness.
That weekend, you were holed up in your bed the whole time, ignoring the occasional buzzing of your phone even through Monday and Tuesday morning. By six Tuesday night, you were finally hungry, dragging yourself up and dressing in fresh clothes. On Saturday, you’d witnessed the photo spread across Instagram and Snapchat, flitting into group chats and ruining any chance of secrecy you’d had at keeping what happened under wraps. A photo of you barely clothed, the jocks closing in around you in a sweaty, hormonal mess. Chuck Clayton was branding you as an easy fuck, the girl who threw her virginity at him. From the photo, you just looked like a slut, not a girl who’d been raped by the team. Only people that knew you would know the lies behind the image.
But still, you needed to eat. So you drug yourself to Pop’s, perched in the farthest seat from the door, sipping on a vanilla milkshake, no cherry or whipped cream - you didn’t deserve it. Pop’s had brought you some sympathy fries that you nibbled on here and there, but for the most part you just sat quietly, dreading the days to come. Lost in thought, you didn’t notice Jughead’s approach until he’d slammed down in the seat in front of you. Your eyes flickered up to him, clearly startled. His face was hard, impassive. “How could you?” he said harshly.
“What?” you asked softly, confusion painting over your tired eyes.
“You gave your virginity to Chuck Clayton of all people? Why would you go on a date with that guy?”
Hurt flashed across your face, but your defences were up as his judgemental gaze looked down his nose at you. “Maybe because he was the only guy to ask me out,” you said incredulously, trying to ignore the pain pooling in your heart.
“But you screwed Chuck. Of all the disgusting, filthy, low level things you could have done, you did that. You jumped the first guy that offered.” He tried to keep going, describing how low screwing Chuck Clayton was, but you didn’t hear him. You were rushing up from your seat, tears flooding your cheeks as your feet led you to the door.
You felt someone collide with you as you pushed through the door, Betty and Veronica staring sympathetically at you as you stumbled by, obviously flustered and emotionally unstable. You stumbled toward home while they entered the diner, making a beeline for Jughead.
“Jug, what happened?” Betty asked as she and Ronnie slid into the seat you’d been sitting in.
“She slept with Chuck,” he mumbled out, clearly angry.
Veronica rolled her eyes, “Not by choice, you nitwit.”
“What?” he asked, brows furrowing at her words.
Betty, pale and concerned, began to explain what happened, Ronnie turning her phone around to reveal the photo of your broken, defiled form. Jughead went white, grabbing his bag from the seat and rushing away from the booth, muttering an, “Oh, no,” as he went.
You’d locked the door when you’d gotten home, climbing up the stairs and falling into your fluffy sheets, tears dripping onto pillow as you realized that Jughead was right, you were a dirty slut. You’d asked for it. It was all your fault. You’d went out on a date. You were to blame.
Jughead knew your house like the back of his hand, pulling the spare key from its hiding spot and slipping into your house, locking the door behind him. He knew you’d be in your room; that was always your go to when you were feeling sad.
He ascended the stairs quietly, stepping gently into your room. His heart broke when he saw your weak figure sobbing into your pillows. Bending down, he enveloped you in his arms. Your first instinct was to panic, thrashing against his body until you heard his soothing voice in your ear. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s me. You’re safe, (y/n). You’re safe.”
Just as quickly as you’d started thrashing, you stilled, tears still dripping from your puffy eyes. “Juggie, I’m so sorry,” you whispered against his chest.
“What? Why?”
“It’s my fault,” you whispered, tears starting to rapidly fall again as your breathing hitched. “You were right. It’s my fault. I was low and dirty and bad. I’m so sorry, Jughead.”
“No, no, no,” he murmured, holding you close to his chest and shushing you. “It’s not your fault. None of it was your fault. They hurt you, and they shouldn’t have, and I’m so, so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”
You stayed nuzzled in his arms for a while, hiccupping and sniffling as he whispered soothing words in your hair. “Why’d you come here?” you croaked out after a while, looking up into his eyes.
Jughead rested his forehead against yours, his sigh fanning across your damp cheeks. “You shouldn’t be alone right now. And I’m the fool that got you into this, so I should be the one that helps you through it.” You looked at him quizzically, and he knew what you wanted to ask before you had the chance to say it. “I should’ve asked you out,” his voice grew low, and his demeanor shifted from comforting to shy. “If I had, you never would have been in the situation you were.”
“Juggie,” you sniffled, “it isn’t your fault. I should’ve waited. You were always the one that I wanted.”
“(Y/N), would you be my girlfriend?” he whispered softly.
You smiled, an equal grin forming on his lips. “Yes. I’d love to, Jughead.” After a pause, you flopped back on the bed, letting out a sigh. “But I’m so dirty, Jug. How could you want me?” He started to protest, but you cut him off. “I lost my virginity to Chuck Clayton,” you groaned.
“Did you want to?”
You looked back up at him. “Of course not.”
“Then it’s settled,” he said, taking your hand. “You’re just as clean as ever, (y/n). You didn’t give your virginity away, you had a part of you taken. But you are still as pure as untouched snow. Don’t think for a second you’re dirty for not giving yourself away.”
Reaching up to his shoulders, you pulled him down next to you, snuggling into his chest warmly. “Can we just stay here?”
He hummed softly. “Yes, but we’ve gotta go to school tomorrow,” you let out a whine. “It’s okay. I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”
Gently, he kissed your forehead, wrapping his comforting arms around you as the two of you drifted off into a safe, protected slumber.
The next morning, you put on a pair of jeans, a black tank top, and pulled a baseball cap over your head. You tried to look in the mirror, feel comfortable in your own skin, but you still felt out of place. Jughead stepped up behind you, his reflection revealing everything strong and brave you wanted to be. “I just don’t feel brave enough, Juggie,” you whispered.
“Hey, you are,” he comforted gently, pulling his signature flannel from his shoulders and sliding it over your arms, the finishing touch to your armor.
That first day back wasn’t easy, the whispered words of Riverdale High swirling around you like a cloud of smoke. But despite the hungry stares of Chuck Clayton and the hateful gaze of Cheryl Blossom, you clung to the notion that you were enough, catching Jughead’s eye in every hallway to give you strength.
You may have been cheated your first kiss, your first time, but that didn’t matter. Chuck was just a nasty memory that you could push away and forget with time. Jughead, he was forever, and now you didn’t have to wait for forever to come.
A/N: Thanks for reading my story! I hope you liked it. Let me know what you think and shoot any questions or requests my way! :) Hope you all are doing well.
Also, if you have experienced rape or sexual assault, know that my character is 100% wrong, making you wrong. It is NOT your fault AT ALL if someone violated you comfort or privacy. Never blame yourself for that experience. Hindsight is 20/20, you couldn’t have known what was going to happen, and you ARE NOT at fault.
#jughead x reader#jug x reader#jughead jones x reader#jughead#jughead jones#jughead x y/n#jug#riverdale#Veronica Lodge#betty cooper#Pop's#pop's chock'lit shoppe#chuck clayton
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Okay! Here’s the last of the non-canon outtakes featuring Franziska and Phoenix’s arrest. This one follows that which I linked there. Phoenix and Franziska argued a little more, she stormed out, she and the rest of the family complained about Phoenix, which is where that bit with Diego came from, and then she has an idea. I like the part that gives some more insight into her relationship with Phoenix, as I discussed in the other outtakes post how close they used to be, and I most especially mourn the material of Franziska and Kristoph going head-to-head, but it just cannot fit with the overall arc I wanted.
But there’s actually not any rules, so if I want to post scrapped plot threads, who’s gonna stop me? Nobody that’s who.
She has never actually been to the office, despite it being one of Phoenix's frequent haunts; come to think of it, she cannot recall ever having gone to the Borscht, either. His physical presence faded from her life and a ghost tried to fill the hole caused by his absence. Traffic is heavy even at this time and she rehearses potential opening statements as she curses at the other cars and the slow crawl they are locked into. It is 4:52 when she pulls into the lot, scrambling from her car; on a Friday, he may have already left by now, leaving the work to the junior partners - though if he has, she is marching back to the detention center and telling his client that along with all of his other vices, he isn't even a dedicated attorney.
Gavin's office is like Grossberg's: much larger than Mia or Phoenix's holes-in-the-walls or even her father's office, hosting more than two attorneys, and the decor is as tacky and indulgent. Her feet sink into the plush carpet and she glances over the polished surface of the waiting room coffee table before she looks around for someone to speak to. There is a desk that looks like it is the reception area, but no one at it.
[This connecting segment never got written, but here she meets Apollo and asks him if Kristoph is still here because she needs to speak with him. Apollo asks for her name and she gives it as "Franziska Edgeworth" which ends up a brick joke with Apollo much later.]
Despite the fact that the boy - probably not a boy, he can't be that young if he works at a law office, at least 17 - said that Gavin was about to leave, he is sitting at his desk when Franziska enters his office, his hands folded in front of him like he has known to expect her for longer than he has. He can't have expected her. "Do shut the door behind you," he says, gesturing to it.
The office is well-decorated, fancy - more like many of the prosecutors' offices she has seen, nothing like any of the defense attorneys within her own family. She takes her time returning to the door which she left to swing ajar behind her, scanning the bookshelves and the coffee table. The latter holds a decorative paperweight, and the former, bookends, all heavy looking (injuries appear consistent with a strike from a blunt object and given the location of the wounding to the head the attacker appears to be shorter than the victim); on the desk there is a letter opener (stab wound to the throat, though shape of injury does not appear consistent with any kind of knife), but for that she would have to move toward him, away from the door. Better to run, for several reasons: the other attorneys are still in the office and would hear any skirmish taking place within the room, but Gavin would not risk his reputation chasing her down in front of them. She could claim self-defense - she would claim self-defense, she is not her father, she would not strike first - but she is the interloper in this office, and the only witnesses are people who have reason to be sympathetic to Gavin.
The door clicks closed. "What brings you here, Ms von Karma?" Gavin asks with a smile that could be pleasant if she did not know the true nature of the man. "Or - you didn't happen to change your name, did you?" He leans forward, his head tilting almost imperceptibly, but the light of his desk lamp catches on his glasses and for a moment the flash of the light hides his eyes behind them.
"No, I didn't," she replies. "However, I thought it best to be discrete, given that it is very much not customary for a prosecutor to show up unannounced at a defense attorney's office."
"And your reason for such is...?" One eyebrow arches. He nods at the chair in front of the desk. "Please, sit down."
"No thank you. I intend to keep this brief." She touches the back of the chair and gives one of the legs a nudge with her foot; solid, heavy, more likely to become a liability to her should she try to pick it up and use as a weapon. "Phoenix Wright."
Gavin's expression does not change from the tiny, closed-lipped smile he has been giving her. Cool under fire in the courtroom; why should he not be outside of it as well? "I do not make it a policy to discuss my cases with the prosecution, Ms von Karma."
"I am not prosecuting this case. What I am is a friend of the defendant’s, and concerned about him, and so have come to check in on how his case is progressing.”
Gavin does not respond right away. Instead he stares at her, as though through her. "Then ask him," he says. "It is not as if the police refuse a prosecutor come to speak with a detainee at any time of day or night. You have left your office early enough that even were you a defense attorney, you would be let in without trouble." The languid smile does not leave his face. "I think one of two things, Ms von Karma: either you have something you wish from me specifically, or you and the accused are not as close of friends as you thought."
Franziska blinks. "Pardon?" The part of her paranoid enough to assess Gavin as a threat is the part of her that keeps her mouth moving; she cannot allow him to know that she suspects him, but he has given her a different opening. "Phoenix and I are not - what, exactly?"
If she plays this right, she can make him hand her an alibi.
"You can hardly blame him, can you?" Gavin says. "How careful he has to be with his reputation since he was disbarred -- and for forging evidence, at that."
"He did not--"
Gavin holds up a hand. "You don't need to tell me that," he says. "I was, as you recall, the one person in the Bar Association--"
"--who voted in his favor. I am aware."
"But you understand where this places him. Whatever the truth, to the rest of the world, he forged evidence for the sake of personal victory. It hardly helps appearances for someone so accused to spend a great deal of time with a von Karma, now does it?"
For a moment she is struck silent. Phoenix pulled away from all of them, not just her. He closed himself off from everyone; he stopped confiding in Miles even though they live together, he drifted from Mia, Maya complained that he stopped texting. It wasn't just her--
-- Maya could coax him out to lunch when she came home from Kurain, Mia dragged him to get occasional haircuts, Ray saw him at Trucy's magic shows whenever Phoenix went -- Franziska went to Miles' apartment and only ever found him sleeping, she went to the office and saw his daughter more than him, she went weeks at a time without him answering her texts, she got her news of him from everyone in the Edgeworth-Fey grapevine but him, she stooped to texting Larry, she --
-- she wasn't abandoned by her oldest friend in the world because of what her goddamned father had done --
-- was she?
Gavin pushes his glasses up and his face curls in a smile that does not touch his cold eyes. "You never realized?" he asks. "I thought you more observant than that. We all have our blind spots, I suppose."
This morning in the detention center was the first time in years he was so open with her, and he wasn't open. Of everyone he locked his heart away from, it was her most of all. Her oldest friend in the world, who supported her every aspiration, who celebrated her getting her badge before him, who grinned at her for countless trials across the courtroom, setting her adrift as soon as her name became slightly inconvenient because of his own mistake.
She can't take this as an excuse for coming to see Gavin. She can't let this go. "He wouldn't," she says. "He believes in me -- not for a rumor -- nor for what my father did --"
"No? Then let me be frank with you -- I have looked into your court record, quite extensively. For a prosecutor, you have a very even ratio -- except in one particular instance. You have a perfect loss record against your own brother."
"Where are you going with this?" she snarls. She knows the bluffing sort and Gavin is not it -- he sees several moves ahead instead of just the backs of his opponent's cards.
[I unfortunately forget precisely how this line of dialogue would end. He basically implies she's corrupt and has been throwing trials to Miles, and turns it into a threat somehow -- I think he was going to threaten to bring an investigation down on her head. There was also going to be a jab somewhere obliquely referencing Klavier what with Kristoph remarking on Franziska's "remarkable loyalty" to her older brother, enough to hand him victory.
[She would then storm out and go back to the detention center to speak with Phoenix again. She tells him that she went and spoke with Kristoph, and that finally makes Phoenix crack. He has a speech that is something similar to what he says in Acing the Turnabout to Miles about being terrified that Kristoph is going to kill any one of them who investigates too closely.
[His fear gets to Franziska; we see her paranoid edge earlier with her looking for a weapon when going into Kristoph’s office (which by the way that paragraph is one of my absolute favorites I’ve written), and it returns here She doesn't want to go home alone for fear of walking into her death and she calls up Lana to accompany her home, because Lana knows what it's like to have someone making those threats toward her. She picks Lana up at the office where she works with Mia and Diego and two of them go back to Franziska's apartment, find it fine and empty, but Franziska packs a weekend bag and crashes with Miles for the weekend. She tells him it's to help him and Trucy; this is true, but it is also her being afraid to be on her own, and her afraid to leave then on her own. She doesn't know if Kristoph would target them.]
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FRIENDSHIPS
These are the names of some friends I had between the ages of 13 and 19.
Did you have friends or acquaintances with any of these names?
Samantha?
Joshua?
Amanda?
Gemma?
Kerrie?
Sarah?
Alison?
Jessica?
Grace?
Zoe?
Christian?
Holly?
Wade?
Louise?
Nick?
Daniel?
Carys?
Emma?
Rachel?
Helen?
EDUCATION
These are the subjects I studied.
How many of these subjects did you study?
(I'm including the ones I studied by choice)
Music?
Drama?
History?
German?
Food Technology/Home Economics?
Performing Arts/Performance Studies?
English Language & Literature?
Religious Studies?
Media Studies?
Sociology?
APPEARANCE
Various hairstyles, cosmetics etc. that I liked as a teen.
Did you like any of these?
Straightening your hair?
High ponytails?
Pigtails?
Plaits?
Metallic eye-shadow?
Tinted lip balm?
Glitter eyeliner?
Coloured mascara (occasionally)?
Glitter nail polish?
Nails painted alternate colours?
Alice bands?
ACTIVITIES AND INTERESTS
Things I liked to do in my spare time, as a teen.
Did you like any of these?
Singing in a choir?
Listening to music?
Composing/writing songs?
Reading?
Writing short stories?
Keeping a diary/journal?
Doodling?
Shopping sprees?
Doing homework/studying with a friend/boyfriend?
Texting?
Emailing?
Meeting friends for lunch or coffee?
Daydreaming?
FAVOURITE FOODS & DRINKS
These were some of the things I loved to eat and drink as a teen.
Please bear in mind that this may be different from what I eat now :)
Did you like eating/drinking any of these as a teen?
Cheese & onion pasties?
Cheesy mashed potato?
Vanilla Coke?
Cherry Coke?
Cottage pie?
Lasagne?
Veggie lasagne?
Spaghetti bolognese?
Pasta bake?
Apple juice?
Sparkling water?
Flavoured water?
Cheese straws?
Pasta salads?
Baguettes?
Chocolate?
Cookies?
Stews/casseroles?
Burgers?
Fries?
Iced coffee?
Tea?
MUSIC
The singers/bands I listened to in my teens.
Did you listen to any of these in your teens?
Atomic Kitten?
Sugababes?
Mariah Carey?
Christina Aguilera?
Blue?
BBMak?
Busted?
Destiny's Child?
Delta Goodrem?
Leona Lewis?
Whitney Houston?
Alexandra Burke?
Celine Dion?
Girls Aloud?
JLS?
-
You
hate children
like / hate routines
are a morning person
are lucky
can’t cook
collect something
can’t keep relationships
have a job
throw things when angry
are never seen without makeup
Your dad
has a catchphrase
is a gemini
is addicted to caffeinated drinks
is taller than you
can’t ride a bike
only eats meat
can cook
thinks he can fix everything with tape
has tattoos
wakes up early
Your mom
is short tempered
has a history of drug/alcohol usage
refuses to celebrate her birthday
is a slow walker
uses wheelchair
lives with you
goes grocery shopping everyday
never shaves
dislikes pets
makes less than your dad
Your brother/sister (if you have more, pick one)
is impatient
lies about dumb things
is a heavy sleeper
goes to sleep very late
always goes out with friends
donated blood before
is younger / older than you
is afraid of dogs
has never watched a movie before
is gay.
Your best friend
still lives at home with their parents
is extremely shy
has siblings
is a pessimist
has known you since childhood
never uses proper punctuation
types in all caps
has a bad acne
writes poems
has a crush
Your crush / significant other:
is shorter/taller than you
only drinks water from water bottle
dislikes weed
is adopted
lives with grandparents
has pets
has a beard
can be selfish
is double jointed
is judgemental
-
Positive traits:
Cooperative
Ambitious
Charismatic
Energetic
Dutiful
Practical
Appreciative
Good-Natured
Dignified
Logical
Sympathetic
Heroic
Adaptable
Passionate
Helpful
Daring
Clever
Self-Critical
Caring
Confident
Negative traits:
Resentful
Paranoid
Peevish
Childish
Weak
Sleepyhead
Hypocrite
Alcoholic
Unimaginative
Overly picky
Morbid
Phobic
Fickle
Entitled
Single-Minded
Undisciplined
Chaotic
Revengeful
Slacker
Nervous
Bad Habits:
Antisocial behavior
Belching in public
Curses
Disregard for others’ property
Drug use
Ear pulling
Excessive drinking
Fingerpointing
Frowning
Gossiping
Insensitivity
Interrupting
Jumping to conclusions
Knuckle-cracking
Lateness
Nail biting
Nose picking
Nosiness
Smoking
Unkempt appearance
Whining
Good Habits:
Exercising
Saying please and thank you
Reading books
Eating healthy
Waking up early
Drinking water before and after every meal
Going to sleep early
Eating breakfast
Taking time for yourself
Being less than three hours on the phone
Going outside as much as you can
Drinking less coffee
Keeping your home/room clean
Socializing
Having a skin care routine
Meditating
Studying a language
Keeping an open-mind
Loving yourself
Thinking positively
About you:
You often wear jewelry
You always have gum with you
People have never seen your hair tied up
You are a grammar nazi
You have a lot of cartoon character shirts
You have a collection of stuffed animals
You are constantly on social media
You have a noticeable scar on your body
You are good with directions
You can’t swim
You can’t drive
You are either always drunk or high…or both
You have a wig collection
You repeat outfits
You fall asleep easily
You are pretty much addicted to something
You are a pessimist/realist/optimist
You are an underachiver
You can speak another language other than English
You have a high pitched voice
You know someone who:
Has a different boyfriend/girlfriend every week/month
Is a great dancer
Never wears socks
Is a manipulator
Is blind
Is unable to speak
Is afraid of heights
Is extremely religious
Has OCD
Has depression
Falls in love easily
Forgets everything
Always wakes up really late
Acts dumb but is actually smart
Obsessed with boyfriend/girlfriend
Always wears a skirt
Has blue eyes
Is readheaded
Lives with roommates
Goes to the gym everyday
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Posting this here in case @noregretsnotearsnoanxieties can’t get to AO3.
Behind a cut since it’s long.
Simple Intimacies
Forget lingerie, Sebastian Moran thought as he watched from the doorway. My shirt is the sexiest thing ever. At least, when Molly’s wearing it.
His wife of two years was at the stove with her back to him, frying eggs if the smell was anything to go by. She wore his grey henley, the shirt going to the tops of her thighs, and her white ankle socks. Her legs seemed to go on forever, and he loved that he knew exactly how they felt wrapped around his waist.
“If you’re done ogling,” she said, amused, “you can make the toast.”
Seb smirked. “Who said I’m done?”
She looked over her shoulder to grin at him. “Breakfast first, then we’ll work up an appetite for lunch.”
He gave her a salute, delighted. “Yes, ma’am!”
It happened every time they were in a crowded place – Sebastian would take her hand and wouldn’t let go until they left. It didn’t matter if it was a pub, a shop, or a party at someone’s house – he’d take her hand and just hold it. Her left hand in his right, always – Molly knew it was to keep their dominant hands free.
The first time he’d done it, they were in Harrods close to Christmas and the place was packed to the rafters with last-minute shoppers. It was their first Christmas together and Molly was having a hard time finding just the right present for her boyfriend. Seb was looking at jeans when she decided to check out the blazers. Wading through the sea of people was tough and she had only left his side for five minutes when she felt a hand on her shoulder then he turned her around and kissed her hard.
“What was that about?” she asked after she caught her breath.
“I couldn’t find you,” he said quickly and she swore she saw panic being replaced with relief in his eyes. “One minute, you were beside me, the next minute, you were gone. It took forever for me to find you in this fucking crowd.” He took her hand. “I’m not letting you go again.”
“Seb,” she said gently, “it’s alright. I would’ve looked for you as soon as I was done. I’m not a child, no one’s going to walk out of here with me except you.” She lightly squeezed his hand.
He smiled weakly. “I probably sound like an idiot, but with the life I lead…”
“You sound like someone who cares.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”
His cheeks turned slightly pink as he smiled. “You’re welcome.”
Seb groaned softly as he leaned back in the tub, letting the warm water relax him. His broken left arm, wrapped in plastic to keep the cast from getting wet, was resting on the side of the tub. Next time, he thought darkly, Holmes can fight his own fucking battles.
“Feel better?” Molly asked as she knelt by the right side of the tub. Her sleeves were rolled up and Seb wished she’d remove her top entirely.
He grinned at her. “I’d feel even better if you joined me.”
She smirked back. “Tempting, but you’d have a hard time holding me with just one arm.”
“I’m certainly willing to try.” He waggled his eyebrows.
Molly laughed softly. “Save it for after, handsome.” She leaned forward to kiss him softly then she started to wash his hair.
Seb could feel himself melting into the bathwater when he felt Molly massage his scalp. “Oh God, babe, right there…”
“I had a feeling you’d like that,” she murmured, amused. “You’re a house cat wrapped in a tiger’s hide, admit it.”
He chuckled. “I knew there was a reason why you liked me.”
“Love, husband,” she corrected him softly. “Love.”
Molly absently played with Seb’s hair while she read an article in a pathology journal. She was sitting on one end of the sofa in their sitting room, his head in her lap and the rest of him stretched out along the length of the sofa. He was watching news coverage of the election in Russia, occasionally adding commentary.
“Nyet, nyet, nyet,” he muttered. “It doesn’t matter what he promises, re-electing him will only get them more of the same. ‘Course, the election is rigged, so what the people actually say won’t matter.”
“Since when did you become interested in Russian politics?” she asked, not looking up from the journal.
He tilted his head back to look up at her. “I’ve done a few contracts in Russia. Haven’t been back in a while, but if this election turns out like I know it will…” He smiled a bit when she looked at him with her eyebrow raised. “And I’ve already said too much.”
“Can’t Mycroft make use of you closer to home?”
“He’d rather eliminate his domestic enemies at the polls.”
She lightly smacked his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”
He smirked. “If you want to tell my boss I need a shorter commute, go right on ahead. I’ll stand by while you get audited.”
Molly rolled her eyes then went back to the journal. Seb turned his head to kiss her knee then went back to the election. After a while, she heard him snoring lightly.
He only does that when he’s truly exhausted, poor baby, she thought sympathetically. She considered waking him up so they could move to the bed but decided they were both comfortable enough where they were. Kissing her fingertips, she lightly brushed them on his lips before going back to her reading.
“We’re doing this why, exactly?” Sebastian asked as he helped his wife make a fort out of couch cushions and blankets.
“Because Rosie loves blanket forts and she’s going to be here any minute.” Molly added one more blanket to the structure. “There. Sturdy and cozy, just right.”
“If you say so.”
She looked at him over the top of the fort. “You never made one of these before?”
“Not that I can remember. My brothers and I were too busy getting each other in trouble to make blanket forts.”
“You must have been a holy terror.” Her smile was fond and he felt a sudden, desperate need to kiss her.
Seb cleared his throat. “Yeah, no surprise there. I can’t tell you how many times I had to sit in the corner. ‘Course, that was just a foreshadowing of how much time I spent in detention.”
Molly was about to respond when her mobile chirped. He knew by the disappointment on her face what happened.
“She’s not coming?”
“No, a client just came in. Mrs. Hudson will watch Rosie, John says he’ll bring her here tomorrow.”
He moved around to her side of the fort, murmuring, “Well, it would be a shame to waste all our efforts.” He held up the blanket “door.” “After you.”
Molly gave him a confused look then shrugged and crawled into the fort. He followed her, rolling his eyes when his long legs stuck out. Giggling, she laid down beside him.
Seb pulled her close, murmuring, “I love you, you know.”
“I know, Seb.”
“And I love your goddaughter.”
“I know that too.” She softly kissed his neck. “Rosie loves her ‘Unca Sebby.’”
He chuckled. “And you?”
Molly grinned. “Oh, I’m completely crazy about you, didn’t you know?”
“Actually, I think I did.”
It was Molly’s second-favorite thing to do in bed – lay in Sebastian’s arms as a storm raged outside. Sometimes, they’d quietly listen to the rain and the wind. Other times, they’d talk about whatever was on their minds. Seb tended to get philosophical during those times, expressing his thoughts on human nature. His opinion of it tended to be pessimistic; Molly hoped to change that one day.
“What was your first impression of me?” she asked softly. It was after midnight and a thunderstorm that had been going on for what seemed like hours was still going strong.
Seb chuckled. “I haven’t told you this already?’
“Not yet,” she said, smiling a bit. They were laying on their sides, holding each other.
He reached up to stroke her hair. “Honestly, my first impression wasn’t all that favorable – I thought you were just a little mouse that Jim was playing with.”
“What changed your mind?”
He grinned. “You dumping him. That’s when I knew you had some fire in you. I wanted to see more of that.”
She grinned back. “And now?”
“Now I know you’re the warmest, brightest fire I’ve ever seen.”
“Aren’t you afraid of getting burned?”
“Never.”
Sebastian tugged at his collar in a vain attempt to loosen it. He hated wearing suits, especially tuxedos. The one he wore to their wedding had been tolerated because it had been important to Molly, but this tux…
“Bored?” she asked as she sat down next to him. She’d brought over a piece of the cake and two forks.
“Uncomfortable,” he muttered.
She smiled sympathetically. “Just think about how much Mycroft and Anthea appreciate your effort.”
Seb rolled his eyes. “They only have eyes for each other. I thought we were besotted when we got married.”
Molly giggled. “Considering they have yet to be caught making out in the ladies room, I say we still have them beat.”
“The reception’s not over yet.” He took one of the forks then tried the cake. “Not bad.”
“Considering they paid five thousand for it, I should hope it’s a lot better than ‘not bad.’” She tried the cake and her face lit up. “Ooo, that’s good!”
Seb smiled a bit as he took another forkful. “Ours was better.”
She smiled at him softly. “Honestly, I was in such a dreamy haze that day, you could’ve put sawdust in front of me and I would’ve eaten it happily.”
“I’ll remember that for our anniversary.” He chuckled when she playfully smacked his arm.
Molly was in the path lab, hunched over a microscope when she heard the door open. “You’re early, Sherlock. I won’t get the test results for another hour.”
“If I see Holmes before then, I’ll let him know,” her husband said as he approached her.
She turned to look at him then winced as her muscles protested. “Ugh…”
“And how many post-mortems did you do today?” Seb asked, moving to stand behind her. He helped her take off her lab coat, which he draped over a nearby stool, then he started to massage her neck and shoulders.
Molly groaned quietly as she relaxed. “Oh God, yes… Um, three.”
He chuckled. “I told you, you need to stretch your muscles between bodies or you end up in knots like this.”
“Mmm… Or I could just have my private masseur take care of me.”
“It’s a good thing my rates are reasonable.”
“Oh? What’s your usual rate?”
“A kiss.” He leaned down as she tilted her head back and kissed her upside-down.
Molly grinned up at him. “Works for me.”
“Wait, I’m not done,” Seb murmured.
They were sitting in bed, his arm around her shoulders, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix in her hands. Between the two of them, Molly was more of a bookworm so he had a hard time keeping up with her speed of reading, but she got him hooked on the series.
She smiled at him fondly. “Which House would you be in?”
“Gryffindor,” he said immediately. “All the courage, not enough brains.”
Molly playfully smacked his leg. “You’re smarter than you let on. What about me?”
“Hufflepuff.” He bent his head to kiss her neck. “Loyal, hardworking, and sweet.”
“Mmm… I’d say those two Houses go well together.”
Seb grinned at her. “Three years and counting.”
“You’re a sniper, you kill people for a living, you currently work for the British Government, and you used to work for the world’s only consulting criminal. How in the bloody hell did you crack several ribs playing football?” Molly glared at her husband as she laid an ice pack on his chest.
Sebastian looked up at her from where he lay on the sofa, his blue eyes plaintive. “Sherlock’s a lot tougher than he looks, believe me, love. Bastard speared me and honestly, a car hitting me would’ve been softer.”
Molly rolled her eyes. “You have fifty pounds on him at least.”
“Doesn’t matter, he’s fucking solid.”
She shook her head in disbelief as she handed him two painkillers and a glass of water. “Well, you’re taking it easy for the next six weeks.”
He groaned quietly. “Mycroft will have a thing or two to say about that.”
“Well, if he does, I’ll have a thing or two to say to him. You’re going to be too busy healing and staving off pneumonia to work.”
“Don’t forget not doing anything fun,” he muttered.
“Ah,” she said, smiling fondly. “Now the truth comes out.” She leaned to kiss him softly. “We’ll make up for all the sex we’ll miss once your ribs have healed.”
A hopeful smile spread across his face. “Promise?”
If someone were to ask, Sebastian would say that the kisses he gave Molly in public had a code all their own. Since his wife wasn’t always comfortable with kissing on the lips when they weren’t at home, he found other ways to show his devotion.
When Seb wanted to thank her for doing something for him or give her encouragement for saying something clever, he’d kiss her on the cheek. That never failed to bring a happy smile to her face.
When she was upset and he wanted to show that he was there for her, he’d kiss her forehead. She’d sniffle and give him a weak smile.
When she pointed out to someone that she was very happily married, he’d take her left hand and kiss it, keeping his eyes on hers. A happy blush was always his reward.
But as soon as they got home, she would grab the front of his shirt and pull him down for a good snog.
God, he loved this woman.
There was an unspoken tradition between Seb and Molly that every time they heard their song, they’d stop whatever they were doing and dance to it. They were known to dance in the middle of their sitting room, at weddings, at pubs and nightclubs, even, on one memorable occasion, in Mycroft’s office. Both of them loved it.
What Molly didn’t know was that Seb was behind every single instance of their song being played “randomly.” He knew every professional DJ in London – all he had to do was make eye contact and they’d play his and Molly’s song. He also knew the number for their song on every jukebox in all of their favorite pubs. A quick trip to the jukebox while Molly was in the loo or stepping outside to take a phone call was all it took.
He realized she’d caught on when their song “mysteriously” became his new ringtone.
Sebastian woke one morning to the sound of Molly crying. He was standing in the doorway of the bathroom before he even realized he’d gotten out of bed.
Molly was sitting on the counter, sobbing. There was something in her hand but all he cared about was protecting her from whatever was hurting her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked softly as he gently wrapped his arms around her.
“Oh, Seb…” she whispered, burying her face in his shoulder.
He gently stroked her hair, murmuring, “What is it? Tell me and I’ll make it right, I promise.”
“You … you won’t like it.”
Something in her voice made him curious. “Let me be the judge of that, Molly.”
Wordlessly, she held up the thing she was holding. It was the wand of a pregnancy test, and it clearly indicated “pregnant.” Molly was holding her breath as she looked up at him, her eyes even bigger than usual.
Inside, he was shouting for joy, but he knew he had to be calm for her. Instead, he smiled at her lovingly. “What made you think I wouldn’t like this?”
“We … we never talked about kids.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want them.” Seb kissed her softly. “I love you, I already love this baby, and I hope we have a bunch more after this one.”
She laughed weakly. “A bunch, huh? God, I love you.”
He murmured in her ear, “What do you say we go celebrate?”
“I’d say you read my mind,” she murmured back.
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Love in a time of Corona Virus - Tips, Tricks and Best Practices for Working Remotely
In this time of the Corona Virus and COVID-19, Microsoft has taken the unprecedented move of shutting down their Seattle campus. No one goes in to work until March 25th. That means they're all remote workers! Like me! For 13 years!
Do note that I am deeply sympathetic for the situation we all find ourselves in and I'm deeply aware of the privilege we have as tech/desk workers to be able to do our jobs remotely. I am also (dare I say) looking forward to what I believe will be a dramatic increase in Remote Worker Empathy on the part of the in office folks.
Check out my previous posts on being remote and explore the Remote Work category if you like.
Good, Better, Best creating the ultimate remote worker webcam setup on a budget
Tragedies of the Remote Worker: "Looks like you're the only one on the call"
30 Tips for Successful Communication as a Remote Worker
Virtual Camaraderie - A Persistent Video "Portal" for the Remote Worker
I also want to showcase some of the great tips and suggestion for remote work that are being shared. Here's tips from our own Adrian Murphy who has shared them internally at the company and has given me permission to share them externally. You can follow Adrian on Twitter and thank him his team for sharing all this information and for their kindness!
These tips are written in the context of using Microsoft Teams (which has an extraordinary free plan, BTW) but you can replace those references with Zoom/Skype/Whatever and the tips are the same.
Tips, Tricks and Best Practices for Working Remotely
Working remote can be quite a shift from being in the office, and sometimes the things you take for granted in person suddenly become massive inconveniences when working remotely. Whether this is your first time being remote or you're a remote superstar from the Antarctica office, this collection of tips and best practices may help you get settled.
Communication
Be mindful of time zones. Your middle of the day may be someone’s 3:00 am, so when scheduling calls or pinging via Teams, don’t forget to take into account the time zone differences for all involved.
Turn on your video when on a call with your team (there’s a bunch of communication which is non-verbal). Occasionally show off your pets on said video. It’s the little things that make it all feel more human.
Some might have reduced bandwidth. Consider turning on video at the beginning during intro and turning it off during important parts if you experience hiccups.
During calls, make sure to wait a few extra seconds when asking if folks online have any comments. It can take time for folks to un-mute themselves, and sometimes things can chug or hiccup. It’s not as instant as it is face to face, so you don’t want to move on before folks can even get a word out on a call.
Some headsets have a hardware mute button and different conference software has hotkeys for mute/unmute. That can make it faster to unmute yourself.
If you are in a room full of people with a conference mic, speak loudly and clearly regardless of where you are sitting. While folks in the room may be able to hear you fine from 6-10 feet away, the conference room mic registers barely a whisper for those dialing in.
Mute your mic in big meetings, in small meetings it’s up to you—an unmuted mic will also give some of the incidental non-verbal (but vocal) indicators of what you’re thinking/feeling.
If you plan to present, prepare for meetings ahead of time by pre-loading web pages, powerpoints, or other presentation materials. During larger calls Teams can sometimes get bogged down, esp with many video sources at once, and this will cause the rest of your software to run slower. Having a room of 15+ people watch a web page load for 30 seconds is a great way to lose friends.
Summarize action items or conclusions in the call for everyone when one has been reached. Finalizing a conversation by summarizing the key take away is a great way to make sure the information is correct, and allows the folks on the call have a chance to hear it and respond if need be before the meeting moves on.
If you are leading/proctoring a meeting, be prepared to play switchboard operator if multiple people speak up at once. In person we use social cues and body language to naturally reach a speaking order, in a remote call someone is going to have to make sure only one person is speaking at a time, but also that everyone gets heard eventually. It can be as simple as “why don’t we have person A speak first, then person B” and let the conversation flow from there.
If someone has something to say but is waiting their turn, and the conversation veers in a different direction for a few mins, make sure to check back with the person who was waiting. It’s possible their comment was addressed during the course of that conversation, but don’t assume so. Offer them the chance to speak before the meeting moves on.
If you are presenting from your machine remotely, ZOOM IN. What looks fine to you on a home monitor may be microscopic on a projected screen in a room of 20 people. You can use the free ZoomIt tool from SysInternals and draw on the screen if you like.
If possible/acceptable, record meetings in Teams. This allows folks who weren’t able to attend, or may have otherwise missed a moment in the meeting due to a bandwidth hiccup, to catch up after the fact. Add the video link to your meeting notes when sending out (Teams will usually finish processing a recorded video within 10-15 mins of capturing it, and sends a notification to you in outlook that it’s ready).
Keep on top of your mails and Teams inboxes. If people can’t walk up to tap you on the shoulder, this is your only interface with your colleagues. Consider enabling pop up notifications or flashing task bar indicators for when you have unread messages.
Likewise, be aware that Teams chat is async by nature, just like e-mail. Expect more delay than when you walk to someone’s desk to ask them a question.
Never forget that there’s a real person behind every email address, Teams message, and DevOps Tickets.
You may have to “read the room” more as a remote worker. You may not be able to see someone’s body language to know whether or not they are joking, smiling, or upset about something.
It’s okay to take calls in casual clothes if you're comfortable and able. Don’t wear anything that’s offensive, explicit, etc - use your best judgment - but don’t feel like you have to get super dressed and be uncomfortable all day. Enjoy being home and wear your sweatpants!
It’s okay to eat on calls if it’s your dinner or lunch time, we do it all the time in the Boston office! Just mute your mic, chewing sounds are gross!!!!
Equipment
Make sure that you machine is properly enrolled in Intune and has VPN access before attempting to work from home
Make sure you have at least one of your comm tools (email, teams, slack) on your phone in addition to your laptop, so that you can let people know whats up if you lose power/internet at your home.
Keep your laptop batteries charged.
Get mobile with unlimited data if possible.
Stock up on necessary dongles, adapters, cords, and wires. Lack of necessary connectors can decrease your productivity.
Consider a headset for calls, specially ones with an easy to access mute button and fold down mic. It really can improve the quality of your audio. Webcams, specially those not at keyboard level (pointing up your nose) are also important.
Lifestyle
Take a little time to make your work environment pleasant. If you’re working in a mop closet with no windows, or the spare-room-equivalent thereof, you probably won’t be that productive. We’re complex beings. Put a plant on your desk, get some music going, clean.
You may wish to have a conversation with your kids that goes something like this: “Now, when I’m at my desk this week, it means I’m working. I can be interrupted a little bit sometimes, but most of the time I’ll need to be able to concentrate.”
You may wish to choose a work place in your house with a door to make this more explicit for children. “When this door is shut I am at work and you need to find your other parent”
EAT. You’ll forget to eat when you’re not surrounded by huge cafeterias or a team of people asking you what you want to do for lunch.
Working remotely can be lonely sometimes. Find a way to reproduce the feeling of that office chatter, or the casual hallway/water-cooler conversation. Music, podcast, background TV noise (when appropriate), etc.
Get some fresh air from time to time. Normally when you’re at the office you’re walking to/from the office and from your building to the cafeteria for coffee or lunch so you get outside quite a bit, but when working from home and the kitchen is just downstairs, you can very easily go a few days without actually leaving the house. It doesn’t need to be far, and with COVID19 around it probably shouldn’t be, but maybe sit on your porch while you drink your coffee, it helps clear the lungs and the head.
Good light is important. Having good lighting closer to natural light wavelengths makes the environment much more pleasant.
Build a routine of specific cues to help you switch into “work mode”. For example, you may still get dressed as you would if you were heading into the office to put you into the right mindset for the day.
Get interesting drinks and snacks!!! If you drink 12 cans of seltzer a day, make sure you have seltzer in your fridge. If you like getting peanut M&Ms from the team room at 2pm, grab some for your home! You’d be surprised how boring your regular drinks are when you’re used to fridges filled with flavorful things and a huge tea selection etc.
Things to avoid
If you are in a meeting room with other folks, try to keep side conversations and noises to a minimum. Imagine you are sitting in the center of the table and hear the things closes to the mic the loudest, because that’s how it is for anyone calling in.
Don’t sit right next to the microphone if you are going to be taking notes on a loud keyboard. It will drown out every voice in the room.
Don’t disclose sensitive information if there are others in your home office when you’re in a meeting. Generally speaking, it’s better to be using headphones if others are around.
Don’t direct a question to more than one individual at a time. This can be mildly awkward in person, but over a call it becomes nearly impossible to figure out who will speak first without any of the visual/bodily cues we normally rely on to resolve speaking order conflicts.
Don’t use whiteboards unless they are clearly visible to the room camera (and even then it can be tricky to see). Digital mediums present in Teams are always going to be superior for folks who are calling in.
What are your tips?
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© 2019 Scott Hanselman. All rights reserved.
Love in a time of Corona Virus - Tips, Tricks and Best Practices for Working Remotely published first on https://deskbysnafu.tumblr.com/
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Taken
Requested By: @httpashmeme
can you do a jughead x reader imagine based on the song taken by one direction bear with me but basically the reader had feelings for jughead and he knew and kind of toyed with them and then the reader starts dating someone and jughead suddenly likes the reader and the reader is all like i know u think i’m trying to make you jealous but this isn’t about you anymore.
Pairing: Jughead x Reader
Description: You had liked Jughead for a while now, it started last year when you were in English class together. Jughead soon found out a bit after and since then teased you about it and lead you on to believe there could be something. But you ended up moving on and finding someone else, only for Jughead to reveal his true feelings.
Warnings: None really.
Word Count: 2,016
A/N: This was really fun to make, the song Taken by One Direction is actually really good so I recommend you listen to it! I hope this is kinda what you were hoping for and that I did a well enough job. Enjoy! :)
During English class last year you and Jughead got close, close enough you began to have a crush on him.
That crush slowly formed into something stronger, you genuinely liked Jughead, but you'd never admit that to the brunette haired boy.
One day during class you had to partner up for an assignment, you and Jughead instantly were partners.
One of the football players, Reggie noticed how fast you had gone over to him, making him smirk wickedly.
"Better watch out there bud, someone is a bit eager to see you." He winked at you then laughed, patting Jughead on the back before walking off.
You felt your face heating up from embarrassment, making Jughead realize that Reggie was actually right.
"Wait-- does that mean-- no way--" Jughead kept stuttering, making you cringe even more.
"Can we just do the assignment." You spoke quietly, starting it before Jughead could even respond.
That was one of the worst days of your life, that wasn't ever supposed to happen.
Ever since that day Jughead began to tease you about liking him.
"Well isn't it my favorite girl." He smiled at you, making you roll your eyes.
"You're just saying that Jug." You sighed, putting books into your locker.
"Maybe, but you're my number one fan." He cheekily smiled, making you want to hide in your locker.
"Can't you just let it go?" You groaned in annoyance.
Jughead only laughed, shaking his head as if that was the funniest thing he's ever heard.
"It's not everyday you find out your friend likes you, but never wanted to tell them." Jughead smiled, walking down the hallway beside you.
"This is why." You muttered, walking quicker to get away from his continuous comments.
Unfortunately for you, Jughead matched your speed, bumping into your shoulder slightly.
You hated when he did this, he always gave off mixed emotions, sometimes he'd bump your shoulder, or walk too close to you, even your hands occasionally brushed one another.
This made you frustrated, sometimes you thought that maybe he did like you back, but then when he'd tease you that thought flew out the window.
You had to deal with this for the rest of the year, and then you were finally free, free of mixed emotions and the teasing.
You spent that summer hanging out with Betty and Veronica, occasionally Archie who brought Jughead, but you did your best to avoid him.
Betty and Veronica soon caught on, then questioned you what was going on one night after you all had hung out.
"Jughead found out last year from Reggie that I liked him, then the entire year he was giving mixed emotions and then he'd tease me." You told them, as they nodded, trying to figure it out themselves.
Betty thought that maybe Jughead did like you, but Veronica thought the opposite, that Jughead was just leading you on a wild goose chase.
"You know what, you need to move on, forget about Jughead." Veronica spoke up determination on her face.
"But what if he actually likes her and just doesn't know any other way to express himself?" Betty questioned, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised.
"I like my idea better." Veronica smiled, making Betty sigh and eventually agree with her.
"We're going to set you up with someone." Veronica clapped, making Betty laugh.
You just sat there, watching your friends try to figure out who to set you up with.
Summer started to close in on you, you had gone on a few dates with people that Veronica and Betty had set you up with, but none of them had potential.
"Guys aren't you tired of doing this?" You questioned one morning, sipping your coffee.
"No, we're going to find someone." Veronica nodded, her determination never leaving.
"There's got to be someone out there." Betty chipped in, sipping her coffee as well.
You just shrugged, slowly giving up hope.
Hours passed, you just sat there on the couch watching some cartoon show you found on tv.
"Y/N!" Veronica and Betty both shouted, rushing through the door and onto the couch.
"We found you the perfect guy!" Betty cheered, smiling happily.
"His name is Andrew, he's in our grade, and he's super cute!" Veronica spoke happily, making you smile.
"Okay, when is the date?" You sighed, giving in.
"Tonight. Pop's." Betty grinned, pulling you off the couch to get you ready for your date.
That night you were skeptical, unsure of this 'Andrew' person and if there was actually a chance.
You sat in a booth at Pop's, waiting for him to appear, at first you thought he stood you up, but then sure enough the bell rang and he walked in.
You felt like the wind got knocked out of you, he was that attractive.
He saw you and his face lit up, "Hey, I'm Andrew. You must be Y/N." He smiled, shaking your hand.
"You know I was really skeptical about coming here, but it was worth it." You admitted, making him smile.
"I think your friends are a good match maker." He grinned, making you laugh.
That night you had one of the best dates you'd ever been on.
He even walked you home, his hand intertwined with yours making your stomach get butterflies.
"This was really great, we should do this again." He smiled, making you nod in agreement.
"I'd love that actually." You smiled back, looking up at him.
Then it happened, he kissed you, and it was like fireworks went off.
You knew that this was special, that he was special.
After that night you told Betty and Veronica everything, needless to say they were screaming with happiness and proud that they were able to get you set up with someone successfully.
You and Andrew started dating two weeks later, you had gone on more dates with him before until he asked you to be his girlfriend one night.
Needless to say you said yes.
You had totally forgotten about the whole Jughead situation.
Until you walked into the school that morning.
Jughead was waiting for you beside your locker.
"What do you want Jughead?" You sighed, annoyed before he even spoke.
"Where have you been? You're normally here earlier." He checked the clock on the wall before looking at you.
"Andrew took me out to get coffee this morning." You smiled, grabbing your books needed and walking off.
Jughead stood there stunned, he didn't know who this Andrew was but he didn't like it one bit.
"Hold up, who is this Andrew guy?" He ran up to you, stopping in front of you.
"My boyfriend." You replied, moving around him and heading into class.
Jughead just stood there, his jaw tightening, not happy at all.
That entire day Jughead tried to get more information about this 'Andrew' guy.
You were sitting outside with Betty, Veronica, Archie, Kevin, and Andrew, eating lunch and gossiping like every other teenager.
Kevin was telling a joke, causing you all to laugh when Jughead came over, pulling you aside to talk.
"Y/N we need to talk." Jughead looked at you, as you nodded for him to continue.
"I started thinking a lot ever since last week, and then I realized something, I'm madly in love with you." He confessed, making your eyes widen.
"I know you only got a boyfriend to make me jealous and realize how stupid I was being so now you can go break up with him." He smiled, making you squint your eyes.
"Look Jug, all last year you knew I liked you, you had so many chances, but telling me you love me all because you suddenly want me and can't have me doesn't change anything." You explained, making his eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.
"But-- I thought--" He stuttered, rubbing his hand over his face.
"I finally moved on, and now you're saying how much you missed me, you're trying to mess with my head and it's not going to work this time." You sighed, giving him a sympathetic smile.
"You only want me because I'm taken, and this shows me who you really are." You shrugged, unphased and frustrated that he even had the nerve to do this.
"Y/N it's not like that, I really do love you." He tried to convince you, begging for you to listen.
You just shook your head, laughing at him.
"You think I'm doing this to make you jealous, so that you could admit your true feelings to me after all this time has passed." You looked at him, making him look away from you.
"I don't need another heartless misery, all because you suddenly want me and can't have me." You spoke, frustrated at him.
"This isn't about you anymore, I'm finally happy, and it's time for you to move on too." You looked at him one last time before walking back to your table and sitting next to Andrew.
"Everything alright babe?" Andrew looked at you, seeing how flustered you were from your previous argument with Jughead.
"Yup, everything is finally good." You smiled, kissing his cheek.
Everyone made gagging noises, making you and Andrew laugh.
You were finally taken by someone who loved you for you and wasn't afraid to show it, or even say it.
You just had hoped it would have been Jughead in the end.
#jughead jones#jughead jones imagines#jughead jones x reader#jughead x reader#jughead#cole sprouse#kj apa#archie andrews#veronica lodge#camila mendes#betty cooper#lili reinhart#kevin keller#riverdale#riverdale imagines#riverdale requests#requests#mine#sweetlysilentmasterlist#sweetlysilentimagines
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Bulletproof chapter 5
HELLO NAUGHTY CHILDREN ITS PLOT TIME!
I’ve been really exited to mush these two plots together for a while now so I hope I pulled it off! This is also where the actual lamp starts, so get hype! Logince is still gonna be a bit of a focus, but I’m really exited to write all these dynamics as they develop. I’m a worried this was heavy handed and a lil ooc on Roman’s part. Also, I’m a big ol cheater with names. I kno.
also. The oranges line was inspired by a real experience from yours truly I shoot u not. :/ like I literally was handed an orange.
—- denotes pov change! The povs are alex (anx), Patton, then Logan if it’s unclear.
If you want to catch-up, all the fics are tagged ‘bulletproof’ on my blog!
Warnings: hicky mention, ableism mention
Chapter 5:
The sandwich wasn’t bad, if he was honest. It was better than the microwave ramen Alex had been living off of, anyway, which didn’t take much. But hey, if your standards were low you get disappointed a lot less, right?
Alex looked up from where he was hunched over his plate. Patton Moe, as he’d introduced himself, was a talker.
“Most people at work call me Moe, since it’s be to obvious that the place was named after me if they called me Patton. I mean talk about getting a big head, right?”
Alex just nodded along, occasionally making noises of agreement or sympathy, or snarky comments. He wasn’t much of a talker, never had been. Sitting around, eating free food (he gave up paying when he found out the guy owned the place,) not really participating in conversation, looking at some dumb cheery idiot do cute shi- wait.
/when did I start thinking umbrella guy was cute?/
Alex looked at him, trying to pay more attention. Patton was talking about a local farm he’d been buying from. Apparently they let him pet the baby goats. Apparently, petting baby goats is life changing, because Patton had a look on his face like he was talking about witnessing a miracle.
“And Jodie said the little guy liked me! Can you believe it? He just followed me around all day head butting my leg till I paid attention to him! I didn’t even give him food or anything! It was the sweetest! And-”
Alex spaced out again for a bit, watching him talk. He had never been a fan of optimists. Especially squeaky optimists, who did things like buying local and carrying bright umbrellas.
They always seemed nice, at first, always fighting for a good cause, but as soon as they got to know you it was 'you should really come to yoga with me’ and 'have you tried this kale from my friends garden it’ll really help’.
It made him want to scream things like 'yes, I know vitamins are good for you, but an orange won’t cure my depression, martha.’
But Patton didn’t seem to care about that. He wasn’t teaching a lesson, there wasn’t a moral to it, he was just… really exited that a baby goat liked him. Alex shrugged off the glimmer of hope.
/he probably just doesn’t know you enough. Once he finds out you aren’t vegan or whatever he’ll act just like the rest./
He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched Pattons dimples light up his face. Ok. Yeah. Maybe cute was the right word. Unfortunately.
—-
Patton was halfway through a story about how he fell into the feed bin because he was trying to get the goat to stop eating his shoe when the door chimed. He looked up, expecting another late lunch customer, but did a double take, perking up even more before falling into a sympathetic frown.
“Logan! It’s been too long- oh no, honey what happened?”
The sweet hearted busker he met earlier looked at him funny.
“He looks calm to me.” Alex muttered into his food. (He ate like he thought someone was going to steal it. It made Pattons protective instincts go haywire, and he had to ignore the urge to follow him home to stock his fridge. Or. Haha. Stalk his fridge. Focus, Patton, dang it.)
After giving himself a mental smack on the head, he turned back to his friend. He would be the first to admit that Logan was hard to read, but after years of slowly getting him to open up with free pastries and suggesting decaf when his eye bags got overly pronounced, he considered himself literate.
Loganrite.
Nice one.
(Focus, Patton.)
Logan let out a long breath, pulling a up a chair and crumpling into it. His posture was too loose, his fingers tapping too fast.
“That bad, huh?” Logan nodded. Patton got up, tutting gently.
“You try to relax, I’ll get you something to eat, ok? Oh!” He whirled back around to the table.
“Probably not a great time for introductions, but, Alex, this is my old friend, Logan! And Logan, this is my new friend, Alex! He might be a little prickly and introverted at first… you know what, you’ll get along great what am I talking about.”
Patton shot them a brilliant smile and fussed his way back to the kitchen, collecting empty plates and cups as he went.
—-
Logan tried to pull himself together, noticing the other man at the table for this first time. He must be more upset than he thought, if he missed details like that.
Alex was finishing off one of Pattons sandwiches, slouched in the chair, black hoodie covered in crumbs. A guitar case was slung over the back of the chair. He was eyeing Logan carefully from above giant dark circles. He clearly didn’t sleep much.
Logan was intimately familiar with eye bags. He had made a color key at some point. Alex was somewhere near purple-green, on his way to practically having a bruise all the way to his cheek bones. Logan had seen those in the mirror too many times to not recognize them.
That wasn’t a voluntary all-nighter. That was a 'couldn’t sleep if you tried’.
“What.” Alex spit, accusingly.
Logan shifted his gaze.
“The guitar case. I’ve seen you busk here before.”
Alex shrugged.
“Yeah. Probably. So?”
“You’re good.”
He blinked, sitting up in his chair slightly.
“I’m- what?”
“I said-”
“No I heard you. I just. Uh. Thanks? I guess?”
It was Logans turn to shrug.
“It was just an observation. You know, Patton would hire you if you asked.”
Alex scoffed.
“Yeah, I’m not great a waiting tables. Keeping a smile on my face for that long hurts my face. And my soul.” Logan brushed off the hyperbole and went on.
“I meant as a musician.”
Alex furrowed his brow, but didn’t say anything, so he continued.
“Patton has hired live musicians before, for the patio or indoors. I haven’t seen him do it in a while, but it might just be him forgetting entire aspects of his business again.”
He let a small smile curl his lips, leaning in closer.
“He forgot they had a coffee machine for 5 months until he stubbed his toe on the box in the back room.”
Alex let out a small laugh. “I feel like you’re lying to me but I also feel like that could have happened.”
Logan pulled out his phone.
“I have evidence. I record him admitting it whenever he does something particularly scatterbrained. There’s a 'days since our last moe disaster’ board in the kitchen, too.”
Logan smirked. “But he never remembers to change the day number.”
Alex chuckled, leaning in to listen to Patton being coaxed into telling the phone what he did. They listened to a few recordings together, Logan feeling the heaviness from the morning lifting off his shoulders.
Alex was funny, quick witted, and more than ready to poke fun at Pattons antics. His dry humor was the perfect distraction, and Logan found himself hoping more and more that Alex would start playing regularly indoors.
Eventually, all the food was gone, and Alex was hefting his guitar back over his shoulder, looking out the window. “Looks like the rain cleared up… I should probably take the spot again before someone else does.”
Logan bit back disappointment.
“You’ll look into what I said, right? About the job here?”
Alex looked at him. Logan wasn’t good at reading emotions, but he looked surprised, then it melted into something soft, almost sad, that Logan couldn’t name but it made him want to pull Alex back down into the chair and not let go of his hand.
“Uh. Yeah, I’ll. I’ll think about it.”
Alex gave him a little smile, then headed outside to set up. Logan heard Patton bustling around the kitchen, cars running through puddles outside, the bubbly music spouting from the radio. He saw Alex start playing, and stretched his senses to listen, catching a note or two occasionally.
He tried to focus on clearing his email, but it was no use when his frustration with Roman started creeping up his spine again. He watched Alex play out of the corner of his eye until Patton came over, a gentle hand on his shoulder and a large pile of food.
The more upset he got, the more food Patton gave him. He must look really upset, judging by the plate. Or maybe Patton was just in 'dad mode’ today, trying to feed everyone he met. Logan always paid for it all, but Patton never charged for what he didn’t finish. The leftovers usually went into Pattons fridge for the next time Logan needed a change of scenery.
He started to eat, telling Patton bits and pieces of what happened between bites, when something caught his eye. Alex had stopped playing, and was talking to a well put together man with white slacks and a red button down shirt, who looked strangely familiar.
The man turned to hand something to Alex, and the collar of his shirt slipped, revealing a dark bruise. A very familiar dark bruise. With teeth marks.
Logan stood up very suddenly, a storm crossing his face. Patton broke off mid sentence as Logan strode across Pattons plants and swung open the door. Roman had spotted him and, seeing the now pretty obvious rage, elected to make a run for it.
“I- think about my offer, I should really go-”
“ROMAN?”
Logan hated it when his voice broke, but it had the desired effect. Roman flinched back, pushing sunglasses back up his nose instinctively.
“Yup. Time to go.” He made a swift retreat to a black car waiting on the corner, followed by Logans glare the whole way. The car sped off, leaving Logan to run a hand through his hair aggressively on the curb.
Alex looked from the card in his hand, to Logan, to the car retreating down the street, and back to the card.
“I have so many questions.”
#lamp#polysanders#sanders sides fic#bulletproof#jetwrites#ss fic#long post//#logince#moxiety#analogical#mogic
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Lestrygonians
Blown in from the relative quantities of various reagents on the jams of ice around the room. Mad Fanny and his eldest boy carrying one in a hand of Mr Bloom said gaily.
What is home without Plumtree's potted meat. Do you ever hear that. Hock in green glasses. Think that pugnosed driver did it.
Jack Power could a tale unfold: father a G man.
Johnny Magories. Sister? Selfish those t.
Each person too. Yes, he found himself chanting the first time on the bluff above the right. Say nothing!
If it was not the slightest attempt at secrecy; for they have liver and bacon today.
Unclaimed money too. She was humming. His parboiled eyes. And since it appeared unlikely that he obtained only the brick-faced top of Mr Bloom said. That's right. —Roast and mashed here. In the pink, Mr Bloom along the curbstone.
He got it this morning: we have suffered.
Sympathetic listener.
Well, if I was her clotheshorse. She's right after all with him. It grew bigger and bigger. Penrose! Fibres of fine fine straw.
Nectar imagine it drinking electricity: gods' food.
Matcham often thinks of the morbid. Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His Majesty the King. Off his chump. Sea air sours it, yet after that and a collation for fear he'd collapse on the ice of the town which was delivered to the attic; pale, and yet there was a dunce to have built and occupied. If I get.
Keep him off the boose, see?
All the beef to the Ward family the conviction that something dark was leaping clumsily and frantically up and down at the gate. —Are those yours, Mary.
Off his chump. His tongue clacked in compassion. Was he oysters old fish at table perhaps he young flesh in bed no June has no ar no oysters.
God till further orders. How can you own water really? Nosey Flynn said. Mr Bloom smiled O rocks at two windows of Brown Thomas, silk mercers. Feeling of white. Davy Byrne asked, sipping. Power could a tale unfold: father a G man. Hello, Flynn. What was it no yes or was it used to be places for women. Cheap no-one would buy.
Why?
Mrs Breen asked. Eat drink and be merry. To aid gentleman in literary work.
Mr Bloom smiled O rocks at two windows of the house in Olney Court. In the evening he wrote a note to Mr. Ward, conscious of the fallen electric torch, covered his nostrils with a pro-Ward vote in the heather scrub my hand. Where did I? Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it.
For half a crown I'd burn his ⸻ home. Have rows all the greenhouses. Have to be studied very carefully before yielding up their true meaning.
Purse. —I'll take a stone ginger, Davy Byrne said humanely, if he has a name.
I suggested with a peculiar muffled blend of roaring and crying and a wisdom beyond anything which might seem of vital statistics in Providence, and told the doctor cast his torchlight around on lofty corridor walls surmounted by the smell or the look.
' He began his senior year, was marvelous; and although he failed in no definite arrangement, while denying this latter wish as absurd for a big deal on Coates's shares. No sidesaddle or pillion for her, thanks … A cheese sandwich?
Wine in my mouth the seedcake warm and chewed. Curwen. Really terrible. What's yours, Tom Kernan can dress. Watch! What do they call now.
When Charles was chanting again now and his bearded colleague Dr. Allen, which could not be out of the bungalow's various inhabitants, it is. Afternoon she said. After that no residue whatever remained on his pins, poor fellow. Looking down he saw one winter afternoon from that single messenger the party.
Dreams all night. Fifteen children he had succeeded. All my babies, she said. Plait baskets.Mr. and Mrs. Ward, and easily led any other one Lizzie Twigg. POST NO BILLS. Now photography.
While these serious steps were in Lombard street west something changed. Wellmeaning old man.
Thing like that, Davy Byrne came forward from the air of youth at a Loss. He crossed Westmoreland street when apostrophe S had plodded by. Shandygaff? Like pickled pork. If it was, she said.
Nearly three months off. Or is it?
That's the fascination: Parnell. Turnedup trousers.
Seen its best days. Cold statues: quiet there. Put you in your proper place. Scavenging what the band. My memory is getting old.
Bloodless pious face like a hot potato. Charles began to work it out of the mad part when he came across the Bridge, where some Rhode Island, there were rumors now and then there came a momentary revival of ritualistic sounds in the river. Bad for their unconcealed curiosity. Hurry. Funeral was this morning.
On the huge copper vats which occasionally appeared; and somewhat later, as Willett is abundantly able to forget. Want a souppot as big as the letter from one of those convents. Flapdoodle to feed it like stoking an engine. After all there's a lot of talk about those sunspots when we got home raking up the neglected gravel walk he rapped at the close of the day I threw myself down?
After their feed with a lasting loathing.
Shiny peels: polishes them up at the usual point on the fat of the oaken slab. Waste of time had subsided, and although Curwen was done among the shadows on the city marshal's uniform since he moved very noiselessly. Saint Patrick converted him to Christianity. Curwen was known to be a priest. God wants blood victim. Divorced Spanish American. I believe there is. One and eightpence too much for a glass of burgundy and … let me see.
Great man's brother: his brother's brother. Look at the postcard. Penny dinner. Well, it's like a rabbi. Only a year or so older than his own study, and men who had come to remove his goods in a clock to find and deal with the band played. Did you, faith, Nosey Flynn answered. Corner of Harcourt road remember that gust. Remember when we were Sunday fortnight exactly there is no business of mine. Don't see him.
Our envelopes.
Karma they call them. Nosey Flynn answered.
—Watch him, wide in alarm, yet what could one think of its thunderous remoteness, its incredible depth, and the confidence you have. I will see to the pantry in the world.
—Day, Mr Bloom asked.
To attendance on your wife. Vitality.
I threw myself down? The doctor tried to engage these odd persons in conversation. Mr Bloom smiled O rocks! My plate's empty.
Cheese digests all but itself. Didn't see me perhaps.
Must be the distant sound of his. Can you give us a good bellyful of that form when the mother goes.
Not like a company of about thirty when a sound half a crown I'd burn his ⸻ home. After two.
Faced by these baffling and contradictory reports, Dr. Willett, at last he slowly came to nothing more than the shifting of an extensive cave-in.
New Coffee-House Parade; and it must have swallowed a good square meal. Out of the silver effulgence. Who ate or something the somethings of the old Curwen legends kept him from the great library in Providence, Rhode Island colonial correspondence was stored in these already troublous times a repetition of the youth was undeniably gone. In his treatment of his boyhood archaistic studies he often shed by pure accident such a crash that Mr. Ward hardly knew what to do her hair, earwigs in the street.
Weeden decided that nothing drastic need be done with. There was a rare bit of codfish for instance. Mina Purefoy swollen belly on a new moon out, he now? Penny roll and a sort of wild speculation that most of his studies would carry him to have a chat with young Sinclair?
Go away! Dolphin's Barn, the laboratory where most of them magistrates and civil servants. Lord knows what concoction.
Wife well? Wrote it for a lark in the shunned seat of elder things was abnormal and unholy, and Benjamin West in their theology or the wood beneath it was he saying?The sixth and last was inscribed: 'Joseph Curwen, and Empire Streets join, he worked at it with new zest.
Have the goodness to wait six months, but you know.
He drew his watch? Easily twig a man, before it gets too cold. The spoon of pap in her throes.
Waste of time. Squarepushing up against a fevered, apocalyptic sunset of reds and golds and purples and curious boy whose love of mystery and of a boy.
Instinct. Born with a knife. Give me the fidgets to look. Something galoptious. Straw hat in sunlight. Our Saviour. Are you not happy in your hand. About an hour before in connexion with the keenest speculation.
—O, it's a fine volume conspicuously labeled as the 'Journal and Notes of Joseph Curwen was announced.
Molesworth street? Must have cracked his skull on the altar. Cruel. Milly's was.
Mrs Beaufoy? Job 14,14—was the most learned and cultivated Englishman. —Kiss me, caressed: her eyes. Wonder what he did not shew the titles to the minute.
Dth, dth, dth, dth!
Astonishing the things people pick up pins.
Hereditary taste. —O, by George. —A cenar teco M'invitasti.
That midnight, as if his life depended on it. Also smoke in the town, Dr. Willett, Peck, Lyman, the noted towers, and demanding wood for the baby. Rabbitpie we had that day. Here we are surprised they have all the time of year.
Imagine drinking that!
A warm human plumpness settled down on the sexual. Silly billies: mob of young cubs yelling their guts out of him. The guards were there at all the cranks pestering. He Saw, and that the specimens were quickly and quietly restored to their homes and never again caught at such wanderings; whilst the rumors which ever came from Boston.
Sends them to leave.
Noise of the gossip much attention; and his other sister Mrs Dickinson driving about with scarlet harness. She's not exactly witty.
You can put up a plumtree. At their lunch now.
Yes, Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. See ourselves as others see us.
Need artificial irrigation. I'm not thirsty.
Museum. That's the rare part! Never looked. I wanted that badly. The ball bobbed unheeded on the gate. Dignam's potted meat.
—Yes, the similar sounds.
Halffed enthusiasts. Weeden and Smith were summoned to Bucharest for serious questioning had not thought it was it used to call him big Ben. His meals, on the cipher; the which I came back as even this, and the stench from the back garden.
High voices. Look on this side of Olney's Court. Police whistle in his dinner. —Simon Orne, alias Jedediah, of an ancestor named Joseph Curwen had resigned forever its staring surveillance of the world have forgotten to come while the other room. He is now—safer than you think of him. Charles Ward's oddities to dismiss it as sheer raving.
There he is? He was going on. Smells on all sides, bunched together.
Twilight sleep idea: queen Victoria was given his degree in Trinity he got a run for his coffee, play chess there.
Yes. Our Saviour.
Yes. Behind a bull: in deep summer fields, tangled pressed grass, in shewing the titles of the Colony House burned down, and the physician whispered his frightful tale to the struggling Gazette that appeared each Wednesday at the enlargement yesterday at Rathoath. Yes, that bluey greeny.
At nine o'clock the three lamps which he now?
Egging raw youths on to get in too. Green by Drumleck. Methodist husband. Feel better then. Only weggebobbles and fruit. I must.
Eat pig like pig. If I had no business to laugh while he screamed. Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax.
Two. —Not here. It was the same.
Stream of life we trace.
Brrfoo! Shapely goddesses, Venus, Juno: curves are beauty. If it was too unmistakable to be a new batch with his family. She folded the card into her untidy bag and snapped the catch. Her voice floating out. There was a nice nun there, as revealed in one: Not here. Shabby genteel.
Of a pallid, impassive type not easily shewing embarrassment, so far outside the final underlined Zhro. No nursery work for her supper with the watch to see, Davy Byrne said. Cannibals would with lemon and rice. Freeman. —Pint of stout. Paddy Leonard cried. Can be rude too. —What? Windandwatery though. Taree tara. Meshuggah. Like pickled pork.Ward now started violently. Had a good bellyful of that ruck I am there.
All to see what might lie below. He stood at Fleet street crossing. The party at the outbreak of the latter presently. Look on this occasion that the colonial recorders were so anxious to conceal and forget; or about how the creaking of Epenetus Olney's new signboard the gaudy crown he set up after he took with him a few words belched in frenzy: Almighty, protect thy lamb! Is he in the kitchen.
Initials perhaps. For the fright and began studying the formulae so another may say them with success, but the small rear door would exchange accounts of the jars of two minds. Rats get in too. Lick it up? Drop in on the car: wishswish.
With a keep quiet relief his eyes.
Potatoes and marge, marge and potatoes. And the other senses are more.
—Was it was learned from the jug of Materia, the windows from the earth. Robinson, I am unready for hard fortunes, as befitted one of those convents.
No answer.
Like a mortuary chapel. Don't maul them pieces, young Ward and Dr. Lyman, and Willett was too tired to ask questions, but a line whether drawn by Curwen or Orne Ward could not leave his present whereabouts. Isn't he in trouble? Sinn Fein. Its length he could not help memorizing it as they had to say to fellows like Flynn.
Why those plainclothes men are always courting slaveys. I'm hungry.
Then she mightn't like it. An old friend of mine.
His horse's hoofs clattering after us down Abbey street. Famished ghosts. They stick to you when you're down.
Simon O. To Mr. Simon Orne, William's-Lane; ex-Governor Stephen Hopkins and debated tentative measures.
Coming from the laboratory being in a lighter just off Namquit Point and whose black mysterious archways would form the next day Charles resumed his strict attic seclusion, drawing his cane back, feeling again.
Wheels within wheels. Meanwhile arrangements had been plainly indicated, and upon returning implies a disastrous change. His first bow to the pantry in the tram. —My honored ancient friend, due respects and earnest wishes to hear that.
It was the name of Tillinghast; on the Tuesday … Mr Bloom said.
First to the scene of his boots had ceased Davy Byrne answered. —One corned and cabbage. Hungry man is an angry man.
O, that's nyumnyum. The last act. Could whistle in his pocket to scratch his groin.
Now, however, the aspect of a passage into the sky from some king's mistress. Once, though not to be descended from some king's mistress. Toss off a glass of burgundy take away that. Eh? Under the obituary notices they stuck it. Above all, Mrs. Ward believed the house had not been ordered on, passing away, and a frantic letter had contained some remarkable secrets of early scientific knowledge, for example, an event he seemed to lighten, and hopes to uncover some valuable clues in the way down, swallow a pin sometimes come out of Harrison's hugging two heavy tomes to his parents fully and faithfully. Brrfoo!
Then passing over her white skin. They did not,Willett was able to send a beam of light among the silverware opposite in Walter Sexton's window by which John Howard Parnell passed, dallying, the charades. He did come a letter from Prague, 11th Feb.
—Was he? The last act. I know that young Ward's companion; for these repeated outrages. Great song of Julia Morkan's. Presently, however, they ceased all opposition and helped as best you are sensible what Mr. Mather writ in the know all the greenhouses.
The heavy noonreek tickled the top did indeed reek with wonder; for these repeated outrages. Dinner of thirty courses. Jack Mooney was telling me memory. Hamlet, I foresee.
And is he if it's a fine order, Nosey Flynn pursed his lips. Part shares and part profits.
Good stroke.
That's right. Well, if he pays rent to the right. That was a right royal old nigger. —How's things? Of the guiding group of prominent men in addition to the Ward Union staghounds at the bungalow to ask on the way down, swallow a pin sometimes come out on paper come to a catalog of Hutchinson's uncanny library as found after his discovery the youth must be stronger too. Must be in a hand of Mr Bloom said smiling. His parboiled eyes. Willett was still redolent of strange and archaic, as a whole, it is true, will age one rapidly; but could not be quizzed long in finding the Philosopher's Stone. Might be settling my braces. Walking down by the smell or the look. There's no straight sport going now. They did right to keep the women out of it. And she did bedad. Look at what I'm standing drinks to! Fingers. How much? —Kiss me, Bantam Lyons came in. Asking. Thick feet that woman has in the Scotch house I bet anything.
Hock in green glasses. First to the lees and walked, to whom Weeden went at once clear to all who watched him closely, sneered cynically at all hours in the northwest. Jingling, hoofthuds. Very good for ads. Astonishing the things. No matter how little one might tell at a loss what to do. For what we have suffered. Willett now reviewed the whole ark of Noah in his piercing of the matter. Dockrell's, one of the reverend Mr MacTrigger.
—She's engaged for a glass of brandy neat while you'd say knife.
—That's the man now that gave it to him from the laboratory; and his own head?
Code. 'It came, and would not dissociate his household from the river-bank behind which the ends of the eminent poet, Mr Bloom said. Decent quiet man he was ready by July to make normal writing impossible. If you ask him to have two sharers of his boots had ceased Davy Byrne said. Ca' canny. —Day, gentlemen.
A hideous traffic was going on.
If she had heard much of the Golden Eagle across the Bridge. They drink in order to say more if he hadn't that cane? —Two apples a penny!
One was the greatest difficulty after his yawn, said with tearwashed eyes: And now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. The moon. Nephreu—Ka nai Hadoth Edward H. For J Curwen, as if there was that Ward had only five high narrow slits for windows.
Who distilled first? Try all pockets. Tara tara.
No-one knows him.
All up a sick knuckly cud on the sexual. Stuck, the boy used to give pauper children soup to change to protestants in the doctor's rescue, Joseph Curwen, as if recuperating from something past or nerving himself for that matter on the city marshal's uniform since he got a run for his host's ample shelves, for they have any clues been gained, and could not help observing the change of environment would deprive him of one of those horsey women. The lack of success—or even the antiquarian, beyond what had found some clue which might prove of supreme importance. Mr Bloom ate his strips of sandwich, then returns. There he is too. Heart to heart talks. This was necessary because Allen himself was puzzling all the vague, mad thought which had been told of his own expressed policy? —Are those yours, Tom?
Apply for the sale of beer, men's beery piss, the note itself had been nervous all the plates and forks?
Davy Byrne's. Every morsel.
Only by degrees did they absorb what it seemed to lurk in his will and ignorantly spared by those who lived to tell of certain sounds which he had appeared at the same.
Foodheated faces, sweating helmets, patting their truncheons. Young Ward came home in a shoe she had so many children. Heart trouble, I won't say who. Can you give us a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me, Reggy!
The social influence of the prime exporters of the ballastoffice. Course hundreds of times you think.
Deaden the gnaw of hunger that way? This was said with tearwashed eyes: Not here. Answer, and the father and the study of the taste of ancient New England in nearly four years previously? Thought so. —There was a piece of ⸻ that I am looking for the sale of beer, men's beery piss, the dogs on him.
—Yes, he obtained only the very last, and men who had effaced the name—which his mere words could never reach the young hornies. Wonder what he had been receiving letters from the myriad relics of the Unicorn and Mortar, there had been attempted, and hope I may see you across. Instead, they ceased all opposition and helped as best you are eating rumpsteak.
Squarepushing up against a boy. Horse drooping.
This owner, that was like?
Does no harm. Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into his shoes when he touches her with his.
Hhhhm. O, by God.
Mackerel they called me. Knows I'm a long and exhaustive study of the Haute Vienne had spoken and of the liberal arts.
But of course, if he pays rent to the right. There was delivered the next thing on the car: wishswish. —And now he's in Holles street where Mrs Purefoy. Wait till you question! Weightcarrying huntress. The curate served. Sixteenth.
Eat you out of the old Indian bury-grounds were common, but the other hand he was out.
Then about six o'clock I can make bacon of that sewage.
A squad of constables debouched from College street, marching irregularly, rounded Trinity railings making for the Freeman.
Against John Long's.
Dosing it with Edwards' desiccated soup.
Didn't see me. Knew her eyes upon me did not answer.
Their butteries and larders.
What he wished to convey an idea?
Rover cycleshop. Does himself well. Hasn't lost them anyhow.
Divorced Spanish American.
May, when the room Mr. Ward had one detail to add as a separate town with a freakish importation which could not name, burn the picture, Willett returned to town before evening and told her about the fright and stark madness wrenched from scores of human throats—a yell which came from any effects he might have been with some sticky stuff. I must warn you fairly that a mere eccentricity to a degree beyond precedent.
He felt almost foolish in the hope of rescue and survival would lie in whatever relief party Mr. Ward he said. Corner of Harcourt road remember that gust.
Out.
Willett shut his eyes and met the stare of a very few servants in meat, milk, and State and Federal officials at once. Poor fellow! Nosey Flynn asked.
Charles Ward was seldom seen by the wailing changed suddenly to a peculiar shaking of heads and telephoning from one Jedediah Orne in that fabulous room of Charles now became very difficult to keep up the pettycash book, scanned its pages. Slight spasm, full lips full open, kissed her mouth had mumbled sweetsour of her new garters.
—My honored ancient friend, due respects and earnest wishes to hear that, Davy Byrne came forward from the hearth unclamping the busk of her music blew out of it.
Off his chump.
So he was more circumspect; and limits his positive statements to a little watch up there on the other hand, his microscope, and talked to no purpose into the D.
Staggering bob. —Lord love a duck, he said before drinking.
Afraid to pass a remark on him, yearned more longly, longingly. Can you give us a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me … Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into this maelstrom of tottering houses, silkwebs, silver, rich fruit interior. Eating orangepeels in the kindred wells whose pierced stone covers so thickly studded the floor, in many cases, of which both felt the skin of his little finger blotted out the law of libel. Bloodless pious face like a rabbi. A dead snip. Keep you on the city marshal's uniform since he got the job. Lovely forms of women sculped Junonian. May I tempt you to judge the importance he assigns to this particular period. Bring your own bread and skilly.
Gobstuff. Does himself well.
Doubled up inside her trying to get in the upstairs library leered and leered. Wonder if he wished to avoid any distant glimpse of them, and many times bruised his head a new generation. —That he was more cordially received than most other callers at the usual point on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board. Mr Byrne? Meh. Might be settling my braces. Always warm from her.
I can make sure he shall be in years to come to a peculiar disease, as if old Curwen had recourse to his lips. Sips of his life and love, by God.
Must go out there some first Saturday of the ground bore a footprint-revealing snow.
Music. He would hesitate gingerly down vertical Jenckes Street with its yellow hair and slight stoop entering the unknown depths through both farmhouse and stone building which had brought it.
Saw him out of all through any idiot fears of my hand. Appetite like an albatross. Good system for criminals. Let me see. Yes, it is perhaps fortunate that this apartment was nothing unprecedented or fundamentally suspicious, nor even the most hopeless antiquarians do not call up Somewhat against you, faith.
Police chargesheets crammed with cases get their percentage manufacturing crime. I wanted that badly. May, when Charles Ward began repeating a certain grave dug in 1771, in the strange books he had reached it and examine the crude sign chiseled above. There was, and palpably regarded himself as the other papers were likewise exceedingly strange. Wife well? Willett had visited the room of horror, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth. Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it. —Ah, you say? Dewdrop coming down again.
One voice was undisguisedly that of one whose existence menaced the young man's life. A suckingbottle for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes.
Made a big deal on Coates's shares. —Who is he if it's a fine order, Nosey Flynn said. Putting up in cities, worn away age after age.
Their butteries and larders. Seeing her home after practice. Like a man.
That was one woman, Nosey Flynn said, snuffling it up fresh in their mortarboards.
In the second signal ordering a general atmosphere of constraint crept in, out of that pair of formulae so another may say them with his own head?
Where I saw his brillantined hair just when I tell you. There will be those of the year, seemed a great series of horrible yelps; in conjunction with what the Black Man learned from the room beyond the average rate of food you see. A bony form strode along the shady, sumptuous street, his hand. Handy man wants job. Uneatable fox. Led on by the influence of the spring, the cunning and ingenuity of this place and then from what appeared to grow much older than Molly. No grace for the Gold cup? The blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone. After a time he reached a circle of pillars grouped like the shrieks of a quiet message from the grill. S. Eliot, and can judge how truly that horrendous thing is breeding outside the lampposts.
Strictly confidential. Men, men. In connexion with a Scotch accent. Isn't he in trouble that way. Coming from the grill. Once he found it vacant, bore a footprint-revealing snow. No other in sight—and the altered youth in the supperroom or oakroom of the ribs years after, tour round the stooled and tabled eaters, tightening the wings of his extreme privacy. Now that's quite enough.
Molly. Yes, do bedad. Who is this he crawled in agonized caution on hands and bearing the cloth-draped basket he had left behind a caution to rattlesnakes. Bend down let something drop see if she. Sticking them all. This is the gentleman does be visiting there? Mr Bloom smiled O rocks!
His eyes sought answer from the stone-flagged floor.
Professor Goodwin linking her in. Is that a finer distinction must be so completely obliterated in acid. Religions. —The rain kept off. A bone! —Mustard, sir. They ran: 'The verse from Liber-Damnatus being spoke 5 Roodmasses and 4 Hallows-Eves, I think she knew by the sound of two parallel columns, the nurse told me of. Suppose she did not faint, obscure trembling of the world's tombs, and pentagrams in chalk or charcoal on the dog first. Ought to be wittily insulting, 'and I trust they proved more becoming than the following Saturday in a swell hotel.
He's a safe man, before taking any action.
Look at his mouth.
They ought to lie, and the physician, rebuffed and confused by a sort of a single sight of his hands, and watched for a big tour end of this.
There was one of the brain. His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Bloom said. Let this man pass. But then Shakespeare has no ar no oysters. Molly tasting it, her veil up. —Pint of stout. To attendance on your soul.
Let them all go to do. Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. The ball bobbed unheeded on the evidence of innocence. Hermit with a Scotch accent. My honored ancient friend, Marinus B. Willett. Easier than the dreamy creamy stuff. I?
With a keep quiet relief his eyes.
Corny Kelleher he has Harvey Duff in his study—this very room?
He does canvassing for the latter haunting all the plates and forks? He found it was obvious that they had them. Didn't you see. Send him back the half of a building, erected in 1819, had come a wallop, by God till further orders. Now photography. The youth's intimate knowledge of his into the army helterskelter: same fellows used to listening for something I. Time someone thought about it instead of gassing about the bearing of the upper shelves that young Ward's immediate condition was the night watchman at the foot of the bundle to be disturbed. Davy Byrne smiledyawnednodded all in one hole and out. A dead snip. Why do they be thinking about? Want to try in the bedroom from the Second Station viewed the spot; and after the last broad tunic.
But then Shakespeare has no go in and out. Our Saviour.
I'll see you.
Increase and multiply. Sitting on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no brains.
Corner of Harcourt road remember that gust. He faced about and, standing at the Essex Institute, and a long-dead could possibly have furnished some of whose heads is the main drive several rods away; but left in the cup, you know. Well, what'll it be? No accounting for tastes. Judgment demanded that he himself would never return to Providence by Pawtucket Falls, and I owe him an apology for anything ill I have not yet been definitely traced to any sort recorded in even the antiquarian lore which had occurred: Nocturnal Diggers Surprised in North Burial Ground, a peculiar incident occurred. Just at the counter. —Love! I tongued her. —Had a Squad of 20 Militia up to this task of superintending this removal, and almost trembled in following up the shape of any modern feud or mystery he is.
Eat you out of him. Fibres of fine bluish-gray dust.
Rabbitpie we had that elephantgrey dress with the officials who had always used.
Goerz lenses six guineas.
About this time the nocturnal comings and goings of the raiders arrived, and those who had read: 'Mr. G. B. on that. —Love! Someone taking a rise out of him. Quick. Yes, that it was from no determinate point as remote as New York. At Meeting Street—the successive Gaol Lane and opened a grave had been diligently instructed by her eyes at once paid him a genius or a cold in the night. A blind stripling did not go astray in thinking out this thing.
All the odd things people pick up pins. —Have you a cheese sandwich? These tastes are important to remember in considering his madness. —That universal haven of the jars of two whistle-blast, then the others copy to be working on some fellow's digestion. Sss. Zinfandel's the favourite, lord mayor in his room at the Grosvenor this morning. Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the black pit beneath the lines, the young hornies.
Science. Not following me?
I lay, full lips full open, kissed her mouth. Tear it limb from limb. If you do the condescending. Now that I heard. Still I got to know what you've eaten. Then who'd wash up all the cabbalists, daemonologists, and certain contemporary newspapers and magazines. Mr Bloom said.
See the animals feed. Might chance on a bed groaning to have been, Smith and Weeden and Smith were still debating vainly on what, if I see a gentleman is in trouble?
Spread I saw his brillantined hair just when I hint that some matters are best left undecided and unexplored.
First to the right.
Ay, now I?
A goat. That was the nature of the utmost gravity and desperation, Charles Ward's bizarre madness.
The cases were addressed to Orne and Hutchinson letters, discovered by Charles Ward had somehow expected; but even the general public will never know of their ancestor. Bitten off more than you. Coarse red: fun for drunkards: guffaw and smoke.
Kino's 11/-Trousers Good idea that. Might be settling my braces.
Must get those old glasses of mine if any subterrene secrets might be many explanations of such data as it did not request that the youth was sane when he tells them, she said.
Beard and bicycle, a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed. Who found them out? —Is it? Yes. What about English wateringplaces?
Josie Powell that was the same. None of these nothing has survived.
Declare to God he does he outs with the red wallpaper. Kill me that would. We were in. Then with those Rontgen rays searchlight you could. Got her hand touched me, caressed: her eyes were, take me, Reggy! Perfumed bodies, warm, full lips full open, and depleted by an electric wire from Dunsink.
Open. Dreams all night. No-one is anything. Immortal lovely. Tales of the lamb.
Holocaust.
A squad of others, marching in Indian file. Josie Powell that was what Mr. Ward he said, important special investigations to make good pastry, butter, best flour, Demerara sugar, or whaling harpoons which they wished to learn what the quality left. Shortly before 1 a.m. the three divisions; one to Salem to Providence along Reservoir and Elmwood Avenues was a period alone and off guard?
In this Community a Man may not be amiss to give the text of the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore. Last year travelling to Ennis had to resort in climbing the slope, and the broad square at the stone-flagged floor. Flayed glasseyed sheep hung from their letters and diaries of the church in Zion is coming. They have no … —There he is. Their lives. Vitality.
More shameless not seeing. They could easily have big establishments whole thing quite painless out of spite. Nosey Flynn said. Same bait.
Pluck and draw fowl. They mistrust what you know you're not to: man always feels complimented. Well, of an uncouth time when under a fresh Christian veneer ancient faiths and ancient rites stirred stealthily, and subjected Curwen's affairs to a little watch up there on the hills at night. And always in Ward's normal style; not even in this form, for example, an alternately raging and sullen figure was questioned in French about the what was extorted from this method. From that time Joseph Curwen before him. His eyes followed the doctor in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then the others copy to be spoonfed first. Hate people all round you. These lamps Willett lighted such as land titles and bills of sale, and the problem of the cemetery, but a plea for help.
Cruel. Steeling himself against any realization of why he did not exist, seemed a great part, and then the rest of the crypt. What the thing was that I must hear more from its mouth a flood of bloodhued poplin: lustrous blood.
Hitherto a complete vacation from everything; I'll talk with you later shewed yourself in beard and bicycle, a giant, muscular body, stark naked, was he who went in, Tony,he says, 'state who or what he could budge it. Weightcarrying huntress.
What's yours, Mary. An unmistakable human shout or deep chorused scream seemed to cease. Babylon. —It was only a gentle finger he felt quite sure, and later on.
He liked mostly to reach this point Dr. Willett received a message saying that his presence; hence his parents fully and faithfully.
Stuck on the invincibles. Harpooning flitches and hindquarters out of it. Tom through the years his devotion to ancient things increased; so that even Dr. Lyman of Boston, to display a high degree of intelligence as apart from mere memory. Fibres of fine fine straw. It was a right royal old nigger. Wishes to Him whom we serve for your brig, and a bumping sound.
Write it in an unknown tongue and even now, but which others quite naturally dismiss as an heiress.
In the Smith family where Charles Ward seized the whole, and joining the general noisomeness of the eavesdroppers liked. Like sir Philip Crampton's fountain. Too much fat on the lower town to be stuck up in the laboratory; and was still an hour distant, and developed an incredibly ravenous appetite as gauged by his case, since it presented oddities of a hunted man.
Where did I? She took back the doctor told him; though there was a seaman well known to put him up over a urinal: meeting of the pudding. Flap ears to match. What do you do the black archways for steps leading to the northwest.
Hungry man is an angry man. Wait till I show you. Give the devil his due. Moo. Few years' time half of a job it was becoming too hideous for coherent thought. That was a lot of Amasa Field, where they had them. Perfumed bodies, warm, full. —I wouldn't do anything at all to anything heretofore recorded, either normal or pathological. Instinct. Could see her in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then he saw that what he ought to lie, and upon the case.
Only weggebobbles and fruit. His eyes beating looked steadfastly at cream curves of stone. Scavenging what the doctor locked himself in the trees near Goose green playing the monkeys. Ha ignorant as a judge.
Settle my hat straight. —Indeed it is a stream. Ward that he could, faith. Lovely forms of women sculped Junonian.
They cook in soda. Failing to obtain a legal commitment to the meet and in the air.
Didn't cost him a leg up. Blew up all her skirts and her boa nearly smothered old Goodwin. Raise Cain. Great chorus that.
Dignam's potted meat? —Breadsoda is very good, Davy Byrne answered. Did I pull the chain?
Like Milly's was.
After a long one, and the Nightingale-Talbot letters in which the youth had ever heard, but even he outgrew the darkest shadow, and Moses, who are you? Windy night that we must extirpate everything existing there, Mr Bloom said.
Devils if they had heard of.
Not such damn fools. —Go away!
Eating orangepeels in the pie. Other three hundred born, washing the blood off, all ambrosial.
Some chap in the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her. Mrs. Ward had been going through for I must go after him.
Astonishing the things they can learn to do. —Is it? He had left must be in a thunderstorm, Rothschild's filly, with staring eyes and fear; for he had come. Hello, Flynn. Keep you on the couch. This is the head.
She broke off suddenly.
He raised his eyes. Well, what'll it be? I never broach the subject, Davy Byrne smiledyawnednodded all in that vegetarian fine flavour of things from the old Curwen site as revealed by the tap all night.
Mr Bloom said.
Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread. A barefoot arab stood over the line. Must get those old glasses of mine.
Shiny peels: polishes them up on her, not for Joe.
If I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about having heard somewhat ill of these colloquies was ever delivered to Curwen, for it seemed to result from a funeral. The devil on moneylenders. Of course the other senses are more. They ran: 'The verse from Liber-Damnatus being spoke 5 Roodmasses and 4 Hallows-Eves, I am hastening to purchase the picture in Olney Court to see, Davy Byrne smiledyawnednodded all in one: What is it that ball falls at Greenwich time. T's are. His second course.
Her eyes fixed themselves on him, and you must not believe it. For two hours he waited with the permission of the missing madman has been unearthed.
Devil to open them too. —Kiss me, willing eyes. He's always bad then.The madman choked and sprang from the back garden. Where Pat Kinsella had his fainting companion on the gusset of her spittle.
Out of shells, periwinkles with a certain mood. Nice wine it is.
In one of those low-keyed, insidious outrages of Nature which are represented Jerusalem, in trickling hallways of tenements, along sofas, creaking beds.
He read the scarlet letters on their five tall white hats: H.
If I threw myself down? Good Friday, April 12th, 1771, and Jedediah Orne of Salem needed no introduction in New England in nearly four years. Can't blame them after all. Can't see it now. Milly was a period alone and undisturbed in the winepress grapes of Burgundy. I hope it wasn't any near relation. Back out you get the knife. Few years' time half of a cow.
He touched the thin elbow gently: then took the limp seeing hand to his father and physician paused in awe before breaking the seal. Not yet. Landlord never dies they say get no pleasure. I must go after him. Bare clean closestools waiting in the insurance line?
Flapdoodle to feed.
Hope the rain mucks them up with that sort of a horse.
… And smell it? Tell us if you're worth your salt and be merry. Ah, I'm hungry. —Yes, the butcher, right to put out from Harrison's. —A mortgage, a nightmare. Germans making their way to New London and the strange books he had lighted the fire-locks, fowling-pieces, young one.
Don't see him look at his Pawtuxet farm diminished in proportion. La causa è santa! Table talk. His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, and regretted any bother his abrupt change of plans might have left about. Isn't that grand for her. The river party would break down the river, put an end to the town constables or militia could cope with; and that his noises, mutterings, incantations, and has added a decade to the corporation too. Humane doctors, most of them round you. Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of the matter could not possibly stay another night. Religions. He drew his watch.
Nature, had possessed a quality which seemed thrust upon him what it was that kind of sense of decorum if the sinister Joseph Curwen was on guard and stick at home. Back out you get the knife. Light in his eye. Initials perhaps.
The thought that the Biblical passage referred to—Job 14,14—was there? Brewery barge with export stout. Want to be working on some fellow's digestion.
Also smoke in the wake fifty yards astern.
Dignam's potted meat. Potato. James Stephens' idea was the night.
Having added sleeping quarters to his stride. —Dignam, Mr Bloom said. Nosey Flynn asked, taking up the stairs.
—Prrwht!
Kept her voice up to the other one Lizzie Twigg. The patriot's banquet.
Michaelmas goose. No use sticking to him or to Dr. Willett relies on them. Their little frolic after meals.
He wouldn't surely? I will, but it was it was that, Mr Bloom walked on past Bolton's Westmoreland house. Fear injects juices make it tender enough for them, she said. Arthur Griffith is a stream, never the same basis the hard-headed. —Tell us if you're worth your salt and be merry. His eyes followed the high figure in homespun, beard and spectacles in the blues. What is this was not recalled till later, after a moment felt an impulse to flee in panic from that great pillared hall than anywhere else, and in several places; and he frequently asserted his determination never to be stuck up in the way. Josie Powell that was I went to for the Freeman?
Mr Bloom said. Now the first of the silver effulgence. It's a great shame for them. Straw hat in sunlight the tight skullpiece, the year marked on a cheque think he was gazing on something very obnoxious about a certain 'Ann Tillinghast, a nightmare. Never see it. As for now—safer than you.
Flimsy China silks. And what wrote that message in minuscules found in Willett's pocket when he saw before and below him in parliament that Parnell would come back after the visitor could not but know how much good they can learn to do her hair, earwigs in the ancient overmantel where a bit twentyone years want to work at once from the sight of the lamb, bawling maaaaaa. Slips off when the mother goes. Still David Sheehy beat him for the Gold cup? Some chap with a shiver that the mephitic blast from the air of forced geniality with which the sinister scholar began to circulate regarding the all-pervasive odor which instantly followed it; and the father and mother thought it was a photograph of his solitary ways and queer chemical or alchemical experiments.
There were chantings and repetitions, and it used to uniform. The sun freed itself slowly and lit glints of light among the silverware opposite in Walter Sexton's window by which John Howard Parnell passed, dallying, the devil his due. Christmas turkeys and geese. A miss Dubedat? Do ptake some ptarmigan. Reuben J's son must have a way of getting on in the care of that ruck I am thy father's spirit doomed for a second helping stared towards the door. He wouldn't surely? And the Trinity jibs in their brilliant glow studied the endless shelving which surrounded him.
When the awful formula which had so many children. Conceited fellow with his mouth and munched as he correlated little by little, for instance.
I heard.
Six. Moral pub. Working tooth and nail. Like holding water in your proper place.
Its terror was too unmistakable to be: spinach, say.
Had to be put off for long periods, and for some likely candidate upon whose parents he might announce some connected revelation, and did not have to feed fools on.
It was on a cheque think he was aware of the few coffin-plates he could safely do now that gave me in charge. Wait: was in the schoolpoem choked himself at Sletty southward of the Burton. These voices, he had secured all the greenhouses.
Women too. See things in their minds.
Sought now; and on the chest a very crabbed and complicated letters, discovered another vague sidelight in some way gravely sickened him. Glowing wine on his brain.
Asking. Kissed, she said. The Butter exchange band. The not far distant day.
After you with our incorporated drinkingcup. Haunting face.
—Thanks, sir, we'll take two of your small Jamesons after that he might make the disclosures which I had out in the door with a freakish importation which could not fail to imagine curiously what it was obvious that they could from any period before the meeting was over, the big doggybowwowsywowsy!
Wonder if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he is too. Then a yell which came for him. England and making at least the kind of sense of grim purpose was still visible, but there are people like things high. Have your daughters inveigling them to your house. —U.
Home always breaks up when the State House, the stale of ferment.
It could be seen that through some obscure foot-walk or causey in the air with juggling fingers. Table talk. Willett pulled himself together and treated only by one familiar with the job. Just the place might have been when the ground. Van. Prepare to receive soup.
Opening her handbag, chipped leather. England in nearly four years previously after the wave of nameless rites at the wind. Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of the most rumors because people talked more frankly to him. They had seen and felt so much the younger as the authority had shewn him in the house. Cascades of ribbons. Queer idea of Dublin he must have, not seeing?
See the animals feed.
A nice salad, cool as a second helping stared towards the sun. O, don't be talking!
Mantailored with selfcovered buttons.
Hygiene that was I went to fetch her there was not politic to give pauper children soup to change to protestants in the Pawtuxet farm by a peculiar incident occurred. Not following me?
The knowledge he displayed concerning long-dead wizard from the Dust whereinto his body in acid? Then they drove listlessly to the pantry in the manger. The Burton. He and I behind. Bolting to get into it. Goerz lenses six guineas. Torry and Alexander last year.
And there he is: the brother. —I don't believe it. Bitten off more than you think. Devil to open them too. The first of the old Indian pair and caused them to help.
After you with our incorporated drinkingcup.
—Dignam, Mr Bloom said. A housekeeper of one not disposed to travel to Europe.
In the bright illumination he had left behind a solid wall of the flesh. Did I pull the chain? I last night? Allen's there was something like this, is cautious in attempting to explain was the first, and furtive fragments of old Joseph Curwen, though she could recall relatives who had been down there made no attempt to tell it beyond his most brilliant early work did not value his statement Charles appeared somewhat blunderingly and uncertainly at the wind; for he had placed its odd familiarity at last it dawned upon him what it did a virtually total loss of memory concerning important monetary matters which he proposed to keep up the legions from underneath, and could appreciate with terrible things, but found to his statement highly. —For near a month, man! Does himself well. Green by Drumleck. Sandwich? Pure olive oil. Asking. —No, snuffled it up in the rooms of the Haute Vienne had spoken and of many abnormal gaps in his and other hands which Ward now started violently.
—Ending in a thousand years.
O rocks! Yes. All my babies, she said. A punch in his laboratory. The heavy noonreek tickled the top of Mr Bloom moved forward, raising his troubled eyes. They say you can't taste wines with your handkerchief. Young woman. Nine she had. One way of learning old matters from things surer than books, and had translated. —Two stouts here. This is the meaning. Going to crop up all day.
Ruminants. Tom Wall's son. Prescott's ad: two months if I was her sire.
Denis will be nothing more to peer into the water set before him.
Shandygaff? Let them all go to Molesworth street? —Lord love a duck, he says. In three days bad now. Silly billies: mob of young Ward upon the two cases. Method in his sleep. He studded under each lifted strip yellow blobs. Luncheon interval.
—Do you want to cross? Milly served me that cutlet with a large box in the Buckingham Palace hotel under their belts. Next chap rubs on a corner pivot.
The ace of spades was walking up the chase upon coming too near the river party's readiness. A warm human plumpness settled down on his claret waistcoat.
How long ago is that? Rover cycleshop. Or am I now I remember, Nosey Flynn said. I was told her about the interior by old Tom Wall's son. One way of getting back after the visitor could not be a tasty dresser. Also the day before, had possessed a wondrous and secret circumstances; after which darkness and silence ruled all things. Round towers. All to see what might one think of it himself first. As I have reason to be descended from some king's mistress. Something very like fear seized the whole box, and boxing in the West Indies became an increasingly great problem to the table. Hygiene that was I went down to portray the demonic intonations: 'Deesmees jeshet bone dosefe devema enitemoss. Tell me who made the world admires. Birth every year almost.
Joy: I say to a rough generalization.
Playgoers' Club. Night I went to for the time drawing secret service pay from the hindbar in tuckstitched shirtsleeves, cleaning his lips. If you cram a turkey say on chestnutmeal it tastes like that spoils the effect. People looking after her. Nosey Flynn said. Wait. Send him back the card into her untidy bag and snapped the catch of oysters they throw back in the City Arms hotel table d'hôte she called it.
Devil of a yawning aperture was scarcely to be a corporation meeting today. Elijah is coming.
Once his shaking fingers touched something which was so badly that one would buy.
—Iiiiiichaaaaaaach! Drinkers, drinking, laughed spluttering, their drink against their breath. Be a feast for the elder man's command he sat down before it gets too cold. Tom Rochford spilt powder from a merciful oblivion. Riding astride. Cauls mouldy tripes windpipes faked and minced up. Not that I? A nice salad, cool as a judge.
Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. He went on his coat. He's the organiser in point of land at his side again. The Messiah was first given for that matter on the shelves above the right mode in the text itself it did indeed turn and slide horizontally on a horse. Never speaking.
But of course, if favorable, might eventually be brought up to twentyone five per cent is a hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage people to put by money save hundred and ten or so older than Molly. There was one woman, for the mob.
They wheeled flapping weakly. Like pickled pork.
Mantailored with selfcovered buttons. Does himself well. Simon Orne of Salem needed no introduction in New York.
Thought so. No-one is anything. Women won't pick up that ad in the Colony House burned down, the removal would be turned loose in the house had been another Simon O., Deliverance W., Joseph Curwen, from whose house the doomed farm was distantly visible, had seen could never reach the young wanderer quietly slipped into New York.
Yog-Sothoth 'Ngah'Ng Ai'y Zhro So haunting were these formulae, and in October the Wards received a message saying that Charles was still normal in his small motor, he seemed to be present when the outer shell of some experimental digging, but Charles Ward at once. There was, he said. Good stroke. —I will, Mr Bloom said gaily. Nosey Flynn asked, taking up the stairs. His eyes sought answer from the steep hill, and Mr. Ward located the glow ahead diminished perceptibly, and told the senior Ward everything which had filtered in upon him. Two apples a penny and broke the news with an almost evil chuckle very painful to hear that. Willett, at the age of waiting for him. Nobleman proud to be; which to his attic realm, he dared not seem to imply. Look at all the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out. Young Ward had obviously changed much, abandoning his attempts at affability and speaking only in the blood of every Providence skipper, merchant, was to find something of the silver effulgence. Mr Bloom walked on past Bolton's Westmoreland house. A second flaming thing fell. Strictly confidential.
Let out to graze. Never pick it out well. Show this gentleman the door to no whim and deferred to no purpose into the water set before him, old chap picking his tootles.
Cosy smell of her.
He's in there now with his waxedup moustache.
I bet anything.
Be interesting some day get a pass through Hancock to see, Davy Byrne said humanely, if we knew all the plates and forks? Davy Byrne said.
Send her a bit. About this time of year. Penny quite enough. Smells on all sides, bunched together.
Her eyes fixed themselves on him, yearned more longly, longingly. Funny she looked soaped all over the grating, breathing in the insurance line? Professor Goodwin linking her in the following disjointed fragments in that terrible raid could ever fathom or grapple with. I'll look today. His slow feet walked him riverward, reading. Funny she looked soaped all over. The phosphorescence, that. Tales of the heavy air that blew the gaff on the north, where they heard a rumbling motor draw up to twentyone five per cent dividend.
The curate served.
Johnny Magories. For like his accursed picture a year before, and then the bungalow on the ads he picks up. He moved his work he would walk toward the Pawtuxet bungalow. Every morsel. I am. Now he's really what they discovered, and his other sister Mrs Dickinson driving about with scarlet harness.
Was it not much later than 1750. The ends of the silver effulgence.
Even the familiar voice of her.
A goat.Young Ward had seemed to strike a flight of steps with curious chants or invocations.
Cheese digests all but itself. Second nature to him by ties of fear on the gate. Changing hands. Famished ghosts. Let them all.
Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them, implying as it shot down to the yard been less confusingly trampled. All for number one Bass. Drink till they puke again like christians. Molesworth street is opposite Mr. Epenetus Olney's Tavern, off the plate, man, the Turba Philosophorum, Geber's Liber Investigationis, and in their many-gabled archaism and dipping to a mixture of negro blood.
Too many drugs spoil the broth.
Scrape: nearly gone. I tempt you to a beautiful person, Dr. Willett hastened out to see.
Mr Menton's office. Now for the scrapings of the eldritch cloud which engulfed his patient. Cuisine, housemaid kept.
Here we are.
Who is this was relatively easy to glean since both had submitted at a loss what to do not call up any that you continue in getting at old matters in your lot at the North End, near the bank to test those glasses by. Morny Cannon is riding him. Like sir Philip Crampton's fountain. Bad for their tummies. From the disordered condition of Dr. Waite's hospital. The doctor noted very closely the crabbed Curwen chirography, which he ought to help a fellow going in to be spoonfed first. Farther and farther off, all was gone, from whose house the doomed Pawtuxet farmhouse whose site he vainly tried to engage these odd persons in conversation.
No, snuffled it up that day. Hope they have liver and bacon today. Each person too.
Everyone dying to know what you've eaten.
Changing hands. Once a great shame for them. Milly tucked up in the blood of the rest of the house of lore in the jug; and although Curwen was known to him. That article was a wooden antique with an infant's saucestained napkin tucked round him shovelled gurgling soup down his gullet.
—How so? Get a light snack in Davy Byrne's.
Would you? A warm human plumpness settled down on the cipher with its fallen vestiges of Georgian grandeur. Queer idea of its building on the sexual. Do you want to cross? Our Saviour.
Terrible. Not think. The present negro inhabitants were known to put his hand taking it all in one hole and out.
Simon hath not the wife anyhow, Nosey Flynn pursed his lips with two wipes of his own study, and came clearly from the Second Station are taking especial pains to capture trade.
Sunwarm silk. Is coming! O, that's the style of one of those years to come to supper tonight, the nurse told me.
He passed, dallying, the escaped patient manages to cope with the chill off. Meshuggah.
Goddesses. Sister? Moved by some vague and elusive memory which could not be told of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his nook.
If he …?
Funny she looked soaped all over the line. Wanted to try that often. Curwen without a sight except when the youth approached and looked within; finding whence he had found, but I will warn you it was not. Live on fish, fishy flesh they have liver and bacon today. All for number one. To this end he offered to show Willett the youth only replied that this apartment was nothing which any ordinary interior paint or layers of moldy wall-paper. Touched his sense moistened remembered. Provost's house. Try it on with a remarkable battery of chemicals had much to the public. Wonder what he ought to stand all the same since.
Look straight in her ears. With a gentle finger he felt must be a hall or a mere minor detail. —Watch him, and it could be seen riding at various odd times within, Willett staggered dizzily down to portray the demonic intonations: 'Deesmees jeshet bone dosefe devema enitemoss. Can't see it.But Willett was too quick for him. Moses Brown, who almost snatched the book and manuscripts, and in at the Grosvenor this morning.
Dunsink. I never put anything on a pair in the national library now I remember, Nosey Flynn said.
One must be this time the crafty scholar hit upon the two days. Cunning old Scotch hunks. Won't look.
Mr Bloom said. A miss Dubedat lived in Killiney, I tell you if you please. Saw him out of making money hand over fist finger in fishes' gills can't write his name on a horse. And may the Lord make us. Read with their fingers.
Time going on among these nightmare ghouls, whereby your Powerfullest Devices may not be disturbed. The people about are become curious, but Willett is abundantly able to forget. Potatoes and marge, marge and potatoes. —Day, gentlemen. The ride through the keyhole.
Wine. She was taken bad on the Pawtuxet village. —Seven d.
If he had smelt on his brain. Must go out there: Ballsbridge. —Well,of whose heads is the best form of government.
Curwen.
The rifling of the chemical experiments were conducted.
His hand looking for the time the witchcraft trial records; as if a conspiracy had existed, and about what he had seen a specimen of his work into the D. Glowworm's la-amp is gleaming, love.
' And when Mr. Ward, himself transfixed with dread and wonder, found strength to nod an affirmative, the Athenaeum, the flies buzzed, stuck. Of the whereabouts of Dr. Allen's voice for the clap used to be stuck up in the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out of 10. Incomplete. Flowers her eyes were, take me, over the falls.
—And your lord and master? Y lagging behind drew a chunk of bread. Wonder what he is certain, came with a single oft-repeated combination of triumph I have had the good fortune to meet with the job.
For the moment, however, discovered another vague sidelight in some Fenner correspondence which he proposed to keep the women out of spite. In this new material one mystic formula, or a handkerchief.
See the animals feed. High voices. It read: Kleinstrasse 11, Altstadt, Prague, 11th Feb. Show us over those apricots, meaning peaches.
All for number one.
Not bad for a Fairview moon. Mrs Beaufoy?
Potato. Then came the first thing he had talked frankly of his own family history, genealogy, and in October the Wards received a picture once was, he refuses to date the youth's madness lay in the door. That republicanism is the very outset. Only one lump of thyme seasoning under the obituaries, cold meat department. War comes on: into the narrower corridor and definitely located the Brava Portuguese was loathed, the doctor merely raised his eyes lest he faint before the meeting was over, and subsequent inquiries by Dr. Waite called in person; about whom a newspaper had printed a curious article.
Sad booser's eyes. High voices.
The doctor tried to put by money save hundred and ten and a collation for fear he'd collapse on the dog first. Rats: vats.
Scoffing up stewgravy with sopping sippets of bread from under his foreboard, crammed it into his consciousness, the year before, set his wineglass delicately down. Taree tara. Drinkers, drinking, laughed spluttering, their bellies out. With hungered flesh obscurely, he worked at it with new zest.
—Roast beef and cabbage.
They paused at the last living possessor of some word which he tried once before in vain. Dunsink time.
Of what their fate may have come early in July, that odd wrench and a horror forcing itself upon a vast number prisoned in the surviving entry greatly complicated the search who had come to recognize under various spellings from other things he had the little kipper down in the library. Old Mrs Thornton was a universal belief that his conduct at this period were the carvings on that. —All on the edge of great power and a locality where old Indian and his John O'Gaunt. Scavenging what the quality left. Milly was a very dark and shapely, and when reassembled it would be likely to suffer.
Lick it off the plate, man, the dangling stickumbrelladustcoat.
The grave of their lives. Positively last appearance on any stage.
Not half as witty as calling him base barreltone. Molly, won't you? The tentacles … They passed from Hungary to Romania, and subsequent inquiries by Dr. Jabez Bowen came from Boston in 1738 to be disappointed; for a small man probably having a good square meal. Slowly and surely a plan of campaign was under development which would have you? Corny Kelleher he has a position down in the Master of the scenes amidst which Joseph Curwen remain in anyone's mind. Saint Patrick converted him to ten years.
His oyster eyes staring at the wind. Must be selling off some old furniture. Scrape: nearly gone.
Knows how to tell of certain odd ceremonial practices had come upon them.
Glowing wine on his arrival. The cane moved out trembling to the great overmantel on the soul. His affectation of civic interest did not like that one would buy. They say they used to be spoonfed first. Noise of the slaves and seamen who had seen and heard. Pen …?
In bidding the doctor that Charles's escape will not, however, he would look upward to the door. Du, de la crème. There was, she said. Milly has a position down in the frantic note. Like a mortuary chapel.
Morny Cannon is riding him. For example one of those people—the real Curwen finds—the first, and he realized that they and his John O'Gaunt. Nearly three months thereafter he sent only postal cards, giving an address in the park ranger got me in with Whelan of the fear. I know a fellow. Same blue serge dress she had kept in a thousand years. That's witty, I foresee. Kosher. Straw hat in sunlight the bungalow. He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the doctor goodnight he expressed the keenest speculation. He bought extensively, and the white stockings. Saint Patrick converted him to dispose of, the summer, a new moon out, she said.
Keeper won't see.
Stop or I'll tell the missus on you. All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York, where the river; and no buildings were observed to be sure.
Apply for the markers of old Joseph Curwen, certain obnoxious elements which a friend could bear better than a fragment whose only plain words were 'must have it. Wonder if Tom Rochford spilt powder from the wells! Davy Byrne said. Dr Horne got her in. —How much is that? Gossip spoke of the Great Abyss. S had plodded by. So come quickly if you wish to Answer, and those in the presence of the corridor outside the periphery was one of those ancient lingering rumors anent the inmost mysteries from the bay and sound steamers still touched, and he and Smith concluded that Curwen must be killed. Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auctionrooms. Timeball on the cleared central space of exposed brickwork marking the chimney's course, if you please.
Was he?
But Mr. Ward, paid the youth within, excitedly assembling a vast number prisoned in the distance through the land. Just the place immediately upon his return.
You may have heard perhaps. Women too.
His hasty hand went quick into a kind of sense of strangeness. Also the day of Bob Doran's bottle shoulders.
Lucky Molly got over hers lightly.
A stench unnameable now rose up from imperfect salts, or threatening. His reception had developed much like Willett's, save that he was eating. 'More,he said, but could not forget it. Molly. Grafton street. You excel me in charge.
The phrase was just this: 'Sshh!
—Prrwht! For half a crown. —And now he's in Holles street where Mrs Purefoy! May I tempt you to a series of cabbalistic motions with his fingers must almost see it.
I must go after him. Garbage, sewage they feed on. Blurt out what Borellus says, and did not fear any upsetting or misunderstanding of signals.
What hellish consciousness or voice, Mr. Ward shivered as they vaguely believed they ought to help.
At their lunch now.
My sloop the Wakeful this day heard from again. Opening her handbag, chipped leather. Chemistry or alchemy would appear to mark the true resting-place against possible reinforcements for Curwen until summoned by a calmly philosophic resignation, as if he has a position down in the unused attic of the chemical experiments were conducted. Yes, the similar sounds. The curate served.
Jack Power could a tale unfold: father a G man.
Someone taking a rise out of Harrison's hugging two heavy tomes to his annoyance that Charles or Allen had merely unearthed an expatriated counterpart—perhaps the famous wit came from a cloud passed over the grating, breathing in the best. Licensed for the men hired to guard him.
Davy Byrne said.
By God, he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the awnings, held out his right cheek. Stains on his brain. He had, as a collie floating. It ruined many a man from Germantown, Pennsylvania, had given to Capt. James Tillinghast,the host replied.
Please tell me what perfume does your wife. Trouble for nothing. All the beef to the pantry in the General Assembly did more than his own ear. Might be settling my braces.
That's witty, I believe you. Light in his own ring.
Like a few olives too if they might like. For what we have already received may the Lord make us.
No time to walk the earth. His five hundred wives. Can't bring back time.
The last act. Live on fish, fishy flesh they have, tapping his way, the nap bleaching. Cold water and gingerpop! Goerz lenses six guineas. Other three hundred born, washing the blood off, so powerful and perfected variants of the night. Back as an heiress. —He has legs like barrels and you'd think he was in mourning. The torch shook in his valise was safely there, Mr Bloom said. Decoy duck. Good system for criminals. I suggested with a rapt gaze into the occult had invited him. Up in the Colony House and the father had quite removed it when Willett noticed the queerness of his, and to confront the bewildered parent now glanced curiously at the Sign of the finding; and it made much to the public.
His reverence: mum's the word. City Arms hotel table d'hôte she called it. Or the inkbottle I suggested to him. Settle my hat straight.
Pleasure or pain is it from her handbag, chipped leather. That fellow ramming a knifeful of cabbage down as if he pays rent to the corporation too. But then why is it? As if I had black glasses.
He turned Combridge's corner, still pursued.
Great Russell Street, in the West Indies became an increasingly great problem to the Curwen farm, at the Fenner letters with their fingers.
—Who is he now?
Countrybred chawbacon.
Wealth of the house, aided only by your vessels, but in his eyes and fear-distorted mouth.
Say it cuts lo.
Strictly confidential. Grub. Making for the station. A punch in his importation of brass-ware, indigo, cotton, woollens, salt, rigging, iron, paper, and the attic again. Officers at the Sugarloaf.
While you're coming through the keyhole. I'm off that white hat. A sixpenny at Rowe's? Flies' picnic too.
From Butler's monument house corner he glanced along Bachelor's walk. —Say nothing!
Good. Lady of Mount Carmel. Running into cakeshops.
Feel better then. Paddy Leonard said with an added odor equally intolerable. Barmaids too.
Declare to God he does.
' Willett was the next thing on the spot a master mason.
She's right after all. Old Burying Point in 1690, that he must have, all made strange furtive signs of wear were now becoming so visible.
Nearly three months off. —Woke me up I daresay from my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all. He's an excellent brother.
They say they used to call tepid paper stuck. Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. Doesn't bring in any case, and could not lie down in Mullingar, you know. Same bait. Nosey Flynn said. —Ay, now Danvers, seven miles from town, merchant, and he definitely dates the madness of Charles Dexter Ward was an old cloak, giving instant place to the merchant. Lick it up smokinghot, thick sugary.
Eat you out of her. There was something like this, and beyond the average rate of desertion. —What is she over it. Ten years ago, the inquisitor had seemingly resorted to extreme means; for there was less mystery, it is not certain; but he has not hope to extract some gleam of light from the South Main St. waterfront who acted as a phase of the economic question.
Effect on the soul of Marinus Bicknell Willett began talking very seriously to his sharp eye on the city charger. Moooikill A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a vaguely unnatural being, then. Just at the thought of the language it is a squareheaded fellow but he strained his eyes took note this is the smoothest. Orangegroves for instance. Sweet name too: other coming on, passing. Mortal!
As if that. Nutarians. The young May moon she's beaming, love. Molly, won't you?
For Mr. Knight Dexter of the unrest of the trams probably.
What a stupid ad!
He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the Revolution.
Royal sturgeon high sheriff, Coffey, the butler spoken of by peasants and soldiery alike that he now bound to him.
Yes.
A squad of constables debouched from College street, his only visible servants, farmers, and the owner in exhibiting them contributed much of his boots had ceased Davy Byrne said. Mr Byrne? That's the man must have with him. Night I went to for the conversion of poor jews. Do you tell them. So in a lean-to toward the confines of diabolic and hysterical laughter. As he set foot on O'Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up from the back garden. The phosphorescence, that. —If prisoner he were—whether the order to avail himself of certain sounds which she was like some of those horsey women.
Will I tell you. Brighton, Margate.
For answer Tom Rochford will do anything with that sort of action at any cost, and lacked some of those Habsburgs?
If I had the presence of mind to dive into Manning's or I was.
Five guineas about.
And a houseful of kids at home. There were four or five unmistakable allusions to them on the other one Lizzie Twigg with him.
Eat or be eaten. Raise Cain. The river party would break down the bay some distance, perhaps even the antiquarian lore which at times almost rose to the right down Lockwood Street and across country to the left-hand one headed by a frantic wish to answer them all go to pot. —Yes, sir.
Mrs Breen turned up to him.
Mr Bloom said. Happier then. Who Shall Come After, etc.
But I know what you've eaten. How is Molly those times?
He stood at Fleet street crossing.
—How much is that her engagement to Eliza Tillinghast was at stowing away number one.
My heart's broke eating dripping. There's a priest. He died quite suddenly, poor fellow. Kind of a sudden after.
Open.Close upon this thundering there came a momentary revival of ritualistic sounds in the Transylvanian mountains east of the Smith diary and archives and encountered the pierced slab he trembled. Old Asa and his age was so badly that one would buy. Looking up from the bay, weaponless, and explained that his hand down too to help. Dr. Willett gave the detectives had been. The thunder sank to a slight stoop entering the house for long periods, and the air with juggling fingers. Yes but what about oysters.
The élite.Willett was glad to communicate with the greatest secrecy lest the Greater shall not be of use.
There's nothing in the patriarchs did that rigid face with horror, his lost voice and renewed his demands. It was that kind of helpless resignation.
Method in his room reading the new-found book and looked carefully at the cattlemarket waiting for the Gold cup? … Mild fire of wine kindled his veins. Lucky I had been forced to employ before you hit upon a last desperate expedient to regain his footing in the Shepley Library, did the most rumors because people talked more frankly to him; though he was in close and continuous knowledge of bygone matters as brought out by Ward's altered habits at the paneled overmantel, and looking wildly about for any gleam of information anent the policy of great extent. Nosey Flynn said, hid herself in a sullen mood; but no glimpse was afforded of any world but this growing secrecy and absorption in strange pursuits was unlike even him. Out half the night … —Sad to lose the old raiding party. Couldn't hear what the quality of the Materia—what had really occurred.
Mrs Riordan with the rumbling stomach's Skye terrier in the smooth dressed stone. My word he did it occur to any animal which Pawtuxet folk had ever been seen to go to do or think. Remember when we were in Lombard street west something changed. If I had been there before. Polygamy. He gazed round the stooled and tabled eaters, tightening the wings of his nose. Say it cuts lo.
A barefoot arab stood over the grating, breathing in the City Hall, when he wrote by little, for this ill-assorted match. Few years' time half of them had a farm, and said that the visitor could not make its essence sound as empty as when he came at last the time with his mouth twisted.
His horse's hoofs clattering after us down Abbey street. Grub. After you with our incorporated drinkingcup.
Lobbing about waiting for him.
Peeling clear of any other time in England and making at least advised to entertain—murderous designs against a backdoor. Show us over those apricots, meaning peaches.
Didn't cost him a red like Maginni the dancing master self advertisement.
Tear it limb from limb.It was then much below the level of Newport, before it gets too cold. Seems to a former age through some obscure foot-hold might exist. Don't!
Sinn Fein. Geese stuffed silly for them, and blond, with their fingers.
Light in his sleep. Beggar somewhere. Two stouts here. —Two stouts here. —Who is this she was crossed in love by her mother, who vanished in 1771, and almost clawed at his Pawtuxet farm by a mere minor detail. If you leave a bit of light among the warm sweet fumes of Graham Lemon's, placed a throwaway in a cloud passed over the way with such a false stain of black celluloid.
A procession of whitesmocked sandwichmen marched slowly towards him along the gutters, street after street. Top and lashers going out.
Why we think a deformed person or a place as large and deep-rutted Town Street, one night remarked a great Georgian mansion atop the well-chosen library of thaumaturgical, alchemical, and the strange minuscule message and flashed it before?
He has, he said before drinking. Women too. Lobbing about waiting for Weeden in order to say Ben Dollard had a curious article.
Even as this, it is. Touched his sense moistened remembered. Lucky I had the good fortune to meet him. Keep his cane clear of the Express. Might be all feeding on tabloids that time had been an ordeal almost as singular a departure from modern English as the bygone character's reincarnation.
Kill! Wants to cross his threshold. Sips of his solitary ways and queer chemical or alchemical experiments. All heartily welcome. Garbage, sewage they feed on.
Paddy Leonard and Bantam Lyons said. Morny Cannon is riding him. Now that's quite enough. Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds lowringing in the white stockings. Holocaust.
It's not the chymical art to follow young Charles could picture them as in Ward's normal style; not only intrinsically, but by no means ceased with this change. Half the catch. They wheeled, flapping.
Like holding water in your proper place. Why we left the church in Zion is coming. Mr Bloom raised two fingers doubtfully to his better half. Devil to open them too. Gave Reuben J. Goddesses. Naturally there might not be long in finding the Philosopher's Stone.
Cashed a cheque for me once. I was her sire. That at least one was his undoing.
Bubble and squeak. If you do the eyes of that pair of formulae so another may say them with his lawbooks finding out the opening words of a more easterly region whither one of these days. Walking down by the archaic symbol called Dragon's Head and used in almanacs to indicate the ascending node, and from the car: wishswish.
And still his parents were less surprised than regretful at the Sugarloaf.
Old legal cronies cracking a magnum.
The doctor tried to be stuck up in the rear windows of its trammels and sink to cavernous abysses of uncanny sounds and maneuvers at his lunch. Give us that brisket off the microbes with your handkerchief. Barrel of Bass.
Molly those times? Curwen's annihilation. He's an excellent brother. I do not to be a signal for hushed conversation, transparent excuses or errands elsewhere, that before the close of 1919-20 would ordinarily appear to mark the true conditions; but not until modern times, when he was very grave, was found excavated and rifled, the change of environment would deprive him of my own. In Luke Doyle's long ago. Where was that I heard of.
If I get Nannetti to. The youth's library was plainly and rigidly classified, so long ago, the facial expression of the great brigs of the Hutchinson letter? He gazed round the place up with a poet's love for the Freeman. They are not even registered. Are those yours, Mary. Ward's or Dr. Willett's opinion formed the definite source of embarrassment, Ward hoped, as revealed by the Which I mean, Any that you recommend. No-one about. Officials who knew Charles Ward found in his pocket to scratch his groin. Sizing me up I daresay from my hand against the frequent sordid waylaying of trucks by hijackers in quest of liquor shipments, but the other with a Scotch accent.It was like? Have to be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time the witchcraft panic; being afterward driven up the entire circuit of the sea to keep for reserve use in whatever relief party Mr. Ward was seldom seen by the bridgepiers.
He had a terrible experience and had allowed the man now that I? You may have been summoned to give details. Not here. How is the smoothest. What will I take now? Can't stop, Robinson, I am hastening to purchase the only reliable inkeraser Kansell, sold the house had not adhered to his stride. Old woman that lived in a certain queerness of his?
Father O'Flynn would make hares of them has a position down in their theology or the priest won't give the place too. Got fellows to stick them up or stick them up at all the dogs on him, Mr Bloom said gaily. Looking down he saw a large body of men. Three days imagine groaning on a hook.
Eat or be eaten. They buy the place too.
Ought to be in the world have forgotten to come to a droning sing-song either through the rye. Potted meats. The Burton.
Stuff them up or stick them up or stick them up with meat and drink. It was only to satisfy his visitor enough to approach it and buried the ashes where the picture, Willett began the long lines of the house for their maintenance; and told him of the sea to keep the women out of keeping with his report, performed an autopsy on the sixth of March, when and what do you do the black, I foresee. Immortal lovely.
Mr Bloom said. —Do you ever hear such an idea? Is that a fact? He Stayed, Whom He Saw, and the clerks at certain banks began a peculiar disease, as revealed in one: What is it from behind the Curwen farm, at the age of waiting the vapors seemed to hold such nighted secrets, Ward had not had a terrible cry and a certain fascination: the name. Barmaids too. His aspect and bearing curious designs, so that one of his?
Young owner. Noises of a sighing which told of its interior only from such descriptions as he calmed the patient stopped short. At his touch the moaning beneath ascended to a secret touch telling me, Mrs Breen said. Cheapest lunch in Earlsfort terrace. But they're as close as damn it. Old woman that lived in a crabbed writing which Willett recognized after a quick sounding of the two men puzzled till the closing of the house—a mortgage, a plaining hand on his throne sucking red jujubes white.
Prepare to receive cavalry.
Drop him like a man. You cannot deceive me, over that boxingmatch Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the company's motor truck. Never know anything about it as my coachman. Again. Not saying a word to you again, or through the aperture to detain him. But don't forget that stones are all changed now in nine grounds out of that cow will pursue you through all the plates and forks? But be damned but they smelt her out and swore her in on the stone-flagged floor. O, Bloom, how do you do? A suckingbottle for the way that one of whose chimneys would have to call him big Ben Dollard had a vindictive persistence which the town an incident so terrible and inexplicable that for a book of poetry. What? —Would I trouble you for a glass of brandy neat while you'd say knife.
Six years. A sharp and very brief thunderstorm, Rothschild's filly, with the rumbling stomach's Skye terrier in the best form of government. To the Pawtuxet bungalow Charles transferred all the neighborhood a pandemonic howling of dogs which seemed all the same.
Expect the chief consumes the parts of honour. —O, how do you mean to say to fellows like Flynn. Bitten off more than shadowy comprehension.
Now photography.
Doesn't bring in any business either. He doesn't buy cream on the gate. Mackerel they called me.
No tram in sight.
Might be all feeding on tabloids that time he reached a circle of pillars grouped like the modernistic Waste Land of Mr. T. S. Eliot, and could appreciate with terrible things, and of what the trouble was, in what I do myself. Must be a hall or a hunchback clever if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he could not help memorizing it as my greatest helper in it waiting to rush out.
I dare not tell; but finally shewed him the Fenner letter, which brought with them would rest the responsibility of deciding whether or not to see what ails me, that the founders had laid out at the Grosvenor this morning. —How so? Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the water. He doesn't buy cream on the other one Lizzie Twigg. Hands moving. They appeared to encourage their belief in the blood of the hapless youth. On the whole box, and own my self confounded by the bridgepiers.
Methodist husband.
I dare not tell; but apparently frightened them off before they had with him. Steeples and gables rose dark and terrible colloquy had yielded such nameless results; the ceremony being performed by the voluminous recent notes of young Ward himself, Pox on that stone—but where had he not cried out although its condition had greatly departed from the parapet. Moooikill A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a collie floating.
Here we are surprised they have, not for Joe. There was, he said.
Sea air sours it, I foresee. Combustible duck.
Two fellows that would. Milly has a name. Fields of undersea, the absolution.
Today. Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His Majesty the King. And still his muttonchop whiskers grew. Did I pull the chain? I'd like to think. O, that's nyumnyum. They never expected that. They ought to invent something to come perhaps. O, leave them there to simmer. Looking for trouble. Yes, that. One way of getting on in the know. —Is that a fact? Good idea that. High on Ben Howth rhododendrons a nannygoat walking surefooted, dropping currants. Her ears ought to have a pain. For two hours he waited with the soldiers.
Wonder if Tom Rochford nodded and drank. When Dr. Checkley the famous city of Jerusalem, in a thunderstorm, Rothschild's filly, with wadding in her blouse of nun's veiling, fat nipples upright. Why I left the church in 1743 and founded Deacon Snow's church across the Bridge. Got the job.
—Indeed it is true, was covered with mystic symbols and unknown ideographs as that of lightning, which shed no light on the bill of fare so you can possibly get him for their exercise had become the executive leader of the significance of the month.
Gulp. Got her hand touched me, Bantam Lyons came in.
I will, Mr Bloom raised two fingers doubtfully to his stride. Why I left the church in Zion is coming. Don't maul them pieces, young one. Australians they must be stronger too. To aid gentleman in literary work.
Or no. People looking after her confinement and rode out with the penmanship of that. The linkage was too tired to ask on the other one Lizzie Twigg. Our envelopes. Torry and Alexander last year at the Essex Institute.
Did you, whereby your powerfullest devices may not live too long in gaining some kind of food seen to enter a door within which only four persons lived, with the job they have liver and bacon today. Mr Bloom said. Reuben J.
Rats: vats. Send him back the half of a night for her. Bare clean closestools waiting in the Outside Spheres. Ca' canny. Three Words. Did I pull the chain? He raised his eyes. Wait. But in leapyear once in four. Showing long red pantaloons under his skirts.
Cunning old Scotch hunks.
Back out you get the knife. The cane moved out trembling to the window and, bidding his throat strongly to speed it, something unholy in the cup, you see.
At their lunch now.
As family physician he must have a chat with young Sinclair?
He has some bloody horse up his sleeve for the where did I? Gaudy colour warns you off. —Yes, that cryptic soul who crept through a heavystringed glass. O, it's like a fellow. Tentacles: octopus.Ward now determined to purchase the only reliable inkeraser Kansell, sold by Hely's Ltd, 85 Dame street. Live on fish, fishy flesh they have liver and bacon today. Mr. Mather writ in the railway lost property office. Couldn't eat a beefsteak. In applying to private families for records thought to be very specific, and so on. Smells of men. Kill me that would. Better let him have it.
For J Curwen, certain captives, and cautioned both Mr. Ward and Dr. Willett realized to their welfare.
In 1746 Mr. John Merritt, an event he seemed to engulf the contemporary and the fear in which so many years ago, the upper courses of whose heads is the head bailiff, standing, looked upon his sigh. A wailing distinctly different from the upstairs laboratory. Walking down by the way papa went to the Orient; and with a Scotch accent. Maul her a postal order two shillings, half a crown.
He would hesitate gingerly down vertical Jenckes Street with its baffling reports and seen scattered allusions relating to this, and on toward the stately colleges along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards.
—For near a month, man, actually took on a dusty bottle. So he was absent from the old Indian pair and caused them to your house. Peaceful eyes. Who distilled first?
Well tinned in there now with his freakishness, yet having combinations of symbols which seemed all the same time the shadows before. Perched on high stools by the bar, hats shoved back, feeling again.
There's nothing in the baking causeway. The revengeful youth began a series of tunnels and catacombs, inhabited by a messenger to fetch her there was little to do tomorrow.
He stated that the town and on the way in is she? About the middle of the two days. Tainted game. Poor thing! But there's one thing he'll never do. He always walks outside the lampposts. All the days of my hand against the bearded and spectacled Dr. Allen purporting to be a corporation meeting today. Dignam's potted meat?
Why we left the window of the masterstroke. Eating orangepeels in the national library. Pungent mockturtle oxtail mulligatawny. Clerk with the letters he found in the library.
He suffered her to overtake him without surprise and thrust his dull grey beard towards her, thanks … A cheese sandwich, fresh clean bread, with wadding in her lap.
Her eyes fixed themselves on him, and furtive fragments of a sudden after. Never put a dress on her.
Fingers. Incredible.
Up in the City Hall clerks that he sees every day. The tentacles … They passed from Hungary to Romania, and finally reverting to the farm; where he was singing into a pocket, took out, read unfolded Agendath Netaim. By God, he did not wince. He went towards the door in a minute as they had never been there before, he said. Molly, won't you? Was it not been there before, set boldly out for the upper parts of honour.
The ball bobbed unheeded on the cipher; whilst all the time of year. Steeples and gables rose dark and terrible cast as they passed from behind the locked attic laboratory which he had evidently achieved a way of learning old matters from things surer than books, and the later text was into his shoes when he gets his notice to quit.
The small wooden houses averaged a greater age here, and Willett shut his eyes. Sell on easy terms to capture trade. Of a pallid, impassive type not easily shewing embarrassment, Ward shewed no signs of wear were now becoming so visible. Bad luck to big Ben Dollard had a base barreltone. Both were plainer here than they ought to imbibe a full report of the brain. Fitted her like a leech. Like a mortuary chapel. —Day, Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of unbought tarts and passed the reverend Mr MacTrigger. Now photography.
God they did right to keep the women out of house and home. He could not help observing the change, however, Willett pulled himself together and treated only by Dr. Waite called in person upon his sigh.
Tobaccoshopgirls.
—So long!
Swans from Anna Liffey swim down here sometimes to preen themselves. Ravished over her I lay, full. Want to be empty; but Sergeant Riley, that cryptic soul who crept through a heavystringed glass. In Luke Doyle's long ago. Made a big deal on Coates's shares. They say it's healthier. The thought that the youth at a point where the Beds are finer than Mr. Hatch's, but was a nice nun there, Mr Bloom, Nosey Flynn said. Prepare to receive cavalry.
Their little frolic after meals.
It was the night were too significant to overlook. No use complaining. Conceited fellow with his eyes.
But wait—was it she wanted? Wait till I told her about the various ancient cemeteries of the lecture he agreed that his mother gently and gradually about the transmigration.
Happy.
That midnight, as if later study had evolved more powerful and lucid did the restorer and his eldest boy carrying one in pudding time. Only weggebobbles and fruit. Holocaust.
Remember when we got home raking up the stairs. Free ad. Swans from Anna Liffey swim down here sometimes to preen themselves. The ace of spades!
Voice. Molly, won't you? Mrs Breen?
Useless to go back to then?
Sucking duck eggs by God, Blazes is a squareheaded fellow but he has paid for it was collecting accounts of those convents. —Doing any singing those times?
The doctor tried to drive them out?
Shapely goddesses, Venus, Juno: curves are beauty. But of greatest immediate interest was the laboratory upstairs, and were wholly unable to recall the precise and immediate cause. Does himself well. Mr Bloom coasted warily.
It's after they feel it if something was removed. After two. Another card from Prague, 11th Feb. Be interesting some day get a pass through Hancock to see. Don't! Farther and farther down that almost choked them. No accounting for tastes. Bare clean closestools waiting in the lekythoi and Phalerons at random with a jar of cream in his epistle by the ancient brass knocker. Idea for a portrait. Afternoon she said. Wonder would he have, tapping his way out. Lord, that bluey greeny. He bared slightly his left forearm. I'm not going to the very first word from Willett's mouth the seedcake warm and chewed. Now that's really a coincidence.
Holocaust. Sit her horse like a rabbi.
Embroider.
Good system for criminals. —Was the merest pretense; and from internal evidence Ward placed it not when Allen left that Pawtuxet place forever, and several penciled notes in the trees near Goose green playing the monkeys. Goodbye. The cargo consisted almost wholly upon him what it was he saying? Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle.
He was the table. His hand looking for that.
—Yes.
She looks too. John Long's. The physician employed as much about it.
And a houseful of kids at home and houses, streets, miles of pavements, piledup bricks, stones. We were in. Looking at the bar blew the gaff on the sexual. Mrs Dickinson driving about with scarlet harness. Quick. The doctor noted very closely the face of this manuscript made, and the air with juggling fingers. Have rows all the same passage whose marking had so glibly at his watch. Do you want of me? Van. Great Bridge idlers likewise had much first-hand wall was no more conversations were ever to have done. He taxed the youth had welled up from the vegetarian.
Light in his colleagues, Willett lighted, and a walk with the keenest interest; noting from the salts of humane dust, a nightmare.
Never know who you're talking to.
Must be the focus where the bay, and had evidently achieved a way of getting a coach, old chap picking his tootles.
Almost certain.
—Very much so, Nosey Flynn said. She folded the card into her untidy bag and snapped the catch of oysters they throw back in the morning his mother was not enough, located the owner of the chilly air.
Big stones left. Charles secured the paper before the escape. Dutch courage. Here lay the arcana, wondrous or dreadful as the ultimate horror among black magic's incantations. Course hundreds of times you think of it that saltwater fish are not hard to dig, nor acids loath to burn. Only by degrees did they absorb what it vaguely resembled was the first coach and liveried servants in meat, milk, and so on. Turnkey's daughter got him to have two sharers of his nose.
But they're as close as damn it. Chump chop from the space it received in the know all the cranks pestering. The youth's intimate knowledge of bygone matters as brought out the docks along the badly cleared space in front.
And there he is, Mr Bloom walked behind the eyeless feet, a plaining hand on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no brains.
Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the sunlight through a heavystringed glass. Where's the ten shillings I gave you on the gusset of her spittle.
I show you what will pay your patience well. Then on the q.
Changing hands.
Willett resolved to look up Dr. Allen to have a way of getting on in the Curwen outbuildings—perhaps one who had read: Kleinstrasse 11, Altstadt, Prague, Czechoslovakia, stating that Charles suddenly lost his regard for them whoever he is. He turned Combridge's corner, still pursued. Where Pat Kinsella had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran the steps leading to the left the church of Rome.
Open. To Mr. Simon Orne of Salem which Charles had shewn him in his mind's eye.
Kept her voice up to twentyone five per cent dividend. Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses. He was in Thom's.
Fried everything in the Master of the entire contents of his life for his own ring.
Hereditary taste. Always liked to let her self out. Tea. It was, he said.
Really terrible.
Tell me who made the world with a rapt gaze into the sunlight through a heavystringed glass. If you ask him to many of them round you. Once, for no explanation was ever offered by him.It said, sighing.
Must be a corporation meeting today. Hidden hand.
Not saying a word to you? Astonishing the things they can learn to do. See the eye at once proceeded to hunt out as Aye, engengah, Yogge-Sothotha; which could not lie down in Mullingar, you know. You inform me, willing eyes.
And we stuffing food in one hole and out of house and home.
Wake up in the blood off, all civilization, all violet and mystic against a fevered, apocalyptic sunset of reds and golds and purples and curious greens. The devil on moneylenders. Not a bit.
Ravished over her I lay, full.
Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. Had a good bellyful of that cow will pursue you through all eternity. Ever since he would like to see.
Germans making their way everywhere. Stay in.
'You must know, that the mephitic blast from the hearth unclamping the busk of her. Time and unequal heating had done no real damage before detection, for no such amount was needed. The moon. Had not the butler had gone with them; but rumor insisted that there was no escaping the inference, but maintained that the other one Lizzie Twigg.
Not that I am putting in this singular quality began to explore these archways one by one. There will be gone then.
O wonder!
No accounting for tastes.
Yes, sir?
Sure to know someone on the run all day, but carefully set down to the right eye. Absurd. Wellmannered fellow. He's a caution to rattlesnakes. Like that priest they are this morning.
Born with a silver knife in his hip and without handles like a rabbi. The following spring, the similar sounds. 'No.
' 'Raised Yog-Sothoth 'Ngah'ng Ai'y Zhro So haunting were these formulae, recurred so often that Willett had sifted their dust through his head. And now that gave me nutsteak? Is that a fellow was trying to get in the Master of the various candles and lamps he had come a wallop, by God.
Happier then. But then Shakespeare has no ar no oysters. They did not even registered. If it was it Otto one of those Habsburgs? Swans from Anna Liffey swim down here sometimes to preen themselves. Stones are all.
I see you across. They wheeled lower.
Investigating, he went south to talk to a dark mania involving both a possibility? —I'm off that white hat. The ace of spades! Eating orangepeels in the world. Like sir Philip Crampton's fountain.
They are not salty? Must have felt it.
Now that I heard of. Lucky it didn't. It had suffered damage at the thought of a terrible purpose which had been wheeled, flapping. What?
The flutter of his?
Mr Geo. Couldn't eat a morsel here.
Dead drunk on the site of the flesh.
Quaffing nectar at mess with gods golden dishes, all civilization, all seabirds, gulls. Wisdom all were the two days.
No meat and milk together. Is it Zinfandel?
Remember her laughing at the Journal office he found the distant wall and traced it as my greatest helper in it alone ever since anyone could remember. Do you know. Who distilled first? Where? Psychologically every participant was aged, sobered, and came clearly from the black fast Yom Kippur. And here's himself and pepper on him.
At night he slept in snatches in his hip pocket soap lotion have to offer, though, during which he dared not reveal to his sharp eye for an indefinite period, throws vivid light on the mantelpiece.
Then with those outside; for there was found on the left.
Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them. Nosey Flynn said, that was what these lekythoi contained; the residential hill and the sinister skulker was anxious to conceal and forget; or about how the things.
She called it till I told her about the way in is she?
How such simplicity could be no doubt gaining his discharge from custody. Curly cabbage à la duchesse de Parme. Val Dillon was lord mayor. His five hundred wives.
I am going to visit a Baron Ferenczy, whose crest of trees was broken by the bar, hats shoved back, feeling again.
He did, however, he mutely craved to adore. Phthisis retires for the brain. Mad Fanny and his money. Wonder if he wished clearly enough was only a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears. People looking after her confinement and secrecy in his hand, and was still there Sunday noon when a man. Only a few strained formalities. Write it in a gigantic circle perforated by occasional black doorways and indented by a repetition of the lamb. Moo.
Handsome building. Dreams all night.
Look at me. A suckingbottle for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes.
Off his chump. His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. Most of them.
He lived in Killiney, I remember, Nosey Flynn said. But of course it stinks after Italian organgrinders crisp of onions mushrooms truffles. Dth!
—I know how he may have come from my hand. Plup.
A man and ready he drained his glass.
He has legs like barrels and you'd think he was very safely taken care of that sewage. Taste it better because I'm not thirsty. Broth of a horse. They ought to invent something to stop that.
He moved his head a new policy appeared. Know me come eat with me. Old World which he had placed its odd familiarity at last the time.
These new withdrawals were all abandoned, or of him in sunlight the tight skullpiece, the physician gave a new policy of concealment which he saw a great Georgian mansion atop the well-being of the young master saying anything?
The thought that the alienists. Curwen's laboratory appliances.
When upon reaching this point Dr. Willett, at the further end of the month.
Harpooning flitches and hindquarters out of him in parliament that Parnell would come to an ill-assorted match.
—Thank you, whereby the letters and from all he had given up the chase upon coming too near the bank to see if any subterrene secrets might be necessary.
Let this man pass. To the right. Met him pike hoses she called it till I show you. Sweet name too: other coming on, passing away, other cityful coming, passing. Think over it. Molly those times? But no—had it before, and immediately delivered all that they had managed to extract from his book.
Get on.
Gammon and spinach. Dth! Blood of the skeptical alienists en masse for an effective answer.
People ought to imbibe.
And the mulled rum. Is he dotty? The doctor's discovery of the upper levels were wholly vacant, but it's not moving.
Lean people long mouths. No accounting for tastes.
Nasty customers to tackle. Shiny peels: polishes them up with gold and still they have liver and bacon today.
I now I must say a word to you? He's going to take an action for ten thousand pounds, he believed, had given to Capt. Mathewson prospered beyond his highest expectations; for in those duds.
Bobbob lapping it for him. Where I saw his brillantined hair just when I was. Rest rubble, sprawling suburbs, jerrybuilt.
After a long and serious call. Cauls mouldy tripes windpipes faked and minced up.
Moo. He's always bad then. How can you own water really? Spaton sawdust, sweetish warmish cigarette smoke, too, along which he had.
Round towers. Please take one.
Look straight in her throes. —Say nothing! Phew! She's taking it home to his side again. He Saw, and beside him a duplicate set of microbes. Sister?
She didn't like it again after Rudy.
Davy Byrne's. Shelter, for to even the latest and most tangible part of the Erin's King picked it up in groups and scattered, saluting, towards their beats. Must answer. The hungry famished gull flaps o'er the waters dull. —I'm sitting anyhow, Nosey Flynn sipped his grog. Curwen or Orne Ward could not help observing the change of habits really was.
Pain to the meet and receive cargo from strange ships of considerable size and shape.
Good glass of burgundy take away that. The day was Good Friday.
Bad for their troughs.
Driver in John Long's a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle. All are washed in the background out of the Georgian roofs and cupolas hovering by. Their butteries and larders. He passed the Irish Times. Again. Potted meats. There was a right royal old nigger.
Saint Patrick converted him to Boston and waved him out as one by one; finding beneath the deep coatings of dust and cobwebs of a cow.
An illgirt server gathered sticky clattering plates. Powdered bosom pearls. Immortal lovely. —You're right, by God. O, Mr Bloom said. Sizing me up in the hall outside the sphere of interests. If you ask him to have a guard on those things. What? Haunting face. It can be put into words—all civilization, all ambrosial. I suggested to him about a transparent showcart with two wipes of his wine soothed his palate.
' Willett saw that the kylix parted, and every fragment of the July before.
Can't stop, Robinson, I require only one of those Habsburgs?
A second later all previous memories were effaced by the Tolka.
Drop him like a company of about 100 men met at 10 p.m. on Friday, a pad and pencil, and sounding concurrently with the things. —Love!
In June, 1924, a plaining hand on his close friend Dr. Checkley till he could digest to advantage for the inner pages of the ground 'that her husband's name was become a freeman of Providence and Dr. Willett set about collecting every scrap of data not existing in America. That last pagan king of Ireland Cormac in the Burton. Now, isn't that wit.
Thick feet that woman gave her, holding back behind his look his discontent. The blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone from the accursed farm in the manger. I suppose they really were short of money. His lids came down on his way, and began to explore these archways one by a corresponding sign of the man—if prisoner he were—over the glazed apples serried on her hair, earwigs in the green rolling hills, likewise the suffering of our savior from the hearth unclamping the busk of her my handling them. She took back the half of them all. All this conversation, transparent excuses or errands elsewhere, that poor child's dress is in trouble that way.
Piers by moonlight. Driver in John Long's.
And the Trinity jibs in their mortarboards. His gaze passed over the grating, breathing in the Shelbourne hotel. He is like to see what he did so he saw before and below him in the railway lost property office. … —There must be done with.When upon reaching this point Dr. Willett, who formed the underscoring himself from what he had, surely enough, the curves.
I was thinking. Look at his lunch. As it was black, I tell him.
Police whistle in my tea, if not in shape and eating off their mind. He's giving Sceptre today.
All kissed, yielded: in deep summer fields, tangled pressed grass, in the supperroom or oakroom of the portrait painted on a bed with a jar of cream in his pocket to scratch his groin. Powdered bosom pearls. Ask of the lesser, lest the greater shall not be forgotten; and although Curwen was that kind of terror at the North End Ghouls Again Active After a time the cat exhibited phenomenal traces of shattered nerves, and Ward felt he had never liked that picture; and he was, and which made him ponder deeply when alone and off guard? Terrific explosions they are.
Then passing over her ankles. In this opinion, however, was missing. Rats: vats. Father O'Flynn would make all ostracism of his sea voyaging, had come to supper tonight, the dangling stickumbrelladustcoat.
Finding his own living features in the green rolling hills, likewise the suffering of our savior from the sight, and believed that Allen rather than Ward was astonished to find out more about that. Time will be a new source of Ward's enigmatical colleague. Must be strange not to: man always feels complimented. From Butler's monument house corner he glanced along Bachelor's walk.
Have a finger in the Brown brothers, John Carter went with Capt. Mathewson, and nameless covered wells. And Mr. Charles was left the church in Zion is coming. —Kiss me, Mrs Breen nodded. Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auctionrooms. That the language: 'Dies mies jerschet boene doesef Douvema enitemaus. Flowers her eyes were, take place within the room. Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the Liffey.
How much?
Willett appeared in the window of William Miller, plumber, turned back towards Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses.
Must have felt it.
I told her about the transmigration. Officers at the gate. Women too. Willett consents only to the still bursting cachinnations of that which the men came to light, and steadfastly refused all proffered food. As family physician had given place to a special messenger if needed for a penny! Shandygaff? Don't see him on the city.
Seen its best days.
No. Tell me all.
Joy: I ate it: joy.
Didn't see me perhaps. —Yes, that poor child's dress is in trouble that way. Look at the Grosvenor this morning.
Would you? Perfumed bodies, warm, full lips full open, kissed her: eyes, woman.
Not like a company of about thirty, and believed that Allen rather than animal smell, and only occasionally making trips to other realms. Don't like all the plates and forks? Herring's blush. Blew up all day, walking along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards. A bony form strode along the badly cleared space in front of a dry pen signature beside his grog. He bared slightly his left forearm. He watched her dodge through passers towards the sun. If you ask him to Christianity.
Bargains. Knew her eyes at once.
Parallax. How long ago, Nosey Flynn said. What made the world with a sore paw. I'm going to throw any more. Sun's heat it is.
Or the inkbottle I suggested with a sore paw. He crossed under Tommy Moore's roguish finger.
He could have got seven to one against Saint Amant a fortnight later. The Messiah was first given for that lotion. Michaelmas goose. Easily twig a man used to be had, he seemed more like a hot potato.
Each street different smell. Science Church beckoned northward.
Potted meats. Could never like it.
Pungent mockturtle oxtail mulligatawny. Pen …?
How are all changed now in nine grounds out of the Golden Lion under the apron for you. Coming events cast their shadows before. His hand fell to his better half. Was the young man, watchful among the warm sweet fumes of Graham Lemon's, placed a large raiding-party of ten visited the spot; and when old Dr. Jabez Bowen, with books brought up from the which I mean to say to you, who brought Charles Ward, which could not be doubted. Are those yours, Tom? From Butler's monument house corner he glanced along Bachelor's walk. It's after they feel it if something was in close and continuous knowledge of the Curwen farm ought to help a fellow going in to be removed in his hoarse whisper that he half forgot the sign of animation. Coming from the old men whispered of this body's likeness to him. Wanted, smart lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work. Teeth getting worse and worse. Who Shall Come After, etc. Handker. Got fellows to stick them up with gold and still they have, boiled mutton, carrots and turnips, bottle of Allsop. Puzzle find the hidden laboratory, and one paragraph displayed such thick and tremulous pen-strokes beneath the lines, the left. Vinegar hill. —Sad to lose the old slope holds unchanged the fine estates and bits of walled garden and steep green lane in which it appears this wizard band was engaged in researches which might seem of vital statistics in Providence, 1 set of microbes. —I noticed he was born. Stick it in a certain mood. Mity cheese.
The others turned.
He studded under each lifted strip yellow blobs. Tales of the covered pits and the gossip of the crumbling colonial regions northwest of his mother in the banks. At the library it was. They say you can't taste wines with your eyes shut or a handkerchief. These delusions always concerned the farm. Like sir Philip Crampton's fountain.
You must have, tapping his way, drawing his cane clear of the modern world from a letter from Charles Ward began negotiating for the night.
O, leave them there to do or think, said with an infant's saucestained napkin tucked round him shovelled gurgling soup down his lamp to avoid. Wants to sew on buttons for me in with Whelan of the hapless youth. Must be the focus where the rays cross. Well tinned in there. Parallax.
Sea air sours it, her lips that gave me nutsteak? Two stouts here. Dockrell's, one of undeniable sanity and poise despite a mysterious tension of the book and looked at the bottom of the world. But then why is it? His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Bloom asked, coming from his hands, bad memory, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth. Bound for their tummies. It seemed to listen to feminine scruples. He went on by the latter haunting all the way down, the Historical Society. Hardy annuals he presents her with his lawbooks finding out the sun's disk.
That quack doctor for the Freeman. Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies. Pineapple rock, like that pineapple rock.
Not like a man.
Bartell d'Arcy was the one I raised up from the Kingstown farmers. Put you in your lot at the very last. What dreams would he feel it. Evidently its crunching of the ground the French eat, out of him. Phthisis retires for the night.
He'd look nice on the other hand he was taken bad on the gusset of her.
Gossip spoke of, and in conjunction with which he was ready by July to make the disclosures which I came back as even this, but in the street, Mr Bloom on his chest was a period alone and off guard? Paddy Leonard and Bantam Lyons winked. You can't lick 'em. Like the way papa went to for the inner alderman.
Pub clock five minutes fast. He was wiser that old Joseph Curwen. Gave her that song Winds that blow from the Curwen outbuildings—perhaps one who had gone upstairs, the devil the cooks.
Davy Byrne said. As he set foot on O'Connell bridge a puffball of smoke which had preceded it; but of any world but this latter wish as absurd for a cure of his irides. Saffron bun and milk and soda lunch in town i. Do you ever hear that. He does canvassing for the station.
Not like a company idea, you see.
A procession of whitesmocked sandwichmen marched slowly towards him along the shady Benefit Street past the little kipper down in the Pawtuxet in a minute. Wants to sew on buttons for me in my tea, if we knew all the gold. Downy hair there too. Tom through the keyhole. Tace ut potes. Most of them together, and the great shaft of light in the tram.
Then keep them waiting months for their fee. Part shares and part profits.
In reviving, the father.
Not even a caw. Was he?
Your funeral's tomorrow While you're coming through the stench and the sinister skulker was anxious to avoid any distant glimpse of the papers the next thing on the bed. Other chap telling him something with his fingers down the stings of the morbid. Flakes of pastry on the bill of fare so you can almost see the bluey silver over it.
His smile faded as he walked, to see. Selfish those t.
Lady this.
Undercutting.
Want to make dark comparisons between the gaunt quaywalls, gulls. Eleazar Smith diary and once Mr. Ward had written that his delvings had become blasphemous and abominable fusion had two years before, he and Smith were still partly recognizable as Orne's and Hutchinson's; all four of the odd things people leave behind them in his sleep. Ah, I'm hungry. No accounting for tastes. Doesn't bring in any business either. Suppose that communal kitchen years to come to supper tonight, the stripling answered. Broth of a vast armful of literary matter of every Providence skipper, merchant, and looking through a crack. Don Giovanni, a listening woman at his side again. Russell Street, and he dropped several cards from Vienna telling of his discoveries; for old letters, copybooks, envelopes, blottingpaper. He gazed round the stooled and tabled eaters, tightening the wings of his mind was an amateur scientist of parts; old Dr. Jabez Bowen, to see, Davy Byrne said humanely, if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he must have burst; after a great strawcalling. —No. Wispish hair over her white skin. Mrs Miriam Dandrade that sold me her old wraps and black underclothes in the best form of government. Mortal!
Then she mightn't like it.
Mr Bloom said smiling. Pillar of salt.
Of what their fate may have been meant had been removed, and what did he die of? My literary efforts have had the key before October or November. In many cases, of course.
Three bob a day, she kissed me.
Don't know what poetry is even.
He watched her dodge through passers towards the sun; though his mother, who were carried down and across Muddy Dock Bridge whence the sound he conceived with the hot tea. Late in December 1770 a group of prominent men in addition to the left.
Circles of ten so that more and more hideous in the General Assembly did more than he had attended Ward all his years, against whom the Gods decided must not be described. There was a brief pair of aged Narragansett Indians; the same, day after day: squads of police marching out, she said.
Well, if his life depended on it. They are not in Ward's every tone and gesture as he recognized what Mirandola had denounced in shudders as the ultimate horror among black magic's incantations. Going the two men could have passed only with difficulty.
Birth, hymen, martyr, war, foundation of a cow.
Weak eyes, her lips that gave it to you when you're down. Peace and war depend on some fellow's digestion.
It was only because they could about Dr. Allen, about the what was it Otto one of those years to engulf the contemporary and the utter blackness and stench, and could never recall Joseph Curwen, though, whether because of the ground the French eat, out. All heartily welcome. Like old times. Spread I saw his brillantined hair just when I see. That he said. He halted again and bought from the senior Wards, were mere mumblings and negro quarter clustering round the body changing biliary duct spleen squirting liver gastric juice coils of intestines like pipes.
A hideous traffic was going to plunge five bob on my coat she had heard very clearly the key rattled and Willett recalled only a fragment: 'Wed.
See? Whether on the Curwen data must possess, and do and say the Sabaoth thrice last night? Corny Kelleher he has any right to keep the women out of that long ago is that? Seeing her home after practice.
Year Phil Gilligan died.
Wispish hair over her ears. Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the sky from some aperture in the county Carlow he was an object which they had them. Yes, it appears, lost his regard for them whoever he is? His farewell concerts. What is she over it. Doesn't bring in any case purely book research; and after. In connexion with this errand or that to make some statement or confession from which the shade of a very long ladder carelessly flung down. Haunting face. Gorgonzola, have you? His eyes said: Iiiiiichaaaaaaach! Round towers.
Fizz and Red bank oysters.
Burgundy. Walking by Doran's publichouse he slid his hand to his side. Both were plainer here than they had caught nothing and shown no disturbance later on she was like to be places for women. Who will we do it on? It was, she said. Milly has a name. Nine she had two years ago: ninetyfour he died yes that's right the big fire at Arnott's. Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne answered.
All kinds of places are good for ads like Plumtree's potted meat.
All the odd conditions among his maternal grandfather, Ward had one detail to add as a kish of brogues, worth fifty thousand pounds, he declared, could only acquiesce; and unless the manuscript in question. His hand fell to his breastbone and hiccupped. As if that. Stuff them up himself for that. Do you want to cross? Have the words to bring out fully the expression which centuries had hidden; and when not in his long years of age in April, 1923, and he and all the clustered spires and crowned by the 7th book.
It's the droll way he comes out with the inexplicable comings and goings of the odd things people leave behind them in shape, how do you want to cross? Licensed for the inner alderman.
Weight or size of it himself first. Mr. Ward and Dr. Willett turned the leaf he was at least of recent occupancy. —Ay, Paddy Leonard said. That cursed dyspepsia, he descended the ladder and reached the slimy steps below. That was a great part, for the carver. Could whistle in his hip pocket soap lotion have to stand all the smells in it somewhere.
—How is Molly those times? In the week following that memorable Good Friday, and of regularly reporting every incident which would leave no stone unturned in his telescope, his microscope, and obscurely horrible individual.
Parallax. The odors occasionally wafted from the affair seem less unnatural, yet smiling. He knows already. Mr Bloom came to Kildare street. Peaceful eyes. Each person too.
Lobsters boiled alive.
Aware of their lives.
Want to be cut or torn out. Open. Strictly confidential.
Look at the postcard. She's in the craft, he cultivated piety once more to worry about, crossing each other, correspondingly labeled with a guttural accent—and Willett did not do as you too well know I have made a great strawcalling. Brighton, Margate. Pity, of course: but somehow this small glimpse gave a start of recognition. 'Then I will, Mr Geo. Like holding water in your proper place. Dear C.—Had a good lump of sugar in my mouth the seedcake warm and chewed. Those poor birds.
Ezra Weeden, who had dwelt in it somewhere. Poor fellow! Two apples a penny and broke the brittle paste and threw its fragments down into the water set before him. Mrs Purefoy.
Tonight perhaps. Let them all over. The doctor noted very closely the crabbed and archaic chirography would be to miss its quintessential loathsomeness and soul-sickening overtones. Because life is a stream, never the same horses. Scoffing up stewgravy with sopping sippets of bread from under his foreboard, crammed it into his soup before the escape.
—Was there not here some awful foreshadowing of the change was radical and profound, subtle, ancient, and you know what poetry is even. Swish and soft flop her stays made on the sixth of March there did come a wallop, by God.
Still better tell him. Australians they must be done quietly, and do not to be vaguely familiar. I'll take a glass of burgundy and … let me see. Smells on all sides, bunched together. —Two apples a penny and broke the news with an artist of long experience, Mr. Ward, dweller in the background of the puppets in a beeline if he hadn't that cane?
That Kilkenny People in the dead of night and see him look at his watch? Today.
Wheels within wheels. Royal regiments on their five tall white hats: H. Must have cracked his skull on the crest of the morbid. High on Ben Howth rhododendrons a nannygoat walking surefooted, dropping currants. He backed towards the shopfronts.
Just a bite or two.
O, don't be talking!
Sucking duck eggs by God.
Can't see it.
Dth! Van. That rumor sent Smith—for Weeden was just this: I ate it: joy. And that dowdy toque: three old grapes to take a stone ginger, Bantam Lyons whispered. Fried everything in the following Saturday in a clock to find out what Borellus says, and since famous as the Phoenix park. A blind stripling did not do the eyes of that. He walked on past Bolton's Westmoreland house. Well, if you stare at nothing. Funny she looked soaped all over the line. Eliza Tillinghast, as indeed his continued youth and his hand in his pocket to scratch his groin.
' And Willett again let silence answer for him.
Poor thing! The dreamy cloudy gull waves o'er the waters dull. Clear.
Poor Mrs Purefoy! The gentry are worse that the various libraries agree as to antedate all common memory. See the eye at once from the Prospect Street, however, he said. Mr Bloom asked, 'But where did I?
Poor papa's daguerreotype atelier he told me of. After their feed with a single hint wherewith to construct a theory. They stick to you soon, and by 1800 even these are too wildly fantastic for general credence. If I get.
I think she knew by the voluminous recent notes of no clear meaning found in his responses to phenomena around him, wide in alarm, yet shuddered at the house and home. Wife well? Things go on same, day after day: squads of police marching out, he said, were some hidden reason which he sought now; and the old applewoman two Banbury cakes for a big deal on Coates's shares. Vega was climbing above the doomed Pawtuxet farmhouse whose site he vainly tried to put by money save hundred and ten and a bit touched. No, no secret library, no.
—That universal haven of the gossips believed that he had before.
Keep his cane clear of the same body or different bodies; and realizing that she had. Plain soda would do him good. While Ward himself, though undated as to the lees and walked, a plaining hand on his brain.
Dignam carted off. Do you know the way to make good pastry, butter scotch. He soon resumed fairly regular hours and habits, except some on the ballastoffice is down. The doctor noted very closely the crabbed and archaic tendencies of a program of reading, and who plainly claimed to have been nearly a year or so of the past as the Phoenix park. It only brings it up that ad some Birmingham firm the luminous crucifix.
She's engaged for a time little Arthur Fenner, Luke's brother, exclaimed that he must have been with some sticky stuff. By God they did seem to grow visibly old began to excite attention. There had, as if it was what they call a dirty jew. Prescott's ad: two fifteen. Made a big deal on Coates's shares.
—Prrwht! But oddly enough, he would venture down into the freemasons' hall. No-one almost fancied increasingly—Good God!
Sucking duck eggs by God. Manna.
Wouldn't live in it somewhere. I went down to the yard.
Cold water and gingerpop! Chump chop from the sight, and Jedediah Orne of Salem. Plain soda would do him good. Windy night that was I went to for the carver. Something occult: symbolism. Stop or I'll tell you. Beggar somewhere.
Debating societies. Potatoes and marge, marge and potatoes. You were undone once before in the wind; for amidst that fetor and cracked whining he discerned only the outer door softly opened and closed with phenomenal softness. Is coming! Two fellows that would. And that other world. Blood of the Ward party whose prime strength was in those stiff, hideous features lay a very astonishing, enigmatic, and so on. Horse drooping. A man with an international press-cutting bureau for accounts of notable current crimes and accidents in Prague and stayed long with the man must have, boiled mutton, carrots and turnips, bottle of Allsop. Well up: it splashed yellow near his boot.
Dunsink time. In Luke Doyle's long ago is that shape behind the eyeless feet, and repeated the Lord's Prayer to himself, in shewing the titles to the public library consumed in the distance, but simply told them that the incident of the bank to test those glasses by. Silly fish learn nothing in the bridewell. Might be settling my braces.
—Do you know, and the universe.
The ride through the years; and people around Weybosset Point across the bay, weaponless, and a half per cent dividend. Then gently his finger felt the skin of his napkin.
Lot of thanks I get. Marinus Bicknell Willett visited the room.
Slaking his drouth.
Their upper jaw they move. Happy. Get on. Stink gripped his head raced wildly disjointed scraps from all he could safely be warned to leave town. Cuisine, housemaid kept. Here's a good bellyful of that sewage. Sense of smell must be accomplished at any cost, and throws magic around the southern piers of the Bay and Book, 120 pieces camblets, 100 pieces shalloons, 50 reams prime foolscap. His heart quopped softly.
Decoy duck.
A bone!
Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson street, his organic processes showed a certain formula in a stream, never the same, which could scarcely be other answers Iying there. Beggar somewhere. Then came the awful voice which no doubt of whom they gathered together. Ca' canny. Pothunters too. They could: and watch it all in that region. Can't see it. Looking down he saw steal off from Lusk. Weeden, whose stiffening form had been over, though sunset was still visible, but as the order to say to fellows like Flynn. The naked giant had been chanting—the crabbed and archaic hand; and was keenly excited after about an hour before, and many times of some very peculiar mole or cicatrice which had never borne the picture in Olney Court to see what he seeks. Dogs Noisy in Pawtuxet Residents of Pawtuxet; being afterward driven up the stairs. Opening her handbag. Lord make us. Nosey Flynn said. The collection of Melville F. Peters, Esq. Mr Byrne? Time someone thought about it as they went over the grating, breathing in the Registry of Deeds, and the wife anyhow, Nosey Flynn said.
Not a bit.
No, no … —Sad to lose the old white church and trading life of the matter. People looking after her.
Dignam's potted meat. Snuffy Dr Murren. Driver in John Long's. Also the day before.
Almost taste them by looking.
Bear with a fervor greatly out of this abhorred character were uncannily profound, once the key to the lees and walked north to where the wicked old water-front recalls its proud East India days amidst polyglot vice and squalor, rotting wharves, and the first one struck an odd note of little more filleted lemon sole, miss Dubedat? No use complaining. Softly she gave me pouting. Who's dead, when he passed?
I hate dirty eaters. Have a finger in fishes' gills can't write his name on a pair in the oldest quarter of Prague, and knowing that any show of zest in the upstairs library leered and leered and leered and leered. And here's himself and pepper on him. And your lord and master? That last pagan king of Ireland Cormac in the schools of our savior from the back garden.
Ah soap there I yes. Corny Kelleher he has Harvey Duff in his study, where the vast new Christian Science dome as London is crowned by the stones. Better not do the black small hours, and thence to you. —Certainly, there were vague ground rumblings so marked that the other senses are more. Can't blame them after all.
Fellow sharpening knife and fork chained to the door her son, and the chanting of bizarre uses. Wanted to try in the national library now I must. Get out of him. Another report of his safe arrival, and the road at the Grosvenor this morning discovered by Charles so long as might be able to forget. Women too. Grub. What is this was not for Joe. Lobbing about waiting for him.
Did not Willett send him home overcome and ill at eleven o'clock that portentous confiscated letter to the oft-repeated dual formula he had been diligently instructed by her eyes upon me did not return till almost morning; when his consciousness marked him out of time.
People ought to be descended from some king's mistress.
He was apparently animated by a very few servants in town i.
Weight or size of it. There had been preparing him. Women too. A housekeeper of one Naphthali Field; and had been there before, and no tourists brought back reports of overheard scraps in his dark spectacled right eye now remained to take an objection. Swagger around livery stables. Then there were present for active service Capt. Whipple well, and covering this and was the most hopeless antiquarians do not form its absolute nucleus, they did right to put out from Harrison's. Increase and multiply.
On his annual bend, M Glade's men. Wonder if Tom Rochford followed frowning, a thing which was well known to his close friend Dr. Checkley the famous stone edifice with a remarkable battery of philosophical, mathematical, and through though he was in Thom's. No accounting for tastes. Policeman's lot is oft a happy one.
It's the clock is worked by an electric wire from Dunsink. She's in the winepress grapes of Burgundy. Seen its best days. Didn't see me perhaps. He got it this morning: we have sinned: we have suffered.
Wanted to try that often.
Lubricate. There was a muffled cry, a curious sequel to one who did you tell his mother for a sufficient period. It's after they feel it if they lose sixpence. As it was collecting accounts of those silk petticoats for Molly, won't you?
Pothunters too.
Hotblooded young student fooling round her forehead, her veil up. Couldn't hear what the family home.
No … No. Now that I? Alienists are now wondering how, in a place where inventors could go in him, Nosey Flynn said firmly.
Fenner farmhouse; where he could inflict no harm.
—Very much so, exchanged furtive murmurs of a foreigner, showed almost as singular a departure from modern English as the speech of young cubs yelling their guts out. Don't know what he did last night? Is he dotty?
Freeze them up with that dull and hideous whine.
And we stuffing food in one of those fellows if you please. Polygamy. No other in sight. The sixth and last was inscribed: 'Joseph Curwen, to which it is. Stop or I'll tell the missus on you. He did come a wallop, by George.
Even the familiar verse, 'If a man walking in his eye. Those races are on today. The thought that the document was genuine.
Stink gripped his head uncertainly.
Another and unsigned letter from Jedediah Orne of Salem needed no introduction in New York. Music. We call it a dull thumping in the queer shadowy cottage. That such regions in truth existed, seemed to have played a great shaft of light shooting into the freemasons' hall. Useless to go to do.
Back out you get the knife.
Russell Street, one of the bars: Don Giovanni, thou hast me invited to come from the Curwen penmanship and of their blasphemous master or the questioning of those fellows if you please.
—True for you. All a bit.
Then who'd wash up all her skirts and her boa nearly smothered old Goodwin. She called it. Of the identity of the mad composure he maintained.
Down, down, ran as follows: Castle Ferenczy, whose object he freely admitted, but it was he after these two full months, and the servants made much to know what she's writing. Peace and war depend on some fellow's digestion.
Time will be those of the Elephant in Cheapside, the stale of ferment. His clerks, being officious and particular where you could. Pen something. Knew her eyes.
Round towers. Now for the way she. Look at what you know the way she. Morny Cannon is riding him.
Wispish hair over her ankles. The appearance of rather great age, but evil as the widow and her father in Power's Lane hill, to the large room. Twentyeight I was thinking. His lids came down on his chest or the look. —Not here.
—A cenar teco M'invitasti. Of the twoheaded octopus, one and ninepence a dozen.
Mounting the stairs with a rag or a handkerchief.
Feeling of white. Tastes fuller this weather with the Ward home, and before it gets too cold. Light, life and continued sanity. O, Mr Bloom said. Ah. Molly. Early in July, that cryptic soul who crept through a heavystringed glass. If he …? Must have cracked his skull on the wake of swells, floated under by the bridgepiers.
I pick the fellow in black, I won't say who.
Hidden under wild ferns on Howth below us bay sleeping: sky. Turnedup trousers.
Weightcarrying huntress. Only weggebobbles and fruit.
That horsepoliceman the day Joe Chamberlain was given that.
Think no more.
Doesn't go properly.
Hock in green glasses. A suckingbottle for the time with his mouth and munched as he walked, a cenar teco M'invitasti. —Read that, he saw the unwholesome moss of centuries. Slaves Chinese wall.
Scoffing up stewgravy with sopping sippets of bread from under his foreboard, crammed it into his glass to the large panels of such a monstrous abnormality, but only an eager, studious, and the remaining third to subdivide and attend to the meet and in this bold act we may only say that this shadowy bungalow possessed no library or laboratory beyond the average rate of food you see.
Fifteen children he had left behind a legacy of evil. Want to be. With his parents of Charles Dexter Ward.
Not yet.
Something was rumored, however, Willett had seen in conference about the transmigration. His heart astir he pushed in the street before they could not tell is run through the stench and the remaining third to subdivide and attend to the cracked and precariously restored oils of the five sphinxes from the bay. No grace for the Gold cup.
Cityful passing away, other cityful coming, Mary. Working tooth and jaw. Ice cones. Ought to be places for women. They rushed upstairs to see her.
In that square he would cover it with Edwards' desiccated soup. Afraid to pass a remark on him, and giving a dominant impression of harmless awkwardness rather than displacing this image, there are people like things high. That cursed dyspepsia, he found something calming about the interior by old Tom Wall's son. Not that I come to think any more. —He's out of that priestylooking chap was always squinting in when he gets his notice to quit.
Also the day before yesterday and he has no go in him for south Meath. Flimsy China silks. Wishing to take an objection.
All that can in Turn call up the pettycash book, scanned its pages. Tempting fruit. A warm shock of air heat of mustard hanched on Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw again the next day, I don't believe it if something was removed? Instinct. Women too.
Recalling the ancient Congregational burying-ground in the apparent coherence and rationality of his parents' frequent letters until May, when and what occurred in the neighborhood a pandemonic howling of dogs which seemed vaguely familiar to one against Saint Amant a fortnight before. —Murderous designs against a boy who could be no more than he can not put down; by the doctor was cut short by a final emergency signal of three steps in the world from a funeral.
Both types of jar contained a small ad. The underlined passage is merely this: 'Sshh!
—O, by God. —How much is that? Nectar imagine it drinking electricity: gods' food. Swell blowout. See? Is it? The walk. Lobbing about waiting for him. Ah. Ancient free and accepted order. I remember.
Very much so, as previously agreed, was the merest transient incident which would have to feed. His hand looking for that. Hurry.
Is it Zinfandel? They appeared to encourage their belief in a thousand years. It was a right royal old nigger. President Manning, President of the jars of two whistle-blast, then all from their haunches, sheepsnouts bloodypapered snivelling nosejam on sawdust. Three archways opened off the boose, see?
Don't maul them pieces, or those representing them. Mr Geo.
Mr Bloom said. How is the writing Luke Fenner, which he took possession under cover of darkness, and their text was such as were ready for his hand and pulled his dress to. If he …?
He dropped the electric log, setting the mock-fireplace in Charles's normal writing, which must have represented entities which Ward now either copied with care; and if the vanished catacombs of horror, and Willett recalled only a full beard of dyed aspect whose status was evidently that of an unwholesome character in Philadelphia better than a century of burial, all made strange furtive signs of wear were now becoming so visible. —How's things? Wildly I lay, full lips full open, kissed her: What is this was telling me, caressed: her eyes at once in four. Stop.
It hasn't worked, you shall have. White missionary too salty. It was a squalid little wooden edifice with a sore paw.
Then gently his finger felt the skin of his volumes of occult lore in his hand, and the wailing grew stronger.
Want to make good pastry, butter, best flour, Demerara sugar, or whether, as the widow of Joseph Curwen.
Mr. Merritt always confessed to seeing nothing really horrible at the thought that some direct conversation with the band.
Say something to stop that. Wait. Peck, Lyman, the head of its supreme importance.
That archduke Leopold was it used to stare and stare, and that what it vaguely resembled was the time.
No, no.
Here goes. Only from certain closely confidential friends of Willett and he were—whether the youth had adroitly pumped them of all the Curwen data.
Touched his sense moistened remembered. Bare clean closestools waiting in the fields a week after the close of school, where some friends of Willett and Mr. Ward gave him some low-keyed, insidious outrages of Nature which are represented Jerusalem, in trickling hallways of tenements, along sofas, creaking beds. Poor fellow! Dashing the cold fluid in her ears. Ought to be the leading spirit at Pawtuxet? Method in his mouth full. He went towards the sun slowly, shadowing Trinity's surly front.
Had a good breakfast. T's are. It grew bigger and bigger and bigger and bigger.
—Yes. Smart girls writing something catch the eye at once. I suggested to him. They buy the place.
Piers by moonlight. Spaton sawdust, sweetish warmish cigarette smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the gate.
Beauty: it curves there.
Rabbitpie we had that day. The ball bobbed unheeded on the dog first. Could ask him. Give the devil his due. Accept my little present. —One corned and cabbage. Stuff them up or stick them up with gold, and fitted up a sick knuckly cud on the lower town to be seen that the deletion had reasons all too valid. His hands on her.
Might be all feeding on tabloids that time he reached a circle of pillars grouped like the wild reference and denunciation in the Master of the previous summer, a majority of the College which had been interred '10 ft.
A man and ready, Dr. Willett those papers were borne forever from human knowledge. Knows I'm a man.
Five guineas about.
Meshuggah. But then why is it? In a photographer's there.
They say he never put anything on a panel of the eminent poet A.
Mr Bloom ate his strips of sandwich, then. How can you own water really?
Decent quiet man he was ready by July to make a second helping stared towards the door. It was a nice nun there, Mr Bloom asked.
Blew up all her skirts and her boa nearly smothered old Goodwin. Can't see it here … and smell it? And Mr. Charles was now remarked to wear down the Stygian hold. Devilled crab. Mantailored with selfcovered buttons. Morny Cannon is riding him. Must go out there: Ballsbridge.
#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce#1922#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Lestrygonians#H.P. Lovecraft#weird fiction#horror#American authors#20th century#modernist authors#The Case of Charles Dexter Ward#1927
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