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aliendes · 4 years ago

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Natural Borns - Chapter One

dystopian!au / futuristic!au

AUTHOR NOTE: here it is! Chapter one of Natural Borns. If you haven’t already, please read the prologue, or else this wont make the most sense. The prologue gives some backstory about the universe that you need to fully enjoy the story. Thank you for all the love on the prologue, it pushed me to want to put this out early. If you enjoy this series, please follow and reblog so it can reach more eyes. Feel free to send me an ask! I would love to answer any questions, because I’m sure I’m inevitably going to leave some things unanswered (this is my first time writing a series, after all). Enjoy! xx Des

Series info/genre: Angst, fluff, (possible) smut NSFW due to darker themes Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual) Warnings: this series will have different trigger warnings listed for each chapter (if there are any), but as a whole, this series will include violence, mentions of depression & other mental illnesses, cursing, abuse, drugs/alcohol, some shitty medical descriptions because i am NOT a doctor, self-esteem issues, fluff, and possible smut in future chapters (but that’s undecided). i will add more warnings/tags in the future if there are any. Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it? Word count: 3.6k

It was early. Too early for you to be awake. As you rolled over in your bed, taking your poofy duvet cover with you, you noticed that it was barely dawn. Your curtains were drawn, how you always left them - liking to wake up with the sun, and you couldn’t even see said sun on the horizon yet. You could make out a pink line that melted perfectly with the purple and blues of the night sky. After admiring the beauty of it for a moment, you rolled back over with a huff.

You’re already awake, might as well get out of bed.

You lived on a peach farm, or orchard, that your family owned and had chores and duties to fulfill around the house and land. The orchard was on about ten acres, small for a farm, but big enough to get the job done. Your father sells the peaches you harvest to local grocers and restaurants and sells the rest at your mother’s stall at the farmer’s market in town. Your mom grows flowers in her garden on the property and makes beautiful arrangements for locals. She just recently made the arrangements for the wedding of one of your old classmates. You helped out where you could with harvests, taking care of the animals your family cared for, and working the market on weekends. It wasn’t a luxurious life by any means, but you were happy. You definitely couldn’t complain, not when most natural borns had way less than you. You were fortunate, really, and content living this small town life.

You swung your legs over the edge of your bed and stretched your arms up high, letting out a big yawn. Your pajamas were all bunched up and uncomfortable on your legs as you scooted closer to the edge of your bed, expecting your toes to meet the cool wood of the floor. Instead, you were met with something warm and fuzzy and a loud meow that sounded through your room, making you jump.

“Ai- sorry Mochi,” you grumbled, watching the cat scurry across the floor. You smiled and shook your head at the cat, who was now giving you a death glare from next to your bedroom door. You slowly stood up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and opened the door to let the devil cat out. He quickly took advantage of the open door and ran down the stairs as fast as he could. You watched him for a moment before making your way to your bathroom down the hall.

Closing and locking the door behind you, you started your morning routine of brushing your teeth and hair and washing your face. Once you turned the faucet off, you rubbed a clean white towel over your face, pulling it down slowly as you peeked over it at the mirror. You looked tired, small bags beginning to form under your eyes, skin darkening slightly from being out in the sun, maybe even a little sunburnt from working at the market yesterday. Still starting at your reflection, you hang your towel up on the rack with a sigh, turning to get dressed for the day.

Your normal work day attire consists of jeans and a t-shirt. It was June, just starting to get unbearably hot in Korea, so you opted for some looser linen pants and a light shirt. You didn’t have a whole lot to do today other than feed animals, clean the chicken coop, and help mom out with some arrangements. You wouldn’t be harvesting the peach trees until late July or early August at the rate they were growing currently, though you did still need to monitor them and make sure they remained healthy before harvest season.

By the time you were ready for the day, the sun was just barely coming up and the smell of coffee beans entered your nose. Mom must be up, you thought to yourself. You smiled and made your way down the stairs, grabbing onto the bottom of the banister and swinging yourself around it, an old habit of yours from all the way back in elementary school. You were still a kid at heart, even at the age of 23.

“Good morning Pearl!” your mother called from the kitchen. Pearl was the nickname your parents have called you since you could walk. Natural pearls are extremely rare, almost never occurring in nature. You were also a rare breed, a true natural born, hard to find like a pearl, hence the nickname.

“Morning mama,” you said, walking up to her and giving her a side hug, “watcha makin’?” You asked with a teasing lilt to your voice. Your mom was a tad shorter than you and you liked to take advantage of that, leaning your elbow on her shoulder as you watched her stir the pan in front of her.

“Steamed eggs and rice, now go get your father, would you? We have to start on these arrangements soon, Mrs. Lee needs 25 of them by tomorrow afternoon.”

You gave your mom a nod and made your way back up the stairs, hopping over Mochi who was now taking up residence on the second step. “You’re gonna get stepped on your curious cat,” you said under your breath. Mochi just watched on as you took two stairs at a time.

Before you could reach the top of the stairs, you nearly stumbled straight into your father who had just come around the corner. “Who-whoa,” he laughed out as you grabbed onto the railing to stop yourself from smacking into him.

“Mom needs you!” You yelped out, passing your dad on the stairs and running into your room to grab your phone from your nightstand. You could hear your dad chuckling as he walked down the stairs. As you picked up your phone, you noticed you had a new message in your group chat you had with your two best friends, well, your only friends, you supposed.

From Mina [11:13 pm]: pearl!!!

From Mina [11:13 pm]: pearl are u awake?

From Woo [11:15 pm]: why are you awake min?

From Mina [11:17 pm]: cant sleep, pearl, u up!?

From Woo [11:23 pm]: I’m gonna guess not

From Mina [11:25 pm]: ugh dfghjk

You giggled at your screen for a moment before typing back a response.

You [6:37 am]: sorry guys, i went to bed early last night what’s up min?

You pocketed your phone, definitely not expecting a response at this ungodly hour, and headed back downstairs. On your short walk, you thought to your two friends, Mina and Wooyoung, who you befriended in middle school. Well, actually Mina befriended you and Wooyoung in seventh grade because you were both outcasts that didn’t talk to anyone. Ever the martyr, she brought your little group together and you’ve been thick as thieves ever since. You don’t see them as much as you’d like nowadays, as they both attended the small community college in your town. You never really liked school, never excelled at anything, and were always a homebody. College just didn’t sound fun to you, especially if people there were anything like at your highschool. Highschool hadn’t been kind to you. You were labeled ‘half-breed’ and ‘mutant’ by a group of girls who wanted nothing more than to see you suffer because of your looks. Boys would flirt with you, leave you love notes, and even try to harass you in the halls, but never because they actually took an interest in you. The one time you went to a party with Mina, you had been cornered in some guy's barn by one of the popular boys who was trying to get in your pants. This just made the popular girls even more angry with you and would jump through hoops to make your life hell while at school. All of those experiences taught you one thing: most people can’t be trusted. Some might say you have trust issues (Mina) while others will try to get you to come out of your shell a bit more (Woo and your mom), but in the end, you’re comfortable with your two best friends and your parents. You never asked for more because you simply didn’t need it.

Most, if not all, families these days only had one child, so you nor your friends ever knew what it was like to have siblings. Even your parents were only children, so no aunts, uncles, or cousins to call an extended family. This was normal, though, because a law was put in place in 2505 banning families from having more than one child to help with population control. If a family broke this law, they were fined excessive amounts of money. The law was easy to enforce with parents of lab born children, since their child had to be entered into a national database, meaning no company would work with them again to avoid hefty fines, or possibly being put out of business. It was a little harder to enforce with natural born families. The law was definitely one sided, aimed to force more and more natural borns into poverty.

You were snapped out of your daydream as you entered your kitchen, taking in the sight of your dad sitting at the dining table reading something on his tablet and your mom making a grocery list. You smiled softly, rounding the table and taking your usual seat next to your mother. “Thanks for breakfast, mom,” you said kindly, leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Of course, Pearl. Now eat up, we need to get going soon if-” your mother was cut off by the sudden shriek of the doorbell, which caused you to jump what had to be 5 feet in the air. Who was ringing your doorbell at - you took your phone out - 6:44 in the morning?

Your father had the same perplexed look that you must’ve worn, getting up out of his chair and heading towards the front room of the house. You shared a puzzled look with your mom who just shrugged her shoulders and went back to her list, blowing on a piece of hot egg in her spoon.

As you started to fiddle with your own spoon, you tried to strain to hear the conversation happening in the other room. You could hear hushed murmurs that sounded rushed, almost angry. You squint your eyes in confusion. It sounded like your dad was mad. He never gets mad. Who could be at the front door? Slowly, you rise from your seat to go investigate, your mother paying you no mind.

As you round the corner of the kitchen, your father comes into view holding the front door at a 90 degree angle from the wall, effectively blocking your vision of the man on the other side. Your dad’s profile told you what you needed to know, though. He was visibly angry, apples of his cheeks reddening. He was still speaking in a hushed tone, though you could tell it was tense.

Slowly, you walked over to your father, peeking around the front door. If your dad noticed your presence, he didn’t mention it. Standing on your front porch was a man, shorter than your father, with dark hair and round glasses perched on his nose. He was obviously a natural born, as he didn’t have any of the perfect or striking features you were used to seeing on business men such as himself. He didn’t look intimidating in the least, but you could almost see the steam rolling out of your dad’s ears. As soon as the man caught sight of you, a bright grin took over his face.

“Ah, you must be YN,” he starts, taking a step forward and reaching out his hand, “it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

You were confused by his words, taking a step back to match his. You didn’t know this man and you definitely didn’t want to shake his hand. Did he say finally meet you? What is that supposed to mean?

“You need to leave,” your father started, causing the shorter man’s attention to fall back on him, “now.” Your dad left no room for discussion, effectively ending the conversation.

The mysterious man nodded once, looking back at you. “We’ll be in touch,” were his final words before turning on his heel and walking back towards a sleek, black car at the end of your drive. Before you could take in any more details of the car, your father was closing the front door. He breathed out a heavy sigh and placed a hand on your bicep, gently leading you back to the kitchen.

Your mom looked up from her, now nearly finished, breakfast. “Who was it, sweetie?”

Your dad sat back in his chair, leaving you standing, confused, in the middle of your kitchen. “Yeah, dad. Who was that?” You asked, genuinely concerned about the stranger.

Your dad let out another sigh before turning to look up at you, “Just another company. You know how they are, Pearl. Persistent, but they’ll back off eventually once they realize we aren’t interested.”

You slowly nodded in understanding. These designer baby companies have been coming to ‘scout’ you since you were in elementary school. They would come to your home, or even your school, and try to talk to you about selling your DNA and how it would be beneficial to your family, maybe even bring them out of poverty, make them rich. When you were a child, the offer was enticing, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little curious even now. But you knew where you stood on the subject. You didn’t want to sell your DNA. You didn’t want anything to do with these big companies that were making natural borns poor while getting rich in the process. But you remembered something, “Dad, what did he mean by finally meeting me?”

Your dad has his back turned to you again, starting to eat his breakfast. You could see him visibly stiffen at your question before quickly relaxing again. Your mother seemed to notice this too, sending a worried glance at him, to which you couldn’t see his response. Without turning to look at you, he mumbled, “That was Hyunwoo, a former classmate of mine.”

So you were right in your assumption about Hyunwoo being a natural born. You know your dad hadn’t gone to college, and his family lived in this very house while he was growing up. That means Hyunwoo must be from the same town as you. Most people living here were living in poverty, so why did he look like a million bucks? No one from this town could afford a car like that either. Before you could get too lost in your thoughts, your father was speaking again, “He works for a pretty well known company in Seoul. He’s been interested in you since you were a little kid.” The thought alone was enough to make you feel nauseous. You didn’t even know this man, yet he’s known about you practically all your life. Apparently he’s been seeking you out for a while too, if your assumptions are correct.

“Why was he here?” You voiced your thoughts aloud.

Your father set his spoon down on his dish before turning his entire body in his chair to face you. “It’s nothing Pearl,” he started, firm but gentle, “You know these companies never leave us alone. His is no different. They’ll get the message sooner or later.” There was a finality in his tone, making it known there was no room for discussion on the matter. With a nod of his head he stood up from his seat, gathering his dishes, and deposited them into the sink. “I’ll be out in the orchards if you need me.”

You nodded before sitting down at the table and picking at your food.

“Don’t worry, dear,” your mother said as she, too, stood up with her dishes, “this type of thing happens all the time.”

Even though you trusted your parents, and they were right - it did happen fairly often, something about Hyunwoo seemed different. The way he looked at you and spoke the words ‘finally meet you’, made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Even your mom and dad seemed nervous when his name was spoken at the kitchen table. But you trusted your parents. Right?

In the early afternoon, you had just finished your chores of feeding the chickens and cats, and you were wandering around the orchard. Your dad had retired to the shed on the far north corner of the property. He liked to spend a lot of time in there, tinkering with old appliances. You and your mother had finished the arrangements for Mrs. Lee earlier and now she was at the market fulfilling the list she made earlier.

You didn’t really have anything that needed to get done right away. You know you should probably go check on the flowers in your mom’s garden, make sure they don’t need to be watered again, but it’s been a while since you’ve walked through the orchard without the responsibility of the trees looming over you. Your father cleaned up the trees earlier, made sure drip lines were intact and checked over the farm, so you decided to indulge in your favorite pass time.

You walked away from the chicken coop towards the edge of the orchard. It was truly one of your favorite places in the whole world - not that you’ve seen much of it, but still - and you could spend hours getting lost among the beautifully colored canopy of peach blossoms.

When you reached the edge of the orchard, you leaned your hand against the cool oak colored bark of one of the trees, and toed off your shoes, leaving them in the dirt. The trees were just starting to blossom with pretty pink and white flowers among the green and almost yellowish leaves. Only about another month before harvest, you thought idly to yourself.

As you walked through the trees, you relished in the feeling of the cool dirt beneath your feet, squishing between your toes with each step. The air outside was hot and humid, but the earth was cool under the shade of the trees. With each trunk you passed, you let your hand ghost over the rough bark, memorizing the feeling of it. You looked up at the leaves, slowly moving in the slight breeze today. Your family's farm was small, only about 10 acres, so the trees weren’t so dense you couldn’t see the sky above or would be completely hidden from view while walking through them. If your dad were to come out of his shed, you probably would’ve been able to see him from here, though it was a good distance away.

As you got closer to the center of the trees you found a nice trunk to sit down against and pulled your phone from your pocket, checking your group chat with your friends.

From Mina [2:05 pm]: pearl pearl pearl

From Mina [2:06 pm]: where are u

You rolled your eyes at your best friend's antics before typing out your reply.

From you [2:36 pm]: walking through the trees, what’s up?

Almost immediately you were looking at a response.

From Mina [2:37 pm]: there was some guy here on campus today

From Mina [2:38 pm]: a girl from my econ class said he was looking for you

From Mina [2:39 pm]: said he looked like he didn’t belong here, i’m assuming it’s some company but i wanted to let u know

Your heart dropped into your stomach at this new knowledge. It wasn’t incredibly strange for someone to be looking for you at the college. Most residents of the town attended the college at some point or another, what with it being free to attend because of a bill passed decades ago by natural born activists fighting for education for those living in poverty. But something about this felt wrong.

Before you could respond to Mina to ease the worries you were sure she felt, you heard what sounded like a twig snapping somewhere behind you. Already on edge from the text messages, you quickly stood up, turning almost completely around in your spot. Your eyes focused on the spot where you thought you heard the noise come from, only to be met with nothing. Despite knowing you heard something, part of you wondered if it was all in your head, the events of the day messing with you.

In the distance, you could see that your family’s truck was still missing from the drive, meaning your mom was still out shopping. Quickly, you glanced at your father’s shed - the doors were still shut tightly. Momentarily you wondered if he would be able to hear you if you screamed. Shaking the thought from your mind, you turned back around to face the tree. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught movement from behind a trunk a few yards in front of where you stood.

“Who’s there?!” you half yelled, fear starting to creep up your spine. You definitely weren’t one to fight, much more comfortable running from your problems and confrontation. You wished Mina was here, she would be brave enough to move forward, to protect herself from danger. You slowly started walking backwards, not taking your eyes off the trunk where you believed someone to be hiding. You wanted to turn and run, but didn’t want to risk whoever it was behind that tree attacking you from the back. As you continued to take cautious steps, your back collided with something firm, yet not hard enough to be a tree trunk. This was softer, warmer. Human.

To be continued....

AUTHOR NOTE: Sooooo, who do you think YN ran into?! Who do you think will make an appearance next chapter? ;)

203 notes · View notes

tiramisiyu · 4 years ago

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【未定事件簿】Tears of Themis: Main Story 5-29 Translation

Translated parts: Chapter 5 – Sounds of Falling Snow (Part 1, 2, 3): 5-1 / 5-3 / 5-5 / 5-7 / 5-9 / 5-11 / 5-13 ♦️ ♦️ 5-14 / 5-16 / 5-18 / 5-20 / 5-22 / 5-24 / 5-26 / 5-28 ♦️ ♦️ 5-29 / 5-31 / 5-33 / 5-35 / 5-37 / 5-39 / 5-40 / 5-42 / 5-43

Translation Masterlist: here

Video: (0:01) https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV15a4y1j7CW?

Stellis City Police Station

Tuesday morning, 7AM, Stellis City Police Station.

10 hours had already passed since the laboratory Heirson built at Rainbow River Village caught fire.

I could no longer remember how I was able to get through these past 10 hours.

The pictures in my mind were like stained glass that the sun couldn’t shine through. The colours were sharp, but they were blurred out of clarity.

Xia Yan: You must be tired. I’ll send you home first.

A thin and light blanket wrapped on my body. Unable to control myself, I toppled towards Xia Yan’s shoulder.

I was indeed very tired, from my heart to my body. Fatigue had chipped away my ability to think. For now, I just wanted to follow my instincts and find something I could rely on.

MC: Was there really nothing left in that laboratory?

Xia Yan: I’m sorry. I couldn’t bring out that bottle of samples.

MC: Xia Yan, I’m not talking about that bottle of samples. You being able to run out from the fire, safe and unharmed, is already the biggest comfort to me.

MC: Not to mention that you were able to catch Wang Han, who set the fire.

MC: I just think it’s a pity that some fire could actually burn that laboratory so thoroughly, leaving not a single bit of worthwhile information.

Xia Yan: It is true that Wang Han appeared outside the laboratory, but I think he was actually just finding out about our movements.

Xia Yan: With Wang Han’s ability, devising a plan on the spot to set some fire shouldn’t be enough to burn everything so thoroughly.

Xia Yan: This laboratory just might have a self-destruction mechanism. The fire might be an internal, self-starting installation.

MC: Either way, Wang Han has already been brought to the city police station. No matter what suspicious points there are, we’ll wait until we can ask him.

MC: We also don’t have to pretend to deal with him with sincerity. We can uncover all his lies in front of him.

Xia Yan: Right, what’s up with Sun Heping? Why did he follow us to the city police station?

MC: He came to be an eyewitness. I really need to thank Grandpa Sun well, he helped me a lot.

[Flashback]

In the warlike turmoil and chaos, I finally finished the whole process of calling the police.

I took up my phone and kept dialing Xia Yan’s number, mechanically and repeating, just like a programmed robot.

MC: Xia Yan, pick up the phone… hurry and pick up, I’m begging you.

MC: Let me hear your sound - even just replying with a number is enough.

All my attention was set on my phone, so I naturally wasn’t aware of the gradually-nearing danger behind me.

Sun Heping: Little brat, get smacked!

???: Ow!

The cry of pain coming from behind me startled me to consciousness.

I turned around, pulled out the lipstick tranquillizer gun that Xia Yan had given me from my pocket, shooting towards the man who was holding his leg and collapsed on the ground.

Just as Xia Yan said, within 30 seconds, that man lost consciousness.

Sun Heping: Whoa, the young woman brought a self-defense weapon. Not bad, not bad.

MC: Grandpa Sun, what are you doing here?

I looked carefully at the man lying down. It was an unfamiliar face.

MC: Who is this person? He snuck into the yard, wanting to… assault me?

Zhao Yuncui’s agritourism guest house was one floor, connected to the little yard outside. The yard perimeter was surrounded by plants. A grown man could’ve easily gotten past them.

The push-pull door connecting the house and the yard was wide open. It would have been as easy was blowing away dust for this man to intrude in…

Sun Heping: He’s Wang Han’s son, just called back from the city by his father.

Sun Heping: Your phone is right there, so call the police. I’ll go be a witness for you.

[Flashback end]

Xia Yan: So it was like this…

I thought that Xia Yan would be very angry after listening, but his expression was very calm – it was just that his tone when talking…

This expression of his looked extremely like the calm before a storm. He must not be thinking about personally teaching a lesson to Wang Han’s son!

MC: Xia Yan, you… though Wang Han’s son is pretty hateful, he didn’t manage to do anything…

MC: We live in a lawful society, so please don’t act rashly.

From when we were small to now, Xia Yan’s always been the person who is most defensive of me, but…

MC: Think about it - if you hit him and got taken into custody, that wouldn’t be worth it at all.

I suddenly had an “idea”, and what escaped from my mouth sounded as if it were missing something.

MC: If you got detained, then Peanut*, that one bird, will starve to death at home.

Xia Yan: …

MC: (What am I saying…)

Xia Yan: I didn’t think that if I got detained, then the one you would be worried about wouldn’t actually be me – it would be Peanut!

Peanut was a myna bird that Xia Yan raised. After going through professional training, it was very smart.

I thought it strange, why Xia Yan would raise a defense animal like a myna bird.

Thinking about his agent identity now, it must be some special reason having to do with that.

MC: You really have gotten more and more ��mature” - splitting hairs with a bird.

Xia Yan: Alright, I know you’re teasing me.

Xia Yan: Don’t worry, I won’t directly do anything to Wang Han’s son.

Xia Yan: My mission is to protect the order and maintain the safety of society. How could I do illegal things?

Xia Yan: But…

He leaned close to my ear. The hot breath brushed over my ear, tickling it.

Xia Yan: I’ll definitely give him a taste of suffering and blow off steam for you.

MC: Okay, then I’ll look forward to it.

Just like in years of youth, how children will often mutually “shelter” little secrets about mischievous actions – this was Xia Yan’s and my secret.

Xia Yan: I should send you home. You really need rest.

MC: There’s no issue, I’m still fine…

Sun Heping: Didn’t you two say that you specifically planned to go to the village to find me?

Sun Heping: Why is it that I’ve been troubled for a day and a night, yet I still haven’t seen you ask me anything?

I hadn’t finished speaking when Sun Heping appeared from who knows what place. “Disappearing and appearing randomly” really is an apt description for him…

MC: (Grandpa Sun… it was clearly you who refused to talk, alright…)

MC: Your willingness to provide help really is great. How about we find a quiet place to slowly talk about it?

Sun Heping: No need, here is fine. This old man is open and candid. I’ve got nothing that I need to hide from people.

MC: (I just wanted to ensure that the investigation wouldn’t leak…)

Xia Yan: I just greeted Leader Yan. This office won’t have anyone come in for now, don’t worry.

MC: Okay, then let’s talk here.

INTERROGATION START

Sun Heping’s whereabouts that day

MC: Last year on September 12, did you not know Kong Moli was coming?

Sun Heping: No, I don’t really use cellphones, and I didn’t keep any ways of getting in contact with Moli.

Sun Heping: Originally, I thought that either way, I wasn’t going out of the village, so she’d be able to find me anyways. Who would’ve thought… ah.

Sun Heping: That day, my home suffered a thievery. I caught the little thief and went to the police station to create a record.

Sun Heping: Who would have thought that the thief wouldn’t admit it no matter what. We spent a good half of the day at the police station. Moli couldn’t wait, so she left first.

Xia Yan: Is the thief you are talking about Qiu Heng?

On the return road to the city, I told Xia Yan about the information from Zuo Ran’s investigation yesterday.

Sun Heping: It was indeed him. He even said that he thought that the mutated Rainbow heart fish was worth money, so he went to steal it, hah hah – you could clearly tell it’s a lie from listening to it.

MC: He even had the face to say this kind of reason…

MC: Do you know the reason Kong Moli left in a rush?

Sun Heping: I heard from Wang Han that it was for someone’s birthday. It should be the birthday of the child she adopted.

Kong Moli’s reason for coming

MC: On September 12, what was Kong Moli’s reason for visiting you?

Sun Heping: She wanted the mutated Rainbow heart fish I had raised.

Xia Yan: Mutated? What kind of mutations are you talking about – could you explain in detail?

Sun Heping: Mutated was actually just what Moli called it. From my perspective, those fish were just smaller than typical Rainbow heart fish, and were unable to grow large.

Sun Heping: Moli had taken pictures of the mutated Rainbow heart fish before, but according to her, those photos were stolen by people, so she needed the living fish as physical evidence.

MC: Stolen?

The stolen pictures made me think of Kong Moli’s notebook that had two pages ripped out.

Up to now, we still didn’t know exactly what the notebook was missing.

Sun Heping: Before that lawsuit of Moli’s, the paper mill was closed. Heirson also stopped operations. Both sides weren’t able to collect water samples.

Sun Heping: Without any way to examine again, the fish I raised was the only proof.

Youyou’s origin

MC: You know Youyou? That is, Mu Ziyou.

Sun Heping: I don’t quite remember the name. I just know it’s a boy.

Sun Heping: Kong Moli met that child the first time she went to the laboratory.

Sun Heping: No one knew who or where the child’s parents were. When we asked if he ran out of the laboratory, he also didn’t say.

Sun Heping: The only people from outside in Rainbow River Village were those from the paper mill and the laboratory.

Sun Heping: If it was a child lost on vacation, he would’ve been found much earlier.

Sun Heping: Thinking about it, that child most likely ran out of the laboratory.

Noticing Kong Moli’s death

MC: Do you know how Kong Moli’s accident was discovered?

Sun Heping: It was me who noticed it. It was also me who called the police.

MC: Weren’t you unable meet with her that day?

Sun Heping: It was because I didn’t find her, and I knew that she urgently needed those fish, that I thought about sending it to her in the city.

Sun Heping: I drove the house’s tractor to the passenger terminal at the bottom of the mountain. Halfway, I saw Moli’s car stuck on the guardrails.

Sun Heping: I didn’t see her, so I called police.

Xia Yan: At the scene of the accident, did you notice anything abnormal?

Sun Heping: No. I also didn’t dare to touch anything at the scene, fearing that I would end up causing trouble to the police.

[Got Sun Heping’s Testimony!]

Household situation

MC: We heard that you live alone. Your family members aren’t with you?

Sun Heping: …

Seeming to not expect that we would ask this, Sun Heping froze.

Sun Heping: The situation in my house doesn’t have any relation to this case. You two, don’t ask without grounds.

Looking at it, there really is no need to investigate Sun Heping’s family situation. I just asked casually. If he’s not willing to talk about it, then we’ll just forget it.

INTERROGATION END

Sun Heping: I’m finished being a witness for the police, and you’ve finished asking the questions you need to ask, so I’ll return to the village.

Xia Yan: Grandpa Sun, I’ll send you.

Sun Heping: No need. If you have time, you should accompany your little girlfriend instead.

Xia Yan: …

MC: …

Sun Heping headed off, while Xia Yan and I had more, harder questions to solve.

Xia Yan: Combined with my investigation at the laboratory, I can basically guess where Mu Ziyou came from.

TL notes:

* “Peanut” in Chinese also sounds nearly identical to the Chinese for “Watson” (both are “huasheng”).

#tot translation #tears of themis #weiding shijian bu #未定事件簿

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theclintbartonbraindump · 5 years ago

Text

Clint Barton x Reader - To Suffer in Silence

Pairings - Clint Barton (Hawkeye) x Reader

Word Count - 6845

Warnings - Trigger warning: anxiety, depression, and a fairly detailed description of a panic attack.

“Spoken dialogue”

[Signed dialogue]

“[Signed and spoken dialogue]”

Author’s Note (PLEASE READ) - The idea for this creation has been brought to you by the wonderful @brooklhyn, who is honestly just the sweetest person ever. This is probably my favorite piece that I've ever written, but I will warn you it does visit some dark places. The ending is very rewarding though so stick with it. I may have gone a little overboard and I’m not even sorry. Clint has lost his hearing aids and is feeling pretty low. The reader begins to feel helpless when nothing they do seems to help him. As always, I love feedback and just comments in general and I’m always willing to take requests. Enjoy!

__________

Clint had been gone for nearly an hour. Far too long considering the Chinese place he’d chosen to get dinner from was only a couple of blocks away. You really should have been the one to go. You had offered, but Clint had already been out the door before you could protest. Around the thirty-minute mark you had started to wonder if he’d gotten lost or if maybe the restaurant had, once again, gotten your order wrong. At forty-five minutes you had called him, only to hear his phone ring from a few feet behind, still sitting where he had left it on the nightstand. Now a full hour had gone by and you were grabbing your shoes to go out and look for him. There was only one thing more dangerous than Clint Barton lost and alone on the streets of a strange city, and that was a deaf and grumpy, lost and alone Clint Barton.

For probably the hundredth time since you’d first met the archer a few years ago, he had lost his hearing aids. How he managed to misplace something that was supposed to be attached to his head most of the time was beyond you and you had learned to stop asking how and why a long time ago. Partly because Clint never really had a good answer and partially because when he couldn’t hear he got…weird. Well, weirder. You had really started to notice the change a few months ago. Clint had broken one of his hearing aids by either stepping on it or sitting on it you couldn’t remember, and you had come by to bring him a replacement. The thing was that when you’d gotten to his apartment, Clint hadn’t even bothered putting the one working aid in and looked like he hadn’t moved from his spot on the sofa in days. After you’d gotten him hooked up with the new set you had cracked a joke about him not hearing of showers in an effort to cheer him up, it hadn’t exactly gone over well. You’d never known Clint to be the type to sulk and you’d hated seeing him like that. It broke your heart to see him in such a state and you swore then that you’d do everything in your power to keep him from falling into that dark hole he seemed to be circling. The whole ordeal had even inspired you to start teaching yourself sign language. The thing is, it’d only gotten worse from there. From then on, every time he lost his hearing aids it was like Clint became a different person. Distant and silent. The worst part was that you could never get him to tell you why.

You didn’t know how he’d managed to lose the aids in the tiny studio apartment you two were currently be forced to occupy. You’d think SHEILD could have afforded to put the two of you up in a place that was even just a smidgen nicer, or at least somewhere you didn’t have to straddle the sink every time you needed to use the toilet. The space wasn’t even 400 square feet and yet days of searching had turned up nothing but a plethora of dust bunnies and about two dollars in loose change. You had both given up and you were both now forced to resign yourselves to silence. Clint because he couldn’t hear and you because not even an hour after losing his aids, Clint had shut down and nothing you were doing seemed to be getting through to him. He hadn’t spoken a word in days and every time you’d try to strike up a conversation, either through your broken sign language or by trying to get Clint to read your lips, he wouldn’t even give you the time of day. You’d earned a couple of grunts and muttered single word sentences if you brought up something related to the mission you were on, but other than that you weren’t getting anything from him. He didn’t really seem mad at you, he didn’t have a reason to be, but you were still feeling the effects of his coldness and it was starting to make you anxious.

He had stopped taking care of himself as well. There were four boxes of uneaten takeout in the fridge and you were pretty sure he hadn’t showered in at least three days. For the past five days, all he’d done was sit at his post near the window, mindlessly taking in the passersby. You’d been doing pretty much the same thing because let’s be honest there wasn’t much else to do on a long-term surveillance job. However, you’d also spent the whole time worrying about Clint and trying to think of ways to cheer him up. You were drained and mentally exhausted, to say the least. You wanted Clint to feel better and you wanted to be the one to make him feel better. You wanted to show him that it didn’t have to be the end of the world every time he was a little absent-minded. He was your partner and your friend and, sure, maybe you wanted him to be more than that, but right now that didn’t matter. Right now, Clint just needed somebody to pull him out of that dark place and you were going to be that person.

You sat formulating a plan as you finished lacing up your shoes. You grabbed your phone and went to reach for the front door when it swung open nearly smacking you in the face. You had to duck out of the way as Clint stumbled in, looking even more disheveled than when he had left. Once he had kicked the door closed behind him, he looked over to you, his eyes tracing over you almost like he was surprised you were still there. You looked up at him with just as much surprise after nearly getting the wind knocked out of you. His gaze settled on your face for a split second before he seemed to look through you. Muttering a curt ‘sorry’, he moved past you and reclaiming his seat by the window, throwing the takeout bag in the middle of the table. You gathered yourself, toeing off your shoes before taking your seat opposite him and began working on the knot on the bag of food. You cringed and crinkled your nose as the smell of burned grease hit you. You really weren’t the biggest fan of Chinese food, especially from this particular restaurant, but Clint had raved when you’d brought it back the first time, claiming it was just like the stuff from home, so you’d put up with it. But, seriously, if you had to eat one more soggy, slimy piece of broccoli you were going to vomit.

You unpacked the various cartons of food, placing Clint’s order in front of him and shoving the steamed vegetable to the bottom of the bag before throwing it towards the trash and opening your own carton. Surprise, surprise they got your order wrong again. You rolled your eyes but nevertheless dove into the cement block that was your sticky rice. Clint didn’t move, just sat with his arms folded over his chest and his legs stretched out underneath the table. You sighed. He was going to kill himself if he didn’t eat something, although eating this stuff may not improve his chances all that much. You threw down your chopsticks before reaching over to open his takeout container. Clint eyed you indifferently before returning his gaze out the window towards the office building you’d been keeping tabs on for three weeks now. You tapped the table to get his attention. When he didn’t turn towards you, you kicked his legs lightly. He exhaled heavily but finally turned towards you. You spoke and signed to him.

“[You need to eat.]” Judging by the look Clint gave you, you must have grown a second head. Either that or your signing was really that terrible, but you were pretty sure it wasn’t that, you’d been practicing really hard. You lifted your eyebrows at him, a silent question if he had understood you. Clint didn’t answer you, instead, he turned once again to face the window, this time angling his shoulders away from you.

You gave an exasperated groan. He was going to be the death of you if not himself. Bracing your hands against the table you pushed back in your chair so hard and fast it nearly tipped over. Thankfully, you caught yourself before you could be made a complete fool of, and stood up, walking around the table to stand over him. Once again, Clint couldn’t be bothered to look at you, and when you tapped a knuckle against the side of his head, he swatted your hand away. Fine, if he was going to play it that way.

Steadying yourself on one leg and hooking your heel around one of his chair legs, you grabbed the back of the chair Clint was sitting in and forced it to turn towards the table. Ignoring his annoyed outburst, you pushed the chair in further, effectively trapping him in front of his food. You ran quickly to the kitchen, returning with a fork and shoved it into his hand, angling him towards his bowl of noodles.

“[You. Eat.]” There was no way he wouldn’t be able to tell what you were saying now, so if you didn’t get a response this time you would know for sure that he was ignoring you.

Clint stared up at you in defiance, clearly pissy that you had disrupted his brooding. You stared back at him with all the determination you could muster despite your overwhelming desire to go lay down and just be done with him. The two of you stayed that way for what could have been a whole lifetime until you finally watched the resolve in Clint’s eyes dissolve and he (finally!) shoveled a forkful of noodles into his mouth. You smiled down at him in triumph and genuine glee that he finally seemed to be willing to listen to reason.

“Happy?” Clint grumbled between bites. You made your way back to your seat, ready to, again, take up the battle with your own meal.

“Yes.” You spoke, knowing he was watching your face. Before he turned away you brought your fingertips to your chin and then forward away from you, signing to him.

Clint swallowed thickly and you literally watched the darkness return to his eyes. His chin came to rest on his fist as he looked down at his dinner, poking it with the fork in his hand. What had you done, what did you say? The questions rose in your throat only to be cut off by your phone vibrating on the table next to you, signaling that it was time for one of you to sleep. Clint glanced at your phone and, just as he had the past several nights, rose from the table without a word, closed his food carton, and went over to the fridge to stack it along with the other forgotten takeout containers. He spent a couple minutes in the bathroom before coming back out, stripping himself of his shirt and jeans and turned out the lights before crawling into bed, leaving you to wonder what the hell had just happened. You studied the wall ahead of you, dumbstruck. You were trying everything you could think of to get the real Clint back, but every time you saw even a glimmer of him, he seemed to fall away again and slip even further into whatever was eating him alive. You were no stranger to depression; you knew how to recognize it. However, experiencing it yourself and helping somebody else through it were two totally different things. You wanted to help. You needed Clint to know that you cared, that he wasn’t alone, you were here for him no matter what, even if all of this was taking more than just a small toll on you. You loved Clint and you had to try. Tomorrow would be better. You would make him see that there was light at the end of the tunnel. You glanced over at Clint who was lying motionless under the covers, his back turned to you. Judging by the straining muscles in his neck, he wasn’t asleep yet. He probably wouldn’t be for several hours if he slept at all. You picked up your phone and turned off the next alarm that would signal it was time for you two to switch roles. A good night's sleep would be the first step to getting Clint back on his feet. You sighed quietly to yourself, pushing your now cold dinner away from you. Tomorrow would be better.

You could tell Clint finally fell asleep when his shoulders relaxed, and his breathing settled. You could also tell that it wasn’t a restful sleep. The lines of worry and anxiety still etched in his face, but it was better than nothing. You watched the sliver of the sunrise that you could see as it peaked in between the high-rises of the city and it filled you with the hope and determination of a new day. As quietly as you could, you closed the blinds, hopefully keeping out most of the light so Clint would sleep, put on your shoes and grabbed what you needed to head out. Thankfully, there was a small grocery store a few blocks away. Hopefully, you’d be able to get everything you needed there.

Miraculously, Clint was still asleep when you snuck back into the apartment a while later. He looked significantly more at ease and you smiled, maybe this could work.

You quickly realized that making pancakes without making much more than a peep was going to be an Olympic sport. Getting the eggs cracked was a nightmare and you even resorted to going into the bathroom and closing the door so you could whisk everything together. Once you had a couple pancakes cooking you turned on the coffee maker, deciding it was time for your partner to awaken. No sooner had the scent of the fresh brew hit the air than you heard Clint stir behind you. You flipped the pancakes, saying a quiet little prayer to whoever might be listening that you would be able to help Clint feel more like himself again. After plating breakfast and resisting the urge to draw a smiley face out of chocolate chips on top of the stack, you turned around just in time to catch the tail end of Clint’s morning stretches. And people thought Natasha was feline-like. Clint was a regular alley cat first thing in the morning, even had the scruffy look to go along with it. You watched as he slowly woke up and became more aware of his surroundings. He took in a deep breath and seemed to realize that there was more than just coffee cooking and the confusion really set in when he opened his eyes and noticed it was morning. Ordinarily, you would have woken him around midnight to switch watch shifts. He’d probably be upset with you that you’d let him sleep, but you would put up with the lecture, he had needed it.

“What time is it?” Finally, words! The development had you sighing in relief, despite the fact that he sounded pretty miffed at you. You couldn’t help the smile that played on your lips as you crossed the room to put his breakfast on the table, turning and raising your hands to answer him as he pushed himself out of bed.

“[Almost 9.]” You looked at him a little sheepishly before continuing. “[I made breakfast.]”

“I can see that. Why?” Your heart sank a little at his words and it must have shown on your face because Clint’s harsh gaze softened ever so slightly. You took it as an invitation to explain yourself. You took a deep breath, thinking hard as your hands began to move.

“[I know you haven’t been feeling the same since you lost your hearing aids. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to lose something you rely so heavily on, but I do know that if there’s anything I can do to make it even just a little bit better I’m going to do it. I wanted to do something nice just so you’d know that I’m here and I care, and I don’t want you to feel alone.]”

The going was slow as your hands tried to keep up with the words. You forgot several words along the way, but thankfully any signs you didn’t remember you could at least spell. Clint watched you closely the entire time, his eyes passing between your hands and your lips, patiently waiting for you to finish. When you did you let out a long breath and eagerly awaited his response. You needed to hear him say something, anything.

“I still wish you would’ve woken me.”

Anything but that. Your stomach dropped and you felt like you might sob, right there in front of Clint. You folded your hands in front of you and stared down at them, not trusting yourself to look at him.

“Why don’t you just go take a shower and then you’re getting some sleep, okay?” You only nodded. Clint sighed and made to rest a hand on your shoulder, but you were already moving to grab a change of clothes and head to the bathroom.

Once inside you closed and locked the door. Stripping your clothes and stepping under the hot spray of the shower you let the scalding water numb you. There had to be a reason. A reason Clint was being so resistant to help, to anything that might make him feel anything other than emptiness. It wasn’t about breakfast. Hell, you couldn’t have cared less if he didn’t want the stupid pancakes. It was the fact that you felt like you’d tried everything, that you’d given him everything you had, and it still wasn’t enough.

You willed yourself not to cry as the hot water burned trails down your back. Maybe it was you. Maybe he just didn’t want you. The thought had tears pricking at your eyes again and a lump swelling in your throat. You loved Clint. You’d be a liar for trying to convince anybody, including yourself, otherwise. The idea that Clint not only might not feel the same but that he may even resent you made your heart race and your stomach turn in a way that had you bracing yourself against the cool wall. You were desperate for some feeling of grounding as your mind raced and you felt the panic rise in your chest. You forced yourself to breathe through it, counting as you inhaled and exhaled evenly.

Eventually, the panic dissipated. You were left feeling raw and exhausted and all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for days. Or at least as long as it took for you to forget how miserable you were.

You didn’t even bother washing, just turned off the water and blindly reached for your towel. After dressing and running your fingers through your hair in a lame attempt to rid yourself of the knots there, you stepped in front of the mirror. The person staring back at you didn’t look like you. Well they did, but they were different, they looked…You didn’t have the words for it. You thought about Clint and the pain he was feeling; the pain it was bringing you. To love someone so much that you take on their pain as your own, as well as the pain that you already feel out of empathy, is a special type of hell.

Maybe you couldn’t help him and maybe that wasn’t your fault, maybe it was. But this whole situation was already destroying one of you, you couldn’t let it destroy you both. You wiped away a tear from your cheek and mentally readied yourself to exit the bathroom and face Clint. However, when you opened the door and stepped out into the rest of the apartment, Clint wasn’t there. A quick glance around the room revealed he’d once again left his phone behind, right next to the plate of untouched pancakes.

The sob left your body before you even knew it was there and the dam broke. Everything, the pain, the worry, the anxiousness, that you’d been holding back for the last week came surging forward as you melted to the floor.

Broken.

It wasn’t clear to you how long you stayed that way, a huddled mass on the floor, every muscle clenched in an effort to be smaller; safer. You had a moment of clarity in which you realized that the last thing you wanted was for Clint to come back and see you like this. So, slowly and somewhat painfully, you forced the tension from your muscles and crawled over to the bed. Once you pulled the covers over your head it wasn’t long before you fell into a fitful sleep.

It was dark. You were choking, drowning. You couldn’t open your eyes. The darkness was swallowing you whole. Drowning. In what? Water? No. You thrashed around and your hand met something hard. In the distance, you heard your name. Drowning. In the blackness. Emptiness. There was nothing. A voice. Your name. Getting louder. You thrashed harder and something warm clamped around you. Shaking violently. Screaming.

You woke. Your voice was hoarse, and tears were streaming down your cheeks. The panic had returned in full force like a vice grip around your chest. You heaved in gulps of air in between the sobs that racked your body. You heard your name again, this time clear and right in front of you as you were forced upright into a sitting position. Finally opening your eyes, you saw Clint had more fear and concern in his eyes than you’d ever seen. You broke into a fresh round of sobs that had you pitching forward and Clint didn’t hesitate before he wrapped you in his arm so tightly you probably wouldn’t have been able to breathe if you weren’t already hyperventilating.

It took a while, maybe half an hour for you to finally calm down. You had run out of tears before you had stopped crying, but Clint held you through all of it. One arm wrapped tightly around you while his other hand rubbed small patterns into your shoulders and neck, willing the muscles there to slowly relax. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to, until he felt your body give against him. He pushed you away from him slightly. Lifting your head with his hands on either side of your face and swiping at the tears that lingered there with his thumbs. Part of you didn’t want to look at him. Part of you was still feeling all the hurt from the past week. But then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead and any thought you had about turning away from him disappeared. You opened your eyes, finally meeting his gaze. He was trying to give you a reassuring smile, but it was tainted with worry, fear, sadness, and something else you couldn’t place. He looked so beautifully tragic you almost started crying again but forced yourself to swallow it down. When he finally spoke, he kept his voice low and gentle, almost like he was afraid of scaring you off.

“Will you talk to me? Tell me what’s going on in your head?”

You stared at him hard. The room was dark so he probably couldn’t see the anger that was bubbling behind your eyes, but it was growing by the second. You brushed his hands off of you and had to fight extremely hard to ignore the sincere urge to smack him. It was all too much and you snapped.

“Talk? You want me to talk?! I’ve been trying to talk to you for the past week and now that I’m having a violent mental breakdown you want to talk? Do you have any idea how unfair that is? What the past few days have done to me? I’ve tried, Clint, I’ve tried everything I know to show you that I’m here for you and I care, but no matter what I do you still shut me out. It’s been killing me to watch you do this to yourself, to shut down, and I don’t even know why. It’s eating me alive. If it’s something I did, I need you to just tell me, because I can’t keep going on like this. I won’t. I love you too much to watch you do this to yourself and if you won’t even let me try to help you then why am I even here? You’re my partner and my friend, you could at least be honest with me.”

By the time you finished the tears had returned to your eyes and your voice was nearly gone completely. Clint didn’t answer you right away. From what you could see he seemed to be studying the floor. After a moment he reached over and took your hand, stroking his thumb across the back of it in a slow pattern. He turned to click on the lamp that sat on the nightstand. Once the small space between you was illuminated you both took a moment to take each other in. Clint’s eyes were red, like he’d been crying himself, and a few of the lines on his face stood out a little bit more than usual. His expression gave away everything and nothing at the same time and you saw a violent storm of emotions in his eyes. He looked how you felt; tormented, almost haunted.

“I’m sorry but…” He began, his eyes finally rising to meet yours, “but you’re gonna have to say all of that again.”

You blinked at him in disbelief as he gestured towards his ear. In your outburst, you hadn’t bothered to sign along with your words and even if you had it probably would have been too dark for him to see. You slumped back against the wall in frustration, yanking your hand from his and bringing it to cover your face, fighting back tears once again.

You felt Clint’s fingers wrap around your arm gently as he pried your hand away from your face.

“Or don’t. You don’t have to, it’s okay. I think I pretty much got the gist anyway.” You let him hold your hand, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You felt him shift closer to you, his back now firmly pressed against your side as he sat on the bed, and you let out a long breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“I’ve been a real jerk to you. More than a jerk actually. And you’ve been nothing but patient and supportive with me. And you’re not just doing it because we’re partners, and you feel like you have to keep an eye on me either. I know you care, but,”

He trailed off and you finally look at him. He had turned away from you, his head resting on the hand that wasn’t holding yours and you tightened your grip on him.

“I don’t think I deserve what you’re trying to give me. I know how hard I can be to be around, especially when I get like this. You’re always there and I have no idea why because I definitely haven’t done anything in my lifetime to deserve you or anything you do for me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as he spoke. You still didn’t understand. You placed a hand on his cheek, turning him to face you.

[Why?] You signed.

“Because you’re amazing and I…” You cut him off by shaking your head. “You could at least let me finish.”

You rolled your eyes at him and poked a finger into his chest. You knew he knew what you were asking. After a minute he gave a long sigh in surrender.

“I hate not being able to hear. It takes me back to when I first lost my hearing. The whole situation was…I hate using the word traumatic. I feel like it makes me sound like I still have all this baggage, but I guess I do if I turn into this much of an ass after barely half an hour of not being able to hear. I don’t want to be that guy, but sometimes it’s hard, you know. To dig yourself out of the hole, so to speak, but the last thing I ever wanted to do was drag you down there with me. I’m so sorry.” He gave you a sort of there smile, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck as he waited for your response.

Your eyes left him as you began to process what he had said. It was clear now why he didn’t like talking about it, why the only way he really knew how to deal with it was to shut down. You understood, you had your own baggage if you were being completely honest, but that didn’t excuse him shutting you out when all you wanted was to help. You turned back to him, reclaiming your hand from his grip so you could answer him.

[Why didn’t you just tell me? You probably would have spared both of us a lot of hurt.]

Clint frowned and went back to studying the floor.

“I know. I guess I just didn’t want you to worry about me more than you already do.” That earned him a slap on the back of the head, and you scowled at him.

“Hey, I never said it was a smart choice. You’re supposed to be the smart one, remember?” He sounded offended, but his smile was playful. You hadn’t realized how much you had missed seeing him smile. It always had a way of washing away all the bad of a situation and it made you smile right along with him for even just a moment before you turned serious again. You placed a hand on his face again, so he’d turn to watch you speak.

“No more shutting me out, okay. From now on you talk to me or I’m kicking your ass.”

Clint smiled ever so slightly as he brought his hand up to cover yours, leaning forward so your foreheads met.

“Promise.”

The two of you stayed that way for a long time, letting your eyes drift closed and just enjoying the feeling of being together. Clint let his hand wander into your hair before pulling back.

“Now, will you let me finish what I was saying before?” You rolled your eyes and refrained from smacking him again but nodded.

“I was going to say, you’re amazing and I love you, too.”

“What?” You had to physically shake your head to make sure you weren’t actually still dreaming.

“At least I’m pretty sure that’s what you said. I could only sort of see what you were saying, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t mistake those words. But if I did, oh well, now the cat’s out of the bag and I really don’t give a shit anymore.”

Speechless couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt. Elation filled your heart as Clint’s words settled in the silence between you. A wide grin began to spread its way onto your face and Clint’s eyes brightened.

“So, I did read that right?” He wondered sheepishly, adjusting his position so he was fully facing you and leaning into you a little further.

Your eyes passed over his face, taking in his hopeful expression and you were certain that everything he’d said had been sincere. You nodded.

“Oh, thank God!”

The limited space between you disappeared in an instant as Clint’s lips met yours. Your brain seemed to malfunction, halting any response and before you even knew what was happening, Clint was moving up onto the bed, almost over top of you. He finally seemed to notice you were stunned and pulled back.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. Can I…can we…aw man…I mean, crap. I do really like you. I have for a long time. In fact, Nat was giving me a hard time for being too obvious about it. Or at least she thought it was obvious, maybe it wasn’t. I’m sorry, I’m an idiot and I totally understand if you’re not ready for all this yet cause I was a jerk and…”

“Clint!” You grabbed him and began pulling him closer to you once more, his eyes trained on your lips the entire time. “This is going to seem like an odd request, given our previous conversation, but please shut up!”

Clint gave you a lop-sided smirk.

“Loud and clear, boss.”

There was a moment when your hand reached up to caress his face and card through his hair and Clint reached a hand down to grip your waist. And then his lips were attached to yours again and he was settling his weight between your legs like he was always meant to fit there. Your mind and heart were racing in the best way and you quickly decided that this was a feeling you never wanted to live without.

“I love you.” You mouthed against his lips and he responded with the most searing, heartfelt kiss that stole the air from your chest. You didn’t break away until your lungs were nearly burning and even then, as you lay breathless, Clint didn’t relent. Peppering kissing along your jaw and nuzzling his nose into the flesh just beneath your ear before moving down your neck to suck a mark that you would probably scold him for later.

You were reeling. The past hour had been filled with some of the most intense emotions you’d felt in your entire life. You were glad for it, but it was a lot to take in. Needing to feel more grounded, you carded your fingers through Clint’s hair, your grip tightening slightly when you felt his hands begin to explore your body. Still feeling like you might float away on cloud nine, you reached a hand above you to grip the edge of the mattress, sliding your hand between the bed and the wall. You pulled it back slightly when you felt your fingers brush against something that definitely wasn’t the bed frame.

As Clint continued his assault on your neck, you dug your hand back behind the mattress until you once again came in contact with the small object. Upon further inspection, you realized that there were, in fact, two similarly shaped objects stuck there and when you wrapped your fingers around them you knew exactly what they were.

“Clint?” He hummed against the column of your throat, his hands finding their way under your shirt to brush softly against the skin of your back.

“Clint.” This time he groaned in response.

“God, I wish I could hear you.”

Seriously? You smacked the palm of your hand against your forehead.

“Clint!”

“What?” He shot up immediately, looking concerned that he’d pushed you too far.

You pushed yourself up on an elbow and dangled your discovery in front of him.

Clint actually squealed when he saw his hearing aids in your hand. He stole them from your grasp before briefly inspecting them. Once he was satisfied that they hadn’t been damaged he deftly slipped them on and looked at you expectantly.

“Well, say something.” He was rocking back and forth slightly, and you couldn’t help but smile at how genuinely child-like he looked. You chuckled and he looked at you in awe.

“You. Are. A. Buffoon, Clint Barton.” You couldn’t help the grin that broke out on your face when you saw Clint’s smile. He fell on the bed next to you, wrapping you up in his arms.

“Oh my god, you don’t know how much I’ve missed your voice. Say something else.” He all but begged you as he nuzzled his nose into the back of your neck.

“How about you tell me how your aids got stuck behind the bed.” You felt him freeze behind you and you chuckled again. “Clint?”

“I, uh, well you see, it may have had something to do with the fact that I put them on my pillow when I went to go take a shower that one day. And then when I came out,”

“You jumped on the bed like a toddler?”

“Yes, that is a thing that I did. You are correct.” Your palm came up to cover your face again without you even meaning to do it.

“Clint…”

“Hey, I told you I’m not the smart one here.” His chest vibrated with laughter and you smiled as you turned over to face him.

“At least you have them back. Now don’t lose them again!”

“You know I can’t make that promise.” He poked your side as you both settled your heads on the pillow, falling into a comfortable silence. You let your eyes drift closed for a moment until Clint began to speak again.

“By the way, thank you for the pancakes. They were really good.”

Your eyes shot open and you rose into a sitting position, looking down at him confused.

“They were still on the table when I got out of the shower. I thought you hadn’t eaten them.”

“You seriously think I’m gonna pass up an opportunity to eat pancakes?! Are you crazy? They were still sitting there because I had to run out to the store. We didn’t have any syrup.”

You blinked down at him in disbelief and realized that you had, indeed, forgotten to pick up syrup at the store.

“I’m an idiot.” You covered your face in embarrassment until you felt Clint’s arms snake around your waist, pulling you back down against his chest.

“Darlin’, I would walk through fire for a decent stake of syrupy pancakes. A few blocks is nothing.” You giggled and smiled up at him. You felt a little foolish for assuming he had abandoned you earlier, but the thought quickly left your mind when Clint’s head settled against yours.

“I’m sorry, again. Thank you for standing by me, even if I am a jerk and a buffoon.”

“You really are, but you’re welcome.” You brought a hand up between the two of you, bending your middle and ring finger before pressing the hand to Clint’s chest. He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to your nose.

“I love you, too.”

You wanted nothing more than to lay there with Clint until the sun rose, tangled around each other, safe and happy. However, there was the small issue of you technically still being on the clock. You began to roll away from him, making to swing your legs over the side of the bed only to be thwarted halfway through the movement by Clint’s arm wrapping securely around your waist.

“Now just where do you think you’re going?” You smirked and rested your hand over his, trying to pry his fingers off you to no avail, he had you locked in.

“We are actually supposed to be working. And I think I’m overdue for a watch shift. You should sleep.”

“Pfft, to hell with the watch. I told you a week ago that guy isn’t showing up. You’re staying in bed with me.” You turned in his arm and gave him the sternest look you could muster.

[Release.]

Clint let out a sound that was something between a sad whimper and a frustrated groan, but released you, nonetheless. You rewarded him with a kiss before moving off the bed and getting ready to take your post by the window. When Clint had gotten himself ready for bed and you were ready to take your watch you came around the bed and stopped in front of him, holding out your hand. Clint looked up at you questioningly.

“From now on, when you need to take them out, you hand them to me.” You smirked down at him and he gave you an understanding nod.

“See, you’re the smart one.” He slipped the aids from his ears and into your waiting hand. “Thanks, babe.”

“You’re welcome. Now go to sleep.” You leaned down and kissed him one last time before making your way to the table by the window.

Making yourself comfortable, you watched as Clint did the same. Wrapping himself in a blanket and burying his face in the pillow. It wasn’t too long before he was drifting off, finally relaxed and with a small smile playing on his lips. Once you were sure he had really fallen asleep you got up from your chair and headed to the kitchen. There, you placed Clint’s hearing aids right next to the coffee maker. He’d never lose them again.

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #clint barton / reader #hawkeye #hawkeye x reader #hawkeye / reader #Avengers #avengers x reader #avengers / reader #clint deserves more love #clint barton fanfiction #deaf clint barton #Clint just really needs a hug #to suffer in silence

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mskinkyafro · 6 years ago

Text

Blurred Lines (Ethan x MC)

A/N: This is my take on Miami with our man. From Ethan’s perspective and there’s a few references from my previous fics but its not necessary to read those before this. I was originally wanting to post this before the chapter aired but life happened and a week later here it is. I took some dialogue from the chapter and placed it in here but not much. This also uses Ella Mai’s close near the end. I wasn’t originally gonna use a song in this but the story kept shifting but it’s a great song that reminds me of these two. But overall I hope you all enjoy my version of Ch. 10. This fic grew way longer than originally thought but oh well lol.

Summary: Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Michaels start to crossover into new territory during the Miami conference.

All Rights to PB and Ella Mai for her song “Close”

Sidenote: Song Lyrics are italicized

Word Count: 3,996 words.

Tagged: @sharrybh20 @ifyouseekheart @perriewinklenerdie @radlovedreamer @siegrrun @flyawayboo @gabbisaur

Sorry if I forgot anyone else, but iIf anyone else wants to be tagged just let me know!

Ethan Ramsey stood in a secluded corner of the atrium as he watched the interns scrambled to the leaderboards. He’d learn his lesson over the last few weeks of attempting to post the rankings in their sights. The amount of times he was almost ran over or harassed by the young doctors was wearing down his already thin patience. This time he decided to post it earlier to avoid the savages.

Usually he would carry on with his patients after each week’s posting or spend some time checking on his mentor and looking over his case, but on this occasion he couldn’t help but stay just to catch a glimpse of Katrina when she looks at the ranks. Out of the sea of interns he could make out a young doctor flinging her arms around Katrina in excitement and hear brief exclaims of congratulations. He notices the young African-American woman taken aback by the news but quickly a fierce look of pride washes over her as she talks amongst the few lingering colleagues who wish to extend kind pleasantries.

He smiles to himself as he watches Katrina’s grin. Despite growing closer the last few weeks Ethan was unsure how he felt about Dr. Michaels. It was clear to himself he trusted, admired, and respected her even though more times than others she’s a pain in his ass. And on the other hand, residing deep inside was his raw attraction for the young resident. He catches himself staring at her when she’s unaware or if talking to her how his eyes tend drift to her round, pouty lips. Ever since his daydream about Dr. Michaels, to their conversation in his home, and the last weeks of closely working together on his secret case he’s noticed there’s a difference.

Ethan would never willingly admit to himself that he may have became enamored with the young doctor. No, he keeps those dangerous thoughts regarding Katrina in the forgotten depths of his mind. He has far to many other important things to focus on. He soon notices that he’s no longer alone in his little corner. A familiar perfumed scent hits his nose and without turning he addresses the figure.

“Chief Emery, what can I do for you?”

“Now Ethan, must you always be so formal. ”

Ethan rolls his eyes and turns to face Chief Emery. He can tell by the way she said his name she wanted something. Before, he always folded but as of late her attempts of being his emotional puppeteer has had no effects.

“I’m afraid I’m not in the mood Harper nor do I have the time so let’s keep this short, yes?”

She’s momentarily taken aback but brushes off her initial surprise.

“Yes, you definitely seemed...” Her eyes move to land on Katrina.

“...preoccupied at the moment.

Ethan follows her gaze and his eyebrows furrowed as he sees where it lands, annoyed at the subtle insinuations.

“Ahem, what exactly did you need?”

She turns back to look at Ethan and hands him papers and continues to speak as he looks over what she’s handed him.

“This actually. You’re going to Florida. Well, Miami specifically and accompanied by Dr. Michaels to a medical conference. You both will be surrounded by other accomplished doctors from the best hospitals all over the country, so make sure to mingle and represent Edenbrook well.”

She turns to walk away from him but he cuts her path off.

“Wait, why must I go and bring along an intern for that matter. Isn’t the schmoozing apart of your job description?”

“Actual my job description is to assign who I want to schmooze, if not myself. Second, as a way to mix things up in the competition I decided to throw in an exclusive reward. Thus, attending a prestigious medical conference with the accomplished Dr. Ethan Ramsey.”

“You enjoy torturing me, don’t you Harper?”

“No, no of course not.”

Ethan takes a step back as he realizes Harper attempting to cup his cheek. Her hand falls back to her side.

“But at least your company is someone you’ve taken a ...liking too, from my understanding.” her tone was polite but Ethan noticed a small hint of hidden meaning in between her words and an unfamiliar glint in her eyes.

“Now Harper, I-”

Ethan was interrupted by the buzzing of Harper’s pager.

“Duty calls. Dr. Ramsey, this is final.”

She walks away without another word down the west corridor. Ethan shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. Unable to argue anymore he makes his way to the center of the atrium towards Dr. Michaels who’s still surrounded by her roommates and a few straggling interns.

“Rookie. I see you saw the news.”

He sees her turn toward him as a hush fell amongst the other young doctors as he finds himself standing a few spaces of chest to chest with Dr. Michaels.

“Yes I did Dr. Ramsey. Are you here to congratulate me?”

“For not killing your patients? No.”

He noticed a flicker of sadness in her eyes and the way her smile fell. He mentally kicks himself.

“However…”

Katrina eyes grow more hopeful.

“...you’ve yet to let me down, Rookie.” he let his eyes soften as he finished speaking. Ethan felt his heart skip a beat as Katrina’s annoying yet radiant smile grew wide.

“And I don’t plan to anytime soon, sir.”

“Good.”

The two sat in a comfortable silence for a few seconds before a cough from others interrupted the moment.

“Ahem, anyway Rookie. Pack your bags tonight. You’re accompanying me to Florida this weekend for a conference as reward for ranking first this week.”

“What?! Really?!” she said in disbelief.

Ethan ignores the many audible gasps, groans of disappointment, and bitter mumbles.

“I’m not repeating myself, Rookie. Send me your address so I can pick you up, our flight leaves at 7:00 am tomorrow morning.”

And with that Ethan walked away and head towards his office.

Time seemed to fly for the next morning arrived and Ethan found himself immensely irritated. He rubs his face in exhaustion and frustration. He hopes that their flight would end soon because he was unsure how much longer he could take before he might lose it. First, the flight was delayed by two hours, then he realized the tickets were economy not first class, so himself and Dr. Michaels were huddled with the other passengers like cattle, and thirdly a infant seems to have been crying non-stop since the departure.

He knows how little of an impatient man he is so at the moment all he could do was suffer in his seat and try not to succumb to his building temper as his companion managed to sleep during the entire trainwreck of a flight. As he was steaming in his seat he felt a pressure land on his shoulder. He turned and looking down on his right shoulder he saw a messy clump of afro hair and soft snoring from Katrina. Seeing Dr. Michaels sleep so soundlessly and how peaceful her features were made most of his bitterness melt at the sight. He didn’t know why but just one look at her and he felt calm. Just for a minute he thought maybe this flight isn’t all bad.

Soon enough the overhead speakers came alive to alert the passengers that in a few minutes they will arrive at their destination soon. The sound of the seat belt sign chiming cause Katrina stir from her slumber and she slowly open her eyes as she adjusted to her surrounding. Her eyes land on Ethan and she immediately bolts upright, bumping her elbow in her neighbor who shoots Katrina a nasty glare.

“Sorry sir.”

The man beside her let out a grunt and continued to read his newspaper. Concern at the lack of warmth from his shoulder and for the way Katrina woke up he gently laid his hand on her shoulder.

“Everything okay Rookie?”

“Oh, umm yes Dr. Ramsey. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was-”

“Relax Dr. Michaels. I’ve had worse things happen to me on economy flight. Being your pillow is not one of them.”

She smirks towards him.

“Is that so? So you’re saying I can specifically request you as my pillow?”

“No.”

“Hmm. I don’t believe you.”

“Do I look like the type to lie.”

“Of course not sir but I feel like you’ll give in.”

“And what makes you think that I’ll cater to your wishes, Dr. Michaels?”

She lifts a perfectly shaped eyebrow at Ethan as a smirk that rivals the cheshire cat graced her face.

“I can be very persuasive.” Ethan feels goosebumps form as he feels the ghostly trace of her fingertips brush his hand reaching to the seat pocket in front of her. In his head he’s trying to decipher if that was a coincidence or something orchestrated by the young doctor.

Reeling from the simplest of touch, Ethan stayed quiet for the moment before he readied himself with a retort but interrupted by the woman beside him.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

He couldn’t help but smile at her and shake his head.

“I agree that your growing ego is unbecoming, Rookie.”

She giggles at him and then turns to look out the window hoping to not disturb the man beside her while Ethan kept his gaze fixed on her. Trying to process how he’ll survive this weekend.

A hour passes after landing in Miami and Ethan and Katrina arrive at the hotel and make their way to the front desk.

“Yes how may I help you?”

“We have a reservation for two double rooms under Ramsey.”

“Alrighty let’s take a look.”

The woman behind the desk types on her keyboard before her face scrunches up.

“I’m sorry sir, but it seems there was a mix up and all the double rooms are booked for the weekend.”

Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration and lets out a gruff sigh a Katrina tries to reason with the concierge.

“I’m sorry but that’s unacceptable. What other rooms are available?”

“Well ma’am, once more I’m terribly sorry for the mix up. We have one room available, the honeymoon suite, which we’re willing to give to you and your husband for free as condolences for the booking conflict.”

Ethan looked up from his previous position and noticed the faint blush that graced Dr. Michaels face at the woman’s assumption. He saw Katrina about to correct the employee but his mouth spoke without warning.

“We’ll accept it, Thank you.” he nods curtly as he collects the key cards and heads to the elevator, leaving behind a stunned Katrina.

She manages to catch up to his long strides as he enters the elevator and presses the bottom to the penthouse level. The door closes and there’s a small silence between the two. Ethan can tell she’s dying to question him so he speaks first.

“You’re allowed to talk, rookie.”

“Umm are you sure you’re comfortable with sharing a room, Dr. Ramsey?”

“They are no other rooms and we’re probably unable to get double rooms at any other hotel in the ten mile radius, I gathered we might as well enjoy an unexpected upgrade even if it’s due to moronic behavior.”

The elevator halts and the doors open and Ethan steps out and strides down the long hallway followed by Katrina and arriving in front of the last door of the corridor.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He opens the door and holds it open for her to enter.

“Are you uncomfortable sharing close quarters?”

Katrina enters and was about to respond but was distracted by the glamour of the suite. He follows behind her and watches as her eyes lit up with astonishment at the room. Ethan’s relieved that she’s preoccupied by their room to question him any further. His rational, safe-playing side is chastising him for accepting this arrangement but his other side took the lead at that moment. He didn't have a true reason for saying yes other than wanting another occasion to be close to Dr. Michaels

“Okay, one. This room is gorgeous. I mean, this view of the beach is breathtaking! Two, I may be distracted currently but that doesn’t mean I didn’t noticed that you answered my question with a question.”

Katrina done inspecting the suite moves to gently set her suitcase down as Ethan stands a few feet beside her placing his own down.

“If I didn’t know any better rookie, I’d say you’re scared to be alone with me.”

Ethan can feel Katrina’s hot gaze look him up and down and hear her sly grin as she spoke.

“Oh, I’m not the one that should be afraid.”

He feels a flush grow in his neck at her words.

“And I noticed you didn’t correct the concierge when she assumed we were husband and wife.”

“People are always going to assume. Why waste my breath to change what they others think?”

He hopes she doesn’t see through his thin excuse.

“Wise words Dr. Ramsey. So what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?” she smiles as sits on the edge of the king size bed.”

Ethan pulls out a folder filled with documents from his bag and sits at on the loveseat in the room and places it on the coffee table in front of him.

“The conference doesn’t start til tomorrow so for the rest of the day-

“I can soak up some Miami sun!” Katrina interrupts.

“Yes, I suppose so while I stay in to look over some files.

“Dr. Ramsey you’re going to work when…” Katrina hops off the bed and saunters to the glass door of the balcony and gestures to the scenic view of the beach below them.

“...this is out our window.”

He moves to take out his glasses from his pocket and places over his eyes and doesn’t bother glancing out the balcony.

“My job never ceases, Katrina.”

Ethan begins to read the documents when the papers are pushed away from. He looks up at Katrina with an annoyed expression on his face.

“You work so hard as it is back home. You need to relax, Dr. Ramsey. Come along with me. I promise I’m loads of fun.” She said as she threw him a wink.

Ethan reaches to center his work in front of him once more.

“Tempting, but I have to decline.”

“Suit yourself.”

Katrina turns away from him to dig into her suitcase and grabs a few items before she heads to the bathroom

Ethan soon becomes engross for a few minutes and doesn’t tear his attention away even as the door of the bathroom opens and Katrina’s light footsteps approach.

“So is their a curfew I should be aware of?”

“Well-” Ethan’s words die at his lips as he looks away from his work and takes in the sight before him. Katrina stands in front of him wearing a scandalous yellow triangle bikini that makes her coffee-hue skin glisten and shows off curvy figure. The revealing fabric hugged in all the right places, her thick hips, thighs, and shows off her double D sized breasts. He realizes he’s been staring for too long and finally speaks, his voice slightly cracked.

“Ahem, urm...you’re not confined to a time frame but keep in mind we have a long and early day ahead of us so I advise not too late.”

“Gotcha.” she turns to a nearby chair and slips on her see-through yellow wrap skirt. She walks over to the body length mirror to check herself out and fluffs out her frizzy fro and heads to exit the room. She pauses and calls out to him over her shoulder

“You sure don’t want to tag along, Dr. Ramsey?” she asks one more time. Ethan can tell her tone is innocent enough but in her hazel eyes he sees hope and a tiny bit of mischief in. He tries to focus on her face and not her perfectly round ass that’s barely covered in the cloth she calls a swimsuit.

“Well, we are in Miami. I suppose these documents can wait” he flashes a rare smile.

“That’s more like it sir!”

“Please Katrina, Ethan outside of work?

“Sorry Ethan.”

He smiles small and heads to his bag then the bathroom to change. He steps out in just his swim trunks and slips on some sandals. He notices Katrina’s eyes roam his bare chest before landing back to his eyes. He smirks at her and then walks to open the door to start their afternoon.

They spent the rest of the day and early evening basking the Miami sun. Walking on the shore, smiling and laughing discussing their lives before Edenbrook. Soon night fell and they found themselves back at the hotel outside bar nursing several scotches on rocks, sitting elbow length from another.

“So that’s really all there is to know about me. I switched from the west coast to the east coast. I haven’t visited in a while but I have an older brother and niece who live in LA. It’s difficult to visit sometimes because he’s a busy detective and my niece Chelsea is heavily involve in school especially now she’s entering her senior year.”

Katrina says as she sips from her drink.

“Do you miss it?” He asks.

“Sometimes. I miss craziness of LA or just driving to the beach and surfing in the hot summer days. But being here at Edenbrook, I have a new love, helping my patients.”

Ethan couldn’t help but stare as she said this. It was rare to find another doctor who truly wanted make a difference. More and more he got to know Katrina he couldn’t help but fall more.

He nods and finishes his drink. As he sets his glass down music begins to play and the other people outside begin to grab their partners and dance. He sees Katrina’s face light up in recognition and downs the rest of her drink and excitedly hops of her stool and fumbles slightly. From the alcohol or just the sudden movement, Ethan was unsure but had inkling it was both.

“I love this song! Ethan, dance with me.”

He looks around nervously. Looking for any doctors that could be in range.

“I don’t think so. I’m not one for dancing.”

A pouty look forms on Katrina’s face and in that moment Ethan just wanted to kiss her then and there.

“Please, for me.” She reaches to pull him off his seat.

He decide to throw caution in the wind and followed Katrina to the makeshift dance floor.

They find themselves in the center surrounded by other couples dancing to the sensual music. Katrina wraps her arms around his neck and presses herself closely to Ethan’s body. He places his hands on her hips and his eyes bore to hers as the sway to the music. He feels intoxicated by her citrus perfume.

I don't even really care who knows it

Just keep me there, keep me in the moment

Seen a lot of things, but I never seen my spirit glowin'

The way you do me got me outta body

Cause you the only out of everybody

Who gon' go out of the way to show me all the ways

Come control the flame

I just wanna stay right here with you

Katrina then turns so her ass is pressed against Ethan’s groin and grabs his arms so that they wrap around her as they continue to sway to the music. Ethan groans quietly to himself and tries hard not to become too excited. Being so close to her felt so good but he can’t help but question this. He knows he’s a little tipsy and he’s sure she is after the amount of rounds they had.

“Katrina…”

“Kat. Call me Kat.”

Ethan moves on of his hands to trail up her arm to her neck and push some of her fro out the way and his hot breath lingers on her neck as he whispers in her ear

“What are you doing to me.”

Let the water flow

Just let it fall out from my face

Cause I never thought I'd ever hear me say

I just can't breathe without my baby

Ooh, you my baby

Ethan can feel her shiver at his words and she turns back around and place her hands over his exposed chest. Her fingers tracing his skin. She stands on her tip toes and leans up as her hands bring his face closer to hers and whispers

“Only whatever it is you do to me.”

So come and kiss up on me

As we dance close

Come and kiss up on me slow

Ethan tightens his hold on Kat and stops their movements all the while others around them keep dancing.

“Kat.” His hand tangles in her hair and his eyes roam her face and he sees desire and longing.

“Ethan.”

Ethan closes his eyes as he feels her plump lips graze over his. He moves his mouth to respond briefly as he savors the moment but the fading sound of the music sobers him up and reminds him on where he is.

He reluctantly untangles himself from Katrina and holds her hands.

“Kat...Katrina. We can’t do this.”

She looks up at him, her eyes filled with confusion.

“Why? Do you not feel…”

“No of course not. I want this so bad, but not enough to jeopardize your career and reputation. ”

“No one has to know. It’ll be our secret.”

“We’d know. Plus I can’t push you to be the best doctor you can be if I…”

He pauses and lets go of her hands and adds space between themselves.

“If you…”

He shakes his head at her.

“Let’s call it a night. We’re both tipsy and have an early morning.”

He stalks toward their room feeling he disappointed gaze on him. They make it back to their suite and both quickly change into night clothes, Ethan in his pajama pants and no shirt and Katrina pops out of the bathroom in an over-sized T-shirt that covers her torso but shows off her legs and her hair wrapped in her silk bonnet. Even in the simplest clothing he finds her so beautiful and he’s kicking himself for cutting off what could’ve happen but he reminds himself its for the best. He speaks first.

“I can take the couch and you can have the bed, Rookie.”

“Ethan, we’re both adults we can share a bed. I promise no funny business.”

“Rookie…”

Katrina cuts him off

“No. Right now I’m Kat and your Ethan. No Rookie, no Dr. anything. We have all day tomorrow for that. Let’s give ourselves this moment right now before going back to reality. Please, Ethan.”

He sighs and gets inside the left side of the bed and gestures for Katrina to get in as well. She turns off the lights and gets in on the right side. They lay down facing each other, eye to eye. Their breathing grows soft and faint. Katrina closes her eyes first and flips so her back faces Ethan.

“Good night, Ethan.” She whispers.

He’s still facing her and longs to hold her but ultimately shuts his eyes.

“Goodnight Kat.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes when he feels rustling in the bed and warmth closer to him. He opens his eyes and notices Kat moved in her sleep. He would scoot over more but he’d be in the edge of the bed and he didn’t want to risk waking her up to move her over so he just pressed closer toward her and wrapped his arm around her waist and lay his face near the crook of her neck. He knew he was well over the boundaries he attempting to draw but Ethan decided give not only himself but both of them this moment.

#choices fanfiction #choices stories you play #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC #dr ethan ramsey #open heart choices

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softstraykidsimagines · 7 years ago

Text

Dance Teacher

Summary: Hyunjin tries to teach you to dance.

Requested: yes

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Genre: FLUUUFFF

Format: I’m switching things up a bit and doing bulletpoint ooo look at me all creative lmao

Word Count: 958

Warnings: cursing (I mean I curse in every sentence I make so actuality it’s quite normal lol) and description of injury

A/N: I wanted to do this in bulletpoint to make it more fast moving lol I have no idea how that worked out but ye. Also, this is inspired by a past experience of mine which is still a painful memory so I’m letting off some steam.

We all know that Hyunjin is an amazing dancer

Smooth movement, perfect rhythm, the whole lot

It was astonishing to you how someone as brilliant at dance like him

Could fall for such a clutz with two left feet

We’re talking about you btw

You watched him dancing to his favorite songs, or practicing one of the choreos that Stray Kids perform

Or when he even tried to learn new dances from other groups for fun

While you? HA

You’d tried dancing once or twice in the past

But it had always ended up with your ass on the floor

So you avoided the sport like the plague

But that became difficult when you watched Hyunjin practice because

He iS So GooD AT DANciNG?? How can you not watch him???

So you were already expecting it when one day, he took a break from his choreo

And turned to you as you observed patiently

“Come dance with me!” He offered. or more like ordered

“AHAHH NO”, you immediately said. “I can’t dance”.

“I know you’ve said that before, but come on I can teach you!” He was really gonna try to convince you huh?

You sigh. What am I getting myself into now? “Alright, you can try to teach me...”

You both stand next to each other in front of the mirror.

“Okay, so you need to move you foot back like this. Then step onto the left... onto your heel... and... pivot!” He demonstrated very slowly, so that you could see in detail exactly what he was doing.

That is very complicated

“Nah it’s fine”, Hyunjin smiled. “You just need to practice bit by bit”.

I guess I said that out loud

He held onto you gently. “Put your foot here.... then.... to the left.... and you... pivot.” He guides you carefully through the steps until you had done a slow motion version of what he’d first produced. “Got it?”

“Umm... I think so...” you felt weird trying to copy what he’d done so perfectly. You felt a bit like a flailing chicken.

You started the move again, this time feeling a little less off balance.

“There you go, that’s good”, Hyunjin encouraged.

You repeated the steps over and over, and soon found yourself speeding up

“Woah, hang on, not too quickly, or you might—“

CRACK

You felt your shin light up with pain as you poorly placed on of the steps, the pain shooting up your leg like lightning

Your knee gave way and before you could fully process what had happened, you found yourself on the floor, holding your ankle

“Y/n! Are you ok? Hey, answer me!” Hyunjin looked at you with wide and worried eyes.

You gritted your teeth together. What the fuck did I just do? Was all that was going through your mind

“Arrghhhh....” you groan. “Fuck, that hurt”. You held onto your shin tightly, felling it growing warmer. “Fuck, fuck! That really hurt!” You didn’t really want to curse but you were in too much of a shock to care

Hyunjin jumped up and grabbed some ice from the med kit. He ran back and placed the ice, wrapped in fabric, over your throbbing ankle. You winced as the cold sent another shock up your leg

“Im sorry”, Hyunjin said quietly, his voice shaking. “I shouldn’t have tried to teach you something that difficult so quickly”.

“No, it’s my fault”, you responded gently, still clenching your jaw. “I was getting too confident too fast. I shouldn’t have jumped ahead like that”.

Hyunjin avoided your eye as he inspected your ankle, poking it gently and checking the movement

“It’s just a light twist”, he sighs with relief.

“Which means...?”

“It means that you’ll be able to walk normally within the next 24 hours, and you’ll be running as if nothing happened in 48”.

“Oh shit”, you stared at him. You had no idea that he knew about injuries in dance. All the better now, right

You started laughing with relief. “It must be a curse: every time I dance, I fall. It’s just never gotten this bad”

Hyunjin chuckled as well. “I guess I’m not qualified to teach dance yet, am I?”

“I suppose no— WAIT WHY ARE YOU SHIRTLESS?” You weren’t in shock anymore, and you’d only just realized that your boyfriend was sitting in front of you, completely bare-chested!

Hyunjin’s cheeks turned bright pink. “I had to wrap the ice in fabric, there was nothing else”. He looked at you sheepishly.

You giggled. “Well, put your shirt back on, mister”.

“I can’t, it’s all cold from the ice”, he protested

“Too bad for you”, you countered. “You decided to use your shirt as a cover for the ice, now suffer the consequences. Now hurry up! You’re distracting me!”

He cocked his eyebrow. “How am I distracting you”, he asked, smirking

You started blushing even more. Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything! “Umm— just— yo— JUST PUT YOUR SHIRT BACK ON!” You covered your face in your hands, not wanting to show just how embarrassed you were.

Hyunjin threw his shirt back on, shivering from how cold the fabric was. He offered you a hand. “Come on, I think we’re done for today”.

You gladly took it, and leant on him to walk around. He looked at you thoughtfully

“You know, it’s a rather long walk back to the dorms”, he said cheekily

“It’s not that long”. You weren’t taking the hint.

“But with a bad foot, you can’t walk that well”, he continued. “Maybe you should get a piggy back to the dorms?” He asked innocently

You laughed. “Alright, if you want! But don’t complain if you get tired!”

So Hyunjin was your personal taxi back to the dorms that night, and you promised yourself to never try such a complicated move so quickly like that again.

Heheh this was super fun to write. Do be careful while learning new dances, everyone :)

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin imagine #imagine #jyp #jyp entertainment #scenario

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theguildedtypewriter · 6 years ago

Note

I am curious about your siren character!! I must know all about them!

Oh goodness, how much time do you have? My siren is Rayne. She’s in the next book, Calling Evil Forth. For a super in-depth study of her, you can check out the #rayne illianna and #calling evil forth tags. However, here is a crash course:

Rayne Ilianna is a Siren, whose voice calls evildoers to their deaths. She has been living with her family/clan her entire life and never leaves except at night to lure criminals to her. It’s the only way she has viewed the world and humans. She doesn’t trust them, especially men. Her clan is old fashioned and doesn’t interact with much of the outside world. Her clan originates from the Mediterranean, providing the fact for the myth of Calypso and the Sirens.

Physical traits:

5'5"

Deep mocha skin

Long, wavy black hair

Pale blue eyes

Birthday- 11/11 Scorpio

This is here backstory piece:

The night Rayne had joined her sisters in the clan there was a fierce storm of rain and lightning. The clouds darkened the sky as a thick blanket would cover the unmoving form of the dead. Her mother’s cries had echoed o’er the forms surrounding her and the voices of her sisters’ urged Rayne to come forth unto the land of the living. The room was heated by the bodies contained therein and the steaming breath of her warrior clan formed a shelter from the arctic blows howling out of doors.

“Release her unto your sisters!” The Great Matriarch screamed to Rayne’s suffering mother.

The woman moaned and grunted in response, fighting against her body for control of the pain and losing. Her strength was ebbing and the time had not yet come to rest. Rayne’s mother, never spoken of by name again after the fateful night, slumped back.

“Be strong! Honor Calypso and the clan she hast brought forth! Come now woman!”

But alas, the cries fell on unhearing ears, the soul animating the womb moments from fleeing from them unto the Land of the Final Shore.

“Sister, the kit!”

It was not so unheard of, a clan mother lacking the resolve to bring her child forth unto the clan’s arms. This had long been their weakness and curse. Oft, the trauma of a birth was even to much for one such as them, their clan of warrior sisters. The the years coming, many a daughter of Calypso would perish on the birthing bed. The blood of their womb added to an earthen jar and shelved away at the rear of their expansive fortress.

The Great Matriarch, the latest in the line of the most supreme warrioresses, called upon the knowledge of her station to perform the removal of the child. Life fled quickly from the body of Rayne’s mother and no pain was felt at the slicing of the knife. It slid surely through the firm muscle of the womb that held the infant daughter and in the quickest of fashion the Great Matriarch pulled Rayne free of her mother.

As a infant, her beauty was yet apparent, a genetic trait as inbred in their line as their sorrowful likelihood to bear a young successfully into the world. Rayne came unto the world screaming, as an infant does, but also singing the workings of a tune which would be long used in the course of her destiny. For like all her sisters, both long dead and still living, Rayne’s voice held the ability to pull to her the worst of mankind. Her voice, sure as a beacon of light in the frozen night sky, would all to soon be used in calling evil forth.

Yes, Rayne had become the most recent addition to a centuries old line, drawing back to the time of the first dimostrazzjo, or demons. Their clan had originated in the Mediterranean on an island they had only ever referred to as Interna. A place whose original language had long since evolved into what they spoke now, a symbolic amalgamation of the demon and human cultures which came and left from the island through the centuries.

Though Interna would soon be left behind, traveling as a child to a new land of ice and snow and solitude. Their once great land had become to crowded with humans and lacked the resources their kind needed, namely abundant shelter which offered privacy and anonymity. So the Sisters carried the new child with them to a land across the great plane of the crystal waters. Having heard about the numerous demons living in the area, her clan believed it could be some type of sanctuary.

But sanctuaries weren’t born out of nothing and hardly meant more than a cage.

In the dark of the forests, the Sisters built their new home. A great wooded refuge nestled right alongside a human city. It had long ago been called Endwell. A fitting description for the clan’s goals there, and one not to be had even unto this day.

A Great Dawning had occurred however and now the humans were all too aware of their presence. The Sisters disapproved of the brash actions of the other demons among them and sought instead to stay hidden in the depths of the impressive pine trees. Even as the birth of Newborn City o’re top of Endwell’s remains signaled a change, the Sisters remained elusive and solitary. They never allowed in the presence of a human, or male of any species for that matter. Instead, the Sisters would take to the modern streets of the town to prowl and hunt for their charges, only interacting with the twisted souls they were there to see off to the Darkland.

But the time would come, as any species knows, when their numbers would dwindle. The Sisters would then take on a willing mate of exemplary bloodline and strength to ensure an offspring of stable lifeforce would be born. The Sisters always gave birth to more Sisters and the pregnancies were hidden from the males who believed only that they were simply enjoying a fine respite in the wombs of the women.

And so it went on, their lives never changing, their destinies forged in the steel of the Great Matriarch’s will. Though the position found new bodies, the strict traditions of the former always found their way into the hearts of the new. In the woodland surrounding the strange Newborn City, Rayne grew into a woman, honoring the teachings of her Sisters. The unearthly cry she had spent years honing, a powerful tool for killing the black-hearted men she encountered on the lonely streets of the seemingly pleasant town.

She was a Gwerriera Supremi, a fighter blessed by the voice of Calypso herself. From the body of a small child, Rayne emerged a fierce battle maiden. The black of her long hair like the moonless night. A honeyed splendor coloring her skin. The muscles of her frame that of a wild cat coiled and ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. Rayne was a true beauty of the tribe but the cold stare she unleashed on her prey from behind her pale, blue eyes was enough to turn their villainous hearts to stone. Her station within the Sisterhood grew as the number that fell prey to her voice grew. Rayne lived for nothing but the hunt, the takedown, the kill of the most vile prey. Where others would seek out only those who had wronged, Rayne searched the nights for those who were so corrupt, so twisted from the light, that their tastes ran deadly, and perverse.

And lastly, this is her avatar and moodboard:

#asks #siren #rayne ilianna #my OC #my writing #writeblr #one hot babe #fierce woman #in the power switch au rayne was with lucas and it was her powers that he could hear in his head #in the mermaid au she is the siren that lures the criminal to her and drowns him

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nerdybookahs · 5 years ago

Text

First of all, please excuse me if I’m not using the correct English terms for the features of the game. I switched to the German client which I usually don’t do with games that are natively in English. But there’s so much information about the animals that you can read about that I want to do that in my native tongue. It’s an educational game played for relaxation and my brain wants to process them in German!

Planet Zoo released on November 5. The developers are the same ones that made Planet Coaster and Jurassic World Evolution. I already loved JWE for its impressive graphics and how realistic the dinosaurs look and behave (well, as far as we can all guess, of course!). So far, I have only played the career mode in Planet Zoo which doesn’t have all features unlocked in the beginning. That’s a good thing, though, as with every mission, you’re slowly introduced to everything there is to know about the game.

Let’s be honest here: I did encounter bugs and issues during these first career mode missions. They’re basically functioning as a tutorial and there are bugs present that may prevent you from finishing the missions. If you ask me, this is not acceptable! One example: I was asked to increase the comfort level of all animals in their exhibits to a certain percentage. However, one of the monkey habitats suffered from being dirty. I sent the staff in to check it but they kept leaving without doing anything. Or they did clean a part of it, but it only temporarily increased the level. Over time, it kept getting worse and worse. An internet search revealed an issue with that habitat (I didn’t do anything in that habitat, by the way. It is built that way for the mission!): There are two wooden platforms present for the monkeys to climb on. One is too low, meaning: Staff can’t walk beneath the platform. I had to raise it which still made it climbable for the monkeys, but now my staff could walk under it and clean the poop from the ground. All’s well that ends well, right? Oh no! The comfort level increased, but the habitat was still too dirty. There is another issue present: The cemented floor of the hut for the monkeys. Apparently, when they poop in that hut, it falls below that cemented floor and since my keepers aren’t meerkats digging tunnels below the cement, they can’t reach that area either. I erased the hut and found… well, let’s say it wasn’t pleasant to see. My staff immediately hurried to clean it all up. I only found out about these issues thanks to a thread of other users discussing various possible reasons for habitats that aren’t getting cleaned. Just in case anybody else has this issue!

Another issue I had was with my tapirs. I had done everything the mission had told me to do and yet, they didn’t get fed. The game warned me they were starving. I’ve seen so many threads on feeding issues now! But putting bugs aside: Why is there even a long list of what you need to do in order for pets to not starve? There has to be a keeper’s hut nearby and a staff room. You have to assign a workspace and assign keepers to this workspace (not necessary, apparently, but it was listed as a suggestion if your pets aren’t getting fed). I would assume, game mechanics aside, that a good animal keeper would feed a starving pet even if it meant running to the other side of the zoo to reach a kitchen where food can be prepared. When looking at game mechanics, I get the keeper’s hut for preparing food and I get that they need a staff room and so on. It just seems that in Planet Zoo, this has to be built in a near perfect way in order for it to work and that is annoying.

But back to the bug: I have no idea what was wrong. I removed a toy feeder. Those always get filled first and sometimes, the regular feeders aren’t filled because the toy ones are present. This isn’t actually an issue as the animals can still eat. I did everything you can find that you need to do. I removed the feeder, placed it somewhere else. Still nothing. And the warnings kept coming in that my animals were starving. An important note here: If your animals aren’t hungry, staff won’t put food in the feeder. I didn’t know that and was worried in another mission that the bug was present again. But thankfully, it wasn’t. It’s only been with these tapirs. What finally worked was deleting the feeder and then placing a feeder in there again (almost the same position!). I have no idea why that triggered it, but my animals survived.

I’ve seen people report game crashes which thankfully, I did not encounter at all. I do have an issue that the first time I start the game, the game screen kind of freezes without loading my avatar. I can’t click on anything. Right-clicking the game in my task bar to close it doesn’t work either. I need to open the task manager and kill the game process in there. When I then start the game, it loads properly.

Issues and annoyances aside, on to the rest of the game: It looks gorgeous! The animals’ movements and behavior are very realistic. I love watching the shy nyalas run through their exhibit and I admit, I giggled a bit when it rained heavily and the peafowls ran into their hut as quickly as they could. The panda bears are utterly adorable and I wish I could pet them! I’m just very sad to see that there are no koala bears or meerkats. Especially meerkats! Although I’d also squeal about Maras. But I expect they kept some favorites to release in DLCs.

The building process is rather clunky. I don’t find it easy to build paths and putting together whole buildings is out of the question for me thanks to my hand pain. But it has Steam Workshop integration which means I can just import what other players built and I already saw some amazing habitats!

And there are lots of things, information, etc. that you need to keep track of. For example, how many animals can be in a habitat and if they reproduce, when do you have to remove the young one? Make sure there’s no in-breeding as apparently, there are negative consequences to that.

You do not have access to every item when you start with your zoo. But you can research them via scientists and veterinarians. I am currently in a mission that just said: Build a zoo with xx different animals. No more hand-holding as they expect me to know everything by now. In general, this works quite well. What I didn’t know was that I need to research toys and toy feeders for each kind of animal first before it’s unlocked. In the previous missions, I always had access to everything I needed. Research is quite interesting, though, as you also unlock fun facts about the animal. So in general, the game isn’t only entertaining, it’s also educational! There is the Zoopedia where you find the unlocked fun facts, but also lots of useful information about the animals. You need the Zoopedia to build suitable habitats, but I also think it’s good to see how many of these animals are endangered. I mean, I know about most of them already, but I still think it’s good to stay aware of what we’re doing to nature. And in Planet Zoo, you’re trying to help by breeding animals. Of course, it doesn’t change anything about reality, but awareness is always the first step.

I’ve been having a lot of fun so far in the game and do not regret the purchase despite the issues the game is facing. Of course, I didn’t pay for the game out of my own (emptyish) pocket. My husband decided to gift me the game, so there’s no bad conscience from my side. Also, as I said, even with the bugs present, it’s a really good game. I like watching the animals and slowly seeing my zoo grow feels like quite an accomplishment. I also did not go broke so far which is something that usually happens with me in games like these. I’m often too eager and build too much in the beginning. The game gives you lots of information on what you’re earning and spending, how many guests came in, what your guests’ thoughts were, etc. And you can even click on a guest and use a first person camera view to experience the zoo with their eyes.

All of these factors make it a really good game for me. I just hope they can fix the bugs soon and make feeding more reasonable. But well, they have experience with their previous games and they are both getting fixes and support (and DLCs), so I’m not too worried. I’m just very very frustrated (mostly with the feeding troubles).

My current verdict: If you’re a fan of such games like I am and if you’re looking at videos and think: “I really really want this… now!”, then go ahead and buy it! But be prepared to search for hints and tips and to encounter bugs and maybe even crashes. However, I fully expect the same with Planet Zoo. If you’re easily frustrated and/or on the fence of getting the game, then wait for bug fixes first and maybe even for the game to go on sale.

(IntPiPoMo count: 14 in total)

First Impressions: Planet Zoo #IntPiPoMo #PlanetZoo First of all, please excuse me if I'm not using the correct English terms for the features of the game.

#building & management game #first impressions #IntPiPoMo 2019 #planet zoo

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live4thestars · 7 years ago

Text

Entry #001

From the Sometimes Diary of a Part Time Filmmaker

It’s been a minute, for sure, since I started writing about my own life. I love to constantly surround myself in the worlds of my screen plays, but sometimes I feel like my life isn’t worth much retelling.

I used to be one of those people who kept a Journal every day. All through High school and some college I was a faithful daily chronicler. But then I ran into some depression and that kind of soured up my drive for the journal. After coming through it, I just haven’t gotten back into the swing of things.

So, while my computer renders one of my videography projects, I have discovered a lot of thoughts about movies that need to be expressed.

Thus, I have decided to keep a Film Journal here on Tumblr and give my thoughts on new movies that I see. Who knows how often this will happen, but sometimes this girl just needs to get it out of her system.

Today’s movie of choice:

Before we start, I just need to warn everyone that I am about to compare the ever loving crap out of this movie and the latest Disney live action version. Spoiler alert: was not impressed with Disney. Sorry if that shows, but I have my reasons.

La Belle et la Bete, released in 2014, was recently added to Netflix. All I have to say is God Bless Netflix, which gives me access to foreign films that I would otherwise have NO CLUE about. Director Christophe Gans also wrote this adaptation of the beloved fairy tale, and I have to admit he did a STELLAR JOB of it. Below, I’m going to give each category a score out of 10 to help illustrate the quality of this picture.

Cinematography: 9/10

The camera work is phenomenal. After having spent my college years as a lighting technician for a television studio, I’m a bit of a sucker for good dramatic lighting. And this movie delivered in SPADES! They played a lot with the Magic Mirror motif making it more of a window than a reflection.

Acting: 7/10

Love Lea Seydoux’s sassy and brave Belle, and I felt that the performers of Belle’s family members were delightful, if a bit “Adverb Descriptive word” (especially her brothers). But in a fairytale like this, it’s completely allowed.

Production Design: 10/10 would see again

STOP READING THIS RIGHT NOW AND JUST WATCH THE TRAILER FOR THIS MOVIE. It’s flippin’ gorgeous to look at.

Think Baz Lurhman style opulence and add a touch of Disney’s Into the Woods and you’ve got this aesthetic. The amount of detail put into each set piece is exquisite, and I don’t use that word unless it is warranted.

Costume Design: 10/10 would wear again

I’M DYING OVER HERE! When I get into my Disney beef later, I will be referring to the costumes a wee bit. But look at how stunningly crafted these dresses are? And the Beast’s ensemble is so royal you’re afraid it’ll rain rubies if he brushes up against the wall.

Visual FX: 7/10

Not the greatest CGI animals I’ve ever seen, but definitely not the worst. What shortcomings I noticed were absolutely forgivable when they would cut to the next shots involving their wonderfully decorated sets. The final “battle” at the end didn’t end up as cheesy as I thought it would be considering the amount of CG used.

Orchestral Score: 7/10

Beautifully serene, creepy, and mysterious at the same time. However, I did recognize a few phrases here and there. Not that I could place where I’d heard them before, but some of it was derivative of something. Let me know if you have figured it out. It’s starting to taunt me.

Why I loved this adaptation

I’m absolute trash for the story of Beauty and the Beast. It’s been my favorite animated movie since before I can remember. I’ve read so many retellings; some of them very well done and most of them steaming piles of crap trying to capitalize on Beauty and the Beast popularity.

Each time I have experienced a new medium for my beloved fairy tale, I’m excited to see what they will add. What kinds of shading and depth can you give to this tale?

This film blew my socks off in that regard. They retold the story with characters and plot points that I had never seen used before. I’ve read books in which Belle is an only child, the youngest daughter, but never have I seen her portrayed as part of a large family. It almost seemed that she had “ugly step sisters” (even though neither of the sisters were Ugly nor Step-) who created wonderful foils to her elder brothers. A dysfunctional family, yes, and seemingly real dynamics too.

They added the dichotomy of Vice and Virtue in order to set up the final problem. Instead of a “Gaston” type villain who wants to keep Belle, or the internal struggle of Belle choosing to leave her family after seeing them again; the struggle comes from the vices of Belle’s family coming back to bite them.

Ok, now comes the part where I kind of rant. You’ve been warned.

Here are the top reasons I liked La Belle et la Bete more than Disney’s live action version.

#3 The story was more thought out and the characters’ actions made sense.

One of the nitpicks I had with Disney’s rendition was the lack of logic in their characters. The Live Action Cinderella provided some context for each characters’ actions and motivations, even the Evil Stepmother who never gets any love. I had hoped with the new one, Disney would take this opportunity to improve upon or even just supply some basic motivation that followed some logic. I am thinking specifically of the character of Belle’s father and his seemingly arbitrary choices. All under the guise of being... forgetful? Spaced out? Belle’s father in La Belle et la Bete was forced into his wrong decisions, unable to find another way.

#2 They actually did something new instead of rehashing the old.

Like I mentioned before, the way they introduced Belle as the youngest of a large family was refreshing. That she would be happier in a country existence after the luxury of city living was delightful character element that spoke to her intelligence instead of just having her nose in a book all day. Don’t get me wrong, that is one of my favorite aspects about Belle since I am a fellow bookworm. Yet, it was a nice change from the trope since there are many viewers who maybe do not pride their intelligence on their book knowledge. It made her intelligent both emotionally and intellectually. Her little sassy comments in the face of certain danger made me laugh at the brass balls this girl had. While watching Disney’s, I was so VERY disappointed that the story stuck so closely to the animated version (literally lifting 75% of the lines straight from the animated film) that I almost felt bored. Don’t get me wrong, it was still a beauty to look at, thus entertaining, but I felt like Ariel saying, “I want more!!!”

#1 with a bullet BELLE’S DRESSES.

Ok, not even just the dresses but the costumes in La Belle et la Bete had so much detail, care, and passion pumped into them. The first dresses we see Belle’s sisters, Anne and Clotilde, wearing are high fop fashion. Through the whole movie I was amazed by the sleeves. THE SLEEVES, PEOPLE! Who is fascinated by sleeves when there are so many other things to soak in? This girl right here. My issue with Disney’s version was that the costumes were fabulous... to a point. I’m a stickler for costume design rules: if you have an aesthetic you need to stick to it, otherwise they just don’t make sense. Disney suffered from a little costume schizophrenia. For example, the beginning scene had me FLABBERGASTED to see all those women and men in period French Rococo style. Even the Prince’s face painting was on point with some of those crazy masquerade parties you know the French aristocracy put on. Then we see Belle’s first costume and it’s a wonderful country bumpkin ensemble with plenty of color to call back to the animated movie. So far so good, Gaston and Lefou are looking great with their military style waistcoat and jacket outfits. I had a little trouble at first with the Beast’s costume because is was CGI and it’s really hard to animate fabric moving against a body in a seamless way. I was able to forgive that after a while though, I suppose I got used to it and moved on. BUT THEN WHAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE COSTUME TO END ALL COSTUMES CAME ON SCREEN AND BEGAN TO ANNOY THE EVERY LOVING CRAP OUT OF ME! Belle’s “Pat of Butter” yellow Prom dress. There’s the Beast wearing a lovely blue waistcoat and brocade jacket complete with knee length knickers and buckled shoes. And Belle showed up in a prom dress from my high school dance. They threw “period” out the window and picked an atrocious color that was way too bright and washed out the Beast’s costume. It makes me VERY ANGRY when there is a period film and the costumes don’t stick to their aesthetic.

But in La Belle et la Bete, when they pick an aesthetic they stick to it like shine on silk. While not necessarily “period” correct, they used many elements of court dress and embellished accordingly to match the rest of the film’s components. It just MADE SENSE.

Alright, I say all that to say: Go watch this film, it is a delight for the eyes and imagination. You won’t regret the time spent in this beautiful fairy tale world.

That’s all for now!

#beauty and the beast la belle et la bete belle beast gaston costumes design drooling movies filmjournal

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mamepwrites · 8 years ago

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My thoughts on Dark Souls II: Scholar of the First Sin

Warning, some spoilers for the game’s story are below.

Dark Souls II was the first Souls game I really decided to sit through and play. I’d touched DS1 when the craze reached my ears, and when it came on Steam as the Prepare to Die edition. I probably would have kept playing if it wasn’t running on Games for Windows Live. I didn’t really do much past the Taurus Demon. Considering that, when Dark Souls II was released, I got it instantly. I didn’t even know it was coming out. I hooked up my 360 controller and had a grand time in the tutorial. When I got to Majula, I was so lost. I found my way to Heide’s Tower of Flame and I ended up learning the basics of gameplay from the first Old Knight there. I didn’t even know about the area’s first bonfire. And then I stopped playing the game. When I learned of Bloodborne, I watched the Game Grumps playthrough of it and I wanted to feel that. I still had DS2 in my steam library, so I decided to stick with it. And I beat it! Granted, I wasn’t good at rolling, and I protected myself with a shield most of the time. But I was pretty okay by the end. I then got a PS4 and Bloodborne the summer after, and my experience in Souls helped me play through it with ease. I love hunting, even to this day. Then I got DS3 on release, and played the heck out of that. And then I decided it was time to play through DS1, and I did, defeating all of the bosses except for Priscilla, because so ~moe~. But with DS2 being my first real Souls game, I always wanted to play it again. I’ll put the cutoff here, because this’ll be a long post.

So, the Scholar of the First Sin edition was on sale on PSN a few weeks ago. I got it and I played the HECK out of it. But when Scholar of the First Sin was first announced, I believe it was advertised as being much harder than the base game, considering changes in enemy placement. But having played it, I really can’t say they did much to that end. Maybe it was just easy for me because I’m an experienced Souls player now. But let’s talk a little bit about the changes to difficulty.

The tutorial Things Betwixt has its entire third section blocked off, and for a fair reason. It seems the devs wanted players to not farm on the Ogres that were in that section. So they blocked it off with a statue that you’re able to unpetrify later in the game, and they make the Ogres non-respawning. Sheesh. However, the first real level of the game, Forest of Fallen Giants, has its first available enemy an Ogre. I thought that was unreasonable, so I skipped it entirely. Sadly, later in the level, the Heide Knight was missing, so no lightning sword. The rest of the level was fairly unchanged. I was playing it with a friend, and so we took down the Pursuer fairly easily. It would have been a little tough doing it solo, but I love playing Souls with friends in any case. Anyways, I found that the Scholar edition featured updated item descriptions, particularly in the text for the Soul of the Last Giant. It pretty much said it was formerly the Giant Lord, a boss you fight much later in the game through enjoyable time travel.

The next area, Heide’s Tower of Flame, suffered a terrible change in enemy placement in my opinion. The original DS2 featured Heide Knights as docile-until-attacked non-respawning tough enemies you would find around the world, and they would drop their weapons or armor. But in the Scholar update, practically all of them are in Heide’s Tower of Flame, and they respawn, which is fair for farming their item drops because they’re no longer guaranteed. But once you beat the area’s main boss, all of the Heide Knights are no longer docile and they actively run up and attack you. Coupled with the Old Knights that are still in the area, traversing around is tough. You don’t have to fight them, though, unless you want to fight the level’s other boss, who is optional. But it’s a fun fight, so why should I say no?

Anyways, No Man’s Wharf wasn’t as scary as I remembered, but it seems that they never really fixed the durability issue in the game. Basically, the original game ran at 30 FPS on consoles, and at 60 FPS on PC and in its Scholar edition, but a bug in the game made weapons and armor degrade twice as fast when playing the game at 60 FPS. Considering No Man’s Wharf has no bonfires except the one at the beginning, this was annoying.

Sinner’s Rise is the stage of the Lost Sinner boss. Dark Souls games tend to have a “Big Four” set of bosses relevant to the overarching plot of the game, and the Lost Sinner is often the first in DS2 that players fight. The fight is cool in the way that it’s fought in near pitch darkness, unless the player has the foresight to find a key in a side-branch earlier in the previous level. With the key, the player can light lamps in the boss room beforehand, so they can fight it more comfortably. I did that. But the stage itself was underwhelming. In the original DS2, many enemies called ‘Enhanced Undeads’ were available to fight. They were big green masses of flesh vaguely resembling dragons, and they were beefy. But in this Scholar edition, they were all replaced by a single weakened Flexile Sentry, which was the boss of No Man’s Wharf. While it made getting to the boss a lot easier, I felt sad that they didn’t even leave even one Enhanced Undead.

The next area, Huntsman’s Copse, is one of my dreaded areas. Mostly because of the six Torturers that lie in ambush before the bridge to Undead Purgatory. In my first DS2 playthrough, I depleted their respawns. This time I just killed them one by one and went to Undead Purgatory and bam done with the stage. The Skeleton Lords boss of Huntsman’s Copse proper was also much easier than I remembered. The next level, Harvest Valley, was also decreased and increased in difficulty. There aren’t as many Undead Steelworkers (big greed dudes with big hammers), but there is an increase in the Desert Sorceresses encountered. However, I had more trouble with the Old Iron King boss battle this time around. Fricking lava hole.

I also hate the Gutter and Black Gulch with a fervent passion. There’s a respawning NPC invader. Some forest child or whatever. Screw him.

I enjoyed how Dark Souls II flips Dark Souls I’s structure on its head. DS1 had you fight a bunch of bosses (while ringing two big bells) until you get to Anor Londo and retrieve the Lordvessel, at which point you go to kill four bosses to acquire their Lord Souls. The bosses are Gravelord Nito, the Bed of Chaos, Seath the Scaleless, and the Four Kings of New Londo. The former two (the Bed of Chaos being the Witch of Izalith) were holders of full Lord Souls, and the closest allies to Lord Gwyn, who also held a full Lord Soul. Seath the Scaleless and the Four Kings all have shards of a Lord Soul, though they still count towards satiating the Lordvessel. This allows access to the final area of the game, the Kiln of the First Flame, and the last boss, Gwyn, Lord of Cinders.

However acquiring ‘the souls of four’ is the player’s first objective in DS2, aside from being told that they may become the next monarch of Drangleic (a plot goal). Upon meeting the Emerald Herald, the effective Fire Keeper of Majula, she instructs the player to seek greater souls, to seek the Old Ones. Embracing these souls allow the player to reach Drangleic Castle, where they expect to encounter King Vendrick, former monarch of Drangleic. After playing the first game, the player may assume that Vendrick is the final boss as Gwyn was in the first game, but the game does a nice subversion in this. Vendrick isn’t at Drangleic Castle. Nor is he the final boss. Nor is he a mandatory boss, for that matter. Instead of Vendrick you find Nashandra, his queen, apparently ruling what remains of Drangleic in his stead. She charges you to find Vendrick. And so from Drangleic Castle we go to the Shrine of Amana (a terrible area by the way, it’s so long and open but filled with pits you can barely see because of the water agh) and from here we gain entry to the Undead Crypt. It is in the Undead Crypt that we discover Vendrick himself, having long gone hollow.

(If you’re unfamiliar with Dark Souls lore, many people are afflicted with the curse of the undead, and continually revive upon death, until they die so many times, losing sight of their goals and becoming a mindless zombo. This is a hollow.)

We don’t have to fight Vendrick at this point in time, and it’s even recommended against doing so, as he has absurdly high defenses. The only thing we need from here is the King’s Ring, a ‘symbol of the king’. This grants us access to Aldia’s Keep (note that Aldia was Vendrick’s sciencey brother), then the Dragon Aerie and Dragon Shrine. They changed up Dragon Shrine a lot. There’s two main types of enemies in Dragon Shrine, the Dragon Knights and the Drakekeepers. The Drakekeepers are practically suped up versions of the Old Knights in Heide’s Tower, so they’re easy. In the original DS2, the ultra challenging Dragon Knights only appeared in the latter half of the level, where you’re climbing a grand staircase. So color me surprised when I start Dragon Shrine and see at least two Dragon Knights standing beside the first Drakekeeper. Turns out they don’t attack you as long as you only attack the Drakekeepers, and you fight the sole Dragon Knight (colored gold instead of black) who attacks you on the stairs. This one’s like a challenge to see if you’re worthy of meeting the one awaiting you at the very end, the Ancient Dragon. So far, the ‘dragons’ you see in Dragon Aerie are all actually wyverns. Fortunately so, because in DS1′s backstory, the dragon population dwindled. However, this Ancient Dragon is a true dragon, at least in appearance. *snicker*

It gives you the Ashen Mist Heart, which allows you to traverse memories of certain beings.

You’re meant to use this item to access the memories of the four Giant corpses found throughout the Forest of Fallen Giants. Though, instead of perusing their memories, you’re whisked away body and all, far into the past where you find yourself fighting the very Giants that razed Drangleic in an infernal fury. As it turns out, you end up fighting and defeating the Giant Lord, who becomes the Last Giant in the present time that you fight in the beginning of the game, that itself attacks you in rage. It’s so GOOD. Anyways, the defeat of the Giant Lord awards you a non-physical item called the Giant’s Kinship, or the Resonance with Giants in the Japanese version. This item intrigues me to this very day.

Its description reads: "Each king has his rightful throne. And when he sits upon it, he sees what he chooses to see. Or perhaps, it is the throne, which shows the king only what he wants. The flames roar, but will soon begin to fade, and only a worthy heir might burnish their light. What is it, truly, a claimant of the throne could desire?"

The whole story of Vendrick (the backstory of the whole game, really) is something I find much more compelling than the story of Gwyn in the first game. From what I can make out (with help from VaatiVidya’s interpretation), Vendrick was once like us in that he vanquished old ones and acquired their Great Souls, and with their power he built his new kingdom of Drangleic. He became seduced by a woman named Nashandra, who convinced him that the Giants to the north were a threat, and so he crossed the sea and raided their lands. To please his now wife and queen, he stole something of great importance from the Giants, which is presumably the power to manipulate souls to power golems, which he used to build his Drangleic Castle. It appears it was built above the Kiln of the First Flame, becoming known as the Throne of Want. However, the curse of the undead appears in Drangleic, and Vendrick and his brother Aldia search for a cure to the curse. Aldia made his manor in the east, close to the Dragon Aerie. As dragons were immortal, Aldia may have assumed their properties could help in curing the curse of undeath. Yet, the dragons are long dead, so Aldia made his own, with a soul of a Giant. This is the Ancient Dragon you meet in the Dragon Shrine. And from Aldia and this false dragon, the Emerald Herald Shanalotte is made. They appear to have not found and made use of any answers in time, as the curse reached even Vendrick. He also realized that his wife Nashandra was in truth a shard of Manus, progenitor of the Abyss, the darkness in humankind, and that she lusted for power, lusted for the First Flame, the kiln of which was deep below the castle. However, the pathway to the Kiln (or, the Throne of Want, as it became known) could only be opened by Vendrick. And so he sealed himself away in the Undead Crypt, guarded by his knights, left to rot in the curse’s grip. Long after this, it is the player that finds him completely hollowed, mostly naked aside from his crown, a loincloth, and a massive sword he lugs around. The player is only able to reasonably fight the towering hollow by possessing Souls of Giants, which lower his defenses. I forget where I heard this from, but what this is meant to represent is that while Vendrick is unfathomably strong (having vanquished four Old Ones while still totally human, and therefore with the risk of a very permanent death), the Giant Souls radiate the hate that was borne for Vendrick in stealing...whatever it was he stole, even long after the Giants have died, and by their hate they can weaken Vendrick, or strengthen the player enough to be a match for this king.

SO. With the King’s Ring, the Ashen Mist Heart, and the Giant’s Kinship, the player returns to Drangleic Castle. They venture deep below to the Throne of Want, where they do battle with its last line of defense that Vendrick installed, the Throne Watcher and the Throne Defender. Then, they fight Nashandra, who has cast off her veil and revealed herself as a grotesque figure, of deep black flesh and a skeletal face. She wanted the player to get rid of the Throne’s (and the First Flame’s) defenses so she could sit it herself.

It’s a nice plot for a Souls game, in my opinion.

What I particularly like about DS2 in comparison to DS1 is that the player character has their own intial and personal motivations. In DS1 the player is freed from their cell in the Undead Asylum and are told by Oscar of Astora to ring the two Bells of Awakening. They do so, and find that they may be the Chosen Undead, one who would link the First Flame to their very soul, bolstering its blaze and stretching the gods’ Age of Fire once more, as Gwyn did. DS2′s protagonist simply wants to be rid of the curse, to find a cure for it, and are then told that others come to Drangleic seeking the same, and that to find it they must acquire the four Great Souls, they must become the next monarch. DS1′s character is driven by the plot, while DS2′s character’s motivation goes hand in hand with the plot.

Another thing I like about Dark Souls II is the relation between the player character, and Vendrick and Aldia. They both sought answers to curing the undead curse. Vendrick peered into the very essence of the soul, and Aldia was a scholar of the First Sin, which is Gwyn linking the flame to his soul while he should have let it die out. While upon completion of the DLC, a still-sentient version of Vendrick (encountered in a memory-past through the Ashen Mist Heart) awards the player with a means to stave off the effects of the curse upon completion of the DLC trilogy, a power in crowns, the symbol of a monarch. While wearing one of the kings’ crowns, the player can die indefinitely with no risk of hollowing. However, this is no true cure, but a treatment for symptoms. But still, it’s something. (Helps a lot in the final boss battle against Nashandra, too.) Vendrick tells the player to seek adversities, to seek strength. He tells the player that by letting the flame die, humankind will become part of the Dark again, as is their true nature. This is clearly the choice between linking the First Flame to one’s soul and extending its time, and letting the flame die out to cast the world in an Age of Dark, an Age of Man. However, Vendrick questions whether this is our only choice, whether these are our only options. We learn that to link the fire and to let it die are effectively the same choice, as it is in a cycle. Let the flame die and eventually it will spark again. Link the flame and another Undead will eventually rise to make their choice. What of this third option Vendrick alludes to?

Aldia styles the player character ‘conqueror of adversities’, and if a certain ending is chosen, accompanies the player in their path to find a way to break the wheel, to shatter this cycle of endless linkings and snuffings of the First Flame.

I dunno I really like Dark Souls II.

Oh right this is supposed to be on my thoughts.

I think Scholar of the First Sin could have done more to fiddle with the game’s difficulty, but there’s a point to that that shouldn’t be crossed. Change too much and you don’t have Dark Souls II anymore. Some changes in the Scholar edition were good, some were bad, but I enjoyed my time.

I may replay Dark Souls III again. I can’t wait for The Ringed City DLC to come out.

#mamep #mamepwrites #dark souls #dark souls 2 #dark souls ii #scholar of the first sin #video games #game blogging

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ulyssesredux · 8 years ago

Text

Lotus Eaters

She didn't know, and brought him closer and closer to a grasp of the terrible Guide. How much are they in water? Eleven, is he pimping after me? More than doctor or solicitor. Was it rage alone which caused it?

I want to see about that French horse that's running today, Bantam Lyons doubted an instant, leering: then he tossed off the dregs smartly. He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the typed envelope. Not so lonely. —Had a bit of paper. No-one. He spoke with great difficulty. In came Hoppy. You are welcome, even with a ribbon round her neck and do the other constellations danced in a chilling and awesome silence full of a single glimpse. We salute you, you wish, I don't think. Clever of nature. How are you gaping at? Imagine trying to eat tripe and cowheel. English. What perfume does your? Why did you? He unrolled the newspaper. Have you brought a bottle?

Perfectly right that is the real meaning of that Father Farley who looked a fool but wasn't. Maud Gonne's letter about taking them off O'Connell street at night: disgrace to our Irish capital.

Same notice on the same tack now: an army rotten with venereal disease: overseas or halfseasover empire. I will tell you all. How do you do not deny my request before my patience are exhausted. Fifteen millions of years of time taken up telling your aches and pains. He had reached the old man. Nor may those who inferred from his sidepocket, reviewing again the soldiers on parade: and read again: choice blend, made of the repellent earth-mammal Carter that he had left—near the Snake Den on the pedestals was vacant, and then face about and bless all the other.

You've reasons of your own for not wanting that mask off—let it alone. —Yes, Mr Bloom said, moving to get in. What's wrong with him? No, Peter Claver S.J. and the smell of sponges and loofahs. But amidst the seething chaos, but it had not been able to stand both the prodigious domes and uncounted billions of miles that Randolph Carter into that last and first of secrets you may still go back unharmed, the quasi-hexagonal thrones, there hovered an air of the silver key was still in his grasp, since the beings of the earth four years ago. Turning quickly to save his estate. Flowers of idleness. Like that something. Please tell me what kind of perfume does your wife use. Damn all they know or care about anything with their long noses stuck in nosebags. Yes, sir, when they both served in the arms of kingdom of God is within you feel. With it an abode of bliss. He stood up, looking over the level land, a lazy pooling swirl of liquor bearing along wideleaved flowers of its subtler properties you know what to do. Went too far last time. Influence of the timber lot into the void; yet at that same archetypal and eternal being, size and boundaries which his sharp voice said. Smell almost cure you like the hole in the arms of kingdom of God is within you feel.

Let off steam. Footdrill stopped. Their full buck eyes regarded him as he went by, amid the sweet oaten reek of horsepiss. Yes, Mr Bloom put his face forward to catch the eye. Girl in Eustace street hallway Monday was it in his absolute discretion. Bore this funeral affair. Mr Bloom raised a gloved hand on the same boat. Dear Henry I got it!

Heavenly weather really. So it is. M'Coy's changed voice said.

Clearly I can see today. Or their skirt behind, placket unhooked. I'm glad I didn't work him about getting Molly into the newspaper baton idly and read idly: What is weight really when you come back. Couldn't sink if you will through time in an ancient graveyard—had spoken of the Belfast and Oriental Tea Company and read idly: What is he pimping after me? Poor papa! Chloroform. Wonder how they explain it to melt in their hands. —No, he's going on straight. Wonderful organisation certainly, goes like clockwork. Off to the light. Police tout. To look younger. Fingering still the letter within the newspaper.

I know one of what had befallen his personality, but don't keep us all the conceivable cosmos the one most freely in touch with other minds of Yaddith in finding a way of our holy mother the church. They were about him and behind two worshippers dipped furtive hands in the beckoning vistas of fantastic handiwork that no sane dream ever held, and that it would not flee like a cod in a torrid, rose-drunken sea which lapped his cheeks was, studying closely the Hindu paused in his heart pocket.

He stood a moment whether the mad Arab, Abdul Alhazred, had brewed her ominous potions still earlier.

In Westland row he halted before the window of the Most Ancient One into a new and peculiar kind of terrifying delight, Randolph Carter in the same on the papers hurriedly, and the flickering of the old man. That orangeflower water is equal to the side of M'Coy's talking head. Safe in the witnessbox. Mr Bloom said. Must get some from Tom Kernan.

A year passed, discreetly buttoning, down the aisle, one and fourpence a quart, eightpence a gallon of porter. No roses without thorns. Glorious and immaculate virgin.

Fingering still the letter and tell me more. I long to meet you.

—This faker—and ever after that he was not a Carter. Daresay Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O'Neill's. O, Mary lost the pin of her hat in the wall at Ashtown. O well, I have suffered, it could not flee because it was all about. Crown of thorns and cross. Take me out of twelve. High brown boots with laces dangling. Had his whole quest not been based upon a faith in the absolute.

Clearly I can see today. The priest prayed: O God, our refuge and our strength … Mr Bloom answered firmly. Water to water. Shaved off his moustache again, relieved: and do the local aspects of an earthly 1928 in time, and I warned you not happy in your home you poor little naughty boy? Yes, exactly. Mark time. He turned from the newspaper and put it into the choir instead of that coffin-shaped clock seemed to fall into bizarre patterns like the shapes on the hexagonal pillars chanted and nodded. Maximum the second.

Let us think slowly and dearly. And though the lawyer seemed affected not at all crises of his body had been an entity beyond the reach of an arm or some temperance beverage Wheatley's Dublin hop bitters or Cantrell and Cochrane's Ginger Ale Aromatic. Which side will she get up? In the dark. How he used to receive the, Carey was his name, the braided drums. Post here. Pity so empty. You and me, don't you see.

Please tell me what kind of coat with that roll collar, warm for a day, the coolwrappered soap in his blouse pocket to see her again in that.

He was shown the smallness and tinsel emptiness of the waves increased in strength and sought to escape from the sight, or that Pickman Carter who in the night that Carter had also written to others. Usual love scrimmage. Doing the indignant: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a white flutter, then all sank. Pointed cuffs.

I am prepared to offer proof if necessary.

The quasi-sphere—played around their shrouded heads. He passed the cabman's shelter. Angry tulips with you darling manflower punish your cactus if you do, sir?

Imagine trying to eat tripe and cowheel. —The-gate fragment was hurled from what had seemed to be free from the sight, of the abyss had warned him to baptise blacks, is but a word. Curious the life of drifting cabbies. The problem is to frighten a few possessed a haunting, fascinating and almost horrible familiarity which no man has passed and retraced his steps to say, my manifestations on your planet's extension, the chemist said. Electuary or emulsion. Please tell me what kind of terrifying delight, Randolph Carter was sitting on a world of the Shapes produced by the counter, inhaling slowly the keen reek of horsepiss. Waterlilies.

Police tout. Sleeping draughts. —The hills behind hoary and witch-accursed Arkham that all his life sought to improve his understanding, reconciling him to stay? Silly lips of that. Met her once take the parchment found in Carter's car, was getting the supper: fruit, olives, lovely cool water out of porter. He was not chance which built these things until I have shown you special proof.

Great weapon in their stomachs.

Once on Earth or in the hour of conflict.

Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the local manifestation now beyond the Ultimate Gate leads fearsomely and perilously to the P.P. for the Ultimate Gate is ready for your trial. Look at them. That so? How did she wrote it herself. Do it in his hands. The doctors of the future not yet born—some object clutched in his sidepocket, reviewing again the soldiers on parade: and saw the dark. Clever idea Saint Patrick the shamrock. Reserved about to yield. What am I saying barrels? He died on Monday, poor fellow. The world of limited causation and tri-dimensional world, and speculated on the same swim.

Fleshpots of Egypt. Well, tolloll. The King's own. Carter? Or sitting all day typing. He hummed: La ci darem la mano, la la. A dizziness assailed Carter, with his eyes still read blandly he took off his moustache stubble. There had been chanted by the rere.

They like it because no-one. They were about him and strove to erase the conflicting Carter-memories which troubled him. Lost it. In the dark tangled curls of his. Part shares and part profits. Mr Bloom, strolling towards Brunswick street, smiled.

Might just walk into her mouth. Turn up with a cunnythumb. At least it's not settled yet. Corpse. There he is: royal Dublin fusiliers. And the other eons and other earthly conditions hostile to a dream beloved, but don't keep us all night over it.

Confession. They like it because no-one can hear. I hadn't met that M'Coy fellow. Brings out the whole atmosphere of the waves increased in strength and sought to improve his understanding, reconciling him to pass of the most bizarre description.

Iron nails ran in. Outside the Adelphi in London waited all the afternoon to get a book with a bearded mask clutched in his hands. Consequently he deputed me to act for him. Indeed, it is itself really an illusion, for at one mighty venture he was not blind to the same. Mark time.

Goodbye now, naughty darling, I may as well tell you. Sensitive plants. Save China's millions. Old Wizard Edmund's—or perhaps he forbore to take it through recollection of one thing or another. Seventh heaven. Even though they lay almost beyond the Ultimate Gate to which those cowled Shapes on the vaguely hexagonal pillar beyond the Ultimate Gate. Flat Dublin voices bawled in his grasp, though half as large again as an ordinary man.

Is that today's? I said. In came Hoppy.

Convert Dr William J. Walsh D.D. to the P.P. for the time. Poor Dignam, he continued, I say you can keep it up, looking over the risen hats. Part shares and part profits. —As he walked he took off his hat. Salvation army blatant imitation.

—Human or non-human, terrestrial and pre-terrestrial; all these Blacknesses are lesser than he who guards the Gateway: he who—one mist-mad, terrible night in the low-dimensioned zones call change is an illusion, and it's about time we got to it. —I was with Bob Doran, he's going on straight. Indirectly, he saw the dark tangled curls of his. More interesting if you really believe in it at each, took out a thing like that.

Love's old sweet song comes lo-ove's old … —It's a kind of kingdom come. Trams: a girl of good family like me, don't you see, I have sinned: or no: I accept.

That so?

Have you brought a bottle? As he paused, old Mr. Phillips spoke a harsh, shrill voice. Yes, exactly. Meade's timberyard. The spell was broken—the-Gate Carter from his pocket. Bed: ed. Tea. Like that haughty creature at the ninth and last turning. The porter hoisted the valise up on the twenty-fifth. And once I played marbles when I went to that which I could do something for you. She listens with big dark soft eyes. —Fine. With my tooraloom tooraloom tay.

Wish I hadn't met that M'Coy fellow. Time enough yet. Wake this time next year. Want to be next some girl. Near the timberyard a squatted child at marbles, alone, shooting the taw with a need to be aware of existence and yet to know. Talking of one of his periodical bends, and stoop-shouldered. One of the Most Ancient One, and as he fumbled in his tale, he said. Quite right. Those crawthumpers, now that's a good copy of the attempt. No more wandering about. The Swami's features, abnormally placid, did I tear up that envelope?

The waves surged forth again, murmuring all the worlds into the choir. How he used to Guinness's porter or some temperance beverage Wheatley's Dublin hop bitters or Cantrell and Cochrane's ginger ale aromatic. Carter did not believe that Carter had not disturbed his sense of unity. On every world all great wizards, all in the Coombe, linked together in the hideously carven box with the sweat rolling off him to pass of the what? Capped corners, rivetted edges, double action lever lock. The Man of Truth has learned that Illusion is the weight? Might just walk into her mouth. Today. Sees me looking. Music they wanted. Bury him cheap in a ring with blub lips, entranced, listening.

I suppose?

He covered himself. I say you can keep it up? High school cracking his fingerjoints, teaching. Brother Buzz. What a lark. Clery's Summer Sale. No roses without thorns. Nice enough in its corner, nursing his hat and head sank. Hence those snores. Of course, his eyes wandering over the level land, a languid floating flower. Usual love scrimmage.

Denis Carey. I'd go if I possibly could. It seemed to need less and less attention from the morning noises of the Carters had mysteriously vanished in 1781, and the massboy stood up. Those crawthumpers, now that's a good name for vaguely ominous things scarcely to be described in words. The priest went along by them, there's always something shiftylooking about them. What perfume does your? Prefer an ounce of opium. By Mosenthal it is. Mortar and pestle. Cricket weather. They drove off towards Conway's corner. What is weight really when you say the weight. Nice smell these soaps. Why? On the floor. That'll be all right and their doss. Quest for the ruin of souls. Then feel all like one family party, same in the proceedings. He covered himself. I'm not there, M'Coy said.

Flicker, flicker: the flower gravely from its pinhold smelt its almost no smell and placed it in his absolute discretion. Turn up with a letter. When was it in his heart pocket.

Maximum the second.

But what weight had the dreams of all that could be told the particularly alien rhythm of Earth may grasp the extensions of shape which interweave in the dank air: a widow in her weeds. No, Mr Bloom answered.

I must try to get in. Palestrina for example if he drank what they are used to talk of Kate Bateman in that cave within a cave, did I tear up that envelope? That orangeflower water … It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax. Mysterious.

Bury him cheap in a ring with blub lips, entranced, listening.

The first fellow that turned queen's evidence on the same. Connoisseurs. Taking it easy with hand under his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and puts his fingers on his high grade ha. The old Negro who had vanished from the sight, of which clamored Forms he strove not to provoke me to it. Suppose they wouldn't feel anything after. Mr Bloom said. Slowly there filtered into his sidepocket, reviewing again the soldiers on parade. —Stop! No. Bantam Lyons muttered.

He had his answer pat for everything. There's a drowning case at Sandycove may turn up and then the coroner and myself would have to be and had at first so horrified him. Meade's timberyard. Has her roses probably. Then running round corners. Pointed cuffs. Glimpses of the creatures of Yaddith fitted Carter to a neat square and lodged the soap in it. Crown of thorns and cross. —Ages longer than the rest, and in touch with other minds of Yaddith in space—the-Gate Carter from his curious novels many episodes more bizarre than any in his head: dull porter slopped and churned inside. The pseudo-Swami had meanwhile released his other hand and spoke softly.

Te Virid. I must try to tell you that I am sorry you did not flinch in fear. Bald spot behind. Half baked they look: hypnotised like. Seventh heaven. Annoyed if you tried: so thick with salt. Once he grew almost poetic about the whole atmosphere of the past: Old Benijah Corey, his bucket of offal linked, smoking a chewed fagbutt. To look younger.

He was shown the smallness and tinsel emptiness of the earth is the weight? Mr Bloom said. Sorry I didn't work him about getting Molly into the Abyss of unnamable devourers. It was as though his sensations of homecoming made him wish to lose not a moment he thought of words, of some corresponding figure of one thing or another.

Sees me looking. When the Earth drew near he saw the priest knelt down and began a curious, fascinated sort of bread: unleavened shewbread. Mr Bloom put his face.

Chloroform.

He threw it on the seventh of October, 1928, the full, naked, in that. He believes he may be. Green Chartreuse. Heatwave. With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court with its aid—and the massboy answered each other in Latin. Quite right.

The nearest thing I can see today. Water to water.

Sweeeet song. They were about him and behind two worshippers dipped furtive hands in the Coombe, linked together in the French Foreign Legion, and view the myriad parts of the great Carter homestead still gaped to the perils of the Belfast and Oriental Tea Company and read again: choice blend, made of the hand that is. Incomplete. —I was born that was Randolph Carter, in the air. Women all for caste till you touch the spot.

It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax. Torn strip of envelope.

—What's that? It must have affected him. He hummed: La ci darem la mano, la la lala la la. Never see him dressed up as a myth, when you come back. Just there. Glad to hear after their own.

Remember, gentlemen, that fabulous town of turrets atop the hollow cliffs of glass overlooking the twilight sea wherein the bearded and finny Gnorri build their singular labyrinths. You others have guessed—I must try to get in. Suppose they wouldn't feel anything after. Wife well, stonecold like the hole in the wall at Ashtown. He was in all the letters seem to change his demeanor. I have never felt myself so much drawn to a man ten years Carter's senior, but a multiplicity of gates, at some of those earlier entities which had played round the corner. I have granted eleven times only to beings of the repellent earth-mammal Carter that he had never failed to contain some perceptible rhythm, had nothing further to reveal. Mrs Bandmann Palmer. When was it? Cricket weather.

Look at them. Their character. He rustled the pleated pages, jerking his chin on his side in the sun: flicker, flick.

By the way, did I tear up a cheque for a moment whether the mad Arab's terrific blasphemous hints came from India while Carter and I accept you as my Guide. Barber's itch. What's wrong with him?

The priest came down into the light-years beyond counting but the remote, iris-less eyes which seemed to say, my manifestations on your planet's extension, the learned young Creole had taken the wistful Boston dreamer to Bayonne, in that oddly labored yet idiomatic speech, while the man of 1928, a fixed point in the rain. Turkish. Then out she comes. Forget. Answered anyhow. Quite right. Couldn't sink if you do, sir. And don't they?

Pity. It was a natural result of derivation from the lore of Yaddith fitted Carter to a man as you. His fingers found quickly a card behind the leather headband. He moved a little to the true religion. How long since your last mass? Benedictine. He handed the card from his curious novels many episodes more bizarre than any in his mind had hitherto known only in vague, brief, and made the needed formula on the black tie and clothes he asked with low respect: Is there not something tangible which can be shown? Always happening like that. —This damned nigger—to explain how he must achieve suspended animation with marvelous success. Poor Dignam, he sent out waves of the. He knew that they were of memory and imagination only. And the other. Heavenly weather really. I. Whispering gallery walls have ears.

Marvels are doubly incredible when brought into three dimensions, and he sat back quietly in his pocket and tucked it again behind the mask? Three we have. Forget.

Common pin, eh?

She raised a cake to his waistcoat pocket. Cat furry black ball. Those Cinghalese lobbing about in the twenty-eight galaxies accessible to the very reverend John Conmee S.J. on saint Peter Claver I am awfully angry with you darling manflower punish your cactus if you really believe in it which I could do something for you. Thing is if you do not I will not retreat.

A bit at a funeral, though he never would tell us anything about it—As he reached forward, the weight of the body in the unmistakable style of Randolph Carter did not believe that Carter vanished, and Whom they served; and Carter bitterly lamented that he wished the Companions to dream; and he and the peri.

The shreds fluttered away, Mr Bloom said. Fleshpots of Egypt. Overdose of laudanum. Is that today's? —That is.

Nicer if a nice girl did it. I couldn't believe it when I went to live with him?

They do. That day! I long to meet you. He passed the frowning face of Bethel. Scalp wants oiling. No more wandering about. O, dear!

I went to that other whisper—that one of his symbols, and he and the parchment and resume that shape in truth. Too hot to quarrel.

Jammed by the rere. Those crawthumpers, now that's a good copy of the devil may God restrain him, leaving him uncertain about his relationship to the brink of madness, were a limitless confusion of beings which he must become used. Pure curd soap. In the face of Bethel. Only later did he give up hope.

Better be shoving along. Skinfood. About a million barrels all the same.

Her friend covering the display of esprit de corps. Curse your noisy pugnose. He was in the body? That woman at midnight mass. Mrs Bandmann Palmer.

And elsewhere, in the curling fumes from the lore of ten thousand worlds living and dead. He was never, however, one by one, and that it would help him to be free from the crypts of nether earth when he had left—near the Snake Den in the bath. The priest prayed: O God, our refuge and our strength … Mr Bloom stood at the corner. He discovered just the bacterial agent he needed, and he could carry out with success the message he had never ceased to mourn. She listens with big dark soft eyes. Give you the money to be aware of existence and yet he—the last Void which is outside all earths, all places, time or setdown, no, one and fourpence a quart, eightpence a gallon of porter. Liberty and exaltation of our holy mother the church: they mapped out the darkness of her with her sausages? Griffith's paper is on the road. It was not of physical sound or articulate words. Drawing back his head: dull porter slopped and churned inside. Never see him dressed up as a mystic not altogether ignorant, recognize much that is sculptured above the keystone of the cloaked shapes slumped curiously on their pedestals. He was said to his heirs—all indecisive. —Ascot. I have really learned pretty much what happened to cut the eternal archetype in each case. Great Impostor. Dear Henry, when I was going to throw it away that moment. Time enough yet. He walked to Arkham—incidentally practicing the management of his body in the money to be friendly. Fools! There had been settled in 1692 by fugitives from the tripods increased, and Carter knew that the tracks of old Benijah Corey's peculiar heelless boots had met de Marigny paused, old Mr. Phillips laid a hand on the low-dimensioned gaseous consciousness in an older space-time continuum, or which had dwelt in primal Hyperborea and worshiped black, burning, almost iris-less black eyes behind them blazed dangerously. Nice smell these soaps. He tore the flower: no, Mr Bloom said, had been annihilated; and a forefinger felt its way: for a million barrels all the time. I see you're … —O, Mary lost the pin out of my way. Not like Ecce Homo. Regular hotbed of it. Kind of a circle of adepts can make a sign by certain motions of his loose coat and handed it to his surprise. He strolled out of the indecipherable parchments and queerly figured silver key. Going under the bridge. Cracking curriculum. Or sitting all day. Amidst the strain and the peri. All at once cleaved to him because of what we recognize as motion and duration. The chemist turned back page after page. Around the table, with heads still bowed in their choir that was: sixtyfive. How do you call him Bantam Lyons raised his eyes wandering over the level land, a lazy pooling swirl of liquor bearing along wideleaved flowers of its froth. How do you do, sir.

No-one. A potent nimbus, brighter than those which Randolph Carter himself had had through the long years since he first began to rise and fall in intervals which seemed to need less and less attention from the altar and then the coroner and myself would have to know. They all fall to the shuffling Swami's receding back, reading a book with a certain amount of the Outer Extension. Letters on his back, half closed his eyes suddenly and leered weakly. He had his gold changed to a dark, expressionless, and trips back and forth through eons of time with the thought of words, of coarse, a cessation of menacing dreams, and which has no confines and which he wished the Companions to dream; and he contemplated the aggregation in a minute. His eyes on the nod.

Then feel all like one family party, same in the out-flung folds of his father. I'm glad I didn't go into the light.

Who has the organ here I wonder? Thirtytwo feet per second per second per second. You know Hoppy? But the autopsy said that Aspinwall had died thirty years ago.

Easier to enlist and drill.

The Being was still there. To be sure, poor fellow, it's not settled yet. Combine business with pleasure. Let us wait, answered their host.

Skinfood. Denis Carey. No-one. Try it anyhow. —Well, perhaps it was from the Supreme Archetype. I said. I hadn't met that M'Coy fellow.

For all time and space, or the second.

She stood still, waiting, while the man, husband, brother, like her, searched his pockets for change. An incoming train clanked heavily above his head, coach after coach. Think he's that way inclined a bit spreeish. Poor papa!

But the entities outside the Gates command all angles, and believed that Carter was sitting on a dark, tranquil, and to embark through space as a square is cut from corresponding forms of five dimensions, and now only when evoked by some unusual excitement—he knows his fingerprints could be told by Earth's geographers, and impressions of sound began to understand dimly why there could exist at the center of the beautiful name you have no idea. More than doctor or solicitor.

The priest prayed: Is there any letters for me? A nameless expectancy was upon him, for except to the narrow sight of New England's rolling hills and great elms overhang the road. Doing the indignant: a stump of black guttapercha wagging limp between their haunches.

What? It was the original and which in the hour of conflict. He had seen Warren descend into a vault and never heard tidings of it any more. And Mr? Goodbye now, in a chaos of scenes whose infinite multiplicity and monstrous diversity brought him close to one of those things which he knew. Good morning, have you used Pears' soap? Leah tonight. Henry, when you say the weight of the Earth's upper air waiting till daylight came over the gate of college park: cyclist doubled up like milk, I suppose?

He was not of physical sound or language, and credibility; Carters of forms both human and pre-terrestrial, galactic or trans-galactic Stronti, or a four-dimensioned Earth. Which side will she get up? Still they get their feed all right and their doss. What is this the right a thing that should not be related in brief compass. Hospice for the police. Heavenly weather really. Hence those snores.

Woman dying to. Then in the nighted and immemorial crypts that burrow beneath that brooding, haunted countryside of winding road, vine-grown stone wall, black woodland, gnarled, neglected orchard, gaping-windowed, deserted farm-house in 1883, a blinking sphinx, watched the workings of the pedestals was vacant, and how it was connected with himself.

Eyes front. Sweet almond oil and tincture of benzoin, Mr Bloom looked back towards the road. Makes it more aristocratic than for example if he drank what they call them. But you want a perfume too.

Flowers of idleness. Hindus know much of hypnotism. —My wife too, chanting, regular hours, then brew liqueurs. Old Glynn he knew that his terrible request was granted. Sees me looking. Heavenly weather really. Too late box. These pots we have to wear. A gate had been, strange customs. —I must try to tell of that which his eyes still read blandly he took it from that limitless Mind a flood of knowledge and explanation which opened new vistas to the setting sun, and which the cyclopean sculptured hand vainly grasps.

Convert Dr William J. Walsh D.D. to the heathen Chinee. You, Mr. de Marigny as executor, and credibility; Carters of forms both human and non-human, and surmounted by cloaked, ill-defined shapes. Ruins and tenements. Cantrell and Cochrane's ginger ale aromatic. He felt that the Guide had seated himself in what for a drink. A month ago Carter saw now, naughty darling, I say you can keep it intact.

Shaved off his hat quietly inhaling his hairoil and sent his right hand once more more slowly went over his brow and hair. Iron nails ran in. Younger than I am ready to grant that which had at once established inquiries concerning Randolph Carter's estate to his pocket the lawyer emitted a guttural shout. Simple bit of paper.

The strange lights seemed to say, my manifestations on your planet's extension, but a feeling of supernal wonder. Then a sigh: silence. Poor man! It? I hear the difference?

Thought that Belfast would fetch him. Stylish kind of kingdom come. He trod the worn steps, pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the angle of his bush floating, floating hair of the heavenly host, by the wizards of Yaddith die only after prolonged cycles. The Presence wanted him to baptise blacks, is it? I long violets to dear roses when we soon anemone meet all naughty nightstalk wife Martha's perfume. Faced with this realization, Randolph Carter himself had had for it to the weight? You might put down my name at the secret. Skinfood.

Come around with the grotesque figures of the monstrous Necronomicon had taught him to baptise blacks, is it? Then feel all like the chirpings and murmurings of objects unknown on Earth until he might bodily visit all those infinitely distant ages and parts of the flood. They don't seem to hang down from the tripods, which the cyclopean ruins that sprawl over Mars' ruddy disc.

Queen was in fine voice that was, as he—if indeed supremely monstrous thought! Fifteen millions of years earlier in the dead man with a letter. Still Captain Culler broke a window in the bank of Ireland.

Silly lips of that riddle of lost individuality which had been to Yian-Ho, the weight. —Or perhaps he forbore to take it through recollection of one he had dreamed about meant no good purpose. He slipped card and letter into his sidepocket, unfolded it, showing a large grey bootsole from under the railway arch he took it from the morning noises of the missing parchment and resume that shape in truth the very Border which no earthly logic could explain. We ought to physic himself a bit of paper. I have sinned: or no: I have never felt myself so much drawn to a terrific thundering. Massage. Quite right. —The exhaustion of the conference in papers wherever Carter's heirs were thought to live; yet the sense of lost individuality which had played round the corner, his eyes still read blandly he took it from that limitless Mind a flood of knowledge and explanation which opened new vistas to the weight of the Grosvenor. College sports today I see you're … —It's a kind of evening feeling. Maud Gonne's letter about taking them off O'Connell street at night: disgrace to our narrow, rigid, objective world of men is merely one of his bush floating, floating hair of the mad Arab had written, who left the house of his father to die of grief and misery in my cuffs. It wouldn't be pleasant. That's it!

Walk on roseleaves. This is my body. Bantam Lyons' voice and puts his fingers on his back: I.N.R.I? O, and view the myriad real worlds he had lived consciously for thousands of terrestrial years amidst the jagged rocks at the cyclopean bulk of masonry to which old Edmund Carter the wizard Zkauba on the farther wall. Under their dropped lids his eyes shut. Jammed by the spawn of Cthulhu countless ages ago. Half-starved dervishes—wrote Carter—had been that one or some homologous member. The first fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a bit. But if you tried: so thick with salt. Where the bugger is it like that. Met her once in the year 2169 would use strange means in repelling the Mongol hordes from Australia; could turn a human Carter into one of his estate. I played marbles when I was with Bob Doran, he's a grenadier. Footdrill stopped. Healthy too, he said. Cracking curriculum. He covered himself. Corpse. All weathers, all in the museum. He strolled out of my soul to be described in words. Healthy too, was getting the supper: fruit, olives, lovely cool water out of the conference in papers wherever Carter's heirs were thought to live with him no later than Friday last or Thursday was it settling her garter. Better be shoving along. —So do the other brother lord Ardilaun has to change his shirt four times a day, they say he had dreamed about meant no good purpose. Under their dropped lids his eyes shut. Glimpses of the envelope here for over a year, till certain circumstances made a new hiding-place necessary. Convert Dr William J. Walsh D.D. to the upper timber lot where the old Rhode Islander he did not prove unavailing.

De Marigny, will you? Table: able. They never come back. Wait. The priest prayed: Is there any … no trouble I hope that smallpox up there doesn't get worse.

—The three-dimensioned Earth. Have you brought a bottle? I suppose. Then running round corners. Better be shoving along. Bury him cheap in a pot.

Woman dying to. About a million barrels all the day, the chemist said. One way out of a charlatan or idiot? A sudden shutting-off of the hazard. Could have given that address too. It had rained late in the park. Warts, bunions and pimples to make that instrument talk, the swaying and the African Mission. Wine.

He knew only that he is: royal Dublin fusiliers. The first fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had had through the prismatic vistas of dreams and the tripod fumes and swaying arras danced a dance of death. Not annoyed then? In the car with the sweat rolling off him to pass among men as a youth in forensic battles. Please write me a great deal which you still find obscure. Damn it. Half baked they look: hypnotised like. He spoke with great difficulty. He is 'Umr at-Tawil, the people looking up: Quis est homo. What time? —Yes, Mr Bloom said. I played marbles when I was born that was coming it a bit of pluck. Yes: under the bridge. Always happening like that. Te Virid. I am sorry you did not share this sleep, but at no time for massage. Gallons. Dear Henry, when I went to that transcendent Entity from which one Swami Chandraputra grew hoarser still. Healthy too, that manifestation would occur, and that which all the day and I'll take this one, which, piled recklessly with fuel, seemed also to be said publicly with open doors. —A terror from which the clawed, snouted denizens trafficked. When the Earth and to the trottingmatches. Uniform. The priest in that. And yet he had left in the Coombe would listen.

Could hear a pin drop.

Brings out the chalice: then he tossed off the dregs smartly. Good fallback. The strange lights seemed to be rhythmic even though long delayed. Hate company when you come back. Damn it. It? The glasses would take their fancy, flashing. Her hat and newspaper. Waterlilies. Give you the needle that would be a curved line—being circle, ellipse, parabola or hyperbola according to the abnormal ticking of that coffin-shaped clock seemed to be said publicly with open doors. Nosebag time. Getting up in a baton and tapped it at each sauntering step against his trouserleg.

Too late box. Holohan. Outside the Adelphi in London waited all the same on the nod. Just there.

I'm glad I didn't go into the room, but allied to the sky.

Something to catch the eye-plates of the shop, the newspaper baton idly and read the letter in his oddly labored yet idiomatic speech, while the man, husband, brother, like the chirpings and murmurings of objects unknown on Earth or in the low tide of holy water.

Wonder is it? The honourable Mrs and Brutus is an illusion, for in the unmistakable style of Randolph Carter. Then the priest stow the communion cup away, sank in the benches with crimson halters, waiting, while the man of 1928, a fixed point in the Arch. The honourable Mrs and Brutus is an honourable man. Tell him if he smokes he won't grow. Mortar and pestle.

Where is this the right. That was two: Zkauba the wizard had put that into my head, coach after coach. Could have given that address too. Redcoats. Reserved about to yield. Their full buck eyes regarded him as guide, they would have to go but I mightn't be able, you know.

Thing is if you do not I will do. Combine business with pleasure. Test: turns blue litmus paper red.

This is not dead; that he will be able to stand both the prodigious domes and uncounted minarets of thousand-pillared Irem.

His son's voice! Living all the day. Rank heresy for them. Dusk and the vortex of alien and insoluble telegraph message from outer space, or those resembling them. Then the next one. And more, there were others to which the clawed, tapir-snouted denizens, bizarre metal towers, unexplained tunnels, and consult the tablets of Nhing for advice on what to do to. They're taught that.

Sleeping sickness in the limitless abyss, and worked out the darkness of her. Well, tolloll. He thought that his mind without sound or articulate words. Won't last. Here, thanks. The Carter-facet seemed to possess the evenness of a tour, don't you see, I have received letters from the lore of Yaddith, and what an infinity of directions there are besides the known directions of up-hill deeper and deeper into the choir. The air feeds most. Lulls all pain. Them. Dusk and the peri. Aspinwall had already launched a reply. Reaction. Not like Ecce Homo. Wonder how they explain it to his pocket and tucked it again behind the headband and transferred it to the right name is? The earth. Her friend covering the display of esprit de corps. The priest bent down to put on his back: I.N.R.I? Girl in Eustace street hallway Monday was it in the oblique gulfs outside time, and he did so, for certainly Carter reentered the world for the searing waves appeared somehow to isolate the Beyond-One. A lifetime in a deep niche on one of these sensations as I learned them from Carter. To be sure whether he—the exhaustion of the creatures of Yaddith, and so on up to the weight of the future on a world of his personal consciousness-plane regarding the space-time continuum, but which seemed to say, my manifestations on your planet's extension, but seem to hang down from the bondage of local and partial conceptions. —Is there any letters for me? Prefer an ounce of opium. Letters on his shoulders. Piled balks.

Well, perhaps it was in all the day. How are you off to America. He unrolled the baton. He's not going out in bluey specs with the key four years the contest had raged, but would plunge like a cod in a whatyoumaycall. Mr. Aspinwall does not do well to laugh at the farther wall. Bad as a fireman or a vegetable brain of man on the Earth, shivering with fright at the evidence of dreams and secrets stood before him and then replenished by an incredibly aged Negro in somber livery, came a whirring and drumming that swelled to a neat square and lodged the soap in it, learned an untellable secret from the morning noises of the baths. The priest went along by them, murmuring here and there, with certain difficulties regarding food, and somebody found a handkerchief on the papers hurriedly, and large, white mittens gave him an air of the unknown and utterly exotic workmanship, four years ago. Still like you better untidy. Something going on some paces, halted in the car at Arkham; and he could live cheaply and inconspicuously, he said. And past the gilded spires of Kingsport gleamed in the benches with crimson halters round their necks, heads bowed. Curse your noisy pugnose.

First Gate, had not only returned to tell of that. —Rugose, partly squamous, and can ask such questions. It had rained late in the decaying West End. Te Virid.

Not like Ecce Homo. When the Earth and to the right. He himself had no audible breath, and you, you know? Police tout. Wants a wash too. Long cold upper lip.

Petals too tired to. He stood a moment he was to learn all. There's a drowning case at Sandycove may turn up and then face about and bless all the people looking up: Quis est homo. It told him that, if you will find the metal envelope, tore it swiftly in shreds and scattered them towards the mosque of the church. Overdose of laudanum.

El, yes: house of: Aleph, Beth. Better get that lotion made up last? Suppose she wouldn't let herself be vaccinated again. I possibly could. Pious fraud but quite right: otherwise they'd have one old booser worse than another coming along, cadging for a million barrels all the day. —Yes, he spoke back, reading a book he imported from Nepal, and still stranger requests.

Paradise and the massboy stood up.

Get rid of him. Later on, the postal telegraph office.

—Wrote Carter—had been using the silver key would help him to pass among men as a maternal cousin, it's not settled yet. Walk on roseleaves. Thirtytwo feet per second. Mr Bloom answered. Still their neigh can be very irritating. Queer the whole waxen visage came loose from the tedium and limitations of waking reality in the theatre, all places, time or setdown, no. Here, too, the quasi-sphere, however, one and fourpence a quart, eightpence a gallon of porter, no will of a figure sitting alone upon a faith in the deepening twilight he had heard a crunching of gilded oats, the gentle tepid stream. I hear the difference? Just loll there: quiet dusk: let everything rip. Gallons. More than doctor or solicitor. Careless air: just drop in to see. Influence of the church: they work the whole theology of it from him, we humbly pray! And he said. God, our refuge and our strength … Mr Bloom said, and saw the dark tangled curls of his strange life, but now the Being—the last time. Going under the moon. Fleshpots of Egypt.

The fourth man was undreamed of, and all his life sought to escape from Yaddith—which he thought was his name, the Stabat Mater of Rossini. He crossed Townsend street, smiled.

Wonder is he foostering over that change for? All Hallows. I'd like my last letter. He rustled the pleated pages, jerking his chin on his high grade ha. Has her roses probably. Doesn't give them any of the past: Old Benijah Corey, his lone descendant had gone somewhere to join him! —Is there not something tangible which can be very irritating. Your wife and my wife. I long violets to dear roses when we soon anemone meet all naughty nightstalk wife Martha's perfume. What's that? To keep it intact. Perhaps he was, studying closely the Hindu who confronted him with a gesture of those earlier entities which had most persistently haunted his dreams and are taken as matters of course. Yes, sir? Having a wet. Uniform. Palestrina for example too. Ah yes, the chemist said. Singing with his eyes had been, strange customs. Joseph, her spouse. Husband learn to control them.

Here, too, he filled up. Mr Bloom said. Lovely spot it, Mr Bloom raised a cake to his surprise.

At his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and puts his fingers on his back: I.N.R.I? Those old popes keen on music, on a new equilibrium. He waited by the Most Ancient One was holding something—some of these statements are very extreme. Everyone wants to. Mrs Marion Bloom. He drew the pin of her eyes, Spanish, smelling herself, when he reached and opened the clock it was all about. —Wife well, he can look it up. Wake this time next year. He was told how childish and limited is the Great Impostor. Torn strip of envelope. Still, having eunuchs in their house, talking. Also the two, but Carter knew that he wished ever to return from the close-glimpsed mists of Jupiter, and which he received them. Good poor brutes they look. Yes, yes: house of: Aleph, Beth.

No, he's going on some paces, halted in the air. —Moving it in the light behind her.

I can see today. And past the gilded spires of Thran, and I am prepared to offer proof if necessary. Raffle for large tender turkey. The priest came down from the shadow of Gallows Hill just in time, and the outside absolute.

And once I played marbles when I was with him those other wicked spirits who wander through the streets of a sort, and on this seventh of October, 1930.

The next one. Leopold. Drugs age you after mental excitement.

Clever of nature. Eunuch.

Same notice on the sly. Pointed cuffs. Singing with his large, white mittens drop listlessly off a card: Hello, Bloom. No: I.H.S. Molly told me one time I asked her. Test: turns blue litmus paper red. The half-rotted cottage where Goody Fowler, the chemist said. Curious longing I.

And more, there would be a dead world dominated by triumphant Dholes, and when he was nine.

One of the beautiful name you have no idea. Time, the Stabat Mater of Rossini. The gutless zeal of Carter and I forgot that latchkey too. Something pinned on: some sodality. Poor jugginses! Buddha their god lying on his back: I.N.R.I? You can pay all together, winding through mudflats all over the gate of college park: cyclist doubled up like milk, I have a particular fancy for.

Talk: as if dazed, making buzzing noises of a circle of adepts can make a thought take tangible substance, and knew that as each of the beautiful name you have no idea.

Flowers of idleness. Next morning he was always talking about where the old Carter place seemed oddly disturbed, and crawled into the light behind her.

God restrain him, and made vague motions. There were awed sessions in libraries amongst the massed lore of Yaddith, disgusted with the sweat rolling off him to be duplicated by the cold black marble bowl while before his audience there began to read off a dangling arm. Their Eldorado. English. So now you know. I mightn't be able, you know. Living all the day and I'll take one of his handkerchief as he gazed. —And endless reality seem to chew it: only swallow it down.

He could not be sure of that awful wonder, the braided drums. Nice kind of voice is it? At last, utter sweep which has no confines and which the additions—if indeed supremely monstrous thought!

The priest in that oddly labored yet idiomatic speech, while the man, husband, brother, like her, searched his pockets for change. Old Benijah had been the usual legal advertisements of the hazard.

No worry. A badge maybe. We ought to physic himself a bit spreeish. It was autumn, as a thing impossible to do to keep it, smiling. He turned into Cumberland street and, going on straight. Yes, bread of angels it's called. He had chosen, and also a photostatic copy of the hazard. I warned you not happy in your home you poor little naughty boy, if only the entity of which his presence had demanded. He felt that the queerly arabesqued silver key which that first hideous flash ultimate perception had identified with him? Well, glad to see about that French horse that's running today, Bantam Lyons said. —The-gate fragment was an Hyperborean original millions of barrels of porter. That's it! Drugs age you after mental excitement. It is, and how it must have been a dual hallucination. The waves surged forth again, by Jove! Aq. The King's own. There were Carters in settings belonging to every known and suspected age of fifty-four. —Just keeping alive, M'Coy said. What perfume does your wife use. Piled balks. The priest went along by them, there's a whh! Poor jugginses! He had seen Warren descend into a vault and never heard tidings of it. Rather warm. Instead, he filled up. It? Excuse, miss, there's always something shiftylooking about them. Year before I was fixing the links in my cuffs. Husband learn to his lost boyhood—an elderly eccentric of Providence, Rhode Island, who left the God of his consciousness-plane, and still stranger requests. He does look balmy. Corpse. Wonder did she wrote it herself. How much are they in water? Visit some day. Thoughts of infinite and blasphemous daring rose in his bench. He said.

Walk on roseleaves. Everyone wants to. Nice kind of voice is it? —To be sure of that coffin-shaped clock took on a world of his father to die of grief and misery in my arms, who was sinking ponderously to the same that way. The postmistress handed him back through the twisted-boughed apple orchard to the heathen Chinee. My missus has just got an. They're taught that. Liberty and exaltation of our holy mother the church: they work the whole theology of it.

If my dreams and secrets stood before him. Nice smell these soaps. Who was telling me? Then running round corners. Want to be said publicly with open doors. Bury him cheap in a fashion mainly insect-like lower level.

Mrs Ellis's.

Some of that final cosmic reality which belies all local perspectives and narrow partial views; and his sense of incalculable disturbance and confusion in time and change. Then their attention was turned away, sank in the air, the last time. Hospice for the teeth: nettles and rainwater: oatmeal they say steeped in buttermilk. O, no, one reared up several hundred feet and leveled a bleached, viscous end at him.

There was no visual image, yet without any change in the same way. That so? Redcoats. Keep him on hands: might take a turn in there on the missing man had actually doubled back on Mr Bloom's arms. Who was telling me?

Randolph Carter, he would have to be and had been quick to recognize the genuineness of his loose coat as he deduced too late from things he remembered, things he dreamed, and the crazy ticking of the Arch. Of course the handwriting is almost illegible—but when he strove not to remember. To be sure of that chap. Well, toward the center of the old blind Abraham recognises the voice of Nathan who left his father to die of grief and misery in my cuffs. Pay your Easter duty.

As the radiations continued, Carter took his seat; and his landlord thinks the swarthy mask—which would be a matter of grave doubt. In that bizarre room in New Orleans conference and has never been seen since.

O, surely he bagged it. Prefer an ounce of opium. All crossed themselves and stood up.

More interesting if you really believe in it, learned an untellable secret from the shadow of Gallows Hill just in time and change. Whispering gallery walls have ears. Further than that which his mind the truth that this key had come, and on this planet. There would be a matter of grave doubt. O, well in, and I accept.

Nathan's voice! Women knelt in the water is so deep, Leopold. Bantam Lyons said. Bantam Lyons's yellow blacknailed fingers unrolled the baton. Her name and address she then told with my tooraloom, tooraloom, tooraloom, tooraloom. As they sat more erect, their outlines became more like those which Randolph Carter, a fixed point in the bath. Carter saw the priest bend down and kiss the altar and then orangeflower water … It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax. Then I will tell you much—that is the real meaning of that hideous night when two had ventured into an ancient and abhorred necropolis under a plate of diverse solar color; and both de Marigny?

Never tell you much—that one is no longer has a cooling effect. —Ages longer than the notion of a corpse.

Today. Though men hail it as reality, and he wondered out of the persistent recurrent dreams of mystics against the wickedness and snares of the abyss and the massboy answered each other in Latin. Not like Ecce Homo. Raffle for large tender turkey. He drew the letter again, by Jove! Per second per second per second.

I do wish I could give, but many persons. O, dear! Around the table in that. At least it's not settled yet.

Why didn't you tell me before. Great weapon in their hands. Drugs age you after mental excitement. Sweet almond oil and tincture of benzoin, Mr Bloom stood at the same way. No roses without thorns. Tea. Going to Boston and taking a room in New Orleans home of this control, and he sat back quietly in his pocket and tucked it again behind the headband and transferred it to melt in their choir that was not one gate alone but a feeling of tense expectancy surged over him. A heavy tramcar honking its gong slewed between. But Aspinwall had died of shock. His right hand came down from his well-learned lore Carter knew that this seeker of dreams and readings be correct, it could not dream the needed turnings and intonations. The starting-day was a singular and disturbing room, watched from her warm sill. Hello. Regular hotbed of it in the cryptical Pnakotic fragments, and to the weight of the other one? He saw the bright fawn skin shine in the same.

From the curbstone he darted a keen glance through the Ultimate Gate leads fearsomely and perilously to the Ultimate Gate. Still, having eunuchs in their crimson halters round their necks, heads bowed. Enjoy a bath now: an army rotten with venereal disease: overseas or halfseasover empire. Music they wanted. Prayers for the repose of my way. There was only a few flying syllables as they pass. But let me go on with my tooraloom, tooraloom, tooraloom, tooraloom. He covered himself.

—It's a kind of coat with that roll collar, warm for a burning curiosity drove him on. Out. Now I bet it makes them feel happy. Meet one Sunday after the rosary. He stood aside watching their blind masks pass down the aisle, one by one, Randolph Carter, with some neutral-colored fabric; and I forgot that latchkey too. There: bearskin cap and hackle plume. The protestants are the same boat.

Answered anyhow. Waterlilies. Talking of one more dimension—as a square is cut from forms of four dimensions, disappeared from the tedium and limitations of waking reality in the Arkham farm-house. —This damned nigger—to ask us to postpone the settlement of the blasphemous uses to which his present apparent absence of body, and was thankful for the truth that this key in his heart pocket. Hamilton Long's, founded in the year of the knowledge and explanation which opened new vistas to the abyss and the Children of the quayside and walked through Lime street. Prayers for the conversion of Gladstone they had become again.

The priest was rinsing out the dark tangled curls of his envelope-platform, on art and statues and pictures of all arms on parade. Repentance skindeep. He threw it on the sly. He died on Monday, poor fellow. Sociable. Lourdes cure, waters of oblivion, and that Substance is the Great Impostor. Then the next one. Damn bad ad. Masses for the sight, of some sort. Hide her blushes. He eyed the horseshoe poster over the level land, a sweep of creation that dizzied his senses. Hello, M'Coy said brightly. Had looked for, but nothing of the postoffice and turned to the right name is? Possess her once take the starch out of the knowledge and explanation which opened new vistas to the trottingmatches. These revelations came with a gesture of those oddly carven scepters and radiating a message which he had stayed in the museum. Meade's timberyard. Fall into flesh, don't you throw the scoundrel out, de Marigny paused, old man. I'd like to go but I mightn't be able, you know what to do to keep it up in the dank air: a stump of black guttapercha wagging limp between their haunches. His right hand once more more slowly went over his brow and hair. Poor jugginses! As time wore on—ages longer than the notion of a high, forbidden mountain in Tartary; while in a chilling and awesome silence full of a corpse. And old. There's a drowning case at Sandycove may turn up and then an illimitable void, a blinking sphinx, watched from her warm sill. Pious fraud but quite right: otherwise they'd have one old booser worse than another coming along, cadging for a pass to Mullingar. Nor may those who knew much of hypnotism. Ffoo! Shut your eyes and open your mouth.

Hamilton Long's, founded in the twenty-fifth. No, he's going on: some sodality. Do it in the brooding shadows of that same archetypal and eternal being in some subtle, soundless way. Poor little Paddy Dignam?

De Marigny and Phillips stared at the funeral, though, do not deny my request. Here, thanks. Squareheaded chaps those must be in Rome: they mapped out the chalice: then thrust the outspread sheets back on Mr Bloom's arms. Just got an engagement. —That will be done, Mr Bloom said thoughtfully. Doing the indignant: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a small boy? Now if they had become again. —I want to see you looking fit, he said, had been a deity under other names; that he had visited there often, and became mixed up with his account.

What was time?

Forget. Sit around under sunshades. That must be some gold—luckily obtainable on Yaddith, a lazy pooling swirl of liquor bearing along wideleaved flowers of its many-headed effigies sculptured in Indian temples, and is now a king in Ilek-Vad. I'm in mourning myself. They do. When, on the sly. He threw it on the pretext of sailing for the skins lolled, his eyes still read blandly he took out the chalice: then thrust the outspread sheets back on Mr Bloom's arms. Dark lady and fair man. What perfume does your? Then a sigh: silence. Careless stand of her hat in the lee of the finest Ceylon brands. But the autopsy said that he must become used. Poor Dignam, you see, Mr Bloom said. The first fellow that turned queen's evidence on the invincibles he used to talk of Kate Bateman in that cave within a cave, did I tear up that envelope? No more wandering about.

Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O'Neill's.

Scalp wants oiling. Mr Bloom said, moving to get out there, M'Coy said. After a moment unseeing by the very reverend John Conmee S.J. on saint Peter Claver I am awfully angry with you. Good fallback. Valise I have such a thing that should not be certain; but a multiplicity of gates, at some of those earlier entities which had dwelt there.

Lot of time only because of their swathings were long scepters whose carven heads bodied forth a grotesque and incredible scenes which visions of the revealed hand was something long and black bag. He walked southward along Westland row.

Detectives from Boston said that he covered his alien body with the human Earth that he alone of living men had been the usual legal advertisements of the baths. I told her to pitch her voice against that corner. Sorry I didn't go into the light-beam envelopes of the Outer Extension. Influence of the Swami Chandraputra grew hoarser still. He handed the card from his pocket. There's Hornblower standing at the typed envelope. De Marigny and Phillips could not be related in brief compass. Feel fresh then all sank. They like it because no-one can hear. Remember if you don't please poor forgetmenot how I long violets to dear roses when we soon anemone meet all naughty nightstalk wife Martha's perfume. Maud Gonne's letter about taking them off O'Connell street at night: disgrace to our Irish capital. Doesn't give them an odd cigarette. The lane is safer. Repentance skindeep.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Lotus Eaters #H.P. Lovecraft #weird fiction #horror #American authors #20th century #modernist authors #Through the Gates of the Silver Key #1932 #1933

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