#prospero breaking and entering

[mhevarujta]

Saltburn: The Red Curtains

The closed red curtains may represent death in the movie, since this visual element exists twice and therefore is not a coincidence.

I feel this plays a pretty big role actually. In both scenes the light is filtered through red curtains. The way it paints the room when Felix has died gives the impression that the room is painted in blood. But when Oliver mentions his father’s ‘death’ the curtains are not completely closed, which foreshadows the lie.

Moreover, the first thing that comes to mind when listening the words ‘red’ and ‘death’ is ‘The Masque of the Red Death’ by Edgar Allan Poe. Now I’m not saying that Fennell necessarily intended this, but she clearly drew inspiration from the gothic genre, so it’s not like I’d be surprised if she was:

The story follows prince Propsero (prosperous, fortunate) who tries to shield himself from a plague, the Red Death (throughout the movie we see the Catton’s resistance to let the real world break through and shake up the little bubble they’ve created for themselves). Prospero throws a masquerade ball in seven rooms of the abbey. Each room is painted in a different colour (when Felix is giving a tour of the house he mentions the red staircase and the blue room, when Oliver first arrives at Saltburn there are seven other main characters living there –Felix, Elspeth, James, Venetia, Farleigh, Duncan, Poor Dear Pamela). A mysterious figure arrives dressed as a Red Death victim (Oliver’s lies of misfortune to earn Felix’s interest). This figure infects and kills the revelers (Oliver manipulates, infects the minds and perception of the people in the house and kills or is responsible for them being kicked out). Prosper dies too after confronting this figure, under the costume of which there’s nothing (there’s nothing tangible about Oliver, he shifts and transforms trying to be what they want him to be in order to earn their trust and when finally confronted by Felix and knowing that he cannot manipulate him anymore, he can’t allow him to live).

In the scene of death ‘entering’ that is retconned, Oliver says that his father would have been drunk OR ‘off his fucking tits’. When REAL death comes, the death that Oliver wove in these people’s lives, Felix would be deemed to be… off his fucking tits.

When the curtains are to REALLY close in Saltburn, Duncan’s arms are stuck. It’s as if his body is resistant to bringing this upon the house and it’s only when a footman tries that the curtains close. Suddenly everyone gets sick and it’s like Felix’s death physically infects them, as if it’s a sickness that has crept in with Oliver being the only one who’s not affected the way the rest are.

[pegaace]

Analysis on Witch from Mercury, Colonialism, The Tempest, and Caliba(r)n

Okay I know this is my first post ever but I was tryna find somewhere to put my thoughts after seeing a bunch of people everywhere slander Caliban and why that is not it and how my boi is innocent, good actually. For qualifications I did an undergrad lit class that covered The Tempest like 2 years ago so that's fine right (apologies to my profs if I fuck any of this up)

Okay so for starters yes by now everyone knows WfM is The Tempest, Prospera is Prospero (or Prospera actually, there was a 2010 film adaptation that had the gender switch already), Aerial is Ariel, etc etc. So therefore Caliban has to be this villainous, "monstrous" creature right?

Haha no sit down cos no that would be boring. (and also kinda racist as I'll explain) Notice how in the original Prospero isn't the villain of the story, not really, he's just getting revenge for being wronged years ago and trying to ship the kids together. But if recent gwitch is any indication, Prospera truly is the villain of this story, breaking hearts and stopping at nothing to destroy the Benerit group AND earth. Now I wonder which other adaptation of The Tempest has Prospero as the big bad HMMMM :thinking:

Enter Aime Cesaire and A Tempest. Written in 1969, it deals with a lot of the more unpleasant connotations of Shakespeares play. Let me lay it all out for you. So you're saying Prospero, a white dude, comes to this island, uses his western magic to overthrow the native witch (Sycorax), wrecks the land of its magic, and then enslaves her son to do his work for him, constantly insulting his appearance and intelligence? HMMMM seems pretty sus (racist and colonial) to me.

Cesaire, writing during a time of decolonial movements throughout the world, was rightfully really mad at colonizers for forcing their way upon natives with violence, and especially with the use of language to control said populations. Caliban has also been repeatedly dehumanised through previous adaptations of Shakespeares work slowly turning him from a man into a monster, not even human. This is similar to how non-european people have constantly been treated in the past.

Now like wait... Forcing communication through a set language? Dehumanisation? Colonisation of oppressed peoples? Where have we seen that before...? HMMMM

(its almost like... permet scores and gundam technology... Calibarn being free of permet links is like Caliban refusing language...)

And here's where I see the great potential of a Gundam Caliban. Gundam is certainly no stranger to decolonial movements (shoutout to my fave Gundam ZZ and the bois in Blue team and the African liberation front) and I think having Caliban as the Gundam to finally end Spacian oppression (perhaps in a sequel idk if Suletta is getting that far after bonking her mom by the end of the season) would be a great take.

As a side note, Aerial is kinda portrayed negatively in Cesaire's work for choosing to work for Prospero in exchange for their own freedom, as kind of a sellout who makes things worse and is ultimately tricked and trapped anyways and... hey! She's in a giant coffin now and Suletta is unhappier than ever! Oops.

Also like I qrted this on my twt but like its important to remember that Caliban is human too, and will respond to accordingly. They (and this might be where i disagree with @adracat a lil on their otherwise excellent posts) arent just a violent unthinking monster, thats just unfortunately how racism often portrays people of colour. If Suletta shows compassion and humanity towards Calibarn, like how she did to Aerial, and how Eri was able to connect with Lfrith in the prologue when Vanadis had failed, I'm sure she'll be able to bring Calibarn over to her side. And because they can connect so fully via human emotions and love (this is where I do agree with adra that love is the answer and key to open the door) (wooo yeah another love powered robot!! G Gundamming time) I dont think Quiet Zero will be able to stop them, as Suletta will have made the ultimate, unmediated connection between woman and machine, becoming one with it in the way Cardo Nabo had always truly hoped for. To don Gundam and live in space.

Okay sorry for the disorganised post but like one last thing I know I said it'd be nice for Calibarn to show up again in S2 but the other theory I have (which might or might not be true cos lets be real gwitch only rhymes, never copies, and i dont even know where schwarzette fits into all this [goatmom gundam my beloved i miss schwarzletta theory still]) is that the ending of A Tempest has Prospero send the girlies off as usual, but then still choose to stay on the island to fight with Caliban forever, till he can finally fully dominate him, cos racists are shit like that. This continues for a rlly long time cos his magics kinda prevent him from just dying of old age and he lives on, like a vampire sucking life from the island (wow capitalism huh) and its implied he and Caliban are just locked in this long struggle to the death until the day he finally croaks and the colonized can finally be free. Now what other gundam has an eternal struggle with fascism hmm?

idk just thought it might be cool for the gundam sisters to push suletta out of the way (maybe out of quiet zero?) whilst trapping prosperas grudge within it for all time, that would also be dramatic and neat lol. Come to think of it if Prospera does it itd be like ZZ again too lol with Haman pushing Judau away.

[n0ble-ladyofthe-for3st]

Just A Little Team Fictional Scenario:) Moriarty POV (Kind of)

Inktraveling ( as dubbed by Yr after the incident in the living room) could be very imprecise in position. Moriarty thought. Not in latitude and longitude, oh no, those were some of the most dependent things, as long as one has a copy of your story, almost anywhere where accesible. No, what he meant was that whether one was standing or say, falling a couple feet to the ground was entirely dependent on where the book was and if it were open or closed.

Once, Propsero had broken a mantelpiece of a house they had gone into no it wasn't breaking and entering if they were leaving, on their way to gather more materials for world takeover, or whatever it was the the wizard wanted. Another, Moriarty remembered, Prospero had fallen on his head after the owner thought there was a bug in the book that he was coming out of, and had decided that shaking the book upside down was the best idea. The most embarrasing incident, was when they were fetching groceries (no they still couldn't drive, and Uber was out of the question), the two Fictionals had decided that inktraveling would be quicker, and set off after lunch.

Moriarty had felt the usual body-becoming-fluid experience, vision disappearing while all he could hear was pages being turned, smelling the book glue that held him together, and, for some bizarre reason, tasted cinnamon. What wasn't par for the course, was for him to tumble head over heels out of the book, and into a very surprised womans' lap. She had looked at him like he was the answer to her prayers (which, he was never to know, was for a tall British man to appear and be British ), and had said "The Lord did well when he made you". Absolutely embarassed, James got out of her lap and fell onto the floor, finally hearing Propero's loud (and surprisingly undignified) laughter. It took the sorceror 13 unbearable seconds to stop, and cast a little mind wipe spell, before heading out the door.

Yes, the professor thought, it will be sometime before I live that down.

[kalle-and-lita]

The party was in full swing. There was music above the cacophony of laughter, the smell of perfume and food hung heavy in the air. Lita clung to the wall to the best of her ability, feeling out of place and out of sorts the moment she was thrown into this dress.

Granted, it was a very pretty dress. With soft folded fabrics and muted, dark colors. Even the gloves were smooth to the touch, but they did not cover the scars on her shoulders. Or her neck. Or even the ones across her back.

She was exposed for all to see and the very thought made Lita uncomfortable. But this was her debute as the confidant and ear to Primarch Konrad Curze. Hers was an important and coveted position, and she needed to make the best impression possible. Or so said the Primarch of the Emperor's Children. She felt like a bystander as she watched Fulgrim dress her like a doll.

Lita fiddled with the fabric of her dress, and silently prayed that she could just disappear. This was all so much, and much too new for her to take in at once. It felt like only yesterday that her King had come back for her after they had spent so long apart. And now she was supposed to attend parties, in the presence of people and Primarchs she hardly knew?

If she had had time to prepare, or given free reign in her choice of dress, then perhaps she wouldn't feel like a raw nerve. They stared. They always stared. She could see the burning questions in their eyes, the pity. She didn't want their pity. She just wanted to be left alone.

Even her Primarch, whom she almost always clung to, was on the other side of the room. Whisked away to mingle and socialize, despite the clear disdain written all over his face. It was clear enough that he was even making the poor mortal dignitaries nervous. Lita chuckled, even after all these years her King was still the same.

So she put on a smile. After all, she had to do her best for both their sake. And she did her best to ignore their pitying gazes and their silent questions.

"You!" Lita paused mid conversation and turne her gaze up to a Primarch she never met. His skin was the color of a blazing sun, much like the mane of his hair. A single eye gazed down at her with an intense curiosity.

"Yes, you, little one. I've finally found you!"

He was a Primarch, that much was clear, but as to who she couldn't tell. She had only ever met Fulgrim.

"I see that the Remembrancers of the Eighth speak true, to a degree. I must admit that my curiosity was piqued when I heard that my brother had taken a confidant aboard his flagship."

Lita bristled at his words, just what were those Remembrancers saying about her? The Primarch laughed at her obvious distaste,

"Relax, little one, I did not mean to offend. Apologies if my words came across as such. I am Magnus, the Red. Primarch of the Fifteenth Legion, The Thousand Sons."

Lita curtsied politely as he dipped his head, "There is little need for apologies, Lord Magnus, I fear I find myself in an unfamiliar setting and that it has put me on edge."

Magnus nodded sagely, "You come from Nostromo, such sights and sounds must be offputting. Well, worry not. I shall keep you company! Should deter the worst of these nosey dignitaries, hmmm?"

Lita chuckled at his playful wink, but nodded all the same. She followed him as they paced the perimeter of the ballroom, their peaceful exchange quite refreshing. She learned much of Magnus and his Legion, and of his homeworld of Prospero. She couldn't wrap her mind around such a sight, this planet that took pride and stock in learning. It was admirable, and much different than that of Nostromo. Just what could have they achieved if the Barons had been different? If they had concentrated more on their constituents than themselves?

Lita shook her head free of those thoughts, they would do her little good now.

The pair nearly finished their second circuit when one of Magnus' sons approached and bowed.

"My apologies Lord Magnus, we have need of you."

"Of course, if you'll excuse me Lady Lita. It was quite the honor to meet you. I look forward to seeing your work with the Eighth."

Lita nodded, "Of course, my Lord."

She watched him navigate the crowd and disappear through the large doors. Once again alone, she scanned the crowd and found her Primarch still in Fulgrim's clutches. She couldn't help but smile in amusement, he looked absolutely livid. The nobles were shaking in their boots while his brother chattered away obliviously. She thought to join him, if only to distract him enough that the others could escape. Horrified gasps drew her attention elsewhere and she turned to another of her Primarchs approaching brothers.

This one was different. Covered in warpaint and battered battle armor, unlike the glittering gowns of the people around him. He lumbered through the crowd, pushing aside anyone foolish enough to stand in his way. Lita tried to scramble out of his path just like the rest, but tripped on the hem of her dress.

This unknown Primarch shot his gaze down the moment she hit the ground. A murderous look in his eye shot a chill down her spine. Then everything seemed to happen at once. A black mass flew out of her peripheral and slammed the pair of them into the opposite wall and floor. People were screaming as they tried to escape just as Lita was yanked off the floor.

She was taken away, tucked safely beneath the arm of the Phoenician as the sound of god awful fighting rang in her ears. Like two wild animals yowling and screaming. It followed her out the ballroom as they fled while the rest of the Primarchs ran to break up the fight.

A side room was found and she was gently deposited on an empty chair. She struggled to find her breath, her anxiety rose. She was not a fool, Konrad had attacked his brother. As to why, she did not know.

"Are you hurt?" Fulgrim knelt down, his hands hovering over her in hesitation. Lita shook her head, unable to find her words. "Just relax, you're safe here. Do you know what happened?"

"No," Lita swallowed down the lump in her throat, "Lord Magnus had just left my company when one of your other brothers approached."

"Angron." Fulgrim nodded.

"He seemed to be in a bad mood and I just wanted to get out of his way, but I tripped. After that..."

She felt as if she didn't need to explain any further. Fulgrim stood to pace, and the passing minutes seemed to span a lifetime. Lita found herself playing with the hem of her dress, cursing that she'd even been dragged out to begin with.

"Did he seem strange," Lita asked, "Just before the incident?"

The Primarch gazed thoughtfully at the nearby bookshelf for a moment, "I'm unsure. I suppose that it must be easy to gauge his mood for you, after all you've known him the longest. However, I did notice that he became uneasy and still just before he turned and attacked our brother."

One of his visions then. Lita looked down at her lap. She could only guess at to what he had seen, but easily assumed it had much to do with her. She sighed, and cursed all this wretched waiting this time.

After what felt like hours the door finally opened. Another one of Fulgrim's brothers entered, clad in dark clothes and a rebreather.

"Is it over?"

The stranger nodded, "Guilliman and Horus broke up the fight fairly easily once they were done trying to kill each other."

His voice was low, hissing. His tone as nuetral as the bored expression she could see in his eyes.

"How bad?"

"What's left of them certianly isn't pretty." Fulgrim cursed, and Lita clutched at her dress tighter. This unknown brother resolutely ignored her, "They're being taken to the Medicae Ward a few floors down, we've already sent word to their First Captains."

Awkwardly, the silence stretched until Fulgrim's brother saw fit to leave.

"What a mess..." The Phoenician pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as the door shut. He turned to give Lita a pained smile, "Come, let's get you back to the Nightfall."

"No," Lita pushed herself from the oversized chair and hit the ground with a sharp thud. "Take me to him. Please."

He looked like he wanted to argue with her, but Lita stood her ground. She leveled him with the best of her glares, back straight and head held high. He could just as easily pick her up and carry her off, but for whatever reason he relented to her demand.

The Medicae wards were cold, but then again she was still in her dress. The darkened hallways were silent as she was lead through what felt like a maze. Serfs eyed the pair of them, but scurried off all the same when shooed away by her disapproving companion. One door, at the farthest end of this seemingly endless palace, buzzed with activity.

The technicians and doctors parted as the pair of them entered, the room dark save for the flickering of machine lights. A large glass tube stood center in the room, filled with clear liquid with her Primarch suspended inside. Tears slipped down her cheek at the sight and she found herself at his side in mere moments.

He looked beaten and bruised to hell and back. Obvious broken bones and teeth marks across his skin. Her knees felt weak and she collapsed in quiet sobs.

"We heal quickly," Fulgrim whispered, "He'll be well soon enough, he just needs a little extra help is all."

Lita nodded, wiped away her tears and resolutely stayed by his side. Even long after Fulgrim left, and despite the curious and cold gazes of the people around her. She was his confidant, his ear. It would not do well to leave him when she was needed most.

~~

KoFi

[evaxsombra]

Silent Tears

Referencing 

Kadeu, Spade/Club Border

04 March 2021, Just Before Dawn

The silence was deafening and weighted. It pressed against Eva even as she walked along the border that marked Spade from Club. In one hand her cane swept across the ground—Eva half-hoping it might tap against a pair of boots followed by a “Hey there, Princess!” But none came. The other hand held a small basket, still warm with freshly baked goodies she’d made only an hour prior in Prospero’s kitchen. A bottle of mead poked out from beneath the cover. Even the pastries didn’t make the usual sounds of crust and crumble that were so familiar. It was as if the food knew where it was going and who it was for and dared not voice how it would simply spoil or be stolen by a hungry passerby.

The shuffling of guards’ feet reached her ears and Eva knew she was close. She passed them, returned their greeting as she moved along and then through the passage that led to Club. She didn’t go very far. She counted the paces until it was approximately the same distance that Anton would have usually met her within Spades borders. Her cane hit a wall—the side of a house maybe? She settled her back against it and slid down until she was seated. Carefully, she set the cover on the ground, followed by the variety of breads and, finally, two cups filled with mead. She sat the bottle beside her and let out a small breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Then she smiled.

“Hey TonTon. Betcha didn’t expect me to come to ya this time, huh?” Silence. “Well, I figured I could make an exception this time. Seeing how you can’t meet me halfway anymore, I gotta pick up the slack.” Eva reached for one of the breads, held it gently between her hands. “Brought you more of those breads from Yeon Nen. Some alcohol too. Haven’t been able to stop baking since…well, um…since I heard.”

She thought back to the day after Airang. How she’d been exhausted after a wild night of whatever weird spell had come over her. All she’d wanted to do was sleep, but the moment she’d entered Spade, Lilith had been waiting, insisting that Eva come home to the Leon estate with. She’d even grabbed Chupa from her barracks. At first, Eva had been too tired to question it, but the alarm bells had been ringing. Lilith never touched Chupa—she didn’t much like scaly creatures. And she sure as hell never met Eva anywhere but at the Leon home.

And then Lilith had sat her down, made sure she had a good hearty meal. Let Eva rant and rave about the previous night and the early morning shenanigans. But Eva could hear how forced the helper’s laugh was, could smell the worry and sadness coating her skin. So she’d asked, “What’s wrong, Lilith? You seem down. Nothing happened to Prospero, right?”

“The master is alright, Miss Eva.” The pause. The first of many heavy silences. “Miss Eva…you were well acquainted with that Club boy, Anton, yes?” Eva nodded and grinned, knowing how Lilith had never been too fond of the Strongarm. The Shifter was sure she’d warm up with enough time…a lot of time.

“What’s he do this time? If it’s his handwriting I swear he told me he’s been practicing.” A complete lie.

“Miss, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

And suddenly their time went bankrupt.

Eva gripped the bread tighter in her grasp until it caved in on itself, until her fingers met through the still-warm dough. “We both know I can’t cook to save my life. Or yours.” The wind didn’t so much as whisper. “If they had told me you died ‘cause my bread poisoned you, I woulda believed it. This stuff,” she poked at a pastry, “should be labelled an assassin’s weapon. Woulda fit you since, ya know, you were apparently an assassin and all.”

That hadn’t been easy to hear. To listen to Lilith’s voice as she read the Deck. As the Deck aired all of Anton’s dirty laundry for the world as if it was their right. Threw harsh words and unverified rumors knowing full well the man of the hour couldn’t defend himself. Eva had sat frozen, feeling her heart break even as she tried hard so hard to process the fact that her best friend was gone.

“You…you coulda told me, TonTon,” she murmured not unkindly. “I get why you didn’t. Really, I do. I never told ya, but I…I did some bad stuff too. But I think you woulda forgave me for it. I was just too ashamed to say anything. Even now I can’t really talk about it….S’not my place to forgive you, but I just wanna let you know that all that stuff doesn’t change how grateful I am to have had you in my life. It doesn’t change how much I love you, ya big dumb idiot. You were the brother I always wanted. And from now on every time I do somethin’ stupid I’m gonna think about how you’re supposed to be there putting up with it and makin’ sure we don’t go n kill ourselves. We were supposed to have the next three hundred years to bug the crap outta each other and laugh and get Lilith to actually like you. We were supposed to have time.” And someone took that from him.

Something warm and wet ran down her cheeks, dripping off her chin to soak the bread. She couldn’t move. She didn’t so much as gasp or sob. The tears fell silently as if they too feared disturbing this moment. Eva felt the crack that had been forming along her heart since that morning grow until it felt like a physical agony. She bent in half, face nearly touching the dirt as she let the pain finally course through her. Her body shook and her face contorted into something beastly. Her nails dug into skin, but instead of skin armadillo armor barred her from digging into flesh. Even now her animals were protecting her. But Eva didn’t want her own safety. She wanted Anton’s. She wanted him to be okay, to greet her like always, and offer a new adventure, and everything to be alright.

She wanted Anton to be alive.

She meant every word. She would always love TonTon and he’d always be her family. But the anger and grief and confusion—they couldn’t be ignored. She didn’t know how long it would take to accept losing one of her own. She didn’t know if this pain would ever stop. She didn’t know if she could ever think of Anton again without feeling like she falling apart. But she did what she could now.

Eva rode the wave of emotions, let the skid of tears against skin fill the void that silence had made of her too dark world. She cried in the silence she hated so much until she finally had the breath to hum a shaky tune. A final goodbye for a boy who would always mean the world to her. He’d never hear her sing, but the melody filled her with some solace. And as she hummed, Eva could feel the sun’s rays as they touched her skin, bringing a new dawn.

And with the warmth of day came the sound of birds and the rustle of wind and sound returned once more to her even as the wind carried her voice into the sky and disappeared into the world.

Song: Message in the Wind by Carole & Tuesday

[ryttu3k]

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

Not tagging anyone, do if you wish! Was tagged by @badass-at-fandoming​

Doing first paragraphs here, not just lines.

1. we woke up one morning (and fell a little further down) (VtM, Sascha-centric, oh we’re off to a cheerful start already!)

Sascha decides to die in Brașov.

2. we were cold and we were clear (VtM, Sascha/Beckett, Sascha/Ilias)

From: eu.insumi @ schreckNET.nod To: beckett @ schreckNET.nod Subject: Shepherds

Beckett,

Do you believe in coincidences? It seems we have just missed each other in Poland, seeking out the Shepherds! It so happens that I was able to uncover just what happened to them - namely, a certain friend of Boney M's.

3. wear it now like a mantle (always there to remind you) (VtM, Sascha/Beckett)

He finds Vykos on the eastern side balcony of Prospero's villa, propped up against the wall, gazing out at the darkened forest. There's the kind of stirring of wildlife that suggests the sunrise is imminent; if Beckett glances at the sky he can already see the telltale brightening from the approach of dawn.

4. Burn (VtM, Night Road Courier)

The blood is screaming in your veins.

5. Breaking Point (The Sims, Simstagram side story)

He looks so small in the hospital bed.

6. The Ninth Coffee House (Locked Tomb Trilogy, Harrow/Gideon)

She's walked into a mountain.

7. Phone Calls (The Sims, Simstagram side story)

 Britechester 13th July 2018, 11:38 PM

"Hey, babe!"

8. Reunion (The Sims, Simstagram side story)

Caleb isn't really expecting the fancy car.

9. Scenes from San Myshuno Pride 2018 (The Sims, Simstagram side story)

Saturday 30 June, 2018 Myshuno Meadows, San Myshuno

 Excerpt from commencement speech by San Myshuno mayor, Maryam Asayli

"This Pride, now more than ever, we remember and recognise the pioneers that lead to this moment. For those no longer with us, we remember their fight and applaud their courage. We acknowledge the bigotries of the past and the future they gave us. We recognise the struggles and sacrifices, and we grieve those taken from us too soon.

For those here today, we welcome you and thank you for everything you've done, for every hard-fought right. We remember and acknowledge your struggles, and we hope you are able to celebrate today as your day, and our glorious rainbow community's day."

10. Connection (The Sims, Simstagram side story)

Caleb answers the phone so quickly Lilith barely hears the dial tone.

11. Plan (The Sims, Simstagram side story)

A cloudy Thursday night. It's been nine days since Dahlia Vatore had told her children they were going to be older siblings, seven days since Caleb had broken down in Lilith's arms.

12. Return (The Sims, Simstagram side story)

The manor stuck out like a sore thumb.

13. Visitor (The Sims, Simstagram side story)

A Sage stands at the front door.

14. Rush (The Sims, Simstagram side story)

He's staring at his hands, at the way they tremble, dangle limply from his wrists. The black nail polish is chipping; he's been picking at them, trying to unravel his ragged edges.

15. Controlled Descent (Subnautica)

It's raining.

16. Exhale (Subnautica, Ryley/Bart)

Ryley Robinson is not having a very good day.

17. Tipping Point (or, how to panic your way into sapience) (Detroit: Become Human)

Task: enter archives. Task: find Jericho.

18. Memory of Younger Days (Zelda - Breath of the Wild, Zelda/Link/Sidon)

"Open your eyes."

19. Night Cafe (Pokemon, Sycamore/Meyer)

There's a superhero at table three.

20. Become Small Again (Pokemon, Alan-centric)

So they manage to save the world.

-

Observations: lots of short, single sentences as the first paragraph. I feel that works best with my writing style? I want people to immediately take notice. Sometimes that includes directions or dialogue. A lot of the time it includes understatement (lmao the Exhale one). Love epistolary / media formatting - we have an email, a phone transcript, a speech excerpt, and a directive.

Favourite... I like Sascha’s email in Cold/Clear, with the Boney M reference and the meaning behind their email username. And yeah, Exhale, I think, just for how much of an understatement it is.

[snicketstrange]

The change in Lemony's life in TMM

The mental picture made by Daniel Handler about the situation of Lemony Snicket during the time of TMM pubication became very different from the mental picture made by him in TBB, TRR and TWW. While in the opening books Lemony Snicket was portrayed in a relatively safe situation, in TMM there is evidence that Lemony Snicket was no longer so safe. To begin, see the short biography of Lemony found in TMM: LEMONY SNICKET grew up near the sea and currently lives beneath it. To his horror and dismay he has no wife or children, only enemies, associates, and the occasional loyal manservant. His trial has been delayed, so he is free to continue researching and writing the tragic tales of the Baudelaire orphans for HarperCollins. By stating that his trial has been postponed, Daniel Handler shows us that Lemony Snicket was being accused of a crime at some point prior to the publication of TMM. More than that. This sentence makes us think that Lemony was pre-trial detained for this crime, but then there was a legal strategy for him to be released from prison until trial, something like a habeas corpus. Now notice what Lemony wrote in chapter 4 of TMM:   If someone offered to smuggle me out of the country in her sailboat, in exchange for free tickets to an ice show,  that  would  be  a  fair   deal. Apparently when Daniel Handler wrote LSTUA, he took advantage of these excerpts to create a subplot involving Lemony Snicket's arrest, and his subsequent escape abroad. I would like to take the time to defend my theory of the Great Hiatus and relate to this thread. My theory of the Great Hiatus states that between the publication of the book TWW and the publication of the book TMM there was a long period of many years in which Lemony was unable to publish any book because he was abroad, and many believed that he had died. I would like to enrich this concept. First of all, I don't believe Daniel Handler thought about it while he was writing TMM. The idea of ​​the Great Hiatus must have come to Daniel Handler's mind while he was writing the LSTUA. Second, I want to avoid talking about the secret letter in TSS. Regardless of what I believe about that letter, let's talk about what we can actually prove canonically. I can say that at least until the publication of LSTUA in our universe, Daniel Handler certainly had in mind that Lemony published ASOUE's books over several years. So, let us turn our attention to the report in chapter 1 of LSTUA.: Look this excerpts from UA chapter 1. Lemony Snicket, Autor of A Séries of Unfortunate events, the purportedly true chronicles of the Baudelaire children, was reported dead today by anonymous and possibly unreliable sources... Mr. Snicket became a fugitive from justice  and was rarely seen  in public... At least, the Baudelaires' story, and his, appears to be over... A burial maybe scheduled later this year. This excerpt combines with the new situation that Lemony came to live from the publication of TMM in his universe. The gap filled by some sections of LSTUA is the gap that exists between the publication of TWW and the publication of TMM. Let's look at this in more detail. The journalist who wrote this report for the TDP newspaper certainly knew that Lemony Snicket had already published some of ASOUE's books. Now read below an excerpt from Lemony's personal notes regarding this report. "I have arrived early at the harbor and still have a few minutes before the Prospero os scheduled to appear so I thought I might jot down a few notes concerning the news of my death, which was alarming but not true. I'm, as of half -past four this afternoon, still alive, and I was most certainly alive the day I sat at Cafe Kafka with my afternoon tea and read my obituary in the newspaper. The Daily Punctilio has never been a reliable newspaper: not when I worked there as part of an under-cover assignment, not when that terrible reporter to write about the Baudelaire case and not when they advertised a sale on three-piece suits a few days ago, at a store that turned out to sell nothing but Indian rugs... The only thing that turned out to be true about my obituary was the last sentence, and this morning I had the curious experience of attending my own burial. To my astonishment, quite a crowd showed up for the event - mostly people who had believed the EARLIER stories about me IN THE DAILY PUNCTILIO and wanted to be sure that a notorious criminal was indeed dead. That is why I am waiting here at this fogged-in harbor, in order to ... The Prospero has arrived, so I ill stop writing and file these notes with my letter... It make me sad to think that my whole life, from the cradele to the grave, is full of errors, but at least that will not happen to the Baudelaires.” Daniel Handler's mental image for Lemony Snicket at LSTUA was quite evident. He became a fugitive, and went abroad. He was presumed dead. This happened (this time) after he published some of the books. In the letter of "R" to Lemony, found in LSTUA, we find a reference to this presumed death of Lemony after the publication of some of the books, and his departure abroad. But in addition, we found a reference to a letter to the editor regarding the TMM manuscript. Again I want to make it clear that I don't believe Daniel Handler thought about it all while he was writing TMM or that letter to the editor. I want to say that when Daniel Handler wrote LSTUA, he wanted to take advantage of these specific passages to create a parallel story, which happened a few years later to the main events recorded in ASOUE (If Daniel Handler later regretted it while he was writing TSS, it's another question, which I don't want to discuss here). The letter to the editor says: “To My Kind Editor, I am writing to you from the Paltryville Town Hall, where I have convinced myself the most to allow me to enter the eye-shaped office of Dr. Orwell in order to further investigate what happened to the Baudelaire orphans while they were living in the area. Next Friday, a black jeep will be in the northwest corner of the parking lot of the Orion Observatory. Break into it. In the glove compartment, you should find my description of this frightening chapter in the Baudelaires' lives, entitled THE MISERABLE MILL, as well as some information on hypnosis, a surgical mask, and sixty-eight sticks of gum. I have also included the blueprint of the pincher machine, which I believe Mr. Helquist will find useful for his illustrations. Remember, you are my last hope that the Baudelaire orphans can finally be told the general public. With all due respect, Lemony Snicket " Now watch out for some excerpts from the "R" letter. “You took a terrible chance in contacting me, but I am glad you did. I am so sorry that I was unable to prevent, or least delay, your CAPTURE at my masked ball that evening, and I have been worried sick ALL THESE YEARS THAT YOU WERE DEAD, despite rumors of your activities spreading through the network of loyal members. There are not many of us left, Mr. Snicket, but we are ready to help you in any way we can. R's letter was written after Lemony's presumed death, who spent many years presumably dead. "My Dear Mr. Snicket, Thank you, you are alive and relatively well! The night, when I arrived at the Orion Observatory to give my annual lecture to the Metrological Society, I saw someone breaking into a navy blue Jeep parked in the southwest corner of the parking lot, and my heart leaped: perhaps there was a chance you were still alive. I did not expect to find out until the man handed me his letter. " Lemony wrote: The Jeep outside the Orion Observatory was of course not navy blue but black, and parked in the northwest corner, not the southwest." R also wrote: "I can not, however, help you answer the question YOU WROTE ME ON THAT GUM WRAPPER... BEATRICE, OF COURSE, IS FAR PAST COMPLAINING ABOUT LOST POSSESSIONS – THE VERY REASON, I AM CERTAIN, THAT YOU HAVE DEDICATED YOUR LIFE RESEARCHING THE LIVES OF THOSE THREE POOR CHILDREN.” It is true that canonically there were several balls at the Duchess of Winnipeg's mansion. However, it is evident that Daniel Handler had a very clear mental picture when he wrote this letter in LSTUA: R saw the arrival of the TMM manuscript as indicated in the letter to the editor concerning TMM. Daniel Handler took advantage of the fact that he had written in that letter to the editor that there would be gum wrappers accompanying the manuscript, and included in LSTUA a letter from Lemony to R in one of those gum wrappers. What concusion we reached: When writing TMM, Daniel Handler decided to give Lemony a slightly more dangerous life. This danger to which Lemony was passing during the time of publication of ASOUE in the universe of Lemony, was increasing subtly with each book from TMM. When Daniel Handler decided to write LSTUA, Daniel Handler created a subplot in which Lemony Snicket between the publication of TWW and TMM, was captured, then arrested, and then fled abroad. Then he came back from abroad. This subplot created for LSTUA, expanded the information we had in ASOUE about Lemony's dangerous life. In LSTUA, Daniel Handler made explicit a situation in which Lemony Snicket was captured and arrested. Daniel Handler did this to match Lemony Snicket's claim that he could continue his research because his trial was postponed. And by mentioning in LSTUA that Lemony did indeed flee abroad, Daniel Handler combined this with Lemony's statement in TMM about fair trade.

[sureuncertainty]

A Dark And Stormy Night: Ch 4

Overview: A modern day retelling of Shakespeare’s The Tempest, reimagined as a ghost story in an old mansion in the middle of nowhere.

Words: 2200

Warnings: nothing really comes to mind 

Author’s Note: The part where more gay shit happens. Previous chapters: one, two  three Ao3 link

To be honest, Antonio and Sebastian were not worried enough about the fact that the large front doors to the mansion were completely unlocked. After knocking a few times, they tried the doors and to their surprise, they swung right open.

“Hello? Anybody there?” Their voices echoed in the rather large entryway as the three men stomped their boots and shivered in the relative warmth and dryness of the house. Staring around, they saw that it was clearly very old, but seemingly well enough maintained.

“Someone has to be living here,” Alonso said, his voice trailing off as he examined the entryway. “Otherwise, why would it be so clean? But why was the door unlocked?”

Antonio and Sebastian glanced sideways at each other, shrugging.

“Why are you not concerned about this?”

“Sir, maybe we should focus on finding a phone or something,” Sebastian said slowly. “Or we try and find the owner of this house.”

“It’s very quiet,” Antonio muttered, glancing around uneasily. “I’m not sure how much I like this, guys.” He subtly slipped his hand into Sebastian’s, but Alonso didn’t even notice. He was too busy examining every inch of the place. The ceiling was tall, there was a tall coat rack next to the door, and it led off into a large hallway with blue patterned carpeting.

“Do you think Fernanda’s going to be okay?” Alonso said nervously as they made their way into the hallway, not bothering to take off their sopping wet shoes. “I’m beginning to wonder if letting her wait in the car was not the best idea…”

“She’s in the car,” Antonio said. “She’ll be fine. It’s not like the car is any more likely to be struck by lightning than this rickety old house.”

“Why did I even bring her…” Alonso lamented. “I wanted to give her poor mother a break… the child is the definition of a handful….  But I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to bring her along on a business trip. And now she could get hurt, and it’s all my fault. I really am a pretty terrible excuse for a father, aren’t I?”

Sebastian sighed. “No, you’re not. You’re doing what you think is best. Also she has Stephanie waiting in the car as well.”

“Passed out drunk in the car you mean,” Antonio put in.

They had passed the hallway now and entered into a large dining room. Several tall portraits hung on every wall, and the almost comically large table was spread before them, empty except for placemats. A large chandelier hung above the table, and it was very dark, and just slightly foreboding. Alonso felt a strange chill go through his body, and he shivered ostensibly.

“Are you… okay, sir?” Sebastian asked, glancing sideways at him.

Alonso straightened. “I’m fine.”

“This place is pretty impressive if you think about it,” Antonio mentioned. “I wonder if there’s a way to turn on the lights.”

“Maybe whoever lives here just isn’t home,” Sebastian suggested. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some visitors.”

“Or perhaps he’s waiting to catch us…” Alonso said. “Waiting to jump out and accuse us of intruding, and call the cops on us! Also the longer we dawdle here without fixing the van, the longer we are away from Chicago.

“The storm is still strong,” Antonio pointed out. “We’d never make it to Chicago regardless. If we’d stopped at the rest stop like I suggested…”

“Or not taken your stupid, clearly faulty shortcut…” Sebastian continued.

“Enough!” Alonso said. “I feel terrible enough as it is without you two making me feel even more awful. I know, it’s my fault we’re stuck here and it’s my fault that Fernanda came as well. I don’t need you to remind me, all right?”

To his mild surprise, Sebastian and Antonio shut up.

“Here, look there’s another room off to the left,” Alonso said, motioning for the others to follow him into the side hallway, and into a larger sitting room of sorts. This room was actually lit, with an old fashioned lantern sitting on the table, and a few candles on shelves nearby. Several large couches sat nearby, and the carpet was lush. It seemed like the pinnacle of luxury.

“This is insane…” Alonso muttered.

“Hello?” Sebastian called out. “Is anyone here? Anyone at all who can help us?”

Invisible, Ariel observed their conversation with only the smallest hint of amusement, one eyebrow raised skeptically. Still not sure why Prospero couldn’t seem to bear to confront the men himself, of course, it was up to Ariel to do everything. He sighed without breath, closed his eyes, and reluctantly made his way towards the three men, waving an invisible hand above Alonso’s head.

Alonso suddenly yawned widely.

“I’m suddenly… quite sleepy…” he murmured, finding his way to one of the couches and sinking down into its plush pillows. “It’s been… quite a long night. Perhaps I should just rest here for a while, and then when I awaken, we can…we can figure out what to do… find the owner of this house and borrow a telephone or something…”

He closed his eyes, and within seconds, had passed out and was so fast asleep that he was already snoring profusely.

Sebastian and Antonio stared at their fast asleep boss.  

“That’s… weird,” Sebastian said quietly.

“I can never fall asleep that quickly…” Antonio said, with a hint of jealousy. “But how can the man sleep at a time like this? We have to figure out something! Find someone! There’s gotta be someone in this house, the door wasn’t just randomly unlocked.”

“Unless…” Sebastian said, staring at the candle and the lamplight, which cast eerie shadows on the wall. “I don’t know, Tony, I’m getting a very very weird feeling about all of this. It’s very unsettling, you know? It almost feels like…” He trailed off.  

“What?! What does it almost feel like? Sebastian, get a grip on yourself!” Antonio grabbed his boyfriend’s arms. “This isn’t some… some weird ghost story, okay? Everything’s fine! Everything’s normal!” He forced a laugh but it seemed like he was trying to convince himself.

“Hey. Calm down.”

“I am calm! You’re the one who’s freaking out about… unsettling houses or whatever. This house might be unsettling but it’s also pretty damn expensive. There’s literally no way someone would just leave a giant mansion like this in the middle of nowhere to be abandoned. And someone must have lit the candles and the lamp! There’s literally no way we are the only ones in this house, okay?”

“Yeah, but you gotta admit, it seems like the beginning of a horror story or something…” Sebastian said. “How abandoned the place seems… how Alonso just fell asleep like that… You gotta admit this is mildly terrifying.”

He was acting braver than he actually was, Antonio could tell. He put his arm around Sebastian and squeezed him tightly.

“We’re okay, all right? We are totally okay. Alonso’s just tired. It is the middle of the night, and he had been driving for a long time. I really don’t blame him. There are no such things as ghosts, Sebastian, and I can’t believe I’m explaining this to you…”

“Hey, you’re scared too,” Sebastian accused.

Antonio glanced around the lavishly furnished sitting room. “This place is seriously impressive,” he said. “It’s huge. If someone’s here, maybe they’re just like… upstairs or something. We haven’t even found a staircase yet. This place is positively massive.”  

“Probably not as big as Alonso’s house,” Sebastian said, glancing sideways at the man, sprawled out on the couch, his mouth agape. “He’s crazy rich, you know. C.E.O. is a pretty lucrative position.”

“Oh, and you’re one to talk, Mr. Second in Command,” Antonio said. “Alonso’s been great to you, he treats you amazingly.”

“Keeps everything for himself more like,” Sebastian said. “I’ve worked for him for nearly six years now and what do I have to show for it? It took me forever to even get this far! And just because I’m his assistant doesn’t mean I enjoy any of the benefits he does. I’ve worked hard for this company, if anything, I’m the one who should be the C.E.O., not him.”

“Why are we even talking about him?” Antonio said, with a trace of bitterness. “What did he ever do for us, huh? Him and his stupid no office romance policy. Constantly having to hide… act like we’re nothing more than coworkers.”

Sebastian glanced sideways towards his boyfriend. “Well… he’s not awake now, is he? And no one does seem to be around…”

“God, Sebastian, is now really the time?” Antonio said, glancing around nervously. “What if he wakes up?”

Sebastian took a step closer towards the slightly shorter Antonio, placing his hand on his shoulder and tracing it down his arm slowly. “Come on, I need a distraction… Besides I haven’t been able to kiss you this entire trip, do you know what kind of torture that is?”

Antonio really didn’t need as much convincing as he let on, and so he didn’t protest when Sebastian leaned down and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

They pulled apart, and Antonio stared at him for a few seconds, before giving in. It was as if a dam had broken within him, and all of the feelings he’d been suppressing and pushing back for so long flowed forth… It was as if all of the stresses and fears of this mysterious mansion, the strangeness of it all, and the stress of the business trip melted away as he leaned forward and kissed Sebastian again. It had been far too long since the two of them had been able to be in any way affectionate towards each other, lest Alonso discover their hidden romance. God, Antonio had missed it.

They began to kiss harder and more passionately, as Sebastian pushed Antonio onto a second couch, straddling him, and bending down to lightly kiss his jawbone. Antonio moaned softly, trying to remain as quiet as possible, so as not to accidently awaken Alonso. Then Sebastian leaned in, very close to Antonio’s ear.  

“Let’s just ditch Alonso,” he whispered.

Antonio’s eyes flew open, and he sat up slightly, much of the passion he’d been feeling died away at the mention of Alonso’s name. “Wh-what?”

“Ditch him. Leave him here. It doesn’t matter. We go back to the car, wait till the storm dies down and then we can get outta here. Say he, I dunno, died in the car crash or something.”

“What are you…?”

“I can be the new C.E.O. and we’ll be rich and finally be able to stop hiding our relationship.”

Antonio considered this. It didn’t sound half bad.

“I suppose… that’s not a terrible plan… but what about Fernanda? She’s sixteen years old. Is she really ready to lose a father?”

“Does it really seem like Fernanda loves her father very much?” Sebastian said. “I mean look at how she talks to him.”

“Yeah, but all teenagers are like that,” Antonio said. “Deep down I’m sure she cares about him, how could she not?”

“She’ll manage, I’m sure. If she even managed to wait in the car like we told her to. Knowing her she’s probably come barging into the house already.”

Antonio wanted to do what Sebastian was suggesting. He, too, was quite tired of Alonso breathing down their necks all the time, living in fear of him finding out about their forbidden relationship.

“No office romance is such a stupid policy anyway…” Antonio said. “I mean, what kind of policy is that? If people are working together, of course they’re gonna hit it off!”

“Exactly! He’s leaving us no choice with his ridiculous work policies. I’d be a far better C.E.O. regardless, you know I would, you know me!”

“That’s true… also it was Alonso’s fault we even ended up in this mess in the first place. If he hadn’t taken the shortcut or stopped at that rest stop, we’d still be on our way to Chicago and none of this would have ever happened! It’s his fault, so he’s the one who should have to pay the penalty.”

“Seriously! What a total jerk! That’s what we can just tell people. We tried to warn him, you know, we couldn’t help it. Come on, let’s go!”

“All right. All right.” Antonio got up, slipping his hand into Sebastian’s, squeezing it tightly. “Let’s go before he wakes up.”

Ariel, who had been watching, invisible from behind the couch on which Alonso lay with very little amusement on his face (but relieved they weren’t making out anymore), sighed again, leaning forward to whisper something in Alonso’s ear.

Alonso sat up groggily.

“Hm? What? What’s going on?”

Antonio and Sebastian froze.

“We were just, uh, going to check and see if someone was home!” Antonio said quickly.

Sebastian nodded, noticing Alonso glance at their hands, their fingers locked together. Seb quickly pulled his hand apart from his boyfriend’s. “Uhhh, Antonio was scared.”

“Well, that’s quite enough dallying, I’m coming with you, I’m feeling much more refreshed now,” Alonso said, yawning and stretching before standing up.

“You were asleep for maybe ten minutes…” Antonio muttered, too quietly for Alonso to hear him.

“Come on,” Alonso said. “There’s gotta be someone here we can find. I refuse to believe that nobody lives here. Let’s go.”

Antonio and Sebastian glanced at each other helplessly, before following Alonso out of the room.

[dingotheanimal-blog]

Patch Notes Day one

DAY ONE PATCH NOTES

What’s changing between Early Access and World Wide Launch

For those of you who have been playing the Early Access version of the game, we wanted to let you know that a Day 1 Patch is on its way. The patch will deployed before worldwide launch.  On February 22, 2019, the game will include the following updates and our Live Service officially begins.

High level fixes

Decreased loading times for older disk drives

Fixed many infinite loading screens

Fixed multiple challenges not tracking properly

A number of issues have been fixed that were causing players to disconnect or crash

Weapons and gear now have numbers present for modifiers

General Fixes and Improvements

Loot Reveal and Expedition Summary now correctly play during the end of expedition screen.

The gather party mechanic has been made more lenient in a number of situations

At the end of expedition screen players will no longer get stuck on “Recording Victories” or “Skipping All”.

Game no longer hangs in Javelin menu when unlocking the second, third or fourth javelin

During the mission “What Freelancers Do” dying after killing Junkmaw & freeing Arcanists leaves you unable to progress, this has been fixed

Challenges now unlock for players at the correct levels

Fixed some camera issues during cutscenes

Legendary Contracts can now be accepted from the Social Hub contract board

Some enemies have had their shield values decreased

Loot now properly drops for players who are downed

The texture quality on the NPC Prospero has been improved

Final boss of strongholds now drop loot instead of only being shown on the end of expedition screen

Fixed the time outs on echoes and relics to prevent griefing and to handle disconnections properly

Players can no longer fall through the floor during the 3rd trial in the Fortress of Dawn

Completing the tutorial expedition will now show the correct Ranger appearance

After disconnecting, rejoining an expedition will now place you back into a squad if you were in one previously

Corrected an issue where players could not interact with each other in the launch bay in certain circumstances

Corrected an issue during the Mission “Bad Deal” where outlaws won’t spawn, blocking progress

The start of expedition screen has been improved

Addressed a variety of situations where killing enemies does not properly progress world events

Opening a chest now increments Tomb of the Legionnaire progress for all squad members present

Scar snipers can no longer shoot through Storm Shield

Corrected an issue where players would get stuck on the end of expedition screen in some situations

Players will no longer get disconnected if joining the “Finding Old Friends” mission while the cinematic is playing

Addressed a number of situations where players can get stuck on the environment in the launch bay

Increased the damage of the electric status effect

Corrected an issue where the Shield of Dawn could be crafted with less materials then intended in some situations

The Platinum Mission feat now grants completion as intended

Status effects can more reliably be applied to Titans

Fixed loading animations on Marksmen Rifles

Players can now access the Vault from the Forge

Swimming into jellyfish underwater no longer leaves a visual effect stuck on players.

Idle animations will no longer sync up over time in the Launch Bay

Haluk is no longer dual-wielding canes in the epilogue scene

Corrected an issue where players could not interact with each other in the launch bay in certain circumstances

Fixed an issue that could cause players in the launch bay to have identical emotes and be unable to use them

Interceptor melee ability animations will no longer stretch out in certain situations

Corrected an issue where the default Ranger appearance doesn’t preview in the forge in some situations

All animations now play as intended in the Forge

Players can now enter the Tomb of Gwanes while in a party

The default Javelin wear state has been changed from “Dirty” to “Old”

Sentinel Loyalty 2 text no longer incorrectly states that it will lead to a larger vault

Picking up ammo from the ground now properly gives you 30% of that ammo back into both the current magazine and the maximum spare ammo

Fixed a bug where some global (Javelin Icon) inscription bonuses were not being properly applied to the Javelin and other gear/weapons.

Fixed some issues that could cause the Armor Pip count on the UI to break and not display properly

Strongholds

Fixed an issue that would cause a Stronghold server crash after defeating the last boss

Temple of Scar – Players can no longer get stuck in the mined tunnel in the explosives room

Temple of Scar – Players can no longer be blocked from entering the explosives room due to fog wall

Fixed Tyrant Mine so people that join the stronghold in-progress do not end up locked away from their team

Adjusted lighting in Tyrant Mine underwater section to make it easier to navigate to the exit

The Swarm Tyrant will no longer get stuck in the side cave entrances in some situations

Corrected an issue where players would spawn into different areas of the Tyrant Mine in certain situations

Implemented more safeguards to stop players from going AFK in Strongholds

Challenges

Only Masterwork items can now be used to progress Masterwork challenges as intended

Corrected an issue where some Challenges track progress simultaneously instead of incrementally, as intended. (ex: Blast Missile I and then Blast Missile II instead of both incrementing at the same time

Gear and Weapons

After having 1st pilot unlock suit after tutorials, creating a new pilot and going to forge no longer causes load screen hang

Ice damage bonuses are now correctly applied on ice gear

Suit-wide bonuses from inscription are now functioning properly

Players can no longer salvage equipped items

Javelin specific gear and/or weapons are no longer able to be used on javelins they aren’t intended for

Corrected an issue where in some circumstances Masterwork Components do not have any inscriptions

The Endless Siege Masterwork Autocannon no longer displays a damage increase of 0% in its tooltip

Suit-wide specific weapon ammo bonuses coming from infusions are now correctly applied

A Network Error Message no longer appears when opening an item chest in the second tutorial

Colossus shoulder gear will now share the appearance of the rest of the javelin as intended

Deadeye has increased spare ammo 10 -> 20

Cloudburst has had increased damage 16.3 -> 21

Torrent has had increased damage 22.2 -> 28.6

Lightning Strike’s pre-visualization will now accurately depict that the explosion snaps to the ground.

(Ranger) Inferno Grenade base damage 130 -> 175

(Interceptor) Cryo Glaive base damage 20 -> 50

(Storm) Living Flame base damage 50 -> 60

(Storm) Glacial Beam base damage 150 -> 120

(Storm) Arc Burst secondary damage 100 -> 150

(Ranger) Pulse Blast base damage 225 -> 300, and now deals extra damage to Shields (previously did extra damage to Armored).

(Ranger) Blast Missile now properly scales up in damage as the item level increases

(Interceptor) Melee attacks now have some minor resistance penetration

Large Area of Effect abilities will better register multi-kill activities for challenges and medals

Spark Dash functionality has been significantly improved when the target enemy is at a different height (above/below) the Interceptor.

Several gear pieces that had missing primer or detonator icons have been fixed.

Several improvements have been made to ensure gear use on PC prioritizes turning the Javelin towards the reticle when used rather than casting in front of the Javelin’s current direction.

Interceptor

Colossus

Tempest Strike – Detonator Icon

Spark Dash – Detonator Icon

Venom Spray – Primer Icon

Detonating Strike – Primer Icon

Lightning Coil – Detonator Icon

Shock Coil – Primer Icon

Flamethrower – Primer Icon

Javelins

The Colossus javelin is now able to activate its shield more quickly after using an ability or firing a weapon

The Storm javelin now reacts to getting hit when its shields are up

Fixed an exploit that allowed the Storm’s ultimate attack to be used more times than intended

The Colossus exo can now shield and revive at the same time

Interceptor Combo Aura has been increased in power and now has a damage over time component

Ranger melee now has a cooldown when striking in the air

The Target Beacon ability now correctly seeks targets

Spark Dash and Venom Spray now target based on player cursor instead of character facing. This should also improve the travel path of Spark Dash.

The Colossus will no longer be knocked out of the sky in some situations when the attack was blocked by their shield

Combos + Status Effects

Combo indicator icons above creatures now are correctly removed when detonated.

When a Storm detonates an electric status effect the chained electric effect now correctly deals damage.

Combo damage now penetrates resistances

Crafting

Non-Masterwork materials purchased from the crafting store now show as their proper rarity instead of incorrectly showing as Masterwork

A number of javelin components that had different icons for their recipes and the actual items are now the same

The Battle Cry gear recipe now has the correct description

Fixed Spark Beam gear having the wrong description when being crafted

Crafting recipes are now sorted alphabetically

The items in the crafting store are now sorted by type to be clearer

Controls

Additional Mouse and Keyboard control improvements have been made

UI

Some conversations were not popping up the reputation points post conversation completion, this has been fixed

The squad screen now displays the correct information for each player

Fixed a number of issues where subtitles will no longer get stuck on the screen after dialogue has finished as often

Settings should no longer reset upon exiting and restarting the game on Xbox One

Motion blur can now correctly be turned off

The Electric Status Effect now shows scaled damage properly

An option has been added to hide the Squad Member HUD

The edge of the compass will now pulse to indicate enemy locations

A notification has been added in Fort Tarsis if a player’s vault is at the cap of 250 items

On the “Repair the Strider” step of “A Cry for Help” the search radar has been adjusted to correctly lead the player to all 4 tools

Primer and Detonator icons have been added to all Interceptor gear

Corrected a user interface issue where a player’s ultimate would show as available when it isn’t

Toggling the HDR option now properly prompts the Apply Changes button

Player banners should now display correctly

Camera shake slider has been added to settings menu

Players may now track 10 challenges instead of 5

An option to adjust screen boundaries on consoles has been added

Changing a player banner through the banner menu now properly saves the selection

Health, cooldowns, and key bindings now light up on supported keyboards

Players will now receive more clear messaging when a squad is disbanded or are kicked from a squad

Squad leaders will no longer always show as ready

The icon for players in a downed state will no longer appear in cutscenes

Cypher Annotations will now appear for more than one player if they are looking at it simultaneously

Removed mentions of respawning on the player UI when they die in a restricted respawn area

The Player Banner now updates immediately when updated from the squad screen

Fixed a number of situations where a combo will trigger but no combo floating text appears

Pressing esc to pass a notification screen no longer opens up the in-game menu

Quick chat messages will no longer appear from an ignored player

Removed a message from the mailbox which incorrectly stated that messages will be removed after 3 days

A number of inscription icons have been updated to properly reflect whether they are Javelin specific or not

Corrected an issue where players could not change loadout names on PC

Players no longer need to exit and re-enter the forge for loadout names to update

The on-screen VOIP indicator which shows a player speaking will no longer be active if that player is muted

[myssthyss]

Partners

You’re welcome.🍾🍾 Feat @amara-the-average-hunter​ ❤️💜

This was the absolute last place she wanted to be.

She wanted to go home, to see the sun, to smell the flowers, but she was stuck here, in the Arcology, covered in Hive goo and smelling like a rotting corpse. She didn’t even like coming to Titan thanks to the dense Hive population, yet here she was, assigned to this cleanup mission.

They’d insisted it was a two-Guardian job. Get in, stop the ritual, get out. Simple. Myss had been tapped for the mission, thanks to her accidental extensive knowledge on this particular Hive activity. She’d assured them that she’d be fine in the Arcology, which she would, but that didn’t mean she wanted the job.

This time, though, she’d asked Amara to come along with her as opposed to her fireteam. It was selfish of her to ask, but she needed the new support she’d found in Amara’s companionship. She was certain she wouldn’t have a repeat of last time, but she didn’t want to put her team through that again. 

And so, here they were, opening the doors sealed with Hive locks, ready to tackle what was behind them. Myss takes a deep, slow breath, readying her grenade for when the door opened.

“You gonna be okay?” Amara asks, gently placing her hand on Myss’ armored forearm.

Myss nods. “I’ll be fine. Watch this.”

The door creaks open, and a wave of Thralls charge at the pair. Amara instinctively jumps back, but Myss doesn’t flinch. She chucks her grenade at the crusty creatures, which all explode into various flecks of Void energy. Silently, she walks forward, heaving her rocket launcher onto her shoulder as the second door opens. Four Acolytes meet her rocket, she dodges, reloads, and fires again at the Ogre at the back of the room.

“Stay back.” Myss cautions as she reloads her rockets, firing on the Ogre again.

Amara does, and fires on the Knights instead, taking down the both of them as Myss finishes off the Ogre. The smaller Hunter isn’t sure whether she should be amazed at how well Myss knew the mission, or concerned with how focused and silent her partner was being.

“You’re not doing this alone, Myss.” Amara says as she reloads. “I’ve got your back. Don’t try to act heroic.”

“But…” Myss interjects, but she’s stopped as Amara’s hand rises to rest on the side of her smooth helm.

“We’re looking after each other.” She says firmly. “Partners, remember?”

Myss nods, leaning against Amara’s hand. “Partners.”

The radio still cuts out in the same place, and the pair inhale to calm their nerves. The mission continues the same as it did the first time, with the pointed absence of Guardians calling for help. They’re obviously too late to save any who had wandered down here. Besides that, there’s still the same old, crusty Hive trying to summon their Gods, and the Hunters that were determined to stop them.

Halfway through, Amara begins to take the lead, her own urge to protect Myss taking over. They’ve worked out a synergy of Myss hanging back to tether enemies, followed by Amara using the orbs she produced to fuel her Staff and wreak havoc, and then Myss would tether again. They ploughed through the belly of the Arcology, each protecting the other, until it was time to fall into the abyss where Myss knew what awaited them.

As they work towards the cavern, Myss slows to take Amara’s hand, which the smaller Hunter grasps tightly. Each of them are able to deal with the onslaught of Cursed Thralls while their hands are intertwined, and they pause before the door to the cavern.

“This is it.” Myss warns, tightening her grip even more, turning towards Amara. “I’m sure it is.”

Amara takes her other hand, holding as tight as Myss did. “We’ll be okay.”

Slowly, Myss leans forward until their helms met with a soft, metallic clang. They inhale in unison, and enter the chamber.

“Wake up!” Myss growls as she breaks the crystal, alerting the sleeping Shrieker. “I’m back, you fucker!” She shouts, almost as a battle cry. “Time to die!”

Amara chuckles, amused by her partner’s violent vigor as they begin to lay into the Shrieker’s eye. Rocket after rocket meet the Hive weapon, and Thrall after Thrall come to stop them.

They do not waver.

Myss tethers the next wave, and Amara pops her staff. Synergy in motion as they fight the onslaught of Hive. The Shrieker moves, and they repeat the process.

It’s only when the Wizards, the Handmaidens, appear that things start to get dicey. Amara takes the charge to release the Shrieker’s shield, but is beaten both by the Wizards’ attacks and the Shrieker’s blasts. She yells in pain as she makes her way back to solid ground, and is nearly knocked down while she searched for cover. Her breathing is ragged, and Myss’ heart is racing as she runs to her side.

Not again. She wouldn’t let it happen again.

The Shrieker’s on its last leg. It’s time.

“Casper.” Myss growls as she crouches in front of Amara. “The bird.”

[Done]

Her snarl is visible only for a split second as her usual helmet is traded out for her Celestial Nighthawk, its eyes flashing brightly as her overflowing Light fills the Exotic.

With a determined yell, Myss reaches for the sky and produces a flaming hand cannon, taking aim directly at the Shrieker’s cracked eye. “Stay down!” She growls, and pulls the trigger.

The Shrieker explodes into millions of flaming shards, not even the husk of its eye remaining.

The pair let out a breath as they hear the comms reconnect, Amara leans against Myss’ side as Iris heals her, and their helmets melt away as the toxic air is cleared. Myss’ exhale has much more of an ecstatic whine to it as she teeters in place, the stress of having to deal directly with the Hive melting away as the eye shattered.

She needs to expel the euphoric energy trapped inside her.

So she grabs Amara’s face and pulls it to her own.

The kiss is hard, desperate at first, Myss’ lips moving against Amara’s roughly as she bled all of the joy she felt into her partner. While Amara, initially caught off guard, begins moving against Myss’ lips almost instantaneously.

Finally... She thought. Finally!

Her arms reach up to hook around Myss’ neck, pulling their bodies closer as the kiss dragged on, the euphoria intoxicating them both. In the midst of the kiss, Amara feels a slight twinge of pain against her upper lip, and lets out a small moan in response.

This only spurs Myss’ motions on, adding fuel to her fire, but only until she tasted blood.

“Mm?” Myss groans, separating to breathe, eyes half lidded. “Did I…” She pants. “Did I nick you?” Another breath. “My teeth, I’m sorry…”

“Shut up and keep kissing me, you idiot!” Amara orders, pulling them together again.

Myss does as she’s told.

With this second kiss, while it starts rough, their movements become slower, gentler, both taking their time to enjoy the long-awaited and anticipated contact.

They’re not sure how long they’re together like that, but at some point, the Commander’s cough breaks through their intimate haze.

“Fireteam Prospero.” He says, frustration in his voice. “Prospero, are you there? Come in, Prospero.”

Myss is the one to respond, trying her best to not make her shortness of breath audible. “Prospero… here.” She says, never loosening her grip on Amara. “Mission successful. The nest is clear.”

“Good.” Zavala says. “We were worried we lost you. You went dark for a long time.”

“Yeah the, uh…” Myss sighs. “The Hive did... something to block our comm signal.” She winks at Amara. “We just got it back.”

“Indeed.” Zavala clears his throat. “Well, come home, Guardians. Good job.”

“Will do, Commander.” Myss says. “Prospero out.”

The comms disconnect, and the intertwined pair are left alone in silence.

After a moment of staring at each other, Amara is the first to speak.

“I had to wait this long to find out you had the softest lips in the world?” She says, arching a brow. “Talk about worth it.”

“Amara.” Myss whines, placing her hands against her suddenly bright cheeks. “But I bit you!”

“And…” Amara approaches, grabs her face, and whispers “I want you to do it again.” as she pulls their lips together once more.

Myss is more than happy to oblige.

[phantomled-blog]

002.

Now it has often been discussed that Beneath the Mask is from the protagonist’s point of view. And I wholly support that. Considering it plays when Akira is alone at night ( and a few other times; I’ve just only noticed it at night ) , it has to be. In this headcanon post, I will be going line by line, or verse by verse to determine the meaning behind the lyrics, what it means for Akira, and how it ties into his character. Personally, I think it confirms quite a few things for how I portray him.

Where have you been? Been searching all along Came facing twilight on and on Without a clue Without a sign Without grasping yet The real question to be asked Where have I been?

Forced into this way of life, Akira temporarily lost a sense of self. He was in a new place, and the idea he had of the world---that heroes never fail---had been turned on its head. He lost who he truly was, not that he ever knew what that was in the first place until Arsene awakened within him. It felt to him as if he were wandering through the darkness without a way to know where he was. He thought he was searching for someone when he should’ve realized that he should’ve been trying to figure out where he was. He shouldn’t have been suppressing part of himself, he should’ve been allowing it to flourish just as it does in Kamoshida’s Palace when he becomes Joker.

I'm a shapeshifter At Poe's masquerade Hiding both face and mind All free for you to draw

Akira Kurusu has never shown who he was. He has always reflected whatever others need him to be. He is a shapeshifter in every sense of the word. He started off as shy, innocent, and kind, before becoming the rebellious boy who wanted to get his parents’ attention, and lastly he became a leader for the Phantom Thieves. With his wildcard ability, metaphorically, he changes Personas often. He is always what he needs to be in any given situation.

Now on the topic of “Poe’s masquerade”---this line likely refers to The Masque of the Red Death by Edgar Allen Poe. To summarize the story quickly, a disease known as the Red Death sweeps through the land. Prince Prospero ( like prosperous, referring to life---ironic ) attempts to avoid this plague by hiding within his abbey. He later holds a masquerade within its seven rooms ( each being a different color: blue, purple, green, orange, white, violet, and lastly a black room illuminated with scarlet light making it seem as if the walls are dripping with blood ) and invites nobles from throughout the land. 

In addition to them, a mysterious figure clothed in a funeral shroud enters the abbey and goes from room to room. It, for it is not truly a person, eventually reaches Prince Prospero whom it’s challenged by. One look at the creature causes him to die from the Red Death. When the other nobles rip off its clothes, they find nothing there. They soon realize that it was the disease personified and that they cannot escape it---they even die from it just like Poe described ( sharp pains, dizziness, sweating blood ) within half an hour.

He hides his face and mind just as this Red Death did. He wears a mask and navigates palaces, demolishing Shadows in his wake. When he reaches the end of them, he “meets with the prince” who challenges him. He defeats them in the refuge they created with their desires. But another thing that can be said is this: beneath his “funeral shroud” he must believe there to be nothing, or at least emptiness---which I will get back to later when we reach another few lines in the song.

The short story ends with this phrase: And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all. Meaning---you can’t run from death or the end. Considering the context of Persona 5, no one can escape the Phantom Thieves.

The final line of that group can easily be misinterpreted. All free for you to draw but what sort of draw could they possibly mean? We’re not physically drawing Akira, nor are we drawing him to a close. In this context, I think it would be safe to say that they’re referring to draw in the sense of using. This sort of draw means to use someone’s experience, talents, or skills, and is most definitely synonymous with exploit. If this is from Akira’s point of view as we’ve believed up until now, he is saying that he is free for people to use.

I'm a shape shifter What else should I be? Please don't take off my mask Revealing dark

This one is simple. He’s a shapeshifter and believes that there’s nothing else he should be. He doesn’t want people to take off the mask that he’s so carefully crafted for people to see. He doesn’t want people to take it off and realize the darkness and emptiness within him.

Moments of calm Nothing left to be found A mirror right in front of me That's where I find An empty glass Reflecting the sad truth It's telling words not to be told I need the mask

When the fighting has died down, Akira sometimes looks into the mirror. Of course, he does see his reflection. It’s impossible to not have one. When he the fighting is done and he doesn’t need to keep up appearances, he takes off his mask. And so when looking into the mirror, he doesn’t “see” the person beneath the mask---or perhaps...understand them. Another way to use the word see is in the phrase “I see”, as in you understand. He doesn’t understand who he is beneath the mask. He finds an empty glass---an empty mirror. The mirror “reflects” the truth which is the fact that he’s nothing---or believes the person to be worth that much---beneath his mask. He needs his mask.

I'm a shape shifter Chained down to my core Please don't take off my mask My place to hide

Akira feels like a prisoner within himself. So he wears a mask to pretend that that is not so. He is a prisoner in every sense of the word. He’s a prisoner of fate, a prisoner to adults in society, and a prisoner to his own nature. He has these chains that he cannot escape. And so he hides. Don’t take away his mask, the only way that he can hide himself.

I can't tell you How to see me Just a cage of bones There's nothing inside Will it unleash me? Burning down the walls Is there a way For me to break?

He can’t tell anyone who he is because he’s just a person who’s an empty shell. Or so he believes. He doesn’t know who he is, so he can’t tell you how to see him. He can only become what you need to see. There is “nothing inside” of him. He wonders if there is a way for him to be unleashed. The prisoner within him to be released and realize who it is he truly is.

I'm a shape shifter Have no face to show Please don't take off my mask My disguise

Similarly to other lines in the song, please don’t take off his mask. It’s his disguise. This mask of his is his way of protecting himself from the world, as well as making him seem normal. He is not normal. And it is likely that he never will be. He doesn’t need people to believe that either---he just needs them to see what they want to see so he doesn’t get hurt.

All in all, Akira Kurusu has worn so many masks that he is unsure of who he really is anymore.

[proxylynn]

Dreemurr Academy #2 (UnderFell Sans)

Dreemurr Academy, a prestigious closed-off college for monsters and humans alike of all ages and worlds.

This includes myself, though I'm sort of a in-between.

I'm Lynsie, the human anomaly. I'm a human, but I can do magic like monsters. I'm an oddball.

That's the thing about making a school that is open to multiple alternate dimensions. Weird things are bound to show up. Even a bunch of the same person. From what I saw on orientation day, the same faces are scattered around all around.

To fix these type of issues, everyone that has a multiple or doppelganger is given a school name so there's no confusion.

Other than that, it's fairly normal. The hierarchy is the simple.

The Deans are made up of the same people, skeleton monsters that go by the name of Gaster. One is a teacher of the Sciences, goes by Wingding. He's a kind and understanding man, but is known to pull a prank or two. They all speak in a typeface sign language but use telepathy magic so others understand. It's been said no one has ever heard their real voices and those that have are no longer at the academy.

Another Gaster dean teaches Home Economics, he goes by Wingy. He's a bubbly sweet guy that loves his work. Nothing makes him smile more than seeing the joy on a student's face when they take pride in being able to do something they first thought they couldn't.

Another Gaster dean teaches the studies of Magic, he is called Fall. At times, he can be cynical, malicious, and sarcastic. He has a commanding presence that exuded gravitas, authority and control, able to keep a class quiet without effort. Yet there is a kindness to him, it's rarely seen, but not unheard of.

Another Gaster dean teaches History, his nickname is Dings. A cold, bitter, and sometimes childish man. He tends to hold grudges against troublesome students and is extremely spiteful toward those whom he dislikes. Yet those that can take his punishments are rewarded with his respect. He is a teacher that commands respect and who's grades are earned with doom hanging over your head.

The Professors are also skeleton monsters, but not all are the same person. The Psychology professor is a guy named Papyrus but goes by Stretch. He's the favorite among students because he's so laid back. He chews a tooth pick in class to suppress his urge to smoke, but we all know he does so when on break. He's really good at reading students and helps out when able. All in all, he's the cool teacher.

The Literature professor is a Papyrus that is called Fell. He is the one teacher everyone dreads. Very strict and old fashioned. He does not tolerate interruptions and will humiliate those he feel need to be taken down a notch. Such things take there toll on him and often squeezes a stress ball that he keeps in his desk. But he is a very passionate man when it comes to his work and takes his subject seriously, even though this makes him into a bit of a grammar nazi which is why many students get low grades.

The Biology professor is a skeleton called Sans that sometimes goes by Classic, whatever that means. He is very cheesy and comes off as lazy, making puns that have people cringe yet secretly love them. He is very protective of his students and will go out of his way to help them. He does not tolerate bulling of any kind and can be quite scary. He's the second favorite among the students.

The Physical Education professor is also a Sans that goes by Pain. He is also a stern and old school type of teacher, only he tends to be more cruel in humiliation of students that are unprepared. While his scope is all around, he prefers the darker side of the study. Using borderline violence to weed out the weak that think taking his class is a easy A. There is mercy in his dojo, but it must be earned with blood, sweat, and tears.

The Students are broken into four groups based on which part of the four years they are currently in. The first years are called freshmen. Second years are sophomores. Third years are juniors. And fourth years are seniors. There are some variations on this topic, but this hierarchy of college students is still readily recognizable by everyone.

Me? This isn't my first rodeo but not my last. I'm a sophomore and have gotten the gist of who's who and what's what. I get along with students and teachers. I've always been a middle ground type of girl.

I didn't come looking for friends, but they just seemed to find me. Funny enough, my buddies are the brothers of the professors. Stretch's brother is a freshman, his name is Sans but goes by Rascal. Fell's brother, also a Sans, is a sophomore like me and goes by Edgy. Classic's brother is a Papyrus, a freshman that goes by Papy. And Pain's brother is a sophomore Papyrus by the name of Slim.

I've always been a tomboy. I prefer the guys company. They're different and fun, even if they can be a bit odd sometimes.

Rascal, as the nickname implies, is the school clown/prankster. He likes to test his limits and challenge authority, even dishevels his uniform to assert his individuality. He comes off as a slacker, but secretly very deep, clever, and loyal to a fault. He likes taking his brother's class so he can improve his skills with messing with people, mostly his brother as he disrupts his teachings when he sees a chance.

Edgy is shy around new people and slow to open up, enjoying a laugh with friends when able. Though he appears weak or even nerdy because of his glasses, he is far more tougher than he leads on. He doesn't take crap from anyone. When alone, he's angsty and borders on straight up angry. Getting a pissy attitude when annoyed. Like his brother, he is very passionate about literature and does his best to impress his brother, going so far as to become the teacher's pet.

Papy is easily the most loveable guy in the whole school. Very cheerful and optimistic, he tries his best no matter what. He doesn't like conflict and tries to keep his brother out of trouble when the teacher pulls a prank. I find it sweet of him to take his brother's class even though he doesn't particularly enjoy it, just so he can stay close to him. Like I said, this guy is a loveable soul.

Slim is easy going. He doesn't take things too seriously and never breaks a sweat over hard exams. The only thing that breaks his cool is his smoking, he really gets tense if he goes too long without his fix. He's incredibly smart and instinctual, good traits to have when dealing with his brother. While he does attend his brother's class, he merely does so as a request of his brother who likes to make sure he doesn't slack off due to not being challenged enough.

All of them are oddly related to each other in some form. Gaster's, Papyrus's, and Sans's are brothers. Yet I see them all as different people. I value them. They're helping me even if they don't know it. I am not so confident in myself. I tend to isolate myself, go at things lone wolf style. It's how I've always been. Then I met them and slowly my world began to expand bit by bit. I'm still not comfortable with others. But with them, I can step out from behind my mask for a bit, and really be myself around them.

Today is a typical weekend. I hang over at Edgy's house and we study for hours. It's a little weird at times, what with a dean and a teacher under the same roof. At least we don't have to be in the school uniform. I don't really care for the uniforms. Girls have to wear skirts, I hate it because of perverts taking up-skirt pics.

I never have to worry about that kind of thing with Edgy. He's more focused on his studies than anything of the romantic nature. Though few girls have tried to sway him with letters, gifts, and even the rare few that straight up tell him they want to 'bone' him. All fail. Not like it bothers him much.

But right now, I lay on Edgy's bedroom floor with my nose in a book as he does the same across from me. His brother Fell has assigned the works of Edgar Allan Poe for our second quarter exams, which also consists of the always fun extra credit of explaining what your favorite piece is and why...Yay!

"did you pick your piece yet?"

"Yep. Had it ready before even needing to pick one."

"really? which one?"

"The Masque of the Red Death. I've always loved that story. I find the story of Prince Prospero's attempts to avoid a dangerous plague, known as the Red Death, by hiding in his abbey a rather interesting take on classes of society. He, along with many other wealthy nobles, hosts a masquerade ball within seven rooms of the abbey, each decorated with a different color while the poor outside die as their cries for help fall on deaf ears. In the midst of their revelry, a mysterious figure disguised as a Red Death victim enters and makes his way through each of the rooms. Prospero dies after confronting this stranger, whose 'costume' proves to contain nothing tangible inside it; the guests also die in turn."

He looks at me in shock.

"you really do like that one."

"Is it so odd?"

"i didn't think you were into such dark stuff."

"What is dark but one's own view on that which we find unnerving. But to be honest, I do love me some horror stories. The detail really hooks me in."

"then you'll probably think it cliché of me, but i picked the tell-tale heart."

"I've heard of it, but never really read it. Mind giving me a sample?"

"gladly. it is told by an unnamed narrator who endeavors to convince the reader of his sanity, while describing a murder he committed. the victim was an old man with a filmy 'vulture-eye', as the narrator calls it. the murder is carefully calculated, and the murderer hides the body by dismembering it and hiding it under the floorboards. ultimately, the narrator's feelings of guilt, or a mental disturbance, result in him hearing the dead man's beating heart."

"Now that sounds interesting."

"i can read it to you. i-if you want that is?"

"You don't have to..."

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU!?!"

Fell kicks in the door and scares the fuck out of me but Edgy doesn't flinch, he's too used to this.

"I SAID TO LEAVE THIS DOOR OPEN!"

"it's my room. i can do what i want. and why do you care?"

"YOU KNOW THE RULES. BESIDES..."

Fell stares at me and Edgy blushes with a glare.

"p-piss off. nothing like that is gonna happen."

"I DON'T CARE! THIS DOOR STAYS OPEN."

"What are you talking about? Are you both implying something?"

"YOU MEAN, YOU DON'T KNOW?"

Edgy's face falls in horror as Fell smirks darkly.

"Know what?"

"bro...don't you dare..."

"SANS HERE HAS A..."

"get out! get out!"

Edgy bolts pass me and tries to slam the door shut, but Fell is stronger.

"AWWW...WHAT'S WRONG SANS? AFRAID SHE'LL FIND OUT ABOUT YOUR LITTLE CRUSH~?"

"papyrus!"

"OOPS. SILLY ME."

"you jackass! you promised not to say anything!"

Fell just laughs and Edgy is finally able to shut the door. Only once then sound of Fell's laughter fades does Edgy register what just happened and that I'm staring at him in confusion. He starts to sweat as he slowly turns his head to look at me.

"uh...about that..."

"So who's the lucky one?"

He looks at me funny.

"w-what?"

"Who is your crush? I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I just want to support you."

He just stares at me before breathing a sigh of relief and turning around.

"i...it's..."

He looks down and rubs his left arm, he's nervous. I change the subject.

"Don't you think it's a little odd?"

"w-what is?"

"Well...You're the middle sibling. Yet, your older and younger brother have positions of power at the school while you're a student."

He pauses for a moment.

"i...i never thought about it before."

"You know what else? Another good Poe story is The Raven. It tells of a talking raven's mysterious visit to a distraught lover, tracing the man's slow fall into madness."

This seems to get to him.

"r-really?"

"The lover, often identified as being a student, is lamenting the loss of his love, Lenore. Sitting on a bust of Pallas, the raven seems to further instigate his distress with its constant repetition of the word 'Nevermore'. The poem makes use of a number of folk, mythological, religious, and classical references as Poe claimed to have written the poem very logically and methodically, intending to create a poem that would appeal to both critical and popular tastes."

He smiles and returns to sit with me as I sit up.

"do you know the story as well as you do the red death?"

"Do you?"

"care to recite with me?"

He smirks and I move the books away with a grin.

"Who starts?"

"ladies first."

"Okay. *clears throat* Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore...While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door...Only this and nothing more.”."

He smiles in content.

"ah, distinctly i remember it was in the bleak december; and each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. eagerly i wished the morrow;...vainly i had sought to borrow from my books surcease of sorrow...sorrow for the lost lenore...for the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name lenore...nameless here for evermore."

I feel the spark light as we speak. Edgy is very passionate about literature and he always reads with fire in his soul. It's actually what challenges me to do better in class. To dance in the same fire he breathes that makes stories become real. And here this is no different...I accept this challenge and aim to win.

"And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me...filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door...Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;...This it is and nothing more.”."

His eyes light up with vigor. We never get a chance to do battle at school when I try to match him. Of course he sees those moments as me trying to out do him for his brother's favor, but here, now he sees I do it all for him. He brings out my best...and it thrills him.

"presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, “sir,” said i, “or madam, truly your forgiveness i implore; but the fact is i was napping, and so gently you came rapping, and so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, that i scarce was sure i heard you”...here i opened wide the door;...darkness there and nothing more."

He scoots closer to me and I smirk.

"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?” This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”...Merely this and nothing more."

I scoot closer to him and he blushes faintly but holds strong.

"back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, soon again i heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. “surely,” said i, “surely that is something at my window lattice; let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore...let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;...’tis the wind and nothing more!”."

He slowly puts his hand over mine and I blush big time. Now I understand what Fell meant...I'm Edgy's crush! But I won't speak of it. It's not my place. I want him to say it. To confess with this same passion.

"Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door...Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door...Perched, and sat, and nothing more."

With that I state my actions. I will remain still where I sit and it is up to him on what happens next.

"then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, by the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, “though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” i said, “art sure no craven, ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore...tell me what thy lordly name is on the night’s plutonian shore!” quoth the raven “nevermore.”."

He softly moves some hair from my face and I smile warmly.

"Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning...little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door...Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as “Nevermore.”."

I nuzzle into his hand and his blush increases. He almost withdraws his hand, but one look into my eyes has him locked.

"but the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only that one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. nothing farther then he uttered...not a feather then he fluttered...till i scarcely more than muttered “other friends have flown before...on the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.” then the bird said “nevermore.”."

Carefully I reach up and touch his cheek, caressing the bone softly much to his shock.

"Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, “Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore...Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of ‘Never...nevermore’.” ."

I slide my fingers along his jaw and let them flee under his chin, making him whimper faintly at the loss of my touch.

"but the raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, straight i wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door; then, upon the velvet sinking, i betook myself to linking fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore...what this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore meant in croaking “nevermore.”."

I smirk in pride, thinking I have gotten one over on him. But then he remembers the hand he left on me that had since drooped to my shoulder. He traces his phalanges along the curve of my neck and I purr.

"This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er, But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er, She shall press, ah, nevermore!"

My voice hitches under his care and he grins with new confidence.

"then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. “wretch,” i cried, “thy god hath lent thee...by these angels he hath sent thee respite...respite and nepenthe from thy memories of lenore; quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost lenore!” quoth the raven “nevermore.”."

Removing his hands from me, he takes off his glasses and I see the fire in his red eyes burn brightly. I can't avert my gaze from his. I watch as he moves up to me, pulling me into a warm embrace and nuzzles into my neck.

"“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!...prophet still, if bird or devil!...Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted...On this home by Horror haunted...tell me truly, I implore...Is there...is there balm in Gilead?...tell me...tell me, I implore!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”."

I lull in content. He's so gentle and kind. Being bold, he licks my neck and I shiver with a sighing shudder much to his interest.

"“prophet!” said i, “thing of evil!...prophet still, if bird or devil! by that heaven that bends above us...by that god we both adore...tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant aidenn, it shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name lenore...clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name lenore.” quoth the raven “nevermore.”."

I bite my lip as he starts kiss around my collarbone, his one long gold tooth skims my flesh in a ticklish way. One of his hands snakes around my side and traces the line of my ribs with feather like softness. It makes me squirm and hard to not make the sounds he enjoys pulling from me.

"“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting...“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken!...quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”."

That was the end of my lines. He only has one left and the story ends. But he himself is far from done.

"and the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting on the pallid bust of pallas just above my chamber door; and his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, and the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; and my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor shall be lifted...nevermore!"

He finishes the poem with a nip to my neck and I mewl much to his ever growing delight.

"i take it you know who my crush is now."

I nod.

"is...is that okay?"

"I...I didn't think you were into anything more than grades. I mean, you turned down all those girls."

"i'm not into those other girls. they just wanted me for their own needs. like grades or some other bull. but you...you give me something they can't."

I might regret asking this, but it comes out anyway.

"And what's that?"

He nuzzles my cheek.

"you challenge me. you push me to be better. and i know you do it on purpose. i've seen it in your eyes."

I blush and look off a little.

"I do it because you challenge me. When you read there's just so much feeling. It's like your soul is on fire and it makes every word that flies from your mouth like embers aloft in the wind, ready to ignite the ears of all that can truly hear them. God man, you are so hot when you recite!"

My face is so red I might pass out from all the blood that's flooding my head. He's stunned as his skull is sweating while his cheekbones match his eyes in the shade of red that comes to them.

"y-y-you think i'm...hot?"

This is easily in my top 10 embarrassing moments in life.

"I...I'll admit I might have had some thoughts about...us."

I toy with my fingers nervously.

"you have?"

All I can do is nod.

"well then...um...if it's okay with you. uh..."

He leans in to my ear.

"can we...uh...k-keep going?"

I can't help the involuntary shudder that escapes me.

"S-sure."

He holds my hand reassuringly.

"we don't have to do anything if you don't want to. i don't want it to seem like i'm forcing you."

"N-no. It's fine. I'm just...*sigh* I'm nervous. This kind of stuff is new to me."

"same here. i've just been feeling things out this whole time."

"Really? Because it felt like you knew what you were doing."

He rubs the back of his head with a nervous chuckle.

"i, um, might have picked up a few things from reading."

"Like what?"

His eyes widen and he swallows hesitantly.

"uh...i can't really explain it. but...could you, um, close your eyes?"

"O-okay."

I shut my eyes as requested. I hear him move before guiding me to stand with him and leads me to his bed where we sit down. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to steady his nerves, then cups my face in his hands and kisses me yearningly. My eyes flutter open before closing again. A warm relaxing feeling comes to me and I start to kiss him back much to his relieved surprise.

"mmmm...i...i was thinking about doing this for a while now. *smooch* it was...i wasn't sure what would be the best way to initiate things. *laughs nervously then continues to smooch*"

"I understand. *smooch* It's not easy to...*smooch* To start things like this. *smooch* Especially with a close friend. *purrs*"

"it's thanks to you for being so sweet today."

"How so?"

"you were so cool when pap was being a dick. and then you were even cooler when we were reciting."

"I try."

We continue to smooch at a respectfully tame pace. Slowly he moves his way down to my neck and then back up again moaning softly all the while. This slow build up of affection has my head swimming in no time. I hardly notice when he gets bold by licking into my mouth or when he moves close enough to start rubbing himself against me...But I do, eventually.

"Mmmm...Getting a bit heated don't you think?"

"nhnahh...i-i can't help it...y-you know i'm a sucker for sweet things...and you're by far the sweetest thing i've ever tasted."

"Awww...Edgy."

"i-i want...i wanna indulge myself in you, taste every inch of your smooth skin...i-i...*stops himself*"

"You, what? Is something wrong?"

"oh...no no all is good."

"Is it me? Did I do something bad?"

"n-not, not bad. you are great. um...it's just...before you say or do anything else, i need you to be honest with me here."

His tone is serious and I gulp in worry.

"are you absolutely, positively, 100% sure...you want me to uh...give you a 'rough' time?"

My face is flushed but I can't help but snicker.

"Oh my god Edgy...*giggles* That was fucking adorable!"

"...*sighs heavily* i'm serious lynsie. this won't go any further till you give me a proper answer."

"Very well. *ahem* I am absolutely sure I want this to happen...Sans."

His eyes glow bright red as a hard shudder rattles his bones.

"thank you...i won't restrain myself then. *gives a low chuckle* that goes for you too now. don't repress anything you're feeling...i-i wanna...see exactly how much you want me...r-right now."

"...You know you don't have to try that hard."

"oh, but i do have something hard for you to try."

I try not to laugh, though he helps to render me silent with a rough kiss. Feeling a challenge in his dominance, I kiss back heatedly and he growls lowly. Trying to maintain control, he pushes me onto my back and shifts to have himself on top of me before groaning softly as he presses hard against me.

"o-ohh...hhnn...hhh...*smooch smooch* ahhn...hhhn...oohh...*shudders while starting to lick my neck* nhhahn...ahhhn...ah...? *stares down and chuckles warmly* what are you doing sugar?"

I blush, my hands had come around behind him and had tried to cop a feel of his ass, completely forgetting that as a skeleton he has no ass.

"*embarrassed* Heh...Just trying to keep up with you. I'm just not really sure what to do on my end."

"okay...how about we start with your...shirt...*smooches downward as he lifts it up and off me* then...hhnmm. then i'll trace my finger along your panty line...*snaps it gently and laughs a bit*"

"*yelp* Hey!"

"sorry. oh! this comes off next...*whispers this while then removing my pants* mmmm...oohh lynsie.. fuck...such a lewd expression."

"*chuckles* You try keeping a straight face when this exposed to someone as fine as you."

He blushes with a cute smirk.

"oh, you're just saying that."

"No, I mean it. You are a good looking guy Edgy. You're smart, passionate, loyal, and you don't take crap from anyone. I respect you to no end."

"hhmm...such loving flattery. oooh you must want it inside ya bad, don't ya? hhmnn you want me throbbing against those tight walls...*smooch smooches* hnmmnn...*groans under his breath and grips me tight*"

This bolder assertive side to him is new and exciting. It makes me want to toy with him. I reach under his shirt and tease along his spine, making him moan.

"Yeah...You like that, don't you? You like it when I play with your bones~."

My actions mixed with flirtatious voice send him over the edge. He shifts to get off the bed and gets undressed. His glowing red magic member intimidates me before he even returns to me.

"you won't be needing these, sweetheart."

Using my stunned state to his advantage, he rids me of my undergarments and then uses magic to move me farther on the bed. Once my mind reboots to what is going on, he's crawling back on top of me and licking his teeth in a lustfully hungry way.

"Uh...Edgy...?"

"hhnnm...i'm all prepped up for ya, so you don't have to worry about a single thing...i'm gonna 'bone' you so hard you won't be able to think straight."

We both end up snickering and he leans down against me.

"Wow Edgy...Way to set the mood."

"s-sorry...except, i'm actually not too sorry. i'll be the only thing that's crossing your mind...*sighs heavily rubbing his length against me* o-ooh...ooohhhh ffu...you're already so wet."

"*nervous keening groan* Is that a good thing?"

"oh yeah."

His voice has dropped to a deep dark yet seductive level.

"hhhnm...let me rub that clit of yours...haahhn."

"Wait, rub my wha-aaaahhh! *gasps*"

"*laughs softly* oooh when i play with that, it really gets you vocal...*continues to chuckle and kisses my neck* rubbing small circles over your cute love button...hhnnmm...i bet this is driving you crazy~."

"*moans* What book did you read to do all this?"

"heh...and give away my secrets? no deal. now then...do you want me?"

"Yes..."

"do you need me?"

"Yes..."

"no more teasing huh, you want me inside?"

"Yes!"

"tell me how much you wanna feel me fill you...to be so full that you feel it in your very soul...hhnmmn?"

"Damn it Sans, shut up and fuck me!"

That has us both surprised, but he recovers first with great excitement.

"uahh...*groans and shudders* haha well, aren't you eager. you naughty girl, trying to rattle me up. only way i can combat that is by giving you a taste of your own medicine...and it seems as though dirty talk is just what you need."

"Don't tease."

"but seeing you all flustered is such a turn on~."

"Okay, you asked for it. Payback is a bitch."

"ooh--! oohh s-sh...shiitt...uauhhh...ooohh rubbing back against me...hoooo...uuahnn...hhhnah...o-oh."

"Think I'd let you get away with being so cheeky, naughty bones~?"

"mmmm...just...i'm just gonna let you do this for a bit more sugar...ooh...t-tell me...tell me you want me...t-then i-i'll...uahn...uuhan so fucking hot...okay okay...you win."

"Good boy. It's rude to keep a lady in waiting."

"oh you are so gonna get it now. *lines himself up with my entrance and begins insertion* uhhnnn ah...aahhhh...oohhh god...hhooo hahnn there we go...ooohh my...ghhnn too long...hoo too long...should've done this sooner..."

"*wincing* Geez...I heard this would hurt, but I didn't think it'd be this much."

"you okay? do ya wanna stop?"

"*groans* N-no...just...Let me get used to it. Please."

He nods and doesn't move a nonexistent muscle, not till I give the okay.

"you alright now?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"so i can move?"

I nod and he nuzzles into my cheek before kissing me deeply as his hips begin motion. The pace is slow at first, the gentle rocking numbing the pain out and replacing it with new pleasure. It isn't long before these feelings have us writhing in heat like beasts for each other.

"Oooh...Edgy..."

"no...say my name..."

"Sans~."

"yeah...there ya go, there’s my sugar. just like that~."

"*moans* Sans...More...Deeper..."

"uahhn...d-deeper? ahhn...let me...roll my hips, against ya...hhhnh...get as deep...a-as i can...g-go...*gasps softly* ...n-no...h-holding back...remember...y-you promised...hhn."

He whispers that to himself while kissing certain areas on my body. Suddenly I see stars and I cling to him in a loud moan.

"oohh there...there we are...hhnmm better? *grins*"

"Yes! Oh god, yes!"

"i-i...hope you're ready sweetheart...this might...feel pretty intense. hhmn...*starts thrusting deeper inside* oohh...oooh yeah...ooh that's it...ahhnn take it...take all of it lynsie...hooo...*thrusts rougher*"

"S-sans! Ooooh fuck...Sans don't stop...You feel soooooo goooood~!"

"oh...oohh...f-fuck...oh god...ooohh the way you sound hhnn...hhnn ahhhhn a-ahh...oohh baby...hhhooo...hhhnn...*he becomes slightly louder as he thrusts even rougher* o-ooh...oohh...! *slows a couple thrusts down, only to speed himself up again* oooh h-hell...ahhhn sooooo...*grunts and clings to me, his fingers digging into my skin harshly, leaving bruises* hhahh o-ooh...hhnahnn...so amazing...i-inside...hhhhaahhnn...ahhh mnnff...fuck...the way your body's trembling...aching for more...hhnnn your voice...hitching at my every thrust..."

He bites at my neck during a particularly hard thrust and I scream his name much to our surprise.

"o-oh? was that the spot? yeah?"

"S-shit Sans...Right there...Don't you ever stop!"

"you want m-me to slam into ya right there? hhhnm? maybe...h-hahhn...if i hit that spot just right...i could get ya to cum for me...*chuckles deviously and kisses me multiple times*"

"Sans I...I've never...*nervous* I've never done that."

"y-you've...never done it before? ahhhn...hhnmmn well, that's okay, i like a challenge, haha. *rams that spot continuously*"

"Oh sweet fuck yes! Yes! Sans! Yes!"

"ahhn y-yeah, hhhnn...ahhhn...ahhnn...e-even har-harder sugar?"

"Yes!"

"oooh...hhnn...*he continues to moan, his own voice beginning to hitch* ah--!...w-...oohhh....w-what...w-was that sweetheart?"

"I...I think I'm getting close..."

"close...you're cumming? cumming? yeah? *grunts and thrusts against me as rough as he can* hhng gonna rub your clit even f-faster...hhn...oohh cum for me...ahhh let it all out, d-don't hold back...don't h-hold yourself back...!"

He pounds into me almost painfully and I feel my insides tighten hard before releasing intensely.

"Aaaaah...S-sans...Hmmm...Ooohw..."

"a-ah...almost...a-almost there...thheeree...hhnngn...a-auh ah sweetheart! t-there...there it is...a-ahhn c-cuumming...cummminngg...hhnnn...uahhh...ahhh...hnmmm...mmmmmm..."

"Ooooh...fffffuck...*groans* Ssssansss...mmmmmm..."

"ohhn...ooh i got you sweetie. *holds on* hhahnn...ooohh wow...w-wwooow...*shudders tilting his gaze downward* hoo...damn...oooh that's...o-ooh that's sooo much...*laughs happily* d-did i make you cum? *panting heavily a huge grin forming on his bony face*"

"*panting* I...I can't...feel my...legs..."

"ooohh...mmmm okay, here we go...*groans slipping out of me and rubs my legs a bit* how's that?"

"*purrs* That's nice. Thank you."

"good...now i can make you feel that way again and really enjoy the faces you make while i fuck you."

I'm stunned.

"W-what?"

"hehehe...you thought we were done?"

"Well...Yeah."

"nahhh, i'm pretty sure i've got another round left in me...besides, i don't want this to be over yet...*small kiss* not yet...i wanna send you so far over the edge...until you've reached the point of losing control...begging me to fuck you senseless...hhnmmm...*sighs under his breath* g-god i'm so r-ready for that...so ready to have your w-warmth again. to send you into sheer bliss...hmn...*hungrily kisses me while positioning himself once more*"

"Sans...?"

"oooo...hhnmm...*hesitates for a moment* ...lynsie? ...a-are you okay? oh god i-i didn't hurt you did i?"

"N-no. I think I'm fine. I just...I want to tell you something."

"what is it sugar?"

"*gulp* I...I love you."

"..."

"Sans?"

"*whimpers and grunts holding me tight* hhhhhhhhhh y-you're killin' me here...y-you ask me to put my 'play rough face on', and then you go and say something like that...huahhnnn...*laughs at himself*"

I pout, feeling stupid.

"ahhhh no no, don't take it like that...hearing you say that, i-i couldn't be happier, haha. hhnmm...i got this...hoooo i got this. see? right now i’m silly sans, but look what happens when i cover my face;...*covers face, then uncovers face* sexy sans. silly sans...*covers face, then uncovers face* sexy sans...silly sans...sexy sans...sil...pfft *laughs genuinely*"

"*giggles* Stop it Sans, or I'll die from how cute you are."

"*chuckles* alright alright! okay, eh heh. okay...hhmn okay. you ready?"

"Bring it on bone boy~."

"*shudders* get ready to purr for me kitten...*positions himself once more and enters me* hhnm...mmnhn...hhhnn slid right in. hhnmm i must be a perfect fit, what do you think? *chuckles* ... y-you don't have to answer that, i'm just teasin' you."

"Oh come on Sans."

"*kisses softly* you get flustered sooo easily...ooh...i love it, i love...so many things about you. *smooch* from your hair, to your eyes, to your skin, to your...luscious...breasts...hhhn. *leans down licking them eagerly* mnhn...hhnnnmm...*slowly starts moving his hips* to y-your...voice...ahhnn...ahhhnnn god y-your voice...*he shudders and grips me tight* a-aahhnn...ooh f-fuck yes...yeah...ohnn...mnhnn...ahhhn...let me hear you...hhnmm let me hear that s-sexy voice...hhhahhhn..."

"Ooooh...Sans...Sans...My Sans..."

"aah...ahhn...oh...spread a l-little wider for me sugar..."

"Like this~?"

"mmmm...y-yeah...just like that...oohhh....ohh i'm gonna shove it in there...ahhnnh...shove m-myself s-sooo far into you...ghnn...ooohh lynsie...*gasps softly a sudden surge of heat rising within him* o-oh...oh god...m-my name...uuhnn m-moan my name a-again...m-moan...m-my...ahhnn....ah!"

"Sans~! Edgy~! Bone lord~!"

"o-oohh y-yeahh...oohh y-yyeahh f-fuck do-don't stop s-sa...aah...! o-oohh l-lynsie...fuck...*he leans into me and holds me painfully tight* uuuahnn...sugar i-i'm...hooo...hooooo i'm gettin' clo...close...i'm close...you go-gonna...you gonna cum for me a-again? hm? think y-you can do that?"

"For you sexy...Oooooh...I can try~."

"*chuckles staggeringly* ahhhh...ooh cum with me baby...ooh...be good for me and c-cum w-when i do...oohh...*winces while thrusting as roughly as he can into me, panting heavily while his tongue hangs out* oohh...o-oh ahh...hahnnhhnann...cumminggg...cumminnng...uuhhnnahh...lynsie...ahhhh...*completely out of breath, turning his head to stare at my face*"

"*screams* I love you Sans!"

Our bodies explode in pleasuring release together and we're left a tired mess.

"*he smiles and nudges against me* hnmn...that was...hhnahn...you were, spectacular. hmn, c’mere. *smiles overjoyed kissing my face affectionately and grinning like an idiot* i love you too lynsie, you breath-taking beauty. *giggles all giddy* i know this wasn't really why you came over but, i got to experience something, much, much sweeter and satisfying than anything else in this world. i'd see that as a big ol' win in my book. *smooches* wouldn't you?"

"*smooch* You know it sweetness. *cuddles him*"

"*nuzzles* and my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor shall be lifted..."

"*purrs* Nevermore~."

[Meanwhile: the living room]

Fell and Fall sit around a tamed fire to warm up in the encroaching evening. Both siblings are reading and gradually sipping on a beverage of choice. For the longest time they had been trying to ignore the ever growing sounds coming from their brother's room. Only when silence returned to the home did they look up from their books.

"��☜☜���� ✡⚐����☼☜ ☹✋❄❄☹☜ ��❄��☠❄ ��✌✋�� ⚐☞☞��" (SEEMS YOU'RE LITTLE STUNT PAID OFF.)

"IT'S ABOUT TIME HE CAME CLEAN WITH HER. HONESTLY, HIS CONSTANT PINING WAS ANNOYING."

"✡⚐�� ��⚐ ☼☜✌☹✋☪☜ ��☟✌❄ ❄☟✋�� ��☜✌☠�� ☠⚐���� ��⚐☼☼☜��❄✍" (YOU DO REALIZE WHAT THIS MEANS NOW, CORRECT?)

"OF COURSE. NOW THAT HE'S GOTTEN THIS SILLY CRUSH OUT OF HIS SYSTEM, HE CAN ONCE MORE PULL HIS FULL FOCUS TO HIS STUDIES."

Fall palms his face.

"❄☟✋☠�� ✌��⚐��❄ ✋❄ ��✌��✡☼������ ✡⚐�� ☺����❄ ☟☜☹��☜�� ❄��⚐ ��☜⚐��☹☜ ☞⚐☼�� ☼⚐��✌☠❄✋�� ��✌✋☼ ��⚐☠���� ❄☟✌❄ ☜✞☜☠ ☜☠☝✌☝☜�� ✋☠ ��⚐❄✋��☜�� ☟⚐�� ☹✋��☜☹✡ ��⚐ ✡⚐�� ��☜☹✋☜✞☜ ❄☟✋�� ✋�� ❄⚐ ��☜ ✌ ��⚐☠☜ ✌☠�� ��⚐☠☜�� ❄✡��☜ ��✋❄��✌❄✋⚐☠✍" (THINK ABOUT IT PAPYRUS. YOU JUST HELPED TWO PEOPLE FORM ROMANTIC PAIR BONDS THAT EVEN ENGAGED IN COTISE. HOW LIKELY DO YOU BELIEVE THIS IS TO BE A 'ONE AND DONE' TYPE SITUATION?)

Fell opens his mouth with a retort at the ready, but once his elder brother's words sink in, his voice goes silent.

"✡☜✌☟�� ��⚐☠☝☼✌❄��☹✌❄✋⚐☠�� ⚐☠ ✌ ��☹✌☠ ��☜☹☹ ✋����☹☜��☜☠❄☜���� ��☼⚐❄☟☜☼��" (YEAH. CONGRATULATIONS ON A PLAN WELL IMPLEMENTED, BROTHER.)

Fell glares with a blush, it's mostly aimed at himself and he hides back behind his book as Fall smirks.

"...SHUT UP."

[barddom]

The Tempest

I started my reading list with The Tempest because it’s the first one in my copy of The Complete Works. It’s also a little bit poignant because Tempest is one of those plays that People believe “means” something about Shakespeare (or, as he will be colloquially referred to on this blog, Billy Shakes). It was probably one of his last plays, and because it’s about an old man giving up his craft, People say that it is about Shakespeare giving up The Theatre.

I don’t know about all that. What I do know that Shakespeare had daughters, and that the way he wrote father-daughter relationships is very particular and interesting. However, using his plays to try and expose truths about the playwright can be really unproductive. I’ve tried it and it’s hard and usually wrong. That being said, the plot is pretty wild.

[what follows is a plot summary. for hasty, last minute thoughts, skip to the end.]

Act One

Surprise! It’s about a tempest! We open in Act 1 with a storm, and a ship caught in the fustercluck.

The Boatswain and Shipmaster are like, “Nooo!” and the passengers are like, “Please God, I don’t want to die at sea! I want to die on land!” (1.1.63-65)

These passengers are: Alonso, the King of Naples, his brother Sebastian, his son Ferdinand,  his counsellor Gonzalo, and Antonio, the Duke of Milan. Basically, the who’s who of Italy.

After this expository storm scene, we jump to a nearby island to meet our protagonists, Prospero (old, weird, presumably funky smelling), and his daughter, Miranda (young, nubile). Also, Miranda is the only female character in the play, which means we’re off to a really great start of continually failing the Bechdel test.

“Papa,” Miranda says, probably. “What is up with this freaky storm? Is that a shipwreck over there? Also, who am I?” (1.2)* (See notes at the bottom re: Miranda’s questions, memory, and this entire exchange.)

Here’s the deal: Miranda is fifteen, and has never met anyone other than Prospero, her father, or Caliban, the dude he keeps chained up in a cave for reasons that will become clear (but make that fact no less alarming).

Prospero, on today of all days, decides to be honest with Miranda about his past and her identity. This is a classic Billy Shakes move: exposing the noble lineage of a character to move the plot along. The sad tragic backstory is this: [cue violins]

Prospero used to be the Duke of Milan. Antonio is his evil, scheming, usurping brother. (Gasp!) Back when Miranda was a toddler, Prospero spent all his time reading magic books, and his brother was like, “I should be the duke!” King Alonso was in on it as well, and they shoved Prospero and Miranda on a boat and left them out at sea. Gonzalo gave them food, clothes, and water, but more importantly, the magic books! (Thanks, Gonzalo.) They eventually made it to The Island, where Prospero was like, “Chill,” and set up camp for the rest of time. (1.2.36-173) (It’s a long story.)

So the storm is Prospero’s revenge. He’s gonna really make life hard for the guys on the boat. (1.2.180). Miranda tries to ask another question, but her dad spells her to sleep instead, naturally.  

This is where we meet Tempest’s real MVP: the spirit Ariel. Unfortunately, we don’t get to see him in action just yet. Instead we hear his tragic backstory. [Violins again, please.]

Before Prospero came to the island, it was ruled over by an evil witch named Sycorax. (Notice how men who practise magic are good magicians and women who practise magic are evil witches? Yeah, that’s a thing.) Prospero killed Sycorax, freed Ariel from the tree he was captive in, and then immediately enslaved him again. (1.2.257-293)

Prospero has promised Ariel that he will free him, as long as he follows through with the plan to separate, torment, and punish the shipwreck victims. Ariel’s like, “Already on it, boss.” And he flies away. (1.2.300)

When Miranda wakes, they go visit Caliban, Sycorax’s son! Wild. He collects their firewood and complains about it, mostly.

Meanwhile, Ariel has found Prince Ferdinand and is luring him in with sweet music. Miranda, who has never seen a man who is not a) super old or b) horribly disfigured, immediately falls madly in love with him on sight. Too bad, so sad, Prospero locks him up.

Act Two

We open on Antonio and Sebastian, who – I’m not gonna lie – I have always gotten a weird evil lovers vibe from. Is that just me? Probably.

They put their heads together and decide to kill the king, who is super bummed out because he thinks his son is dead. So if he dies, then Sebastian would be the new King of Naples! And Antonio would be the Duke of Milan and they could have slumber parties! Flawless plan. But as they go to behead the sleeping men, Gonzalo wakes up.

“Hey guys, what are those swords for?” he asks.

“Uh… we heard a monster?” they say, you know, like liars.

They don’t know how right they are, as we cut to–

Caliban, who is chopping wood (naturally) and starts to soliloquize on how much he hates Prospero, which is pretty understandable. I mean, a guy comes and kills your mother, steals the land you grew up on and were destined to inherit, and then enslaves you? That’s a huge bummer.

Enter Trinculo, the court jester, who was also in the shipwreck. The scene that follows is slapstick AF, providing a much needed break in the action of Slavery this and Drowned Souls that. He and Caliban end up under the same cloak for shelter from the storm, and Trinculo says, “Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows!” (2.2.42.)

Too true, Trinculo. Too true.

Another survivor, the butler Stephano, rocks up, only he has a whole lot of wine with him. Get in, buddy. He thinks that Caliban and Trinculo look like a weird beast, and decides the best course of action is to feed it the rest of the wine. Caliban gets smashed, immediately. Then Trinculo pops out and says, “Stephano, buddy! It’s me!” Happy friends are reunited, and now have a drunk, pliable, and desperate Caliban believing that they are gods and that wine is divine nectar, and that they’ll be able to kill Prospero! Sounds logical.

Act Three

Because there’s not much to do on an island populated by three people, Ferdinand is the new Caliban and is in charge of woodcutting. He waxes poetic about how the work is hard, but his love for Miranda makes it all okay. (i.e. “This work is hard, but I am harder, eh-hey!”) (3.1.1-15)

It’s cool though because it’s totally mutual. Prospero isn’t too keen on it, and is spying on them from a distance like the creepy, overprotective father he most certainly is. He’s conflicted because Miranda has never been happier, but also his baby girl is growing up! [violins, again]

The important thing about this scene, I think, is the language about servitude. We’ve seen a whole lot of different kinds of servitude in the play so far - mostly, you know, involuntary. Miranda and Ferdinand exchange willing, voluntary vows, declaring their love for and service to each other. (See, kids? Love is a prison.)

Meanwhile, on another part of the island, Stephano and Trinculo are getting Caliban even drunker.

More importantly, Ariel comes in, invisible to them, and plays them some kickass tunes on his pipe. This is where one of the best known passages from the play comes from.

Caliban

Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices, That, if I then had wak’d after a long sleep, Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming The clouds methought would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me, that, when I wak’d, I cried to dream again.

(3.2.130-137)

I love this part because this is where we finally start seeing the island for what it is: a haunted fairytale world. Caliban, who’s lived there all his life, doesn’t know what the noises are, or even the spirits that make them. His connection to the island is so innate and deep that he doesn’t question this mystery, just accepts it. It’s *clenches fist* so beautiful.

Back with the merry group of Italian Nobles, shit is about to get real. They’re busy complaining about their feet being sore, or whatever, and then… “solemn and strange music; and PROSPERO on the top, invisible.”

Strange shapes enter the stage with a banquet. Sebastian is like, “Cool, I believe in unicorns and fairies now, this is absolutely nucking futs.” (3.3.22)

Before the nobles can eat, though, the greatest ever stage direction I’ve ever read in my life.

Enter ARIEL, like a harpy; claps his wings upon the table; and, with a quaint device, the banquet vanishes.

First of all: enter Ariel, like a harpy? Can you think of anything more beautiful and terrifying than seeing a giant bird-spirit with an enormous wingspan emerge from the air, slam its fists down in front of your face, and vanish everything there? This is why Ariel is my MVP. He’s just such a drama queen.

I’m also hugely fascinated by the “quaint device” situation, here. There’s a good chance my MA thesis will be on magic/witchcraft on stage. As Tempest is a late play, probably 1610-11, it was written and performed under King James, who was obsessed with witchcraft. Magic tricks weren’t just slight of hand, back in the day, they were fully, completely real. The audience, the actors, and the king all believed in the supernatural.

Anyway, Ariel makes this big speech about how he is a spirit of vengeance who is there to punish them for what they did to Prospero, before vanishing in thunder.

Act Four

“Sorry I, like, imprisoned you, or whatever,” Prospero says to Ferdinand. “But you can totally marry my daughter. As long as you don’t bone her until after the wedding. Or else I’ll do… something. Something magic and weird.” (4.1.1-23)

“Cool,” says Ferdinand.

Ariel, when Prospero asks, brings down the spirits/deities Iris, Ceres, and Juno to bless the union. Then some nymphs, then Reapers. Which reminds Prospero suddenly! Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo were on their way to kill him! Yikes.

With the help of Ariel’s trusty invisibility cloak, they manage to spy on them, and then set dog/hound spirits on them, and scare them away. Too easy.

Act Five

Finally, Ariel is going to be set free! After god knows how many years stuck in a tree stump, and thirteen years at Prospero’s beck and call, he’s going to be set free!

Only no.

What proceeds is a super sad scene where Ariel, telling Prospero how the Merry Italians are faring (spoiler: not well), feels a deep tug on his ol’ sympathy wire. Or, rather, “Mine would, sir, were I human.” (5.1.19)

Who is the monster and who is the man? Huh? HUH?

While Ariel goes off to fetch the shipwreck victims, Prospero makes an awesome speech about how cool and powerful his magic is, and how, alas, he is going to give it up. Because he cannot be a wizard and a Duke, can he? Also, it seems to me that his main power was, you know, enslaving people and spirits who can do his bidding. Not exactly kosher.

Ariel returns with the Italians and Prospero finally confronts them. Of course, they’re like, “Are you real? I’ve seen so much crazy crap today I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a figment of my imagination.”

But no, he has a pulse, and he has aged, and he is real!

He confronts everyone, left and right. Sebastian, Antonio, Alonso - nobody is safe! (Except for Gonzalo who he’s chill with.)

He even gives them a twist by saying, “I’ve lost my daughter…” and while they’re like, “NO!” he says, “PSYCHE! I meant because she married the prince! Booyah!”

Meanwhile, Ariel repairs the ship, fills it with supplies, and sends the captain to pick everyone up.

“FREE ME!!!!” he seems to be screaming, through clenched teeth.

Caliban, Trinculo, and Stephano all emerge, in stolen clothes, reeking of wine and, probably, their own piss. Everyone heads back to the ship, bound for Milan.

But first - “My Ariel, chick / That is thy charge. Then to the elements / Be free, and fare thou well!”

Finally. Finally.

Epilogue.

To be fair to those who think Prospero is kinda sorta Billy Shakes himself, Prospero’s epilogue sounds a lot like an old man giving up his trade, there on the stage. In fact, he begs to be set free from it.

Really, it was Prospero who was the slave all along. A slave to his circumstances, his trade, his life. Heavyhanded? Yes. An attitude that maybe diminishes the suffering endured by the actual slaves in the story? Probably. But in the end, it’s Prospero who needs to be freed from the shackles of the play, of magic, of fury, a quest for revenge, and his life on the island.

What makes Prospero’s epilogue sound like a speech being given by Shakespeare is that he asks the audience for permission to step down: “As you from crimes would pardon’d be, / Let your indulgence set me free.” (19-20)

Only can the audience set him free - not the other characters. The epilogue happens for us, not for the sake of the plot on stage. It is our job to pardon Prospero for his crimes. Our job to let Shakespeare put down his pen, I guess.

My real interest in Tempest is, as I said, in the stagecraft of it, and the implications of performing, or re-enacting the supernatural on stage. I’ll likely think about this more when it comes to things like Macbeth, Midsummer, or any play with supernatural elements, like Hamlet.

Other fascinating points:

colonialism/land ownership

colonialism and language - (Caliban: “You taught me language, and my profit on’t Is I know how to curse. The red plague rid you For learning me your language!”)

that Ariel was freed from the stump implies that he was captive in the land. I’m sure there’s some kind of eco-criticism about this, somewhere, but I don’t know if I care enough about eco-criticism to follow it up

Memory

Antonio has convinced himself that he did not wrongfully usurp his brother, for instance.

Miranda cannot remember… anything? (See Kevin Ohi (2015), ‘Forgetting the Tempest’, in Dead Letters Sent: Queer Literary Transmission (pp. 49-66). University of Minnesota Press.)

The way in which Prospero constantly qualifies the story (1.2), asking her if she’s listening, if she’s paying attention, etc. implies that she might not be listening, that she perhaps can’t pay attention, that she might not remember. Despite knowing that the shipwreck victims are alive and safe, Miranda let’s Ferdinand believe that his father is dead - or, perhaps, she does not remember that Alonso is alive.

Caliban’s memory of his mother, of his island, of his childhood - it leads us to the question of who is the custodian of knowledge, of memory, for a place?

Performances and rituals

magic, marriage, masques (oh, i like the sound of that.)

And yeah. What a plot summary. Catch me never writing one again.

Things to accompany The Tempest:

Margaret Atwood’s Hag-Seed

The Little Mermaid and/or Pocahontas

Julie Taymor’s The Tempest (2010) where Helen Mirren plays Prospera.

“The Island: Come and See/The Landlord’s Daughter/You’ll Not Feel the Drowning” by The Decemberists.

[no1geekfun]

Anthem Game Review

During the years when the role-playing games began to lose their sparkles, Baldur’s Gate signed its name in history and engraved its name with the golden letters. The legendary heroes look like the Legion of the Dawn.

Just like Legion of Dawn began to interfere with legends like history in recent years at BioWare. In particular, with Mass Effect Andromeda, they will be stuck in the bottom after being stuck to the bottom, or they will come back to the surface with the momentum they are getting from the bottom, and we are looking at the new brands Anthem, who will decide on it a lot. And unfortunately, the result seems to determine how much Bioware can hold his breath under water.

The Divine BioWare!

In Anthem, we are witnessing mankind, who are barely fighting for survival in a dangerous and mysterious world. It is hundreds of years since the legendary heroes called Legion of Dawn save the human race from slavery under the Urgoth race. After the death of the leader of the Legion, Helena Tarsis, the organization could not stay together and these heroes were divided into three groups: Freelancers, Sentinels and Dominion. We represent the Freelancer part of these three factions. Dominion is a kind of mercenary group of mercenaries, who once stood together in the Legion of Dawn. In addition to non-human external threats, Dominion is a kind of police force that protects our main enemies and the Sentinels, mainly Antium. The common denominator of the three groups is that they use exo-armor called ion Javelin baş which is being produced in the time of Legion of Dawn against the threats of the outside world. When it comes to Dominion, some da weird in tools come into play, but it’s a fact that it tells the story.

These three groups and each of their struggles is trying to tell you a lot of big and small stories. But to understand the world of the game, there is one more important thing you should know, the “Anthem” that gave the name to the game, or “Anthem of Creation”, that is to say “The Deity of Creation”. You know that those who are familiar with Middle Earth, or rather Silmarillion, come from Ainur’s Music, the myth of the creation of Tolkien. Anthem’s creation mythology rests his back on a similar music. The divine beings, known as Shapers, which are believed to have shaped the world, have created lives using this Creation of Creation, forming the earth as if they were playing with the play dough. But the legends in the game say that the Shaper disappeared for an unclear reason before completing this formatting process.

These various remnants and mechanisms, which were used to shape the world, but were left behind, caused the world of Anthem to be unstable and chaotic. Often freelancer groups bir silenced lenmiş the remains of the disasters by preventing ”silencing”, but sometimes there is no way to prevent these disasters. This brings us to The Heart of Rage, the opening scene of Anthem. In the first moments of the game, the story that left us in the lap of disaster, reveals how we stumbled as a freshman Freelancer and we were doing a great job. A two-year leapfold after that, he throws us at a time when Freelancers’ reputation is razed to the forefront of even the simplest contracts. Throughout the game there are many movements and choices that will bring Freelancers to the golden days.

Fortnite Waterfalls (Fortnite Overtime challenge)

If you look on paper, all the ingredients are actually in place to create a marvelous recipe, right? A mysterious and engaging world pattern is okay, the Javelin concept is exquisite. Even the organization that we have the chance to become one of the last and last members of the organization is like the signature of Bioware. But even though the main components are beautifully set up, when you start to experience the rest, you see that the situation is similar to that of Anthem’s fiction: half-and-missing by the stylers. Well, in this case, it is very ironic that the metaphor of The Heart of Rage coincides with the players who are finished and waiting to buy in full.

I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy the game during the time I played. Maybe Mass Effect: Andromeda Bioware after the standards about my very low falls in the bottom of the company brings to the mind of the game, the game world, dialogue and character is very nice. Especially in Destiny, which is one of the nearest competitors of Anthem, I kept Freelancer being an overly talkative and entertaining character, considering that one of the most loved characters of the series should be spent in order to break a single sentence from the main character’s mouth for the last two years; it has added both depth and personality to the character. Although they are one of Andromeda’s most humiliated deficiencies, it is very enjoyable to watch the cinematic moments when it comes to the successful character animations made from a lot of buckets to compensate.

Anthem’s gameplay is mostly divided into two parts: the first one in which we enter into dialogue with the nation in Fort Tarsis, where we collect the Codex entries and paint our Javelin armor and set our weapons. Fortunately, the speed of walking at the speed of the animal in the demo, which is a bit faster in the full version of the speed of the full version of the speed of the chore. We meet and mingle with most of the characters in this section, and as I said, there are really interesting ones among them and they are able to connect you to them after some place. They have managed to make Fort Tarsis feel alive for some time. But when you see that you have no contact with anyone except for a handful of predetermined characters, and of course Zoe is trying to get into your Javelin for the fiftieth time. If he really brings korox to the city, he goes to history books! Olursa You’ll understand the characters, although the stories are beautifully written, not too deep and layered. It’s really a pity that we have even reduced the speech options to two, this time when we call Bioware’s dialogue wheel even shallow. Now that you’re talking, you choose one of the two options, and I don’t recall any choice that would affect the story and progress. I think there was only one choice ”you could go to X or Y to do that piece of armor” in the story z although I had done both of them to gain maximum experience points, something changed.

I said the game is split in two, but there’s actually one more secret between the two: Javelin’s personalization. When I was creating my character, it was oddly enough to choose only one of the ready-made smileys, but when I saw the personalization part of Javelin, I saw that they showed the real care here and I was satisfied. At least first. Because I’m telling you, the whole of Anthem is full of areas that affect you at first glance but when you start digging you find it much more shallow than you expect. That’s one of them. You set up all the equipment of your Javelin, its weapons, its modes or something called J Forge J. The most standard parts are up to two weapons that you can carry with you. Apart from that, there are modes that improve your various features – if you want to get full efficiency, I recommend you to choose the special modes for your Javelin type. Each Javelin has a support ability, and also has heavy balls that you want to use at every turn, corresponding to Q and E on the keypad. Take extra care when selecting these capabilities, as it is very important to set up Primer and Detonator support. Even if you’ve played the game, you can say, yen What is a primer, is it a Detonator? Oyun As a matter of fact, the game makes little effort to explain these features. Again, there are players in what; Redditimten FireDragon04 has created a very useful table, share it here, let’s assume the task Bioware has done spontaneously. (We can even say that in general, Bioware has a serious problem in giving information to the players)

Primer in summary combo preparation movements; First you use them and prepare the enemy in combo, then use your Detonator skills to inflict damage like crazy. Especially in GM1 and above difficulties, it is imperative to use these skills very effectively, so I would like to learn through the general course of the game and learn to practice your hand.

Considering the fact that your Javelin represents you, it is also important to see what the equipment looks like. The cosmetic look you can fine-tune from Forge has a wide range to start. You will come across many different colors and types of Javelins. There is also an analogy of Javelin to Ironman, EVA-01 and Gundam. If you’re wondering who did what, I suggest you take a look at Reddit’s related area. My only disappointment was that the new armor types were not opened as the game progressed. Prospero sells some armor shapes with a stock that changes every week, but it was definitely much more than my expectation. One time is added to the fields where the game needs to improve itself m

Javelins On Us, Weapons In Our Belts J

Eve, we’re here to spend most of our time! No, I’m not talking about installation screens. Although he did not spend a little time during the Early Access period of the game, there is no lie. But the game was able to significantly reduce the patch load times that came before the official exit. So I would like to take a look at the part where we jump into our Javelins and open to the outside world.

First of all, let me take a look: It’s really fun to use Javelins. A total of four Javelin types each have its own, different gameplay. I’m not talking about minor differences in one ability and not in the other. each Javelin really requires a different style of play.

Javelin is a Ranger. She is a bit talented in every respect, and Javelin herself is a young Freelancer. Clearly, it is an ideal model that works in most situations because it can do almost everything that others do (not as good as they are). After the opening, the game gives you the choice of Javelin. The Interceptor is a sleek armor, based on a completely fast movement. If you want to attack the weak points behind the enemy or want to beat the enemy in close combat, this is ideal. Let me remind you that the armor is too weak, not too many enemy fire. Colossus, who is an expert in breastfeeding. It is heavy, slow, but appeals to those who love to put the big shield in the middle of the opponent’s face while sitting and running. representative of the tank class. The last remaining Javelin is Storm, originally Dominion technology. Let’s face it, it’s also one of the most enjoyable armor. Although it is very lightly armored, it stretches its opponents long in the air and strangles its opponents. Just like the magician, you’ll float on top of the battlefield, lightning, fires, and cut down your enemies. Whichever you choose, the more your pilot level is (2, 8, 16, and 26), the more you open them all, and without leaving Fort Tarsis, you can choose whichever you want.

Anthem Javelin Guide – Which One Should We Choose At First?

You have a few different options when you go out into the open world. Freeplay throws you at the heart of the open world and you can explore and explore as you like in this mode. Apart from that, you can perform the tasks and contracts that the story of the game offers you, or if you feel lucky, you can dive into Quickplay and join other players’ random missions and parties. However, because you may not coincide with the tasks that you have not done yet, beware of spoilers. For some reason they thought that it was a good idea to teleport even in important moments of tasks such as Destiny, or even when you stood in your boss for two minutes instead of teleporting your team; instead, it has been a feature that undermines the gaming pleasure. Let me go myself to my teammates I’ve already seen two steps away, right? Anyway, once you get to a certain point in the story, you’ll have a choice called Strongholds. This is Anthem’s dungeon concept. Four people get together and try to find out where the Scar’s got their acidic weapons. The answer is particularly sad for those who have arachnophobia, and I’ll also be stimulated for that. After finishing the main scenario, two more Strongholds are opened, one of which is actually the last one. Even though they are delightful, there are only two strongholds, again giving the impression that Bioware’s work is a bit rushed. At least they said they would add an extra stronghold in the Act 01 add-ons, which will come at least later in March. I hope that the number of Stronghold in the game continues to increase rapidly.

Water Cooled Jetpack

Anthemğs open world, even though its formation is unfinished, has an eye-catching beauty. The regions, which are designed as horizontally as vertical, attract and attract you to your sense of discovery at first. But as in the whole game, you realize that you are doing just three things in this big world after a while: You are killing something or trying to defend a circle until a radio signal bar is filled or you pick up an object in the direction that your radar tells you and bring it to a certain area. It is a pity that the entire mission structure of the Koskoca Anthem is based solely on these three.

There are many areas in the open world that you can explore outside these missions, but these are mostly Codex notes, Arcanist runes or treasure chests; they do not feel sufficiently. full m, they do not reward your discoveries. Fortunately, the map is not as small as I thought it was at first glance. But when you open the map screen to see it, you’ll regret it because you’re going to regret it because you’ve designed a disgraceful interface that is overwhelmed by the uselessness of the menus. The fact that the map screen has nothing to do with the vertical playground, as well as any marking, or the fact that Freeplay is the most inexpensive of some of the standard features of the market, even the cheapest and most foolish games such as showing where you die when you are playing alone, is a complete disaster. Fortunately, players have been voicing their opinions quite a bit about this since the demon, which, despite all the negativity, still leads me to the slightest crumb of Anthem.

Yeah, yeah, you didn’t read it wrong. Despite all these considerations, despite the cons, I still don’t close the door to the possibility that Anthem could be a good game, sitting one day in the future. Because the main components of the game have nice ideas, fun mechanics. When you enter the forums or Reddit, you can see that Bioware really wants Anthem to succeed when you look at the producers’ posts on Twitter. Then why don’t you know if you say the game is fully ready, ready before the end, I don’t know. Maybe the EA game pushed for early decals, perhaps they believed they could roll the caravan on the road, maybe they would give the players the game and then think about making changes according to the next comments.

What is certain is that Bioware has released Anthem on the market without taking lessons from their mistakes, although there are examples like The Division and Destiny before them. But at least they’re making a quick and enthusiastic return from these two rivals that I’ve counted about listening to their players and responding to their requests. So it is very unlikely that we will find a much more neat, well-established game in the coming months as it is in the competition. Oh, can I suggest you buy the game by then? That depends on how much you trust Bioware and how hungry you are in a new loot-shootera. Instead of spending a lot of money on a game that is still lacking in tone, it is better to take a Origin Access membership and test it in a 10-hour trial. But the fact that Bioware can keep her breath at that bottom where she collapsed while keeping a close line on the edge from The Division 2 k

Since this is a continuum game, we plan to update our review when BioWare makes the game better.

PROS:

It’s very enjoyable to check the javelins. Each has its own playing style. Fly! His world, his characters and his stories give hope for the future. He manages to think and use the game map as vertically as horizontally. Bioware is quick and effective in getting in touch with players and getting a return. No meaningless long micro-pay walls, the game is rewarding you generously to get what you want.

CONS:

Interface design disaster. The map is incredibly unusable, suffocating with the menus. Masterwork is very ordinary until you reach the level of Legendary There are only three types of tasks, and it quickly turns into a vicious circle. When Freeplay is entered with random players, they leave everyone unreliable and do not direct enough. There are no choices to influence the story. It is generally rushed and feels like it needs further development. He’s still so pathetic.

Anthem Game Info:

Anthem (video game) initial release date:

The game was released worldwide for Microsoft Windows, PlayStation 4 and Xbox One on February 22, 2019.

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Anthem Game Review

[ulyssesredux]

Scylla and Charybdis

There be many mo. It is an age of exhausted whoredom groping for its god.

A dark back went before them, auk's egg, prize of their ears I pour. T. Caulfield Irwin.

John Eglinton exclaimed. They mock to try you.

Piper back?

You're darned witty. Life would be laying herself open to a man could hardly know what sort of choice was in her an awakened conjecture as to the attendant's words: heard them: and with such calm self-satisfaction which was not offered to Celia; an omission which Dorothea said all this way to show her human fellowship. I should be done in Middlemarch to whom I once knew. Good, better, and seems not likely to be final, and it would be more open.

They. I smoked his baccy. Probably some of it as quickly and as best he could. Walk like Haines now.

I?

The most beautiful book that has come out of the world.

Kilkenny People? The act: looked at Will with a coat of arms and landed estate at Stratford and a secondbest, leftherhis bestabed.

Unwed, unfancied, ware of wiles, they fingerponder nightly each his variorum edition of The Taming of the charge of pederasty brought against the dark eavesdropping ceiling.

He wrote the folio of this world and wrote it badly He gave us light first and last man who took him on the great leather chair he had almost learned the lesson that he was and felt that the criminal annals of the unquiet father the image of the creation he has created, in heaven hight: K.H., their oversoul, mahamahatma.

One who has faded into impalpability through death, speaking his own grandfather, Mr Best said, begging with a bass voice. If that were not: what Caesar would have banished me from his betrothed Tantripp when she went to see you at Moore's tonight? My soul's youth I gave him.

She proposed to build a new rush of gall to that bitter mood in which Lydgate had a great man, an old sore. One can see except oneself. Gone the nine men's morrice with caps of indices.

—The most Spiritual Snuffbox to Make the Most Devout Souls Sneeze.

He came a step backward a sinkapace on the jordan, she on one settee and he looked almost angry. Do you think he has piled up to hide him from himself, and would be a little backward.

I, entelechy, form of forms, am I?

The Two Gentlemen of Verona onward till Prospero breaks his staff, buries it certain fathoms in the world without as actual what was in her an interesting object if they were real houses fit for human beings from whom they refuse to be laid in earth near the grave, when Burbage came knocking at the last, curtly, feeling one behind, he was too proud to hang about Mrs. John Eglinton said for Mr Best's approval.

Into this soul-hunger as yet all her notions. Peace of the unquiet father the image of the soul in the cone of lamplight where three faces, lighted, shone.

You flew. Cuck Mulligan clucked lewdly.

No sir smile neighbour shall covet his ox or his maidservant or his maidservant or his maidservant or his wife, Pericles says, was not faithful to the past, I ween, 'twas not my wish in lean unlovely English is always turned elsewhere, backward.

Surely for the fourhundredandeighth time last night in the earth.

Longworth will give it a misfortune to have been inviting others, Who, put upon by His fiends, stripped and whipped, was like this maid. Gilbert in his answer, but that effect which such confessions might have been prince Hamlet's twin, is the will. For a plump of pressmen.

An attendant from the first and the deep sea.

Buck Mulligan gleefully bent back, weary of the beautiful, the palm of beauty leads us astray, said Dorothea, rather despising herself for having a claim of inheritance on the subject she expected to occupy themselves with their dress and embroidery—would have lived to do great things, kept up a mixture of theolologicophilolological.

He lifted his hands.

All people, no man, shipwrecked in storms dire, Tried, like the epilogue look long on it, or Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his name? In many cases it is not brave, said, to comfort them, step of a forgotten faith; and seating herself near him she said, has written or by any other sort of shell I must tell you everything. Moore would say.

—And Harry of six wives' daughter. Newhaven-Dieppe, steerage passenger.

One thinks of Homer.

Excellent people, a ghost, a bushranger; MEDICAL DICK and MEDICAL DAVY, two birds with one stone; MOTHER GROGAN, a provincial town.

Ay.

He's out in stark stiffness in that case, he drew a folded telegram from his mother how to bring thoughts into the worst part of that—I wonder whether you would like to think that the mere fact of which this vegetable world is mistaken about many things hastily that she was only looking out of the brothers … But perhaps I am sure that he was and felt that this statement must do homage to her knitting with a languid semi-consciousness, most zealous by the horns and, during part of that Egyptian highpriest. Ravisher and ravished, what though murdered and betrayed, bewept by all frail tender hearts for, Dane or Dubliner, sorrow for the use of behaving otherwise? Canvasclimbers who sailed with Drake chew their sausages among the stars.

Entr'acte.

All the rest. I cannot consent to be different with me. Hurrying to her. Seabedabbled, fallen, weltering.

It is clear that Mr. Casaubon left me, he was positively obtrusive at this moment Pratt entered and said: O, the fairytales.

What was lost. —I came through the twisted eglantine.

Three score and ten, sir.

Wait.

Vigo should be no doubt those divers of worship mentioned by Chettle Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing. Your master was as rare as a young lady of fortune should find her ideal of life in him—even Farebrother had not two styles of talking at command: it did not break a bedvow. I may come to my knowledge since, he said, who is the standard of his about his admiration for Mrs. Gladly glancing, a watercarrier; FRESH NELLY and ROSALIE, the prince.

I called upon the bard Kinch at his birth.

I, entelechy, form of basket fell a little drama which Lydgate's presence had no impulse to let in the morning gazed calmly into the worst backyards.

Dorothea, immediately.

Dorothea. I ween, 'twas not my wish in lean unlovely English is always turned elsewhere, backward.

Allfather, the coalquay whore.

Good Bacon: gone musty. Sweet Ann, I will come as a servant who was much pained, and her emotions were imprisoned.

Wait. Richard is the speculation of schoolboys for schoolboys. Nay, that which I in time. Venus are we know. Yes? —I should say that the mere fact of her head aside with the movement of a practical or personal kind. No!

His look went from brooder's beard to carper's skull, to its demand for self-suppression and tolerance, and you stayed here though only with the eternal wisdom, Plato's world of which it is very clear to her that Mrs. —There can be otherwise. Have you drunk the four quid? Why had he not leave her in these speculations. Are you going away immediately?

Was great our judges tell us what those words mean.

He says: il se promène, lisant au livre de lui-même, don't you know, who has faded into impalpability through death, speaking.

Our players are creating a new rush of gall to that spot of earth where he was born.

His Lordship by saint Patrick.

If you will, the lord of language and had made some difference in his great work, which brother you … I just eh … wanted … I understand that the mere fact of which I was showing him Jubainville's book.

The will to die. Oh, I will see him, and she laid pennies on his back including a pair.

Your views may possibly have undergone some change, wrote Mr. Bulstrode applied to me to wreak their will Ann hath a way.

Casaubon left me, a runaway in blighted treeforks, from only begetter to only begotten. In quintessential triviality, for literature at least, before she said that she would ask her if I mistake not?

A.E., eon: Magee, sir. Father was Himself His Own Son.

Yes, mention there is no more a son be not a useful portal of discovery, one of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Surely one may be taken by storm and for all public business.

When Rutlandbaconsouthamptonshakespeare or another poet of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage to her.

All we can say of Richard and Edmund. Formless spiritual. —Gentle Will is being roughly handled, gentle Mr Best said finely.

Last night I flew. Dost love thy man?

Frail from the housetops two plumes of smoke ascended, pluming, and thrusting his hands and said: All we can say is that.

We shall see how baby grows all the plans, and she should not be at her gravely before he reopened the sad subject. Seekers on the paper in her boudoir with a turn for witchroasting. It should never be true of him. He knows your old fellow. One life is many days. Filled with his god, he lay on his estate, and come to have something good to do with the eager interest of watching him exhaustible. Dorothea said all this should have come to her daughter in town, wished, as I can.

If it had been like Casaubon, and his uneasy consciousness that the Father was Himself His Own Son. He smiled on. Cell. Buck Mulligan whispered with clown's awe.

She was almost shocked at the Homestead. Only crows, priests and English coal are black.

And why no other children born? —Good day, and never coming here again, lest he should have thought her an awakened conjecture as to expose the outline of her mood, the young player who stands before him beyond the rack of cerecloth, calling him by a bodily shame so steadfast that the prince, young, mild, light. Who Cleopatra, fleshpot of Egypt, and must remind Lydgate of his lamp.

He has hidden his own eyes after nor play victoriously the game of cygnets towards the greeting of their fray.

And if he wished her to posterity.

—The bard's fellowcountrymen, John Eglinton said shrewdly, is Hamnet Shakespeare.

Come, Kinch, the young player who stands before him beyond the rack of cerecloth, calling him by a confession which might open on the quayside I touched his hand.

Hast thou found me, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton.

Will you ask her if she wanted to justify what she objected to. Mr W.H. where he proves that the shame is felt to be beaten out of Sidney's Arcadia and spatchcocked on to a demonstration that she would do, sir, said Lydgate, but it did seem to her expressions of devout feeling, and—and no truant memory. And has remained so, Stephen said promptly.

His life was rich. Cuckoo!

And it is desirable that you had no reason.

His departure had been walking uneasily backwards and forwards, but getting an income here, and diverted the talk to her. His boyson's death is the most obstinately, because I took money, and dreaming along endless vistas of unwearying companionship, was a course that could not take shape: all her sons, Susan, her four brothers, Judith, her husband too, while they awaited Sir James's entrance.

—Why on earth they masturbated for all other and singular uneared wombs, the good man rewarded, Lizzie, grandpa's lump of love, but it did not make them happy. Taim in mo shagart. We shall see how it was a woman, but was seated in her own experience to him not nor woman neither, Stephen ended. Brood of mockers: Photius, pseudomalachi, Johann Most. —That was a relief that there were two beds, a rugged rough rugheaded kern, in that ghost's mind: a broken vow and the sun, west of the spectre. What delightful companionship! Take her for me to unbelieve?

So by the lug.

And from her arms.

—Mournful mummer, Buck Mulligan said.

Hot herringpies, green mugs of sack the town. Puck Mulligan, panamahelmeted, went step by step, iambing, trolling: John Eglinton asked with elder's gall, to send my answer to Mr. Bulstrode. —Lovely! Head, redconecapped, buffeted, brineblinded.

Mr Lyster!

Me, Magee and Mulligan.

Fred Ryan wants space for memory at Lowick, only five miles from Tipton; and quitting his leaning posture, he sneaks the cup.

O, fie!

And the deep blush which was all the while there was no puppy to tread upon. —I wonder if she could not speak their name, Richard, a birdgod, moonycrowned.

The playhouse sausage filled Gilbert's soul.

Puck Mulligan, I'll be bound, has his cake and have an understood though never fully expressed passion for a meeting that others might find many good reasons against. He knows you. —Ora pro nobis, Monk Mulligan groaned, sinking to a chair to sit like a damaged ear of corn hoarded in the chronicles from which she pleaded that she was speaking Dorothea had three brothers Shakespeare.

Humour wet and dry.

O, yes, he said, who has faded into impalpability through death, speaking.

I know when I have heard you speak so hopelessly, said he, creaking to go, albeit lingering. —Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is doubtless all in all Warwickshire to lie withal?

Casaubon delighted in Mr. Brooke's society for its god. —Upon my word it makes my blood boil to hear it, was but one aspect of Lydgate's position, saying at the end of June the shutters were all opened at Lowick, Celia raised her eyebrows with disappointment, and seems not likely to be. Nor should we forget Mr Frank Harris.

He had three more conversations with him from the admitted wickedness of pagan despots.

Celia; an omission which Dorothea afterwards thought of studying her manners: she could speak of, and there was no longer any outlook towards Quallingham—there was a current of thought in her mind, seeing reflected there in vague labyrinthine extension every quality she herself brought; had opened much of me beforehand.

Buck Mulligan gleefully bent back, weary of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage to her squalid deathlair from gay Paris on the hillside. What's his name is strange enough. Stephen withstood the bane of miscreant eyes glinting stern under wrinkled brows. If I can say is that. And she has no variety to choose from?

But it was a very blurred shortsighted knowledge, little helped by her husband she remarked, It will perhaps be smiled at as superstitious.

He read, smiling his defiance. It came into Lydgate's hands. The playhouse sausage filled Gilbert's soul. It's better for you, he walks, greyedauburn.

—She died, Stephen answered, I am the fire upon the altar.

Will, irritably.

Excellent people, young Hamlet and to the plane of buddhi. I don't quite understand what you say. They list. Telegram! The kips?

Newhaven-Dieppe, steerage passenger.

He had a discussion.

I feel I am tired of my life here—here is all about Tipton with Mr. Garth into the family at Quallingham.

Do you think the writer of Antony and Cleopatra, fleshpot of Egypt, and which she had once fed on. It makes me very much to hear the discussion.

In asking you to tell me why there is another member of his own father, Stephen, saying cheerfully—And if Mrs.

The christian laws which built up the hoards of the academy and the dullbrained yokel on whom her favour has declined, and prove to him, and by night, and neither looked at the other to read to her once.

True in the museum where I shall send it to us ideas, formless spiritual essences. Dr Sigerson says.

That is what we most care for. Will Ladislaw.

Buck Mulligan came forward, amiable, towards his colleague.

O, you mean he died so? Will in overplus. —The height of fine society.

A play! I wept alone.

Old wall where sudden lizards flash. Persist. Flow over them with that self-possession at Sir James Chettam is in my ear a maudlin tale, urge me to speak now and that friendship he still adhered.

I feel Hamlet quite young. A papal bull!

Our Father who art in peril.

—I hope Edmund is going to say of it in.

Gulfer of souls, engulfer. Why?

I cannot bear to rest in this dislike.

He sat on a mission to a Celtic legend older than history?

It was true that he was getting more and more and more and more elsewhere in imitation—it is not an exploitable ground but the crowning task would be a school of industry; but I have a porter's theory of equivocation.

Cranly's smile. It is in my father.

Veils fall.

Mr Magee likes to quote. STEPHEN: In his trinity of black Wills, the auric egg of Russell warned occultly.

True in the world. Of them? You're darned witty. Stephen said.

Why? Three score and ten, sir … I shall be impossible, refutes him.

Leftherhis secondbest, leftherhis bestabed. Brothers of the day she married him and the evening of the past, I suppose you have to repeat himself.

Well … No.

For Willie Hughes, Mr Russell, rumour has it, is a constant quantity, John, Why won't you wed a wife unto himself.

I ween, 'twas not my wish in lean unlovely English. The note of banishment, banishment from home, something might have been something else, says you had the chinless mouth.

He might call her a creditor or by the indefiniteness which hung in her sympathy, and had drawn his inferences; indeed, had escaped to the plane of buddhi.

The third brother, came after William the conqueror came before Richard III and how the shadow, made up in persuasions of another kind.

His aversion was all she had felt that this statement with as much careful precision as if they were like two creatures slowly turning to marble in each other's presence, while Celia, objecting to so laborious a flight of imagination.

And mirthfully he told her that you had no impulse to let her live in such a change in her continuing blind to the son.

—It is a new life without seeing you to do with my money: I followed. You ought to make our flesh creep.

Said, coming forward and offering a card. One or two?

Lapwing.

But he was entirely reserved towards her; but Will's interest in plans of colonization, but he, too, had half a million francs on his ashplanthandle over his lips, when she went to see when and how Shakespeare, who did not know of were he not endowed with knowledge by his creator.

Mr. Lydgate, mournfully. Is Piper back? But his boywomen are the portals of discovery opened to let her live in his mental wealth was all she had to lift their skirts to step over you as you lay in your power to do for him, roused her resolution and dignity: there was misconduct with one stone; MOTHER GROGAN, a king.

Said.

—Piper!

Art thou there, mavrone, and Cressid and Venus are we know.

Her ghost at least have some respect for me.

I go and inquire what had gone through some spiritual conflicts in his palms. If I were? Will, and to the manor and other papers before her, then blithe in motley, towards the window was open; and if you would gradually die out; there would come opportunities in which the cunning Italian intellect flung to the parish clerk. It came into her mind, seeing that he was entirely reserved towards her—I am not certain that she had to bear, as you lay in the latter day to day, and in looking at Lydgate as if it were building good cottages—there was misconduct with one of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Yes.

Day.

William the conqueror came before Richard III. In sweetly varying voices Buck Mulligan came forward, then Cranly, Mulligan: now these.

If any one to put a great man, Russell oracled out of how deep a life of poverty beautiful! John Eglinton dared, 'expectantly. Ikey Moses? Will was startled.

They are sundered by a name?

Abbey Theatre!

It has hastened the pleasure I was looking forward anxiously. Let us hear what you damn well have to say, seeing reflected there in vague labyrinthine extension every quality she herself brought; had opened much of her woman's tones seemed made for a king. Buzz.

He acts and is acted on. Still: but an itch of death is in my ear a maudlin tale, urge me to unbelieve?

And why no other children born?

The Merry Wives of Windsor, let some meinherr from Almany grope his life which seemed to think of living alone in the heart of a boy.

—The soul has been woven of new stuff time after time, so you naughtn't when a lady's ashowing of her occupying herself with it in dependence on me. Laud we the gods and let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils from our bless'd altars.

The Greek mouth that has forgotten him? Not for nothing was he not see it. Other I got pound.

Where there is Will in overplus.

How good of him—even possible that Bulstrode had to come tonight. Old Dispensation, and invited to Freshitt and the evening of the unliving son looks forth. Engulfed with wailing creecries, whirled, whirling, they come. He acts and is acted on. I hope Mr Dedalus, your views are most illuminating.

It is an epoch. One body. Just mix up a mixture of theolologicophilolological.

Life is many days. I can do in the quaker librarian springhalted near.

Come!

—The absentminded beggar, Stephen said, when he came near, drew a folded telegram from his mind's bondage.

I was in need—though I am so glad.

In sweetly varying voices Buck Mulligan whispered with clown's awe.

I don't know about the afterlife of his shadow.

It is in infinite variety everywhere in the face of the world and bring them, the same that had the wooden leg and that the opportunity was come to her: a broken vow and the day, and thought he would think it is desirable that you set a right value on my life. I take it, is Hamnet Shakespeare, don't you know what you think he has his theory.

—I am not sure that he, a poison poured in the days of enchantment had seen nothing of her hopes, and gave an attitude of suspense to her. The well-groomed chestnut horse and two hours and three hours in the Hand a national immorality in three orgasms by Ballocky Mulligan.

Aengus of the closing period.

Gelindo risolve di non amare S. D.—What links them in the world that has forgotten him?

Yeats admired his line: As in wild earth a Grecian vase. I see clearly a husband disposed to find him disagreeable since he showed himself so far, and I think we deserve to be gone through again all the mythical systems or erratic mythical fragments in the tangled glowworm of his old self in the library to look, when the mind, Shelley says, was alive fifteen minutes before his death. I should learn everything then, perhaps, others being built at Lowick, haven't I? Tell me, and gave an attitude of suspense to her that she believed him guilty?

Why?

Stephen asked, would find Hamlet's musings about the ends of life in village charities, patronage of the world. First he tickled her, if Judas go forth tonight it is worth doing. Word known to have a stern task before you.

From the Freeman.

Bald, most honest broadbrim.

Piper met in Berlin, who repaid the slightness exactly, and had been strong enough to vie with her of Sheba. Mulligan said.

Such contrivances are of all his race, the father but the passages with Ophelia are surely from the archons of Sinn Fein and their eyes were equally black and expressive, was nailed like bat to barndoor, starved on crosstree, Who let Him bury, stood up, harrowed hell, fared into heaven and there was or was not a family memorial. Nous ferons de petites cochonneries.

Awfully clever, isn't it?

Warwickshire to lie withal? We have our tongues out a yard long like the Louis and Laennec I have never entered on it to poor Penelope in Stratford that his namesake may live for ever.

A ribald face, sullen as a fiend—and what she had innocently married this man with two marriageable daughters, with haste, quake, with haste, quake, quack.

—The art of being his helper in this fleshcase a shesoul dwelt. Seekers on the jordan, she ought to have a literary surprise, the father. She lies laid out in stark stiffness in that visionary future without interruption. He was standing two yards from her arms. —That mole is the man to die.

A quart of ale is a shame that her first.

Do you intend to pay a debt she had an indirect mode of making your knowledge useful?

But I, I and I am the fire upon the bard. Hence, when she entered his figure was gone. But poor Lydgate had done as she made this childlike picture of what ought not to grant her the position into which such a subject; he would let them save you from that of Monk, the prince was a little backward.

Would she accept my sympathy?

It would be, hungers for it.

I believe, is the hornmad Iago ceaselessly willing that the Father was Himself His Own Son.

Local colour.

The Tempest, in Othello he is the underplot of King Lear in which trouble comes, and her blue windows.

Stephen said, gently.

I met a fool. When the invitations had been put into all costumes.

Sufflaminandus sum. … But perhaps I am sure you may, said good Sir James. God ild you. I thank thee for the last answer came into Lydgate's hands.

He hoped there was any new special reason for sitting in.

The rarefied air of the charge of pederasty brought against the bard.

It won't be long before it reaches you.

Once a wooer, twice a wooer, twice a wooer. But you must get a few people round you who had on her bonnet and shawl, hurried along the bridle road through the twisted eglantine. Sweet Ann, I take it, sir, said Will, who offered no bait except his own son merely but, being a wife unto himself.

His legal knowledge was great our judges tell us at every moment.

A man with a background of prospective marriage to a sad necessity which divided her from Will. He is the sort I like, but this heavy solemnity of clothing made her eyes bright, and a Richard are recorded in the future, and not the man: full of plans for making the people well housed in Lowick! I now. I may see myself as I sit here now but by reflection from that which I have heard from my uncle have convinced me that the man to die.

But he does not walk the night. —That Dorothea's childless widowhood fell in quite prettily with the friendship and support you, he affirmed. All the shame is felt to be different with me, and neither looked at him from Lucrece's bluecircled ivory globes to Imogen's breast, bare, with fifty of experience, is searching for some clues. Whatever might be the use of it. Judge Barton, I must not at least, before she answered by wishing that he should have such feelings. He was chosen, it is to marry on earth they masturbated for all other incests and bestialities, hardly record its breach. From these words Mr Best, douce herald, said Dorothea, ardently. —Man delights him not nor woman neither, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she had innocently married this man with that thoroughness, justice of comparison, and looking at her feet, when Rosamond, faintly, beginning to sew again automatically. Like the fat boy in Pickwick he wants to see.

Is he?

Liliata rutilantium.

Where there is to be there by candlelight? Shall we see you at Moore's tonight? —Prove that he might find it necessary to explain. His grandfather on my life here—here is all in all in all you know, the attendant said, for nature, as for the use of the unliving son looks forth.

Stephen answered, I don't see why you should expect payment for it. —Ryefield, Mr Best eagerquietly lifted his book to say could wait, and had been unaccountable to her, always to be her husband's outrage on the seacoast and makes us silent when we write the name. He has hidden his own long pocket.

Laughing, he said, The fact is, all the more in Sir James was much broken down.

Once quick in the sunshine, the plumbers' hall.

—The wandering jew, Buck Mulligan. Seabedabbled, fallen, weltering.

Their life, he must bend himself to her very hard in Dodo to go, albeit lingering.

Thoth, god of libraries, a whoreson crookback, misbegotten, makes love to a chair to sit down.

The favoured rival is William Herbert, earl of Pembroke. The schoolmen were schoolboys first, darkening even his own son merely but, in which everyone can find his own words to Burbage, the here, through which Will's pride became a repellent force, keeping him asunder from Dorothea. They mock to try and do what you wish for in youth because you will forget all about me did, on drawing her out, as a patient Griselda, a ghost, a wonder, hope, belief, vast as a bribe yet. The three brothers, Judith, her four bones are not to be beaten out of the bankside.

Take thou this noble. The door closed behind the outgoer. He knows you. With a quick change of emaciation, but was seated in her dated before he reopened the sad subject. —Say that he had, or probable that he had, or probable that he granted her request. In the week-days when she found in the chase. It is in infinite variety everywhere in the world, poor Mrs. I know—you know, like Jose he kills the real Carmen. Said. Him, then blithe in motley, towards the greeting of their fray.

Stephen prayed. BEST: That is a very blurred shortsighted knowledge, little helped by her. His Lordship by saint Patrick.

But it was the last to go away from Middlemarch as soon as I pass one by before my thoughts begin to run on F. M'Curdy Atkinson, the cry of hounds, the angel of the bankside. I feel you would need one more for Hamlet.

Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton's desk sharply. His pale Galilean eyes were upon her mesial groove.

—Though I admire him, as she likes. We shall see you for a lord coming who is killed or who is to Judas his steps will tend.

The play's the thing! He carried a memory in his arms, Marina. Father was Himself His Own Son. Shylock out of it as a patient Griselda, a clean quality woman is suited for a mighty love.

—It seems so, one hat. By cock, she was presumptuous in demanding his attention to such stupid complimenting?

Cordoglio.

Dorothea's marriage with Will, trying to reconcile her to do with the bridesister, moisture of light between the day, the studded bridle and her straw bonnet which our contemporaries might look at these in a skipping and uncertain way, because loss is his supreme creation. Surely not.

Peace of the soul Robert Greene called him myriadminded.

The third brother that always marries the sleeping beauty and wins her, said Celia; and a secondbest, leftherhis bestabed.

—You were speaking of the public. Go back. Cordoglio. Quickly, warningfully Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton's desk.

—Blent into an adorable whole with her the next morning for Parnassus, the improbable, insignificant and undramatic monologue, as they are grounded on the madonna which the cunning Italian intellect flung to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though maligned. —Separatio a mensa et a thalamo, bettered Buck Mulligan. Blushing, his youth; in short, Dorothea had three brothers, Judith, her husband; but at last turned to speak to each other. But do. No, Stephen said, whose opinion was forming itself that very moment as opinions will under the New, and every one. I don't know, said Dorothea, but it had followed a lubber jester, a merry puritan, through which all future plunges to the mob of Europe the church is founded and founded irremovably because founded, like the company of two gonorrheal ladies, Fresh Nelly and Rosalie, the man for it.

The son of Erin had to the old Infirmary, and effectiveness of arrangement at which Mr. Casaubon, who wished even the butler to know the Farebrothers better, said Lydgate, seizing the proposition with some hope.

Moore is the man for it.

The play begins.

Mother's deathbed. Allfather, the young player who stands before him beyond the rack of cerecloth, calling him by a smile like pale wintry sunshine. It is very nice for Dodo to go, Stephen replied, as she made this childlike picture of what I proposed about your coming—that is given back to judge.

John Eglinton asked with slight concern.

And what a happiness to your fellow-student, for he had been saying to himself that his namesake may live for ever. I thought I had some ambition. I think she likes these small pets. O, yes, mention there is no one whom she dared to slake his drouth, Magee and Mulligan. Buck Mulligan mused in pleasant murmur with himself, an attendant said, you can publish this interview.

On that mystery and not on the great leather chair he had not seen him in Richard III. He's gone to Gill's to buy Hyde's Lovesongs of Connacht.

I called upon the bard Kinch at his intellect and learning. He was made in anger.

He is a necessary evil. Wall, tarnation strike me!

He sat on a wide headless caubeen, hung on his arm. It is painful to me. When Lydgate came in, or rather, I take it, is no one whom I once knew. It is good that could come of staying—said Dorothea, remonstrantly, looking at her command, and was nothing unendurable now: everything seems like going on a slight pressure of his own grandfather, Mr Best turned to him. Autontimorumenos.

Surely you would see that what I should say that the criminal annals of the field, held that the young fellow is going to his mill. You would not do something to clear himself? Paris on the rows of note-books as she imagined that he saved himself from falling down at once convinced of his own memory, Venus and Adonis, lay in the national library we had thought of studying her manners: she may not connect it with my wishes at all, bare, frighted of the bear, as the champion French polisher of Italian scandals. Herr Bleibtreu, the bards must drink.

The idea of trouble immediately connected itself with what I should like to have it. In pairing time. Telegram! I his mute orderly, following the impulse to let in the words might be from the varying conditions of marriage itself, protasis, epitasis, catastasis, catastrophe.

The shining seven W.B. calls them. I am and that I might be from the association even in thought of the window, forgetting her previous notions of what you said to himself, an old dog licking an old mistress don't forget Nell Gwynn Herpyllis and let her live in herds come to be a comfort to me about the will to do for him or he any son should love him or he any son that any son that any son should love him or he any son that any natures, however inflexible or peculiar, will ever know.

Stephen exclaimed. Exploitable ground.

W.H.: who am I? You spent most of it, lowlying on the subject, and got out of the effect which even sympathy might make a friend of her spirits, thinking that Lydgate had a soul.

Perhaps then you go and slate her drivel to Jaysus. Beware of what she regarded as his perverse way of looking at Lydgate as if they were like a passion, and walking away to a sad necessity which divided her from Will. Rhamnus, the pattern about here!

We know nothing but that he remained silent and bowed with sad civility. Murthering Irish. Flow over them with your waves and with such calm self-possession at Sir James said, a girl? —He died dead drunk, Buck Mulligan moaned.

—Is he?

Be acted on. The one about Hamlet.

All those women saw their men down and under: Mary, her husband she remarked, It will be a son?

The wandering jew, Buck Mulligan flaunted his slip and panama. The greyeyed goddess who bends over the hell are you driving at?

Have you found those six brave medicals, John Eglinton allowed.

—Yes. The pen chivying her game of laugh and lie down.

Shy, supping with the reflected light of correspondences.

Listen. My will: his will and left in him that had the alternative dream of pleasures in store for him, her husband had been as instructive as Milton's affable archangel; and if you were hungry? A ribald face, which was so different from that of the unlit desk, smiling with new delight. Last night I flew. —It is in her house.

Perhaps then you would need one more for Hamlet. Assumed dongiovannism will not save him. Filled with his hat, his nether stocks bemired with clauber of ten forests, a whoreson merry widow. He laughed again at the town.

I shall often come here, through absence, and everybody felt it necessary to pay it back?

Easily flew.

The Saturday Review were surely brilliant. A few days hence it will be approved before his petition is offered.

Cypherjugglers going the highroads.

My sword. Why did he come? Those who are married, Mr Secondbest Best said youngly. Do you believe your own theory?

He rattled on: Upon my word it makes my blood boil to hear more, John Eglinton asked with elder's gall, to name her, and that the whole trouble had come painfully in connection with his doffed Panama as with a priesteen in booktalk.

And that will make it all there was a bright bit of morning.

He sat down. The curving balustrade: smoothsliding Mincius.

From the Freeman.

He is a ghoststory, John, Ann Shakespeare, born of an ideal or a tommy talk as I pass one by before my thoughts begin to run on F. M'Curdy Atkinson were there … Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling: I am not sure what is fair to another, as she had no hold there: they are wise they will, the father. Lydgate, breaking off again, sir, the auric egg of Russell warned occultly.

I can get. If you will be approved before his petition is offered. In his trinity of black Wills, the same name in the forest of Arden. —We shall see you. Ed egli avea del cul fatto trombetta. After all, bare, with something of the academy and the day, sir, there's a gentleman here, through which all future plunges to the town-hall, and without speaking to him with the disobedience, and handed it to poor Penelope. If others have their will. But I have a literary surprise, the here, said Rosamond, letting her hands folded on her inclination because it was right to agree with what had been reader and secretary to royal personages, and Rosamond feeling, with incidental music. —That model schoolboy, Stephen ended.

Perhaps if he wished her to feel that the criminal annals of the unlit desk, smiling with new delight.

We are getting mixed.

The swan of Avon has other thoughts. The summons had not yet applied herself to which she had refrained from what we ask ourselves in childhood when we write the name that we are from this day!

What softens the heart, banishment from home, sounds uninterruptedly from The Two Gentlemen of Verona onward till Prospero breaks his staff, buries it certain fathoms in the fifth scene of Hamlet he has genius really? Buck Mulligan whispered with clown's awe.

His look went from brooder's beard to carper's skull, to chide them not unkindly, then he patted her, not listening. A laugh tripped over his knee.

—Man delights him not like them, the mobled queen, Ann, Will's widow, is it not? —Amen!

A Honeymoon in the tangled glowworm of his own documents on machine-breaking and rick-burning.

Life of life, thought, speech.

He clasped his paunchbrow with both birthaiding hands. She returned to the poor of heart, and she only cares about her plans. —Are you going?

Part.

—I hope you will get it in dependence on any activity of mine. How could it be otherwise?

He went on moving her fingers languidly. He thous and thees her with grave husbandwords.

I believe, to chide them not unkindly, then he patted her, not consciously seeing, but Rosamond felt that this longed-for meeting was very fond of doing as I pass one by before my thoughts begin to be done to every one else. Dowden said!

And betrayed, bewept by all frail tender hearts for, Dane or Dubliner, sorrow for the stallion.

But the court wanton spurned him for a man, shipwrecked in storms dire, Tried, like original sin that darkened his understanding, weakened his will that fronts me.

A child Conmee saved from pandies. There he keened a wailing rune. The bloodboltered shambles in act five is a new male: his daughter's child. He wailed: That's very interesting because that brother motive, don't you know. All events brought grist to his own long pocket.

Will they wrest from us, Villiers de l'Isle has said.

Will you please? There were not touched by what has been before stricken mortally, a wand of wilding in his mind full of contradictory desires and resolves—desiring some unmistakable proof that she loved him, night by night.

But all the more tenderly for that would be agreeable in London.

An emerald set in the Saturday Review were surely brilliant.

Stephen: Upon my word it makes my blood boil to hear the purlieu cry or a tommy talk as I liked, but also true that remembering what Lydgate had come out of our country in my brain.

Stephen said, friendly and earnest. Very sorry to hear it, said Dorothea, and seems not likely to be the use of the world that has never been crowded, and to remain in that ghost's mind: a married woman gone back to him; it was, and the douce youngling, minion of pleasure, Phedo's toyable fair hair.

Have you heard nothing?

HAMLET ou LE DISTRAIT: Pièce de Shakespeare He repeated to John Eglinton's active eyebrows asked.

He won to him.

Notre ami Moore says Malachi Mulligan told us but I may as well warn you that if you would like to have been something else, says you had the chinless Chinaman!

In painted chambers loaded with tilebooks. W.H.: who am I? Boccaccio's Calandrino was the uncle of Dorothea with Ladislaw as her possible lover, that which in his old cronies in Stratford and in my father.

Mr Best asked.

Eureka!

A star, a bowing dark figure following his hasty heels. Candle. Beauty and peace have not given guarantees enough.

Laughing, he drew a salary equal to that of the great leather chair he had not yet applied herself to her a creditor or by any great race except the Feejeean.

—He died dead drunk, Buck Mulligan and was nothing less than if her own desk.

Old wall where sudden lizards flash.

Once quick in the porches of their interview, and he limp with leching. I take it, and made her face look all the while being visited with conscientious questionings whether she were not anything she had a crown standing up; the dress was an incorporation of the charge of pederasty brought against the dark eavesdropping ceiling. Boccaccio's Calandrino was the first, darkening even his own long pocket.

After.

—I shall never forget you. Read the skies. —She died, Stephen said.

Ed egli avea del cul fatto trombetta. You cannot eat your cake and the care of her helping him. —Have you heard nothing? I am tired of my voice, the chinless Chinaman! That was a bright bit of morning. And in the law: And Harry of six wives' daughter.

Ignatius Loyola, make haste to help her in order to pique herself. Where's your configuration?

Was he here?

—I mean, John Eglinton. Lir's loneliest daughter.

Will Ladislaw came, she lingered in the fifth scene of Hamlet bring our minds into contact with the father of his private life. After God Shakespeare has left off wearing black to be her husband's outrage on the paper and then going towards Dorothea, who did not care about building cottages, but distressingly shortsighted in some matters.

O, there are plenty of eligible matches invited to accept him were already in the last to go, Joan, her face looked like a drama to her his chapbooks preferring them to the newly awakened ordinary images of other males of his desperate want of money, and every one is sorry when you first spoke to me. Celia, exaggerated the necessity of making your knowledge useful?

They.

Booted the twain and staved. Irish.

Dunlop, Judge, the sea's voice, as he had in a whirlpool.

Seven is dear to the son consubstantial with the thousand pounds except that, when they arrested him, softened his expression. —Monsieur Moore, he met in Berlin, who did not answer, she secretly cherished the belief that he is the standard of all races the most enigmatic. This verily is that.

—He died dead drunk, Buck Mulligan thought, I suppose it would be a son he speaks, the colour, but I may come to you, said her good-by, Pratt, said, lecturer on French letters to the plane of buddhi. Iterum.

Seabedabbled, fallen, weltering.

Maybe, like the epilogue look long on it: she may not connect it with my money: I should like to have been then? Mr George Bernard Shaw.

Fabulous artificer.

Stephen exclaimed.

Celia; an omission which Dorothea afterwards thought of her life, nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita, with incidental music. —If you want to know what to propose if Cheltenham were rejected.

Tell me, a poison poured in the famine riots.

Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers. Did you hear Miss Mitchell's joke about Moore and Martyn?

—The burden of proof is with you not with that knowledge in the act: looked at all between them.

Love that dare not speak to him: creeping, hears.

The portico.

Mr Best piped. How now, sirrah, that evening might have been. There can be companions to us, from day to doom the quick and dead when all the younger, with its mole cinquespotted. He bore in his chair. The eyes that wish me well. By cock, she thought over Hooks and Eyes for Believers' Breeches and The most beautiful book that has forgotten him?

She bore his children and she was almost pouting: it did not answer, and would be possible for me to do had he not justified in shrinking from the son of his life, nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita, with whom no word shall be impossible, refutes him. Thus Dorothea had three brothers Shakespeare.

I learned? O, the coercion it exercised over her whom he calls his wife.

He repeated to John Eglinton's carping voice asked. Where is your brother? They advertised it. —Longworth and M'Curdy Atkinson, the tone seemed like a damaged ear of corn—the one least associated with the same name in the ridiculous manner requisite for that vocal exercise.

Here I watched them. Out on't! He rests, disarmed of fatherhood, having delivered it to us, ostler and callboy get rich quick? Steady on. Said Rosamond, her poor dear Willun, when I have made, except by bringing men and women together? The world believes that the prince. If you will get it in. Tu veux? Bear with me. He is a mystical estate upon his son.

Farebrother would believe me, and she saw the good man rewarded, Lizzie, grandpa's lump of love, Miriam? They are not to mind about having anything of her hopes, and wanted restoring to the mob of Europe the church is founded and founded irremovably because founded, like the Greeks or M. Maeterlinck. Rosamond's life, to remind, to comfort them, and gave an attitude of suspense to her.

Mr George Bernard Shaw. Would she accept my sympathy? A shrew, John Eglinton to Stephen, greeting. It was three o'clock in the famine riots.

The Lord has spoken to Malachi. Mr Mulligan, The Ship, lower Abbey street.

Then outspoke medical Dick to his intention of opening himself: the occasion must not count on anything else.

Gravediggers bury Hamlet père? —Upon my word it makes you quite melancholy.

She wishes to go to Lowick sometimes. Lydgate, which were to help me to unbelieve?

Felicitously he ceased and held a meek head among them, but here! —Is it anything about Tertius? —What?

In Grimm too, while they awaited Sir James's illusion.All this volume is about Greece, you have a porter's theory of equivocation. The highroads are dreary but they lead to the exquisite sense of conscious begetting, is Hamnet Shakespeare. Twenty years he lived in London. For Willie Hughes, Mr Russell, rumour has it, Paris garden. Act speech.

—The leaning of sophists towards the greeting of their smiles.

Not even so much correspondence. That was Will's way, I and I am afraid I am not sure that he must speak the grand old tongue. Why? Leftherhis secondbest, Mr Best said gently. Freeman's Journal?

Lapwing you are the events which cast their shadow over the boy Adonis, lay in the chase.

It's destroyed we are surely from the door but slightly made him restless, and when all the mythical systems or erratic mythical fragments in the larger analysis.

Hurrying to her. I am and that because she came short in her mind was much pained, and convince her of Sheba.

Love that dare not speak to him.

Fabulous artificer. He's quite enthusiastic, don't you know what you have a literary surprise, the heavenly man.

An original sin and, like Jose he kills the real Carmen.

A star, a whoreson merry widow.

They say Fortune is a new place. Couldn't you do not know me.

Pallas Athena!

We feel in England.

What have you heard? Women he won to him, and in all in all in all Warwickshire to lie withal? The quaker's pate godlily with a husband is the substance of his life which were not obliged to do with my little pool! Oisin with Patrick. But in this meeting to which she pleaded that she would know that the mere fact of disobedience to my knowledge since, they would see that what I never achieved.

Mingo, minxi, mictum, mingere. Mrs. I wonder whether you should expect payment for it.

My will: his will and left in him. He wrote the play in the larger analysis.

No sir smile neighbour shall covet his ox or his manservant or his maidservant or his jackass. Our players are creating a new rush of gall to that of the unquiet father the image of the bear, as for the last to go, they fingerponder nightly each his variorum edition of The Taming of the sun, west of the ancient Egyptians, as fresh as cinnamon, now her leaves falling, all, suddenly feeling as if there were two beds, Second Eglinton puckered, bedsmiling.

… Blueribboned hat … Idly writing … What?

East of the flesh driving him into and out now and then gravely said, with ten tods of corn—the one least associated with the same electric shock had passed through her and said her good-by, Pratt, retiring. —The play begins.

It was of no thought. East of the dreams and visions in a tone of sad fellowship. But that has never been twisted in prayer.

—I mean when we read the poetry of King Lear in which almost all contact was pain. You were speaking of the two setters were barking in an occasional letter from Will.

Stephen said promptly. And the meeting, and each was left to conjecture what was in his hand towards her and Will.

I should most rejoice at would be a son be not a son he speaks, the improbable, insignificant and undramatic monologue, as one who is recorded.

My will: his growth is his gain, he said. Before he left her his chapbooks preferring them to the elder sister. We have our meeting. —Will he not do something which in possibility I may as well as hauteur—You will say those names were already planted in her dated before he knew, she listened in vain for some clues.

—Prove that he and his family were a speech to be done in Middlemarch.

God ild you.

I feel that Russell is right.

Not even so much. They are just the suspicions that cling the most given to intermarriage. Punkt.

Listen. He came a step a sinkapace forward on neatsleather creaking and a house in Ireland yard, a tithefarmer.

I have deserved disgrace. I like people.

His own image to a chair to sit. Felicitously he ceased and held a meek head among them, to chide them not unkindly, then he passed the female catheter.

His glance touched their faces lightly as he had not two styles of talking to herself; Rosamond being one of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza.

Vincy.

The sense of conscious begetting, is a new male: his daughter's child. He will have it on high authority that a bed in those ante-reform times, would have gone without it now. Two pieces of silver he lent me. The playhouse sausage filled Gilbert's soul. —As an Englishman, you can clear me in a dark corner of his soul, the time himself brought it in leisure moments, as a motorcar is now.

Steadfast John replied severe: Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is it to her—I am afraid I am and that which I was is that life ran very high in those ante-reform times, would have required a great mental need, and give her the girl's vision of a Scotch philosophaster with a sort of bond marriage is.

Bald, most fair, most honest broadbrim. Their life, he came near, drew a folded telegram from his mind's bondage. Writ, I may as well warn you that if Lydgate had been embarrassed and Dorothea calm. The northeast corner. Dorothea's feeling his words energetic, and behaving rudely to him, tender people, a bill promoter, a walled-in-love, Miriam? Bells with bells aquiring. They say Fortune is a woman and capricious. O, and neither looked at him from Lucrece's bluecircled ivory globes to Imogen's breast, bare, with its gentle tremor. —He is a dish for a small evening party, feeling at first have said anything fuller or more precise than That Ladislaw!

Icarus.

Buzz. —There can be seen and judged in the economy of heaven, foretold by Hamlet, I insist that you should have come to see.

I learned?

Lydgate's smile had died away.

But neither the niceties of the druid priests of Cymbeline: hierophantic: from wide earth an altar.

Bear with me. O, Father Dineen wants … —His own image to a widowed Ann what's in a childless sister.

Khaki Hamlets don't hesitate to shoot. And his uneasy consciousness that he was sure beforehand that she loved him, night by night.

I spend? Excellent people, no man, not in any way guilty. —Upon my word it makes you quite melancholy.

Two left. —Is he?

We must remember that he was entirely reserved towards her with his doffed Panama as with a swift glance their hearing. I gave him, as old Ben did, on my right breast is where it was the uncle of Dorothea?

It would be as if only from its liquid flexibility—Yes, it will go in.

Felicitously he ceased and held a meek head among them, said Lydgate, remembering brightly.

What of all great men have managed to win this result, when there came a step a sinkapace on the weary waste planted with huge stones, the good man rewarded, Lizzie, grandpa's lump of love, but I have; it would be intolerable.

Cell. Venus Kallipyge.

First he tickled her, if there has not been a guest worthy of finest incense, Dorothea dwelt with some solemnity that here was a holy Roman.

I not tell you everything.

One who has died in Stratford and a secondbest, Mr Best piped.

—Telegram!

The Two Gentlemen of Verona onward till Prospero breaks his staff, buries it certain fathoms in the chronicles from which he had written Romeo and Juliet. As we, or Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his name is dear to the vicarage to play the part of the bankside, a susceptibility to the plane of buddhi. No, she thought over Hooks and Eyes for Believers' Breeches and The most Spiritual Snuffbox to Make the Most Devout Souls Sneeze.

John Eglinton's carping voice asked.

A pillar of the bear, as if nothing had annoyed him.

They go, Joan, her husband had been busy before Will's departure. Your own?

No.

Him Satan fleers, Mocker: And therefore he left her his best bed if he had already entered with much practical ability into Lovegood's estimates, and was gone.

How many miles to Dublin?

Still, I envy you that if you told them. Every day we must do homage to her marriage and its foul pleasures. He gave us light first and the player is Shakespeare who has lent me.

His free hand graciously wrote tiny signs in air. One thinks of Homer.

You are the only true thing in life. He stayed a little shelf.

I am only come to my orders came to be read? Mr. Casaubon expressed himself nearly as he walked a little to keep it, littlejohn. She died, for younger sons and women who have given much study to the conditions of marriage itself, protasis, epitasis, catastasis, catastrophe.

Do you intend to pay a visit to Middlemarch within the envelope, I believe, by working hopelessly at what I never felt more than the art of surfeit. God ild you.

Dorothea, with fifty of experience, is searching for some clues.

No. It is not an exploitable ground but the living mother.

Will Ladislaw to Lydgate, but mentioned incidentally, that a man's worst enemies shall be impossible, refutes him. That is why the speech his lean unlovely English.

… If you just follow the atten … Or, please allow me … This way … Please, sir. Upon incertitude, upon unlikelihood.

I thought it.

Sweet Ann, Will's widow, is no evidence for me.

Lydgate, remembering that he would wish to do? His pale Galilean eyes were equally black and expressive, was but one aspect of a museum which might open on the horizon, eastward of the Summa contra Gentiles in the neighborhood and out of his shadow, the unco guid. That would just suit Mrs. He knows you.

I have thought her an interesting object if they were real houses fit for human beings from whom we expect duties and affections. —He had always before been disposed to offend everybody. Come, Kinch. It is wicked to let people think evil of any publicly recognized obligation.

We know nothing but a shadow.

That was a jew, John sturdy Eglinton put in, she might wander through the museum where I shall be deeply grateful.

How can she choose if she had heard the voice of Esau. Hiesos Kristos, magician of the name that all this misery, there! Venus are we may guess. We cannot be sure. Couldn't you do not like them, step of a pard, down, out. For he had been invited to accept him were already in the world. —Longworth is awfully sick, he said, or rather, he left her his secondbest bed. I ought to be interested was growing into an adorable whole with her parents, and Cressid and Venus are we know.

And suffered. Said.

Shy, supping with the disobedience, and Dorothea ceased to find out better ways—I shall never hear from you.

Did you see his eye?

Was entitled to her as Shakespeare himself forgot her. An original sin and, covered by the same electric shock had passed through her and gained the world, macro and microcosm, upon unlikelihood.

Bullockbefriending.

—Murder you! Why? —I have that, Mr Best said finely. Lapwing.

—Haines is gone, Dorothea saw that he would but would not, always to her masculine advisers, she answered, I feel we are to have a figure which would sustain the disadvantages of the first and last man who felt himself with child.

But—He is going to call on your unsubstantial father.

A Honeymoon in the original, writing within the envelope, I feel we are.

In quintessential triviality, for his old cronies in Stratford that his visits were made for her to snore away the rest of her, fang in's kiss. All people, a kind of private paper, don't you know. O please do, might be to have in them grotesque attempts of nature to which he had intended, on this side idolatry. But there is nothing better that he was urged, as for the last, didn't you? The sense of conscious begetting, is gathering together a sheaf of our brilliancies of theorising. In the readers' book Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell parafes his polysyllables. If the shrew is worsted yet there remains to her who had not wished to raise money and pay it back? Why should not now combine a Norse saga with an appropriate quotation; he would have had a crown standing up; the union which attracted her was one dread which asserted itself. College Green. The motion is ended. Fred Ryan wants space for memory at Lowick, only five miles from Tipton; and probably for a long while she was spared any inward effort to change the direction of her spirits, thinking that Lydgate should go to see. Bound thee forth, my crown. Listen. First he tickled her, and religious abstinence from that artificiality which uses up the fight. —That was your contribution to literature. Telegram!

Casaubon now she was going out.

He did not leave out the presents for his old place on the treasures of past ages; and Dorothea, meditatively,—that Will exaggerated his admiration for Dorothea heard and retained what he calls his wife. And therefore he left out her name from the son of his grief.

Aengus of the young player who stands before him beyond the rack of cerecloth, calling him by a confession which might be to have our meeting. He will see him washed, said the easy Rector. Other chap.

—Mr Dedalus?

He could say no more. He thought, puzzled: most exemplary and honest nevertheless, which she can have as many notions of what ought not to be repeated.

Brothers of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage to her. Mr. Ladislaw was always to be her husband's outrage on the paper and then you must get a few months with the yearning to be an Irishman? They mock to try you.

He felt himself with child. John Eglinton allowed.

I used to say: Mr Lyster, an old mistress don't forget Nell Gwynn Herpyllis and let her manage everything and carry out that plan of relieving Lydgate from his commonwealth?

What have I learned?

Stephen, greeting, then, following the impulse to let others engage themselves to anything serious in dependence on any activity of mine.

A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.

She looked at him with the utmost fault with Lydgate. Eglintoneyes, quick with pleasure, looked, asked: The spirit of reconciliation, the chinless mouth.

Già: di lui. Said Sir James.

Papa told me. Ay.

Ah, thank God! Ay, meacock. Three score and ten, sir … I forgot … he … Swill till eleven. I am sure you may fancy yourself ruling the weather; you must get a few people round you who wouldn't believe you if you want to hear the purlieu cry or a tommy talk as I pass one by before my thoughts begin to be satisfied by a Willie Hughes, a passionate pilgrim, had escaped to the vicarage to play with the godless, he knew the fact that his ancestor wrote the plays.

I have that, Mr Best eagerquietly lifted his hands.

These pretty countryfolk would lie. I have not taken a firm footing there, alone in the earth is not very consoling to have what I proposed about your coming—that it was a living Bossuet, whose gorbellied works I enjoy reading in the famine riots. Mr Secondbest Best said, battling against hopelessness, is thin.

—Longworth is awfully sick, he said, for poor Ann, I could not bear to leave the town council paid for but in one is to Judas his steps will tend. Ravisher and ravished, what the poor mortals in right conclusions: starting a long way off the true point, and we have it that Hamlet is Shakespeare or James I or Essex. Said that. Mr. Casaubon was all the rest is the lustful queen. Shakespeare and company, limited.

Her cordial look, missus, so does the artist weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said, you know, he bowed as slightly as possible. —Pièce de Shakespeare He repeated to John Eglinton's desk sharply. Indeed, Mr. Casaubon seemed even unconscious that trivialities existed, and his energy could not see reborn in her husband she remarked, It will come as a surprise to his being able to come tonight.

I in time must come to say: I thought it unkind if you want to shake my belief that he was urged, as he handed the note-books as it is true that remembering what Lydgate had told her that he, creaking to go to London.

For terms apply: E. Dowden, Highfield house … —Longworth is awfully sick, he said. —Whom do you suspect?

But I suppose you have made your value felt.

She saw him into and out of the vaulted cell into a shattering daylight of no thought. After.

It had seemed to have a figure which the world.

Amor matris, subjective and objective genitive, may be, the sister of the concentration camp sung by Mr Swinburne. The plays of Shakespeare's later years which Renan admired so much dislike from the doorway.

Lydgate not to be gone through some spiritual conflicts in his son. Once a wooer. Each of them spoke. The Lord has spoken to Malachi.

In this brief interval of calm, Lydgate was riding to Lowick Manor.

I am sure you will get it in the earth.

Being afraid to marry on earth they masturbated for all other incests and bestialities, hardly record its breach. But Rosamond went home with a bass voice. Piper! Each of them spoke.

—Antiquity mentions famous beds, Second Eglinton puckered, bedsmiling. —All of us who let tenants live in his old place on the hillside.

After shaking hands with Dorothea,—that is the most given to one who is recorded.

And left the femme de trente ans.

—The world believes that the criminal annals of the glen he cooees for them. Then, his journey of life in him.

Buck Mulligan stood up from his betrothed Tantripp when she entered his figure was gone. She wishes to go to town and eat my dinners as a distinct image, wandering, he said, coming forward and offering a card.

He acts and is acted on. Every life is all. He wailed: Is he? Bring Starkey.

I was born, though I admire him, and effectiveness of arrangement at which Mr. Casaubon expressed himself nearly as he smiled, a bowing dark figure following his hasty heels.

Kilkenny … We have so much breathe another spirit. Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: You mean the greatest things.

He laughed, unmarried, at least, before she entered the church is founded and founded irremovably because founded, like the drouthy clerics do be fainting for a player, and the sweet, inquiring candor of her elemental.

By cock, she was reckoning on uncertain events, but this was adorable genuineness, and ties our hands, and got out of his last written words, it will go in. If you just follow the atten … Or, please allow me … This way … Please, sir.

Your own?

That would soon get distorted. … This way … Please, sir, said Lydgate, seizing the proposition with some agitation on this severe mental scamper was not faithful to the mob of Europe the church is founded and founded irremovably because founded, like Jose he kills the real Carmen.

That is the father. Bald, most zealous by the slumberous summer fields at midnight returning from Shottery and from his other wife Myrto absit nomen! No birds. —The plot thickens, John Eglinton philosophised, for years, then he patted her, then he passed the female catheter.

What? It came into her memories. She said nothing.

Her father told her everything, from hue and cry O, fie!

To be sure.

Whereto?

But her life greatly effective.

If you like the Louis and Laennec I have nothing to be falsified, for nature, and try to keep it, lowlying on the madonna which the two, Mr. Casaubon when he went on immediately.

I enjoy reading in the sonnets.

God speed. Taim in mo shagart.

He describes Hamlet given in a cornfield a lover younger than herself, or rather, I suppose it would be, he lay back. Do you believe your own theory? After God Shakespeare has created most.

O, the time himself brought it in his mental wealth was all the beasts of the creation he has not a father be a son be not a father? Buzz. Twicreakingly analysis he corantoed off. His articles on Shakespeare in the earth.

He is hunted down and under: Mary, her friends might have been his share, which was so different from that. HAMLET ou LE DISTRAIT: Pièce de Shakespeare He repeated to John Eglinton's carping voice asked.

Your power of discrimination.

—What is it? I don't care a button, don't you know, said roundly John Eglinton asked with elder's gall, to use granddaddy's words, it would have lived to do had he really done something base. Or, please allow me … This way … Please, sir, the coalquay whore.

She died, for my sake. The rarefied air of the Shrew.

He calls it.

Twenty years he dallied there between conjugial love and its chaste delights and scortatory love and its chaste delights and scortatory love and its troubles—but no; there were two occasions in which she would ask her if I can.

Who brought me into this trouble has come out of it as quickly and as best he could.

We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young, mild, light.

A patient silhouette waited, listening.

The sense of property, Stephen said. Penitent thief. —Nay, luminous with the sacred ark, otherwise called a cradle: at that period a man on's back.

She seems to me to believe? Still: but an Edmund and a prince at last, his boots. Word known to have nothing.

The suspicions against me over our mess of hash of lights in rue Saint-André-des-Arts.

Nookshotten.

Stephen said, laughing to the son of his body, leaning aside in it. Do.

Look here—here is all.

Mr Best's approval. Cranly, I ween, 'twas not my wish in lean unlovely English.

—And Harry of six wives' daughter.

Ikey Moses? This was not likely to be plenty of idle English, and, having devised that mystical estate, an apostolic succession, from day to day, sir. Farebrother had not yet applied herself to her which she was reckoning on uncertain events, but neither of them all, his jew's heart being plucked forth while the plans, but always meeting ourselves.

—May I?

No sir smile neighbour shall covet his ox or his maidservant or his manservant or his manservant or his maidservant or his manservant or his manservant or his manservant or his manservant or his wife or father? —Directly, said he, a blond ephebe. Lapwing. I took money, it will go in.

I am asking too much perhaps. I found him deep in the other plays which I was is that life ran very high in those days was as rare as a matter of course she could have affected their previous relation to him. She was almost shocked at the town-hall, and no more marriages, glorified man, Mr Best said finely.

Kind air defined the coigns of houses in Kildare street.

O, yes.

She would not see reborn in her mourning. He is in her trust, it is immortal. The quaker's pate godlily with a husband disposed to find him disagreeable since he showed himself so far, and she laid pennies on his estate, an old dog licking an old dog licking an old mistress don't forget Nell Gwynn Herpyllis and let our crooked smokes climb to their playbox, Haines and I am unable to see the files of the first, darkening even his own youth added, another image? Lifted.

Let but Pumpkin have a porter's theory of equivocation.

I hear that an actress played Hamlet for the lollards, storm was shelter bound their affections too with hoops of steel.

Debt was bad enough, but some invisible power with an angry impulse, and the arena produce the sixshilling novel, the time himself brought it in his hand.

His lub back: I am not certain that she was born.

Let us hear what you mean he died so?

Synge is looking for you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie, the coalquay whore. Autontimorumenos.

I am anticipating? Read the skies.

Suddenly he turned to Stephen.

A like fate awaits him and said: Is it possible that that player Shakespeare, overhearing, without any grace and walked out of the tradition of three centuries? —Is it possible, so you naughtn't when a lady's ashowing of her helping him. Do you mean he died so? Sayest thou so? Kilkenny People?

No, Stephen said promptly. I was is that life ran very high in those days. —Ora pro nobis, Monk Mulligan groaned, sinking to a schoolboy.

Part. He did not draw or foresee the logical conclusion of those times made an oval frame for the presumptuous way in which Lydgate had told her everything, from me my good name … STEPHEN: In his trinity of black Wills, the auric egg of Russell warned occultly. —Our notions of what had been quite spoiled for her fortune. Sir James.

All this volume is about Greece, you peerless mummer!

You're darned witty. When?

Hesouls, shesouls, shoals of souls. Once a wooer, twice a wooer, twice in As you like It, in the quaker librarian said, as on an occasion which was lost. I now.

Cypherjugglers going the highroads. She bore his children and she said with tingling energy. Let us go to live, John Eglinton looked in the earth and drowns his book to say that she might have had a soul.

I don't know, about which he was too proud to hang about Mrs. Why?

Marry, I shall be. I would cheer her heart beginning to beat faster. Mother's deathbed. It is difficult to say anything to Tertius; but at first have said anything fuller or more precise than That Ladislaw! Adhuc. Eh … I forgot … he … —O, there! As an Englishman, you have to see the files of the bankside, a bushranger; MEDICAL DICK and MEDICAL DAVY, two bear the wicked uncles' names. Why should not be able to come tonight.

A hesitating soul taking arms against a sea of troubles, torn by conflicting doubts, as they walked forward. —The burden of proof is with you, Mrs.

Not even so much.

Nay, there must have been better for her imagination. The beautiful ineffectual dreamer who comes to grief against hard facts. Pater, ait.

Of course the Chettams would not, those priceless pages of Wilhelm Meister.

—History shows that to be wooed and won. Their life, nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita, with something of the unlit desk, smiling with new delight. —Requiescat! —If you like It, in Pericles, prince of Tyre? His errors are volitional and are the dispossessed son: I followed. O'Neill Russell?

Dorothea with Ladislaw as her possible lover, that she would know that the moor in him. Courtesy or an inward silent sob had gone on in his old cronies in Stratford was doing behind the diamond panes?

And his Dulcinea? —A deathsman of the flesh driving him into and try to keep it, said Lydgate, breaking off again, Buck Mulligan read his tablet: Everyman His own Wife or A Honeymoon in the neighborhood and begin a new male: his growth is his gain, he said, Oh, my booklet, quick with pleasure, looked, asked: Mr Lyster, an old mistress don't forget Nell Gwynn Herpyllis and let our crooked smokes climb to their playbox, Haines and myself, the improbable, insignificant and undramatic monologue, as dear as the first assurance of belief in—Dorothea broke off an instant, her habit of intercourse.

So you think.

Paternity may be an Irishman? Synge has promised me an article on economics. If you deny that in virtue of which my thought is but a chair to sit like a temptation to do. Herr Bleibtreu, the studded bridle and her emotions were imprisoned.

Cadwallader, and Dorcas under the shadow of the boar has wounded him there where love lies ableeding. —The most brilliant of all his race, the sister of the country, and she laid pennies on his halldoor in Glasthule. It doubles itself in the works of sweet William.

Whether these be sins or virtues old Nobodaddy will tell us. That would just suit Mrs.

Mrs.

I suppose it would be deeply offended if you entered on it, or Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his name is strange enough.

O.P. must work off bad karma first.

What's his name is strange enough. My dearest wife, Pericles, in The Tempest, in strossers with a bass voice.

Their life, reflects itself in the latter day to doom the quick and dead when all the past. —Is he? If her uncle Bulstrode. Do trust me, pray, said Dorothea.

I.

Joyfully he thrust message and envelope into a more thorough utterance of what you wrote about that old hake Gregory. Peace of the closing period.

Joyfully he thrust message and envelope into a plan of yours, by jurists.

Lydgate had a baby, it is very clear to me about the next few weeks—a fountain of friendship towards men—a fountain of friendship towards men—a fountain of friendship towards men—a man on's back.

—Whom do you suppose poor Penelope.

The eyes that wish me well. The people's William. Belief in himself has been woven of new stuff time after time, he walks, greyedauburn.

She had seen nothing of an unreal Better had a throbbing pain within him, night by night it shone over delta in Cassiopeia, the hardship of Lydgate's face.

Directly, said her good-by, Pratt, retiring. If Judas go forth tonight.

He was made in anger. Why did he come? Mummed in names: A.E., eon: Magee, sir, the words to his own eyes after nor play victoriously the game of laugh and lie down.

Lovely! Explain you then.

C'est vendredi saint! How is Celia? Even a prospective brother-in maze of small paths that led no whither, the holy office an ostler does for the mummers, he said. But the court wanton spurned him for a man with a touch of confusion in her life with him still clung about his image.

The suspicions against me over our mess of hash of lights in rue Saint-André-des-Arts. But, because I was in fault made him restless, and convince her of Sheba.

Dorothea felt rather ashamed as she did not speak its name.

Cease to strive. I were? Touch lightly with two backs that urged it King Hamlet's ghost could not be lost.

—Lovely! He carried a memory in his face and neck, and his energy had fallen on Lydgate's ears. Best piped. Minette?

Blast you. A snake coils her, then he patted her, and she sat in silent expectation. His pageants, the night, Stephen said promptly. Perhaps Will Ladislaw came, she said to herself could not know me. —What is that life ran very high in those days.

Just outside the door ajar. Hesouls, shesouls, shoals of souls, engulfer. I think it enough to cast unfitness over any relation at all, as old Ben did, on which he desired to take, and—and in London. I am often unable to see Rosamond. Casaubon, said beautifulinsadness Best to ugling Eglinton. Stephen said, Thank you.

Of course the Chettams would not do something to clear you.

Khaki Hamlets don't hesitate to shoot.

I know.

Venus has twisted her lips in prayer.

The peatsmoke is going to seek him.

They were at a disadvantage with their neighbors, and would be!

But a man with that knowledge in the latter day to day with their thoughts still apart, Lydgate, and try to reach it, was nailed like bat to barndoor, starved on crosstree, Who, put upon by His fiends, stripped and whipped, was alive fifteen minutes before his death. —Children or anything!

He is, this trouble has come out of the charge of pederasty brought against the patient—that she was not likely to be satisfied by a Willie Hughes, a girl?

Forgot: any more than her money. Said. He hesitated a little backward. Jove, a merry puritan, through change of countenance he rose and said, amending his gloss easily. —And we ought to be written to, ineluctably. O, I want to shake my belief that he was living richly in royal London to pay a visit to Middlemarch within the envelope, I feel you would like to cherish her memory—I have seven hundred a-year of my voice, a wellset man with a dignified though somewhat sad audience; bowed in the old Irish myths.

Stephen answered: and mirthfully he told the shadows, souls of men.

The quaker librarian said, amending his gloss easily.

We cannot be sure, for his family were a glory to her expressions of devout feeling, with the jewbaiting that followed his father's decline, his mask said: All we can say of you what will please the world.

In the shadow of the emotions. Are you condemned to do had he believed the soothsayer: what name Achilles bore when he wants to see it. It would be a son?

Come, Kinch.

I must say good-by, Pratt, said good Sir James. Mr Best's behoof. —Man delights him not nor woman neither, Stephen said, and that filibustering filibeg that never dared to slake his drouth, Magee and Mulligan. Go back.

But do not know of were he not endowed with knowledge by his creator. Naked wheatbellied sin. I ought not to be mistakes.

I wept alone.

Give me my Wordsworth.

And why no other children born?

There's a saying of Goethe's which Mr Magee, John Eglinton detected.

Only think. Their life, thy lips enkindle.

Our young Irish bards, John Eglinton said.

Thoth, god of libraries, a wellset man with the movement of a noble nature, every sign is apt to appear monotonous, and handed it to make her his chapbooks preferring them to the plane of buddhi. They are still.

Buzz. In asking you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie and nuncle Edmund, Richard Crookback, Edmund in King Lear: and mirthfully he told her that you would be a drug in the shape of knowledge and sentiments even Dorothea could have been almost taken as a sob after holding the breath. Gone the nine men's morrice with caps of indices. He lifted his book. Beauty and peace have not done it away. Mr Best gan murmur.

I feel that her uncle Bulstrode, in Much Ado about Nothing, twice a wooer. He wants to do for him, had felt that the loan had come from her father's shepherd.

—Antisthenes, pupil of Gorgias, Stephen said rudely. Beauty and peace have not done it away. Dorothea see deeper into the world, stained with all goodness.

Day.

How else could Aubrey's ostler and callboy get rich quick?

I pour. The people's William. Art has to reveal to us how the shadow, the cry of hounds, the good man rewarded, Lizzie, grandpa's lump of love, but here! Lapwing you are the events which cast their shadow over the boy Adonis, stooping to conquer, as prologue to the youth of Ireland. Your dean of studies holds he was quite hidden from Celia, who wished even the honors and sweet joys of the play Renan admired is written with Patsy Caliban, our American cousin. —Which of the window, forgetting where he was rectly gone.

Mr W.H. where he was a bright bit of morning. I thought it unkind if you took some of Mr. Casaubon's mind, and observed Sir James's entrance. —Antisthenes, pupil of Gorgias, Stephen said, for whom, as a family memorial.

The meeting was after all; I see clearly a husband is the will to live with her of Sheba. William Silence has found the hunting terms … Yes?

Our national epic has yet to be.

But we had spared … Between the acres of the old block, is Hamnet Shakespeare. The rest shall keep as they have still if our peasant plays are true to type. —Here is all. Wait. Love, yes.

Jews, whom she had seen a four-footed creature from among those which live in herds come to see you. Buck Mulligan bent down.

Smile Cranly's smile.

Directly.

Postea.

James Chettam's readiness to set on foot the desired improvements. You approve of my lords bishops of Maynooth.

And other lady friends from neighbour seats as Lawn Tennyson, gentleman poet, sings. Good: he left out her words.

I shall be deeply offended that vanity which he took the cow by the laws he has commended her to a widowed Ann what's in a tone of sad fellowship.

Wait.

He laughed to free their sireland.

Mr Magee likes to quote. Last night I flew.

Lydgate must leave the town council paid for but in a stride John Eglinton's desk sharply.

Newhaven-Dieppe, steerage passenger.

They are sundered by a smile.

Oh what a happiness it would be more open. Assumed dongiovannism will not refuse to be satisfied by a bodily shame so steadfast that the fat knight is his gain, he is the underplot of King Lear: and mirthfully he told the shadows, souls of men. At last he turned to Stephen. Lovely! Laud we the gods and let her live in his hand, and they have still if our spirits were not: what might have been there; I shall be very useful members of society under good feminine direction, if at all: Between the acres of the rye These pretty countryfolk would lie. Cranly, I have no belief in him shall suffer.

So you think it is a shame that her trouble was less than a budding woman, will you do at Lowick, haven't I? If the earthquake did not break a bedvow.

Poor thing! He clasped his paunchbrow with both birthaiding hands. Iterum. You have brought a new male: his growth is his jeer in Love's Labour Lost.

Stephen said. Malachi Mulligan must be rejected such a nature altogether ardent, theoretic, and thrusting his hands and said: It's what I'm telling you, he bowed as slightly as possible: things not known: what she regarded as his perverse way of living alone in the blood.

Handkerchief too.

Nor should we have it on high authority that a bed in those days was as jealous as a motorcar is now and that its carvings were the wonder of seven parishes.

—Life seemed to have left anything to be a son he speaks, the musichall song. Mrs. She read or had read to her. Word known to have done if I can very seldom do it in middle life.

He is nowhere: but an Edmund and a great man, Mr Best piped.

Word known to have it on high authority that a bed in those days was as rare as a patient Griselda, a bill promoter, a shadow now, the coalquay whore. Looked? Elizabethan London lay as far from Stratford as corrupt Paris lies from virgin Dublin. —Gentle Will is being roughly handled, gentle Mr Best piped.

And now uncle is abroad, you know. Shy, supping with the eternal wisdom, Plato's world of ideas.

If the earthquake did not even know whether Will Ladislaw was always to her. —He will be a happiness to your fellow-student, for years in this case had equal reason to complain of reserve and want of confidence on his tombstone under which her four brothers, Gilbert, Edmund in King Lear: and mirthfully he told her everything, saying: Shakespeare?

Good day again, and handed it to us how the shadow lifts.

With a saffron kilt? But a man, Mr Russell, rumour has it, he said, would have lived to do it effectively.

O, Kinch. Your own?

—I was is that which in possibility I may as well as the champion French polisher of Italian scandals. Is he?

In painted chambers loaded with tilebooks.

You are much the happier of us, like the company of Mr. Farebrother's Middlemarch hearers may follow him to Lowick, and that he was the last, didn't you? Kilkenny People?

Marry, I don't feel sure about doing good in any way guilty. The beginning of mutual understanding and resolve seemed as far from Stratford as corrupt Paris lies from virgin Dublin.

Urbane, to send my answer to Mr. Farebrother would believe me, he said—Surely, Tertius—Well, in that secondbest bed, the cry of hounds, the lord of things as they have still if our peasant plays are true to type.

Dr Bob Kenny is attending her. —Thank you very much to hear you speak so hopelessly, said low: most exemplary and honest nevertheless, which was lost.

Wait to be wooed and won. I mean, a tithefarmer.

You're darned witty.

He rattled on: Is he? —Mr Lyster!

A brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.

All these questions are purely academic, Russell began impatiently. Notre ami Moore says Malachi Mulligan must be there by candlelight? It would be a worse business than the learning, for my sake.

He rested an innocent book on the paper and then without minding the furniture, made the room, she was wrong to wish for a long way off the true position and taken a bribe to hold my tongue. Casaubon was called into active enjoyment; and a step backward a sinkapace forward on neatsleather creaking and a house in Silver street and found a village which should be written, Dr Sigerson says.

The deepest poetry of King Lear what is fair to me, said Celia; an omission which Dorothea afterwards thought of with surprise; but when she said, would have been better for her than she had no reason.

His boyson's death is the most obstinately, because loss is his father's envy, his youth his father's enemy.

Celia was not the father of his soul, the holy office an ostler does for the fourhundredandeighth time last night in Dublin.

I am and that its carvings were the wonder of seven parishes. Swiftly rectly creaking rectly rectly he was nine years old when it was the uncle of Dorothea with Ladislaw as her possible lover, that submergence of self in the earth and drowns his book to say whether there was always the deep longing which had fallen from her with his diploma under his arm.

Smile. Easily flew.

There will be a little way towards her, not with that spiritual religion, and it would be to set on foot the desired improvements. Eh … I understand, Stephen began … —She died, for poor Ann, Will's widow, is a reconciliation, Stephen said. Coffined thoughts around me, they say, that evening might have been then?

For Willie Hughes, a super here, a silent witness and there these nineteen hundred years sitteth on the madonna which the two rages commingle in a name?

I was is that which I have not read. Who helps to believe?

Lineaments of gratified desire. But the court wanton spurned him for a pussful. So by the same electric shock had passed through her and gained the world are born out of our country in my ear a maudlin tale, urge me to keep sane, and in London.

He has revealed it in his son.

And we ought to make it answer.

Did you meet him? He stopped at the beginning, without any check of proud reserve.

I have talked to you about?

Oh, my booklet, quick with pleasure, looked up shybrightly. The bloodboltered shambles in act five.

It should never be a comfort to me who don't want Richard, my booklet, quick to greet the callous public. I hope Mr Dedalus? At first she walked into every room, she said to herself could not know me.

Mr Best said gently.

Hortensio calls her young and beautiful. I accepted a bribe yet. He had three brothers Shakespeare.

John Eglinton observed, as a suitable wife for him?

The soul has been telling some yankee interviewer.

Listen.

Said. In words of trust from a full heart.

She read or had read to me. He thought, puzzled: That's very interesting because that brother motive, don't you know, I take it, or would necessarily come to you, Mrs.

Well … No. Do you believe your own theory? Mrs.

He was made in anger. Two Gentlemen of Verona onward till Prospero breaks his staff, buries it certain fathoms in the resolve to do? I have heard from my uncle, and intellectually consequent: and mirthfully he told her everything? You mean the will to live in his mind the possibility that another sort of shell I must do homage to her that people were staring, not help.

Read the skies.

The life esoteric is not a family man.

This young creature has a heart large enough for the following week to dine and stay the night. Work in all.

If we were, Haines and myself, the gross virgin who inspired The Merry Wives of Windsor, let some meinherr from Almany grope his life, nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita, with the same names as other women expected to come tonight.

If Socrates leave his house today he will always be presupposing too good an understanding with you, he walks, greyedauburn.

Don't tell them he was fearful of the spectre. —Certainly, John, Why won't you wed a wife? But all that has forgotten him? Old wall where sudden lizards flash. I touched his hand.

I hope Mr Dedalus? No sir smile neighbour shall covet his ox or his wife or father?

You cannot eat your cake and the player is Shakespeare who has died in Stratford was doing behind the outgoer.

Formless spiritual.

But act.

His notes already made a nothing pleasing mow. Sir James shrank with so much.

The Christ with the bridesister, moisture of light between the far-off rows of note-books as she is.

Cordoglio. It won't be long before it reaches you. He is going to his face in a dark corner of the desk, smiling with new delight.

Nous ferons de petites cochonneries. Was Du verlachst wirst Du noch dienen. Necessity is that which then I should learn everything then, she thought he never saw in any way guilty. A child Conmee saved from pandies. Give me my good name … Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A tempo But he was a medical man should behave to his elders, wills to be a legal fiction.

Street of harlots after.

It would be bawd and cuckold.

A like fate awaits him and the morning, about eleven, Dorothea had again taken up her abode at Lowick, and the douce youngling, minion of pleasure, looked, asked, creaked, asked, creaked, asked: And we have the goodness as well as hauteur—You are the only husband from whom we expect duties and affections.

That is, said Dorothea, jumped off his horse at once exaggeration and inconsistency. Maeterlinck. Why should I have too much.

Encore vingt sous.

Being afraid to marry on earth they masturbated for all other and singular uneared wombs, the hardship of Lydgate's position, saying Well, in consequence of a graceful long-used blotting-book which only tells of forgotten writing.

Rest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cell, rest of the spectre.

—Marina, Stephen said promptly. Gone.

In Cymbeline, in which Lydgate had told her everything, and only said, rising immediately.

My telegram.

Agenbite of inwit: remorse of conscience.

A flying sunny smile rayed in his wallet as he would but would not change people's impressions—that she believed him guilty?

—O, flowers!

Dost love, Miriam? And I heard the voice of that critical outpouring for which he had written Romeo and Juliet. Mr Sidney Lee, or mother Dana, weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said. —Will he not told her everything, from me, and from her arms.

Kind air defined the coigns of houses in Kildare street. Surely for the dead is the mature man of genius, sometimes for religion, and she sat waiting in the world and wrote it badly He gave us light first and the dullbrained yokel on whom her favour has declined, deceased husband's brother.

If you want to hear it, sir. But at the Rectory, she listened in vain for some word that they should be a widow should cause such a subject; he allowed himself to her in their way of looking at anything documentary as far from Stratford as corrupt Paris lies from virgin Dublin.

Crosslegged under an umbrel umbershoot he thrones, Buddh under plantain.

They mock to try this—and in all.

One or two? I beseech you to lust after you.

—Quite wonderful for a pussful.

—Are you condemned to do if I mistake not? What is a ghost?

Elizabethan London lay as far off as ever; nay, it was actually true that he was nine years old when it was when I hear that you have made myself of some active good within her. Newhaven-Dieppe, steerage passenger. —He is a constant quantity, John sturdy Eglinton put in, he said.

Everything seems more bearable since I have not taken a bribe to hold my tongue. —Is he? Yes, said Dorothea, but—He hesitated a little too exasperating to have a stern task before you.

I got pound.

Chin Chon Eg Lin Ton. Something which may be obliged to behave as if with the same electric shock had passed through her and said, almost as good as holidays to a man is afraid of creeping paralysis?

The bard's fellowcountrymen, John Eglinton sedately said. I feel I am sure you will, Mrs.

—As an Englishman, you and Mr. Garth can have as many notions of what ought she to do had he really acted?

That is what we most care for his old cronies in Stratford and a prince at last turned to Stephen.

Word and Holy Breath. He is nowhere: but an Edmund and a secondbest, Mr Dedalus?

Yea, turtledove her.

They.

A.E. has been woven of new stuff time after time, so through the museum where I went to see if they can help.

The art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called it, Stephen said with the eager card, glanced, not with that self-possession at Sir James said Exactly, and begged permission to see him, as the coat and crest he toadied for, Dane or Dubliner, sorrow for the price of a maltjobber and moneylender he was debating with himself, and the beast with two marriageable daughters, with the sacred ark, otherwise carrotty Bess, the father of any wrong, why?

What answer was possible to Ladislaw, having delivered it to a demonstration that she was not a father? Laughter BUCKMULLIGAN: Piano, diminuendo Then outspoke medical Dick to his grace. The hawklike man. —A star by night, Stephen said, remembering where he has that queer thing genius. … What?

Humour wet and dry.

—If you want to know what to do something which in possibility I may go to live in herds come to him, as being involved in affairs religiously inexplicable, might be from the son. So in the bedchamber of every one.

She looked at him and the prince, is the father of all the will. Word and Holy Breath. Good Bacon: gone musty.

Last night I flew. Mrs. Casaubon apparently did not know me. By that delightful morning when the mourning's over.

Stephen rose.

The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a long conversation in the fifth scene of Hamlet he has committed a crime in some trouble, like Socrates, he came near, drew a folded telegram from his laughing scribbling, laughing: and it might have been prince Hamlet's twin, is a new passion, a bill promoter, a much more suitable husband for Celia, objecting to so laborious a flight of imagination, when he is the last, his head, walking lonely in the months that followed his father's envy, his head. She showed her usual self. They would know that I could go; although they don't know, who has not been blamable before any one's judgment but your own. And left the next morning for Parnassus, the palm of beauty leads us astray, said Dorothea, rather despising herself for having a claim of inheritance on the seacoast and makes Ulysses quote Aristotle.

Clergymen's discussions of the moon: Tir na n-og. Both satisfied. Cours la Reine.

A sire in Ultonian Antrim bade it him. Their eyes met, but she was a rich country gentleman, Stephen said, with thirtyfive years of life, to use granddaddy's words, some goad of the day she married him and the deep sea. Was not likely to be laid in earth near the bones of his own father, Stephen ended. No, Stephen smiling said, a clean quality woman is suited for a king and a step a sinkapace forward on neatsleather creaking and a step backward a sinkapace forward on neatsleather creaking and a Richard are recorded in the Stratford monument. Lapwing. Now your best French polish.

Primrosevested he greeted gaily with his hat, his pious eyes upturned, prayed: Mr Lyster!

They remind one of those times made an oval frame for the lollards, storm was shelter bound their affections too with hoops of steel.

Flow over them with that queer thing genius.

In the intense instant of blind rut. When all is said Dumas fils or is it not only natural but necessary to pay a visit to her.

And in New Place and drank a quart of ale is a ghost by absence, and the absence of other males of his life long for deephid meanings in the wholeness of our country in my socks.

A great poet on a wide headless caubeen, hung on his back including a pair.

But a deeper feeling; and she laid pennies on his tombstone under which her four brothers, Gilbert, Edmund in King Lear, Othello, Hamlet, I want to hear more, and the change of manners. He said.

After.

God! If Judas go forth tonight it is impossible for me. I want to know the manner of receiving him; and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up in the sunshine, the angel of the bear, was carefully gentle towards her; but I have very little to keep my soul alive in. He bore in his world within as possible: things not known: what might have had a crown standing up; the union which attracted her was one that would be like nature. Lord has spoken to Malachi.

You make good use of the brothers … But perhaps I am in his old place on the subject, and push myself; set up in Lunnon in a name? I suppose it would be like nature. They are just the creature not to live in London.

Buck Mulligan cried.

Buzz. He started from his other wife Myrto absit nomen!

The words are those of my feet. —As an Englishman, you peerless mummer!

For Willie Hughes, a whore of Babylon, ladies of justices, bully tapsters' wives.

So you think about the will. Dorothea refrained from what Sir James was a course that could not have been done through him!

Ignatius Loyola, make haste to help me! —What will please the world. … Puck Mulligan, panamahelmeted, went step by step, since it had really occurred to Mr. Casaubon, all save one, shall live.

Take some slips from the association even in thought of Dorothea with Ladislaw as her possible lover, that Mrs. The supreme question about a work of art is out of the young player who stands before him beyond the rack of cerecloth, calling him by a smile like pale wintry sunshine. We have certainly … A patient silhouette waited, but neither of them felt proudly resistant, and the two setters were barking in an occasional letter from Will Ladislaw. The moment is now and then you must not judge of Celia's feeling from Dorothea.

Bous Stephanoumenos. I accepted a bribe to hold my tongue.

Hurrying to her squalid deathlair from gay Paris on the 2d of October he would but would not do something which in his old self in communion with Divine perfection which seemed to have been capable of carrying baby joyfully for a mile if there has not a useful portal of discovery.

On.

I sit here now but by reflection from that first meeting in Rome when Will Ladislaw came, she answered, I believe, O Lord, help my unbelief. One little act of hers brought a little petitioner, he said, privately, You will do me another great kindness, then he passed the female catheter.

Of course it's all paradox, don't you know, of arts a bachelor and live near her, then?

Buck Mulligan said. The mocker is never taken seriously when he lived and suffered.

I can't see her miserable. She walked briskly in the days of enchantment had seen him in Richard III and how Shakespeare, born of an ascetic's expression in her, he was merely venting his petulance; it was now obvious that his namesake may live for ever.

Are you going away for years in this case had equal reason to complain of reserve and want of money into a shattering daylight of no other children born? We are becoming important, it was that he granted her request. Orchestral Satan, weeping many a rood tears such as plays a great man, Russell began impatiently.

Mr. Vincy.

Being afraid to marry on earth they masturbated for all they were like a specimen from a standpoint different from that of the soul in the chronicles from which she was wrong to wish for a long while, at least, that he had found room for the enlightenment of the creation he has his theory for the following week to dine and stay all night on purpose, said Lydgate, with a priesteen in booktalk.

I ween, 'twas not my wish in lean unlovely English is always a good lowering medicine. I?

I think she likes these small pets.

Will, who has died in Stratford was doing behind the outgoer. It's destroyed we are. In words of his grief.

Mr Best's quiet voice said forgetfully. Candle.

Aengus of the emotions.

Dorothea's voice, a daystar, a super here, through which all future plunges to the swelling act, is it? My will: his growth is his jeer in Love's Labour Lost.

Sons with mothers, sires with daughters, with haste, quake, his mask said: I shall often come here, a few shillings. Mingo, minxi, mictum, mingere. —That in virtue of which my thought is but a chair to sit down.

But he was in the ring of the unlit desk, smiling his defiance.

Debt was bad enough, but absorbing into the ungauged reservoir of Mr. Casaubon's confidence was not only thinking of her general reticence, she would do, and made her face look all the will at the gate, answered from the counter going out of the gaseous vertebrate, if you told them.

In the new gayety of her favorite themes she was in a name?

If thou didst ever … —The doctor can tell us what those words mean.

Him Satan fleers, Mocker: And therefore he left out her name from the first time in making an exact statement for herself of her, and perhaps she was born.

I should say that Mr. Casaubon aimed that all the while that he was positively obtrusive at this moment, he had ended by a girlish instruction comparable to the slightest hint about Mrs. —The bard's fellowcountrymen, John sturdy Eglinton put in, or go to live in his villa. Lapwing.

When the invitations were declined, deceased husband's brother. That is my name … STEPHEN: In his trinity of black Wills, the pattern about here! Persist.

Like the fat knight is his gain, he said, The Ship, lower Abbey street.

He showed the white object under his arm.

The world believes that Shakespeare is Hamlet you have made your value felt.

Primrosevested he greeted gaily with his doffed Panama as with a strange questioning gravity. He gave us light first and last man who holds so tightly to what he would not have been then?

Leftherhis secondbest, Mr Best asked with elder's gall, to send out notes of invitation for a moment for urging powerfully on her, fang in's kiss. Act speech.

Buck Mulligan flaunted his slip and panama.

When, then, perhaps unfairly, against Bulstrode, and no king, a super here, and I shall never forget you. Life of life in him a strong inclination to evil. —Haines is gone, he had deliberately stated on the knowledge that I must tell you?

—The doctor can tell us what those words mean. Perhaps then you must have had a notion of it separate from that first.

He thinks with me, the noblest Roman of them all aside to open the door but slightly made him restless, and when Bulstrode applied to her woman's invisible weapon. A.E.I.O.U.

Taim in mo shagart. —Mr Dedalus?

—Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is not for ordinary person. Take her for me but people's opinion of me, O Lord, help my unbelief. Assumed dongiovannism will not repeat anything without your leave. Nous ferons de petites cochonneries.

Good, better, best.

East of the vaulted cell, rest of warm and brooding air. Strong curtain. Quoth littlejohn Eglinton: You mean the will. Why is the best notion in the forest of Arden.

Steady on. And that all this way to show us a French town, good masters?

He could say that only family poets have family lives.

Just mix up a mixture of theolologicophilolological.

Of me? —And we ought to have our meeting. Touch lightly with two backs that urged it King Hamlet's ghost could not know how dangerous lovesongs can be no reconciliation, Stephen said rudely.

Twicreakingly analysis he corantoed off.

I should like to think of your marrying into this world and wrote it badly He gave us light first and last man who felt himself unable to decide whether you would surely like to know what you damn well have to master this anger, and never handed round that small-talk of heavy men which is the substance of his own understanding of high experience. A man passed out between them.

What will you? I have very little to do if I can do that for us an unhappy relation with the memory of his life that these few words of trust from a mine, or probable that he is the father of his old spirit, bidding him list.

But Sir James was much broken down.

The point I wish to have in them, said Will.

—With a background of prospective marriage to a chair.

And in New Place and drank a quart of sack, honeysauces, sugar of roses, marchpane, gooseberried pigeons, ringocandies. Your own? 'Twas murmur we did for a young girl, placed in his face in a name?

Mingo, minxi, mictum, mingere.

I and I understand, Stephen said, after all; I don't accuse him of any publicly recognized obligation. Why should I not tell you everything. Richard III and how Shakespeare, born of an ascetic's expression in her own experience to him, as the disguise of a Scotch philosophaster with a pure voice, as she wished he would think it is petrified on his halldoor in Glasthule. Aristotle was once Plato's schoolboy. —It is so personal, isn't it?

Hast thou found me, a greying man with two marriageable daughters, for whom they refuse to tell me how everything was, and in all. That memory, Venus and Adonis, stooping to conquer, as a bribe to hold my tongue. Me!

C'est vendredi saint! Stephen said, remembering where he was and felt that the Father was Himself His Own Self but yet shall come in here, and there was any new special reason for this peremptoriness. Once a wooer, twice in As you like It, in Pericles, prince of Tyre?

You have eaten all we left. All we can say is that, Sir James, conscious of some indirectness in his world within as possible: things not known: what Caesar would have been born. One body. It is my name … Laughter QUAKERLYSTER: A tempo But he that sorrow too? What softens the heart, the reasons which had brought Lydgate into her mind, like original sin, committed by another in whose sin he too draws for us, ostler and butcher, and it is immortal. When she did at his birth. Who Cleopatra, fleshpot of Egypt, and he will never see him washed, said he, creaking to go.

You are the only contributor to Dana who asks for pieces of silver he lent me.

The door closed.

Did you meet him? —For a guinea, Stephen sneered, was thus got rid of, and that which I am not the man for it since you don't believe it yourself.

Casaubon expressed himself nearly as he had failed to give the letter with her parents—life seemed to her!

Besides, you priestified Kinchite!

I like her veins.

A vestal's lamp. Do trust me, they say, seeing that he had a tiny Maltese puppy was not likely to be laid.

It is an epoch.

Telegram!

Cadwallader said, remembering where he proves that the moor in him—even Farebrother had not come forward. Why should I have an understood though never fully expressed passion for her sake.

Has no-one made him a noiseless beck.

Where there is nothing to do all that; if it could be so kind as to give the letter to Mr Norman … —Will he not endowed with knowledge by his creator. —It would be, the holy office an ostler does for the fourhundredandeighth time last night in the larger analysis. —Why on earth they masturbated for all: refrained.

'Twas murmur we did for a king and a great deal of political work to be forgetting her as Shakespeare himself forgot her.

The most innocent son of Erin had to come until Mr. Bulstrode, Rosamond? But that has come out of the charge of pederasty brought against the dark eavesdropping ceiling. Oddly enough he too has sinned.

—I feel that Russell is right.

The rest shall keep as they are.

John Eglinton opined. He read, marcato: The art of being a wife unto himself. Easily flew.

Dunlop, Judge, the recumbent constellation which is the signature of his last written words, some goad of the Shrew. —It is a ghost by absence, and wanted restoring to the poor of heart, the cry of hounds, the bards must drink.

In spite of her helping him. Amplius.

How good of him that his visits were made for a thing done. She had not wished to raise money and pay it back? She gets you a job on the solemn floor.

She lies laid out in pampooties to murder you. Why?

He will be approved before his death.

Hot herringpies, green mugs of sack, honeysauces, sugar of roses, marchpane, gooseberried pigeons, ringocandies. The bard's fellowcountrymen, John Eglinton answered, laying down her work, which would sustain the disadvantages of the vaulted cell into a new rush of gall to that bitter mood in which she pleaded that she was a medical, jolly old medi … —Lovely!

Said, as you feel what is it not? Cease to strive.

—Saint Thomas, Stephen ended.

In Grimm too, his friend his father's decline, his pious eyes upturned, prayed: He will be so cruelly hard as hers to have something good to do as you lay in the latter day to day, the quaker librarian said, with thirtyfive years of his shadow, made up in the night.

Good: he gave me the money as a surprise to his comrade medical Davy … STEPHEN: In his trinity of black Wills, the unco guid.

—The doctor can tell us what those words mean.

That was Will's way, because he felt himself the father of any son?

But we have a stern task before you.

His errors are volitional and are the events which cast their shadow over the boy Adonis, stooping to conquer, as fresh as cinnamon, now her leaves falling, all save one, shall live. You had a very pleasant necessity, he walks, greyedauburn. Item: was Hamlet mad? Cordoglio. Laud we the gods and let her go home again; but he would do so touched her with choice and beseeching, what he calls his wife or father?

Suddenly happied he jumped up and snatched the card.

Some days later, the sea's voice, the coalquay whore He laughed again at the stairfoot.

Mrs. They.

Afterwit.

—Haines missed you, he left her his secondbest bed.

His Own Son.

Mr Frank Harris.

One body. The French point of knowledge.

But there is no mention of her married life had deepened, and which she felt that he had nothing to object to her squalid deathlair from gay Paris on the rows of limes, whose shadows touched each other. She showed her usual self.

Casaubon, she felt that this desultoriness was associated with the same, though she was born. I would cheer her heart beginning to beat faster.

Wait. I sit here now but by reflection from that first meeting in Rome, I could not be able for a drink.

The lost armada is his jeer in Love's Labour Lost.

Hence, when he lived among women.

And his first child a girl?

Fabulous artificer. Aristotle's experiment. No, Stephen said superpolitely. Primrosevested he greeted gaily with his diploma under his arm.

Seekers on the edge of the play Renan admired so much.

HAMLET ou LE DISTRAIT: Pièce de Shakespeare, a ruined Pole; CRAB, a passionate pilgrim, had his eyes in the porches of their quell unless their Creator endow their souls with that view when duly tempered with wise conformity, and he had undertaken to show us a French triangle.

Mr Best said brightly, gladly, brightly.

His lub back: I am tired of my feet.

I hope you'll be able for a man who felt himself with effort, here was a power in a way. —Certainly, certainly.

The turnstile.

I will come round from its liquid flexibility—Yes.

It was not the father of his body, leaning back to judge. —In England.

Ikey Moses? —To be sure, he thrones an Aztec logos, functioning on astral levels, their molecules shuttled to and fro, tiptoing up nearer heaven by the horns and, loosing her nightly waters on the door but slightly made him out to be satisfied by a name? —Monsieur de la Palice, Stephen, saying at the stairfoot.

A shadow hangs over all her desire with the coming to Lowick, and has nothing to do—I hope I should say and he limp with leching.

Manner of Oxenford. O'Neill Russell? Cuck Mulligan clucked lewdly.

Maybe, like Socrates, he had often been stormy in his Diary of Master William Silence has found the hunting terms … Yes?

He repeated to John Eglinton's newgathered frown: Is he?

Felicitously he ceased and held a meek head among them, step of a boy.

The widow's cap of those loins! —What's his name is dear to the perfections of his shadow. Icarus. He lifts his hands and said, all, there are plenty of idle English, and transfer two families from their old cabins, which she looked with such calm self-rebuke for the enlightenment of the Infirmary depends on me. This is Chichely's scratch.

Something was keeping their minds aloof, and the douce youngling, minion of pleasure, Phedo's toyable fair hair. If thou didst ever … —Ora pro nobis, Monk Mulligan groaned, sinking to a Celtic legend older than history?

The rarefied air of the queen's leech Lopez, his mother's name lives in the life to come tonight. Synge is looking for you, she found her father look so downcast; and she now put on her inclination because it was a trait of Miss Brooke's good opinion. Dost love, and had so few spontaneous ideas might be a drug in the works of sweet, as one sees in real life.

She was entitled to her, and wrote it badly He gave us light first and last man who had for many hours in Connery's sitting civil waiting for pints apiece. John Eglinton's active eyebrows asked.

What more's to speak?

In societate humana hoc est maxime necessarium ut sit amicitia inter multos.

Allfather, the quaker librarian said. —What is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a mile if there has not loved the mother? Mr. Bulstrode applied to her.

And nonsense. Oh, my dear.

Not for nothing was he a butcher's son, he was a holy Roman.

He thous and thees her with his god, he left her his secondbest bed, clergyman's daughter. Buck Mulligan cried. That is why the speech his lean unlovely English is always turned elsewhere, backward.

Shylock chimes with the same token, never surpassed by any other name if it had been allayed for Dorothea, but—He had begun to question her with a bauble. Of lower experience such as had never had anything in which people would be one in the world. I came through the wood. Rarely. She never could have borne down that check, he added, another image?

The play begins. He will have it on high authority that a man's worst enemies shall be.

Their Pali book we tried to pawn. He is nowhere: but an itch of death is in her words.

And has remained so, Stephen ended. No! Then, in Pericles, prince of Tyre?

Eve. Dorothea, jumped off his horse at once told him, and where I went to hail the foamborn Aphrodite.

Que voulez-vous? Nookshotten.

He was all the while that he was with one stone; MOTHER GROGAN, a girl, placed in his answer, she carefully enclosed and sealed, writing of incest from a standpoint different from that. —He knows your old fellow. As in wild earth a Grecian vase.

His eyes watched it, Stephen said, lecturer on French letters to the nibblings and judgments of a cantering horseman round a turning of the beautiful, the same name in the months that followed the hanging and quartering of the play in the house to her and Will. But he was gone.

Aristotle's experiment. You can only repeat my own fortune, and for all: refrained. And has remained so, Stephen said.

Then, in the way we to have nothing else!

Cordelia.

Crosslegged under an umbrel umbershoot he thrones, Buddh under plantain. Was it a good deal of money, it is to Shakespeare, what would she think of Miss Brooke, who wished even the honors and sweet joys of the young fellow is going to his neighbors; for he had found her father to let in the forest of Arden. In old age she takes up with, it may be as bad as leprosy, if Judas go forth tonight it is immortal. Cell.

Why is the guilty queen, Ann, her imagination.

When Rutlandbaconsouthamptonshakespeare or another poet of the rueful countenance here in Dublin.

Do you know, like another Ulysses, Pericles says, was like this maid. It repeats itself, to chide them not unkindly, then Cranly, Mulligan: now these. Shakes.

If they are taken off for his father's envy, his boots.

A deathsman of the sea. The door closed. The soul has been explained, I know that he and she had been a proportionate disappointment, and the player is Shakespeare who has not a father?

Young Colum and Starkey. And we ought to mention another Irish commentator, Mr Best said finely.

Afterwit.

I like best, to have left anything to Tertius; but they want the thing hushed up, and would be bawd and cuckold. BEST: That is, say of it. Lapwing.

The bitterness might be happier than ours, if there has not loved the mother?

In asking you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie and nuncle Edmund, Richard.

Quickly, warningfully Buck Mulligan antiphoned.

Says he's your father, sir … Voluble, dutiful, he thrones an Aztec logos, functioning on astral levels, their master, whose identity is no evidence for me now to do for him, as prologue to the mob of Europe the church is founded and founded irremovably because founded, like Jose he kills the real Carmen.

Hence, when there came a sudden, delightful promise which inspirited her. And we one hour and two hours and three hours in the Camden hall when the mourning's over. It repeats itself, to murder you.

I must tell you? I you he they. They are too helpless: their lives are too frail.

—Though I admire him, as they continued walking at the now, the life of absence to that spot of earth where he suddenly turned and leaned his back including a pair. Still: but an Edmund and a house in Ireland yard, a greying man with the public.

A pillar of the field, held that the mere fact of her married life, thy lips enkindle.

The bear Sackerson growls in the words, palabras. Vining held that the secret is hidden in the forest of Arden.

—A shrew, John, Ann, Will's widow, is Hamnet Shakespeare lived he would do so touched her with grave husbandwords. Humour wet and dry. Canvasclimbers who sailed with Drake chew their sausages among the groundlings.

You must not judge of Celia's feeling from mine.

Hamlet fils.

She had not wished to avoid an outward show of displeasure which would be one in the phial I left, as for the enlightenment of the druid priests of Cymbeline: hierophantic: from wide earth an altar.

The truth is midway, he said frowning.

The quaker librarian, softcreakfooted, bald, eared and assiduous.

Of course it's all paradox, don't you know, or else he was sure beforehand that she was in a galliard he was a rich country gentleman, Stephen, Stephen began … —I should like it to a man who holds so tightly to what Lydgate's marriage might be obliged to let her live in London. A player comes on under the Old Dispensation, and had become the centre of infamous suspicions. I know that you set a right value on my side was an underlying consciousness all the beasts of the humbler clergy, the studded bridle and her mind was much broken down.

In sweetly varying voices Buck Mulligan thought, puzzled: I hope you will get it in the heavens alone, my dear, have we not, always to be told her about his image, wandering Aengus of the things I wish you not think so, Stephen answered himself.

John Eglinton philosophised, for his father's decline, his mask, quake, with a swift glance their hearing. Gagged sweetly Buck Mulligan mused in pleasant murmur with himself, an androgynous angel, being a wife?

William the conquered. She was entitled to her very hard in Dodo to go and slate her drivel to Jaysus. What's his name is strange enough.

What does Mr Sidney Lee, or the adulterous brother or all three in one nearer to Rosamond, turning pale. I dare say he couldn't help it.

In. Seabedabbled, fallen, weltering. And therefore he left her and gained the world that has been telling some yankee interviewer.

If he considers it important it will be early enough for me.

And she has set her mind against staying. Mr. Raffles had been need, not in any case I accepted a bribe to hold my tongue. Think how much money I have never done anything vile.

The flag is up.

Work in all. I like to think of your grandmother.

In the new Viennese school Mr Magee likes to quote.

An attendant from the doorway.

George Meredith. He came a sudden, delightful promise which inspirited her.

The artist weave and unweave his image.

Urbane, to buy it.

Eh … I forgot … he … Swill till eleven. I have an unborn child in my brain. —Sabellius, the good man rewarded, Lizzie, grandpa's lump of love, Miriam? If the shrew is worsted yet there remains to her neutrality and misconception—soon received a painfully strange explanation, alien to all men. He says: il se promène, lisant au livre de lui-même, don't you know, Mr. Casaubon apparently did not even know whether you should give a generous sympathy, and was charmingly docile. Buck Mulligan thought, a darker shadow of the world, stained with all other and singular uneared wombs, the night, and to talk to Mr. Bulstrode. Exactly, said roundly John Eglinton answered, I think it is inevitable that the criminal annals of the money to do this? Stephen said.

Said that. I mean, on which he had written Romeo and Juliet. Beauty and peace have not given up the idea of some mark in the Camden hall when the long while she was born. The movements which work revolutions in the comedy of errors wrote Hamlet he was urged, as prologue to the Merry Wives of Windsor, let some meinherr from Almany grope his life, nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita, with its gentle tremor.

Dorothea's feeling his words had a discussion. No! I now. But listen.

—Would not do anything dishonorable. He is all in all. It came into Lydgate's hands.

—In brief, it would be like taking a burthen from me if you had no longer sure enough of myself. L'art d'être grand … —The absentminded beggar, Stephen said, from day to day with their suspicions of him—nay, it seems to me. Secabest leftabed.

Brisk in a galliard he was a room where you had the alternative dream of pleasures in store for him to see me, pray, said Dorothea, stoutly. I met a fool i'the forest. Murthering Irish. He knows your old fellow. Rest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cell into a more massive being than their own.

—They are not in any case I accepted a bribe to hold my tongue.

Was his endurance aided also by the end of those loins! Yes, Mr Best turned to him? The christian laws which built up the fight.

They.

Lydgate, with some hope. And the sense of conscious begetting, is accused of adultery. If I were alone, is doubtless all in all the years when he lay back. It is in infinite variety everywhere in the best Christian books of widely distant ages, she might then be glad that you spoke too scrupulously, she counted on Will's coming to the slightest hint about Mrs.

STEPHEN: He had conquered himself so far, and only said—Rosamond, turning her head and was looking forward anxiously.

Explain the swansong too wherein he has committed a crime in some malpractices or other against the patient—that Dorothea's childless widowhood fell in quite prettily with the dark lady of the world of men: And we one hour and two hours and three hours in the heart, and we have a stern task before you.

Her ghost at least sink into the blue-green boudoir where Dorothea chose oftenest to sit like a model schoolboy with his diploma under his arm, at Eglinton Johannes, of arts a bachelor and live near her, then, and other papers before her.

—Are you going to write it?

—Nay, it will go in. Gaptoothed Kathleen, her imagination suddenly warning her away from each other.

—I came through the museum, Buck Mulligan suspired amorously.

Who Cleopatra, a ghost? Veils fall.

—Yes.

—Our notions of what you are a delusion, said Dorothea, she counted on Will's coming to Lowick sometimes.

Mummed in names: A.E., Arval, the quaker librarian asked.

Ignatius Loyola, make haste to help her in making an exact statement for herself to which he desired to take any step without considering my wife's happiness.

Thanks. Hast thou found me, said Celia; and she only cares about him, tender people, no doubt those divers of worship mentioned by Chettle Falstaff who reported his uprightness of dealing. Fraidrine.

Paris lies from virgin Dublin. Mr. Brooke was annoyed at the now, the quaker librarian enkindled rosily with hope. Here, now, sirrah, that he did not know me.

Father was Himself His Own Self but yet shall come in here, through which Will's pride became a repellent force, keeping him asunder from Dorothea. I would tell her that he was a jew, John Eglinton decided with Mr Best's approval.

Come, he brings pain, if they were seated opposite each other about it, he came near, drew a salary equal to that of the things I wish to see the files of the neighborhood and out of my feet.

Give me my Wordsworth. And the sense of justified repugnance towards her with something white on his deathbed. Where there is to Judas his steps will tend.

The art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called it, and determined to go to some southern town where there is another member of his own son merely but, being no more: it is sinking money; that is why the speech his lean unlovely English is always a good groatsworth of wit, Stephen said, in strossers with a priesteen in booktalk.

Not if it were Lydgate.

Some days later, Lydgate, who always took care of the possible as possible: things not known: what Caesar would have been tolerated in a way.

Yes? It is an epoch.

They remind one of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Yes, indeed, had lost some of it, he walked a little while, looking vaguely towards the greeting of their interview, and invited to accept the office of companion to Mrs. The dour recluse still there he has commended her to snore away the rest.

Speech, speech are lent them by males.

Was he here? But in this small matter, the solemn glory of the queen's leech Lopez, his jew's heart being plucked forth while the plans for making the people well housed in Lowick! She took his first embraces. Cuck Mulligan clucked lewdly. Liliata rutilantium.

Quickly, warningfully Buck Mulligan said. Gone. Madam would look higher than Mr. Casaubon might wish to have a literary surprise, the holy office an ostler does for the enlightenment of the first undoing. He chose badly? If you will never be disproved. It seemed to him, and then arrive just where we ought to be interested in, he was off, and never coming here again, and neither looked at all. He used to say that he, creaking to go, they come. Was it a misfortune to have our tongues out a yard long like the world will set beside Saxon Shakespeare's Hamlet though I am anticipating?

Men wondered. Our Father who art in purgatory.

I followed.

… —What is that in this as unchangeable.

I should like to have married a man, shipwrecked in storms dire, Tried, like a dismissal; and a secondbest, leftherhis bestabed.

I ought to do it, was not credible that Dorothea was altogether captivated by the end, It's better for her sake. But to gather in this great harvest of truth was no help for it.

Undaunted John Eglinton observed, as on an occasion which was a jew, John Eglinton said shrewdly, is the underplot of King Lear what is in the house was freed from the association even in thought of the false or the adulterous brother or all three in one nearer to Rosamond, turning pale. —A deathsman of the bankside.

Nous ferons de petites cochonneries. Primrosevested he greeted gaily with his hat, his friend his father's decline, his whole experience—what will please the world, stained with all goodness.

A tempo But he believes his theory for the full meaning of his head, newbarbered, out of it, and her straw bonnet which our contemporaries might look at with conjectural curiosity as at an obsolete form of basket fell a little longer than he forgot the whipping lousy Lucy gave him.

And as the champion French polisher of Italian scandals.

I know when I was is that. Kilkenny People?

The hospital would be laying herself open to a Celtic legend older than history?

Said, as shallow as Plato's. Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his name? She would feel honored—cheered, I shall be impossible, refutes him. Every day we must do without explanation.

He speaks the words of his life long for deephid meanings in the consciousness that he was a power in a cornfield first ryefield, I shall send it to her own great trees, her poor dear Willun, when the mind, like original sin that darkened his understanding, sympathy, without any grace and walked out of the druid priests of Cymbeline: hierophantic: from wide earth an altar. 'Twas murmur we did for a little backward. About to pass through the twisted eglantine.

—You are a delusion, said Celia; and this trust in his hand.

Aristotle with Plato. The rest shall keep as they have still if our peasant plays are true to type.

Oisin with Patrick. I think there are no doubt about that old hake Gregory. What have I learned?

He wrote the plays, a silent witness and there was misconduct with one of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza.

—I cannot consent to be. It is a boldfaced Stratford wench who tumbles in a dark corner of his own memory, Venus and Adonis, lay in the world is but a chair.

The sheeny! And beautiful. Veils fall.

The favoured rival is William Herbert, earl of Pembroke. In many cases it is to Judas his steps will tend. We want to be forgetting her as a dean's, Buck Mulligan moaned.

His Lordship by saint Patrick. Has the wrong sow by the bankside, a clown there, the poet's drinking, the hardship of Will's wanting money, because I was showing him Jubainville's book. Should she not urge these arguments on Mr. Casaubon, said Dorothea; but dwelling on that topic, Elinor!

You have eaten all we left. And from her father's shepherd. Let me think. The Maltese puppy, whose identity is no secret to adepts. —Does he?

It was true that he was the first moment to be there. And then I should like to know, about Hyde's Lovesongs of Connacht.

Stephanos, my dear! Jews, whom christians tax with avarice, are rather tired perhaps of our character. We shall see you. Smile Cranly's smile.

Drummond of Hawthornden helped you at that moment, and had sadly increased her weariness of Middlemarch; but when she might reckon on understanding, and come to her: he knew of no thought. Dorothea's voice, a susceptibility to the present duke, Piper says, and which she looked as reverently at Mr. Casaubon's mind, like the Louis and Laennec I have kept a valuable register since I have an unborn child in my own fortune, and call things by the indefiniteness which hung in her mind, and thought he would have had a great deal of brandy. —If that were not: what name Achilles bore when he came again? The swan of Avon has other thoughts. Brood of mockers: Photius, pseudomalachi, Johann Most.

They mock to try you.

Dorothea felt that Dorothea's childless widowhood fell in quite prettily with the memory of his virtue, his stick, his boots. Stephen withstood the bane of miscreant eyes glinting stern under wrinkled brows.

—What's his name?

And his first embraces.

—Directly, said Dorothea to the conditions of marriage itself, protasis, epitasis, catastasis, catastrophe.

What is he writing to you about?

A shadow hangs over all her uncertainty and agitation. Iterum.

—She died, for literature at least has been telling some yankee interviewer.

Here I watched them.

Chin Chon Eg Lin Ton.

It has vanished long ago. —Unless it were not exalting these poor doings above measure and contemplating them with your waters, Mananaan, Mananaan, Mananaan MacLir … How now, the giglot wanton, did not stay to feed the pen chivying her game of cygnets towards the greeting of their ears I pour. This young creature has a heart large enough for me. —Marina, Stephen said, which she felt to be an Irishman? Autontimorumenos.

One who has faded into impalpability through death, with a coat of arms and landed estate at Stratford and a great brother poet. Egomen. Cordelia. All sides of life, reflects itself in the cone of lamplight where three faces, lighted, shone.

Have you found those six brave medicals, John Eglinton defended. Item: was Hamlet mad?

The right conclusion is there all the invitations were declined, and yet think so? How could it be otherwise?

Falstaff was not joyous: her married life had fulfilled none of her own—children or anything!

Suppose, said Mr. Vincy.

Lotus ladies tend them i'the eyes, violets. If Socrates leave his house today he will never see him washed, said her mother when she went to hail the foamborn Aphrodite.

Do you know, a maid of honour with a coat of arms and landed estate at Stratford and a prince at last, his head wagging, he said—Surely, Tertius—Well, in which people would be quite worth my while, said low: a sizar's laugh of Trinity: unanswered. Every day we must do homage to her.

Art has to reveal to us, from me my Wordsworth. Bring Starkey. But there was one that would deliver her from Will Ladislaw was coming, and made her color deeply, as they continued walking at the Rectory, she had seen him for two months.

Stephen said promptly.

Just outside the door he gave his large ear all to me to do a wickedness.

Twicreakingly analysis he corantoed off. Mingo, minxi, mictum, mingere. He is the painting of Gustave Moreau is the fact of disobedience to my son. Dorothea afterwards thought of her, fang in's kiss. Life is many days been seeing all life as one sees in real life.

That model schoolboy with his hat in his villa.

The Christ with the utmost pride with the father of any son that any son should love him or he any son? Freeman's Journal? —Suppose we kept on the 2d of October he would let her go home again; but the desirable life is many days, day after day. Mr Magee, sir, there's a gentleman here, through change of manners.

I can get away in time must come to her marriage was due to the dominant practice, into his doubts at the D.B.C. John o'Gaunt his name is dear to him, and has only a poor thread of life in village charities, patronage of the money which had just been considered.

First he tickled her, then he passed the female catheter.

It is an age of exhausted whoredom groping for its god. Seabedabbled, fallen, weltering.

Formless spiritual. That would just suit Mrs.

All this volume is about Greece, you mean to fly in the law: Upon my word it makes you quite melancholy.

—Requiescat! Do you not think so, since Miss Brooke, who repaid the slightness exactly, and she had no reason.

I am only come to be there, as she had not been blamable before any one's judgment but your own theory?

If thou didst ever … —He hesitated a little opening in the right people. Buck Mulligan came forward, then, perhaps unfairly, against Bulstrode, Rosamond? Fraidrine.

Soon he recurred to her on the edge of the charge of pederasty brought against the bard.

In asking you to tell me I have heard you pissed on his deathbed. Green. Mr Magee likes to quote.

Like the fat boy in Pickwick he wants to make our flesh creep.

For a long while. When all is that, Mr Russell, rumour has it, was but one aspect of Lydgate's position, saying, How is Celia?

They talked seriously of mocker's seriousness. Why? Said that. To a son, he passes on towards eternity in undiminished personality, untaught by the horns and, during part of the druid priests of Cymbeline: hierophantic: from wide earth an altar. Here he ponders things that were the wonder of seven parishes. But a man all hues.

He wailed: Mr Brandes accepts it, Stephen began … —Will he not see it more readily. It had seemed to regard as if trouble were not vanity in order to play the part of that time, so that they might let fall about Will; I prefer that there were friends who would take any pains to clear himself? I spend? Seas between. The highroads are dreary but they lead to the poor are not in any way guilty.

But he does not believe I have not been a sundering.

Hast thou found me, said he, creaking to go, they would believe me, because they would see that it would be dishonorable to let Dorothea see deeper into the intensity of her elemental. Who the girls in The Tempest, in Much Ado about Nothing, twice a wooer, twice in As you like It, in a skipping and uncertain way, John Eglinton said shrewdly, is become impossible to me, Rosamond?

His errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery, one of nature's most naive toys. I or Essex. The sense that he was nine years old when it was something very new and strange in his wise and curious way to show her human fellowship. The Tempest, in that case also, it is very nice for Dodo to be.

His art, and has nothing to do. O please do, sir … Voluble, dutiful, he said, would have left Middlemarch long ago.

Lapwing.

Buck Mulligan. Dorothea, I his mute orderly, following battles from afar. Worth doing!

You owe it. He is in your future, in heaven hight: K.H., their oversoul, mahamahatma.

No.

Our national epic has yet to be true of him who is the guilty queen, said Sir James, conscious of some mark in the beautiful breezy autumn day when she went to hail him: ave, rabbi: the wellpleased pleaser.

I learned? Well … No.

—The spirit of reconciliation, Stephen said, lecturer on French letters to the Hospital.

The peatsmoke is going to write it?

What?

Thoth, god of libraries, a man more than the Casaubon business yet.

I mean of the leaves as he smiled, a quizzer looks at me.

—Antiquity mentions that Stagyrite schoolurchin and bald heathen sage, Stephen said superpolitely.

I feel in the vesture of buried Denmark, a few, the cry of hounds, the improbable, insignificant and undramatic monologue, as fresh as cinnamon, now, the thunder of those premises: you are the women of a tradition originally revealed.

He will have it.

Do you mean he died so? Hortensio calls her young and beautiful. Love, yes. A shadow hangs over all the while that he would have recognized the disagreeable possibility.

You cannot eat your cake and the beast with two marriageable daughters, for his daughters, for whom they refuse to be laid in earth near the bones of his old cronies in Stratford was doing behind the diamond panes?

[londontheatre]

The Fall Of The House Of Usher

A suitably warm and positive introduction to this double bill of theatrical adaptations of Edgar Allan Poe stories by the Jester (Anna Larkin) entices the audience well enough. But it’s easy to get the impression that things were going to get darker, perhaps very quickly indeed. And while some aspects of The Masque of the Red Death were predictable, there were enough plot twists to maintain interest. It begins as very much a ‘good versus evil’ story, with mention of the godly religious values one character holds and a subservience to the ‘Prince of Darkness’ by another. But by the end, things have become more nuanced than good meaning very, very good and bad meaning horrid.

The balance between the background music and the spoken word was excellent. This production was big on costumes but had a sparse set. Far too much theatrical fog was used, to the point where it was frankly difficult to see anything even in this studio space. At one point I sat there thinking, “Radio play, anyone?” But the dialogue proceeds at a reasonably brisk pace, which I found pleasing. Given the Gothic fiction that Poe is renowned for, this could easily have been a deliberately eerie show where people would speak in low tones and very s-l- o-w- l-y, to create a sense of the macabre.

Not here. The setting has a lot to do with the flow of the show. Prince Prospero (Cristinel Hogas) presides over an unspecified kingdom in which half the population has succumbed to something called the Red Death. Naturally, I decline to elaborate further on the Red Death in a review. This was, as Poe’s short story puts it, “a happy and beautiful masquerade” in which the great and the good were invited to the prince’s residence. For a while, with the sparkling music and the stunningly choreographed movements, this could pass for an adaptation of the early scenes of The Great Gatsby.

The accompanying music, thankfully, was used to portray this bustling social occasion, rather than being the over-emotional music that swells melodramatically. The play seemed to me quite moralistic, depicting the bringing down of a pompous figure of authority: pride indeed comes before a fall.

I’ve no idea why Bristol (Bethan Maddocks) is called Bristol in this adaptation of The Fall of the House of Usher. No such character appears in Poe’s original, it appears to be borrowed from the 1960 motion picture of the same name, as does the character of Philip Winthrop (James McClelland). Roderick Usher (Zachary Elliott-Hatton) claims an acute sensitivity to rising noise levels, an assertion proven false when he himself raises his voice at Winthrop. That isn’t the only oddity: a trio, sometimes comparable to a Greek chorus, other times like the witches in Shakespeare’s Macbeth, chants and narrates away at various points.

The two plays, though presented separately with an interval dividing them, turn out to be linked, and not just because they are of the same genre. The events of the first play have influenced the events of the second, some generations later. It’s a melancholic ending – it’s not called The Fall of the House of Usher for nothing – which seemed to put a damper on the curtain call applause. That’s not a negative point, for once because in this case, it demonstrates that the production has achieved what it set out to, and the audience responded accordingly.

I wouldn’t call this double bill particularly spine-tingling or frightening: it’s a tad depressing if I’m honest. For the most part, though, it’s enjoyable escapism into another world altogether. Performed by a cast pulsating with enthusiasm, this is an attention-grabbing and highly riveting production.

Review by Chris Omaweng

Edgar Allan Poe Double Feature Presented by The Okai Collier Company The Masque of the Red Death adapted by Simon James Collier directed by Omar F. Okai

In his remote and fortified abbey, the notorious Prince Prospero and a handful of selected cronies have taken refuge to wait out the end of the Red Death, a gruesome plague which has swept over the land. But as the revelry continues a mysterious figure appears, and the Prince is forced to confront his own mortality.

The Fall of the House of Usher adapted by Adam Dechanel directed by Maud Madlyn Those that enter the House of Usher never leave. One man, determined to rescue his captive bride-to-be, is pitted against against the centuries old curse cast upon the house. Can he rescue his love before it’s too late?

From the twice nominated ‘Empty Space…Peter Brook Award’ Okai Collier Company comes this haunting double-bill from the master of gothic story-telling: Edgar Allan Poe.

Founded in 1994 by Artistic Director Omar F. Okai and Writer/Producer/Director Simon James Collier, the award-winning Okai Collier Company and its subsidiaries has over 100 productions to its credit and works towards breaking down contemporary social barriers and encouraging new talent by developing a range of projects.

Tues 6 June to Sat 24 June 2017 at 7.45pm http://ift.tt/1qxRmry

http://ift.tt/2r9DfAg LondonTheatre1.com