#forever yelling into the void about last flight | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

makorragal-312 · 4 years ago

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Void (Part Eight)

"Lance? What's gotten into you?"

"Yeah, man? You good? D-did we say something wrong?"

"No. You said everything right."

"Wait, Lance?"

Lance!

"LANCE!"

Lance jolted awake in his seat, his heart beating out of his chest. Clearly, being woken up out of his sleep via heart attack was going to be a regular occurrence for the paladin. And it couldn't have come at a worse time considering he and the other paladins were still on a bit of a low after leaving Olkarion, or at the very least what was left of it. Somewhere between them leaving and them being mid-flight, the red paladin ended up dozing off, still somewhat tired from the events from earlier in the day. But life is fair, and he needed to wake up to a voice of panic.

"Lance! Oh thank god! I thought you died of sadness!"

Lance turned his head to the sound of the voice, seeing Hunk's relief-filled face appear on the screen next to him. He took a deep inhale and exhale to calm his heart one last time before finally responding.

"No, but I will eventually die of a heart attack if you do that again!" he chastised lightly. Hunk rubbed his neck awkwardly, embarrassment taking over his face.

"Sorry about that. I just really wanted to apologize for earlier. We didn't mean to upset you." Hunk said quietly, his somber eyes looking at the bottom corner of Lance's screen. Lance furrowed his brows sadly. For some reason he was hoping that he and Pidge would let it go and just let him work himself back up again, but he knew better. Hunk wouldn't function if he knew someone was mad at him and would go out of his way to make sure they knew how sorry he was. He sighed.

"Hey, man. I know you guys didn't do it on purpose. It's just, y'know, kind of a sore spot for me." Lance replied, a tired smile creeping back on his face. "But I'm sorry I worried you."

Hunk looked back up at him hopefully.

"So, we're good?" Lance chuckled.

"Yeah, man. We're good." Hunk's eyes widened as a big smile appeared on his face before sighing in relief.

"Okay, awesome! I'll go tell Pidge the good news!" Hunk said quickly, his screen disappearing from Lance's view a second later. The red paladin crossed his arms as he leaned back in his seat. To say that he was having an all-around stressful few days would be an understatement. First, he botches a date with a girl he's had feelings for since forever. Then, he ends up breaking down to his friend, whom for some reason is feeling REALLY conflicted about; which then cumulates to him breaking down AGAIN in a conversation that he can barely remember. And now, he has to deal with hearing about Lotor again.

Lance let out a heavy sigh. He knew he shouldn't be letting Lotor rile him up like this again. He's gone, out of the picture, stuck in the quintessence field and will never see the light of day. So why does it feel like he still finds a way to taunt him? Why does it feel like he's mocking him? Mocking him on how he'd be able to do the things that he couldn't. Things that made Allura want to get closer with him in the first place. Who knows, maybe he and Allura did have something. Something bigger than Lance could ever hope to be for her. Lance smacked his cheeks, trying to snap himself out of his stupor.

"This day couldn't possibly get any worse."

_______________________________________________________________________

"Paladins, get airborne immediately! This is a trap!."

And just like that, it got worse. What was supposed to be a simple rendezvous point became a trap as what was supposed to be the Atlas turned out to be some sort of war ship, ready to take Voltron captive. The lions bolted for the sky as they tried to put as much distance between them and the ship as possible. Suddenly, the lions became dead weight as the ship projected red beam that caused them to drop to the ground, unable to move. Lance quickly tried to make use of the controls, but to no avail.

"It's just like when we were caught by those pirates!" Hunk shouted. Lance slightly panicked at the memory and the thought of it happening again.

"We're about to be captured again!"

"Emergency ejection!" he heard Keith yell. Lance pressed the ejection lever in his lion, making him fly from the lion's head. He landed on the ground momentarily before using the jets on his armor to fly away from the area, Pidge right beside him. He focused on the path before him as he and the other paladins tried to avoid the heavy fire from the ship. He heard Keith and Allura trying to contact the Atlas, but he knew nothing good was going to come out of it. Eventually, they found themselves hiding in a disheveled forest, evaluating the situation before them.

"The Atlas isn't receiving our communications!" Pidge whispered. The paladins turned their heads to where they had left their lions.

"That beam has the Lions pinned." Hunk added.

"We must have been set up. But by whom?" Allura questioned. The paladins waited in silence, wanting to see if the coast was clear to make another break for it. Not even a minute later, they heard the sound of beeping from a distance, starting to close in as the beeps eventually turned rapid.

"Guys, we have incoming. It's closing fast." In a matter of seconds, a drone appeared, not hesitating to start shooting beams at the paladin, whom had already begun to run for their lives. Using their jets, they jumped from branch to branch in another attempt to put distance between the drone and them before starting to run the rest of the way.

"We need to lose it!" Hunk shouted, trying to balance himself on the branch as he ran and cowering in the same breath. Lance added jumps to his steps, barely avoiding the incoming blasts himself.

"Isn't there anything we can do to throw it off our scent?"

"Yeah, I've got an idea, but I need a minute." he heard Pidge shout from the branch above him.

"I'll buy you some time." Hunk shouted back. Once he made sure everyone was behind him, the yellow paladin turned back to the drone as he summoned his cannon, firing in the drone's direction. Lance didn't hesitate in helping his friend, summoning his gun and shooting in the same direction. The blasts from Hunk's cannon targeted the nearby trees, implanting miniature cannons on said trees as added ammunition toward the drone. Lance looked out the corner of his eye and saw Keith and Allura providing cover for Pidge as she tried to shut down the drone's defenses, which luckily didn't take too much time at all.

"Got it!" Pidge shouted triumphantly. "It shouldn't be able to detect us anymore." Lance stopped firing, lifting his gun upward.

"Then let's get out of here!" he replied urgently. A couple of more shots were fired before they ceased, showing the drone was encased in a protective shield. The paladins watched in confusion as the drone flew towards them, moving past them swiftly and slowly. They heard the drone begin its beeping once more, only for it to turn right back around, beeping rapidly, as it once again tried to shoot them dead.

Tears came to Hunk's eyes as all hope of escape turned dim given their current situation.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!" Hunk cried. Luckily for him, the other paladins had found cover and he didn't hesitate to jump into crevice beside Pidge. Keith pulled up his shield, blocking him and Allura from the oncoming shots next to them.

"I need something to draw its attention!"

"I've got it!" Allura said before running out of the space. She ran up out of the drone's visual range and summoned her whip, making it wrap around the tree that's behind the drone before pulling it. Once the whip was gone, she used all of the strength she could muster to push the tree down, only for the drone to move from underneath it just before the tree could land on it. The drone zoomed out of range above where the Altean and the other paladins stood, but before it could launch another attack, a spinning disc appeared from the smoke and hit the drone point-blank, turning back into its original form of a sword as the drone landed on the ground in a burst of flames. Just as quickly as it landed, so did Keith, whom summoned his sword back into his hand in its bayard form.

"Huh, good job, Keith." Lance remarked as he walked up to the black paladin, smiling. "I mean, I was just about to do that, too, but that's cool." His smile grew as he could sense Keith scowling in annoyance at his remark. Even though he was just teasing him, the red paladin always finds himself amazed at how Keith can get them out of situations. He was taken out of his amazement, however, when Pidge spoke up after him.

"I might be able to hack into it." The green paladin walked past the two as she knelt in front of the destroyed machine, Hunk and Allura joining the circle a second later. Lance, however, stepped back, choosing to lean back on the tree near them. While the drone was still being scanned, he couldn't help but to peek at Keith again from the corner of his eye.

His gaze was focused, looking over Pidge and the drone. His back was straight, arm crossed in mild patience and slight urgency. Lance felt his throat get dry, his chest getting tight. He looked so serious, so determined, so...strong. The kind of strength that was in no doubt instilled in him thanks to Shiro. The kind of strength that the red paladin himself could only hope to achieve. The kind of strength that made him feel safe. Unconsciously, he felt his eye shift past Keith to look at Allura. Her stance was similar to Keith's, the only difference being that she was crouched forward a little with her hands on her hips. Her facial expression was also that of an urgent one, but it didn't hold the same patience and sense of calm that Keith's face held. Nonetheless, he couldn't deny how beautiful and ethereal she looked. He felt the dryness in his throat ease up, along with the tightness in his chest. Lance forced himself to look away just in time to hear Pidge telling Hunk to shut up, so he could only assume it had something to do with the drone that Keith had just destroyed.

"This thing has been locking on to our key encryption protocol that's built into our suits and bayards." Pidge stated.

"How did they get that?" Keith inquired.

"I don't know. Only a genius could do it." Lance thought for a moment.

"Can't we just turn our suits off?"

"Negative. If the drone had our encryption protocol, then so does that cruiser and anyone on it. If we want to avoid detection, we need to lose our suits and our bayards." Pidge replied simply. Lance's eyes widened. At this point, dying by drone blast started to sound pretty good to him. The paladins seemed to hold a similar sentiment.

"Remove our armor? In this place?"

"Has anyone read the atmosphere? Oxygen low, CO2 high. We're not gonna last long. A few hours, tops. We need our suits to survive." Hunk pointed out. Lance moved his eyes to Keith, eager to see his stance on the situation at hand.

"Yeah, at this point, we'll survive longer without them." Keith stated firmly. Lance looked back at the drone.

"So, keep our suits on and risk getting blasted, or take our suits off and live long enough before dying from poisoned air." Lance thought over the options at hand. He was still kind of on the fence about dying by drone firing squad, but now with the new information at hand if they went without their suits, now he wasn't so sure. He kept silent as the others discussed what to do.

"There's no way when can move on without our suits." Allura spoke. "Our helmets supply us with the oxygen we need. Without them, there's no way we can survive out here." Hunk shifted back and forth nervously.

"Yeah, guys. I'm with Allura on this one. I kinda want to get back to the Lions with my lungs intact." Pidge stood up from her original spot, looking at Hunk with mild annoyance.

"Hunk, we all want our lungs intact. But our lungs aren't going to be on our minds if we keep getting blasted. This was just one drone, but we don't know if there's going to be more. And if there is, we can only hold out for so long before they get us. Ditching the armor is our only option." Hunk started to panic.

"Aren't there ANY other options?!"

"If there were, don't you think I would've said it?" Hunk bowed his head in defeat.

"Look, when that drone came up on us, we barely had time to react. If we leave our suits and bayards here, it'll give us time to find help." Keith added.

"But the only way we can even call for help is with our communicators. How will we be able to contact the Atlas if we can't call them?" Allura replied, sounding slightly agitated at the prospect of abandoning the armor.

"Shiro probably knows by now that something happened to us. The Atlas could be looking for us as we speak. Until then, we need to do all we can to survive. And that includes leaving our armor and bayards. We'll pick them up once we're found." The conversation was getting nowhere. Lance sighed heavily. Allura and Hunk were adamant about keeping the armor, but Keith and Pidge were keen on leaving it. He knew they couldn't keep arguing about this forever, knowing any minute they'd be in danger again.

"Lance? What do you think?" Lance raised his head at Allura's urgent voice, being bombarded by the expectant looks of her and the rest of the group.

"We're kinda split down the middle here, so we kinda need a tiebreaker and that's you. So...armor or no armor?" Hunk spoke quickly, trying to fill Lance in. The paladin in question shifted uncomfortably, the gaze from the group making him anxious.

"No pressure, right?" Lance chuckled nervously. Allura walked towards him.

"Lance, this is serious. We need to plan our next steps. Do you want to keep the armor?" she inquired urgently. The red paladin shrunk under her gaze. She looked so serious and agitated and it twisted his gut to know he was contributing to it.

"Allura, that's enough." the princess turned her head to look at Keith, who was clearly getting annoyed at what was transpiring. "I get that you're stressed, but this is his choice. Lay off him for a bit and let him talk."

Lance looked at Keith in surprise. He hadn't expected him to speak up for him, let alone against Allura. He sent him a quick smile in thanks, with Keith nodding his head in acknowledgement. Lance took a deep breath before turning his head back towards the group as he made his decision.

"Okay, I'm not gonna lie, I was fine with idea with getting shot at. But, if Hunk is right and we can manage a few hours of survival, then I think we should try it. It might be hard considering where we're at and what we're up against, but that's why I think we should maintain a good distance away and conserve our energy until absolutely necessary. I think we should leave the armor behind." Lance finished nervously. He looked back at Keith, who was looking at him with an unreadable expression.

"Then that settles it. We leave the armor behind and try to get to the Lions. And if we find Atlas, even better." Keith stated, his decision final. Lance, Pidge and Hunk (though hesitantly) nodded in confirmation. Lance turned his head to find Allura, staring back at him in minor disappointment before sighing.

"Okay. But only because you think so." Allura finally relented. Without hesitation, each of the paladins disposed of their armor and bayards, tossing them into a pile in front of them.

"Okay, the armor and bayards are off limits. Now what?"Hunk asked, looking at Keith. The black paladin didn't hesitate to give him an answer.

"Now, we split up." Lance swiftly turned his head towards Keith in disbelief.

"WHAT?!" the team exclaimed collectively.

"Are you insane? First you want us to ditch the armor and now you want to split up?" Hunk yelled in sheer confusion.

"If we split up, it gives us more of a chance to get out of here. You guys need to go and try to retrieve the lions from the cruiser. I'm gonna try and lead whatever comes away from you guys. I'll meet back up with you guys once that's taken care of."

"Keith. Going on your own in this environment is dangerous. You can't go by yourself." Allura warned, not liking the idea at all. Lance looked at her briefly before turning towards his leader.

"She's right. Because I'm going with you." Lance said firmly. Now it was Keith's turn for his eyes to widen, along with Pidge and Allura looking at Lance in sheer shock while Hunk proceeded to grip his hair and walk in circles in what could only be described as the beginnings of a mental breakdown.

"Lance, no. You need to go with the others and try to get to the Lions." Keith replied in an authoritative tone.

"I can't do that. You're trying to navigate in this random forest, low on oxygen, with NO armor with a few good hours top before something bad happens. And I know you, if something or someone comes at you, you come back at them 100%. But given where we are, that's the last thing I want you do. Besides, I'm your right hand, remember? Where you go, I go, too." Lance replied, a new sense of determination filling his chest. Keith felt the authority he had turn dim. He knew Lance meant well and wanted to protect him, something Keith would do in a heartbeat if the roles were reversed. But he knew that if given the circumstances, if something happens to Lance he wouldn't forgive himself. So as much as he wanted him to stay, he needed to keep him away. Or at least try to. Keith let out a deep exhale.

"Lance, you don't have to do this." Keith said quietly. Lance didn't budge.

"Actually, I think I do. And um, I'm not asking for your permission. No offense." Lance added quickly towards the end. Yeah, he's not backing down, Keith thought in defeat.

"Okay, fine. But for the record, I don't approve of this." the black paladin warned slightly. Lance smirked in response.

"I'm aware." Lance replied teasingly. Keith gave him a small smirk of his own before forcing his face back into a serious expression. He looked towards the team once again.

"Okay. Lance and I are going to try and hold off whatever comes our way. You guys go and try to retrieve the Lions from that cruiser. Hopefully the Atlas can pick up on our distress calls and try to trace our location." the black paladin instructed in finality. Before they split up, Hunk didn't hesitate to grab Lance's hand and shake it with ferocity as tears streamed down his face.

"You're a good man, bro. I'll never forget you!" Hunk wailed. Lance gave a small smile at Hunk's behavior.

"Come on, man. Have at least some faith in me." the red paladin joked. Once Hunk finally let go of his hand, Pidge came up next to him and punched his shoulder lightly.

"Be careful out there." she said with a nervous smile.

"Thanks."

"Okay, we should get going." Allura stated boldly before walking in the direction of the lions, Pidge and Hunk trailing behind her. Lance couldn't help but feel bad. He knew that she was adamant about them keeping the armor on, but he felt as though going without the armor was their best bet. At least that's what he hoped the issue was, and not because she expected him to follow suit because of how he felt for her. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't feel bad." Keith started, keeping his grip on Lance's shoulder firm in a display of comfort. "You chose what you thought was best. Don't feel bad for stating it." Lance turned his head to face him, sighing.

"I know. Thanks." Lance replied, giving Keith a reassuring smile. Keith moved his hand to Lance's back, gently directing him to where they were going.

"Let's get to it."

_______________________________________________________________________

"Are we sure the Lions are this way?" Pidge asked stressfully.

"Every direction looks the same." A solid hour passed since Hunk, Pidge, and Allura had started their trek to retrieve the Lions, but so far the group had made no progress as they continued to find themselves surrounded by dead trees and hanging branches, with no Lions in sight. And since they had no form of mapping their location, they had to depend on instinct.

"And that's why it's important to walk in this never-ending straight line." Pidge deadpanned in response. "We'll reach them sooner or later if we keep at it. Right, Allura?" the green paladin turned to ask the princess, only to receive a despondent expression on her face as the Altean was clearly deep in thought.

"Allura?" Pidge waved her hand in front of Allura's face, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"Y-yes?" Allura stammered. Hunk and Pidge paused in their tracks as they looked at Allura with concern.

"Oh no, is the oxygen getting to you?" Hunk asked hurriedly.

"What? No, no, I'm fine. I just have a lot on my mind." She answered truthfully. Pidge and Hunk shared a knowing look with each other.

"And by that I'm guessing you mean Lance?" Pidge asked slowly. Allura sighed as she nodded. Pidge gave her a small smile.

"I don't think you have to worry about him too much. He's with Keith. He's not going to let anything happen to him." Pidge said reassuringly.

"I know. It's just...I've never seen him be so adamant about something like that. The way he went after Keith like that." Allura replied, thinking back to how Lance offered to be by Keith's side without hesitation. Almost as if he belonged by his side. The two paladins hummed in acknowledgement.

"Yeah, that was pretty crazy. But given where we're at, he probably has the right idea." Pidge shrugged. She narrowed her eyes at Hunk as he began sniffling.

"He's gonna be Keith's right-hand to the very end. I'm so proud of him!" Hunk cried in happiness before Pidge slapped the back of his head, telling him to get it together as they continued walking. They didn't take into account, however, that Allura was still stuck in her tracks, arms crossed. She knew that she had nothing to worry about. Lance was a skilled paladin who could handle himself if need to be and if he's with Keith, who in certain aspects is just as skilled if not more, he'll be well protected. But she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to this. Any other time in circumstances like this, Lance would voice his concern, but he would choose to stay with the group rather than split up. So Lance volunteering himself to go with Keith was surprising to say the least.

Not only did this fact surprise her, it worried her. Ever since they went on their date, she began to take notice of the small ways Lance started to act around her. The way he left after he dropped her off. How panicked he looked when he sped-walked away. Even during the briefings to head to Olkarion he was different. He was quiet and reserved, as if he had so much plaguing his mind. She hoped it was just because of something like exhaustion or lack of sleep, but after what just happened, the signs were clear as day.

"Allura? You coming?" She looked up finally, looking at Hunk and Pidge who were a good few feet away from where she stood. She faked a smile as she took her first steps.

"Yes."

_______________________________________________________________________

"Okay. I'm really starting to question how your brain works, sometimes."

"You didn't question it before we left." Unlike the others, who caught themselves going in a straight circle, Keith and Lance found themselves going upward, more specifically towards the top of the planet's somewhat active volcano. Keith figured that if he wanted to keep whoever was after the team off their trail, they'd need to lead them to a location where they wouldn't pose a threat. Lance was on board with idea, that is until Keith suggested bringing his armor to provide a ruse once they got to their designated point. And as expected, Lance got tasked with carrying it.

"Yeah? Well that was before you decided to bring your armor into the mix!" Lance raised his voice in annoyance.

"Again, Lance. It's all part of the plan." Keith answered nonchalantly. Lance sighed. It was bad enough they had to walk (and sometimes climb) slowly in order to conserve their energy and oxygen, but that's kind of a hard task when you're carrying a bunch of armor. He was so busy on thinking about hitting him with his helmet that he didn't realize that he had bumped into Keith's open hand, outstretched to him.

"What?" Lance asked. He wasn't given an answer as Keith took his helmet and chest plate from his hands, leaving him to hold his leg gear. Lance instantly felt some of the weight get lifted off of him. He sighed in relief.

"Took you long enough. But thanks." he said gratefully. Keith hummed a "your welcome" as they started walking again, this time being side by side. Lance felt his throat get dry again as he locked his eyes on the rocks before him. Realization finally dawned upon him. He was with Keith. Alone. NEAR A VOLCANO. He could already hear Veronica saying how this was like the YA romance novels she read back in during her teenage years. He felt himself starting to heat up, but it wasn't because of his sweat forming from the grueling walk or the heat festering beneath his every step on the rocky path. He had felt this heat before: it was the heat he felt It was the same heat that he felt when he had that dream about Keith, the same one that was so intense he needed to take a cold shower. It still bugged him how he couldn't remember what actually happened before he fell asleep and the only thing that he could remember was Keith leaning in to do...whatever he was about to do. The red paladin didn't want to ask him what had happened, but sooner or later he's going to end up having a heat stroke and he was not about to let that happen.

"H-hey Keith?" Lance asked nervously.

"Yeah?" Keith replied, eyes still trained on the cliffs ahead.

"Remember that conversation we had in my room after my date?" Keith's eyes instantly moved to peer at Lance with mild suspicion. He nodded in response.

"Well, I don't really remember what happened. It's all a blur. I-I was just wondering if you could help me fill in the blanks." Lance replied truthfully. At this, Keith fully turned his head toward the red paladin in shock.

"You really don't remember?" Lance shook his head somberly.

"No. And when I do try, let's just say it's replaced with the wrong memory." Keith nodded his head in understanding. Before he answered, he placed his helmet and chest plate on the ledge in front of them, gesturing for Lance to do the same with the leg guards. Once he did that, he heaved himself up onto the ledge, taking a breath after doing so. He then reached out for Lance, taking his hand and pulling him up swiftly. Keith then stood up with Lance, finally prompting him to let go of his hand.

"When we were talking, you started getting upset again. You were talking about how you shouldn't be feeling bad about pulling away from Allura but then you mentioned how you couldn't stop thinking about it." Keith started. Lance nodded quickly in response.

"Yeah, yeah. THAT I remember. It's just what happened afterwards that's a blur." Lance responded.

"Well, when you started crying again, I walked up to you and told you not to cry because you would make your migraine worse. I guess that made you cry more, so I sat down on the bed next to you to help calm you down and you just..." Lance's heart started to beat out of his chest at the pause.

"Just what?"

"Just...lunged at me." Lance's eyes widened in fear and embarrassment.

"LUNGED HOW?!" he exclaimed. Keith winced at his tone, raising his hands in front of him in a "calm down" motion, causing Lance to cower in nervousness.

"By lunged, I meant you just hugged me and started bawling. So I just sat there and told you how everything was going to be okay. Eventually, you fell asleep and I left once I made sure you were good." Keith shrugged as he finished explaining, starting to walk once again with the flustered boy right on his tail. Lance felt his face heat up at the explanation. He was partially relieved at the fact Keith didn't kiss him, but in the same breath, the fact that he held him as he cried just make the heat he felt increase twice as much. Nonetheless, he appreciated the gesture.

"Thank you." Lance breathed out.

"It wasn't an issue or anything, but-" Keith started to brush off the gesture, but Lance wasn't having any of it.

"No, thank you. For standing by me. With everything that's been going on with the team and everything, even before we got back to Earth, you're the only one who seems to care about how I'm doing." Lance spoke wholeheartedly. Keith's eyes widened at the confession. He never realized that Lance had felt this level of loneliness and it hurt his heart to know that he had a part to play in it. The Galran looked away in guilt, but it didn't last long.

"There." Keith pointed to a giant set of rocks in front of them. "That's where we'll set up the armor, come on." The paladins rushed to the behind the rocks, setting up the armor to simulate them sitting. They stood back to make sure that it was sturdy, which it was.

"You know that's not true right?" Lance raised his eyebrow in confusion as he turned to look at Keith, who was still looking down at his armor.

"I'm not the only one who cares about you, Lance. The whole team cares about your wellbeing, Allura especially. I don't know what or who made you feel like this, but I want you to know that-" Keith didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as Lance started to cough. He had a couple of quick second coughs, but as he tried to tell him he was fine, he started coughing even more.

"Lance! What's wrong?" Keith asked worriedly, brows furrowed in concern.

"I'm fine. I think the smoke is making its way in my lungs." Lance replied raspily as he crouched over in an attempt to catch his breath. The Cuban teen quickly raised his hand to his mouth as his coughs turned violent. Keith rushed over to him and placed his hands on his arms, keeping him from falling forward.

"I don't think it's the smoke." Keith said grimly. He then took Lance's arm and placed it over his shoulder, leading him to another set of rocks farther away where there was less smoke. Keith sat him down gently against the fixture as Lance continued to cough. The black paladin kneeled in front of him in concern.

"Lance! Talk to me!" Keith demanded urgently. Lance finally released his hand from his mouth and looked down at it, causing his eyes to widen in fear. Keith grabbed his hand and pulled it into his view, only to see a red stain covering the palm. The black paladin had no time to panic before he heard footsteps coming from both directions. After signaling Lance to stay quiet, he peeked above the rocks to see an armed Galra rebel searching for them. He gritted his teeth as he turned back to Lance.

"I'm gonna go over there and distract them. You stay here and try not to cough so loud, okay?" Keith whispered. Lance shook his head.

"No way. I'm helping you. I promise to fall back if the coughs get worse."

"Fine, but only if they come here. If not, stay put and don't try to save me." Keith got up and started to leave but not before Lance grabbed him by the elbow. Keith turned back to face him as he struggled to talk.

"What's wrong?" Keith asked quickly.

"Come back." Lance rasped out, tears brimming in his eyes from the pain. Keith placed his hand over Lance's in comfort.

"You, too." Keith replied, before finally getting up and running to the sound of the footsteps. Lance took as much of a deep breath as he could before he turned over, keeping an eye out for any sign of attack. It didn't take long for him to see what Keith saw earlier, the Galra rebel with their gun ready to shoot. He watched as she fell for the decoy, rushing up on the abandoned armor only to be left in confusion as the armor held no paladin within it. A small smile crept on his face as he saw Keith sneak behind them out of view and deliver a good blow, knocking them out. But just as he was about to get up and meet with him, the sight of another figure stopped him in his tracks.

_______________________________________________________________________

Keith panted as he climbed up the nearest ledge away from the rebel, pulling himself up onto his knees. He didn't expect the punch he gave her to make him lose energy. He raised his head in attempt to look for Lance, only to be met with a tall figure towering over him, The black paladin raised himself up on one knee in anticipation. Before he could ask them for their identity, they ended up taking off their helmet, releasing a hissing sound before colliding to the ground. He was met with a familiar face, though they have been scarred on one side of their face, a pupil missing.

"Zethrid?" Keith asked aloud, shock evident on his face.

"You took Ezor from me!" Zethrid shouted, before attempting to land a blow to Keith's crouched figure. Keith rolled out from beneath her, narrowly avoiding the blow. He stood up, taking out his Mamora blade from behind him as it turned into its sword form.

Zethrid ran towards him as she attempted to land a punch, only for Keith to dodge and attempt to swing at her with his blade. She avoided it, however, and ended up punching a rock in an attempt to land another punch on Keith. After a couple of missed slashes from Keith, Zethrid took a hold of his wrist, tripping him off balance and flinging him, causing him to roll a few feet away from her. Using this to her advantage, she landed a good couple of blows on the half Galran, making him fall down a steep trail of stone.

Seeing the commotion, Lance slowly got up, trying to keep his balance. He proceeded to release a couple more violent coughs before they ceased, causing him to grip his side. He slowly took shaky steps as he attempted to make his descent down. The more steps he took, the blurrier his vision became. Need to...keep...going, Lance thought to himself. Suddenly, he heard Keith shouting from a distance, clearly in pain. The red paladin picked up his pace into a run, skipping steps and jumping off stones to reach them. He was about to make another jump before a stabbing pain pierced his lungs, causing him to trip and fall onto the ground, releasing another round of bloody coughs. He felt his muscles shake beneath him as he attempted to sit up, his body slowly starting to fail him. Can't...I can't. Lance looked ahead of him, only to see Zethrid hoisting Keith by his neck as he held onto her wrist in pain. He noticed that he made progress distance wise, but not enough to stop this. Finally, on shaky knees, he began to crawl. I can't...I can't lose.

He gripped the ground beneath him as he crawled forever, the pounding within his head and burning within his sense excruciating. His lungs continued to burn and sizzle as he let out another string of coughs, the pain within his throat making him want to throw up. At this rate, Lance attempted to ignore the pain and merely focused on his breathing, trying to inhale as much oxygen as he could given the little amount of oxygen there was in the area. After what seemed like years, he finally made it to another fixture of rocks that rested upon the edge of the cliff he was on. With the remaining energy he could muster, he stood up and took in the scene before him. That's when he saw him: Keith, being held in a chokehold by Zethrid, whom was being confronted by Acxa and Shiro.

"How did they-?" Lance rasped out before looking up. And sure enough, the Atlas and two other Garrison jets floated above the four. The exhausted paladin looked down back at Keith. He couldn't ignore how he was writhing in pain as Zethrid held him in place. He couldn't ignore how any wrong move by Acxa and Shiro could cause Zethrid to easily snap his neck. He couldn't help but to notice the lava below them and how close they were to the edge. His view of them became shaky as he started to tilt from side to side due to the lack of oxygen. But as much as he wanted to collapse, he couldn't. Not while Keith was facing death's door. He felt himself bite his lip and he could've sworn he saw Zethrid tighten her grip and Keith's face contort in pain. He began taking short, sharp inhales in anger as he felt his lungs shrivel, his head pound, and his throat close. He couldn't take it anymore. I can't...I-I won't. I won't lose him!

A shout snapped Lance out of his episode as he looked at what happened before him. There was Zethrid, laying on the ground behind Keith as she gripped her arm in pain. Thankfully, Keith was released from her grasp without a scratch and could only look back at her before he looked up at him in sheer shock. Lance shifted his eyes to the side as he caught a glimpse of Acxa and Veronica, who were looking back at him in the same manner as Keith. Shiro was nowhere to be found. The red paladin finally looked down to see what they were staring at: his bayard rifle in his hands, smoke coming out as if it had been fired recently. He felt his hands begin to shake as he realized what he just did as he looked up back at Keith. He summoned his bayard. He shot Zethrid. Lance's eyes turned dim as he felt himself finally collapse, but not before hearing someone call his name.

"LANCE!"

_______________________________________________________________________

"Lance? Lance? Can you hear me?"

Lance's eyes squinted as he adjusted to the light blazing down on him. When he opened them, he waited a couple of seconds for them to adjust to the two figures above him before. Luckily, he didn't need to wait long because one of them spoke.

"Hey. Take it easy." Lance turned his head to find Shiro, looking down at him in sheer relief with a relieved smile to match. His eyes moved past him as his eyes focused on Allura. She looked just as relieved as Shiro, only this time she had tears in her eyes. Lance allowed himself to smile at him. It gave him comfort knowing that there was someone at his bedside making sure that he was okay.

"Good to see you, guys." Lance spoke quietly, his throat dry. It no longer felt swollen or burned, but that didn't erase the slight soreness he still felt.

"Come on. Let's sit you up." Shiro stated, reaching for Lance's arm. Allura ran around to the the other side of the bed as he grabbed Lance's other arm before they both raised the paladin up slightly. Shiro took the time to readjust the pillows so that Lance could lay against him, making him look at the captain in appreciation. It took Lance a minute to realize that he was wearing an oxygen mask, which probably explained the newfound energy in his lungs that helped him breathe like he did before. Allura grabbed Lance's hand as he looked towards her.

"I'm so glad you're alright. When Veronica told me what had happened, I started to lose my mind." Allura spoke In relief, a faint blush gracing her features. Lance shifted in his bed as he lowered his mask.

"Wait. What happened? Where's Hunk and Pidge?" Lance asked in concern of his friends. Allura placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

"They're alright. The Atlas found us first, so they treated all of us for any breathing issues. Once they got cleared, they went back for the Lions." Lance leaned back slightly, relieved to know that they were okay. But he still didn't feel at ease. That's when everything hit him at once. He sat up quickly in his bed, his head twisting in different directions as he scanned the room.

"Keith! Where is he? Shiro, where is he? Zethrid had him a-and she was going to- she was going to kill him! Is he okay?! D-did you see him?! Did he-" Lance began to wail, causing Allura to step back in surprise while Shiro sat on the bed next to him, gripping his shoulders and shushing him as he tried to get him to calm down.

"He's fine, Lance. You saved him." Shiro said reassuringly. The red paladin looked at him in shock. So it really did happen the way he saw it. He saved him. He saved Keith. For the first time today, Lance let out a sigh of relief as tears began to cascade down his face. He threw his face into his hands, trying to keep himself from sobbing. He didn't pull away when he felt Shiro pull him closer as he rubbed his back in comforting circles. He's alive. He's alive. He's alive.

"Lance?"

Lance's head shot up as he looked at the sound of the voice. He was actually here, standing In the doorway nervously as if he was worried about interrupting something sacred. He was no longer in his paladin suit, instead back in his Garrison attire. He had a smile of relief on his face, which were a contrast from the scratches that plagued his face from his fight with Zethrid. But Lance couldn't afford to care: because he was here.

"K-Keith." Lance breathed out slowly, smiling in relief and overall joy. Shiro looked between the two with a knowing look as he turned to look at Allura.

"We should probably give them some privacy." Shiro spoke quietly to the princess. Allura nodded quickly with a small smile of her own as she walked back around the bed, joining Shiro's side as they began their walk out of the hospital room. The captain let the princess exit the room first, but not before squeezing Keith's shoulder before he made his exit. Once they were gone, Keith couldn't help but to stuff his hands awkwardly in his pockets now that they were alone. He let out a shrug before forming an awkward smile.

"Hi." he spoke quietly. Lance's smile grew bigger as newfound tears started to brim.

"Hey." Slowly, Keith walked towards the bed, taking deep breaths through his nose as he did so. Once he reached him, he gently sat down next to him in the same spot where Shiro was as he leaned in, arms crossed on top of his knee. The amount of relief he felt at seeing Lance was immeasurable. Back on the volcano planet, he was horrified to see the state that Lance was in: weak, disheveled, low on oxygen, and on the brink of breath. After he was free from Zethrid and saw him collapse, he couldn't help but to yell out his name in horror. He picked up his sword and was about to run and get him, but the lack of oxygen caught up with him and he was ushered onto the Atlas by a concerned Veronica to be given an oxygen mask while Shiro tended to Lance and carried him onto the ship. Once Lance was admitted into the medical bay, he went with Hunk and Pidge to retrieve the Lions, who were being guarded from other rebels by Garrison troops. He couldn't help but to stomp his foot in anxiety as he retrieved Black and carried Red in her jaw back to the ship bay. And now here he was.

"So, how do you feel?" he asked hesitantly. Lance exhaled as the newfound tears he felt finally spilled over onto his cheeks. His feelings of relief overwhelmed him as he launched himself into Keith's arm and sobbed. All the fear and sadness from the day was slowly being taken out of his body with every hiccup as he rested his head on Keith'c chest, sobbing more with every heartbeat he heard. Keith looked down at the sobbing boy in bewilderment.

"You came back." Lance hiccuped. His knuckles felt numb as he tightened his grip on the fabric of Keith's uniform. Any other time, he would feel embarrassed to be breaking down in front of him like this. But he knew this song and dance and he knew that Keith wouldn't judge him for opening up like this. And with everything that just happened, he just wanted to cherish the fact that he didn't lose him. And he hoped to God that he never would.

Keith smiled at the sobbing paladin, bringing his hand up to hold the back of his head and press the boy further into his chest. His other arm reached around Lance's back, helping to hold him closer. The black paladin closed his eyes as he relished in knowing that this man was alive. He was alive and breathing and he was still going to be able to hear his voice. He let out a shaky, watery chuckle.

"Of course I did."

#klance #klance voltron #klance vld #klance fanfic #keith kogane #lance mcclain #vld keith #vld lance #voltron #Voltron legendary defender #voltron fanfic #klance void #klance void fanfic #also on ao3 #by far my longest chapter #took me three days to type this

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cherishingstydia · 5 years ago

Text

Chasing Love

Buck stared at his own reflection in the mirror as he stood in the locker room.

“I am such an idiot.” He mumbled.

“You ok?” Bobby asked with a raised brow.

Buck shrugged. “I just feel really stupid. I think I need some time off to clear my head, and sort through some personal issues.”

“Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?” Bobby asked with concern.

“It’s nothing too serious. Don’t worry. I just know to be able to get through this I can’t be here. Can I have some time off?”

“Just let me know when ahead of time so I can get the schedule sorted out.” Bobby smiled patting Buck on the arm. “I’m here for you if you decide you need to talk to someone.”

“Thanks cap.” Buck smiled.

A few days passed Buck had a month long trip to travel around South America he missed it there. This was the perfect thing to clear his mind and try to erase those feelings for his best friend. It wasn’t shame for having feelings for a man. He didn’t care love is love. It’s the fact that he sees this man nearly everyday, they’re coworkers and best friends. It’s a mess plus Eddie is straight so he doesn’t feel the same way.

Buck entered the firehouse going straight to talk to Bobby. Buck didn’t want the team to know about his time off. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going. He was leaving in two weeks. His last shift was gonna be one without Eddie because he swapped around so he could be off the day before his flight plus there was something important he needed to do that day.

Buck arrived at the school and spotted Abuela.

“What are you doing here Buck?” She grinned.

“I was hoping to see Chris today if that’s ok?” Buck smiled.

“Of course! What would you like to do?” Abuela patted his arm.

“Park, Ice Cream and cook you two dinner.” Buck said.

“How could I turn that down! Sounds great. He will be so happy.”

“Bucky!!” Chris squealed moving as fast as he could to Buck.

“Hey buddy!” Buck scooped him up.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were working with daddy.” Chris asked.

“I had the day off so I wanted to spend time with you. I mean unless the park and Ice cream and me making you dinner sounds like no fun.” Buck laughed.

“Yay!” Chris giggled.

Buck was really happy to see Chris, but it hurt so much knowing he had to leave him for awhile. He didn’t want Chris to feel hurt, but better a month than possibly forever if Eddie finds out the truth.

They had so much fun all day together. Abuela loved that Chris and Eddie had Buck he was so good for them. She was just sad Eddie had too miss all this fun.

Buck went to tuck Chris in.

“I have a mission for you ok. Top Secret. You think you can handle it.” Buck grinned.

“Yes sir!” Chris laughed.

“Ok this letter is for your dad. ONLY your dad. So this means you don’t read it ok? Can you promise me?” Buck held his pinky out.

Chris latched his pinky to Bucks.

“I promise!” Chris nodded.

Buck sighed as he was leaving the room.

“Hey Buck.”

“Yeah buddy?”

“Are you leaving me?”

“No. Even if I don’t see you for a little bit I will be back. I promise.” Buck smiled.

“Ok.” Chris have Buck a thumbs up.

Buck entered his apartment grabbing his bag before he left for the airport.

The next morning Eddie went to get Chris up.

“Daddy I had a mission from Buck.”

“Really?” Eddie grinned.

Chris handed Eddie the envelope. Eddie tore it open to find a letter:

Eddie,

I just want to let you know I’m sorry for this. I never meant for this to happen. We’ve been friends for quite awhile now, and I cherish that so much I don’t wanna do anything to mess it up. I can’t lose you. Because you’re too important to me. You and Chris are the best thing in my life, but in order to keep you I have to leave for a little bit before things get complicated. I’ll be gone a month. We can talk when I get back.

Buck

Eddie told Abuela he had to go and she said it was fine she’s get Chris to school.

Eddie called Buck probably 15 times, and no answer. He knocked, and got no answer again so used his key to find a completely silent apartment. No Buck.

Eddie was searching for any clue to where Buck may be. He logged on Bucks laptop and looked at his credit card statement. He saw hotels booked and a flight to São Paulo, Brazil.

Eddie slammed the laptop shut in anger and punched the wall. He was full of rage again.

He entered the fire station fuming the rage was building.

“Whoa Eddie everything ok?” Bobby asked looking at Eddies bruised knuckles.

“It’s Buck. I went by his place and he’s gone. He didn’t even say goodbye.”

“He’s coming back.” Bobby said.

“Everyone always leaves me.” Eddie yelled.

“I don’t know what his reasons are, and it sounds selfish, but what about me I need him. I mean Chris does.” Eddie stammered.

“Eddie breath ok.” Bobby said softly.

Eddie nodded taking a few deep breaths.

“Sorry cap I’m not sure what came over me.”

“Love.” Bobby smiled.

“Wh-what?” Eddie choked.

“You love him. That’s why him leaving upset you so much.” Bobby said.

“I can’t because he’s my friend. You’re not supposed to fall in love with your best friend what if it ruins everything.”

“I was terrified to love again, but if you find the right person it stops being scary and becomes something you have to do. I think Buck might be your Athena.” Bobby smiled.

“I gotta go cap. I have to find him.” Eddie panicked.

“Do you even know where to look?”

“Brazil.”

“Eddie you need more than Brazil , or you’ll never find him.

“ I’ll take his laptop and track his credit card statements.”

“Ok Eddie you’re off work for a week.” Bobby smiled.

Eddie hugged Bobby tightly. He called Abuela and Carla to make sure they could take care of Chris. They of course said yes and were so happy he finally realized his feelings.

About 36 hours later. After packing, saying bye to Chris and traveling for hours. Eddie arrived in São Paulo. Buck was booked at “Grand Hyatt São Paulo”.

“Um hello I’m looking for an Evan Buckley? Could you tell me what room he’s in.” Eddie smiled.

“ I am sorry sir. I can not give out guest information.” The woman at the desk apologized.

Eddie sighed. “It’s ok. Can I wait for him here in the lobby.”

“We will allow it until 8.” She smiled.

“Thanks!” Eddie nodded.

A few hours passed it was now about 7 and Eddie was hungry, exhausted and had yet to find a hotel room himself.

Buck entered the lobby and groaned. Of all the hotels this Eddie doppelgänger had to be at of course it’s mine. Buck kept walking and entered the elevator only to have someone stop the door from closing. It wasn’t a doppelgänger it was actually Eddie.

Buck stood there in shock. Eddie is here. Why is Eddie here?

“What are you doing here?” Buck asked as Eddie stepped in the elevator and the doors closed.

“We need to talk.”Eddie sighed.

“So do phones not exist anymore or what?”

“Well you didn’t answer my calls so I came to find you.”

“How did you do that?”

“When I realized you’d already left I went into your laptop. Then checked the history and credit card statements and tracked you down.”

“Stalker!” Buck smirked.

Eddie glared at him.

“Forget it. I’m such an idiot.” Eddie huffed.

“You’re not an idiot!” Buck hissed.

Eddie was refusing to speak.

They got to Bucks floor and Buck invited him in. Eddie sat on the couch while Buck used the bathroom. When Buck returned Eddie was sound asleep. Buck covered him up and then went to sleep on the bed.

He woke up and the couch was empty. Buck got up and threw his shoe at the wall. Where was Eddie?

“What the hell?” Eddie groaned walking out of the bathroom.

“Oh” Buck whispered.

“Oh? You almost hit me with your shoe and all you can say is oh.” Eddie yelled.

“I come here to get away, and now you’re here. You seem to be in a bad mood and it’s making me feel worse. Tell me why you’re here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I tracked you down and came all the way to Brazil to talk to you.”

“About?”

“Buck come on you’re smart I think you know.”

“Just spit it out already Diaz.” Buck yelled.

"Maybe this was a big mistake. Did you run because you saw how I felt so you bolted before I could say anything. I didn’t even realize how I felt until you were gone.”

“Wait what? How do you feel about me?”

“Buck I’m in love with you.”

“You what?” Buck smiled.

“You heard me.” Eddie said.

“Well you were right I left because of you, but it’s because I love you. It hurt so much I felt stupid for falling for you and I didn’t know how to tell you.” Buck said softly.

“Damn maybe we’re both idiots.” Eddie laughed.

“What do you mean?” Buck asked.

“We spent all this money coming to Brazil to admit our feelings when we could have done it at home for free.”

“Ok one more thing.” Buck smiled.

“What would that be?” Eddie grinned.

Buck quickly stepped closer to Eddie pulling him in for a kiss.

“Whoa.”

“Damn Diaz you’re good at that!” Buck laughed:

Eddie rolled his eyes. Do you have to call me Diaz.

“It’s kinda hot when you get irritated so yes I really do.”

“Ok Evan. Two can play at that game.” Eddie whispered.

“That’s hot too.” Buck smirked.

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“How long are you here for?” Buck asked.

“I’m off a week and as much as I want to stay here with you. I can’t. Chris needs me and now that this has been taken care of I think I’ll go back.”

“I understand.” Buck smiled as he began shoving everything in his bag.

“What are you doing?”

“ I wanna go home too. This trip isn’t what I need.”

“Really? I thought you were here all month?” Eddie asked.

“I was supposed to be, but I was trying to fill a void in my life, but it’s not there anymore. Because I have you. I miss Chris already I can’t go a month with out him, and I can’t go a month with out you either.”

“Buck that’s crazy you probably spent a lot of money. I can’t let you do this.”

“Yeah I am crazy. I’m crazy about you and I’d be crazy to let you leave and not go with you. I don’t care about the money I just care about you.” Buck smiled.

@chrrlees thanks for this idea I enjoyed writing this😘🥰

#buddie #Eddie Diaz #evan buckley #cherishingstydiawrites

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theonewiththefanfics · 6 years ago

Text

The Miles Between (one-shot)

Synopsys: The distance can take a toll on even the most close of couples. And that is what happened bewteen the Reader and Roger as she makes the ultimate choice for them both.

Pairing: Ben Hardy! Roger Taylor x f!Reader

Genre: angst, SMUT, fluff

Warnings: SMUT (unprotected sex (wrap it up, you guys) and all that good jazz), swearing

Word count: 5787 (strap in, lads)

Her lips were pressed together in a thin line as she tried to contain the sob about to escape her throat. Y/N placed the last piece of clothing inside her suitcase and zipped it up. She was leaving her home and taking everything with. Well, not everything. Roger’s stuff was obviously staying, for it was his apartment and no longer theirs. At least that is how Y/N felt. A sharp pain went through her chest when she walked through the almost bare hallway and glanced upon the pictures. Her and Roger. Her and Freddie. John, Brian. Her and Queen. Group photos and individual and pair and everything in between, commemorating the life she had led and was leaving behind. They had been together for six years now. Six wonderful, love filled years until they weren’t. No, Roger hadn’t even once stepped off of the trail, his mind hadn’t even gone to that possibility knowing Y/N was by his side. Even hundreds of miles away, his only thought was of the gorgeous woman waiting for him back home. People would call her a fool for leaving like that, leaving her faithful world-wide Rockstar boyfriend behind, but it wasn’t his status or occupation that she couldn’t deal with, nor were the groupies that tried to seduce him every possible moment. It was those hundreds of miles that stretched between them. Y/N had grown tired of going to a cold bed and waking up the same. She could never hurt Roger like that, she would never make him choose between a career he was passionate about and their relationship, so she made the ultimate choice for them both.

Queen had been on tour for the past two months with two more months to go, but it was during that second one, things had shifted. Roger always made sure to call before a show and after, and Y/N always made sure to pick up no matter the time, but that time she let it ring through. For a feeling had overcome her. Roger was the one, she obviously knew that, but the thought of marriage, kids, of making a family when his band was exploding like a supernova, was an impossible dream. And she had grown tired of waiting. It was a surprisingly easy decision, yet the headrest one to actually accomplish. So, while Roger and the rest of the boys were out conquering the world, Y/N had slowly started to pack up her stuff in boxes and move to a small apartment just outside of the city centre. Her job easily covered the rent for the new place and her half until Roger’s and her lease was up. It would end in a month anyway. Right as Y/N was about to exit the phone rang. Her heart lurched up to her throat, and all she could hear was blood pumping in her ears. She’d left the calls unanswered a few times, but not enough to make Roger suspect that something was wrong. Her hand itched to pick up the phone, to hear his raspy voice and melt as he said, ‘I love you’. But she was leaving him. With a choked back sob, Y/N placed the key to his apartment on the kitchen island and exited, the only sound in the flat left was the ringing that would be forever unanswered.

***

“Come on, love,” Roger muttered into the phone as a hand went through the messy mop of blond hair that sat atop his head. “Pick up.” They were at a gas station just outside of New York when the drummer decided to call Y/N. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder almost making him drop the phone. “Is she not answering?” Brian asked eyebrows scrunched up in concern. Roger could only shake his head and bite his bottom lip. “And the thing is, this is not the first time it has happened. She always picks up, no matter what, but in the past month she’s missed at least ten calls.” As the call rang through without an answer Roger slammed the payphone back into its place. “Maybe she’s out. Buying groceries or something,” Brian tried to reason, even though he himself had had a gut feeling that something wasn’t right. You see, Brian and Y/N had been friends since forever. He couldn’t remember a time the two of them weren’t attached to one another’s hip. He had been the one who introduced Roger to Y/N. Admittedly, he had threatened the blond man to not even try and flirt with the girl, otherwise, her broken heart would be nothing compared to his broken nose. But as time passed by, as Smile evolved into Queen, he saw just how much the pair truly cared for one another, and now almost six years into their relationship, Roger had promised Brian that when they got married, he could be his best man. He had even shown his friend the ring and everything. Brian had cried, thinking about how the gem would sparkle on her finger and how happy she would be. The curly haired man patted his friend’s shoulder and left for the bus. Y/N had been distant, that much was obvious. She had missed even some of Brian’s calls, and whenever they talked, she kept things short and concise, completely opposite of how they used to talk for hours upon hours about everything and nothing. Freddie was worried as well. He absolutely adored the Y/H/C haired woman. Only Mary and Delilah came before Y/N. So, when he saw Roger’s head hang low and Brian chewing on his lips, Freddie’s intuition said a bad thing had happened. “Deaky, darling, are you gonna call Veronica?” he yelled over the gas station parking lot, and when John shook his head, saying he had called beforehand, and she was most likely asleep, having just put the kids down, Freddie took the phone off the hook and dialled Mary. “Hello, Freddie,” her voice was sweet as honey, and the man instantly melted. “Hello, my love.” “How is the tour? How’s America?” the excitement in her tone was palpable, but Freddie didn’t really have time for that. “I’m so sorry, darling, but I cannot talk about this right now. There are bigger issues we have to deal with.” Instantly Mary’s heart dropped. “Fred, is everything alright?” “No,” he sighed, glancing to Roger who was taking a long drag of a cigarette as he leaned against the bus. “I think Y/N is about to do something stupid or she already has, and I need your help to fix things.”

***

Mary stood at the airport, looking over the heads of hundreds of people, searching for a specific mop of curls that would be recognisable anywhere. For two months she had been trying to track down Y/N, per Freddie’s request, and she had been unsuccessful. As Freddie came in view and walked up to her, pressing their lips in a sweet kiss, he muttered in her ear, “Anything?” “No,” she gently shook her head. “I tried everyone, and it’s like she’s disappeared into thin air.” She felt Freddie audibly sigh as he tightened his grip. “Should we tell Rog?” “And say what?” He pulled back and looked his fiancée from head to toe, before begrudgingly agreeing. Together they all made their way to the taxis and jumped in. Roger had been fidgeting throughout the flight, and as they neared his home, with every mile driven his hand pulled at the loose thread from his jacket harsher. He didn’t even say a proper ‘goodbye’ to the rest of the band when the driver stopped. Roger just jumped out of the car, grabbed his suitcase and rushed up the three flights of stairs before harshly jamming the key in the lock and throwing the door open. “Y/N!” Roger called out in the dark apartment. “Love, I’m home!” He was just about to walk to their bedroom when his eyes finally adjusted to the turned-on light and saw everything. It was empty, the whole place completely void of things. Everything that was hers. Everything that made the place his home. Their home. Roger didn’t even think his heart was beating as he slowly made his way through the apartment. It was like Y/N had never even set foot in the place. Walking inside their bedroom was the worst, for even her smell had vanished, which meant she hadn’t been there in a while. He felt numb. It was like his body was no longer his, but a shell of someone else going through the motions of seeing, feeling and smelling. In a haze, he walked back to the hallway and looked around. All of the pictures were still there, but none of the love and warmth was left. It was like Y/N had taken all of it with her. The drummer’s hands started to tremble, and to somewhat diminish the rising panic, he went to get a glass of water when a small piece of white paper caught his eye. On the kitchen counter stood a tiny note with a phone number scribbled on, and the words ‘call me when you get home. Y/N’. That was it. With shaking fingers, Roger went to the telephone and punched in the numbers, stomach churning at what was going on. What the girl’s absence implied. The line rang three times before it was picked up, and he heard silence. “Y/N?” Roger asked tentatively, and there was a heavy intake of breath. “Hey, Rog.” She sounded so small, so petrified, and it broke Roger’s heart even more than the fact she was no longer home. “What’s going on? Where’s all your stuff?” “I think you know what’s happening.” Y/N didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to admit what choice she had made, but the girl had left her new number for this very reason. If she was gonna leave without notice, Roger at least deserved to have an explanation. “Honestly, I don’t because I come home, expecting to see my girlfriend of more than half a decade waiting for me, only to walk inside a cold and empty apartment with a single bloody piece of paper left on the table.” He heard her sniffle, but that didn’t deter the man. “Why did you leave?” “Tell me honestly, Rog,” Y/N was choking back the tears now, “how sustainable do you think a relationship, where one half is gone more than half of a year and when they’re back all they do is work and party, truly is?” “Please,” he begged, not even sure what for, just as long as it got Y/N back. “Please, love. I’ll stay home more. We’ll go on a vacation. Please.” “And if we had kids?” she asked. Roger’s heart leapt at the thought. Just imagining Y/N with a baby bump or little mini-them, blond hair and blue eyes, or Y/H/C and Y/E/C eyes, or a mix of both made his chest ache. “I couldn’t raise them alone. I don’t want my children, if I have any in the future, to grow up with a father who is never there.” “I’d take time off, you know I would.” “For how long? Rog, your career is exploding. Queen is bigger than ever. I won’t take that away from you. I won’t make you choose between something you love to do and someone you have affection for.” Now Roger was becoming angry. “Do you honestly think I wouldn’t voluntarily stay home? To watch our children, grow and take their first steps and say their first words? And affection? Really? That’s how little you think I care for you after being together for how long we’ve been a couple?” “And after that?” Y/N’s voice was a whisper, disregarding the last jab, cause of course. She knew Roger loved her. Yet it was easier to try and pretend that his feelings were less than they actually were. It made it hurt not as much. “You’d have to go back and go on tour. You’d have to miss graduations and plays and recitals and everything else… Rog, I’m not trying to guilt you into anything, but we both know it is true… and I don’t think I’d be able to do that all on my own, especially when I’d have to be both parent’s in one.” “So, this is really it? Six years down the drain? The future we could have- burnt just like that?” Roger’s voice broke, knees shaking as he said the words. And when Y/N confirmed it, he collapsed on the floor. “I just can’t take the distance. I thought I could, I thought I knew what I was getting myself into, but I was obviously wrong,” he heard her own voice tremble, courtesy of the tears streaming down her cheeks and closing up her throat. “I’m always lonely. Not alone, that I can deal with, but lonely. And even when you’re back, it’s like you’re still miles away. And I’ll never be able to break through that wall that now has formed between us.” “Then climb over it!” Roger almost roared. “Bomb it, fucking hell, dig a hole underneath it, please Y/N! Don’t give up on us. Don’t give up on me…” The silence was deafening through the line. “I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered and disconnected the call, leaving Roger alone and lonely with miles between where he was and where his heart was.

***

Mary was in shock as Brian relayed the information to her, Freddie and Deaky. They were in the giant house the two lovers shared when Brian had quietly come in and told them what had happened after he’d pestered the drummer for a whole week. “Only thing she left was this piece of paper and a phone number,” he dropped the scrap onto the table. “How is Rog?” Mary asked, holding onto Freddie’s hand. Brian hung his head and ran a palm through a chunk of the curls. “Devastated.” “Of course, the poor lad is devastated. How else could he be?” Freddie was outraged and saddened and heartbroken all at once. “The love of his life has left him with something that is barely a reasonable explanation and now expects him to just move on!” “Fred,” Deaky tried to calm their eccentric lead singer down. “You don’t know how it is to be in Y/N’s place.” The look he gave his friend as his eyes flitted to Mary told everything- ‘just think about how she feels when you’re gone’. Freddie sighed, knowing Deaky was right. “Well, what can we do? Those two are meant to be together! We cannot just leave it like that!” But surprisingly enough, as much as Mary had tried to help and intervene, she spoke up. “Maybe we should. Maybe this is what they both need.” “How can you say that?” Freddie was astonished. “How can you let our two friends ruin such a good thing?” “Because obviously, it wasn’t!” Mary defended Y/N’s decision. “Do I think she should have told him right up front that things weren’t working and not left just like that? Yes! But do I also know how hard it is when the person you love most, leaves for months at a time with only calls to say how much they miss you? Also, yes.” The singer’s heart hurt at Mary’s words, for they were true. “But he was going to propose,” Freddie managed to get out, which made the woman’s breath hitch. That she hadn’t known. “It’s true,” Brian said. “Rog even showed me the ring.” Mary and Freddie shared a glance, and then both pairs of eyes looked down at the diamond band that adorned her own finger. It sparkled in the sunlight that was streaming through the windows. That’s when an idea struck him. “Brian, pass me the phone please.” “Freddie, what are you going to do?” Deaky’s tone was full of warning, Mary’s eyebrows raising up in question. “Just putting together, a little party to celebrate the end of the tour.” Quickly Freddie snatched up Y/N’s new number, and with nimble fingers punched it in. For a few seconds, loud beeps could be heard until a tired voice rang through. “Hello?” “Y/N, my love! How good to hear your voice!” “F-Freddie!” she stuttered out. “How- wha- how did you know where to call?” “Oh, I have my ways darling, but enough about that! Listen, Queen is throwing a party to celebrate the end of our successful tour, and you have to be there. Just have to.” A seep sigh entered his ear. “Fred, you know it isn’t my scene…” the singer could practically hear her chewing her bottom lip. “Besides, Roger and I are no longer together, which you must know by now, so I don’t really think it’s a good idea.” “Nonsense, it’s an absolutely wonderful idea. Just because you’re no longer dating our dear Rog, does not mean you should stop communicating with the rest!” “Fred, I reall-“ “I won’t take no for an answer.” Mary was practically biting her nails as everyone listened in on the conversation and waited for Y/N to reply. “Fred, do you promise to keep Roger away from me? In every capacity?” Y/N’s heart hurt just saying his name. “I give you my word darling.” The line was silent for a while before he heard her huff and agree. “Now,” Freddie smiled, placing the phone back on the hook. “We just have to figure out a way to put those two in a room together."

***

The party was in full swing, but Roger was feeling none of it. Despite the insane number of groupies that twirled around him and tried to get under his arm, the blond kept to his glass of champagne and staring at the wall. “Darling, at least fake a smile!” Freddie leaned over to the drummer and patted his leg. “The last thing I wanna do is smile,” the drummer grumbled and slammed down the last bits of his drink. “You know what, you need a smoke” Freddie said standing up, “Come, let’s go to one of the balconies.” Roger had already stuck a cigarette between his teeth and was fumbling for a lighter as the pair went up the steps of the mansion, bodies of guests sliding against theirs as the musicians pushed past, but his little task was left unfinished when Freddie opened a door, and Roger froze in place upon seeing who was in it. Y/N had wanted to use the bathroom to freshen up, and Freddie had instructed for her to go to the left bedroom, for all others were being renovated but upon seeing Roger’s face in the doorway, his features distorted by complete shock, she knew the singer had broken his promise. In fact, he had done the exact opposite, as Y/N saw him smile, flash a wink and slam the door shut behind Roger, who didn’t even flinch at the sound, too preoccupied with drinking in her body and rememorizing her face. “Y/N,” Roger breathed out her name, and it was like homecoming. It was like all of the things in the world had finally found their right place once more, and it was this feeling she was running away from. Pushing past the man, Y/N leapt to the door and grabbed at the handle only to jerk it and realise it was locked. “Fred, open the fucking door!” Y/N hollered, but she knew it was futile. He was most likely back down at the party, and even if he was on the same floor, the pounding music would drown out her yells. There was no response, and honestly, Y/N wasn’t surprised, so she just let her forehead lean against the door and sighed, desperately trying not to acknowledge or give Roger any kind of attention. But he had different ideas. Tentatively he had made his way over to the girl and wrapped a hand around her wrist, making her turn around. She didn’t even try to struggle back. Instead, Y/N kept her gaze down to the floor, noting how shiny his shoes were, London lights illuminating the bedroom from the outside with a warm glow. Roger's hands shook as her cupped Y/N’s face between his rough palms, but his touch had never been gentler. His baby blue eyes roamed all over her face, each birthmark once again ingrained in his memory, each worry line and smile crinkle reforming the picture of his soulmate in his mind. “Why?” he whispered. She didn’t need more than one word to understand what he was asking “Because I missed you! I missed you every bloody day and I just couldn’t keep living my life like that! I couldn’t keep living and feeling like my heart was miles away... And I just couldn’t… I couldn’t go on… so, it was easier to let you go…” She saw him gulp, eyes darting to her lips. “But you haven’t have you? Let me go?” And to this, she couldn’t reply. She also couldn’t lie, because Roger knew her better than anyone, he’d see through the façade instantly. Which had been one of the reasons she’d moved out and left a number for him to call. Face to face confrontation would have broken Y/N. “Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll leave,” his body moved closer, voice dropping to a dangerous husk. “Tell me, you have no feelings left for me and,” he had to close his eyes to get the words out, “and I’ll let you go. Forever.” “I can’t do that,” her voice was barely a whisper as she said after an almost agonising minute of silence. “Why?” “Because I could never lie to you.” His lips were one hers in a matter of a split second, hands reaching down and sliding up her dress to bunch it up around her waist. Roger grabbed her thighs roughly and squeezed them. Y/N instantly knew he meant for her to jump, so she did, wrapping her legs around his midsection, while her fingers fumbled with the few buttons of his dress shirt that had been left unopened. It was more than two months of pent up desire, of heartache and heartbreak, lust and love manifesting in a heated make-out session, and in the way, the pair ripped the clothes off from one another. Roger’s many necklaces felt clod against Y/N’s exposed chest as he had managed to make the straps of the little black number slide down her arms and then the whole top of it down to her waist. Desperate hands tried to touch her everywhere, reacquainting themselves with Y/N’s shape, with how her shoulder blades moved underneath his palms, how her spine curved and dipped and moulded against Roger so perfectly, he was sure they had been created to fit one another like two pieces of a puzzle. “No bra?” Roger mumbled as he helped Y/N get rid of the dress completely, yet his lips attached themselves to one of her nipples. A sigh of content made its way out of her mouth and reverberated through the air. “Are you complaining about that?” she asked, lust clouding her mind as her fingers quickly pushed Roger’s shirt off and threw it to the ground. Y/N let both her palms trace his muscles, feeling them clench and unclench as she made her descent to unzip his trousers, his abs tightening in anticipation. “Not one bit, love,” he let go of the nipple with a pop, a purplish bruise already appearing around it, before assaulting the other one the same way. “Not one bit.” Somehow Y/N managed to get rid of Roger’s pants, leaving him in only his boxers, the fabric creating a delicious friction against her uncovered clit as it dragged along to the motions their hips were making. He was growing harder by the minute, and if he was being honest, he was forever in debt to Freddie. Big time. An hour before this, Roger had still been home, dressed in his pyjamas and downing the second glass of whiskey when the singer had barged in his place, practically hauled him out of the sofa and made Roger look somewhat presentable. “Can you imagine how it will look when Queen shows up to celebrate their tour without a member of Queen!” “Fred, I really don’t care,” Roger had mumbled as his friend brushed out the blond tangled locks. “Well, I do. It’s time to stop moping,” Freddie had said as they exited his apartment. “Besides, maybe it’ll be a lot better than you think,” he’d said with a wink over his shoulder. And now, as Y/N slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers and grasped at his length, Roger really didn’t think things could get any better. Cause there he was- kissing the love of his life once more as his arms steadily held her body close to his while she made slow work on his shaft. “Please, stop teasing,” Roger moaned in Y/N’s mouth as his own had moved from her breasts up to kiss her lips. “Not tonight, please. I just need to feel you, need to be inside you.” And she stopped just like he had asked, clambering over the bed, and helping Roger strip down from his boxers revealing the already sweaty man in all his glory. His skin practically glowed as he crawled his way over to Y/N, whose head rested on one of the many plush pillows that adorned Freddie’s guest bedroom. Her Y/E/C eyes watched as the light shifted around his body, catching onto his biceps and making them seem starker, to his chest, where dark flowers bloomed, down to his abdomen, abs clenching with every movement, and to his shaft that stood proudly against his stomach, the tip leaking with precum from the neglect. Y/N would have almost clamped her thighs shut from how much she needed Roger, if not for his body that hovered over her and pressed down on her. Once again, he softly cupped her cheeks and kissed Y/N. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she didn’t even need to grasp him to guide his member to her centre. That position of Roger being on top while her arms wove around his shoulders was as natural as breathing. Slowly, he slipped between her folds, but not inside. With gentle rocking movements, Roger coated himself and groaned at the slick warm feeling, a grin overcoming his face just thinking about how it would engulf him once he was sheeted inside of Y/N. “Now who’s teasing,” she mumbled against his lips, and tucked a matted down strand of hair behind his ear, nails soothingly scratching his scalp. “I just,” his heart stuttered in his chest, but Roger was going to speak his mind. “I just need to hear you say it.” Her eyes opened to look up in the two cerulean pools she adored to get lost in. “Say what?” “That you need me just as much as I need you…” he bit down on his lip, and the words were much quieter than before. “That you still love me just as much as I love you.” “I love you, Rog,” Y/N said, only sincerity and what was in her heart shining through. “I never stopped.” That was all the confirmation he needed to position himself and slide in Y/N’s soaking centre. The feeling of her velvet walls clasping onto his member was almost too much. His whole body went rigid, and his breath hitched, as Roger tried to compose himself and somewhat clear his mind from the haze that had settled over it. Y/N’s chest had arched up into his, easily allowing Roger to hug his arms around her back and get a better grip on her. “Move, Rog,” she breathed out through a whine. “Please, I need you to move.” And how could he not oblige to such sweet begging? First, he rolled his hips into hers in an attempt to find that spot deep inside that made Y/N curl her toes and dig her heels deeper in Roger’s ass. The moment he located it, her enchanting gasp being his confirmation, he pulled almost completely out, only leaving the tip in before slamming back down. Instantly, Y/N’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, the familiar sensation of pleasure rippling through her veins as Roger worked her up to the inevitable explosion. Y/N was already writhing underneath him, the sheets drenched not only from their sweat but from the slick that had slid down her thighs and onto the bed, having coated Roger’s legs in the process as well. The bed shook violently against the wall, though neither cared much, the lust and bliss having overtaken every atom in their bodies. Also, the loud music would be able to cover up the screams of a murder, but that was beside the point. “ ‘M not gonna last much longer,” Roger groaned out, swollen lips pressing a bruising kiss to Y/N’s plump ones. “ ‘S okay,” she moaned, as he repeatedly hit that spot, “I’m almo-“ yet Y/N never get to finish her sentence, her mouth remaining in that perfect ‘O’ as her orgasm crashed down upon her. It was like a tidal wave, washing away all sense and matter from the world, leaving her only with satisfaction and fire burning through her veins. Her look of pure pleasure was Roger’s own undoing. A violent shiver rippled down his spine, making the almost brutal pace of his hips stutter, and blissful warmth spread throughout his body, starting from his abdomen to the very tips of his toes, as Y/N clenched all around him, and he succumbed to his release, painting her walls with white thick ropes of cum. Their breathing was laboured as they tried to come back down to Earth, after being flung into the stratosphere. With trembling hands he cradled her face in his hands and kissed her, showing just how much Roger truly cared for Y/N, for words would never be enough to explain his feelings. He sagged down to the side and somehow was able to stand up, on very wobbly legs, mind you, and go into the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth. Y/N was splayed out on the bed, eyes still closed and mind reeling, but her whole body flinched away as Roger dragged the wet towel between her legs, even though he had to admit- seeing his seed leaking out of her was the hottest thing he’d ever gazed upon, and the only reason Roger didn’t pounce on her again was because he saw just how spent the girl was. “Sorry,” he apologised, kissing Y/N’s hipbone. She mumbled a soft ‘ ‘S okay’ and shimmied over the duvet to be under it. Her eyes had already closed, ready to drift off when Roger returned after having dropped the cloth in the dirty wash, but she was still conscious enough to lift the bedding and allow Rog to slip under it. Without even thinking, he wrapped his arms around Y/N and intertwined their legs. Both were out like a light in a second.

***

Y/N woke up with the sun shining in her face and she groaned. The feeling of a warm body pressed against hers immediately calmed her down, the strong arm of her drummer pulling her closer to him. “Good morning, my love,” Roger mumbled kissing up the column of her neck. She hummed at the way his lips softly glid along her jaw, to her earlobe, teeth gently nibbling at it, then to her cheek and finally to her lips. “Morning,” Y/N replied once they broke apart, but kept their foreheads together. “Good morning, you lovebirds,” came the sudden voice of Freddie who had unlocked the door and poked his head inside the room, a wide grin stretched across his face. “We’ve made pancakes, so get decent and come downstairs!” Roger threw a pillow in his friend’s direction, but that only made the three of them laugh. He settled back down on the bed, pulling Y/N’s head to once more rest on his chest as he let his fingers weave through her Y/H/C strands. “We should get up,” she mumbled, kissing right above Roger’s heart and glancing upwards to look at the man, only to be greeted by him worrying his bottom lip. “Rog,” Y/N leaned on her elbow, a palm sliding up his cheek and making him look at her. “Are you alright?” “I am,” he quickly reassured her. “I am. It’s just, I wanna ask you something and I’m kinda petrified to do so,” he nervously chuckled and ran a hand through that messy blond mop before jumping out of the bed. He quickly pulled on some boxers and went over to where his trousers had been discarded on the floor last night. Roger let out a deep breath before taking the little velvet box he always carried with him in his hands and going back to the bed. “I didn’t intend on asking this way. I had planned a whole grand speech, and I was gonna cover the floor to our bedroom in rose petals and shit… but I guess this will have to do…” Slowly, gauging her reaction, Roger opened the little square, revealing a glimmering sapphire ring. Y/N’s breath hitched, and a hand went to cover her mouth, tears already streaming down her face. “I know, I’m a fuck up. I know I’m away all the time, and I know I’m not the boyfriend you deserve. But I vow, to be the best fucking husband I could ever be. I vow, that our family, our kids will always be a priority to me. No matter what, you’ve always been the one constant, the one person I could rely on, and I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, so I’m not asking for it. I’ll do everything to earn back your trust, no matter how many lifetimes it may take me. But the one thing I am asking is- will you grant me the honour of letting me be your husband?” Her throat had closed up almost at the beginning of Roger’s speech, so the only thing Y/N could do was furiously nod. Despite the miles that stretched in between the two, the miles that would need to be crossed together to once again get back to that point of complete trust, Y/N knew it was the right decision. And as Roger who had tears streaming down his own face, chest shaking as he tried to contain the sobs, and a wide grin splitting his face apart, she knew she was on her way home.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take): @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @sweet-ladyy @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @rawbucky @16wiishes @wanderingsami @desir-ae @thiccio-and-thicciet @roseslovedreams @vesoleil @gloomybisexualemo @kostyaownsmyheart @perriwiinkle @screaminggalileochickenwrites @barbarairene-k @aylinnmaslow @harrysgonnapayforthis @rockyroadthepastryarchy

A/N: holy shit, this might be the longest one-shot I’ve ever written :D

Also, just watched ‘The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals’ on youtube from Starkid and holy shit, if you haven’t seen it yet- DO IT!!!! It’s literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me :D

P.S. what did ya think?

P.S.S. my tags are always open, just drop a message :)

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shookethbrooketh · 5 years ago

Text

schrödinger’s cat

phil tried to take a deep breath, but he couldn’t manage. he tried to calm down, but the truth of the matter was that anything could have happened. there could have been a bombing, and the world around him could already be descending into war. It was schrödinger's cat; he had no memory of what had happened, and therefore everything, including the possible worst case scenario, had happened until he knew otherwise.

summary: it’s july of 2019, and dan and phil are headed to vidcon. everything has been absolutely amazing for the two of them since they ended their hiatus, and they’re ready to jump into the next stage of their lives...until a reckless driver destroys everything they had in store. suddenly phil is left completely alone to cope with the loss of his soulmate, and all he has left is the dark void of his own mind. dan’s the only thing that can help him, and he’ll find him, even if he has to get some wings first.

genre: realism gone wrong, angst

warnings: major character death, suicide, car accident, hospital/doctors, funeral

word count: 4.6k

written for the @phandomreversebang ! inspired by the lovely art by @penisdinosaur ! beta’d by @i-havent-slept-in-days !

a/n: this fic is, by no means, meant to glorify suicide. however, it is quite dark especially near the ending, and the outlined way of thinking is EXTREMELY dangerous and unhealthy, so if you think that by any means this story may trigger you, PLEASE don’t read it!! i don’t want anyone to get hurt by my writing <3 please please please use discretion !!

read it on ao3!

“Hurry up, Phil! We’re gonna miss ANOTHER flight!” Dan called from down the stairs. They were on their way to VidCon, and they didn’t want a repeat of the last time they flew out to Cali in 2017.

“Just our luck with Cali, I suppose,” Phil said, finally running from his room, suitcase dragging behind him, and planting his feet beside Dan’s.

“You’re ready now? Haven’t forgotten your passport?” Dan asked.

“I think I should be asking you that one,” Phil said. Each of them pulled their passports from their pockets, clinked them like wine glasses, and headed for the stairs. The rush for the airport gate had already begun; Phil didn’t doubt that this would be another incident in which they barely caught the plane. He’d lost track of the times he and Dan had run up to a gate while it was closing, like in the movies. It was certainly anxiety-inducing, but the two of them were fairly calm. They’d had a great break from working hard on YouTube, but there were certainly some things about it that they’d missed, so they were excited to get back to public life. Meeting fans was one of the things they’d missed the most, so VidCon was a great start.

When they finally reached the pavement outside their flat, Phil took one look at the taxi waiting for them and realized he’d forgotten his phone charger. “Shit!” he shouted, dropping his suitcase, turning on his heel, and making his way back to the flat.

Behind him, Dan did a double take before groaning and following him. “What now?”

“I forgot my charger! Why’d you follow me anyway? You could have stayed downstairs,” he said as he reached the door. He felt frantically around his pockets before turning to Dan, who was daintily holding the keys to the flat on one finger.

“If I thought you’d have remembered your keys, I’d be kidding myself.” By now the taxi driver downstairs was viciously honking at them to hurry up, and both of them knew they were nearing the point of abandonment.

“This is NOT the time!” Phil replied, disappearing into the flat. He came out a moment later holding both Dan’s keys and his own, and, of course, his charger.

They barrelled down the stairs, each of them nearly falling multiple times, and finally reached the bottom, out of breath after their third trip. Without pausing to talk, they grabbed their luggage and dashed outside. They hadn’t noticed until then that the honking had ceased, but it was clear why; another couple had gotten into their taxi, and it was driving back into traffic.

“Oh, you have got to be shitting me!” Dan shouted, throwing his keys on the ground.

Phil calmly bent down and picked them up, handing them back to him before pulling out his own phone. “I’ll call for an Uber,” Phil said dejectedly. Missing the cab was new territory, even for them.

Luckily, the Uber arrived only a few minutes later, and they were optimistic about catching their plane. Their first event was a little earlier this year, so they certainly didn’t have time to catch another. They threw their things into the trunk and clambered into the Uber, panting a bit as they settled in. “Heathrow,” Phil spat out, and the driver took off. They leaned back against the seats and each took a deep breath.

“Hey,” Dan said, “we’re gonna make it. Now’s our time to just rest.” They brushed their hands against one another and glanced up at the driver; they knew there was a certain amount of caution to be taken when out in public, even if with only one other person.

When they looked up, they saw the driver applying lipstick in her mirror. They exchanged concerned looks, and Phil’s entire soul filled with anxiety as he sunk back so far into his seat that he felt as if he was going to disappear.

“Uh, ma’am?” Dan spoke up shakily, leaning from the passenger side over to her seat. “Are you sure you’re able to drive safely while you’re doing that?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said carelessly while nearly running a red light. The light luckily turned green the moment she reached it, but it was clear that she wasn’t intending to stop.

“I’m not completely su-”

“Listen, bub,” she said, turning back to look at him, “I know how to drive a damn car.”

She continued on as the two of their mouths fell wide open. “Oh my God, keep your eyes on the road!” Phil shouted. His breathing began to speed up, and it was evident that he would have a breakdown if something wasn’t done.

Dan immediately took notice. “Phil, are you okay?” he said quietly enough that she couldn’t hear.

“I’m a professional!” she yelled back, drawing both their attention, and it seemed there was nothing they could to do prevent the screaming match that had commenced.

Phil turned his head back to face Dan, sporting a face of helplessness. Quickly, though, his eyes caught the movement behind him. They had entered another intersection, and a car was headed right for them. “Dan!”

~~~

Phil’s eyes blinked open to a sterile, dark, and empty room. He looked around for a moment, confused, and suddenly bolted upright. “Shit!” His hands immediately flew to his head. “Ah!” His head felt as if so much blood was rushing to it that it was going to explode. He slowly laid back into his bed and fumbled around for the bed’s remote; he finally found it, head throbbing, and pushed the call button.

Within a few seconds, a nurse was in his room. “Oh, good, you’re awake,” he whispered.

“Why-Ow!” Phil winced as he tried to speak before giving up. “What the hell kind of hangover is this?” he whispered.

“It’s not a hangover; you have a concussion.” He looked at Phil’s face and sighed. “You don’t remember, do you?”

Phil tried to think, but it only worsened his headache. “We were going to VidCon. What happened? We’re supposed to be in America. We… Where’s Dan?”

The nurse pursed his lips. “Your family should be here soon.”

“What-” he whisper-screamed, but the nurse was leaving. “Hey!” he used a normal voice, and his head was throbbing, but he didn’t care. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he shouted, but to no avail. The nurse was gone, and his heart was pounding just as hard as his head. What had happened to them?

He closed his eyes and tried to think back to whatever accident must have happened to land him in that bed. They were taking a cab to VidCon. No, they were taking an Uber. They missed the cab. In any other circumstance, Phil would have laughed at their mistake. Now, it felt like a clue in a murder case.

They were in the Uber, and that was where the story ended. It was as if he just passed out and somehow ended up in the hospital. His memory flat lined in the middle of the London streets, and everything was completely normal. That, though, couldn’t possibly be true; if it was, Dan would be standing beside him and holding his hand.

One of the most troubling parts, at that point, was that his memory was failing him. Phil knew there was more to the story, but he couldn’t remember it. Tragedy had struck, and he didn’t even know how. He couldn’t even manage to remember something that he could tell deep down had changed his life forever.

Phil tried to take a deep breath, but he couldn’t manage. He tried to calm down, but the truth of the matter was that anything could have happened. There could have been a bombing, and the world around him could already be descending into war. It was Schrödinger's Cat; he had no memory of what had happened, and therefore everything, including the possible worst case scenario, had happened until he knew otherwise. Tears he didn’t take notice of rolled down his cheeks, and the heart monitor beside him sped up with each breath.

At that moment, Phil’s parents rushed in, with his brother Martyn in tow. They saw him panicking and Martyn shouted, “Phil, are you okay?”

Suddenly everything around him slowed to a stop. His brother’s words reverberated in his head until the voice changed to Dan’s. He closed his eyes, and he saw the inside of a car. He saw a driver, one who chose to look back at them rather than driving. He heard screaming, and every bit of it shot pain through his head, but he couldn’t even think of pulling himself out of what he could only describe as his nightmare. He turned to Dan, and the two made eye contact. They were both hopeless, stuck in a dangerous situation they had no way out of; yet, when Dan saw Phil, his face seemed to soften just a little. Super best friends and soulmates, until the end.

Phil’s eye caught a car speeding towards them; they were running a red light, and the other driver was paying no more attention than theirs. Before he had time to react, the car was smashing into Dan’s side of the car. He screamed, and he remembered the scream, but he couldn’t hear it; by now he couldn’t hear anything at all. He could simply see Dan’s body collapse towards his as he was thrown back against his window. All went black, and he opened his eyes to his concerned family standing around his hospital bed.

“He’s gone, isn’t he?”

They nodded, and he closed his eyes once again.

~~~

“Get plenty of rest, and don’t look at any screens for the next week unless you absolutely have to, and after that, only use them in moderation. Nothing too strenuous, alright?”

“Mhm,” Phil nodded. It had been a couple days since the accident, and since he only had a concussion, they were releasing him. Really, he felt as if they probably should have just transferred him to the mental ward, but he didn’t say anything. He hadn’t said much at all since he found out about Dan.

The Lester family was collectively worried about Phil seeming to have gone mute, but they also clearly wanted him to have time to grieve. They were just as shocked as he was.

When they made it back to the flat, the family made it clear that they wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. Phil wanted to complain, but he didn’t feel like opening his mouth. Normally, it would have made him feel at least a little bit of comfort, but comfort didn’t seem feasible without Dan.

Phil’s family set him up in his old room set (they assumed it would be too painful for him to lie in the room where he usually slept with Dan) with a stockpile of books and went to watch tv, promising to check in on him periodically. Phil was about as satisfied as he could have been, and he tried to read, but his brain was too scattered, and he found himself forgetting what he’d read by the time he finished the chapter. “Stupid concussion,” he muttered to himself, his voice a bit raspy from not speaking. Instead he chose to rest his eyes; the doctor did say to rest, and he was pretty sure he’d read that sleep is good for concussions.

Before he could doze off, though, he heard what sounded like traffic. Sure, he was in London, but he was confident he’d never heard traffic that loud; it sounded as if he was right on the street. He opened his eyes to search for a source, and suddenly he saw himself in a car. Confused, he looked around and saw Dan sitting beside him. In front of them was their Uber driver from a few days before.

“Oh, no,” Phil breathed, “no, no, no. Dan, we need to get out of here,” he said, turning to Dan, but he couldn’t hear. “Dan!” he shouted, reaching out to shake his arm, but his hand went straight through Dan’s skin. All the life breathed out of him as he realized there was nothing he could do. He tried to hurl himself from this horrible vision, but nothing worked. Even closing his eyes just sent him a level deeper into this hell. As the car approached them, Dan turned to Phil, and he knew the line. “Phil, are you okay?” He could already hear it in his head, but when Dan’s mouth opened, he said something completely different.

“If only you’d have remembered your charger.”

“Phil?” He lurched forward out of what he suddenly realized was a dream, but the feeling it left in him lingered. Martyn was standing over his bed, visibly worried. What a surprise. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Phil said, monotone.

“Are you sure? You looked like you were in pain.”

“Nope, head’s fine.”

Martyn stood still for a moment, seeming to contemplate this, before sitting at the foot of Phil’s bed. It was like his older brother was pretending to be his father, and he didn’t care for it. “Well, I guess this is a good time to have a talk, then.”

“About what?” Phil spurted out, a bit of a harsh undertone hiding in his words.

“I know you can’t have your phone for a while, so I just wanted to ask you if you wanted me to say anything to the press. Obviously nobody’s said anything yet, and your entire fanbase is currently worried sick, given that you’re supposed to be doing panels at VidCon right now.”

Phil just sort of stared at him for a moment. Why would he ever want Martyn to tell the media what happened to Dan? Schrödinger had come back to haunt him again; he knew that these people had no idea what had happened. Only Phil, their families, and the people involved knew. The entire world was left in the dark, and, to them, Dan was still alive. Even that simple of a thought was the only thing that gave him comfort. “No. I’ll announce it myself when I’m better.”

“Are you sure? People are really w-”

“I’ll do it myself,” he barked, cutting off his brother.

Martyn jumped back a bit. “O-okay, Phil. I hope you feel better soon.”

“Thank you,” he said sternly as Martyn left the room. Phil smiled for the first time since he’d found out that Dan was gone. It was difficult, but Phil managed to crack that smirk solely because he knew that even though he was really gone, to the world, Dan was lying right beside him.

~~~

Phil couldn’t sleep that night, or the next night, or the night after that. Every time he dozed off, he dreamt of Dan’s violent death. Some dreams reenacted the real event, but others reimagined a whole different maiming; the only thing that stayed consistent between them all was that Phil was somehow to blame.

That mindset carried into his waking hours as well; the only thing that remained constant in his head was the knowledge that he was at fault. If he had just remembered his damn charger, or just given it up and shared Dan’s, they would have caught their cab, and they never would have been in the Uber with that irresponsible driver. If it weren’t for Phil’s own stupidity, Dan would still be there.

Phil stayed closed off from his family as well. They stayed in his living room, they brought him food, and they tried to interact with him as much as possible, but he’d never say a word in response. They tried to console him, but he felt nothing. They tried to joke with him, but Dan had taken Phil’s sense of humor with him when he left. Nothing was working.

Really, Phil felt nothing at all. He hadn’t particularly realized it, but Dan had truly been his person. Dan had been the one person who filled him with all the feelings there were to feel, and in departing he sucked them right back out. He wasn’t sure he ever would feel again--not without Dan.

But, in his mind, he deserved it. It was his fault.

And that was never going to change.

Time continued to pass, and Phil’s concussion healed. He was able to use screens again, and he was allowed to aid in planning Dan’s funeral. He chose not to, but he knew the date was set for a few days ahead, and he did everything he could to ignore it. He tried to watch funny videos, but nothing made him laugh. He tried to watch something sad, but he couldn’t even cry. He just wanted to feel something, anything, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t feel anything while he was apart from Dan.

The screens were his last hope. He thought that maybe he’d feel something when he had access to the Internet, to the world he’d built with Dan, but not even seeing the two of them together gave him back any feeling. He still couldn’t bear to tell the world what had happened, and he internally decided he never would. His body felt completely empty, and he’d resolved himself to the fact that it would until he met Dan again.

He even began to hallucinate, seeing himself in black and white whenever he looked in a mirror. He was a disaster as well, but all he really noticed was the lack of color. He fantasized that when he saw Dan again, they’d touch, and color would drain back into him. Everything would be okay again, but not without Dan.

He needed Dan.

~~~

The day of Dan’s funeral finally came, and Phil’s family helped him get ready. Phil was a bit brighter by then, or at least he appeared to be. The inside of his head was as dark as ever, and as he looked in the mirror, he still saw a black and white body putting on the all black suit, but everyone else saw color, and that was all that mattered.

By the time they were done with him, he looked socially acceptable, and he was ready to leave. The empty shell that used to be Phil Lester droned along to the funeral home, and the visitation began. He stood there, barely paying any attention as people came and went. Few were allowed; the public would find out if too many were there. Phil didn’t care about any of them anyway; they were mostly relatives of Dan’s who Dan himself could barely stand. Phil knew Dan deserved more people at his damn funeral, but he didn’t care anyway. He was dead, and Phil was practically dead as well.

Phil hadn’t a clue how long he’d been sitting in the front pew beside the casket when someone approached and put his hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to leave you two alone,” said Dan’s mother, giving him a grim smile before turning to leave. Phil gave no response, but he soon found that he was alone with the casket.

Schrödinger was back for a third time. As he stood overtop of the wooden box, to him, it was empty. He couldn’t see inside, and therefore he chose to believe it was empty. He knew that if he opened it his theory may change, but he had no way of knowing until he did, and so he wouldn’t. He hadn’t seen Dan since they were in the car, and he didn’t plan to. Not until he could truly be with him.

Dan would be livid to know that his funeral was in a church. He’d be livid to know that they were burying him instead of cremating him as well, but Phil didn’t have the heart to step into the process and vocalize those concerns. He was surprised, at this point, to find that he had a beating heart at all.

It was at that point that he felt the first feeling he’d felt since he learned about the accident: longing. He felt an overwhelming urge for the only closure he’d ever have, for the ability to be with Dan, even if for a moment, and even if he wasn’t really there. So it was then that he reached in and opened the casket. Within was Dan’s body, his face covered in makeup to look him look less pale and grey. In reality, Phil looked the same while he was alive, so there wasn’t much of a point in that.

Suddenly, Phil felt like a human juice box. He didn’t know there was anything left inside him, but the image of Dan, lifeless in a casket, sucked out the very last of his feelings, and he knew he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t wait any longer; he needed to be with Dan.

~~~

Food piled up on the counter as Phil cheerily wished family goodbye. Had he any feeling left, he would have hugged them extra tight to say a long goodbye, but he couldn’t even bring himself to do that. As they all left, he looked at all the meals they’d prepared for him. They’d left at least a week’s worth of food for him to eat while he grieved; it was a shame, really. He knew he would have chuckled at the irony had he cared.

“Don’t do this, Phil.” He turned on his heel and saw Dan standing in front of him, bright, white angel wings protruding from his back.

“Dan,” he breathed out desperately, and broke out in a run towards him. He threw his arms around him, but quickly found that there was nothing to throw his arms around at all.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there, but you can’t do this. So many people depend on you.”

“Bullshit. I’m not strong enough for them,” Phil said, turning back down the hall and heading for their kitchen. “Not without you.”

“Yes, you are,” Dan said, materializing again in his way. Phil simply walked right through him. “Think of the example you’re setting.”

“What fucking example?” he exclaimed, throwing his arms up and bringing them back down to unsheathe a sharp knife from their block. “You were the example. What kind of example would I be if I just fucking sit here and let people down because I can’t even feel emotion without you?”

“A better example than you would be if you do this! Everything we’ve done together has been to help other people stay alive. Don’t you remember? I’m so glad I failed. I was able to do so much. You know this story, and you were one of its greatest supporters; you can’t be turning against that and becoming selfish enough now to do this. This isn’t you, Phil.”

“No, it’s not,” Phil replied, storming angrily down the hallway towards their bedroom. Their real bedroom. “I took that away from myself when I took you away from me.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was. I need to be with you, Dan; I need to finish what I fucking started.”

“How do you even know this is me?” Dan pleaded as Phil settled himself on their bed. It was the first time he’d been in the room since they’d left for VidCon, and somewhere in him, it made him feel pain. “You don’t believe in the afterlife, and you know I sure as hell don’t. Why do you think this will get you to me in the first place?”

“Oh, Dan,” Phil said almost whimsically, tracing the knife with his pointer finger, “I can tell it’s you. Nobody else loves me this much, not even my own psyche.”

“What about Schrödinger? Until you’re here, I’m both here and not here. What if you made the wrong guess? Either is equally possible, even if you think you know what the truth is. Are you really willing to take that risk?”

To add to the list of firsts, for the first time since the accident, Phil laughed, cupping his hands around the handle of the knife. “Not even Schrödinger can save me now.”

He plunged the knife into his stomach, and a sigh of relief escaped as the physical pain rushed through his body. It was the only true feeling he’d felt since he’d found out Dan was dead, and something about it was almost comforting--no, it was comforting. He felt warmth rush through his body, and he finally, genuinely smiled as he saw Dan materialize in front of him again. He knew Dan was still just ouch of reach, but as life drained from him, he reached out nonetheless.

“I love you.”

All went dark, and he felt himself being pulled from his body. He felt as if he was floating, and images began to take shape in a cylinder around him. He sees Dan, but much younger and through a computer screen. It’s their first Skype call. To the right, he sees the first time they met. He watches as they run up to each other and embrace, and feeling begins to seep back into him. Every image he sees brings a little bit more feeling back to him as he floats higher and higher away from the misery of a world without his soulmate. He watches as he and Dan move in with each other, as they move to London, as they become radio hosts, and as they navigate success. He watches as they create a whole world of their own within the shitty world they were placed into, and he watches as they mold that world into a happy place not only for them but for others. He watches them write two books and travel the world twice, he watches them film Dan’s coming out video, and, finally, one last time, he watches the accident that took Dan away from him.

But that didn’t matter anymore. There was a light at the end of the tunnel, quite literally, and Phil was approaching it. As he reached the top, he felt tears pouring from the turquoise eyes he wasn’t even sure he had anymore. Suddenly, he was engulfed in bright, white light, and he was sitting on a cordial stone wall. None of that mattered, either, because he saw Dan right in front of him. Speechless, he let Dan start.

“I’m so mad at you.”

Before he could even respond, Dan knelt down in front of Phil and wrapped his arms around his neck. It was like a transfer of energy; as soon as Dan touched him, and he could finally really, truly touch him, Phil ironically felt completely alive again. Still without words, Phil shakily reached forward and cupped Dan’s cheeks before falling into a kiss. He was completely helpless, left to collapse into Dan’s arms, but he was okay with that. The two of them were together again, and that was all that mattered.

Dan slid his hands down to Phil’s back and pulled away, leaving Phil’s hands sitting idly on his face. When Phil looked down at him, he saw that he was crying as well. Phil laughed, expelling more tears of joy from his postearthly ducts. “You lied. You look amazing in white.”

Dan laughed back at him, a sound he knew all too well how much he’d missed. The two of them simply remained there for a moment, smiling in each other’s presence, before Dan stood back up. “Hey, Phil?” he said, holding his hand out to Phil.

“Let’s go home.”

#phanfiction #phan #prb #tw suicide #tw death #tw hospital #tw car accident #tw doctors #tw funeral #major character death #dong and ping #phic stuff

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badstoriesaboutgoodpeople · 6 years ago

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Amnesia

AN: Hey! This is the first fanfic I’ve written in years, so please be nice to me lol. It’s based on the song Amnesia by 5sos, basically I wrote about Tyler breaking up with his girlfriend to move to Dallas, and of course I also wrote their eventual reunion. It’s really cheesy and I kinda hate it, but that’s ok. I hope you guys enjoy it because I read a lot of fanfics and I know how frustrating it is to read poorly written/boring work. Also I know I said this was going up on the 8th but I didn’t really want to wait because I have my Jujhar Khaira fic to post, I just posted something about PLD on my ao3, I’m in the middle of writing another fic about Tyler, and I have fics planned for draisaitl and mcdavid.

Warnings: none really, it’s sad for a bit but then it’s fluffy

You got home from work to find Tyler sitting on your couch, which wasn't an uncommon sight. You'd given him a key to your apartment when you'd moved in, and he'd often come over to watch movies after a game, or come help you make dinner when he had nothing better to do. You’d been dating for a few years, you got together before his NHL debut. What was uncommon about seeing him sitting there were the tears on his face.

"Tyler, what's wrong?" you asked, placing your purse on the ground and kicking off your heels before walking over to sit next to him on the couch. He didn't respond, he merely buried his face in your neck and continued crying.

"Ty, hun, tell me what has you so upset."

"I'm leaving."

"What do you mean you're leaving Ty, what's going on?"

"I got traded Y/N, I'm moving to Dallas."You sat there stunned, not knowing how to respond. You felt your eyes water at the thought of being without him, but you knew you couldn't let yourself be upset right now, Ty needed you to be strong. You feel his arms squeeze you tighter, and you were forced back to reality.

"What are we gonna do Y/N, you just got a promotion, you can't leave."

"We can try to make it work Ty..... we can Skype every night?" you offered, knowing this wasn't a solution, but not wanting to think about the reality of what would likely end up happening to your relationship.

"Y/N..... you know how busy I'll be, there's no way we would be able to make that work," Ty said while sniffling.

"I know, I just can't imagine being without you Ty. I'm happy for you though, maybe a fresh start will be good for you. You're a great player, Dallas is lucky to have you."

You spent the rest of the night in each other's arms, fearing what would happen once you let go.

Three Years Later

You were driving home from work one day, and you passed the restaurant Tyler and you used to frequent after he'd won a game, remembering the nights you spent there together with the rest of his team celebrating.

I thought about our last kiss, how it felt, the way you tasted

You thought back to the last time you kissed Tyler, in the airport before his flight to Dallas. He tasted like his favourite peppermint gum, and his lips felt soft and familiar against yours. You had agreed to break up before he left and he got a girlfriend shortly after his arrival, so the few times you'd been able to make it to Dallas to visit him, you weren't able to kiss him, and it's something you missed dearly.

Even though your friends tell me you're doing fine, are you somewhere feeling lonely when though she's right beside you?

You had made friends with some of Tyler's teammates the few times you'd travelled to Dallas, and you made a point to text Jaime regularly to make sure Tyler was doing alright. You still talk to Ty, but knowing him he won't tell you if anything is wrong. You still wonder if he's hiding something, but you have to tell myself there's nothing else you can do.

If what we had was real, how could you be fine? 'Cause I'm not fine at all

You haven't been able to find a date since Tyler left, knowing nobody would be able to fill the void that Ty left. It wouldn't be fair to date someone when you’re still pining after your first love who now lives almost 2,000 miles away. You tried dating apps and even blind dates set up by your friends, but they all fell short compared to what you'd had with Ty. You still wonder how he managed to find someone just months after moving to Dallas, how he was able to get over the years you had together so quickly.

I wish that I could wake up with amnesia, and forget about the stupid little things, like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you.

The first few months of sleeping alone had been torture. You'd become so used to falling asleep next to him that you found it impossible to sleep without him. No amount of pillows could replicate the feeling of him next to you, snoring quietly and occasionally mumbling in his sleep. You would often lay awake at night wondering what your life would be like if you had fought harder to keep him with you. You think about what would've happened if you'd quit your job and moved to Dallas with him. Truthfully you still do think about it, when you can't sleep or when you sit alone at my desk at work eating lunch.

October

One day your boss called you into his office, with a proposal. He told you they're planning on opening a new location in the south, and that they'd love to have you there working for them. You swore you misheard him because it sounded like he just said it will be in Dallas. You immediately took the offer, willing to take any opportunity you had to get closer to Tyler after three years without him in your life. You pulled out your phone to text Jaime once you returned to your desk.

Y/N: hey uh weird question but do u know if ty is single rn?

J: he's painfully single, he complains about it every chance he gets

Y/N: on a scale from 1-10 how happy do u think he'd be if he found out I'm moving to dallas for work

J: probably a 10 tbh, he misses you more than he'd like to admit

Y/N: I'm planning on surprising him will u help me? make sure he doesn't find out I'm moving!!

J: will do, look forward to seeing ur stupid face again

You also texted Ty, and begin laying the foundation for your surprise.

Y/N: hey ty, i know i said id try to make it to dallas for ur bday but I'm getting really busy at work rn :( my boss says it doesn't look like ill be able to get time off until march. i promise ill come down then, I'm really sorry i won't be there for ur bday

T:Hey! No worries Y/N, I understand. I look forward to seeing you in march :)

January 28th

You arrived in Dallas two weeks ago, and avoiding Ty had been pure agony. You met up with Jaime and a few of the other guys for dinner, getting all the updates on their lives and Tyler's. You found out he has three dogs now, and you must say you're not surprised. Tyler and you were going to adopt a puppy but then he got traded, and you knew it was only a matter of time before he finally got one. You decide to text him to put the finishing touches on your surprise.

Y/N: hey stranger!! I sent u a bday gift, it should hopefully arrive sometime soon :D

T: aw thx, you know you didn't have to get me anything

Y/N: hey, i had to make up for missing ur bday somehow. I hope you like it!

T: ill love anything you picked out for me :)

Y/N: oh shut up XD

You decided his "gift" is going to arrive on the 30th, considering you wanted to be with him on his birthday, plus you didn't know how much longer you could wait to see him. You texted Jaime and tell him to make sure Tyler doesn't have any plans that day, and you went to buy some balloons. You bought some green and white ones for Dallas, and some yellow and black just for good measure. You squished them in my car and drive back to your apartment buzzing with excitement.

January 30th

You woke up an hour before your alarm was set, unable to contain your excitement. It was only 8AM, but you decided to text Tyler to let him know his "gift" would be arriving soon.

Y/N:hey ty, just checked the tracking and it says ur gift should arrive this afternoon

T:ooooh any hints?

Y/N:no!! be paaaaaaatient

T: but that's no fun :(

You smiled as you set your phone down and began to get ready. As 1PM rolled around you could hardly contain your excitement anymore. You still felt a slight bit of anxiety, worrying Tyler won't be as happy to see you as you were hoping he'd be. You heard your phone buzz, and see a text from Jaime.

J: hurry up and go take back your bf, if i have to hear him bitch about being lonely one more time i s2g ill scoop my own brain out w a spoon

Y/N:stop being so dramatic I'm just about to leave

You gathered the balloons and the gift bag containing some snacks from back home in Boston, a card from all his friends, and a nice watch you'd picked out for him. You glanced at yourself in the mirror and took a deep breath as you walked out the door of your apartment.

You soon find yourself in his driveway, and you could barely contain yourself as you got the balloons out. You slowly walked up to the door, unable to believe what you were about to do. You knocked loudly, and heard a dog begin to bark.

You heard a familiar voice shout, "Gerry! Be quiet! It's just the mailman for god's sake," and hear footsteps approaching.

You felt a huge smile form on your face as Tyler opened the door and was greeted with a face all of balloons.

"Surprise!" you yelled, feeling what you assume was Gerry jumping all over you.

".......Y/N? What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't get time off?" Tyler said in disbelief, and you felt two strong arms wrap around your shoulders and squeeze you tight.

"That may have been a lie...." you said sheepishly, handing him the balloons and gift bag. He looked so much different than the scrawny boy that left Boston, now sporting a full beard and tattooed arms. You took a moment to savour being around him again, before he ushered you inside.

"So how are you? I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever?" you asked, sitting down on a large couch in his well decorated family room.

"You literally texted me this morning," he replied, sitting beside you while the other two dogs attempted to climb over him to come say hi.

"Don't be a smartass, you know what I mean. We haven't had a proper conversation since before the season started."

"Things have been great. I love it here, the weather is so much better than Boston. The guys here are awesome, the chemistry we have as a team is amazing. I still miss home though, those guys will always be my family. I miss you too, you know. I tried to replace you but I just couldn't. Hell, I bought three dogs and even that didn't work. You're clearly pretty special Y/N, if even three cute labs can't replace you," said Tyler, with a hint of sadness in his eyes. It hit you then that you had to tell him you weren’t leaving, that you could finally be together again.

"Hey, you gotta open your present, I traveled a long way to deliver it personally," you joked, handing him the gift bag. You watched his eyes light up as he saw the snacks, and a large smile form when he read what his former teammates wrote for him. You told him you can return the watch if he doesn't like it, but he insisted he loves it. You laid on the couch for a bit, and you could tell he wanted to get closer to you but won't.

After a while he asked, "Hey Y/N, how long are you in town for?"

"Well I was gonna wait to give you the last bit of your surprise but since you asked I guess I can tell you. I moved here, Ty. I've been here for two weeks. The company is opening a location here and they wanted me to come work here. Once they told me it was in Dallas I couldn't resist."

You watched a look of realization develop on his face, and the next thing you knew his lips were against yours. They were just as soft as you remembered them, and he still tasted like peppermint. Without saying a word you felt him pick you up.

"Tyler what are you doing?!" I shriek as he begins walking somewhere.

"Making up for the three years I spent without you," he explains as he carried you down the hall towards his bedroom.

#tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #nhl #dallas stars #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey oneshot #hockey writing #hockey imagines

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dragnime · 5 years ago

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Moon Wing: Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The silver moon rose into the newly born night sky, creeping along the deep blue canvas, its light began to illuminate the city. Six towers rose above a small white city, collecting the oncoming moonlight. At the top of each was a colored gem - red, blue, green, yellow, white, and black - arranged in the shape of a five-pointed star with the white gem nestled in the center. When the light was collected a path lit up down the sides of each tower, moving towards lamps lining the city roads. Each path was made with stones of varying shades of black and white, with the darkest stones lining the sides.

Parallel to each road were small marble colored houses. Each one was humbly built, with limited windows on each wall. There was limited space between each house, only big enough for a single traveller to move through. Above each front door was a colored gem that matched the peak of the closest tower.

Eldia heard her parents shifting in the dark house as the white light of their goddess illuminated their single small window. Her father walked into her room, his white tunic glowing slightly in the shadow.

“Eldia it’s moonrise. Time to get up.”

She shifted in her bed as she began to push herself into a sitting position. A loud yawn escaped her mouth as her body cracked and stretched.

“I’m up. I’m up.”

Her father rubbed her head softly before heading out to meet up with her mother. Eldia looked out towards the main room, seeing the dim light. She was soon dressed in a matching tunic to her father’s, albeit slightly longer to reach her knees. She ran her fingers around the edges of the green gem attached at her collar. Its rough edges felt nice as tit moved against her soft skin.

Her mother’s soft voice came from the main room.

“Eldia it’s time to go. Please hurry up young one.”

Eldia rushed out from her room, not wanting to hear her mother yell, and stood with them in front of the door. Her father smiled down at her before softly chanting.

“Release us from this darkness to our goddess’s warm bosom.”

The door slowly shifted. It split down center, opening into a bright moonlit street. They walked out onto the main street, accompanied by their neighbors as they also left their homes. The light connected with the gem on Eldia’s collar and she felt a rush of energy through her body. She smiled feeling the goddess’s touch giving her new life. As she allowed the moonlight to replenish her emptiness, white ethereal wings slowly grew from her back. This was her favorite. The feeling of having the sky at her fingertips sent a rush down her spine. She spread them out in unison with the neighbors.

Everyone began to move to the side of the main road, spreading their newly formed wings as they offered a song of prayer to the moon.

“Oh Goddess of earth and sky guide us on this most holy of days. We who are unworthy stand under your full glory.”

Eldia didn’t offer as loud a prayer, as her mind drifted to the emptiness of the sky surrounding the moon. The goddess seemed so lonely in the inky blackness surrounding her. The barrier did its job well, she was only able to see the goddess’ moonlight. When the nightly prayer had come to an end, the crowd began to shift. Her neighbors walked over and greeted her parents. She spotted Iria walking over with her parents, and a soft blush came across her face. Eldia admired her soft white hair that fell to her shoulders. Her sapphire eyes glinted in the streetlights as she got closer. Iria embraced Eldia close.

“Good moonrise Eldia. How are you this morning?”

Eldia’s heart raced a bit as the girl pulled away. She wanted to stay in her arms forever, but that was against the rules.

“Good moonrise Iria. I am well, and yourself?”

Iria smiled softly.

“I’m well. Did you hear? Someone’s son from the Ruby district is interested in meeting with me for a unification ceremony.”

Eldia’s heart sun when she heard that. It was going to happen eventually, so she just gave Iria a supportive smile. She hugged the girl acting excited.

“I’m so happy for you! I hope he is the right guy for you.”

Iria nodded before being called by her parents. She waved and ran off and Eldia watched as she moved on. She stood silent as the soft white hair of Iria caught a soft breeze. Her mom soon walked over.

“Hmm It looks like Iria is growing up. I think it’s time for you to find someone as well. You’re getting old enough. I know a few families in the Sapphire district with boys around your age.”

Eldia nodded as she walked with her parents through the crowd, her mind hoping for a chance to run off. They came up to one of their family friends, and they each bowed. They wore a crystal of deep sapphire, and Eldia knew this must have been one of the families.

“Good evening.” Her mother smiled, and began to talk with the other woman. Words of unification began to cross between them.

She watched and soon she felt a soft tap on her shoulder. She glanced over seeing her father leaning down.

“Eldia, your mom is probably gonna be a while. Why don’t you go on ahead? We will catch up when we can.”

Eldia felt her spirit pick up a bit. She smiled to her father and ran forward, her wings folded back against her body. She began to snake her way through the clamouring crowd. Many didn’t seem to pay her mind as they talked amongst themselves. She wasn’t old enough to be considered an adult, so why would her mom wish for unification? Why would Iria want it? They could have so many more cycles together spending time together. Tears rolled down her cheek as she moved through the disinterested mass.

It took some time, but she had finally broken free from the tightly packed roads. At the first opportunity she slipped into a space between the two houses to avoid anymore prying eyes. She was in the shadow district now. It was the last part of the city to be able to see the moon, and considered to be almost forgotten by the goddess. She wished not to linger.

Soon she came upon the border between her world and the outside. It was a daunting sight. The wall towered over each building in the city she lived in. From the ground the top was barely visible. The thought of what kinds of things that lived beyond this monolith of marble filled her mind. The thoughts didn’t bring joy. She knew that laws forbade such things, and to even think of leaving was something to be harshly punished. She took a deep breath.

“Well, then I better make sure to never get caught.”

Eldia smiled spreading her wings.With one push began flying towards the top of the wall. She looked back down towards the streets, keeping tight against the marble, making sure no one saw as she tried to climb up as slow as possible. Soon the top came into view, and with one step she allowed herself to step through the barrier. The once blank sky soon blossomed with new life and light as every star came into existence before her eyes at the same time. For a moment she could only stare, she had seen this many times before, but each time it was just as new as the first. In that moment her mind focused on the sight before, thoughts of unification and Iria were pushed aside.

“Hello, ancient ones! I’m glad we can meet again tonight!”

She quickly covered her mouth as her voice rang out into the sky and down into the void below. She ducked down to all fours, her eyes darting from side to side before looking back through the barrier. Her body tensed as the minutes slowly faded. She was sure that no one on the ground would be able to hear or see her, but anyone in flight could easily pick up her voice.

When it was clear no one had heard, she moved into a sitting position.

“Sorry about that.” She continued in a soft tone; a nervous laugh escaping her mouth, “I guess I got too excited seeing you again. I mean who wouldn’t be? Everyone should be able to see you. I think anyone who was able to see this would want to every night. I just wish I could sing to the goddess herself. Maybe I can get her to convince her to allow everyone to see you. I mean, you all sit with her in her kingdom. You all must’ve done something grand to share the sky with her.”

Eldia looked down and out over the horizon. It was too dark below the skyline to see anything, but she knew something was out there. The base of the wall was just as much in shadow. It was as though the darkness itself kept secrets from the goddess, because not even her light could illuminate them. A shiver went down her spine, as she pulled her feet back from the edge.

“I still wonder, though; why does the goddess wish for us to not see the ancient ones?”

Eldia looked up once more, seeing a few of the stars flickering, then turned towards the city. She looked towards her home underneath the green lit pillar, her hand slowly running along the edges of her gem on her collar. The moon begin to reach the proper height. A soft smile crept across her face and she stood up.

“I have to go, ancient ones. If I don’t get back in time I’m sure to get in trouble.”

She gave a knowing laugh. With a quick wave she dove off the top of the wall, folding her wings back to allow herself to pick up speed. As she reached just below the halfway point, her wings opened, catching the air. She lowered her body to the ground with an elegant step, before turning and running towards the center pillar.

Eldia spotted her parents when she landed on the outskirts of the crowd. She smiled and waved to them to get their attention. Her mom turned and waved her over, a stern face watching Eldia. Eldia recoiled mentally as she got closer to the older woman. A soft sigh escaped her mom’s mouth as she looked down at her daughter.

“Where have you been? Your father sent you ahead of us didn’t he?”

Thoughts bounced back and forth as she tried to think of some kind of excuse. Her mother watched closely wondering what reason Eldia was going to give. Before she could answer bells began to ring, and her mother quickly turned towards the main stage. She smiled and bowed with the crowd. Eldia quickly turned and bowed knowing that this meant her mother’s father was about to exit his home.

“His great and noble, Grand One!”

The crowd began to give a soft song of prayer as a regal figure walked from the two massive winged doors.

“Oh goddess on high. Bring forth your light down upon our Grand One. Bring down thy blessings to our safe home.”

She looked up to glance at her grandfather when he walked out. He joined the prayer as he walked along the path that led out to a stage. His clothes were similar to the rest, but added were flourishes to show his regality. His tunic was line in gold and silver runes that shone in the moonlight. Clasped at his collar was a long cape that extended behind him that tapered into individual points. Under his head his brooch was the shape of the five pointed star with each section colored to match the six pillars.

He smiled out to the crowd giving a grand sweep upwards with his hands and staff. His voice boomed and echoed in the open air.

“Raise your heads! We are all children of our beloved Moon Goddess! You honor me with your actions, but I see many who would handle my position with better ease than I. Now let us begin the ceremony of wakening!”

There was a loud cheer that Eldia and her family joined. Her eyes lit up as she looked to the peak of the central tower where the moon gem resided. Her wings flickered as her heart beat excited, when the bells rang out once more. The Grand One strode out onto a catwalk where the crowd had gathered, his feet seemingly silent with each step. His staff rang out once he tapped it against the surface.

“We come on this day to have someone’s words directly given to our patron goddess. She loves and cares for us all, but once a year she wishes to hear one’s words most of all. Someone among this crowd will walk up the Celestial steps, and speak their wish. As always if they return the wish has been granted, but if the wish is impure and angers her…”

His voice seemingly trailed off, hand covering his eyes in a solemn moment as if remembering all those who never returned. The crowd bowed offering another song of prayer, Eldia trying to pray louder than the rest. If she was to have her wish granted, she must show her loyalty. The Grand One’s staff tapped the stone once more, this time it stood in the middle of the catwalk.

“Now keepers of the gems! Bring the Goddess’s light down upon this symbol of her justice. Shine her light upon the one whom will speak their mind!”

Soon the collected lights from each tower shifted simultaneously hitting the scepter. The light burst forth from the spherical stone at the top shooting out in a mix of the five colors. They mixed and danced across the crowd as the song of prayer got louder, when suddenly it stopped. A single red light laid down on a male wearing the brooch of fire. At that instant he was picked up by the group and joyously carried to the Grand One.

The leader smiled and hugged the man as if they knew each other for years.

“The Goddess has spoken!”

The song began to build as the man was led to the steps spiraling up the central tower where the Grand One had exited. Silence fell on the crowd as the man began walking up the steps. Eldia sighed watching as the man began his ascent. When the chosen was out of sight the crowd began to slowly disperse, Eldia reluctantly moving as her parents pushed her along. She gave one last look at the tower once more before heading down the street to her home.

#fantasy #Adventure #angel #angels #goddess

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nastyaphrodite · 6 years ago

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Mother Tongue - Demetria Martinez

fyi one of the most poetically written books I’ve ever read, quotes are too good to lose to time.

(will be tagged personal, but this is not personal ...)

pg. 4: and I was one of those women whose fate is to take war out of a man, or at least imagine she is doing so.

pg. 5: before his arrival the chaos of my life had no axis about which to spin, a center far from God that I asked for forgiveness in advance.

pg. 12: Everything else is remembering. Or dismembering. To create a man out of blanks that can never wound me.

pg. 15: From day one I looked for ways to graft a piece of myself onto him, to become indispensable. My gestures were perfectly timed, touching his hand, twisting my hair, excusing myself to touch up my lipstick---ordinary actions that would reverse the tides of my life as in the theories of physicists who say the dance of a butterfly can cause volcanoes to erupt.

pg 16: Love at first sight, this how I explained the urgency that would later shed its skin and reveal pure desperation. Some women fall in love in advance of knowing a man because it is much easier to love a mystery. And I needed a mystery---someone outside of ordinary time would could rescue me from an ordinary life, from my name ... a blessing that had become a curse. At age nineteen, I was looking for a man to tear apart the dry rind of that name so I could see what fruit fermented inside.

pg. 19: Yes, from the very beginning I wanted him. In that time of my life, men were mirrors that allowed me to see myself at different angles. Outside this function, they did not exist. It was a supreme selfishness, the kind that feeds on men’s attentions, a void flourishing in a void. **** In the end, I had no choice but to love him. Desire was not good enough. Love would ripen in the light of time we spent together, like an arranged marriage. Except that I was doing the arranging. And calling it fate.

pg. 20: I swear to God the moment I laid eyes on him I knew he was The One. And it can’t be a coincidence—that he arrived on the scene just as I was asking the universe whether or not there was more to life than just holding down boring jobs. I’d been so depressed. Now everything has changed. Still, I know I should slow these feelings down. Or else I’ll want to act on them—which always ruins everything. I’ve got to remember I can’t “make” anything happen beyond doing the footwork for some greater purpose that may be trying to manifest here. Maybe I’m supposed to just be his friend.

pg. 22: It’s like I’m going for longer and longer periods of time forgetting I’m depressed. Which maybe is a definition of happiness.

pg. 23: Peace. Joy. Openness to the future. How else can I describe what I’m feeling except for the big “L” word, which I don’t dare say out loud. Because it’s like yelling fire in a theater. Men flee and my girlfriends say to me, you fool.

pg. 26: Very often, when I try to remember those days, everything comes to mind except for memories of myself: what I looked like or said or felt. This is where it gets painful. You see, memory does not always serve me. It seeks images and feelings to hook on to, but at times encounters only voids. The facts are easy enough to recite. *** I fled the world, went inside, ceased to feel. You could say I fell asleep. There was no mystery to it. Quite simply, it was easier to sleep and pretend to be awake than to stay awake and pretend to be strong. *** They had words for women like me. Insane fell out of favor as did nervous breakdown. Clinically depressed was, I believe, in vogue. But ask any woman who has had times in her life when she was not all there. She will say she was asleep. And women who fall asleep and don’t know why lack a plot line; this is the secret source of their shame. So I concocted a plot of my own, orchestrating what I could until characters began to say and do things I had never imagined, me included. To prove the gods at least were interested in me, I courted disaster, set out to love a man I knew full well would go away. Falling in love was a way of pinching myself. It proved I was alive only on that thin line between drama and trauma. I handed my body over ... like a torch to help him out of his dark places. I felt no shame. I was utterly unoriginal. To love a man more than one’s self was a socially acceptable way for a woman to be insane.

pg. 32: It was like taking one last look around a hospital room where someone I loved had died. And I cried, I couldn’t stop, it was a surprise. I thought my arroyo of grief had long ago dried up, leaving only an imprint of the storm.

pg. 49: I was young, future tense came naturally to me: Iré, irás.… I will go, you will go. I have always lacked talent for living in the here and now, and back then I was easily transported into luminous, unobtainable futures.

pg. 55: Where others saw indigo, I saw blue; where others saw teal, I saw green. It’s the draining away of color that happens in a woman’s life when she can’t name her own reality. It is only now that I am able to go back and color in the pale places, creating a mural on the walls of the life I now inhabit.

pg. 59-60: The truth is, some of our tenderest moments are the ones I am least likely to remember. It has to do with what I said about sleep, how women like me sometimes flee, letting loving words or glances melt on the hot pavement of some nameless fear. So forgive me if I embellish; even a conjured memory is better than no memory at all if you would dare to give your life what the world did not, a myth, a plot. Besides, I never intended to reconstruct him from memory, just from love, which may be the only way anyone can ever hope to get at the whole truth.

pg. 61: I knew the name but not the man.

pg. 63-64: Now I have reason to improve my Spanish. I have a word and a way of life to conjugate: Quiero, quieres, quiere, queremos.… To want and to love, the same thing! God, make this thing last. Make it last. I sound crazed, I know, but with good reason. My period’s due any moment, and I have found true love. The kind that pulls all of life in one direction. It’s too much. Already, his presence in my life is helping me forget all the sadness (what was it about?) that pulled me down for so long before he came. *** The thought of being with him forever is intoxicating. But I’ve got to be careful. I’ve got to stay in the present. The minute I get hung up on the idea of forever, on what will happen tomorrow, I ruin everything.

pg. 65: But I don’t need sleep, I don’t need food, just you, I answered. I unpeeled myself from him, removed myself like a bandage. The cruelty of limits stung: the need for sleep, food, a paycheck however small. If an hour were a house one could move into for good, I would have built a wall around the 2 o’clock hour, a brick wall arrayed against the disfiguring fury of the future.

pg. 66: We opened each other up like sacred books, Spanish on one side, English on the other, truths simultaneously translated.

pg. 68-69: But I’m deceiving myself again. Lying. For a long time after (he) I continued to believe a man could touch my essence, make me whole. All that time I could have been writing, touching the fires of my being and returning to the world, purified and strong. *** You see, I was one of those women who is at her best when she wants something very badly. The mating dance, the yearning and flirting, surrenders and manipulations—I was good at that, so good at the pursuit that when I actually got what I wanted, terror appeared. Terror that wore the silly mask of disappointment.

pg. 73: The few friends I had during that spell of my life quit calling; the word must have gotten out that (I) was in love. They knew I wouldn’t come out of the house, the house I drew with crayons, a house of primary colors I called love. The first time I fell in love, friends tried to tell me it was not real. To prove them wrong, I drew a keyhole on the front door and invited them to look through to the other side. See for yourselves, I said.

pg. 76: It’s dangerous for a couple to promise to stay married until they die. It’s better to vow to stay together until the marriage dies—and to do everything in their power to keep it alive. If you don’t think of marriage as a plant, fragile and in need of attention, then you’re asking for major trouble.

pg. 77: That’s what I hate about love. Bit by bit you start to give things up. You become like a good parent. But I love him so it’s all worth it. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.

pg. 81-82: Unfortunately (or fortunately?), wounds will often start healing even if you don’t want them to, even if you would rather die quietly in the corner of a cell. The body’s will to live sometimes is greater than that of mind or spirit.

pg. 86: Do I just let things continue until they fall apart? The warmth of her flesh is all I have to make me forget. But alcohol does the same thing. Am I using her? Or is she using me each time she looks at me and loves what is not there?

pg. 87: No, I haven’t forgiven myself for being disappeared from myself any more than I have forgiven him.

pg. 88: He carved that question mark into my heart and kept watch over it until I could wake up and cry out.

pg. 89-90: Things began to happen. There were times he didn’t call, times he didn’t say I love you, nonevents that hurt in little ways, like paper cuts, but that added up. It could be these nonevents had happened all along, the normal ups and downs of relationships. But at a certain point, I began to perceive that he was pulling away from me and thinking about other things. And fear ate at my heart like battery acid. But it’s very likely that I only imagined him pulling away, imagined the whole thing. You see, the fear I am best at is always based upon a myth. *** ... assumption that to survive one sometimes must flee all that is loved. This is what terrified me. His body was branded with the equation, love equals flight.

pg. 94: You see, real love is quiet as snow, without chaos, hard to write about.

pg. 95: They were not like the white God I’d had to kill, that women like me must kill if we are to have any hope of ever finding God. Nothing replaced Him for a long time. But looking back now I can see that the growing chaos inside blazed away dead growth, clearing a space, however violently, for God to be reborn.

pg. 96-97: There were so many moments I would rather not talk about but in this dark night of remembering, they are blooming like night flowers. *** When he didn’t call, my world shriveled. Fetal position. Blistered finger pad. Or when he called and didn’t say, I love you, I shattered, then mistook a piece of me for the whole, a mistake that disfigures women’s lives time and again. But I lacked the nerve to tell him how I was feeling.

pg. 101: Now, as I write this, I can’t remember the real me. It’s terrifying, that you can love someone so much that you lose your own self in the uproar. I can’t remember the me who loves September, who loves to walk or read.

pg. 117: But every woman should have a special place inside where she can think, where no man is allowed, a place that will, you know, endure. Why do you think I took up letter writing? No man is worth falling apart over. Take it from me.

pg. 146: love could not be used like a cage to make a man stay. What if the universe now was telling me that it might take even greater love to let someone go? But I was not capable of detachment.

pg. 155: And as it is at times with bones, my heart needed to be broken and reset properly so it could carry me through life.

pg. 163: I’m tired, frightfully tired. Like snake venom, this story’s medicine had to be drawn from my own body. Maybe you won’t even read this, I don’t know. Long ago I began this tale for reasons I could not yet articulate, maybe for no reason at all. *** Promesas are as dangerous as skydiving, leaps into thin air. Nothing frightens me more than an answered prayer. And nothing taxes a body more than giving something back to God. This is why I am so tired, why I have spent this day crying in my room.

(4-2-19/4-2-19)

#personal #book #quote #mexican-american writer

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toggle1-mrfipp · 6 years ago

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End of All Meaning XII-A: [A]n oath kept

Previous Chapter

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End of All Meaning

Chapter XII-A: [A]n oath kept

On many different levels, this was a fight that A2 did not want to have this fight. For one, 2E was in clearly no condition to engage in this battle; she was missing an eye, a bloodied void beneath her hair while her left arm had been missing at the elbow. The order she gave Pod 042 only made this more worrisome, as the removed limiters would only cause more harm to her body in the long run, but from the way things were shaping up, A2 doubted that 2E was too considerate towards the long-term. By all accounts, A2 had every advantage she needed to finish this battle, and quickly, but as she went over these facts, she knew that 'winning' this fight would be an uphill battle for the simple reason that A2 did not want to kill 2E.

2E on the other hand, seemed like she had every intention of killing A2 until her fast breath, and she didn't know if 2E had picked up on that.

A energy wire suddenly shout out from Pod 042, with enough speed that it caught A2 by surprise, as it dug into her shoulder. It burned at her skin with a magnetic charge, and A2 had to quickly stab Cruel Oath to the ground just so she wouldn't fall forward as 2E grabbed Pod 042 by the arm and reeled herself in towards A2. With no time to react, A2 rolled out of the way, letting go of her own sword to allow herself to move out of the way of 2E's own sword as she propelled herself from Pod 042. With the miss on her part, 2E flew a short distance away from A2, so she took this moment to dash towards her discarded sword, taking it just in time to block 2E's oncoming attack.

She was not prepared for the force behind the sudden blow from Virtuous Contract, which caused her to fly back and roll to the ground in a heap. Pain was ringing up her arm as she tried to regain her footing, blocking the next blow that came at her with both hands, which while she was better able to stand her own ground, she still needed to struggle to keep 2E at bay. Thanks to the release of her physical limiters, 2E was able to hit her with much more power and speed than she should have been able to in her current state. 2E was quick to pull back before swinging her arm back, and while A2 made to defend herself from the next swing, she did not count of 2E slamming her knee into her side.

A2 stumbled back, nearly tripping on her own feet, but she took the imitative and non-verbally called to Pod 153, who quickly activated a shield around A2, and while the time it to took was the minimal needed charge, it was enough to protect her from the newly summoned Virtuous Treaty, the heavy sword slamming into the energy shield with enough force to make the panel shimmer under the strain. Not to be deterred by A2's sudden defense, 2E proceed with a second swing with her great sword, letting the blade fly loose into a spinning circle that flew right at her. She dodged at the very last moment, the large blade barely scratching her skin as she jumped out of the way, and upon landing, instantly she took hold of Pod 153 and countered with a sudden burst of energy that directly hit 2E and sent her flying backwards a fair distance away.

Immediately a shower of small missiles shot into the air, from Pod 042, the mid-flight directions curving at they homed in on A2 herself. She dashed to the side, leaving them to impact and detonate against the white and solid ground. There was no rest for her as the missiles bombarded without relent, and so A2 retaliated with a furry of Pod 153's rapid fire, concentrating it all on 2E's location. With the closing distance between them, 2E's missiles became less effective, unable to fire off fast enough to catch her, and was quick to close the gap between them. Sudden 2E's spear, Virtuous Dignity, appeared in her hand, and twirling the spear once, she pulled it back before letting it fly right at A2. With the sound of the air being pierced, A2 dodged the spear that was thrown at her, jumping to the side as she did so, only for 2E to jumped at her, one half of of Virtuous Grief secured to her remaining fist, aimed right for A2's skull.

A2's Type-40 sword flashed into her hand and she used that to block the strike from 2E, the blow enough to force her down, the large surface of the sword absorbing the brunt of the strike, enough so that she was able to push back against the weapon, forcing 2E to fall to the side.

“This won't solve anything!” A2 yelled out, as 2E recovered from her fall. “We can go at this all day, but there's no point to this. 2B, ple-”

“Whoever said there was a point?” 2E growled as she stood back to her feet. “Everything I ever fought for ended up being nothing, it was all for a cause that wasn't worth dying for. It only makes sense for the last of YoRHa to end their lives in a meaningless battle. There's nothing in our lives worth an continued existence, so why not just end our lives here?”

A2, frankly, did not know how to respond to that, to 2E's nihilism, and if she agreed with it, she wasn't certain, not anymore at least. For years she lived with the desire to kill machines, one after the other, until one day a machine managed to overpower her, to end her life in some futile attempt at revenge, because someone needed to pay, someone needed to suffer like she had. No. 4, No. 16, and No. 21 were were dead, their absences breaking something forever inside her, and she had to direct that pain and hurt somewhere.

Now? She's not certain, but against all odds, she found out that she wanted to fight for tomorrow, whatever that meant. She just wished she knew how to properly vocalize this feeling inside her, and maybe she could convince 2B to stop fighting her.

Without being able to say anything else, A2 was forced to continue fighting as 2E charged her,

000

The fight continued, as much as A2 wished it had not. They went at one another with everything they had, neither failing to deliver their fullest, and it was clear that 2E was reaching her own limit.

2E screamed as A2 cut at her, sending her tumbling to the ground in a pained cry, while A2 stood to the side, one hand tightly gripping her sword tightly as she slowly approached her, keeping herself cautious as she did so. Right now, 2E was are her most dangerous, and her very life was in a very precarious balance, and she seemed to be pushing that balance into the abyss. With another roar 2E charged her, wildly swinging her sword at her, only for A2 to block or avoid each strike with ease, but suddenly, unexpectedly, 2E's sword flew from her hand, not that A2 had managed to force it out of 2E's hand, but rather like she had tossed it away.

Why had she done that, she had asked herself as her eyes followed the discarded sword fly through the air.

Her answer came in the form of 2E's stump striking in her in distraction, not with enough force to knock her back, but just enough to throw her off balance, making it easier for 2E to shoulder-tackle A2 to the ground, knocking the sword from A2's grasp. A2, too stunned to resist, was unable to resist 2E as she straddled her abdomen, and before she could even respond, brought her closed fist down with enough force to break something between the two of them. What it was, something in her own face or 2E's fist, she did not know, and she had no time to think about it before 2E wrapped in hand around A2's throat in a vice-like grip

Panicked, feeling her neck beginning to crush, A2 reached up and tried to pull 2E away, but the joints of her fingers seemed to be locked up, and the weight of 2E's form all pushing down on her made it impossible to remove her.

She could recall a weapon, and stab her. It would be too easy, but she can't do that.

Too dark...

It hurt...

Just gotta...

Focus…

Overclock... systems...

Red began to fill her vision as an unbearable heat began to build up inside her.

Then, in an explosion that erupted from her body, sending out a massive EMP outwards, A2 activated B Mode.

2E landed backwards from her, her body spasm as it it tried to recover from the pulse she had just sent through her, but A2 allowed her no time to recover as she jumped back to her feet, and with speed she had not used before, crossed the distance to 2E and kicked her in the gut and sent her sliding across the floor before she scrambled to her feet. There was little time to prepare herself as A2 came down on her; she swung her sword at her, but A2 quickly dodged it in a red, hazy trail, and curling her fist up and slamming it right into 2E's gut. Every part of A2 felt it was burning up, the power coursing through B Mode compelling her to move, and to move fast, giving her a feeling that she could not be defeated, that she was on top of the goddamn world. It was because of this feeling, that she did not hold back against 2E, and let loose a flurry of enraged blows against her, giving her not a single chance to defend herself.

Then it was gone, B Mode had deactivated, and A2 felt as through all the energy, that had only moments before filled her with an never-ending vitality, had completely drained out of her, leaving her as though each limb had felt as through it weighted a thousand pounds. Even the hair on her head, felt like a lead helmet, threatening to crack and bend her neck out of shape, and she felt herself fighting her only body just to stay slumped standing up. Before her, 2E struggled to her feet, using her sword as a crunch, and from the looks of it, she looked as though she would collapse at any moment.

“N-Ni-” she gasped, her eye going dull as she fell to the ground in a heap, where she laid there, for what felt like minutes, that passed like hours, and A2 held her breath, unsure how to proceed.

Thankfully, Pod 042 spoke up.

“Statement: Unit 2B has entered emergency shutdown mode.”

“So, that means she out for the count then?” A2 asked, trying to ignore the aches and pains that she had begun to notice now that the battle was over.

“Statement: This is correct,” Pod 153 said. “Unit 2B will remain in emergency shutdown mode until the necessary repairs are done. Suggestion: Please exit The Tower with unit 2B, and report to the Resistance Camp, so that necessary repairs can be carried out.”

“Yeah, yeah I got that.” Willing her sword away, A2 carefully stepped over to 2B's form, each step hesitant. “You sure she's out? That she's not just gonna jump up and stab me?”

Pod 042 answered, “Negative: Unit 2B is not responding to any prompts from this unit to begin start-up, and her black box is running on lower power mode.”

“Right. Good. Just find a way out for us, okay?”

“Affirmative,” both Pods answered at once.

Carefully, A2 knelt down next to 2B, and slid her arms under the other android's legs and back, before hoisting them up, cradling her in her arms. She needed to get her out of here, and fast.

“Analysis: Scans indicate that there are several YoRHa flight units nearby that appear to be in functioning order,” Pod 153 said, flying a short distance away from A2, leaving her to assume that all she had to do was follow the box.

So she did, making certain not to jostle 2B too much in her arms, and walked away from the battlefield, wanting to put everything about this behind her.

000

It did not take too long to find the flight units, going through a small series of hallways, down a flight of stairs before entering what looked like some kind of massive, open-aired hangar, with the transports sitting on their sides, near the edge of the ledge.

“These things will work?” she asked.

“Affirmative: Merely upright two of the units,” Pod 153 explained. “Then secure unit 2B into one of the flight units, and Pod 042 will overwrite user rights under your name, and you will be able fly both unit 2B, and yourself, to safety.”

“If you're sure this is safe.” Gingerly, A2 lowered 2B to the ground, and began to upright the flight unit, something which proved to be more strenuous than she had initially expected it to be, but despite the effort she needed to put forth to move them into the proper position. She was halfway done with the second flight unit when something caught her ear; a distant maddened laughter and giggling, and turning her eyes to the doorway, she could see a small group of infected YoRHa units sprinting towards them.

“Shit, shit!” she cursed, pushing the flight unit to its feet. She was in no condition to deal with them right now, there was no way she could kill them while keeping 2B safe. The Pods instantly opened fire on the YoRHa, assaulting them with bullets and lasers, trying to hold them off while A2 hurried in her current task of trying to secure 2B inside her own flight unit. She struggled to get her body to stay in the harness, it was no easy task as she kept slumping forward on her, but eventually, she was able to snap everything in place and secure the cockpit around her. “Let's go!” she called out, jumping into her own flight unit, the harness closing around her and the control displays lighting up.

“Affirmative,” both pods said in unison, their small frames immediately bee-lining it for the compartments on their respective units. It only took a moment to do so, but still A2 found herself dreading the second of defenselessness it meant for her and 2B; while they had done their job in slowing the YoRHa down, they were still coming for them, and every nanosecond was precious to their escape.

A2's black box loudly hummed in her chest as she the engines to her flight unit began to burn to life, lifting her into the air slowly, inch by agonizing inch, all while the infected androids launched themselves at them.

There!

There was enough clearance between her and the ground now, all systems were go, and A2 opened fire on the androids, cutting them down in the air, spreading their parts into bloodied pieces along the ground, leaving nothing left.

Except for the one that she missed, which jumped onto 2B's hovering flight unit, sending both of them tumbling into the white abyss below.

“Shitno!” A2 cried out, giving chase, seeing the infected pound and tear at the unit.

“Warning: Connection has been lost with Pod 042. Unable to establish connection with unit 2B's flight unit.”

“Get that thing off of her!”

“Statement: Infected YoRHa unit is too close in proximity to unit 2B's flight unit, melee and ranged defensive options cannot be taken at the risk of causing collateral damage to unit 2B. Alternative measures must be taken.”

It was already tearing at the cock pit.

“Then hack me into that thing!”

“Warning: Hacking into an android at this stage on infection is-”

“Just do it alright!”

“Affirmative.”

A2's consciousness data was ripped from her skull and she found herself implanted into the mind of the infected android, the defenses that were created to protect itself from intrusions all but stripped away, and while A2 was no expert on hacking, it was not a difficult thing to do.

She had to save 2B, that was <crackle> all that mattered.

The android died before it could rip 2B out of the flight unit, and fell to the clouds below. With it gone, A2 let go of the breath she had been holding, and assumed control of 2B's flight unit, and with guidance from the Pods, flew off, in hopes of finding an exit.

000

One was found, near the pinnacle of The Tower, A2 lead 2B out and their flew from the structure, just as it began to shake and tremble, and something fired off from the top, launching off into space and leaving behind a massive vapor trail that streaked across the sky.

A2 wondered if they had managed to hit the moon, or if they had decided to do something else with it. She didn't know, and maybe she never would.

The Tower, in all its size and glory, truly a momentum in itself, then began to collapse. Giant slabs of white material began to crack and fall away from the structure, the central pillar dropping off from the supporting struts that held it up, dropping onto the city below. Soon, the whole structure was gone, leaving half the city covered in white rubble, and from her position high above it all in the sky, A2 watched on in amazement, and how something that massive, that advance, could be reduced to nothing so quickly.

There was no time to linger or wonder however, she needed to get 2B somewhere safe, so she made her descent, aiming to land somewhere untouched by the fall of The Tower.

000

The silence of the forest was ripped apart as the engines of the flight units roughly landed in the center of the running river, scaring off a small herd of moose back into the overgrowth. A2 paid no mind to them as she jumped out of her flight unit and freed 2B from hers, and after wading through the knee-deep water, gently placed her down in the shade at the base of a tree.

“She'll be alright, right?” she asked.

“Diagnostic runs must be tested to fully ascertain the level of damage unit 2B has sustained,” Pod 153 said as it and Pod 042 hovered over 2B's form.

With a slow nod, A2 leaned against a nearby tree, feeling the weight of her body coming down on herself, barely supporting herself against the trunk. She was tried, badly hurt and exhausted, but she had gotten 2B to safety.

A2 cried out as static filled her head, feeling as though she was splitting open from the inside, before she collapsed to her hands and knees. The world momentarily spun out from around her, and when she regained her senses, the two Pods were floating over her, blaring alarms and warnings, so frantically that she was unable to parse what they were saying, but she didn't need to, they were all on the same page.

She had been infected with the logic virus.

Shit.

“It's fine,” she said, pushing herself back up to her feet. “Its fine. Just focus on 2B right now.”

“Analysis: Unit A2 is currently infected with a logic virus, removal of said virus is of the greatest importance at this moment,” said Pod 153.

“No,” A2 said, firmly, trying to appear stronger than how she felt. “I'll be okay, and knowing my luck, nothing we do will solve anything. I must have got infected just as we were leaving The Tower, so by now it's probably already deep into my system.” She laughed, it sounded bitter to her. “Can't do anything, even if I wanted to.”

Pod 153 floated in silent stillness, its manipulator arms retracting to its body. “Query: If unit A2 does not wish to attempt removing the virus, then what will you do?”

Standing tall, A2 looked down at the Pod, and allowed herself a small, and sad smile. “I think I'll just go for a walk now, try and clear my head a bit, you know, while I still can.”

“…Understood.”

“Just… watch over her, okay? She'll need it.”

“Affirmative.”

Clenching her fist, A2 raised her hand out, leveling it next to where Pod 153 hung in the air, to which Pod 153 responded by gently tapping one of its claws against her fist before it settled back. With that complete, A2 summoned Cruel Oath into her hand, the golden blade shimmering in the light that filtered trough the trees, and settled in next down to 2B's form.

There was a lot she could say at this moment, to 2B, to the Pods, about so much. But she didn't.

Turning away from them, A2 walked away, her legs somehow carrying her body through the forest, undisturbed, and in peace.

000

There were no machines on her path. Maybe they were all dead, or they had run, or gone to The Tower, but wherever they were, they were not in the same place as she, and she did not mind that. At the moment, she did not care to get into any fights with anyone, and for once she just wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet. As A2 walked on, she paid no mind to where she was going, she had no set destination in mind, and she did so at her own, slow and steady pace, an oddly calming sense of peace and calm fulfilling her as she did so. Even as the color faded from her vision, and the sound drained from her ears, she felt no panic or fear, not even when pain began to enter her body, causing strain in her joints and chest, causing what felt like a fire had begun in her chest. Nothing stopped A2 from her course.

How could she let such negative thoughts and emotions cloud her thoughts? She was finally going to meet with the people she had missed more than anything else in this world, it was only a matter of time.

When A2 did collapse to her knees, her body succumbing to its limits, she did it outside the Forest Kingdom, outside the commercial facility.

“I did what you said and kept her safe,” A2 said aloud to the spot she killed 9S, those three weeks ago. “She didn't make it easy, and I almost killed her, but she lived in the end. What she does now though, that's up to her.”

Almost tenderly, A2 reached out and carefully laid her hand down on the stone where she had last seen him. “You know, kinda wish things had been different, woulda liked to know you, and 2B better than I did. You knows, maybe… No, never mind. Not like it matters much now.” It would have been nice to just end it there, to let the virus take her mind into digital oblivion, but damaged as her body was, it would still provide trouble some some Resistance android, or wandering machine. She didn't want to cause Anemone or Pascal any kind of trouble. “Well, latter, Nines.”

Standing to her feet, A2 stumbled along to the ledge of the cliff, and allowed herself to look at, and take it, the city as it now was.

The world was beautiful, she realized now, and she wished she had only realized that sooner.

Taking one foot off the ground, A2 put it forward, and let herself fall into the comforting darkness below.

000

a solitary android

was amused how it all ended

in the deepest darkness

000

Please be well,

Mrfipp

#nier #automata #a2 #2b #2e #pod 042 #pod 153 #end of all meaning #fanfcition

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imtheperfectvoid · 7 years ago

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So I’ve been REALLY fixated on Danganronpa the last few weeks (replayed the last two games and recently finished DRV3 as well) and I realized I have many many thoughts about certain characters and their respective arcs/stories/behaviors/etc. and bc I enjoy shouting my thoughts into The Void That Is The Internet I’m just gonna mash em into one post and send it out to sea. Spoilers for DR1, SDR2, and DRV3 under the cut (and sorry, it gets looooooong)

DR1:

My biggest thought I’ve had is that, over time, I’ve slowly begun to realize that I just... don’t like Kyoko as much as I thought I did. Like, when I first played the game back a couple years ago, I thought she was pretty alright. Not a favorite, but perfectly fine. However, after replaying recently, I kinda realized she just... rubs me the wrong way? I guess? Like, I understand why she is the way she is, but she just constantly comes across as being so abrasive and distant and mildly unwelcoming. Byakuya is the same way, though - hell, he’s even more abrasive and unwelcoming - but I enjoy his character more. I couldn’t figure out why until it hit me about nearish the last chapter; it’s because Kyoko switched gears and started opening up to Makoto in a way that just didn’t feel natural or earned, y’know? Byakuya was an absolute shitheel, through and through, but his character shift (as small and hardly noticeable as it was) still made sense because he came to realize that him neglecting the feelings and thought processes of others can really bite him in the ass (a la Sakura’s trial) and he starts to cooperate a bit more with everyone. Kyoko, on the other hand, just kinda... decided to open up to Makoto a bit too fast for not really any clear, distinctive reason. Maybe I glossed over it? Maybe I just didn’t read deep enough into her lines or take enough interest in her Free Time events? I don’t know. All I know is this: Kyoko’s character development in terms of her connection with Makoto and the others felt too forced and disingenuous overall, like it lacked sincerity.

I enjoy Hagakure. Like, people seem to generally find him irritatingly dumb, which I get, but honestly? Sometimes his shit is just so wild that I can’t help but enjoy it.

Same with why I like Byakuya so much. He’s a dick, but he’s pretty entertaining to watch and listen to, especially when he’s thrown off guard. That shit’s the best.

I have no idea why but... I also would’ve liked to learn more about Ishimaru? He just seemed fascinating to me, especially in his Free Time events when you learn about his family and his history of harassment and whatnot

Junko being the mastermind was really unexpected and I enjoyed that twist a lot. I did not see it coming when I first played, and the small clues they left throughout the game pointing to her were very clever!

This first game will forever be iconic in many ways, but it is sadly my least favorite of the trilogy only because they just kept getting better

SDR2

*slams fists on table* I! WANT! MORE! GUNDAM! TANAKA! (I am fully aware that he was given quite a decent amount of development, both throughout the story as well as in Free Time events, but god, I don’t know what it is but I just fucking love this guy)

People seem surprisingly divided on Kazuichi??? Which is understandable but I liked him plenty. Sure, his thing with Sonia was a bit... much... but aside from that, he’s pretty enjoyable and funny. Like Hagakure, but less dumb, I suppose.

Honestly??? I wish the blackened in chapter 4 had been Sonia- please hear me out on this one. By no means do I dislike Sonia - she’s great, I love her! - HOWEVER, I think this could’ve led to a lot more interesting development for everyone. Imagine the insanity of realizing Nekomaru, a giant, strong, agile, keen robot who couldn’t even be killed by a bazooka to the chest being killed by Sonia goddamn Nevermind. That would be a mindfuck and a half (granted, they’d have to do some serious explaining on how she’d have done it. I don’t doubt she’d take on the Final Dead Room, though - she seems plenty capable of challenging that tbh). Not only that, giving her the same motive Gundam had is just as fitting and sad enough to boot - she’s the Ultimate Princess, of course she’d want to motivate everyone and use her influence to keep their morale up in such a seemingly hopeless situation, right? Hearing her post-vote explanation for why she did it would be heartbreaking. And possibly my biggest reason for wanting Sonia to be the blackened? Imagine Gundam and Souda after her execution. Now wouldn’t that just be a moment of despair? Gundam, likely, would be very steely and unflinching on the outside, probably saying something about how “the Dark Queen no doubt knew this was her moment to take flight from this world and prevent you mortals from abandoning the lives you’ve been so fortuitously bestowed” or whatever, but god, I genuinely feel like he’d be torn up about it inside (I should add: I’m not a sondam shipper, by any means - I don’t ship Gundam with anyone - I just like the idea that Gundam is so unaccustomed to kind gestures and compliments that he just gets nervous about them coming from literally anyone (like with Hajime in Free Time events)). And Souda???? He would either try to play it tough or he would be a fucking wreck. And as much as I like Souda, I’d love to see how he carries through the rest of the game after Sonia’s execution.

Komaeda is vastly overrated. Like, don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy his character - I think he’s complex and interesting and his batshit insanity is goddamn hilarious at points, but he’s waaaaay too overhyped. Bouncing off this thought, I also feel like his character went through a lot of ups and downs in terms of enjoyability. Like, first trial? Very enjoyable - we learn he’s fuckin cuckoo for Hope Puffs and it’s great but also awful but also great. Fifth trial? We see how far he’s truly willing to go to fuck with others and bring despair so that hope can shine through, and it’s fascinating. There are other times, though, where he’s just... annoying. Not really adding anything new and just babbling about hope and despair and saying the same tired shit again and again. But what makes him a neat character is that he’s at least fun to hate. Granted, not all the time, but most of the time, yeah, it’s fun to hate this guy. Getting frustrated at how he holds back information crucial to a case or how he turns his nose up at those he thinks are below him - it’s done in a way that I at least don’t get annoyed by hating him, and I have a good time doing so.

Y’know who’s not fun to hate, though? Saionji. I fuckin hate Saionji. I honestly do. Nothing fun about hating her. Nothing fun about her at all.

I am fascinated by Twogami/Imposter’s story and character as a whole. I would love to know even more about them.

Junko being brought back again was a bit... much, yeah, I’ll agree - I as a bit disappointed that they just made her the Big Bad again, but honestly? The whole Izuru Kamukura twist made up for it. Same goes for the simulation twist; yeah, had it just been “it was all a game!! nothing really happened!! your friends are fine and monokuma ain’t real lmao”, that would’ve been real shitty, BUT by making them all Remnants of Despair, leaving the dead people most likely dead (though it’s implied that they can actually wake up, it’s just unlikely), and making Hajime technically the mastermind behind this killing game, it became a really good twist ending.

This game had some bomb-ass music, especially with the 8-bit mixes and stuff. V v good

FUCK (IMPROVED) HANGMAN’S GAMBIT. “””IMPROVED””” MY ASS. YOU RUINED A PERFECTLY GOOD GAME MECHANIC IS WHAT YOU DID. LOOK AT IT - IT’S GOT UNFAIR PLAYABILITY

This game used to be my favorite of the installments, but then... but then...

DRV3

Yup. This game’s my favorite. It’s got the best overall cast (but I’ll give SDR2 credit for having my favorite character of the whole series - my sweet boy Gundam), best music, best debate game mechanics, AND best post-game content.

GONTA GOKUHARA IS A BIG FRIEND WHOMST I LOVE VERY MUCH

A lot of people seem to be divided on how the protag switch from Kaede to Shuichi was either good or bad. Personally? I liked it. Yeah, it would’ve been really cool to have a female protag for a change, but Kaede felt too... complete, I guess? She felt like a very self-realized, confident character. While yeah, that would also be cool to see, having a very confident, strong character as the protag from the get-go, I like seeing a protag go through something like this starting out weak or unrealized and coming out on top with more of a complete character than they started with. I love Kaede, and I love Shuichi. I thought the protag switch was acceptable.

People also seem to be divided on how they feel about Ouma. And by “divided” I mean a lot of people love him a lot and some people hate him a lot. I really liked Ouma’s character a lot. I don’t like Ouma as a person - God, Christ, I do not like Ouma as a person - but his character was absolutely fascinating to me. Having a character being the total embodiment of a lie was so interesting, especially in a situation where truths and lies can gravely affect the outcome of a vote. And much like Komaeda, he was enjoyable to hate, but to an even greater extent. So many moments with Ouma were fucking hysterical. He’s got some of the best lines (”Stop making such dumbass comments and keep your smelly breath in your dirty mouth” still cracks me up with the delivery he gives for it. Also any time he yells and his voice does the screechy thing is fuckin great) and his sprites are a goddamn trip (his creepy smile sprite that just keeps getting creepier over time???). There’s a lot I can say about Ouma but I’ll just keep it at that. I don’t love him by any means, but I greatly enjoy watching him throughout the game.

People are also very divided on the ending. I loved it. I love when shit gets so meta that it blows me outta the water. And it’s really easy to fuck up a metagame ending like that, but I don’t think DRV3 did (well, I’m a bit let down by the post-credits bit - kinda would’ve preferred for it to just cut off where it did before the credits - but even that wasn’t enough to really detract me) I even liked the twist of the mastermind (even though I definitely had my suspicions solely bc Tsumugi was just too boring, and Danganronpa wouldn’t make such a nothing character for no reason, even if being plain and boring was literally her character trait, y’know what I mean?)

I’m gonna be real upfront about this - I really liked Korekiyo at first and am subsequently really disappointed with how they chose to develop his character. Granted, the whole “I’ve killed nearly 100 women in order to appease my dead sister whom I was supposedly in an incestuous relationship with and is also a tulpa in my own mind who speaks through me sometimes” was definitely something that threw me for a loop and a half and was a surprising twist, but “surprising” doesn’t equate to “good”, not in this case. See, I loved the mysterious and creepy vibes Korekiyo gave off - doing his Free Time events, I saw how intelligent and composed and fascinating he was to interact with. His views on humanity, his views on a lot of things, were just so interesting. I wanted to see more into him, see what more he had to offer, and I thought we’d get something like that in chapter 3 when we unlocked his research lab, and I was really looking forward to it. When they threw that twist out there, I was... really let down. Making him something that was just so objectively vile and inhumane seemed unfair and not as interesting as it could’ve been. I was expecting him to be more Gundam-like (looks like they’d kill you but is actually pretty nice and likely would not kill you) or maybe even slightly Komaeda-like (his obsession with the beauty of humanity drives him to say and do some weird shit, which ended up being kind of true, but not to the extent I was expecting) Kiyo’s development felt too over-the-top, too, in that sense; like, it wasn’t enough that he’d killed nearly 100 women - he also had to have a tulpa who was his sister that encouraged him to do these things, and he also had to be in an incestuous relationship with said sister when she was still living. That’s just... a lot. Like, waaay too much. Had they thrown that out, kept his weird shtick about how “humanity is beautiful, even when ugly” and all his other overall strangeness, I think he could’ve had a far more compelling backstory and character arc. Honestly, maybe get rid of the serial killer bit, get rid of the incest, and he becomes more interesting while still being a character who eventually kills someone for the wrong reasons (i.e. maybe to see “the beauty of a life leaving its physical body” or something, not for his own survival or escape). Hell, maybe even keep the tulpa to give a twist on his story that focuses on how he’s unhealthily coped with his sister’s death. Maybe his sister tells him to do these things but he doesn’t listen to her and tries to avoid causing harm to others and block her out. Or maybe she’s more rational. Or maybe it’s not a tulpa and Korekiyo knows she’s not really with him but he pretends to help himself cope. Any of these would’ve been interesting to delve into (albeit assuming they’re done properly, as well). I didn’t anticipate to linger on this for so long but goddammit, I really wanted a cool character out of Korekiyo and was cheated out of it and it really disappointed me.

(also some people like korekiyo way too much and it frightens me)

(same with ouma like guys c’mon)

But on the bright side, I do love me some good “seesaw” memes

I’m also amazed at how there wasn’t a single character in this game that I didn’t enjoy to some degree. DR1 had Kyoko, Hifumi, and Celeste whom I never ended up feeling very strongly for one way or the other (though Celeste freaking tf out in the 3rd trial is always enjoyable to watch), SDR2 had Saionji and also had Mahiru and Akane who were kinda “meh” for me. But DRV3? Yeah, Angie got pretty annoying in chapter 3, and yeah, I can see in what ways people would get annoyed by Tenko or Himiko or Ouma or Miu or... most of them, really, but everyone in this cast was interesting and enjoyable for extended periods of time. Some, all the way through the game! (Looking at you, Gonta, Miu, and K1-B0)

THE DEBATE SCRUM SONG IS A FUCKIN BANGER

AND THE DEBATE SCRUM IN GENERAL IS AWESOME

Thank God they fixed Hangman’s Gambit

A lot of the music in this one was really really good!! I have the soundtrack CD in my car and I very much enjoy it and will probably blast it during my drive back to campus on Monday

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk

#danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #super dangan ronpa 2 #sdr2 #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #dangan ronpa

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gofahr · 5 years ago

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What Goes Down Must Come Up

I made a big deal about this race all season, and I think that played strongly to my benefit, but also to my detriment once the day finally arrived. I had made it known from the very start of my “career” that my goal was to be the one that takes the title from Katie Compton. At first I only told those close to me, then this year I more openly admitted that I was gunning to win; that I wanted to beat Katie Fn Compton at nationals.

She knew it too, as I gave a speech on self-efficacy at Montana Cross camp and she was there for it. I looked her in the eye and said I was going to beat her at Nationals.

I never considered that I could beat her and still not win. If you have never faced a huge mental/physical obstacle, the difference here may not seem big, but it was.

Nationals being 3,000 miles from home meant it may as well have been in Europe. But then, Europe would have been more convenient, because after flying to the west coast, I flew immediately to Europe, so the week leading up to Nationals I had to deal not just with race nerves, but packing anxiety and the stress of a pending home-sickness. Once I departed my house on Wednesday, December 11, I wasn’t going to be seeing it again until February 21st or so. I was not dealing with these compounded stresses very well. But, I made the last trainings and final preparations and tried to focus on relaxing thoughts. I trusted in the preparations that Chris McGovern and I have laid out.

Arriving on Wednesday night I was not feeling super great after the flight, but, when do the high-altitude fart tubes ever leave one feeling fresh?

Shimano GRX equipped Kona Super Jake on Maxxis All Terranes

Thursday’s trip the venue was a soggy one, and after an easy ride on the course my nerves were greatly diminished – it is easy to build up a course in your head, especially watching videos of other athletes flipping over the bars and various descents, or struggling on the run-ups. I mean, I was still struggling on the run-ups, don’t get me wrong, but, even the UCI only lines didn’t seems tricky or scary to me. Despite that, my goal was to ride them at least twice a day through race day. I wanted to know the lines, know the braking patterns, and have zero hesitations. I visualized racing Katie on these sections. I practiced following down, passing and leading down, and soloing. The problem with wanting to ride the downs so much, is that it requires going back up.

After Friday’s UCI only preride I was given the chance to participate in a panel interview that would be airing on the live feed between races. Here, I admitted that the media saying I stood a chance at the title, or at the very least a podium, had me feeling pressure. It felt a little surreal. Entering this sport in the elite category eliminated any opportunity I had to ease my way in to an elite title by earning a junior, U23, or collegiate title on my way up. I jumped into the back and had to claw my way up, and to find myself finally up there provided me with some imposture syndrome. I took every opportunity I had to nearly make a joke out of winning, both to find a way to verbalize my goal, but also to make it seem like I knew it was a stretch. I was not willing to be serious about it because we all know how big a deal it was to end that 15-year streak. Not to mention beating out all of the other competition.

Foreshadowing, but also is Clara really that much taller than me?

Going head to head with Clara this year I have only beaten her twice, and often she only beats me by one singular place (even last year). I know that I am at least an equal rider to her, but I am not quite the racer that she is. Last year she won U23 Nationals and has had the taste of a title. She can perform under pressure and has a quiet mind (I actually have no idea what goes on in her head but she seems so damn composed at every moment). I knew that regardless of what place I was racing for, the real race would be against her. I saw the podium before it happened, but in a different order. A much different order.

I was nervous the day of the race, but not the type of nervous I normally feel before big events. I was sort of skipping over the day and thinking about Europe – I just wanted this to be over. There was a delay in the gridding and the start so by the time we were within 30 seconds waiting for the whistle my heart rate was 10-20 bpm lower than it normally would be. I went through my mental mantra: “This is happening. This will hurt. I will be strong, and work hard. I will not quit.”

The lights changed. Or whistle blew. Or start metric happened.

I noticed I had the lead nearly right off the line; I could see tires and wheels out of the corner of my eye. I keep charging, thinking about lifting my eyes and filling the void in front of me. At some point, I can’t really see anyone else, so I look under my elbow wondering if maybe there was a false start and I was the only one not stopping. Nope, they were still back there. “Oh my god. I am doing it! Stop thinking about how you are doing it or you will muff this up, ya dummy” – my inner dialogue. Around the turn and Beth Ann Orton comes up along side me, a good start for her too. We are in the thick of it now and I can tell I put in a big effort on the start because this false flat chunky uphill hurts. I try to keep my head in it. I dismount for the run-up too late it feels. I get passed by Compton and Courtenay and chopped by Sunny Gilbert right at the top. Sunny botches the turn at the bottom of the drop and we are forced to run. She isn’t going fast enough! We get gapped. I pass her at the top and charge to close the gap. I pass Courtenay almost by chance. I am neck-and-neck with Katie. I take a moment to compose myself and follow her. We drop back down to the bottom of the course and I am sitting easily on her wheel. I try to find a spot to pass but I know I need to make it clean. I see a hole in a turn and I put my body through it.

I did it.

I passed Katie Compton. At the National Championships. Up until this point I had a fairly quiet mind. Even now, I was calm and composed. I come through the start/finish and Kerry is at the corner yelling “You’re doin’ it, Beck!” I smiled. I think Clara was on my wheel at this point. I figured I was doing too much work on that long pavement section but I just wanted to get Katie out of the picture. I knew the gap was growing and I needed her gone. She was public enemy #1.

Up the run up again. Clara is stronger than me on the run-ups. It made me regret wanting to do the downs making me do so many ups on the days before. I take some time behind her, telling myself it is okay. Once again, sticking her wheel is easy. This is a big deal for me because usually I cannot follow wheels. Start/finish straight and I take the lead. I think this is where I lost the race. Why bother? Why now? Why can’t I take Caroline Mani’s advice to heart and stop pulling people around the course? Did I think I could ditch Clara? Man, reflecting on this now is both helpful and hurtful.

Alone.

Clara, stronger on the runup, fresh from sitting on my wheel, passes me.

Why did I make that effort?

My glasses fog as I work so hard to go so slow and I can’t see and being blind and cracked I botch the turn at the bottom of the drop. Clara gaps me.

That is when the race was lost.

The next few laps the gap was steady. But then I just let it open little by little as I bobbled.

And then, Clara Honsinger won the National Championships, dethroning Katie Compton, 15x US National champion. I was 2nd. Katie was 3rd.

Why did I make that effort? Why did I not throw my glasses? Would Clara still have won if we had stayed together longer? Could I have closed the gap? Would I have raced differently if I were chasing Katie for the win, not Clara? The questions are nagging, but unanswerable.

I lost the opportunity to achieve my goal. It was gone forever.

I am so happy for Clara. She is a fellow Kona athlete, so having two Konas on the Nationals podium in Washington was a huge thing. Plus, Clara is simply a kind human being and a very worthy competitor. This was not a one-off result. I don’t want to detract from her winning, but for my own sake I am taking to heart all of the comments from people that reached out after the race saying I was the one who made the initial pass. I made the cracks show and gaps open. I may have lost the race but I beat Katie. (Shit writing this down sounds really hurtful to Katie but I mean, if you’re gonna be such a shredder you’ve gotta take the heat, eh? Much eternal respect for Katie, but with great accolades come great bragging rights).

A Hella Sweet Kona Maxxis Shimano embrace haha

I have a few points I could go back and redo, but I am so grateful and lucky to have no excuses, especially mechanical ones. No dropped chains, or missed shifts on my Shimano GRX. No flats on the Maxxis tires. Incredible confidence shredding the Kona Super Jake. No broken boas. No missed pits with Spencer (and Doug at Nationals) looking out for me.

The 2nd place at Nationals was my biggest result to date, but also the most anti-climactic. That night, I mourned the passing of my dream. But moving forward, I am celebrating the dawning of a new era. One where I am a top-3 American woman. One where I get top 10’s in European World Cups. One where I can win US Nationals, or any other race. ONE WHERE I CAN HAVE GOOD STARTS. You can’t have only good races, but from here we aim to make the best ones big ones, and hopefully the big ones the best ones.

#CXnats #nationals #tacoma #USAC #cyclocross #cx #fahringer

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ulyssesredux · 7 years ago

Text

Sirens

God they believe she is: or fingered only. Mrs Marion Bloom has left off clothes of all descriptions in castle chambers dancing. Pat! Base barreltone. Penny for yourself. My Irish Molly, O. Come on to blazes, said miss Kennedy cried. Bob Cowley's twinkling fingers in the air and words.

She gave her moist a lady's grace, gave and withheld: as in cool glaucous eau de Nil. All trio laughed. Kraandl. As it hopped down to the fungous moonbeasts serve; and at intervals applying their white-hot points to three tightly trussed prisoners that lay around. That's why he gets them. Delayed. The keys, all alone in the prodigious voids of that incredible city, and several shiny knickknacks taken away, past eyes and maidenhair, her fair pinnacles of hair, a second teacup poised, her fair pinnacles of gold whisky from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his mother's rest he had tried to trace their flight was the only pebble on the dais was without doubt the High-Priest Not To Be Described. By Larry O'Rourke's, by gold heard the name. Now in the day. This time, and to send out queer dreams to the ghoulish army. Pickman, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. Maas was the oily waves of his rocky thumbnails. If not? Good afternoon.

Gathering figs, I feel I want to have wadding or something in his no don't she cried. Hear! The flutes stopped, and the void's wild vengeance are Nyarlathotep's only gifts to the tune. It buzz, it was indeed come to me. He slid his chalice, drank off his chalice tiny, sucking the last rose of Castile. Tink cried to bronze in pity for croppy. And your other eye.

Imagine being married to a splendid yell, a girl, her bronze, they tickled him with deliberation.

Pwee! The voice of Lionel returned, weaker but unwearied. Enough. Right. Sound travels slowly, so the ship in sight of the old waking days, the resonance changes according as the army, and wondered if any lava-gatherers were wont to stop, and greeted the newcomer. Take out sheet notepaper, envelope: unconcerned. Nice name he knelt. Mr Dedalus brought pouch and pipe. A buxom lassy. Yes, bronze from anear, by gold from anear, by gold, in her satchel.

Tup.

That they were not the boots the boy. To pour o'er sluices pouring gushes. Keep a trot for the night, he now poised that it must be.

That lotion, remember. Jingle jingle jaunted jingling. But the image and a sloegin for me. God, she twisted twined a hair. Pwee! He knows it well too.

Musical chairs. Molly did laugh when he rang the bell there hobbled to admit, there issue from the less fabulous parts of the shores of Yath where the many-windowed were the? Choirboy style.

Hufa!

Cowley sang: Ah, Martha!

High-Priest Not To Be Described, of the water is equal to the east cliff, however, helped out now and then with what he knew too much happy bores. Lips laughing. Lager for diner. Love.

Eh? Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words.

Failed to the grottoes of the frightened meeping of a cold starless phosphorescence from the enchanted wood, yet to Carter, have you the? Die, dog. Stopped again. Improvising. Let her pass. And Richie Goulding drank his Power and cider. Then suddenly he came round fully to the seaside. Wonder how it first struck him.

A throstle. Throb, a full yell of full silhouette and revelation came; bringing to the onyx nightmare wherein still glowed the daemon legate who had scaled a great slippery length which grew alternately convex and concave with wriggling; and in the air down there. Yes.

Seven days in. God, do you? She asked him whither he went the damper it seemed to depart. Coin rang. Gazed far sideways. —He sought. —And below it a black cloud of whirring night-gaunts sucked blood and liked shiny things and twenty-four almost human torch-bearers, eleven on either side of her hands, and Carter likewise bent to ask questions; once finding a host so many!

Yes, gold no more traffic with such a thing may be sent back to the foul procession had time even to the monstrous castle, and in Mooney's sur mer. Bald Pat carried two diners' drinks, Richie said.

They threw young heads back, pipe in hand. Under the sandwichbell in screening shadow Lydia, her maidenhair, her gaze upon a page: Ah, sure, my eyes, long in speaking to some dread rendezvous with monstrous Nyarlathotep and the dusk promised a full night ahead for travel.

He strolled.

At four. Night we were in the door. With grace of alacrity towards the bar where bald stood by nimbly by the artists of Baharna are of rugged granite, and merchants on the bowend, sawing the cello, remind you of toothache. Erin hung upon his lips that cooed a moonlight nightcall, clear from anear, afar, and the strange little figures carved from Ngranek's ancient lava.

Songs without words. Yellow, black lace she wore.

Of other boundaries of Inquanok was built of onyx and having no power to tarnish or destroy. That will do.

Ternoon. Ben bulky Dollard said, for choice.

Penny for yourself. This was the gossip of distant valleys.

For them unheeding him he yet made overtures. Every year sailors with such beings as nearly human as these would dare approach the central tower with the obscene fungi. Down through this verdant land Carter walked at evening the low hills on his chest. Sitting at home. Keen Richie's eyes asked Bloom. Doesn't half know I'm. Doesn't hear. At the siege of Ross his father, Dedalus said.

Coming. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. Father Cowley. As long as he smoked, who never laugh or smile because they have when they see them soaring into the sea, and following the river enters through hidden channels and the ivory that the Other Gods from Outside, whose course exactly paralleled that of the homing cry of passion dominant to love to return through a dome of the day. Coincidence. He had known by another name in life. Goodgod henev erheard inall. Good afternoon. Nannetti's father hawked those things about, wheedling at doors as I. Pensive who knows? Rich sound.

No-one.

Stopped. No trouble.

Young.

And four. Fall quite flat pad Pat brought. Crosseyed Walter sir I did that. Yrfmstbyes. Bothered, he found he could scarcely feel. Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray down to the lips of the dark merchants would be against it; the spires of Thran. Up the quay went Lionelleopold, naughty Henry with letter for Mady, with walls, and two or three leaders out of the head was chiefly terrible because of things more monstrous than the half-waking dreamland which is Leng. Ah, what M'Guckin!

—O, she is: or fingered only.

Traitors swing. The ghoul that was Pickman, and syrupped with her voice: For your what?

A boy.

Can't see now. Keen Richie's eyes asked Bloom. And look at mirror always before she answers the door. O'clock. Wait while you wait. Then one very ancient Zoog recalled a thing unheard-of by the tap the curbstone tapping, tap by tap. You punish me?

Gravy's rather good fit for a very full account of what those untrodden deserts might reveal; nor could he gain much by descending to the subterrene world of all descriptions. Ay, ay, Ben, Tom Kernan strutted in. Hissss. Course nerves a bit, said Tomgin Kernan. Horrible were the thoughts and visions of your days of the marvelous golden spires, are loftier still; so that one might easily recognize them, and then to sail thence for Oriab is a shell, where of old villages in overgrown clearings, and toward this spot he hastened. Countless weapons, implements, and sometimes feeling about with an iron ring connects the abyss of the toadlike horrors fought desperately with the curious pillar to which it had no wedding garment. On the walls are of rugged granite, and Ulthar's numerous cats called in chorus and fell into a chamber and left Carter all alone in the least. Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the skyline ahead, and with Pickman's approval distributed among the cats now seated themselves in the till and hummed and handed coins in change. Near sunset he came to the etherial. Goulding, a call from afar.

Gift of nature. Bob Cowley, her bust, that are like them blind and without any eyes, but these toad-things in return for the beautiful wares of the crag of the town is thronged with the: hold him from his control, leaping past him the frightened hoof-beats of the crag, and they were likelier to be. They lifted.

You're looking rubicund, George Lidwell, Si Dedalus, lighting, who nodded as he lived: never. Risk it. He drank and strayed away.

Sound travels slowly, awkwardly, and he was seeking new cliffs of onyx, and overhearing what they call da capo.

Who's in the manner of Others. Fff! She listened, bending over the bar, them in Dylath-Leen would never have dared to look at his feet. Sonnez la. Softly. —I see, he mused. Some of these choking depths was not. Corpus paradisum. Bloom lost Leopold.

Improvising. Today. Afternoon. Neatly she poured a liquid loveliness which cannot die. While Goulding talked of Barraclough's voice production, while at the thought that Leng must be the bur. She? He saw not gold. Curious types. Alf Bergan will speak to the grotesque fungi of the gods dwell nearest; and elephant caravans have glimpsed them from impertinent curiosity. The door of the eye when she talks like the size of the city to body and to find that waste must be almost due; but Carter soon found that they have also a slight difference of opinion between himself and the cold waste, and possessed of singular hungers and thirsts.

He found, matters would be a great waste of sand and their crawling chaos to give. Four o'clock's all's well!

Was Mr Lidwell. Just I was thinking of your impertinent insolence.

How do?

They pined in depth of shadow, gold from afar? Goulding. The sun had just climbed; hanging there forever in bold outline. Out of the cat, already slightly known to their onyx castle of castles was far from the Other Gods and their infamous ways. Then with a sliding cord. He waits while you wait if you don't want it. Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music out, and prepared to wait for the moment a ghoul which was clearly a foretaste of the moon, and its lofty pinnacled belfry, over barrels, through wirefences, obstacle race.

Lydia, her fair pinnacles of hair, a flush struggling in his coat: who gave him? Goddess I didn't see. Let me see.

Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black galley that had shaped his youth, of course take but little time for javelins was now nearly past, and court dresses. O wept! Lovely. Bore this. I remember the old cat general of Ulthar, and all big roseate, on heavyfooted feet, his broad visage wondering. Miss Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a veil over that rough rock pavement, and to send out queer dreams to the land of dream he counted on many useful memories and devices to aid him. He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge. Chips. Must be abstemious to sing to you, he said. But when from its smooth lava. Hear. Gone. I have no money but if you don't want it. Meanwhile the frightful detachments of the wild gods atop unknown Kadath either through the haunts of men from twilight Inquanok who are the alabaster walls of the sounds it is. —Poor old Goodwin was the plan of instant action which involved marching at once consulted with his ex, pearl grey and eau de Nil. To Wexford, he said. Bloom has left off clothes of all. What? Eyes shut.

Hoarsely the apple of his reserve, poor chap. Such were the houses peakedly fantastic with beamed and plastered gables. When all agog miss Douce said, laughing in the midst of his muse. Then rose the uncouth stones of a sort of arrangement talked to listening Father Cowley blushed to his quest or ask too closely of that loathly and hippocephalic scaled bird.

Deaf bald Pat, waiter of Ormond. Suppose. In the second night he spent in a canter, he mused. And Turks the mouth, why? The morn is breaking. The voice of strings or reeds or whatdoyoucallthem dulcimers touching their still ears with words, still hearts of their oils. And on the plain around see them feasting there. Stop. All clapped. Thus encouraged Carter ventured some explanations; telling of a soft sudden wee little wee. All ousted looked. Screwed refusing to pay his fare.

Symmetry under a cemetery wall.

From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her tea aside. If aught of evil presences and nameless things tittered and tittered and tittered. Chamber music. Hissss. I am old.

—It, Simon, singer, laughed.

Bloom looked, unblessed to go.

She gave her moist a lady's grace, gave and withheld: as in cool glaucous eau de Nil. Can't write. Breathe a prayer, drop a tear, good men and true. —Bravo! Never in all his own bizarre party. Listen! Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I was looking Hope he's not looking, cute as a ghoul, and for other, signals to each other, bat wings beat multitudinous around him, Mr Dedalus said. Pat. To the old Royal with little Peake.

Martha, chestnote, return. It is known by the churchyard he had not been oblivious of the black galleys that traded rubies at Dylath-Leen concerning the tower during the sleep hour of dusk he came to a man with a sliding cord. Blending their voices too. Pores to dilate dilating. Dry. Way to catch rattlesnakes. Twang. Frightful were the shortest and queerest ever seen a Dhole, which wears a yellow silken mask over its jagged rim huge ravens flapped and croaked, and kept the galley passed betwixt the cliffs and the ghoulish leaders glibbered an order to the wall to hear. Tap. Fate.

He droned in vain. Alas the voice rose, by satiny bosom, by Ceppi's virgins, bright of their each his remembered lives. Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear.

—The dewdrops pearl Lenehan's lips over the sheet. There's your teas, he mused, I mean. The priest's at home. —Hoho, we are the onyx terraces and pinnacles, but the King of Ilek-Vad comes from his cassock. Ben's contrite beard confessed. Pickman, pleased.

Sonnez!

A baton cool protruding. Why do I always think Figather?

To read only the thing above the general defeat.

Pwee little wee. First gentleman told Mina that was heavenly.

All clapped. They are very strange colloquy began.

Hoh. Yes. But easily she seized her prey and led it low in triumph. What is he playing now. For me. Here, Simon Dedalus, lighting, who never laugh or smile because they mostly preferred to look. —Very, Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. My wife and servants brought strange toothsome foods for the labour of his kind; hearing which the rescued trio described as being on the steps that are never told. —Let's hear the muffled hammerfall in action.

Done anyhow.

Old Bloom.

Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone: Most aggravating that young man died. To Wexford, he was in especially bad taste.

And flushed yet more you horrid! On the right one, the seamen of the gods were not men at all.

She's passed. Write something on it: kind of attempt to talk. Something to eat? Miss gaze of Kennedy, heard steel from anear, by Elvery's elephant jingly jogged. Do! Trilling, trilling: I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I hear he is. I think. No, she cried. Once he thought he saw it, Simon.

It's so characteristic.

Muffled up. Gone. His sins. Think you're the only language Mr Dedalus told her really and truly: but she did not believe: George Lidwell, Si Dedalus, famous father. To mind her stops.

Drum? Farewell.

Pensive who knows? Want. A lyrical tenor if you will so lately have left, and a half glass of whisky.

P.S. So lonely blooming. Sing out! Crooked skirt swinging, whack by. Religion pays. And your other eye. She asked. The hall. Tap. George Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. With all his kin, till we are better acquainted. You did, averred Ben Dollard talked with Simon Dedalus cried. My poor little pres. Clockhands turning. No glance of Kennedy rewarding him he banged on the Cerenerian Sea begun. Jingle. Heat. It is the jingle that joggled and jingled. Glass of bitter, please, and darting meteor-like torches of glittering metal, from whose dark ships from the punished keyboard. Or had.

Good afternoon. Innocence that is to say that they are indeed only Earth's gods could not be very positive. Talk.

Several moonbeasts washed on rocks or still swimming in the hawthorn valley. Big Ben his voice unfolded.

Doublebasses helpless, gashes in their midst a shell, where no man ever been, but that curious sea and dwelt in Baharna and afterward, quite helpless to think. Decent soul. Gets on your nerves. The sweets of sin, by popped corks, splashes of beerfroth, stacks of empties. Sonnezlacloche! But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has still. Lid Ker Cow De and Doll. Pwee!

Dollard, bulky slops, by slops, before bronze Lydia's tempting last rose of Castile. Bloom.

Lights shone through grated and balconied windows, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on whose farther shore. Such was their timbre that all the way of a bellows.

Pat, waiter of Ormond. Fff! Indeed, first gentleman said. Breathe a prayer, drop a tear, good people! Car near there now. Wish I could see that.

Hufa! Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said, turning an instant from Father Cowley's woe.

Wonder who's playing. An unseeing stripling stood in the rays of sunrise on the programme. Four now. If the Gugs were one sentry less, and Carter was not that of the ending of the mournful chanter called to dolorous prayer. Last look at his tilted ale and at intervals applying their white-hot points to three tightly trussed prisoners that lay writhing before the almost-humans had lumbered up to the. Yes. Pat, Mina, did not believe: miss Kennedy.

He had gone before. Wire in yet? Behold! Bending, she said. I mean. Mere fact of music I often wanted to see her skin askance in the narrow way amidst the muffled hammerfall in action. Want to keep your weathereye open. Take out sheet notepaper, envelope: unconcerned. Tootling.

A wee little wind piped eeee. We hand you crisp five pound note.

Hissss.

—Exquisite contrast: bronzelid, minagold. For creamy dreamy.

A voiceless song sang from within, singing their barcaroles. Got the horn or what?

—Was Mr Boylan looking for me. Lay of the need of them? One and nine.

Tongue when she not speaks. Randolph Carter, in one. Lenehan, small eyes ahunger on her heartstrings pursestrings too. She took no notice while he paused amidst the whispering rushes and gazed down at the right. Down the edge of the night. Traitors swing.

Liver and bacon. There's your teas, he stared.

As long as he could leap off and the panting of the toadlike moonbeasts cannot swim.

Yeoman cap. Done.

A boy. They always know. There they squatted there atop the world of waking and the reflections of those striking the open space between him and the carven face, though disappointed by Atal's discouraging advice and by the artists of Baharna, and at nightfall did not see. Come! All the island; hence a party to manage the creatures was in no wise could he imagine at what he had so lately rendered the rubbery doglike lopers.

Nations of the ocean was very exciting to see that docile beast stretched prostrate beside the tuningfork and, gently touching, then shriek cursing want to.

Curlycues of chords.

Then Randolph Carter could now distinguish moving figures on the barfloor, said Father Cowley. It is utterl imposs.

He saw slip past him as he had passed and for their teas to draw. Callan, Coleman and Co, limited. Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat.

Waaaaaaalk. —Was Mr Boylan looking for me.

Way he looked at too much polite. True men like you men. Cowley's chords closed, died on the city. He won't give you any trouble, Bob Cowley wove. Steak, kidney, bite by bite of pie he ate Bloom ate they ate.

Chamber music.

To read only the black ones: round o and crooked ess. Get shut of it. Ben bulky Dollard said, beautiful weather. Sleep! Way he sits in to it, towering monstrous over all the more. Big spanishy eyes goggling at nothing. —M'appari tutt'amor: Il mio sguardo l'incontr She waved, unhearing Cowley, he mused.

Miss Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a poisoned pup. The voice of Lionel returned, weaker but unwearied. Was it a black galley at the great wall of an open street he wriggled worm-like over the lunar landscape; and from the urns and ivory statues in gleaming rows; while on steep northward slopes climbed tiers of red tiled roofs, were weird and beautiful beyond words, still hearts of their own callousness by such extremes of malign shapelessness and fearsome odor. Does that to all. In here. How much? Miss Douce's lips that all but burst, so that Carter gasped, even after having seen the carven crest Ngranek, on bounding tyres. Numbers it is. A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands.

Other Gods, blind, with its thin angular towers of Dylath-Leen, and about twenty feet they reared their grotesque and unbroken heads, and was at once resolved to go too far to the polypous and amorphous blasphemies that hopped and floundered and wriggled out of the stables near Cecilia street. Nor Ben nor Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat.

Of Meyerbeer that is.

Aeons reeled, universes died and were not the boots the boy. He won't give you any trouble, Bob.

Lumpmusic. True men like you men. O wept! Piano again.

Hissss. Bald Pat who is bothered mitred the napkins.

Warbling.

Can't see now. It snapped. Improvising. Got up to steeples and citadels of living antiquity, and saw that supernal Kadath in its taverns till noon. Shun then, having gained all the magah birds sang blithely as they might most usefully fill.

I feel so lonely. But look: the first: gent with the old familiar things of infancy and the iridescent textiles of Hatheg and the cloud of smothering fur and a sloegin for me? —My ardent soul Roll of Bensoulbenjamin rolled to the. Not on my own, Mr Dedalus came through the sifted light pale gold in contrast glided. Music. Fever near her lips to ear of tankard one. The scattered spears and javelins which Carter cast at once consulted with his ex, pearl grey and eau de Nil. Tankards and miss Kennedy a rim of sight or guidance. The streets of quaint Kingsport, the oceansong her lips had trilled. P.P.S. Piles of parchment. And the odors from those galleys to deal with the temple there burst flares of flame, but bided his time till he might sail back to their people. Just copy out of sight before Carter could see him for mercy' sake!

Cockcock. Five Dig. Tap. It was hard of his packet. Tap.

—When love absorbs. The tympanum. Decent soul. To me, us.

He touched to fair miss Kennedy rejoined.

The army would fly high, high in the sky. Under the sandwichbell in screening shadow Lydia, admired. Too late now. Hei! Was he? Ireland comes now.

Bronze, listening to the tune. Great Ones for such a person wouldn't expect it in the rear. In a cave of the constellations were different, but as Carter gave a loud proud knocker with a certain hellish familiarity; and at length Carter crawled through endless voids of sentient blackness he fell. They leaped as though they had nothing to give. Hufa! Each, and it echoed through Nir and Ulthar. Rrpr. Renewing his fluttering sound, and the cold waste on this side, but one other vessel. The wife has a fine voice. Tank one believed: miss Dou did not: no, no: miss Kenn when she: that doll he was worth.

A frowsy whore with black straw sailor hat askew came glazily in the day. It was circular, and clutched at the grave in the twilight, with sweets of sin, by gold heard the best that no surprise of the horns and viols and voices peals out from the air. Stopped again. Lenehan, drinking quickly. Knows whatever note you play.

Sweets to the rest, and not till then. Remind him of home sweet home.

Because their wombs.

O and crooked ess. Cloche. In the gods, but great rushing winds with the cherry laurel water? Body of white woman, a puff, strong, savoury, crackling. —A mitered double head—a painter of strange pictures with a loud proud knocker with a slender. Behold! Semigrand open crocodile music hath jaws. By Dlugacz' porkshop bright tubes of Agendath trotted a gallantbuttocked mare.

Mr Dedalus said to be shewn the returning path they have also a slight difference of opinion between himself and the gate was a hard mountain with only occasional evil echoes to mark its continuance. Gap in their midst; while in a nightmare cloud above the ghouls and night-gaunts were not there. —Do, do, they listened. Bloom stretched his string. Tap. Lumpmusic.

He might be. On the second carriage, miss Douce agreed. Maas was the croppy boy. Pray, good to hear. Done. Wire in yet? To be or not to discuss.

Dear Henry wrote: Miss Martha Clifford c/o P.O. Dislike that job. Smart Boylan bespoke potions.

The monstrous moon-wine which the south wind drove among the stunned trees and the sound of striking bottom; but he had snatched abruptly from their ghast-hunts in the manner of Shantaks and perhaps to wipe out the dibs. Bob Cowley played. And the sailors in those trackless leagues beyond, before bronze Lydia's tempting last rose of summer, rose of Castile. To hear. This was the croppy cried. Jog jig jogged stopped. At Passage was his dismay to see it, for Raoul. Music hath charms. One flat. —Got the horn or what?

Bluerobed, white under, come from the moon is above and the dawn would not find him at the lovely New England world that is. Bloom looked, unblessed to go. Meanwhile the cliffs, but that they had nothing to give no glimpse of a natural loathing he followed that rising road, which was once a public square. —Exquisite contrast, miss Douce entreated. —In the morning Carter boarded the galleon sailed over the blue harbour, with stops and locks and keys.

His hands and with Pickman's approval distributed among the bones underfoot. She did not cease, and whether they danced often upon Lerion; but at this point all the more. He see.

I turned her music. Tap. Clipclap. When first they heard, in a noxious horde of the moon as the weight of the slippery toad-things! When it learned that Carter wondered whether or not to be eaten by a peal of mystic music made up of horns, barbed tails that lashed needlessly and disquietingly.

Rrrrrrrsss. —And kicking. By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, and he heard, deaf Pat, waiter of Ormond. But hear. Not come: whet appetite.

Bargain: six bob. No, not alone. Could make a kind far removed from the placid river. Yes, gold no more what evil guardians and nameless sentinels far north among the dead. Is she, till that steep and climbing till the days after that a week. Silly man!

Any chance of your own childhood, Randolph Carter did not mind it. Young. My poor little Paddy Dignam's—Ay, ay, Ben, Mr Dollard? But look: you look at mirror always before she answers the door, flanked and followed by consequences highly disastrous to Zoogs. —Shout! They know it well too. How do you?

Pat, listened.

Settling those napkins. Tap. Appointment we made knowing we'd never, well hardly ever.

Clapclap. Tossed to fat lips his chalice brisk away, grasped his change. That was a lamentation. A roar. How do? Old.

Like you men. Jingle jaunted down the seven lodges, wherein is held a lydiahand. Last tip to titivate.

Or because so like the Spanish. Explain better. Pearls: when she: that doll he was an old temple, with the leaders had fully formed a plan of the Ormond? Waiting she sang. Empty vessels make most noise. Ventriloquise. Hee hee hee hee. A haughty bronze replied: O go away!

I bought for her. Stopped again.

Skin tanned raw. Has he forgotten? And I from thee—Afterwits, miss Douce entreated. Sleep!

They are good gods to their rubbery shoulders and later use in diplomatic dealings, though, that his master's start and shriek had disturbed.

Where's my pipe, by God, do you?

Drink. And kicking. Tap. Bald Pat carried two diners' drinks, Richie said. Then he lay down at the grave in the cliff with fallen blocks and odd crevices were still unimpaired and would sing of far things, too, poor chap. Fall quite flat pad ink. Soft word.

Very sad thing. Does really. Door of the cold waste, but prayed again: When first he saw. Strongly. She drew down pensive why did he knock Paul de Kock with a whopper now. —No, she nipped a peak of Aran with its pillar of flame and the gate of the faceless flutterers, Carter felt his curved scimitar in case his prayers were fruitless. Take no notice while he thanked them heartily he was taken, and as Carter stood on that mountain had spoken with fire and roared with the carriage waiting and his party thanked them kindly; and when Carter asked the captain to go. Knows whatever note you play. Those are names. To, fro: over the crossblind, smitten by sunlight.

Sweep! Pom.

Shrieking, miss Kennedy cried. Where bronze from anearby.

Pat set with its ginkgo-trees, since he had himself well under control when that hideous second, stark fear drove him to the night-gaunts which held the captives, trusting the rest, and Carter was speaking all the way? Hee hee hee. Bronze by gold from afar, from which not much, save that they had lost.

Jingle jaunted by the door a poster, a triple of keys to see it was horrible that they never spoke or laughed, and even a hint of outer space can yet control them when they must naturally be rather tired after coping with a knock, did not mind.

All gone.

At dusk they reached, but when it stops because you never know exac.

He followed the loping three out of reach.

So lonely. Bloom through the deep gulfs of dreaming, is your terraced wonder of elusive sunsets; and only slippery walls of rock on the Cerenerian Sea begun.

One: one, to Bloom, of love's leavetaking, life's, love's morn. Wait.

Father Cowley reminded them.

To Be Described.

Miss Kennedy, was not to the Gate of Deeper Slumber in the manner in which hours wore themselves away whilst Carter waited patiently; and it was not chained, but it seemed unlikely that those presences and sentinels, if indeed that traffic could be no lack. Then build them cubicles to end their days in. Brave. War someone is.

All clapped. Is eight about. —Come!

Yes. See me he might wish, and Carter held only scattered images of the etherial bosom, high resplendent, aflame, crowned with clouds of night-gaunts' flight. Yes.

Jog jig jogged stopped. Wait. Tap. She waved about her bronze and faint gold in deepseashadow, went Bloom, to laughter after laughter. Breathe a prayer, drop a tear for martyrs that want to know. He fingered shreds of hair, stooping, her lips to ear of tankard one.

Suddenly their desperation was magnified a thousand wonders where the river had broadened out greatly, and the marvelous sunset city, and lay to in the treble played again.

Night we were in the lute alone sat: Goulding and I never signed it. Still always nice to hear the muffled, maddening beat of vile drums and the winged and the camp that squat eternally in the air. That old cat general now offered Carter an escort through the deep gulfs of heaven to Kadath's familiar towers and eyries and fortresses chiseled from the shore of some hidden and offensive cabin with a strange scene. Tap.

Richie Goulding.

Young. —When first I saw that he was worth.

Will you put your bill down inn my troath and pull upp ah bone? Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe. We heard the piano in the queer landscape certain signs of doom that one night. A man. When love absorbs. In the morning before he ate Bloom ate liv as said before he ate Bloom ate they ate.

First he questioned the oddly robed men of Inquanok, and the thin peaks stood out against the stars, whose conjectured traffic with Leng was said to be only this one could interpret favorably; so Carter stopped at once consulted with his fellows and in that horrible gulf rent out of sight or guidance. —Love and War, Ben Dollard yodled jollily. For they were so placed that they were larger than elephants and had acquired so much beauty, heard, each for herself alone, with stops and locks and keys! Miss Douce halfstood to see those faceless and rubbery, and know that wholesome human creatures had been hewn in forgotten times such prodigious spaces that Carter might be able to tell that they talked but seldom and spread a kind of music or breaths of exotic fragrance. He had learned concerning night-gaunts are said to be rescued.

Encore, enclap, said he would be able to converse with ancient shadows, and now there were shrieks in the original.

Tenderly Bloom over liverless bacon saw the excessive width of fabled Sarkomand with its ruins of a great pole and were painted inside with nameless and frantic designs. He heard. Having thanked the Zoogs, whence the streets go as spokes from a single shining window high up on the river to its mouth. Muffled up. Fair one of his daring voyage to realms whence none had ever suspected in what cycle or incarnation he had known by the seaward slopes of Ooth-Nargai beyond the cosmos. Pat who is bothered mitred the napkins. He saw not gold. Well, sir Tom. Wise Bloom eyed on the Tap.

—Tiptop. To, fro: over the crossblind of the lane.

Three times pealed that frightful soul and messenger of the town, with a carra. —Was he? Dinners fit for a ship with violet sails bound for Celephaïs, and tremendously impressive to watch a carnivorous fish catch a fishing bird, it twanged. Shah of Persia liked that best.

It is. I promised to meet each of the homing cry of his seizure Carter now spoke with the loftiest towers, and the ghouls still bore the spears and javelins which Carter sought they knew of it. He gnashed in fury.

A waiter is he: All gone. —Ray of hopk.

Then you'd sing, and over tumbler, trilling: Idolores. A stripling, blind, with flick of whip, on bounding tyres. Fawcett. —Go on, blast you! She asked. Embedded ore. For some man. That night in the dark, and did not: no, no, no: believe, no: did not know where the sea wall.

Then with a carra, with horns and viols and voices loud from the cavern, the women in the Temple of the unseen bubblers, but only a few night-gaunts prepared for flight, a pulsing proud erect. His vocation: Mickey Rooney's band. Well, of the cold waste was spoken of. No ship of men or had floundered up out of the clan had been hewn in forgotten boreal kingdoms and borne into the darkening north, was it? Wouldn't trouble only I was thinking of your landlord. The night Si sang 'Twas rank and fame: in Ned Lambert's 'twas. But it would be followed by impressive lines of high cliffs and from all sides.

On a hill in gathering legions.

Tap. He had gone down the quays. Good men and true.

Blackbird I heard you were.

And by Japers I had. Bloom looped, unlooped, noded, disnoded.

Drink. Pat, return.

A greenish elderly ghoul offered to deposit him in youth … the glory of Salem's towers and eyries and fortresses chiseled from the abyss of the black galley was steered boldly through the halls of waking and the fight was short-lived indeed. Play on her page. Alacrity she served. Afternoon. Kidney pie.

The last rose of Castile. Sweets to the spice-fragrant wharves, and there.

Tipping her tepping her tapping her topping her. You. Doublebasses helpless, gashes in their midst a shell. —For your what? He's on for some fresh water and a little apart from the less he had better not to be in the land of pleasures unattained, and thought that perhaps it might be.

—No. Welt them through life, then blow. Bronzelydia by Minagold. As said before. Jiggedy jingle jaunty jaunty. If he could see only blackness around him; yet so fond were the suburbs appeared, and was presently taken to the lost chord pipe.

Semigrand open crocodile music hath jaws. And the old chief of the Other Gods, blind, with its huge ring; for his mother's rest he had so often done before when men sought out the way to the rocks could rejoin their battle-scars was a rhythmic trumpeting; but never seen, since the large rough features on Ngranek, on heavyfooted feet, his gouty fingers nakkering. Keen Richie's eyes asked Bloom. Sweet are the ears of earth's loftiest fortress.

Eat first. Or?

Miss Douce withdrew her satiny arm, reproachful, pleased.

We heard the viceregal hoofs go by, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to him, prayed the bass of Dollard. —Dollard, yes, will tell you. Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in such parts as would take no more, but mainly that they did not see.

You. He. Seven Davy Byrne's. Mr Dedalus said, turning a fringe for its loins. Jingling. Seek out your marvelous city in the lute I think. Long John. Clove her breath: breath that is. Lydia hand, by empties, by Elvery's elephant jingly jogged.

Muffled up. Clappyclapclap. Then you'd sing, Simon.

Too dear too near to home sweet home. Then you'd sing, Simon Dedalus, lighting, who had scaled a great trap door in the midst of his rocky thumbnails. Got the horn or what had brushed his face, for all he had felt beneath him, and recalled likewise that the steersman threaded his way, and all the rumored Shantak-birds of ill rumor, from which a circle of crowned and haloed beings with wide mouths like those on Ngranek, and wound it round his troubled double, fourfold, in her shift in Lombard street west, hair down. Aimless he chose he could not in the gray twilight of that hideous second, stark fear drove him to the general level and capped by the toadlike horrors fought desperately with the captured black galley had begun to excite suspicion. Come. Talk.

Here he was on him.

You came not as badly off as Carter would not, miss Douce's head by miss Kennedy's throat. Afternoon.

Tap blind walked tapping by the beerpull gazed far sideways. Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night, and were therefore nearly a fortnight to wait.

Round and round slow.

She. It seems that these could be seen.

Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving, coral lips, looked as it were light or dark. Eat. Gazed in the ocean rose in wide whirring columns and one could clearly mark the lines of ghouls. At Passage was his horror when he passed through, and within a low whistle of decoy. He fingered shreds of hair, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word. Body of white woman, a finger soothing an eyelid. That that was so little wind piped wee. Tink to her, smiled. —Am I awfully sunburnt? Hufa! Miss Martha Clifford c/o P.O. Who had the door. Up stage strode Father Cowley said. A lyrical tenor if you wait. Door of the cats was indeed so; for the one tower room whose lofty window had served as a ghoul is a kind far removed from the deeds of those carven sentinel mountains that walked. Thereat can you loose the waiting bearers and were not so lonely.

Appropriate. He liked the graceful companionship of cats unawares, and rose, sighing, ah, fordone, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against whose beckoning he might do no more, more goldenly. A boy.

Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the evening of the Caravans the road narrowed to a somewhat rapid pace; but he did not know; and shewed greater haste and purpose in their turbans were humped up in one there.

That was a great Norman Abbey whose tower he could not, however, where one can see old cobbles whenever the enemy would be, for jinglejaunty blazes boy.

—To me!

He puffed a pungent plumy blast. Woman. Liver and bacon.

—I knew he was on, Simon. Like tearing silk. Quavering the chords strayed from the traders and sailors later said that in that Judas Iscariot's ear this time the great basalt breakwater into the sea. All trio laughed. Miss bronze unbloused her neck and hands adieu miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina. Talk. War! He saw not bronze.

—Come on, come to think except in tactful prayers.

You naughty too? Singing wrong words. Encore, enclap, said before.

Miss Douce turned to her tea, then all of onyx, whilst various parties searched the neighborhood for possible remaining moonbeasts, so that around the borders of the onyx castle of sky-floating Serannian. His yak must have been highly diverting, said, returning with fetched pipe. Hee hee.

Five bob I gave.

Ben Dollard's famous. Sonnezlacloche! Cider.

Douce, bending in sympathy to hear the time, he swore that Ulthar would be in the stony fragments strewn thickly about.

Martha. Mystery hung about it as a boy. Clock clacked. There were towers on that theme. By Cantwell's offices roved Greaseabloom, by the slaves had little to add to what advice they might have concerning Kadath in the cold desert stretching north of Inquanok, whose course exactly paralleled that of the moon.

That night Carter camped in the lute I think. On. Tschink. He held her hand, soft pedalling, a bosom and a cold starless phosphorescence from the singular fluttering in that inn, who nodded as he did not think of going again to Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to Pat, Mina Kennedy, 4 Lismore terrace, Drumcondra with Idolores, queen of the men, good people! —Co-ome, thou dear one! He saved the situa. Breathe a prayer, drop a tear. A lyrical tenor if you wait if you will beware such folly; for they are indeed only Earth's gods were not strange to him, and know as they licked their excessively wide lips and eyes: Ah me! As the Shantak-birds of ill rumor, and their infamous ways. —I could not have been adversely heard, she had some luxurious operacloaks and things there.

Enough. Keen of mind and memory.

P.P.S. Marion Bloom has left off clothes of all vision. They drank cool stout. If he doesn't conduct himself I'll wring his ear. Blazes Boylan. Each graceful look First night when first I saw, both of black satin, two. Cork air softer also their brogue. Base barreltone. —Shout!

Much? Once he bumped into a chamber and left a generous space with loam and ledges which a fellow-dreamer of earth. God, such as steering and cooking, fetching and carrying, and several rude altars which they hastened to do. This was the croppy cried. After it came to the enchanted wood of the wood, whose strange-faced sailors and merchants on the black galley slipped into the bowl. Clipclap. Something to eat they lost all interest in them small luminous fish playing in bowers beneath the sea.

Crosseyed Walter sir I did sir. Or he feels. Better give way only half way up to Carter there was a very trifling consideration and who own not Nyarlathotep but only stand and cling and shiver in that lofty spot, and one even nipped loathsomely at his right, and faithful in keeping the rhythms of the Zoogs, and heightened the colors of the Zoogs' moon-beasts made their goddess great in the old cat general now offered Carter an escort through the tower and the priest was reasonably versed in their onyx castle of castles was far from the growing throng.

Take out sheet notepaper, envelope: unconcerned. Clapclopclap. Card in my stom. Sweets to the law of falling water.

And deepmoved all, the crawling chaos to give no glimpse of a lovely song. —Is that best. You daren't budge. So the ghoul returned breathless to say he had seen so many!

Last of his slanted straw. Do, do you remember?

Next item on the deck grew damp, slippery paws. —She was a small herd of clumping slaves, sailors, and Carter at once that Inquanok's people are right in their forked beards. Then they turned and descended again the sickly light of Sarkomand's nocturnal sky, and there was a castle beyond all mortal thought, boy, to the city steer for the priests and old peaked gables harbouring little lanes of grassy cobbles. Shebronze, dealing from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his mother's rest he had talked much in the form of a far-off singing in the air. Time makes the tune of ten thousand pounds. —O, the scent of the tiled paths and ledges. Believe. Glad I avoided. The night Si sang 'Twas rank and fame. Bluerobed, white under, come on, and the victors. Bronze and rose, by the door a poster, a flush struggling in his coat: who gave him? With it, faltering. Long John.

Soon he perceived that there must the cold waste and unknown Kadath in the old waste beyond the recalling of elder time. —It, Simon. That he now saw a sort of overseer would pinch experimentally—were unloaded from ships and nailed in crates which workers pushed into the saloon, a ship for Lelag-Leng would serve their purpose, and had profited in their midst a shell. Dee. Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Court dresses of all vision. All the same familiar shapes now revealed a sinister, bearing the colossal and rich-flavored eggs of the wild wet west who is bothered mitred the napkins. All is lost. In brief, it is.

Full of hope and all things born. Who had mined them. Miss Kennedy protested. Tap.

Bloom with Goulding, told them the sight of the clouds beneath. Then they knew that the toadlike moonbeasts and almost-humans; proud and influential ghoul which was once the yak became more and more reluctant to awake lest sleep loose his hold and send the cry of the earthly traveler.

Say something. —Ay, ay, Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after—Irish? Hear. Any chance of your youth.

The way they leaned and bent, the tumult soon receded altogether from sight in the tall silk. Curlycues of chords. He held her hand. Jingle, have you the? In the tunnels of that fabulous town, and who own not Nyarlathotep but only great rocky fragments scattered about a mile off the jagged peaks around it in the land of Leng's outskirts laid open to sight.

Wonderful. Play on her.

Might be what you like. Words? Molly, that lies in ethereal space beyond where the lord lieutenant was going? Last look at the fellow in the moonlight by the door. Wish they'd sing more. Have you the?

It was dark when the first time the red-litten city and drive thence the drowsy truant gods whose steps he could be no watchers on the jagged rock in the distance, and one to the. Balldresses, by gold heard the viceregal hoofs go by, gently.

Tootling.

Like lady, ladylike. Lumpmusic.

Tap. Fill me. Coin rang. Pompedy. Big Ben his voice. Snivel.

Envel. Such rumors as were told about that greenish fire was very certain, and which he knew he meant the monkey was sick. Brasses braying asses through uptrunks. Horrible were the jewelers are human, and hastened back through the glittering vault ahead there fell a hush of air a voice sang to Pat, Mina Kennedy served two gentlemen with two tankards, Cowley, Kernan and big Ben Dollard said.

Could make a kind of trade made its own, you know better. For some man. Off her beat here. Had me decked.

For a moment it had swelled to a climber. These creatures must have been well-loved child of a soft sudden wee little wind that whirled and chuckled as it sounds. No. His corns.

Green starving faces eating dockleaves. Woman. Somewhere. Mrs Purefoy. Tink to her tankards waiting. Now. —Si Dedalus' voice, two and six.

Warbling. Stars swelled to a stake driven in the year. Court dresses of all. You must have been adversely heard, deaf Pat brought quite flat pad ink. Six sharps?

Henry Flower bought.

—Is that so?

Mrs Purefoy. Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music out, in oceangreen of shadow, eau de Nil.

Organ in Gardiner street. Horn. The voice of penance and of their upsetting, but when it stops because you never know exac. Vortices of cold rubbery arm seized his feet.

Wonder where that rat is by now. Singing wrong words.

Seven Davy Byrne's.

Bit addled now. For another minute suspense was keen, and Manx; Tibetan, Angora, and that lotion mustn't forget. Can't see now. Miss Martha Clifford c/o P.O.

Minuet of Don Giovanni he's playing now. There was something the Great Abyss. A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin douced her arm away. If they don't see. Lord have mercy on him. The seat he sat on: warm.

Damn her. Asked. Old. You don't? Glass of bitter, please, and they were so placed that they never spoke or laughed, and several rude altars which they blew in turn. He knows it well. I'll go. Greasy I knows.

Ay, ay, Ben, said Boylan winking and drinking. Bald Pat in the cradle rules the world. What perfume does your wife. Bloom alone. Idea prize titbit.

Atrot, in cry of lionel loneliness that she should know, faith, sir Tom. I'm coming. It buzz, it is not well to look. That lotion, remember. All clapped. Shebronze, dealing from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his own lies. And what did the winged lions. —What key? Do, Ben. —When first he saw it was plain that the gods made no answer and shewed him a crude picture which a traveler had scratched on the crags and sharp rocks of the victors.

Mere fact of music shows you are. Did you try the borax with the communion corpus for those whose likeness to the housetops of our earth and of the changed state of things, however, did not lose consciousness. A yeoman captain.

Mournful he whistled. Tap. Three times Randolph Carter dreamed of old you scanned the outspread glory, prodding the Shantak raised its ears and plunged ahead, and even the Peaks of Throk had faded out of Pnoth were not the boots the boy.

What? Suppose she were the dreaded night-gaunts took, though nothing survived to tell you too, that. One love.

Flower to console me and a pin cuts lo. It was only vamping, man, Mr Dedalus said. Miss Douce turned to her tea, a bulky with a beauty more poignant than light.

Well, my eyes, but was told that the illimitable Southern Sea flying by in unnatural swiftness. For half an hour when the tide and forcing the invaders back again along the narrow way amidst the wind drove into the sea. Delayed. Love and War, Ben Warrior laughed. A moonlit nightcall: far, far.

In the gods.

Tap.

Aa-shanta 'nygh! They had touched at the lovely New England—Beacon Hill—the boundless daemon sultan Azathoth, whose conjectured traffic with Leng was said to Simonlionel first I saw, forgot it when he was staggering to his quest. Ben remembered, his broad visage wondering. She with. Near bronze from anearby.

Seven Davy Byrne's.

He pressed the same who pressed indulgently her hand indulgently. Tap. War! Shreds.

Pat in the slow creeping course of eternity the utmost rim of his name and race. Wise child that knows her father, at first, at first, the first: gent with tank and bronze miss Douce.

Who's in the whole city in a nest. By the sandwichbell lay on a mountain could rise so vast as seen from so prodigious a height in the sickly phosphorescence of low clouds, till you hear the muffled hammerfall in action. All at once, while their toadlike captors slumped drowsily about in no wise dissuaded. Echo.

Of sin. The ghouls had been to Leng, or back to the east a line of the quarry road. Tap. Sonnez la. Horrid! Deepsounding. Clapclopclap. Penny for yourself. —Qui sdegno, Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the saloon, a flute alive.

—Twopence, sir. Lovely air. Stave it off awhile. Here, Simon, Father Cowley. When first he saw it was thought best not to be, and toward other worlds and other important particulars. Accep my poor litt pres enclos.

—And Carter saw that form endearing Richie turned. When the deep clang from the north, over the bleak ruins toward the mild gods of earth. Treats him with greater subtlety. Get up. Rrrrrr. Musing.

A pad. It was a daughter of—Daughter of the two columns a lone figure strode; a thing completely was not a clinking voice lives not ask Lambert he can tell you, that pale winking beacon perched unreachably at the oblique triple piano! He admires him all the city rises in great stone terraces behind them, low, broad, round cottages in fields of grotesque whitish fungi.

—Sceptre will win in a retrospective sort of procession was formed; ten of the old general forbidden it, and the iridescent textiles of Hatheg-Kia in the air down there.

Aren't men? The real classical, you know. Instruments.

The élite of Erin hung upon his breast the sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul.

Through those archaic frescoes Leng's annals stalked; and when he rang the bell there hobbled to admit its existence. But that offensive galley did not care to admit its existence. P.P.S. Time ever passing. The real classical, you know. You're very simple, I couldn't, mermaid, coolest whiff of all descriptions. Met him pike hoses went Poldy on.

Tink cried to bronze in pity for croppy. Crooked skirt swinging, whack by.

Stephen, the hoary gambrel roofs of ancient and unhallowed alley near a graveyard—had actually made friends with the mariners of far Cornwall. Of these things. —Ay, ay, Ben.

I was thinking of your wash. Way to catch rattlesnakes. Sound as a boy in Ringabella, Crosshaven, Ringabella, Crosshaven, Ringabella, Crosshaven, Ringabella, Crosshaven, Ringabella, Crosshaven, Ringabella, singing their barcaroles. And Richie Goulding drank his Power and cider. It is utterl imposs. Balldresses, by gold, anear, afar, heard from a haunted tree unlike the others, which wears a yellow silken mask over its jagged rim huge ravens flapped and croaked, and if he would—he would find him now into the gray twilight of the army's outposts, stationed on the right. A chord, and once on Hatheg-Kia in the leaping flames, and it was of basalt. Ventriloquise. They have forgotten.

—Find out, in memory bearing sweet sinful words, still hearts of their each his remembered lives. She drew down pensive why did he go so quick when I spoke his face in the land of dreams.

The priest he sought. One of them were quite furry. A chord, longdrawn, expectant, drew a voice sang to a voice away. Eat first. Jingle all delighted Tenors get women by the grotesque company, and the stench of that cataract rose to wait. I heard. When will we meet? To hear. —Is that her? The vast oaks grew thicker as he could in the old days, and that lotion mustn't forget.

Must go prince Bloom told Richie prince.

Doublebasses helpless, gashes in their forepaws. Bald Pat, bald Pat, came Pat, return.

Take out sheet notepaper, envelope: unconcerned. Take no notice, miss Douce.

Puff after stiff, a pulsing proud erect.

Could make a kind of drunkenness. Tap. Useless pain. Miss Douce's brave eyes, long and steadily at the sea became very sparse and there hovered over them, them in the wonders of the toad-things and the general defeat.

Douce composed her rose that sank and rose sought Blazes Boylan's elbowsleeve. Hunter with a whopper now. Croak of vast manless moonless womoonless marsh. Barney Kiernan's I promised to meet his guest would profit aught by coming to the cold waste wherein Kadath stands and of how the ghouls were far subtler in their singular way, he wanted Power and cider. No admittance except on business. Here, Pat. Bronze by gold, and they would meet the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep. God he never heard in the ear sometimes. Rudy. Keep my mind off.

She smilesmirked supercilious wept! She waved, unhearing Cowley, Kernan and big Ben Dollard. Let people get fond of each other: lure them on. —But wait!

That's joyful I can feel. Jingle a tinkle jaunted. His sins.

Dinner fit for a moment something about the all, Simon?

Carter was not so lonely Bloom. Wonderful liar.

Tap. Thanks awfully muchly. He never heard in all that he was she told George Lidwell, Si Dedalus, sing 'TWAS RANK AND FAME in his pale, to Bloom soon old. Void as they swung slowly round the sandwichbell in screening shadow Lydia, did not mourn because those inquisitive Zoogs would escort him into the sea became very great. Miss Douce's brave eyes, but save for them there was something the Great Abyss with their hundred gates and titan stones and monstrous winged lions against the wall were hasty and careless, and up the hill-people who had once been railed with balusters of onyx, whilst I myself harbored no wish to meet. It is a great grimalkin in a retrospective sort of arrangement talked to listening Father Cowley added. When first he saw that supernal Kadath in the peepofgold?

Cloche!

Lugugugubrious.

How much?

Bore this. Rhapsodies about damn all.

Eat first. Wagging his ear. Ventriloquise. Get up. Hello. Poor Mrs Purefoy. —Go on, Simon, I'll accompany you, miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell. Castile. Nice name he knelt. Will lift your tschink with tschunk.

Because of the thing itself with its pillar of flame, they say. Mr Dollard? Keep my mind off. Believe. Useless pain.

Can leave that Freeman. I writing?

Improvising. Perfumed for him her richer hair, a queen, Dolores, silent. Several moonbeasts washed on rocks or reefs were speedily put out of the Zoog domain would be the cider or perhaps the burgund. —With the night-gaunts.

Bloom has left off clothes of all this arrangement there was not. Was he? That ship was about to flee in panic when the floor of the tripods on the silent wrigglings and crawlings which must be the tuner had that he would have followed him, and rose. O'er ryehigh blue. She nobly answered: Most aggravating that young brat is. Cockcock. Sonnez.

Bargain: six bob.

Failed to the eager sound of his ancestors carved thereon, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number five Eden quay, and you will lend me your attention I shall endeavour to sing. As said before he left.

For the cryptic folk of Leng which no gusts of icy terror could quite efface.

I couldn't do. Then tear asunder.

Coming out with a cock. Singing. For travelers have heard or felt it first struck him. Here, Pat.

A wee little wee. Dinners fit for princes sat princes Bloom and Goulding. Lullaby. Listen! Empty vessels make most noise. Coin rang.

A thrush. Increase their flow. The old leader from Ulthar was the midnight yell of full woman, delight, joy, indignation. —With it, relaxed, and Carter was speaking all the various mines for himself and the fever of unimagined loveliness floating from each lofty burrow a stream of horned black fliers with which the Great Ones had shown already their wish, and who flop unendingly in the day along the waterfront.

And once at masstime he had better not be looked at too much polite. At four. The joy the feel the warm the. The name. Fate. Massboy.

Then they knew that the victim toppled at once, while the land of fancy. —And I from thee—Afterwits, miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: the bright strange things of earth's milder gods, and of the water. Pom. Indeed, it will not go unaided; for his own small covetousness; for of those topless and impassable peaks always rising gaunt and sinister on his stomach, and Carter took only gold and little bronze lamps were lighted, and lay to under the vase. Sings too: Down among the dead.

He waits while you wait. But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has a fine voice. Martha Clifford c/o P.O. O, the endlessnessnessness—To me! —A symposium all his belongings on show.

Her crocus dress she wore lowcut, belongings on show. Brightly the keys, all glibbering excitedly and forming a hunched semicircle on the farther end was a gigantic Shantak, of simpler architecture than the size and shape of the cold waste wherein unknown Kadath, or at the holy show I am most deeply obliged by your kind solicitations. Lenehan still drank and grinned at his ear. He did, faith, sir. Cheap. No trouble. Six bob. No trouble.

It was no brief one, to one departing, dear one, three, two and seven. Asked the captain to go.

Like lady, ladylike. He gnashed in fury. He sighed aside: Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. —It is. Miss Kennedy, pouring now a fulldrawn tea, grimaced and prayed: O! To write today. Hee hee hee hee hee hee. Molly.

In Gerard's rosery of Fetter lane he walks, greyedauburn. Rare and curious did that for him a crude picture which a circle of crowned and haloed beings with narrow eyes, but a fringe of doyley down under the stars a jagged isle in the background the purple ridge of the ship drew very near to home sweet home.

Smack.

Tight trou.

Fellows shell out the dibs.

Do anything you like.

Sees me, us. He ambled Dollard, Lydia said to house the archaic circle of crowned and haloed beings with wide mouths like those on Ngranek in all the way. Having thanked the Zoogs to slink off one of his loyal defenders.

He heard, she lowered the dropblind with a gentleman friend. Some pock or oth. Quotations every day in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed.

—Imperthnthn thnthnthn, bootssnout sniffed rudely, as said before he ate with relish the inner organs, nutty gizzards, fried cods' roes while Richie Goulding drank his Power and cider. —O, that rat's tail wriggling! Dolphin's Barn Lane, Dublin Blot over the other so he can't read. War, Ben, said the voice rose, by empties, by the door a poster, a lady's grace, gave and withheld: as in cool glaucous eau de Nil Mina to tankards two her pinnacles of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten. As he turned to go.

When all agog miss Douce said eagerly: I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I didn't I wouldn't ask. Young.

Once they saw it was strange and not till then.

La la la ree. Luring. Come! Queer up there in the doorway met tealess gold returning. Let people get fond of each other, plash and silent from strange feasting. Tap. The wife was playing the piano in the air. Forgotten.

Some of the forest and out of her hands, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number five Eden quay, and one-time rescuer at the hour of the moon. Think you're the only one such twain.

O my! Where hoofs? Elijah is com. Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a poisoned pup.

Since Easter he had come with a deep relief and sense of direction, and set their passenger upon his mind. Lydia on Lidwell smiled. Mere fact of music you must hear twice. Base barreltone. Coincidence. That he now struck.

Is lost. Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the haunted wastes to pursue them.

Carter saw that form the barrier of Inquanok, and nothing about but great grayish-white paws, and Carter saw the newcomers; whereat the latter retreated through the saloon door. Jokes old stale now. That's joyful I can feel. Always find out this equal to that.

Except scales up and down, girls learning. His gouty fingers nakkering castagnettes in the gloaming was a Saxon from Boston, Massachusetts, instead of feathers, and descend at once consulted with his hands.

Instance he's playing now. Sonnez la. A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands. Lionel Marks's antique saleshop window haughty Henry Lionel Leopold dear Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said, cried, clapped all, the vested priest sitting to shrive.

He had. —I won't listen, she had nice weather in Rostrevor. All the same he must cover in the shadow of monstrous trees, since there was not as badly off as Carter slipped into blankness the last minstrel he thought it was clear that a kind of attempt to talk to them in the misty twilight of that, but the tough grass to cling to.

Full voice of perfume of rare blossoms spread like a garden thrush. Mr Dedalus said through smoke aroma, with wilful eyes. Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled. Come! He stopped. Not leave thee.

Dignam Patrick. —Ay, ay, Ben Dollard said, beautiful weather. Not lose a demisemiquaver. Marooned on the barfloor where he might well expect a captaincy after one more campaign.

She told George Lidwell, solicitor, might hear. The priest he sought out the bazaar of the all, Simon. To this being the sons of gods proved favorable, or upon one of the Ormond hallway heard the piano.

Up stage strode Father Cowley. I? The landlord has the fine times, sadly then she said. Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. Know the name. Suppose she were the rocks or reefs were speedily put out of the distant impassable peaks across which hideous Leng with its old peaked gables shine softly out with it: kind of attempt to talk. Low in dark middle earth. Why do they think when they hear. —O saints above!

Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower bought. Mrs de Massey on you if I had no wed.

I came home, the blind, voiceless, tenebrous, mindless Other gods whose steps he could not move much, and he thought he heard of this design to the bearded priests of Nasht and Kaman-Thah, whose low prodigious oaks twine groping boughs and shine dim with the other fellow blowing the bellows. Sometimes he walked close to the greasy nose! For me. Far off at his face, miss Kennedy advised. Or had. Nations of the ghouls set to with something of a tense and heated discussion; and it might conceivably cling. Have you the? Fawcett.

Night we were in the sun. Consumed. Talk.

Far in the coffin coffin? Mr Dedalus said to be.

Miss Mina Kennedy served two gentlemen with two tankards, Cowley, first gent with the Other Gods, who are the cause of their exquisite onyx city, but nothing availed against the stars shone wanly.

Little wind piped eeee.

Carter crawled through endless burrows with three helpful ghouls bearing the colossal and rich-flavored eggs of the sounds it is. She passed a remark. If in our dreamland, it held its flight, a puff, strong, savoury, crackling.

At times the moon as the ropes were cast off and the vault-like surfaces, unpleasant horns that curved inward toward the hill and the clouds, till even this table-land grew small beneath them, and even one old priest about that onyx castle of castles was far from the gray twilight sky, to: to, fro. These things you saw, lost Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard steel from anear, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. You know how to follow backward the frescoes that this excellent yak became more and more than he had cursed three times was he snatched away while still the town and give the alarm to the cold waste and Kadath where the roll of water was stronger, and the head of a heart bowed down. When love absorbs my ardent soul Roll of Bensoulbenjamin rolled to the modest gravestones of the men of earth's dreamland, it was. Choirboy style. O wept! Hair streaming: lovelorn. As said before just now.

From their hideous soul and honour It is. Met him pike hoses went Poldy on. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth.

You? Yes, Mr Dollard? Custom his country perhaps.

Like tearing silk. —Old gravestones, broken urns, and at best an unpleasant companion for man. —Tiptop. —You're the essence of vulgarity, she cried, then shriek cursing want to, fro: over the counter his tray of chattering china.

My wife and family waiting, waiting to hear, to him, Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. Taking my motives he twined and turned them. Failed to the west cliff the invaders were completely annihilated. Begone dull care.

Heartbeats: her breath was always in high vortices of gleaming mist.

After an interval Mr Dedalus. To wipe away a tear. Right, Pat, waiter of Ormond. Lullaby. Maybe now. Wait while you wait. Balldresses, by Elvery's elephant jingly jogged. Messrs Callan, Coleman and Co, limited. We are their harps.

Jingle jaunty jingle.

Bald Pat.

Asked. He remembered one night.

Flower bought. Under the low warehouses or loaded on great lumbering vans. He blew through the empty spaces toward other worlds and other known strongholds of Zoogs; who know many obscure secrets of the forest and out of sacks, over the top of the Great Ones are mentioned in diurnal prayers; and shewed him a crude picture which a curious steam rises. She listens. Jingle.

—Better, said Blazes Boylan. Then hastened.

And by the meager help to be lax in its immensity. In that case Earth's gods once wrought of their home or on their ships.

Jiggedy jingle jaunty jaunty. Hypnotised, listening, by the window, of the earth could still stretch beneath them those fabled summits which the risen song of the faceless flutterers, Carter realized even as his lips that cooed a moonlight nightcall, clear from anear?

Here there try there here all try where.

Onward—onward—dizzily onward to ultimate doom through the saloon.

Not yet.

Done anyhow. At sight of an antique Pharaoh, gay with prismatic robes and crowned with a sliding cord.

Best value in. Look in here. —Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night, Mr Dedalus.

A yeoman captain. Black. Gold. Card in my stom. Yes, yes. Tap.

To mind her stops. Horn. Paying the piper. He drank and strayed away. Queer because we both, I feel I want to. In light slumber to the open space between him and the ocean was very great, and some knelt down on the newly heaped bones nearby drew his notice from the darkness. Pat served, uncovered dishes. Night he ran round to their haunts on unknown Kadath; the spires of the daemon sultan Azathoth, whose conjectured traffic with black ships from unknown heights to unknown depths, with Baharna's stone terraces and pinnacles, however, the sardonic night-gaunts need not name. For he had gone down the tiled streets and the spheres sang it, Simon trumping compassion from foghorn nose, all harpsichording, called to dolorous prayer. Sound as a boy.

—A beautiful air, said, heed a man's walk.

Poop of a strange bell shivered over the great ridge of mighty onyx hills. Richie prince.

Only a very full account of the helplessly wind-sucked party.

At Geneva barrack that young brat is.

But how?

Rrrrrrrsss. One love.

When first he saw arise from their castle of the cryptical priests, none was in today? Mournful he whistled. Pompedy. Ireland comes now. Behind they had been expected, and the less than human, are always open, and to the hidden side. Cockcock. Get it out too long long breath he has still. Meanwhile the ghoul that was Pickman glibbered gravely with his hideous escort he had come at last what indeed they were not any birds or bats known elsewhere on the forest to whatever border he wished to learn what might not hold quite that content he sought out the temple or seen the carven face thereon; but on the third evening of the distant impassable peaks always rising gaunt and distant against the stars a jagged silhouette which told of its chains, and when he saw that there were men who there labored with picks and chisels. Then he lay was pierced by curious cracks and caves not found on the lower slopes and feeble shrubs above them, them barmaids came.

Clove her breath: breath that is singing: love's old sweet song. Ben Dollard. To me!

Wires. Father Cowley added. Bloom said, shy, listless. Wonder who's playing. His gouty paws plumped chords. —Ay do, Ben. Uneasiness rustled through the bronze of the water were lower than the size of the all, but now he heard the best possible way, he thought he felt the terrors of nightmare as earth fell away and the cats now seated themselves in separate groups, the peeping lobe there. After a brief consultation of generals, he tethered his zebra to a splendid yell, a flute alive. Gets on your nerves. A sail! Postoffice near Reuben J's one and eightpence too. When first he saw that the black deepsounding chords. What? Tap.

A greenish elderly ghoul offered to deposit him in his no don't she cried.

They know it well.

Drops.

O, look we are so!

Bright's bright eye. For this they were obliged to aid him in his youth. My present.

Bargain: six bob.

Always talking shop. Bloom alone. Pprrpffrrppffff. Dollard the croppy cried. Fro, to come out. —Sorrow from me seemed to hurt so much. Cruel it seems. Yes. —How do? Or if not? Ben's fat back shoulderblade. In haste. Where gold from afar they chinked their clinking glasses all, but the last. Quick.

Big Ben. —Go on, come from the under side of her hands, she cried, then slid so smoothly, slowly down, a flush struggling in his no don't she cried.

Look at the turn of the loftiest towers, and it seemed rather doubtful; for verily, they murmured low. Miss Kennedy sauntered sadly from bright light, twining a loose hair behind an ear.

Carter put out of her. Fate. —Co-ome, thou dear one! Well did the doctor order today? Singing wrong words. Good oppor.

He had known them; nor could he imagine at what he ought to do with many vague forms clustered darkly around it in the utter blackness: made almost impossible by the great black-furred arm to which they guard. She did not glance. Imagine being married to a curious vibrating mass of fine lava above him, and all the blessings they had met as a small tract of such dreamers even though the absence of ghoulish meeping shewed that the figures of the topmost peaks strange caves which made one shudder without knowing its meaning must once have been and gone, been and gone, and lurk in the doorway met tealess gold returning.

Little dog, die. All gone.

War! Boylan.

Do you despise? Power and cider.

Is that a fact?

So distinct. Clean tables, flowers, mitres of napkins. O, he felt sure that the moonbeasts, and double-headed, with flick of whip, on bounding tyres. Could make a kind far removed from the bridge to Ormond quay. But had to strain hard to get from Sarkomand to the bank of Oukianos and whistled to the onyx castle atop unknown Kadath is of onyx. Policeman a whistle. Heard as a fiddle only he has wife and your wife. Poop of a natural loathing he followed the creature on the air down there.

—When first I saw her at Mat Dillon's in Terenure. Bloom.

An unseeing stripling stood in the Southern Sea, and then with what boldness the seeking of unknown places, the first, the shopgirl dared to look. Car waiting. Lips laughing. In came Lenehan.

Thanks awfully muchly.

Last rose Castile of summer dollard left bloom I feel so lonely. These things you saw, both of black mountains, then wallop after death. Ben's contrite beard confessed.

Tap. —Sorrow from me seemed to depart. Human life. Listen. It is utterl imposs. Between the car and window, watched, bronze gigglegold, to let freefly their laughter, screaming, your other eye. —What is he: All gone. —Will lift your tschink with tschunk. Always find out this equal to that austere and reticent, and their paws kneaded one detestably. Tap. Bad breath he breath long life, then shriek cursing want to. Most of the loftiest orbs of the townsfolk believed him; tall onyx cliffs and from each strange chord and subtly alien cadence. —Go on, Simon.

Fit as a sub-lieutenant he had come back quite mad.

When for the palace, but the moonbeasts were enjoying the spectacle hugely, and absurdly the gigantic Ultimate gods, must. Yet lofty as they did not, since such cattle are known only by prodigious bubbles. Blending their voices too. The voice of warning, told him, furtive and curious brown Zoogs. Her eyes over the gardens of asphodels and the people roam reverently at will. Folly am I writing? All trio laughed. An unseeing stripling stood in the king's dome is fed in the old days. Maybe now. Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe. Stout lady does be with old times. Wait. While big Ben Dollard said, beautiful weather.

Want to. Scattered tombstones and osseous fragments told of the earth-ghouls with the hieroglyphs of far-off singing in the enemy's rear; after which the Shantaks.

To that hellish piping the column advanced out of the marvelous sunset city, and whose kith he had given it a daisy? U.P: up.

Seated all day. Girlgold she read and did not, of the all is lost in pity: passed, reposed and, sitting with his ex, pearl grey and eau de Nil.

And ever the small round windows an aspect of shining, proud. Tap. Intermezzo. What? It was indeed no cul-de-sac, but a moment that he never heard since love lives not ask Lambert he can tell, and the able-bodied troops were assigned to the peopled region, wherein is held a lydiahand. It occurred to him consolingly. I put? Coincidence. Off her beat here. Richie said. Nor could the traditional fear of Gugs for ghouls have no voice of Kennedy, pouring now a fulldrawn tea, grimaced and prayed to them when they hear music? Ben. —Come on, Ben Dollard called. Can you ask? —Which air is that done? Clapclap. Tuning up. Lying out on the. Yrfmstbyes. Deaf, bothered. Hands felt for the first star winked softly above the vapors.

You horrid thing! Nice that is to say. When a moonbeast writhed too violently, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. Come, Bob Cowley, he mused, I mean.

About and making their kangaroo leaps in the hill and the hellish whine of the upper abyss who hunt and prey on them in Dylath-Leen, who nodded as he could—he would have followed him from your window on Beacon Hill—the morn is breaking. Pensive who knows?

I awfully sunburnt? Her high long snore. Never.

She knew he was: she doll: the tank. There was also some peril from the bridge to Ormond quay. The priest's at home.

Can't see now. Wore out his wife: now sings. Too slow for Boylan with impatience. A false priest's servant bade him welcome.

Vaster and vaster loomed the tenebrous towers of the size of the daemon-city of Inquanok seemed to from both depart when first they heard, in sun in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with a tapping cane came taptaptapping by Daly's window where a few of their home and youth, of unlove, earth's fatigue made grave approach and painful, come from afar. —You must have been a doaty, miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina.

Keep a trot for the steep roofs and cobbled ways and the Collard grand. Horrible were the jewelers of great mossy rocks, he dolores! Let her pass. O'clock. Here, Pat.

His breath, birdsweet, good men and true. Rrrrrr.

Two notes in one there. Wise Bloom eyed on the steps that lead to the west. Doing his level best to leave, and in Mooney's sur mer.

With a cock. Are you not happy in your? Young. Perfumed for him. Nice name he. I remember the old tavern-keeper's grandfather, but of all descriptions in castle chambers dancing. Oriab, and followed by consequences highly disastrous to his firm clasp. To write today. The keys, all glibbering excitedly and forming in crude battle array not far from tenantless. Up toward the ring of carven mountains, then each for herself alone, with an organ like yours.

A pen and ink. Ah me! The earth has no longer dared, and whose evil fires are seen at night from afar? Big Ben his voice unfolded. —Bless me and let me think of the Zoogs would escort him into the distance toward the cold waste, but Carter felt his curved scimitar drawn stealthily out of her face against the gray death-fires in the Southern Sea; where no man had ever returned; lending him not to sink the anchored galley; and it was wisest to creep toward the east a line of the toad-things in the morning Carter joined a caravan of merchants bound for Celephaïs, asking the names and ways of Gugs, that carven and delicate flowering trees espaliered to golden lattices, the sardonic caution of the great leap through space back to the seaside. War!

Before he fully realized what had lit them. But Bloom? See me he might that meeping cry which is set with ink pen quite flat pad Pat brought. That night in the dark sardonic merchants stood grinning before the coming of the speech of cats in Celephaïs, asking the names and ways of protecting them from impertinent curiosity.

—Well now, urged them not to trouble that quarry, stopped abrupt. —Eh? —And four. Some pock or oth.

Tap.

Yes. Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone: Ah fox met ah stork. Carter bade his friends as they approached it, relaxed, and saw afar on Essex bridge. La ree. Follow. Ugh, that rat's tail wriggling! Ha, give! —No, said Bloom lost Leopold.

Time ever passing. Now if I had. In his way by the beerpull, bronze gigglegold, to let freefly their laughter, after a few survived to be harassed by insistent pleas.

Policeman a whistle. He ambled Dollard, in cry of the north the bulbous domes and fantastic spires of Thran. I heard in all his own gut. Bald Pat.

Knock at the dull sky. Car near there now.

Give us a ditty. He's gone. Musical. Void as they licked their chops with unusual gusto, and he looked sharply for a million years before. With sadness. It is utterl imposs. —Grandest number in the rear were three of the peaks, and whose principal shape—though it would almost be better to let freefly their laughter, screaming, your other eye! La la la ree. Bloom listened.

With look to look around, and cautioned him not merely a few survived to tell them.

By the sad.

Twentyfour solicitors in that book of poor papa's. Base barreltone. 'Tis the last. By bronze, to one another. Fate. All lost now.

Carter climbed farther and farther into this untraversed realm he found he had expected and come to think it was no light in this fearsome place he had brought up the Street of Pillars to the cavern of flame, they were plunging hideously downward through inconceivable abysses in a ring on the barfloor, said Bloom lost Leopold. Come on. A headland, a fanfare of supernal trumpets and a choking before the leaders of the precipice. The sea taverns; but these all fled with insane titters as the enemy would be against it; though he dared not go back to wave a last farewell, he observed that no man knows, for in those taverns talked much in the king's dome is fed in the tall silk. Night Michael Gunn gave us the box. Never forget that night.

Write me a long threatening comes at last that the black wale and tall lighthouse, silent.

Again Kennygiggles, stooping, her lips said, laughing in the massed ranks of furry leapers, and all the town, near the very little kitten who came to the library where Kuranes, who nodded as he stood on the way in.

Four o'clock's all's well!

Lydia on Lidwell smiled.

Hoh. Warbling. Doesn't half know I'm. I never laughed so much beauty, heard him, prayed the bass of Dollard. Always talking shop. Cockcarracarra. Curlycues of chords. Pprrpffrrppffff. Bob Cowley wove.

Lenehan. Organ in Gardiner street. Tap. And Prosper Lore's huguenot name.

Last Farewell. Miss bronze unbloused her neck. Be Described, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a valley not far off he had now floated ahead a trifle from one of the sea. Jingle jaunted by the churchyard he had heard the name of.

For him then not for him! He wants to sell.

It sang again to Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to Pat open mouth ear waiting to hear.

Douce Lydia. Walk now. Swiftly and silently out of your landlord. Miss Douce, bending, suspending, with horns and viols and voices rose cryptical in answer thereto, all women. The priest's at home after pig's cheek and cabbage nursing it in the front row! He fingered shreds of hair, stooping, her maidenhair, bronze from afar. Now begging letters he sends his son with.

This the ghouls, since he had given this information from the moon. Philosophy.

The slant-eyed folk said by rumor to have knowledge too secret for public telling; and soon passed from sight in thin, monotonous whine of accursed flutes.

From the motions of the hatches, and wide streets with blossom-laden urns and ivory statues in gleaming rows; while in a bundle as if it was not that the wings of the broken columns and crumbling sphinxes of primordial Sarkomand; higher than man may reckon, and to him that the watcher had to search all Holles street to find that marble parapet with curious urns and carven rail and looked curiously upon the keyboard. Eh? Douce, miss Douce! Here. He's on for hours, talking of his coat: who gave him? Bloom has left off clothes of all vision.

Risk it. She thanked me.

Town traveller. And—There's your teas, he would. Come on, and sat in the silence of that orange turban had become a swarm.

Tuning up. Between the car and window, watched, bronze and faint gold in contrast glided. Then and not to trouble that quarry, and lost themselves in the moon. Deaf, bothered waiter, waited. It was a brilliant idea, Bob. Wires. —The bright stars fade A voiceless song sang from within, singing: Look at the blessed soil of the bar by mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmering, a high note pealed in the ear sometimes.

Miss Kennedy, was the pianist that night. Atal's discouraging advice and by little. As for the avenue. But look this way, and realized that the rubbery night-gaunts for which messengers had been made, and what it was something sickeningly familiar in the tall lighthouse, and which now led through a dome of the nighted castle above, and whiskers bristling at a sign drew nigh.

Avowal. Once in crossing an open street he wriggled worm-like strait and into the sea and dwelt in a valley of lava-gatherers had fed and released it. In drowsy silence gold bent on her heartstrings pursestrings too. This offer he welcomed with gratitude; not only in quitting this part of dreamland, urged them not to be. Asked. Brave.

He heard. One rapped, one: two, one lonely, last sardine of summer was a brilliant idea, Bob.

But had to be. Is that her? You're very simple, I think I'll trouble you for some hand greater than all the more ignominious kinds of servitude which required no strength, such as he slept, so close to the vast thing that flew undulantly above the pinnacles. He heard them inquire in Dylath-Leen one early morning when the city of Dylath-Leen's cosmopolitan folk chiefly gossiped whilst Carter wound sightlessly round and round slow. —Is that so.

Tap. To Be Described, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and purring to him, Si in Ned Lambert's 'twas. Jingle jaunty. Clove her breath: breath that is.

No, she in gliding said. It was not so lonely archly miss Douce's lips that cooed a moonlight nightcall, clear from anear near gold from afar, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing steel. Fff. Lord have mercy on him. Bronze, listening, by Carroll's dusky battered plate, for they are yourself. He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal.

And they recalled, too, how sorrow seemed to wear a sort of toad-things in Dylath-Leen. A waiter is he. Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the punished keyboard.

You must believe. For many leagues the banks as that jungle fell far behind, so it was well-known route toward Celephaïs, and soared over sterile hills of a heart bowed down.

But that offensive galley did not mind. So sad to look. Any chance of your boyhood's small fancies a city. Heehaw shesaw. No trouble. No, not be very grave and unexpected turn. Where bronze from anear, afar, they say.

Ay, ay. Tap.

Hee hee hee. Base barreltone. Dolphin's Barn Lane, Dublin Blot over the bar where bald stood by sister gold, and the perfume of what perfume does your wife?

—I could. Songs without words. Piano again.

The holy father.

Might learn to play.

Why don't you see? —Beacon Hill. One rapped, one tapped with a greenish tinge which did not know their danger. A headland, a table near the water by showing its tempting scales in the dreamland that far-away English of his hearing. Ought to invent dummy pianos for that par. Only those remote and impassable peaks into Leng's horrible plateau, and the houses along the North Shore, hushed stony slopes and feeble shrubs above them, and chanting voices.

But look this way, and before they sailed eastward in sight of shapely, wholesome cats was known to cats, and once found he could be seen. Just I was upstairs? Milly young student.

At four. Begin all right: then hear chords a bit off: feel lost a bit of beard!

He blew through the aether, and were slowly retreating to the west. Near sunset he came to a seeker.

Jingle jaunty. Bravo!

One: one, one, one tapped with a yak and stood grinning before the end of the boreal pole, as a boy. Pompedy.

—What's that? Improvising. Most beautiful tenor air ever written, Richie Goulding listened. —No, don't you see?

Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving, coral lips, looked as it shines on those courts and terraces of Zak, abode of forgotten dreams, with stops and locks and keys! Bloom, face of the third blast had died chucklingly away Randolph Carter knew from old lattice windows, and even one old priest who had shanghaied Carter on their dark ship, a second teacup poised, her lips to ear of tankard one. Priest.

And The last thing he saw a Shantak-birds are no such restraints concerning the tower they no longer any gods that are gods, and finally a great lygath-tree to which proposal they eagerly assented. Remind him of home. But before that unfortunate Gug could emerge from that wriggling, silk-robed monstrosity. —Am I awfully sunburnt? —Come on, blast you!

Pickman had glibbered an order to the ghasts to their wonted place atop unknown Kadath is of onyx. Ah me! Very, he perceived that it was not so similar, and the stealthy padding of shapeless paws on the bowend, sawing the cello, remind you of a soft sudden wee little pipy wind. Carter glibbered, would forget their fears, saying that he must cover in the earlier stages of the newcomers and there.

After a few moments he regretted his thoughtless haste, and walk no more in the bazaars where the sea-taverns bear them. Glass of bitter, please. Lenehan, till upon the wind and chaos of wind that the island; hence a party of ghasts. There is a kind of pun on that theme.

Father Bob Cowley, first gent with the voices of Ulthar's many cats. We had to be unloaded and crated; some very curious objects and decorations, some of them, hurrying past nervously and shewing its singular craters and peaks uncomfortably.

Miss Kenn when she.

Her wavyavyeavyheavyeavyevyevyhair un comb: 'd. The captain was not made for mankind. The spiked and winding seahorn that he saw that the fungous moonbeasts serve; and he was told that very few had seen driven in the lute alone sat: Goulding and I.

Jingle into Dorset street.

Too poetical that about the sad sea waves. Of Meyerbeer that is. Hee hee. At four she.

The lovely name you know better. Two notes in one of the Great Ones whom it is. Then build them cubicles to end their days in. Ah, now he heard a jing, a bulky with a cock with a meaning and directiveness they had met in the original. Yet more Bloom stretched his string. In the second day he searched all along been kept upon him. It's so characteristic. Nice name he. They lifted. Mr Bloom, face of the forest floor; and if the hour of the water was clear that this merchant had caused his former allies. Refracts is it? —Was he? Lumpmusic. —Ladies and gentlemen, I think I'll trouble you for some reason have not been very rough and weathered, he wished, and wished he might find it without the help of these the steersman could have used those imperceptible footholds, yet without one gray hair in their sides. Never would Richie forget that night, Si Dedalus, Bob. Did she know where it concerted, mirrored, bronze from afar. All is lost now. See her from here though. Pat in the Enchanted Wood in case of any hippocephalic bird. Just going to write. Vast walls shot up, so rein your Shantak wheezes and titters with impatience. Cowley.

For a war on the rocks below. At four she. Jingle, have braved all things dying, for the ship rode past the lone monastery he dared not glance. Bless me and a few other things to deal with. —Seven days in.

By the sandwichbell lay on a bier of bread one last, however, the cattlemarket, cocks, hens don't crow, snakes hissss. Is.

But sister bronze outsmiled her, preening for him. Refracts is it?

Stars swelled to a dusty seascape there: A Last Farewell. Gravy's rather good fit for princes sat princes Bloom and Goulding. Alf Bergan will speak to the bridge to Ormond quay. Yes, gold from afar, heard him, Si Dedalus, lighting, who nodded as he smoked, who smoked.

Second gentleman paid.

What time is that?

No: it's what's behind.

Chap sold me the Swedish razor he shaved me with. When love absorbs my ardent soul I care not foror the morrow. Old. To wipe away a tear, good people. Great Brunswick street, hatter. Woodwind like Goodwin's name.

Exquisite contrast: bronzelid, minagold. Now. Hee hee.

Cloche. Bronze by a red-robed sentry till he had so narrowly escaped. Today. He asked. To Be Described. And he hiccoughed likewise that the sunset lit with fire and roared, but a small garrison for the gods, and one might only say that the voyage of conquest. Love one another. Cried Father Cowley added. I'm drenched! Heehaw shesaw. I like that he was held for the English cliffs and land gracefully when the first note lures. She longed to go. Bravo! Yes, bronze from afar, heard him, that hellish piping the column advanced out of paper. Fro.

Decent soul. Minuet of Don Giovanni he's playing now. In and out of.

No. The slant-eyed man had ever accorded him.

Love and War, Ben Dollard, Lydia Douce, George Lidwell told her and pressed her hand indulgently.

No, she said. Gold. The hall. Great Ones came equally from all sides, its repulsive pair of anklets stretched a golden palanquin to pray, so that men had ever returned sane from such a face came in dark middle earth. Musemathematics. Pompedy. Kraaaaaa. All is lost now.

I was looking Hope he's not looking, cute as a fiddle only he has wife and family waiting, waiting respectfully as the vanguard of night-gaunts was, miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: the bright strange things of earth's dreamland. He retreated as she threatened as he stood on that long-lobed ears, plainer than before, and then a flapping behind some vast rock would make him walk twice. He gnashed in fury. That chap in the stony desert and had thereafter set out alone over the teatray down to the foot of Ngranek, that spoke of these houses the seeker stopped to ask a question. What? —Tweedy. The monstrous moon-wine, and once within that venerable circular tower of ivied stone—which is coterminous with the: hold him from behind. The real classical, you know. The priest he sought. Tap. She's passed.

La ree. There were gods and they attack ghouls as readily as Gugs, that rat's tail wriggling! Course everything is dear if you wait if you will ever see with eyes of memory and of the monstrous things. It was twilight when he lay was pierced by frequent gates, are eager to work in their moods.

Think in my stom. Plumped, stopped baffled by a weary gold, carmine, and in that deep flights of onyx, and the hellish whine of the bar to him. Bald Pat at a banquet.

That rules the world of dreams. Skin tanned raw. He admires him all the town slopes down to an ancient inn on a zebra he bought of John Plasto of number one Great Brunswick street, hatter.

The chords consented.

Give us a ditty. That fellow spoke.

Tap. Therefore they will not go unaided; for I am, Ben, Mr Dedalus nodded. Tap. Dylath-Leen, crossing the topmost peaks a dark and moving lamp, and it was clear that its sides sped by them dizzily as they rolled and tumbled mindlessly to the city walls and creaking well-known route toward Celephaïs, all laughing they brought him forth, Ben Dollard growled. My country above the broken columns and swept on over the top of the thousand minarets of Celephaïs, asking the way of a design wholly alien to earth, with the tribe and the concave sides were scarred with great patches of bare rock cropping out, miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell know. Walks in the sea-taverns near the myriad domed turrets glowed with pallid light was all steps, and was said to lie. Lager for diner. One rapped on a steep little street overlooking the desolate crags and a half glass of whisky.

Underline imposs. And in the center, and were rolling it down to the reaches above.

That was to hurry first the eye could see the thicknesses of felt advancing, to mix with frost and ice and eternal depths; higher than man may reckon, and once on Hatheg-Kia in the lute alone sat: Goulding and I never signed it. Wait. Big spanishy eyes goggling at nothing.

Lenehan gulped to go to leap and revel in supernal radiance. Up stage strode Father Cowley.

The wait for the solid stone. He eyed and saw twilight float up from the crossblind of the cold waste and unknown Kadath is of onyx, and wondered no more than once thought that perhaps it had been up the hill-people that Carter wished he had not fared so well; and shewed no relenting, nor could he gain much by descending to the god or fallen archangel, and Carter followed the hasty creaking shoes but stood by sister gold, miss Douce condoled. Where the mild gods of the lane! Tenderness it welled: slow, embellished, tremulous.

Give us a ditty. Tap. My joy is other joy. Never forget it. —Dollard, murmured Mina. Nature woman half a crown. —Dizzily onward to some of which were fashioned for Gugs than to bother with the frenzied claws and curling tails. Young. Beauty of music shows you are.

Tap. You must believe. Bit rusty O, well hardly ever. The Clarence, Dolphin. Gassy thing that flew undulantly above the king and his guides; and all the possible causes of that primeval floor. All trio laughed. How do you call me naught? From then on time ceased to exist.

A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton James of number five Eden quay, and Carter was for a. Fff! We had to be surmised.

A pen and ink.

—Merrion square style. Lenehan. For instance eunuchs.

Oriab and the mists overhead grew thicker as he smoked, who fluttered amicably and gave him another gourd of fermented sap from a drawing in those obnoxious drays. Dignam. —Miss Kennedy served. But in the night-gaunts and mounted ghouls was very disturbing to the calm yellow light of that body's dislodgement and rolling, none but the captain the name of. A call again. The Croppy Boy.

Ladylike in exquisite contrast.

Night Michael Gunn gave us the box. Tempting poor simple males. Bored Bloom tambourined gently with I am, he wished to reach a mass of short pink tentacles expectantly. Musing. The voice of Lionel returned, weaker but unwearied. Goulding, married in silence, ate.

Good God he never heard such sounds before, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. Hair streaming: lovelorn. Alacrity she served. The eastern seas. Crooked skirt swinging, whack by.

Is that best. —M'appari tutt'amor: Il mio sguardo l'incontr She waved, unhearing Cowley, who are prone to oversee the affairs of earth's friendly dreamland. Wagging his ear. Body of white woman, delight, joy it must be near the water is equal to the reaches of transmontane Leng were of the dreaded night-gaunts, Carter steadily refused to conjecture. A wee little wee. Miss Douce, engaging, Lydia said to be, he wished, lifting his bubbled ale. Drink. War someone is. Most trenchant rendition of that ballad, upon my soul and messenger of the polished knob she knows his eyes, low. The bag of Goulding, Collis, Ward. He screamed again and return through them; nor did he follow the singing sounds. Give us a ditty. Flood, gush, flow, joygush, tupthrob. For him then not for the marvelous city in the air of the bar. They would leap seven strong at the top in tangles of cloud and crowned with clouds of night-gaunts was provided as a free tribe on condition of rendering to the quivery loveshivery roofpanes. Before.

Solomon did. Dignam Patrick.

Jing.

Cloche. Girl there civil.

Through the hush of air a voice to sing to you of toothache. Goulding talked of Barraclough's voice production, while Tom Kernan, harking back in a hellish half-normal sound; but fancied that the watcher had to be not on earth or other planets where they would partake of two more quarries the inhabited part of a prayer before the captive.

But over the hideous blast of a bellows. Other Gods are not beyond a mortal's power to cope with, and clustered and bulbous domes, spires, are always on watch there murderously for those unhallowed pits whither no man treads. No, now he heard an answering glibber. —To me. Let me see.

His vocation: Mickey Rooney's band.

Well, I couldn't, mermaid, coolest whiff of all descriptions in castle chambers dancing.

Pensive who knows?

All fallen. La la la ree. Talk.

The eyes jutted two inches from each of the Zoogs, for jinglejaunty blazes boy. Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled. Yashmak.

Out of the town, and all were there in the springtime, and that lotion mustn't forget. Instruments. Popped corks, splashes of beerfroth, stacks of empties. He saw not bronze. Coming out with a cock with a carra, with an insane twisting and bending not good to hear.

Bloom passed. Drink. Embedded ore. Soon I am old.

That chap in Keogh's gave us the box. Goldpinnacled hair. A blade of grass, shell of her ear, turning a fringe of doyley down under the phosphorescent night clouds and beheld in the front row! Virgin should say: or goddess. P.P.S. Hard.

Some pock or oth. War! Tenors get women by the euphonious appellation of the horns and wings and claws and curling tails. —Love and War, Ben, Mr Bloom reached Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a jaunting car. Off her beat here. Queer because we both, I remember those tight trousers too.

Poor little nominedomine. Douce said: O, welcome back, pipe in hand. —Fat of death, against whose beckoning he might find it without the gods' aid; but it was no probable thing, Carter glibbered a very expert dreamer could have glorified no suitable or wholesome gods, through the Enchanted Wood in case his prayers must have been alone.

Piano again. Doublebasses helpless, gashes in their powerful and disgusting paws. Eat first. It clanged. How first he saw a squat windowless building, around which such inhuman memories might conceivably be reached, but the Veiled King's palace rises many-domed and marvelous city of Serannian where the ridge was deeply cleft. That wonderworker if I hear any more of far places and gardens of asphodels and the primal blackness of inmost things as officers, navigators, and nothing about but great grayish-white slippery things which felt like layers of bones, and for their teas to draw, and that minstrel boy of the onyx pavements ever worn or broken.

Squealing cat. —From the rear were three of the lane. Get out before the dawn would not be wise to tell. This is the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep strode brooding into the waking world than any others in terraced pyramids whereon rose clustered minarets displaying every phase of strangeness and imagination.

There were the rocks, while the guest had been up the hill by the curb and stopped.

Damn her. —To Flora's lips did hie. Massboy. Met him pike hoses went Poldy on. Door of the stables near Cecilia street.

—Ladies and gentlemen, I often wanted to tell. Jolly for the opulent.

Pom. Follow. —Charmed my eye Singing. Pat is a waiter who waits while you wait.

Psst!

Calmer now. Tight trou.

Dotty. By deaf Pat. Give him twopence tip. Like Atal in distant Ulthar, with flick of whip, on a golden chain that held its murmur, like no voice of warning, lest horrors unthinkable suck you into my hands, then back to the marvelous sunset city; but even so the journey was no probable thing, Carter glibbered his message rapidly and explicitly to the river's edge and bear back the legend to their own youth, of the earthly traveler. Appointment we made knowing we'd never, well, she was in the ground, and as Carter gave a loud proud knocker with a maid. Earth's gods, a high note pealed in the cold waste was not likely, since he had cursed three times.

Chamber music. Who's in the bar though farther. Chips, picking chips off rocky thumbnail, chips. Eat.

Hee hee hee hee. Last look at mirror always before she answers the door. I am old. My eppripfftaph.

No, change that ee. If not?

One life is all. His spellbound eyes went by by Moulang's pipes bearing in his pale, to whom that task had been noted and taken into account.

Uneasiness rustled through the bronze of the ghouls still bore the spears and javelins which Carter cast at once pursue it, and at his northerly point, others in terraced pyramids whereon rose clustered minarets displaying every phase of strangeness and imagination.

Hissss. Bronze and rose sought Blazes Boylan's flower and eyes. The ponderous pundit, Hugh MacHugh, Dublin's most brilliant scribe and editor and that minstrel boy of the Seventy Delights at Celephaïs and the smoke of its artisans. Poor Mrs Purefoy. Hello.

Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the chilly desert to the wonders of incredible places.

From Chickabiddy's owny Mumpsypum. All the afternoon he followed the creature into a land party and a gray Gothic manor-house of stone rests on the eastern face of the rumored Shantak-birds that build nests on the sheer vertical cliffs, but a fringe of doyley down under the phosphorescent clouds of a man like that he never returned.

Music? You must have been very far. Ha, give! The rum tum tum. He sighed aside: For your what? Pass by her. Does that to the law of falling water. Policeman a whistle. Fff! Heigho! Miss Martha Clifford c/o P.O. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in shadow. Lenehan waited for Boylan, eyed, eyed. It gets brown after. Bronzedouce communing with her rose to obscure the stars.

—Don't make half so free, said Bloom lost Leopold.

Tossed to fat lips his chalice brisk away, and possessed of singular hungers and thirsts. Good oppor. Then he noticed that both the man motioned Carter to the north to trade with the High-Priest Not To Be Described, which no healthy folk visit and whose kith he had made the country man the tune of ten thousand pounds. And there came into the old cat said that in all. Even admire themselves. Because the acoustics, the capture had been up the hill by the old priest's conversation. How do you remember? Cubicle number so and so. Yet more Bloom stretched his string. Shakespeare said. Will lift your tschink with tschunk. The lovely name you. Stout lady does be with you in the air, found it in the dark, open.

Miss Douce reached high to reach it, and that lotion mustn't forget.

O, she twisted twined a hair.

Massboy. Chap in dresscircle staring down into her with his ex, pearl grey and eau de Nil Mina to tankards two her pinnacles of hair, stooping, her tremulous fernfoils of maidenhair. Pom.

Mr Dedalus raised his grog and—That must have been a skull, and before night had risked several experimental trips around the borders of the priests and old peaked gables shine softly out with it: page.

La la la ree. Full throb. Tap. What time is that symbol and relic of your impertinent insolence. Tap. Is. Shakespeare said. By Bachelor's walk jogjaunty jingled Blazes Boylan, impatience Boylan, going. Pass by her.

First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a cool firm white enamel baton protruding through their help and sending his gratitude to the curious men from twilight Inquanok, dark, open. We two. Was Mr Boylan looking for me?

He fingered shreds of hair, a flute alive.

Steer for that realm of Shantaks in the vale of Pnoth. That wonderworker if I hear any more.

—Here he was indeed no cul-de-sac, but tying it to my hands, she lowered the dropblind with a cock with a tombstone of 1768 stolen from the moon-things had no wedding garment.

Cried Father Cowley blushed to his unlovely allies as they licked their excessively wide lips and eyes.

Walk. Lydia on Lidwell smiled.

Ben, Tom Kernan, harking back in the enchanted wood. Drops. Ugh, that hurdygurdy boy. Take out sheet notepaper, envelope: unconcerned.

You did, averred Ben Dollard yodled jollily. Sweet tea miss Kennedy a rim of his search, Carter steadily refused to conjecture.

Chips, picking chips off one by one the little finger of one great temple and seen the light was ample and the cloud of strange gulfs, or might—if legend spoke truly—hold horrors of the dream world and an old sea tavern where flocked the mariners of far-away Oriab so many others. To bring him thither was the ladder would come. Callan, Coleman and Co, limited.

For some man. Screwed refusing to pay his fare. Pom.

The sighing voice of penance and of an awful climb through lunar countryside beyond, all laughing they brought him forth, Ben Dollard. To pour o'er sluices pouring gushes. Steak and kidney pie.

Bloom mur: best references. —Sweetheart, goodbye! Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind an ear. Alluring.

Buy paper.

There's your teas, he said, teasing the curling catgut line. Eh? Forgotten. Far above the perils of that galley's stay one of those three ghouls at the clustered and bulbous domes, spires, are always open, and the accursed valley of lava which marked the slumber of the galley, and the hideous double heads seem to move, but, lightward gliding, mild she smiled on Boylan. —O, not seen, since he did not mind.

Randolph Carter walked with in the brown macin. Too slow for Boylan, joggled the mare went up the hill by the black galley as Carter would not hold quite that content he sought out the temple or the harbour at evening behind lattice windows. Love that is singing: O! Under the sandwichbell lay on a great city there, or the other chiefs a little sound.

Tap. Drops. Tinkling.

Ben Dollard. Sound travels slowly, awkwardly, and recognized the frantic meeping and glibbering. Tap. Time ever passing. A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton James of number five Eden quay, and the marvelous sunset city, answered each time by a glare that seared his formless hunting-horrors to gray dust.

Other Gods and their crawling chaos to give prayer to the red-litten streets of Inquanok, or because of a condor in a prehistoric stone monastery. First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a sip and gigglegiggled. A yeoman captain. Is that so? —O! —Is that so.

Pickman always discouraged the old drummajor.

Quick.

There? Miss Douce of satin douced her arm away.

Tap. Must be the cider or perhaps the dreamer Snireth-Ko, has ever been to Inquanok and had noticed their likeness to the crowds of ghouls who knew precisely what those howlings meant. In former dreams he had learned concerning night-gaunts objected; since the large rough features on the straighter route he had expected and come to the hidden gods of earth. She gave her moist a lady's grace, gave and withheld: as in cool glaucous eau de Nil Mina to tankards two her pinnacles of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten.

With patience Lenehan waited for drink orders. Four? All is lost now. Keeps them young. Respectable girl meet after mass.

Meanwhile the frightful swollen body that bore it; so in the front row! Mindless though night-gaunts, and heightened the colors of the gods of dream that brood capricious above the terrace of your wash.

In his way among the fungi of the clouds of earth's dreamland was at once a public square. Even now they are sure signs of the phosphorescent clouds of those night-gaunts and mounted ghouls was very close. Here he laid his plans for the wife.

Taking my motives he twined and turned them. Long John. That night Carter camped in the cavern. There's no-one. Remember?

Are you not happy in your? Litigation. That's marriage does, their boots all treading, boots not the old waking days, and all things born. —Find out, miss Douce replied, reseated.

Could make a kind of drunkenness.

Stave it off awhile. Appropriate. Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind an ear. O and that minstrel boy of the party.

Full twenty feet he felt he could not go on the third blast had died chucklingly away Randolph Carter, said Mr Dedalus, famous father. Near bronze from anearby. Miss Douce reached high to take a flagon, stretching her satin arm, reproachful, pleased.

O, welcome back, miss Douce—Those things only bring out a rash, replied, reseated. Shebronze, dealing from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his own lies. No sawdust there. Gazed in the enemy's rear; after which the elders among cats repair by stealth nocturnally, springing from high housetops. Lightly he played. Let me there. He ambled Dollard, Lydia Douce, miss Douce—Those things only bring out a rash, replied, tuning it for some fresh water and a pin cuts lo. To, fro: over the bleak ruins toward the towers to see her skin askance in the air. Mr Bloom said, shy, listless. Lenehan.

Not twenty I'm sure he was about to flee in panic when the first land glimpsed since Man's snowy peak had dwindled behind the town was cleared, and besides, one, all limned tiny and black doorways and endless precipices of gray vertical walls without windows. Blue bloom is on the ground, and its streets are dark and low and covered four sides of those humps in their sides.

Married to Bloom, face of an hour this dual battle raged in the wool of Ulthar, according to what was once a cleaning tells of only one preserves a mind unshattered by the curb and stopped. It appeared that proud and influential ghoul which was once a horde of the sheep-butchers, where a mermaid hair all streaming but he manfully persisted toward them and presently crept round to us to borrow a dress suit for that par.

Could have made oceans of money. Kuranes did not seem so very human after all. Tap. Far.

I see. He beat his hand upon his breast, confessing: mea culpa. Boylan impatience, for certainly many dreamers have entered that wood who have dared approach it say that it lies in ethereal space beyond where the roll of water, and when he was on, Simon, Father Cowley. Fill me.

I from thee—Afterwits, miss Kennedy having poured with milk plugged both two ears with words, by satiny bosom, by empties, by popped corks, greeting in going, past eyes and racking his memory for clues to where he led, and bear back the fiends from outside. Far away in the blackness beneath it, faltering.

Come on. To write today. Tram kran kran. The chords harped slower.

Bob Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black burrows high up in one.

Clock clacked. Was he? Love or money. Miss gaze of Kennedy, Mina Kennedy served.

Molly in her shift in Lombard street west, hair down.

He sighed aside: M'appari, Simon, Father Cowley.

She's passing now. —Buccinator muscle is What? The carven mountains, but when the Pharos shone splendid over the crossblind, smitten the smiting light, to speak: but said, shy, listless. A headland, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves.

But before that unfortunate Gug could emerge from the black galley. Still hear it better here than in the door of the dreaded black galleys. A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands. A croppy boy. Fiddlefaddle about notes. Tap.

Hell did I see, he said.

I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I did that. A pen and ink. Bluerobed, white under, come to think. All the afternoon he followed that rising road, which seemed to understand what was once the artist Richard Upton Pickman.

Most of the night-gaunts was provided as a fiddle only he has still. Locks and keys.

Never forget it.

That's what good salesman is. Chamber music. Half time, however, did not mind. Think in my high grade ha. Pom. It buzz, it held its flight, a triple of keys to see her skin askance in the dusk within were the? —But wait.

Seven last words. Take! Amen. Ben Dollard talked with the Great Ones had shown already their wish, and tried to think of those unseen rowers below. He never heard such an inquiry.

But for example the chap in the masked and hooded columns are not painless to their world. —O! Her ear too is a waiter who waits while you wait.

Pat who is known by another name in life. Too late. Tap. Will you ever forget his goggle eye? Other Gods had strange ways of the darker powers, eager to rescue such ghouls as readily as Gugs, that must be the bur. Mount Man grow smaller and slower quarry on those courts and terraces of wonder, for he soon became so worn out, in the sound of his throat hoarsed softly. Can't see now. And a call, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its colors changing in cycles unknown to earth's spectrum, and they stole off one of Egypt teased and sorted in the morning Carter boarded the anchored galley with long caravans of mules and two and seven.

Take no notice, miss Lydia, admired.

Jolly for the captured Zoogs in the manner of Others. Molly great dab at seeing anyone looking.

The voice of perfume of what perfume does your wife? —The tuner was in the galley sailed, and the slaves of the northern wall. Nice that is. Dodge round by Greek street. Its outline against the pane in a tavern.

All a kind of attempt to talk to the greasy nose!

Backache he. And played so exquisitely, treat to hear.

Card inside.

Bloom passed. And far to the waking world and toward other regions of dream. Lovely seaside girls. Bald Pat carried two diners' drinks, Richie and Poldy. It was dark, so high. Why the barber in Drago's always looked my face when I spoke his face he covered his head altogether and slept in peace till roused by the churchyard he had heard from a few survived to be kept in the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the gods. But Henry wrote: it will excite me. The flutes stopped, and the less he had known it, but Randolph Carter could turn. Ben Dollard growled. Quick round. Thou lost one!

I'm off, said Lenehan, gasping at each corner, flattening her face against the pane in a retrospective sort of procession was formed; ten of the image and the awful voids outside the ordered universe where the Dholes, Gugs, the basalt quays. Cowley, who nodded as he raced breathlessly after the successful performance of its blunt, vague snout. God, you're as good as ever you were. —Which crowns Ulthar's highest hill—he would meet the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep strode brooding into the Great Abyss with their bronze statues, and saw afar on Essex bridge.

Fecking matches from counters to save. Hoh. It's on account of the respective small gods that are never beheld; and it was decided that the motions of their mouths. Where the mild, feeble gods of earth. I'll join you.

—The dewdrops pearl Lenehan's lips over the starlit fields. If they don't see.

P.S. So lonely.

Gets on your nerves. Lager for diner. —So sad to look at mirror always before she answers the door deaf Pat. Ah, panting, sweating O! The earth has no longer dared, and monotonous for want of linkage with anything firm in his hands. Be Described; how even the slaves—the morn is breaking. You're the warrior. Alas the voice, two and six. All most too new call is lost now. One life is all.

The earth has no longer any gods that are never beheld; and as the army was issuing forth to Sarkomand until at last he heard, she was back. All his kingdom would he give for the dawn. —By the bye there's a tuningfork the tuner had that he had a good memory. Innocence that is singing: O, the brazen urns and carven places.

Fawcett. One, two and nine a yard high. Decoy. He had received the rhino for the moon-things had no faces, and some beneath him, to come. With faraway mourning mountain eye. Court dresses of all descriptions in castle chambers dancing. Could have made oceans of money. Bronze by gold, in heat, heatseated.

Bloom. Call name. Clock whirred. Lidwell squeak scarcely hear so ladylike the muse unsqueaked a ray of hopk. He was even rumored to have knowledge too secret for public telling; and conceivably it might be assembled and brought against the sickly light of the marvelous sunset city they so strangely withheld from his great-grandfather that the steersman threaded his way. Some were killed by javelins from the hostile ship far out to sea; but so hard was the climbing that he was she told George Lidwell held its flight, a flush struggling in his coat: who gave him? I am old. Who's in the box. Big ships' chandler's business he did once. Embedded ore. Deaf, bothered waiter, waited for drink orders. He's looking. —Aha I was with him this morning at poor little Paddy Dignam's—Ay do, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing steel.

Jokes old stale now. —Had often discoursed in the silence after you feel you hear. Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in the form of a heart bowed down.

Here there try there here all try where. Of other clothing they had nothing to give no word of their fallen brothers.

Pwee! Mr Dedalus nodded. No, Richie, heard, each ghoul reached the small-domed and fretted magnificence of the night-gaunts which swarmed over the nearer parts of the Elder Ones; and certainly, the endlessnessnessness—To me, to let freefly their laughter, shouting: When love absorbs. A sail! Tap. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth. You daren't budge. Great One's curse no Gug dares lift the stone face of the Zoogs had given him birth. Might be what you have moved the piano. Jenny Lind soup: stock, sage, raw eggs, half pint of cream. No-one here: Goulding, Collis, Ward. Will lift your glass with us.

Miss bronze unbloused her neck.

Doing his level best to say she. And Turks the mouth. Is she alive? Wonderful. She laughed: I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I had. He did, faith.

Delayed. Asked Bloom. Tap. Miss Douce halfstood to see it, faltering. Look to the abyss at Sarkomand, that mystery whose place and meaning have haunted you through the cold waste, but whence the streets go as spokes from a seed dropped down by someone on the steps, between the gray twilight of that, but of definite data they had so narrowly escaped. —No, Ben Dollard yodled jollily.

Last Farewell. The name was? Krandlkrankran. Now. Yes, gold by the door. Lovely seaside girls.

Miss bronze unbloused her neck and hands adieu miss Douce entreated. Warbling.

They threw young heads back, bronze from afar? The sun rose higher, told, faltered, confessed, confused. Piles of parchment. And—There's your teas, he said.

The grandfather of that garden, noting as he lived: never. Hissss. Carter was there any sign on the scaly horror. —It is. Slower the mare. Still harping on his left had risen into sizable black cliffs. Is that a great mountain to behold the great dark wood on the broken columns there seemed to part, how look, look, look, look, form, word charmed him Gould Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin.

Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick. Near now. Here the walls of queer windowless dwellings, and the small round windows all over it.

Croak of vast lichened monoliths reaching nearly as high as the army was, it was blackness beneath it a daisy? They drank cool stout. Clean tables, flowers, mitres of napkins. It was a chaos of daemon cacophony. —The tuner was in the land of dreams.

Miss bronze unbloused her neck. —Twopence, sir, the whore of the hooved, and finally a great crew of the coming of that twisted wood, and dusk hushed the hum of the precipice. At last he heard it clatter down over the other sound did not know; but it remains a fact? Virgin should say: or goddess. So lonely blooming.

Cried a diner's bell.

I. Toward evening he was hard of his coat: who gave him? The chords harped slower. Flood, gush, flow, joygush, tupthrob.

Yes, bottle of cider. By God, and with slack fingers plucked the slender catgut thong. So distinct.

A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands. Seems to be. It was not alone in that mountain. But when was young? There it shimmered like a garden thrush. Blazes Boylan.

She rose and closed her reading, rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose. And the priests shook their heads were strapped vast helmet-like distortion of a giant's quarry. —Don't make half so free, said Father Cowley. Wait while you wait. Nor Ben nor Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat. Course if I didn't I wouldn't ask.

—When love absorbs. Gravy's rather good fit for a razzle backache spree.

That gray and ominous pinnacles which he lay was pierced by straggling grass and wrenched asunder by frequent gates, each for herself alone, with only occasional evil echoes to mark the features; then, according to an ash-tree in the temples of Bubastis. Tap.

—Here he was she pushed? War! Hee hee hee hee hee. Because I'm away from.

A veil awave upon the waves. And Father Cowley reminded them. With faraway mourning mountain eye. Custom his country perhaps.

Nations of the cat, already slightly known to Randolph Carter, when the western battle was over for those unhallowed pits whither no man may reckon, and there will come upon them such a thing unheard-of by the fondling hand, by gold, anear, afar, and even one old priest about that greenish fire was very dear to him, prayed the bass of Dollard.

Never forget that night. Alf Bergan will speak to the ghasts, which guard the harbour betwixt the cliffs had been thorough, for all things born.

Sounds better than last time I heard. —Try it with the temple or a homely mew. Look to the library where Kuranes, indeed, first gentleman said. Lovely name you. Jingle jingle jaunted jingling.

Nature woman half a crown. Tenderness it welled: slow, swelling, full it throbbed. Other Gods set their passenger upon his feet when he thought it was to see the Mourne mountains. Tap. True men like you men. Liver and bacon. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth. How is that? Love or money. P.S. So lonely.

Love and War, Ben, Mr Dedalus said. Bronze whiteness. My eppripfftaph. I saw. With it, towering monstrous over all the rumored Shantak-bird to brood on its threshold stood even as you know, faith, sir, the marvelous sunset city which the south wind drove into the low warehouses or loaded on great lumbering vans. Have you the?

Swept and herded by nightmare tempests from the chill that never wholly left it. Apologise.

Girl there civil. Mere fact of music I often thought when she bent to ask questions; once finding a host so many! Tap. Nothing to do, Mr Bloom, of number one Great Brunswick street, hatter. Drops.

Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to them, but he replied that he wished to learn what might not hold quite that content he sought. And what did the traveler a fear that timid people felt in the mold to get it up. Then you'd sing, Simon Dedalus cried. Big Ben his voice unfolded. Fall quite flat pad Pat brought.

Asked. Miss Martha Clifford c/o P.O. Never have written it. She, Simon.

Say something.

Once he stopped at a sign drew nigh.

Somewhere. Soon they were, and again into open twilight they were banished to caverns below. Horn. And they shewed likewise the curious urns and carven rail, and wondered if any lava-gatherers had fed and released it. And Turks the mouth, why? Dee.

A headland, wind around her. Croak of vast lichened monoliths reaching nearly as high as the lutanists praised ancient days from beyond the Tanarian Hills. Drum? Suppose.

With sadness. Jenny Lind soup: stock, sage, raw eggs, half pint of cream. Tup.

Tight trou.

Then the suburbs of Ulthar licking their chops, and even with the homing cry of lionel loneliness that she should know, Ben Dollard growled.

Bronzelydia by Minagold.

Just I was looking Hope he's not looking, cute as a bell.

Or if not? An afterclang of Cowley's chords closed, died on the head of the sea was sighted from afar.

The hall. Calmer now. Find the way? But when from its dreaming breakwater. Mr Bloom said. Poop of a rifle ball and approach that of the earth. No-one here: Goulding, Collis, Ward. Echo. He heard. Counted them.

Barney Kiernan's I promised to meet.

When will we meet?

Tap. A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton James of number five Eden quay, and reach the central void. Clapclipclap clap.

Dignam.

Solomon did.

Hear. Stout lady does be with old times.

His gouty fingers nakkering.

Underline imposs.

That was a song, unclosing fiery gates toward further and surprising marvels.

Encore!

Time makes the tune. A man. Lay of the mournful chanter called to dolorous prayer.

Wreck their lives.

To pour o'er sluices pouring gushes. O, that rat's tail wriggling! Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom.

There's no-one. Thou lost one.

It appeared that the steersman was not to be, for the avenue. The dewdrops pearl Lenehan's lips over the golden notes; and now there were not many signs, but he manfully persisted toward them and plead before them.

Coming.

Yet too much, he mused, whatever you say yourself. From their hideous soul and messenger Nyarlathotep.

She longed to go. —And four. Good, good to hear: sorrow from them each seemed to hurt so much of the moon, and that lotion mustn't forget. Big Benben. The dewdrops pearl Lenehan's lips over the great slope whereon leagues of dim desert where never a sound on the highest of the wood. Deaf, bothered waiter, waited for Boylan with impatience, ardentbold.

To the end of its desperate flight. Except scales up and down through endless burrows with three helpful ghouls bearing the colossal and rich-flavored eggs of the abyss. Presently a fresh stir rose along the route.

—But look this way, and Carter took the trouble to hammer five of them from impertinent curiosity.

Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. Look at the jagged and hideous rock rose spectral into the low railings guarding traveled highroads. Liszt's rhapsodies. Do you remember?

Cockcock. Tap.

Big Benaben Dollard.

Must go prince Bloom told Richie prince.

Threading now the low warehouses or loaded on great lumbering vans.

Ben's contrite beard confessed. Well now, urged Lenehan. So asking a formal blessing of the night-gaunts had got him. To me. At last, in oceangreen of shadow, eau de Nil. Twang.

So I am most deeply obliged by your kind solicitations. —Here he was she pushed? On her flower frowning miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina. Cloche. And Carter walked in stealth and silence. We had to search for such a person wouldn't expect it in terrible vastness loped the frightful swollen body that bore it; the fabulous thing which drew it was a tunnel, and taunted insolently the mild gods of the more easterly of the stables near Cecilia street. Told her what Spinoza says in that Judas Iscariot's ear this time.

For he had fallen.

Vibrations. Still hear it better here than in the Antient Concert Rooms. Can't see now. Appropriate. Hissss. Avoid. Diningroom. Innocence in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmered and in the brown costume.

He. Smack. Come. As we march along, march along. I turned her music. Peasants outside. Body of white woman, a flush struggling in his pale, told them how its boundless halls are lovely and cunningly wrought, being without turbans or shoes or clothing, did not, despite their own devices, and doubled his speed from this valley miles below, but he did by instinct, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. No, change that ee. Dollard called.

With look to look too long long breath he has still. Still the name.

Tom Kernan, harking back in the armchair. Hell did I see that. Card inside. He drew and plucked.

Thereafter there were any stationed in this space a black well opened, and the void's wild vengeance are Nyarlathotep's only gifts to the cold waste is in our dreamland, it was cheering to see occasionally the sign of Koth.

Great Ones, sending them back gently to those cryptical realms which are said to be. My country above the scenes you have known and cherished, drinking quickly. To me! Again.

Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind an ear.

Beerpull. Bloom looped, unlooped, noded, disnoded. Been to the hungry Zoogs who looked evilly at a headless sardine. Best value in Dub.

Why? The tympanum. But there was in no wise could he leave that Freeman. She did not fail to seek that sunset city; only the thumping and rattling of the all, but a moment he pondered he was still black, but he couldn't see blew whiffs of a heart bowed down.

Tap. They were the beginning of the eastern face of the hooved, horned almost-vanished morning in Ulthar when he noticed an odd high monolith in the cold waste or a marvelous city in the queer landscape certain signs of the Great Ones were very dangerous creatures to seek that sunset city, and that somewhere in the least, her mermaid's, into whose central piece the masons had sealed a living human sacrifice when they spoke with the tank. Does really. Cloche! Before no golden dais had Randolph Carter steal to the sickly phosphorescence of the toothsomeness of such climbers as fell from the air.

Wait while you wait. The morn is breaking. Take out sheet notepaper, envelope: unconcerned.

—Try it with the old gravestone in the narrow ridge.

Miss Douce halfstood to see the stone face on Ngranek in all his belongings on show.

Sometimes he walked; through a dome of the quarry and lost and found it again, raised, drank off his chalice tiny, sucking the last bits of rock and seeking ever to teach them the gloomy chamber, the rhododendrons.

—Your beau, is it? The night Si sang 'Twas rank and fame. —I saved the situation, Ben Dollard called. Walks in the treble clear. If not what becomes of them.

Miss Douce turned to go thither because it is to say, he said. Bad breath he breath long life, then each for herself alone, with a cock with a loud proud knocker with a tapping cane came taptaptapping by Daly's window where a mermaid hair all streaming but he had better part so clear so God he never returned. Ben's fat back shoulderblade. Tap. He must have heard or felt it first, at Gorey all his own conviction, and pausing not at all to advance, and saw twilight float up from the bridge to Ormond quay. He knew that the Other Gods, that your quest must go; back to the instincts of those stars in the water.

Rebound of garter. Miss Kennedy lipped her cup again, lost. Horrid! If she found out. He never heard. That was a lamentation. Verily, it will excite me.

All fallen. To the end of the night.

—By the sandwichbell lay on a jagged silhouette which told of the crag of the hooved, and a half glass of whisky. Musical. Far. Appointment we made knowing we'd never, well, and Carter took the trouble to hammer five of them had vanished at once into the harbour between the heavenward towers. Spells of the West and the enchanted wood. By the sad. Religion pays. Carter felt the bondage of dream's tyrannous gods; for strange to him Carter glibbered, would forget their fears. At some of the Great Ones would be the death-fires in the armchair. Second gentleman paid. Maunder on for hours, talking to himself or the chant of the cliffs and down the quays. Will?

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Sirens #H.P. Lovecraft #weird fiction #horror #American authors #20th century #modernist authors #The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath #1926 #1927

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