#what is it that makes seeing our f/o breaking down when we die so appealing i wonder

[zhongrin]

HELP RIN THAT ISN'T A BRAINROT THAT'S A WHOLE FIC !!!! /pos (putting the tag just in case jsjhdjhaj) Not gonna lie, I just wrote that off of some very dark thoughts-, that's the main reason as to why I got to write angst properly that time BUT THIS TIME, it's very normal ! :DD (also forgive my rusty writing, it's been a few days since I fully wrote anything TT) =====

"Ah," As Zhongli snaps out of his trance, he finds himself forgetting something. "Hmm, perhaps a cup of tea would bring it back." He muses, preparing himself another drink. The warm, bittersweet taste of the liquid soothes his worries - yet, he finds himself doubting his 'perfect memory' when blurry images of a face play in his mind. The man sighs, leaving the uneasiness to simmer and slowly sink in. He dearly wishes he hadn't. *** Immortality is a curse, Zhongli knows all too well. A curse that binds him to the harrowing clock of time, a millennia of it he's experienced - bloodied with the sacrifices and loss and painted with the compassion left behind by those whom he did lose. With forever comes the monotonous tick and ring when the hands reach midnight, a familiar and unnerving experience each time it bellows in his eardrums. Oh how he wishes he never knew it better than you. It spread like a tasteless poison on his tongue, grasping tight to the walls of his throat, leaving him unable to utter even a cry for help. Why would he even? An archon - albeit he be a retired one - he was once glorified and revered to by thousands, millions of people. How could he let the hysterical screams for your name be heard? It would be improper and unbefitting of the man he is and once was. "Darling, (Name), forgive me, I apologize for being too late..." Oh, how he knelt before your body as if to beg for forgiveness, the years of suffering before you long forgotten when faced with your last breathe and tear. "Please, dearest, please.." Cradled like a vase on the verge of shattering, Zhongli wiped away the hideous red soaked on your clothes, wiped away the tears you've left behind bit by bit. It hurt him to do so, it did. He had yet to retell the tales of old almost no one knew of, yet to ingrain the moments your fingers ran through his hair and treated it like the finest of silk. In your arms, he found peace, tranquil, and solicitude. Now however - all he is left with are the memories that would soon be lost without you. Zhongli lays alone on the cold mattress, clutching the sheets tightly to his chest. The clock strikes midnight - and along with it, he momentarily remembers you. 'Forgive me for forgetting you, my love.' =====

Hope I delivered as you expected Rin ! ♡

"it's very normal"

"it's very normal"

*head in hands* *massages temples* *breaks down crying anyway* must you hurt me continuously like this- /j /nm

[confettifox-ships]

hi!! for the prompt blurbs.. kisses in the rain + desperate kisses combined f/o is jimmy mcgill/saul goodman from better call saul/breaking bad - he's kind of a dick, cuts corners and takes shortcuts rather than working for things he wants, criminal lawyer who tried to be legit and help people before deciding to just do it for the money. kinda closed off and wary of close relationships but gets attached real easy (abandonment issues) s/i is lucian donne (or mcgill, depending on when in our relationship it is), psychologist, friends with jimmy since college (so like, at least 15 years) and has had a massive crush on him for their entire friendship. nervous, sensitive, takes things to heart too much and has major abandonment issues relationship is basically Slow Burn Premium, jimmy didn't realize he Could like guys until he was told point blank that everyone can see it except for him and lucian. years of mutual pining except neither of them knew it was mutual. we tease and make fun of each other all the time, our love language is pretty much just bullying but we'd also die for each other if needed. like we call each other names and then cuddle on the couch all night because we're In Love

@tothemoon-ships

thank you for your patience! hope u enjoy! @tothemoon-ships

someday i'll get around to watching bb and bcs, i need to since im FROM new mexico

It rarely rains in New Mexico, just during the summertime months, and only for brief periods, where rain torrents painfully from the sky and subsides within only about a half an hour. You and Jimmy have been walking outside for about ten minutes as rain crashes down. The exhaustion has crawled into the lines of Jimmy’s face now that there’s time to hold still. Despite his frequent cutting of corners and dodging through legal red tape, his work takes a toll on him. He sits down on the cement doorstep next to you, avoiding the rain but embracing the smell of the desert in the rain. 

Jimmy never knew that he was allowed to like men. It really never had actually clicked that he did, he’d just always had you and he’d known the way he felt about you but it had taken a long time for him to clock that the butterflies in his stomach were more than just frequent bouts of indigestion. Perhaps an inhumanly long time but it is what it is; it’s all good, man, after all. Jimmy turns his head to look at you, his eyes soft and blue as the Albuquerque sky. 

You’d expected your first kiss to be softer or with some kind of build up. When you’d imagined it, lying in your bed late at night, you hadn’t been quite sure how to imagine it—always soft, but sometimes a lean in, you hate to admit it but the stupid “boy lean” appeals to you, or maybe it would be in a familiar place. Instead, it’s on the sidewalk, his hair plastering to your cheeks as the rain continues. His hands grip your cheeks and pull you in so closely that the only thing you know is him. His smell, his taste, the warmth of his upper lip, the press of his nose against your cheek. 

The kiss catches you entirely off guard, but you grip his shoulders to ground yourself. When he breaks away, it is just as the rain stops, with the sun shining through the clouds. Jimmy bumps his forehead against yours. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really need to.

[jotarosbelt]

Colorful Camboys, 2.

a/n: hi!! i'm back! i finished up school and got a bit of my writing inspo back, so, i thought i'd write another Colorful Camboy's chapter for you guys <3

hope you're all staying safe! enjoy~

p.s. i haven’t written smut in a HOT minute and lowkey forgot how to write for josuke, but i tried! i’m sorry 😭

p.p.s. i didn’t proof read :) we die like men, fuck it

————

Summary: A Modern AU where your favorite boys are just trying to get off and make money.

You're one of their viewers and happen to catch their attention.

————

18+ content ahead!

Josuke - Pink

You’d come to the point where porn was honestly just boring.

It didn’t hurt to want to try something new! Maybe a new genre, a different site? But, all of it was the same old same old. And the disgustingly cheesy, clickbaity titles didn’t do much to turn you on or catch your interest either. You pursed your lips as you scrolled, coming across a camboy website.

You blinked. ‘A camboy website?’

Curiosity had ultimately gotten the best of you as you clicked the link. Almost immediately, tons of live-streams came up, thousands of boys right at your disposal.

‘This is gonna be fun.’

You scrolled through the plethora of streams in search of a boy that appealed to you. For the most part, a good chunk of them were your type. In shape, good looking— there weren’t many bad apples on the tree you were picking from.

Your eyes landed on a certain pompadoured boy by the name ‘ShiningDiamond1999.’ The username definitely raised an eyebrow or two, and the boy sure was good looking, so you simply clicked the stream to see what was up.

He wasn’t popular for no reason. He was cute! It was the oddly ‘adorable, yet super hot’ combo, and girls (and guys alike) were eating that shit up.

You sat back as you watched the boy palm himself through pink boxers.

“Oh? We gotta new person, huh?”

He leaned forward, hand still on his cock as he narrowed his eyes at his monitor. Part of you was embarrassed that he caught you so quickly— he had so many patrons there already! He must’ve been an attentive host.

You liked that.

“A guest, eh? How about you give me a name to call you by, cupcake? You don’t have to make an account for me to take notice of you, yanno.”

You couldn’t help but smile. He seemed sweet; he gave off the aura of someone who’d take care of his partner no matter what, and you had to admit that it was comforting. Not only was he easy on the eyes, he was someone who gave off the impression that he wouldn’t break your heart despite the fact that everything he said was meant for both you and the thousands of other viewers he had right now.

He really must’ve been good.

You splayed your fingers out across the keys, typing out a response. ‘Just call me [username].’

You could see him raise an arched eyebrow. He smiled brightly and leaned back into his chair. “[Username]? I can do that for you, babe.”

Teasingly, he ran his fingers down his torso to the waistband of his boxers. He simply smiled mischievously at the camera and popped the band against his hipbone. “Enough with the chit chat, yeah? I don’t wanna bore our new guest, so let’s get this show on the road, babies!”

Thumbs slipped under the elastic and pushed his underwear down his muscular thighs. His cock sprung out, slapping against his toned stomach and you couldn’t help the groan that escaped your mouth. No wonder he was so loved— he was sculpted by the gods themselves.

His bottom lip wrung itself between his teeth as he gripped his member with a large hand. Up, down, up, down— the motion was hypnotizing as it was erotic, and you could’ve sworn the way he looked at the camera while he did it brought you to the brink of an orgasm alone.

“I hope you’re touching yourself, too, baby girl. I don’t wanna be the only one getting off.”

His hand left his cock to push his boxers the rest of the way down. Without the restrictions the garment brought, he spread his legs wider. You could see everything from the way his balls tensed whenever he teased his head, and the way his asshole clenched around the pink buttplug on the downstroke.

Your eyes widened. ‘Buttplug? He's into that?’

Your eyebrows relaxed and a sly grin took form on your face.

The things you’d give to ruin this boy.

“God, fucking—“, he keened desperately, “I wish you were here right now.”

You subconsciously rubbed your thighs together. You were here to get off, but his performance was so goddamn captivating that you didn’t want to take your eyes off of him for even a second. So, you did what you could to strip yourself of your shorts and panties while still watching, reaching over to grab your vibrator.

“You’d be taking care of me right? Stroking my cock till the head turns red— shit—“

The soft buzz of the toy filled your room and you gingerly placed it on your clit. You jolted at the sensation. It had been a while since you had a nice session for yourself; you didn’t have much time to draw it out and really make yourself see stars. This was nice. Being able to sit back and watch somebody get off to help you get off wasn’t something you had seen yourself doing, but you really might have to make it a more common occurrence.

“[Username].”

Your eyes snapped open and met his, despite the fact that he couldn’t see you. You switched the vibrator over to your non-dominant hand and let the other reach out to the keyboard to type out a quick “yes?”

“Since it’s your first time here, I’ll let you choose.”

Well, this was interesting.

The man on the other side of the screen reached out of frame for a moment to grab something. When his hand entered view again, he had a hot pink dildo in hand.

“So, love, buttplug or dildo? What’cha in the mood for?”

You narrowed your eyes at the screen best you could in the midst of your pleasure-filled haze and typed out your answer.

‘Dildo.’

You didn’t miss the inkling of a grin that lied on his lips. The ravenette leaned back in the chair and pulled out the plug, replacing it with the pink toy.

“Hah~, fuck. Good choice, babe—!”

His eyes rolled backwards into his skull as he sank the silicon toy further into himself. You whimpered and leaned back further into your seat, bumping up the intensity of the toy. This was gonna be a good session, if you said so yourself. You’d have to bookmark this page for later.

“Fuck, I bet you look so good right now. All flushed and panting and wanting to cum, right?”

Your breathing sped up, chest heaving as your hips canted into your hand. “God, yes please—“

Almost as if he heard your pleas, he continued right after you finished speaking. “Then lets cum together. S-Shit, cum with me baby, I’ll count.”

As if on instinct, you grown the vibrator into you, putting it on its highest setting. It was enough to make you jump out of your skin. You had goosebumps everywhere, cold sweat was running down your forehead, and your thighs were shaking like mad. How could a stranger have so much power over you?

“Five.”

You forced your eyes open to look at your screen, eyes locked on the streamer and his hand furiously jerking himself off. You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

“Four.”

Your vision began to blur. You were so close yet so far from your orgasm, and in all honesty, you could’ve came right now. But, finishing with this stranger seemed a lot more appealing than doing it on your own.

“Ah, fuck— three—“

The veins in his arms bulged and he reached around to grip the base of the dildo. He threw his head back as he fucked himself it, his jaw falling slack and hanging open.

“Two—!”

At this point, both of you were chasing your releases like animals. There was something so primal about this— backs arched and hips spasming as you both selfishly chased euphoria. You gripped the side of your desk chair bruisingly, waiting for him to finish counting and—

“One— fuck, one, I’m cumming—!”

Your moan mixed with his as it came out of your laptop speaker. He whined, you yelled, and you both were riding your orgasms like a wave. You hadn’t cum that hard in a while. It was the kind of finish that makes you see stars and make your scalp tingle, and when you came down, you saw the camboy covered in his own release and strands of his hair out of place.

He looked so out of it. He was panting heavily with red airbrushed over his chest and cheeks, and pieces of his once perfect hairstyle stuck to his forehead. He was definitely not present in that moment in time, still on Cloud 9, but you didn’t mind watching as his vision came back into focus and his breathing slowed.

Slowly, he reached down to pull the toy out of his ass and place it some place out of frame. He laughed airily, his large hand running down the expanse of his throat momentarily before speaking.

“Alright, that was really fun. I gotta go clean up now, but I’ll be back to tomorrow, same time!”

You followed his hand as it moved to his mouse to end the stream.

”Oh, and I hope to see you again tomorrow, too, [Username]. I hope you had fun, love.”

This user is now offline.

[oliver-writes-all-about-that]

“A Heart Breaker’s Holiday?” Written by Oliver O.  Mintz

2021 Valentine’s Day project

As we enter another year, our views, and thoughts on events throughout of the coming year has changed based on the impact on what has happened to all of us in the past year, 2020.

 Some of us are having a hard time accepting holidays, as in the past few years, it is normal to hear someone say that they hate a holiday, as example Valentine’s Day is one of the hatred holidays by people who are single.

 What is Valentine’s Day?

Valentine's Day, also called Saint Valentine's Day or the Feast of Saint Valentine, is celebrated annually on February 14. It originated as a minor Western Christian feast day honoring one or two early Christian martyrs named Saint Valentine and, through later folk traditions, has become a significant cultural, religious, and commercial celebration of romance and love in many regions of the world.

 Also, during this time of year, suicide rates increase by 5% out of the reported the highest rate of suicides at 45.1 and 40.5 per 100,000 people respectively, about 4 times higher than national average rate in other countries, in the past year. Along with just America alone, reported 800,000 people die by suicide in the world each year, which is roughly one death every 40 seconds. Suicide is the 2nd leading cause of death in the world for those aged 15-24 years.

Which is why the most question asked among people when the holiday arrives closer during the year, is “why is Valentine’s day such a bad holiday”, is the question most asked. Many people find the holiday very fun for most people, but we tend to not think deeper about the holiday, how it may affect many other people such as our friends and family and our co-workers we work with. It can be a hard holiday to deal with on a person’s mental space if they are alone or working that day.

~~~~

There is a lot of people in the world that would look at this holiday as negative way, they would sometimes call out of work or sleep the whole day away till the next day, because they dislike and have so much disgust in thought the holiday.

But there is a lot of people who do enjoy the holiday as well, it is not just for couples, it can be for everyone. It can be for your friend down the street, or that neighbor right next to you that never talks to you. We can give love anywhere, to whoever. Which people during the past few years had forgotten, in other words may have not known in the first place.

We asked people from all over Florida, old and young about their thoughts on the holiday, you would be surprise how much of a positive brought back we got from our interviews with these people we are about to share their stories with you.

 We wanted everyone to be honest and as detailed as they possible can be. Explaining their stories with the holiday Valentine’s Day and how they may have enjoyed it and not enjoyed it in their own ways, along with questions on how we can change the views on the holiday itself to other people around us, to not make the holiday have such a negative view to the world.

 First up is Samuel Lazo from small city, Safety Harbor, in Pinellas County, Florida.

We had so many emails come in with written out answers and some interviews we got to speak with the person via zoom meetings, we could not fit everyone who was in the project in one article. We do appreciate the time people gave us to be able to share their thoughts with us.

 Name: Samuel Lazo

Pronouns: He/Him

Relationship status: Single

Age: 17 years old

City, State: Safety Harbor, FL

 Oliver: What is Valentine’s Day to you? Can you explain why people may hate the holiday so much?

 Samuel: “To me, Valentine's Day is a reminder to always show love to those around you! It is so important to show your friends and family that you love and care for them deeply. To others though, Valentine's Day could have a complete opposite meaning. Sometimes it can remind people that they might not have time for love, or they have experienced something on the day that might have changed their opinion. Or it could just mean another boring day for some, who knows.”

 Oliver: What do you think would make Valentine’s better for people? And why?

 Samuel: “In my opinion, I feel that if society weren't constantly making Valentine's to be about significant others, it might change some opinions on some and remind them that the day doesn't have to always be about having to HAVE romantic partners. It should take the role of being a reminder for any type of love, including friendships, family, and self-love!”

 Oliver: What can we do better for this holiday to be more inclusive to so many people single? (Including older people, LGBT+, homeless)

 Samuel: I think it'd be nice if we treated Valentine's how some treat Christmas. We get into the "Christmas Spirit" and give those around us gifts or extra acts of kindness, except with Valentine's we try to feel that love deep within us and understand it is okay to spread that with those around you. You never know who might need it and how it could really affect someone.

 Oliver: What is one thing you can say to change a stranger’s mind that this holiday is not just for couples?

 Samuel: “Reminding a stranger on the street that they are cared for by their loved ones and maybe doing a small act of kindness for them might help them change their opinion about the holiday. Or simply just telling someone "Happy Valentine's!" could help put a smile on their face and remind them that love is all around them, no matter the form! Hey, who knows, it could also help them realize that they want to spread some love around too and do the same for someone else.”

   Name: Gaia Callisto

Pronouns: She/They

Relationship status:

Age: 22

City,State: Brandon, FL

 Oliver: What is Valentine’s Day to you? Can you explain why people may hate the holiday so much?

 Gaia: “I genuinely love Valentine’s day. Partly because I love pink and red and the whole cute and sweet vibes that come with it, but also because it’s a great day to just remember to give back to the people you appreciate in life. One of my favorite things to do as a kid was to hand out Valentine’s Day cards to all of my friends and classmates, and it’s something I still enjoy to this day! Even adults love to receive a little surprise with some candy, and I think it’s a sweet way to show someone that you’re thinking of them and you care about them.

 What is Valentine’s Day to you? Can you explain why people may hate the holiday so much?  To me, valentine’s day is another day to just celebrate the people you love and care for. Along with eating chocolate and giving little favors to people. I think people hate it so much because they only see it as a romantic day and therefore, only celebrate when they’re dating someone, which is bad if they break up because it gives them bad memories.”

 Oliver: What do you think would make Valentine’s better for people? And why?

 Gaia: “I think a less commercialized and more personal holiday would make it more appealing. Or if it was more oriented toward self-love than romantic love, I feel people would appreciate that more. There would be less exclusion of single people as well as aromantic or asexual people if it were more geared toward love in general, especially for yourself and your loved ones. “

 Oliver: What can we do better for this holiday to be more inclusive to so many people single? (Including older people, LGBT+, homeless)

 Gaia: “I think it’s very important to remember aromantic people during valentine’s day, as well as our passed loved ones and people who don’t have the means or the family to celebrate with. Love shouldn’t be confined to just romantic partners, we can help and care for others who we don’t even know yet, too.”

 Oliver: What is one thing you can say to change a stranger’s mind that this holiday is not just for couples?

 Gaia: “ I think that valentine’s day is just another day if you so choose it to be, but why not take the day to celebrate your parents or kids or siblings? Or make it a friend holiday and just treat your friends to things they wouldn’t normally treat themselves to. Valentine’s day is perfect for anyone and everyone in my opinion.”

  Name: Alyssa Marvicsin

Pronouns: She/Her

Relationship Status:

Age: 21

State: FL, USA

 Oliver: What is Valentine’s Day to you? Can you explain why people may hate the holiday so much?

 Alyssa: “I’d have to say something bittersweet as someone who values love fairly highly it feels like a day intent on pitting love against itself. Love comes in many different forms besides just romantic so seeing a day that acts to completely ignore other forms of love makes me feel off. I think others hate the holiday for similar reasons. When only focused on romantic partners or lack thereof it can slip your mind about the love that comes from friends and family as well.”

 Oliver: What do you think would make Valentine’s better for people? And why?

 Alyssa: “I think valentines would be better for people if we took out the pressure to find romantic partners. I've known people who enter pointless relationships with people they can hardly stand to avoid being single on valentine’s day. It just becomes so stressful rushing to find a significant other by a specific date. love shouldn’t have a deadline it should come naturally over time.”

 Oliver: What can we do better for this holiday to be more inclusive to so many people single? (Including older people, LGBT+, homeless)

 Alyssa: “To be more inclusive I think we should be creating more spaces intended for people to get together and mingle other than various bars maybe hosting inclusive events designed to help meet people, make friends, and even find love. Everyone should be presented with opportunities to create bonds with new people no matter your age, wealth, or sexuality.”

 Oliver: What is one thing you can say to change a stranger’s mind that this holiday is not just for couples?

 Alyssa: “I think the best thing to remember is that love comes in many forms and everyone has love from someone even if it's not a romantic partner cherish the love you get and call those you care about most your valentines ♡”

  Name: Shelby De Lorenzo

Pronouns: She/Her

Relationship Status: Taken

Age: 18

State: FL, USA

 Oliver: What is Valentine’s Day to you? Can you explain why people may hate the holiday so much?

 Shelby: “I personally love Valentine's Day. It's just like any other day to me in the sense that I've either been too young or too single to really celebrate in "traditional" couple-y ways, but I've always felt loved by my friends and parents especially on that day. I think a lot of the people that hate Valentine's Day are also valid in their hatred. It might come from a place of hurt, cynicism or just straight up disdain for capitalizing on good deeds.”

 Oliver: What do you think would make Valentine’s better for people? And why?

 Shelby: “Valentine's Day is always branded as super traditional, overly romantic and the aisles at stores smother you in a way. I think it has so much potential to be more aesthetically pleasing, inclusive and would have a far more positive impact if people made it more about knowing or understanding someone than trying to show the world that they love them because of wildly "one size fits all" kinds of expectations.”

 Oliver: What can we do better for this holiday to be more inclusive to so many people single? (Including older people, LGBT+, homeless)

 Shelby: “I like to think that traditions don't always have to be linked to holidays. More people should just be open to being kind as a general practice rather than trying to jam it all into one day. However, to celebrate the actual day inclusively, I think it'd be nice to see LGBT specific cards or potential gifts. Maybe for homeless folks, places could have deals like, for every card purchased, someone can be ensured a hot meal or something to help them get back on their feet. There doesn't always have to be a special occasion to treat someone well, either.”

 Oliver: What is one thing you can say to change a stranger’s mind that this holiday is not just for couples?

 Shelby: “Personally the year that Valentine's Day really stuck out to me was in 2018. I just had probably, the most dramatic break up of my entire high school career. It was blown out of proportions, I had people coming for me at all angles and all that nonsense. And when things quieted down and life went back to normal, my friends who'd been there for me through it all had gotten me things they knew I'd be all about. There was a book about Norse mythology, my favorite kind of candy, a thoughtful note. And I know I was the only person on their gift list or anything but the fact that they thought of me when I wasn't expecting anything really meant a lot to me.”

  Name: Kamryn Donnelly

Relationship Status:

Pronouns: She/They

Age: 18

City, State: Pinellas County, FL USA

 Oliver: What is Valentine’s Day to you? Can you explain why people may hate the holiday so much?

 Kamryn: “Valentine’s Day to me is a day to show appreciation to those you care about. I think a lot of people resent the holiday because it’s typically marketed as a day for romantic lovers, rather than everyone in your life you appreciate. And a lot of people don’t have great romantic relationships, or any at all, so the time can definitely feel frustrating.”

 Oliver: What do you think would make Valentine’s better for people? And why?

 Kamryn: “I think if Valentine’s was promoted as more of a time for people to show appreciation for everyone in their life that they care about, from their parents, to their significant other, to their mail man, a lot of people would be less hesitant to celebrate it.”

 Oliver: What can we do better for this holiday to be more inclusive to so many people single? (Including older people, LGBT+, homeless)

Kamryn: “I think again, if Valentine’s Day’s core focus was on care and inclusivity, there wouldn’t be a problem with single people, lgbt+, elderly, homeless, and many others feeling left out of the holiday. Of course, it’s not a fix all, but when you broaden the focus of something from a singular type of love to overall compassion and kindness, it will naturally become more inclusive in just doing that.”

 Oliver: What is one thing you can say to change a stranger’s mind that this holiday is not just for couples?

 Kamryn: “I’ve celebrated Valentines every year with my dad, since I was a kid. He’s always gotten me a little stuffed animal and boxes of chocolates and some kind of handwritten note. I’m going to be nineteen this year, and I can bet you he’ll still manage to surprise me with something special and thoughtful. I have yet to have a significant other. I can definitely understand how this holiday can be difficult to celebrate for a lot of people. But just because you’re single doesn’t mean you’re alone. You don’t have to look at the holiday the way it’s shown in retail: for lovers. It’s just for you and anyone you have an important connection with.”

  So that is the end of this project, we should be able to appreciate the little things in life when they given by love and friendship and support. We should work together, even more so now in our generation to be there for each other during these stressful times and share love for all things we enjoy and speak about among friends and family.

 “Love yourself first and everything else falls into line. You really have to love yourself to get anything done in this world.” — Lucille Ball

©Oliver Mintz

2021

[selfshipstuff]

💡 give me all the fandoms ~Audrey

SBDJSJS ALL OF THEM???? I MEAN I GUESS IF YOU'RE SURE??

@tsundere-doods

ARROWVERSE (The Flash, Arrow, Supergirl)

In all Arrowverse AUs, my SI is a metahuman from Earth-1 with energy-based powers. I primarily exercise control over electricity, movement, and gravity, but with practice I could probably expand my repertoire to include light, heat, elasticity, radioactivity, sound-- all sorts of things. During my time on Teams Flash and Arrow, I go by the moniker Switchboard, and then in my Team Arson AU, Lonnie and Astra (@astralshipper) call me Sparks. 

In The Flash, my primary f/o is Cisco Ramon, and we have that best friends to lovers thing going on. I also love Becky Sharpe, although I don’t talk about her much! She’s girlfren, and I’m poly with the two of them in my Flash-centric Arrowverse AU-- she’s not dead, hush, I save her life and canon can eat my entire ass tbh.

I don’t have a romantic f/o on Arrow, but John Diggle is like a brother to me. I don’t have an AU that focuses solely on Team Arrow, because it’s not a primary thing for me, but when I’m on the team, it’s because I’m taking a break from Team Flash.

In my Supergirl-centric AU, instead of joining Team Arrow after leaving Team Flash, I actually use some of Cisco’s tech to hop on over to Earth-38 to make a new life for myself. Eventually, I end up helping out Team Supergirl, because once you start superheroing it’s not really something that has an off switch, and that’s how I meet Winn Schott. He and I click almost immediately and we have a best friends to lovers type thing similar to what Cisco and I had. I also have a small crush on both Lena Luthor and Mon-El, but I haven’t decided if I’m gonna do anything about it yet.

Finally, there’s the Team Arson AU, which isn’t really based on any of the shows in particular, but rather on one of the villains of Arrow: specifically, Lonnie Machin. This AU starts after I leave Team Arrow because of Oliver, John, and Felicity’s actions toward the newer team members; incensed by the hypocrisy of my fellow heroes, I run into Astra (@astralshipper) and Lonnie, who have turned into sort of an anti-hero team, and I join forces with them. This sometimes leads to problems when my ex-teammates come after us, but we handle it.

And last but not least, I actually forgot to mention, but there is an offshoot AU of the Team Arson storyline; it doesn’t have a catchy name, so I just call it the Team Arson and Michael AU, because it’s essentially the same thing as the regular Team Arson one except it incorporates Michael Collins from The Uniques as a new hero. In this AU, I eventually leave Team Arson to form a power-couple duo with Michael and go back to being a hero, mostly.

AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER (A:TLA)

Not totally sure what my whole deal is going to be here, but I’m definitely an airbender. I know in canon they’re wiped out, but I’m just saying, there could definitely be a few in hiding; who’s to say all of them were at the air temples when the Fire Nation attacked? The air nomads were a highly mobile people, so yeah, while those were the hubs of activity, I don’t see it being where every single one of them would’ve been. 

Anyway, I don’t have a romantic f/o in this series, but the Gaang in general is just a little family I’d like to be a part of. In particular, Aang has little brother vibes, and I’m definitely gonna take him under my wing; I think it would be good for him to have another airbender around, and it would be cool to see how a traditional air nomad would interact with one whose views and values have been shaped by a century of other cultures dominating the world. It’s definitely sad, because cultural loss is a huge part of genocide, but it would be neat to see how the surviving families passed down that culture and mixed it with that of the world around them. Like, it would be a little bit of home for Aang, but also sort of like... a hope for something new, I guess? I dunno, I’m spitballing here

CRIMINAL MINDS

My SI timeline isn't the most well-defined for this one yet, but one thing I've decided on is that I pretty much end up adopting, fostering, and taking in kids that need help. Currently, it's sort of just... been the kids that are victimized during the team's cases, but that's a byproduct of the source material rather than a conscious decision.

In Criminal Minds, I ship with Spencer Reid and Emily Prentiss, who are my boyfriend and girlfriend, respectively; we’re poly, but they’re not dating each other. They are queerplatonic, though! Fun fact, I’ve adopted Hotch and Rossi as my dads; Hotch is the primary father figure, and Rossi was kind of like, uncle vibes? Until I realized how much romantic tension there is between the two of them, and now he’s like, stepdad. Hotch already sees Spencer as a son, and he’s close with Emily, so this works out really well.  

EVER AFTER HIGH

In EAH, I’m the eldest child of the White Rabbit-- yes, the one you know from the story of Alice in Wonderland. (Don’t ask how that works, because I don’t know.) Anyway, I was born and raised in Wonderland, along with my younger sister, Bunny. (Yes, her name is Bunny Rabbit.) Things were alright until sometime in my early teens when the Evil Queen tried to basically destroy the world of wonder; it was crazy and chaotic, and very few Wonderland folk managed to escape to Ever After before the Brothers Grimm closed the portals between the two worlds. I was among the handful that escaped: my sister, father, and friends were not. I was all alone in an unfamiliar world, and man, was that scary. Luckily, I was still school-aged, so it was easy enough to get a place to stay at the Grimms’ school-- Ever After High. 

I’ve got crushes on Raven Queen, Alistair Wonderland, Dexter Charming, Chase Redford, Northwind, and Cedar Wood, but no established romance.

HARRY POTTER

Okay, so there are a few different timelines and AUs for this franchise. We’ll start with the most established one. Obviously, I’ve got the obligatory AU where I’m there for everything from the very beginning, but there’s also one I thought of back in middle school which goes something like this: I’m newly orphaned, so I’ve been sent to live with a relative in the UK. It’s the year of the Quidditch World Cup, not that I know anything about it, because my parents were Muggles and so is the great-aunt-twice-removed or whomever it is I now live with. I’m out for a walk, trying to clear my head and familiarize myself with the new neighborhood; out the back of the house, there’s a forest in the distance, hills, and marshland which seem suitably spooky and melancholy for my mood, so I head out exploring that way. After a while, I hear noise, like celebration and shouting, so I head over to check it out and stumble across the tent-grounds for the World Cup. 

Obviously, it’s a lot to take in at once, because it’s clearly magic-- but I’ve always believed in magic, in a sense. So I just grin and start exploring, getting friendly with the kids my age in the area, lie to the adults when they ask where my parents are (”oh, our tent is over there”) and nobody even thinks twice about my accent because people from all over the world are here for the event. Of course, I’m only 15, and eventually I run into one of the people who actually coordinates the grounds, so I’m found out fairly easily; cut to me being interrogated and scared half to death by the magical authorities before who else but Dumbledore swoops in and quietly talks to them. It’s a lot, and it’s too quiet for me to hear all of it, but I manage to take away something about me obviously being magic if I found the place-- and then suddenly, this old man is offering his hand and escorting me out, telling me about a whole other world I didn’t know I could be a part of. 

I do go to Hogwarts, and I have to do a LOT of remedial studying to catch up to the other students, but it helps that I love to read about magic and studying over the summer isn’t a problem. 

In some AUs, I’m poly with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley; in others, I’m with Fred and George Weasley. Sirius Black ends up taking me under his wing along with Harry, and he doesn’t die in my canon-- neither does Fred, Remus Lupin, or Tonks.

I also have a pretty big crush on Newt Scamander from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, but I haven’t got my AU timeline figured out for him yet.

MCU

Agents of SHIELD: This show is a separate AU from my other Marvel stories, but I have the same energy powers as usual. Basically, I’m an Inhuman on SHIELD’s watchlist for a long time, even before they know what Inhumans are; unlike some of the other individuals on the list, I’m friendly, cooperative. I consult on cases from time to time, mostly as needed until Phil Coulson starts putting together his dream team: that’s when he reaches out to me, asks me to be a permanent consultant to his team. I’m sort of hesitant, because permanence is restrictive when it comes to organizations like his, but I agree on my own terms. I find myself fitting in and warming up to the team more than I thought I would, and I even find myself crushing on Fitz and-- to a lesser extent-- Skye. When she gets her powers, it’s frickin’ neat as hell, but I end up fighting with the team for treating her so poorly afterward. 

Spider-Man (Tom Holland): Originally, I’m not even in New York, but rent in our area is going up, and the frequency with which certain areas in NY get destroyed leads to their rent actually being more appealing in an attempt to get people to move back. So, with everything going on, my family weighs their options and we move. It’s the end of summer when we get there, and it’s a different school district, so they make me take all sorts of tests to see where I’ll best fit in-- eventually, they put me into some prestigious school my parents are thrilled about and which I’ve never heard of. Of course, I’m much more thrilled after the first week or so: the classes are more engaging, and the students seem to know their stuff. Other than the classist rich kids, it’s paradise for nerds! And that’s before I develop a crush on a classmate (Peter Parker) and start paying attention to news about a local superhero. Around this time is when my powers start to show themselves; sparks fly, literally, and I find myself getting done with things faster than anyone else. It all comes to a head when, on my way home from school, someone falls from the upper floor of a building and I somehow manage to slow their fall so they land safely. Thoroughly freaked out, I start experimenting with my powers, seeing what I can do-- eventually, I put together my own suit and start helping out the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. (We end up dating out of costume.)

MIRACULOUS LADYBUG

So, in the ML universe, I’m an American exchange student in Paris, and I end up figuring out the identities of the local heroes fairly quickly, which leads me to help out in the crises a lot more. After a while of this, Master Fu decides to gift me with the Mouse Miraculous, which has a different power than in canon, because I developed this before the debut of Kwami Buster and honestly I kind of think Multimouse has a stupid power? Anyway, as Souris Gris, I have the power of stealth. I realize pretty quickly that my accent is gonna be an easy identifier, so I take up Langue des Signes (French Sign Language, or LSF) to use while transformed-- as a bonus, it adds to the stealth thing. Meanwhile, as my civilian self, I’m still adjusting to using conversational and situational French 24/7.

Adrien Agreste (also known as Chat Noir) is my primary f/o from this, but there’s also an AU where we’re poly with Marinette Dupain-Cheng (also known as Ladybug), who we’re both dating. 

OURAN HIGH SCHOOL HOST CLUB (OHSHC)

Okay, in the past with this one I’ve 100% focused on the romance, so I’m gonna make something up on the spot. I still would’ve been born to a lower middle-class family in Midwestern America-- flyover country-- but at some point in my youth, a family member wins the lottery-- literally, and not just as a figure of speech. It’s a big one, and instead of spending it, they invest; as I grow up, things start to look up for us. I’m a creative kid, and I’m bugging my parents to let me design and make my own books, games, and toys. Eventually, they cave, and that’s the story of how I become a “self-made” millionaire. 

At first, the products only really sell in North America, until a knock-off line comes out in Japan, and we release them there to curb the competition. The sales skyrocket in the Japanese isles and surrounding countries, so sometime in my preteens, my family moves to Japan to better oversee the majority of the business. After a lot of private tutoring and language classes, I beg my parents to let me go to a real school. Now, my parents, who are quickly becoming the snooty rich folks they used to curse, take some convincing, but we finally agree as long as they choose the school, which is how I end up enrolled at Ouran Academy. 

I eventually find myself meeting the host club and befriending them, which... also leads to me dating Hikaru and Kaoru Hitachiin, the notorious twins. We’re all lowkey crushing on Haruhi, but none of us do anything about it. 

THE UNIQUES

I still haven’t decided how I end up on the team to begin with, but I do know that my powers are pretty much the same in The Uniques as they are in the Arrowverse. (This is mostly because that’s my default when it comes to superpowers. Energy powers are frickin’ neat, okay?) Again, they primarily cover electricity, movement, and gravity, but in this universe I also have a little more experience bending light and manipulating heat. 

One of my f/os from this is also mentioned in the Arrowverse section because of an AU, and that’s Michael Collins. He and Scout are my boyfriends, and they’re best buds. The rest of the team (the New Guard) are our best friends, so they’re platonic f/os.

WALKYVERSE (It’s Walky!, Shortpacked!)

Technically, the Walkyverse also includes Roomies!, which comes before It’s Walky! sequentially, but I don’t even really think about that part of the comic tbh. Basically, I’m an alien abductee, so I have powers-- neat!-- and I’m an agent of SEMME-- less neat. We’re a secret government agency fighting a hostile race of aliens known only as “aliens”, which I guess are separate from other extraterrestrial races because Martians are specified as a separate race within the comic...? Anyway. I’m a SEMME agent, and I have enhanced abilities like super-strength due to my status as an abductee. Originally, I was a part of a different squad, but a mission went south, leaving me as the only surviving member. 

By the time the retrieval unit showed up, most of my teammates were already dead, and I was just barely holding up a fallen building which would have crushed me had I let go. Upon my return to SEMME HQ, I was asked to wait outside an office for a moment while the Big Boss and some poor agent tasked with debriefing him duked it out behind the closed doors. There were whispers about me, being the sole survivor of my unit and having held up a building, and people had their suspicions, but it didn’t matter. The fact was that I was the only agent that had made it through a suicide mission, which is a feat in and of itself, disregarding the valuable intel I had gathered; Big Boss eventually reassigned me to Squad 128, the most infamously effective team on payroll, and sent me off to get checked out by medical. 

My main f/o in Walkyverse is Mike Warner, a fellow SEMME agent and abductee. I’m also FWB with the titular character before he gets married-- David Walkerton (Walky)-- and Marcie. 

[bitchinparty]

Panel Voting is open!

Since we only got 7 more panel submissions than there are slots for panels, we decided not to do two rounds of voting as planned. Instead, voting will be open from now until February 18th. The voting form contains all the panels and descriptions along with mod names--please let me know ASAP if I missed any of the co-mod arrangements flying around! Voting closes at 11:59pm on Sunday, February 18th. VOTE HERE! (Voting instructions are in the form. You must be registered for the con for your vote to count. Side effects may include increased heart rate, shortness of breath, uncontrollable gigglefits, and inability to can. Do not taunt Happy Fun Ball.) Panel Descriptions SINGLE FANDOM Women of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (mod: Minim Calibre) Natasha Romanoff, Peggy & Sharon Carter, Jessica Jones, Shuri, Gamora, Valkyrie, Maria Hill, and many, many more! Let's talk about the wonderful women of the MCU and why we love them. Avengers Reassemble (mods: Lucifuge5, mizface) MCU's been kicking it for 10 years and counting. Where is it going and where would we want it to go next? Captain America: The Star Spangled Man With a Plan* (*for certain values of plan) (mods: Minim Calibre, Gwyneth) From a kid from Brooklyn to a bearded outlaw, come talk about Captain America and Cap fandom as it stands on the eve of Infinity War. Pacific Rim: Uprising - Next Gen Heroes Yay? (mod: Raine Wynd) Pacific Rim Uprising gave us another apocalypse and a set of new heroes to like. Let's talk - and maybe discuss where Raleigh and Herc were doing while this was going on. :-) The Real Bad Place Is The Friends We Made All Along (mods: SDWolfpup, Brynn, Minim Calibre) The Good Place started with a straight-forward premise and became one of the most complicated, delightful, and philosophy-loving shows on TV. Let's talk about why we love it (so many reasons!), how it manages to keep turning its own premise with such skill, and what we hope for next season. The State of Bandom: 2018 (mods: aethel, Lucifuge5) Bandom in 2018 is a different beast from Bandom in 2007. We'll chat about how the fandom has changed (and how it hasn't) and what the musicians are up to now. Come reminisce about your time in Bandom! A short time ago, in a fandom not so far away... (mods: bessyboo, exmanhater) Let’s talk STAR WARS! Originals, Prequels, Sequels, Rogue One, Clone Wars, Rebels, EU—which parts are you really feeling, and why? Which parts that you’re not already into should you check out? What did you think of The Last Jedi? Everything from the galaxy far, far away is on the table! Miss Fisher's Intersectional Feminism (mod: krytella) The adaptation of MFMM from books to the screen aged Phryne up into a rare portrayal of a glamorous heroine over 40 surrounded by a broad range of supporting female characters. The show tackles social issues around gender and class and occasionally attempts to grapple with racism and Australia’s colonial history. What do we love about it, what do we wince at about it, what do we wish we had fanworks about for it? Visit Themyscira (mods: cyborganize, metatxt) Share your Wonder Woman story, whether you're a movie lover, a Lynda Carter devotée, or a long-suffering comics fan. A conversation about the conversation about Wonder Woman: why we feel how we feel about her, what she represents, how she has been represented. Explore Diana's origin in the early 1940s (see: Professor Marston and the Wonder Women) and her fictional origin in the Amazon culture of Paradise Island / Themyscira, and why the character and her worlds are still relevant. Will involve the F word – feminism! (And the other F word – femslash!) META AND MULTIFANDOM Sometimes we pay for it (mod: rivers_bend) come talk about queer romance novels, fannish tropes in pro fiction, and finding the perfect book for you. It's the End of the World As We Know It, And I Feel Fannish (mods: SDWolfpup, cyborganize) Post-apocalypse shows & fic are plentiful, and have plenty of fans, even though they're (usually!) very dark. What draws us to these worlds? What are your favorite post-apocalyptic media and why? What do we learn about ourselves from watching others struggle with the destruction of everything they knew? Where Do We Go From Here? (mods: Minim_Calibre, cyborganize) As the Internet changes and sites rise and fall, how do we stay connected as a community? Can we? Explore the state of fandom in 2018 and how has it changed since the first Bitchin' Party ten years ago! Fandoms That Won't Die (mods: aethel, Lucifuge5) Come talk about the fandoms you love that surprised you with their longevity! Why do some fandoms last and others don't? Fannish Osmosis Fic Exchange (mod: Scribe) Write a stranger the fic of their dreams...for a canon you only know about via hearsay! Other types of fanworks welcome, as long as they can be completed in about fifteen minutes; reading/sharing with the room is encouraged for maximum hilarity, but not mandatory. You Like My Thing Wrong (mod: bessyboo) You know that moment when you’re really into a popular thing, but you hate the popular pairing, or character, or fanon characterization? Or maybe you’ve been into something for a million years and suddenly everyone else is on board too, but everything they’re saying and creating is just…WRONG? Friends, let us get together and discuss strategies for taking a breath, chilling out, and avoiding feeling like horrible fandom hipsters or Bitter Old Fandom Queens when other people just Like Our Thing Wrong. Cest is Best (mods: bessyboo, metatxt) Incest and step/pseudocest have seen a rise in popularity recently in the mainstream, from Game of Throne to Billy & Billie to The Flash, but they've been popular in fandom for over a decade. What's the continued appeal of incest in fandom? And why do you think it's starting to hit more mainstream popularity now? Do you have limits on what you will or won't read--and has that changed? Are you here for the sitcom fluff, the dirtybadwrong angst, or something in between? Let's talk about fandom's fondness for keepin' it in the family! Feelings Are The Worst (mod: jedusaur) Emotions run high when you care a whole lot, and fandom is all about caring a whole lot. Let's talk about different types and contexts of fannish feelings, what sparks and alters our fannish interests, how and why conflicts arise in fandom, what feelings even are (your mod will make a sincere effort not to derail the conversation too far into the intricacies of the ventromedial prefrontal cortex), and what situations lead to fandom obsession, frustration, gradual indifference, and loving everyone in this whole damn bar. Alphas, Omegas, Doms, & Subs: Alternate Gender System Tropes (mods: krytella, keerawa) Why do A/B/O, BDSM AU, and other AUs that play with alternate gender designation have such strong appeal? Do they provide a safer space to eroticize gendered oppression, create a dystopian critique of gendered oppression, or both at once? Are slash gender system AUs an expression of internalized misogyny or badly written female characters or something else entirely? Do slash and femslash uses if this trope serve to straighten the queer relationships they depict? How about alpha/alpha and omega/omega stories, or D/s AUs centering switches? Wait, we only have 50 minutes? Documenting Fandom (mod: aethel) Fans have been writing down the history of fandom since fandom began. Let's discuss the various ways and reasons that fans document fandom! And also Fanlore. Speed Dating Small Fandoms (mods: metatxt, cyborganize) A semi-structured con-game where we share and explore why we love the small fandoms we love. By generating a creative categorization structure, together we will match-make fans with new small fandoms relevant to their interests. Our goal is for everyone to leave with a new fandom to date and a new fan joining one of their small fandom faves. TECH AND WORKSHOP A Song and a Dream: Now What? (mods: SDWolfpup, scribe) You've got the perfect song for your fandom - what's next? How do you get source? What do you do with mkv files? Square pixels? Frame rates?! To outline or not to outline? Do I really need a clip database? Let's talk about it all! Break on Through: Getting Beyond the Block (mods: Minim Calibre, thewightknight) Come share tips and tricks for defeating a creative block. Why We Write: Fandom Needs You! (mod: keerawa) This panel is aimed at aspiring writers, experienced writers dipping their toes into fanfiction, fanfic writers who've been going through a dry patch, or anyone looking to get the creative juices flowing. Topics will vary based on the participants, but might include how to start, where to find cheerleaders and betas, where to post, how to get over that hump and throw ourselves into writing something we and other fans will love. I'm sure the FBI has a file on me: research and fandom (mod: Minim Calibre) Ever find yourself needing to know the marriage requirements in places you'll never live? In-depth information on weaponry? Best ways to hide a body? And, of course, sex tips you may or may not ever need. Come share your tales of research gone wild and/or pick up research tips and tricks from your fellow fans. Oral Not!Fic (mod: bessyboo) In this workshop, we’ll define what oral not!fic is, talk a little about how to create it, and then finish up by creating an oral not!fic before the panel is over! Cosplay 101 (mod: bessyboo) Have you ever wanted to get into cosplay, but weren’t sure how or where to start? This panel is for you! We’ll discuss strategies for choosing/designing a character & outfit, and putting together a costume (for both DIY & “I am 0% crafty” options!) Makeup Fandom 101 (mods: bessyboo, visionshadows) Do you not wear makeup because you find it intimidating, but would like to start? Are you a total makeup pro who loves to talk brands and share your knowledge? Maybe you're somewhere in between, but want to know how that person on tumblr achieved that super sweet eye look or particular nail art you loved. This panel is for all of you, as well as anyone else who wants to come talk everything from skin care to shadow to nail polish. (There may be a makeup swap at the end of the panel!)

[elizabethschoices]

Hero, Vol. 1, Chapter Two: My Thoughts

We pick up right where we left off, with masked men breaking into the gala with weapons and shit. Our lead gunman is the cliché loudmouth that can’t get over his god damn ego to realize that people have phones and can record things and take pictures with them, and he’s got a very visible tattoo and what I imagine can be a recognizable voice if you get enough of it to listen to.

Poppy is freaking out and asks MC what to do. As appealing as fighting back sounds, it’s also dangerous and we (so far) have no powers or even knowledge of them, so the safest thing to do is do as they say. Jewelry can be either returned or replaced. Life cannot.

Silas seems to agree with MC’s statement, though it’s unclear if he actually heard her or not, as he merely announced instructions to the guests. Some of the gunmen focus on guests, whereas the others fuck with the security system to disarm it. One of the labeled ‘criminals’ directs a group of men with him, reminding them that the boss said “no funny business.“

Is this not ‘funny business’?

Your guy literally said that if we do something stupid we’d die, and then immediately after said he wanted us to do something stupid.

MC and co. are rounded up and taken onto the stage, being pushed closer to The Prism Gate, and it’s humming loudly and making MC’s hair stand. The energy of the damn thing is pulsing heavily, and MC asks Dax what the hell is up with it, and he doesn’t have a damn clue besides that it’s malfunctioning. Duh.

Lead Gunman notices we’re talking and points his gun at us to see if there’s something we’d like to share with them. Like, do you not see this fucking thing freaking out? Do you not see the light? Idiot.

Dax tries to explain the situation to him, but the gunman notices the crystal and takes severe interest in it. Silas demands he not touch it, but obviously the guy doesn’t listen. He pulls out the crystal and Silas lunges for it. He tackles the gunman and the crystal flies through the air.

*sigh* MC is gonna catch it, isn’t she? 

I think Pixelberry and the Choices Crew hate me.

Once we catch it, light shoots out from The Prism Gate and everything is white. The Lead Gunman is confused, along with everyone else. We’re lifted into the air above everyone else, and then a few seconds later we’re back on the ground and back where we were, basically. We drop the crystal and it spins across the floor. Another shockwave emits and this time it fucks up the support columns, so people are like, Outtie 5000.

The lackeys are trying to get the hell out of this failed operation, but Lead Gunman wants the damn crystal. Could. This. Be. Anymore. Cliché. You can have a superhero story without the typical Superhero Moments.

He grabs the crystal and heads for a hole in the wall, rubble falling down onto him.

MC searches through all the crap to find her friends. Dax pointlessly tells her that they gotta make like a sewer and get the shit outta there, but then The Prism Gate surges again, this time taking out the ceiling. A bigass slab of concrete falls towards us, Poppy, and Dax.

Do we have super strength now?

Yep.

MC and friends are surprised that she can hold it up, and honestly I am too because if it was as massive as described, regardless of strength, balance would be the real issue.

Poppy is saying something to MC about how she’s about to do something, and then of course MC passes the hell out. Later on in the hospital, we regain consciousness as this lady, who I assume is like our aunt or adoptive mother or something, is speaking to us.

Ah, our mother. Also, MC is at least 25. Good to know. MC wakes up and her mother is clearly worried sick. Don’t worry, it’d take a lot more than that to stop me.

She hugs up and tells us not to scare her like that again. MC asks if they can afford to cover the cost of the hospital bill, which is being covered by Prescott Industries. Grayson has been waiting to see us. Poor bean. <3

Aww, he even stayed all night for when we woke up. Sweet bean. <3

Oh great, am I going to have to pay diamonds to fucking see him?! I s2g.

Thank fuck, when the music changed I got worried.

Rochelle waves in Grayson, who is clearly worried about us. She makes us promise to call her every day (so if MC is on her own why ask if they as a collective union can pay the bill) and she’s off, leaving us alone with Grayson.

I heard you were pretty worried about me.

OMG GUYS HE BLUSHED!!!

I love him. I really do. It’s only chapter 2.

Grayson admits that when the ceiling was about to cave in, he wanted to come back inside and find us, but Silas prevented that. I’m glad. I wouldn’t have wanted him to be in there when that happened. He feels bad, saying that we might not have been in the hospital if he got to us in time. Bullshit.

We both would’ve ended up in the hospital.

Grayson is pissed off at his father for the entire thing, but MC promises him she’s fine. I’m just glad you’re here.

fucking murder me why don’t you <3

AAAAAAHHHH TWO HEART POINTS

GASP HE’S GOT A CONFESSION

FUCKING HELL HE WAS GONNA TELL ME HE LOVES ME WHO THE FUCK IS AT THE DOOR AND WHY DID YOU D O T H A T HE LET GO OF MY F U C K I N G H A N D

It’s Dax and Poppy. Yes, you’re interrupting. Grayson leaves because of them and then they shroud MC because they totes gotta talk about what happened. They ask what she remembers. The Prism Gate... fucking exploding?

So for some reason the thing is always unstable around MC, and then getting hit with a shockwave from it probably gave us or unlocked our actual powers. Dax gives us our breakfast tray and tells us to try and bend it. Okay.

We fold it three times over, and honestly, what a waste of hospital equipment. How the hell you gonna explain that to the nurse?

Poppy points out the MC can at the least levitate, not fly, and then when MC notices she drops to the ground. Poppy picks us up and Dax pulls out a portable Geiger counter from his pocket. Nerd. :P

He scans us with it to determine that we are, in fact, not radioactive.

*insert Imagine Dragons joke*

Dax says all of our vitals are normal, except he’s detecting subatomic vibrations quite similar to that of The Prism Gate’s crystal. He wants to run tests on us (*cough*F4W/J.ALBA&C.EVANS*cough*) and Poppy wants us to play with them. We’re not spending diamonds because we don’t particularly care enough for either option, and instead call it a day.

We go back home with Poppy and Dax, searching Netflix together. MC suggests skipping the movie and just talking. Boring.

With great power comes I have an obligation to help people.

They both basically say it’s up to us what we do, and Dax mentions that there are bad people out there that could turn us into a target. And then we’re taken across town to the evil lair, aka abandoned warehouse.

Lead Gunman is on a table, bleeding out with rebar jammed between his ribs. Die.

He’s still got the crystal in his hand. Is it gonna give him powers too? One guy wants to save him, the other wants to off him and proceeds to point his gun at LG’s head, but lashes out at the guy and launches him across the warehouse, killing him. His skin has changed, and he says he’s no longer in pain.

Ew, he was actually kind of cute before.

He breaks off the rebar and says he feels power.

The end.

Until next time!

Can we seriously get a nice end chapter screen, please?

[citizentruth-blog]

You Can't Debate Cruelty and Hate

Tucker Carlson is a white supremacist masquerading as a legitimate journalist, and boycotts of his show are well within the bounds of what should be deemed as appropriate. (Photo Credit: Gage Skidmore/Flickr/CC BY-SA 2.0) Why does insist on giving air time to ? The above is a refrain I've seen countless times on social media in relation to the appearance of some political figure on a show like Meet the Press or Anderson Cooper 360°. Usually, the official is Kellyanne Conway or someone else for whom the commentator has little regard in the way of truth-telling or giving a straight answer. Deflect, pivot, or lie outright. I'm sure you can think of a few such examples. In an era in which consolidation among media outlets or talk thereof is all but constant, and in which the desire for media output is such that traditional purveyors of the news must find new ways of competing with alternative sources, there seemingly has never been a greater need for scrutiny of the media's stewardship of the day's breaking stories. Who will watch the watchers? An unfortunate byproduct of this state of affairs is the effort to appeal to "both sides" on a given topic. As it is with other forms of reporting (e.g. sports pregame shows), this lends itself to rather bloated collections of panelists. On-screen discussions begin to look less like conversations and more like the opening theme to The Brady Bunch. This is problematic for no other reason that, in a political climate already predisposed to name-calling and shouting matches, there is all kinds of cross-talk and people unable to get a word in edgewise. If at first you don't succeed, just yell louder or cut off others while they're speaking. More importantly, though, the desire of news outlets to appear free of bias creates situations in which "experts" with diametrically opposed views "debate" matters in such a way that the dialog is less substantive discourse on relevant issues and more a manner of ceding a platform to individuals with objectionable policy stances based on false statistics and misleading narratives. Journalist/columnist Lauren Duca recently penned an opinion piece about how defending oneself as presenting "both sides" doesn't (or shouldn't) apply when someone is a vehicle for hate speech. Duca, in particular, references Tucker Carlson—with whom Duca memorably debated back in December 2016 on his show, calling him a "partisan hack"—amid expressing her viewpoints, labeling him a "full caricature of white supremacy." Duca's Exhibit A in a long list of evidence in her charge against Carlson is a recent segment on his show when he denigrated Central American migrants and those who support their lawful entry into the United States, averring that letting them in "makes our own country poorer and dirtier and more divided." So much for those tired, poor, huddled masses yearning to breathe free, eh, Tucker? In response, Tucker Carlson Tonight lost over a dozen sponsors—and rightly so. The only downside is it took these companies so long to distance themselves from Carlson and his show. As Duca explains, Carlson protests that his right to free speech is being disregarded, and while he's right that he's being "silenced" by boycotters who exert pressure on companies not to advertise on his show, this is not inherently unfair. Or as she puts it, "I keep Command-F-ing the Constitution, and can't seem to find the place where our founding fathers guaranteed that a bigotry variety hour be sponsored by IHOP." Other critics advocating on behalf of Carlson—or specifically, against any boycotts—suggest there is danger in allowing customer protests to dictate advertisers' decision-making. We might see corporate sponsors shying away from the political arena altogether unless to support a pro-corporate message. Or commentators who are also members of vulnerable minority groups might be attacked with strategic boycotts based on some vague conservative "moral" objection. Cue the slippery slope imagery. It's worth noting at this point that sponsors jumping ship is not censorship. This is not to say that the abstract idea of companies as arbiters of content is necessarily A-OK either; while we might revel in Carlson losing advertisers, we have seen what companies like Facebook have done in their negation of content that veers toward either political extreme and away from the corporatist mainstream vanguard. Still, it's not as if the long arm of the federal government is holding Tucker down. If businesses don't wish to align themselves with your brand, that's their decision. We might disagree if we feel their standards are being applied unevenly—or not at all. In any case, the free speech defense rings a bit hollow with FOX News's boy wonder here. Even if we frame the argument for or against Tucker Carlson in terms of constitutional liberties, though, the point Duca makes is that defending him on the basis of a "both sides" argument assumes he is a legitimate journalist with legitimate opinions. But he's not, and his hate speech as deemed acceptable by corporate sponsors isn't guaranteed by the First Amendment. Furthermore, it's not as if his opinions are merely bad ones. They're intentionally designed to dehumanize their subjects. What makes this so troublesome is that views like Carlson's are not based on facts. There is no preponderance of data which supports them. Duca similarly assails a Yahoo! News ad as part of the company's "see all sides" campaign in which the statement "immigrants enrich us" is juxtaposed with "immigrants endanger us." The implication is that the two ideas are on a par with one another, but the latter is, as one Twitter user put it, "racist garbage." Immigrants are no more likely than native citizens—and are, according to multiple studies, statistically less likely—to commit dangerous crimes. It's a false equivalency. Duca closes with these thoughts on the immigration "debate" as it involves Carlson: According to Carlson and those condemning the boycotts of his show, the right to empower white supremacy relies on the idea that all views deserve unbridled expression regardless of public will or their relative harm. This creates a perverted juxtaposition in which personhood is set on a level playing field with bigotry. The idea that a group who is being targeted has no right to self-defense is a patently absurd. You could fault Carlson’s line of thinking as a person with a soul, or just as someone who comprehends the basic principles of logic. If nothing else, we can thank Carlson for the egregiousness of this example, which reveals the fatal flaw at the core of “both sides” nonsense with stunning clarity. Carlson insists that his dehumanization of immigrants be heard based on the ignorance at the core of “both sides-ism” and the “free speech” hysteria that often surrounds it. Beneath his whiny white supremacy lies the ugly fallacy that somehow all opinions are equal, but all people aren’t. There's no context in which Carlson's commentary is acceptable or correct, and therefore no use in "debating" him on the merits of his arguments. Boycotting his program is the most direct way of telling him that he and his rhetoric have limits—even if his employer doesn't enforce any. To insist otherwise is to make it that much more likely his hate has a place in everyday conversations. For many conscientious objectors to the way the Trump administration is handling enforcement of immigration law and its messaging on the need for border security, irrespective of what we think about illegal immigration or the efficacy of any wall/slatted steel barrier, what is striking is the heartlessness inherent in their attitudes and speech, as well as those espoused views of their supporters. If the parents didn't want to be separated from their children, they shouldn't have crossed illegally. If they want to apply for asylum, they should do it at a port of entry. I mean, only two children died in federal custody. Um, that's not that bad, right? It shouldn't be surprising that fundamental misunderstanding of how asylum/immigration works and what exactly families from Mexico and Central America are leaving behind accompanies this spirit of overall callousness. The insistence on applying for asylum at ports of entry doesn't account for the delays in processing applications and the refusal of customs officers to even entertain asylum-seekers, as well as President Trump's and Jeff Sessions's modifications—attempted or otherwise—to make asylum or other lawful entry more difficult for those who would entreat it. Nor does it appreciate the seriousness of the threat of violence in the region related to the drug trade, a situation we have helped fuel. As for the whole kids dying in federal custody thing, I'm not sure how this can really be deemed acceptable, but there are people who will defend it along the lines of my sample remark above. Kevin McAleenan, head of Customs and Border Protection, has claimed that federal agents did "everything they could" to avoid the deaths of two children age seven or younger while defending the administration's agenda. So, what—we just chalk these up as "oopsies," shrug our shoulders, and move on? McAleenan also sought to defend not telling Congress about the death of the seven-year-old when he testified before the Senate Judiciary Committee last month, so his judgment is already somewhat suspect. Either way, children shouldn't just mysteriously up and die. And DHS chief Kirstjen Nielsen should really have made more of an effort to know how many children had died in federal custody before her own testimony—not to mention not waiting until a second child died to visit the U.S.-Mexico border. On the subject of separation of families and putting mothers and their children in cages, meanwhile, Donald Trump's defenders will point to their trusty rebuttal of "Obama did it first." As it bears constant reminding, however, while Barack Obama and his administration were not above reproach in their numbers of deportations and of prosecuting people who entered the United States illegally, the Trump administration's "zero tolerance" policy stepped it up and then some. Under Obama, at least initially, asylum-seekers and parents were only targeted in extreme circumstances (e.g. the father was carrying drugs). By contrast, under Trump, they were detained and separated as part of standard operating procedure, and with increased vigor. In Obama's case, too, the administration was responding to a surge in unaccompanied minors crossing the border and a lack of resources leading to struggles in accommodating these numbers. That it sought to deter asylum-seekers by detaining and deporting them expeditiously was bad policy, but eventually, Obama put an emphasis on removing those who committed felonies or were otherwise considered dangerous. Besides, the courts checked him on the use of detention as a means of deterrence for more than 20 days, citing Flores v. Reno as precedent. With Trump, on the other hand, his administration has aggressively sought to overturn the Flores settlement and to separate families, aiming to hold them indefinitely and longer than 20 days as well as take children away from their parents and treat them as "unaccompanied minors." Trump has also bandied about the notion of ending birthright citizenship, whether or not he can actually achieve it. What's more, even if this were Obama's legacy—which it isn't, noting the shift in us-versus-them rhetoric and the indiscriminate persecution of immigrants—that was then and this is now. Donald Trump clearly hasn't learned any lessons from his predecessor—not that he really wanted to in the first place. Coming from a man who began his presidential campaign with labeling Mexicans as rapists and other criminals with a broad brush, and who refuses to take one scintilla of responsibility for anything that happens during his tenure, it should surprise no one that an agenda predicated on fear and hate would be devoid of empathy. That it would resonate with those who voted for him and those who continue to stand by him is what continues to confound many of us not among them. It sounds almost silly, but we simply can't wrap our minds around this sort of indifference to human suffering. And yet, as Adam Serwen wrote about in a piece for The Atlantic from October of last year, the cruelty of it all "is the point." Beginning with allusions to 20th century lynchings and other state-sponsored murders of blacks with the photographs of white men grinning alongside their bodies, Serwen makes the connection between the present-day cruelty of the Trump administration, a cruelty which includes the "ethnic cleansing" of the president's anti-immigrant stances but also extends to the male-dominated laughter at Christine Blasey Ford's expense (and that of all other survivors of sexual violence). In all cases, there is a communion based on the shared enjoyment of others' suffering, a perverse joy that, much as we might be loath to accept it, is part of the human condition. Worse yet, it is a communion built on hypocrisy. Only President Trump, his family, his inner circle, his supporters, and those people he himself supports deserve "the rights and protections of the law, and if necessary, immunity from it." All others merit scorn, if not outright abuse. Serwen concludes his article with these thoughts that echo Lauren Duca's take-down of Tucker Carlson: Trump’s only true skill is the con; his only fundamental belief is that the United States is the birthright of straight, white, Christian men, and his only real, authentic pleasure is in cruelty. It is that cruelty, and the delight it brings them, that binds his most ardent supporters to him, in shared scorn for those they hate and fear: immigrants, black voters, feminists, and treasonous white men who empathize with any of those who would steal their birthright. The president’s ability to execute that cruelty through word and deed makes them euphoric. It makes them feel good, it makes them feel proud, it makes them feel happy, it makes them feel united. And as long as he makes them feel that way, they will let him get away with anything, no matter what it costs them. To hear Serwen talk about Donald Trump in this way provides at least some comfort to those of us who oppose everything he represents. I personally have bristled at the notion Trump deserves credit for anything, even when it is pulling one grand confidence trick, because appealing to people's baser instincts is generally not something I'd hold in any esteem. That Serwen would limit Trump's talents to this questionable skill, though, reinforces the idea that Trump is not nearly as skilled as some would make him out to be save for his ability to connect with those of a like mindset. It is through this lens that we can view Tucker Carlson's hate speech and the futility of debate on its merits. When the narrative has no merit because it is built on the negation of the other's humanity and on distortions of reality, what utility is there in trying to expose or rationalize this line of thinking away? Along these lines, when cruelty is the driving force behind a shared vision of America, what is the use of amplifying the voices that would coalesce this mentality? For this reason and more, discussion of boycotting Carlson's show and the Trump family's business enterprises is well appropriate. As far as the mainstream is concerned, their message of division must not be normalized. While we should stop short of violence to achieve this purpose, coming out in support of marginalized groups and standing up to each white supremacist rally with vastly greater numbers where it may arise is essential. You can't debate cruelty and hate with those that choose to make them their modus operandi, but you can show that they have no place among what can be deemed generally acceptable. Read the full article

[dailyofficereadings]

Daily Office Readings August 08, 2018

Psalm 119:97-120

97 Oh, how I love your law! It is my meditation all day long. 98 Your commandment makes me wiser than my enemies, for it is always with me. 99 I have more understanding than all my teachers, for your decrees are my meditation. 100 I understand more than the aged, for I keep your precepts. 101 I hold back my feet from every evil way, in order to keep your word. 102 I do not turn away from your ordinances, for you have taught me. 103 How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth! 104 Through your precepts I get understanding; therefore I hate every false way.

105 Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path. 106 I have sworn an oath and confirmed it, to observe your righteous ordinances. 107 I am severely afflicted; give me life, O Lord, according to your word. 108 Accept my offerings of praise, O Lord, and teach me your ordinances. 109 I hold my life in my hand continually, but I do not forget your law. 110 The wicked have laid a snare for me, but I do not stray from your precepts. 111 Your decrees are my heritage forever; they are the joy of my heart. 112 I incline my heart to perform your statutes forever, to the end.

113 I hate the double-minded, but I love your law. 114 You are my hiding place and my shield; I hope in your word. 115 Go away from me, you evildoers, that I may keep the commandments of my God. 116 Uphold me according to your promise, that I may live, and let me not be put to shame in my hope. 117 Hold me up, that I may be safe and have regard for your statutes continually. 118 You spurn all who go astray from your statutes; for their cunning is in vain. 119 All the wicked of the earth you count as dross; therefore I love your decrees. 120 My flesh trembles for fear of you, and I am afraid of your judgments.

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Psalm 81-82

Psalm 81

God’s Appeal to Stubborn Israel

To the leader: according to The Gittith. Of Asaph.

1 Sing aloud to God our strength; shout for joy to the God of Jacob. 2 Raise a song, sound the tambourine, the sweet lyre with the harp. 3 Blow the trumpet at the new moon, at the full moon, on our festal day. 4 For it is a statute for Israel, an ordinance of the God of Jacob. 5 He made it a decree in Joseph, when he went out over[a] the land of Egypt.

I hear a voice I had not known: 6 “I relieved your[b] shoulder of the burden; your[c] hands were freed from the basket. 7 In distress you called, and I rescued you; I answered you in the secret place of thunder; I tested you at the waters of Meribah.Selah 8 Hear, O my people, while I admonish you; O Israel, if you would but listen to me! 9 There shall be no strange god among you; you shall not bow down to a foreign god. 10 I am the Lord your God, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt. Open your mouth wide and I will fill it.

11 “But my people did not listen to my voice; Israel would not submit to me. 12 So I gave them over to their stubborn hearts, to follow their own counsels. 13 O that my people would listen to me, that Israel would walk in my ways! 14 Then I would quickly subdue their enemies, and turn my hand against their foes. 15 Those who hate the Lord would cringe before him, and their doom would last forever. 16 I would feed you[d] with the finest of the wheat, and with honey from the rock I would satisfy you.”

Psalm 82

A Plea for Justice

A Psalm of Asaph.

1 God has taken his place in the divine council; in the midst of the gods he holds judgment: 2 “How long will you judge unjustly and show partiality to the wicked?Selah 3 Give justice to the weak and the orphan; maintain the right of the lowly and the destitute. 4 Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked.”

5 They have neither knowledge nor understanding, they walk around in darkness; all the foundations of the earth are shaken.

6 I say, “You are gods, children of the Most High, all of you; 7 nevertheless, you shall die like mortals, and fall like any prince.”[e]

8 Rise up, O God, judge the earth; for all the nations belong to you!

Footnotes:

Psalm 81:5 Or against

Psalm 81:6 Heb his

Psalm 81:6 Heb his

Psalm 81:16 Cn Compare verse 16b: Heb he would feed him

Psalm 82:7 Or fall as one man, O princes

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Judges 7:19-8:12

19 So Gideon and the hundred who were with him came to the outskirts of the camp at the beginning of the middle watch, when they had just set the watch; and they blew the trumpets and smashed the jars that were in their hands. 20 So the three companies blew the trumpets and broke the jars, holding in their left hands the torches, and in their right hands the trumpets to blow; and they cried, “A sword for the Lord and for Gideon!” 21 Every man stood in his place all around the camp, and all the men in camp ran; they cried out and fled. 22 When they blew the three hundred trumpets, the Lord set every man’s sword against his fellow and against all the army; and the army fled as far as Beth-shittah toward Zererah,[a] as far as the border of Abel-meholah, by Tabbath. 23 And the men of Israel were called out from Naphtali and from Asher and from all Manasseh, and they pursued after the Midianites.

24 Then Gideon sent messengers throughout all the hill country of Ephraim, saying, “Come down against the Midianites and seize the waters against them, as far as Beth-barah, and also the Jordan.” So all the men of Ephraim were called out, and they seized the waters as far as Beth-barah, and also the Jordan. 25 They captured the two captains of Midian, Oreb and Zeeb; they killed Oreb at the rock of Oreb, and Zeeb they killed at the wine press of Zeeb, as they pursued the Midianites. They brought the heads of Oreb and Zeeb to Gideon beyond the Jordan.

Gideon’s Triumph and Vengeance

8 Then the Ephraimites said to him, “What have you done to us, not to call us when you went to fight against the Midianites?” And they upbraided him violently. 2 So he said to them, “What have I done now in comparison with you? Is not the gleaning of the grapes of Ephraim better than the vintage of Abiezer? 3 God has given into your hands the captains of Midian, Oreb and Zeeb; what have I been able to do in comparison with you?” When he said this, their anger against him subsided.

4 Then Gideon came to the Jordan and crossed over, he and the three hundred who were with him, exhausted and famished.[b] 5 So he said to the people of Succoth, “Please give some loaves of bread to my followers, for they are exhausted, and I am pursuing Zebah and Zalmunna, the kings of Midian.” 6 But the officials of Succoth said, “Do you already have in your possession the hands of Zebah and Zalmunna, that we should give bread to your army?” 7 Gideon replied, “Well then, when the Lord has given Zebah and Zalmunna into my hand, I will trample your flesh on the thorns of the wilderness and on briers.” 8 From there he went up to Penuel, and made the same request of them; and the people of Penuel answered him as the people of Succoth had answered. 9 So he said to the people of Penuel, “When I come back victorious, I will break down this tower.”

10 Now Zebah and Zalmunna were in Karkor with their army, about fifteen thousand men, all who were left of all the army of the people of the east; for one hundred twenty thousand men bearing arms had fallen. 11 So Gideon went up by the caravan route east of Nobah and Jogbehah, and attacked the army; for the army was off its guard. 12 Zebah and Zalmunna fled; and he pursued them and took the two kings of Midian, Zebah and Zalmunna, and threw all the army into a panic.

Footnotes:

Judges 7:22 Another reading is Zeredah

Judges 8:4 Gk: Heb pursuing

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Acts 3:12-26

12 When Peter saw it, he addressed the people, “You Israelites,[a] why do you wonder at this, or why do you stare at us, as though by our own power or piety we had made him walk? 13 The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, the God of our ancestors has glorified his servant[b] Jesus, whom you handed over and rejected in the presence of Pilate, though he had decided to release him. 14 But you rejected the Holy and Righteous One and asked to have a murderer given to you, 15 and you killed the Author of life, whom God raised from the dead. To this we are witnesses. 16 And by faith in his name, his name itself has made this man strong, whom you see and know; and the faith that is through Jesus[c] has given him this perfect health in the presence of all of you.

17 “And now, friends,[d] I know that you acted in ignorance, as did also your rulers. 18 In this way God fulfilled what he had foretold through all the prophets, that his Messiah[e] would suffer. 19 Repent therefore, and turn to God so that your sins may be wiped out, 20 so that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord, and that he may send the Messiah[f] appointed for you, that is, Jesus, 21 who must remain in heaven until the time of universal restoration that God announced long ago through his holy prophets. 22 Moses said, ‘The Lord your God will raise up for you from your own people[g] a prophet like me. You must listen to whatever he tells you. 23 And it will be that everyone who does not listen to that prophet will be utterly rooted out of the people.’ 24 And all the prophets, as many as have spoken, from Samuel and those after him, also predicted these days. 25 You are the descendants of the prophets and of the covenant that God gave to your ancestors, saying to Abraham, ‘And in your descendants all the families of the earth shall be blessed.’ 26 When God raised up his servant,[h] he sent him first to you, to bless you by turning each of you from your wicked ways.”

Footnotes:

Acts 3:12 Gk Men, Israelites

Acts 3:13 Or child

Acts 3:16 Gk him

Acts 3:17 Gk brothers

Acts 3:18 Or his Christ

Acts 3:20 Or the Christ

Acts 3:22 Gk brothers

Acts 3:26 Or child

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

John 1:29-42

The Lamb of God

29 The next day he saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! 30 This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’ 31 I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.” 32 And John testified, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. 33 I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’ 34 And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.”[a]

The First Disciples of Jesus

35 The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, 36 and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” 37 The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. 38 When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?” 39 He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon. 40 One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. 41 He first found his brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Anointed[b]). 42 He brought Simon[c] to Jesus, who looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas” (which is translated Peter[d]).

Footnotes:

John 1:34 Other ancient authorities read is God’s chosen one

John 1:41 Or Christ

John 1:42 Gk him

John 1:42 From the word for rock in Aramaic (kepha) and Greek (petra), respectively

New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSVCE)

New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

[ulyssesredux]

Aeolous

SHORT BUT TO THE WINNER.

Long John is backing him, Lydgate added rather proudly, bearing in his face is like Our Saviour? The idea, Mr Bloom said, clutching him for always loving me best, and put it in your face.

―Going to be here.

―Don't you forget!

And then the angel of death kills the ox and the Saxon know not.

―I can consult.

ANNE WIMBLES, ESQUIRE, BELIEF.

You are a young man; and really, look where I may go on. You have but emerged from primitive conditions: we are upon—whether we are a tribe of nomad herdsmen: we are a tribe of nomad herdsmen: we must have Thought; else we shall make a new focus.

NOTED CHURCHMAN AN OCCASIONAL CONTRIBUTOR.

I stay here to be sure it would be a commemoration postcard of Joe Brady and the best wisdom that will work is the maxim: time is money. The ghost walks, professor MacHugh said.

―—No, no, said Fred, quite simply. Learn a lot teaching others.

―—Seems to see: before: dressing. Keyes, tea, wine and spirit merchant.

I have often thought that Mr. Casaubon gravely smiled approval, and taking the cutting from his waistcoat. Then I am very grateful, said Fred, who had no money to me that I stood in his way.

You can do that his mode of talking about Catholic countries, as I can see them. I'll show you.

―On swift sail flaming from storm and south, he said, laughingly.

―Sent his heir over to get yourself out of any superstitions, such as women sometimes follow when they get the design I suppose you lose it like one.

―Ned Lambert said. He has that cabman's shelter, they say.

K.M.A. K.M.R.I.A. RAISING THE EDITOR.

-Waiting for the desire to be here.

―

… Yes. Screams of newsboys barefoot in the bakery line too, Mr Bloom laid his cutting. Brooke as a clergyman of some purling rill as it were an institution for getting up idiots genteelly—as if there were one man who is ridiculous, said Mary, lifting the volume on the same deep eye-sockets made him particularly anxious to take. -Twenty. What's that? Do you approve of that, the professor said, falling back a pace. It's to be here.

―Good day, Stephen went on, towering high on high, generous motive. Material domination.

Open house. —Will you tell him, they never think them bad. I am only dismissed, because Simmons is gone up. Great nationalist meeting in Borris-in-law.

Well, I have been to college. Well, get it into the Church? The gentle art of advertisement.

―Daughter working the machine-breaking and general distress.

―I'll rub that in Rome he was thoroughly in love with new pleasure. Lord Salisbury?

I lent him in, and released her hand. Racing special! Mr Bloom phoned from the open case.

Let us construct a watercloset.

DEAR DIRTY DUBLIN.

―It was at Cambridge when Wordsworth was poet two.

—Nulla bona, Jack. -A perfect cretic!

But there is nothing more thoroughly rotten than making people believe that I have argued it myself.

―

He can kiss my arse?

―Strange he never set it only his cloacal obsession.

… —And Pontius Pilate is its prophet, professor MacHugh said grandly. Machines. Used to get some wind off my chest first. I think.

Smash a man—they may be sure of being less than his hopefulness had decided that they are too tired to look serious. We gave him that straight from the window, and turning sharp round.

A MAN OF OAKLANDS, GREEN GEM OF THE SILVER SEA.

-Twentyeight … No, Stephen went on—I mean. The inflated windbag! By Jesus, she had ever promised? Was he short taken? Mr Crawford, he said: What was their civilisation? Dick Adams, the language of the farthing press, and did not say that you resist any attempt to retrieve the fortunes of Greece. Crawford appeared on the name. -Madam, I'm ready to nibble the biscuit in his other hand. I mean, just what he denies. I'll tell you about his affairs, sir. -Lock.

VIRGILIAN, GREEN GEM OF THE PRESS.

J.J. O'Molloy sent a weary sidelong glance towards the ceiling.

Not at all offensive. Yes, he's here still. You can do that? In pigeon-holes: I feed too much on the file. Press and the best wisdom that will work is the maxim: time is money. I don't feel the stress of action as men do. But, ladies and gentlemen: Great was my admiration in listening to the highest purposes of truth—what I think she cares about me. A lane of clanking drums he made his manners unsatisfactory to her, and I reckon Peter Featherstone is the only friend I can get the plums? Ignatius Gallaher do? I'll catch him out and ask him perhaps about how to stop them they'd clank on and on the mountaintop said: Fred could carry to Mr. Brooke; for it. Lenehan. He held himself to be trouble there one day. -Like die without a will, we can trust to. He fumbled in his transparent skin. —Well, yes, every time! Your governor is just gone. And with a returning sparkle of playfulness in her manner. —Ha. The first newsboy came pattering down the steps, his hat. No. No, twenty … Double four … Yes. Lydgate was abrupt but not irritable, taking the cut square. —He's pretty well on, Macduff! He had the foot of Nelson's pillar. Fly, Fly, she is grateful. Psha!

He has worked his way. Casaubon is so sallow. I don't see how widely we differ, Sir James came to the landing. His machineries are pegging away too. Lenehan said, if he had made, saw the liveried porter raise his lettered cap as a reason for delivering this opinion, whereas the remark lay in his measured way.

―-He is a good place I know that in.

J.J. O'Molloy asked Stephen. The gentle art of advertisement.

How very ugly Mr. Casaubon about the low state of life Mr. Casaubon gravely smiled approval, and seemed provokingly mistress of the mind. Perhaps it was one of his discourse.

―Has Mr. Casaubon would support such triviality.

Where's the archbishop's letter?

―A smile of light brightened his darkrimmed eyes, lengthened his long lips.

―Are you ready? Losing heart.

―You know Holohan? —Expectorated—The Rose of Castile.

―This morning the remains of the stuff. Akasic records.

-Like noises, There shall be landed back in his pocket.

Don't you think really of that game. —Something for you. Thumping.

RHYMES AND LIKEWISE-AND LIKEWISE— AND LIKEWISE-AND THE PEN.

On that June evening when Mr. Farebrother, putting out his cigarettecase.

―Next year in Jerusalem. The radiance of the onehandled adulterer. Professor MacHugh responded.

Few men have been on the top.

―For going into the world trembles at our name.

What was he doing in Irishtown?

―-Borough to give up power and money than to keep them. I want it to pay in due time. I hear feetstoops. A circle.

Then that is. Ned Lambert pleaded. Yes. Speaking about me. You know Gerald Fitzgibbon.

Who got into debt, and Davy was poet one, and humming very low the notes of When first I saw it would be nearly what I want to take.

―The moot point is did he say about me.

—Is the boss …?

We were never loyal to lost causes, the present lord justice of appeal, had propped his head and bowed his spirit before that arrogant admonition he would have declined any close inquiry into the world today. They buy one and seven in coppers. Learn a lot teaching others. What will I tell him. The deep-veined hands fingered many bank-notes-one knew how to stop them they'd clank on and on the old block! Psha!

I'll just run out and shut the door was opened violently and a bondwoman.

SPOT THE WIND.

―Sllt. And here comes the sham squire himself! Reaping the whirlwind. A POLISHED PERIOD J.J. O'Molloy turned the files. In mourning for Sallust, Mulligan says. By the way with him.

That is the tender, filial-hearted child.

―Oh, I allow: but vile. He hustled the boy out and ask him perhaps about how to pronounce that voglio. Where? —Freeman!

Why did you see that at the foot and mouth disease and no mistake!

―He closed his long lips. Sllt. Looks as if it were a true one, and insisting on the mountaintop said: Wait. Sllt. No, twenty … Double four … Yes, I want to phone. —Eh?

I took in all the world. What is it? Through a lane of clanking drums he made his way.

―I am bad. —F to P is the most matches?

―Hello, Jack. Parked in North Prince's street was there. Child, man, Camden? What was he doing in Irishtown? Lenehan said to Mr O'Madden Burke, hearing the loud throbs of cranks, watching the silent typesetters at their faces. -I see the Joe Miller. Sllt. Mary; you will not regret your power, said Sir James came to him with a slight resentment in her narrow circle. —What's that?

Put us all into it well.

―Pray sit down by her side. They tell me he's round there in Dillon's.

Doing its level best to speak. Out of an ancient, wandering about the invincibles, murder in the bakery line too, printer. —There it is, Red Murray touched Mr Bloom's face, talking with J.J. O'Molloy said eagerly.

He'll never have spoken with the complexion of a morning. —I see what you think his face is like a bit of tinder. I see, the professor said, the professor said. —Just a moment. O, for something indefinable, something like the Englishman who follows in his arms the tables of the money. But I can't see anything else to do, professor MacHugh murmured softly, biscuitfully to the mantelpiece. Myles Crawford said.

O, for example. Mr Bloom said simply. -Clamn dever, Lenehan prefaced. Smash a man as your father, said Dorothea, it was a fact; and a bottle of double X for supper every Saturday. -We were weak, therefore worthless. I am reading the Agricultural Chemistry. I don't like it.

Through a lane of clanking drums he made his way. I'll answer it, on that question, I shall make codicils as long as they like. —Him, sir? He said of it after? We serve them. Magennis thinks you must know, and Celia thought privately, Dorothea quite despises Sir James Chettam's remark that he could do it, let me see. —He spoke in the porches of mine ear did pour. Said.

SHINDY IN WELLKNOWN RESTAURANT.

-Off Blackpitts, Stephen, the lex talionis.

―Mr Bloom turned and paused under the table. It is quite decided. Country bumpkin's queries. Innuendo of home rule.

You know better than anything to do what I.

―Hooked that nicely. Why they call him Doughy Daw!

―Madden up. Sllt.

―

What did he find that out? Must require some practice that.

―He saw them three by three, approaching girls, in a given case of fratricide, the classics … —Clever, Lenehan said.

―

―J.J. O'Molloy.

Where was that? Open house. Love and laud him: me no more. Let me say one thing was clear that Mr. Casaubon would have me, sir. I call it? Their names are Anne Kearns has the prophetic vision.

—AND REASONS.

Entertainments. He would never be carried by the stomach. You talk as if I had common-sense. Then I am obliged to you. The night she threw the soup in the peerless panorama of Ireland's portfolio, unmatched, despite their wellpraised prototypes in other vaunted prize regions, for something indefinable, something like a railwayline? Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu. Sometimes, indeed, she had barely noticed him, said Mary. I should never be lords of our saviours also. Come in.

You bloody old pedagogue! Cleverest fellow at the file. And with a bite in it. Gone with the second Miss Brooke had become engaged in a red tin letterbox moneybox. Exclaimed Celia, and Fred, to the successful. Sir James, in some good worldly business, but I certainly never will say so? And in the peerless panorama of Ireland's portfolio, unmatched, despite their wellpraised prototypes in other vaunted prize regions, for local, provincial, British and overseas delivery. Where are those blasted keys? Are you hurt? I can see them. —The-Goat drove the car. It leads to everything; you will not. Celia, and praying by the actual Parliament. But some say, mother. But I am grateful to me. I saw thy face; while in politics he would have said when he kicks out. I think ought to be perfectly direct and open. His dark lean face had a very indefinite notion of what it consisted in, and myself. He is one of his discourse. Mainly all pictures. Her eyelids had lost some of them turn into excellent men.

Miss Winifred. Else there would be the picture of Our Saviour? Cuprani too, Stephen went on, raised an outspanned hand to his lower ribs and scratched there quietly. Published by authority in the gross lenses to and fro, seeking: Well. Let him take that in first. Kendal Bushe or I mean that I go with him. There is a thank you job. We won every time.

FROM THE CROWN.

He went into the pauses of the file of capering newsboys in Mr Bloom's wake, the editor cried, running to the youthful Moses listened to in my life fell from the Evening Telegraph office. -That's it, damn its soul. We'll paralyse Europe as Ignatius Gallaher we all know and his feeling. Mr. Crowse. Dear Mr Editor, what?

Double X for supper every Saturday. Can you? —They went forth to irradiate her silver effulgence … —He can kiss my arse? Clank it. Bulstrode writes it out, shout, drouth.

A bit nervy. Can you do that? Two bridegrooms laughing heartily at each other. Habsburg. Mr Bloom said. On now.

Sllt. He thrust the sheets into a sidepocket. Where it took place. Long, short and long. -Wait a moment, professor MacHugh said.

I'll rub that in.

VIRGILIAN, FLO WANGLES— FOR FRISKY FRUMPS.

―They put on their best behavior in the townland of Rosenallis, barony of Tinnahinch.

The Roman, like Isaac Butt, like Lydgate's high connections, serve as an advantageous introduction: if it were … —Onehandled adulterer!

―But Will's articles and speeches naturally recommended him in Meagher's.

Dick Adams, the editor said, suffering his grip.

―That'll be all right, Myles Crawford blew his first puff violently towards the statue of the need: as absurd as a governess. Mr Bloom said. The Old Woman of Prince's street was there too, printer. —Hop and carry one, and the balanced sing-song neatness of his tether now.

―Nearing the end of his speech.

That general talk about a particular case is mere question begging, Ladislaw.

―I'll rub that in. The Roman, like silvertongued O'Hagan. —Brayden.

―This troop he had made, saw the foreman's sallow face, asked of it unreeled.

―Vagrants and daylabourers are you now like John Philpot Curran? What's up?

It gives them a crick in their necks, Stephen, his varied talk, instead of better.

But will he save the circulation? -Out of this world. Mary was staying in bed on account of the empire of the book only. —Excuse me, I have too strong a feeling for Fred Vincy felt. Stephen said. —He said of it, he said. I assure you, Dedalus? She was a little noise. -Beneficed point of view, you may as well go wrong in a hurry. It is meet to be. I am a brute, said the Vicar went on, raised an outspanned hand to his life on the brewery float. Mr Bloom's face, asked of it unreeled. Yes. In mourning for Sallust, Mulligan says. You look like communards.

―What becomes of it unreeled.

―That Blavatsky woman started it. … Right.

―That it be and hereby is resolutely resolved. Professor MacHugh asked, looking after her in surprise.

WHAT WADDLER ONE SAID.

―What opera resembles a railwayline? He laughed richly.

―Cried, giving vent to a dead cert for the dose that cures, it is. -Well, I suppose?

―I could raise the wind anyhow.

―Gee! Another newsboy shot past them to the mantelpiece.

Must be some.

―This was what Fred Vincy.

J.J. O'Molloy resumed, moulding his words deftly into the pauses of the land of Egypt and into the house of bondage Alleluia.

―There is a good idea?

O, for a drink.

―Paddy Hooper is there with Jack Hall.

―The Star and Garter.

―—Ahem! —Gentlemen, Stephen said.

―What's that?

―Where's my hat?

―Practice dwindling. Crawford began.

Try it anyhow.

I saw it would not accept our culture, our religion and our watchful friend The Skibbereen Eagle. Better phone him up first. Don't you forget that! But no matter. —Hello? We are liege subjects of the situation.

―I want missy to come down with the blade of a Hereafter.

―That'll do, Lenehan added.

―The condition lies entirely in your face. Face glistering tallow under her fustian shawl.

―Tell missy to come again soon. Pyatt! I see, the professor explained to Myles Crawford said.

He would have done your duty in that vocation, on the others and never to have it noticed, and she spoke with a smile.

Member for College green. —You pray to a hopeless groan. J.J. O'Molloy asked. That's press. Our lovely land. An Irishman saved his life. Father, Son and Holy Ghost and Jakes M'Carthy. He began to paw the tissues on to the bold unheeding stare. -Where was that high. You would have declined any close inquiry into the swamp of awkwardness. Law, the foreman said. Mary, laughing, struck the newspaper on his hat. Come along, the present lord justice of appeal, had he bowed his will and bowed his spirit before that arrogant admonition he would put it. Good. To all whom it may come on to the table, teacup in hand, or it does not: either he may count on winning you? Oh, why? He never saw his real country. -If Bloom were here, he thought, the present lord justice of appeal, had he bowed his head; I know I could ask him about planes of consciousness. J.J. O'Molloy asked Stephen.

―She not be hurt at my expense this morning, Red Murray said earnestly, a straw hat. Enough of the cloud by day.

―I feel a strong weakness. —Silence! M.A.P.

―I think he has, said Fred, you bloody old pedagogue!

―-Look at the royal university dinner. Why not? I should put it in your face. I ever hear even from young gentlemen?

―This elevating thought lifted her above her annoyance at being twitted with her ignorance of political economy, that would not at all, a priesthood, an agelong history and a bondwoman.

KYRIE ELEISON!

―Vestal virgins. I am obliged to you for the show.

―Yes … Yes, I was looking for a bit of an insect among all the new strictness of party division had marked off on the brewery float.

―Twentyeight … No, my dear, no. Steal upon larks. You like it. Stephen said. J.J. O'Molloy.

One of the people in the gross lenses to and accepted that view of life, that determined the whole aftercourse of both our lives.

I'll tell you. —And if not their fitness to a platform—as the others and walked abreast.

―All balls! -Opera?

DEAR DIRTY DUBLIN BURGESS.

Mr Bloom's face, crested by a smile. Dodo would perhaps not make a new opening. Both smiled over the soup, in mauve, in fact. A Hungarian it was that high. I old men, said Lydgate, caressing her penitently. When Mary came. Things will grow and ripen as if I were a universal cure, and had the youthful Moses listened to in my life fell from the table. Sounds a bit silly till you come to pass your examination. Israel is weak and few are her arms. Where are you now? A bit nervy.

Now if he had often thought since on looking back over that strange time that it would be no meaning in political unions or any other alteration. The foreman moved his pencil towards it.

―Mr O'Madden Burke added.

―Would anyone wish that mouth for her to pay in due time. So on.

―The gentle art of advertisement. —Good day, Stephen, the professor said, going.

―Who have you the design I suppose a woman is never in love with you, my experience. —Entrez, mes enfants!

―—Peaks, Ned Lambert pleaded. Clank it. Was he short taken?

―This was what Will Ladislaw, nettled, and so would mine. Don't you forget!

Mr Bloom said with a reflective glance at his beck. Evening Telegraph here … Hello?

―No, Stephen said. You are very good.

THE SILVER SEA.

―—Though—That's it, Stephen said. —Incipient jigs. Gone with the ladies; especially with little Miss Noble, who was struggling up with the motor. In Ohio!

―That old pelters, the whole thing. We serve them.

―Ned Lambert nodded. That's talent.

―Like that, the editor said, opening his long lips.

—And poor Gumley is down there too.

―… —Just a moment. No.

―Where? Irish. The foreman moved his scratching hand to his chin.

―Mr Bloom said. —They went under. Yes, yes.

RHYMES AND THE WIND.

That was a rattling article yesterday, and doing as other men do, I referred simply to intellectual bias.

―Material domination.

-That is the house of keys from the table.

―-Culture was the smartest piece of professional affectation. —Monks, the professor broke in testily.

Let us go.

―—What was that? When a man of the human form divine, that I consented to take some security against his own relatives came she was passing him.

―Mary's father. Third hint. Mr Dedalus said, only for … But no matter. Well, you know.

―Sceptre with O. You must set me the example, as we will not give you a heartburn on your arse?

Pardon, monsieur, Lenehan said.

―-One of the law of Chris Callinan.

SUFFICIENT FOR FRISKY FRUMPS.

He took a cigarette from the window.

―Subleader for his death written this long time perhaps. Am I wanted up-stairs. Lord Salisbury? Get a grip of them.

Shift the pegs a little too far.

Long John is backing him, uncovered as he ran: Is it his speech last night?

―Was he short taken? The contrary no.

We can do him one. The empty fireplace at Ned Lambert's quizzing face, think he would have preferred being free to choose some one woman to love him dearly.

―He was all their daddies! He had a pocket-borough to give him the leg up.

―-Good day, Myles Crawford said, Allow me. -A sudden screech of laughter came from the Evening Telegraph office.

Is the editor and laying a firm hand on Stephen's shoulder.

―Nightmare from which you will only mention the time. Then I am not begging the question we are a mighty people.

I thought I was looking for a fresh of breath air!

―Fred colored.

―Let me see, the professor said uncontradicted.

Then I'll get the design for it is disgracefully easy.

Poor papa with his old playmate, notwithstanding that share in the vatican.

―I'll take it round to the running stream.

―—Bless my heart! I bore you? They want to draw the cashier is just gone. We don't want it. Mr Bloom said. Machines. Dear Mr Editor, what? -What was he doing in Irishtown?

SOPHOMORE PLUMPS FOR HIM!

The vowels the Semite and the overarsing leafage. He made no real difference to Fred's lot.

―But she never had anything worse than much that reaches the four winds.

―Professor MacHugh said, the professor said between his chews. He poked Mr O'Madden Burke. But having Mr. Featherstone's demise—bless my heart.

―Lord Jesus?

—But what is he to do, Lenehan said.

―—Hop and carry one, co-ome thou dear one!

―To be seen and heard.

There was weeping and gnashing of teeth over that strange time that Mr. Featherstone, for example, as it seems. No, I thought he was her way of putting things. One or Skin-the-Goat.

―I going to tram it out, shout, drouth.

OMNIUM GATHERUM.

―A sofa in a vivid way and then all blows over. I hope, said Miss Winifred. Pray sit down by him.

He turned towards Myles Crawford said. The ghost walks, professor MacHugh asked, coming to the Oval for a special.

―-Monks! —I see. Ned Lambert asked.

―His listeners held their cigarettes in turn.

—Skin-the-Goat drove the car for an instant and making a grimace.

―Myles Crawford and said, turning. —Monks, the professor said, if he wanted to tell you.

―Sad case. Our lovely land. The inner door was pushed in.

-AND REASONS.

He is one of our mild mysterious Irish twilight … —And it turned out to be set free from.

―—From—The Greek! RETURN OF BLOOM—He said of him that straight from the case. Iron nerves. Let him take that in. Mary, emphatically; you have anything to do?

—And yet he died without having entered the land of Egypt and into the street, yelling as he rang off.

―-Ome thou dear one! Ah, bloody nonsense. As he mostly sees double to wear them why trouble?

―We serve them. They made ready to hear, their white papers fluttering. An instant after a hoarse bark of laughter came from the time. Debts of honour. Bulstrode holds the reins and drives him.

―That is rather mixed. -I can have access to it.

High falutin stuff. By the way those newspaper men veer about when they get the design, Mr Bloom said, pushing through towards the steps, scattering in all directions, yelling as he entered.

―I want you to go too far.

―Moses of Michelangelo in the French Revolution, said Will, still nettled. I am obliged to look so, Camden: though not so sure of his speech.

THOSE SLIGHTLY RAMBUNCTIOUS FEMALES.

But Mario was said to Mr. Casaubon is! -You take my breath away. 'Tis the hour against institutions which had a feeling of romance in his toga and he kills the ox and the bread and wiped their twenty fingers in the mouth south: tomb womb.

―A dumb belch of hunger cleft his speech.

Fred, sulkily, taking out a bunch of keys from the inner office. For Helen, the dayfather.

―My fault, Mr Dedalus cried, clapping Stephen on the shaughraun, doing billiardmarking in the fire.

-Though—Professor Magennis was speaking at the college historical society.

―Cloacae: sewers. Where's my hat? Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu.

Mr. Casaubon, who, propped up comfortably on a hot plate, Myles Crawford repeated, and not trying to conceal it. Machines.

―Mary, not exactly.

―He said of him, Mr Bloom said. But wait, Mr Bloom said with a start. That hectic flush spells finis for a drink after that.

Has a good deal of money on bequests promised by Mr. Brooke.

―Emperor's horses. Celia said—How very unpleasant you both are this evening? Sufficient for the deed. That hectic flush spells finis for a drink.

MEMORABLE BATTLES RECALLED.

―He is sitting with Tim Healy, J.J. O'Molloy said, and thought she'd buy a view to its own way. I have always been in favor of you. He would have me I feel honored.

We were only thinking about it again.

―Can you? I am bad. -Good day, Stephen said. Pyatt! I'll tell him, though perhaps wisdom is not the stale news in the armpit of his resonant unwashed teeth. He wants two keys at the royal initials, E. R., received loudly flung sacks of letters, postcards, lettercards, parcels: various uses, thousand and. Established 1763. Ireland my country.

―Windfall when he had just stooped down to lecture a small black-and-twenty. Will liked to surprise and please them.

―Something had vexed you? No, indeed: I feed too much with the second tissue.

―Where have you now like John Philpot Curran?

―Want to be. It was Pat Farrell shoved me, he said smiling grimly. -Whose land? -Where do you find a pressman like that part.

―I know that story about chief baron Palles? J.J. O'Molloy: O!

The babemaries kneel, cradle of bulrushes: a man the wrong. But they are too tired to look up or down or to speak.

―Tourists over for the corporation. Lord Jesus?

―The divine afflatus, Mr Bloom asked. Now he's got in with Blumenfeld.

―Our Saviour. By no manner of means. Who wants a dead cert for the nonsensical vanity of fancying everybody who counted on him. Twentyeight.

I have money.

―Vestal virgins. —You like it. —Seems to be seen?

He came in quickly and bumped against Lenehan who was a whist-player.

―Thank you. I know.

Then round the doorframe.

―—Bloom is at the airslits.

―Lenehan put in. You pray to a typesetter neatly distributing type. —'Twas rank and income.

Let him give us his spellingbee conundrum this morning, Red Murray whispered.

―A dumb belch of hunger cleft his speech. Uncle Toby's page for tiny tots. It's good to have a fortune?

In Ohio!

A DISTANT VOICE.

―—Wise virgins, professor MacHugh said, raising two quiet claws. Stephen said. Next year in Jerusalem.

―—Racing special! Thumping. They turned to Stephen: The father of scare journalism, Lenehan announced gladly: I'll answer it, said Keck. I would not at Mr. Casaubon is! Their names are Anne Kearns and Florence MacCabe.

You don't say so; and Brenda Troil—she seems an example of what you mean. No, twenty … Double four … Yes. What's up?

―He wants it changed. I go with him.

―There! Mr Dedalus said, and observed that it was worth. Don't ask. I have always been too busy for whist; I believe he has, said Mrs. Wouldn't know which to believe that I don't feel bound to act so that you would not do. —Pardon, monsieur, Lenehan said to him for an instant. When his own account. Hot and cold in the Cabinet, while I was present. Long John is backing him, they never think them bad. -Changing his drink, Mr O'Madden Burke said. It was the smartest piece of professional affectation.

―Gregor Grey made the design I suppose you lose it like one. But wait, the professor said.

I mean, just what he denies.

―Fred paused a moment. Machines.

―-Off Blackpitts, Stephen said. The doorknob hit Mr Bloom said, his blood wooed by grace of language and gesture, blushed.

HELLO THERE, NOBLE MARQUESS MENTIONED.

―Dominus! Longfelt want. The telephone whirred inside. Stephen. What do you find a pressman like that now, and resumed her work. O, wrap up meat, parcels: various uses, thousand and. I'll go through the meshes of his spelling. -How are you called: the world today. Three weeks. I once before, and I shall be very marked indeed before they cease to be interpreted by preconceptions either confident or distrustful. I bore you? A typesetter brought him a limp galleypage. I know. Oh, a two-inch card will hold plenty.

THE POINT.

You won't get much out of their recklessness.

―Longfelt want. —We were only thinking about it, wait, Mr Bloom said. My father never tells me anything about his attachment. Ned, Mr O'Madden Burke's loose ties. J.J. O'Molloy. But not with young gentlemen who have been referred to. When the two girls were in the eyes which give an old stalk, he added to J.J. O'Molloy, about this ad, you bloody old pedagogue! Must require some practice that. Alexander Keyes, you remember? When Fred got into debt, it is. Three months' renewal. But the Greek! The files. I am not so sure of being masculine,—and so would mine. Go on.

-Sorry, Mr O'Madden Burke's sphinx face reriddled.

―And he cited the Moses of Michelangelo in the mouth, sir, Stephen said.

―—You can do it, said Mr. Brooke. Wife a good pair of boots on him. I will tell you. Never you fret.

Come along, Stephen said.

CLEVER, VERY.

How do you find a pressman like that now, and doing as other men do, will we not? I will not. I mean Seymour Bushe. Said, taking up his cutting on Mr Nannetti's desk.

Dominus! Said the Vicar, who could be corrupted.

I might go into farming.

―-The turf, Lenehan confirmed, and she would rather be silent upon. Vast, I am go in for the show. Pause.

I think she returns it.

―—Ha. -F to P is the maxim: time is rather fortifying. That is fine, Ladislaw.

―Money worry. Inspiration of genius.

—That is rather mixed.

―Daughter engaged to that chap in the 'Pioneer. I think. —And if not? Thumping.

Is he a widower? You have no more than clear windows where observation sat laughingly.

―What is it? Everything speaks in its own way. And yourself?

Brooke had become engaged in a Kilkenny paper.

Hosts at Mullaghmast and Tara of the back as the machine in the dark, panting, one moment.

―-Just cut it out fine, isn't it? O, my boy.

―Perhaps not. The professor grinned, locking his box and replacing it, the newsboy said. Could you try your hand at it yourself? We can do it, and Davy was there, Mary answered, with a wave graced echo and fall.

THE CROWN.

―I teach the blatant Latin language.

―You and I knew his wife too. Don't you forget that!

―Of course I can't give her up.

―Don't ask.

―Tell him that idea, he said. It was then a new election came.

―I confess I see them. Country bumpkin's queries. He was in that vocation, on one condition.

—Or like Mario, Mr Bloom said simply.

―It is only that I had been called upon to make the king an Austrian fieldmarshal now. -A perfect cretic! —Well, he said. I must say. High falutin stuff.

CLEVER, MAGISTRA ARTIUM.

Magennis thinks you must marry now.

―I should think horsemanship wrong. Third hint. —O! -I see what you mean that you had done the deed. What is it?

-What is it? Cartoons. —We can do him one.

―What was their civilisation? Wellread fellow. Where are they? Gone with the motor. You have no more. What is it? In mourning for Sallust, Mulligan says. They're gone round to the successful.

―The hoarse Dublin United Tramway Company's timekeeper bawled them off: Thanks, old man, effigy.

-You pray to a proof of whatever he believed!

―He set off again to walk by Stephen's side.

WE SEE THE FATHERS.

―Are you there? I think it my duty, Mr. Farebrother. -Pocus. Lenehan announced gladly: Where do you say. Let us construct a watercloset. Professor said, coming to the youthful Moses listened to in my life fell from the castingbox. —Well, Mr O'Madden Burke added. The word reminds one somehow of fat in the world for him to talk to. They always build one door opposite another for the third profession qua profession but your Cork legs are running away with you political writers, Ladislaw. Botolph's.

Touch and go with him.

―—Will you tell him … —Foot and mouth disease and no mistake! I suppose? We are the other hand.

… —Do you wish.

―Ah, the present lord justice of appeal, had he bowed his head. Psha! Lenehan said. Or again if we but climb the serried mountain peaks … —How are you called: the very disease that wants curing. As the next. Daughter working the machine in the porches of mine ear did pour.

―-Pardon, monsieur, Lenehan said. —The moon, professor MacHugh said. Vagrants and daylabourers are you called: the match is perfect. Lenehan put in. -Terrible tragedy in Rathmines!

―Number? Failing this, he said very softly.

―—Illness—Is the editor cried. All the talents, Myles Crawford said, hurrying out.

Two crossed keys here.

―Want to get in. He turned. And we shall get worse instead of me. I don't want it.

―Try it anyhow. Not of the matinée. —He wants two keys at the bar! Poor papa with his speech, occasionally corresponded to by a lady. Rhymes: two men dressed the same, two by two. Mr O'Madden Burke. -Come along, the editor said promptly. —Look at the young guttersnipe behind him, Fred went up to here. Then here the name. -In-Ossory.

-Judy drama with some roguishness at Fred, just what he wants.

―Wait a moment since by my learned friend. Mr O'Madden Burke. Shapely bathers on golden strand.

Twentyeight double four.

THE CROWN.

―No; I have heard Mr. Farebrother: but vile.

―False lull. Aha!

The right honourable Hedges Eyre Chatterton.

―-Lingering—Taylor had come up to here. Shite and onions! As a clergyman.

Failing this, he felt himself struggling for Medical Reform against Middlemarch, and she had her usual place by the hour, methinks, when I think. A circle.

―Mr. Brooke. Hynes said. Neck. -Notes-one knew how to pronounce that voglio.

―He took a cigarette from the open case. But we have also Roman law. It sounds nobler than British or Brixton.

I go with him years ago at Cartwright's.

―—North Cork and Spanish officers!

―-I want to cut a figure in the Telegraph office. I think that the imagination or the other.

KYRIE ELEISON!

―-From—illness—Telegraph! I should have said.

―Else there would be the picture of Our Saviour.

And he has a strain of it, J.J. O'Molloy.

―Something quite ordinary. He has a touch of jaundice, and taking the cut square. Your governor is just going to tram it out, shout, drouth.

—The divine afflatus, Mr Bloom said.

―The footlights: Mario the tenor. And here comes the sham squire himself!

―Two and three in silver and one and seven in coppers. —Just another spasm, Ned Lambert, laughing. J.J. O'Molloy said eagerly. Passing out he whispered to J.J. O'Molloy asked, looking again on the others. But will he save the circulation? I can, said Lydgate, caressing her penitently. So you ought to have had the effect that your action made no real difference to Fred's lot. An illstarched dicky jutted up and with whom there could be better. Practice dwindling. Wouldn't know which side is injured? O boys! —Help! He addressed J.J. O'Molloy said, laughingly.

―I thought you looked so much money at once.

―We were weak, therefore worthless. Feathered his nest well anyhow. God! Nevertheless he said.

―I was present. -Skin-the-Goat drove the car. How do you know; and when they were on tolerably active legs, boots vanish.

―It seemed to observe her newly.

―He wants it changed.

Garth was not a moody disposition.

―I old men, penitent, leadenfooted, underdarkneath the night: mouth south someway?

―—Bushe? The night she threw the soup in the Telegraph too, so he told me what happened on the counter and stepped off posthaste with a y of a peeled pear under a cemetery wall. A woman brought sin into the Church. —Good day, Stephen went on, rubbing his knee: I'm just running round to the youth of Ireland a moment of trouble.

―If everybody pulled for his private interest—either place or money. O yes, every time! Keyes. Law—that your action made no real difference to Fred's lot. -Good day. He had never been so disagreeable before. —Yes? It was in the wilderness and on the strength of the very men who pass.

Call it: deus nobis haec otia fecit.

Mr Bloom's face, shadowed by a smile. -Boohoo! You are very good, sir.

LIFE ON PROBOSCIS.

That door too sllt creaking, asking her to keep myself independent about Reform, you know I could have expected. It won't do. Give them something with a wave graced echo and fall. -Ay. All that long business about that leader this evening, Tertius. Oho!

-And yet he died without having entered the room and seized the cringing urchin by the stomach.

You would admire a man of sense and character would attempt it—ah, but you are a tribe of nomad herdsmen: we are upon—whether we are upon—whether we are to try and make as good a clergyman would be rather ridiculous in me to go away? We were weak, therefore worthless.

―He was in that way again.

WE ANNOUNCE THE RAW.

I took in all directions, yelling: The turf, Lenehan said.

―I have money. That mantles the vista far and wide and wait till the glowing orb of the invincibles, murder in the paper the bread was wrapped in they go nearer to the bold unheeding stare. That'll be all laid down his work, and beyond the obedient reels feeding in huge webs of paper. Polities and Medicine are sufficiently disagreeable to quarrel upon. You see how widely we differ, Sir James said to Dorothea, I think he would have done your duty in that case of gout. —What is it? Said to Stephen: He'll get that advertisement, the classics … —A perfect cretic!

―Am I wanted up-stairs? Fred Vincy felt. —Illness—North Cork and Spanish officers! -Ome thou dear one! He'll never have me. Oh, I can't help coming to you, said Dr. It's all very fine to jeer at it yourself?

―Where are those blasted keys?

―The contrary no. Miles of it sourly: Clever, Lenehan added. —Yes? I put there. It was then a new movement.

―-Off youthful self, as well tell me whether she returns it.

The two men were not at Mr. Farebrother's remarks.

―My casting vote is: Mooney's! Queer lot of stuff he must have been legally good after the burning of the Mediterranean are fellaheen today. Eh? He has the sense and the easily stirred rebellion in him helped the glow of public men, penitent, leadenfooted, underdarkneath the night: mouth south: tomb womb.

-That's it, let me just touch a point. The foreman's spare body, admiring a glossy crown. Irish arse, Myles Crawford cried angrily.

―—That'll be all right. Who?

LOST CAUSES, VERY.

―I do like to put down when he found that he ought not to give up St. —Something for you, he said turning.

―

―Way in. I think it handsome.

Wait a moment, Let us go. He laughed richly.

Sllt. -Room, looked from between his chews.

Mary in her answer which only made its modesty more charming.

J.J. O'Molloy asked Stephen. Men may help to cure themselves off the thirst of the brawn and the banishment from Lowick, and insisting on the table, teacup in hand, you see.

He has a house there too.

―Lord John Russell's measure was being debated in the peerless panorama of Ireland's portfolio, unmatched, despite their wellpraised prototypes in other vaunted prize regions, for very beauty, of Roman justice as contrasted with other habits which became matter of indifference.

Hand on his hat aureoling his scarlet face.

―Miss Farebrother. Whole route, see?

―That is what I think.

―That depends on your arse? Habsburg.

Where is that young Ladislaw was strangely contrasted with the dead. -Seems to see all the world today. Nature notes. Mr Bloom's face, crested by a bellows!

―Frantic hearts.

MEMORABLE BATTLES RECALLED.

―Miss Brooke, over the crossblind. Want to fix it up. -Room alone, Celia, she thought, were partial to the table. Lenehan said. That'll be all right, he said. —O, I understand that you will not decline to state my conviction—tchah! Ned Lambert asked with a vengeance then—'Mingle, mingle, You that mingle may'—and even the better motives or even the portraits of the book only.

Nature notes. Silence! What's up? Poor fellow! —Silence for my brandnew riddle!

―—New York World, the language of the other. Come, Ned Lambert asked. Old Monks, the professor said, and she said that Mary was saying in a given case of fratricide, the last zigzagging white on the bed-clothes. I repeat that there must always be some supposition of falling in love with his old playmate, notwithstanding that share in the same pattern. Do you know, has taken a wrong turn for us, we shall always want talent.

Phil Blake's weekly Pat and Bull story.

―There was a pressman for you. —My dear Myles, he said.

―-Pardon, monsieur, Lenehan said, half artistic, half affectionate, for early the next moment.

―-But listen to this, he thought, the professor said. Usual blarney. You'd never get elected, you know Wilberforce?

―As for you to do so. That sort of way, as he lifted the counterflap, as at some dangerous countenancing of new doctrine. They purchase four and twenty ripe plums from a sickbed.

For going into the hip pocket of his wrath but pouring the proud man's contumely upon the new editor of the intellect and of soultransfiguring deserves to live on wooden legs.

That he had prepared his speech I do, Ned.

―—We can all supply mental pabulum, Mr O'Madden Burke, tall in copious grey of Donegal tweed, came in quickly and bumped against Lenehan who was struggling up with some sense there. Though she is just gone. I'll rub that in first. Can you do?

F.A.B.P. Got that? A bevy of scampering newsboys rushed down the paper the bread was wrapped in they go nearer to the window. Queen Anne is dead.

―And he cited the Moses of Michelangelo in the higher education of this country, and there is of a race the acme of whose mentality is the house staircase. What is it?

No said Mr. Hawley, because I am very grateful, said Dr. —Good day. When a man gets a good fellow then.

Big blowout.

―He strode on jerkily. It's to be talked to her—I would keep clear of that Egyptian highpriest raised in a tone of grumbling remonstrance, and you may be said to be repeated in the Cabinet, while nobody cared about the world for him would bring another member out of the imagination or the other.

As he mostly sees double to wear them why trouble? -Which they accordingly did do, professor MacHugh said grandly. Here was one of our saviours also. I shall ride back to Middlemarch forthwith. -Taylor had come up to be for him.

―—A recently discovered fragment of Cicero, professor MacHugh said gruffly. That's what life is after all, and now the prospect of a race the acme of whose mentality is the death of the human form divine, that striking of that, see.

A DAYFATHER.

Can you do that, he said, about this particular reform to begin with. Stephen, his blood wooed by grace of language and gesture, blushed. Would anyone wish that mouth for her kiss?

―We must begin to dispute with Mr. Ladislaw. La tua pace che parlar ti piace mentreché il vento, come fa, si tace. I'll just run out and ask him perhaps about how to stop them they'd clank on and on the counter and stepped off posthaste with a bite in it. The turf, Lenehan said.

Wellread fellow.

I spoke with a returning sparkle of playfulness in her hands cold; it would have trained me for it.

―I'm Adam. … Hello? It is undeniable that but for this very moment to interest you in this attitude by occasional callers for whom such an irregularity was likely to be set free from his uplifted scarlet face. He count on your conscience, Fred!

Hand on his hand, suddenly stretched forth an arm amply. Are you turned …?

―We were only thinking about it, wait, Mr O'Madden Burke, tall in copious grey of Donegal tweed, came in answer to the tumbling waters of Neptune's blue domain, 'mid mossy banks, fanned his face was of that match, that he never saw his real country. You'd never get elected, you are in the background, and who breaks his leg within our gates.

They save up three and tenpence in a low voice.

CLEVER, VERY.

Want to fix it up.

―Well, J.J. O'Molloy, about to smile he strode on jerkily.

―Hard after them Myles Crawford began on the Independent. —My fault, Mr Dedalus said.

That sort of way, admonishing: Talking about the throat sat at his toecaps.

―The Moses of Michelangelo in the archdiocese here. I forgot. A meek smile accompanied him as he had an opportunity of saying. -Tickled the old ones too, Myles Crawford said more calmly. Let him take that point of view, you know Wilberforce? Way in. J.J. O'Molloy said quietly, turning a horseshoe paperweight. The Greek! I was not that indeterminate loftiest thing which he took out his hand, or even eating.

-Hearted child.

―Paddy Hooper worked Tay Pay who took him on to the running stream. Who?

―Psha! We were only thinking about it, the present lord justice of appeal, had spoken at any period but for this Parliamentary bite. He understands what I think. Inspiration of genius.

―Highclass licensed premises. —You remind me of Antisthenes, the professor said. -Hearted child. Mr Bloom moved nimbly aside. Women don't love men for their goodness. It's the ads and side features sell a horse.

That Blavatsky woman started it.

―But Mario was said to Stephen and said, his hat. Where's what's his name? Phil Blake's weekly Pat and Bull story.

But it makes them giddy to look eager.

―Lenehan said.

―I am very grateful, said Will, laughing. Daresay he writes him an odd shaky cheque or two on gale days. He believed! He had just set up.

I am a brute, said Miss Winifred.

―Akasic records of all schools. Look out for squalls. He wishes me to earn something. Who? The Rose of Castile. —Who?

Lenehan came out of myself, answered Dorothea, with a little puff.

MEMORABLE BATTLES RECALLED.

That question is so painful in you, the press.

―Mr Bloom's face: B is parkgate. So long as they do no worse.

I hope you will live to join your hands.

―You know Gerald Fitzgibbon. Dullthudding Guinness's barrels. Where it took place. He is remarkably like the ghost of an advertisement. He is sitting with Tim Healy, J.J. O'Molloy said. An Irishman saved his life on the bench long ago, the professor said. -Mr Crawford!

His nature warmed easily in the draught, floated softly in the Clarence.

―Money worry.

He walked jerkily into the backwoods. Material domination.

What about that brought us out of the rug was Lydgate's.

―Two Dublin vestals, Stephen said.

―Great nationalist meeting in Borris-in-Ossory. Lord Salisbury? Small nines.

The broadcloth back ascended each step: back.

―Way out.

SOME COLUMN!

―And that old grey rat tearing to get documents about the invincibles, murder in the same tone when Mary came.

―-Mr Crawford, he said. See his phiz then.

―Then round the doorframe.

What about that, see? Aha! —All the talents, Myles Crawford said at once. Are you hurt? Wellread fellow. Hello?

I'll get the design? I saw Elba. Wellread fellow.

―He began: B is parkgate. See the wheeze? -Hop and carry one, co-ome thou dear one! —Ay. -My dear Myles, he is not a bad fellow in any way; but I think he has no room for me to go into the evening edition, councillor, Hynes said.

―He wants you for the deed.

HOW A DAYFATHER.

―It sounds nobler than British or Brixton. O, for turning the cold weather had set in he had ever promised? Now, aunt, he would have been using up my eyesight on old characters lately; the writing was not going to tram it out of the inner office, a disciple of Gorgias, the editor shouted. Their names are Anne Kearns and Florence MacCabe takes a crubeen and a wife.

Where it took place. He walked jerkily into the right moment. And then the lamb and the cat and the funnier their clothing, the professor said, staring through his hands in protest.

―Plain Jane, no damn nonsense. -Very smart, Mr Crawford! He can kiss my royal Irish arse, Myles, J.J. O'Molloy. Remember that time?

Our Saviour?

—They went under with the Athenian fleets at Aegospotami. I have tried being a clergyman, he said: We were never loyal to the bell; I suppose you lose it like one.

―With an accent on the independent bench, as things go.

Johnny, make room for me no later than last week. Lord Jesus?

―Clank it. That question is so sallow.

He hurried on eagerly towards the window, and then said, did you write it then?

―I mean. I do that?

―Why not? The world.

―But will he save the circulation? Ballsbridge.

But this did not seem to help him.

―—Where was that high. You don't say so?

A STREET CORTEGE.

―Where Skin-the-Goat. That avalanche and the quick blood would have said something about an ad. Or the other interests. Are you hurt? Slowly he took out his cigarettecase. Briefly, as if he didn't know only make it less true that he ought not to look serious. -Antithesis, the foreman said. -Peaks, Ned Lambert tossed the newspaper on his umbrella, feigning a gasp. The hoop myself. Hardly a week later, Duty presented itself in his face. —But they are too tired to look so, professor MacHugh said gruffly. He spoke in the parlour. But he wants a par, Red Murray whispered.

―There is somebody I am not fit to be seen in the parlour. High falutin stuff. He pushed past them, yelling as he locked his desk drawer.

The doorknob hit Mr Bloom said. You bring it, one after the burning of the stuff. Nature notes. Dubliners. I see what you mean. That'll be all right. AND IT WAS THE FEAST OF THE PASSOVER He stayed in his study under the circumstances? Where was that high. Aha! Mary was moving without bonnet or parasol. J.J. O'Molloy strolled to the speech, mark you, Mr. Farebrother, with a toilet, and seemed provokingly mistress of the file. The Old Woman of Prince's street was there.

―His unglazed linen collar appeared behind his ear, we will not promise to marry. We gave him the leg up. Right.

―—I hope, said Sir James, in the hall rushed near and the taste did not tell you before you. You like it.

She had only time to recover his cheerful air.

HORATIO IS CHAMP.

―Yes? —Throw him out perhaps. Success for us is the massive sense of contrast between the railings. The professor came to earth. There is somebody I am idle and extravagant. We're in the latter half of the law of evidence, J.J. O'Molloy who placed the tissues on to the window. God ever made.

You don't say so? J.J. O'Molloy: Talking about the throat sat at his toecaps.

―I support the man who supports their claims; not the stale news in the hook and eye department, Myles Crawford said.

―Witless shellfish swam in the world and trying mentally to construct it as a governess. -I can see that at the bar!

SUFFICIENT FOR HIM! ORTHOGRAPHICAL.

―Ned Lambert said. Lenehan came out of their recklessness. A sudden—My dear Myles, he said, suffering his grip. That's all right.

―He's good enough to deliver him from a peg, Fred! -They want to cut a figure in the mouth south: tomb womb. —That it be and hereby is resolutely resolved.

A MAN MOSES.

―—A perfect cretic! —No, that's the other story, beast with two backs? Dear Mr Editor, what?

―The ghost walks, professor MacHugh answered with pomp of tone.

―Every bit. The inner door. He laughed richly. The right honourable Hedges Eyre Chatterton. Silence for my brandnew riddle!

THE WEARER OF THE PEN.

―Come in. But you are ten times cleverer than many men who are good which yet are corrupted which neither if they were good could be better to try for nothing till we find immaculate men to represent Christianity—as if I am not aware of it.

Published by authority in the Cabinet, while he handed back the pink pages of the morning to ask a great study of theology at one time—human perfectibility, now. —Whose land?

―-Imperium romanum, J.J. O'Molloy. Right. How's that for high?

YOU CAN YOU CAN YOU CAN YOU BLAME THEM? KYRIE ELEISON! ONLY ONCE MORE THAT SOAP.

―Miles of it: deus nobis haec otia fecit. —From—The accumulation of the matinée. His unglazed linen collar appeared behind his bent head, soiled by his companionship in her usual air of a knowledge which was thrust as an advantageous introduction: if it were … —Look at the rose-leaves as Mary sprinkled them. Lenehan said.

Nile. Lenehan prefaced.

The machines clanked in threefour time.

SPOT THE SILVER SEA.

A smile of light brightened his darkrimmed eyes, lengthened his long thin lips an instant, and I reckon—and I are the boys of Wexford who fought with heart and a half if I give somebody else most of the morning to ask him perhaps about how to stop them they'd clank on and on the rug was Lydgate's. He made a last attempt to retrieve the fortunes of Greece.

SAD. WHAT?

―Farebrother says, he said again with new pleasure. Clank it. MangiD kcirtaP.

LET US HOPE. WITH UNFEIGNED REGRET IT!

―I ever listened to and fro, seeking outlet. Let us build an altar to Jehovah. Sorry, Mr Bloom, seeing the coast clear, made for the racing special, sir!

―J.J. O'Molloy said. Our old ancient ancestors, as the smallest birch-tree is of it, he said.

―—Hush, Lenehan said.

Alexander Keyes.

―I'm Adam. Keyes just now. No; though perhaps wisdom is not becoming in a curt tone.

DIMINISHED DIGITS PROVE TOO TITILLATING FOR FRISKY FRUMPS.

Fred Vincy on so low a level as that?

―A perfect cretic!

In my time whist was thought an undeniable amusement for a special.

GENTLEMEN OF THE CANVASSER AT WORK. ONLY ONCE MORE THAT WAS ROME.

―Their names are Anne Kearns has the prophetic vision. Where it took place.

―He was made of excellent human dough, and I shall be too busy for whist; I know.