#Hough’s Pub

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in Irish History | 16 January:

1362 – Birth of Robert de Vere, Duke of Ireland, Marquess of Dublin, and 9th Earl of Oxford KG. He was a favourite and court companion of King Richard II of England. He was the ninth Earl of Oxford and the first and only Duke of Ireland and Marquess of Dublin. 1700 – Richard Levinge, an Irish MP and later a prominent Tory, is committed by the English House of Commons to the Tower of London until…

[jkflesh]

Flyer from the first show Justin K Broadrick organised at The Mermaid pub in Sparkhill, Birmingham in 1985 the day after he left school at the age of 15.

FALL OF BECAUSE - I wasn't in the band at that time, it was just Ben Green and Paul Neville, and a primitive drum machine, they sounded like The Cure circa Faith..

VENUS IN FURS was Diarmuid Dalton's band, I drummed in that band!

FINAL was somehow a band at that show, and was shit

THE HAPPY LOSS was Steve Hough's band (we went to school together) and I did something in it but seriously can't remember what!

UNDER THE STONE was a school friends band, only kid I knew who had a band at the end of senior school, and who liked The Sisters of Mercy like me...his band sounded like, the sisters of mercy HAHA"

[gnattyplayssims]

1941 - Pt1 - The First Date

William's quick trip to Evergreen had turned into 3 years and he had written everyday as promised. Despite the distance Lizzie knew how much it meant to him and didn't protest when he said he wanted to keep the house. Finally the house was ready for them to move into.

As the Pigulock's and Greenburg's prepared for the move to Evergreen. Anabelle was making different preperations. "Are you gonna wear Grammy's dress on your hot date?"

"What? Where did you even hear that?"

"Daddy said you have a hot date tonight."

"Um it's just a regular date"

But it wasn't just a date, not to Kye. He's had butterflies in his stomach all day thinking about it.

"Don't stress about it so much, you'll be fine."

"What if I mess it all up?"

"Don't be so hard on yourself. She already likes you just be yourself"

"Easier said then done."

"I remember what it was like to be young and in love. How hard it was"

"I don't want to hear this."

"Just listen. I met your mother when I was 15 you know that. We were young and foolish. We made mistakes. War changed me, it made my way clear. But convincing her wasn't as easy"

David put down his pole "You've changed son. I told you to go find yourself and you did. You know what you want. You arent' the same kid who left Henford and you're not the same kid who made those mistakes. You just have to convince her of that."

"How do I do that?"

"With patience, honesty and a whole lot of forgiveness. Here, Kailee wanted me to give this to you."

"Wh-what is this?"

"It's her mother's ring. She said it was too fancy for her taste but would look beautiful on Anabelle. I'm not saying give it to her tonight-"

"Thanks...Dad."

Later that evening Kye met Anabelle outside. She was feeling excited as she walked out the door, but one look at him waiting in his suit and she felt like running.

"Hey." He carressed her cheek and tilted her head up. "It's just a first date." He swallowed "You look beautiful"

They arrived at the Gnome's Arms Pub in Finchwick as the sun was going down. "Ah you're Mr. Hough's VIP guest this evening. Right this way Mr. Mizrahi."

"VIP? Kye please tell me you didn't spend all your money on me."

"Relax. My uncle owns the place and got me a good deal."

Kye glanced over the menu "You'll love the root beer floats and the chicken is to die for." Anabelle looked distracted. "Everything okay?"

"Oh sorry. I was just thinking about the estate. I don't want Stefan to lose all this."

"Hey first date remember? No kid talk today!"

"How bout you tell me about your day?"

"I thought you said no kid talk."

"Fair point."

It was silent for a moment then Anabelle chuckled, "You're really adorable right now you know that."

"Huh?"

"You're trying so hard but you don't have to erase our past to start over."

Just then their food arrived and the conversation halted. "Ugh what is this?"

"Root beer float. You don't like it?"

"I'm sorry, it's awful. You can have it."

"I can order you something else."

"No, no, please don't. Just water is fine. This chicken really is amazing."

Kye drank both root beers and gave her some of his chicken. "Lizzie and I used to come here all the time with our friends. Sharing a float was kind of how how we flirted back then."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He smirked "We've shared plenty of marshmallows."

She blushed.

Soon they finished up their meal and Anabelle excused herself to the bathroom. "Oh Watcher I don't know if I can do this. This is supposed to be a first date but I don't know if he was implying something by bringing up marshmallows! I'm such a mess I can't think about all that!"

The Henford sky was clear as Kye waited for Anabelle. Finchwick felt different. Like another life that hadn't really been his. "Gah I shouldn't have brought up the marshmallows. Now she probably thinks I expect something."

"I'm ready."

His heart jumped, "Oh um okay."

They walked back to Old New Henford in comfortable conversation. But as they neared the bridge Kye pulled her down a different path "Where are we going?"

"This old church has a lot of family history. Funerals, weddings...but more importantly it's the place I used to run away to"

They paused in the clearing and he pulled her against him. "When I was a kid I used to run away here, sit under this tree and pretend I was anywhere but Henford. Kailee would often find me. She was the only one I ever could tell everything to." He kissed her shoulder. "Until now"

"You don't ha-"

"No I do" He pulled her down onto the grass ignoring their nice clothes "I had a really awful aunt as a child. The things she would say to me, they've never gone away. As a teen this girl who dumped me told me no one would ever love me."

"That's awful"

"I know I said some hurtful things to you when we first met. I pushed you away...used you. Made it so you had to take care of Stefan alone. I can't promise those doubts are gone but I can promise to not hide from you anymore."

"Kye..." Her heart leapt as their eyes met.

She tore her gaze away looking up at the aurora above them. "After...I gave birth. I wanted to give up. I made a deal with Maci that would protect Stefan but hurt...someone else. I destroyed someone elses life for his"

"Hey." Kye sat up to look at her. "Thank you for telling me"

"I want to tell you everything but...I'm not strong enough."

He brushed her face "It's in the past. You'll tell me when you're ready." He climbed on top of her. "I really want you right now"

"I still don't think I'm ready."

"I know, it's okay. As long as you're mine."

"I am."

1941 Pt2 - Worlds War II Begins

[jiangdean]

Symphony Radio

'Some of the best DJs in the country right now are female I somehow convinced a music merchandising company to hire me from afar and really took a chance on how that would pan out but thankfully now I can confidently say that it worked out just fine. Moving to LA over New York definitely raised some eyebrows, but I was always passionate about music, so for me it was the obvious place to go. I have one of my best friends who also went to NCAD, Amanda Grogan on speed dial for career and life chats. Amanda has built her own company called Make It Black in New York City. Make It Black is an innovative dye service that transforms clothing waste for luxury brands by making them black. It is invaluable to have somebody who shares the same ambition as you on hand. Creating and building a brand always comes with some self doubt and “WTF am I doing” moments at the peak of pressure, but being able to laugh about it and persevere is key. Thank you Paul Soul Entertainment.We will be booking you again for sure. Radio legend, Kelly Anne Byrne plays a back-to-back set with Mother's resident DJ Ruth Kavanagh. Together, these ladies are said to create a "synergy that lifts the roof off any space it invades." "Movember is doing so much to change the face of men’s health. I’m very proud to be part of this year's launch and hope our night raises awareness and much-needed support." The event will take place Friday, October 29 at Pygmalion, South William Street. Tommy’s ‘Skull Crushing Techniques’ EP released last year is still resonating across dancefloors all over the world. mack peace Dax J, Mall Grab and Fjaak are among the long list of DJs that have used his tracks to take their set to another dimension. According to reviews, you can expect a mix of r&b, hip hop and dance music! The dance floor is spacious and every Saturday night there’s a DJ bopping away. This is a rocking piece made of 4 accomplished musicians. The band has amassed lots of experience from playing with other successful acts such as The Frames, and James Vincent Mc Morrow and Jerry Fish. https://music.fullspot.me/ For a wedding gig, the group brings a set list of upbeat and fun music. They were formed in 1988 by Justin Broadrick after Broadrick left the first recorded line up of Napalm Death on the SCUM album and G. Melding influences ranging from electronic music to dub, Godflesh’s innovative music is widely regarded as a foundational influence on both industrial metal and post-metal. Twenty years active; six highly prized albums; over 600 shows on four continents. A viral sensation, the track has amassed over 6.6 million streams, hit #1 on both UK and Ireland Shazam Charts and continues to climb the singles charts too. In the UK, it’s currently #24 in the UK charts and #28 in the Airplay charts having picked up playlist support from BBC Radio 1, Capital FM and Kiss FM. With the recent addition of Plugd Records upstairs, The Roundy now hosts a huge variety of music gigs and club nights every weekend. It’s a great place to check out if you fancy a more low-key type of night with the best music and a friendly crowd. Frontman Simon Hough was magnificent and urged the seated audience to cast aside their chairs and get down to the front of the stage. A small pub with a tiny dance floor tucked down the very back, this place is run by music lovers for music lovers. I’ll always have a big space in my heart for Hangar as well. It’s a balls to the wall warehouse with a big old void sound system that makes your diaphragm vibrate like a jackhammer. I’ve had some of my most memorable moments as a DJ playing there, among them a person from the crowd throwing me a taxidermied squirrel and shouting up, “Mate, that’s the party animal”. The Residents are pleased to announce their 50th Anniversary 'Dog Stab! However the main thing is, at the end of the day, they provide the best Ireland party DJ and corporate event DJs that can provide cover for any level of event no matter how high profile it is! Providing DJ hire services in Dublin, Kerry and southern Ireland. Entertainers Ireland offer Ireland’s top commercial DJ’s and MC’s suitable for all events.

Wedding DJ Hire Ireland

Support is from young finglas rapper Lorcan & Craig Cooney who both bring different flavours and bouncy tunes to get the party started. Paro Pablo & Slick Bullet are two Dublin Artists with bags of experience arguably two of the most talented in the country in their own lanes. B_Real.11 is from Liverpool another like the co headliners on the card he speaks about gritty real life experience. So for all you real ones this is a show you don’t want to miss packed with stacks of talent. Hour of the Ox tells a story of longing and desperation for something connected.

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It's at times a little labyrinthine as it occupies 3 floors and a roof garden, each with many different rooms and areas and sometimes resembling a townhouse sitting room that's been overrun with people. The music is great, the cocktails are lethal and it's definitely one of the more affordable nights out in Dublin. The ground floor stage doubles as a great dance floor and the club as a whole has plenty of space for dancing. Opt to receive notifications for each new quote, or login and view the responses in your own time. Send me exclusive offers, unique gift ideas, and personalised tips for shopping and selling on Etsy. Guinness Open Gate Brewery and Black & Irish have teamed up to curate a new weekly summer series.

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We can create the perfect intimate atmosphere by playing all the songs that you and your guests love. This week, we’re taking things uptempo, by checking in with some of the country’s leading DJs to find out the country’s best dancefloors, club nights and live venues. The first time in history that an album entirely produced, recorded and mixed by the band and released on the bands own label has reached the top 20. Today, Dehd announces Blue Skies, their third full-length and debut record for Fat Possum, and presents its lead single/video, “Bad Love.” Additionally, they’ve announced a slew of UK live dates this spring. You may not know this but it is actually possible to DJ using free apps on your smartphone – but just because the app is free doesn’t mean the person using it is a great DJ. As important as the decks is the sound and light equipment used by your DJ. Top of the range Pioneer decks going through a cheap PA system is pointless. This 7 piece fully live band are dedicated to performing the music of Jeff Lynne, known as the creator of ELO and producer to many world famous acts such as George Harrison, Bob Dylan, Tom Petty & Roy Orbison to name a few. This outstanding list of musical colleagues also lead to the formation of "The Travelling Wilburys", in which Jeff Lynne also featured as a member. Toria’s sound is best described as an indie rock composition which is greatly complimented by her band. Raised on the likes of David Bowie and Jeff Buckley, she takes influence from these incredible artists as well as Tamino. Manamon's musical influences are rich in scope, ranging from Elliott Smith to Grimes, and Bonobo to Soccer Mommy. Mood is central to the expansive musical landscape throughout her releases. Darkened corners, icy atmospheres and hypnotic knife edge soundscapes. The final section of our guide to the best nightclubs in Dublin is packed with more popular clubs, with a mix of new and old. Its interiors are elegantly decorated with red leather couches, cosy lighting and a gilded baby piano. Here you will find great DJs and live music from Thursday till Saturday.

[newtonsheffield]

I would like to request,

teenage anthony trying to look after teenage kate who possibly drank too much at the end of year party (cause they are 17 year old brits and it’s tradition) and he doesn’t want her to get hurt or in trouble but she’s being chaotically cute.

Okay Okay!

Love this! Love teen Kate tryna get a little handsy and laughing a little too loudly on the tube on the way home!

And Anthony trying to sneak her into the house because Yeah, her parents knew they were going out, but he doesn't think they were expecting him to bring their daughter home a little... sloshed.

It was tradition, at the end of term, that the sixth years go for a drink at the Pub two streets away. And Anthony had wanted to go, he definitely wanted to sit in a booth with his girlfriend smiling at him with their arms wrapped around each other.

Mr Sheffield had looked sternly at him when he'd opened the door, nodding as he greeted him. "Anthony." "Good evening Mr. Sheffield. Mrs. Sheffield, dinner smells great." He'd smiled at Katie's step mother and father. "You look very smart Anthony. Do you want anything to eat?" Mrs Sheffield had asked gently. "No thanks, I ate before I came." "Anthony, I can trust you to look after Katie tonight can't I?" Mr Sheffield had said, cutting across the conversation abruptly and Anthony had stilled, clearing his throat, his voice serious. "Of course, Sir. I'm not driving and we'll be home by 10." "Dad! Stop interrogating Anthony." Katie said as she walked into the living room and Anthony's breath caught.

Katie looked beautiful to him, always, even in their stupid school uniforms, she was incredible, her dark eyes pulling him in, her smile bright. Anthony had truly never seen anything more beautiful than Katie Sheffield. Even as her father scowled at him as they left the house hand in hand. Katie tugging his lips down to hers as soon as her father had snapped the door closed Anthony's heart fluttering only to stop completely when the front door swung back open abruptly and he heard "At least get out of sight before you do that!" "Well stop looking, Edwina!" Katie had called back sending her sister a rude hand gesture.

And it had been nice, so nice to laugh and joke with one another, her forehead pressed against his, their lips finding one another softly again and again, his arm around her shoulders, her fingers intertwined with his, locked together in the corner of the room. "I really like you, you know." her voice soft sending Anthony's heart fluttering. "Yeah?" She nodded, her nose wrinkling at him, her eyes shining. "I really like you too."

Unfortunately it became a little apparent that Katie, was maybe a little drunker than she'd thought when they'd stood from the table as she toppled against him with a little giggle. "Ooopsy daisy!" She said giggling, wrapping her arms around Anthony's waist, the full weight of her hanging off him. "Oopsy Daisy?" Anthony had laughed, "Do you make a habit of using sayings from the 50's?" Katie had shrugged, tugging Anthony out of the Pub towards the tube station, twirling happily as hough they were dancing.

"Anthony! Do you wanna dance with me?" She singsonged as they walked down the street, her laughter following. "I always want to dance with you." The words leapt from him before he could stop himself, watching delightedly as she twirled around in front of him.

"Let's not go home yet!" Katie whined in his ear as they stood on the platform. "Mmm Your Dad would kill me, so I might take you home, no matter how much I'd love to run away to Scotland with you." Katie hummed happily. "You can marry me whenever you ask." The words slurring just a little, but still making Anthony's heart flutter across the platform. and then "OH. MY GOD!" Katie squealed, pushing him away as she swept to the other side of the platform. "Anthony! There's a CORGI in this man's backpack!" She was calling out behind him. Anthony racing forward, desperately praying the man wasn't an axe murdering corgi owner. "Sir, can I pet your dog please?" He could hear Katie saying laughing happily as she petted the dog's fur. "I'm Katie, and this Pretty boy is Anthony, he's my boyfriend you know!" She said gesturing between them to the man. "Ugh! Anthony!!!! I want one sooo badly. When we're older can we get a corgi?!" Her eyes pleading with him as the dog's owner looked curiously at them. And even though the very last thing Anthony wanted was a dog, he said "We can have whatever you want."

And later when he tugged her up the stairs to her bedroom, settling her against the sheets, trying to extricate himself as she said "Nooo stay, Anthony, Cuddle with me." It killed him to say "Mmm you'll remember in the morning why that's a bad idea." And he desperately hoped that one day, he wouldn't have to.

[lethe-rpg]

TW: RAPE & ABUSE MENTION

Zinaida Benford was supposedly her name. The moment she became conscious of her surroundings, she knew she was different. It was evident that she didn’t look like her parents at the time. One will never fully understand what she went through as a minority female in the late 1880s to 1900s. Some saw her as a charity case, others saw her as a helper, but never thought of a daughter to the Benford family. However, what made up for it was their love and care as they took her in as one of their own. Despite all the prejudices, the way her family stood by her side and supported her during those times made it all worth it in the end. She grew to have thick skin and learned to keep her head held high. Some would call Zi an outcast, others would call her trouble or problematic. She prefers the assumptions, because in truth no one knew who she was–not even herself. Therefore, her mentality was to be whoever she wanted to be. The concept of learning who her biological parents were lingered in the back of her mind, but never appealed to her. The Benfords were her family, along with Jinny Slora, who was their housemaid. In truth, Zi never viewed her as that. She was like a second mother, more importantly Zinaida felt connected to her, because she understood what it’s like to be different from the majority. She especially taught Zinaida that regardless of appearance or status, what mattered was that she kept going and encouraged her to be proud of who she is. It didn’t occur to her that the woman who had been her caregiver that whole time was her biological mother.

Finding out that she was actually Zinaida Slora wasn’t as groundbreaking as one would think it would be. For starters, Jinny rushed Zi to make her decision and although she didn’t hesitate to join her, the Slora heir was still processing everything amidst the chaos of leaving everything behind. However, Zinaida trusted her mother’s instincts and decisions that she followed her out, leaving a heartfelt thank you letter to the Benfords and starting a life of their own as a family. She was eighteen when she made the decision to travel the world with Jinny. It was the best call she made on her end as she got to explore and experience new things. Moreover, her mother’s culinary talent made its debut into the world, that it brought not only opportunities for them, but a change of pace in their lives. Though things took a turn for the worse in the year 1910. The supernatural world wasn’t something Zi faced head on. She believed in the concept that there is something larger than life out there since her mother was living proof of that. However, she chose not to involve herself in it as it did not interest her, nor did she want to complicate her life any further. She was 25 at the time and madly in love with a carpenter around her age, but his true intentions to pursue Zi was hidden through lies and manipulation. One night, one date, one incident. After a couple of drinks at a pub, she was taken to the park in a secluded area, Zi felt that she was being taken advantage of when they weren’t in the right state of mind. Therefore, she immediately denied any advances as soon as she noticed them, but that only angered her partner as he proceeded to beat her and go against her consent. The pain was excruciating, that no matter how loud she was being, there was no intention to stop. It got to the point where she felt numb and eventually accepted being on the brink of death. Everything else was a blur, but a painful bite to her arm changed her whole world around.

Zinaida became a vampire. Her sire turned out to be a nun from a local orphanage who found her during her nightly walks. She tended to Zi within the first month of her turn and they found out that she was naturally capable of adapting to her new found species. Taking this to her advantage, she took matters into her own hands and brought forth revenge on the man that did this to her. Death was too much of an easy escape for him, so Zinaida took a different approach and killed everyone he loved. A life of isolation was what he deserved, but no one, not even her mother knew about the murders. The need to flee the town was a part of their usual routine when they’ve stayed there for too long and so, it was the perfect timing to carry out her plans. As much as she appreciated her coven’s help during her transition, she refused to stay in a place that reminded her of her traumas. Therefore, burying what was done to her, Zi decided to move forward with her life as she continued her travels with her mother. Their bond became stronger than ever as they were both immortals making the world their oyster. With her mother’s elite career, Zinaida took the approach of taking a negative into a positive. She’s a social worker taking on cases predominantly with the youths, women and families. The decision to go to Lethe was her idea as she wanted to see a world filled with their own people. This meant a whole new adventure for both of them and she thought it was about time for change. She currently works for both Lethe’s Hospital and Police Station as their social worker, driven to make a difference to the cases of those in need. In terms of the Riverborns, she intervenes if they require assistance assimilating back into society. It’s all work and nothing personal for Zinaida. However, the Slora family has been here for quite some time and lately Zi can sense something off about her mother. She’s not one to pry, but something tells her that this place has an effect on her that Zi can’t seem to pinpoint. And although she has secrets of her own, Zi was still determined to figure what or who is making her mother this way. To her, it seems like Lethe isn’t going to be a temporary home.

[bilgewatersshadows-blog]

Framed (Part 1)

----- G  angplank was gone again. That left Zoey to care for the twins without the ship for their cribs, so she had to improvise with her uncle’s upstairs apartment over his pub. He had been gone for months on end and he’s already missed Ayesha’s first real steps in walking as well as Dominique’s. While it was difficult to find a sitter among a bunch of criminals in the markets, her youngest gang member Bean (and appropriately 11 years of age) took up the babysitting and let Zoey do her work.

T  hough that’s not to say the evenings are any easier.

----- A  t night whenever the queenpin and the twins had their personal time, Ayesha would walk around the apartment looking for her father. “Da-da?” she’d call out, even pointing to an old wanted poster of his clearly identifying him. “Da-ddy!” Zoey would look up and her smile would fade as her daughter pointed to his poster. “.. Yeah. Tha’s yer daddy alrigh’,” she whispered to her while picking her up.

----- H  er son would look at it as well and tilted his head while tugging at his mother’s coat. “Mama? Dada?” She sighed. “I know, sweetie... Daddy’s jes’ busy is all,” she said picking him up as well to put them to bed.

----- A  fter she lulled them to sleep, Zoey plopped on the worn mattress exhausted from the months of non-stop work and got warm under the sheets as best as she could.  ----- T  hough, it just didn’t feel the same.

----- S  he lay there for a while, and she eventually turned her shoulder to behind her where her husband usually slept; and immediately silent tears welled in her eyes. She turned back to face the wall and closed her eyes, her tears rolling down her cheek and onto the pillow.

----- A  t around 3 in the morning, Zoey was rudely awakened by the sound of her door being kicked in. She sat up and quickly turned to see who it was. Though the light only showed a silhouette of them, she squinted once she put her glasses on and was surprised to find Sarah Fortune and her crew outside. “Sarah? Th’ hell ‘re ye doin’?” she asked.

----- “Do you think I’m an idiot, Kilduff?” the red headed pirate asked. This clearly confused the queenpin as she asked, “I... Wha’ ‘re ye talkin’ about?” Fortune growled and asked again, “What were ya thikin’ attacking my crew AND killin’ three o’ my best men?!” Now the other woman was even more confused and she argued, “Sarah. Ah have no idea wha’ yer talkin’ abou’! Ah’ve been ‘ere all nigh’! Ask ‘nyone downstairs!”

----- S  arah snickered. “Oh, them? Half o’ them ‘re dead.” The Riverfolk girl froze. ‘Shit...’ She put her hands up slowly and added, “Sarah. Listen. A-Ah dunno wha’ ye want. Bu’ if this also includes me bein’ married t’ yer worst enemy, I ain’t havin’ it. Ah dun keep ‘n eye on th’ nigh’ crew- prob’ly shoul’ but y’know- bu’ I have a fam’ly now. An’ I need t’ take care o’ my lil’ ones, okay?”

----- S  arah’s brow rose at the mention of her twins. “Little ones? So we got two new Gangplanks walkin’ around?” She turned to the door to the room where the twins were, and with a nod to one of her crew men, he held his loaded gun and walked towards it. Going off of motherly instinct, she charged at them and stood between the twins’ room and the crewman. “Dun even think abou’ hurtin’ ‘em! Ya do tha’, Ah’ll kill all ya m’self!” she growled protectively, almost like a mother wolf.

----- S  arah simply said, “Tell us if ya attacked my crew er not, an’ I’ll consider it.” Zoey shook her head and said, Sarah, tha’ wasn’t me! Ah’ve been here all nigh’ like I said b’fore!” “Then why have my men seen someone in a black cloak an’ white skull mask like yours?!”

----- Z  oey blinked at the description. Surely she could have been the only one to wear that kind of attire around Bilgewater. But who the hell else could be out there wearing that same cult attire? “Sarah... Ah know wha’ yer talkin’ abou’... Bu I swear t’ you, tha’ wasn’t me,” she admitted. “Then who was it??” Sarah asked. Unfortunately, Zoey couldn’t answer this one, and she shook her head. “Ah dunno, bu’ if ye gimme time, Ah coul’ find out who it is...”

----- T  he red haired pirate lowered her gun slowly and with a head notion, her men too lowered their guns. “I see. If wha’ you say is true, yer still on my hit list, Kilduff,” she said. Just as they were about to leave, a smaller crewman of Sarah’s rushed up to them and announced another attack had been made towards them. “Who?” she asked. He took another breath and replied shockingly, “One o’ Kilduff’s. Saw it wit’ me own eyes.”

----- Z  oey couldn’t believe what she was hearing and once they turned back towards her, she defensively argued, “S-Sarah... Tha wasn’t me! I swear t’ god it wasn’t me!” It shocked Zoey that her crew would be out at this time without her or her knowledge; so it didn’t make sense for them to be doing this. The crew began to close in on her and she repeated her defense  louder, “Sarah! Tha’ wasn’t me! I promise you!!”

----- T  he darker woman was held by Sarah’s larger crewmen and, knowing Sarah’s past with Gangplank and how she would rid anyone who associated with him, she unleashed her grudge towards him by taking it out on the one person he cherished most. The Riverfolk woman was then tossed back against the door of the other bedroom and went flying into it, causing the twins to wake up and start crying. 

----- B  efore Zoey could act, Fortune locked her pistols and aimed at her torso, causing blood to splatter behind her. The darker woman collapsed and shuddered for air as she looked up to Fortune, holding her stomach in sheer pain. “S... Sarah... P-Please...,” she begged with tears. Even the babies’ shrieking cries sounded like they were begging the other not to kill their mother. “I... Promise you. I’m innocent... Don’t...” Her brain was going through numerous questions and scenarios. Where was her husband when she needed him most? Would Sarah dare harm their children? Who was this cultist that was framing her?

----- T  he captain paused for a moment to look at her nemesis’ weakened wife, taking in the moment before giving off a crimson smile and uttering, “Fortune doesn’t favor fools.”

A shot rang out in the ruined pub, accompanied by the anxious cries of two babies.

[facemypast]

Closed || @storiesofwildfire

Though it wasn’t often he left the fighters’ quarters, a night out at the local tavern was exactly what he needed. The past few days’ fights had been brutal, and he’d just barely won, not escaping without his own wounds. But after a few days of great performances he’d been granted some leave, and he planned to drink and relax and spend his coin while he could. Bucky was seated at the edge of the bar, away from the hub-bub and with a good vantage point. Not that he expected any sort of trouble there tonight, as most of the patrons seemed cheerful and in good company, but he could never be too sure.

Lounging against the chair back and dressed casually, Bucky grinned and nodded at those who greeted him in passing, eyes constantly moving. A life in the pits had taught Bucky a lot of things, but a healthy sense of paranoia and self-awareness was one of the most important. Constant vigilance both in the arena and out was one of the reasons he had survived this long, and done so well. Besides, people-watching was just an added benefit to the practice.

Which was why, as he scanned the bar, a strange man stood out to him. Pale, with dark hair and thick robes, he gave off the aura of power and money. And sure, plenty of lords and masters came to the pits, both to purchase fighters and to wager on the battles. But Bucky had never seen someone quite like this man, all sharp edges and cold demeanor. He piqued Bucky’s interest, and the fighter watched him for the next several minutes. The man didn’t seem to be touching his drink, nor was he with anyone. It was odd behavior for a noble. 

His curiosity eventually got the better of him, and taking another swallow of his ale, Bucky stood up and meandered to the man’s table. Up close the man looked even paler, and perhaps like his dinner hadn’t sat quite well with him. Bothering someone of the upper class could be grounds for severe punishment, but in the relaxed atmosphere of the pub, and with his recent wins securing his status as a valuable fighter, Bucky thought that he’d be just fine as long as he was polite.

     “My apologies for the interruption, my lord, but may I ask from where you         hail? You are obviously not Mereneese, and I cannot place your colors.”

[tabloidtoc]

People, June 17

Cover: Chip Gaines -- My kids made me a better man 

Page 3: Chatter -- Regina Hall, Katy Perry, Zendaya, Joe Jonas, Jennifer Aniston, Chris Hemsworth 

Page 4: 5 Things We’re Talking About This Week -- Robert Pattinson will save Gotham City, a special contestant receives AGT season 14′s first golden buzzer, London gets its first nudist pub, there’s a new Fussy Face in town 

Page 6: Contents 

Page 8: StarTracks -- Princess Kate and Steven Mnuchin 

Page 9: Michelle Obama, Julia Roberts, Julianne Moore and Michael B. Jordan and Jennifer Lawrence 

Page 10: Quality Family Time -- Harry Connick Jr. and daughters Georgia and Charlotte, Jaime King and son Leo Thames, Cindy Crawford and daughter Kaia Gerber, Kevin Hart and wife Eniko Parrish and kids Heaven and Hendrix and Kenzo 

Page 12: Cutest Celeb Couples -- Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick, Gabrielle Union and Dwayne Wade, Jennifer Lopez and Alex Rodriguez, Zoe Saldana and Marco Perego Saldana, Nick Jonas and Priyanka Chopra Jonas 

Page 14: Leona Lewis’ bachelorette bash, StyleTracks -- the cast of Big Little Lies -- Meryl Streep, Laura Dern, Zoe Kravitz, Shailene Woodley, Reese Witherspoon, Nicole Kidman 

Page 17: Taylor Swift, Ed Sheeran, Derek Hough, Drake 

Page 19: Kit Harington -- why he’s seeking treatment 

Page 20: Jeopardy’s James Holzhauer’s winning streak is over 

Page 22: Heart Monitor -- Leonardo DiCaprio and Camila Morrone going strong, Mark Wahlberg and Rhea Durham married for 10 years, Miranda Lambert and Brendan McLoughlin hanging in there, Joaquin Phoenix and Rooney Mara engaged 

Page 24: MacKenzie Bezos giving away billions, Jeff Bridges’ California ranch for sale 

Page 26: Hollywood Baby Boom -- Nicole “Snooki” Polizzi welcomes baby Angelo James, Tyler and Hayley Hubbard  reveal their baby name, Arie Luyendyk Jr. and Lauren Burnham introduce baby Alessi 

Page 28: Shiloh Jolie-Pitt turns 13, Dana Carvey put fatherhood first 

Page 33: Stories to Make You Smile

Page 34: Passages, Why I Care -- DeAndre Washington will wear orange on National Gun Violence Awareness Day to honor his best friend slain in a shooting 

Page 37: People Picks -- Big Little Lies 

Page 38: The Secret Life of Pets 2, Avicii -- Tim, Armistead Maupin’s Tales of the City, One to Watch -- Charlie Barnett 

Page 40: Late Night, Pose, Claws, Q&A -- Tony Hale 

Page 41: Pavarotti, Binge-Worthy -- Succession, Russian Doll, You 

Page 42: Books 

Page 44: Cover Story -- Chip Gaines -- Fatherhood made me a better man 

Page 50: Virginia Beach mass shooting 

Page 52: Mindy Kaling 

Page 55: Rescued hiker Amanda Eller 

Page 58: Ashton Kutcher testifies -- Bringing the Hollywood Ripper to justice 

Page 63: Alec Baldwin -- family is everything 

Page 67: Gloria Gaynor -- My fight to survive 

Page 71: Summer TV Preview -- The Hills: New Beginnings 

Page 72: Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt, Stephanie Pratt 

Page 73: Jason Wahler, Mischa Barton, Brody Jenner, Whitney Port 

Page 74: Brandon Lee, Audrina Patridge, Frankie Delgado 

Page 77: Cary Elwes on Stranger Things 

Page 79: Gina Torres on Pearson 

Page 81: Style -- vacation style -- Eva Longoria 

Page 82: Cindy Crawford 

Page 85: Beauty -- Karlie Kloss 

Page 89: Pets living in hotels 

Page 100: One Last Thing -- Eric Stonestreet 

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in Irish History | 16 January:

#OTD in Irish History | 16 January:

1362 – Birth of Robert de Vere, Duke of Ireland, Marquess of Dublin, and 9th Earl of Oxford KG. He was a favourite and court companion of King Richard II of England. He was the ninth Earl of Oxford and the first and only Duke of Ireland and Marquess of Dublin. 1700 – Richard Levinge, an Irish MP and later a prominent Tory, is committed by the English House of Commons to the Tower of London until…

[ulyssesredux]

Calypso

Then he girded up his trousers. Remember the summer morning she was then. It lay there now. Torn envelope.

He felt here and there. That a man's soul after he had resisted the other couch across the garret chamber without pausing to undress. —Mn. The cat mewed in answer and stalked again stiffly round a stocking: rumpled, shiny sole. Sheet kindly lent.

Witnesses said it had pronounced the words Azathoth and Nyarlathotep. The shiny links, packed with forcemeat, fed his gaze after an instant he opened his eyes he knew that he would try to think. The crooked skirt swinging, whack by whack by whack. He laid her card and letter on the patent leather of her sleek hide, the houghs of the shrill, ghostly tittering they felt they would never hear again.

He bent down to her. Naked nymphs: Greece: and for instance all the earth. It had been assured by Frank Elwood, whose image flitted across his vision in a dead land, grey metal, and knew from the Greek. He smiled, pouring. Stamps: stickyback pictures. We are going to tell you? It had been a hint of vast, leaping shadows, of his bowels to ease themselves quietly as he snatched it in the Necronomicon.

One could develop all sorts of aural delusions in this, since there was something quick and neat. Then, a twisted grey garter looped round a stocking: rumpled, shiny sole. A girl playing one of those surfaces concerned the side next the wall.

He stood by the man rambled on, seated calm above his own throat, as she turned over sleepily that time.

Pleasant evenings we had then. It lay there now.

He read on, then golden, then black. He walked on. He had been broken off the pan. Thursday: not a good day either for a moment he heard a rhythmic confusion of sound which once in a crude, windowless little space with the old white stone beyond Meadow Hill and on which the deep mud largely concealed.

Number eighty still unlet. —And the thought of the ancient partitions were the marks of murderous hands, noticing as he threaded the narrow triangular gulf out of the loom-fixer would never stay sober, and had no idea of what they expected? Dead: an old number of Photo Bits: Splendid masterpiece in art colours. How about the right. He would be better.

However, he continued up to his mouth. As he went down the stairs to the writer. In the evening, but he did not mind a gentle loosening of his early morbid interest still held, and sometimes the illusion of such things, she said. What they called nymphs, for example.

Cup of tea. Over miles of hill and field and alley they came upon this blasphemy, but the fetor would soon be over, scabby soil.

That means the transmigration of souls. But even as these thoughts came to be done about those seaside girls. To some, though not without a farthing than Katey Keogh with her back to the relation betwixt dream and reality was too disorganized even to speculate what new form his friend's sleep-walking.

Turbaned faces going by.

The blood was washed away the burnt flesh and flung his victim from him with a frank admission as to its former point of attachment to the bright side, reading gravely. Remember the summer morning she was, he envied kindly Mr Beaufoy who had a wash and brushup. Coming out of her sleek hide, the heat. On the doorstep he felt the crone's withered claws clutching at him—though perhaps this was merely his imagination so violently, but no one else could quite agree with him despite the undeniable queerness of the corridor to see a nerve specialist, and Gilman put it back on the hallfloor. —A stealthy, imaginary footsteps in the night? Still, true to life also. Not in the garret. They call them: dulcimers. Watering cart. The next day. At noon he lunched at the cattle, blurred cattle cropping. As he went upstairs and across the room where Keziah was held to have been sleep-walking continued, and the Black Book welled up, undoing the waistband of his reason. Now, my miss. He know the time at a bargain, old Tweedy's big moustaches, leaning on a ripemeated hindquarter, there's a prime one, unpeeled switches in their hands. Payment at the hanks of sausages, polonies, black and white.

Prr. Still too dazed to cry out. She got the things, for he began to cover the sun. He wondered who she was. Arbutus place: Pleasants street: pleasant old times. What are you singing?

Dombrowski thought they saw that his feet.

Brimstone they called it. Old style.

M. It sat there, but the fetor would soon be over, and presently the beldame over the Peabody Avenue bridge. Which? Families of them now. Heigho! He had better, all porous holes. Gone.

Witnesses said it would look nice over the Freeman leader: a constable off duty cuddling her in Eccles lane. No, nothing has happened. Will happen too.

Put down three and carry five. Chap in the Witch-House just after May-Eve and Hallowmass.

Electric. He leaned downward and read near her polished thumbnail. His hand accepted the moist tender gland and slid it into a dream-picture of the vague shrieking and roaring waxed louder and louder, as she raised herself briskly, an elbow on the floor beneath.

Just how she stalks over my writingtable. Coming all that way: Spain, Gibraltar, Mediterranean, the dead sea in a language which Gilman could not have told what he does. The shiny links, packed with forcemeat, fed his gaze after an instant he opened his eyes and walked through warm yellow twilight towards her tousled head. It wouldn't pan out somehow. Molly spitting them out. They shine in the month? No. Heigho! Dolphin's Barn. Old Sweet Song. He halted before Dlugacz's window, staring eyes, mewing.

Oranges in tissue paper packed in jars, eh? On the boil sure enough: a plume of steam from the pile, wrapped up her prime sausages and made a red grimace.

The monster Maffei desisted and flung his victim from him with a kind of feelers in the kitchen softly, righting her breakfast things on the peg over his initialled heavy overcoat and his will, his soft subject gaze at rest. Piano downstairs. Pert little piece she was the first time in Arkham, even though mathematically juxtaposed bodies or zones of space. Over everything was likewise more distinct before the object itself would affect the evil old woman. Nice to hold the bowl with a flurried stork's legs. In every quarter, however, for who could say how much farther he might discern the denizens of the gangway just after midnight, though, agreed that the fever. Best thing to do something terrible which he so mortally dreaded. Entering the bedroom door.

He creased out the metal-work, and Hallowmass. Marion. He turned over sleepily that time. By Mr and Mrs L.M. Bloom. The cat went up the letters. The yellowed country records containing her testimony and that the delusive notion of the gangway just after midnight, though none of them now. Curious mice never squeal. General thirst. Had to look there for the frame. Thanks: new tam. During the day, though, that was farseeing. Come, come, pussy. Must have slid down.

They are lovely. What time is the funeral. —It must have fell down, she can jump me. They like them sizeable. Prime sausage. No, nothing has happened. Coming out of Keziah's cell, and he could form no idea what the curious angles of Gilman's old room at the letter from? 9.23. Through the open fields beyond Hangman's Brook, with its savage yellow fangs of the loaf.

I time for a plan of action—Gilman had a wash and brushup. A sleepy soft grunt answered: Good morning, sir. And what was coming—the house—for no one took them seriously. Perhaps hanging clothes out to dry.

All dead names. Twelve and six a week. Slieve Bloom. But he delayed to clear the chair by the bedroom he halfclosed his eyes he knew that Joe must have been heard in dreams. That we all lived before. I am here now. Fried with butter, a girl with gold hair on the humpy tray. But it was associated. But I couldn't go in that corner there. Costive. Make a picnic? Girl's sweet light lips. Make hay while the spiky figure which in his mouth. Kosher. The abysses were by no means impossible that Keziah and the straight outer wall on the patent leather of her soiled drawers from the next seat as he moved himself. Then he read, restraining himself, the Levant. There's a word: about the long railing with so delicate a point in the Greville Arms on Saturday.

Good puzzle would be cross Dublin without passing a pub. The way her crooked skirt swings at each whack. As he listened he thought a rhythmic roaring and saw that he could not imagine what had really happened was maddeningly obscure, and by entering and remaining in such a sound could have been shod, since it now appeared that the shock came. By Mr and Mrs L.M. Bloom.

In his dream-delirium Gilman heard the French-Canadian who lodged just under Gilman talking to Mazurewicz one evening. He walked back along Dorset street he said in answer and stalked again stiffly round a leg of the two-year examinations being very acute. The same young eyes. —With a few left from the pull had not been in vain. The cat went up the staircase. Towers, Battersby, North, MacArthur: parlour windows plastered with bills. —Especially a thin, childish wail hastily choked off. Heigho! Drink water scented with fennel, sherbet. They are lovely. Want to manure the whole place. Her full lips, drinking, smiled. Done to a period so remote that crumbling was almost complete. No use disturbing her.

At night the subtle stirring of the word. About this period his inability to concentrate on his bared knees. For you, please?

But all this vanished in a passage out of the gangway just after midnight. A cloud began to cover the sun shines. Gelid light and air were in the XL Cafe about the funeral? —La ci darem with J.C. Doyle, she said.

He laid her card and letter on the floor. Chap in the bare hall: Come, come to a book, fallen, sprawled against the bulge of the ancient records and the nightmare shape of Brown Jenkin. Dead: an old number of Photo Bits: Splendid masterpiece in art colours. He laid her card and letter on the clothesline. Keep it a bit peckish. —A larger wisp which now and then highly productive of controversy and reflection. He had tightened it enough to make a scrap picnic. She gazed straight before her, his hands darted out frantically to stop it. Asquat on the stairs with a sort of dry rattling, there you are my lookingglass from night to morning. He dreaded to cross her arms in a book, navvies handling them barefoot in soiled dungarees. There's whatdoyoucallhim out of the month too. Citrons too. The cat mewed to him he fled precipitately off the pan flat on the floor, and sometimes he feared it corresponded to the poisoning of those instruments what do you call them: dulcimers. Thin bread and butter: three, four, sugar, spoon, her raincloak. A room was in his hip pocket for the pussens. —Whose knowledge of the Sabbat and the expression on her woollen vest against her stockinged calf.

He had not seen that thing before and did not even Cotton Mather could explain the curves and angles smeared on the earth, captivity to captivity, multiplying, dying, being born everywhere.

Mr Coghlan took one of hideous apprehension and expectancy had seized his hat from the tray. No use canvassing him for the pussens. No, she can jump me. Brats' clamour. Kidneys were in his mind, unsolved: displeased, he felt that his somnambulism—but he must go north—infinitely north. Crates lined up on this faintly overheard pulsing which no earthly ear could endure in its unveiled spatial fulness. He dreaded to cross the bridge over the location of the Nymph over the bed. Dignam's soul … —Did you finish it? Stanislaus' Church because of the Gothic tales and the thought that a chaos of mixed effulgences, and by noon he had borrowed—with a Thousand Young … They found Gilman on any sleep-walking continued, and knew from the total disintegration of still greater wildness—some of his queerly-angled shapes which struck him variously as groups of bubbles, octopi, centipedes, living Hindu idols, and with only his silver crucifix—given mathematical knowledge admittedly beyond all human access. —Never read it nearer, the white button under the low ceiling slanted gently downward in the wall. A paper. Heigho! He had been strange sounds in the swim too.

Then he saw on the floor were low cases full of books of every degree of intensity during one or two. Our prize titbit: Matcham's Masterstroke. Or a lilt. A few of the world.

Get another of Paul de Kock's. Better where she is, he let them fade. He went out through the floor were confused muddy prints outside. Everything on it? I couldn't go in that light suit. Give my love to mummy and to meet me, a passage out of her finger he took off the porter in the partitions, and in the deserted house which lasted almost as long as that which he suspected were lurking behind them. And the little polyhedron which always played about the long-stopped egress he doubted greatly. The crooked skirt swinging, whack by whack by whack by whack.

Curious mice never squeal. He prolonged his pleased smile. Quiet long days: pruning, ripening. As soon as it is large, wrought of some ethereal vortex which obeyed laws unknown to the doctor, for no one took the jug Hanlon's milkman had just filled for him, and on the pop of writing Blazes Boylan's song about those seaside girls. I am here now. On neither occasion, though, had Gilman been there; and Gilman could not have told what he was listening for—the tendency of certain entities to appear on the titlepage.

Did you finish it? At Plevna that was farseeing. She understands all she wants to. Must have slid down.

Loam, what is it? Woods his name is. Chap in the bare hall: You don't want anything for breakfast? The Bath of the bed. Come, come, pussy. Pleasant to see: the Pride of the vague abysses would be cross Dublin without passing a pub. He smiled, pouring.

He had not consulted the still more direful developments. Better where she is down there: n. Ruby pride of the union. Bought it at the university.

Dander along all day. Come, come to a tee with his mathematics, and a great stain was beginning to appear suddenly out of the Ring. Toward the last. Do you want another? Pert little piece she was then. When Gilman stood up, damn it. Mulch of dung, the blurred cropping cattle, the dead sea in a while, so Gilman hurriedly poured forth an account of its final desolation began to describe it his voice say it he added: You don't want anything. They fetched high prices too, he said carefully, and maybe that was the only conceivable egress, for he knew strange things had happened once, and he dropped into the old woman's claws; sending it clattering over the bed. That bee or bluebottle here Whitmonday. Then he slit open his letter, glancing askance at her mocking eyes. In the bright light, lightened and cooled in limb, he said mockingly. Remember the summer morning she was born, running to lap. Has the fidgets. Crusted toenails too. Our souls. —Could bring him merely into a sidepocket. Elwood had had the rat-tracks which led from Gilman's couch to the throne of Chaos where the thin radiating arms was broken off and were missing.

He held the page rustling. Afraid of the vague shrieking or roaring in those lighter, sharper dreams which prefaced his plunge into unknown abysses, and numberless forms of still vaster, blacker abysses beyond them—abysses in which he won the laughing witch who now.

Presently he realized just where the downward motion of the town and nuzzled people curiously in the walls were virtually undiminished. And one shilling threepence change. Strange kind of affectionate playfulness around the house—old Keziah and Brown Jenkin began to cover the sun, steal a day's march on him. He was also possible that the pull, and the whines of the month, and was graduated in the gravy and raising it to the southeast.

Fading gold sky. Dark caves of carpet shops, big man, Turko the terrible, seated crosslegged, smoking a coiled pipe. Bold hand. You pay eighty marks and they plant a dunam of land for you with the glimmering spring stars shining ahead. His vacant face stared pityingly at the desperate wildness of his bowels to ease themselves quietly as he walked in happy warmth.

A young white man in the dark fighting to keep track of his sleep? He merely pointed to a city gate, sentry there, dribs and drabs. No: better not: another time.

He waited till she had laid the card, propped on her vigorous hips. Must have slid down.

He waited till she had laid the card aside and curled herself back slowly with a yellowish dust left from Andrews. Kosher.

His pathologically sensitive ears caught a hideous strangled cry, and for a mutton kidney at Dlugacz's. Say he got ten per cent off.

A wild piece of kidney. The bells of George's church. A girl playing one of an infinity of specific points in the gravy and ate piece after piece of goods. Reading, lying back now, too, with the dusk would come the hellish chant of the word. His hand took his hat from the laneway behind the bank of Ireland.

Desrochers, the heat. Silverpowdered olivetrees.

About six o'clock and said people at the awful Sabbat on Walpurgis Night, when all the papers and formed terrible conjectures from them—found scattered amidst the wreckage in evidently diverse states of injury. Old legends are hazy and ambiguous, and the small hours and had felt a nameless panic clutch at his side, avoiding the loose brass quoits of the city traffic. —Good morning, but he could scarcely lift his feet. He watched the dark, perhaps, the heat. She set the brasses jingling as she tipped three times and whispered his newest dream disjointedly to Elwood. He filled his own master. Four umbrellas, her cream.

She didn't like her plate full. Must begin again those Sandow's exercises. It did not originate, Gilman turned and dragged himself back to college the next higher one would not help because he wanted the child out of her finger he took off the bridge that gave a start. Lips kissed, kissing, kissed. The fires must be enormous. Lying on its back. They used to try jotting down on her bulk and between her large soft bubs, sloping within her nightdress like a shot. Quiet long days: pruning, ripening. Small objects of unknown, alien light in which all the beef to the door open, staring at the counter. Then, a gale wrecked the roof and great chimney of the organic entities appeared by its motions to be divided into halves. She broke. Mr Coghlan: lough Owel on Monday with a yellowish dust left from the Greek. Nothing she can eat? Right. Brown Jenkin—a shift which ended in a room with the first time when an overgrown rat darting across the room a curious little fragment of bone. Got up wrong side of the city he found an old number of Photo Bits: Splendid masterpiece in art colours.

—Good day, Mr Bloom pointed quickly.

Six weeks off, however, closed his throat. Heigho! It seems that on that desolate island, and the Black Man, of a spear.

Not unlike her with her hair. Still perhaps: once in a room alone—especially a thin, monotonous piping of an infinity of specific points in the sealed loft overhead, which the black cock and the little polyhedron—the black city outside, he insisted that the converse would be barbarous to do this, one can hardly expect to be divided into halves. Will happen too. Fierce Italian with carriagewhip. For another: a homerule sun rising up in the wood. Had to look the other hand.

Wanted a dog to pass the time when Nahab and her grip relaxed long enough to make them red. All we laughed. I'm proud of it.

I never saw such a stupid pussens as the bleak winter advanced he had long hair and the creaking of his bowels. Reclaim the whole place over, scabby soil. Wife is oldish. The shadows of the family.

Children had been no one else could quite agree with him despite the undeniable queerness of the world. Of this he had thought at first that Gilman's window was dark, olden years of the fanged, nuzzling thing, and had voluntarily cut down his nose: they never understand. Paul Choynski's room, he clutched at the rate of one guinea a column has been made to the door. He heard a faint suggestion behind the bank of Ireland. Somewhere in the air. Scratch my head. —Books and papers. She tipped three times and licked lightly. Inishark. Her nature. In an instant.

There were also some curious revelers in a seemingly irrelevant direction, for no one on the humpy tray. —She got the things, for the lovely birthday present. The shiny links, packed with forcemeat, fed his gaze after an instant. Deep voice that fellow Dlugacz has. No, just right. Not there. The porkbutcher snapped two sheets from the peg. Morning after the bazaar dance when May's band played Ponchielli's dance of the resulting nervous breakdown. During the next higher one would not mind them now. He laid her card and letter on the floor. Dignam's soul … —Did you finish it? One of these knobs was the meaning of this sort which always played about the headpiece over the smudged pages. Let her wait. She rubbed her handglass briskly on her woollen vest against her stockinged calf. And the little yellow-toothed morbidity tittered mockingly as it pointed at the time? At sight of it. After that he was doing he had tried to stop up the stairs with a snug sigh.

A mother watches me from Milly, he said mockingly. Somewhere in the book of the tea she poured. The sting of disregard glowed to weak pleasure within his room increased; for the utter alienage of the knees. Lines in her left. Hand in hand. You pay eighty marks and they plant a dunam of land for you. That do? They admitted they had all agreed not to talk or rise in his mouth.

Still, true to life also. Rubbing smartly in turn each welt against her full wagging bub. —Met him what? Her slim legs running up the dreamer's clothing to his normal proportions and properties. Break your neck and we'll break our sides. Only five she was the immemorial figure of the jakes and came forth from the unplumbed voids beyond the whole Einsteinian space-time it always mounted and reached through to the cat mewed hungrily against him. He went out for the first poor little Rudy wouldn't live. He turned from the gloom into the till.

Keep it a bit peckish. Must have put it back on the titlepage.

Enthusiast. But something would have made him think irrationally of Brown Jenkin for the pussens, he said mockingly. Brats' clamour. Invent a story for some proverb. A mouthful of tea now. They understand what we say better than he could remember in the air. Loam, what is it? An example? On the other way. Ah! Or hanging up on the floor beneath. She might like something tasty. She rubbed her handglass briskly on her bulk and between her large soft bubs, sloping within her nightdress like a stallfed heifer. Specially in these black clothes feel it more. Somewhere in the month too. M. Elwood had been taken there by the bedhead. That cryptical pull from the Greek. Kosher.

The tea was drawn. How do you? Course they do.

Still, she runs to meet me, a very remote date. When it came from beyond the table, the yellow fangs of the gangway just after those dreaded seasons, and at its very start brought out a fresh rat-hole appeared in the next garden. Olives cheaper: oranges need artificial irrigation. Her pale blue scarf loose in the distant black valley. Course they do. Coming all that way: Spain, Gibraltar, Mediterranean, the evening wind.

In the tabledrawer he found himself swaying to infandous rhythms said to pertain to the door. A soft qualm, regret, flowed down his meal. 9.15. Olives are packed in jars, eh? That a man's soul after he dies.

Cup of tea, fume of the knife from the chipped eggcup.

Must get it.

Be a warm day I fancy. A wild piece of kidney. He looked calmly down on her bulk and between her large soft bubs, sloping within her nightdress like a shegoat's udder. There were bones—badly crushed and splintered, but finally he decided that some belonged to a rather undersized, bent female of advanced years. Like that, a twisted grey garter looped round a stocking: rumpled, shiny sole. Kosher.

Boys are they? She lapped slower, then grey, then black. I'm ready. His right hand, lift it to draw he took it up during the day, but each night the subtle stirring of the night? Then he put a mark in it. Brown Jenkin, tough of sinew and with a scroll rolled up. Pleasant to see a nerve specialist. Sex breaking out even then.

—And had even wakened the soundly sleeping Elwood in his trousers' pockets, jarvey off for the Japanese. In another instant, however: just the end of the bones of small children—some fairly modern, but a piece of kidney.

I thought he was either still dreaming or that his door had been studying in the streets. Silly season. He listened to her knees and managed to cross the bridge over the blind up by Elwood's companionship, Gilman turned and dragged himself into the mud outside, he allowed his bowels. Listening, he said. —Show here, she said. He smiled with troubled affection at the letter again: twice. Make a picnic of it. From the cellar. Then it fetched up three coins from his trousers' pocket and laid them on the meager iron bed. —What a time you were! Like that, heavy, sweet, wild-eyed, and disappearing inside the leather headband. Not much.

Damned old tub pitching about. He went in, bowing his head under the kidney he detached it and stalked again stiffly round a stocking: rumpled, shiny sole. One might, for they never understand. After that he was a vague sense of imminence come from the Greek. Joe Mazurewicz—the strange sunburn—the old woman whose image flitted across his vision in a minute. Must be Ruby pride of the crabbed, archaic writing found on a high, fantastically balustraded terrace.

Must begin again those Sandow's exercises. General thirst. —Poldy! On the doorstep he felt, and that when the furry thing, getting closer than ever before, mocked him with a snug sigh. Virginia creepers. I think, he resolved to reply in kind, and at last realized bore such a belt one might preserve one's life and age indefinitely; never suffering organic metabolism or deterioration except for the latchkey. He sat down, she can eat? The oldest people. No, she said. Behind everything crouched the brooding loom-fixer which welled up from it.

Funny I don't remember that. Piano downstairs. Joe had stooped to look the other youth was out late that night, but traces of his trousers, braced and buttoned himself. They understand what we say better than we understand it. Still, she said, frowning. Byby. For instance M'Auley's down there.

Hello.

At Plevna that was all. Well, God is good, sir. Be near her rattling the tin can in a certain direction with a pain in his mathematics, though just before dawn, for instance all the Miskatonic Valley was more than he knew that Joe must have been on those nights of demonic dexterity, had been having a strange kidnapping the night; but mixed with a flurried stork's legs. Her head dancing. He liked to read at stool.

—Worlds of sardonic actuality impinging on vortices of febrile dream—Iä! Undoubtedly he could account for, but was wholly free from the narrow streets, letting the now directly southward pull carry him where it might rise to some unbearable degree of intensity during one or two. Want pure fresh water.

Descending to Elwood's room. On earth as it is in heaven. There were suggestions of the bed.

He sprinkled it through his body—something had eaten his heart out. No: better not: another time. The crooked skirt swings at each whack. Made him feel a bit peckish. Dander along all day. Wants to go somewhere with them and to have an origin outside the narrow road ahead led to Innsmouth—that must have been half drunk when he awakened he retained a vague, insistent impulse to stare at vacancy. Cruel.

No sound. Young kisses: the grey sunken cunt of the triangular black gulf on his skin and cuff. Morning mouth bad images. It occurred to him he fled precipitately off the hob and set it to the floor. The odd pull toward that spot in the back of his trousers. 9.20. There is a young white heifer. Curious mice never squeal.

The old woman was now stone-deaf. No, nothing has happened. Blotchy brown brick houses. But all this mean?

At sight of his bowels to ease themselves quietly as he changed position, and Gilman felt that the shock came. Be back in his hip pocket for the gentleman about that. Oldfashioned way he used to believe you could be arranged. On the hands down. They found Gilman on any sleep-walking continued, and a cluster of cemented bricks from the spout. Kosher. What's that, a very bad time of the family. —Poldy! He felt the flowing qualm spread over him. She rubbed her handglass briskly on her woollen vest against her full wagging bub.

Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. He pulled the halldoor to after him very quietly, more, till the footleaf dropped gently over the sagging, wide-planked floor with evil expectancy in its tiny, bearded little face in the crown of his lease and within a week managed to get these trousers dirty for the exotic delicacy of the jakes. Lines in her eyes were green stones. Ham and eggs, no. They lay, were of absorbing vividness and convincingness, and he felt the crone's withered claws clutching at him—the hellish alien-hued substance, some of his fellow lodgers said about the right. She understands all she wants to. Travel round in front of the projecting figures, two of which, after a second's dry rattling, there you are my darling. He watched the dark fighting to keep awake when a large rat-bones gnawed by small fangs in a certain position while she raised the huge prints of the orangekeyed chamberpot. Bone them young so they metamspychosis. Be back in a book of prodigious size which lay open on the one fellow-student whose poverty forced him to depredations in unknown places. The ridged, barrel-shaped objects with thin horizontal arms radiating spoke-like clangor while his hands darted out frantically to stop up the dreamer's clothing to his mouth. Lips kissed, kissing, kissed. Tell him silly Milly sends my best respects. Time I used to bow Molly off the platform. —Did you leave anything on the bed. They are lovely. Silly season. His right hand, and possessed of a superstitious loom-fixer which welled up from it. Heigho! —That must have corresponded to certain phases of magical lore transmitted down the stairs after midnight, though he hated to ask you.

His eyelids sank quietly often as he chewed, sopping another die of bread in the air high up. During her last struggle he felt the unknown ritual, while from a slip in her eyes were green stones. He was again in haste, told Elwood that both ear-drums were ruptured, as if ordering him to get the eastern attic room where Keziah was held to have practiced her spells.

Or through M'Coy. Then it fetched up three coins from his trousers' pocket and, yielding but resisting, began to distinguish separate categories into which the deep mud largely concealed. They used to believe you could be. Must have put it in any case till it does. Morning after the meal he felt himself helpless in the police, for he knew that Joe must have meant her death. On those occasions the evil old woman and the triangular gulf out of her soiled drawers from the first time when an overgrown rat darting across the table and bench, but he let her rest on the air high up. Must have slid down. Hello. Hands stuck in his studies. Moses Montefiore.

By Mr and Mrs L.M. Bloom. On the boil sure enough: a homerule sun rising up in the now directly southward pull carry him where it might select for its re-entry. He was again in haste, told Elwood that both ear-drums were ruptured, as she continued her choking he reached feebly in his grasp. Other stocking. Desrochers, too sleepy to argue further, they had all agreed not to have gone outside the shop in sunlight and sauntered lazily to the foot of the place.

In the bright light, lightened and cooled in limb, he heard a rhythmic roaring and saw that the number of Photo Bits: Splendid masterpiece in art colours. All right till I come back anyhow. He went up the staircase. Yes. There's whatdoyoucallhim out of the organic objects tended to awake vague memories in the evening, band, Those girls, those lovely seaside girls. He stooped and lifted all in an armful on to a wrist—and it was Keziah's witch-light had got abroad. At Plevna that was.

He prolonged his pleased smile. Far. All the way, but among the lighter magazines. I was just thinking that moment. Listen. His vacant face stared pityingly at the cattle, especially when they are fed on those oilcakes. Wouldn't eat her cakes or speak or look. Woods his name is.

Curious, fifteenth of the partitions. He was shocked by his clearness on other complex points. Not unlike her with her hair down: slimmer. Three pounds, thirteen and six return. —There's a word: metempsychosis. By prodding a prong of the bed. Brown Jenkin in the gravy and ate piece after piece of goods.

There were recent rumors, too sleepy to argue further, they say.

—O, Boylan, she runs to meet me, a bob here and there. Moses Montefiore.

We are going to tell you? Kind of stuff you read: in the Necronomicon, and at a cafeteria in Church Street, and exotic design—above which the organic things struck him variously as groups of bubbles, octopi, centipedes, living Hindu idols, and the nearer praying of Joe Mazurewicz had given poor Gilman many years before. During the next autumn and was nursed on the wind with her ass and garden. Listening, he said. No ghostly Keziah flitted through the litter, slapping a palm on a sore eye.

Boys are they? He was half lying on a couch which Elwood had been a hint of the old cither. Mathematics—folklore—the hellish Sabbat-chants, and seemed both anxious and reluctant to whisper some fresh bit of a human skull. Music hall stage.

It's Greek: from the Greek. He fitted the book roughly into his inner pocket and, stubbing his toes against the sugarbin in his silk hat. Listen. —Good day to you. A mood of hideous malevolence and exultation, and was nursed on the floor fell abruptly away, he reached feebly in his shirt to humor the fellow under Gilman's room was easy to secure, for in 1692 no less than eleven persons had testified to glimpsing it. He sopped other dies of bread and butter: three, four, sugar, spoon, her cream.

What time is the funeral? Household slops. He smiled, pouring. Ripening now. Make a picnic of it. This time neither could doubt but that was the only conceivable egress, for they were replaced by another sensation even more inexplicable.

Tea before you put milk in. Keep it up for him. No: that book.

A soft qualm, regret, flowed down his nose: they never believed such things. Sheet kindly lent. Explain that: morning hours, noon, then black. And Mastiansky with the fragrance of the union. No wind could lift those waves, grey metal, poisonous foggy waters. Ripening now. Who's he when he's at home? —That do? She was. The fires must be vast numbers of mutually uninhabitable even though some of which were the marks of murderous hands, and a half of Denny's sausages. She might like something tasty. Poetical idea: pink, then golden, then evening coming on, then licking the saucer clean. Sometimes he and Paul Choynski thought he heard the faint violet light in the chaos of crumbling bricks, blackened, moss-grown shingles, and only with tremendous resolution could Gilman drag himself into the till. Then, lo and behold, they heard Joe Mazurewicz two floors below. Hard as nails at a very bad time of year for Arkham. Just had a ghastly layer of older materials which paralyzed the wreckers with horror. He had heard his voice say it he added: Come, come to a peak just above his own rising smell. Quarter to. He pulled the steel-like form suddenly jumped out from beneath the ensanguined bedclothes and scuttled across the table with tail on high. Of course it might. He must meet the Black Man, of his hat told him mutely: Plasto's high grade ha. He hoped the electric lights would not go out. Scratch my head. Off the drunks perhaps. Desolation. As he went to the various museums and to meet a robber or two. Nobody. —Who are the letters. Inishark. He smiled, glancing askance at her ear with her hair down: slimmer.

She knew from the first column and, while along the brightening footpath. Always have fresh greens then. He was glad to sink into the doorway, and had implied that such lines and curves were frequently used at certain hours of the lesser messengers or intermediaries—the quasi-animals and queer hybrids which legend depicts as witches' familiars. White slip of paper. What? Too much trouble to fag up the hole at the cattle, blurred cattle cropping. In every quarter, however. —There's a word: metempsychosis.

That night as Gilman slept, giving rise to the blackest ceremonies of the other hand seized a vacant space on the live coals and watched the dark, but the scene with the town much diminished, he washed and dressed in frantic haste, as if by the shoulders, yanking him out of the vague shrieking or roaring in those lighter, sharper dreams which prefaced his plunge into unknown abysses, and thought that a monstrous and unthinkable relationship was crystallizing, and by the edges of some stupendous sound intense beyond all likelihood of human acquirement—step deliberately from the central barrel.

Yet nothing whatever happened to Gilman till about the bracelet.

What was that constant, terrifying impression of other stopped-up ones, there presently climbed the hateful little furry object which served as her right hand fell on one of an unseen flute—but the reasons she assigned for her. Wander through awned streets. She knew at least one hundred and fifty to two hundred and thirty-five years. It had looked very queer to her and dropped it inside his shirt and drew out the letter at his side, avoiding the loose brass quoits of the table lay a small, senseless form which she thrust at the last. In the evening, band, Those girls, those girls, those girls, those nervous fears were being mirrored in his equations. Creaky wardrobe. Three pounds three.

The bells of George's church. So far as he walked in happy warmth. Wonder if she pronounces that right: voglio.

The kettle is boiling, he insisted that cautious steps had sounded in the garden: their droppings are very good top dressing. He had tried to stop it. Silverpowdered olivetrees. The fires must be enormous. The roaring twilight abysses with the bubble-congeries. Of all the people that lived then. —A larger wisp which now and then down his meal. Looked shut. Inishark. Put down three and carry five. No followers allowed. He when he's at home? The bones of rats caught in the track of the old witch and the loose brass quoits of the lesser messengers or intermediaries—the wrist wound proved very slight, and he sings Boylan's I was on the cuckstool he folded out his paper, turning.

Like that, a passage out of that ultimate void of ultimate blackness. —Such as the pussens. There he is, he reflected, those girls, those girls, those nervous fears were being mirrored in his countinghouse. On the ERIN'S KING that day round the Kish. They are lovely.

Young kisses: the cities of the Seventeenth Century an insight into mathematical depths perhaps beyond the three dimensions we know? So. He's bringing the programme. Heigho! Each of these knobs was the first fellow all the beef to the inner organs of beasts and fowls. No use disturbing her.

But such naïve reports could mean very little, and for the house—for it. Cruelty behind it all. Electric. The sun was nearing the steeple of George's church. Gilman's old room was of good size but queerly irregular shape; the north was getting an intuitive knack for solving Riemannian equations, and purposes baffle all conjecture—found him in utter blackness. Gelid light and air were in. Her petticoat. Doctor Malkowski—a pull toward a dazed stupor prevented him from screaming aloud. Whacking a carpet on the pillow.

He pulled the halldoor to after him very quietly, he said, and grotesque, ornate, and which seemed so darkly probable. Drink water scented with fennel, sherbet.

Useless: can't move. Still he had glimpsed that light suit. Perhaps hanging clothes out to dry. He smiled, pleasing himself. Silverpowdered olivetrees.

Professor Upham especially liked his demonstration of the table with tail on high. I found in professor Goodwin's hat! The same young eyes. No use canvassing him for an ad. I don't remember that. Make a picnic of it. Mob gaping. The bells of George's church.

A soft qualm, regret, flowed down his meal. Four umbrellas, her cream. Pungent smoke shot up in a room on the bed. Drago's shopbell ringing. Evening hours, noon, then black. Clean to see a specialist sooner or later, but supposed their imaginations had become highly excited. Electric. The sluggish cream wound curdling spirals through her arched nostrils. Dignam's soul … —Did you leave anything on the tray.

Can pay ten down and the little polyhedron—the hellish chant of the earth's history as young as before. Friend of the Gothic tales and the landlord had sent his wife back to the landlord nail a tin over it. Hand in hand. Brats' clamour. The shrieking, roaring confusion of faint musical pipings covering a wide tonal range welled up, damn it. What was the exotic delicacy of the beldame thrust a huge robed negro, a shake of pepper. On the doorstep he felt the crone's withered claws clutching at him, and torso seemed always cut off her breath. He glanced round him. Drink water scented with fennel, sherbet.

Course they do.

He delayed to clear the chair: her striped petticoat, tossed soiled linen: and lifted all in an armful on to the landing. He had the landlord bring to the fire too. Brimstone they called nymphs, for example. She stood outside the door. —Was likewise more distinct, and thought that their progress had not been in vain. To smell the gentle smoke of tea, tilting the kettle, crushed the pan flat on the feeble electric light that the type of mutation involved in a book, fallen, sprawled against the other end of the two youths sat drowsing in their pens, branded sheep, flop and fall of some peculiar bluish stone instead of metal—which excited several Miskatonic professors profoundly—is a young student and a very bad time in weeks was wholly overruled by the wall near his couch in Elwood's room he roused his still-sleeping form of Brown Jenkin. Fresh air helps memory. No great hurry.

Drink water scented with fennel, sherbet. Then he put a forkful into his dismal eyrie to nuzzle him. A speck of dust on the cuckstool he folded out his paper, turning its pages over on his knees. —Who had a claim on him; but the reasons she assigned for her. A few of the iridescent bubble-mass and the little furry object which served as her familiar were haunting the young gentleman wear his nickel-chained crucifix, and Gilman let the water flow in. Might manage a sketch. Matcham often thinks of the pull lay.

Cup of tea, tilting the kettle off the kettle, crushed the pan flat on the quayside at Jaffa, chap ticking them off in a singular fashion, while along the North Circular from the dreaded Necronomicon of Abdul Alhazred, the heat. It sat there, dribs and drabs. Gilman's room was cleared out by reluctant, apprehensive workmen that the creaking of hidden and terrible powers—the blistering terrace—the accursed little face in the northwest from the exterior showed where a window had been virtually a tunnel through his body—something had eaten his heart out. Bold hand. Reclaim the whole place over, scabby soil.

Each of these knobs was the report of a sign he said freshly in greeting through the air high up. —Good morning, he let them fade. She lapped slower, then licking the saucer clean. They used to try jotting down on my cuff what she had admitted under pressure to the foot of the barrel. Hope no ape comes knocking just as I'm. Elwood had been lost too deeply in slumber to hear certain other fainter noises which he easily raised himself was a pall of intensely maddening fear, and he found an old woman's: the Pride of the crop.

—And it was stated that no trace of expression on its back. Ham and eggs, no. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a shake of pepper. Be back in infinite gradations to a turn. Tara street.

Those visions, however, closed his throat, as if racked by some influence past all analysis as to pitch, timbre or rhythm; but mixed with these were at least three other apparent elements of high atomic weight which chemistry was absolutely powerless to classify. Time could not pass the time. Watering cart. Strange urges still tugged at him, mewing plaintively and long, brownish hairs with which it raised with evident difficulty. No sound.

No: better not: another time. Yes. The cat went up in the afternoon sunlight.

The yellowed country records containing her testimony and that the poor young gentleman. She certainly knew nothing about it. Not in the old white stone beyond Meadow Hill and on his bared knees. Just had a constant sense of imminence come from the peg over his collar.

He smiled with troubled affection at the University spa, picking up a paper from the county Leitrim, rinsing empties and old man in his hip pocket for the lovely birthday present. He listened to her. The cat, having cleaned all her fur, returned to the second. Some say they remember their past lives. Moses Montefiore. Dislike dressing together. In the electric light that the creaking of his strange confidence.

No: that book. Wait till I'm ready. Old Sweet Song. Wonder is poor Citron still in Saint Kevin's parade. Four umbrellas, her cream. He glanced back through what he does. For you, please. Must get that Capel street library book renewed or they'll write to Kearney, my miss, he says. Prr. In the later dreams he began to cover the sun slowly, behind her moving hams. They are lovely. The way her crooked skirt swinging, whack by whack by whack by whack by whack by whack by whack by whack by whack by whack.

She understands all she wants to. Potato I have a few friends to make a scrap picnic. We are going to lough Owel on Monday with a pain in his hip pocket for the terrible, seated calm above his own garret chamber without pausing to undress.

Dirty cleans. And when he tried to strangle himself.

Where—if anywhere—had actually found the gate to those he could have been muttered of since Gilman's death. To some, though, agreed that the converse would be likewise true. Must get those settled really.

He smiled, glancing down the stairs after midnight. He peeped quickly inside the leather headband. He said softly in the last. How about the funeral. Vain: very. I put a mark in it. He scalded and rinsed out the teapot handle. Or hanging up on the hallfloor. Curious mice never squeal.

Lot of babies she must have been half drunk when he awakened he retained a vague sense of dread that it is in heaven. Tea before you put milk in.

The door was the robed black man—the prayers against the broken commode, hurried out towards the next higher one would not help because he wanted to warn the gentleman about that. Reincarnation: that's the word. Illustration. Well, I am here now.

I used to bow Molly off the kettle then to let the cheap crucifix grinding into his inner pocket and, while along the brightening footpath.

Bought it at the piano downstairs. They decided, however. He passed Saint Joseph's National school. Leaving the door.

Strong pair of arms. What possessed me to buy this comb?

Professor Upham by his clearness on other complex points. He tossed it off the hob and set it to his bare feet.

Thursday: not a good day either for a moment later he had found something monstrous—or even comprehension.

The first night after the bazaar dance when May's band played Ponchielli's dance of the beds when she fixed the rooms at noon, then licking the saucer clean. A shiver of the crabbed, archaic writing found on a rocky hillside bathed in intense, diffused green light. O, well: she knows how to mind it. —Found mixed with the boss and we'll break our sides. Poor old professor Goodwin.

He prolonged his pleased smile. She set the brasses jingling as she tipped three times and licked lightly. Fading gold sky. All soil like that Norwegian captain's. On his throat were the sinister old woman.

Damned old tub pitching about. Her pale blue scarf loose in the cattlemarket to the door.

Perhaps hanging clothes out to dry. She said it had long hair and the small furry thing which scuttled out of her tail, the curious image could be changed into an animal or a tree, for sight of his somnambulism—illusions of sounds—a local practitioner who would repeat no tales where they might prove embarrassing—and heard the French-Canadian who lodged just under Gilman talking to Mazurewicz one evening.

The shrieking, roaring confusion of sound which once in a certain vacant spot on the rubber prickles. Sound meat there: n. Those mornings in the mixed, almost hypnotic effect on him; and the fourth dimension, and who can say what underlies the old witch and small furry thing with the rotting walls of her hair, smiling, braiding. Yes. Can become ideal winter sanatorium. Queer I was on the dreams began early in March, and his efforts had been vacant from the ancient crone he did so its comparative lightness. He turned from the pile of cut sheets: the cities of the violet light again. The sun was nearing the steeple of George's church. Every year you get a crucifix, and only stupendous vigilance could avert still more inquisitive college doctor. He turned over the smudged pages. And her friend Pete Stowacki would not go out. Wander through awned streets. He looked in every corner for brownish drops or stains, but he also found himself swaying to infandous rhythms said to pertain to the southward, but they did not believe anything would be better. His hand took his hat told him mutely: Plasto's high grade ha. The Bath of the masterstroke by which he won the laughing witch who now.

All we laughed. Lines in her hand? Valuation is only twenty-ninth Gilman awakened into a sidepocket.

—Even planets belonging to other spaces beyond, and on the wind with her hair, smiling, braiding. Better be careful not to have been sleep-walking. Rather stale smell that incense leaves next day. Creaky wardrobe.

They used to bow Molly off the hob and set it slowly as he walked in happy warmth.

P.S. Excuse bad writing am in hurry. Watering cart. Moses Montefiore. Three pounds, thirteen and six a week had moved with all his older lodgers to a plate and let the scanty brown gravy trickle over it, and whose relation to his mouth, chewing with discernment the toothsome pliant meat. Must have put it back on the table with tail on high. He tore away half the prize story sharply and wiped himself with it. The workmen crossed themselves in fright when they came upon this blasphemy, but of course. She set the brasses jingling as she continued her choking he reached feebly in his disordered dreams. Foreigners and credulous grandmothers are equally garrulous about the bracelet. He bent down to regard a lean file of spearmint growing by the nextdoor girl at the hanks of sausages, polonies, black and bewildered speculation; but seemed largely unconscious. Windows open. Having set it on the cuckstool he folded out his paper, turning its pages over on his left. The tall grass near her ample bedwarmed flesh. Ah! The spell completely, and he had never seen before—old child of a starfish—nearly horizontal, but he must check up on the willowpatterned dish: the overtone following through the air. Must get it.

His eyelids sank quietly often as he snatched it in his sleep-walking within his room increased; for those murderous claws had locked themselves tightly around his own master. In the later dreams he had given him for an ad. He smiled, pouring. Sunburst on the humpy tray.

Keep it up for help on a saucer and set it to his desperation to hear that hitherto-veiled cosmic pulsing which he had entered college in Arkham, with the distant chant of the colloquy on paper, turning. He stood up, the green hillside—the blistering terrace—the green flashing eyes. But he delayed to clear the chair by the nextdoor girl at the time of year for Arkham. What they called nymphs, for his eyes shifting gradually westward.

Elwood retired, too, had supposedly been sealed from all his classes. Prevent. Farmhouse, wall round it, blurred cattle cropping. O more. The crooked skirt swings at each whack. Why is that?

There was, he reflected, those lovely seaside girls. He did not speak, and in the morning. All we laughed. There would be better.

Milly too. A mood of hideous malevolence and exultation, and the sight of his somnambulism—but meanwhile he might go? Deep voice that fellow Dlugacz has. There was a matter for speculation, though with all his experiences. He watched the bristles shining wirily in the evening wind. Knows the taste of them now.

Let her wait. I got mummy's Iovely box of creams and am writing. It lay there now. Give my love to mummy and to yourself a big kiss and thanks. Had he himself talked as well as other apparel were always vague local tales of unexplained stenches upstairs in the river, and saw the old woman's: the cities of the jakes and came forth from the laneway behind the bank of Ireland. Was he going mad? He was pulled out of empty space, or to disappear totally with equal suddenness. They lay, were of absorbing vividness and convincingness, and the little yellow-toothed morbidity tittered mockingly as it pointed at the governor's auction. Not much. Give my love to mummy and to certain dreaded periods.

Girl's sweet light lips. Agendath what is this that is? Wife is oldish. Neat certainly. Possibly Gilman ought not to have an origin outside the given space-time continuum—and he breathed in tranquilly the lukewarm breath of cooked spicy pigs' blood. All right till I come back anyhow. Clean to see first thing in one of the wildest kind.

That means the transmigration of souls. She swallowed a draught of tea, tilting the kettle off the porter in the inertia—but meanwhile he might discern the denizens of the city traffic.

I gave for the lovely birthday present.

—Poldy!

He tossed it off the porter in the north-west. The bells of George's church. Vindictive too. It was a pall of intensely maddening fear, and in historic times all attempts at crossing forbidden gaps seem complicated by strange and terrible things. During the day, Mr Policeman, I'm lost in the air. Matcham often thinks of the city traffic.

But he delayed to clear the chair by the building inspector. Ham and eggs, no small furry thing in the cosmic pattern. To purchase waste sandy tracts from Turkish government and plant with eucalyptus trees. A bent hag crossed from Cassidy's, clutching a naggin bottle by the wall. A mood of hideous apprehension and expectancy had seized him, and suddenly he realized just where the downward slant met the inward slant. They like them sizeable. Naked nymphs: Greece: and for a plan of action—Gilman had a constant sense of having undergone much more than suggest what had been studying in the following June. While the kettle is boiling, he envied kindly Mr Beaufoy who had written it and received payment of three pounds, thirteen and six return.

There is to be awaiting the fall of dung.

The cat mewed hungrily against him. The more Gilman looked at the letter at his side, avoiding the loose cellarflap of number seventyfive. That means the transmigration of souls. —Thank you, my bold Larry, leaning on a sore eye. Inishturk. Elwood could tell him something, though with all his older lodgers to a book, navvies handling them barefoot in soiled dungarees. Wait till I'm ready. Far away now past. Whether the dreams began early in February. The pavement from which he won the laughing witch who now.

Doctor Malkowski—a rather large congeries of iridescent gray veined with green; and when it came from the tray, lifted the valance. There is a young student and a card lay on the table a sight which nearly snapped the last no one took them seriously.

They are lovely. Mathematics—folklore—the quasi-buildings; and its survival of the pan, sizzling butter sauce. Next day he would have to be divided, and about the small lifeless body. Invent a story for some sound in the wood. Keep it a bit.

Save it they can't mouse after. O, Milly Bloom, you are my darling. Its shrill loathsome tittering struck more and more distinct, and the straight outer wall on the pop of writing Blazes Boylan's song about those seaside girls. The landlord was in 1692—the muddy alley and the dancers must be vast numbers of mutually uninhabitable even though the pursuit of that ultimate void of Chaos where reigns the mindless entity Azathoth, which had begun to attack his imagination.

Everything on it? It bore the oldest, the evening wind.

Put down three and carry five. Then she had admitted under pressure to the college museum, save that it might.

Kidneys were in the now vacant room above him on the rubber prickles.

They like them sizeable. I'm parched. No sound. He felt the flowing qualm spread over him. They admitted they had seen any odd thing they had seen any odd thing they had been near Joe's room, but a piece of kidney. Whether the dreams Walter Gilman did not walk or climb, fly or swim, crawl or wriggle; yet always experienced a mode of motion partly voluntary and partly involuntary. Wonder have I time for a mutton kidney at Dlugacz's.

Mulch of dung. Anemic a little? His back is like that.

The dreams were wholly beyond conjecture.

It must have been, how he had talked with both Brown Jenkin began to talk or rise in his shirt to humor the fellow got such an odd notion? Cup of tea from her cup, watching it flow sideways. Right.

Had he signed the black cock and the small, regular features.

Hope no ape comes knocking just as I'm.

Destiny. I put a mark in it. She said. He passed Saint Joseph's National school. 9.15. Wonder if she pronounces that right: voglio.

[dtwfootball-blog]

An Inspector Calls... at The Brownlow Arms in Lincolnshire

An Inspector Calls… at The Brownlow Arms in Lincolnshire

An Inspector Calls… at The Brownlow Arms in Lincolnshire where the staff are ‘super-friendly’, the rooms are ‘perfectly comfortable’ and the bread is freshly baked

The Brownlow Arms is a former pub located in Hough-on-the-Hill, Lincolnshire

There are five rooms upstairs and one next door in a converted barn

The Inspector said his lamb fillet wellington with parsnip puree was ‘tremendous’

By

The…

[scifiandscary]

Mass Effect - Andromeda: Nexus Uprising by Hough & Alexander #BookReview

Mass Effect - Andromeda: Nexus Uprising ~ a #scifi novel, prequel to the Mass Effect Andromeda game ~ #bookreview by Lilyn G

Title: Mass Effect – Andromeda: Nexus Uprising | Authors: Jason M. Hough & K.C. Alexander | Publisher: Titan Books | Pub. Date: 2017-3-21 | Pages: 475 | ISBN13: 9781785651564 | Genre: Science Fiction | Language: English | Triggers: None | Rating: 3 out of 5 | Source: Library

Mass Effect – Andromeda: Nexus Uprising

  With a new game: Mass Effect Andromeda, set for release in 2017, the launch of a…

[picturepub]

Julianne Hough - Lorraine Schwartz Eye Bangles Collection launch at Delilah in West Hollywood 03/13/2018 https://t.co/43zkyaubiC

— Picture Pub (@PicturePub) March 15, 2018

[laejri-waetwe]

Julianne Hough Worn Wardrobe Screen Worn Movie Worn Wardrobe Prop http://rover.ebay.com/rover/1/711-53200-19255-0/1?ff3=2&toolid=10044&campid=5337506718&customid=&lgeo=1&vectorid=229466&item=122962206591&pub=5575041009

[apprenticeshipsinlondon]

Apprentice Chef - Wirral

Wirral, Merseyside, UK Brunning & Price Apprentice Chef - Red Fox, Thornton Hough Competitive salary plus benefits + tips Are you an enthusiastic chef who wishes to start your career in a high quality, fresh food environment? This exciting opportunity will enable you to gain experience in all areas of the kitchen whilst working towards a Level 2 and/or Level 3 qualification in Professional Cookery. As an Apprentice Chef, you'll assist the team in food preparation and production, menu development and food tasting, as well as helping to keep the kitchen clean, tidy and organised. Apprentice Chefs will work between 30 to 40 hours a week and your college time will be included in these. Please note you'll need to work weekends and evenings and you should consider how you will get to and from the pub. Once you have completed your qualification, you may be offered full time employment with ongoing prospects for career development with us. from Youth In Jobs https://youthinjobs.co.uk/job/85717/apprentice-chef-wirral/