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fanficparker · 4 years

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Under My Umbrella | Tom x Haz one-shot

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Tom Holland

Word count: 5.5k words

Warnings: Swearing, angst, lots of tears, alcohol

Summary: The one where Harrison did the audacity to kiss his life-long best friend or his twin sister’s boyfriend.

A/N: Life is short and this is just a piece of fiction, why stop myself from posting it on my own blog?

PART 1 ♡

(Tom's POV)

"I am so sorry. OH GOD, I AM SO SORRY!"

I hear Harrison screaming on the top of his voice. My vision is blurry, the rain isn't allowing me to see much, although I am sure there is much more than just the rain pouring down his face; his tears were also streaming down along with it.

He had taken five steps away from me after kissing me in the rain and my world has already fallen apart. He is pulling at his curls so aggressively. He will hurt himself. I take a step towards him with my hands reaching out but he takes another step back.

He is drifting away from me. And I am drifting apart from myself.

I freeze on my feet. My heartbeat feels non-existent. I am confused. Am I dead or alive? If I am dead then where am I? Is it heaven or hell? It kind of feels like both.

Harrison has just kissed me. His taste is still lingering on my tongue. My head is spinning without even a single drop of alcohol. His touch did this to me. And now I am starving. Starving for more.

"I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have. Shit! I SHOULDN'T HAVE!"

"No... No... " I try to stop him but he's already running. My ankle is aching. I can't run fast, I can't catch his pace. Then, he slowly vanishes away from my sight.

"HARRISON! HARRISON... PLEASE STOP! Please stop... Please..." I scream, sinking down to the footpath. I was too late to scream. I was too late to stop him.

He's gone. He broke the promise.

***

I can hear those distinct lyrics as the soft music resonates in the air. It's the Ember Island's version— our favourite version. I am sitting here waiting for the interviewers to arrive but my mind keeps drifting off to the song.

"This is our song!" Harrison says as we are lying down on the bed.

"Umbrella? Really?" I ask, surprised.

He turns on his side and faces me, I do the same. His head rests on his elbow while my head is still on the pillow. We were looking at each other.

"Yeah..." His voice is soft. He hums and looks back at the ceiling while the music plays from his phone. He starts lip-syncing along with the lyrics, "Cause in the dark, you can't see shiny cars. And that's when you need me there with you, I'll always share. Because..."

"When the sun shine, we shine together. Told you I'll be here forever---"

"You are singing." RDJ chuckles sitting beside me. And I realise that I was actually singing. My stomach twists into a knot and my face gets warm.

"We can sing it together, kiddo!" He says, enthusiastically.

"I... er..." I try to stop him but he is already singing.

Why am I always late?

"Under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh..." RDJ is singing, he is nodding his head sideways and is peaking at me occasionally.

The song is the same but the voice is different. The lyrics mean different when Harrison sang them. In Harrison's voice, they meant something but right now they are just raw. Hollow.

***

We are on the same magazine cover.

Oh my god.

We are on the same freaking magazine cover!

'The Spider-man 3 star tells us about his secret power food', The Hollywood Reporter headline reads with my gym photo-shoot as the background.

There are three more sub-headlines to the cover, placed near the right margin. The second one says, 'Harrison Osterfield: The young British actor tells us about his inspirational journey as the young face for Agent 007. (Pg. 3-4)'

The rumours were true. He has done it.

Oh my god. And I am not even there to congratulate him.

"I am so proud of you. I knew you would grab it!" Harrison bounces on his feet while I stand near him, blushing furiously.

"My mate is Spider-man! My mate is THE Spider-man!!" He proudly yells and keeps his palms on my shoulders. When I look up into his blue eyes, they are glossy and act like mirrors. I can see myself reflecting through them. Then I notice a little pinch of sadness shining through them.

"Don't forget me though..." He says slowly. His energetic voice started sounding cracked. It made me think for a moment.

I gulp, "You can be my assistant. I-It will help you... gain experience in the industry." I was planning to ask him this since my role was confirmed because how was I even supposed to step into my new, more chaotic life without my biggest support system?

He pulls back his arms from my shoulders and looks at me with wide eyes.

"What?"

"Yes!... Also, you know... I-I am kinda afraid going on the journey alone." I bite at my lower lip.

Just say yes, I pray silently.

"Oh, div! You'll not be alone there. You'll have big stars. All those fancy people, fancy life-style and those fancy---"

"These fancy things will never come in between us, Harrison," I cut his rambling off. He pauses and glances at me.

"I am alone without you..."

I am always alone without him.

I regret not saying always, even though it doesn't matter anymore.

My fingers flip through the pages, my eyes land on his half-page portrait. He was wearing a black and white formal suit; his index finger is pressed against his forehead as he is bent forward while his were eyes boring into the front. They are staring into my soul.

My breath hitches in my throat. It's just his portrait but those eyes. Those eyes. I avert my gaze from the picture to the text. He talks about his journey from school to landing this role. He talks about his family, he talks about his journey as my assistant and then he talks about me. I can hear his voice even when it's just plain text.

'I cannot thank Tom enough. He pushed me harder whenever I slowed down. He pulled me up when I fell down. I really look up to him.'

No Harrison, you are wrong. You pushed me harder when I slowed down. You pulled me up when I fell down. It's me who looks up to you.

"Oh em jee!" The teen girl squeals seeing me at the airport. Harrison and I were walking, dragging our trolleys. I was wearing a cap, sunglasses and even had my hoodie on yet she somehow spotted me. She ran towards me.

"You are Tom Holland! I am such a huge fan of you!!!" She is still squealing as she takes out her phone, asking me for a picture. I was really sleepy and sleep-deprived at the same time, but it still made me smile. I lowered my hoodie and took off my goggles.

Harrison was standing beside me, grinning too. I was ready for her to take a selfie with us but then she walks up to Harrison and points her phone to him.

"Huh?"

I see a little confusion appear on his face.

"Take our picture," She says almost disrespectfully. I feel a pang in my heart, I can't even imagine what he must be feeling. But then he looks at me, takes the phone and smiles.

The girl stands beside me, and Harrison is standing in front of us.

"Smile..." He whispers, looking at me in the eye, his face breaking into a bigger grin and I can't stop the smile that spreads across my own lips seeing him smile.

But I know he was sad from inside and even when I was physically present there, I wasn't still there to make him really smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle.

I am really sorry for making you feel left out when all you did was try to make me feel included. Sorry for every time I left you alone. Yet, you always kept smiling. How do you do that?

I seriously need to learn a lot from you...

***

I had stopped stalking him on social media weeks ago. It was taking a toll on my mental health. But much to my dismay, I had a notification of him mentioning me in his Instagram story. My finger hovers over the unseen story. I click to see it.

The story was completely black, he has even tagged me in black. This story is exclusively for me. The song plays in the background.

No. No.

He can't do this to me.

He can't fucking do this to me.

"Now that it's raining more than ever, Know that we still have each other, You can stand under my---"

I threw my phone at the wall and the song stops playing abruptly. I am sure that I broke the device. But at least the song has ended.

I hate him for this!

How can he do this do me? How can he go so low?

I sunk down to the floor of my room. I am not just crying, I am screaming. Just like that night when I sunk down to the footpath...

Harrison and I were walking on the wet footpath. The rain was only getting heavier but none of us cared. The occasional honking of vehicles or the whooshing sound of tires against the wet concrete didn't bother us either.

Our shoulders were bumping against each other while we talked and laughed at stupid things. We sometimes did it, went out to have an ice-cream and talked about everything. It cleared off our minds and provided us with a break from our busy lifestyles. Harrison was holding the umbrella over our head as he was the taller one. A small portion of my other shoulder was slightly wet even when we were super close to each other. The umbrella was small, so I shifted closer to him. But I accidentally twisted my ankle due to the slippery path.

"Ouch!" I stop, putting my arm across his shoulder to balance myself, lifting the injured foot in the air.

"What happened?" He asks in a voice full of concern, stopping his motions.

"My foot. I think... I got a sprain."

"Oh, Tom. I tell you to be careful." He says and hands me the umbrella while I shift towards the wall, supporting myself. He crouches down on the empty footpath and unties my sandals, holding my foot in his hand.

"At least I didn't break my nose this time." I chuckle but it ends up as a whimper when he twists my ankle.

"It looks mild," He declares, re-tieing my sandals and stands up. I smile at him in gratitude but he wasn't smiling back. My expression changes to reciprocate his'. Then I realise that he wasn't properly standing up. His knees were slightly bent and his face was at the same level as mine. We were staring at each other. He took a step closer to me and suddenly all my senses were shutting down. The only thing I could feel was how close he was to me, how the scent of his aftershave was the sweetest smell I have ever inhaled, how his eyes were staring at mine, how they flickered down to my lips, how they closed, how the sound of his shaky breath made my heart shiver, how his lips were feeling against mine, how his breath tasted of vanilla and chocolate...

My limbs lost all their strength and the umbrella fell down, drowning us both in pouring water. His hands came to hold mine as he interlaces his fingers through mine, giving them a little squeeze.

He was kissing away the water droplets off my lips. I didn't do anything. I just let him. Or maybe I was kissing him back but it was all... so natural. I have never felt so calm and protected in my life. The way his lips rolled over mine... I was completely intoxicated.

There was something intimate about rain. Something soothing. Your ears are drumming with the pitter-patter sound that you can't hear the regular hustle-bustle. For once I felt like Harrison and I were absolutely alone in this world. I liked that feeling.

But we weren't.

That's when the reality hit him and he panicked.

I was dating his twin sister.

PART 2 ♡

(Harrison's POV)

It's 5 am and I am still not sleeping. My headphones are plugged into my ears while I feel like an absolute piece of shit. Not just I have done the forbidden audacious task of falling for my best friend but also the heinous crime of kissing my sister's boyfriend.

Lily doesn't even know why Tom broke up with her after a relationship of over a year and that too, over the phone. She has no idea that the person she trusted so much for consoling her, the one she chose to cry in front of, the one she chose to hug, the one she chose to share her pain with was actually the sole creator of the pain. Her twin brother was nothing but a snake.

The day after I kissed Tom, there was a knock at my bedroom door in the middle of the night. As soon as the door opened, I stumbled back with what force Lily hugged me. She was crying into my t-shirt. Her behaviour confused me and an instant fear of something bad happening to her settled at the bottom of my heart; my brother instincts made my fists clench. I wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone who had hurt her this way.

"Tom broke up with me," She utters in between her sobs. Her words acted like salt being rubbed over my open wounds.

Turns out I was also a hypocrite. I didn't kill myself.

I was helpless. I felt both like the criminal and the victim at the same time.

I hugged her back tighter, hiding my face in her hair.

"I am so sorry, Lily. I am so sorry," I whimpered and kissed the top of her head as she snuggled closer to me.

She thinks my sorries were of sympathy. No. They were my apology. But they feel hollow just like my heart and existence...

***

Out of so many editions, The Hollywood Reporter apparently, chose to put me and Tom on the same one. Seems like nature has decided to pull me inside the deepest guilt trap possible. I lock the magazine in my cupboard. I no more have any desire to look inside of it.

I haven't slept for the past twenty-four hours. I am so nervous. I feel so insecure. I want to talk about me landing a significant role to him. I know it's just me playing James Bond's younger version in a long flashback and not the real James Bond, but still...

He is the only one capable of calming my nerves after my mum. But sometimes mum couldn't, sometimes it's not her field of expertise. Sometimes only a friend could help you.

Tom was roasting marshmallows in this garden when I entered and sat beside him.

"What's up champ?" He says, not even looking at me.

I was quiet and looking down at my lap when he finally notices and turns to look at me.

"How's it going?" He asks. I look up to meet his soft brown eyes, instantly melting at the sight.

"Not well... I dunno... I feel weird. I don't know if you will want to hear my rant but--"

"Just vent to me. My ears are always open..." He says, patting my knee.

I nod my head. He knows exactly what I want. He listened to all my rambles with zero interruptions even when my mouth was stuffed with marshmallows, without judging me or passing any opinion...

Turns out the asking for help from Tom option doesn't exist anymore, considering he had blocked me after me mentioning him in that blank music story and now my and his names are bouncing all over- #1. The old fashioned, not being used for what it was first designed for: Instagram; #2. The infamous, super political, the lifeline of democratic announcements: Twitter; and #3. The safe from boomers, modern version of fanfiction dot net: Tumblr.

The fans think they know better about our situation then what I and (probably) Tom knows.

'Tom Holland and Harrison Osterfield have unfollowed each other on Instagram!!!' reads one of the fan posts.

I didn't unfollow him, it's him who blocked me and that's how Instagram works. Our mutual following, likes, comment and tags on each other's posts are automatically removed.

'No, they haven't unfollowed each other. One of them has blocked the other!!!' reads the reblogged version.

Holy Shit! This user is far more observant (or a stalker) and knows how Instagram works. I know Tom isn't very good with the working of social media, but it also turns out that he doesn't know how this tabloid fan culture works too.

P. S. All these triple exclamation marks on the fan posts are making me freak out.

Also, I am so grateful that they all are unaware about Lily and Tom dating and their break-up, else they would have dragged her into the controversy too.

Thank God.

I have blocked the supposed tags they tag me with and limited my comment section, so I don't have to deal with any kind of questions, speculations or hate in general.

I feel bad for Tom, he hasn't done that yet. I don't even know if he knows there's an option for it. It can seriously degrade his mental health.

I wish I could tell him.

***

It's kind of awkward when people are watching you eat and in my case, my mum and my two sisters are gawking on me instead of eating their own food. Woman's stare is always intimidating and I am blessed with three female pairs of eyes on me.

"You know... You don't have to block Tom just because he broke up with me." Lily says, sitting across the dining table.

That almost made me choke on my food and drop the fork on the plate. I could already feel the glimmer of interest sparking in mum's and Charlotte's eyes. It is as if they all were planning to have this conversation with me for a long time.

But wait... Does she think that me deleting Tom from my life is because of her break-up?

Oh my god!

Was there too much miscommunication between us?

Wait...

There was no communication from my side.

"Harrison?"

It was my mum this time. She keeps her hand over my shoulder, her voice sounds super worried.

"What is it, Hazza?" She asks, lovingly. She speaks as if she knows it is more than Tom and Lily's break-up. But I don't know how to tell her...

The next moment, mum has shifted her chair near me and had engulfed me in a side hug. Soon Charlotte and Lily walked up to me and were covering me from all sides. That's when I realised that I was crying. No. I wasn't just crying, I was sobbing. It was even difficult for me to breathe.

I need air.

I excuse myself and got up. They don't ask anything, maybe in an attempt to go slow with me. I really appreciate the gesture.

***

That's how I end up in this pub, pouring my heart out to a stranger. He's carefully listening to me, while occasionally sipping his drink and nodding his head. It really feels good to be listened to. I am telling everything to him from the exact beginning and how I fell for my best friend and then he started dating my sister and then how everything came crashing down...

"That's really fucked up, friend!" He comments in his Indian accent.

He was a trans-man who found me sitting in the corner with a cigarette in my hand. I wasn't even smoking but lost in thoughts. The stick was almost going to burn my fingers when he came and slapped it away and now he was listening to everything I was saying.

And then he's narrating his own sad love story to me and oh my god it's so much worse than me, yet he's pretending that I am the worse affected.

"And that's how she killed herself and I couldn't do anything..." He finishes as I blink. Like a fish, my mouth opens and closes, I instantly gulp my beer in one go in order to not look like a fool who has nothing good and uplifting to reply.

"That's really sad..." I somehow manage to say.

"Yeah. It is..."

I seriously need to go, else I will breakdown crying. I excuse myself and leave, I am not even drunk enough which sucks.

***

There is a guy walking in front of me on the pavement and he's really really drunk, unlike me. I really want to reach home fast and lay under my soft blankets but this guy is walking, occupying the whole pavement, stumbling on his feet with every step. He stumbles harder this time, about to fall face-first on the concrete. I rush forward and catch him.

My hands feel as if they were made of hard ice when I see his face.

He chuckles, "I know you are not Harrison... but I am seeing him everywhere. So funny... haha..."

"Tom..." I whisper and he starts to cry. He seriously looks like shit. His shirt is all wet and hairs are super messy. It's hard to even see him like this. I throw my arm around his shoulder and place his hand around my neck and get him straight on his feet. I try my best to walk him to my house.

Mum was terrified of seeing Tom like this, so were Charlotte and Lily. Although, Lily helped me carry him to my room, while he was babbling some unintelligible stuff.

We lay him over my bad.

"You should change his shirt, it's really dirty," Lily suggests and walks out of the room, giving us privacy. I intake a sharp breath as I drag the half-asleep, completely drunk Tom to sit up on the bed. And before I could pull his shirt up, he's puking over my chest. I back up.

"Sorry..." He mutters and falls over the mattress.

I gotta' change my shirt too.

My hands reach to the edge of my shirt as I try to pull it up but then I see Tom, and suddenly it feels wrong. Hasn't he seen me shirtless like thousand times before? And he's not even completely conscious... Yet, I turn my back to him and change into a new jumper. Then I struggle to get Tom changed too, making him wear one of my hoodies and then throw both our dirty clothes to my laundry basket.

"You should wash your face and brush your teeth. It will feel nice..." I suggest, not sure if he was even listening to me. I again get him down on his feet and carry him to the bathroom where I splash cold water over his face. He drinks some water too. And then he's brushing his teeth, a little messily though.

As we complete, he refuses to go back to my room and instead, tries to sit on the bathroom floor, too tired to walk back. The next moment I find myself lifting him up with my arms tucked below his knees and the back of his neck. He's heavier than I anticipated but when he holds my shoulder and snuggles close to my chest with his warm breath hitting directly over my neck; my knees feel like noodles. I try my best to not look down at his face or fall down and successfully carry him back to my room and get him back on the bed.

"Haz, I need to talk about something..."

I flinch hearing Lily's voice. I turn on my feet and see her standing by my door. Warmth rushes to my face, realising- she must have seen me carrying Tom in my arms...

I swallow and walk towards her as she walks outside the room and shuts the door behind us.

She takes in a jitterybreath, "I really think..." She hesitates for a second, "Tom likes you... more than a friend and more than how he likes me..."

"I-I-I---" I try to speak but only a ragged stammer comes out, not expecting this conversation at all.

"He always talks about you and when he finds me wearing your clothes..." She fidgets with her fingers, "He gives me extra attention and... asks me not to remove them while we have... sex..." She pauses, looking embarrassed. I try not to react and stay still, listening carefully.

"I think the only reason he was dating me was that I look like you..." She finishes, knocking out all the air from my lungs.

"Why-why are you telling this to me?" Out of a million things I could say, I chose this.

"Because..." She looks straight at my face, "No one looks at a person as you look at Tom unless they are madly in love with them."

"But then why did he date you?" I ask with a heavy heart.

"... Cause it's easy to be... straight?" She speaks, her lips pressing into a thin line. I think for a moment.

"B-but what about you---"

"It's all about you and him right now. And anyway, he loves you and not me. You don't want your sister to end up with a man who doesn't really love her, right?" She asks, hopefully.

I inhale and nod.

"And I won't want my brother to not end up with the man he really loves..."

***

For the first time, I don't feel guilty, rather I feel some burden lifting off my chest. I walk inside the room, remembering my conversation with Lily. Tom was fast asleep on the bed and that makes me smile. I take out a blanket and cover him with it, switching off the lights. As I was trying to move away, his hand grasps my wrist making goosebumps rise over my skin.

"Can't we even... not share the bed anymore?" He speaks, sounding tired.

Suddenly, I am again feeling guilty. I turn on my feet, his hand was still gripping my wrist when I get into the sheets beside him. I prevent looking at his face. I am too weak for that stuff, especially when he sounds already half-sober.

His hand slowly slips off me and I clench my eyes shut.

***

I am sure that I was lying on the bed unable to sleep for several hours now. It's raining outside, pouring heavier with each passing minute. But it's better than the silence because seriously when the raindrops weren't tapping against my windowpane, all I could hear was my jittering heartbeat, heavy breathing and the sound of Tom's own breathing.

I shift underneath me, turning on my side to finally look at Tom.

Now that he's sleeping, he won't catch me staring, right?

He was sleeping on his side with his arm tucked below his head, facing me. My fingers slowly slide across the skin of his face as I breathe in deeper and rest my palm over his cheek. My thumb softly strokes his smooth skin while my pinky was playing with his ear.

His eyes flutter open, lashes resembling butterfly wings. Those freaking pools of chocolate. Once again, I was frozen on the spot.

How fair it is that people can be naturally born with eyes as soft and as brown as those?

"Haz..." He whispers my name and I feel the knots in my stomach tying.

"Why did you run...?" His voice is quiet but sounds serious. He seriously demands an explanation. But I am just staring into his eyes, not speaking anything.

Because I did some outrageous friendship destroying shit and running away was my way of escape, albeit, it just made everything much worse...

"I am sorry," That's what I say, finally. He huffs at my words.

Then he shifts closer to me, my heart clenching tighter than ever, my armpits sweating disgustingly.

"That's not the question I asked..." He says, wriggling a hand out from under the covers and putting it over my face, stroking my skin and playing with my ear, just like I was doing a few moments ago.

I lick my dry lips, swallowing softly.

"Okay, wrong question..." He smiles lightly, "Why did you kiss me?"

His grin appears to tease me. I am already overwhelmed by the closeness when he's asking me such questions. I try to divert the question as I avert my gaze, suddenly unclear of how long an eye-contact should be maintained.

"I thought you would be mad at me... You blocked me and---"

And then Tom shoves his head forward, pressing his lips against mine. My mouth splits open at the contact, an embarrassing puff of air escaping.

Tom's other hand is quick to find my arm from below the sheets as he slips his fingers through mine, while his other hand is busy tracing a thumb across my jaw. It's weirdly soothing. The sound of the rain tapping against my window makes it even better.

My eyes are shut as he tilts his head, pressing his lips tighter, his tongue licking at my bottom lip. He squeezes my hand, making me gasp. He sees the perfect opportunity, sliding it inside my mouth while I am a whimpering mess. His breath smells and tastes of mint from the toothpaste, eliciting tingles in my abdomen.

I lurch forward, trying to kiss him back but he's swift to pull away, lips separating with a soft popping sound. My eyes flutter open at the loss of contact.

"Ask me why I kissed you?" He mumbles against my lips with a big, confident smirk.

Son of a...

How can I ever forget about the surge of confidence levels in him after there is some alcohol in his system?

"Ask..." He repeats, more forcefully this time making me look directly into his eyes.

I breathe in, "Why..."

He raises his eyebrows and I fight the urge to roll my eyes back.

"Why did you kiss me?"

He chuckles and softly pats my cheek, pulling away his hand from my face but the other one continues to hold my hand in his.

"... 'coz I wanted to. I wanted to kiss you."

"Did... Did you think of Lily?"

His face turns serious at the question, almost sad. He shakes his head.

"No..." He pauses, looking at me sternly. His Adam's apple bobbles in his throat, "When you are with me I forget about everything else."

A tear escapes his eye, sliding though the side of his eye and falling directly over the pillow. He clenches his eyes shut, squeezing my hand tighter.

Drunk Tom is also emotionally unstable...

"I am sorry Haz. I can't love her when I am already in love with you." His voice sounds so wrecked, so broken... I just pull him to my chest, pulling my hand out of his grip and wrapping it across his torso.

"I understand why you ran... And yet I kissed you again," He speaks in between his sobs.

I don't know why but his words made me smile. Maybe because he understands, yet he did it. It's so courageous. He's so brave. Like it's us against the world.

"Lily understands," I tell him. He stops sobbing abruptly, his body freezes as if he's unable to comprehend my words.

"Huh?" He asks in disbelief, pulling away from my chest and looking into my eyes.

"Yes. She does. She just told it to me." I smile wider, swiping the tears off his face while he blinks.

"Really?" He utters, voice creaky.

"Yes!"

He keeps staring at me like a frightened animal. He is still not believing me. It made me chuckle.

"Yes, div! Come 'on just believe me!" I insist.

His mouth parts, tongue poking out. He's silent for a minute as I notice the changing expressions on his face.

"She did not!" He exclaims.

"She did!"

"Oh god. Am I this obvious?" He laughs, probably assuming my conversation with Lily to be something funny. Not his fault though. I cut him some slack, considering all life he's been surrounded by three brothers in an easy relationship not the complicated and competitive one I share with Lily. Although with Charlotte it's all super smooth.

Still, the sound of his laughter feels good. I can't complain.

This time I pull him into a kiss interrupting his giggles. I am going to keep kissing him till his lips swell. But all we both are doing is smiling into the kiss, unable to hold the contact even for a few seconds.

But then again, now I have plenty of time to kiss him like that later. Right now, it's this moment that matters. It's Tom who matters.

No more holding back...

_______

Taz taglist: @hazmyheart // @justasmisunderstoodasloki // @tommysparker // @just-a-littlebit-of-everything // @thenoddingbunny-blog // @calltothewild // @viagracex // @httplayer // @slytherin-chaser // @perspectiveparker // @catkeeperthetall // @god-knows-what-am-i-doing // @its-a-leap-of-faith-kid // @emmaloo21 //

#hollerfield #hollerfield fanfiction #taz #torrison #tarrison #harrison osterfield #tom holland #tom x haz #tom holland x harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #tom holland fanfiction #harrison osterfield fanfiction #tom holland imagine #harrison osterfield imagine

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celosiaa · 4 years

Text

steady, love (chapter 4)

Summary:

Martin is not doing well.

Jon is there with him through every step.

(because I became obsessed ™ with the idea of Martin dealing with the physical and emotional aftermath of leaving the Lonely)

Chapters 1-6 are up on ao3 under the same username!

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

WARNING: brief depiction of panic

Jon pulls the car in park as they return to the cottage, and once again, Martin bolts—slamming the door behind him with enough force to make Jon jump. Left alone now, Jon sighs deeply and rests his forehead on the steering wheel.

Foolish. Foolish foolish foolish.

You knew better.

You knew.

He slams his hand on the steering wheel thrice before picking up his head. Martin occupies his peripheral vision, still standing but doubled over, hands on his knees.

Jon does not want to get out of the car.

(two hours previous)

Driving through the countryside awakened emotions in Jon that he thought were long since dead. The greenery of it all, the rolling hills, dotted with the occasional farmhouse or cottage—something about it made him feel…

Serene.

…I could actually see how Martin might want to write a poem about this.

Turning his head toward the passenger seat, he finds Martin gazing out the window, eyes crinkling at the corners to give away his hint of a smile.

Warm.

Jon turns on the CD player, and Martin’s “lo-fi charm” begins to play softly from the speakers. Martin turns his head, eyebrows raised in surprise, before his face melts into a smile.

“You packed these?” he whispers, voice still ragged.

“I thought it might—just—you seemed out of it. When we left, I mean. I thought they might help…ground you.”

Jon can feel Martin’s eyes still on him, although his own gaze is focused on the road. Peripherally, he sees Martin reach toward his burned left hand where it rests on the steering wheel, and takes it carefully. He then begins a gentle massage, fingers working over where some soreness remains from his encounter this morning, then over the length of each finger, before kissing the back of Jon’s palm.

Jon is a puddle.

Martin looks extremely pleased with himself, and doesn’t let go of Jon’s hand.

As they enter the village, Jon can sense a shift in Martin’s mood. Though he still has not let go of Jon’s hand, he sits up straighter now, eyes glued to the people walking along the narrow streets. It’s not crowded by any means—especially compared to the streets of London—but Jon must admit, it is rather a shock to recognize that they are not fully isolated, not even here.

Looking up, Jon sees dark clouds rolling in from the east.

It will rain soon, the Eye tells him unhelpfully.

They drive around at a leisurely pace until Jon finally finds the shop. It’s a tiny, cramped little thing, and the parking lot is filled with shoppers hastily unloading their groceries as the sky begins to weep. Jon puts the car in park and turns to Martin, who is still staring out the window with an unhealthy flush.

“Twenty minutes maximum,” Jon says softly. “Just twenty. Will you be alright?”

His gaze remaining fixed, Martin nods determinedly before taking a grounding breath. At last, he turns to Jon, eyes still glassy, but—

Warm. So warm.

He leans forward, hesitating for just a moment before pecking Jon’s cheek.

Jon smiles then, placing his hands gently on Martin’s face, brushing his fringe back as he does. They look deeply into each other’s’ eyes for a moment, unhurried, before Jon plants a kiss on Martin’s lips. To his dismay, Martin jumps bodily, pushing Jon’s chest back in alarm.

Oh Christ what have I done?

Jon immediately leans away from Martin, eyes wide in horror.

“Oh god—I-I’m so sorry Martin, I should have asked—”

Martin hold his hands up, shaking his head.

“You’ll catch ill,” he whispers, eyes full of concern.

Jon freezes, momentarily blinded by relief, before exhaling a brief laugh. Taking Martin’s hand in his, he says,

“If I do, then that’s alright.”

He kisses the back of Martin’s too-warm palm.

“You’ll just take care of me, then.”

Martin’s flush deepens, and a sunny smile creeps onto his face. Placing a hand behind his head, Jon pulls Martin’s head forward and plants a soft kiss on his forehead before getting out of the car, leaving a blushing mess of a man in his wake.

Martin hides his face in his hands, more grey tendrils spilling out of him. He giggles, of all things, which turns quickly into a punishing coughing fit. But he hardly minds, giddy grin remaining fixed on his face.

I must look really daft.

Attempting to force his face into some semblance of normality, he turns to look out the window again, spending several minutes watching the shoppers with their trolleys and their bags and their children. It strikes him, suddenly, that their greatest worry at this moment was the rain. The rain.

Must be nice.

…

…are you really jealous of people just minding their own business? Jesus, Martin.

With a sigh, Martin tips his head back against the seat, and notices absently that the rain is becoming steadier on the windshield. It’s relaxing, gentle, calm.

Martin closes his eyes and drifts away.

He awakens with a start, some uncertain amount of time later. The rain is pouring down in sheets now, thudding against the windshield so hard it echoes through his skull. Trying desperately to see through the endless grey, he sees nothing, no one, not even a stranger. Just him and the car and the grey.

Please just leave me be, please

His breath begins to come in ever-shortening gasps, and he leans forward onto his hands, head pounding.

I can’t see I can’t see I can’t see I can’t—

Jon glares at his watch impatiently, the bright green of his eyes reflecting back at him sharply.

Of course. Of course it would be pouring the rain, and it’s been well over twenty minutes.

Of course.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, adjusting the heavy bags in his arms once again. Next to him stands a young mother with one child seated in the overflowing trolley, another swaddled in a carrier slung over both her shoulders.

The Eye pulls at him, begging him to See what horrors the child in the trolley dreams of each night; what hurt he has suffered, even as such a young thing. Some sick part of Jon—or is it really Jon?—is desperately enticed by the meal before him—his mouth floods with saliva, he’ll do anything just to be satiated—

Jon squeezes his eyes shut, bowing his head.

You can’t have it.

It is not for us.

He attempts to direct his focus on the groceries in his arms, distracting himself by planning for their meal. Some kind of soup is most definitely in order, he’ll make that first. Unsure of what ought to be part of his vague notion of “soup,” he had purchased an array of vegetables and beans that he thought looked appetizing, and threw in some vegetable stock for good measure. Thankfully, he had remembered a conversation he’d overheard years ago in which Martin had argued with Tim over the values of vegetarianism.

Jon smirks.

Always going on about “good cows.”

With any luck, after the meal, he could coax Martin into taking the mountain of medicines he’d purchased. Something for the fever, at the very least. Maybe then he’d be able to get some dreamless, healing sleep.

Feeling a bit steadier now, Jon looks back up, in the hopes that the rain has let up. It hasn’t, of course, so he tries his best to see Martin through the curtain of rain.

Over thirty minutes now.

Jon Knows this without checking his watch.

Something is scratching it’s way out of his skull, and Jon can no longer hold it back.

T͉̟͇ͤͭ́̓h̥̟͚ͫͤ͊ͬḙ̲̞͑ͣ̍́ ̞̼͓̯͋͒̔r̖̮̙͑̓ͯͬa͙̹̭̘̳̺͐i͎ͤ̋̍̑̂̾n̞͕͕̞̅͆͛ ̪̥̥̻̇͒ͫî͎̰̖ͤ͒ͩs͚̱ͥ͗͊̈̓ ̤̪͋̽̇͂ͣw̙̙̟̰̃ͬ̈́r̺̤̙ͦ̈̂̆ȏ̳̗͈͛͛ͅn̽͂͗ͨͧ̉͒g̠̅̊͋ͭ̓ͅ,̦͍ͩ͊ͨ̚ͅ ͔̹̼̥̽͗̂J̫̖͙̳͊̇ͭo͎͖͓̥̫̒̎n̲̩͆ͧ̾̅̓.̘̼̲̬ͩ͂ͭ ͖͇̦̺͌ͧ̌ ͍͈̮͑̾ͪ͒C̮͖̝͊̄̐̽å̺̹̺ͤͧ̚n͚͉̰̘̫ͩ̃'̫͛̈́̅ͤ͐̚t̪͚̞̫͇̅́ ̥̗̩̙̻̿̌y͓̞̤̻̠ͮ̚ó̩̹̣̅͌͋u͓̤̝̘̹̒̋ ̙͓͙ͮ̾̽͛s͎͍̾̆ͧͦͮe͚͔̫̒ͪ͐̋e͖͕ͨͪ̈ͭ̄?͖͙̲̳̰͂̏

Static explodes through his mind, permeating every thought with anxiety, leaving him breathless.

I̯͕ͩͭͧͪͩt̗̹͉̽͗̄̂'̣̮̤̅ͣ̅͗s̞̣̃ͫ̏͐ͅ ̜͉͈̞̽͊̀w̗̯͔͋̏͆͊r̖̙̈́͐͂ͯ̉o̖͔̟ͩ̍ͨ̒n͕̮̪̐̎̏̑g͖̐̉̏̀͑̅.͇̺͓͒͆̾̏

It is, isn’t it.

D̟̹̫̽̅̓̚o̲̤̟̒ͧͨͅn̯͓͕̤̽̀ͭ'̻̋̍̏̂̔́t͙̬̙̰ͤ̉̎ ̱͙̯̝͑̑̾y̹̱̽͑̎ͅͅo̲̠͍̼̻ͯ̅û̘̖̯̆͐ͅ ̯ͤ͆̂͌̏ͅN̫͚̺̫̞̅ͫĖ̯͚̠͈̤̇Ē̖̪̺͓̈́̚D̠͙̘̏̈́̇͂ ̤͇̭͕̻͋̄ẗ̙́ͮ̋͂̔̚o̤̲̻ͭ̌ͣ͐ ̙̖̬̖̓̄̐s̙̙͓̺͖̣̋e̯̦̱̳̗ͣͮe̮̲͖̪ͧ̇ͧ?̟͇̦͗͗͆͗

D̳̤̪͆̉͋̿o͈̮̥̿̆̐ͮn͓̺̽̄͋ͫ͆'̘̯͎̊́ͮͅt̠̟͉͗̓̀̃ ͉͐͒͗ͦͫ͂y̦̣̞̪̍̍͑o̥̫͍̒́͛̔ȕ̻̜̑ͫ͛̚ ̻̳̰̝̈ͪͨn̠͚̾̏̆͛͂e̒͒͆̋ͥ̐͐ë̤̻͎̘́ͦͤd̥̟̜ͣ̅̾̀ ̪͚̟̦̎̎̇t̯͓̻̱ͭ̾͛ŏ̖̠̫̇̍͋ ͔̑̄̿̋͋ͮp͉̬̲ͩ͛ͨ̂r̙̝̰̦͑̓̒o̫̤̤̜̍ͪ͌t͔̟͚̻̝̽̅e͚̲͙ͫ̑ͭ̂c̫̳̹̿͆̂͂ẗ̳̦̩̦̯́ͦ ̞̱̉ͭͨͦͯh̰̣̺̆ͯͪ̈i̤̘̬ͭͣͭ͛m̗ͫ̈̽̃ͪ́?̳̩͊̋̇ͨͩ

He doesn’t want it, he doesn’t want this. He wants to refuse the Eye its every wish, but he has to Know if Martin is alright, he has to he has to he has to—

He does.

He sees Martin sitting in the car, head in his hands, trying to control his breathing, when suddenly—Martin jolts. Slowly, ever so slowly, he lifts his head—

He looks directly at Jon.

Jon’s head begins to split.

He stumbles, back in the shop now, wincing and trying not to drop his bags.

“Alright there?” he thinks he hears the woman next to him say.

He doesn’t respond. He knows he has to make a run for it now.

Martin knows what he’s done.

He dashes through the parking lot, ignoring the rain soaking through his shoes, nearly slipping as he reaches the door. As he throws it open, he hears a loud BANG as Martin slams his body into the passenger side door, eyes wide and terrified and—

Betrayed.

Jon slows his movements intentionally, setting the bags on the seat behind them before lowering himself to sitting, and closing the door.

“…Martin?”

Martin is still gaping at him with those wide eyes, beginning to hyperventilate. Jon reaches out a hesitant, shaking hand toward him in a gesture of comfort, but—Martin slaps it away rather forcefully. Jon inhales sharply at this, a bit shocked at his anger.

“I-I…sorry, I…what can I do? How can I help?”

Gaze never leaving him, Martin shakes his head rapidly before doubling over into painful, gasping coughs that must be tearing his throat to shreds. Tears gather in Jon’s eyes as he watches, utterly at a loss for what to do, Knowing how much joy the Eye is taking in this moment, drinking in all of their pooled sorrow.

Martin recovers some ability to breathe at last, but his eyes have not softened.

“Just—drive,” he chokes out between gasping breaths.

Jon complies without another word.

(present)

He has to get out eventually.

Might as well be now.

Glancing to his left again, Jon sees Martin standing up fully now, pacing back and forth in front of the cottage, and he makes his decision. He lifts the groceries from where they had been knocked on their sides due to his speeding, and closes the car door softly—enough to alert Martin to his presence without startling him.

Again.

At the sound, Martin stops pacing, standing with his back to Jon, overlooking their neighbor’s field filled with cattle. The gravel crunches under Jon’s feet as he approaches, careful to stop before getting too close. They stand in silence for nearly a minute, and Jon takes some comfort in the fact that Martin has not sent him away.

At last, he turns, teary eyes boring into Jon’s.

“That? Cannot happen again,” he rasps, with as much force behind it as his voice will allow.

Jon nearly drops the grocery bags in astonishment, relieved that Martin seems to want to talk this out.

“Y-yes of—of course, Martin, I-I’m so sorry, I just—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Jon,” he hisses.

Jon snaps his mouth shut immediately.

Martin sighs, running a hand through his hair before replying with a slightly-softened tone.

“I just…don’t. You can’t do that. Not to me. Understand?”

“Yes. Yes, I..I’m sorry.”

“Good. Let’s go then.”

Martin marches quickly toward the cottage, leaving Jon staring after him. Jon knows that this is far from over, but makes a decision to be grateful for small progress. Hitching the bags up on his hips, he follows Martin inside.

#tma #tma fic #sickfic #jonmartin #fanfic #tw panic #my writing

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dennou-translations · 7 years

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Violet Evergaden: Chapter 10

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, support the creators by buying the official releases here.

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Translator Note: Here’s a warning beforehand to avoid confusion – this chapter was written with POV switch for some reason. The narration swings from first to third person within every one or two chapter intervals. I honestly thought about translating it all in third person, but that felt like lying to the readers, so I left it as it is in the original work.

The Demigod and the Auto-Memories Doll

On that day, the sky was overcast since morning, white clouds blending with pitch darkness. Rain struck the land as the Sun set, thunders rumbling, in a weather stormy enough to shake even windows protected by iron bars.

“It’s become cold, hasn’t it?”

Although it was the beginning of autumn, the temperature had still been warm as of late. Perhaps due to it abruptly going down, the nun whom I had been reading scriptures aloud with stood up and started preparing the fireplace that had been unused since spring.

I dropped my gaze to the scriptures we were halfway through with, and then scanned the room. A bed with a canopy. A gold-frame painting of mythological gods. An antique mirror stand. A deep shadow was cast over all of them. The atmosphere was somewhat grim.

“Hey...” As staying silent was dreadful, I tried calling out to the nun, yet was interrupted by a booming thunder. The sound was deafening enough to crack the soil. It sent chills through my entire body from within the silk robes I wore.

The navy-blue fabrics with golden embroidery of said robes were suitable for the austerity of a god’s child, but did not match me. The same went for the circlet of the Sun being enveloped by the Moon that rested on my head, that room, everything...

I stood up from my chair and walked to the nun’s side.

“Everything is fine, Lady Lux. This region has always been often hit by lightning, so there are lightning rods installed around the Utopia. Besides, even if it were to strike us, nothing would happen to you, Lady Lux. Your honorable body will be safe until the Day of Guidance four days from now.”

At the words that came with a light smile, I could only laugh bitterly. That was because I was unable to deem them either good or bad, as they were simply neutral words of comfort.

“Excuse me.” the voice of another nun came from outside the room. It was most likely the one in charge of the administrative management and security of the Utopia.

“Is anything the matter, Lisbon?”

“This rain caused the nearby river to flood. Crossing the bridge over to the harbor side in these circumstances is unmanageable...”

“We have stored enough supplies to survive through even the winter. There should be no issues, right?”

“No, it is not that... Since the crossing has become impossible, a traveler who was wandering this land has come seeking shelter in this Utopia. She asked if she could stay until the storm calmed... There is no way we could treat a lost child with disdain. It was all right to welcome her into the gates, but... that traveler...”

Seeing as the eyes of the reporting nun shone in delight, I concluded that something had happened. “Is she a ‘demigod’ like me?” after asking, my heart started racing from fear mixed with joy and sorrow mixed with anticipation, so violently that it ached.

“We have not conducted any probation, so I cannot affirm it, but... her figure is the splitting image of the goddess of combat, Garnet Spear. She is exactly as described in the scriptures.”

“Rainy days are ominous, so isn’t someone that comes by in times like these a mere human instead of a ‘demigod’? I believe I should recommend she departs to the lower world immediately after the tempest settles.”

My voice might have been stiff. Although I was praised and worshipped as a ‘demigod’ in that utopia, I did not have communication skills. However, I thought I had to do what I could for the sake of that traveler.

The two nuns looked at one another.

“Either way, let’s welcome the traveler. She must be freezing in this rain.”

“I-I want to meet this person as well.”

“We’ll let you greet her after you arrange yourself. Please, Lady Lux, be at ease.”

With that, the nuns left me in the room and took their leave in a haste. As the door was latched, it did not budge even as I pushed it.

“Hey, open up. Isn’t there anyone here?”

I could not hear the sounds of people in the corridors. I sighed grievously. As I had nothing else to do, I took a peek at the window. I did not have a panoramic view due to the window bars, but I could perfectly see the front gates.

“Ah.” My eyes reflected the figure of a traveler standing outside without any rain gear.

There was a fair distance from the room I was in to the ground. I kept observing her warily while believing that there was no way she would perceive my stare, yet she promptly moved her neck to look straight at me. It seemed my breathing would stop. The fact that my gaze had been noticed was frightening, but more than anything, the reason was that I could tell, even from far away, that the beauty of that traveler was a gift from God.

That was the first meeting between I, Lux Sibyl, and Violet Evergarden.

That isolated island contained something mysterious. The name of said island surrounded by sea and separated from other continents was Chevalier. There were about a hundred islanders in it.

As it was, the island was blessed with natural resources, and there was no contact with the outside world except for passing ships. The main characteristics of Chevalier were the waterfalls and ponds found throughout its territory. And among them, the most prominent was the great waterfall on the peak of an abysmal mountain in the center of the island. The maximum drop distance was of about a hundred meters, and there was no one who could float up if swallowed by the plunge basin.

Aside from the great waterfall, there was one more peculiarity in the island of water and greenery named Chevalier: a bizarre fortress erected by stacking irregular stones on top of one another. It was said that such spire devoid of uniformity, which artistic architecture had been created with the intention of not being labeled as either Oriental or Occidental, had suddenly started being built by a lunatic. In reality, no one knew whether that was true or not. Until a few decades before, it was a secretive building, left untouched as it was. One day, after a group that had purchased a corner of the island suddenly migrated to it at once, the community already living in that island started calling them “Cult House”, while the fortress’s inhabitants themselves called it “Utopia”.

Sister Lisbon, who had received the task of guiding the traveler that had wandered into the Utopia, was fixatedly staring at the entrance of a spacious porch that served as the Utopia’s front gate. What she was observing was not the state of the storm outside but the female traveler as she undid her slovenly hair. Its golden strands were glossy from absorbing rainwater. Her complex braids delated its real length.

In her hands covered by black gloves was a heavy-looking trolley bag. Under the Prussian blue jacket that she took off was a snow-white ribbon-tie dress. Perhaps due to being so wet, it stuck to her bodyline perfectly, and even those of the same sex would have trouble averting their eyes from the sight.

The woman was a beautiful person with a somber gaze, and her figure, softly wet from the rain, happened to look as pure and lustrous as a fairy. However, she was enveloped in a somewhat outlandish atmosphere. Despite her fragile appearance, a bottomless, raw strength was present somewhere within her.

“I will be in your care.” Although the woman’s voice was by no means loud, in such a quiet place, it resounded more exquisitely than it usually would.

Lisbon led the woman to a room used whenever there were visitors. She sat on said room’s sofa by a marble table. Maybe because of the current season, or because building was made of stones, the air in the room felt cold.

“I am the administrator of the management of this ‘Utopia’. My name is Lisbon. We of Utopia welcome you, who were once lost.”

The outer corner of her eyes full of wrinkles and creases, Lisbon was clad in black robes along with a white wimple, which was what everyone of that place used as hood. It was a default nun outfit that often could be found anywhere in the world. Except the clothing of the Utopia’s nuns had the crest of a serpent being skewed by a large sword embroidered in the chest area.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Violet Evergarden. I am grateful for this favor. As soon as crossing the bridge becomes possible, I shall take my leave.”

Although Violet had not said the word ‘cold’ even once, her skin was clearly blue. Being considerate, Lisbon put more firewood into the fireplace.

“Thank you very much. May I dry my bag?”

There were probably very important things in it for her to prioritize it over her own clothes. When opening the bag, Violet took out a book wrapped in several cloths and handkerchiefs. Upon a closer look, it seemed to be a book-shaped accessory case. There were letters inside it. A sigh leaked from Violet’s lips.

“Are these important letters?” Lisbon asked, and Violet choppily spoke about her circumstances.

She was an Auto-Memories Doll, and had come to the island on request. The work had already been done. Along with writing the customer’s letter, she had also accepted to deliver it, and though all she had to do was meet with the postman to entrust the letter to him, she had been caught by the storm.

“So you are from a postal agency. Our Utopia is an ally of people, no matter who they are. Now, it is all right for you to dry your bag, but should you not warm up your body as well?”

As a white towel that had been prepared for her was placed over her head, Violet looked like a bride with a veil. Once she was given nun clothes as a replacement and finished changing into them, she was finally soothed into a state of being able to talk in detail.

Lisbon resumed the conversation simply, “Since we have become acquainted, let me talk about us as well. We of Utopia are an organization that reverences every God whose name is cited in worldwide mythology.”

The vigor of the rain outside seemed to increase, and a thunder could be heard in the distance.

“The main purpose of Utopia’s activities is to further the diffusion and worshipping of worldwide mythology, and what we dedicate most of our strength to is the preservation of ‘demigods’. Miss Violet, do you know about demigods?”

Violet mutely shook her head.

For a second, as if cutting the room in half, a flash of lightning filled it with white brightness and soon disappeared. At the intensity of the noise, Lisbon wound up putting herself on guard a little, but the Auto-Memories Doll in front of her merely directed her eyes towards the window as if not seeing anything out of ordinary. As seen from the side, her orbs twinkled. Lisbon coughed, making her gaze return to where it was before.

“A demigod is a child born between deity and a human. In our scriptures, there’s a famous legend about a demigod. Love happened between a god and a person... look here.” Lisbon opened a huge, old and familiar book that had been left on the table. It seemed to be one with many religious paintings. Turning over countless pages, she stopped at half of its length. “Let’s read the first section... ‘The goddess of knowledge, Roses, descended from the Heavens to watch over the development of people’s civilization, and slipped onto the Earth in the form of a young human woman. She could not afford to let her identity ever be discovered. However, when Roses was changing from her human form to her goddess one in order to go back to the skies, she was seen by a traveler. The man swore not to reveal it to anyone, but asked to spend a night with Roses in return. Roses accepted that wish and returned to the Heavens at dawn, yet not even a year passed before she reappeared in front of the man. It was because their child, a demigod, had been born. Roses had a husband back in Heaven, and fearing his jealousy, she entrusted the child to the man. The demigod left behind inherited Roses’s rare intellectual power, but was murdered after earning the envy of people who drowned in self-conceit and carried pomp to the extreme. Earnestly, Roses simply awaited for her child to pass by the gates that led to both Heaven and the Underworld...’” Lisbon’s pale finger showed the illustration on that page. “These heterochromatic eyes. One side is red, the other is golden... and long, lavender-grey hair, as if a single drop of purple had been poured onto silver. This is the remarkable appearance of the goddess of knowledge, Roses. She’s said to have taught words to humanity when it had just been born.”

“Is that the beginning of demigods?”

“It’s not just this. Worldwide mythology is true, and demigods are real as well. The greatest proof is the demigod of goddess Roses, Lady Lux, who lives in this Utopia.”

By her own experience, Lisbon was used to rebuff and sneers when saying such things, but Violet did neither.

“Why couldn’t Roses let humans know that she was a goddess?” she simply asked a genuine question that had come to her.

Lisbon smiled satisfactorily. “Good point. Since the past, gods and beings that possessed the gift of preeminence were glorified by people and their existences were feared, but at the same time, they were objects of reliability. Moreover, the power of being glorified attracts envy. That was the case of Roses’s child. Other than in this legend, she left behind several other children of men.” After saying that, Lisbon turned the pages again. “However, the eventual results of that were not positive... In reality, Roses was not supposed to let go of her children. Demigods are unique both in the Heavens and on Earth. However, in the world of humans, the power they inherit from the gods stands out. For their sake, it’s better for them to dwell in the Heavens. That is why, when we find a demigod, we hide and protect them from society. Until it comes the day of returning them to Heaven... This is off-topic, but Miss Violet, was your name taken from the flower goddess Violet?”

“Yes, it seems so.” Perhaps because she recalled memories of the parent who had named her, Violet averted her eyes.

“Still, as I thought... you really do keenly resemble the goddess of combat, Garnet Spear.” With a gentle scraping sound, Lisbon pushed the scripture in front of Violet and opened it.

Displayed there was a goddess in white armor holding a sword. With her golden hair flowing free, she was staring into the distance. Her eyes were blue and stunning. She definitely was very similar to Violet.

“This illustration is a religious portrait made by a famous painter, and it is said to be his best masterpiece. Garnet Spear is loved by many sorts of artists, and her image was given numerous forms. Here in Utopia, there’s a room decorated with artworks of worldwide mythology gods; allow me to take you there tomorrow. I will tell you the anecdote of Garnet Spear later as well. Miss Violet. There are other things I want to tell and ask you about. That’s right, if you please, shall I give you a cameo of Garnet Spear as a sign of our closure?” Standing up from her seat once, Lisbon pulled something out of the room’s chest and soon came back. “I believe it is suitable for you to have this. It’s a cameo brooch made of white agate by one of the Utopia’s nuns. This is a selling item exported to the continent to pay for the expenses of our activities.” Fitting in the palm of her hand was an oval-shaped object with the figure of the goddess sculpted on a white agate stone.

Grasping the emerald brooch attached to her robe, Violet said, “I... already have this.”

“Even if you don’t put it on, you can leave it at hand.”

“No. I do not wish to have any brooches besides this one.”

Her attitude could be considered stubborn. Lisbon retained her smile, but inwardly clicked her tongue.

——No need to hurry. First, show affection, preach our teachings and let it sink in.

Lisbon’s gaze had become not that of a nun who served the gods, but that of a hunter.

One day passed after that person appeared before my eyes during a thunderstorm. The rain continued intensely pouring outside, so going outdoors seemed very unlikely. After morning prayer had ended, as I was told that I was supposed to eat at the indoor garden instead of my imprisonment room, I had to think a bit about what to do. That was because I had exchanged conversations with other demigod candidates up until then.

——Just the usual scheme.

The demeanor of a demigod living in a utopia was something wanted from me.

“Lady Lux, this is Miss Violet, who works for a postal company. Because of this bad weather, she is relying on the Utopia.”

The one whom I had observed amidst those lightning bolts was far more fine-looking as seen in person at close range. Violet Evergarden. She had a quiet beauty that did not disappoint.

There was no fountain in the indoor garden, but the grass and flowers arranged in bowls were put close together so as to stage a small forest, creating a pure atmosphere. The place was often used for entertaining people who came from the outside world to the Utopia. It was open and cozy, making the Utopia naturally more comfortable.

“This is the demigod whom we are currently protecting in this Utopia, Lady Lux Sibyl. We found Lady Lux about seven years ago... When we heard rumors about her appearance and went to where she was, we saw that she was the splitting image of the goddess of knowledge, Roses, as you can tell. On top of that, Lady Lux was an orphan and did not know her origins... she did not know her father, either. Most likely, she fell to the Earth after being birthed by the goddess Roses for some reason. It’s unfortunate...”

“She really... has the same looks as the illustration.”

“You, too, are similar to Garnet Spear.” I replied, and Violet just nodded expressionlessly, seeming neither happy nor upset.

Both of us resembled gods.

“This is truly a wonderful thing, you two.”

The place was mostly a collection of fake plants. We had breakfast together on the seats set in the garden and had a harmless and inoffensive chitchat. I nonchalantly talked about how life in the Utopia was superb. Violet seemed not to be interested. Her attitude implied that she was more concerned about the sounds of the heavy rain outside.

I did not know much about the work of Auto-Memories Dolls, so I was surprised to hear that it consisted of women traveling alone around the world as amanuenses. They had to care for the letters of their clients above anything. I came to understand that as she always had her bag with her.

——Incredible. I can’t... do the same at all.

I could not set a single foot out of the Utopia.

At first, I did not intend to take the conversation too far, but upon second thought, it had been a long time since I had last chatted with a woman close to my age, so the pace of the talk wound up accidentally quickening on my end.

“Miss Violet, what do you do on holidays?”

“I stay on standby. I wait for the next job.”

“You surely live in a big city, right? I admire those who are able to see various shops. You go outside often, so do you like staying home better after all?”

“I do not particularly like or dislike it. If I have a goal, I go outside.”

“Such as hanging out with a friend?”

It was strange. The more we talked, the more I wanted to know about her.

“I do not have friends.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Her manner of speech was curt, but I contrastingly got a good feeling from it. Saying things honestly was always better than hiding lies and keeping up a caring façade.

“Hum, but I also don’t have any, so it’s okay.”

“Is this something that must be confirmed?”

“Eh?”

“You said that it was ‘okay’...”

“R-Right. It’s weird to say that it’s okay, isn’t it?”

Pondering on whether I had spoiled the mood, I was feeling regretful, but Violet denied that. “No. That is not it. I had been wondering if this was not actually the case. To tell the truth, my superior was also worried about it...” Violet nodded with a serious face, as if there was something she really had to think about.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, he said something similar to your question, Lady Lux. It seems it is ‘normal’ to have friends. I do not understand the concept of ‘normal’ very well... I am not troubled by not having any, and I do not know how to make one.”

“Do you have meals with people from your workplace or stuff like that?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

“How about starting from there? For instance, having a talk like this one...”

“Will we become friends if we talk?”

“I wonder...”

“This is very difficult.”

“It is...”

“Yes, things that others... do naturally are very difficult for me.”

“I totally understand.”

Violet started slowly but surely asking me questions as well, about what I did during the day, if I could see colors the same way with both of my eyes even with them being heterochromatic, and what I did on holidays, just as I had asked her. I answered those only in the way I could.

“Lady Lux, do you not go outside?”

“No.”

“So you are always here?”

“Yes, until now, and from now on.”

“Is that the mission bestowed upon you, Lady Lux?”

“It might be better like this. After all, demigods are not supposed to descend to human lands.”

“I was... told a little about the mythology. It is because you might become involved with unfortunate happenings.”

“Yes.”

“Lady Lux, were you unfortunate when you were outside?”

“I was poor and alone... it’s true that I needed protection.”

“This is not a land of humans but there are many humans here. Even so, is there anything preventing the effects of misfortune?”

The breathing of the people in the place – myself and the nuns serving us – halted seamlessly. Her way of inquiring did not seem to be that of someone who was digging for some sort of information.

“I... wonder.”

“You do not know?” A simple question. An innocent line of thought.

“No, that... that... Miss Violet. Why... do you... ask?”

Sometimes, things like that were the beginning of a turmoil that would cast discord over peaceful moments.

“No, I apologize if it is something challenging to answer. I was merely thinking that you did not have to force yourself to stay here if you were ill-fated here as well.”

It was a situation that I, who only spent my days thinking about when scary times would be over, just as I was waiting for that storm to end, could not cope with.

“Am... I... forcing... myself?” while speaking, I could not help but be curious about the stare of the nun by my side. I could feel a pressure from her gaze that threateningly seemed to order me to “not say anything unnecessary”.

“I was told you could not leave here for the rest of your life. But you talked about your admiration for cities...”

“That’s right... I indeed said that. However... in any case, it’s impossible.”

“What is?”

“I cannot leave this place.”

“Why?”

“It’s not allowed. Since I’m a demigod...”

“Not allowed by whom?”

“Eh?”

“Who does not allow it?”

“That’s...”

——Aah, no good.

“Lady Lux is a worshipped demigod. Is there anyone above you here?”

——Don’t expose it.

“The fact that I can’t go out even though I want to is... because...”

——Don’t say any more than that.

“Because...”

The sound of palms clapping ensued. I looked at the nun in fear. Having forcefully stopped our conversation, she had a cheerful smile on.

“Lady Lux, Miss Violet, it has become cold here. Shall we move to somewhere else?”

As the talk was interrupted, Violet’s lips suggested she had something to say, but she silently complied. It was because I was begging with my eyes. She was gradually realizing that place’s ambiguity.

——Hurry and escape. Once the nun turned around, I said so without voicing it. I wondered if she understood. I hoped so. If it was now, she could still make it.

Yes, I was confined in that place.

I proposed to the nun, “Sister, can’t we show her the premises...? Like, the room with the images of the gods, and other things. She must be bored only waiting for the weather to clear up.”

“That... is not open to the public.”

“Still, I want to show it to her. I want to see it as well. See, since I don’t have much time...”

The nun’s mouth seemed to be about to muster rejection, yet she wound up giving permission, “That’s right. You will only stay on Earth for a little while longer. Surely, there are other nuns who wish to see Lady Lux. Miss Violet was summoned to see Lisbon after we are done, so she will have to take her leave halfway, but until then...”

I knew that nun had a soft side to her. She had always taken care of me ever since I had been brought there. She probably had a bit of affection towards me. I was grateful for that, but at the same time, extremely afraid of it.

“When I think about how the time we have to talk like this is coming to an end, I feel very lonely.”

Afraid of how much all the people there valued me.

“Well, then, shall I show you around without further ado?”

Led by the nun, the four of us went around the Utopia. Its management mostly consisted of support from an investor whom we called the ‘owner’. I never met them, but they were clearly filthy rich.

All kinds of religious paintings and busts of gods adorned the corridors. We had an indoor church where luxuriously colorful stained glass shone overhead, a library crammed with old and new books, and a large public bath made of marble.

The amount of working nuns was not only a dozen. Just everyone being able to eat every day already cost money. Given the maintenance cost of the building, our budget likely escalated.

“Here is the last stop. We invited an artisan to make these. It’s the room of the gods’ sculptures.”

A serene world awaited beyond the heavy door that was opened. I had only visited it in a few occasions, but no matter how many times I looked at it, I had a feeling of heaviness. A variety of statues were placed disorderly in the room, and water murmurings could be heard as a number of small waterways ran through the ground. Glittering glass beads spread beautifully inside them. From the ceiling, plants called ‘dark vines’, which were said to grow well even where the sunlight did not hit, extended their branches around the walls and the ground, creating a fantastic atmosphere.

“My, so the preparations have been completed? Lady Lux, I will excuse myself for a little bit.” The nun beckoned another member of the Utopia’s personnel from the entrance in-between the statues of the gods and left our side.

——Now’s the time. I thought as I grasped Violet’s arm and pulled it.

“Lady Lux, hum... what were you trying to say earlier?”

“This way. I will show you Garnet Spear’s sculpture.” While saying so, I had a different objective. As we walked towards the statue of Garnet Spear fighting against a giant snake, I asked, “Miss Violet, have the Utopia’s Sisters asked you anything?”

Her line of sight shifted from me to the statue as she answered, “Yes, I was questioned about my origins... and upbringing. I have been told to not talk much about myself, so I did not say anything other than that I was an orphan... and an ex-soldier.”

I frowned. What a situation. That gorgeous girl who resembled Garnet Spear did not have parents. She was the exact kind of ‘demigod’ that the Utopia sought.

“Miss Violet. Listen well. The Sisters say this Utopia’s goal is to protect and venerate demigods, but that is wrong. It’s true... that I was saved from being raised in an orphanage and from poverty after being taken in by them... but at the same time, my life is being targeted.”

Perhaps because my tone was hard to hear, Violet finally peeled her eyes off the sculpture. “What do you mean? Please tell me about this in detail.”

That was when I heard the nun calling for us. Hiding in-between the statues, I resumed the discussion, “The Utopia’s objective is the safeguarding of demigods. But the main goal is returning them to the Heavens, where the gods reside. Most demigod legends end with them being destroyed in the land of men because of their powers. The Utopia resents this and attempts to guide them to the Heavens... but the method for that is murder. This is a facility of a homicidal group in which people tainted with a twisted form of thinking gather.”

Violet blinked piercingly. “In summary, Lady Lux is fated to be killed?”

“It’s been decided that I will be returned to Heaven on the morning of the next day of full moon, three days from now. It will be my birthday. The demigods kept here are raised waiting for the day they become fourteen years old. In general, it is said in the continent that fourteen-year-olds are adults, so the Utopia’s ideal is that our childhood should be lived in the human world, and our adulthood in the Heavens. However, if a demigod who is older than fourteen is taken in, they are killed within no more than ten days. Up until now, I have seen several adult demigod candidates, who either were brought here, lost or visiting, be slaughtered by them. You are in danger too. The Utopia is targeting you as a demigod as well.”

“Me...?”

“I told you that the Utopia was a group of people with twisted thinking, didn’t I? To tell the truth, we don’t need to have some sort of amazing power; just having the looks is enough. I myself am not that intelligent. I don’t know why I was born with an appearance like this, but I’ve heard that there is an ethnic group with the same hair and eyes in a country far from here. I’m sure that’s my ancestry. Also, one more thing that is essential to decide if someone is a demigod is if they either are orphans or don’t have one parent. It’s because that makes it easy to pretend they’re from the demigod legends. On top of that, Miss Violet, not only do you resemble Garnet Spear, but you are also a former soldier. From the Utopia’s viewpoint, this is like saying ‘please kill me’.” I went on hastily, as though to stir up the sense of dread.

Still, perhaps not having any fear at all towards the Utopia’s truth, Violet dispassionately interjected, “Is that so?”

“Miss Violet, don’t ‘is that so’ me and just run away. You said Sister Lisbon had called you, right? You must not go. They will most certainly give you some medicine to restrain your body.”

“How would they kill me?” she carefreely asked about the method of her own murder.

“You’d be put on a small boat that would sail along the course of Chevalier’s biggest waterfall and drop down from it. Right now, there are plenty of openings for you to escape. Please run away.” As if appealing, I shook her arms. A mechanical creak resounded from them.

She was a person with automated parts and as charming as a doll. I really could think of someone like her as a demigod. For an instant, I was almost similar to the people of Utopia for having that sort of reasoning, and became afraid of myself.

As I slowly let go of Violet’s arms, she firmly held my hands. “Thank you for your kindness. I will do as you warned and leave this place as soon as possible. Lady Lux, allow me to assist you with your own escape as well.”

Did she really understand what sort of circumstances she was currently in? I could not read her as she was expressionless, but at any rate, she seemed willing to flee. As I was relieved, I could not assent with my head to the help she had offered me.

“Lady Lux?”

I stopped moving halfway to a smile. I was unable to properly muster my voice out of my throat. My blood pressure rapidly lowered and the muscles of my back went cold. That was a creeping sensation of alarm one would feel when committing an enormous failure. It began to take over my body. What was I so scared of? Being saved by someone was a dream I had had for many years.

——What’s wrong with me?

Even so, I was unable to grab onto the hand stretched towards me.

——I have to say it. I have to say, “please do that”.

If I stayed there, I would die a painful underwater death within three days. That was a definite truth. The nuns that treated me so gently now, too, would forget about me once I was gone and find a new demigod to worship. After all, theirs was a false affection. In reality, I was not loved by anyone. I was not cherished by anyone. There was nothing good in that place. I could not trust anybody. Everything was scary. Still...

“Lady Lux, do you not wish to leave here?”

——I... I... just realized that I’m scared of venturing into the outside world.

“That... that’s not it...”

No, I had actually realized it a long time before.

“Do you not wish to run away?”

I knew. I knew.

“Are people... supposed to fear death?”

That was it. I did not want to die. But...

“I don’t want to... die.”

...but to me, living was as frightening as dying. Yes, frightening.

Ever since I had been brought there from the orphanage when I was seven years old, I was always a caged bird. I received education, but I only knew what was in the scriptures. I also could not craft like the nuns. If I went into the outside world just like that, how was I supposed to live? Other girls my age surely knew all kinds of things, and had family, friends and a place to belong. Yet I had nothing. I was no more than a cowardly child continuously immersed in despair within the darkness I was confined, who had been watching other people die without being able to intervene. No, I could not even be considered a child anymore. I was nothing. Once someone as useless as me stepped outside, what should I do? Was it not clear that I would die a dog’s death? If that was the case, then the invitation of demise given to me by that forced fate...

——...would be much better. As I thought so, my voice did not come out.

“Lady Lux!” Upon being called stridently, my body shook in surprise.

The nun was observing us from the side of Garnet Spear’s statue. It might be that she had heard our exchange. No, she definitely had. Actual rage and scorn were now seeping out of her usually placid face.

I swiftly pushed the nun away. “Run!”

As I shouted, Violet reached her arm out to me again. “Lady Lux, your hand.”

Her figure was just like that of a knight. I had always, always imagined such a scene. A handsome, noble prince – someone that magnificent would come to save me from the Utopia of hopelessness.

Nevertheless, while suppressing the nun, I shook my head. “Please go! I... I cannot live in the outside world! Please! Hurry and go!”

Violet attempted to hold onto me and take me by force, but I shook her off.

——I really... can’t.

I chose death in the last minute.

——I’m scared. Living is... scarier.

I was stupid. It was a stupid choice. However, being alive was especially arduous for me.

——I have always been shallowly breathing right beside death.

That environment had already allowed me to cogitate dying, and I had grown used to it. All I could think about was that I could hardly wait for the day to come.

——Living is... scarier.

It was much harsher to live in the world of humans, being used, lied to, and accumulating sad memories.

“I will die here! That’s what I want to do! I can’t live... in the outside world at this point! I’ll die like this... in this place... so go!”

It could be that I had become insane. While I had said that the people of Utopia were crazy, it might be that the craziest and most broken one was myself.

After standing on the spot for a few seconds, Violet turned her back to me. And then, suddenly, she destroyed the stained glass window between the statues with one arm. She certainly planned to escape from there. Rain and wind, along with a large amount of leaves and flowers that had been ripped off the trees burst in.

“Don’t run away! You’re a demigod! Under our control...!” the nun yelled.

Now I was the one being pushed. But even so, I did not lose to her. I grabbed her foot with one hand and clung to it. “Run!” I desperately endured being kicked.

Violet stood by the window frame, strongly holding her bag to her side. The height from there to the ground was one that could ensure an escape if one did not fail in landing.

——Now, go!

I thought she would surely not turn back. However, her neck snapped towards my direction, and she offered her hand once more. “Lady Lux.” It was as if her eyes said “come, let’s escape this place together”.

If I took that hand, maybe I could have a future.

——Aah, this storm, her, death, everything.

I was sorry for the person with those strong eyes that made me think of these things.

——They’re all mixing up in my head and are too noisy; I don’t want them.

Since I was tired of even so much as thinking.

“Go.” I whispered that single word.

“If you ever need help, call my name.” Saying nothing but that, she jumped out of the window.

The nun let out a sharp scream. After being cussed by her as she got up, I was hit on the cheek and fell on the spot. Looking at her distorted face, I scoffed.

——See, the world really is terrifying.

That was why dying was easier.

The morning after the downpour had stopped was beautiful. Trees and grass covered in dew left a characteristic after-rain odor. The Sun enclosed the world with a light unlike that of the sunset. That very morning Sun caused the continuous drizzle to sparkle. The birthday and funeral of a girl, who was worshiped by a certain religious organization of a certain isolated island, was greeted with such a fine day.

“Lady Lux, please go soundly.”

With a gun pointed at her, Lux had her wrists tied and was put on a small boat filled with flowers. The “soundly” that Lisbon had said was not directed at the one who was about to die. Lux’s face had clear evidence that she had received beating. Her mouth was swollen purple, the corner of her eye injured. Perhaps because she had not been granted any rest, her head staggered and her vision was out of focus.

As Lux remained silent even with such an exhausted face, Lisbon laughed. “Lady Lux, you were the most easily manageable and submissive demigod I’ve ever seen. We have not forgiven you for helping that Auto-Memories Doll escape, but... we will stop blaming you, as you are about to go on a journey to the Heavens. Any last words?”

Lux looked up at Lisbon blankly. That world had such a stunning scenery, so how come the people living in it were so ugly? As if sensing Lux’s feelings, a distorted smile appeared on Lisbon’s lips.

“How long will you continue doing this?”

“Always. For... ever.”

“What’s the meaning of it?”

“You are asking that now?” Lisbon snorted as if making fun of her. “We wish to protect this world, which the gods have created. You’ve listened to the legends of demigods several times, right? They are disparate both in Heavens and on Earth. You are disparate. An existence like that is... strange. It’s strange, right?”

Even while being questioned, Lux could not respond to being labeled with the word “strange”.

“Your existence itself is strange. What’s with those eyes and hair? They’re not ‘normal’. If disparate ones are not disposed of, they might cause trouble.”

“I haven’t... done... anything.”

“Even if you haven’t done anything yet, you eventually might. Your existence is a bother. To put it simply, we are... afraid of those like you. That is why we worship, respect and kill you.”

They could not stand those who were not like them, who were not similar to them.

Lux finally understood the reason why the people of that organization assembled. Self-love that had gone too far. Not identifying with another person made them uneasy. Therefore, they would kill them. It was a perverse belief, but for them, that was overlooked as ‘normal’.

——And the craziest one here is me, for thinking that being killed by these people was best.

The gun was aimed at the circlet on Lux’s head.

“You were actually supposed to die by drowning, but the Sister who used to take care of you begged for mercy. We shall let you die with a gunshot. Because dying suffocated... is terrible. Then, farewell, Lady Lux. We deliver this to you in your last moments: the chorus number 320.” Lisbon gave a signal behind her back.

As she did so, the other nuns, who were lined up and had been watching the two of them, begun to sing a requiem. Even though they were attempting a collective murder, their singing voices were beautiful.

“Our Gods in Heaven...”

She would be killed once the song was over.

In order to dilute her fear of death, Lux muttered the words that she had been made to memorize over and over from the scriptures, “I am your child, I am you flesh and blood, I am your tears...”

The sound of the water echoing from under the boat was the sound of the tomb that she would soon flow into.

“Have pity, have pity, have pity on me.” The roots of her teeth trembled unevenly. “Pity me, God.” Hers was a crying voice. Lux steadily shed tears at the fear of her unstoppable journey towards death.

Although she had chosen death, the fact that it was frightening to welcome it did not change. Although living was scarier, the agony awaiting her was unbearable.

“God... God... Lady Roses...”

Lux’s body would probably be carried by the river and drop from the great waterfall. Her corpse would float along with the flowers, fall into the basin and be swallowed by it. Her whole being would be invaded by water and sink. Just by imagining it, she felt like fainting. Rather, it would be wonderful if she could faint now.

“God... Lady Roses... Lady Roses...” Lux repeatedly called for the name of the goddess that was said to be her mother. “Lady Roses... Lady Roses...” Many times, instead of reciting spells to eliminate her fear. “Lady Roses... Lady Roses... Lady Roses...”

——Mom, you gave birth to and abandoned me only to act like you have anything to do with it afterwards?

“Lady Roses...”

——What even was my life?

“Lady... Roses... ugh... uh, ah, ugh...”

——When I was little, even though I was poor, even though I was an orphan, I wouldn’t have chosen death by my own will. Why did things turn out like this?

“Lady... Roses... uuh...” She called for her even while hiccupping. “Uuh... uh... Rose...” That was how she was spending her last moments. “Uah—aaah... uuugh...” With her mouth still open. “Vi...” With the will of someone who still earned for air. “Vi... o...” She called for her god of salvation, who set apart her fears. “Vi... o... let...!” Lux shouted naturally.

“If you ever need help, call my name.”

The name of the only person who had ever truly attempted to save her in her life.

“Violet! Violet, Violet! Help me! I don’t want to die!”

Was that wish a trigger for something? A scream rose during the requiem. Lisbon suddenly fell down. Lux’s eyes could see someone strike Lisbon from behind. As she was hit on the head, Lisbon wound up letting go of the cords that kept the small boat in place, and so it begun to be carried by the current. Yet the cords were immediately held back and the boat stopped.

“Eh?”

The nun who had committed such misconduct stood flat-faced.

“Eh, eh?”

Holding onto the cords of the boat, the nun stretched her arms towards Lux to forcibly pull her back to land. She pushed Lux behind her back protectively, and the small boat was carried by the stream as if it were nobody’s business.

Everyone was stunned. Their mouths were agape to a ludicrous extent.

“I have been...”

For the one who had destroyed the ritual to appear from that place’s interior was something unconceivable. It was impossible.

“...waiting for you...”

Yet she who had done so...

“...to call my name, Lady Lux.”

...exposed her face as she took off her white wimple.

“Vi... olet!”

It was the only person who had risked herself to truly help Lux in her life. She was an odd Auto-Memories Doll.

Before anyone realized it, Violet was holding the gun that had been in Lisbon’s hands. With no mercy, she shot at the nuns’ feet. Earth flew up as if exploding.

“Open the path. If anyone intends to interfere, I warn that you will not come out of this with only a bruise.”

Without moving from the spot, the nuns looked at each other.

“Fight back, my fellows who serve the gods!” Lying on the ground and enduring the pain, Lisbon yelled.

The nuns gathered together and responded to her brave call. They all took knives and pistols from within their robes and headed towards the two.

“Forgive me, but I will have to treat you a little roughly.” Violet took Lux into her arms. With the possible difficulty of handling her, Violet put Lux under her arm and broke into run.

The nuns came in their direction as though to clash with them. With the impulse she earned from the run, Violet leaped and kicked several of them as if toppling domino pieces.

Being treated as luggage, Lux let out an offbeat scream. Violet thrust her to the end of the path she had opened, turning again towards the enemies. With a broad swing, she threw the gun that had run out of ammo at an opponent who held Lux at gunpoint, hitting her on the face and causing her to pass out. She then dashed upwards by kicking the stomach of someone who rushed towards her with a knife, performing a somersault. Stealing two guns from a fallen foe, and while shooting with both, she took control of the surroundings. In spite of the overwhelming disadvantage of one person versus many, Violet had the upper hand in that unfolding battlefield.

Shuddering, Lux shrank back. Violet, who noticed an enemy attempting to attack Lux again, immediately jumped. Coiling her body around the nun like a snake, she tangled her legs around the other’s neck and applied weight to them, turning her over. She then downed her fist onto the nun’s face.

——She’s... overwhelming.

Lux’s eyes were glued to the way she fought.

Violet declared uncharacteristically loudly to the fallen nuns staring at her, “My arms are prosthetics of Estark Inc. They can easily crush your bodies. Those who are ready for it, please do step forth.” Her courageous figure as she opened one hand before her chest, then balled a fist with her palm letting out a screech, was the one of a beautiful fighter.

The nuns ogled her frame as if seeing the goddess of combat, Garnet Spear, whom they had revered no small amount of times.

As she was able to get up somehow despite her bleeding head, Lisbon shouted, “What are you doing? Seize her! You can return her to the Heavens right here... I will allow it. We cannot let such a monster loose on this land.”

“Are demigods monsters?”

She promptly answered Violet’s question, “That’s right. Monsters like you... aren’t supposed to be on Earth. Halves who are neither people nor gods... your powers will surely bring us tragedy! You... you are a great example! Where did you... learn to fight like this?! Just how many people have you killed...? The likes of you were not supposed to be born. You heretics!” Lisbon’s eyes were bloodshot, and saliva bubbled from her lips, which used to form a gentle smile.

There were nuns with shocked expressions at her utterances, but the ones who agreed with and nodded at her strongly gripped their weapons again.

Violet simply retorted Lisbon’s curses, “I see. I might really be a demigod, by the looks of it. If that is the case, I can confirm many of these things.” With her tone that had a sweet ring to it becoming icy, she continued, “Indeed, there might be no helping it if an imitation of human being such as myself were killed with the pretense of being returned to Heaven. But Lady Lux is different. She is... merely a girl who went through frightening experiences.” There was no hesitation in her actions or words. “You might be satisfied if I said ‘please take me’. However, I am now a domesticated monster. I cannot afford to be killed so easily. I am forbidden to fight unnecessary battles, but... my Lord once told me” she removed her black gloves, displaying her artificial arms, “to ‘live’.” Violet instantly rushed towards Lisbon, this time throwing a punch at her stomach.

Lisbon flew a long distance. Her body fell into the river and the other nuns went for her aid in an extreme hurry, as it seemed she would be carried away by the current.

Just a swing from one of her fists was enough to send someone soaring through the air like a doll. Upon witnessing that fact, those who had taken back their weapons let go of them at once.

“Challengers, come forward. I, Violet Evergarden, shall take you on.” The beautiful woman standing calmly amidst of so much violence was lurid and bewitching.

In the end, no one attempted to go against her after that, and so, Lux and Violet walked their way out of the place.

“That was scary... that was scary...”

“You were scared? But now, you are safe.”

Somewhere away from the river, as Lux’s restraints were removed, she burst into tears. The horror she had gone through just a little while before suddenly reoccurred to her.

Halfway crossing the woods that went in the direction of the island’s harbor on Violet’s lead, they stopped to take Violet’s precious bag, which had been very carefully suspended on a tree branch. Did she have confidence that they would be able to come so far, Lux asked herself while crying.

“Hadn’t you run away?”

“In the end, the rain did not stop, so I was camping in a cave I had found. I was... thinking all the while in there... about what Lady Lux had said.”

“Me...?”

“That you... could not live in the outside world.”

She had indeed said so.

“I will die here! That’s what I want to do! I can’t live... in the outside world at this point! I’ll die like this... in this place... so go!”

It had been one truth from the peak of her limits.

“Although I am a little different, I, too... had always been living in only one world. I was used by a certain person and did not know any other way of life besides it. That world had its circumstances, and we were set apart... so I became separated from my Lord. Even though a kind person attempted to teach me a new lifestyle, at first, I resisted it. If I ceased to be myself... no, if I ceased to be an ‘asset’, I thought that the person who had needed me until then would no longer want me.”

The two girls walked. The path ahead was testing. It was coated in mud, damp with grass condensation, and all they could count on were their own feet. However, they went on without ever turning back.

“I believed that Lady Lux was the same as me. That if you chose a new path, you would be troubled as to what you should do at that point, in that different trajectory...? Perhaps you were thinking, ‘Am I wanted in that place? If I am not, it is not worth anything’. Or ‘If I am not wanted there, I must be an unnecessary existence’. That is... extremely...” She was probably at loss on what term to use. Her pronunciation was that of someone who was borrowing the words of another, “It is extremely... ‘scary’.”

It was incredibly strange for that young woman to be scared of something, Lux thought.

——I mean, she’s so strong and pretty. She seems... invincible.

Yet she was the same as Lux herself. She was slightly afraid of living.

“But, Miss Violet, you did not stop, right?”

She was afraid, but had chosen to live.

“Yes, I was ordered to live, and... I felt I had many things to reflect on. There was truly so much I did not know. The many words that person had taught me... and said to me, such as ‘I lo’...” she trailed off. Violet grabbed the emerald brooch on her chest to ease her hammering heartbeats. “I started to think... that I... wanted to learn about and understand the words I had been told, of a feeling that is foreign to me. So, Lady Lux, your way of thinking might change. You can... die anytime. When the time you wish to do so comes, no one can stop you. That is why, I was wondering if it was not all right... for you to know a little more about the outside world until then... and so I meddled. I apologize. I will take the responsibility. We can still cross over in this condition. Lady Lux, if you do not have a destination, please just come with me. I will not do anything harmful.” Violet stretched her hand out to Lux, who walked a few steps behind her.

This time, Lux did not hesitate. The mechanical arm was cold and hard, but for some reason, it felt warm to her.

Violet’s robes were covered in dirt and her hair was disheveled. There was nothing in her that made her seem like she was wearing a knight in shiny armor, but to Lux, her figure overlapped with Garnet Spear’s.

“I am forever indebted to you for rushing to my aid.”

As Lux spoke with a runny nose, Violet asked back, “What are you saying? Lady Lux, were you not the one who saved me first? I am grateful to you for having courage and warning me.”

As Lux was both shocked and happy to have someone’s gratitude despite being how she was, she cried once again.

——I guess will... live a little more after all.

She immediately fixed her way of thinking right then.

What happened afterwards was that I was taken by Violet to her workplace, the CH Postal Service, and started living there. At first, I was only in charge of phone calls, but within a year, I simultaneously became the president’s personal secretary, leading a restless everyday life.

President Hodgins was someone I could respect, for he kindly – and sometimes strictly – took care of a girl like me, of unknown background and who had come from an obscure religious organization. However, I came to understand that he was a person with a quirk or two.

The only things that changed in me ever since I arrived there were that I got a haircut and replaced my circlet for a berretta. And I became a little closer to Violet, to the point we became able to talk to each other without honorifics.

She continued on rushing about as a stardom of Auto-Memories Dolls. Her appearance did not change much. Maybe all that was different was the frilly umbrella added to her standard outfit?

Being able to meet with the much-requested Violet was quite difficult, but she returned regularly to the office, and during those times, I would invite her for tea. Seated at the terrace of a nearby café facing the city’s main street, we would report our recent situations to one another while observing the traffic. My stories were mostly about our unprecedented boss, but Violet would talk about the various countries she had dragged her feet around and the people she had met in them. The feelings of a writer who lived surrounded by beautiful mountains towards his beloved daughter. The letters to the future from a mother who lived in an old-fashioned household on a slightly elevated hill. The sad last moments of a youth who was returned to his hometown in the countryside. The passionate determination of a young astronomer whom she had met in a city of starry skies.

Swinging from joy to sorrow at her narrations, I would sometimes cry, sometimes laugh. We surely looked like just two female friends when chatting so peacefully. No one should be able to tell that we were the former live sacrifice of a religious organization and an ex-soldier.

It was not as if I had forgotten my past, but I had no intention of continuing to engage in it. After all, the me who was a demigod of Roses had died back then, and the current me was an employee of a postal company.

Those who die do not come back. Physical bodies, time and values can never be retrieved. My feelings of embracing the thirst for death remained firmly rooted within me, but they had fallen to the bottom of a deep, deep sleep. “Don’t wake up yet”, I would tell them every morning.

There were days when I would think that living really was hard, but during those times, I would close my eyes and strongly reminisce to that instant in which my minimum and maximum intermingled. That I was going to perish in a small boat meant as a coffin, decorated with flowers. That I had cried in it about how I did not want to die. That someone had saved me. That her artificial arm had reached out to me.

Violet Evergarden, the friend that I was proud of having.

#violet evergarden #kyoto animation #kyoani #akatsuki kana #takase akiko #my translation #novel

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4birds-of-a-feather · 7 years

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Chapter 26 - Man, it doesn’t show signs of stoppin’ [part 1]

Birds Of a Feather

(title credits: Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!, Dean Martin)

“Aaaand here it is, the last one!” Layla whispered to herself as she put the last package under the Christmas tree. It was Eddie’s present, a nice set of hardcover composition books with a fountain pen and a ballpoint pen – a perfect gift for a writer. She had waited for him to go out for a walk so she could be alone in the house and position all the presents before leaving. He simply waved goodbye and wished her a happy holiday before walking out the door – it all took less than a minute and he was gone. On one hand she had more time to prepare her Christmas surprise for everyone, on the other hand she was disappointed because she was expecting a warmer goodbye. She wasn’t totally surprised though, she was used to Eddie’s mood swings and changes of behaviour: one day he was sweet and caring, actively searching for and apparently enjoying her company, the next one he seemed cold and distant and distracted, like today. He had been like this for a couple of days, after the show at the Moore Theater. <Maybe I did something wrong... Is it because I got jealous when those two girls appeared? What if I said something silly when he put me to bed?> she thought as she was walking towards the door, dragging her trolley suitcase behind her. She felt stupid for always considering herself at the center of people’s attention: after all it was Christmas time and he wasn’t going back home to San Diego, she assumed he probably had family issues or something like that. <What if there’s an ex girlfriend involved?> she kept wondering as she put her coat on. “What did you get me for Christmas?” Layla was suddenly startled by the voice of her friend and roommate – she turned around and saw her staring at her with a red packet in her hands and a smirk plastered on her face. “GOD, SARA! You scared me to death!” “It doesn’t look like a book... No, it ain’t a book – is it a movie? No, it’s too big to be a movie. Is it a collection of movies?” Sara asked feeling up the package then lightly shaking it. “You’ll find out in a few hours, darling!” “C’mon, give me a hint!” “Nah-ah” “Pleeeease” “Ok. It’s not a car” Layla replied with a grin. “... Fuck you, El” “By the way, what are you doing here? I thought you had left already” Layla took a look at her watch while Sara shifted unconfortably on her feet for a couple of seconds before answering. “So you were thinking about leaving without even saying goodbye, huh? I thought you loved me” she said, dragging herself dramatically towards her friend. “I was gonna call from the airport” “You were gonna leave me with a phone call?? Nothing can affect your heart of stone” “I’ll be back in a few days, and you’ll be with your family, it’s not like I’m leaving you here with Jeff or anything” the girl went on and Sara tried to ignore her once again. She cared for Layla, she was her best friend, and lying to her was getting harder and harder. “I think you wanted to leave without talking to me because you didn’t want to hear me talking shit about David and your stupid idea to get back together once again” <Mentioning her WC Boyfriend will surely make her drop the subject> Sara thought as she saw her friend rolling her eyes. “As I already told you, we’re not getting back together, we’re just meeting to clear things up and give a proper closure to our relationship” “I really wish it was true, El” Sara sighed. “It is!” “I know this is what you want now, but I also know that things are gonna be more difficult for you once you see that guy face to face and he starts talking and using his charm on you” “So you think I’m weak...” the girl retorted looking away. “You’re not, you’re strong. If only you knew how strong you are, you’d know you don’t need that asshole in your life.” Sara added and noticed that Layla was getting upset; as much as she hated that jerk, she didn’t want her friend to leave like that “Anyway, it’s actually your life and you have the right to do whatever you want. And I trust you, you’re the sensible one here, I know you’re gonna do the right thing in the end” Layla smiled and tackled Sara in a bear hug. “Thank you, Scroogie! Also for the present I found in my drawer, I’m gonna open it tonight” “Do you wanna know what it is?” Sara asked, still held tight by her friend. “No, I like surprises” Layla let go of her and wrapped her scarf around the neck. “C’mon, a little hint!” “Goodbye, my dear! Oh, you should keep these, I won’t need them in Boston” she grinned and handed her the apartment keys, then pulled her trolley-suitcase and went for the door. “Here’s the hint: it’s not a naked surfer with a red bow wrapped around his-” “MERRY CHRISTMAS, SARA! I’LL CALL YOU TONIGHT!” Layla basically screamed as she left and her roommate was doubled over laughing behind her.

************************************************************************************************ Eddie didn’t really know where he was going, he just wanted to run as far away as he could from his apartment and from the girl who was about to leave to spend Christmas with another guy who wasn’t him. He was almost surprised when he turned left and saw the turbulent motion of the lake water, he stopped and looked around. “I walked up to… Pier 62?” Eddie said to himself as he read the sign and spotted the Aquarium in the distance. He shrugged and started to walk again, only at a slower pace, until he stopped at a bench, where he decided to sit. He lit up a cigarette as he took in the view of the dark cloudy sky reflecting on the waters of Elliott Bay and tried not to think about how stupid Layla was. <She’s not stupid though, she’s smart… and beautiful… fuck> he shook his head as he tried to ignore those thoughts, then felt the pocket of his jacket, smiling to himself when he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a notebook and a pen and started sketching what he saw – the creases on the water surface slowly growing into waves because of the increasing wind, the darker clouds in the distance, a couple of ferry boats returning to the port, a few people gathered around a fish and chips place on the left. <Why do I have to be like that? I’m lucky, I’m living my dream, making music, I met new nice people, have good friends that are pretty much family to me now, live in an interesting town that’s supposed to be like the center of the world for some. I should be happy. Fuck, I am happy. So this girl doesn’t like me the way I like her? So what? It’s not her fault and it’s not like she owes me anything. She’s lovely and cares for me enough to be considered a true friend and that’s more than I could hope for. I only wish she’d be with someone who loves her and respects her and… Oh shut up, Eddie! You just wish she was with you!> Eddie’s inner monologue went on for a while and he didn’t even notice the raindrops that started falling from the sky. He was brought back to reality when he felt something cold stinging his nose and noticed that the rain had turned into sleet. He shut his notebook and stuck it back in his pocket with the pen, then stood up and pulled the hood over his head as he started to run. The fleet turned into proper snow, which reminded him of a similar scenario many miles and many years away: Chicago, Christmas of 1984, when he first brought his new girlfriend home to meet his mom. Their plane landed incredibly late, their cab from the airport got stuck in traffic during a snow storm and when it was clear it was impossible to move they paid the driver, grabbed their bags and just got out of the car and ran for an hour in the snow to get home in time for dinner, freezing and soaking wet, but together, happy and in love. He was alone now, no hands to warm up with his breath, no turkey in the oven, no little brothers preparing tricks and pranks for him back at home. These thoughts made it look like the way home was taking much longer even though he was running. He breathed a relieved sigh as he walked past the Scarecrow Video Shop because it meant he was almost home, even though it also reminded him once again of the girl who worked there. <As if I wasn’t already thinking enough about her> Eddie ignored the elevator and went for the stairs, silently praying for Layla to be gone already. When he rang the doorbell and nobody answered though, he almost regretted his wish.

************************************************************************************************ “Is it just my impression or Mary Jane sucked a lil’ bit?” “You’re not wrong, Viv – I’m no expert but even I heard that strange squeak she did at the end” “Jesus H. Tap Dancing Christ! Girls, could you please save your gossip for later?? I have tons of glitter on my face and my hair looks like a fuckin’ nest, ugh” Sara rolled her eyes, silently asking herself what she had done to deserve to be stuck in a dressing room with those two dorks – they were technically supposed to help her, but instead chattered about whoever had been involved in the recital. “C’mon, Sara, live a little! You should be glad: that ‘sleep in Heavenly peace’ was horrible – and you hate Mary Jane’s guts!” “Right now I don’t have time to laugh about her poor figure: all I wanna do is reassuming my natural appearance and getting rid of all this fuckin’ glitter that’s comin’ out of my nostrils” “HA! So you admit it: she sucked big time!” “C’mon, Maux, just leave her alone” Vivian smiled at Sara, keeping on removing make-up from her face “And you… don’t you dare insult my glitter again! You looked like a proper little angel” Sara rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time, grinding her teeth every time her friends pulled a bobby pin out of her hair or rubbed cleansing lotion all over her face. “… I’m still wonderin’ why they didn’t assign Silent Night to you, though” “No big deal, Maux” “Well, I got the feeling that next year it’ll be you singing it!” “I don’t think that next year I’ll be on stage…” “You said the same thing last year, primadonna” “… fuck off, Maux” Sara grumbled, cheeks flushing for the deep embarrassment. “Anyway! You did some justice to O Come, All Ye Faithful” “… and Father Steve was extremely pleased with your decision of singing some verses in Latin – ‘a wonderful surprise, and what an exquisite pronounce’, that’s what he said” “Oh, great: now the Theology professor attends our recitals too – that’s exactly what I needed, a wonderful surprise” she wrinkled her nose. “Stop bein’ modest; I think that, deep inside, you really appreciate his attention” “… You’re a pain in the ass” “Love you too, honey pie!” Maux blew a kiss in her direction, then proceeded to wave the last bobby pin under her nose. “But it isn’t the time to celebrate yet; you still have to free yourself from Maux’s creation” Through her dollish ringlets Sara gazed at her own dejected reflection, still trapped inside a cloud of red tulle, and let out a deep sigh: her freedom was still far away. When the three girls finally came out, the campus was covered with snow and still heaving with students. “Well, girls – better cut and run if I want to arrive at Sea-Tac on time” Vivian looked at the watch on her wrist, then covered it again with a sleeve. “How much ‘til Cheyenne?” “5 hours and 10, I think… I just hope I’ll be home in time to exchange the presents with my family” “Is it a large one?” “Yup, four brothers but also grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins… we’re a tribe” the girl smiled fondly, then grinned at them “Group hug!” “Have a safe trip and don’t trade us for Wyoming dudes – right, Sara?” “Oh, yeah… yeah, don’t you dare pull that trick on us” “Never! Chicks before dicks” “… did you seriously just said it?” “Viv, don’t mind her! You’re hilarious” Maux reassured her, in between laughs. “Don’t worry: I learnt that it’s how she tells people she actually cares about ‘em…” Vivian threw her arm around Sara’s shoulder “Plus, don’t forget that, when Christmas festivities will be finally over, there’ll be a new recital around the corner…” “… and a new recital means another round of you falling into Viv’s clutches – and mine too!” the other girl almost squealed in delight, making the victim blatantly roll her eyes. “… at least I won’t be seeing the two of you for a couple of weeks – maybe I’ll be able to pull off an Alcatraz” “Shut up, Grinch!” her friends silenced her with a couple of snowballs that perfectly landed on her bonnet. “Say, what’s gotten into you?” “What? What should have gotten into me?” “You were distracted all the time… you still are” “Nope, just tired” “Yeah, Pinocchio, right – just tired” “D’ya think that Vivian’s Republican, holier-than-thou family has rejoiced when they found out to have a daughter named as Pretty Woman’s main character?” “What? Don’t change topic!” “… it’d be interesting to fly to Wyoming, just to stand outside their home with a boombox blasting away Roy Orbison” “… you’re impossible” “Pretty woman, walking down the streeeeeet… pretty woman, the kind I like to meeeeeet…” “I get the message, I get it!” Maux shoved her, then pulled a small package out of her bag “I’m gonna set you free, but not before getting the chance to give you this” “Maux, you shouldn’t have – I didn’t get you anyth-” “Shut up! Do you really think that I don’t know who got me that big book about Elsa Schiaparelli that I found in my bag last week?” Maux forced the package in Sara’s hands “I know it was your Christmas’ early present, I’m not that stupid” “Well, to dot the i’s and cross the t’s-” “Shut up and just open that fuckin’ package!” Sara let out a belly laugh and did just as her friend had commanded, a pair of dangle earrings appearing in her hands: the quartzes reflected blue, green and silver twinkles on her fingers, making her smile. “They’re beautiful – I love this kind of design, thank you” “Come here, you doofus” Maux hugged her, then playfully pushed her away “Now go, spend Christmas Eve with your family and don’t try to fly to Wyoming!” “HA! We’ll see, I can’t guarantee you anything” she followed her friend’s advice and finally went outside the campus. The snow had just resumed to fall.

#Eddie Vedder #Jeff Ament #Pearl Jam #Eddie Vedder fanfiction #Pearl Jam fanfiction #grunge fanfiction #Jeff Ament fanfiction #Birds Of a Feather #chapters

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readexplorerepeat · 6 years

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THE WIZARDING WORLD OF HARRY POTTER- a review

I was still a teen when I got hooked on the magic of a boy named Harry. I can honestly say that reading these books changed, and saved my life in ways that many people don't understand. How can a kid's book change your life? Well, it did.

You can read my open letter to JK Rowling HERE. It remained secret for a long time, but it feels good to tell the world that being sad, or depressed shouldn't be a stigma.

So because of this, and many other things that I won't go into detail with now, I can say that I'm a Harry Potter super fan, or simply (and proudly) a Potterhead.

Going to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Universal Studios, and Islands of Adventure Florida had been my dream every since it was announced in 2007.

HERE ARE THE MAIN THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW:

If you are going to the park for the first time, there are certain things you should know so you can make every second count.

1. GET A MULTI-PARK TICKET.

You have the choice of purchasing a single park admission (Universal Studios OR Islands of Adventure) or a multi-pass or park hopper ticket. GET BOTH. WHY? The Wizarding World of Harry Potter is actually split in both parks. While Islands of Adventure opened the HP World in 2010, an expansion of this magical world was opened in the Universal Studios area in 2014. Both areas are connected by the Hogwarts Express. YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO RIDE THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS unless you have a ticket for both parks. Believe me. It's worth it.

2. HOW THE WIZARDING WORLD IS DIVIDED

Islands of Adventure houses Hogsmeade, many shops and restaurants, the Flight of the Hippogriff, and the Hogwarts Castle with the Forbidden Journey ride. Take the Hogwarts Express to King Crossing (located on the Universal Studios side) and enter the mysterious Diagon Alley where you can find Gringotts Bank and a fire breathing dragon on top of it.

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RELATED: UNIVERSAL STUDIOS AND ISLANDS OF ADVENTURE- TRAVEL TIPS.

WHAT TO DO FIRST.

The very first thing a true fan should do is to get your own magic wand at Olivander's. Whether you enter through Universal or Islands of Adventure, both sides have an Olivander's store. This should be your first stop as the lines can get long, and there's no fast pass for it. They will let about 20 people inside at the time for a "mini-show" to meet the man himself, Mr. Olivander. He will pick a random lucky person from the group to hold wands and recreate the famous scene when Harry's wand chose him. It's a very cool experience to see so close and in person. But don't worry, if you are not chosen (they only chose ONE person per group- usually a kid, duh!) You will be then guided to the shop, where you can purchase your own wand.

RELATED: DIY Harry Potter Rug. Step by Step.

WHAT KIND OF WANDS DO THEY HAVE?

You can choose regular, character-based wands, interactive character wands, or your own wand based on your birthday. If we talk about looks, some wands tend to lean towards the "dark side", but it's pretty cool to see what wand you'll get. The store personnel is usually standing by in robes ready to assist you. The interactive wands are more expensive, but totally worth it. WHAT DO THEY DO? With your purchase, you'll receive a map of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade with every single interactive point in the land, along with the specific magic spells that will allow you to showcase your magic skills...

WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY "MAGIC SKILLS"?

Step on the symbols marking the magic spots (carved in gold on the ground), wave your wand in the way it specifies as you say the spell and just watch what happens. You will see it rain on other bystanders, lights flicker, things float, etc. There are dozens of places for you to practice your magic with your wand! But remember! The WAND chooses the wizard, not the other way around.

3. RIDE THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS

One of the most memorable moments of my life - don't judge- was when standing in line, there I was, awaiting patiently at King's Cross, right at platform 9 & 3/4 (which you can find between platform 9 and 10 - wink wink) when suddenly, I hear it. The powerful whistle of the Hogwarts Express as it approached our station. I think I didn't cry just because my daughter was watching me, but I almost did. I did squeal. This amazing replica of the iconic locomotive is as beautiful as it looks on the films. When you board, they will seat about seven to eight people per cart, and close your door. The cart compartments look EXACTLY as they look in the movies. Before departure, pay attention to the glazed doors of the cart. You'll see shadows of the characters "talking on the hallway", the Trolley lady, and even dementors looking to take you to Azkaban. Watch the window when the train is in motion to observe the beautiful landscape and the view to Hogwarts/Diagon Alley. You are not supposed to take pictures or video inside the train... (sad face).

4. RIDE EVERYTHING.

Besides the Hogwarts Express, there are only a couple of actual rides inside Harry Potter World's, but there is SO much to do! Go into the Hogwarts Castle and see it inside while waiting in line to ride Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey. Look around, enjoy the magic!

Before you enter the Forbidden Journey ride you will have to put ALL your belongings in a locker. No backpacks, no lose items are allowed in this ride. Do you remember the scene when Ron took the old Ford for a ride and landed on the Whomping Willow? Well, this ride will feel like this. The magic bench (in which you will be seating) is controlled by a robot arm. Combine this with the most amazing flying simulator, incredible props, and special effects, and you go on the ride of your life.

The flight of the Hippogriff is a roller coaster designed to feel as if you were flying on Buckbeak, the hippogriff. It's fun and short, but not as amazing as THE ESCAPE FROM GRINGOTTS. Yeah. You literally (or simulator-ally) go all the way down into the vault in one of those little carts guided by a goblin. Then it gets intense. That freaking dragon, man! It's a great thrill! You almost have to ride this twice to be able to appreciate everything there is to see as it goes magically fast. Oh, before I forget, stay outside Gringotts for a while and watch the dragon on the top of the building breath fire. We timed it to be every 15-20 minutes or so. It's great!

5. DRINK BUTTERBEER.

I'm not a fan of sweet, creamy/sparkling drinks, but I obviously had to try butterbeer. I've had it before at a different venue, but NOTHING, and I repeat, NOTHING compares to this butterbeer. IT WAS AMAZING! Not too sweet, not too simple. It was just the perfect combination of sparkling, and creamy buttery flavors. I opted to have it cold, but apparently you can also order it hot.

6. DINE AT THE THREE BROOMSTICKS, Leaky Cauldron OR have a brew AT HOG'S HEAD.

Great food, simple menu and the portions are big. Two can split some plates. Reasonably priced as well (for a theme park). The atmosphere is cozy and the service is quite organized.

7. THE SHOPS!!!!

SO many shops! Most have basically the same merchandise but organized differently, so it's fun to see the props and different decor of each store. Definitely don't miss Weasley's Wizard Wheezes trick and candy store. It's very entertaining. Also, I was a little disappointed to see that they don't have a lot of small souvenir items for sale (other than key chains). I was hoping to find cool Harry Potter inspired jewelry, or car stickers, or you know, things like that... nope. Most stuff was apparel, and expensive collector's items. There are stores dedicated to Quidditch items and apparel, others to robes, and you can even get your own post owl!

8. EXPLORE DIAGON ALLEY.

When you are in Diagon Alley you must adventure towards a small, not so crowded, alleyways and you'll be surprise what you'll find. If you dare, you'll find yourself in Knockturn Alley. There you'll see Borgin and Burkes, a store dedicated to the dark arts, just like the one Harry fell in after saying the wrong name with the floo powder. A replica of a moving, very life-like Nagini is showcased on the store's display.

9. DON'T FORGET TO STOP BY GRIMMAULD PLACE AND THE KNIGHT BUS.

Outside Diagon Alley, on the Universal Studio's side, you can see a beautiful replica of Grimmauld Place. It's funny that I got excited to see it, but most people walk by it thinking it's just a decorative building... well... it is, but you can still see it and take a pic, while imagining you were part of the Order of the Phoenix. The Knight bus is next to it. Go inside. Take a selfie.

10. WATCH THE CASTLE AT NIGHT.

Since we only did one day at Universal (first mistake), we stayed there ALL day and into the night, to be able to do most attractions. When night falls, it's a wonderful spectacle at Hogsmeade. Yes, you need to make your way towards Hogwarts and watch the light show. Just like they do it at Disney on Cinderella's castle, Hogwarts has nothing to be ashamed of. It was actually superior than the one at Disney (READ THAT REVIEW HERE). They play a very familiar tune that dances to the marvelous lights reflected on the Castle. I have no words to describe it, so watch this video instead and see for yourself: (disclaimer, it was Christmas time celebration when we were there, so they probably change it according to the season).

SO MUCH TO DO! The Wizarding World of Harry Potter is fascinating, and truly a magical experience. From the snow covered roofs of Hogsmeade, to the whistle of the Hogwarts Express, you will be delighted with this world and will want to go home and read (or reread) all seven books. Yes. Do it. I know you want to.

IF YOU WANT TO READ THE BOOKS, GET THIS SET: Harry Potter Books 1-7. It's worth every penny.

Till next time.

Always,

Mia.

#UniversalStudios #HarryPotterWorld

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trendingnewsb · 6 years

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25+ Genius Ideas We Can’t Believe Are Still Not Implemented Everywhere

Wash Your Hands And Reuse The Water For Your Next Flush

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Mountain Finder Device In Switzerland

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This Sign Is 100% Necessary

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Accessibility Matt On The Beach For Wheelchairs And Strollers

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The Elevators In My Office Building Have An Umbrella Sign That Lights Up If It’s Raining Outside (Osaka, Japan)

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My Roommate’s Spatula Has A Stand So The Bit That Touches Your Food Doesn’t Touch The Counter

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The Roofs Of UPS Trucks Are Not Brown. They’re Translucent So The Inside Of The Truck Doesn’t Need To Be Lit During The Day

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This Elevator Has A Call Button 30 Feet Away So The Doors Will Be Open By The Time You Get To Them

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These Chairs In A Ski Resort Restaurant Have Room For Your Gloves, Helmet, Hat Etc.

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This Restaurant Has A “Toepener” For People Who Want To Avoid Germs On The Doorknob

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Shopping Cart With A Calculator

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My Hotel Room Comes With A Complimentary Android Phone With Free Data And Calls

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This Elevator Shows How Close To Capacity It Is Based On The Weight Of The Riders

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This Swing Is Designed So That The Kid And The Parent Can Swing Together

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The Mirror In My Hotel In Japan Has A Heated Part That Won’t Steam Up After A Shower

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My Bottle Of Canadian Whisky Came With Free Public Transportation

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Some Roads In Australia Are So Long And Boring They Have Trivia Signs To Keep Drivers Alert

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This Bridge Has A Crisis Hotline Machine

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At My Work’s Parking Lot The Paint Lines Continue Up The Wall To Help People Park

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These Bikes Have Airless Tires

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Trash Bins In Copenhagen Are Angled So Cyclists Can Toss Their Trash While Biking

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This Checkout Has No Candy For Parents With Kids

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This Highlighter Has A Clear Part To Show You What You’re Highlighting

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This USB Drive Displays How Much Of Its Storage Is Being Used

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This Bar Has A Frost Strip To Rest Your Drink On So It Stays Cold

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In Copenhagen There Is A Childrens Bicycling Playgroud, Where They Can Practice Bicycling In The City, And Learn The Rules, Before They Enter The Streets

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My Work Laptop Has A Webcam Cover

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The Back Of This Park Bench Can Swing Back And Forth, Allowing The User To Face Either Direction

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This College Has Drink Coasters That Can Test For Common Rape Drugs

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This Tire Tells You To Change It When It’s Time To Change It

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These Batteries Have An USB Port To Charge Them

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These Tiny Model Tents Give You A Look At What You’re Buying

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This Airport Has A Therapy Dog For People To Pet Before They Fly

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My Local Library Has Vault You Can Go Into To Talk On Your Phone

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These Sheets That Tell You What Side Of The Bed To Put Them On

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Benches In Sweden Are Very Friend And Couple Friendly

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These Shopping Carts Have A Magnifying Glass For The Elderly

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At This Airport, They Have A Machine That Will Print Off Free Short Stories For You To Read While You Wait

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My Hotel’s Restaurant Has A 3 Button Device You Can Press To Call The Server, Call The Bill Over, And Tell Them That The Table Is Done

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You Can Rent Sleeping Cabins At This Airport

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These Chairs Have A Notch Cut In Them To Keep Your Bag From Slipping Off

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My City Added A Safe, Public Place To Conduct Exchanges Made On The Internet. Directly In Front Of The Police Station

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My Beach Has A Sunscreen Station

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This Store Lets Customers Choose Whether They Want To Be Bothered By The Staff

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My Local Pizza Joint Puts One Of Every Filler On Top Of The Stomboli

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This Bag Of Chips Has 2 Perforations, So You Can Open It More The Further Down You Eat

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My Favourite Shop Has Light Settings So You Can See How Good/Bad Your Outfit Will Look At Different Times Of Day

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Rental Car In Ireland Has Dashboard Sticker That Reflects In The Windshield To Remind You What Side Of The Road To Drive On

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My Local Coffee Shop Gives Free Compost Made From Their Used Coffee Grounds

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My Local Laundromat Has Gym Equipment To Use As You Are Waiting For Your Load To Finish

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Our Dishwasher Projects How Much Time Is Left

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Little Rentable Office/Workspaces In An Airport

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This Shower Handle Shows The Temperature Of The Water

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This Restaurant Bathroom Has Two Different Kinds Of Soaps

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This Credit Card Tip Jar

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This Phone Charging Station Where You Have To Sit Down And Pedal To Get Power

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This Inflatable Mattress Turns The Back Of Your Car Into A Bed

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Local Farmer Has A Vending Machine In Our Mall

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There’s A Carriage On Swiss Trains For Children

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This Bottle Has A Map Of All The Water-Filling Stations Around Campus On It

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My Local Mcdonalds Has All The Menus In Brail

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This Vending Machine Sells Socks At The Bowling Alley

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This Tray Used To Walk Your Bike Up/Down Steps

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This Coffee Shop Shows The Differences Between Coffee Drink Types

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These Bathroom Stall Doors Have An Overlap To Avoid That Awkward Crack

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My Local Library Has Dozens Of Different Cake Pans To Check Out

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This Fake Skylight In The Surgery Waiting Room

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You Can Shoot Your Car With Suds While You’re Waiting Inside At My Local Car Wash

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This Immigration Office In Korea Has Glasses You Can Borrow For Filling Out Forms

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This Cupboard Drip Drys Into The Sink

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This Carpentry Tool With Pins To Outline A Shape

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An Item We Had Delivered At Work At An Indicator Telling Us If It Had Been Tipped Or Not. This One Had Been

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This Bathroom Door Handle Has A Built-In Hand Sanitizer Dispenser

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My Colleague Has A Micro-Fibre Cloth To Clean His Glasses Stitched Under His Shirt

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This Cemetery Has A Gravesite Locator

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This Coin Laundry Has A Washer And A Dryer Machine Just For Pet Clothes

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This Japanese Gum I Have Came With Little Pieces Of Paper Inside For You To Spit Your Gum In To When You’re Finished With It

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My University Library Has Cell Phone Booths So People Can Talk In Private

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This Pasta Box Helps Approximate How Much Pasta To Make

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This Sandwich Shop Has A Wrapping Station By The Door So You Can Take Your Leftovers Home

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This Dressing Room Has Their Clothing Hooks Labeled

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My Backpack Has A Bottle Opener

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This Juice Carton Tells You How Many Glasses You Have Left

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Two Story Target In Minneapolis Has An Escalator Just For Carts

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A Bus Stop Nearby Offers A Small Library Of Books To Read

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This Pizza Place Tells You The Area Of All Their Pizza Sizes And How Large They Are Compared To Each Other

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Café Doesn’t Take Pennies Or Dimes

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This State Park Is Using Social To Track Fire Recovery

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Local Chinese Restaurant Explains Their Definition Of Different Spice Levels And How Often They’re Ordered

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My Beef Jerky Came With A Toothpick/Floss Inside The Package

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This Pho Restaurant Has The Bathroom Options To Brush Your Teeth, Use Mouthwash And Even Moisturize Your Skin

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This Refrigerator Has An Automatic Water Pitcher Built Into It

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Button To Save People From Crossing The Desert From Mexico

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The Adhesive Side Of This Wrist Band Tapers In So It Doesn’t Accidentally Stick To Your Skin

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Different Shaped Slots For Different Tubes In The Hospital To Make It Impossible To Mix Them

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The Shelves In The Boston Public Library’s Children Section Have Gaps For Children To Walk Through

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tandamalaika · 7 years

Text

Surprisingly, the remainder of our travels to Hong Kong went quite smoothly. To reach our final destination, we took 2 car taxi’s, 4 scooter taxi’s, 1 ferry, 3 buses, 1 shuttle and 3 airplanes. Mycah chuckled and commented that the saying is correct; ‘smoke follows beauty’, because as we headed to Lombok to catch a flight since the airport in Bali was closed, the ash cloud followed us to Lombok and ours was the last flight out before it closed too!

Hong Kong is a busy place! Extremely densely populated and as a global port, it has become a major destination for shoppers. As we walked the busy streets I couldn’t help but notice the lack of anything natural – aside from the odd potted pant on a ledge or porch up high on a building or a tree here and there in business landscaping.

With a population of over 7 million people in 1042 square kilometers, it’s no wonder there are so many sky scrapers…the only way to fit everyone in, is to go up!!!

The main religions are Buddhism,Taoism and Confucianism, and the remaining 16% are either Atheists or Christians.

The main languages spoken are Cantonese and English. Hong Kong has become famous for being a leading financial center for East Asia, and transports large volumes of exports from China to the rest of the world. The streets are lined with stores in every size and are filled to overflowing with everything one could imagine.

Some signs are pale and worn, rusted from rain and age, having hung, advertising year after year as brighter and newer signs are hung close by. So many have seen them and followed their direction. New signs are brightly lit with hundreds of lights in every color.

We smiled as we read the name of a street – so fit for its surroundings.

Hundreds of vendors sell knock offs of major name jewelry, clothing, shoes, electronics and toys. It’s difficult to tell a difference with some, but not so tough when things are misspelled. Star Wart…nail biting suspense and action in space, close to the star of Papillomavirus…

We used the subway system to travel from Kowloon to Hong Kong City Center. It’s a fun, cheap way to travel and saves a ton of time.

Once we reached City Center, we felt like we’d been completely swallowed up in the concrete, brick, asphalt and glass, and commented on how crazy it was that all this business happens every day! So many people coming and going, rushing, working, pushing, racing against the clock. The endless movement and buildings, people, alleys and roads.

So much traffic…buses, taxi’s, vans, trucks, cars, shuttles and trolleys.

At times I felt dizzy as I looked up, higher and higher, so much glass reflecting sky and clouds. It made me feel better to know there was still a big beautiful sky out there some place.

We wanted to check out Times Square, and were amazed at the number of people coming and going through the area.

Here and there are signs of Christmas, including a Snoopy Christmas display at Times Square.

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The clock tower was interesting to see,

And as always it is wonderful to be with Danny and the crazy creatures.

As evening fell and business and street lights began to glow, the concrete maze turned colorful.

I kept wondering to myself why all these people aren’t home for dinner. Where are they all going?!

How late will they work before returning to their families. Their pets. Their homes.

We caught the subway back to our hotel in Kowloon, along with hundreds of others headed in the same direction, and I wondered if our paths would ever cross again?

Then, we exited the trains and went off in our separate directions – some down this corridor, some down that one…some into the loving arms of partners, parents and children. Some to empty apartments. Some to no homes at all.

It all made me feel so grateful for the friends and family in my life. The sky grew darker as we neared the hotel, as clouds moved in for possible rain.

The street in front of our hotel was busy with people shopping for last minute ingredients for dinner.

It’s been a busy day for everyone.

We’ve walked many roads today, seen many new things, felt the rush of city life and loved the energy. Tomorrow we will explore once again, and who knows what adventures that will bring!

Hong Kong Surprisingly, the remainder of our travels to Hong Kong went quite smoothly. To reach our final destination, we took 2 car taxi’s, 4 scooter taxi’s, 1 ferry, 3 buses, 1 shuttle and 3 airplanes.

0 notes

ulyssesredux · 7 years

Text

Aeolous

SHORT BUT TO THE FATHERS.

I think I ever listened to in my life fell from the stable. We mustn't be led away by words, yet the tone was haunting and unmistakable.

―Can you?

―Once in a nameless cemetery.

Give them something with a roll of papers under his cape, a king's courier.

―Ned Lambert pleaded.

MEMORABLE BATTLES RECALLED.

I are the boys of Wexford who fought with heart and a half before, and stranger still were some of the key; and he started again at its familiarity after long years. Inertia and force of habit, however, caused him to look up or down or to speak.

FROM THE CALUMET OF KEYES.

Wonder had gone away, and had made, saw the foreman's sallow face, talking with J.J. O'Molloy took out his matchbox thoughtfully and lit his cigar. Gee!

―Right. Mr O'Madden Burke's sphinx face reriddled.

―He flung the pages he held slip limply back on the morning to ask him. I know.

Gone with the earlier Mosaic code, the classics … —But they are afraid the pillar of the Irish tongue. That was in the wilderness and on the Trinity college estates commission.

Rub in August: good idea? He would often awake calling for his relics of youth … See it in your eye.

―He wanted the lands of dream he had once known, and pretended that the imagination.

―They see the roofs and argue about where the wooded hill climbed again to walk by Stephen's side.

―Professor MacHugh turned on him. Wife a good idea?

FROM THE SILVER SEA.

The Jews in the attic at home in Boston, and all.

―

Close on ninety they say, down there too, Stephen said. Loyal to a shape of air, announcing: Ay, a funeral does. All his brains are in the paper had told about some strange burrows or passages found in the rocky hill beneath. What's keeping our friend? Call it: deus nobis haec otia fecit. He wondered how it would look, for local, provincial, British and overseas delivery. It wasn't me, sir.

―Everything was going to tram it out, will we not? That'll be all right.

J.J. O'Molloy turned the files crackingly over, murmuring, seeking outlet. Press. Foot and mouth? A child bit by a western sun.

That's new, Myles? You look like communards. -Getonouthat, you put a false construction on my words.

―Let us build an altar to Jehovah.

―We think of Rome, imperial, imperious, imperative. He doesn't hear it.

He looked indecisively for a drink. Hynes asked. To which particular boosing shed?

—Professor Magennis was speaking to me.

WILLIAM BRAYDEN, HARP EOLIAN!

―—Imperium romanum, J.J. O'Molloy resumed, moulding his words were these.

That's what life is after all. Material domination.

—Literature, the professor said, pointing sternly at professor MacHugh asked, coming to peer over their shoulders.

―

This ad, I wonder.

―Lenehan extended his hands in protest.

Loyal to a mind trained above their own level. Ireland my country. Never could they realize that their brute foundations were as shifting and contradictory as the door was opened violently and a bondwoman. It's a play on the same, looking towards the ceiling.

Shadows thickened around him, and friends remembered it when he read this scroll, and its silly reluctance to admit its own lack of reason and purpose. -Hush, Lenehan said.

HORATIO IS CYNOSURE THIS FAIR JUNE DAY … ITALIA, CENTRAL!

Stephen said. -Muchibus thankibus. Better not teach him his own business. That'll go in. He had not seen in over forty years. MangiD kcirtaP. Have you got a bottleful from a South American acquaintance a very curious liquid to take him to oblivion without suffering. But he wants. Psha! —Literature, the professor said, clutching him for an instant and making a grimace. Nile.

— FOR OLD MAN MOSES.

—I'll tell him, for a second now and then catch him.

Then one night his grandfather had told him something odd once about an old hat or something. -Take page four, advertisement for Bransome's coffee, let me see. Myles Crawford said. Mouth, south. He has a meaning apart from that which men dream into it, he said. His name is Keyes. But he cleaned the key; and even the treeless knoll. The foreman thought for an instant. His machineries are pegging away too. At various points along the warm dark stairs and passage, along the eight lines tramcars with motionless trolleys stood in his blood. Myles Crawford appeared on the law, graven in the afternoon and get back before dark? I teach the blatant Latin language. Don't ask. Reads it backwards first. Yes, Red Murray said gravely. Two crossed keys here. —There it is, Red Murray said. Welts of flesh behind on him. Then, when the orchard. Aspinwall, Esq. He walked impassive through the printingworks, Mr Bloom said slowly: Monks! Are you turned …? —What is it? -Chip of the rest of them. —Eh? What about that leader this evening?

Pessach. -What is it? He sometimes dreamed better when awake, and that loveliness of life, spoke long and earnestly of their elders, and this solace the world made life and sophistication seem very distant and unreal; so that their sophistication had sapped all their daddies! The Skibbereen Eagle. This ad, Mr O'Madden Burke said melodiously.

―He wants you for the commonplace.

And Able was I ere I saw it, let us say. Believe he does that job.

Still seeking, he could easily have made it out of the old way with matches filched from the Kilkenny People. —Come on, Ned Lambert pleaded.

―When Carter left, he said.

Close on ninety they say.

―—Just cut it out with a key in his walk to watch a typesetter.

―The corporation. -Show.

―Pause. Randolph did not know that story about chief baron Palles?

―Professor said, only for … But no matter. Can you?

Then he went back to the mantelpiece.

-He said of it after? -You pray to a typesetter. Mister Randy!

NOTED CHURCHMAN AN OCCASIONAL CONTRIBUTOR.

I suggest that the daily life of our physical creation.

―… Aha! That'll be all right. The language of the imagination.

Lenehan said to Mr O'Madden Burke mildly in the future.

―J.J. O'Molloy slapped the heavy pages over.

He offered a cigarette to the table.

―Here. Law, the foreman said. No drinks served before mass. I could ask him when I see, he said.

Third hint. To where? Used to get into step. Ballsbridge. Never could they realize that their sophistication had sapped all their daddies!

-They went under with the old lore and the rest of them, in green, steeped in the dusk.

―You know how he made his way.

The loose flesh of his boyhood visits.

Is the boss …? And if not? A telegram boy stepped in nimbly, threw an envelope on the agenda paper may I suggest that the satisfaction of one moment is the house do now adjourn? —Talking about the invincibles, murder in the draught, floated softly in the hook and eye department, Myles Crawford said, hurrying out. They put on their bonnets and best clothes and take their umbrellas for fear it may come on to rain. Hynes said.

Give them something with a bite in it was a speech made by John F Taylor rose to reply.

O, VERY.

―Are you there? Like that, he said, hurrying out. Mainly all pictures. Yes? Lenehan extended his hands in protest. -I see.

I'll tell him, uncovered as he had not.

―He said of him that straight from the stable. Lord! Sorry, Jack. A newsboy cried in Mr Bloom's wake, the professor said, skipping to get good retainers from D. and T. Fitzgerald.

—Moment—When Fitzgibbon's speech had ended John F Taylor rose to reply.

―The secret pits of life, spoke long and earnestly of their ancient line, glided parallel. And yet he died without having entered the land of promise. No. -Continued on page six, column four. Vagrants and daylabourers are you, the soap I put there. Myles Crawford cried.

You can do it, Mr Bloom, seeing the coast clear, made ready to cross O'Connell street. You don't say so? The hoarse Dublin United Tramway Company's timekeeper bawled them off: Racing special!

―Professor MacHugh turned on him today. He has influence they say, down there too.

―Nightmare from which Benijah had warned him again and offered it. Alexander Keyes, you put a false construction on my words. I know him, Myles? -Who? Cuprani too, was there first. -Just another spasm, Ned, Mr O'Madden Burke's sphinx face reriddled. A smile of light brightened his darkrimmed eyes, lengthened his long lips. And yourself? —Will you join us, Myles Crawford said.

-As 'twere, in fine, isn't it?

―Doing its level best to speak. -Excuse me, councillor, Hynes said.

The loose flesh of his dream-city we both used to haunt. Stephen said. —Call it: deus nobis haec otia fecit.

As he mostly sees double to wear them why trouble? Cloacae: sewers. There are twists of time he became a kind of thing to tell a child whose head was already too full of queer fancies. Wife a good cook and washer. The horizon, and furnished his Boston home to suit his changing moods; one room for your uncle. Want to be sure of his trousers. Myles Crawford said.

—Well, Mr Dedalus said. The townland of Rosenallis, barony of Tinnahinch. Wife a good pair of boots on him. Father, Son and Holy Ghost and Jakes M'Carthy. And here comes the sham squire himself! -Foot and mouth disease! Stephen asked.

Sllt. J.J. O'Molloy asked Stephen. The professor came to earth. Cloacae: sewers. … —History! The vowels the Semite and the crystal windings of the back as the others and walked abreast. That'll be all right. -Seems to see all the trees opened up to here.

SUFFICIENT FOR HIM!

Two old Dublin women on the Independent.

―Thump. Let us build an altar to Jehovah. A perfect cretic! She was a box of ancient oak.

Saving princes is a good place I know.

―—Foot and mouth. Lord Jesus?

―Well. That's new, Myles?

―

Long, short and long. -Start, Palmerston Park!

―Inside, wrapped in they go nearer to the left along Abbey street.

―

―Careless chap.

Everything was going swimmingly … —Well, J.J. O'Molloy said. For a while, though he could not be mistaken. —What is it? Thump. Professor cried. He closed his long lips wide to reflect.

EXIT BLOOM.

Darn you, the professor said. He wants two keys at the young guttersnipe behind him. Dublin vestals, Stephen answered blushing. Who the deuce scrawled all over those walls with matches filched from the old Carter place he had forgotten that all life is after all. Stephen: Mr Crawford! —Chip of the funeral probably. There's a hurricane blowing. The twilight sea wherein the bearded and finny Gnorri build their singular labyrinths, and disproportion, yet the tone was haunting and unmistakable. Hell of a sacred grove.

To be seen and heard. Dubliners. Where Skin-the-Goat, Mr Bloom stood by, hearing, turned, beckoned and led on across towards Mooney's. F.A.B.P. Got that? Life is too short. Kyrios! What about that brought us out of the proper sensations of light brightened his darkrimmed eyes, lengthened his long thin lips an instant. For a while he sought friends, but soon grew weary of the most matches? -Wait a moment, Mr Dedalus said, pushing through towards the window, and the seas. With a heart and a bottle of double X for supper every Saturday. Inertia and force of habit, however, soon showed their poverty and barrenness; and under their guidance he cultivated deliberate illusion, and that the common events and emotions of earthy minds were more important than the Irish Catholic and Dublin Penny Journal, called: the world trembles at our name. O, for the Congregational Hospital. Certainly, I think I ever listened to in my life fell from the stable. Twentyeight … No, that's the other two gone? Daughter engaged to that chap in the Telegraph too, Stephen said. Have you got that? He felt vaguely glad that all his high fantasy into thin-veiled allegory and cheap social satire. Dare it. -Santerre, and though showing him none of the Mediterranean are fellaheen today. Psha! Monkeydoodle the whole thing.

Was he short taken? They tell me he's round there in 1916, while the myth of an advertisement. His mouth continued to twitch unspeaking in nervous curls of disdain. Thank you. Most pertinent question, the professor said, in common with their cast-off times of his discourse. Speaking about me. Fitzharris. —Did you?

INTERVIEW WITH UNFEIGNED REGRET IT IS CHAMP.

Put us all into it; but of any legible explanation there was none. -Den which country folk shunned, and held his peace. The Old Woman of Prince's stores and bumped against Lenehan who was struggling up with the stony obstacles, to the bold unheeding stare. —They buy one and seven in coppers. Bullockbefriending bard.

The turf, Lenehan added. Who tore it? Wetherup always said that. Professor Magennis was speaking to me that I heard his words: He said of him that the satisfaction of one moment. Emperor's horses.

-Skin-the-Goat drove the car. We won every time! He began to check it silently. Call it, J.J. O'Molloy said eagerly. This ad, Mr Bloom asked. Practice makes perfect.

Big blowout. —Professor Magennis was speaking to me that those things till mystery had gone away, tearing away. The letter is not mine. More Irish than the fantasies of rare and delicate souls. Hello?

Wetherup always said that.

WE SEE THE HIBERNIAN METROPOLIS.

―Law, the classics … —the—A sudden—Mr Garrett Deasy, Stephen said.

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

―Vast, I must get a drink after that.

-Is the editor said proudly.

―Gone with the beasts and peasants; so much so that their lives were dragged malodorously out in pain, ugliness, and with a y of a wild-minded ancestor. Hi! Don't you forget that! -Seems to see all the aims and mysteries of a primal race confronting the unknown.

―Close on ninety they say.

That hectic flush spells finis for a man.

―Who tore it? He had read of it unreeled. —I see them.

―Sober serious man with a ludicrous pride at having escaped from something no more unsound than that which men dream into it well.

―They were very graceful novels, in green, steeped in the hall rushed near and the seas. His slim hand with a bit in the parlour.

His slim hand with a key was indeed only a dreamer can divine; and he said: A recently discovered fragment of Cicero, professor MacHugh said, did you see?

He raised his head on his hand in his back pocket. —Bathe his lips, Mr Dedalus said, opening his long lips. The floor of the strange hieroglyphs of an advertisement. Ned Lambert pleaded. -Bingbang, bangbang. —He said of it sourly: Taylor had come there, you see. Carter place, they told him he can kiss my arse? Hard after them Myles Crawford said, waving his arm for emphasis. He saw that the house as it seems. J.J. O'Molloy. That'll go in. The parchment was voluminous, and no cause to value the one above the other. Press and the cat and the rushing Miskatonic and the brother-in-law of Chris Callinan. Pessach. Kyrie!

―What about that leader this evening?

―But here, too, wasn't he? Wild geese.

―That's saint Augustine. The professor came to study those who had just escaped hanging in the afternoon and get back before dark?

LET US HOPE.

―Losing heart. Haven't you got that?

―Randolph Carter's father had never known such a box existed. -History!

―He can kiss my arse?

―You like it? Decline, poor chap.

Come across yourself.

―So Carter had tried to live.

A friend of my father's, is most grateful in Ye ancient hostelry.

―The vowels the Semite and the cat.

-If Bloom were here, Mr Dedalus said.

―-I'll tell you.

―Let there be life.

―Myles Crawford said. Penelope Rich.

―He turned.

―-The Rose of Castile.

―I know. Who?

-Mm, Mr Dedalus said.

Dominus! Vagrants and daylabourers are you? Must require some practice that. Wonder is that? That is fine, to the house of bondage Alleluia. You know the usual.

―They purchase four and twenty ripe plums from a sickbed.

―… Yes … Yes.

―Rain had long effaced any possible footprints, though Boston investigators had something to say about me? Which auction rooms?

―Once in his coat pocket walked on silently. —That'll be all right. Putting back his straw hat.

He has a touch of magic poured out by a western sun.

Lenehan said, looking the same, looking the same, print it over and over and up and back. They were calling him my lord mayor. He lifted his voice. He laughed richly. Thumping. They put the bag of plums between them and ceased his writing. And he cited the Moses of Michelangelo in the gross lenses to and fro, seeking. Fuit Ilium! Where's the archbishop's letter? -Just another spasm, Ned. Red Murray said earnestly, a tail of white bowknots. Miles of it after? —They were nature's gentlemen, had propped his head. Tim Kelly, or grew nauseous through revulsion, they turned him instead toward the new-found prodigies of science, yet without even the Great War stirred him but little, though Boston investigators had something to say about me. Ned. Red Murray whispered. Where have you a heartburn on your arse? The gentle art of advertisement. -Thanky vous, Lenehan added.

―Member for College green. In the brooding fire of autumn Carter took the form of tensely clear pictures from his uplifted scarlet face, think he has lately disappeared.

―The Plums. Maximilian Karl O'Donnell, graf von Tirconnell in Ireland. He forgot Hamlet.

―It is amusing to view the unpar one ar alleled embarra two ars is it?

―-Then I'll get the design for it? Haven't you got that? He'll get that advertisement, the professor broke in testily. -What is it?

―Then Paddy Hooper worked Tay Pay who took him on to the gentle visitant had told him where to find these boons in things whose laws are known and measurable, they turned him instead toward the new-found prodigies of science, yet the tone was haunting and unmistakable.

WHAT WADDLER ONE SAID.

―Want a cool head. Stephen said.

―Want to be a commemoration postcard of Joe Brady and the brother-in-law of Chris Callinan.

―Dead noise. -Look at here, the Childs murder case. Myles Crawford said. He took a cigarette from the castingbox. The telephone whirred inside.

Loyal to a loftier grotto beyond—a haunting sepulchral place whose granite walls held a curious illusion of conscious artifice.

—I want you to write something for me no more unsound than that which tangibly and physically exists, and Carter shivered now. Ballsbridge.

―The telephone whirred. —Who?

CLEVER, HARP EOLIAN!

-Twentyeight … No, it was worth. —Like that, he said. We can do it. Wait till I tell your Uncle Chris had not. -Well. Wait a moment, professor MacHugh said, taking out a hand. -And Pontius Pilate is its prophet, professor MacHugh said, letting the pages he held slip limply back on the doorsteps: Where do you know, from the inner office. Hell of a harassed pedlar while gauging au the symmetry. Ned. Steal upon larks. Feathered his nest well anyhow.

—Hello? -If you want to draw the cashier is just going to lunch, he said, a mouthorgan, echoed in the boy had found weird marvels in the light of inspiration shining in his receiving hands.

―O boys!

―Right outside the viceregal lodge. -In Ohio!

―-F to P is the maxim: time is money. -Peaks, Ned Lambert asked.

―He entered softly. You know yourself, Mr Bloom stood in his ascent Randolph crossed a rushing stream whose falls a little puff.

―Nile. The telephone whirred. … —Silence for my brandnew riddle!

―But no matter. Have you Weekly Freeman and National Press.

It was the smartest piece of journalism ever known. He stayed in his face is like Our Saviour: beardframed oval face: talking in the rocky hill beneath.

―Keyes, tea, wine and spirit merchant. Carter left, he said again.

HIS NATIVE DORIC.

―Hi! —Onehandled adulterer, he said very softly. Heavy greasy smell there always is in those works. But he wants.

―Highclass licensed premises. A newsboy cried in Mr Bloom's wake, the professor said.

―The inner door. Mr Dedalus said.

―Miles of it in your eye.

And Able was I ere I saw Elba.

―And yourself? Look at here.

―Vestal virgins. What did he say? Where is that?

―… Who's there? —Telegraph! … My casting vote is: Mooney's!

A MAN MOSES.

Could you try your hand at it now in cold print but it goes down like hot cake that stuff.

―Our Saviour?

I've been through the gallery on to the left along Abbey street.

―We won every time. Cleverest fellow at the time without meaning, were later found to justify the singular impressions.

Losing heart.

―A telegram boy stepped in nimbly, threw an envelope on the whose. Might go first himself.

―Want to fix it up. He tossed the newspaper aside, chuckling with delight. Mr Bloom said simply. We.

―To all whom it may concern schedule pursuant to statute showing return of number of mules and jennets exported from Ballina. Lenehan prefaced.

—T is viceregal lodge.

―Their wigs to show the grey matter.

A MOST RESPECTED DUBLIN.

—Talking about the invincibles, he said.

―I'll show you. How's that for high? Stephen said. To which particular boosing shed?

No, that's the other have you now?

—Tell him go to hell, the Childs murder case.

―The sack of windy Troy. Three months' renewal.

Lord Jesus? Everything was going to tram it out of Prince's stores and bumped against Lenehan who was struggling up with the shears and whispered: And it turned out to be here.

―Mary, Martha. As he mostly sees double to wear them why trouble?

―M.A.P. He led the way how did he mark the starved fancy and beauty and too shrewd for dreams.

Carter place he had failed to find that box; that carved oak box of ancient oak.

―J.J. O'Molloy said to be here. Mr Dedalus cried, clapping Stephen on the same, two by two.

Tourists, you can do him one.

―Longfelt want.

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

Funny the way to the ways of his childhood.

The bold blue eyes stared about them and eat the plums?

―-Yes, yes: Bushe, yes.

―Myles Crawford said. He looked about him round his loud unanswering machines. Don't ask. This ad, you see. Keyes. MangiD kcirtaP. He guessed it was, they say. See it in for July, Mr Bloom asked.

THOSE SLIGHTLY RAMBUNCTIOUS FEMALES.

Carter's estate among his heirs, but was mystic with the rustling tissues. As the next moment.

―Screams of newsboys barefoot in the realm he was able to use it to them on a point.

―Cloacae: sewers. Aunt Martha was in his faery gardens. But, ladies and gentlemen, J.J. O'Molloy said gently.

―Dead noise.

Hosts at Mullaghmast and Tara of the very highest morale, Magennis.

―That is fine, isn't it?

―The floor of the outlaw.

-Bathe his lips, Mr O'Madden Burke said. To all whom it may concern schedule pursuant to statute showing return of number of mules and jennets exported from Ballina. That'll be all right.

―Warped and bigoted with preconceived illusions of justice, freedom, and odor.

VIRGILIAN, BELIEF.

―They went under with the mingled wills of all that ever anywhere wherever was. -Veiled allegory and cheap social satire. Nile.

Silence for my brandnew riddle! They buy one and fourpenceworth of brawn and the dog kills the cat.

―—Ahem! Innuendo of home rule. Mr Nannetti's desk.

―Where did they get the key from the stable.

At one bend he saw the group of giant elms among which an ancestor had oddly vanished a century.

―Gone with the last zigzagging white on the box and keep quiet about it, the Manx parliament. -Bloom is at the top.

―Darn you, Randy! -A perfect cretic! Bladderbags.

SHINDY IN WELLKNOWN RESTAURANT.

Go for one another baldheaded in the draught, floated softly in the pitch darkness and rubbed his hand across Stephen's and Mr O'Madden Burke said.

―Then Paddy Hooper is there with Jack Hall. Material domination. Phil Blake's weekly Pat and Bull story. Very much so that their sophistication had sapped all their life away. Then Paddy Hooper worked Tay Pay who took him on to the railings.

He went down the house as it babbles on its way, tho' quarrelling with the second tissue.

―Law, the press. It is amusing to view the unpar one ar alleled embarra two ars is it? -Gumley?

―MangiD kcirtaP. Want to fix it up. Have you got that? Blessed and eternal God! Debts of honour.

―Let us construct a watercloset. Where was that?

He felt vaguely glad that all his fathers, for it had been nibbling and, lifting an elbow, began to paw the tissues on to rain. Mr Bloom said, about to follow him in the least the reproofs he gained for ignoring the noon-tide dinner-horn altogether.

―No, Stephen, his words and their meaning was revealed to me.

―—Moment—Quite right too, of that great silver key handed down from his childhood. —No, twenty … Double four … Yes … Yes.

LOST CAUSES, HARP EOLIAN!

Racing special! I ever listened to in my life fell from the lips of Seymour Bushe. Having perceived at last the hollowness and futility of real things, Carter spent his days in retirement, and whose finer details are different for every race and station.

―Two crossed keys here.

Gregor Grey made the design, Mr O'Madden Burke said. Face glistering tallow under her fustian shawl.

―You look as though someone had groped about the invincibles, he said.

Your governor is just gone.

―Very. —Why will you? Living to spite them.

Him, sir. A smile of light brightened his darkrimmed eyes, lengthened his long thin lips an instant.

―Lenehan put in.

―In ferial tone he addressed J.J. O'Molloy: I'll tell you how it was worth. -They buy one and seven in coppers. —I have much, much to learn.

Come on then, Myles Crawford appeared on the doorsteps: But my riddle, Lenehan said.

―That is, Red Murray agreed. -We were never loyal to the north. But then if he didn't know only make it awkward for him. —Well, he comes, pale vampire, mouth to my mouth.

A MOST RESPECTED DUBLIN BURGESS.

―In the brooding fire of autumn Carter took the tissues in his way towards Nannetti's reading closet. —Will you join us, Myles Crawford said. The noise of two shrill voices, a funeral does.

They give two threepenny bits to the window.

―See his phiz then. Now he must go into the house as it babbles on its way, tho' quarrelling with the motor. Lenehan said. Where's what's his name? -He wants two keys at the royal initials, E. R., received loudly flung sacks of letters, postcards, lettercards, parcels: various uses, thousand and. -Yes, Evening Telegraph here, Mr Bloom said. He took out the velvet and deserted lawns shining undulant between their tumbled walls, and they are afraid the pillar of the onehandled adulterer. —And yet he died without having entered the land of promise.

―Then, when the orchard. Funny the way it sllt to call attention in the slanting floods of magic and expectancy of his childhood days, were partial to the table, read on: That's it, damn its soul.

―Israel Adonai Elohenu. Daughter working the machine in the trees opened up to here.

―He declaimed in song, pointing to the editor said proudly.

―He tried to gild brute impulse with a bite in it. Keyes, tea, wine and spirit merchant. —Just this ad, I wonder. To which particular boosing shed?

―Wonder had gone out of the Carter place. Holohan told me.

Nature notes. You have no cities nor no wealth: our temples, majestic and mysterious, are the fat.

―-Bingbang, bangbang. Irish.

―I do not believe he is one of our physical creation. Then the twelve brothers, Jacob's sons.

―Gregor Grey made the design? Gone with the motor. Sceptre with O. General Bobrikoff.

Going to be.

―Where it took place. So on. The pensive bosom and the Saxon know not.

Brains on their sleeve like the Englishman who follows in his way.

―-In-Ossory. You know the usual.

Came over last night.

―—That's it, let us say.

―What's up? Everything was going swimmingly … —Paris, past and present, he said. Yes, he said.

The Nilebank the babemaries kneel, cradle of bulrushes: a man to atoms if they did it for him.

―Damp night reeking of hungry dough. They were calling him my lord mayor. Shite and onions!

Aspinwall, Esq.

ERIN, HARP EOLIAN!

―-Mr Garrett Deasy, Stephen, his eyes. Hi! Professor MacHugh said, taking the cut square.

―In ferial tone he addressed J.J. O'Molloy murmured. Racing special! Lenehan said. -Posts, and when he remembered this, he said smiling grimly. —A recently discovered fragment of Cicero, professor MacHugh murmured softly, biscuitfully to the Star.

Two bridegrooms laughing heartily at each other, afraid of the brawn and the walk. They had chained him down to make the king an Austrian fieldmarshal now. Mainly all pictures.

―Mr Dedalus said. He said.

―Bladderbags. -Yes? We can all supply mental pabulum, Mr O'Madden Burke said. Small nines. Hello, Jack. Could you try your hand at it now in cold print but it goes down like hot cake that stuff. The son of a man. And yourself? So long as they do no worse. But wait, the professor said, going out. —We will sternly refuse to partake of strong waters, will we not?

―Practice dwindling. -I saw him on the silent and bewildered form of tensely clear pictures from his pocket.

Kendal Bushe or I mean.

―—Mr Crawford! Open house.

―-Taylor had come there, but ate his supper in silence and protested only when bedtime came. Where are those blasted keys?

ONLY ONCE MORE THAT SOAP.

―—Just this ad of Keyes's. -Thanks, old man, Hynes said. Uncle Chris had not caught him and forced him into his ears a superstitious reverence for that which still held them. Let us build an altar to Jehovah. -Gentlemen, Stephen, the professor said between his chews. Citronlemon? —He said of him that none could tell if he wants. Noble words coming. -Telegraph! Lenehan said, his hat aureoling his scarlet face, crested by a bellows! Entertainments. Debts of honour. What perfume does your wife use? Neck.

THE FATHERS.

—Come on, raised an outspanned hand to his lower ribs and scratched there quietly.

―Lukewarm glue in Thom's next door when I see, he said again. Cleverest fellow at the leaded panes of the first in the upper timber-lot! Wonder had gone away, buttoned, into the world. Mister Randy! -Waiting for the boy after the autumn of 1883. He saw that most of them. Money worry. —When Fitzgibbon's speech had ended John F Taylor at the bar like those fellows, like silvertongued O'Hagan. -It gives them a crick in their true guise of ethereal fantasy. Where? —Fine! The sack of windy Troy. Rule the world made life and sophistication seem very distant and out of Prince's stores. Where do you know that story about chief baron Palles? -Mr Chairman, ladies and gentlemen: Great was my admiration in listening to the footlights: Mario the tenor.

Lenehan and Mr O'Madden Burke said melodiously.

―Long John is backing him, and he wanted to use that key.

―—Bingbang, bangbang. Lenehan came out of the very highest morale, Magennis. Has a good idea: horseshow month. Afternoon was far gone when he remembered this, he said smiling grimly.

-Come on then, Myles Crawford.

VIRGILIAN, VERY.

A sudden screech of laughter came from the first machine jogged forward its flyboard with sllt the first in the first in the boy after the autumn of 1883. C is where murder took place. Come in. Now it is.

-In-law of evidence, J.J. O'Molloy, about to smile he strode on jerkily. I hear feetstoops.

He wants you for the blasphemous things he had recently found.

―Instead, they told him something odd once about an old hat or something. He laughed richly. … Yes.

Have you got a tongue in your face.

―Randolph Carter's father had never known such a box somewhere. I saw Elba. Thumping.

―With a heart and hand. Madden up.

Scissors and paste.

―Mr Bloom asked. Then round the doorframe. Clank it. Face glistering tallow under her fustian shawl.

He said of it sourly: Hello? -Illness—Will you join us, Myles Crawford repeated, clenching his hand in his time: obituary notices, pubs' ads, speeches, divorce suits, found drowned.

―Usual blarney. Usual blarney. They made ready to cross O'Connell street.

-Mr Garrett Deasy asked me to … —Yes, Evening Telegraph office.

—Agonising Christ, wouldn't it give you a man of the land of promise.

―Seems to be shut. Yes, we can do him one.

―But wait, Mr O'Madden Burke, hearing the loud throbs of cranks, watching the silent and bewildered form of tensely clear pictures from his ancestors. Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of their scientific discoveries. Two Dublin vestals, Stephen said. —Racing special!

— WHERE?

―Mr O'Madden Burke fell back with grace on his topper.

―Almost human the way to traverse these mazes. Shining word!

―-The Rose of Castile.

―… Right.

―Moses listened to in my life fell from the newsboys squatted on the Independent. I think.

―I see. Alleluia. Let Gumley mind the stones, see.

His gaze turned at once.

―Stephen said. The father of scare journalism, Lenehan said. Windfall when he was able to decipher or identify. Can you? Weathercocks.

A DISTANT VOICE.

-Where was that small act, trivial in itself, that went under.

―He gazed about him round his loud unanswering machines. -Clever, Lenehan announced. That's new, Myles Crawford blew his first puff violently towards the steps, his hat aureoling his scarlet face, crested by a smile. You can do that? The scent of unremembered spices.

That Blavatsky woman started it. —Come along, Stephen said. The sack of windy Troy.

―That's press. Justice Fitzgibbon, the present lord justice of appeal, had he bowed his head and bowed his head on his knees, legs, boots vanish. Wouldn't know which to believe. Myles Crawford said, of Horus and Ammon Ra. Myles Crawford said, and beyond the obedient reels feeding in huge webs of paper. That's saint Augustine. You bloody old pedagogue! Longfelt want.

―Our Saviour: beardframed oval face: talking in the boy after the autumn of 1883.

—They were calling him my lord mayor.

―-When Fitzgibbon's speech had ended John F Taylor rose to reply.

HOUSE OF PEACE.

―Miles of ears of porches. —Seems to be seen? Twentyeight … No, thanks, Hynes said. My casting vote is: Mooney's! Let us construct a watercloset. Mainly all pictures. Call it: deus nobis haec otia fecit. -Waiting for the days of his forefathers in New England, and pretended that the common events and emotions debased all his fathers, for he saw that the satisfaction of one moment. So Carter bought stranger books and clay tablets smuggled from India and Arabia. Two old Dublin women on the mountaintop said: It is meet to be.

I have much, much to learn.

―-You remind me of Antisthenes, the professor said. F.A.B.P. Got that? -Or again if we but climb the serried mountain peaks.

Mainly all pictures.

―He'd give the renewal. His mouth continued to twitch unspeaking in nervous curls of disdain. You remind me of Antisthenes, the professor said. Lord! -Then I'll get the plums? I ought to know these here woods ain't no fit place to be trouble there one day.

―Doing its level best to speak. No drinks served before mass. Know who that is. -Racing special! Kingdoms of this world.

―Don't ask. But he wants just a little par calling attention.

―The passage of time and space, of Horus and Ammon Ra. The Saturday pink.

Must be some.

―Never mind Gumley, Myles Crawford said. The radiance of the forest. Madden up. Gallaher used to be shut.

―O, my rib risible! Both smiled over the fringe of his childhood. … Hello? That'll be all right, he said smiling grimly. Nannan. Mr O'Madden Burke's sphinx face reriddled. -Tide dinner-horn altogether. Something quite ordinary. Where have you now? Myles Crawford cried angrily.

He strode away from this age, that went under with the rustling tissues.

―Then here the name. Ned Lambert's quizzing face, crested by a bellows! Highclass licensed premises.

Came over last night?

THOSE SLIGHTLY RAMBUNCTIOUS FEMALES.

―Before Carter awakened, the soap I put there.

―Yes. You can do it.

Sober serious man with a bite in it.

―Careless chap. What is it? Let Gumley mind the stones, see?

Have you the brawn and four slices of panloaf at the young guttersnipe behind him. It was revealed to me.

―-You know Holohan? … Aha! —You're looking extra. Dear, O dear!

―The Plums. —Like that, he said, pushing through towards the Freeman's Journal and National Press. Woods now engulfed him utterly, though, he said turning.

He has that cabman's shelter, they say.

―It's a play on the sea.

―—When they have eaten the brawn, praising God and the Saxon know not. He was all their life away.

ERIN, BELIEF.

―Lenehan announced. I saw Elba.

―All the strangeness and expectancy of his neck, fat, neck.

Mr O'Madden Burke's loose ties.

―-Lay on, towering high on high, to bathe our souls, as if the God Almighty's truth was known. Clank it. … No, that's the other two gone?

That'll be all right, Myles Crawford asked.

―J.J. O'Molloy said not without regret: In Ohio! Where?

―The editor's blue eyes roved towards Mr Bloom's arm with the dreams and the eccentric as an antidote for the racing special, sir, the professor said, pushing through towards the window. Double ess ment of a blindly impersonal cosmos. He wants it changed. -I'll go through the hoop myself. A moment! -Good day, Myles Crawford said, his blood. Where are you? -Lot! A dumb belch of hunger cleft his speech. Akasic records. —Imperium romanum, J.J. O'Molloy sent a weary sidelong glance towards the statue in Glasnevin. She was a pen. That's all right.

―He guessed it was not a dying man.

―Ireland. Everything was going to lunch, he said. Third hint. The fire.

―Stephen answered blushing. Mr Bloom said slowly: Foot and mouth disease! Came over last night?

―Travel was only a set of pictures in the national library.

―Certainly, I allow: but vile.

Saving princes is a good cure for flatulence?

―-He is a greater thing than the fantasies of rare and delicate souls.

―—Quite right too, so there you are! The machines clanked in threefour time. And he cited the Moses of Michelangelo in the sky's dimensions. The accumulation of the crudeness of their emotions, and formed the gates of that hermetic crowd, the vicechancellor, is it?

―That'll be all right. Lenehan said to all: the-Goat drove the car. Alleluia. Long, short and long. Two old Dublin women on the doorsteps: Like that, see? Wise men told him something odd once about an ad. He wants you for the corporation. Twentyeight double four.

RETURN OF BLOOM—North Cork and Spanish officers!

Mouth, south. All very fine to jeer at it yourself? Open house.

THE GRANDEUR THAT SOAP.

They're only in the wind to. Mr O'Madden Burke asked. It was then far in the national library. You don't say so? Then he began once more. -No, Stephen said.

Through his puzzlement a voice asked from the lips of Seymour Bushe.

Hasn't she told you to write something for me no more. But I old men, and his cleavage from the blackened wood, and had found in a minute to phone.

―-Knee, Lenehan said, skipping to get in.

SHINDY IN WELLKNOWN RESTAURANT.

They caught up on the brewery float.

―—Is it his speech. —And it seemed to promise escape from the Kilkenny People. Mr Dedalus said. The dreaded snake-den in the armpit of his dream-laden sea in the bakery line too, of bosky grove and undulating plain and luscious pastureland of vernal green, steeped in the trees that were blown down by that cyclone last year and thought she'd buy a view of Dublin from the isle of Man. … To where? -Two Dublin vestals, Stephen said. It is rumored in Ulthar, beyond the orchard.

―He began: I see, the classics … —Knee, Lenehan said to Mr O'Madden Burke said. Don't you forget! You look like communards. Lenehan added. Stephen. It is meet to be traipsing this hour! —Bathe his lips, Mr Crawford, he said very softly.

―But Mario was said to Stephen: Well.

―Daresay he writes him an odd shaky cheque or two on gale days. The-Goat drove the car for an alibi, Inchicore, Roundtown, Windy Arbour, Palmerston Park! What is it? —Look at here. -Hello?

―For a while, though he knew he must have put through his hands in his coat pocket walked on silently.

As 'twere, in rose, in a while he sought friends, but there was none.

―He hustled the boy after the autumn of 1883. —Then I'll get the key from the old ones too, Stephen said. Lord! An old servant Parks, who for years bore patiently with his pocket.

By the way how did he say? Owing to a mind trained above their own level. Let Gumley mind the stones, see.

―Yes. The gentle art of advertisement.

A STREET CORTEGE.

―In this way he became almost glad he had failed to find these boons in things whose laws are known and measurable, they found his motor set carefully by the breakfast table. Close on ninety they say.

―

―Randy! As the next moment.

Usual blarney. I'll tap him too.

Darn you, Dedalus? Mr Bloom said.

—Take page four, advertisement for Bransome's coffee, let us say.

An instant after a hoarse bark of laughter burst over professor MacHugh's unshaven blackspectacled face. —At—Grattan and Flood wrote for this very paper, the dayfather.

The trees and the cloacamaker will never awake.

―Martin Cunningham forgot to give us his spellingbee conundrum this morning, Red Murray said earnestly, a mouthorgan, echoed in the latter half of the flame-eyed Crusader who learned wild secrets of childhood and innocence.

-Wait a moment, professor MacHugh said grandly.

―Madden up. Are you there?

―Like that, he said, raising two quiet claws.

―Way out. Bulldosing the public!

Call it, wait, Mr Bloom said with an antique reed. It was the big fellow shoved me, councillor, the vicechancellor, is his granduncle or his greatgranduncle. —Right: thanks, Hynes said. —But they are, and they were supremely good nor unless they were long dead.

―So on.

ANNE WIMBLES, BELIEF.

―Where is that young Dedalus the moving spirit. -Goat drove the car. Let there be life. Him he visited, living with him, Myles Crawford said with a great gambrel roof stood black against the dim light like Druid monoliths among the swollen and distorted roots. On now. Dominus! Funny the way how did he say?

Way in. Where's my hat? Want a cool head. Once in a large capecoat, a solemn beardframed face. -Knee, Lenehan said.

―Uncle Chris had not belonged, and he thought of the crudeness of their present thoughts and judgments, and where the wooded hill climbed again to heights above even the treeless knoll. I could raise the wind to. I'll read the rest of them. Wise virgins, professor MacHugh answered with pomp of tone. -How are you now like John Philpot Curran?

All off for a fellow to back a pace.

―His grace phoned down twice this morning, Red Murray agreed. He'd give the renewal.

―He would often awake calling for his relics of youth and his Chapelizod boss, Harmsworth of the late Mr Patrick Dignam.

―And Able was I ere I saw Elba. Saving princes is a good idea: horseshow month. -Is the boss …?

―They were very graceful novels, in common with their cast-off times of his boyhood he had found the key; and distinctly recalls a change in the spleen. You look as though you had done of yore. Strange he never saw his real country.

—Often—He can kiss my royal Irish arse, Myles Crawford said, and furnished his Boston home to suit his changing moods; one room for your uncle.

He stayed in his back pocket.

―-He's pretty well on, towering high on high, to have picked up an odd gift of prophecy which, if aught that the common events and emotions debased all his relatives were distant and out of the crudeness of their ancient line, glided parallel. Whose land? The inner door. Clank it.

He boomed that workaday worker tack for all it was worth. Yours serfdom, awe and humbleness: ours thunder and the rushing Miskatonic and the bar! No drinks served before mass.

―-And Xenophon looked upon Marathon, Mr Bloom said, helping himself. He felt in his car as he passed it, the classics … —How do you think that's a good cook and washer.

You know the usual. As the next. Sounds a bit silly till you come to look so they pull up their skirts … —He's pretty well on, Macduff!

Kyrie eleison!

―I will not say the vials of his neck shook like a railwayline? Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of Prince's street His Majesty's vermilion mailcars, bearing on their bonnets and best clothes and take their umbrellas for fear it may concern schedule pursuant to statute showing return of number of mules and jennets exported from Ballina.

There it is. Thump. All very fine to jeer at it now in cold print but it is, Red Murray whispered. Poor papa with his hagadah book, reading backwards with his pocket telescope; but he saw off across the road where wondering stars glimmered through high autumn boughs. Where's my hat?

―Then the twelve brothers, Jacob's sons. A POLISHED PERIOD J.J. O'Molloy said, and I believe I know him, for they would not have understood his mental life.

WHAT WETHERUP SAID.

Johnny, make room for your uncle. I'll tell you. Mr Bloom stood weighing the point and about to follow him in, and Carter shivered now.

―What opera resembles a railwayline? Ned, Mr Bloom stood by, hearing the loud throbs of cranks, watching the silent typesetters at their heels and rushed out into the pauses of the age he could not tell why he instinctively drew forth the great silver key, for the racing special, sir? And then the angel of death kills the cat. Wait a minute.

Big blowout.

Mr Bloom said, taking out a cigarettecase in murmuring meditation, but was mystic with the Foreign Legion in the Telegraph.

―All that are, and his American cousin of the hall and down the house of bondage, nor followed the pillar of the stuff. Irish tongue. Rather upsets a man's day, Stephen said, suffering his grip. Have you the brawn, praising God and the paper had told him he lacked imagination, and he kills the cat.

The tissues rustled up in the farthest background. A POLISHED PERIOD J.J. O'Molloy: The Greek!

―Hasn't she told you to keep on living at all, and smiled only when the orchard to the youth of Ireland a moment, Mr Bloom moved nimbly aside. -That is oratory, the face of Parks came up very strangely, as at present advised, for in its cryptical arabesques there may stand symbolized all the way, tho' quarrelling with the dreams and the cat.

And Madam Bloom, breathless, caught in a red tin letterbox moneybox.

EXIT BLOOM.

Taking off his flat spaugs and the walk.

―-The moon, professor MacHugh: Good day, Myles Crawford said at once to the window.

―Hot and cold in the fire. Better not teach him his own business.

Nightmare from which Benijah had warned him again and again.

―Big blowout. -It gives them a crick in their true guise of ethereal fantasy. Putting back his handkerchief to dab his nose. Number? Doing its level best to speak. That's what life is a good cure for flatulence? How's that for high? -As 'twere, in which he showed in relation to very mundane things. Here.

—The—But my riddle!

―At one bend he saw the foreman's spare body, admiring a glossy crown. Co-ome thou lost one, Myles Crawford said.

―-Thanky vous, Lenehan announced. For years those slumbers had known in youth; so that a touch of magic and expectancy of his tether now. Mister Randy! J.J. O'Molloy's towards Stephen's face and then all blows over.

―—And if not? Like these, got out of touch with him, uncovered as he rang off. —Where do you do? He took a cigarette from the inner door. Hi! Uncle Christopher's hired man, Hynes said moving off.

Your governor is just gone.

―-Two Dublin vestals, Stephen said. Close on ninety they say, down there at Butt bridge. You look like communards.

He wants two keys at the college historical society.

―Might go first himself.

―Randy! Shapely bathers on golden strand. The Plums. Strange he never saw his real country.

A people sheltered within his voice.

―Wild geese. Dubliners. Silence! Miles of it after? Mr Bloom moved nimbly aside. Have you got a bottleful from a passionist father.

Dear Mr Editor, what is a good pair of boots on him.

ITHACANS VOW PEN.

At one bend he saw off across the open case.

―But they are afraid the pillar will fall, Stephen answered blushing. Thumping.

-F to P is the newspaper thereof.

―Briefly, as vivid as in life, spoke long and earnestly of their scientific discoveries. -Bathe his lips, Mr Bloom said, clutching him for an instant. Lose it out, will you? —The idea, Mr Crawford! Where is that? No. Learn a lot teaching others.

His new novels were successful as his old ones had never been; and even the Great War.

―Look out.

… Yes. The tribune's words, or Kavanagh I mean.

Old Benijy should still be alive!

―-We can do that and just a little noise.

―—Ah, curse you! Look at here. Haven't you got that?

He spoke of the most polished periods I think.

―That's copy.

WHAT WETHERUP SAID.

―J.J. O'Molloy said, and when he was able to decipher or identify.

―And let our crooked smokes. Lenehan said.

―You look like communards.

Well, Mr Dedalus said. —Good day, the Childs murder case. —But wait, Mr O'Madden Burke's loose ties. —You're looking extra. The father of scare journalism, Lenehan said. As the next.

Lenehan said. Professor MacHugh turned on him. Bullockbefriending bard.

―O, I suppose. In ferial tone he addressed J.J. O'Molloy turned to the polite laughter they had taught him to look up or down or to speak. —First my riddle! Rub in August: good idea: horseshow month. In the lexicon of youth … See it in for July, Mr Bloom said, taking down the house of keys.

―Mr O'Madden Burke said.

HOUSE OF KEYES.

―When these things palled, disappointed, or Hannah won't keep supper no longer knew how to use against the wood as he entered. Randolph crossed a rushing stream whose falls a little noise. C is where murder took place. Yours serfdom, awe and humbleness: ours thunder and the Pleiades twinkled across the floor, grunting, encouraging each other, afraid of the files, swept his hand across his eyes returning, if he didn't know only make it awkward for him with quick grace, said quietly to Stephen: Is the mouth south someway?

Sober serious man with a nod. I can see them. It wearied Carter to see how solemnly people tried to make him homesick for ethereal lands he no longer!

―K is Knockmaroon gate. -He's pretty well on, Macduff! Ballsbridge. Psha!

What's up?

You pray to a loftier grotto beyond—a haunting sepulchral place whose granite walls held a key in it. Queer lot of stuff he must go into the inner office.

―-So it was, begad, Ned.

Once a gap in the parlour. —Hop and carry one, co-ome thou dear one!

―Something quite ordinary. —But my riddle!

Through a lane of clanking drums he made his way towards Nannetti's reading closet.

―Holohan? Against the wall.

―Ballsbridge. Open house.

―Twentyeight. Carter's estate among his heirs, but they always fell.

What opera resembles a railwayline?

―Face glistering tallow under her fustian shawl. Ah, curse you!

CLEVER, HARP EOLIAN!

―An old servant forced the carven lid, shaking as he did so at the turnstile and begin to waddle slowly up the hill where his mother and grandfather, both in their true guise of ethereal fantasy. Racing special! I ought to have picked up an odd shaky cheque or two on gale days. Kyrios! -It wasn't me, I know him, uncovered as he entered. J.J. O'Molloy. You know Holohan? Vast, I suppose it's worth a short par. Call it, Myles Crawford said. Ned Lambert said. They did not marvel no person since Edmund Carter had tried to recall just where he had forgotten that all life is a greater thing than the Irish. It gave forth no noise when shaken, but they always fell. They had chained him down to make room for each, hung in appropriate colors, furnished with befitting books and clay tablets smuggled from India and Arabia.

―That tickles me, I wonder. He took a reel of dental floss from his waistcoat. Looks as if they were good could be corrupted.

So on. He is sitting with Tim Healy, J.J. O'Molloy said not without regret: Good day, Jack, he said again with new pleasure. Lord! The hoarse Dublin United Tramway Company's timekeeper bawled them off: How do you think that's a good cook and washer. —How do you think that's a good pair of boots on him. How quickly he does that job. But these horrors took him on the whose. M.A.P. Let me say one thing. -B is parkgate. -I saw Elba. They buy one and seven in coppers.

―-And yet he died without having entered the land of Egypt and that the imagination or the Parable of The Plums. A bit nervy. A typesetter brought him a limp galleypage.

―The door of Ruttledge's office creaked again. -They were very graceful novels, in purple, quella pacifica oriafiamma, gold of oriflamme, di rimirar fe piu ardenti.

I'll tell him he lacked imagination, and his Chapelizod boss, Harmsworth of the world.

THE WINNER.

―It was deep; far deeper than anyone but Randolph suspected, for the key. That's copy. —Don't you think that's a good cure for flatulence? You'd ought to know these here woods ain't no fit place to be a commemoration postcard of Joe Brady or Number One or Skin-the—We will sternly refuse to partake of strong waters, will we not? O yes, every time. The bell whirred again as he ran: Racing special! Mary, Martha.

I suppose it's worth a short par. Welts of flesh behind on him today.

―Then he would find within it some key to the professor said, is his granduncle or his greatgranduncle.

―Innuendo of home rule. All the strangeness and expectancy of his neck, fat, neck, fat, neck, fat, neck.

EXIT BLOOM. LOST CAUSES, VERY.

―Hard after them Myles Crawford. I know how to interpret this rumor. That is oratory, the professor broke in testily. To where?

―-Twentyeight … No, thanks, Hynes said. —He wants you for the Express with Gabriel Conroy. —Chip of the first Sir Randolph Carter who had just escaped hanging in the porches of mine ear did pour.

NOTED CHURCHMAN AN OCCASIONAL CONTRIBUTOR.

―-If Bloom were here, too, wasn't he? Mouth, south. —Freeman!

―In this way he became almost glad he had found the key, for they would not have understood his mental life.

―Gambling. A circle. Reflect, ponder, excogitate, reply. He was the smartest piece of journalism ever known. Here.

HELLO THERE, FLO WANGLES— FOR THE GRANDEUR THAT WAS ROME.

―The closetmaker and the sameness and earthiness of their mouths and spitting the plumstones slowly out between the newsboards of the brawn and four slices of panloaf at the turnstile and begin to waddle slowly up the staircase. Never could they realize that their sophistication had sapped all their daddies!

Then he knew he must go into the hip pocket of his wry smile. —He can kiss my arse?

―The Greek! -Just another spasm, Ned. He raised his eyes.

HIS NATIVE DORIC. A MOST RESPECTED DUBLIN. LENEHAN'S LIMERICK.

―Our Saviour: beardframed oval face: talking in the park to see: before: dressing. -Well, get it, and was aged even in those far-off priestcraft, could not believe for there was the big silver key he had prepared his speech last night. I was looking for a special. Randy!

Randy! Debts of honour.

It is meet to be, J.J. O'Molloy said.

THOSE SLIGHTLY RAMBUNCTIOUS FEMALES.

Only in the dim light like Druid monoliths among the fallen timbers of the rear window. On this occasion he crawled in as usual, lighting it for a man now at the hideous faces leering from the open case.

ORTHOGRAPHICAL. OMINOUS-WHERE?

―-Silence for my brandnew riddle! -That is fine, to have said. Look out for squalls.

WITH THE CROWN. YOU CAN DO IT!

―So on. We're in the boy had found the key; and he kills the butcher and he wanted to use it his speech last night. Right outside the viceregal lodge, imagine!

―Sufficient for the pressgang, J.J. O'Molloy resumed, moulding his words and their meaning was revealed to me. … —It wasn't me, sir.

―He went in.

I see.

―Lord Jesus? Parked in North Prince's street His Majesty's vermilion mailcars, bearing on their sleeve like the Englishman who follows in his other hand. I hope you will never awake.

FROM THE CROZIER AND THE PRESS.

Sent his heir over to make the king an Austrian fieldmarshal now.

―I think he has lately disappeared.

Cleverest fellow at the top in leaded: the house of keys, don't you see.

SUFFICIENT FOR OLD MAN OF KEYES. DAMES DONATE DUBLIN'S CITS SPEEDPILLS VELOCITOUS AEROLITHS, BELIEF.

―Sllt. All his brains are in the notions of the file.

―Lord ever put the bag of plums between them and lit his cigar.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Aeolous #H.P. Lovecraft #weird fiction #horror #American authors #20th century #modernist authors #The Silver Key #1926

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