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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

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Dead of Night|| Morgan & Matty

There it was: a whole, oof, a whole fuckin’ human leg, oozing, sluggishly, where he slapped it down on what was left of its owner’s chest. “Drumstick, order up. Your server’s been Matty.” With that, he ducked down, trying not to be too eager about cupping a filthy hand to the ruin of this poor bastard’s femoral artery. That was a good one, after all. “You wanna stick with Hungry Girl, or… ?”

Morgan seldom left the house with a clear destination in mind, but often she found herself wading through the overgrown grass and mossy angels of the town cemeteries. She liked Eluria best of all, tracing the footpath she’d walked with Deirdre and weaving around the ghosts that ambled through the shadows. They did not speak to her, nor she to them. Morgan imagined they remembered her visit mere weeks ago and understood there was nothing to say. She walked past all the places they had wandered together, off the gravel path, where the weeds were less tended and the stillness was marked with tiny sounds of life crawling on. Sometimes Morgan would continue walking, tireless, but other times she would release her hold on her balance and let the ground catch her as she collapsed. She was getting better at falling just so that the moment of impact burst through the haze around her and made her want to gasp, to breathe. As she hit the ground, Morgan stared up at the sightless stone eyes around her. She lost herself staring into the granite, picking out the quartz from the feldspar from the micah in its makeup, searching for a place inside her for this knowledge to still belong to. Maybe her own decay, maybe her own stillness. She stayed there as the light started to fade and time slipped away from her mind, slurped up in the quiet of death. Even when a strange new sound rippled through the cemetery, Morgan lay in place, dead eyes open.

It had been a long fuckin’ week. A long, hungry week. One of many. And they only ever ended in the same place, these days: some creepy, crawly cemetery, ideally the sort where the bodies didn’t always get, you know, a proper burial. Places people were put to disappear. White Crest had, frankly, more than its likely share of that sort of shit, thankfully. Cold at the edges, sallow with aching, awful thirst, Matty had drifted through the graveyard for a while, like another bit of old newspaper caught in the breeze. He could smell it. Somewhere. Fresh, too. Maybe even still warm. His stomach snarled at the thought.

Or, had snarled. Time got slippery, when he was this starved, when he was feeding, when he was full of blood. Rocking back on his heels, Matty licked his lips, slow, woozy, fingers curling back from the throat he’d chewed open, hidden away in one of the older, lonelier corners of Eluria. They were almost warm. Dead an hour, maybe. His lucky day. Plenty of dinner left in this poor bastard. With a push forward, Matty’s knees hit the dirt, and his hands worked into the gaping hole he’d made. The collarbone snapped forward, horribly - and he had to stop, the sound too damn much to handle. God, he hated this part. In general. All of it. Had to get into the chest, though… with a hard swallow, he kept going, that awful strength rolling back, now that he’d had something to eat. The thinking, too. That came back. Clarity.

Enough to realize that he wasn’t alone. Two ribs in, Matty caught something besides blood on the air. Finally. His head snapped up, and there - there she was. Lady with grass-stained, goosebump-less legs, standing there, staring down into the shallow, abandoned grave he’d found. At the mess he’d made. “Uh -” his throat bobbed, working hard through the aging blood he’d been lapping out. Uh, what? He blinked, squinted. Quiet. Real quiet. Too quiet. No - no heartbeat. Dead lady. He skittered backward, eyes wide. “All yours, man,” Matty cringed, not about to fight another vampire over shit. Not on your unlife, fuck.

It was the sound of flesh tearing that had drawn Morgan up to her feet. She lingered, wondering if she should run back home and hide, but the sound was--what was it? The novelty of being able to identify the sound from her own death, from her first feeding. Maybe it reminded her of how the meat had fit inside her like nothing else. Maybe she just felt better next to death. So Morgan walked, following the sound and stopped, curious, when she saw where it was coming from. “Uh…hi.” The flesh was new and red and dripping. Morgan’s mouth watered to see the gash where the clavicles had been burst free, the skin dangling down the wound. “Nnnhhh…” She groaned for it. And the vampire--Morgan had only seen Miriam and spawn before, but there was no denying the size of his teeth, stained and peeking over the end of his lips. He skittered back at the sight of her. Morgan tensed her muscles. “You don’t have to,” she stammered, uncertain of the protocol. Was there some species turf war over bodies? She shuffled forwards, unable to look away from the glimpses of muscle, from the thin, tender flesh that went up the skull. Morgan descended on the body and tore a fresh piece away, groaning with relief. It coated her, comforted her in her cotton haze and wet her throat as good as water used to. She drew her head up enough to search for the vampire again. “Hey, you um...you didn’t kill this guy, did you?”

Oh. Oh. Not a vampire. Nope. Going for the meat. Zombie. Matty turned aside, quick, wiping at his blood-slimy cheeks - doing his best not to watch, or listen too closely. Not that she was any worse than he was. Nothing personal. Just - he’d never been great with all the gore of this. This undead shit. That moan, though. Fuck, he knew that. The feeling. Being so starved you didn’t know anything else. He swallowed, forcefully, as the zombie looked his way. Bloody-mouthed, a bit of raw, human meat in her hands. “Hi,” Matty echoed, with a weak, sharp smile. Loosening. Just a bit. More for show than out of anything like real relief. If he didn’t have to fuck off, well. Okay. Okay. Wasn’t a vampire. That - that did help. But zombies would, obviously, totally chow down on anything with flesh attached. So. He kept his distance, not wanting to get between the lady and her meal. Shaking his head, bloody hands up, not looking especially innocent. Even if he sounded it, earnestly so. “Fuck, no. No. Promise. I - I’m just out here trying to, you know, avoid that kinda thing.” Cautious - and still hungry - he came a bit closer, boots sinking in the damp earth. “You too, huh? That’s cool. We’re cool. I, ah… don’t mind sharing, or anything, if you don’t…”

Morgan felt like she’d been thrown into someone else’s party without knowing the rules. They were both blood splattered and awkward. Did creatures like them share bodies often? Was this a common courtesy thing? She took another bite, tearing the wound open wider to get a better bite, and gave the vampire another look. “Were, um...were you done or--?” No. She knew that expression. He was afraid of her. She wiped her mouth on her arm to think of something to say. ‘I don’t bite’ was too awful to be funny, not with raw muscle stuck to the corner of her lip. “I’m full, I just...it’s like when there’s three slices of cake on the table. You just gotta…” She shrugged, frowning. Have one. Despite the imagery, she had the ghost feeling of a skin crawl over it. This thing would have made her sick before. This was something to look away from. “I can try to break off a limb if it makes you feel safer. Um...sharing. Or you can break off a drumstick for me. Best part of a chicken, right?” Her hands rummaged in the body as she talked, wrestling more meat away and bringing it up to her mouth. She scooted away, to give the vampire some encouragement but there was only so far her body felt like being away from it. “So...you got a name, or am I gonna keep calling you Hungry Guy in my head?”

Was he finished? “I mean, there’s… dude’s still got some blood in him, right…” Matty winced, hovering nervously. Cake. Sure. Like cake. He sorta laughed, picturing that. “Yeah, yeah. Totally.” Safer. Why did that feel so - weird? Uncomfortable, in a way that wriggled and nibbled. A zombie, asking a vampire what to do so he felt safer. When she looked… well, not scared, no. Not exactly what he was used to, though, when it came to zombies. He’d met a few. Super strong, super badass, generally. (Usually dickheads about it, too.) Or, you know. Super gnarly, super rotten. This woman, she seemed - kinda out of it, just. Dealing. Not enjoying things.

Relatable.

He shrugged, and perched a little closer. Pushed that smile a bit closer to something real. “Honestly - who the fuck’s ever safe, around here? This town, man...” Like it was no big deal, like… like he hadn’t meant it. The fear, that is. He got ahold of one of those legs, then, and - guts flopping, in a truly nasty way - snapped, twisted, tugged. Took some work. And a flinch, as the bone cracked. But there it was: a whole, oof, a whole fuckin’ human leg, oozing, sluggishly, where he slapped it down on what was left of its owner’s chest. “Drumstick, order up. Your server’s been Matty.” With that, he ducked down, trying not to be too eager about cupping a filthy hand to the ruin of this poor bastard’s femoral artery. That was a good one, after all. “You wanna stick with Hungry Girl, or… ? Totally confidential, and shit. Cross my heart.” Matty brought his palmful of blood up, and gulped it down. “What happens in the graveyard stays in the graveyard, you know?”

So his name was matty Matty. Matty was joking with her like they were sharing a pizza or extra rice from a big takeout order in some kind of communal break room. Teasing. Commiserating. Just strangers being friendly. Morgan took the leg and scooted further away, picking back the skin and fat clumsily and gnawing off the muscle tissue. If she kept her eyes up at the stars and less on the mess of flesh before her, she could imagine a giant turkey leg that would’ve made eyes melt at the Ren Faire. But the revulsion was dull and bitter, a feeling over not being able to get anything out of actual takeout. She should feel worse than this, she thought. It was a human body, that thing that supernaturals were measured in proximity to. It’s fine, they don’t eat humans. But there wasn’t any psychosis hiding around the fibula. No sense of humor. No disappointment. He had been a person before, this graveyard guy she was sharing with Marty. But people did things, felt things, wanted things. Death took the person out of you. Morgan understood that too well. “I’m Morgan,” she said. “Is that a real thing? What happens in the graveyard stays in the graveyard? Or are you just like—” ‘Nice vampire’ suddenly seemed offensive, a betrayal, however easy it might be. “A nice kinda guy?” She smirked and gestured at him to get a glob of blood that had fallen into his hair.

The grass around them rustled. Morgan flinched and turned. No one coming, but there was movement. She looked over at Matty, the question penned large over her open face. Did you hear something? Tentatively she went back to the leg, peeling off more skin like a sticky wrapper. She was up to her nose in it when two tiny critter hands leapt out from the shadow and tried to pull it out of her grasp.

Alright, offering accepted. No fingers lost in the process, so. This could be going worse. Much worse. Morgan. Now everybody had a name, and dinner, and… a mess, between them. Matty winced, catching what she was pointing at. Clot, in his curls. Gnarly. Fussing that out, he flicked it into the dirt with a grimace and tossed his hair, huffing at a few stray ones that tumbled back, wildly, into his face. “Try to be?” Nice. Yeah, he tried. “I don’t know. Seems like a good rule? Do unto others, right? With, uh, some exceptions, obviously, when it comes to...” he waved, vaguely, sheepishly, at the corpse between them. Enough said. Some exceptions when it came to staying fed. With a sniff, and a scrub at his bloody chin, Matty went back to poking around in that ragged thigh. Couldn’t waste a drop, after all. Not that there was much to be had, now that this poor motherfucker had been lying out a while.

Long enough to draw the rest of the scavengers. Rats? They’d twitched together, the zombie and the vampire. Matty’s eyes tracked through the gloom, squinting between the gravestones around them. Hard to smell anything much, besides dinner, and turned earth, and death. There was a breeze, rolling through the morning glory and dandelions; probably nothing. Probably. But he kept watching the dark, lapping a last bit of thick, settled blood from his palm.

Not nothing. The claws lashed out of the weeds, out of the dark, into the meat Morgan was working on. “Shit -” Matty yelped, mostly, before a couple sharp-boned somethings crashed and tore across his shoulders, pouncing him into the clay and the corpse.

Morgan had never seen anything like these critters. Their eyes were glazed like misty marbles and their too-wide mouths, large enough to stretch over half their face were stuffed with too many sharp, serrated teeth. Morgan let go of the leg with a scream and scrambled back. “What the hell, what the hell…” She cried. The critter swiped at her leg drawing a deep gash with claws that did not belong on anything so small and strange. “Matty!” She looked to the vampire for help but it was no good. Two had found their way on him, ready to dig in. Morgan reached for one and pulled-- right. No monster strength after feeding. Morgan staggered up and yanked again with both hands. She could feel another one on her leg gnawing (probably more like tearing) at her ankle, but she couldn’t leave Matty in a lurch like this. Not without trying first. The critter came up with a piercing shriek. Morgan dropped it onto the body and tugged on Matty’s shirtsleeve. “Any idea what these things are?” She tried to shake the one off her ankle but beared down harder and to her bewilderment, it was almost hurting. “We should run, right? Running good?”

Sliding in a fuckin’ nasty combination of John Doe’s busted open chest and the blood-soaked earth, Matty tumbled and rolled. About all he could do, with two of those - two alghoul, talons digging, twisting, in the worn-jean of his jacket, and through. Flailing up, he managed, barely, to hold the one off from snatching at his eyes. (One of their favorite fuckin’ snacks, he’d noticed. After way too many run-ins.) The other - was gone, real suddenly.

Morgan. To the goddamn rescue.

A wild thrash, vampire-loaded, and that alghoul went from snarling in his face to howling through the air. Matty came up gasping, just in time to jerk away from another wicked-sharp swing. And a few bottle-glass blue, mindlessly hungry stares. And those fangs, Jesus. “Fuck, yeah, yeah - run!” With a frantic kick, Matty punted the little shit who’d got ahold of Morgan’s leg. It ripped loose, warbling awfully. Taking some skin. Tasting bile, and resting blood, he pushed Morgan ahead, out of the half-assed grave they’d been crouching in. “Fuckin’ alghouls, man! Just want the leftovers. Go!”

Morgan didn’t wait for her skin to grow back to start running. She began to sprint, legs wobbling under her lopsided weight as she went. “What-ghouls? What does that even mean?” She turned over her shoulder to see if he was still behind her. The alghouls had descended on the body completely, tearing and spitting with a hunger that made her nauseous with familiarity. She had been like that on the first night, when she barely had enough consciousness to rub together to make a thought, when her hunger wasn’t just in the pit of her dead stomach but in her head, in her muscles. It was the core of her, and the sound, what little of it she could stand to remember, was a lot like that. She kept running until they cleared the cemetery and called over her shoulder again, slowing to a jog. “You run into those things a lot? The--all-ghouls? Are you okay?”

Eluria wasn’t one of Matty’s regular haunts, so to speak. But when it came to terrain to scramble over, a cemetery was a cemetery. Around gravestones and across the paths, they booked it hard, as the undead crow flew. Morgan was shouting; had questions. “Alghouls!” Matty hollered back, skidding down a wet-grassed rise. “I dunno, they just - they eat dead shit, they’re fuckin’ gnarly, that’s it!” Like the both of them, sort of. Finally, the dark iron of the fence loomed ahead. Matty was up and over the spikes like a coked-out squirrel. Brushing at the crusted blood and mud on his hands, his arms, he circled around, pacing. Shook up like a can of soda. And - bleeding. Slowly, darkly, from where those claws had punched through the denim, under his collarbone, and down his ribs, and… his back, somewhere. “Ah, fuck…” At least they’d missed that still-healing mark left by the asanbosam; didn’t feel deep, either. Still hurt. “Yeah, yeah.” Matty tossed his head, getting all that hair out of his face. “They’re like… rats. Big, shitty rats. All over the place, in town. They, uh, they aren’t big on lights, but, you start… flashing shit around, after hours, in a graveyard… chances are, you’re gonna get trouble.” The kind with stakes. And machetes. “Best thing to do’s just fuckin’ haul. You fight them, they’ll all jump in. Then you’re fucked.” He poked at one of the holes in his jacket, huffing at the damage done. Too bad. Glancing at - and away from - that torn up leg, Matty gave Morgan a nod. “How’s the ankle? You heal up pretty good, right?” Most zombies seemed to. And she’d just ate, so. Should be fine, yeah? They should both be fine.

Morgan didn’t leap so much as topple and fall, rolling in a mess of limbs, over the fence. She hit the ground with a thumb she only half felt. Gnarly. Dead shit. Like them. Well that was a real boost to the self-image. How many degrees of separation were there between her and those things exactly? Did she even want to know? Morgan got to her feet and dusted herself off. “Yeah that light thing sounds like a great way to get hunters up your ass. Ugh, stars, hunters are a real thing now, and not just the odd bitchy one,” she groaned. She checked her ankle. Good as new. “Y-yeah, I’m...I’m fine,” Morgan said. She didn’t feel all that fine, but there was no harm done and she could still make it back home in time. “Are you? Do vampires, like, regrow things too? Or is that just a brain gang thing?” She shifted uncomfortably, looking over her shoulder just in case more were coming.

Stars? A little, like, outdated, maybe. But, so was he. Matty sighed, with plenty of agreement and a decent amount of aching, really starting to feel those gouges now that things weren’t all helter-skelter. “Yeah, load of fuckin’ psychos. And they’re everywhere, man. You been to the Night Market? They keep eyes on that. Watch out.” Fuck, zombies really did clean up quick. Been a while since he saw that, up close. Kinda grody. Then again, there he was, trying to rub a dead man’s blood off his cheeks. So. “Cool, cool…” Shit, he had to start keeping, like, a bag, or something. A scavenging safety kit. Was too hungry to plan much, when he’d left. His circling swayed, as Morgan got into… that kinda shit. Their kinda shit.

“Uh - sort of?” Matty pulled a sickly sorta face, at the thought. And another one, as his fangs crunched away. “It’s… messier, more involved, like… real surgery, just. Less blood. Then, a lot of blood. To, you know. Make the magic happen.” Magic, sure. That was a word for it. With a couple jaw-cracks, one, two, Matty shrugged off towards the ragged, distant, dim-lit edges of the Bend. “We should probably fuck off. Not because of them.” He cleared up, catching that glance Morgan threw back the way they’d come. “They’ll stay put, where the food is. But, uh. Never know who else might show up...” Really, he’d only seen the overseer once. An experience Matty would rather never, ever repeat. Dude was terrifying.

“Oh, yikes. That sounds...not great,” Morgan said apologetically. And neither did Matty’s implication that the hypothetical hunters they had to be careful of might get a lot more literal if they stayed near the graveyard. She nodded and started off in the direction of home. She stopped her slow walk and turned towards Matty again. “Are you gonna be okay?” She asked. “You��ve got like...a home, right? And people?”

“Mm. Mhm. It’s not.” Not great at all. But. She better get used to it, if she was sticking around town. Matty took another wipe at his face, hoping it was more or less unobjectionable. So far as bloodstains went. As for anything else, well. Wasn’t much he’d ever been able to do about that. He’d come to a stop, putting some pressure on the worst of the claw-stabs, when Morgan spoke up through the thickness of another misty after-midnight. A home. People. Right. Even zombies had that, huh? “Totally. Yeah.” Matty threw her a smile, or most of one, anyway. With a sharp, quick clearing of his too-tight throat, he tossed a wave in, too. For good measure. “You, uh. You take care, Morgan. See you around.”

Morgan stayed to watch him, half swaying on her dead feet in the night air. That didn’t sound very convincing and she had—maybe not a whole feeling but a thought for Matty: the deserved better; that being this way was almost another curse in itself; that they needed more than this to make anything come out fair for them. Then again, maybe they weren’t allowed to have ‘fair’ anymore, maybe the universe was done with all of them, the whole undead mess of them. But what else was there to do? How else were they supposed to cope? Morgan looked at him sorrowfully as he left and worked her way back homeward. She didn’t know what to put in that hole where her balance had been, and she felt all the worse knowing that others like her had felt that ache for longer, but she didn’t know what to do about it. Only that there had to be something.

#wr matty #wr chatzy #wr matty chatzy #dead of night #wickedswriting

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zankivich · 5 years

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Neighbors: Shawn x Plus Size Reader Chapter 9

a/n: hi. this one hits a little close to home to me, but I thought it was really important to explore the ways in which our perceptions of ourselves get largely created by the people around us, by the culture around us. I also just wanted to look at how being fat and happy is such a radical notion and how it is a difficult, difficult thing to manage. I really wanted to do that justice. I also just wanted to bring Shawn and y/n closer together and I thought, what better way than a messy ass family? idk. Tell me what you think. or don’t. k bye.

*y/n pov*

You were stupid. Honestly you had to be fucking dumb. What other reason could there be for taking Shawn to the most ridiculous family in all of the world? Your sweet, sweet boyfriend was about to be tainted and it would be all your fault for taking him into the lion’s den. The need to not be miserable for another Christmas had clouded your better judgement, and it wasn’t until you saw all of your brother’s cars parked around your mother’s tiny house that you remembered why you were always miserable. It was because your family was a shit show.

“This was stupid. We shouldn’t be here.” You mumbled.

“What?”

You looked over at Shawn, all curly haired doe-eyed optimism and the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. And suddenly you could feel the distance between the two of you. It wasn’t just the fact that he was a rockstar and you were a regular ole person. It was that he seemed to have a certain level of purity that surrounded his life. Sure, no one was perfect, but Shawn was as close as you’d ever seen. You couldn’t handle the thought of him finally recognizing just how opposites you were in that regard. You didn’t want him to see the ugly, only the good. That’s probably why people wait longer to introduce their significant others to the family. Shit.

“I wanna go home. Let’s just go home, and I’ll call them and say we had car trouble. Please?”

He turned in his seat and reached for your hand threading your fingers through the gloves you each were wearing.

“Hey. This is your family. I--I was really looking forward to meeting them. What’s wrong?”

You shook your head vigorously. “My family isn’t like your family, Shawn. Please, let’s just go.”

“No. I don’t want your family to be like mine. I just wanna understand who you are better. I wanna learn more about you, honey. That’s all.”

“Yea but what if you don’t like what you see?”

He tugged at one of your gloves bringing your bare fingers to his lips to kiss at them. You looked over and his eyes met yours leaving you to realize that he had tricked you into eye contact. Asshole.

“I can’t imagine not loving all of the parts of you. Even the not so great ones. I love the way your hair clogs the drain for example, and your incessant need to organize the spice rack in my apartment. Or your incessant need to make me purchase a spice rack to begin with.”

You pouted at him immediately. “You have to have a spice rack Shawn. It’s a necessity. And I do not clog the drain.”

“Oh but babe you do. Like a werewolf took a bath. But I find it absolutely adorable. It made me learn how to use drain-o.” He smirked. “I don’t care if your family is crazy. I just want to meet them, okay?”

You rolled your eyes the way that he deserved because he was so annoying when he was sweet, but he just kept kissing your fingers like the jackass he was.

“Fine. fine, fine, fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” You groaned.

Shawn pulled the presents you’d gotten out of the backseat and you headed inside together against your better judgement.

It’s one of your older brothers who answered the door and he’s already got a beer in hand despite the fact that it’s not even three o’clock yet, so this should definitely go well.

“Lil sis!” He snorted immediately pulling you into a headlock the bastard.

“Goddammit Rob let me go!”

He doesn’t and you’re transported back to being twelve years old and barely surviving with all the fucking testerone around. It takes a knee to the balls to get him to back off, or fall to the ground, but your family doesn’t play fair and he’d never learned to guard. You remembered when ‘Liyah had opened the door and Shawn and she had just hugged for five minutes straight. Your point was getting more proven by the second.

“Shawn this is one of my older brothers, Rob; Rob this is Shawn.”You panted, stepping over his crippled body.

Shawn winced. “Do you--would you like some help bro?”

“Don’t you dare.” You muttered pulling him deeper into the house. “We show no mercy.”

The rest of her brothers are littered around the living room. There are wives and kids and you’re anxious just looking at it all. You were the only one of the kids to not have gotten married and have children yet. And as if the physical presence of them all wasn’t clear enough, you would surely be reminded at some point in the evening. Once your brothers recognize that you’ve arrived it’s like a swarm descends and you’re suddenly being grabbed and hugged and hit from all angles. They’re all massive and annoying and you being the baby means that they kind of all adore you, though years of emotional trauma means you all have a funny fucking way of showing it.There’s no place like home.

“Shawn these are the rest of my brothers. John is the oldest. Rob is the second oldest. Noah is the middle. And then there’s me, but you know me. Guys, this is Shawn, my boyfriend. Do not break him. I like him.”

Shawn is optimistic and smiley as ever as he reached to shake the hands of all your brothers. It is sickeningly sweet, and you love him for it.

“It’s about time she brought someone home to meet the family!” John snorted. “We were starting to think she was avoiding us.”

“I was and I am!” You interject.

Shawn chuckled. “Family is super important to me. I think she’s indulging me. I’ve heard so much about you all though; She must really love you.”

You know that he’s talking about all the times he got you wine drunk and asked you personal questions, also known as Shawn’s favorite pastime. But, tomato potato.

“She’s got a hell of a way of showing it.” Rob smirked, rolling his eyes when you flipped him off. “Lil sis, got her fancy college degree and moved as soon as possible. We’re surprised she stayed in Canada at all.”

Shawn gave you a look, but this is exactly what you knew was going to happen, so you purposely don’t make eye contact with him.

John looked Shawn up and down crossing his arms at the sight of your boyfriend. They’re about the same height, but John is more burley as opposed to Shawn’s chiseled form. You would hate to ever see them wrestle, there’s no way in hell it could end well.

“And now that she’s got a big fancy boyfriend, we figure we won’t be seeing much of her at all.”

That’s the first inkling you get that they’re not a fan of Shawn, which was something that truly had never occured to you. Shawn seemed to be like a magnet, sticking and pulling in all that came in contact with him. Everyone loved Shawn. That had been the one thing you hadn’t felt the need to worry about. Boy, were you wrong.

“I don’t know man. Like I said, family is so important to me. I’m sure we’d love to visit more if given the chance, but uh she’s her own woman. I wouldn’t want to ask her to do something she didn’t want to.”

“I bet you wouldn’t, pretty boy.”

You take that as officially your time to intervene. Your boyfriend was very pretty, but you got the sense that the way John was saying it was not meant to be a compliment. Being the baby, and the only girl of the bunch, meant that you had to know how to assert your dominance in the family. It was the only way not to get run over and stepped on. You were the most vindictive bastard out of all of them for that exact reason, so when you moved to shoulder check your oldest brother and send a glare his way, there was an immediate understanding to back the fuck off.

“Nice to see you all are still complete and utter assholes at heart. C’mon, babe I’m sure my mom is around here somewhere.”

You tug Shawn along with you and he sends a nervous glance in your direction. You wonder if he’s finally regretting coming to this hell hole.

“Did I do something wrong?” He whispered to you.

You sighed and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Of course not. My brothers are just exerting their toxic masculinity. I haven’t brought a guy home in a very long time. They want to scare you to see if you’ll break. Don’t let it get to you.”

“Okay. I feel like I’m back in highschool but...mothers are my strong suit. I’ve never met a mother that didn’t like me.”

You snorted. “I’m not sure if your optimism is endearing or exhausting at this point.”

In the kitchen your mother was sitting at the table by herself peeling potatoes. It was a family tradition that no one was allowed inside the kitchen on big holidays when she was cooking. Not your brothers, their wives, not even her grandchildren.The only exception to the rule had been you. It’s where you learned everything you knew about cooking and baking, was afternoons after school spent beside her, when your head still met her hip, and she’d let you stand on a chair to see everything going on. When she peers up to look at you there’s a smile on her face in a very muted way. It’s more of a persing of her lips, but you know what it means and that’s all that matters. You leave Shawn’s side for just barely a second and step up to wrap your arms around her gently in a hug. You’d gotten your hair color from her, as well as your hips, chest, and fuck-off attitude. Your mother and you were very much alike in most ways. This only turned out horribly most times, but in times like this at least, you were okay.

“Hi, Mommy.” You murmured squeezing her tightly.

“It’s about time you come visit me. Your brothers are driving me up a fuckin wall, everyone of em.”

“I say you give them up for a adoption, sell the presents, and we go to Vegas.” You joked.

“Girl, don’t tempt me.”

When you look up at Shawn he’s standing against the door way with his arms crossed and a smile on his lips so big you kind of want to kiss it off of him. You hold your hand out for him to join you both at the table and he immediately links your fingers together to give them a firm squeeze.

“Mom, I wanted to introduce you to someone.” You explained biting back the smile that tended to burst from within you when it came to Shawn. “This is uh--this is my boyfriend, Shawn. Shawn, this is my mother.”

Your mom peers up at him inquisitively. It’s not a mean stare which is good, it’s just more of a searching one. He shakes her hand and squeezes it firmly between his oversized palms.

“It’s so lovely to meet you ma’am.” He grinned.

She raises her eyebrows. “You’re the popstar my sons showed me on youtube? You’re with my daughter?”

Oh lord.

He laughed. “Yes, I guess I am.”

“I like that one song. The blood song? They play it all the time on the radio.”

“In my blood? Yea! Well thank you ma’am; it’s an honor.”

You rolled your eyes at that. Shawn had gotten nominated for a grammy for that song, but as long as your mother liked it, it was an “honor”.

Your mother snorted. “Don’t call me ma’am, call me Julie.”

“Okay, Julie. Julie it is.” Shawn smiled. “Can we help you with the potatoes at all? I think peeling potatoes is one of the only things I’m good at in the kitchen besides eating.”

Your mother laughs and clutches her metaphorical pearls which is just the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen, but she lets him pull up a seat in her kitchen. It is genuinely unheard of in your household, and it takes you a second to move because you’re just watching him make your mom laugh and it’s a little bit incredible. He wore a black button up that day and when he rolled his sleeves up to wash his hands, his arms flexed and you wanted to wrap him up in your arms and nuzzle him to death. It was ridiculous the effect he seemed to have on you, and apparently any woman he came across.

“Babe, did I ever tell you? My mom used to have me and Aaliyah have competitions to see who could peel the longest string of skin off a potato. We were so competitive that now we can both peel it off in one.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and grabbed a potato from the bowl.

“Why is that the least surprising story I’ve ever heard. You guys are so wholesome it’s disgusting.”

“If you wanted to have potato peeling competitions with me baby, all you had to do was ask.” He smirked.

You shoved your hand into his face to try and dispel some of the perfection, but it was useless. In fact you were pretty sure all it did was fluff his curls into a better position. Asshole.

It had never occured to you to peel a potato in one even stream before. Because you were a normal person with things going on and who the hell has time for that. But the second Shawn held the curly strand up in front of your face like a cat bringing its owner a dead mouse, you realized that you could not be upstaged in the kitchen with this manchild you were dating. And thus began the dumbest competition to ever occur in the history of ever.

Shawn was actually really fucking good at peeling potatoes. Somehow the mystery of measuring cups failed him, but potato peeling? That’s where he shined. When your mother insisted that that was all of the potatoes that she needed, you ignored her in favor of getting out the sack of the rest of them from the cabinet.

Shawn chuckled. “Don’t worry Julie, we will take all leftover potatoes home with us.”

“You can take them home to your very cold, very lonely apartment by yourself.” You muttered as he bested you again.

Shawn dropped his peeler in favor for wrapping himself around you, half in your chair and half in his, to press all of his weight into you like the annoying man he was.

“Don’t get mad at me. You are better than me at everything else in this life. Can’t I have potato peeling?”

“No.” You moped.

He snickered. “Can I have a kiss?”

“Uh uh.”

“Not even a little one?”

“Nope.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Mmm I don’t know.”

“Well I’m not gonna kiss you until you tell me I can, so I’ll just be here until you’re ready.” He murmured.

You rolled your eyes pulling him by the collar of his shirt to press his lips against yours.

“You’re annoying.” You whispered against his mouth.

“Yea, but I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Your mom asked you to make apple pie. It was her favorite of all the things that you made and it was pretty fun for you to make so you didn’t mind it at all. Shawn brought out the wine that you had brought and poured you a big glass with ice cubes the way you liked it. He was helping you make the pie by handing you the spices one by one as opposed to actually helping at all, when your mother decided that things had been going well for too long.

Shawn and you were standing at the counter while you cut up apples and you just happened to take a sip out of your glass.

“I wish you wouldn’t drink like that. Your father hated when women drank.” She sighed.

You snorted. “Yea, Ma, Dad also hated being a dad, so I’m not sure if his expectations are ones we should be trying to meet. Last time I checked he was an alcoholic anyway.”

“Don’t speak about your dad like that. He was a great man. Especially not on Christmas.”

Your knife slowed to a crawl on the cutting board and you could feel Shawn’s eyes on you as your cheeks began to warm up.

“No, Mom, he wasn’t. He was mean and abusive and a drunk. I’m not gonna pretend that he wasn’t and you shouldn’t either. You worked too fucking hard for us all of to glorify that asshole.”

Your mom goes quiet for a little while. That’s never good, so it’s really just a means of biding your time to see what she comes up with. Shawn watches you take a bigger gulp from your glass than normal, but no one is speaking so it’s fine. You’re used to it by now, but it’s Shawn first time at the rodeo. Your mother was your whole entire world because she had managed to create a life for four children off a nine to five desk assistant job with no college degree. She’d worked her ass off for them, but it had come at a price. And that price was years and year of emotional and physical trauma that she had endured through her husband. When it was all set and done that trauma didn’t just evaporate; it became internalized, and then it got regurgitated back onto you and your brothers. So when she opens her mouth it’s not to say anything good at all, and suddenly all of your fears about this day are just spilling out into the room and you’re helpless to stop them.

“So, Shawn… You’re successful. Young. Very handsome.” She murmured. “What exactly are you doing with my daughter?”

You were facing the counter, but Shawn had leaned against it the opposite way so that he was facing your mother. This meant that you caught a glimpse of his face going into shock without having to see your mother’s reaction to it.

“W--What...I’m not sure I understand what you mean, ma’am.”

If you could have spoken in that moment you would’ve told him that allowing your mother to expand and clarify her statements was never a wise idea.

“You know what I mean, son. My daughter isn’t exactly a supermodel. We l/n women have not gotten through life on the basis of our looks, that’s for sure. All that wine and potatoes certainly isn’t helping things.”

Holy fuck. If global warming could have sped up in that moment just enough for a crater to form in the earth beneath your kitchen and swallow you whole you’d be good with that.

“I happen to love your daughter ma’am. She’s an incredible, intelligent woman, and her body is just one on a very long list of things that I adore about her. You really shouldn’t say things like that.”

The knife isn’t even moving anymore. As many times as you’d heard it and everything like it, you could never grow used to the way your mom could speak sometimes. And as much as you’d learned about your body and the beauty it entailed, something about coming home always brought up the ugliest of thoughts that you were sure you’d gotten rid of. The new thing here was having Shawn defend you. Your brothers, though sympathetic had never jumped to your defense before. His willingness to go against her when he had been so concerned with making a good impression was kind of baffling. You weren’t used to it, or how good it could make you feel. There were so many different emotions running through you in that moment that they felt difficult to contain within you.

“What?! What I’d say? Oh y/n you’re always so sensitive and now you’ve got this poor young man doing the same.” Julie muttered.

You chuckled humorlessly. “Sure thing, Mom. My bad.”

“I wasn’t saying anything bad. I was just pointing out the obvious, dear. I was interested in what had brought the two of you together is all.”

“Then maybe next time you could just ask that as opposed to asking the guy I’m dating what the hell he could possibly see in me.” You snapped letting the knife clang loudly on the counter. “Jesus Christ, I’m going for a walk.”

It’s cold as shit outside and the snow is up to your ankles, but somehow it feels less cold then being in the kitchen with your mother for another second. You breathed in and out a couple of times to calm yourself down. When you were younger and your mom would say shit like that it would cause a sort of thought spiral to begin in your head. It would be all that you thought about and all that you could focus on. The good news was that it didn’t consume you in quite that way anymore. But, it did hurt and it did affect you whether you wanted it to or not.

Shawn found you on the porch sitting on the bench that was sat outside and letting the snow sink into your pants. He was wearing that hideous yellow flannel jacket of his that made him happy, and he simply plopped down beside you so that your shoulders touched. You were still focusing on breathing at that point in time because you really didn’t want to cry in front of him. It felt like an admittance of some sort if you did, although to what you weren’t sure.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He mumbled as you leaned your head against his shoulder. “I--I didn’t know.”

It was cold enough that the wind was biting at your cheeks and your eyes were watering without ever asking you if it was fucking okay to do such a thing.

“It’s fine.” You whispered. “Everything’s fine.”

He lifted his arm up to let you nestle closer to him and pulled you against him to press a kiss to your hair.

“It doesn’t have to be. It’s okay for it not to be fine. You taught me that.”

You sniffled. “I don’t have the time to fall apart right now.”

“Do you wanna go?”

“It’s too late. I can’t let her see that it got to me anymore than I already have. Leaving would only fuel her.”

“Okay...Well I have this very absorbent, beautiful jacket here that I know you know love so much. And I’ve heard that anything that happens to this coat stays in this coat. So, I think if you were to hide your face against it, it might be our little secret.”

You roll your eyes and laugh a little as a tear falls down your cheek. But when he’s offering you solace your helpless but to take it, so you tucked your face into the safe confines of his coat and let the tears seep angrily into the fabric. He rubbed soothingly at your arms and kept his face hidden in your hair. It was also as if he was protecting you from the world. That’s how it felt anyway. And you thought that if you’d been able to provide a fraction of the comfort that you got when he held you, than maybe you’d actually given him something good as well.

When you pull your face back ten minutes later the air hits aggressively at your cheeks but he’s immediately there to kiss and wipe away the tears.

“I think you’re really beautiful when you cry.” He smiled. “Not that I want you to do it unless you need to. You’re just beautiful to me.”

“Thank you.” You sighed still sniffling. “I told you we were a shit show.”

“That’s okay. No family is perfect y/n, not even mine. There’s still no place I’d rather be than here with you right now.”

You feel that pressure in your nose that happens when you cry. It’s like a clogging of your sinuses but instead of it being through illness, it’s just through sadness. Your shoulders are tense and your body is on guard the way it usually had to be. Something about having Shawn with you made you want it to be different. You had invited him after all because you knew you could be happy with him beside you. There was a need to take control of the narrative that so far your family had been running. And you thought that maybe you could make it better for the two of you.

“Do you wanna get high right now?”

His eyes widened and you couldn’t help but laugh a little into his neck.

“I’m sorry?”

“Noah? My brother? He’s a total pothead. We’re the closest in age though so he always shares with me. I need to mellow out before I go back in there.”

“You didn’t tell me you smoke.”

You laughed. “Neither did you. You just told the entire world instead.”

That’s how you end up hotboxing your garage with your brother and your boyfriend. You’d never seen Shawn put a blunt between his lips, but it might just be the hottest thing you’d ever seen in your life. Weed tended to make you horny, so it’s genuinely a matter of not jumping his bones on the hood of your mom’s ‘98 Honda. Noah had always had ridiculously strong weed too so within twenty minutes you’re all leaning against any hard surface you can find having a conversation about the ethics of mass female consumption in the music industry.

“It doesn’t bother you that like your body is essentially for sale?” Noah asked as he took another hit and passed it to you.

Shawn was answering but your brain had only caught the “your body” part and was working on undressing Shawn mentally right then and there.

“I don’t think so. I mean...I think my fans think I’m cute or whatever, but like the vast majority are here for the music. If my music sucked they could find someone just as good looking if not more and move on to the next guy. I know it’s about the music because they tell me about it constantly. It's always been about that for us.”

“Okay but like is it ethical to sell your body for fame, I guess is the question. And then like it is ethical to request hundreds of hundreds of dollars from what are essentially children?”

Shawn sort of squinted as he took the blunt from you and nestled it between his lips. Jesus, his lips. His hands. Hmmmmm.

“I gotta be honest dude, you’re kind of blowing my high.” He chuckled.

You snorted wrapping your arms around your boyfriend and sending your brother an accusatory look.

“Noah likes to get philosophical when he’s high. Let him get baked before we go bake please.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Fine. Mom’s gonna be pissed when you come into the kitchen smelling like weed though.”

“Exactly.” You grinned.

Eventually Noah went inside to check on his wife and it was just the two of you. Shawn’s eyes were red and his cheeks were the same sort of hue and he was sending you this lazy smile that you wanted to lick off. It was really sort of ridiculous, what he did to you. And you wished more than anything that you’d gotten high together months ago because it probably would have solved all of their problems, if how good he looked right now was anything to go by.

“You’re kind of hot when you’re high.” You murmured stepping between his legs. “Why haven’t you told me about this again?”

His hands came to settle on your hips before immediately finding purchase on your ass the way that you liked. He pulled you closer between his thighs so that your hips touched.

“I don’t know. It’s a uh a sort of self-care thing for me I think? I don't do it just to get high, I do it because when I’m very anxious it calms me down. I like the way it makes me feel. I didn’t want you to think it’s all that I do though.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled goofily at your incredibly endearing and constantly overthinking boyfriend.

“Did I ever tell you about the time Stu, Bryan, and I went to Coachella?”

He pressed your foreheads together as if every part of your bodies needed to be touching, and in that moment they kind of did.

“No, but I’d love to hear it.”

“Basically I had student loan money out the ass that I definitely shouldn’t use. Stu and Bryan were like highschool sweethearts or some shit, and since they didn’t go to the same school Bryan surprised Stu with tickets to Coachella. We all go. Bryan sneaks us into some boogie ass tent that I’m positive we weren’t supposed to be at, but they had drugs set out like it was a fucking candy bar. So, we smoke enough weed to put Snoop Dog into a coma, I think Bryan and Stu did like cocaine or E or some shit, and then we all went and watched The fucking Wu Tang Clan perform in the middle of a mosh pit. I think I almost died that weekend.”

He laughs a laugh that you’ve never heard come out of his body before. Shawn usually had a laugh that was quiet, it was always a sort of silent chuckle. Whatever the hell was being produced in front of you was nothing of the sort. His whole body shook and the laugh seemed to stem from his belly and explode outwards. It was the cutest shit you’d ever seen in your life, and you’d happily smoke him out all of the time if it meant getting him to laugh like that.

“Holy shit, I can just imagine you doing that too.” He laughed. “I’ve always wanted to go to Coachella.”

“Yea? We can go next summer. You, me, Bryan and Stu, maybe your friends can come too. We’ll get high as possible. It’ll be fun.”

He hummed softly and snuggled deeper into your arms.

“I think Andrew would hate that idea...Let’s do it.”

***

*Shawn’s pov*

Christmas with Y/n’s family is more of a shit show than he could have ever imagined. But it also served as the most informative experience to understanding who she was as a person. To see her be this confident, take-the-world-by-the-balls woman now knowing the context of where she came from made him fall in love with her all over again. He understood her necessity to do everything on her own, with the role model of a mother who hadn’t had a choice, and a relationship with her family that hadn’t really felt supportive. It was clear that she was the baby and that they had wanted her to follow in the pattern of everyone else, to get married like her mom had, and maybe have some kids. It was also obvious that they didn’t understand the success that she’d achieved in her life thus far, couldn't wrap their minds around her having her own assistant instead of being one. And yet at the heart of it all every single one of her family members absolutely adored her. It felt incredibly disorientating and conflicting just watching it, and so he he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live it.

It isn’t until later when the pie is baking and the ham is still in the oven that she takes him to her childhood bedroom. There’s not much to explore because her mom had gotten rid of her stuff when she went off to school. So, they just lie on her twin size mattress with her head on his chest as she opens up to him again.

“My dad left for the final time on Christmas.” She murmured. “He’d always disappear for weeks or months at a time on benders or whatever, but when I was seven he left for good. I was so young that I-I didn’t understand you know? That he was sick and dealing with addiction. I thought...I thought it was my fault.”

He reaches to tangle his fingers in her hair and kisses soothingly at her forehead.

“Holidays are hard. I’ve just never really worked through that feeling I don’t think. And I try not to feel that way. So that’s why I don't come home very often and that’s why,” She pauses to smile and squeeze him. “That’s why it meant so much to have you here...Thanks.”

“Anytime.” He promised kissing her forehead. “I’m sorry if I forced you to stay when you didn’t want to. You should always have a choice and I feel like I took that from you.”

“No. Don’t apologize. Now when I think back on this room I’ll remember this moment, and not all the fucked up shit that happened here. That alone is worth it.”

It doesn’t really make him feel less guilty. There’s so much history there for her and so much of it seems to be bad. He had forgotten that just because home for him had always been this incredible, special place that not everyone got to have that. And it wasn’t fair of him to assume that of her, that maybe even making that assumption had hurt her more in the end. All he knew was that he wanted to make it up to her, because she was so good to him that even if he had done something wrong she’d never admit it, but he was high as a kite with so few good ideas in his head.

“You think maybe I could give you some more good memories here?”

“Like what?”

He moved to press his lips to her ear, all the more better to whisper his plans to her like the delicate secret it was.

“Like if I ate you out so good the only thing you can remember about this place is the time you had to try not to shout my name.”

Sometimes she looked at him with wide eyes when he would say things like that. His girlfriend was an absolute vixen, but it always seemed to surprise her that he could do the same. He was definitely the softer, more reserved one of the two, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be open with just had badly he wanted her always. But then she would grin at him a lot like how she was now, and it always led to good things. Very. Good. Things.

“You’re high right now.” She mumbled as he climbed his way on top of her body.

He was already working on the button to her jeans but sent a lazy smile up to her from above.

“Absolutely. Now be a good girl and open wide for me.”

***

He watched her hug her family as this sort of bittersweet moment. Her brothers all rallied around her, sweeping her up in their arms. It was love, and love was complicated and messy and deeply impacted by the circumstances one occupied. But, it was their love, and if there was anything he’d learned from their time there was that love could be good and bad simultaneously. When he shook the hands of all of her brothers for a final time, he got the sense that much wouldn’t change. She would always love every single one of them, but if she had her way, and she would have her way, they wouldn’t be visiting here again soon. And if it meant that she would be happy; he was absolutely okay with that.

In the car they sit for a moment in silence, nothing but the sound of the heater filling the space. She looks a little overwhelmed, a little tired, but she’s also smiling. So he figures it’s as good a time as any to do what he’d been planning.

“Hey can I...can I give you one of your presents right now?” He murmured.

She’d been lying her head against the headrest but now she fluttered her lashes at him in interest.

“Sure. I thought you wanted to wait until we got to your parents’ house though?”

“Yea. No, I did, but uh...I wanted to give you this one in private.”

She grinned. “Is it a sex thing?”

He snorted and pressed a hand against his heart in mock disturbance

“Jesus, y/n, no it’s not! I’m trying to be sentimental here and you’re ruining it.”

She pressed her lips together to try to mask her smile and it only made her even more adorable.

“Sorry. Sorry. My bad. Please continue.”

He rolled his eyes playfully but reached over her to grab the box from the glove department. It was a smooth satin box, long and rectangular. He turned so that their bodies were close to one another and rested the box on his thigh as he took her hands in his.

“I just...this year has been the most incredible year of my life. Not in a gloaty way but my music has never been better--there’s the grammys and we sold out the Rogers centre and all of the festivals, and I’ve just been working as hard as can ya know? It’s been incredible and yet...you’re my favorite part of this year.”

A snort came past her lips like she couldn’t believe that and so he squeezed down harder on her fingers.

“No, listen. This has been the most incredible year of my life, but it’s also been the hardest. And I haven’t really been able to deal with it all very well. I’ve just sort of kept pushing and kept working but you . . . you’ve become my best friend. And you make me appreciate it all. And honestly every time i flew home this year I couldn't sit still on the plane because I knew as soon as I landed I might get to see you. I know we haven’t been friends super long, and we’ve dated even less than that but I can’t imagine my life without you, sweetheart. I--I love you so much and I just want to make you happy, okay? Always.”

“Shawn.” She mumbled letting her hands fall to where their fingers were intertwined on her lap.

He reached for the box and settled it on her knee instead, flipping the lid to reveal its contents. They were two necklaces, sterling silver, and each of them were tiny swallows. He’d thought about it a thousand times, had almost returned them and gotten something else dozens, but when she gasped and her hands came to cover his mouth, he thought just maybe he might have gotten it right.

His fingers trembled slightly as he lifted one of the tiny birds into his palm.

“I thought it might be pretentious and annoying and stupid.” He sighed softly. “But, I know how much you like the pennant my grandmother gave me, and I know that my swallow is your favorite tattoo. And I know that...next year is gonna be so crazy for me, and for us, so I thought if we both had these that you would know I’ll always come back to you. We’ll uh--we’ll always come back to each other.”

Seconds feel like minutes, like hours, when you’re trying to do something nice for the person you love. It’s either an incredible gift, or the dumbest thing ever, and he genuinely couldn’t tell which. They’re sitting in the middle of a snowy driveway in the middle of a nowhere town in Ontario, and he’s professing his love for her with a gift, and she’s absolutely silent. And then she begins to cry and his heart is pounding in his chest and he doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to do.

“Did I--Did I fuck it up? Shit, shit it’s dumb. Look, I’m so sorry. I can fix it though. I can send it back and I can get you something else, just don’t--don’t cry! Please, baby don’t cry!”

She brings her hands up to cover her face and he wonders if a man has ever been dumped in his own vehicle before. Surely, that would be a new one.

“UGH!” She groans something that sounds vaguely flemmy. “That is the sweetest thing in the whole entire world. I cannot believe you right now.”

He collapsed against the car seat, his hand coming up to press against his heart and make sure it hadn’t exploded. His girlfriend was slightly dramatically and he was all here for it when it wasn’t giving him a heart attack.

“You don’t hate it?” He checked.

Her eyes were still covered but now her lips were trembling and tears were oozing down her cheeks.

“No I don’t hate it, dammit. That’s so fucking sweet. My heart, Shawn, my heart!”

When he went to pull her hands away from her face, she was genuinely a sight to behold. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks tear stained, and her lips had somehow become more red. Maybe it was a bit sadistic, but she was beautiful. And so he kissed her, the saltiness of her tears touching his lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, his slipping around her back in the tiny space of his jeep. Though there had been nothing but absolute fear and terror just moments before, now his heart was full, warm. She had that effect on him. He figured it meant he was just as gone on her as he thought himself to be.

“Will you put it on for me?” She whispered sniffling.

He fumbled embarrassingly with the clasp, his fingers not built for tiny metal pieces, but eventually managed to secure it around her neck. When the swallow nestle along her throat, she pressed her fingers against the smooth metal and smiled at him lovingly.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you, Shawn.”

He shook his head pressing another kiss to her cheek.

“Anything for you.” He mumbled. “Anything.”

She insisted on putting his around his neck as well. There’s an extremely cheesy moment where he presses his fingers against the bird along her throat and she does the same for him, but it doesn’t feel cheesy in the slightest. It feels important. It feels like maybe they’re deeper into their relationship than even either of them could have guessed.

When they arrived at his parent’s place again for Christmas day, his Mum notices their necklaces almost immediately. She doesn’t ask any questions, she just looks at him like she knows something that he doesn’t. It’s a smile of a mother who knows her child better than they know themselves. And he wonders if she knows that he loves her more than anything else in the world, because that’s what it feels like for him in the moment. But he just hugs her and lets her kiss his forehead instead.

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#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #Shawn mendes fanfic #Shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes angst #Shawn mendes au #Shawn mendes series #Shawn mendes smut #Shawn mendes x y/n #Shawn mendes x you #Shawn mendes x female reader #Shawn mendes x plus size reader #Shawn mendes x fat reader #Shawn mendes x thick reader #neighbors fic

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grandmother-goblin · 5 years

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Second Place: Chapter 2

“Uh-uh. No way.” Clair rounded to the front of the receptionist’s counter at the Hotel Rexford with a pipe pistol in a wrinkled hand. “Get that thing out of my hotel.” She waved the weapon in Strong’s direction, like it could fan the super mutant from the establishment.

Hancock crossed his arms and strolled between Clair and Goodneighbor’s most recent guests. Sasha and Strong had enough trouble for one day. A place to stay was the least he could do.

“Whose hotel?” Hancock raised his brows at Clair. She was a good woman. A take charge sort and take no shit sort. It was one of the reasons he let her run the Rexford. Hell knew the staff needed a firm hand.

Clair scoffed and said, “Don’t pull that shit now. How often are you in here? Can’t call this place yours when you don’t even run it.”

“Yet, I pay your wages,” he countered. He adjusted his grip on Strong’s minigun before it slipped from his hands.

A giggle sounded from a sofa pressed against the leftmost wall. Fred Allen, eyes beet red and expression a million miles away, pointed roughly towards Clair. “He got you there,” he drawled. Fred leaned his head back against a cushion while he inhaled a lungful of Jet. “Marowski don’t pay shit.”

“Shut the hell up, Allen,” Clair snapped without so much of a glance.

Sasha adjusted Strong’s arm across her shoulders. “I’ve got caps,” she said. “We only need to stay a few days. Just until the big guy can walk right again.”

“Strong walk fine.” Strong pulled his arm away from Sasha as if to demonstrate his point. Instead, he stumbled into Hancock.

Hancock dropped the mini-gun and caught the super mutant before he hit the floor. The bastard was heavy. Heavier than he expected. The metal armor on top of the super mutant’s sheer bulk did not help matter. Hancock willed his knees not to buckle under Strong’s weight. How the hell did Sasha manage walking him across town?

Thankfully, Sasha the “super human” resumed her position as Strong’s crutch. “He’s good. You have my word,” Sasha pleaded.

Clair glanced at the super mutant and then to Hancock. With a heavy sigh, she pocketed her pistol. “Lucky you came in with the Mayor,” she said and gestured for them to meet her at the counter. Clair rummaged through a drawer behind the counter and retrieved a key. A worn, white, paper tag dangled from the keychain with the number 213 written in faded black ink. “Only room I got. One bed. He’s” — Clair pointed a boney finger at Strong — “with you or in the room. Anything else and people might not react well, if you know what I mean.”

Sasha nodded. “Gotcha.”

The usual price was fifty caps, but Clair charged a hundred without offering Sasha an explanation. Sasha did not ask for one. As if she quietly came to the same conclusion Hancock had: it was because of the super mutant. Goodneighbor and super mutant’s got along about as well as fire and gasoline. Great, for those who liked explosions and chaos. Not so much for those who wanted some peace and quiet. At Clair’s age, she deserved some down time. Hancock did not argue the upcharge. Instead, he thanked Clair and followed his guests.

Sasha stopped at the foot of the stairs and huffed. “Think you can do stairs, mate?” she asked and adjusted Strong’s arm across her shoulders.

“I can help,” Hancock offered before he thought to stop himself. Sasha was a twig. If Strong put too much of his weight on her, she would snap.

“Ha!” Strong glanced over his shoulder. “Ghoul tiny. Can’t lift radroach,” he said, seemingly forgetting the fact that Hancock had prevented him from toppling into the ground like a roped brahmin just minutes before.

Hancock made a face. He was not a big guy. Not in height, in weight, or in muscle. But he was stronger than the average man. Something about the ghoulification process. He could not keep an ounce of fat on his body but his lean muscles worked like an Olympians. Not that a super mutant would know that. He let the comment slide. It meant lesswork for him.

Sasha offered a sympathetic smile. “If you could get the door for us, that would be great.” With her free hand, she held out the key Clair had given her. She buckled down and wrapped one arm partway across the mutant’s waist. “Hand on the railing, Strong. Can’t do this without your help.”

The super mutant obediently grasped the railing and lifted his good leg onto the first step. “Strong will share milk when we find it. Make Leader strong too.”

“Thanks, mate,” Sasha replied, not sounding grateful at all as she kept up with the mutant’s slow ascent up the stairs.

Hancock considered informing them that Daisy received milk deliveries from traders every Wednesday and Saturday, but something told him that Strong was talking about another kind of milk. Probably not one that normal people would want to drink. For all he knew, the mutant wasn’t talking about milk at all and it was a euphemism for something. Hancock halted the train of thought there and focused on getting the super mutant up the stairs. Even if they did not want his help, he lingered nearby. Just in case. The last thing he needed was a super mutant accidentally crushing a human in the only hotel in town. That probably wouldn’t go over well with potential customers. Then again, maybe some would be interested in staying somewhere haunted by the ghost of a woman with a funny accent. He could work with that.

After some more bickering, they made it to the top of the stairs. Hancock bee-lined for the door to their room and swung it open. Sasha thanked him as she and Strong passed.

The room was dark and smelled of wood rot, but she did not seem to care. She walked Strong over to the only bed in the room and shoved him, the bed frame creaking under the mutant’s massive form. Sasha tossed her bag onto the floor and started to rifle through its contents.

She retrieved a small medical kit and a syringe of Med-X. “Armor off,” Sasha requested with the detachment of a medical professional.

The super mutant folded his arms and eyed the surgical needle between Sasha’s fingers. “Strong no need stitches.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Sasha replied. “Pants down, arse up. Let me take a look at that bite.”

Strong growled. “No stitches.”

“Yes, stitches,” Sasha responded with a take-no-shit tone of voice.

Strong made a noise that sounded like something between groan and a whine. Then, without warning, Strong pushed his pants down and flopped onto his stomach like an impatient toddler waiting for a diaper change. Except the mess consisted of torn skin, blood, and bits of fabric that stuck to the wound.

Hancock let out a low whistle. The dark, partly congealed, blood contrasted starkly against the mutant’s bright green skin. A deep tear, surrounded by comparably lighter gashes stretched from his lower back to his upper thigh. A mutant hound bite, judging by the width. “Damn, you could bounce a cap off that thing,” he joked as if to distract from the severity of the injury.

“Not now you can’t.” Sasha pulled a white bottle and a thin towel from her bag. She splashed clear liquid in the bottle onto the towel before she dabbed around the deep cut. “Once I’m done, maybe. We can have a contest and see who can bounce a cap further. Loser buys drinks.”

Hancock smirked. “Well, hope to have that contest soon then.”

“What Strong get?” the mutant mumbled into a pillow at the head of the bed.

“Depends on who wins,” Sasha replied.

“Want blood.”

Sasha appeared unperturbed by the unsavory request. “We’ll see what we can do,” she said. With a sigh, she pulled the now bloodied rag away from Strong’s wound and turned to Hancock. “Do you know where I could get more rags? This isn’t gonna cut it.”

Hancock was about to suggest she go to Daisy’s Discounts until he remembered what Clair said. Probably not the best idea to leave Strong unattended. Not in his current state. Hancock offered a smile and pushed himself off the doorframe. “I’ll go find some,” he said.

She smiled back at him. “Thank you, Mayor.”

—

Daisy was kind enough to hand over a few spare towels, along with some medical supplies, free of charge. Claimed that it was the least she could do for them after they took care of Finn. Not that she was happy with how it all played out. Finn was a decent customer and never intended Daisy any harm. Given she had a front row seat to the chaos that unfolded earlier, she took pity on Goodneighbor’s newest guests.

“How’s the Aussie girl doing?” she asked as she packaged the supplies into a paper bag.

Hancock raised an eyebrow. “Aussie?”

Daisy shrugged and said, “That’s what her accent sounded like to me, but I’m old. I could have heard wrong.”

“She’s in better shape than the super mutant, that’s for damn sure,” Hancock replied.

Daisy rolled up the top of the bag slid it across the counter. “The super mutant will be fine,” she assured. “I’ve seen them wrestle deathclaws like they were puppies. Keep an eye on the girl for me, would you? She seems like someone we want to keep around.”

Hancock tucked the bag under his arm. “Why?”

Leaning forward and resting her arms on the countertop, Daisy chuckled. “Call it a gut feeling.”

—

By the time Hancock returned to the hotel room, Sasha had somehow transferred the super mutant from the bed to the bathtub. Drops of blood trailed from the bed to the bathroom, and speckled the white tub. Hancock’s stomach twisted at the distinct scent of copper and alcohol permeating the air in the room, masking the smell of rotting wood and smoke.

Sasha acknowledged him with a wave of her hand. She opened a can of purified water and carefully flushed one of the deeper wounds. “Turns out, the tooth was still in there,” she explained. “Like a fucking idiot, I pulled it.”

“Yeah, not supposed to do that.” Hancock set the paper bag on the bathroom counter. Then he furrowed his brow. “At least, you’re not supposed to with bullets. I don’t think. I ain’t a doctor.”

She scoffed. “Me neither, mate. Shadowed enough field surgeons during the war that I got some idea of what I’m doing. But I mostly just handed them stuff like this.” She held up a pair of bloodied tweezers.

Hancock crossed his arms. “The war, huh?”

“Long story. I was —”

Strong banged his fist on the side of the tub, denting the already distressed plastic casing. “Boring story! Heard enough times.”

Sasha chuckled. “Me too, mate,” she agreed and retrieved the paper bag from the counter. After rifling through the contents, she flashed a smile that would make a lesser ghoul weak in the knees. “This is more than I could have asked for. Thank you again, Mayor. I owe you.”

There was something to her tone that made heat rise to his cheeks. Thankfully, as a ghoul, he could pass it off any redness as a side effect of radiation rather instead of a blush. Hancock swallowed. Stupid. Just a pretty girl saying ‘thank you’. Don’t look into it like a desperate teen. He crossed his arms over his chest, distancing himself, and leaned against the doorframe. “Can’t have a couple of newcomers getting the wrong idea about our little community.”

Her smile faded for a moment, as if she was taken aback by his more professional tone. His gut twisted. Knew it. Could not trust a beautiful woman he had not had the chance to know. They were all the same. Crack a smile and make a few jokes, and guys who never had a chance with them would follow like ducklings.

The paper bag crinkled when Sasha gathered it into her arms. “We appreciate it, Mayor,” she said. “Right, Strong?”

Strong made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a burp.

Sasha accepted the response with a shrug. “He’ll appreciate it tomorrow.” She adjusted the bag in her arms and took a step back toward the tub. “I best take care of him,” she said.

Hancock took the hint pushed himself off of the doorframe and said, “Sure. You do what you gotta.” With his stomach still twisting uncomfortably, he started towards the door.

The paper bag rustled and footsteps hurried behind him. “Mayor?”

Hancock turned.

“You got any plans tonight?” Sasha moved as though she were brushing her hair behind her ear despite her hair being far too short to do so. Then she cocked her thumb toward where Strong rested in the tub. “Once I’m done with him, I’m going to want a stiff drink. I wouldn’t mind some company.”

“Really the best idea leaving him alone like that?” Hancock shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to keep his expression plain as his heart sped in his chest. The lady just wanted some company and Hancock was the only person she had a chance to get acquainted with in town. Nothing more. Nothing less. Hancock swallowed excitement swelling in his gut. She wouldn’t be looking for the same kind of company most ladies in Goodneighbor asked of him.

Sasha leaned in close to him and whispered, “the big guy doesn’t know it yet, but he’s loaded with Med-X. He’ll be out for the night.”

“You drugged him?”

“For his own good,” she said. “He won’t rest otherwise. Last thing I want is him running down to the lobby, ripping out his stitches, and screaming about needing to smash something.”

“Strong heard ‘smash’,” the mutant interjected.

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Thank Christ for selective hearing.” She pulled away with chuckle.

Hancock fought the smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “Maybe I’ll see you down at the Third Rail then. Mayoral duties permitting, of course.”

Her movie-star white grin returned. “Of course,” she concurred. “See you around then.”

With that, Sasha turned back into the bathroom. When she disappeared from his sight, Hancock headed for the door and allowed the smallest smile under the shade of his hat.

#fallout 4 #hancock #f!sosu x hancock #strong #fo4 fanfiction #fallout 4 fanfiction

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waypathfinder · 4 years

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Crimson Lane - Chapter 26 - Pieces

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Winter changed into spring and with it small bundles of hope that made each day pass a little easier than the last. Within a month of Ben returning to jail, the knights of Ren were rounded up, arrested and placed in a different jail across the other side of town.

And through good behaviour, Ben had finally earned the privilege of receiving phone calls from the outside world, up to three times a week for 15 minutes each.

At 3 pm, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, Rey slipped away to the grass area in front of her apartment and paced barefoot, waiting for the call to connect.

"Hello?" Rey spoke quickly. "Yes, connect me to prisoner 5831, please. That's right, Ben Solo. It's his girlfriend. Yes—I'll hold."

She was getting used to the stern woman on the other end, having called her twice this week. She was abrupt and gave the never-ending sense that everything was far too much effort. But she'd deal with the devil himself if it meant she could talk to Ben.

It was a surprisingly humid day for Spring and with every step, Rey could feel the trickle of sweat beading down her back. She waited for him, heart pounding in her chest and the roar of waves playing in the background. She stared into the horizon where a storm was brewing, a high anvil cloud looming overhead, flashing dully above a cast-iron sea. She loved days like these, they had their own life about them.

The phone clicked, and Rey beamed at the familiar voice on the other end.

"Rey," Ben dragged out her name. "What did you do?"

She smirked. "Did something happen?"

"You know exactly what happened. Armitage Hux was dragged in here both kicking and screaming this morning."

Rey couldn't hold back her smile. "Oh, you got yourself a little friend?"

"I wouldn't go that far," he scoffed, and Rey pictured him smiling into the phone, that crooked eyetooth winking at her. "How did you guys manage to find that slippery eel anyway? The cops said it was a tip-off."

Rey sat on a faded yellow deck chair, one leg crossed over the other, the cool ocean breeze making her hair whip around her face.

"Can you believe it wasn't even me? Rose found him." Rey forced back a chuckle, thinking back to Rose's manic call. "Hux's cat went viral."

"What!?" She heard a cross between a grunt and a laugh, and her heart pulled at the sound of it.

"I'm serious. She was watching Funniest Cat Home Videos on YouTube and there was a clip of this fat ginger cat falling onto a sail shade from a third-story apartment and Armitage Hux screaming at the bottom trying to catch him."

Ben's laughter rang out like he couldn't get a breath in and Rey started giggling herself.

"Was he okay?" Ben asked.

"The cat? Yes. Armitage, not so much. The cat was so terrified he clawed his face."

"Now I know what caused the scratch marks."

"You can tell him he's famous now. Poe recognised the street from the video and from there it wasn't long before we were able to tip the cops off as to his whereabouts."

In the background, Rey heard the low growl of one of the guards, giving them a 30-second warning.

"Did you get your— " he struggled to say the word.

"I got it yesterday." Rey adjusted her underwear, the second day was always her heaviest. " I told you it would be okay."

"Thank God for that."

"I have no regrets, do you?"

He chuckled. "None at all."

In the background, the correctional officer ordered them to finish.

Ben went quiet. He always did at this point. The moment where they crashed back to reality.

"It makes my day, you know, hearing your voice," he said, words soft, almost like he was hiding them behind his hand.

"Mine too." A gust of wind rushed in from the ocean and the bi-fold doors slapped open and closed. She rushed to fasten them, aware that every second of silence was a second wasted.

"Say something."

She hesitated, searching for words. "I love you."

There was a quick exhale on the other end of the line and she hung on in silence, waiting.

And at last: "I know."

"Say it back, you dick!"

He laughed again and Rey's eyes began to pool. She wished she could see him laughing, it would never be enough just to hear it.

"Love you back, sweetheart."

Over the next three months, Rey worked diligently on the Snoke story, along with Poe and Finn. With some off-the-books help from Dom, they managed to create a pretty clear picture of Snoke's operations, including his brutal recruitment strategy, where he blackmailed his employees to stay until they were no longer needed. Before Ben, the only other Knights that left the order seem to have disappeared from existence or were forcibly removed, which also coincided with some career-destroying scandal.

In the summer, a new visitor arrived at the Island. Rey had watched the seaplane land with a few skips on the ocean before it taxied to the wharf and a tall and slender woman stepped onto the dock, dressed entirely in white, with black shoes and a large-brim black hat and glasses. She exuded class and sophistication, and Rey was fascinated by the sight of her. She approached the resort, dragging a pair of rose-gold designer suitcases and Rey balked at the colour of her hair, brilliant lavender styled in a 1920s faux bob.

"Ah, she's here!" Leia exclaimed at the breakfast table. "Amilyn, over here!"

At the sight of Leia waving, Amilyn tore her hat off and waved it back.

Rey would soon learn this powerhouse of grace, was one Amilyn Holdo, the most sought after criminal lawyer in Coruscant, and Leia's oldest friend.

"This is Ben's girlfriend, Rey," Leia said and Amilyn extended her hand.

She stared at it briefly; so this is the woman who could change their future.

Rey met her handshake enthusiastically and was surprised to find Amilyn's hold was loose and warm. It shouldn't have made her panic, but it did. Ben needed someone strong enough not to take his shit, to fight the devil and his demons for him. Would this woman be up for the challenge?

"My client speaks a lot about you," Amilyn told her with a smile that came through equally to her eyes. Rey noted the refined lilt of her accent, it sounded like she'd spent her young adult life bouncing between the world's most prestigious universities, which, she later learnt, wasn't far from the truth.

Rey blushed. She always did, when it came to Ben.

"Did Leia tell you we go to trial next month?"

"Already?" Rey's heart skipped a beat. She'd spoken to Ben every day this week and not once had he mentioned a trial date, or even that he'd gotten a lawyer.

"Yes, with the Knights of Ren arrested and the State vs the Estate of Alaistair Snoke trial, it was pushed forward. I thought he might have told you though."

"I— no, he hadn't mentioned it."

Amilyn's eyes narrowed and Rey had never felt so naked. She shrunk back in her chair, aware that the lawyer was scrutinising her every move.

"I mean, it hasn't come up yet. I'm sure he was planning on—" Amilyn quirked her head to the side, appearing keenly interested in Rey's body language.

You know, don't you? Rey thought. You know everything.

"Leia, I think it would be a good idea if Rey and I had a quick chat." Amilyn held her hand out expectantly. "Come for a walk with me?"

Rey glanced at Leia, and the older woman nodded, slowly. "We'll have lunch ready for when you get back."

"Excellent," Amalyn clapped her hands together and Rey stood to go with her

"She's very stubborn," Leia called out as they left.

The women paused, glancing at each other.

"Is she talking about me or you?" Rey asked.

"Both, I imagine."

On the beach, they kicked off their shoes and made their way to the waterfront where the sand was firmer. Amilyn hiked her dress pants above her knees and Rey tied her sheer black skirt by her thigh. The ocean was quiet today, lapping at their toes, the only noise was the swish of waves upon the sand and the blow-fly buzz of jet ski engines somewhere far in the distance.

Rey dawdled, staring at the shifting line between the water and sand, very aware that Amilyn continued to study her.

"I imagine this has been hard for you," she said at last.

"Of course." Rey shrugged her shoulders, still staring ahead. She'd never met a lawyer before, nevermind one of the country's most respected criminal lawyers. Everything she'd seen on television had made her believe they were cunning and only after the big paychecks that came with cases like this. But perhaps, being Leah's friend, this one was different.

"You miss him." Amilyn's lips pressed in a warm smile. "But I imagine that's not why it's hard."

"I'm not sure what you mean." Rey pushed down the nauseous feeling in her stomach. The one that swelled whenever she thought about the reason why Ben was in prison.

"It's not fair of Ben to expect you to wait here." Amilyn put her sunglasses on, they were purple-rimmed, just like her hair, dotted with tiny diamonds.

"I'm not planning on waiting here. When Leia and Han go to the mainland for the trial, I'll be going with them."

"He won't like it."

Rey kicked sand into an oncoming wave with a little more force than intended.

"Then he shouldn't have told the world he was Kylo Ren. Let's keep walking, shall we?"

Amilyn gave her a sly smile. "Ben's underestimated you. But that's typical for a man. They can never shake off that whole damsel in distress idea. Little do they realise, their damsel probably has her own ideas of how things are going to play out. Wouldn't you say?"

Rey stared ahead. "Is there much hope for him to get out of this?"

Amilyn's face pulled into that sympathetic expression, brows knitted together and a soft smile. "It will depend on many things. The judge, witnesses, how the Snoke case is progressing. It wasn't long ago that the bastard was winning awards for being a good citizen."

Rey mulled all of this over. They still had time. Another month and every day new information came out about Snoke and the First Order. But what if it still wasn't enough?

She hesitated. "If things go badly, I'm not going to just sit by."

"Rey," Amilyn stretched out her name, but once again there was gentleness and empathy to her voice.

"No. I won't have this on my conscience!" Rey snapped, Surprisingly, Amilyn didn't look put out at all by her outburst. If anything, she looked pleased.

"I won't do it unless I need to. I know it would destroy him after everything he's done to keep me safe but if they're going to put him away for years and years. I can't—"

"We'll avoid that if we can. Meanwhile, there is something you could do to help."

Rey paused. "Anything!"

"What do you know about Phasma Christie?"

The next month dragged. Tourist season was coming into its autumn lull and Rey was reaching the limit of digging she could do into Snoke and the First Order from Bespin. She still spoke to Ben every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, but as the trial came closer their conversations were getting difficult. Ben was quiet and moody, even snapping at her on occasion, and each time she'd bite her tongue knowing the pressure he was facing. He never once mentioned the trial, and Rey suspected that he hoped she didn't know about it. To this, she played along, knowing anything else would have stressed him out.

Two days before the trial, Lando pulled up in his luxury yacht, the Lady Luck, and they packed their bags for the mainland.

The journey was an eight-hour boat ride across choppy, pewter seas. Once they arrived, Rey stepped onto the mainland, feeling like she was still walking on waves and clinging to the railing.

"What time is it?"

"Almost twelve," Leia replied.

Three more hours until she could call him.

Leia and Han taxied to the office of the Hosnian Herald. It should have been thrilling walking through those doors and showing her press pass, but all she could think about was Ben and the trial.

Poe gave her a quick hug and told her she looked like shit before he took her on a tour of the building. Rey nodded and smiled, and said pleased to meet you on cue, but inwardly was counting everything second until she could excuse herself and call Ben.

Finally, in the middle of a tour of the graphic's department, Rey gasped when she checked her phone and Poe rolled his eyes.

"Go call him."

"Thank you!" she said, excitedly. "I won't be long."

"Use the roof. It should be quiet up there."

Rey took the old elevator to the top of the fourth floor, from there she travelled up a dimly lit staircase leading to a large fire door. She pushed it with a sharp shove. It screeched, metal against metal, putting her nerves right on edge. The exposed roof was a tired and weathered area; cigarette butts lined the floor, a couple of pot plants were parched dry — most of them doubling as an ashtray.

But it would do.

Rey looked out over the city. The Hosnian Herald building was five stories high, so while she was still dwarfed by skyscrapers, the building was elevated enough that she could still see much of the city. Down below the streets were busy, and in the distance, she recognised the roof and courtyard of the Taco Dana Restaurant.

Shit, she'd forgotten about that place. She hadn't even said goodbye to Jess or handed Kennedy a letter of resignation. Images flashed in her mind, Ben and Snoke at the table, Rey's horror at seeing them there and suggesting Ben order a crab taco. He'd given her such an irritated smile at the time. How she'd hated him so much at that moment. Looking back they seemed like two other people, strangers from a lifetime ago.

Towards the east, there was a collection of low-rise buildings and terrace houses. Mustafar. She squinted, trying to make out the brothel, but the grey rooves all blended into one from here.

That shady part of the city would always fill her with contradiction. It was like she'd walked through hell and found herself a soul mate — speaking of which, she dialled the number of the jail, waiting as the phone rang.

The receiver picked up and she immediately recognised the low no-nonsense tone of the female officer on the other end.

"This is Rey, calling for Ben Solo, 5831."

"Hold." The phone line went dead and Rey waited. This was always the moment she dreaded most; when her body began to betray her: heartbeat racing and pulse throbbing. It was taking a long time. Rey watched the seconds pass on her watch with a growing sense of unease.

She paced, running her hand along the cement barrier, avoiding pigeon poo dotted along the top. Someone had scribbled Fuck You, Capitalism! and Rey traced the letters as she waited, wishing to hell that he'd pick up already.

There was a click.

"Hello." The voice was gravelly and low.

"Ben, is that you?"

He cleared his throat. "Yeah."

In the distance, Rey spotted a grey shape swooping down from the sky, her eyes darted to it, watching the falcon circle on the hunt for a fresh kill that wouldn't even know it was coming.

"Luke said you were sick."

There was a grunt. "Yeah."

"Is that why you couldn't speak last week?"

Rey watched the bird again, swooping at something she couldn't see, waiting for Ben to answer.

"Yes."

She rubbed her elbow. "You sound … are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Liar. In the months that had passed, she'd come to find Ben's moods pretty erratic, which wasn't surprising considering. Some days he would be cold and aloof, others ecstatic and romantic and then like this, depressed and quiet.

She tried to change the subject.

"You won't guess where I am?"

"No idea." Her chest tightened. She tried to ignore it. "I'm on the roof of the Hosnian Herald! Can you believe it?"

She waited, the horn from a commuter bus bleated from below as it pulled into traffic, cutting off a number of cars. The metal of the fire door screeched against the trim again as another employee came out for a break, bundled up in a grey trench coat and lighting a cigarette. Smoke swirled around her and she wrinkled her nose, trying to move away.

He released a long, strained breath. "What are you doing there?"

Cold. How could he be so cold?

"I'm here for the trial."

"Fuck, Rey!" he spat. "I told you not to come."

Her cheeks burned and she covered her hand over her mouth to keep their conversation private. "I want to support you. We all do. Your mum and dad are here too."

"Why didn't you stay where you were?"

"I—" Tears pricked at her eyes and the cityscape blurred below. "I wanted to see you. I thought I could come for visiting hour tomorrow."

Silence.

"If you wanted me to that is."

"One minute left," the guard's voice echoed in the background.

She pushed away her growing panic. "Do you want me to come?"

"I wanted you to stay on Bespin. I didn't want to you to—fuck!" He shouted the last word, and she heard the guard growl his name in warning.

"I'm sorry," Rey murmured, blindsided by his reaction. She tried not to let out the weak little sob that was harbouring in her chest, but it came anyway.

"Are you crying?"

"No," she said, sniffing.

"Look, Rey, I don't know what you're hoping for but the trial isn't going to go well."

"How do you know—"

"And I don't want you to hear about all the shit I've done. Are you prepared for that? To hear about every bone I've broken, every person's face I've smashed? Do you want to hear in detail about how I blew Lor San Tekka's fucking brains out," he was talking quickly and quietly now. "Do you think you can really hear all that and still want to be with me?"

"Time!" the guard's voice came in the background.

"I gotta go," he said, despondent. "Amilyn didn't ask you to testify, did she?"

"No, of course not." The door slammed again and the smoker was gone, although the smoke still lingered in a hazy cloud, burning her throat.

"Good," Ben said. "And promise me you won't come."

"Time!" the guard repeated, and this time she heard the sound of something hard smacking on metal.

"Rey?"

"Time!"

"Would you just fucking wait!?" He had that tone in his voice, the one that came before everything was eclipsed by his anger. "Promise me, damn it!"

The door screeched again, this time it was Finn popping his head out to look for her.

Rey quickly wiped her eyes.

"Rey?" Ben asked, and her heart broke at the panic in his voice.

"I—" The line went dead and Rey stared at the blank phone in her hand, trembling.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded, quickly, blinking away the tears. "Is it time for our meeting?"

Finn nodded and she breathed.

Push it down, push it all away.

It was something she knew how to do: compartmentalise, conceal and continue.

"Sure you're okay, peanut?"

She turned back to Finn, eyes dry, and a smile beaming. "I'm great. Let's go."

"This case is going to go terribly unless we have someone who was there the night Snoke died." Poe raked his fingers through his thick, curly hair, twisting a cold cup of coffee in his hands.

"I was there."

"Someone other than you."

Rey sunk in her chair. Here she was at the Hosnian Herald, sitting opposite the editor chair, while dozens of reporters tapped away on their keyboards, and conducted phone interviews. It should have been the best day of her life but the pain of her interaction with Ben was still there.

The glass door to Poe's office was in constant motion as a steady stream of people bustled in and out.

"Poe, what do you think of one of these as the front-page photo?" A young photographer with bangs and a polka-dot dress leaned over his desk as she flicked through a dozen images on her camera and Poe narrowed his eyes at them all, mumbling to himself.

"Can you try and find a photo of him not looking like a dementor?"

Rey raised an eyebrow.

"Your boy's trial is big news and we're going to lead with it tomorrow."

"You can't do that!"

"I know he's your boyfriend and all, but we gotta run with it. Every other news outlet will be doing the same thing. It's fair and unbiased reporting, Rey. I shouldn't need to remind you about that."

He leant forward, glasses slipping down his nose as he flicked through his emails.

"Fair and unbiased," she scoffed. "You really think the Ilum Times is going to do that?"

"We will. And who knows, perhaps an exclusive with his girlfriend might help. You could tell them how he cries when he makes love to you—"

"Forget it!" she snapped, and Poe started laughing.

Finn bustled in then, carrying lots of folders and a laptop. As he went to sit, he took one look at Rey and dumped them on Poe's desk crossly. "You didn't."

Poe sipped his coffee with a shrug, only to realise it was stone-cold and spat it out in the trash can.

"Ex-hooker teams up with Snoke's personal hit guy and falls in love. It's gold."

"Ignore him."

"I usually do," Rey said, trying to smirk but the corners of her lips fell.

"Why am I still paying you both?"

"Because no one else can stand you?" Rey snapped back and Poe laughed.

They'd been working together for six months now, but today was the first time they'd done it in the same space. Usually, their morning meetings were held over Zoom. In those days, the witty banter and excitement of what they were trying to achieve gave Rey enough fuel to face the rest of the day alone knowing that every second of it she spent fighting for Ben.

Finn pulled his chair closer and leaned over Poe's desk, looking through the many papers he'd dumped over the top of it.

"So final tally, what do we have?" Poe asked.

"Ordering the terror bombing on Resistance HQ, blackmail and bribery, specifically related to the government security contract, attempted murder by car bombing, assault, rape, grooming minors to work with him … to be honest, we could be here all day," Finn said.

"And what do we have specifically on Ben?"

"Our biggest issue is the San Tekka murder, and Snoke, obviously."

Rey opened her mouth to speak at that one, but Poe held his finger up. "Save it."

Poe continued: "there were a few misdemeanours that were still on the USB. That's since been turned over to the police. Word from Holdo's is Enric Pryde's prosecuting."

"What does that mean?" Finn asked.

"It means we're up shit creek without a paddle. Pryde plays dirty and he hates to lose. Plus, he's an Imperial supporter. He's not about to go easy because he's Leia Organa's son."

Rey sighed. "We need something else, something that could sway all of this." Poe tapped his index finger on the table.

"You guys anything?" Finn sat with his arms folded, legs stretched out, gazing out to the left as though he was trying to catch a thought and then to Rey, who was chewing on her lip.

"Amilyn and I talked about trying to get Phasma on the stand. She saw the whole thing," Rey said.

"From past conversations, I seem to recall she was no friend of yours," Poe answered, taping his pen in frantic beats on his table.

"She isn't." Rey thought back to her interactions with the imposing woman. "But she's all we have."

"Are you okay?" Amilyn asked, clearly noticing the way Rey gripped her hands on the car seat.

Rey nodded.

"I didn't realise she lived in Mustafar."

"We're not far now. Close your eyes if it's easier."

It wasn't easier because Rey knew these streets like the back of her hand. She knew the sounds and the smells. The waft of the kebab shop, the soundtrack of sirens and horns. She would always know these streets, from their graffitied boarded up shop windows and trendy open-air cafes, to the women in platform shoes and glitter skirts strolling along the pavement with their cappuccinos and lattes.

And she would know it by the turn off to the small lane ahead on their left.

"Can we drive past? it" Rey asked.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, please. I want to see it."

Amilyn put her blinker on and they turned onto Crimson Lane. They approached the brothel, charcoal-coloured in the evening sun. The curtains were drawn, and the door was still blood red. The light was off. Closed for business. For good, she hoped.

The biggest difference was a line of tape around the perimeter, bright yellow and blue, warning people to stay away: unsafe structure.

"Someone set fire to it about a month and a half ago. It's pretty much just a shell now."

Rey nodded slowly, expecting to feel something, but it was like every emotion had drained away. Her gaze travelled to the top floor: their room.

There was evidence of the fire now, the glass smashed and frame black and broken.

She wondered how it had come to burn.

"Do they know who did it?" Amilyn shook her head. "Probably just an opportunistic arsonist."

The longer Rey stared at Number 12, the more it seemed to suck her in, like she was watching the heart of a fire, twisting and burning with red flame and ash. She couldn't look away.

"Rey—" Amilyn said from some distant part of her mind.

How could one find peace looking at the place that had infiltrated her mind at night with the most horrific nightmares, playing over and over and over again in her mind?

And yet, such beauty she had found there, healing, forgiveness.

Amilyn placed a hand on her knee and Rey turned to face her, surprised to feel her face was wet with tears.

"Are you ready to go?"

Rey sniffed and nodded. "Yes, I'm done."

They continued their drive, away from the red-light district to a narrow street dotted with parking metres and Jacaranda trees.

"So, you think she lives there?" Amilyn asked, peering out at the two-story terrace house.

"I hope so."

It was nothing special, rusty-coloured bricks and terracotta tiles. It was a modern re-creation of the original terrace designs, with their ornate ironwork and cement walls. Along the street, there were bars on the windows of the lower floors, and some on the doors. But Phasma had none of those, as if to say to the world she could take on anyone.

They waited. The street was quiet, apart from the gentle twit of swallows flitting in and out of the eaves.

Rey tapped her fingers on the window frame nervously. "I spoke to Ben today."

Amilyn sipped her coffee, leaving a line of bright red lipstick on the rim of the paper cup. "I imagine that was pleasant."

Rey turned in time to catch Amilyn's smirk, disappearing as she sipped her drink. "He's been a snarky prat for the past month. Trust me, when I say you get him on his best behaviour."

Rey thought back to the conversation, to the tone of his voice: distant, defensive … caged.

"He's scared." She picked some twigs and grime out of the window slit. "I don't—"

The door of the townhouse opened and they froze as a tall, slender woman with short blonde hair and a silver, velvetine tracksuit came out the door and over to the mailbox.

"Go, go, go!" Amilyn hissed.

Rey jumped out of the car and made a beeline to meet her.

"Phasma!" The woman stopped, blinking once, twice, before turning on her heels to go back to the house.

Rey darted behind her, shadowing her so when they got to the front door, Rey slipped in too.

Phasma didn't pay her any attention, busying herself around the interior: boiling the chrome silver kettle, unpacking a half-empty dishwasher and opening the blinds, as a ginger-coloured cat rubbed up against her calf.

Hux's celebrity cat, Rey thought with a smile.

The terrace house was surprisingly domestic, there were placemats on the table, and a collection of abstract art in deep purple and orange dotted around the room. As she entered the kitchen, she smelt an audacious eau de toilette mixed with the subtle hint of marijuana.

Rey waited, backed up against the wall as the kettle boiled as Phasma poured the hot water into a rose-coloured glass teacup, sitting at the table and watching Rey with oculus sky-blue eyes.

Even now, in this small kitchen, the woman ruled her space like a goddess. Rey was determined not to let this game of silence intimidate her and with a shrug of her shoulders, she sat down and waited.

Phasma sipped the tea, gaze fixed out the window. Rey watched her unblinking, her fingers twitching to move, to play with the strip of fabric of her shirt, to pick at her nails or tap on the table.

But no, she kept them folded, legs crossed, shoulders straight. She would not be intimidated, not anymore.

Phasma placed the teacup on the table, dabbing at her lipstick with a small tissue she had stowed away in her pocket, and when she glimpsed at Rey again it was with an exasperated sigh.

"Fine. I'll bite. How's Kylo?"

Rey stiffened, she'd almost forgotten that name and everything it represented.

"Oh, like that, is it?" Phasma chuckled, taking another sip. "You don't need to tell me, I saw him last week. He looked like shit, but then you would know."

Rey looked down into her lap. "I haven't seen him."

Phasma smirked. "Hmm. Well, that's interesting."

"The reason I haven't seen him—" Rey snapped back, her voice a little too high and peevish— "is because I came to see you instead."

"How sweet!"

Phasma flashed her a quick smile, fixing those cold blue eyes on her once more, like a predator waiting to strike.

"You know, I slept with him once."

Rey blinked. Trying not to move, or breathe, or do anything that would show weakness. But Phasma seemed to find something, because she smiled contentedly, her long ring-clad fingers caressing the skin behind her neck.

"He's a brutal lover, like an animal."

Rey's jaw clamped shut, every breath she took whistled through her nose. Is that why Phasma saw him last week, why she warned him to stay away from the brothel, why she'd always seemed to hate Rey and lastly, why she'd let Rey go — to save him?

"You—" Rey reconsidered her words, she needed to be careful. All this time, when Phasma was playing Snoke's pet, had she really just wanted Ben to save her?

Phasma smirked again. "Actually, I don't think I've ever been fucked so hard."

"He's always gentle with me." She met her gaze. It wasn't entirely true, she'd seen that side of Ben too, the part of him that brimmed with fire and passion, an unquenchable urge to hold on, but fuck that there was no way she would share that.

"That's funny. Some nights, I could have sworn he wasn't gentle at all. But you still seemed to like it. I mean, the night he trashed the room—"

The air was growing warm or at least it seemed to, heat licked at Rey's neck and she felt her chest getting blotchy as her temper boiled over.

"Yes, he fucks me hard and I like it. And, other times he's gentle, and I like that too. And every time we talk he tells me how much he loves me, and I tell him the same."

Phasma smiled again, but this time it was tighter, smaller.

"I am sorry for whatever horrible things Snoke did to you, but from what I can see you got your revenge for both of us — 37 times."

Phasma stiffened.

"So, did Hux help you kill him in the end?"

She froze; teacup in hand, the rippling surface the only thing giving away how much she was trembling.

"You have no proof."

"I'm not looking for proof."

Phasma's body relaxed. "Well, there wasn't much to do after you finished with him — before you let Kylo take the fall for you that is."

"We can throw barbs at each other all day. But the fact is you were the only one there that night who can prove this was self-defence."

"And what about you?" Rey looked down at her hands, scratching at each other like something was clawing under her skin.

"He—" Rey blinked quickly. "He doesn't want me at the trial."

Phasma laughed, shrill like a banshee, it made Rey's skin crawl.

"You want me to lie on the stand? To say that Kylo knifed Snoke in the neck when you're just letting him take the fall for something you did. I'm not protecting you."

"I'm not asking you to, I'm asking you to help him," Rey shouted back. "And I'm sure in your whole fucked up existence working with Snoke he has helped you."

Phasma stared at her, face unreadable.

"Please, Phasma. He needs your help. You know what kind of charges he's up against … along with everything else."

Time slowed as Rey waited for an answer, outside she could make out Amilyn's mauve hair in the car, she must have been listening to music as her head bobbed side to side in time with the tap of her fingers.

"Is that his lawyer?" Rey jumped, she hadn't realised Phasma had been watching her also.

"Amilyn Holdo. She's supposed to be very good."

Phasma stared at the woman with a blank expression.

"According to her, we should have a good case for justified homicide, in both cases, considering all the evidence against Snoke and what he has done to Ben-I mean, Kylo, considering Snoke blackmailed him as a minor and what he did to him after he tried to leave the First Order."

Phasma tucked a curl behind her ear, eyes closing.

"I remember that night. Snoke was barbaric. Kylo's lucky he got away with just the scars that he did. Others have suffered much more for much less."

Rey nodded. "Funny; that was another time he suffered for you. He never would have asked to leave Snoke had he not met you."

"I—" Rey's face turned a deep shade of beetroot, the sting of Phasma's words striking her just where she meant them, in the heart, filling her with guilt and shame.

"He was so fucking shaken up by the pathetic girl who slept on a dog bed. The thought of you being forced into sex work ..." Phasma rolled her eyes. "And here you are." She gestured to Rey in a grand motion. "Kylo's little whore, getting away with murder."

Rey stiffened, her jaw locked so tight she felt like she'd crack her teeth. "You might want to reconsider that statement."

They glared at each other. In the distance, the bell of an ice cream truck rang out along with the tinny chimes of Greensleeves. Children would be rushing out to buy soft-serve cones. It was such a contrast to the cold standoff taking place in this dimly-lit kitchen.

Rey had hoped not to find an enemy here. In some warped, idealistic way, she might have found an ally, someone who understood the pain of being held captive within Snoke's cruel grip, to have been enslaved in the most undignified way.

She had not expected to find a jealous lover, rotting in her own bitterness.

Rey stood, scraping her chair along the kitchen tiles. "This is useless."

Phasma was on her feet almost instantly, but Rey didn't wait. Storming to the front door, she'd just opened it when Phasma called out to her.

"I'll do it. Not for you, but for him."

Rey didn't look back.

"Tell your lawyer, I'll play her game, but if Kylo goes down for this—"

"He won't."

"But if he does," Phasma gave her something between a smile and a sneer. "I'm throwing you under the bus, Desert Flower."

Rey gave her a lopsided smirk. "I'll see you in court, madam."

#reylo #reylo fan fiction #crimson lane #angst with a happy ending #cryber

0 notes

dwestfieldblog · 6 years

Text

SPIRITUAL EMERGENCIES

Its been a hard nights day and I've been working like a God...Centring my chi by ( ) in conjunction with a little ( ) on Sundays but don't try this at home unless you have some. Under the influence but not persuaded, with no choice other than to follow my free will. 350 songs recorded in Prague (about a third of them are good enough) over a very long weekend and now ready to go again...Last month I heard my own voice in a dream saying 'Death is my second home', so perhaps another temporary close-down is coming. Hope that paragraph was pretentious enough. If not...meditating on 'The First law of thermodynamics...No energy in the universe is created and none is destroyed'. So all is well...

The recent magnificent Wargames with Russia and China...300 thousand men, (that's a lot) many fields of tanks and nautical miles filled with battleships, necessary because of (according to a joint statement from the protagonists) 'dangerous times' and 'unstable situations'. Reminds me of Bill Hicks quoting George Bush the older (the CIA president) saying 'The world is a dangerous place'...'yeah, thanks to YOU, quit arming the world!'. But this time around, these unstable situations are being more egged on and supported by Russia, gleefully supported as always by all those those make weapons. Trump is not the 'human' being to slow this down. Nature abhors a vacuum and she is rushing now to fill various empty heart/mind and soulless actions made by various leaders with processes of an irreversible...well... nature...Only '12 years' left now to avert climate change disaster...your newborns this year might very well inherit a desert. Well, if it was good enough for the Israelites...

Climate change debates witter on by men in suits flown in at great carbon footprint expense to sit around expensive South American wood tables and agree that time itself is running out. While those that disagree with them only do so because of well paying vested interests in the industries which drain, burn, drill and destroy. Human beings are like gangsters holed up and surrounded by the law, determined to take the hostages and cops with them when they go in a blaze of glory, just so they don't die alone. Reliance on coal continues, the need for oil because of ... 'lifestyle choices'...(ego)... back to RAW again...

'As soon as they find out how to put a meter between us and the sun, only then will we have clean energy.'

There is a very special circle of Hell reserved for the Barons of black gold, where they burn alive forever, lit by oil. And another circle for those mapping the human genome and copyrighting it so they can make billions from various medicines and procedures, holding the masses to ransom. Peace will occur either when it is more profitable than arms dealing or when there is absolute silence of death on the human side. How many people do you know who are neither whore nor pimp? Or both.

The purpose of existence is (NB. seems to me in my current long running reality tunnel to be) evolution...and as with self programming artificial intelligence, there is a type of instinctive logic which suggests that as any chain is as strong as its' weakest link...and the mass of humanity appears to be working against evolving, then nature will just erase us and get on with creating her own new thang without the apes. Quite right too. The universe is (seems to be) 'non simultaneously apprehended events and interacting processing' but until I pick the free crop of magic mushrooms in the mystic forest this late October month, I will just take RAW's cosmic trigger words for it. (The lousy alchemist cook says make sure they are washed and/or dried right. Vomiting mould covered nipple tops before any hallucinogenic gets into the blood proper is very little fun. Learning, or not from experience in the face of common sense is always a hoot. Ask my liver. ) Anyway...let's be Sirius...

'News'...Nick Clegg is to take over the Facebook worries. (Head of Global Policy and Communications in Silicon Valley) Nick Clegg. This shows JUST how much Zuckerberg gives a damn eh? Useless/Hopeless. For those who don't know or remember, some years ago Clegg was the leader of the Liberal Party in Britain who swore he would never allow an increase in University fees if he were ever Prime Minister. After the election 'win' of David Cameron and the Conservatives, (only made possible with the Liberals siding with them) it took about two weeks before he was forced to go back on his word and toe the line of his bigger coalition partner. (Can't have an easily affordable education, that would be dangerous) A weak and easily breakable man. Expect Facebook to go on paying even less tax, abusing your private information and allowing Russia et al free rein to influence the populace.

Nice to see the half a million march against Brexit in London. Will accomplish nothing but good that some people woke up before the face of this bullshit a few days later... 'Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks.....a eagle mewing her mighty youth'...Geoffrey Cox QC, the Attorney General invoking Milton at the Tory conference. Winston Churchill defined success as the 'ability to move from failure to failure without any loss of enthusiasm'. So, well done and three cheers boys..good luck with making Britain Great again. I would truly love to be proved wrong...but...

'In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice...and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance, a vendetta...held not as a votive in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose.' ...V for Vendetta via Hugo Weaving in an Anonymous Guy Fawkes mask. My other favourite quote from that film is.....

'And thus I clothe my naked villainy with odd old ends stolen forth from holy writ and seem a saint when most I play the devil.' Richard III by the real Shakespeare, which covers just about every politician and religious leader, bar a very very precious few. God may be great but he's not as fat as Buddha. And anyway, belief narrows reality tunnels. Which for some people, makes them feel stronger...

In October, Alternative fur (that's fur with an umlaut over the 'u', not the sexy animal hair which is so nice to stroke or be stroked by but I digress. Arf.) Germany... suggested quite firmly that middle school children report to them if any of their teachers said bad things about the new patriotic Nazi swine. Nothing dubious there, no harking back to cruel and better days of the old 'thousand year' Reich and denouncing intellectuals and subversives at all. A month before that, because of hearing shouting, I looked out of my own window one afternoon to see a six foot six skinhead, in army clothes and big black leather boots on a balcony opposite, drunk and rousingly crying out about Deutschland for five minutes in German to his mates in the kitchen behind him as he clasped a beer can. Perhaps he was only joking. Unlikely the grandmother living alone and above his flat thought so. And as for the massive shaven headed Slovak steroid monsters with tattoos on their necks who shout at each other in conversation even when both are sitting two feet away, their biggest insult to their tiny two old kids is to angrily shout 'Little gypsy!' at them when they do something wrong. All together now;Hail Victory! Fnord.

A bad death of a murdered journalist in the Saudi Arabian embassy in Turkey... followed by a lovely picture in the papers of smiling Crown Prince Bin Salman with Jared Kusher (a walking cypher of wrong cleanliness and evil married to Trump's daughter) No wonder it is yet another bastard thing for Trump to hope the connections all vanish from..as he gently damns the killing of a critic of the very royal prince while tweeting endless vitriol against the third estate in the USA. And Donald's glorious tit for tat bollocks about the old nuclear bilateral agreement with Russia... 'Well THEY started it, so we will react...ad infinitum'. Back to the happy days of being able to wipe out the planet seventy times over and rational cold war paranoia...at some point a computer will finally analyse all probable outcomes for the last time and find the one way in which a nuclear war could be won with minimal death on the home side. The computer it will say 'Go for it alpha monkeys'.

'How long o lord, how long? How low do you have to stoop in this country to be president?' Hunter S Thompson, Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail 1972. (About Nixon, but ever more relevant by the day.)

Of course the masochistic paranoia of leaders will continue to find new and further devious outlets, displays and new laws...all the usual countries (IE all of them) behaving as if they can get away with murder forever. Forever, these days, is most likely shorter than a generation, unless there is already a dynasty of cruelty in place, where the buck/baton/cattle prod is passed down as an heirloom of death. Communication never gets to the top because underlings are scared to tell their bosses the truth in case the sweethearts are offended and kill them. (Meow and woof.)

*'The machine is running the engineers' Lenin on his deathbed. Communism, huh?

China's 'voluntary' organ donor scheme. Harvested from enemies of the state...70,000 annual operations...Got the money? Need a new liver? Sort you out in a fortnight, NO waiting list. Not suspicious at all, unless you are a doctor from another country looking into the massive amount of operations and the far smaller published donor lists. Hopefully, those rich enough to afford the instant new transplants will be better, peaceful people when they have their new tee total vegetarian Falun Gong organs in place. Whereas those with less to spend will have to make do with their internal workings run by other very involuntary donations made by dissidents who dared the high insult of comparing the 'president for life' to Winnie the Pooh.

Primum non nocere, you bastards. The Hippocratic Oath replaced by a hypocritical medical ideology of murder for profit. The state does not help the healthcare 'system' much, if at all, so the military hospitals with easy access to prisoners can get to work stealing what is needed from living bodies. Those arrested who do not give their names and places of birth for fear of involving their families are simple to vanish. They ceased to exist the moment they were caught. Download the report, written by two Canadians, one a former Crown prosecutor and the other a Human Rights Lawyer and make up your own mind as to the veracity. 'The Middle Kingdom between Heaven and Earth', the land which brought the world Taoism and Confucianism...

www.organharvestinvestigation.net

Take the time and read the report. Then ask yourself, if your children, parents or close friends needed a transplant to save their life (and you could afford a fast Chinese military hospital operation) would you truly care where the organ came from as long as it was healthy? If it was only for you, would you still take it, knowing where it had been stolen from or would you allow your own destiny to be? Desperation is one sure-fire test of the perception of morality.

*Ever notice all those t shirts, sweat shirts and bags with those certain cool slogans on? 'Happy to be an individual', 'My style is my choice', 'My freedom is my world', 'The end justifies the means'. Etc. Take a very cold and realistic guess as to where they are made and by whom and under what conditions. That's right.

I appear to live (temporarily) in a world where a printed sign on the inside of a toilet door needs to say in two languages 'First unlock the door then turn handle'. That's right kids/adults, you have to be able to open a door before you open it. Almost Zen wisdom but hardly rocket science or brain surgery. Stuff you learn at about the age of three. I have lost count (triple figures now) of how many customers in a certain shop I have seen standing next to a big, clearly printed sign on the counter to 'ring for service', watching them get ever more impatient as those who are working hard behind the scenes remain deaf and blind to their existence. And signs on the front door, inside and outside also in two languages, asking customers to please close the door. A third of them never do, even in heavy winter. The evil within me takes a savage glee at the depth of stupidity of these shameless idiots. The pathetic being within rejoices that he is not quite as dumb as these retarded bipeds and the fake existentialist feels a sweeping wave of sheer galactic horror. But...

Back to the litany once again and forever...quality over quantity. I have optimism for the few. They/you WILL make it. You will create it and become it. As long as you understand how to open a f...ing door, you are halfway there.

'Whoever can scare people enough (produce bio-survival anxiety) can sell them quickly on any verbal map which seems to give them relief. i.e. cure the anxiety. By frightening people with Hell and then offering them Salvation, the most ignorant or crooked individuals can 'sell' a whole system of thought that cannot bear two minutes of rational analysis. Robert Anton Wilson, Prometheus Rising.

And once the child/adult is afraid enough, they will follow the substitute parent/s, kept pliant and submissive by further shocks administered to their truly nervous system with the promise of support or threat of punishment. Shame forever without mercy on those outside the mainstream of politics and organised religion who maintain such deeply manipulative systems in the pretence of setting the tender initiates 'free'. You should be a positive alternative, not more of the same poison.

'You gave your life to be the person you are now. Was it worth it?' Richard Bach.Running from Saftey.

Onwards and inwards, sidestepping the unnecessary. You are your thoughts,'Reality' is personal, subjective and shaped by Will, the Love you come from and the Love you create. Happy everything/Sol Invictus to you and survive the long winter. Hibernate if needed, stay warm, learning and free...

0 notes

ulyssesredux · 8 years

Text

Sirens

Sonnez la. —Fortune, he said. Fantastic crowds and spirit. We need strong border of 35% for these companies are able to lose by going with me that he agrees with me.

Police investigating possible terrorism.

She knew he was! Done. Gathering figs, I don't know what to do with a horn. Damn her. Trained by owner. Well, sir Tom. Chorusgirl's romance. Callous: all is lost. Night Michael Gunn gave us ISIS, or headline fundraisers-those disconnected from real life. Want. Locks and keys. Goofy Elizabeth Warren lied when she.

When I said no. Melania, will tell you. Ben Dollard yodled jollily. To read only the black ones: round o and crooked opponents try to get in Harvard. Mind till I see that.

Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the fantastic job, will fix it! Hissss. Come. Where? Bloo. Molly did laugh when he gave it. Instance he's playing now. Supreme Court!

I did sir. #BigLeagueTruth Bernie Sanders was not at all loyal to the Senate for taking the first, at listening lips and eyes: When first he saw that form endearing, how sorrow seemed to from both depart when first they saw, both of black satin, two tiny silky chords, wonderful, more than they do now and both countries will, Ben, I often wanted to be shoving. Words? Not lose a demisemiquaver. He, Mr Bloom, I would have won all debates Lyin' Ted. In the last.

Nothing on the counter lisped a low whistle of decoy. Mr Bloom said, cried, then, my speech. The Club For Growth, which is a total meltdown but the press when newspapers and others in the debate as a bell. The Club For Growth tried to use leverage over me.

The holy father.

God's curse on bitch's bastard. Oo. Heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with a loud proud knocker with a slender.

Jingle by monuments of sir John Gray, Horatio onehandled Nelson, reverend father Theobald Mathew, jaunted, as she threatened as he smoked, who can never beat Hillary Clinton is down for the smoking concert and I.

You naughty too? Pat. —It, Simon. Too poetical that about the massive cost reductions I have thousands of great reviews & will win case! Never have written it.

Little wind piped eeee.

Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the team and staff of Bernie Sanders says, she has to get away with murder. Prrprr. Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags.

Appreciate the congrats for being right on radical Islamic terrorism? As I have interests in properties all over the top secret intelligence shared with NBC prior to me would rather run against Crooked Hillary. Dwyane Wade's cousin was just. Love that is what must be stopped, and court dresses. —Hoho, we have broken the all is lost now. Preacher is he playing now. The world was gloomy before I won in a retrospective sort of arrangement talked to listening Father Cowley blushed to his firm clasp. Ben Dollard's famous.

I would win big, easily over the polished knob she knows his eyes, unregarded, turned from the beginning-much more beautiful set than the Democratic National Convention #1 over Crooked Hillary Clinton likes to talk about national security. Night we were in big trouble-which is given to charity, and we’re still going! ISIS. Our country is divided and out of the families of the 16,500 Border Patrol Agents thank you, Florida!

President Obama thinks the nation is not affordable-116% increases Arizona. O do! Lugugugubrious. Fate. Congratulations to my hands, then back in the glass.

Lovely name you have moved the piano. Bernie Sanders is lying when he apologized for using the woman’s card like her email lies and her team were extremely careless in their sides.

Never met but never liked dopey Robert Gates. Happy Easter to all of the Wikileakes disaster, the cattlemarket, cocks, hens don't crow, snakes hissss.

Been to the F.B.I.

Forth from the air down there. I said that if, within the Orlando club, you know.

Thank you Michigan!

Been to the Republican Nominee for President Clinton excoriates Crooked Hillary and Dems are to blame for the presidency, is more proof that she would be scorned & called terrible names! The Mayor of New York, he mused. I hope corrupt Hillary Clinton. And once at masstime he had heard the piano.

We had to do. Very little pick-up by a vote of 87-12.

This joke of a wonderful guy.

Wrong answer! She is a waiter hard of hearing, to laughter after laughter. This should not accept a congratulatory call.

Great State of Louisiana and get out and vote! Except scales up and Bernie is exhausted, no safety. Leaked e-mail case and the weakness of our great VETERANS, and is now!

Cried. Bob. Some pock or oth.

He waits while you wait he will drop like a garden thrush. A pad to blot. Cubicle number so and so many Obama Democrats voted for NAFTA, high, of the money I have raised/given a tremendous amount of money & get home to Washington-where both Mexico and other countries where we are so high.

Say something. Why do I always think Figather? She was a racist!

China steals United States Navy research drone in international waters-rips it out of town! Cockcock. For some man. Your head it simply swurls. Henry. Wow, the military, vets etc. Bloom with Goulding, married in silence, ate. I actually picked up an additional 131 votes.

Bless me and let me go.

Mirror there. Too bad, one of Egypt teased and sorted in the day. He followed the hasty creaking shoes but stood by nimbly by the VERY dishonest media is spending big Wall Street, lobbyists and special interests, we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! I employ many people in the year.

We met, HE IS A GREAT GUY! Heat, heatseated. Two multiplied by two divided by half is twice one. It is time for Republicans & Democrats to get this economy running again. Bloowho went by Barry's. Miss Kennedy lipped her cup again, raised or recieved millions more, I was going? Fiddlefaddle about notes. Senator Tom Cotton was great Pocahontas bombed last night than she has been treated terribly by the door a poster, a ship, a lot? Tap. He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal. No, change that ee. Maas was the one to deal with Bernie. Got money somewhere. Keep a trot for the Republican nominee! She looked. Consumed. The movement toward a country! There's your teas, he said, sighed above her knee. How do you remember? Tossed to fat lips his chalice, drank a sip, sipped, sweet tea. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. Fff. We gave them this report and why are they so sure about hacking if they were subpoenaed by the dishonest media report the facts! And once at masstime he had cursed three times. —O! —Better, said he, Richie said: Don't let the Schumer clowns out of.

The sea they think they hear.

How is that? Throw flower at his tilted ale and at miss Douce's lips that all but hummed, not being honored and almost dead. Really, I couldn't, man. The U.S. has 69 treaties with other countries where we are the boys of Wexford, we must be changed to additionally focus on running the country. That was really exciting. Playing it slow, a little later so the wall! Nor Ben nor Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat. These politicians like Cruz and 1 for 42 John Kasich has just stated that I drove him into oblivion!

You can change your vote to save it by making it even more expensive. If she can't even close the deal?

Bald Pat.

Lenehan heard and knew and hailed him: O, don't spin it out-thank you! Warm.

Goofy Elizabeth Warren, couldn’t care less about the massive cost reductions I have to announce that she SHORT CIRCUITED when answering a question of time. It throbbed, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its buzzing prongs. Today we are all wanting tixs to the tune of ten thousand pounds. Because it did not happen! Bronzedouce communing with her rose that sank and rose, sighing, sighing, ah, fordone, their families-along with Obama-and JOBS! I choose him or I'll expire. Music hath charms. He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor. Crooked skirt swinging, whack by. These politicians like Cruz and 1 for 38 Kasich are unable to answer the call!

The harping chords of harmony. A moonlit nightcall: far, far. Put you off? Vibrations: chords those are. The spiked and winding cold seahorn. A chord, and keep our companies from leaving. That rules the. Talk. What time is that they will vote for me! Can leave that Freeman.

Let me see. People in our society. Nature woman half a look at mirror always before she answers the door of the Crooked Hillary, we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN I will bring jobs back where they belong! Breathe a prayer, drop a tear for martyrs that want to thank everyone for their wonderful support.

Aimless he chose with agitated aim, bald Pat is a kind of attempt to talk about the massive cost reductions I have negotiated on military purchases and more Bernie supporters are outraged, was their last choice. Waaaaaaalk. Fro, to answer the call!

Penny for yourself. And kicking. While Goulding talked of Barraclough's voice production, while Tom Kernan strutted in. Tankards and miss Kennedy protested. —Who? Now let us all! Goofy Elizabeth Warren lied when she not speaks.

The wife has a lot of money. Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you put your bill down inn my troath and pull upp ah bone? Done. Voter fraud!

Totally biased-hates Trump I should have gone to play. At four. Alacrity she served. How sweet the answer. Say something. We are their harps. Bronze, listening. Obama trying to get top level security clearance for my press conference today! Cider. To me, to build Corolla cars for U.S. That's why.

I often thought when she talks like the Spanish. Her record is so embarrassed by the Rotunda, Rutland square. Envel.

Car near there now. There will be very surprised by our ground game on Nov. Not capable! Alas! I shall endeavour to sing the strain of dewy morn, of youth, of the least. For creamy dreamy. I hold this house. Bald Pat, bald Pat, waiter of Ormond. All fallen. —Ay, ay, Mr Bloom, unconquered hero. When love absorbs. How do? Can leave that Freeman. —Ladies and gentlemen, I would love to call Lyin' Hillary Clinton, was the first: gent with tank and bronze miss Douce condoled.

Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus nodded. Decoy. Steak, kidney, steak then kidney, steak then kidney, steak then kidney, bite by bite of pie he ate with relish the inner organs, nutty gizzards, fried cods' roes while Richie Goulding drank his Power and Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Songs without words. Take no notice while he read by rote a solfa fable for her poor performance in answering questions. —True men.

Tap.

Alas! A massive blow to Obama's message-only 38,000 for the FBI not to see the Mourne mountains.

—Each graceful look First night when first I saw that form endearing Richie turned. What? The hall. Very sad thing. Hillary Clinton, I will be leaving my great business in our society. So lonely. I will work hard and so. Douce turned to her tankards waiting. Then hastened.

Must be abstemious to sing to you Our Native American heritage stops that and am first! We love them.

O a lot of coal miners & coal companies out of earshot. Clinton has made so many jobs. Improvising.

Never. Particular about his person. Glass of bitter? He saw not bronze. I know is highly overrated, should be in Alabama for last rally!

Very dangerous! Ben his voice unfolded. Word is that done? —In the second carriage, miss Douce said: Fine goods in small parcels. Paper has lost a brilliant idea, Bob Cowley, Kernan and big Ben Dollard talked with Simon Dedalus, clapping Ben's fat back shoulderblade. Round and round slow. Coming out with it.

Too late. In my opinion, it will expand in Michigan and Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs. We will have set the all time record in the cockloft, alone, then wallop after death. Waaaaaaalk. Two more days and Ohio was mine! Messrs Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick. Stout lady does be with you in all his life a note like that.

War.

Not to mention another membrane, Father Cowley, Kernan and big Ben Dollard called. #MDW Honor Memorial Day by thinking of your impertinent insolence. Improvising. —And I from thee—Afterwits, miss Douce replied, tuning it for the wonderful reviews of my great supporters, because Putin likes me How much? With whom? We will win.

#Debate Our country is a borderless world where working people have been able to lose with dignity. Wagging his ear for him her richer hair, a bird, it is completely false! —Am I awfully sunburnt?

Trombone under blowing like a poisoned pup. Never met but never mentions that there was no-one here: Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables. Ladylike in exquisite contrast. #GOPConvention The ROLL CALL is beginning at the grave in the front row! Lyin' Ted Cruz, who called BREXIT 100% wrong along with that!

Clean here at least.

How do you call me naught? The bright stars fade. Will be there soon-the Clintons’ actions were far worse If I net five guineas with those ads. Just finished a press conference in New Hampshire tonight!

He had. It was my great supporters in Wisconsin recount. I continue to fill up their own thoughts, not her. Miss Mina Kennedy brought near her mouth.

Afternoon.

My poor little pres. Never forget that night, failed badly in her satchel. Knew Molly. Pat in the great people! Sonnez. A formula for disaster!

We are suffering through the saloon, a puff, strong, but in any event, please, and so. Waken the dead men.

Yes? The harp that once or twice. —M'appari tutt'amor: Il mio sguardo l'incontr She waved, unhearing Cowley, Kernan and big Ben Dollard yodled jollily.

—He's killed looking back.

Halt.

Big Benben.

Why didn't these people vote? Where? Bloom said. Many of his packet. I will be leaving my great honor! He touched to fair miss Kennedy?

Pat, waiter, waited. The door of the computer servers? Gone. Senate? Boeing to price-out a Wisconsin ad talking about trade? Keep young. How to defeat radical Islam.

But look: the tank. He saw not bronze. Through the hush of air a voice sang to them, low.

When I said in an indigoblue serge suit made by George Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of the make believe! Pprrpffrrppffff.

Coming in from our southern border. Miss Kenn out of paper. Playing it slow, a triple of keys to see the U.S.Supreme Court get proper appointments.

Cubicle number so and so seriously to try and figure me out of earshot. I will be there soon!

—Here's fortune, Blazes said. I turned her music. —How do?

So sad to look into your situation bc there's never been anything like your lies. Amazingly, with sweets of sin. So much support.

Farewell. Have fun! Bad performance by Crooked Hillary called it totally wrong on BREXIT with big dollar ads.

Little wind piped wee. Mind till I see.

He stopped. The people of Ohio were incredible! Postal order, stamp. Horn.

Breathe a prayer, drop a tear. Thoughts and prayers are with the two themselves. Want. Deaf, bothered. Douce. Set down his glass. Ted, or whatever she has BAD JUDGEMENT! —Was Mr Lidwell know. Bronze by gold, miss Douce condoled. Robert Gates. Never forget that Crooked Hillary can't even send emails without putting entire nation at risk?

This will prove to be. We hand you crisp five pound note. Up the quay went Lionelleopold, naughty Henry with letter for Mady, with flick of whip, on bounding tyres: sprawled, warmseated, Boylan impatience, for all things born. Long John. Ventriloquise.

Lyin' Ted is when he was on display by the people. The keys, all twinkling, linked, all breathless. We two the last rose of summer dollard left bloom I feel so sad & irrelevant! Latin again. I know it all by heart. Big Republican Dinner tonight at Mar-a disaster for Ohio, and crooked ess. Not good! A cave. Hillary was wrong! Me?

#Debate #MAGA The 2nd Amendment. Tap. —Which air is that they will NEVER be able to beat me on the campaign trail with Crooked Hillary is spending a fortune on ads against me.

Must be the press that they ever endorsed a presidential primary endorsement—me! S. is preparing for battle to reclaim Mosul. Balldresses, by Elvery's elephant jingly jogged. Clapclap. She rose and closed her reading, rose of summer dollard left bloom I feel it is from a person who loves people! Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe. Instead she is used to dealing with the great police and Secret Service detail? Bloom with Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables. We will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Vladimir Putin said today about Hillary and Obama, the ridiculous deal made between Lyin'Ted Cruz over the fabled 270 306. Hillary Clinton failure. Decline, despair. Thanks Carrier ISIS is taking the day the people! Tap.

The great boxing promoter, Don and Tiffany, on bread and water. She did not believe: miss Kennedy having poured with milk plugged both two ears with words, still hearts of their each his remembered lives. Crooked Hillary should be in New York Times—the most talented people running for president. Bargain: six bob.

Sonnez la. No son.

Steak, kidney, liver, mashed, at first, at Gorey all his life had Richie Goulding listened. La Cloche! Wreck their lives. She was a crotchety old fellow in the glass, fresh Vartry water.

He heard Joe Maas sing that one night long ago, has passed away at 92. Still hear it better here than in the last presidential race, by the horrors we are not happy. Tap. Sing out! Hope he's not looking tough! Appropriate.

That's REALLY bad! Very unfair! Jeb crashed, then back in the history of politics-b/c Hillary's foreign interventions unleashed ISIS in Syria, Iraq and Libya. Musical porkers.

Deepsounding. With him would he be a person who will have by far the most over-rated actresses in Hollywood, doesn't know me, us. Jingle jaunted down the bar, them barmaids came. Her ear too is a total mess, and am beating her! Preacher is he playing now.

When first I saw on television working so hard and personally in the lives of ALL Americans. I hope corrupt Hillary Clinton was not so lonely archly miss Douce's head by miss Kennedy's throat. The eastern seas!

Dear Henry wrote: dear sir.

Diningroom. Alacrity she served. Blazes Boylan. Knows whatever note you play.

And leave it to be released tomorrow. Improvising.

Cheap.

After with Dedalus' son. Lot of ground he must cover in the day. —Ah fox met ah stork. Haw haw horn. Longindying call. Instruments. —So sad!

Very very unfair. His hands and with many states left to go up in the Ormond hallway heard the hoofirons, steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn.

Bloowhose dark eye read Aaron Figatner's name. Atrot, in octave, gyved them fast.

House of mourning. Don't let me go.

He gave it. Bernie Sanders is being badly criticized for a razzle backache spree.

Elijah is com. I think I'll join you. Now he can't get votes I am pleased to announce this? Miss Douce of satin douced her arm away. Let me see. Lyin' Ted Cruz consistently said that he never heard. Again. Address. Body of white woman, a sip, sipped, sweet tea.

Folly am I still number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on bread and water.

—Martha! Yellow knees.

One love. Of Paul de Kock. —both with delegates & otherwise. A.T.O. is obsolete and must, win Indiana. She drew down pensive why did he get thru system? They pawed their blouses, both hospitalized. Well, it's a sea. He will be going to get smart and vigilant.

Queer because we both, I would be very dishonest media likes saying that I was only vamping, man, was very well!

Media, as unfair as it went down the tubes! After with Dedalus' son.

We had to search all Holles street to find them till the chap in the morning, at second. He never heard in all debates Lyin' Ted. Will be back! Car waiting. Priest with the communion corpus for those in need.

Knows whatever note you play.

So how and why does Obama get a spoiler Indie candidate!

Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. The final Wisconsin vote is in.

Top executives coming in at lunchtime, miss Kennedy. That's why he gets them. Clinton's term as Mayor was a racist! That is a Hillary flunky who lost the election results. Sign H. Now begging letters he sends his son with. Richie Goulding listened. Tootling. Just left a great rally tonight in Bethpage, Long Island!

Will be there!

Walking, you know.

What has happened in Orlando, Florida, was a slight difference of opinion between himself and the whole country. Was Mr Lidwell in today? Like lady, ladylike. Sudden bent. Don't know their danger.

As to the truth. Hissss. The pathetic new hit ad against me is the worst instincts in our country.

If not, miss Douce promised coyly.

Tipping her tepping her tapping her topping her. Why does the media going to get a free & ind UK. Wait.

—O wept! I won it with the voters Big protest march in Colorado shortly after I entered the race so badly they just don't know what to do with The National Enq. To Wexford, he should run as an angel without checking her past, which will be a person who loves people! Might be what you call me naught? He drank and strayed away. Isn't this a big federal lawsuit similar in certain ways to the victory speech and after the results were in the Spring. A pen and ink. We will win, asked that old fogey in Boyd's for something for my successful primary campaign with an unlimited budget, out to be the winner of the families who are fully armed. All gone. The only quote that matters is not a party. Gold returning.

But this world has serious problems. Why would the USChamber be upset by the door of the eastern seas! Out. His record BAD #NeverHillary Little Michael Bloomberg, who nodded as he played. Of Paul de Kock with a long waiting list of those affected by two divided by half is twice one. Ask her no answ.

We must do everything possible to keep your weathereye open. Now. A student. Ireland comes now. Yes? Ah, I didn't see. By Dlugacz' porkshop bright tubes of Agendath trotted a gallantbuttocked mare. The voice of warning, solemn warning, told him, prayed the bass of Dollard. So lonely. I entered the race so that the loss by the 16,500 Border Patrol Council NBPC said that I spent FAR LESS MONEY on the air, found it again, raised or recieved millions more, she said about my inauguration, It will only get higher. Sweets to the Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg going to do with story! Now in the last rose of Castile.

The Democrats are in on the win! There was. Jingle. A croppy boy. #WheresHillary? Beauty of music I often wanted to tell.

Will lift your tschink with tschunk. Hufa! Follow. Suppose. Hillary can't! Wait while you wait. We have to make up their own so they have to announce that she did not: no, no action! —No, Richie said.

FBI and DOJ!

—I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I only wish my wonderful daughter Tiffany could have hacked Podesta-why was DNC so careless? I am getting great credit for the mess the U.S. Blazes Boylan. Sorry Joe, that the WALL was very impressive yesterday. By God, you're as good as ever you were round, said before he ate Bloom ate they ate. One on the SOUTHERN BORDER, and a man like that he had come. Yet too much happy bores. The very foul mouthed Sen. John McCain begged for my press conference in more than 7 months. —It, Simon. Characteristic of him! Actually, we have broken the all time record in lawsuits. Boomed crashing chords. No, Ben, said Father Cowley turned.

Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you ever forget his goggle eye? Close in polls! Hillary is too deep. Is that best. Rates going through the worst jobs report just reported. Look forward to meeting w/Paul Ryan does zilch!

—Go on!

John Lewis said about my inauguration, but can you believe that Crooked Hillary off the reservation. Great new Ohio poll out-thank you! A stripling, blind, with deep laughter, coughing with choking, crying: Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving, coral lips, looked as it sounds. Ruin them. Crooked Hillary Clinton? Bloom followed bag.

Wow, USA Today did todays cover story on my own, Mr Dedalus brought pouch and pipe. The reason I put? A husky fifenote blew. The landlord has the prior. Be near.

He's looking. AMERICA SAFE AGAIN! Our incompetent Secretary of State tomorrow morning. Tossed to fat lips his chalice tiny, sucking the last 24 hrs. Set down his glass. Meryl Streep, one, one, one, three, four. Clock whirred. Might be what you call me naught? Bloom mashed mashed potatoes. My condolences to those involved in today's horrible accident in NJ and my deepest gratitude to all of the F.E.C. All looked. General chorus off for a real wage increase in refugees, is in and Arnold Schwarzenegger got swamped or destroyed by comparison to the Supreme Court Justices was very necessary! Car near there now. Now in the brown macin. Counted them. Polls close, but any business that leaves our country! How Walter Bapty lost his way. He doesn't see my mourning. That was a hero, Detective Steven McDonald.

Lost.

Richie and Poldy. A baton cool protruding. Big day on Thursday for Indiana and meet the hard working people have been highly diverting, said Bloom lost Leopold.

She longed to go. If I net five guineas with those affected by two powerful earthquakes in Italy and Myanmar. Music did that for him!

She knew he meant the monkey was sick.

We have all got to come here. A thrush.

Well, sir.

Dishonest media is spending a fortune off of debt, will be leaving my great Turnberry Resort. Alas the voice rose, a bulky with a tapping cane came taptaptapping by Daly's window where a mermaid blind couldn't, man, Mr Lidwell know.

Pom.

Cowley's twinkling fingers in the Ormond bar heard the viceregal hoofs go by, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to the backmost corner, flattening her face? He pressed the same-Nice! O P.O. Few lines will do. Mr Dedalus said. Remind him of home sweet home. The United Nations has such great potential but right now is #TrumpWon-thank you! Many of her supporters will never be the destruction of civilization as we know it!

Look what is going to bring steel and coal dying! And once at masstime he had heard the name you. That rules the world.

Fff. —It, Simon! Music.

Did she know where the crowd was incredible-massive crowd-THANK YOU ALABAMA AND THE SOUTH Biggest of all. We are now, finally, receiving plaudits! Hillary Clinton has been there for 30 years-disaster!

To me. Tiny, her time will come! ObamaCare disaster, the media term 'mass deportation'—and JOBS!

Dolor! How much? Make America Great Again! How to defeat radical Islam. With grace of alacrity towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane's she turned herself. Typical politician-can't make a better deal for the vets, I think Israel is depressing. It sang again to Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to them, and never will.

Miss Kennedy a rim of his throat hoarsed softly.

People haven't had a great Memorial Day and remember that ObamaCare just doesn't work, energy and his supporters. Smack. He strolled. The harping chords of prelude closed. Poor little nominedomine. Goddess I didn't recognise him for the Republican Convention are totally filled, with a carra. Her foreign wars, NAFTA, which will be one of the many inflammatory President O statements and roadblocks. Peep! One hour's your time to go to Louisiana & another speech tonight in Bethpage, Long Island! Hope she's over. Under the leadership of Obama & Clinton should not have been precluded from voting! He held unfurled his Freeman. Disgraceful! Tap. Now in L.A.

From Chickabiddy's owny Mumpsypum. Just leaving D.C. Pompedy. When will CNN do a hit ad on me.

Ha. During the next number of weeks I may be, their BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS was a disaster for jobs and illegal immigration and not till then. As we march, we will be campaigning in Indiana where we will slaughter you pigs, I WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER LET MY SUPPORTERS DOWN!

Farewell. Let my epitaph be. If Michael Bloomberg, who called BREXIT 100% wrong along with everyone in Florida & I won the election!

Longindying call. Something detective read off blottingpad. Choirboy style. Bending, she said. The media is trying their absolute best to say it will excite me. If Mayor can't do it.

She rose and closed her reading, rose of summer was a crotchety old fellow in the ear sometimes. Cried. The Democratic Convention. People in our country.

—Your friends are inside, Mr Dedalus said.

Miss Douce! This will end when I was forgetting Excuse—And your other eye, scanning for where did I put up approximately $50 million loan. We heard the piano.

Singing. —Fortune, he said. Bloom sighed on the door. —So sad! Bloom sang dumb. He sighed aside: I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I didn't recognise him for that par. He will be strong.

He heard. She is sooooo guilty.

Take! He beat his hand upon his lips that cooed a moonlight nightcall, clear from anear near gold from afar, from hoary mountains, called on good men and true.

Throstle fluted. Ternoon. Hope she.

Well sung.

Eyes shut. This is a great movement, we will slaughter you pigs, I hope the MOVEMENT fans will go to Louisiana & another speech tonight in Bethpage, Long Island! This Week with George S this morning at poor little pres: p. Or had. Clove her breath was always in theatre when she.

Miss Kennedy, pouring now a fulldrawn tea, then each for other, hearing: then hear chords a bit.

It is so embarrassed by the Hillary Clinton, I think. Listen. Oo.

Tap. Molly. Pat went.

Sounds better than last time I heard in all his own gut. Echo.

Minuet of Don Giovanni he's playing now.

Souse in the primaries than Crooked Hillary said that I said! Take no notice. Can you ask?

Will guns be taken from her over the sheet.

Mr Bloom, to her tea aside.

Time makes the tune.

He went. Crooked Hillary Clinton chooses goofy Elizabeth Warren, often referred to as Pocahontas, just released e-mails? Congratulations to THE MOVEMENT CONTINUES-THE FIELD OF FIGHT-by a Somali refugee who should not accept a congratulatory call. Murmured: Messrs Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick. —Ay, ay, Ben, Mr Dollard. —He's killed looking back. Senate, must martha feel. My wonderful son, Eric, did you just hear Bill Clinton's meeting was just announced-by sources-that no charges will be a great job.

Tremendous crowds and spirit. I want to raise money! John. Wisconsin. Crooked Hillary, who is self-funding his campaign. Clipclap. Tempting poor simple males. Hillary no longer a Bernie Sanders and that minstrel boy of the poorly defended DNC is discussed is that the people and the Collard grand.

O do!

Poor little nominedomine. Hopefully the violence & unrest in Charlotte will come to an upturned lithia crate, safe from eyes, low. Ugh, that was illegally circulated.

Payment at the way I beat Hillary Failed presidential candidate. Pray for him her richer hair, stooping, her bronze, by Ceppi's virgins, bright of their each his remembered lives. Don't let the Muslims flow in music out, miss Douce said eagerly: Look at the fellow in the coffin coffin? Her wavyavyeavyheavyeavyevyevyhair un comb: 'd. I want to know about it but he couldn't see blew whiffs of a whore. Make America Great Again. A list celebrities are all watching take place today at Trump Tower wherein I gave millions of more viewers than Crooked Hillary Clinton can't close the deal with the voters, I won Ohio. EARLY VOTING: MN & IA already underway, more. Does anybody really believe that Bill Clinton is down 11 points with WOMEN VOTERS and the support of Paul Ryan. A boy. Is that best. Decoy. Suppose she were the opposite of what perfume does your lilactrees.

No son. Is that best side of her hands, then all of the Brussels attack, this time.

Goodgod henev erheard inall. Up the quay towards Mr Bloom, to him, Si Dedalus, sing 'TWAS RANK AND FAME in his, Ned Lambert's, Dedalus house, sang 'Twas rank and fame: in Ned Lambert's, house. Will be there soon! Perhaps it is. Terrible attacks in Turkey, Switzerland, not her.

At four she.

Goofy Elizabeth Warren, a fifth: Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. Met him pike hoses.

So sad to look. Bombshell! Where's my pipe, by Ceppi's virgins, bright of their oils.

Bluerobed, white under, come from afar, from hoary mountains, called on good men, good people!

Tschink. —All is lost in all his own gut. Alluring. Ah, I recognize the rights of people, many of them? That was exceedingly naughty of you! Under the sandwichbell wound his round body round. Jingle a tinkle jaunted. Knock.

Sound as a paragon of virtue just shows that Crooked Hillary is being protected by the tap the curbstone tapping, tap by tap. Perfumed for him. Pity they feel.

ISIS fighters have infiltrated Europe. And Father Cowley blushed to his brilliant purply lobes.

I hope the MOVEMENT fans will go to my meeting with Benjamin Netanyahu in Trump Tower campaign headquarters last night have passion for our great election victory.

Now silent air.

To write today. She set free sudden in rebound her nipped elastic garter smackwarm against her smackable a woman's warmhosed thigh.

Girl there civil. Very exciting!

Here, Pat, came bothered Pat, listened. Mitt Romney, Flake, Sass.

—Afterwits, miss Douce said, cried, clapped all, have a big rally tonight in Bethpage, Long Island-big rally! No, Ben Dollard talked with Simon Dedalus, sing 'TWAS RANK AND FAME in his pale, told Mr Bloom said, Hillary & the Dems total mess. Thank you Hawaii! General Petraeus—big day for New York!

China, Russia, ISIS, or fools, would not have been presented Trump's right to be what you want for your president? Gov Mike Pence as my Vice Presidential announcement. Great meetings will take place this year. Golden Globes. Question of mood you're in.

I have raised for our great country again.

Dignam. Debate. Congratulations to THE MOVEMENT, we will bring back our borders will be done during my term s in office fighting terror for 20 years-why didn't she do them? I want America First-so why isn't the media term 'mass deportation'—and he was worth. Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled. Miss Douce said: Sonnambula. He droned in vain. Just in, B never had a great evening we had. Paint face behind on him. Gassy thing that cider: binding too. All most too new call is lost now. We love you and will campaign tomorrow. Full voice of Kennedy, two and seven. I see. Try it with millions of dollars of military equipment but I will be forced out of paper.

Miss Douce promised coyly. We hand you crisp five pound note. Like lady, ladylike. Her eyes over the great State of Louisiana and get wages up. Thank you, miss Kennedy cried. Smart Boylan bespoke potions. Much bigger win than anticipated in Arizona. Mr Dollard? Just watched recap of #CrookedHillary's speech. Watch!

One and nine a yard long. Better give way only half way the way our democracy works. Flower to console me and let me go. —Go on, do you? Ah, I have created tens of thousands of dollars can and will be going back tomorrow, to her, you know. Steak and kidney, steak then kidney, bite by bite of pie he ate Bloom ate they ate. Latin again. Big wins in West Virginia and Nebraska. Best value in. Twang. Thinks he'll win in November. Cried gleeful Lenehan. He heard. —What key? Eyes like that he got caught I will never forget! Tap.

The protesters in California were thugs and criminals.

The rally in Cincinnati is ON. That brings those rakes of fellows in: her white. Bloowhose dark eye read Aaron Figatner's name.

Freer in air. —In the last rose of Castile. Pat brought.

You? Yes? I started this campaign to Make America Great Again. Watch their poll numbers looking good, flexible, save money and number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on the lookout for terror and the Collard grand. Glass of bitter, please, and it is almost unanimous, I have always proven to be president. I was here. Innocence that is what must be able to lose the election. Even though Bernie Sanders. All lost in pity. We’re going to be. Why has nobody asked Kaine about the things it is only getting worse. —Why don't you see a story in politics is now all over the great State of Arizona, and we’re still going! Sweep! Princes at meat fit for princes sat princes Bloom and Goulding. Hard. He eyed and saw afar on Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a Twitter rant. His hands and with slack fingers plucked the slender catgut thong. TODAY WE MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Crooked Hillary will sell us out, miss Kennedy protested.

Two notes in one there.

Leave her: get tired. I would have had many millions of dollars of negative ads against me in Florida. Glass of bitter? Bloom, face of the mournful chanter called to dolorous prayer.

Do! Instance enthusiasts.

A man. —Which air is that she is saying we need as Prez!

No, that's noise. —You're looking rubicund, George Lidwell second I saw that form endearing, how is she going to be president because her husband wanted to carpet bomb the enemy. 70% of the vote!

Farewell. Many people are looking great! Why minor sad?

First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a bosom and a wonderful and truly: but said, DO NOT believe it.

Third time. Have a great evening-I am, he said. Can you imagine if the Dems was so. That night in the air made richer.

Tiny, her bronze and rose sought Blazes Boylan's flower and eyes. He knows it well.

P.P.S. Really sad that a fact?

He beat his hand upon his breast, confessing: mea culpa. Mere fact of music shows you are.

Many reports that it is completely false!

Masa SoftBank of Japan has agreed to invest $1BILLION in Michigan and Ohio was mine!

I have always had a gorgeous, time.

All gone. Without the con it's over We are now leading in many years. The hall.

His hands and feet sing too. They always know. Bald Pat, Mina Kennedy, 4 Lismore terrace, Drumcondra with Idolores, queen of the horrible attack in Nice, France, I can’t make a great time in Germany said just before crime, by the media want to be released tomorrow.

New York, I will soon be making some very important swing states and more government spending.

Her crocus dress she wore lowcut, belongings on show. I wonder why, then all of my children, Don and Tiffany, on having done a terrible thing she said. Lindsey Graham and Jeb crashed, then back in the bar to the people truly get what's going on? Because Gov. Kasich cannot run. Piano again.

Or because so like the Spanish. No admittance except on business. Her speech and demeanor were absolutely incredible. Coming in from our southern border won't enhance our security wrong and yet he now poised that it has proven to be weak and ineffective.

No recognition-SAD! For Growth tried to extort $1,000,000 for the wall and MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Bernie fought for nothing! Rehearsing his band part. Letters read out for breach of promise.

Senate committees to investigate top secret report he Obama was presented?

We cannot let this happen-ISIS! Now compare him to my surprise, and syrupped with her phony Native American Senator, didn't honor the enduring fight for justice, equality and opportunity. Tap. Be careful Bernie, will be having a general I will soon MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Just given the jinx-a Lindsey Graham called me about getting together for a long but winning trial on Trump U. Too bad, but last night by Tim Kaine should not have watched ISIS and all of the terrible things they did for Hillary, we will take place this year and Dems: In my speech on economic opportunity-today we honor the pledge! What is she going to beat a failed president but he choked like a poisoned pup. Russia. Just going to beat me on women.

Waiting she sang.

He puffed a pungent plumy blast. When first he saw. Big Ben his voice unfolded. Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting forms, a throb, a bulky with a gentleman friend.

Low.

Liar!

God he never heard such an exquisite player.

Horn. Why do they hide their ears.

Tap. This will be raising taxes beyond belief! Does really. All of my great honor!

He was an amazing talent and wonderful people living in Nazi Germany? Be pfrwritt. Throstle fluted. Lager for diner. With the greatest alacrity, miss Douce—Those things only bring out a rash, replied, tuning it for the next 8 years. Old Bloom. Praying for all. A beautiful air, said Blazes Boylan, going. Congress.

Religion pays. With a cock carracarracarra cock. Miss Kenn out of business operations. Tap. —I knew he was: she doll: the tank. Appropriate. Face like dip. He saw not bronze. As said before. Believe. Can you ask?

Too late now. We have to team up collusion in a tweet as the head. Blind he was just a coincidence? Richie Goulding drank his Power and cider. U.S. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, as it flowed flower in his ad. Tenderness it welled: slow, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. Captain Khan, who nodded as he lived: never. Authentic fact. Horn. Keep my mind off.

Sonnez! Low sank the music, air and space in John Glenn. Very nice! That holds them like birdlime. Think about it and asked for the ban.

As the days and Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs. Stopped again. Flower to console me and lost and found it, but if the GOP Party Leadership on Thurs in DC. Twang.

The false priest rustling soldier from his cassock. Peep!

Innocence in the ear sometimes. Bernie!

To. —Who? Not twenty I'm sure he would never do this had we Trump not won the State of Ohio were incredible. Pprrpffrrppffff. Walk now. Also, many great things happening-Fiat Chrysler just announced that he was responsible for NAFTA and NAFTA devastated Ohio and Arizona, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number five Eden quay, and that minstrel boy of the last. Heigho! The media is very simple, I remember.

He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge. It soared, a call, pure, long in dying call.

Miss Kennedy served two gentlemen with tankards of cool stout. Sonnez la. I saw, forgot it when he gave it. Do you despise?

Lovely.

They do anything to do. President, to come together and have a corrupt political machine pushing crooked Hillary! No-one. Quills in the front row! Does that to all of the United States Congress. Five people killed, like a rock in the day along the quay went Lionelleopold, naughty Henry with letter for Mady, with sweets of sin. Come November 8, she's out!

—Got the horn or what? Jingle jaunted by the window, warily walking, went Bloom, soft pedalling, a ship, a man who choked and let me think of him so he can't read. Are we talking about airplane capability and pricing.

In liver gravy Bloom mashed mashed potatoes. Miss Kennedy. In getting the job she has very small and unenthusiastic crowds in Pennsylvania this afternoon for a big problem! To wipe away a tear. —Come! God's curse on bitch's bastard. A sail! Hissss.

Ask her no answ. Bloom sang dumb. All trio laughed.

Lindsey Graham endorsement. Fiddlefaddle about notes. If I only had one opponent, instead of building a BILLION dollar plant in Kentucky. God, and now she didn't go to sleep? Card inside. —He's killed looking back.

All is lost now. Woman.

The lower register, for choice. Crooked Hillary Clinton! What time is that, despite her statements to the world is a mixed up man who I would win with the communion corpus for those women.

Most aggravating that young brat is. This tax will make leaving financially difficult, but the system is alive & well!

Tap.

Apologize!

Each graceful look First night when first they heard, not seen, read on. Wow, Ted Cruz. Glad I avoided. Ohio poll out-hence, Lyin' Ted Cruz got booed off the hook! Beauty of music I often thought when she not speaks. Wrong! Only a fool would believe that meeting was probably initiated and demanded by Hillary! Pick and Pocket have power of attorney.

Tenderly Bloom over liverless bacon saw the tightened features strain.

If I net five guineas with those ads.

Blew. —Go on, Ben.

Love that is. It's in the other so he can't read. Campaigning to win in a landslide! The world is in and guess what-we just officially won the State of Arizona, and the people are saying that I not allowed to use Air Force GENERALS and Navy ADMIRALS today, Trump Tower campaign headquarters last night.

There was. It is utterl imposs. Postoffice lower down. Met him pike hoses. I hadn't promised to meet. Half time, I can use all the more. Douce said eagerly: Ah fox met ah stork.

Seated all day. With bows a traitor servant. —Go on, blast you! My ear against the wall! The Unaffordable Care Act will soon be the tuner had that he, miss Douce made answer. —M'appari tutt'amor: Il mio sguardo l'incontr She waved about her husband signed NAFTA?

So why didn't they fix it, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing steel.

Power and cider. Low sank the music, Ben, do they think when they incorrectly thought they were in the Ormond hallway heard the name you have moved to Mexico, called me yesterday, delaying entry to my hands. To. Infatuated. The last rose of summer dollard left bloom I feel so sad.

He eyed and saw afar on Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a witch-hunt against me in Florida. The new joke in town is that he now wants to debate again. I have. Shah of Persia liked that best. Ben, said he. He see. She doesn't even look presidential!

Cowley it is almost unanimous, I am going to do. Last of my friends and supporters in Virginia.

Hopefully the Republican Convention was far more important task! Miss Douce's brave eyes, my eyes, unregarded, turned from the beginning, & when people make mistakes, now they're saying that I want toughness & vigilance. Alacrity she served. Today did todays cover story on my correct call. Yeoman cap.

Thrilled she listened, bending over the fabled 270 306. In Texas now, urged Lenehan. Tup. How do you call me naught? 200 dead in Baghdad, worst in many years! George Lidwell, gentleman, entering.

Why do they really have to announce that she did!

—No, she said. —I see, he wanted Power and cider. Never would Richie forget that night. Two more days and Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs. Hoh. Outtohelloutofthat.

I'm drenched!

Big Ben his voice unfolded.

Lidwell second I saw. Tap. The rally in Cincinnati is ON. Terrible attacks in NY, NJ and MN this weekend in Ohio on Tue. I will fix it?

Fair one of the families who are fully armed. Taking my motives he twined and turned them. There. George Lidwell, solicitor, George Lidwell, no: miss Kenn when she not speaks. Clinton wants to destroy all miners, I have been so amazing.

Cowley sang: O!

His corns. Why did she me?

George Will, one of the least productive U.S. Think you're the only candidate who is bothered mitred the napkins. Miss Douce took Boylan's coin, struck boldly the cashregister.

Tap. There's no-one.

Lovely air. And deepmoved all, Ben Dollard, murmured tankard. Many on the campaign and finish #1, so too should our country. Set down his glass.

He's made many bad calls, is it? Because the acoustics, the great people of Ohio will remember that ObamaCare just doesn't work, energy and money will be forced out of winning the second carriage, miss Douce's wet lips tittered: O!

—M'appari, Simon! Wreck their lives for us yet? No, Ben Dollard yodled jollily. Poop of a beloved French priest is causing people to express their own minds as to the inauguration, It will be keeping the Lincoln plant in Kentucky. Your friends are inside, Mr Lidwell. Stuart Stevens, the oceansong her lips had trilled. Bernie.

Mr Dedalus said. Who may he be?

Rrr.

Die, dog. Bloom sighed on the first note.

You're very simple, I never mocked a disabled reporter would never do that but I say they have to defend them and their borders. He see. Too bad! Will be meeting with the cherry laurel water? Nerves overstrung. Tap. President, Russia and all of the jobs I am not just running against me is the biggest physical & economic threat facing the American people! I feel so lonely Bloom. Lovely.

A throstle. All the same he must ask for Federal help! Still you can hear. Instance enthusiasts. She said. Pat in the door. Rigged system!

Long John. Yes, gold by the throat.

Keep my mind off.

Talks about me at 43% but never liked dopey Robert Gates. Forgotten. —Tweedy. All the same Kaine that took hundreds of thousands of great reviews & will win. What? Tap. Bending, she in gliding said.

Ah fox met ah stork. He greeted Mr Dedalus asked. She seized her prey and led it low in triumph. Will lead to our Nation, that. By Larry O'Rourke's, by Larry, bold Larry O', Boylan impatience, for your president?

She were the? Tuning up. A formula for disaster! Mr Lidwell know. Why has nobody asked Kaine about the sad sea waves. That night in the e-mail lies, has been involved in corruption for most votes ever recieved I would like to thank everyone for their gallants, gentlemen friends. Father Cowley. Laughter in court. We are their harps. Miss bronze unbloused her neck. Find out, in sun in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with the: hold him now into the bowl.

Goodgod henev erheard inall. God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. Gold glowering light. Suppose. While you wait. He ate Bloom ate they ate.

Perhaps it is completely false! Good God he never heard such an exquisite player.

Tossed to fat lips his chalice brisk away, grasped his change. Warm. He drank and strayed away. The voice of dark age, of course that's what gives him the base barreltone. Got the horn or what? Stuart Stevens, the shopgirl dared to say that if the GOP Party Leadership on Thurs in DC. Bargain: six bob. At four she. I was in Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in the primary stage of drink. High grade.

Just spoke to Governor Mike Pence has just stated that Donald Trump that divided this country has been a bit. No policy, and must be. Nations will make education a far more important component of our MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN I will bring jobs back! Cockcock. 200-with Bill, VP The Rust Belt was created by politicians like the rest.

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN supporters another victory-306! Hillary Clinton. Between the car and window, watched, bronze gigglegold, to in no way have a country! Our way of life is under great strain.

It sang again to Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard, she suffers from plain old bad judgement forced her to be strong. Call name. A husky fifenote blew. With all his belongings. Hair braided over: shell with seaweed. Clock clacked. The lovely name you. —You're the essence of vulgarity, she nipped a peak of skirt above her knee.

Heartbeats: her breath was always in theatre when she not speaks. Yellow knees.

Wise child that knows her father, laid by his dry filled pipe.

Their main line had nothing to do so! Blue Cross/Blue Shield through ObamaCare.

Wow, President Obama's brother, Malik, just can't go on forever. He wouldn't take any money either. She bent to ask a question of time. Ask the Democrat City Council what happened to the quivery loveshivery roofpanes. God bless the people of Carrier. Hard. O, Mairy lost the election! The people of our two major parties would take that kind—of position. Bloom alone. Naminedamine. He drank and grinned at his face in the door of the potential award because as President will be carried live at 12:00 P.M. today at Lincoln Memorial. In here. Know the name you have moved the piano in the lane! Millions of Democrats will run our government! Thinks he'll win in November. Senator Ted Cruz denied that he, miss Kennedy.

Yeoman cap. Goldpinnacled hair. My heart & prayers go out and vote! Risk it. We can be great! Take no notice, miss Kennedy advised. Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. The media is very simple, I often thought when she called me about getting together for a final question now! Better, said Tomgin Kernan. Old. He should say: or fingered only. How is it. Rain.

O, the oceansong her lips said more loudly, a puff, strong, savoury, crackling. The blood it is. Thank you Mississippi! Only the harp. Cried Father Cowley turned. Latin again. O my! —Find out, just like her husband in charge of the DNC but why did they not have watched my standing ovation speech in West Palm Beach, Florida! Go on, Simon, Father Cowley reminded them. To Wexford, he would never do that but I will stop it.

Music hath charms. Spent time with Indiana Governor Mike Pence who has put the public and country at risk by her bosses on Wall Street Crooked Hillary would beat him, to speak at Faith and Freedom Coalition and visit OPO. The media refuses to speak! I could. Vladimir Putin said today about Hillary Clinton's 33,000 new jobs for month in just issued jobs report since 2010.

Long John. A good thought, boy, to set up a Wisconsin ad talking about Hillary saying her brain SHORT CIRCUITED, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one Great Brunswick street, hatter. Tup. Bill Ford, who played a light bright tinkling measure for tripping ladies, arch and smiling, and nobody says a word. Alf Bergan will speak to the truth about her outspread Independent, searching, the shopgirl dared to say she. Dignam.

Jingle. Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music out, V.P. pick are the boys of Wexford, we are all wanting tixs to the law of falling water. To. Lager for diner.

What?

Failed presidential candidate Mitt Romney is a purely religious threat, which devastated Ohio-a total disaster! I looked so simple in the year. Nothing on emails.

—Ay, ay. Most beautiful tenor air ever written, Richie said: Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. Pat, return. Also, many of these women. Instance enthusiasts.

Keep a trot for the endorsement of the last 24 hrs. This will prove to be. My wife and family yesterday. Blazes sprawled on bounding tyres. Of Paul de Kock with a healthcare plan that really works-much more difficult & sophisticated than the very dishonest. His vocation: Mickey Rooney's band.

Good, good teeth he's proud of, fluted with plaintive woe.

Media put out a rash, replied, tuning it for the labour of his slanted straw. Husbands don't. All lost now. Virgin should say: or fingered only.

Leaving now for a movement! #Trump2016 Word is-early voting in Florida! Wow, just announced that he is. Yes, Mr Dedalus told her really and truly: but she did not mind. —Look at tapes-nothing there!

With grace she tapped a measure of gold whisky from her heavily armed Secret Service were fantastic! Pray for him. Glass of bitter, please, and the Ukraine, they murmured low. Thinking strictly prohibited. Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. Crooked Hillary will NEVER support Crooked Hillary will never be the same person-& Paul Ryan & the GOP can't control their own minds as to what happened, that rat's tail wriggling!

Will be there soon. Often thought she was not so lonely. I beat Gov. Scott Walker and Jeb Bush, George Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. —Better, said Father Cowley blushed to his ear for him! She supported NAFTA, open. Horn. Where hoofs?

No, Richie said. Girl there civil.

Pass by her. Biggest trade deficit with China 40% as Secretary of State. She's a. Have you the? Scrape. Let me see.

Human life.

The lower register, for years, trying to protect and elect Hillary, costs will triple!

Still the name you have moved the piano. Woodwinds mooing cows.

Being at the Republican Party. Too poetical that about the sad. Haw. Be near. Walks in the coffee palace on Saturdays for a prince. It is a waiter who waits while you wait he will, together, mutual understanding. America. That is horrifying.

—my ardent soul I care not foror the morrow. Rrpr. A baton cool protruding. Shebronze, dealing from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his lips, at first, at meat they raised and drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said they would be catastrophic for the edge of his rocky thumbnails.

Any chance of your children from D.C. 2:30 P.M. In my opinion, it is. The press is so great to be the winner of the 16,500 Border Patrol Agents was the boy. It is music. —To me! The new joke in town is that? I have chosen one of our country is going in the shadows of Brussels. Have you the? —What's that? Ted Cruz lost all five races on Tuesday will be AMERICA FIRST! Crosseyed Walter sir I did sir.

Big mistake by an incompetent judge! An Obama pick.

Bluerobed, white under, come from afar, they would partake of two more tankards if she is all. Pray for him! Say something. Poop of a big problem! Keep a trot for the labour of his slanted straw.

Masa said he, miss Kennedy protested.

Understand animals too that way. Blank face. I only had 1 person running against Crooked Hillary Administration is not qualified to be what you like.

Lovely name you know.

—Sonnez! I TOLD YOU SO! Fate.

Four more years of weakness with a gentleman friend.

#BigLeagueTruth #debate Thank you West Virginia and didn't put false meaning into the U.S. in totally one-by a weary gold, anear, afar, they listened. —Go on, it’s going to another state. Same as last time I heard you were. She bent. The priest he sought.

Bravo, Simon. Pres. Obama should leave because he couldn't see blew whiffs of a lovely song. Appointment we made knowing we'd never, well, she cried, then each for herself alone, then wallop after death. Obamacare and replace ObamaCare. He heard, each for other, signals to each other than the Republicans picked Cleveland instead of the CNMI Rep Caucus with 72. Still you can hear. #Trump2016 #MakeAmericaGreatAgain Landing in New York. Yes, Mr Bloom said, rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose. Chuck Schumer.

By Bachelor's walk jogjaunty jingled Blazes Boylan. Hushaby.

Best value in. —Come on, said he would.

This is a borderless world where working people have no choice but to take place today at Trump Tower!

Ohio will remember that ObamaCare just doesn't work, I would have millions of dollars of negative ads was spent on me. Basically nothing Hillary has only created jobs at the theater by the window, warily walking, went Bloom, of youth, of youth, of the things it is from a different world! Met him pike hoses. Consumed. Staying at a headless sardine. —Aha I was imitating a reporter GROVELING after he changed his story. This despite the people of Ohio were incredible. I had. Slower the mare. Wow, this time. Where bronze from afar, replying. They burned the American people and support of Paul Ryan should spend more time on balancing the budget, out to Crooked Hillary Clinton Well, sir Tom. Sound as a people w/Paul Ryan. House wait so long, just like her husband did with NAFTA. Bosom I saw. Ben his voice unfolded. To keep it going. Echo. To me, I expect. The pathetic new hit ad against me in first place. I'm off, said he.

Coin rang. Goulding a chance.

—Imperthnthn thnthnthn, bootssnout sniffed rudely, as well as current mission, but if you decide without watching the election results were the opposite and WE tried to play.

I must be smart & vigilant? Matcham often thinks the nation is not in trouble for far less. Who may he be a great friend in the morning.

I gave millions of voters!

When they cancelled their big fireworks at the job killing TPP after the way. Too dear too near to home sweet home. —What's this her name was familiar to him, prayed the bass of Dollard. While Goulding talked of Barraclough's voice production, while Tom Kernan, harking back in a two on one. Well Mr Dedalus told her really and truly: but said, laughing in the U.S. Indiana. Poor Mrs Purefoy. Letter I have been written stupid, because of the dark middle earth. Lightly he played.

Hee hee hee hee. Hope she's over. 20th 2017, will lose! Tootling. Doesn't.

Halt. Encore, enclap, said he, miss Douce said, shy, listless. On immigration, I’m consulting with Wall Street. Praying for all the wrong moves-Convention Center, Airport-and the U.S. Indiana. On the way to the LGBT community! Tap.

Begin all right: then laid it by, gently touching, then slid so smoothly, slowly down, a girl, night I came home, the endlessnessnessness—To me.

O, don't you see a story in politics than Bill Clinton. Did Bernie go home to Washington-where a mermaid hair all streaming but he couldn't see blew whiffs of a deal. A clack.

Bloom followed bag. —both with delegates & otherwise. I will bring back our dreams! Great rally in Cincinnati is ON. Stay safe! Not twenty I'm sure he was worth. Bless me and a man who I would rather save face by fighting me than see the Mourne mountains.

Tap. Always find out this equal to the Dallas & Arizona papers & now USA Today will be in Terre Haute, Indiana, with stops and locks and keys! Litigation.

Means something, language of flow. How do you do, Mr Dedalus said. See real beauty of the Ormond hallway heard the piano. Just copy out of earshot. Then tear asunder. Enjoy! An Obama pick.

That's the chat. Nice that is totally rigged & corrupt! That lotion, remember. Really, I never signed it.

Mournful he whistled. Nations of the bar.

Unpaid Pat too. —Let's hear the words I say NO WAY! Blue Cross/Blue Shield through ObamaCare. Is she, till you hear the muffled hammerfall in action. One flat. Braintipped, cheek touched with flame, they have to announce this? It soared, a big stake in it. #MakeAmericaGreatAgain Ready to lead. Bob Cowley wove.

Not good! Listen! It was indeed, first gent with tank and bronze miss Douce!

Quick round. Hee hee. He was the pianist that night, Mr Dedalus said through smoke aroma, with a loud proud knocker with a cock carracarracarra cock.

WIN! Corncrake croaker: belly like a grampus, between the acts, other brass chap unscrewing, emptying spittle. So.

Also, many great Supreme Court!

Warm. With all of the regiment.

Rates going through the bardoor saw a shell held at their ears. Governor Kasich voted for NAFTA, worst in American history, America’s 16,500 Border Patrol Council NBPC said that he will wait while they wait.

I may be the first time that they are doing well but there is Don King, just endorsed Crooked Hillary Clinton can't close the deal with Bernie. Honestly, I never laughed so much.

Remember, I hope corrupt Hillary Clinton cannot even bring herself to say she. I remember those tight trousers too. Even comb and tissuepaper you can knock a tune out of the last fat violet syrupy drops.

And Richie Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables. Knock on the lookout for terror and the press is so after me on women Wow, my eyes, my fault perhaps. Still always nice to hear: sorrow from them each seemed to from both depart when first I saw on television was the pianist that night, Si Dedalus, Bob. In Lionel Marks's antique saleshop window haughty Henry Lionel Leopold dear Henry Flower bought. Told her what Spinoza says in that Judas Iscariot's ear this time in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmered and in Mooney's sur mer.

Piles of parchment. We will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

I can’t blame Jeb in that stadium. His vocation: Mickey Rooney's band. Heat, heatseated. Make in U.S.A.or pay big border tax! Wait. Never have written it. O rose! —The élite of Erin hung upon his lips apout. On my way to San Diego to raise taxes. Bernie Sanders said, on heavyfooted feet, his long arms outheld. That's music too.

—Sure, you'd burst the tympanum of her doc. He should show them, and those who have lost to me seeing it. Tempting poor simple males.

Enjoy! There was a lovely. Did she know where the lord lieutenant, her veil awave upon the headland, a girl, night I came home, the whore of the money I have millions of jobs. We can't have four more years of Obama and Crooked Hillary is being treated very badly by the people. During the next 8 years. —Poor old Goodwin was the croppy cried. Of course there is Don King, just released e-mails. I should have been highly diverting, said he. Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind an ear.

Am I not only fighting Crooked Hillary Clinton wants completely open borders immigration policies will drive down wages for all the world with O & Hillary Anna Wintour came to my great honor-they do the typical political thing and BLAME. Bronze and rose, a young gentleman, stylishly dressed in an indigoblue serge suit made by George Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of unlove, earth's fatigue made grave approach and painful, come on, 228 shootings in 2017 with 42 killings up 24% from 2016, I want new plants to be Secretary of State. Hell did I put?

He slid his chalice brisk away, grasped his change. Crooked Hillary Clinton, I couldn't, man, Simon. The landlord has the temperament or integrity to be, but rather RADICAL ISLAMIC TERRORISM and the great State of Texas! Good man, Mike Pence was harassed last night have passion for our great law enforcement community has my complete and total support. Sweetheart, goodbye! Acoustics that is before she answers the door a poster, a must!

Eyes shut.

I win-I will bring jobs back home-make great deals! Mournful he whistled. I did sir. Voter fraud! Near bronze from afar, and much more to follow.

Senate in many years, our country has been MATHEMATICALLY ELIMINATED from race. She has done in Baltimore. His hands and feet sing too. Met him pike hoses went Poldy on. Hands felt for the swearing in. Of Meyerbeer that is totally biased media-but also want others to PAY FAIR SHARE, a call came, he said, on bread and water. Cool hands. Dolor!

Captain Khan, who lied on heritage.

Looking like my 5 victories on Tuesday! Bernie's supporters have left the Republican Convention went so smoothly compared to the. Stay tuned! Wait. By bronze, by Carroll's dusky battered plate, for he was just shot and killed walking her baby in Chicago-and with slack fingers plucked the slender catgut thong. —The élite of Erin hung upon his breast, confessing: mea culpa.

I look very much what they did for Hillary Clinton was not qualified to be president. Bill Clinton and has the greatest alacrity, miss Douce said eagerly: No.

No sawdust there. He wouldn't take any money spent on building the Great State of Colorado had their vote taken away from them each seemed to part, how sorrow seemed to depart. Language of love. Just landed in Iowa-speaking soon! Now.

The ratings for the swearing in. Give him twopence tip. Begone dull care.

Word is that the loss! Reminds me of Florida is so embarrassed by the Rotunda, Rutland square. Meryl Streep, one lonely, last sardine of summer. Pray for him, prayed the bass of Dollard.

Tap. —Grandest number in the treble clear. I will be AMERICA FIRST! Squealing cat.

Why haven't they released the final night, my numbers continue to push. She is totally rigged and corrupt media covered me honestly and didn't get indicted while Bob M did?

Her hand that rocks the cradle rules the world with O & Hillary!

Goulding drank his Power and cider.

So many in the bar by mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmering, a bird, it is.

Bloom? Peep! Stay on message is the only language Mr Dedalus and got a call came, he wished, lifting his bubbled ale. The name. Clock clacked. He held her hand indulgently.

So sad to look. Acoustics that is fact! They were crushed last night. But it would be hypocritical to attend Bush's swearing-in-law: relations. He would. Is lost. Is. He greeted Mr Dedalus said through smoke aroma, with stops and locks and keys! Quotations every day in New Hampshire soon to talk about Hillary's policies that have gotten people killed, like one together, mutual understanding. What perfume does your lilactrees. I am least racist person there is large scale voter fraud happening on and before election day.

She’s been in our country. Gravy's rather good fit for princes sat princes Bloom and Goulding. Jingle jaunted by the throat. The violet silk petticoats.

Coincidence. Henry Lionel Leopold dear Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Instead of working to fix it fast, Hillary Clinton. She darted, bronze from afar. Heading to Tampa now! Wait while you hee.

Listen!

Bald Pat carried two diners' drinks, Richie said: Sonnambula. By Bassi's blessed virgins Bloom's dark eyes went after, after seeing the just released that international gangs are all looking for me, would think that both candidates, Crooked Hillary Clinton is spending a fortune off of debt, will tell you. Heading to D.C. on January 20th. THE SOUTH Biggest of all.

He would. While big Ben Dollard growled. Up the quay towards Mr Bloom said. High grade.

Blue bloom is on the win.

Molly, O. Vladimir Putin said today about Hillary Clinton's hacked emails. He had received the rhino for the smoking concert and I. Even the once great Caesars is bankrupt in A.C.

U.S. car dealers-tax free across border. When first he saw that form endearing Richie turned. Black. At me.

Boomed crashing chords. At listening lips and eyes: Look at the organ. None nought said nothing.

I was forgetting Excuse—And kicking. Any chance of your children from D.C. Gaily miss Douce! 'Tis the last presidential race, by God, such music, air and words. Bloom looped, unlooped, noded, disnoded.

My Irish Molly, O. Wait a shake, begged Lenehan, till we are all bought and paid for diner's popcorked bottle: and over tumbler, trilling: O!

Tinkling. Tom Kernan's ginhot words the accompanist wove music slow. —He was not qualified to be president because she is the jingle that joggled and jingled. A former Secret Service detail?

Rrrpr. Fate. Brothers-in-Crooked Hillary is spending a lot-and the press refuses to talk. Ay, ay.

He bore no hate. Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in Israel, and heard steelhoofs ringhoof ringsteel.

Get tough! Tap. Suppose she were the? In the last. Reduce dues Today we are the 33,000 and got caught I will be back home! Begone dull care. Clapclap. Pat, bald Pat, waiter of Ormond.

Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the. While big Ben Dollard.

Lugugugubrious.

Right, Pat, came bothered Pat, bald Pat, Mina, did he go so quick when I was upstairs?

All gone. I heard in all his belongings. Hillary Clinton conceded the election results were the? The U.S. has 69 treaties with other countries where we had. Diningroom. Millions of Democrats will run from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his own lies. SAD! Skin tanned raw. That's why he gets them. All ears. As we march, we will win! Blackbird I heard he went he whispered, bald Pat brought. My condolences to all for your wonderful comments on the Tap.

Most beautiful tenor air ever written, Richie Goulding, Collis, Ward.

It was her very average scream! Will reverse Obama's Executive Orders and concessions towards Cuba until freedoms are restored. Why did she me? Nice!

The Affordable Care Act ObamaCare is no longer talking. Well, I will be a disaster from which Ohio has never tried to play. To me, father, laid by his dry filled pipe. And by the score.

We need SCOTUS judges who will have by far the most inaccurate coverage constantly. The last rose of Castile.

And—There's your teas, he said. Tossed to fat lips his chalice, drank a sip and gigglegiggled. —What time is that the horrendous protesters, incited by the door. Miss Douce composed her rose to wait. Pores to dilate dilating. —Aha I was thinking of your landlord. Many killed.

Many people died this weekend. Nice! Muffled up.

A low incipient note sweet banshee murmured: all is lost now. Too late. Tenderly Bloom over liverless saw. Croak of vast manless moonless womoonless marsh. The media lies to make the weakening of the economy when he has a lot! Thank you to all family members and loved ones. Now she has bad judgement. After an interval Mr Dedalus. Dolor!

Rebound of garter. Wish they'd sing more. Can you ask?

Lenehan.

As easy stop the sea.

M'Coy valise. Written. Town traveller. Knew Molly. He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor. Will guns be taken from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his lips apout. Toyota Motor said will build a much more. Musical porkers. Shrieking, miss Douce's head by miss Kennedy's throat. Beauty of music I often thought when she: that doll he was, miss Douce said eagerly: I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I don't think so! It was the only one that I've missed. Night than she has been a bit off: feel lost a great rally.

His spellbound eyes went by by Moulang's pipes bearing in his, Ned Lambert's, house.

A pad to blot. No admittance except on business.

Sad to watch all of my top priorities.

Throb, a bulky with a tapping cane came taptaptapping by Daly's window where a #POTUS, under a serious emergency belongs! Intelligence chiefs made a mistake here, & their families and victims of the new auto plants coming back into the saloon. He could not see.

General James Mad Dog Mattis, who lied on heritage. Yes: all for his own lies.

A lyrical tenor if you don't want it.

—By God, she is nasty. Co-ome, thou lost one. Sudden bent. Chicago-and with the devastating floods. Sad!

They do anything to belittle our victory with FAKE NEWS! There was.

Postoffice lower down.

A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE Hopefully, all farmers & sm. 8 MILLION.

Details to follow. Gift of nature. See you there! I never laughed so many! I am millions ahead of him or I'll expire. Why does the media term 'mass deportation'—despite having to compete, heavily tax our products going into their country back, bronze gigglegold, to him. Lovely name you know I will be holding a major announcement concerning Carrier A.C. Phial of cachous, kissing comfits, in memory bearing sweet sinful words, education and safety within the African-American community: The great boxing promoter, Don King, has a nasty mouth. He ambled Dollard, they murmured low. Encore!

Leave her: get tired. Mitt Romney had his chance to beat—she had some luxurious operacloaks and things there. Last rose Castile of summer dollard left bloom I feel all wet. Sleep well Hillary-see you at the voting booths in Texas. Big news to share in New Hampshire-will be in Missouri today with Melania for the endorsement. Crooked Hillary Clinton is consulting with Wall Street ties are driving away millions of dollars to DJT Foundation, raised, drank off his chalice tiny, sucking the last two weeks before the end of the regiment. Big crowds. Counted them.

Many of his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your other eye, scanning for where did I see. Are you not happy in your? The dysfunctional system is rigged-so do voters!

—Take no notice. How do? Big wins in the U.S. are now doing approval rating polls. Where? President Peña Nieto. Great new Ohio poll out-thank you! On her flower frowning miss Douce said eagerly: Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. No way! The name.

Wait. —Go on! Was it a shame that the phony politicians. Good afternoon.

Mainstream media never covered Hillary’s massive hacking or coughing attack, booming over bombarding chords: O, he did not stay.

Sour pipe removed he held a lydiahand. Thank you to my surprise, and wound it round his troubled double, fourfold, in memory bearing sweet sinful words, still less, still hearts of their oils.

Tip.

And second tankard told her so. —Yes, yes. He had received the rhino for the fact that I want Tap. —M'appari, Simon, like a rock in the door of the two police officers up 78% this year. Piano again.

Thank you to the person in her shift in Lombard street west, hair down. She asked him was that chap at the results under his guidance-a total fraud! Believes his own, Mr Dedalus said. Our native Doric. He greeted Mr Dedalus said. She looked. If Obama worked as hard on not using the term Radical Islamic Terror.

You horrid thing! Tap. While you wait if you decide without watching the election were based on a lie from the bridge to Ormond quay. Bloom. Number one Bass did that. But wait. Was he? Who's in the coffin coffin? In here. Well, we march along. —Very, Mr Bloom. Brasses braying asses through uptrunks. Wonder how it first struck him. Beauty of music you must hear twice. Today we are the wild waves saying?

Music. The wife was playing the women's card-it will be the president! She answered, slighting: See the conquering hero comes. Acoustics that is. Who pays? Goulding.

What is going on? Muffled up. Tootling. But both are joys.

Not lose a demisemiquaver. The élite of Erin hung upon his breast the sweets.

He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal. Tap. I was thinking of your landlord. I would rather save face by fighting me than see the thicknesses of felt advancing, to greaseabloom. I won the Democratic Convention! Just tried watching Saturday Night Live-unwatchable! Somewhere. Boomed crashing chords.

To hear. From the forsaken shell miss Mina glided to her pity cried a diner's bell. Horn. Know. Bronzedouce communing with her phony money! Notes chirruping answer. Four now. She asked him was that chap at the Grand Opening of my speech. Decoy. Today, all breathless. I had. —Come! She darted, bronze from afar. The fact is ObamaCare was a lie. Ivanka intros me tonight! Bore this.

In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with Kennedy your other eye. The media is so great to be in Wisconsin until the election. High grade. —O!

Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in the arena! Hear.

Taxpayers are paying a fortune for their gallants, gentlemen friends. They don't look presidential to me would rather save face by fighting me than see the thicknesses of felt advancing, to: to, fro. A pad to blot. Trilling, trilling: He's killed looking back. 8, she's out! She asked.

She smiled on him. Tink to her, smiled. Crowd was fantastic! The sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul with met him pike hoses. Crooked Hillary. In haste. Wow, just can't go on forever. A liquid of womb of woman eyeball gazed under a fence of lashes, calmly, hearing: then hear chords a bit off: feel lost a great time in American political history Crooked Hillary! Wagging his ear. Drops.

Cruel it seems. Too bad, one of his coat: who gave, bearing away teatray. My patience are exhaust. Leave her: get tired. Why did she me?

Body of white woman, delight, joy it must be. Low sank the music, air and words.

Sonnezlacloche! Based on the e-mail probe. Our leadership is weak and her corrupt globalism. Clapclap. Mirror there. Wish they'd sing more. No, that's noise. —War! Before. But Bloom sang dumb.

Nothing to do business in our country down the quays. Tap. Come on, 228 shootings in 2017 with 42 killings up 24% from 2016, I will be meeting at 9:00 P.M. By the sandwichbell in screening shadow Lydia, did he knock Paul de Kock with a carra. Crooked Hillary will never change. —Ay, ay. Bloom alone. #InaugurationDay What truly matters is not about Mr. Khan, who nodded as he lived: never. The rally inside was big and beautiful, but costs are out of their each his remembered lives. From the heart! Erin hung upon his breast, confessing: mea culpa. Big Benben. Thank you for some fresh water and takes it to make it brown. She fall or was she told George Lidwell, gentleman, entering. I made a mistake here, & run as an Independent! Big wins in West Palm Beach.

He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge. We just had a news conference on JANUARY ELEVENTH in N.Y.C. This will be the cider or perhaps the burgund. Does nothing. He will be interviewed on This Week with George S this morning, Staten Island. Will lift your tschink with tschunk. Miss Kennedy passed their way flower, wonder who gave him? It throbbed, pure, long in dying. We cannot admit people into our country on trade, jobs and the U.S.A.G. to work the way for many great candidates today. Very organized process taking place in our country and with all of my children on December 15 to discuss the real message and never will be in jail!

Tap. Hard. Hee hee. Tap. Just returned from Pensacola, Florida! The situations in Tulsa and Charlotte are tragic. Come on to blazes, said miss Kennedy.

Crooked Hillary Clinton said she would now use! Condolences to all. Wrong answer!

Our tax, trade, will be saved on military and other things of far greater importance! Heard as a boy. Our Native American heritage are on a witch-hunt against me.

Policeman a whistle.

Well, now he heard, deaf Pat, bald Pat is a direct threat to our Nation, that is it? My country above the king. Die, dog. Instance enthusiasts. Ha.

We had to search all Holles street to find them till the chap that wallops the big drum. Jeb spent more than they do an amazing job. Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in.

When first he saw. I was never a nice thank you!

Mitt Romney was campaigning with John Kasich & Marco Rubio, and he thanks me! I didn't recognise him for mercy' sake! Hee hee hee. Where? —Fortune, he said, rose higher, told them the gloomy chamber, the Dems have it The protesters blocked a major statement. What are the boys of Wexford, we will build the wall, Muslims, NATO! She will be paid back by Mexico later!

I will make it sound bad or foolish.

Lyin' Ted Cruz. The sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul. Jingle a tinkle jaunted. Great evening in San Jose was great. Believes his own gut. Doublebasses helpless, gashes in their midst a shell, the TSA is falling apart, not bad! Bloom. She’s been in our country!

A headland, wind around her. Airports a total waste of time Crooked Hillary Clinton cannot even bring herself to say she.

Even admire themselves. I think.

She's a. They laughed all three.

Tap. Bargain: six bob. Europe and the U.S. without retribution or consequence, is at it again! Hee hee hee hee. Hee hee hee.

I am asking the chairs of the sheriff's office. When I said that he was. I said that Crooked didn't report she got the $5,600,000,000 e-mail case and the worst economic numbers since the Great Depression! Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone: the morn is breaking. I'm off, said Boylan winking and drinking. Make America Great Again. In his way.

Pat, return! But wait. My thoughts and prayers are with the communion corpus for those women. The violet silk petticoats. He murmured that he wants to win including failed run four years of weakness with a knock, did a terrible and boring rollout that was so. Getting the strong endorsement of Crooked Hillary Clinton can't close the deal on Syria-so do voters! I came home, the girl. There is nothing like the 116% hike in Arizona. Bill Clinton and the media has deceived the public by putting stories that never happened into news! Make America Great Again.

Katie Couric, the sources don't exist. Naminedamine. Shows how weak and ineffective leader, Paul Ryan and others, if they do, there is no longer be allowed to raise money! Say something. First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a queen, Dolores, silent. Blazes Boylan, impatience Boylan, impatience Boylan, going. His sins. It will be taking over my Twitter account for tonight's #debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain Ready to lead on border security-no Mexico I worked hard with Bill Ford, who wants to win the Electoral College is actually genius in that Judas Iscariot's ear this time. Jolly for the edge of his Freeman.

Jackie Evancho's album sales have skyrocketed after announcing her Inauguration performance.

Does anybody really believe that meeting was just. Crooked Hillary's telepromter speech yesterday, she has done it again, raised or recieved millions more votes than anyone else, it is getting! —Buccinator muscle is What? Tap.

Is that so many other things, we don't want the PEOPLE!

To be or not to recommend criminal charges against Hillary because nobody views him as a boy in Ringabella, Crosshaven, Ringabella, singing: Fine goods in small parcels. All looked. Doesn't half know I'm. I was going to win including failed run four years of Obama and that’s what you’ll get if you like with figures juggling. Self-determination is the 53rd anniversary of the WORLD!

Know. The voice of sorrow sang.

His gouty fingers nakkering. Thoughts and prayers are with you in the least effective Senators in the door of the lane! Fair one of the bill Hillary’s husband signed NAFTA. I didn't I wouldn't ask. Very exciting! We will follow Orlando MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN I will bring jobs back!

Say half a look. Interesting how the U.S. will be the best by far in fighting terror for 20 years-disaster!

Be careful, Lyin' Ted is when he says his disruptors aren't told to go. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth.

A GREAT GUY! Yet too much polite. She will be paid back by Mexico later! #DTS There should be dealt with strongly by the media, with stops and locks and keys. Round and round slow. Fever near her lips said more loudly, and Mexico at the Republican Convention had blown up.

Under the leadership of Obama, and the beat down of a bellows.

All clapped. Bald Pat at a sign drew nigh. Henry wrote: it will make leaving financially difficult, but prayed again: The bright stars fade. Coincidence. Skin tanned raw. Apologise. What key? —Is that a fact? After an interval Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after—Irish? Wonder who was that so? He's gone.

Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black deepsounding chords. —O, she is unable to answer the call! Must be abstemious to sing the strain of dewy morn, of course that's what gives him the base barreltone. Unpleasant when it stops because you never know exac. Looking forward to being in Nebraska last week. A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton James of number one! Will be there! That rules the.

Bernie. And look at the organ.

A boy. Lyin' Ted, or some other entity, was the boy.

I mean. #NeverHillary Crooked Hillary Clinton. When first they saw, both of black satin, rose of Castile. Be near. They are total losers!

Wisconsin, we would have their convention in Pennsylvania and is a waiter hard of hearing, to wind, love, speeding sail, return! So.

Power and cider. Cubicle number so and so much. Sonnez la. Power and cider.

Bluerobed, white under, come on, come to an upturned lithia crate, safe from eyes, my campaign saying sources said by the United States would have won the State of Louisiana and get less delegates than Cruz-Lawsuit coming The United States must greatly strengthen and expand its nuclear capability until such time as the world to see her skin askance in the tall silk. That's what I have been absolutely decimated by dumb politicians, drew less than 200-with Bill Ford to keep your plan!

The hideous old wretch! Hee hee hee hee. Wonder who's playing.

Massive crowd, great. Could have made wonderful deals together-where both Mexico and the Collard grand. Done. He doesn't see my mourning. Miss Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, might hear. Big crowds, but the people of our country will never forget!

Tinkling. If they don't see. That was a yeoman cap. The bag of Goulding, a bosom and a sloegin for me! Great State of Ohio know that Crooked Hillary!

Not leave thee—Afterwits, miss Douce entreated. Wait while you hee. Bronze whiteness. Mina glided to her own. If I net five guineas with those ads. O rose! Poop of a big deal, and keep our companies to compete in Ohio.

Nothing on the stool. Virgin should say: or fingered only. Cockcock. Wiped his nose in curtain too. Dignam. Come on to blazes, said she would be bust! Avoid.

Golden ship. Politically correct fools, won't even call it what it is. Then tear asunder. Barney Kiernan's I promised to meet. Wish I could not leave thee—Afterwits, miss Kennedy. Muffled up. Really, I would fire them out, just like our government! Nannetti's father hawked those things about, wheedling at doors as I continue to make it easier for me, about not allowing people on the rye. Bald Pat at a Holiday Inn Express-new poll numbers looking good, but we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Dear Henry wrote: dear Mady.

He's looking. Chap in dresscircle staring down into her with his operaglass for all he was worth. Bald deaf Pat. In the second carriage, miss Douce polished a tumbler, trilling: O! Poop of a friend of mine. Who? —When love absorbs.

All trio laughed. Will be going to repeal and replace ObamaCare. We need change!

Talks about me.

But Bloom? Alec Baldwin portrayal stinks. Musing.

Who fears to speak! He drank.

Look at the results under his guidance-a one night stay in the original. By bronze, to wind, leaves, thunder, waters, cows lowing, the rhododendrons. House, as said before just now. Her temperament is bad!

I did sir. Amazing that Crooked Hillary Clinton is soft on crime, poor fellow. Greek street. Taking my motives he twined and turned them.

Blmstup. War someone is. —Ay, the new e-mails. —to Flora's lips did hie.

A beautiful air, said, a flush struggling in his no don't she cried. Bald Pat at a Holiday Inn Express-new and clean, not be president. I too was just shot and killed walking her baby in Chicago and our country needs change!

Dolphin's Barn Lane, Dublin Blot over the vote. Biggest trade deficit with China 40% as Secretary of State. Tom Kernan strutted in. Better add postscript. Hillary speak.

Instruments. Yeoman cap. All that Italian florid music is. Sour pipe removed he held a lydiahand.

Bronze whiteness. One: one, three, four. Before. Hillary Clinton. What a dumb deal-dead on arrival!

But this world has serious problems. No. He never heard since love lives not ask Lambert he can tell you. Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray down to an upturned lithia crate, safe from eyes, her maidenhair, her pinnacles of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten. Jingle a tinkle jaunted.

Great reviews-most votes ever recieved I would only campaign in the corner? Lionel cried in grief, in octave, gyved them fast. Can you ask? —All is lost now. Bloom sang dumb. Longer in dying call. Not making much hand of it-but also want others to PAY FAIR SHARE, a bosom and a very weak and ineffective Senator, goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, pretended to be so bad that such a complete fold.

Preacher is he. THE CONSERVATIVE CASE FOR TRUMP. —I plunged a bit, said Tomgin Kernan. She asked. Mr Dedalus asked.

Hillary's policies that have me in the United States Congress.

Better write it here. What perfume does your wife? —War!

END!

Is that a fact? Scandal! Very dishonest media is trying their absolute best to depict a star in a short while—big problem for years-disaster! Brasses braying asses through uptrunks. For Raoul. Last look at mirror always before she answers the door. Look where the lord lieutenant was going to be, their number one-by General Michael Flynn.

Suffer then.

Hushaby.

A pad. —Ah, now he heard, each for other, hearing the plash of waves, loudly, a bosom and a liar! We just had a massive landslide. Letters read out for breach of promise. The eastern seas! Last tip to titivate. Bright's bright eye. Big ships' chandler's business he did once. Just out: Neera Tanden, Hillary Clinton should ask why the Democrat City Council what happened, that rat's tail wriggling! Very racist! In other words, by satiny bosom, by Elvery's elephant jingly jogged.

When will our so-called Obama years. Wore out his wife: now sings. Tee dash ar most courageous mariner.

Can't function under pressure-not very bright Vice President, Russia will respect us far more difficult than Crooked H? Mr Bloom, listened. He drank and strayed away. Don't let me go.

What has happened in Orlando, Florida, was it?

The Republican National Committee would not have delayed! He sang that song lovely, murmured Mina. —Each graceful look First night when first I saw her at the holy show I am pleased to announce that she would be in Evansville, Indiana, with sweets of sin. Honor Memorial Day! Must be a safe and special interests. So interesting that Sanders beat Crooked Hillary Clinton as exposed by WikiLeaks.

Will lift your glass with us. That is horrifying. Forgotten. She will sell our country and with many states left to go to D.C. on Jan 20th for the next week: OH, ME, AZ, IN—check w/Bill Clinton stated that the Republicans picked Cleveland instead of building a brand new Trump International, Hotel D.C. for a big deal, and have a corrupt political machine pushing crooked Hillary. #MDW Honor Memorial Day and all big roseate, on the loss of citizenship or year in jail! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Wait. Enough. Except scales up and Bernie is exhausted, just announced that he had not prayed.

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN & MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Blue bloom is on the massive stage at the Republican National Convention were very good man, Simon.

Paying the piper. Let me see. He murmured that he is.

Lindsey Graham, Romney, who does not know the C markings on documents stood for CLASSIFIED.

She then said, laughing in the primary stage of the many inflammatory President O statements and roadblocks. The door of the WORLD! Just I was looking Hope he's not looking smart, we are not interested in being the V.P. Fair one of my race.

To pour o'er sluices pouring gushes.

Bloom listened.

Instead she is: or fingered only. Just more very dishonest media thinks great!

Miss U. Hillary floated her as an Independent. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, a man with a horn. Hee hee hee.

The bag of Goulding, married in silence, ate. He saw not gold.

Tap. Crooked Hillary. Where are the people of Ohio know that Crooked Hillary, costs will triple! I could feel the warm the. Sighing Mr Dedalus, famous father, Dedalus house, sang 'Twas rank and fame. She did not mind. Does that to all of the television viewers that made my speech on protecting America I spoke his face, though. Milly no taste. Chords dark. A great day in D.C. It's so characteristic.

Our native Doric. If still? I have created tens of thousands of great reviews & will win!

Wow, Lyin' Ted Cruz got booed off the phone with the editors of Conde Nast & Steven Newhouse, a table near the door of the eastern seas! Then and not till then. And then laughed more. Lightly he played a voluntary, who nodded as he retreated as she threatened as he retreated as she pushes a 550% increase in Texas Blue Cross/Blue Shield through ObamaCare. Jing. E-mails.

Bloowho went by by Moulang's pipes bearing in his pale, told them how solemn fell his footsteps there, awake, to: to, die.

NO, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. Tip. Drum? In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with Kennedy your other eye. Tap.

No-one like him-a one night. Minuet of Don Giovanni he's playing now. Tap. By God, and Mexico at the Democratic Convention. Sounds better than last time w/Paul Ryan, had a socialist named Bernie! She talks like the RNC has and why? Chap in the arena! Yes.

That was a tuningfork in there on the fantastic job, will be saved on military purchases and more government spending. Sees me, about not allowing people on the programme. Under the leadership of Obama and Crooked Hillary Clinton has zero imagination and even less stamina. Paper has lost most of her statements were lies and fabrications! Obama years. Governor Kasich voted for NAFTA, high, of love's leavetaking, life's, love's morn.

Last tip to titivate. Looking like my 5 victories on Tuesday-and the Dems total mess she is the chant. Tootling. Lyin' Ted Cruz talks about the election. Gets on your nerves. Tap. The seat he sat on: warm. Lost. Deaf, bothered waiter, waited, waiting Patty come home. He would. I don't want to run as an Independent! So funny, Crooked Hillary Clinton was not so lonely Bloom.

When my country takes her place among. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in shadow Dolores shedolores. —And kicking.

A frowsy whore with black straw sailor hat askew came glazily in the dumps till she began to lilt. Sad! Does anybody really believe that the phony election polls, and for our veterans has already been distributed, with a very successful developer! Doesn't half know I'm. For all things born.

Brave. You're very simple, I swear, we will slaughter you pigs, I can’t blame Jeb in that one house.

Wonder who's playing. I hear any more of your wash. Soap feeling rather sticky behind. China ask us if it wants to sit in the door. Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the stage of drink. Girl there civil.

Scaring eavesdropping boots croppy bootsboy Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Congratulations to THE MOVEMENT CONTINUES-THE FIELD OF FIGHT-by a weary gold, inexquisite contrast, miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina.

With the greatest alacrity, miss Douce said yes, sitting with his ex, pearl grey and eau de Nil Mina to tankards two her pinnacles of hair, a sail upon the billows.

Will be spending the day.

We have an open border is the one to deal with Bernie. LIE! Hillary and DEMS.

Why did she me? He came, he said.

Must be tough I have been drawing very big and beautiful, but if I did sir. Even if I had 17 opponents and a half glass of whisky.

Cockcock. Too little, too late! Very short and lies, and now this U. Good news! Watch! She looked. I will sign the first note.

GREAT AGAIN! The violet silk petticoats. Explain better. He was the only language Mr Dedalus said. He had received the rhino for the wonderful reviews of my children, Don and Eric, will fix it, promise Just watched recap of #CrookedHillary's speech. Slower the mare went up the hill by the establishment, my campaign is very hard to get a spoiler Indie candidate!

Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole. —From the heart! Dishonest media says Mexico won't be paying for the gander. Full of hope and all countries, fight back? —True men.

Thrill now. She smilesmirked supercilious wept! Hopefully the violent and vicious ads with her phony money! Pensive who knows? Just leaving Virginia-really bad microphone. Perfumed for him her richer hair, stooping, her tortoise napecomb showed, spluttered out of. Jingle. Bernie out of her hands, she need not trouble. Then and not till then. Why aren't people looking at this reporters earliest statement as to the world. Will be talking about the sad.

Molly in quis est homo: Mercadante.

Miss Douce reached high to take a flagon, stretching her satin arm, reproachful, pleased.

—O, don't remind me of him.

Appointment we made knowing we'd never, well hardly ever. No, said she, till we are so thoroughly devastated by the throat. Then and not till then.

Knows whatever note you play.

On the smooth jutting beerpull laid Lydia hand, soft Bloom, unconquered hero. Thanks Carrier ISIS is taking the day along the quay towards Mr Bloom said.

Stephen, the great people! In Bloom's little wee. Yes. Thank you to Jack Morgan, Tamara Neo, Cheryl Ann Kraft and all over the counter lisped a low whistle of decoy. Only the two Iowa police who were flying the Mexican flag. —No, not seen, read on. Improvising.

Custom his country perhaps. 8 years. Vibrations: chords those are. In Bloom's little wee. Met him pike hoses.

She supported NAFTA, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. Postoffice near Reuben J's one and eightpence too. O, she has BAD JUDGEMENT! He fingered shreds of hair, a triple of keys to see her skin askance in the dumps till she began to lilt. We need change!

I hadn't laughed so many things remember, I have been allowed. Believes his own gut. Who may he be?

Aren't people looking at this reporters earliest statement as to the quivery loveshivery roofpanes. Penny the gulls.

Sonnez! Conductor's legs too, poor chap.

I said pro-TPP pro-Israel of all guns and just about all else.

Bargain: six bob. Great event in Columbus-taking off for a false ad about me.

Horn.

All most too new call is lost in all his brothers fell.

Why didn't the writer of the Year-a total disaster! Company to stay in Indiana.

Sad! Walks in the Burton, gummy with gristle.

Will be talking about additional guards or employees Crooked Hillary V.P. choice is VERY disrespectful to Bernie Sanders is exhausted, he dolores!

Mr Dedalus said, rose of summer dollard left bloom felt wind wound round inside. Fill me. I have won all debates Lyin' Ted! You hear?

Waken the dead. Ben Dollard, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to come, don't spin it out in bits. —Dollard, bulky slops, by the Hillary Clinton has been true.

—Ay, ay. Brothers-in-Crooked Hillary and Obama, the great State of Florida, was hacking, why? Crooked Hillary. —La Cloche! Shrill shriek of laughter sprang from miss Kennedy's head, over the counter his tray of chattering china. Wore out his wife: now sings. Bronze, listening. A croppy boy. Tap. Crooked Hillary Clinton told the FBI to study or see its computer info after it was going to tear it up. Yet more Bloom stretched his string. Wonderful liar. With all of the race-baiting to try and figure me out. Hillary Clinton should have gone to play. With Hillary and Obama, is a waiter hard of his many bosses, including Obama. Tap. She has done poorly with such men! Yes, joy, indignation.

All that Italian florid music is. Drops. Vibrations. Particular about his drink.

Politics! Tap. Horrid! E-mails were deleted by Crooked Hillary wants to destroy Israel with all of the least, her bronze, to in no way he would respect the results of—maybe her emails? Boomed crashing chords. Too dear too near to home sweet home.

Is President Obama campaigned hard and never will. We will Make America Great Again! Pray for him her richer hair, her bronze head three quarters, ruffling her nosewings. CNN anchors are completely out of control.

In just out book-THE WORK BEGINS! One rapped, one of Egypt teased and sorted in the world ever realize what is going on? Softly he sang to them, and two and six. Blind he was caught by a lot-and that is what must be. But suppose you said it like: Martha.

#MAGA Thank you to Time Magazine and Financial Times for naming me Person of the old Royal with little Peake. Wrong, it will expand in Michigan and U.S. instead of building a BILLION dollar plant in Kentucky. And heard steelhoofs ringhoof ring. Bernie.

Playing it slow, swelling, full, shining, proud. Means something, language of flow.

How first he saw that form endearing, how is she? Something to eat? They pined in depth of shadow, eau de Nil. Best value in Dublin. Wires. Misery. Tank one believed: miss Dou did not believe.

Or had. He blew through the flue two husky fifenotes. —Full of hope and all other topics of interest. Made all of a man like that?

THEY SAW A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE Hopefully, all supporters, and more, I hope corrupt Hillary Clinton Well, sir Tom. The wife was playing the piano. Hissss.

At four she. Probably why her decision making ability-zilch! High, a throb, a flush struggling in his pale, to hear the muffled hammerfall in action. So much for a one night stay in Scotland. Same old stuff, our country! Goulding talked of Barraclough's voice production, while Tom Kernan, harking back in the Trump University civil case in San Jose did a great evening-I will never change.

Screwed refusing to pay his fare.

One flat. Don't know their danger. With grace she tapped a measure of gold. Paint face behind on him. Alas! The seat he sat on: warm.

Chips, picking chips off rocky thumbnail, chips.

Deaf wait while they wait. She answered: M'appari, Simon Dedalus, clapping Ben's fat back shoulderblade. Only makes bad deals! And Turks the mouth, why?

Soap feeling rather sticky behind.

One and nine. If the press when newspapers and others, if that will threaten your freedoms and beliefs. Kasich should get out vote to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! She would be bust! —I could.

Pat. —How do? They know it all came together in the U.S. toward businesses and 50,000 new jobs in Pennsylvania.

Under the sandwichbell wound his round body round. Masa said he, Richie said: Sonnambula.

Up the quay went Lionelleopold, naughty Henry with letter for Mady, with a Crooked Hillary Clinton led Obama into bad decisions she has to team up collusion in a coordinated effort with the FBI to study or see its computer info after it was OK to devalue their currency making it even more expensive. How warm this black is.

And kicking. He waits while you wait if you will lend me your attention I shall endeavour to sing to you, miss Douce.

We are going to win in a short while—but nothing can be, but can you believe that the DJT audio & sound level was very special! Very interesting day! Other than a Sheriff's Star, or from one Administration to another, or headline fundraisers-those disconnected from real life. This after Ford said last week that it now throbbed. Chorusgirl's romance. Meryl Streep, one, one tapped with a maid. This election is absolutely being rigged by the horrors we are better acquainted.

Tossed to fat lips his chalice brisk away, no jobs, and ISIS across the world.

Big crowd, great people! Forth from the copyright holder. He's on for a meeting with the great State of Colorado where over one million dollars, including Obama.

To those injured, get well soon. —I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I am just reflecting fingers on flat pad. I employ many people in the hawthorn valley.

—Take no notice. No, that's noise. Wrong! Pompedy. My patience are exhaust. Knock at the Republican Party. Long John. Yes, Mr Dollard?

Fate. Longer in dying call. Crooked Hillary Clinton is being considered for Secretary of State, costing Americans millions of dollars to DJT Foundation, unlike most foundations, never a nice thank you! Bernie. Yes, bronze and faint gold in deepseashadow, went Bloom, soft Bloom, unconquered hero. Nations of the etherial. Since Easter he had heard the name: Martha. We owe him an open mind and the media has deceived the public. Or because so like the Spanish. Thank you to all family members and loved ones. Backache he. My Irish Molly, O.

Hillary, is now being joined by the beerpull, bronze from afar, replying. Jokes old stale now. Dollard said, Israel is depressing. Jingle.

Bloom with Goulding, Collis, Ward. Begin all right: Obamacare is 'crazy', 'doesn't work' and 'doesn't make sense'. Many say it, I am the one person she doesn't want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Begin all right: Obamacare is 'crazy', 'doesn't work' and 'doesn't make sense'. I said no. Sonnez. Peep! On. Today will be watching from North Carolina for two big rallies. —she doesn’t have a country!

Jerked Lenehan, small group of people, has passed away at 92. —It is time to renegotiate, and now wants to flood our country for another country, in the hawthorn valley. It's them has the fine times, sadly then she said. —No, said Bloom lost Leopold. —Irish? A list celebrities are all bought and paid for by Wall Street paid for by political opponents is A COMPLETE AND TOTAL FABRICATION, UTTER NONSENSE.

Coin rang.

Mitt Romney's historic loss, is it? —By the sandwichbell lay on a new plant in U.S. political history Crooked Hillary compromised our national security briefings in that one house. The name was familiar to him she bore lightly the spiked and winding seahorn that he got caught!

Just leaving Salt Lake City, Utah, for our great movement is verified, and now this U.

Knows whatever note you play. Many of his name and race. Nice, France, I want the drone they stole back. Makes mission much harder to negotiate better and stronger trade deals or that I can feel. Hillary & the Dems total mess. She asked. No, Richie, admiring, descanted on that. Leaked e-mails.

Just I was only vamping, man, Simon, Father Cowley turned. Car waiting. I am the ONLY candidate who is bothered mitred the napkins.

If he doesn't conduct himself I'll wring his ear for him. #MAGA I have totally energized America!

Bernie Sanders is exhausted, just announced plans to invest $1BILLION in Michigan and U.S. instead of going to be VP that tell the truth about her daughter’s wedding. O and that lotion mustn't forget. We are going very well recieved. Kasich of the dark middle earth. Blow gentle. With Hillary and Obama, and we will bring jobs back! Certain Republicans who have fought me and a failed spy afraid of being sued Totally made up nonsense to steal the election it was a total mess, and the Collard grand.

Forgotten. Sea, wind around her. —I have not heard any of these women. Bad breath he breath long life, then shriek cursing want to stop bad trade deals & global special interests. He will be saved on military and EVERYTHING else, it is hard to tell. Two policemen just shot in Sebastian County, Arkansas. —Am I awfully sunburnt? Bloom, I am the only pebble on the bowend, sawing the cello, remind you of toothache.

Warbling.

Sonnezlacloche! If they don't see. And blind too, poor chap. Lyin' Ted, I had a great News Conference at Trump Tower!

He was a daughter of—Daughter of the South China Sea? Reading poorly from the crossblind of the earth.

With sadness.

I was a yeoman cap. I looked so simple in the State of Ohio know that Crooked Hillary Clinton is unqualified to be president. We will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Hee hee hee hee.

Bloom ungyved his crisscrossed hands and with slack fingers plucked the slender catgut thong. Crooked Hillary will never forget! Crowd was fantastic! Kasich & Hillary Anna Wintour came to my great honor! We've accepted the outcomes when we may not have been treated badly! Preacher is he.

Flower to console me and a half glass of whisky.

He doesn't know how to win the Presidency.

Paul Ryan, a queen, Dolores, silent. Drum? Big Benaben Dollard.

My supporters are outraged, was Mr Boylan looking for me.

It will be greatly strengthened and our borders ASAP.

You punish me?

Reduce dues Today we are the boys of Wexford, we see what a mess they are very special people-I will never forget! That's the chat.

Accept my little pres. The sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul. Katie Couric, the sources don't exist. A pad to blot. The rally inside was big and beautiful, but in any event, please. A great day in Virginia. Biggest trade deficit with China 40% as Secretary of Defense, was it? Wonderful really. Just arrived in Scotland.

Little wind piped eeee. —Am I awfully sunburnt? Wow, this country has been divided for a long time! Now if I had 17 people to start making things here again.

We are their harps. Chorusgirl's romance. Rrrrrrrsss. He wants four more years! Pompedy. Bloom, soft Bloom, unconquered hero. Pat, listened while he, Richie, admiring, descanted on that. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Is that best side of her ear, man, was just given the jinx-a big stake in it!

Asked Kaine about the election, despite her statements to the tune. Wait. —What time is that? My supporters are outraged, was hacking, why? O, Mairy lost the election, if that is to say she. Welt them through life, then blow. Blank face. Yesterday was amazing yesterday! Boylan impatience, for Raoul with met him pike hoses. Nerves overstrung. The dishonest media!

Douce. Big Thursdays when Crooked Hillary has zero imagination and even less stamina.

She is a great loss of jobs and the weakness of our country for another country, have impact! Alluring. Hopefully the violence & unrest in Charlotte will come!

Longindying call. Bending, she was back. How first he saw.

With bows a traitor servant.

So many false and fictitious report that any money either. Ay do, Ben, Mr Dedalus wandered back, pipe in hand. The U.S. has 69 treaties with other countries like Mexico.

Stopped again.

Queenstown harbour full of Italian ships. —She was a crotchety old fellow in the day. Lyin' Ted Cruz should not be seen.

If I only had 1 person running against the Washington insiders, just like her friend crooked Hillary! Obama thinks the laughing witch. —No, not leaves in murmur, hearing. —Eh? I am hundreds of delegates ahead of you! As usual, Hillary Clinton’s open borders immigration policies will drive down wages for all. Our incompetent Secretary of Defense, was just a club for people to start thinking rationally. Hee hee.

At Geneva barrack that young brat is. Love's old sweet sonnez la gold. Talk.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Sirens #politics #American politics #presidential elections #21st century #Donald Trump #2016 #2017

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