#baby needs to hear a constant flow of speech in their first years but turns out if u use purposely archaic language to amuse yourself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ottelis · 4 years

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"I gave you my life, Eliott," Lucas's voice shatters, splinters.

Eliott replies softly, broken, hollow, "And I gave you mine."

"No," Lucas says, low and dark. "No, you didn't."

aka: eliott and lucas grow up together, but are separated when eliott is institutionalized in paris after a severe depressive episode. they reunite two years later when eliott is released, but everything has already changed before their eyes.

epigraph. i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. vii. viii.

08—the world will be yours

july 23rd, 1968

04:09

caen, france

Eliott and Lucas haven't stopped talking all night, their stories and laughter gently leading the moon across the sky. Eliott knows she's smiling down on them, knows that she doesn't want to set just yet, knows that she wants to watch over these two boys a moment or two longer. He wonders if Lucas can feel that same love from the moon in the way it's shining a little brighter, how it doesn't seem to fracture as much as it streams through the window. He wonders if Lucas knows that the moon is rejoicing along with them, bathing in the warm water of sweet memory. Lucas is smiling wider than Eliott has seen him smile since before everything happened, so he thinks Lucas can feel it all. The moon nearly weeping tears of joy, Eliott's heart repairing itself stitch by stitch, the world becoming tranquil and calm, letting itself sigh. Eliott feels—no, knows —that him and Lucas are meant to be close. They're meant to look into each other's eyes, to smile at each other, to touch. It doesn't quite matter what lies beneath every touch, what they may be hiding behind their smiles, what they may find in each other's eyes. What matters is that they're in the same room, that they're breathing the same air, that they're ready to set the world aright again. That's how Eliott knows, after all. When they're together, when they're at each other's side, the world spins a little more slowly, flows purely and perfectly like water. The world is so much more beautiful when he looks into Lucas's eyes, and that has to mean something.

"Could you find Polaris at this time of night?" Lucas asks quietly, sweetly, bringing Eliott out of his thoughts. His eyes are lost in the world outside, trying to break through the glass to get a better view.

"Of course," Eliott nods. "It's constant. It's always in the same spot."

"I think the sun is starting to rise," Lucas replies. "You can't really see it in the daylight, right?"

Eliott looks out the window, too, his eyes immediately finding Polaris. The sky is lightening around it, and it starts to blend in. "Sometimes you can, sometimes you can't," he shrugs, turning his gaze back to Lucas. But he's still gazing outside, his eyes wide and soft, an early morning sun. "I haven't really looked for Polaris lately," Eliott admits, his voice low and thin. "I don't know why. Maybe I tried to deal with everything changing by mapping the stars that were foreign to me. I thought that that could help me navigate my own parts that I don't recognize. I thought that maybe sometimes the sky doesn't know what it is, either. What it's made of. What it's worth to certain people."

"Maybe it doesn't," Lucas agrees thoughtfully, wistfully. "Maybe it's too busy trying to carry the weight of… billions of wishes to worry about why it has to shoulder it all in the first place."

"Maybe," Eliott mutters, too quiet for Lucas to hear.

"Do you think God created wishes so people that don't know who He is could still pray to Him?" Lucas asks, reverent and soft. "And He made stars to hold all those wishes?"

"Maybe," Eliott repeats, a little louder this time. "But does that mean the stars aren't for everyone?"

Lucas tilts his head ever so slightly, his brow furrowing. "Everyone who's heard of God has doubted Him at some point. Maybe they're supposed to be like little gods. Maybe they can turn to them for a moment, until they decide to believe in Him again, or to hold onto the stars for a little longer."

"They're like a little path," Eliott suggests, smiling at the thought. "You can always follow it in different directions whenever it branches off."

Lucas smiles, too, sweet and content, his eyes so filled with stars Eliott wishes he could live in the galaxy within them.

"It's nice to see you smile," Eliott says, the words spilling off his tongue. But he doesn't mind. "I've missed it."

Lucas looks at Eliott then, his smile faltering only to widen and brighten into a grin. His head droops as he tries to hide it, but it still widens into Eliott's favorite smile—the shy one, the one accompanied by a small, stifled laugh. Even before he knew he loved Lucas, seeing him smile like this meant he was so happy he was afraid he would lose it if he didn't hide it. But over the years, he doesn't cover his mouth with his hand, and he doesn't tilt his head as low. He's becoming less afraid, and Eliott has the privilege to see Lucas's walls come down again. Maybe, at some point, they can go back to that brief yet brilliant time when Lucas held his head high and laughed with his whole chest, when he trusted Eliott enough to protect him and his happiness. Eliott hopes so, even if he can't cradle Lucas's heart in his hands like before. As long as Lucas can be as happy as he deserves to be.

"I've missed it, too," Lucas admits quietly as he lifts his head, his smile shrinking ever so slightly.

"Smiling?" Eliott asks, somewhat knowing that that is what Lucas means, somewhat hoping that he'll be wrong.

But Lucas nods, looking out the window again. "I haven't smiled much since you came back. Chloé's noticed, and so has Maman, and all of our friends. I couldn't tell them what was wrong, of course, but… I'm glad we can be Lucas and Eliott again," his smile starts to come back again, and it puts Eliott at ease. "I've forgiven you and I've forgiven myself. I can be happy again. I am happy."

Eliott grins, his heart warming and glowing like a star in his chest. "I'm happy, too."

Lucas's smile stays on his face, but there's something else in his eyes—something pensive, something close to mournful. "If you had told me the day we kissed," he begins, his voice quiet. "That in just a few months our lives would fall apart... I wouldn't have believed you for a second. You were what I needed, and I had you the way I wanted to. I never thought I would lose you."

"But I'm here now, Lucas," Eliott replies. "And, in that case, let's not promise that we won't ever lose each other again. We never could've promised that in the first place. Let's promise, that we'll always find each other in the end. Because I don't know about you, Lucas, but I just need you close to me."

Lucas's eyes smile again. "I need you close to me, too. It's a good thing we live right next to each other."

Eliott lets out a laugh, nodding. "It's convenient, that's for sure," his smile falls again though as a thought comes to his mind. "But you're going to school soon. Then you'll marry Chloé. Is she going to be in Paris with you?"

Lucas's smile falls again, too. "We're… actually talking about moving the wedding to next year. That way she can finish lyceé and I can maybe find us an apartment in Paris. It's not set yet, but she seems to be willing to wait."

"Oh," Eliott replies dumbly, his eyes wide.

"She was actually the one to pull me aside and say that we might be rushing into this," Lucas continues. "I was a bit shocked at first, but after we talked about it for a bit I agreed with her. She'll get her Christmas wedding, just not this Christmas."

"Okay," Eliott replies, still dumbfounded. "Then, why did you tell me that she was going to go dress shopping soon earlier? I mean, you didn't talk to her between then and now because we've been together since."

Lucas shrugs, sighing. "I guess I didn't want to give bad news about Chloé when we had more important things to talk about."

Eliott nods, understanding. "But everything's okay between you two?"

Lucas nods back, the corner of his mouth quirking ever so slightly up. "Everything's okay. We just have to break the news to Maman now."

"I'm sure she'll understand," Eliott reassures him. "She'll have even more time to make her baby boy's wedding perfect."

Lucas's smile spreads, almost unevenly across his face. "You're right," he confirms, nodding once. "I think even six months of planning wasn't quite enough time for her. She's been really stressed lately. Maybe waiting a year would be better for her, too."

"See?" Eliott smiles kindly. "It's all working out."

Lucas nods again, rather weakly. "It's all working out," he repeats, as if he was reassuring himself.

"Is something wrong, Lucas?" Eliott asks quietly, carefully.

Lucas tenses, but he melts it away almost as soon as it takes over him. "Yes, of course," he replies, half-smiling. "I think I'm disappointed that I have to wait longer to marry Chloé. I would've married her yesterday if I could have. No parties, no tuxedos, no dresses. Just us. But that's not what she wants, so."

Eliott feels disappointment and pride swirl and mix in his chest, leaving him with a bitter, sharp ache. "It's okay to be disappointed," he says, though, thinking of the ache as just another pill to swallow. "I'm sure she is, too. But I think it'll all be worth it when you see her walking down the aisle. My papa cried when he saw my maman. I think you'll be a crier, too."

Lucas smiles weakly, a dreamy gaze filling his eyes and creating another galaxy there. "I think so, too," he agrees, his voice distant and wistful. "She'll look so beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the world."

Eliott smiles, too, hearing his father say almost the exact same words. "If you cry, I'm definitely going to make fun of you for it in my best man speech," he jokes, hoping to make Lucas smile a little wider.

Lucas chuckles, shaking his head. "Who said you were going to be my best man?" he teases, raising an eyebrow.

Eliott drops his mouth open, clapping his hand over his chest, pretending to be shocked. "You're telling me you've asked someone else to be your best man?"

Lucas nods gravely. "I asked Basile the other day. And he said 'yes.'"

"Basile?!" Eliott cries, but unable to keep his laughter from spilling out. " Our Basile? You chose him over me?!"

Lucas is fully laughing now, curling up on himself as his laughter ripples through him in waves. He nods, unable to give a response.

"Well, you'll need to give Basile some bad news, too," Eliott scoffs, folding his arms. He's too overcome with laughter, too, to be discernible enough, though.

They haven't laughed this hard all night, but they're both willing to accept that exhaustion is probably the thing that's tickling them the most right now. But they let the laughter take over, letting it stretch and pull their ribs like an accordion until the only noise that comes out is a breathy wheeze. Fireworks go off in their chest, the finale to the symphony they've played all night, exploding in sparkling blooms of pain. But it's a pain they both can bear, a pain they're familiar with and have grown to love. A pain that eases with slow, steady breathing, with the gentle fluttering of eyelashes brushing against each other as their eyes slowly close, with the warm and soft cloud of dreamy sleep.

Eliott can tell Lucas is getting sleepy, and he smiles to himself as he adds one more thing to the list of things that hasn't changed. Lucas still yawns really wide, still shakes his head a little once his mouth closes. His eyelids are still heavy and hooded. His eyes are still a bleary streak of blue beneath them (these eyes remind Eliott of the blue that precedes dawn and succeeds dusk; the sky waking up and falling asleep). He sighs, long and heavy, his mouth falling ever so slightly open. Lucas was never good at keeping himself awake once he gets tired, always falling into it as easily as he always fell into his mother's embrace. Eliott reaches out and shakes him gently.

"I'll walk you home," he offers, carefully climbing the short distance down from his windowsill. He holds out his hand hopefully, and he smiles when Lucas takes it. The shape of Lucas's hand is still so familiar, and it still fits so well in Eliott's hand. But he makes sure he's the first to draw his hand away once Lucas's feet land softly against the wooden floor. Lucas's fingers catch on his ever so slightly, but they curl up tightly, his hand becoming a fist resting at his side.

They step carefully as they exit Eliott's room, the floor silent beneath them. Eliott knows they've probably woken up his mother a few times over the night, but he doesn't want them to create even more disturbances. They don't, thankfully, reaching the front door without incident. Eliott opens the door for Lucas, but he lingers a moment.

"You don't have to walk with me," he mutters, his voice as silvery as the fading moon.

"I want to," Eliott shrugs. "This is our first night as best friends again. I don't want to say goodbye to you until I have to."

Lucas half-smiles again, his gaze falling down to his feet. In the darkness, Eliott thinks he sees the faintest blush on Lucas's cheeks. (Maybe he's just imagining it, or maybe the small rays of moonlight is playing tricks on him.) "Okay," Lucas nods, looking back up at him. "You can walk me home."

Eliott's lips form a clumsy, tired smile. "Okay."

He waits for Lucas to walk through the door before following him, stepping out onto the front porch. The wood here creaks, but Eliott doesn't mind as much now. It's a little comforting, hearing the planks rasp gently beneath their feet shatters the eerie silence consuming the world right now; the quiet of a deep yet dreamless sleep.

"It's beautiful out here," Lucas says, pausing at the porch steps. He's facing south, towards the road, towards the forest. He looks so large standing in front of it, yet he's not a threatening presence before it. He's just another shadow, another patch of darkness. Eliott approaches him, standing tall beside him.

"It is," he agrees reverently, his eyes widening.

Distantly, ever so distantly, Eliott could see the faint lights of the heart of the city, glowing like little fireflies. The sky is darkest where they're both facing, too, the stars shining brighter and clearer as they stand stark against it. It's strange, Eliott thinks, how light drowns out the dark, even when it's outnumbered. He can't quite think of a better word for it than "strange," either. Maybe "wonderful."

"Your window has the wrong view, El," Lucas teases, smirking. "We could've stared at this all night."

Eliott shakes his head, chuckling. "The ocean helps my view, though."

"I prefer the forest," Lucas replies quietly. "The trees." He doesn't need to explain why.

"Will you ever love the ocean again?" Eliott asks, even quieter. "Like you did before?"

Lucas shrugs, a smile filled with both hope and doubt barely stretching across his face. "Maybe. Once I heal a little more."

"When you're ready, we could go swimming in there together," Eliott tries, ready to retract the offer if he needs to, if Lucas isn't as ready as Eliott thinks he is.

"Maybe someday," Lucas responds after a moment.

His words, on the surface, are vague, imprecise. But there's a promise in his voice that Eliott would recognize anywhere. Usually, his heart would swell or stir or sprint, but in this moment, it simply sighs . Content, safe.

"I wanna go home," Lucas says, then. His tone isn't annoyed or bossy, just exhausted. His hand brushes against Eliott's, pauses for a moment, then tangles itself in his. It tugs Eliott gently forward, down the stairs and into the cool, gray sand. It almost puts him in a trance, almost brings him back to some nights like this not too long ago, ones that have bled together into a fog. The only constant was Lucas and Polaris, and the other details didn't matter then. But, above and overall, it makes him smile .

"Sorry I'm dragging you," Lucas mutters, taking his hand away before Eliott can protest. He holds it in his other hand—not squeezing it, but still fidgeting with it, controlling it.

"It's okay," Eliott reassures, pretending not to notice Lucas's hands. "I know you're tired."

If Lucas replied, Eliott didn't hear him.

They get to Lucas's house faster than Eliott expected, and he can't explain why. The night is quickly coming to an end, and Lucas's eyes are quickly closing. Eliott—selfishly, he'll admit—wants to keep Lucas up a few minutes longer so they can watch the sunrise together. But he knows Lucas needs to sleep, and frankly, he does, too.

"Thanks for hearing me out," Lucas says as they linger by his front door. He has a small yet sweet, sleepy smile on his face. "And thanks for waiting for me to come around. You didn't have to."

"Thanks for hearing me out, too," Eliott nods, smiling back at him. "And I would've waited forever if you asked me to. And I would've done it because I want to, not because I have to."

Lucas's smile quirks up slightly, the smallest wrinkles forming by his eyes. Suddenly, he envelops Eliott in a hug, burying his face in his chest.

Eliott eases into the hug, letting his eyes close and his chin rest on top of Lucas's head. He holds Lucas tightly, offering him sanctuary, if only for a moment. He hasn't held Lucas like this in such a long time. He hadn't realized how much he's missed it. He thinks Lucas's warmth, the memory of it, will help him fall asleep a little faster for days, even weeks to come. He prays that his own warmth can do the same for Lucas.

"Sweet dreams," Eliott wishes into Lucas's hair, the strands soft and familiar as they brush against his lips.

"Good morning, Ellie," Lucas replies; a strange goodbye, but a goodbye that warms Eliott's chest with a soft, fuzzy light. He can feel Lucas smiling, too.

"Good morning, Lulu," he returns with a chuckle, tears springing in his eyes.

He waits for Lucas to pull away first, but he's trembling in his arms. He inhales sharply, a quiet sob, bunching Eliott's shirt in his hands. He holds Eliott tighter, nearly forcing all the air out of him. Eliott holds him back, almost just as tightly, hearing another hiccup or two from him. He doesn't know why Lucas is crying, but it makes the tears already brimming in his eyes spill over, silent and cold on his cheeks.

Lucas finally pulls away all too suddenly, quickly swiping the tears off his cheeks. He opens his door and enters without another word, but with a glance over his shoulder at Eliott. He smiles, sincere and sure, then slowly shuts the door behind him. Everything is silent, but peacefully so. The world still sleeps, its dreams beginning to fade. It'll wake soon, but him and Lucas will be fast asleep, their hearts reunited and both of their minds at peace. Eliott smiles, too.

He falls asleep that morning wishing he had told Lucas that he's realized he never needed things to be normal again. All he ever wanted, all he ever needed was his best friend, and he feels he can never be afraid again with Lucas by his side.

july 23rd, 1968

13:13

caen, france

Eliott wakes slowly, blinking away the thick haze of sleep from his eyes, his mind. His evening, night with Lucas honestly felt like a dream, like one of a handful he's had since he came home. Dreams where there was never a tear to stitch back up, or tempestuous minds to quiet. Dreams where the world as they knew it never lurched to a stop. But Eliott knows last night was real. He still feels Lucas's warmth, feels the shadow of his shape in his arms, against his chest. He hears every word of reassurance they spoke to each other, every bout of laughter that had long been waiting to meet the air, the world outside. Eliott smiles, savoring this moment he's found himself in. Where there once was a seam between dream and reality, there is now a flawless canvas, a clean slate. A second chance lies before both him and Lucas, promising to keep their footsteps light and their paths intertwined. Who else gets to start over like they can?

Something pulls him out of his reverie, though. A sound. The sound that for years has only lived in his memory. The sound he long thought had been buried with his father.

His mother is singing.

Her voice isn't loud enough in his ears to discern what song she's singing, but his ears have been so hungry for it that they recognize it even through layers of wood and dust. They latch onto it, drinking in any portion of it within their reach.

Eliott sits up, slowly approaches his door to see if he can hear better. She must be downstairs, probably in the kitchen. Through the crack in his door, he can hear enough to start piecing together a melody. Once he does, he's astonished that he didn't recognize it sooner. The lyrics come to his mind, to the tip of his tongue.

J'attendrai, le jour et la nuit, j'attendrai toujours ton retour

The song his mother sang to herself as his father gave everything for their country. She'd sing it to Eliott at night when he couldn't sleep when he was younger, and it never failed to make his eyelids heavy. She sang it that last Christmas they all had together, her voice warmer than the stove and oven combined. And she's singing it now, long after she's lost her husband, long after she nearly lost her son.

Her voice is different now. Still warm and round and beautiful, but frailer, almost clumsy from lack of use. She doesn't seem to sing it out of relief or joy either, like she used to. Before, she sang it knowing everything she had waited for had returned to her. Now, it's hopeful. She has more things to wait for now, but she knows that they'll come.

You may have my face, Eliott, his father's voice echoes in his mind. But that heart and everything else inside you? That shine in your eyes? That all came from your mother.

Eliott slowly sits himself down on the floor, emotion flooding his chest and his eyes. Tears start spilling, but he's smiling so widely every inch of his face begins to ache. He tries to stifle his own sobs in case it drowns out the sound of his mother's voice. They come out, still, but only in quiet hiccups and sharp risings and fallings of his chest.

He hasn't heard his mother sing in more than two years. He's come to the crushing realization so many times that he could never remember the last time he'd heard her sing. He's wished on a thousand—dare he say a million —stars that he could hear her sing again, even if it was only half of a note, even if she was off-key. He's sung that same song to himself night after night in that horrific institution but it never soothed him like it could when she sang it. Since he's come home, he's felt a nagging guilt that his mother is too worried about him to feel light enough to sing. But he can leave all that behind now. His mother is singing again!

As she starts singing the last few lines, Eliott leaps to his feet, opening his door and rushing down the stairs. She doesn't seem to hear him though, her voice not wavering as it travels throughout the house. He sees her standing at the kitchen sink, filling the kettle with water. She's smiling softly, her voice becoming more beautiful as it escapes through her curved lips.

Eliott bites back another sob as he waits for her to put the kettle on the stove, or to see him out of the corner of her eye; whichever came first. But both happen at the same time as she sings the very last line.

Eliott bounds towards her, pulling her into a crushing yet relieved hug.

"Honey, what's wrong?" she asks with concern in her voice, hesitantly hugging him back.

"Nothing," he replies, truthfully. With a sob, he explains, "You're singing again, Maman."

"Oh," she says, slightly startled. She holds him a little tighter, still unsure. "Oh," she repeats more quietly, almost a chuckle.

"I've missed hearing you sing," Eliott says, his voice thick and breaking. "I've missed it so much."

She sniffles, breathing out a deep, slow sigh. She rubs soothing circles into his back, rests her chin on his shoulder. She starts to tremble as her own tears roll down her cheeks, so Eliott holds her tighter. "I think I've missed it, too," she chokes out. She sobs, then, kissing his cheek. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for, Maman?" he asks, chuckling lightly as he pulls away. "You're singing, so you're happy."

"I am happy," she nods, sniffling. "I listened to you and Lucas talking and laughing all night, and I just knew you were so happy. And when you're happy, I'm happy."

"We kept you up?" Eliott asks quietly, his heart swelling and constricting at the same time.

"You two have kept me up for years," she laughs. "Papa and I would stay awake and hear you two chatting away but we hardly ever minded. You were happy. And that was all that mattered. Besides, you know how Lucas is. His laugh is more of a shout than anything."

Eliott laughs as he tries to smile, but it wobbles too much as more tears roll down his cheeks.

"Now, there were also plenty of nights where we just wanted to sleep," his mother admits, but it makes Eliott laugh. She laughs, too, wiping the tears from his face. "But most of the time, we were happy because our son was happy."

"Your son is happy, Maman," Eliott replies, and it feels so good to say that. "I have my best friend back. And you're singing again. What more could I ask for?"

His mother beams , and through her tears, she suggests, "How about some breakfast?"

Eliott laughs, nearly chokes on it, then nods. "I'd love some breakfast, Maman."

Before he can say another word, his mother pulls a plate from the cabinet and starts filling it with food—golden, steaming eggs and rich, ripe strawberries and warm, perfectly toasted bread. The kettle whistles as she sets the plate on the table, and she doesn't waste a moment to start steeping a cup of tea for him, too. Eliott almost feels overwhelmed, but he can't force his lips into a frown, even if he tried with all his might. So, he finds his seat at the table and starts eating, letting it overwhelm his tongue and fill his stomach. He starts taking sips of his tea, too. It's familiar, floral, warms his soul.

His mother sits across from him, eating as well, but watching him with a fondness and pride that he's missed so much it nearly stops his breath.

And when he looks over at his father's chair, it seems to glow, seems to look at him and smile.

His mother wipes away his tears, and he feels his father's arms wrap around him from some distant place, some distant life.

august 6th, 1968

12:00

caen, france

It was Lucas's idea, visiting Eliott's father's grave. Eliott isn't sure where the idea came from, and he's surprisingly unashamed to admit that it's not necessarily a good one. The last time they were there together was at the funeral, the moment Eliott finally broke and fell into Lucas's arms. He didn't think he was ready to relive that moment, but Lucas was somehow able to convince him otherwise.

It's strange, sitting in the passenger's seat of Lucas's car. For some reason, Eliott could never quite picture either of them driving. He's so full of memories of them racing each other everywhere that he must never have considered any other possibility. Not to mention the fact that they're on their way to the cemetery. He doesn't like that Lucas is quiet either, and that he doesn't have the radio turned on. But he knows that Lucas has trouble finding the right words to say, and he knows that Lucas has a talent for using silence to his advantage. Eliott holds the small bunch of flowers a little tighter in his grip, the stems soft to the touch but sturdy under the slight pressure. He hopes for strength.

"Really, Eliott," Lucas finally says, as soon as he parks. "If we need to leave now or at any point, I can take you home. I… I know how hard this is for you."

Eliott sighs, shaking his head. "I think I'm okay."

Lucas smiles, small but reassuring. "Okay."

Silence falls between them again as they get out of the car and weave their way through the rows of graves, almost traveling through time. They pass some so weathered they can't quite read the inscriptions, others cracked or slightly burnt, all with unfamiliar names and dates. But as they travel further, they're less damaged, and the names begin to stir something in the back of their minds.

Eliott's steps begin to slow as they approach the grave they're looking for, and Lucas thankfully matches his pace. Eliott knows that this journey will never be easy, even though he's trekked this path several times now. He isn't sure if Lucas being by his side is helping him as much as it usually does, but he's still glad that he's here.

He isn't as lost as he used to be before. Now, he just looks for the wilted remains of the last flowers he left there. It always makes his heart sink a little, seeing them resting lifeless beneath his father's name. How many flowers have withered since he died, flowers that he never got to see? But, his soul reminds him. How many have bloomed?

He finds the few purple irises he brought last time easily, their petals now shriveled and tinged with gray. His eyes travel up, fleeting over the inscription before they find his father's name. He's almost memorized every grain of the stone, every imperfection forever staining the man he always thought was the closest thing to perfect someone could get. He sighs, and he feels Lucas gaze watching him carefully.

When no words burden his tongue, and Lucas stands silent beside him, Eliott kneels and carefully picks up the wilted flowers, almost flinching when they nearly turn to dust in his hand. He replaces them with the ones he's brought today; white, velvety roses with the faintest, sweetest perfume. He wonders how long these flowers will survive, how long they'll keep guard of his father's final resting place.

Once the flowers have been placed, Eliott lifts his hand and lets his fingers smooth over the dates, and the final, sealing words below it.

Un vaillant soldat, un mari dévoué et un père aimant

"Did I ever tell you what his last words were?" he hears himself ask, his hand dropping into his lap.

"No," Lucas answers behind him, quiet and slightly startled.

"'God loves us, our happy family,'" Eliott recites, and he can't help hearing his father's voice in his own—tearful, weak, hopeful. "Then he fell asleep. And when he woke up, God took him home. And away from us."

Lucas kneels next to him, not saying another word. He holds out his hand and it reaches Eliott's slowly, waiting patiently for a response. Eliott lets his hand slip into Lucas's, but it still lies limply, cold and mourning. Lucas doesn't squeeze, just holds on tight enough that he supports it, like an achor or a knot.

"How did you bear it?" Eliott asks fraily. "Losing two fathers?"

"I had people to be strong for," Lucas replies after a quiet, heavy moment.. "When Papa left, I had to be strong for Maman. And when your papa passed away, I had to be strong for you. Even when I didn't feel strong."

"You can be strong without feeling like it, Lucas," Eliott says, squeezing Lucas's hand once, ignoring the gaping hole Lucas has left in his chest. "I know you. You feel something and you find a dark corner to tuck it into so you don't have to worry about it and no one else will see it, either."

Lucas presses his lips together, his eyes glazing over slightly; lost in thought, in denial once again. Eliott squeezes his hand again, and Lucas looks back up at him. Their gaze locks for a moment, and Eliott can see the pain Lucas is trying to hide. Lucas's eyes are like once fine fabric that's been torn and sewn back together too many times, a scar that never fades like it should. Eliott could get lost in those eyes, but Lucas would never let him get so lost that he couldn't find his way back again.

"It's hard to wear your heart on your sleeve," Eliott continues, hope rising in his chest when Lucas doesn't look away. "And you can hide it sometimes, if you feel like it's in danger or you don't want a certain person to see it. But how can we know our own hearts if we don't let ourselves look at it, or study it, or just hold it close? Your heart sits alone in your chest, Lucas, when it needs you as much as you need it."

Lucas's eyes are wet now, and his hand is clinging onto Eliott's. "I know," he nods weakly, sighing shakily. "It's just been so long…"

"It hasn't," Eliott shakes his head, smiling kindly. "I saw it the other day when we finally talked. It was right here," he runs his thumb over the thin, pale skin of Lucas's wrist with the lightest touch he can manage. Lucas doesn't flinch. Eliott smiles wider, saying, "And it was beating and red and alive. It had a few scars, sure, but I could still recognize it. It was still one of the hearts that's been beating beside mine my whole life. It was still yours."

A single, solitary tear rolls down Lucas's cheek, but he's smiling. His gaze travels over to Eliott's father's grave, and an unreadable expression flashes across his face.

"You know," Eliott says, squeezing Lucas's hand again. "Maman always says that he's proud of me, but I think he's proud of you, too."

Lucas stifles a sob, covering his mouth with the back of his other hand. He rests his head on Eliott's shoulder, his body beginning to tremble. Eliott feels tears in his eyes, too, as he pulls Lucas closer.

"He couldn't stand you when we were younger," Eliott recalls, and Lucas laughs through his tears. "He thought you were grumpy and overdramatic and that you had a bad temper."

"He wasn't wrong," Lucas admits, chuckling.

"But he thought I was good for you," Eliott continues. "He thought I did a good job of keeping you in check. He thought we balanced each other out really well."

"When did I become tolerable for him?" Lucas asks.

"I think he liked you more and more as we grew up," Eliott answers, growing quiet as memories begin to trickle into his mind. "I thought he was gonna kill your papa when he found out that he abandoned you and your maman. He said that he knew that the war changed him, but he never thought it changed him like that. I don't think I'd ever seen him so angry before. Or since, I think."

Lucas tenses a bit, but he exhales slowly and relaxes. "I don't have the strength to be angry at him anymore. If he lost all his love in the war, then I never had a chance. He would never love me. He would never care about me. But I had Maman. And I had you and your parents. He's not worth my anger. He never was. I wish I had known that sooner. I wasted so much breath and so many tears on him."

"It's okay," is all Eliott can manage in reply. He isn't sure why words seem to fail him now.

"It's strange," Lucas says after another moment. "Your papa had me under his wing for only a few years, but when he died, I felt like I had lost a father. A true one, a real one."

"He had a talent for loving," Eliott replies, tears filling his eyes again. "He could make you feel like he's loved you for lifetimes with a single smile."

"That must be why I felt like I'd died, too, when I heard you tap on my window," Lucas concludes quietly. "But multiple of my selves died in that moment. Infinitely many."

"Maybe he's proof that your parallel universes exist. How else could so much love live inside him?"

He feels Lucas smile. "Maybe." His smile falls just as quickly as it came, but it's another moment before he speaks again. "I'm afraid of the day my papa will die. I'm afraid of how I'll feel. I don't want to mourn a man like him, but how can I not mourn my own father?"

"Grief is a strange thing," Eliott replies. "I don't think we get to choose who we mourn for, or what it makes us do, or how long it lives inside us. I think it chooses for us and we don't have any other choice but to feel it. And if you do find yourself mourning him when the time comes, I don't think it makes you a bad person. You'll just be grieving."

Lucas nods, thinking for a moment. "For some reason, I hope it isn't painful for him," Lucas mutters, almost of Eliott's earshot. "Not like it was for me."

Words fail Eliott again, and his mouth becomes dry. He smooths his thumb over Lucas's wrist again, and he still doesn't flinch.

"I hope you'll be there when it happens," Lucas sniffles, taking the burden of response off of Eliott's shoulders. But he chuckles lightly. "You owe me."

Eliott smiles weakly, letting his eyes close. "Don't worry. I'll be there, and if I'm not, I'll go through hell to make sure I'll get to you eventually."

"Thank you," Lucas replies, lifting his head to look at Eliott. "In advance, I guess."

"Well, then you're welcome in advance," Eliott teases, smirking.

Lucas chuckles, rolling his eyes and shaking his head fondly. "You piss me off, but you're my best friend so I'm stuck with you."

Eliott can't help but feel the sweet, familiar warmth that blooms in his chest. It threatens to send a fierce blush up to his cheeks, so he tries his best to hold it back. Thankfully, Lucas doesn't seem to notice. "Once you marry Chloé, I'll be out of your hair."

Lucas tilts his head, raising his eyebrows. "Oh, really?"

"If," Eliott replies, holding up a finger. "You have your kids call me Uncle Eliott."

Lucas scoffs and rolls his eyes again but he's smiling. "Fine," he laughs, holding out his hand.

Eliott takes it gladly and shakes it firmly, nodding once. "I'm glad we've agreed, Monsieur Lallemant."

"I'm glad as well, Monsieur Demaury," Lucas returns, nodding back. He dissolves into light, airy laughter then, resting his head on Eliott's shoulder again. Eliott hears him sigh contentedly, so at ease and so in relief Eliott feels his own heart and mind soothe, calm.

Eliott stares at his father's grave as silence falls between them once again, trying to decipher what emotions are flooding his chest, coursing through his veins.

"I miss him," he says, still unsure of what feeling, what meaning lies behind his words.

"I miss him, too," Lucas replies, quiet and distant as an echo.

"Right before he died," Eliott begins, letting the memory take over his words for him. "He told me that I'll learn how to miss him and smile at the same time."

"Have you learned yet?" Lucas asks. He isn't accusatory or judging, just simply questioning.

"Not quite," Eliott responds. "But I think I'm starting to learn."

"That's good," Lucas smiles. "He knows that you're trying."

Eliott smiles then, too. "I know. I've been feeling him a lot more lately. His presence. And it's not cold and empty anymore. It's warm and familiar. It's like I can feel his arms around me again, or his hands tousling my hair again. I think I'd forgotten that whispers can be so kind, but he's reminded me."

"Maman used to say that whispers happen when our heart has so much to say it crawls up our throat and takes over our voice," Lucas recalls absent-mindedly, his fingers tracing an unfamiliar pattern on the back of Eliott's hand. "And that's why they're always quiet. And why some words are almost always whispered. And why whispers are only meant for certain people's ears."

"That's a strange thought," Eliott remarks. "But I don't mind it."

"I don't, either," Lucas agrees. "It is kind of nice when you think about it."

"Have you told her that you're pushing the wedding back yet?" Eliott asks quietly, hoping he won't upset Lucas.

"We have," Lucas nods, his voice level. "She was a little upset, but I think she understood. Her and Chloé actually still went to look at dresses because she was so excited, Chloé just didn't buy one. So I didn't lie to you that one night."

"Did she find one she liked?" Eliott smiles.

"Yeah," Lucas smiles, too. "She said it was really plain but really elegant. She said that it makes her feel like she's in a Jane Austen novel, whatever that means."

Eliott chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

"She said it had short sleeves, though," Lucas continues, chuckling along. "So she'll need to find a long-sleeved one probably, since we're having a Christmas wedding. Either that or I lend her my coat all night. That's romantic, isn't it?"

Eliott nods, humming. "How are you going to balance Christmas and your anniversary, though? As far as gifts?" he asks, nearly snickering.

"Couldn't tell you," Lucas sighs, but he's holding back laughter, too. "We'll figure it out, I guess."

"And I'm still your best man?" Eliott asks hopefully.

Lucas nods. "Of course you are. Who else would be my best man?"

"Well, you said Baz," Eliott replies teasingly.

Lucas just shakes his head in response this time, and things go quiet. Eliott can't help but feel a strange tension between them now, but he doesn't know where it came from or how to ease it away.

"Eliott?" Lucas says.

"Hm?" Eliott hums.

"Can we go home?" his voice is quiet again, almost timid.

"Of course," Eliott nods.

Lucas lifts his head and rises to his feet, not saying another word. He has an expression on his face that Eliott can only describe as blank, distant. But then he looks down at Eliott, his eyes quietly desperate. Eliott stands quickly, keeping eye contact with Lucas, but it's almost too much to bear. Lucas's eyes look like the ocean the day that he drowned—dark and fathomless, filled with something known and yet unspoken (Lucas will die; Eliott will never fall in love again). Eliott scrambles, trying to think of something to say, something that doesn't cross a line or make things worse. He opens his mouth, but pauses when Lucas takes the smallest step closer, tilts his chin up the slightest bit. His arms gently wrap around Eliott's waist and pull him close, then he buries his face in Eliott's shirt.

Eliott freezes, feeling Lucas's hand drift up to weave into his hair, feeling Lucas's warmth breath tickle against his skin. He lets out a shocked, stuttering breath, then wraps his arms around Lucas, his hands finding their way through Lucas's hair, too. "I don't know what's wrong, Lucas," he whispers. "But you don't have to talk about it."

Lucas rests his head against in the crook of Eliott's neck, and it still fits like it used to. "Merci," he breathes against Eliott's skin. "Merci."

"Je suis là," Eliott responds, his lips brushing against the small, pointed tip of Lucas's ear. "It's okay, mon —" Eliott stops himself, biting his tongue to cut off the forbidden word resting on the tip of it. "Mon frère," he says instead, using the first word that came to his mind. His stomach turns and his heart clenches, but he can't take the word back.

Lucas starts to pull away then, his hands the last to leave Eliott's body as they cling to his shirt, gently letting go and falling defeated at Lucas's sides. "Let's go home," he says, a finality in his voice that's sharp and unforgiving and forces a lump down Eliott's throat.

"Okay," Eliott manages.

They leave Eliott's father's grave in silence. The clouds darken above them, but they never shed a tear. The flowers that are keeping a dead man company wait patiently, either for the moment the clouds burst or they die of thirst.

As Lucas drives, Eliott asks if they're still okay. Lucas looks at him, smiling shyly and nodding. His eyes are calmer now, but they seem to be chanting some phrase that both of them recognize but neither dare say out loud.

Nothing will ever be the same again. We were fools to think we could make ourselves shrink and that the world would shrink with us.

august 10th, 1968

10:28

caen, france

Eliott's mother is sitting in the front lobby at his request, in the chair next to the vase of vibrant lilies that look just as fresh as they did a month ago. But he finds himself not feeling the need to hold her hand like he did last time as he waits for Dr. Garnier. He feels much braver now, almost like a child slowly learning courage. He finally jumped in the water that seemed so dark and deep, and felt its cool arms wrap around him and hold him afloat, and now he wants to get back in the water again. And he thinks Dr. Garnier will be happy to hear that Eliott and Lucas are friends again, and that he's been taking his medication, and that he's made so much progress in the past month. But he's worried about Lucas, especially after the way he was behaving at his father's grave. He knows Dr. Garnier isn't Lucas's therapist, but maybe he can offer some insight on how to help Lucas, how to comfort him.

The door opens, then, and Dr. Garnier enters. He looks up and smiles at Eliott, who grins back at him. Dr. Garnier's smile widens, then sits across from Eliott.

"You seem to be doing much better," he remarks, setting his clipboard aside. "I was worried you made another appointment because you weren't doing as well."

"I'm not perfect," Eliott shrugs. "But things are much better now."

"How's your mother?" Dr. Garnier asks politely.

Eliott smile widens a bit. "She's fantastic," he replies. "She's singing again. She hasn't sung since Papa died."

"That's good to hear," Dr. Garnier responds genuinely. "I'm glad that you're both doing well."

"I am, too," Eliott nods.

"And did you get to talk to Lucas?" Dr. Garnier continues, the smile not leaving his face.

"I did," Eliott smiles back. "We talked for a long time. We told each other everything. There's no more secrets or animosity between us anymore."

"That's good," Dr. Garnier grins. "That's great. It's important, having people who will support you. People who are in your corner."

Eliott nods. "Lucas definitely is," he pauses, then, slowly remembering what happened a few days ago, thinking through how to best phrase his concerns. "But I'm worried about him. Everything's been great so far, but he hasn't been himself the past few days."

"What do you mean when you say he's not himself?" Dr. Garnier asks, the smile falling from his face.

"He's anxious... but hopeless at the same time," Eliott replies, his brow furrowing as he thinks through his words. "It's like he knows that something bad is gonna happen, but he can't do anything to stop it. He wants to give up and let it happen but he can't."

"Do you have any idea of what could be on his mind?"

Eliott considers, running his thumb along his lower lip. "Him and his fiancée had to push back their wedding a year, but he wouldn't react like this if that was what was bothering him. And I don't know what else could be going on with him. I don't… I really don't know what's wrong."

"And you said you don't want to talk to him about it because you think he may not be ready to?" Dr. Garnier clarifies.

Eliott nods. "And he's too damn stubborn, anyway," he sighs, shaking his head. "Even if I tried to ask him what's wrong, he would just shut down or get angry or just brush it off. But it hurts because if he's upset, I feel upset, too. I hate seeing him so… So troubled ."

"Has he ever been like this before?" Dr. Garnier asks, his brow furrowing.

Eliott takes a deep breath as thousands of memories flood through his mind. Lucas bathed in golden sunlight while black ink spills from his mouth, but Eliott kisses it away until he's golden again. Lucas listening to Eliott's manic ranting but his eyes stare at him as if he were a stranger, and Eliott kisses him for the last time before he drowns. Lucas held two years of unspeakable pain on his shoulders and thrust it onto Eliott's, his mouth cold and unforgiving and sharp. Lucas almost becoming a slab of stone himself amongst the dozens in the cemetery, a shadow passing over him and leaving him cold and hollow.

Eliott nods as he wills the memories away, a lump forming in his throat.

"What happened the other times?" Dr. Garnier asks. "How were you able to get through to him? Did he always tell you eventually?"

Eliott considers for a moment, then nods. "Eventually," he agrees. "It just takes him awhile. He has to try to hold everything in his chest first, but once it becomes too much, it all spills out."

"What was wrong with him those other times, if I may ask?" Dr. Garnier is cautious, and Eliott can't help but feel grateful for it.

"There was one time where he was kind of like that," Eliott begins, choosing a memory that won't reveal too much. "The day he drowned. I was in a mania, and he had never seen me like that. Not as bad as I was that day, at least. He was afraid of me, I could tell. Or maybe of the things I was saying or doing, but he wanted to get away from me. Even if it was just for the day. But I wouldn't let him, because I was afraid of letting him out of my sight. And look where that got him. But… I'm not in a mania right now. I'm not depressed, either. I'm normal right now. So, he isn't worried about me, or afraid of me."

"Okay," Dr. Garnier replies quietly, nodding. "Is there another occasion where this happened that you'd be willing to share?"

Eliott nods, trying to be careful again. "Just earlier this week, we visited my father's grave," he begins. "I think we were both anxious about it, because the last time we were there together was at his funeral. But we got there, and we sat in front of his grave, and we talked like everything was normal. But something changed. Lucas wasn't talking as much, and he was just staring at the grave but there was something clouding his eyes. He was miles away, and I didn't know how to reach him. When we left, I just hugged him and made sure to tell him that I was there for him."

"Was Lucas close with your father, too?" Dr. Garnier asks after a moment.

Eliott sighs, nodding. "It's so selfish of me, but I always forget how much Papa's death affected him. He's told me before that he didn't let himself grieve too much in front of me because he felt he needed to be strong for me. If I could go back, I would check on Lucas more. Comfort him for a change, instead of him comforting me all the time."

"There's not a wrong way to grieve, Eliott," Dr. Garnier cuts in, his voice firm but kind. "Especially since it's one of the most consuming emotions we can feel. And once we look back on such a dark period with the light that we've found again, there's a million things we could find that we regret. And regret was one of the many things that tore you two apart in the first place. Don't let it do it again. Lucas needs you as much as you need him, and I think you know that."

"You think that's what could be wrong?" Eliott asks quietly. "He's still grieving?"

"I can't tell you how Lucas feels," Dr. Garnier responds. "Only he can tell you that, because he's the only one who can feel what he feels. But, if you reach out to him, or he reaches out to you, that's your opportunity to make amends for what you feel you did wrong. If he is grieving, and if he's grieving a thousand things at once, you can help him. You could lessen his regrets, guide him to the light more quickly."

Eliott nods, surety filling his chest. "Okay."

"But," Dr. Garnier adds. "I can tell how much you care about Lucas. And it's a beautiful thing to care that much about someone, but you need to keep a fraction of that, however small it may be, for yourself. You can't take care of Lucas if you don't take care of yourself. All the love you have for him won't do him any good if you don't have the strength to give it to him."

Eliott tries to keep himself from flinching at the word love , but it doesn't work the way he wants it to. And, unfortunately, Dr. Garnier notices. His eyebrows shoot up for a moment, but then his expression changes to something soft. Understanding? Maybe even pity?

"Eliott," he begins softly, kindly, patiently. "It's okay if you love Lucas. And it's okay if you're in love with him…" he trails off as he studies Eliott's face, looking for a reaction. He pauses another moment before asking, "Are you in love with him?"

Eliott feels tears spring in his eyes, feels his lower lip wobble. He nods, sending a tear or two rolling down his cheek. "Hopelessly," he replies, nearly choking on a sob. "Completely."

"And he doesn't love you back," Dr. Garnier continues quietly.

Eliott takes a deep breath before shaking his head.

"Can you look at me, Eliott?" Dr. Garnier asks, his tone never forceful or cruel.

Eliott takes a few more deep breaths then lifts his head, looking into Dr. Garnier's kind eyes.

"I understand," Dr. Garnier says simply. He doesn't say more, and he doesn't need to. Eliott understands, too. He feels something strange fills his chest. Comfort? Familiarity? Dr. Garnier continues, "This kind of thing is hard enough for people who don't have to keep their love in the dark. It's especially hard for people like us, because we never know if someone could ever love us, too. When love becomes this forbidden thing, we want it even more. We need it even more."

Eliott nods weakly, that strange feeling becoming stronger and stronger.

"There have been plenty of boys I fell in love with growing up that would never even glance my way," Dr. Garnier chuckles lightly. He pauses, his smile and laugh fading. "And there were boys I fell in love with when I fought in the war, and I watched most of them die in a hailstorm of bullets or in the cloud of a grenade. But, not too long after I made it home, I found a boy who loved me, too."

"What's his name?" Eliott asks, smiling weakly.

"Louis," Dr. Garnier replies, grinning. "And I'll love him forever. But it took so many heartbreaks for me to finally find him. People like us shouldn't have to go through so much pain to find the person we'll love more than anything, but we're never alone in our pain. There are more of us out there than you think, Eliott. We're all hiding, but since our eyes get adjusted to the dark we start seeing each other. We're never alone. There's someone out there for us, just like there's someone out there for everyone else."

Eliott wants to smile, but his tears are coming faster, now. "I don't think I could ever love someone more than I love Lucas," he chokes out. "Maybe it's because I thought he loved me, too."

"You did?" Dr. Garnier asks, sympathetic.

Eliott nods. "We were together," he begins, through his tears. "Before everything happened. He kissed me for the first time about a month before Papa died. We wrote letters to each other while I was at the institution, and he wrote me the most beautiful letters. But, apparently, none of it was real. He started dating Chloé and now they're engaged. He says he was confused back then. Just a boy. That he knows he isn't queer now. That he doesn't love me in that way and he never has. And I can't make him love me, but I want to, and—" Something occurs to Eliott, then, a thought he wishes he could erase and say isn't true. "What if I'm the reason he's upset?"

"Eliott—" Dr. Garnier cuts in, but Eliott's voice drowns it out.

"What if he knows I'm still in love with him and that's why he's trying to get away from me?" he rambles, his voice thick and breaking. "What if he thinks I'm a disgusting sinner and what if he wonders why he ever decided to give me a second chance? What if he thinks that I'm going to kiss him again and force him into something he doesn't want? What if he can't wait to go to school in Paris and marry Chloé so he won't have to talk to me or see me anymore? What if I've ruined everything again?"

"Eliott," Dr. Garnier repeats firmly, reaching and placing his hand on Eliott's knee. "Can you look at me again, please?"

Eliott lets a few more sobs escape his throat before finding the strength to lift his head again. He can't quite see through his tears, but he can feel Dr. Garnier's kindness. He waits for Eliott to calm down before he starts speaking.

"I think you need to talk to Lucas again," he says softly. "Tell him how you're feeling right now. And if he's ready, he can tell you the real reason why he's upset. I'm willing to bet that it doesn't have anything to do with you. But if he isn't ready, at least he knows what's on your mind. At least you're being honest with him. It's like I said before. Regrets and doubt has built a wall between you two before, and you've both torn it down. Don't let another wall be built. Neither of you deserve that."

"And what if I am the reason?" Eliott asks weakly. "And please don't tell me that I won't be. What do I do then?"

Dr. Garnier sighs, thinking for a moment. "Just come here. Tell whoever is at the front desk that you need to see me immediately. That it's an emergency. I'll help you. We can talk through it. Okay?"

Eliott nods. "Okay."

"I was about to say, too, that you could talk to your mother," Dr. Garnier continues, trailing off. "Does she know?"

Eliott shakes his head. "I haven't thought much about telling her," he admits, shrugging. "Maybe if I give myself some time I could."

"Do it whenever you're ready, Eliott," Dr. Garnier replies. "And telling someone who you are is one of the hardest things you'll ever do. But I can tell your mother adores you. She reminds me of my mother. And when I told her about Louis and I, she hugged me so tightly I felt I couldn't breathe, but I couldn't have cared less about that. And, if it doesn't go the way you hope it will, come here and say it's an emergency. I'll be there to help you then, too.

Eliott nods again. "I will."

"I was you, once, Eliott," Dr. Garnier continues. "Confused and lost and lonely. That's why I decided to become a psychiatrist. I knew there was bound to be someone who was like me and who would need guidance. I'm older now, and that gives me the opportunity to tell people what I needed to hear when I was their age."

Eliott lets himself smile. "Can you tell me something, then? Something you needed when you were 19?"

"I would've been about to go to war," Dr. Garnier says, taken aback. He thinks for a moment. "I would've told 19-year-old Pierre that the world becomes more beautiful after you feel like you've lost it. After you feel like you don't belong on it, or after it feels like everything within it has turned on you. Once you learn how to fight back and once that all surrenders, the world is more beautiful than it's ever been before. There are colors everywhere, and laughter constantly floats in the air, and the earth is steady and loving beneath your feet."

Eliott's smile falters, remembering the world he sees when he looks into Lucas's eyes. The world Dr. Garnier is describing is nothing compared to the world in Lucas's eyes.

"The world will be yours soon enough, Eliott," Dr. Garnier continues. "It'll belong to you and whoever you decide to share it with. Whether it's Lucas, or someone else. And everything will be okay. I can promise you that."

Eliott lets his eyes shut for a moment, imagining sharing a world with Lucas. Surrounded by water that will never drown them, city lights mingling with an ever star-riddled sky. The only music that exists is Lucas's laughter, his voice. Everyone they love is alive and well and happy. Nothing is wrong or dark or dirty. There is no sin.

He clings to this world, to this fantasy. He doesn't know what'll happen if everything there crumbles, and he doesn't want to think about it.

"Thank you so much, Dr. Garnier," Eliott says, smiling weakly.

"You're very welcome, Eliott," Dr. Garnier returns. "Go home and get some rest. And keep being strong. I know you are."

"Thank you," Eliott replies as he stands. "And you'll have to tell me more about Louis."

Dr. Garnier chuckles. "I could talk about him all day, so I'm glad to hear that." He guides Eliott to the door, opening it for him. "Take care of yourself for me, Eliott. And please let me know as soon as possible if you need anything."

"I will," Eliott nods. "Thank you so much again. Have a good day."

"You, too, Eliott," Dr. Garnier returns, quietly shutting the door.

Eliott finds his mother reading a magazine in the lobby. She must've seen him out of the corner of her eye, because she quickly puts the magazine aside and walks over to him.

"Hi, honey," she greets sweetly. Her face is suddenly etched with concern. "Have you been crying? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Maman," he promises, rubbing at his eyes. "Really."

She sighs in relief. "Okay, wonderful. Do you wanna get home now?"

Eliott nods gratefully. "Yes, please."

Him and his mother leave, locking arms, and Eliott breathes a little more easily.

Still, though, a lingering thought in the back of his mind: have I ruined everything?

#SURPRISE #ttmc #skam france #elu #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #skam france fic #elu fic #my writing #hush bailey

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The Rap Grammy Nominations Are Weird As Hell | Nov 25, 2020 11:12 AM BY TOM BREIHAN

The very first time that the Grammy Awards recognized rap music, it was an utter fiasco — a clear case of an aging pop-music establishment failing to understand this vital new youth music that had sprung up and rewritten the rules. For the 1989 awards show, the Grammys added one rap category, Best Rap Performance. DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince won it for “Parents Just Don’t Understand,” beating out LL Cool J and Salt-N-Pepa and Kool Moe Dee and JJ Fad. The show didn’t deign to recognize Public Enemy, N.W.A, EPMD, Slick Rick, Big Daddy Kane, Eric B. & Rakim, or Ice-T, all of whom had released classic albums within the voting window. The award wasn’t televised, and most of the nominees, Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince included, skipped the show, attending a “Boycott The Grammys” party instead.

Since that night, the history of rap at the Grammys has been a series of baffling, embarrassing decisions. It’s Steely Dan winning Album Of The Year over The Marshall Mathers LP. It’s Gretchen Wilson winning Best New Artist over Kanye West. “It’s weird and it sucks that I robbed you.” It’s also a history of rappers getting angry over the Grammys: “I never let a statue tell me how nice I am,” “You think I give a damn about a Grammy?” In 2019, Drake showed up to accept Best Rap Song. In his acceptance speech, he talked about how the Grammy voters weren’t necessarily the right people to define rap success. The broadcast cut him off mid-speech. Earlier this year, Kanye West, a man who once cared more about Grammy Awards than anyone else not named Neil Portnow, tweeted a video of himself pissing on one of his Grammys. (The Grammys still nominated West this year, for Best Contemporary Christian Music Album.)

Yesterday, the Grammys nominated Freddie Gibbs and the Alchemist’s Alfredo in the Best Rap Album category. That’s great! Freddie Gibbs is a great underground rap success story, a guy who bet on himself and kept doing great work in his own lane even after multiple major-label situations fell apart. Gibbs has never made a hit song in his life, and he’s gotten himself into a position where he doesn’t need to make hit songs — where he can just follow his instincts and keep his own style intact. Alfredo isn’t my favorite rap record of the year. (Even in the field of Alchemist-produced 2020 rap albums, I’d give the slight edge to Boldy James’ The Price Of Tea In China.) But the nomination for Alfredo is still a very cool surprise, the kind of thing that I would’ve never expected to see from the Grammy nominating committee.

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And yet Gibbs’ nomination doesn’t exactly announce a new golden age of Grammy rap consideration, a time when Recording Academy voters are finally figuring out how to approach the genre. Instead, his nomination points toward something else: An institutional recognition of middlebrow, middle-aged, respectable rap music.

All of this year’s Best Rap Album nominees are Black men between the ages of 35 and 47. The oldest nominee is Nas, who is now on his fifth Best Rap Album nomination and who has never won the award. (The Best Rap Album Grammy didn’t exist in 1994, when Nas released Illmatic, but there’s no way in hell that Nas would’ve won it anyway. The Academy would’ve given the award to Coolio’s It Takes A Thief or something.) The youngest nominee is D Smoke, a former high school Spanish teacher who is also the brother of the TDE R&B singer SiR. D Smoke made his way into Grammy contention after winning the first season of Rhythm + Flow, the Netflix rap-competition show. (Two of the three judges from Rhythm + Flow, Cardi B and Chance The Rapper, have won Best Rap Album themselves. T.I., the other judge, has been nominated three times and never won.)

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D Smoke isn’t exactly a revered or popular rapper, and I have’t seen anyone calling his perfectly-OK album Black Habits a masterpiece, though the man has certainly done better than anyone could’ve expected from a rap reality-show winner. But D Smoke raps exactly like a diet version of Kendrick Lamar, so his nomination works as a clear indication that the Grammy voters really, really wish they had a Kendrick album to nominate. D Smoke is also up for Best New Artist, alongside fellow rappers Chika, Megan Thee Stallion, and (I guess) Doja Cat. Presumably, Megan’s Good News would also be nominated if it had come out early enough to be eligible. Meanwhile, Chika hasn’t released an album, and Doja Cat is nominated in the pop categories, not the rap ones.

Instead, then, we’re looking at five guys hovering around the age of 40, all of whom are respected technicians with boom-bap inclinations. Jay Electronica, who’s nominated for A Written Testimony and who should probably be considered the front-runner, is technically a New Orleans native, but nobody thinks of him as a Southern rapper. (Jay-Z is all over A Written Testimony, to the point where anointing Jay Electronica feels a bit like throwing awards love to Jay-Z in a year with no Jay-Z album.) All the albums up for Best Rap Album are, at the very least, solid. A couple of them, Alfredo and A Written Testimony, are very good. But this is still a remarkably stodgy list — one that shows that the whole middle-aged respectability fetish that’s long plagued the Grammys is now embedded in its rap voting wing.

Freddie Gibbs and Nas and Jay Electronica and D Smoke and Royce Da 5’9″ are all gifted rappers who have done great work. Most of them could justifiably be considered legends. But none of them really show the world where rap music is, let alone where it’s going. By recognizing those albums, the Grammys have pointedly elected not to recognize something like Lil Baby’s My Turn, which is probably 2020’s most popular album in any genre and which is also a fine example of the 808-heavy depressive melodic-goo rap music that currently dominates the genre’s mainstream.

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Other hugely popular, artistically important albums are also absent: Lil Uzi Vert’s Eternal Atake, Roddy Rich’s Please Excuse Me For Being Antisocial, Polo G’s The Goat, Gunna’s Wunna, Rod Wave’s Pray 4 Love. Instead, the rap albums getting nominated are the 2020 equivalents of the Steely Dan album that famously beat Eminem. That’s not an indictment of the nominated albums. It’s an indictment of the stuff the Recording Academy values. It’s also a cautionary look of how things might look if the Recording Academy ever gets its way, if rap comes to rely on accepted ossified skill-sets instead of its current state of constant, furious stylistic evolution.

As someone who’s around the same age as this year’s Best Rap Album nominees, I’m not all that amped to see emotionally troubled, pill-gobbling 20-year-olds dominating rap music. But those kids are crucially moving the genre past whatever old men like me might want it to be. Fortunately, there’s at least one Grammy category that has done a pretty good job capturing where things are right now, and that’s Best Rap Song. The list of nominations there — Lil Baby’s “The Bigger Picture,” Roddy Ricch’s “The Box,” Drake’s “Laugh Now, Cry Later,” DaBaby’s “Rockstar,” and Megan Thee Stallion’s “Savage” — isn’t necessarily perfect, but it’s a fairly accurate representation of the kind of rap that moves people right now. I don’t know why the division between the Best Rap Album and Best Rap Song nominees is so stark. Maybe it’s a signal that the album is increasingly irrelevant. Maybe it reflects two different voting bodies. Either way, it’s striking.

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Look, the Grammys are weird. They are always going to be weird. Fiona Apple’s Fetch The Bolt Cutters should’ve been the biggest lay-up in the world, but it isn’t up for Album Of The Year. Instead, the Academy’s voters went for Coldplay and Jacob Collier and a deluxe edition of a Black Pumas album that didn’t even come out in the eligibility period. “Rockstar” and “Savage” are both up for Record Of The Year, but Post Malone’s Hollywood’s Bleeding is the only album that’s even rap-adjacent that’s nominated for Album Of The Year this year. I thought for sure that Lil Baby’s My Turn would be the token rap album that would inevitably lose to Taylor Swift. Instead, we didn’t even get one of those, and My Turn got snubbed even in its own category. Nothing makes sense.

But this year’s Best Rap Albums nominations still show a weird alignment between Grammy Voters and a certain streak of real-hip-hop rap conservatism. Watch out for that. Nothing good, except maybe a Freddie Gibbs Grammy win, will come out of that.

FURIOUS FIVE

1. Roc Marciano – “Downtown 81” It’s not on streaming services yet, but Roc Marciano’s new album Mt. Marci is out in the world now, and it is marvelous. (I can’t tell you whether the digital download is worth the $40 that Marci is charging on his website. Make your own financial decisions.) Right now, the only song out for general consumption is one of the few that Marci didn’t produce himself. (It’s a Jake One beat.) But otherwise, “Downtown 81” is exactly the sort of laid-back, intricately worded deadpan splendor that you can expect to hear on the LP, whenever it goes wide. So maybe that’s worth the price of a full tank of gas.

2. Meek Mill – “GTA” (Feat. 42 Dugg)

Meek Mill released his Quarantine Pack EP on Friday, and the track currently getting the big push is the downbeat Lil Durk collab “Pain Away.” But the real thrill here is in hearing Meek and 42 Dugg getting bracingly urgent over a Detroit-ass bassline.

3. Chief Keef & Mike Will Made-It – “Status” Sosa and Mike Will have evidently chosen to name their new song after this column. Gentlemen, I see this tribute, and I appreciate it. I love you too.

4. Willie The Kid & V Don – “Mother Of Pearls” (Feat. Eto) This is pretty.

5. Statik Selektah – “Play Around” (Feat. Conway The Machine, 2 Chainz, Killer Mike, Allan Kingdom, & Haile Supreme)

Once upon a time, maybe 13 years ago, I was apparently such a recognizable and influential part of the New York rap press that Statik Selektah noticed me at an MOP show, introduced himself, and tried to get me to listen to his mix CD. All these years later, Statik is a globally acknowledged boom-bap specialist with enough juice to put three of the world’s greatest middle-aged rappers on a track together. I’m proud of Statik. I bet he gets nominated for a Grammy someday.

#alchemist #chief keef #d smoke #freddie gibbs #grammys #grammy awards #hip-hop #jay electronica #meek mill #mike will made-it #music #nas #rap #roc marciano #statik selektah #stereogum #willie the kid

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creideamhgradochas · 6 years

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Thanks to the lovely @bitsandbobsandstuff for taking the time to answer these! Get to know more about lovely Kris, go give her a follow and then show her some love!

These questions are from this list. You should check it out, there’s 50 questions all together and they’d be great to ask your favorite fic writer!

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fan-fiction?

Looking back, my first attempt at fanfic was probably when I was 11-years-old and I couldn’t wait for the next ‘Babysitters Club’ book to come out, so I wrote my own story. I think it featured Stacey McGill and horses. I really fucking wish I could find it… But honestly, I didn’t really understand the world of fanfiction until I joined Tumblr. So outside of those little forays when I was younger, I’d say it was last year when I realised it was a thing I could do and people might be interested, so let’s say my 30s.

2) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

When it comes to fanfic, I prefer Reader inserts. They feel more inclusive and frankly, even as a writer it can be easier to imagine myself in the shoes of the reader character (so I can understand their thoughts and feelings and motivations), if I don’t have a specific name attached to them.

5) When is your preferred time to write?

Either first thing in the morning (coffee and morning air are excellent inspiration) or Saturday afternoons.

6) Where do you take your inspiration from?

Constant reading. I’m that nerd at the bus stop or waiting at the movie theatre or walking down the street with my nose in a book. I also try to draw on real life experiences/ situations when I can, it gives stories more texture.

7) In your Safe With Me fic, what’s your favorite scene that you wrote?

I’m going to be cheeky and say it’s a tie – the dance scene in Chapter 8 and the trigger scene in Chapter 15. The realisations they both had within the few minutes of their dance together felt like such a great payoff for everything up until that point, and I loved imagining Bucky in that black suit (and I just love that song ‘Run to you’). The trigger scene was so much fun just to resurface and/ or create all Bucky’s memories, especially the ones with the Soldier…they were like mini-stories of their own.

8) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

Nope. Everyone has a different vision and every story is unique for a reason.

9) Who is your favorite character to write for? Why?

Clearly, I’m such a sucker for Bucky Barnes. 😊 His character has been through so many things over his lifetime, you can take him in a hundred directions and they can still feel true to source material (both MCU and comics). He can be a battle-weary soldier or a sassy little shit, and it all links back to some iteration of his personality at some point in his life – whether pre-WW2, Winter Soldier days, or now. I’d like to branch out and try others (or maybe other fandoms) at some point, but I’m content with him for now.

11) How did you come up with the title for the Safe With Me?

I knew I wanted the title to be a line of dialogue, because I like the symmetry of finding titles inserted in a story, and I knew I wanted it to be something ‘safety’ related, since that was the theme of the story. In Chapter 3, Bucky gives the reader a little speech at the end, telling her he’ll do anything he needs to protect her, and after re-working that a little, I came up with the ‘you’re safe with me’ line, and that became the title!

12) How did you come up with the idea for Safe With Me?

I wanted to try a series for a long time, but was always so intimidated by the idea - I’m blown away by the writers on here who do so many series, the time it takes is nuts. For SWM, there were certain themes I personally wanted to find in a story - what it means to be safe, how sometimes evil people can live right next to you, the importance of mental health...all those concepts were used as foundations to the story and the colour was created around them. Sometimes things went in the direction I wanted, sometimes they took unexpected left turns as I was writing - I think you really have to be okay being led by your gut sometimes. Things like lemon drug or Tony’s tech or changing the purpose of the trigger words were random ideas that fell into place. My brain is a weird place to be sometimes.

14) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

I’ve thought about doing something else with ‘Bless me father’ (still the strangest, weirdest, dirtiest story I’ve written) maybe a prequel or sequel, but still mulling over ideas.

16) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

There are so many on Tumblr I love, but three in particular I would point out.

@a-splash-of-stucky: Elsa is a literal poet. The way she writes, the images she conjures and phrases she uses, are beyond gorgeous.

@justreadingfics: Ally can set up a scene like you wouldn’t believe. I am also in continual awe of someone who can write so beautifully when it’s not their first language.

@4luvofall: Cristina nails the dialogue every single time. Her characters are always a little sassy and a little funny, and I want to go drinking with them (and her). Outside of Tumblr, my favourite book is A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and I would be happy to read Harry Potter every day for the rest of my life.

17) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

No stories, although sometimes I’ll read old dialogue or descriptions and roll my eyes a little! I think it’s important to read your old stuff and recognise how far you’ve come or how your style has changed.

18) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

I have a writing playlist that is mostly Sigur Ros and Sleeping at Last, with a heavy dose of movie soundtracks like Lord of the Rings. But sometimes, I put headphones in and just listen to silence.

19) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

I’ve gotten a little emotional at points, but never full on cried. I have sobbed like a baby while reading though, good lord.

20) Which part of your Safe With Me fic was the hardest to write?

I think the club scene in Chapter 12 was the hardest. The idea was to use the scenery and secondary characters and music to build the tension through the course of the night, until everything collapsed. Finding the right flow and making sure it didn’t feel too rushed was really hard, it took me a long time to work through.

21) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

I tend to make an outline. For one-shots, it’s never long – just listing out the key points and scenes I want to hit. For SWM it was long – the outline was more than 15,000 words. Admittedly, I’m somewhat Type A, so I need structure to function. 😊

23) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

Probably my first Stucky story, ‘The language of a kiss’. I was hesitant to post it – it wasn’t long after I read ‘Not easily conquered’ which was one of the most mind-blowing literary experiences of my life. I love the story and have gotten lovely comments on it, but I think AO3 tends to be a better place for Stucky stories, Tumblr leans more toward Reader insert.

25) Are any of your characters based on real people?

Yes! The reader for ‘Safe with me’ was based heavily on yours truly! Most of her dialogue came very easy because it’s how I speak in real life (full of F-bombs and insults that rarely make sense). Some of Bucky’s dialogue and sass was based on my husband, the way those two bickered in the story was pretty close to real life.

26) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

Some of the compliments I’ve received for ‘Safe with me’ have been genuinely unbelievable. Several people have said the story inspired them to write again, which I’m so excited to hear. The biggest compliment though, was probably someone telling me the story helped ease them through a depressive episode in their life. That hit particularly close to home and I can’t express how happy I was to hear that.

29) Do people know you write fan-fiction?

My husband and a few close friends. The first time I told my best friend, who is not remotely into fandom, I gave her ‘Safe with me’ at chapter 12 and she read the entire thing overnight and by 8a the next morning I was getting texts saying “are you awake and if so are you writing because you can’t do this to me.” Hearing someone with no interest in Marvel say that was pretty fun.

30) What’s you favorite minor character you’ve written?

Definitely Riz in ‘Safe with me’. I picture him hanging out in his little kiosk in downtown Manhattan, playing Candy Crush and watching the world go by. He has to have some great stories.

31) What spurs you on during the writing process?

Deadlines! I work so much better under pressure. If I ever had to write a thesis, I would wait until two days before it’s due.

33) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

I think it was the ‘Worth Fighting For’ series by @serzhantkris. The plot was based on Mulan, and followed the reader who took her brother’s place in the army during WW2 - she went though basic and got deployed and captured as part of the 107th. She was a feisty and amazing character, and I’m always a sucker for 1940s Bucky. The story is broken out across the three Captain America movies and it is seriously breathtaking – sweet, cheeky, full of action, and completely heartbreaking.

34) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

I think I’m going with angst. I like being able to dig into something and maybe cause a little pain in the process. 😉

#milestone celebration #ask the author #bitsandbobsandstuff

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imaginexwwe · 7 years

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What If I Said I Wanted To Try Again? (ROMAN REIGNS)

Wanted to give writing a try so here’s my first piece of work. Let me know if you enjoy and send in requests. Accepting any and all 😙

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Warnings: SLIGHT CURSING. MENTIONS OF CHEATING. ANGST

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I groaned once again as my hands rested on my huge 9 month pregnant belly, listening to the father of my unborn baby go on and on about why he should be here with me considering I’m close to my due date.

“Okay Roman, you can stay. Just shut up…” I mumbled that last part. I glanced over at him just in time to catch him roll his eyes. “…But don’t think I’m gonna deal with your eye rolls, or your attitude so I hope you got that one out of your system.”

It was now his turn to groan. “Oh but it’s okay for you to do it?” He countered.

I looked at him like he was stupid. Did he really have the audacity to question me?

“Damn right it is.” I stated. “This is my house. So if I wanna fucking roll my eyes, I will roll them. If I want to have an attitude and be the biggest bitch possible I will. You don’t gwtvto dictate anything that goes on in my house.” I said emphasizing the word my.

“This was once my house too Y/N. And it would still be mines if I wasn’t kind enough to let you have it.” I heard his voice echo in my ears.

I got up from my seat on the couch. “Yeah, well giving the house up to me was the least you could do to make up for all the shit you put me through asshole!” I shouted letting my hormones get the best of me. I then made my way upstairs before he could reply.

Confused?

Well so was I when everything started to fall apart last year.

Me and Roman are in the middle of a divorce. And as you could tell it’s nowhere near amicable.

How did it get to this point? I honestly have no idea. I was a good wife, in my opinion. And no I’m not gonna play the victim and put all the blame on my soon to be, ex husband, Roman.

He was a good husband for the most part.

Our marriage was always 50/50. Both of us holding up our part even through the distance his career in WWE brought.

Until it wasn’t. Until he wasn’t.

Suddenly I was putting more in it to make up for his slacking, then it slowly became what seemed like 70/30.

Me fighting the fight alone. All the weight on my shoulders.

Then came the cheating scandal.

I shook my head mentally trying to keep that from surfacing in my mind. I want go there.

No, I refuse to go there.

Just know it hurts. Obviously.

It’s not supposed to feel good, right. Hell no.

Then to find out 2 weeks later I was pregnant. Having to reach out to Roman after I swore up and down to myself I wouldn’t let him back in.

Funny how life doesn’t always agree with what you have in mind.

I finally made it up to my room, laying down in bed. What was once ours, and once held so many fond sweet memories that could make make me a blushing fool at any given minute, leaving whoever was in my company with a questioning look on their face, now was the very thing that could simply bring me to tears.

I sighed trying to clear my mind. I closed my eyes.

Hopefully sleep brings me peace.

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A few weeks later

Roman watched as Y/N fell back onto the hospital bed exhausted. She had just given birth a couple hours ago and of course their family and close friends had been in and out of the room, offering a sincere congratulations to the new parents all the while getting a quick look or two at the newborn.

But now they finally had a moment’s peace to themselves.

He couldn’t help but smile in her direction. A real smile, not a forced one like he’s been having to muster up lately considering how messed up their lives were at the moment.

He’s been proud of her for many things but this… this was by far the most proud he’s ever been of her. She brought their little angel into this world. “I’m so proud of you Y/N…” he absentmindedly repeated himself while again while looking down at the newborn tucked productively in his strong arms.

The sound of a familiar giggle made him glance up from his daughter, and to the woman he knew all to well. “Roman I heard you the first five times.” She said smiling ending her sentence with playful sarcasm.

Oh that smile. He missed that smile.

As a matter of fact he still hasn’t forgiven himself for taking that smile away. Replacing it with a frown, followed by a constant flow of tears.

“Ro…” Her voice snapped him out of his deep thoughts. She called him by one if the many nicknames she had for him. It’s been too long since he’s heard it from her. It was nice.

He looked up at her again. “What’s got you deep in thought?” She asked.

“Oh um…” He cleared his throat. “Us… The past. My fuck ups.” She didn’t reply, which was fine with Roman to be honest. He wanted her to listen. Just listen.

“Look, I know you’ve heard this lame ass speech from me time and time again but I really am sorry and I really didn’t mean for any of that to happen. You know I never wanted us to come to this. To turn out like this.”

He saw Y/N glance off into the distance. A hand coming up to wipe a few stray tears. “Stop…” She said chocking up. “Lets just enjoy this moment. I don’t wanna ruin the joy of Y/D/N’s birth by being reminded of this. I’ve told you I forgive you. It hurts, but I’m not gonna hold it over you anymore. It’s not easy, everyday has been a struggle but I’m ready to be mature about this. Time has helped me come to this conclusion. Time is helping, Ro.” She finished as Roman got up, placing their daughter in the hospital crib beside the bed. He then made his way over to his ex.

“Time isn’t helping me Y/N. And I’m not trying to ruin today. I doubt anything could, but you hearing me out would add to the happiness we’ve already experience. I really need to get this out.”

Again she was silent so he took that as his opportunity once more. “I know I fucked up and that’s been haunting me since, but I need you, Y/N. I’m not the same without you. I’m not as happy as I so badly want to be. As I should be considering I’m now a dad. We have out daughter but…” He paused, taking a second to gently turn her face around making her look at him. “…I don’t have you. I don’t have you the way I want. I can’t kiss you. I can’t have you in my arms as we watch Y/D/N sleep while slowly drifting off into a sleep of our own. Together. Those are things I need. Please give me that back.” He concluded the last part barely above a whisper.

He watched as a new batch of tears formed in her hazel green eyes.

Forcing a sad half smile, he questioned her demanding one final answer to seal the fate of their future. “What if I said I wanted to try again? Forget the last and the mistakes it carries and focus on rebuilding us, our marriage, giving our daughter the chance at a stable family and upbringing with two parents in the house…” He trailed off as Y/N stared back into his brown eyes.

She inched forward slowly, brushing her lips against his.

“I’d say kiss me.”

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Tags: @wwe-fluff-fic

#roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns #roman reigns fluff #roman reigns imagines #roman reigns fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe shield imagines #wwe shield #wwe raw #wwe #his yard #samoan superman #roman reigns x reader #reader x roman #agnst #fluff #happy ending

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dfroza · 4 years

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Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for Sunday, november 8 of 2020 with Proverbs 8 and Psalm 8, accompanied by Psalm 48 for the 48th day of Autumn, and Psalm 13 for day 313 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 3rd revolution this year)

[Psalm 8]

God’s Splendor

For the Pure and Shining One

Set to the melody of “For the Feast of Harvest,” by King David

Lord, your name is so great and powerful!

People everywhere see your splendor.

Your glorious majesty streams from the heavens,

filling the earth with the fame of your name!

You have built a stronghold by the songs of babies.

Strength rises up with the chorus of singing children.

This kind of praise has the power to shut Satan’s mouth.

Childlike worship will silence

the madness of those who oppose you.

Look at the splendor of your skies,

your creative genius glowing in the heavens.

When I gaze at your moon and your stars,

mounted like jewels in their settings,

I know you are the fascinating artist who fashioned it all!

But when I look up and see

such wonder and workmanship above,

I have to ask you this question:

Compared to all this cosmic glory,

why would you bother with puny, mortal man

or be infatuated with Adam’s sons?

Yet what honor you have given to men,

created only a little lower than Elohim,

crowned like kings and queens with glory and magnificence.

You have delegated to them

mastery over all you have made,

making everything subservient to their authority,

placing earth itself under the feet of your image-bearers.

All the created order and every living thing

of the earth, sky, and sea—

the wildest beasts and all the sea creatures—

everything is in submission to Adam’s sons.

Lord, your name is so great and powerful.

People everywhere see your majesty!

What glory streams from the heavens,

filling the earth with the fame of your name!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 8 (The Passion Translation)

[Proverbs 8]

Can’t you hear the voice of Wisdom?

From the top of the mountains of influence

she speaks into the gateways of the glorious city.

At the place where pathways merge,

at the entrance of every portal,

there she stands, ready to impart understanding,

shouting aloud to all who enter,

preaching her sermon to those who will listen.

“I’m calling to you, sons of Adam,

yes, and to you daughters as well.

Listen to me and you will be prudent and wise.

For even the foolish and feeble can receive an understanding heart

that will change their inner being.

The meaning of my words will release within you revelation

for you to reign in life.

My lyrics will empower you to live by what is right.

For everything I say is unquestionably true,

and I refuse to endure the lies of lawlessness—

my words will never lead you astray.

All the declarations of my mouth can be trusted;

they contain no twisted logic or perversion of the truth.

All my words are clear and straightforward to everyone

who possesses spiritual understanding.

If you have an open mind, you will receive revelation-knowledge.

My wise correction is more valuable than silver or gold.

The finest gold is nothing compared to the revelation-knowledge

I can impart.”

Wisdom is so priceless that it exceeds the value of any jewel.

Nothing you could wish for can equal her.

“For I am Wisdom, and I am shrewd and intelligent.

I have at my disposal living-understanding

to devise a plan for your life.

Wisdom pours into you

when you begin to hate every form of evil in your life,

for that’s what worship and fearing God is all about.

Then you will discover

that your pompous pride and perverse speech

are the very ways of wickedness that I hate!”

[The Power of Wisdom]

“You will find true success when you find me,

for I have insight into wise plans that are designed just for you.

I hold in my hands living-understanding, courage, and strength.

I empower kings to reign and rulers to make laws that are just.

I empower princes to rise and take dominion,

and generous ones to govern the earth.

I will show my love to those who passionately love me.

For they will search and search continually until they find me.

Unending wealth and glory

come to those who discover where I dwell.

The riches of righteousness and a long, satisfying life

will be given to them.

What I impart has greater worth than gold and treasure,

and the increase I bring benefits more than a windfall of income.

I lead you into the ways of righteousness

to discover the paths of true justice.

Those who love me gain great wealth and a glorious inheritance,

and I will fill their lives with treasures.

[Wisdom in the Beginning]

“In the beginning I was there,

for God possessed me even before he created the universe.

From eternity past I was set in place,

before the world began.

I was anointed from the beginning.

Before the oceans depths were poured out,

and before there were any glorious fountains

overflowing with water,

I was there, dancing!

Even before one mountain had been sculpted

or one hill raised up,

I was already there, dancing!

When he created the earth, the fields,

even the first atom of dust,

I was already there.

When he hung the tapestry of the heavens

and stretched out the horizon of the earth,

when the clouds and skies were set in place

and the subterranean fountains began to flow strong,

I was already there.

when he set in place the pillars of the earth

and spoke the decrees of the seas,

commanding the waves

so that they wouldn’t overstep their boundaries,

I was there, close to the Creator’s side as his master artist.

Daily he was filled with delight in me

as I playfully rejoiced before him.

I laughed and played,

so happy with what he had made,

while finding my delight in the children of men.

[Wisdom Worth Waiting For]

“So listen, my sons and daughters, to everything I tell you,

for nothing will bring you more joy than following my ways.

Listen to my counsel,

for my instruction will enlighten you.

You’ll be wise not to ignore it.

If you wait at wisdom’s doorway,

longing to hear a word for every day,

joy will break forth within you as you listen for what I’ll say.

For the fountain of life pours into you every time that you find me,

and this is the secret of growing in the delight

and the favor of the Lord.

But those who stumble and miss me will be sorry they did!

For ignoring what I have to say will bring harm to your own soul.

Those who hate me are simply flirting with death!”

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 8 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 48]

Beautiful Zion

A poetic song, for the prophetic singers of Korah’s clan

There are so many reasons to describe God as wonderful!

So many reasons to praise him with unlimited praise!

Zion-City is his home; he lives on his holy mountain—

high and glorious, joy filled and favored.

Zion-Mountain looms in the farthest reaches of the north,

the city of our incomparable King!

This is his divine abode, an impenetrable citadel,

for he is known to dwell in the highest place.

See how the mighty kings united to come against Zion,

yet when they saw God manifest in front of their eyes,

they were stunned.

Trembling, they all fled away, gripped with fear.

Seized with panic, they doubled up in frightful anguish

like a woman in the labor pains of childbirth.

Like a hurricane blowing and breaking the invading ships,

God blows upon them and breaks them to pieces.

We have heard about these wonders,

and then we saw them with our own eyes.

For this is the city of the Commander of Angel Armies,

the city of our God, safe and secure forever!

Pause in his presence

Lord, as we worship you in your temple,

we recall over and over your kindness to us

and your unending love.

The fame of your name echoes throughout the entire world,

accompanied with praises.

Your right hand is full of victory.

So let the people of Zion rejoice with gladness;

let the daughters of praise leap for joy!

For God will see to it that you are judged fairly.

Circle Zion; count her towers.

Consider her walls, climb her palaces,

and then go and tell the coming generation

of the care and compassion of our God.

Yes, this is our God, our great God forever.

He will lead us onward until the end,

through all time, beyond death,

and into eternity!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 48 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 13]

Prayer Turns Depression into Delight

For the Pure and Shining One, by King David

I’m hurting, Lord—will you forget me forever?

How much longer, Lord?

Will you look the other way when I’m in need?

How much longer must I cling to this constant grief?

I’ve endured this shaking of my soul.

So how much longer will my enemy have the upper hand?

It’s been long enough!

Take a good look at me, God, and answer me!

Breathe your life into my spirit.

Bring light to my eyes in this pitch-black darkness

or I will sleep the sleep of death.

Don’t let my enemy proclaim, “I’ve prevailed over him.”

For all my adversaries will celebrate when I fall.

Lord, I have always trusted in your kindness, so answer me.

I will yet celebrate with passion and joy

when your salvation lifts me up.

I will sing my song of joy to you, the Most High,

for in all of this you have strengthened my soul.

My enemies say that I have no Savior,

but I know that I have one in you!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 13 (The Passion Translation)

0 notes

briteboy · 7 years

Photo

stealing @bratsims format because i need a less ugly way to mass answer your messages which will hopefully motivate me to stay on top of this! at least i can say i tried

so if you sent me an anon message in the past...idk MONTH (i’m bad i know) it might be here. (older ones are near the bottom) if not, check my faq because it’s probably answered there. (and if you’re the person/people who sent the twin flame & 7th house asks, i plan to answer those separately because i have a LOT to say. get ready)

game of thrones, nuclear war, real life santis, lou theories, i’m evil, HERE WE GO!! i literally had to cut it off at the last one because it was just too much for now. i’ll try to answer some more later ok

we’re starting off on a great note

Anonymous said: gaddamn rooney's tiddies lookin' hella ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

STOP!!!!!!!!!!! THAT’S MY CHILD soaidfnjds she’s supposed to have like b/c cups (goals for me tbh, the big boob life is not fun) and sims 4 pregnancies just fuckin make them...NYOOM i’m mad you can’t edit sims’ bodies during pregnancy even with cas.fulleditmode on -___- so i let her live with her giant preggo tiddies for now

Ngl I want a kiss between Santi and Gianni (I'm sorry I'm literally trash)

then i’m here to satisfy your desires: they do kiss periodically because gianni is one of those people who’s like “why shouldn’t you kiss your friends?” free love 4 everyone

IM SCREAING AT UR YOUTUBE CHANNEL OK!!!! I LOVEEE IT, WOW

DON’T IT’S UGLY EXCEPT FOR LIKE TWO VIDEOS

hey this is kinda random but i thought joe seaward from glass animals looked kinda like santi? he has quite a weird face too lmao

oMG i actually love that, i know what you mean. that dude reminds me of a bull terrier lmao i actually saw glass animals like two weeks ago!! i didn’t really get a good look at the drummer but now i wish i did. missed connection

i just finished reading santi's story and ugh it almost had me in tears! beautiful, your story telling skills and editing skills are perfection!

ahhhhsdkgkds thank you so much ;____; that means the world to me <333

Unpopular opinion: im so done with game of thrones tbh. It's not even good anymore :/ I liked the first season but since then i've skipped through episodes because they are just sooo fucking boring and dragged out!

see like the first three seasons were pretty good because they stayed true to the books. (actually that’s a lie, littlefinger’s chaos speech in the s3 finale was real fuckin bad because guess what: it was original material LMAO) the fourth season was where it started to get messy and then the fifth season was a fucking shitshow because they completely IGNORED the fourth book and cherrypicked all the “good” parts out of it (read: the most action-y parts, while ignoring all the most important pieces of character development) and they botched the dorne storyline, oh and who could forget the iconic moment of throwing in a rape (THAT DIDN’T HAPPEN IN THE BOOKS) just for fun :) love it! but anyway if you think the show is boring i probably wouldn’t recommend the books, they’re even slower getting through them lmao. but it’s worth it in my opinion. there’s so much they don’t include in the show and it makes me Angery

Okay, game of thrones fan here, I haven't read the books (yet at least, I bought book 1) but I feel like dany is going to practically turn into her father, this season she is already showing traits like his.......

OH YEAH i definitely feel like they’re moving in that direction in the process of revealing jon as the “true” king of westeros and it’s so bad lmfao. the thing is, like...cersei is already mad king 2.0? why do we need another one?????? the entire point of dany’s arc is that she’s constantly trying to deviate AWAY from the way her father ruled, demonstrated by the fact that she freed the slaves (whereas all the targaryens before were slave owners), the fact that she’s not perpetuating the whole incest thing (LMAO GUESS AGAIN BECAUSE JONERYS HAS TO HAPPEN FOR SOME FCKING REASON), the fact that she has dragons which haven’t existed in how many years...like, if she ever ends up being like her father in the books, it’s NOT gonna fucking happen like this. but i don’t think she will anyway, george rr martin has been pretty clear about her trajectory thus far. anyway this show is so ugly, next question

rooney's eye are so BIG

just like her tiddies lmao i kno sometimes i forget how big they are and then she does one of those silly endearing animations and i’m like o ;-; hello big dumb baby cow eyes

Cows? Are you secretly Matthew Daddario?

WHO i had to google him lmao i was about to say “oh the teen wolf guy” but jk @ myself u idiot it’s shadowhunters damn i literally googled “matthew daddario cows” and

tru

I love how fragile Lou looks like but the truth is that she is strong af and you can't play with her bruh

SHE IS ;-; and that’s a huge theme in her story, i’m excited <3

ima leave ur blog and come bk and spam you so you will finally notice me

im part of this online forum of girls that talks about our period and weather or not one of us might be pregnant and once this girl posted saying that her husband invited his mom without telling her to thier honeymoon and she didnt find out until they arrived at the hotel and she was already there. the most recent part reminded me of it. but long story short, her dad moved all her stuff out of his house and her friend came to pick her up and they got a divorce.

OISOJDFAKNLJSD WHAT!!! i’m guessing you sent this because of that thing i said about the reddit post lmfaooo imagine your mom on your honeymoon. why. that’s soooooooooo good 4 her u know. u don’t need to be married to his mom as well

thanks 4 trusting my love santi. he's beautiful

thank u he thinks ur beautiful too 💘

do you have any tips for runing game in good quality and fast?

euhhhhh the only tips i have for you are to merge your cc, close all other programs while you play your game, maybe invest in a cooling pad uhhhhhh yeah idk any other tips you can probably find on google

You told that thing about unfollowing people and I thought you unfollowed me, but then I checked and you didn't and I'm crying omg

lmao omg ;-; i literally cut my following list in half, it was so chaotic and it was making me anxious. so if ever unfollow any of you please don’t take it personally (i know it’s a stupid thing to say, and it’s a lot easier said than done) it’s just my brain explodes when there’s too much going on at once and some content blends into others, i’m trying to only follow people who i’m genuinely interested in enough to keep up with their posts from now on

I haven't been able to sleep in over 72 hours thanks to the constant fear over the looming world war. I'm fine. Completely fine

Oh shit, have you noticed that the media has been putting out more 'what to do during a nuclear attack' kinda articles? This world is slowly going to shit, for real. I'm not even near any of the danger really, but it still absolutely terrifies me to see all of that bc it could very well go wrong and hit my place as well yknow? I have no idea why i send this to you but you seem chill and calm so thanks for reading my freakout askfjsls

YEP it’s pretty terrifying. but at the same time don’t let fear overwhelm you, fearmongering is an ugly, ugly thing and you don’t want to live your life constantly worrying. so just prepare yourself for what might come, but at the same time, just spend as much time with your loved ones as you can, do all the things you’ve ever wanted to do, and then if it doesn’t turn out as bad as we thought it would, you *tim mcgraw voice* lived like u were dyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyin’

@ Jesus anon: I really don't think it's the right time to complain about "using the lord name in vain" when there are people terrified of leaving their homes bc they are afraid to get killed (aka that poor, poor Jewish anon in charlottesville)

yeah idk like i want to respect everyone but it seemed to be in poor taste to bring that up at a time like that lmao. and also i’ve literally never in my entire life met someone who actually takes “don’t say the lord’s name in vain” seriously.

I asked about the poses and HOLY CRAP THANK YOU SO MUCH! I finally have good poses to use for story telling. Thank you soo so so so sooooo much!

YAY i’m glad you found some good stuff <3 and honestly just going through lana’s blog you’ll find a ton of good poses, it’s a gold mine

Idk how much tv you watch, but have you've ever come across a tv show that used music from The Sim? Because once in a while I'll hear Sims 3 build/buy music on some random show and I'll get a lil shook because I find it so weird that the generic music they're using comes from a major game title.

OMG LMAO NO what i wish i’d come across that tho. one time i used sims 1 music in a video i made for school and someone recognized it

I love your stories gosh I check your page "it's everyday bro with femmesim flow" Lol sorry for that awkward Jake Paul "poop" ❤️

lmao thank u i had no idea who jake paul was until my friends started talking about him

yo, I also remember once in french class real life santi asked me what videos games I like to play. When I told him the sims, he looked at me for a while and shaked his head. He was like, "why do you want to watch your sims use the toilet?"

WHY DO YOU WANT TO WATCH YOUR SIMS USE THE TOILET SAME that’s all i care about when i play

that rooney face in the 5 facts is so iconic, its my fave picture of her. You should blow it up and frame it

i should tbh. i should print it out and put it in my wallet to show everyone because she is my child

sorry the bother you, merging cc makes your game smoother? can you explain to me please?

boop

hi i love you ♡ pass it on

I LOVE U

Can I say that hearing a MacBooks fans screaming for dear life as they try to cool down when playing the sims has actually started to haunt my nightmares

SAME my macbook is actually doing it right now for no reason. thanks laptop

Maybe Santi should go to therapy to talk out his issues.

maybe he should 🤔 but tbh he’s already talked out everything, there’s nothing really more to talk out. he just has to cope with it. he’s treated lou like his therapist thus far and that’s not okay

i love ur story and omg i totally get where lou is coming from with being tired of being compared to molly by santi, thatd hurt so much esp with how much she cares about him

thank youuu ;-; i’m glad you understand, this was a part i’d wanted to get out for a loooong time now, and i know you guys were always like “um why does she put up with this” lmao. she just loves him, that’s why. but you’re right, it does hurt.

My theory is very similar to the other anons in that Fiona's dad/Lou's ex had a mental illness (schizophrenia, depression, what have you) but he actually did kill himself and that's why she's not completely losing it on Santi because I feel like most people in that situation would have not handled it as well as Lou did

🤔 you’re right about the last part, and there’s a reason she has so much patience, das all i’m sayin

i started your story from the beginning last night and i am in awe. Its amazing. It inspired me to put a little more effort in learning to edit and write. It was like reading screen caps from a movie! I didn't want to stop reading. Anyway thing was a super sappy ask, but i appreciate your stuff. And i'm bad at putting my thoughts into words.

omg ;__________; when people tell me i inspired them it means the most to me, my brain just can’t process it lmao. so thank you so so much ;-; <333 THE MOVIE THING ESPECIALLY GOT ME IN THE HEART because i feel like that’s my aesthetic with most things i create because i’m such a film person lol. don’t worry i love super sappy, and you did a good job of wording everything because it got me right in the feels <33

Okay I've been snickering for about 43 minutes bc SANTI GOT THAT GRU CHINNN

WOT is that i googled it and the only thing that came up was the dad from despicable me lmfaosdkjfs but ok

Please, please do punk edits of your some of your characters! I'd die.

WHAT DOES THIS MEANNN do you mean like. those 2010 tumblr edits of punk disney characters and then the joker from suicide squad looked like one of them. do u want santi to be the joker. because my boyfriend already relates him to suicide squad joker because of his face tatt lmao

You love to make me cry

i do i’m sorry. if it makes you feel any better i love to make myself cry too. but my biceps grow stronger with every tear

I reeeally dont think those chancla comments were offensive??? Why would they be?? I'm hispanic (born and raised in the sunny Dominican Republic, received a fair amount of chancletazos myself) and I laughed out loud when i read them 😂😂

I JUST WANT U TO KNOW I SHOWED @ichosim THIS MESSAGE AND SHE LAUGHED FOR 12 HOURS AT “CHANCLETAZOS”

whATT my little brothers name is santiago n we call him santi for short!! guess it's not rly that uncommon but we live in a small country and he's also 4 so like,, no other santiagos!! idk why im saying this its completely irrelevant just kinda surprised me :'))

OMG wow hell yeah another real life santi...santi acts like a 4 yr old so he might as well be your brother

Just curious.. Do you play sims or just use it for storytelling? Sorry if thats weird haha

well my recent gameplay pics should answer your question lmao. i do like to play but i don’t have enough time to both play and pose scenes so i mostly just pose scenes for now. :[ i am gonna be off work for like two weeks tho so hell yeah gameplay here i come!!

I'm starting a Fiona appreciation movement because she is the real star of santis story RT and i love her and she is way underappreciated and I love her KThxBi

SHE IS THE REAL STAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i’ve said this before but santi’s relationship with her is the most important to me, out of every relationship he has in this story. i’m so glad you love her so much, sorry about what’s about to come in the next few scenes tho

Oh my heart, Santi is alive, god exist

I have a pretty hard time understanding Santi's story mostly because I'm not English but I'm sure I'll figure it out:)

ahh oh no D: i’m sorry i wish i spoke every language in the world lmao. if you want, you can message me off anon and i’ll help you understand it!!

Lou is an angel honestly

“there are worse things than seeing an angel before you die”

what tablet do you use? or how do you draw hair? it looks so pretty.

omg haha i don’t have one! i wish i did tho. all of the brushes i got from deviantart, i’m trying to find the specific ones but they’re all elusive wtf. i’ll post them when i find them! for now, here’s a good guide to drawing hair, by airi <3

Nah nah I always knew you'd save him.....eheheeh.....THANK YOU FOR NOT KILLING BABBY SANTEEEEEEEEE DNDDNSKANW YOU WOULD HAVE HAD SO MUCH BLOOD ON UR HANDS AS ALL UR FOLLOWERS COLLECTIVELY DIE FROM A BROKEN HEART BUT DW WE DIDNT BECAUSE UR QN ANGEL....but I toooootally knew you'd save him... /sweats/

I’M GLAD U HAD FAITH <3 i know omfg i would’ve expected a mob at my house if i’d actually killed him. if i ever killed him i would just lay down somewhere and die. that’s it for me

Lou & molly almost always have teeth showing, do you draw them on each pic?x

no, only sometimes i’ve drawn them when i felt like their mouths weren’t matching the expression i wanted. but most of the time it’s just the pose.

is it too late to send 16k dollars to guarantee santi's inclusion in a loving home with loving friends

it is absolutely never too late to send me 16k i promise you that

I just bought school books for $550 who knew studying marine biology could be so fuckING EXPENSIVE

EWW WTF...i’ve been lucky and haven’t had to spend a ton on books in my college career (one time i even went to such lengths that i got access to free trial version of one of my school books in a pdf, screencapped EVERY SINGLE PAGE, which was more than 400 pages, just so i wouldn’t have to spend $70 on it. i love cheating the system)

waIT i never saw ur selfie where is it, must see

u could probably just search “selfie” on my blog and find it, or enjoy the ugly closeup drunk snap i posted last night

Hey guys I'm a happy trans man that has no mental illnesses. I'm fucking pissed about Trump's ban. And to any one that says it's logical FUCK YOU! I'm having flashbacks to don't ask, don't tell because this is the same fucking wacked up logic. I'm so angry, like I'm a human, yes I may require testosterone shots once a month but that's it, I even administer them to myself. I pay for them with my own god damn money so fuck you transphobic bigots who say this law is fair. It's not. WE ARE HUMAN TOO Also same anon that ranted. Sorry about that I'm just really pissed and I love and thank you for sticking up for the community. We love you and I love you. And you're right not all trans people transition. We all do what we want to. Some start on T or E and have the full surgery. Some just have top surgery. Some just do testosterone or estrogen. Some never do anything. We're all still trans and we're all valid.

YES ALL OF THIS, sorry i didn’t answer this when it was all happening. but askdkjfas thank you for this message, I LOVE YOU TOO, SO MUCH <333 and i’m glad you feel comfortable enough to voice this in my inbox. yes every trans person is valid no matter what they decide to do with their bodies <3

One of those old hot topic shirts that said " if Darryl dies we riot " but with santi instead of Darryl.

OMG LMAOOOOO NOW THAT’S A CONCEPT who’s making these i want one

your use of references and reaction pics and gifs fucken KILLS ME

Crystal anon here. I googled around my area to find there are none of those y'know, crystal, candle, incense, magic type shops. I have panic attacks when I go outside and I wanted to look into alternative stuff since I'm on meds and w/e. I wanted to know if you or friends had any experience or recommendations for buying crystals online like on etsy or amazon. How can you tell if they're real?x

ooooh ok. usually there are shops like those in cities or even in towns with like kitschy little promenades with independent shops. (i know there’s one around the town over from mine, which is so random lmao) i do have friends that have crystals but i think they mostly just collect them for the ~good vibez~ and don’t really look too far into the healing aspects of them. i would say first go with the one that coincides with your birth because those are the ones that are like specifically catered to you and strengthen your being. as for buying online, hmmmmm i mean i don’t really know any specific trustworthy sellers because i don’t have much experience with this, but definitely read the reviews! those will help you a lot <3

Hello could you please tell us how you edited the pic of rooney in that one post that the anon asked for the unedited version?

i honestly didn’t do much of anything that differs from my usual editing process! i made her eyes a bit bigger by using the clone tool, cloning the top of her eye and applying it a little bit farther up...if that makes sense. it’s hard to explain how to use that tool lmao. and i think i used the liquify tool to bring part of her eyebrow down to look more worried.

there's still a part of me that says she ain't dead and molly is just in a coma lmao end mE

OMFLDKGKJS yeah she’s not dead surprise. i WILL say there is still flashback stuff that will be revealed. well not “revealed” like molly’s death was revealed, like i just still have to showcase some things that happened afterward. because it doesn’t just end with molly’s death, there’s stuff after that as well :~}

I'm Mexican, have lived around Mexicans, have been to Mexico multiple times growing up, just came back from a family trip at practically the border between Mexico and Guatemala and never in my life have I ever heard the word "joder" i had to look it up xD (not hating or anything I just thought I'd mention it cuz I found it funny...lol) k bye...

OK NOT SURE IF the ppl you’ve been around just don’t curse or whatever but...joder is DEFINITELY something i’ve heard mexican people say before lmao

Okay so this is random, but i was telling my sister the name of one your characters in ur story (santi) and she kinda just starts singing his name, and she said "santi high, santi low, santi go." And im just sitting there, like woah.

LMFAO WHATKNJDSKJGD “woah” same

u gonna incorporate fis hat into a really like emotional sad thing in her story huh

oMG i wasn’t planning on it but hmm 🤔

Why no el chingo? NO ME GUSTA (I'm joking btw ily)

LMFAOOOO because i didn’t wanna have to defile my son by downloading the penis mod RIP

let santi grow out dem eyebrows 2kforever

omg he does let them grow out except for the little line he shaved in when he was 14 that never grew back RIP

in ur bio it says "kt" and i know why,, it means killing them as in killing off ur characters slowly i see u gurl

i bet this story was just an excuse for you to see the world burn. well done.

OMG i mean, that was definitely one of the side effects of it all. but really it was just that i NEEDED to get this story out after it had lived in my brain for so long.

ur dead 2 me

I... just.... can't... too much pain Y U DO DIS 2 UZ?!?!!!

#anonymous #nonsims #saviorhide #sunny answers

32 notes · View notes

wwe-fluff-fic · 8 years

Text

Dolph Ziggler - Us Three.

Dolph Ziggler - Prompt #100: “You’re my soulmate.”

- Warnings - Angst, Fluff, Swearing, This guy with babies *-*

Word Count - 2,724 words.

Requested by - Anon.

A/N - I don’t actually understand how he’s this hot, complete babe *-*

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It had been 4 months now. 4 months since you broke up with your boyfriend of 1 year, 4 months since you’d last spoken to this certain wrestler you thought you’d spend forever with, 4 months since you left the WWE for a so-called ‘injury’. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him like crazy. Not a day goes by where you didn’t think about him, everything seemed so perfect - maybe that’s the reason why it had to come to an end...

Yours and Dolph’s relationship lasting a little over a year meant you could read him like a book, I guess that’s where it all starting to go wrong. Maybe it was all a huge misunderstanding, maybe not; but whatever it was, left your heart splintered for a long while. You could call Nate someone to get over Dolph, but he really wasn’t just that; however admittedly in the first instant; he was.

It was around 2 weeks after you had split from Dolph, simultaneously you had left the company for ‘short term’. You hadn’t left the house, lost your appetite and cried yourself to sleep for what seemed like an eternity. That singular thought playing like a record on repeat constantly in your head; that image that took you right back to when you walked out your house door and never went back. It was pretty stupid thinking about it... our breakup. His career began to come before me and that pissed me right off until I broke. You still managed to maintain some form of connection to a couple of the women superstars so that’s where this huge party started, and where you ended up in Nate’s bed...

Waking up that morning, turning over to see someone besides you that wasn’t the man you previously saw as ‘husband material’ instantaneously sent chills right down your back. But somehow after 3 months, you were still with this guy, it might have just been that he filled that lost segment of your heart that was lost before, or he truly made you happy, and he did - well that was up until 2 weeks ago. It was good whilst it lasted, he seemed to almost make you feel whole again; like the world could still carry on but then he found out. He finally found out a secret that still to this day, 2 weeks later, only 2 people are aware about. Before you could even blink at that very moment, everything started tumbling into a huge mess that would take a minor miracle to fix.

~ Tuesday Night ~

Not quite sure how she talked you into this. This wasn’t particularly how you’d dreamed of spending a bitter Tuesday evening however, it’s very difficult to change Maryse’s mind when she’s set on something. Miraculously she managed to worm her way into getting you to come to Smackdown Live seeing as it was in your hometown tonight.

The car journey was horrendous to put it bluntly. Way too many jolted halts at intersections, way too much traffic for a usual Tuesday evening and the constant feeling of sickness followed you throughout your journey. It would be an understatement to say you were ecstatic to be finally out of the taxi car, masked with the lingering scent of pure sweat - yeah officially not taking any more taxis.

You entered the backstage area of the arena, heading straight for the area Maryse had advised you to go to; after all, the last thing you wanted was to bump into old faces at this moment in time. Walking as fast as you could carry this ‘extra’ weight you are now starting to feel you took the fastest route to the crates, Maryse immediately catching your glimpse as you approached.

“Okay so tell me the whole story.” Maryse began to pester, forcing you to break the silence you had wanted to keep. “Like start to finish because this whole situation is just...”

“What do you want me to say? Once upon a time I was in a relationship with this wrestler, then we broke up for some stupid reason, but then you decide to have a crappy party and I ended up in bed with some other guy. Subsequent enough?” Your voice rose, talking about this whole ordeal was not what you were interested in doing right now - but yet again, Maryse has a way of getting her own.

“Y/N the child you are currently carrying... talk me through what happened today, in more detail.”

“Well, I dunno I moved my scan date to today because it was easier and it was all going fine until the doctor said he was 99.9% sure that I was 4 months along instead of 3...” You faltered in your speech, unsure on whether to cry or maintain your cool which at this point was extremely hard to do.

“And you weren’t in a relationship with Nate 4 months ago? So it’s definitely Dolph’s...” Maryse stated, in a calm manner, completely opposite to the shaking mess you were currently in and you nodded your head.

“Y/N? Are ya back for real?” A heavily accented voice approached. It wasn’t long before you realised it was Becky. “ How’s your back, ya ready to get back in the ring?”

And yet they still kept coming. The far too familiar raspy tone of Mike soon joined your ever so slightly awkward conversation. “What’s happening over here? Any drama Miz needs to hear about?”

“Y/N’s pregnant.” Maryse blurted out, completely breaking her ‘promise’ she had before, made you. Evidently, your facial features sank downwards in shock, it seemed the same with the other two as well. “You know the best bit... It’s Dolph’s.”

Anger began to run through your blood by now, your little secret was no longer that, instead the news was destined to spread at lightning pace through this small roster which ultimately meant it wouldn’t be long before Dolph found out the truth.

“Wait? What happened to that guy that was all over you Instagram?” Becky shortly inquired before you were dawned with multiple over questions. The Mike chimed in asking if ‘he could tell Dolph.’ Hell no, not yet...

At the click of your fingers, you were greeted by even more confused faces including those of Nikki and Nattie, two women you would’ve considered yourself closest with.

“Guys guess who’s pregnant!” You eyes promptly rolled at Becky’s remark. What, was this some kind of game now? It was clear Nattie was searching amongst the group of petite frames in your huddle, fortunately you wore a coat which somehow covered you protruding belly. Nikki didn’t catch on as quickly as Nattie stating pretty much the obvious... “Brie?”

A firm grasp was placed on the centre of your stomach causing the other two girls to glance in awe. “Who’s is it?” A stunned Nattie inquired, resulting in a small but warm tear to escape from your eyes, “Dolph’s.”

A stream of tears threatened to flow down your cheeks as you pressed your palms against your head. “Shit hide!” Maryse whispered into your ear, leading you to be positioned behind a crate. What the fuck is she doing? That’s when the waterworks were turned on, that very moment you heard his voice after what seemed like a thousand years from just behind a crate. So much of you just wanted to run and jump into his perfect, muscular arms and tell him how much you’d missed him but the other part of you knew you just couldn’t, it wasn’t debatable that he was going to be just like Nate once he found out... That solely petrified you to death.

The conversation died down, it was clear that he had left. So your cries became even more intense until you were lifted up by your arms, consciously shielding your face with your hands. “Why are you crying like this?” Maryse comforted, linking arms with you to walk to somewhere more private.

“I heard him... Dolph.” you whimpered in between breaths.

“You miss him, don’t you? You were questioned, the smallest of smirks etched on your face for a split second. “You do Y/N.”

You watered eyes turned to face her momentarily whilst you wiped your remaining tears with your index fingers. “More than anything.”

Eventually, you reached a secluded room, one where you could actually clear things off your chest without a mass of people all wanting answers to different questions, some of which you didn’t even know. Stepping in first, you slipped your bag off your shoulder and began to traipse towards a long-awaited seat, ripping your beige coat off your tired, sweaty body at the same time - well that was prior to a deafening slam which startled you. “Maryse open the door! I seriously mean it. Maryse! Little bitch.”

“Y/N...” It was his voice. The very voice which you fell in love with almost instantly, the voice that soothed you to sleep when all you felt like doing was crying.

“Dolph.. I- erm i-” The huge lump which formed in the back of your throat left you stuttering, goosebumps rising from the skin of your arms.

“Is what I’m seeing really true?” Without delay, your head lowered, catching sight of your large and now distinguishable bump. His eyes single-handedly fixed in the same position. “Sorry. What am I doing... Congratulations I guess. I’m sure Nate’s pretty happy, I saw you two on your Instagram. You seemed happy.”

“We’re not together anymore, Nate and I.” Your words clearly shook him.

“But surely he needs to be there and supply if it’s his kid.” His sudden flash of anger came to the surprise of you, never did you expect him to get so defensive but still he certainly hadn’t caught on.

“Exactly, he doesn’t need to provide for the kid then.” You blurted out in stress, instantly regretting your words. You looked up, finally meeting eye contact once again with him, one arm still protectively rested on the top of your stomach. His eyebrows furrowed tightly, highlighting the fact that he didn’t have half a clue of what was currently going on. “Dolph, you don’t understand. His breathing became increasingly heavy and more frequent as you cautiously stepped an inch closer to his herculean frame. “It’s your’s, Dolph. And it’s completely fine if you wanna walk away just like Nate but you needed to know that I’m having this child, alone or not.” The stress of it all was just too much to bare at this point and you had long past your breaking point. Storming towards the door, you snatched your bag and coat and prepared to leave, however, a tight grip placed around your upper arm forced you to stop in your tracks.

Before you could even sputter the slightest word, you were stunned and consequently muted when you were spun around, his soft lips pressed delicately against yours.

“What’d you do that for?” you stumbled on your words as the question rolled off your tongue.

“I wanted to... for far too long now.” Even now it was indisputable that those feelings that were mutual 4 months ago were still lingering to this day.

These certain emotions all running back at once began to slowly form a suffocation in the back of your throat. “I- I shouldn’t have walked away, I’m sorry.” You felt more and more vulnerable as you were once again ready to breakdown once again.

“Hey hey, shh.” Dolph consoled you, bringing your weakened body into his tight squeeze. “Look I might as well say this now. The worst mistake I’ve ever made was letting you go, I mean it. That day 4 months ago, 122 days ago to be exact, was the worst day of my life... way over anything that has ever happened in my career. When you walked out of our apartment door I told myself not to run after you, I thought I knew you so well. I thought you would’ve come back.” His pupils became gradually more diluted as he stumbled in his explanations. It truly broke your heart knowing that he truly did care about you just as much as you did for him, and you just turned away... Lifting your resting arm away from your protruding baby bump, you wiped away the forming tears with your thumbs from his eyes. The sensation of just touching his skin again left you on cloud nine, it hadn’t changed even after all this time apart. “I was so tempted just to try to make contact again at least but that’s when I saw Nate on your Social Media’s. You just looked so happy, I wanted that for you. And when I saw you today, still goofy as ever standing a few feet in front of me, it made me realise just how much I took you for granted. You know I wasn’t quite sure whether to cry or tell you that I’m happy for you when I saw your stomach. I’ve just missed you so fucking much and-”

Was he really crying, never had you seen him cry in front of you... ever.

“Not one of those 122 days passed where I didn’t think about you, Dolph. Your cheeky grin you get when you make a joke, the masses of pictures I had still saved as a file on my computer, the way you comforted me whenever I was in need. Heck - I missed everything! I was certain this baby was Nate’s but when they told me earlier, I had absolutely no clue what to do. I’m actually quite glad I told you... I wasn’t sure whether I could, not yet.” You softly spoke, looking down once again to your little bundle of joy, Dolph’s head following yours.

“I’m glad you did. You know Y/N, I still have all of our photos around the house. The one we took on our 4 months anniversary, us in the sunset at Venice Beach, yeah that’s still my lock-screen. I never got over you, don’t think I ever will. Those are all pretty good memories we had together but truthfully, today tops all of them.” He comforted, caressing the surface of your cheeks in soft circles.

“We never spoke about kids, we never even spoke about a wedding. I didn’t know if you even wanted children.” You huffed.

“I have.” Dolph lifted your chin to reach eye contact. “I’m guessing you were there earlier, with Maryse, when I came over. Nicole was talking about Brie being pregnant and I was asked if I wanted a kid. You know what I said... Of course I did.

A grin was soon embedded on your face after hearing what you wanted to hear so badly, “So you’re fine with this. Me being pregnant?”

“Completely. You know all I wanted through that whole 4 months was for something to just bring you back to me, now this little one has and I couldn’t be more excited. You listen to me, I truly believe you’re my soulmate so I would give my entire life to keep you safe.” Dolph exclaimed, moving ‘round your body to hug you from behind. All you could think about was why you’d ever doubted him in the first place whilst he placed tiny, light kisses along your shoulders.

“Now you have someone else to protect.” You reached to grasp his arm, tugging in over your shoulder, leading his hand to be placed upon your bump. “My two boys.” You whispered under your breath, feeling as Dolph rubbed circles around the centre of your tummy.

“Boy...” Dolph ran in front of you, evidently shocked by this extra announcement. You simply nodded, choking up slightly seeing purely how delighted he was. “Our little boy... I love you so fucking much.” He muttered pecking his lips onto your lips, followed by one on your stomach.

Reaching into the back pocket of your jeans, you eagerly watched as Dolph proceeded to mutter soothing words towards your son. In your hand revealed a small photograph, the ultrasound picture from earlier. “Babe.” You motioned him to stand, placing the precious little picture into the palm of his hands, witnessing as his face lit up in pure astonishment of the new creation of solely your love for each other.

A/N - OML I absolutely loved writing this one! For that particular reason, I would be so happy if anyone wanted to request a second part for this etc. to possibly make a series out of it? I definitely wouldn’t mind doing that! Anyways, on another note, if anyone would like to be tagged in future imagines, feel free to ask. Hope you all enjoyed this one as much as I do :) ~Nikkii.

#wwe #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #wwe x reader #wwe imagines #wwe oneshots #wwe × reader #dolph ziggler x Reader #wwe drabble

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fashiontrendin-blog · 7 years

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What Your Massage Therapist Is Actually Thinking

http://fashion-trendin.com/what-your-massage-therapist-is-actually-thinking/

What Your Massage Therapist Is Actually Thinking

The few times I’ve gotten a massage, I’ve experienced an (admittedly ironic) influx of anxiety as I spent the entire session wondering what’s going on inside the head of the kind stranger rubbing oil onto my naked body. Who are they? What are they thinking? Are their arms tired yet? Are they avoiding my shoulder because of the weird mole located there or because it’s all part of THE PLAN?

As such, I developed a hunch that massage therapy is one of most mysterious gigs this side of Neptune. To prove said hunch, I interviewed Lara Katsman, a massage therapist at Haven Spa in New York City. With over 20 years of experience (some of which involved rubbing oil on me personally), Lara was well-equipped to answer all my burning questions. Keep reading for her fascinating, as-told-to insight on what it’s like on the other side of the table.

Destined to be a masseuse

It would be impossible to find a better use of my personal qualities than treating people for their emotional and physical pain. I’m extremely social, I connect very easily with people and I have absolutely excellent communication skills — can’t you tell? I’m very empathetic, which is important in this field, I’m a great listener, I have very strong client focus and I’m always present. I never drift away. I also have superb physical stamina. I’m never tired! I can massage a person for hours and hours. I don’t go to the gym, though. I work six days a week and I’m on my feet all day, I never sit and I’m always busy with my hands. My job is basically constant exercise.

I’m originally from Russia, which is where I trained to be a professional masseuse. I’ve also traveled a lot and lived in different countries, and wherever I go I try to observe how massage therapists work and what techniques they use. I try to learn what they do that I don’t know. To get training in school is one thing, but to get training in life and combine various techniques to create your own practice — that’s another thing entirely. It’s kind of an art.

In America, each state has different requirements for getting your massage therapist license. New York’s are some of the most laborious. You must complete over 1,000 hours of schooling before you can even be considered, which is double the amount most states mandate. I think it makes perfect sense because New Yorkers want the most skilled massage therapists. New Yorkers are workaholics and have no time for nonsense. They want the best. That’s why I love working in New York as a massage therapist, because it’s hard to survive financially here but massage therapy is in such high demand. My phone is constantly ringing.

Massage training covers a lot of medical knowledge, a lot of anatomy and physiology, how everything works inside the body and what happens when you apply certain pressure. However, the ability to intuitively understand people’s complaints and ailments cannot be taught. That is something that comes with practice.

The hard part

The most challenging thing is being disciplined about my own physical and psychological well-being so that I can better treat those of my clients. The first five years of practice are the most difficult because you’re not used to the physical demands, and many massage therapists quit due to burnout. Acclimating to the emotional demands are difficult as well. Clients come to you with frustrations and complaints, often times breaking down and crying in the room. Facilitating and treating this kind of emotional release day in and day out can be overwhelming and mentally taxing for massage therapists.

At this point in my career, though, it’s actually become my favorite part of what I do. I love the constant mental exercise of meeting all different people with different psychological makeups and crafting a unique session that serves their individual needs.

I also can’t complain about the environment I work in. It’s a spa! What could be more relaxing? It’s all nice smells, pleasant music, aromatherapy oils and soft towels.

Strange encounters

I think that one day we have to do a livestream broadcast from my massage room to hear the stories clients bring to me, because I’m pretty sure we’d out-perform even the most popular reality TV shows. People wouldn’t go to work because they’d be watching what happens in my room.

Oftentimes clients come in with big groups to celebrate a birthday, or a bridal shower or whatever, but one time we had a few women come in for what they called a “depression party.” Only a New Yorker would come up with such an idea — having a depression party in a spa. Who else would do that? It’s amazing.

Anyways, they all sat in the spa waiting room with these sad faces, and when I came to call one of them for her session she asked me, “What kind of treatment would you recommend for a depressed woman?” I told her we have something called the Bitch Massage. (It’s on the menu and it’s actually my speciality — you can Google it). I told her I designed it specifically to treat anxiety, stress, insomnia, irritability and premenstrual symptoms by using specific massage strokes, pressure points, stretches, and oil aromas that sooth aches and pains by increasing blood circulation and lymph flow, decreasing fluid retention in muscles, tissues and joints and eliminating toxins to calm the nervous system.

And she just looked at me, with a sour expression, and she said, “You know what? That should work, baby. Let’s go.” I think that was one of the best compliments I’ve ever received.

Every session is different

I’ve worked with people who feel shame about their bodies and have a difficult time undressing in the room before a massage. I remember with one girl it took me almost 45 minutes to convince her that it wasn’t going to be a bad experience, and that she could trust me to treat her. In these cases, the obstacle is almost always psychological rather than physical — it’s the fear of being judged.

It goes to show why massage therapy extends so far beyond just the body. I’ve had clients book a two-hour session just to talk. I don’t even touch them. It happens! It happens very often.

Each session is unique because I have to listen to what the client says and read between the lines, because most people don’t know how to express themselves but, at the end of the day, everyone just wants to feel more relaxed. What the hell does that mean, though? What does “relaxed” feel like to YOU?

Using deep pressure works to relax the body on a physical level, but what about when someone comes in and just feels absolutely awful emotionally? Physical pressure wouldn’t be helpful, so I have to come up with alternative methods. I use a lot of traditional Chinese medicine in my practice, because it’s very effective for addressing emotional and mental issues. I use aromatherapy, heat therapy, cold therapy, sometimes even a combination to confuse the brain, pinches of different things like ingredients in a recipe to achieve a specific result for a specific person with a specific set of problems. My goal is for clients to leave my room feeling both physically and emotionally refreshed.

I love the saying “the devil is in the details” — it’s a very famous German proverb. Even before a client says why they came in for a massage, I observe them: the way they walk, the way they communicate, the way they shake my hand, the way they give me a hug, the way they present themselves, etc. All those things give me clues to what their needs are and how I should treat them. Even something as small as identifying what corner of the mouth they speak from can inform how I treat someone’s neck tension. It’s all about observation, especially because not everyone is good at communicating. Visual details tell me more than actual speech. I tune in with all my senses.

I’ve had people who call in and say, ‘Oh I can’t bend over, can I see someone?’ After 30 minutes with me, they can walk again. It happens on a regular basis. Haven Spa is less of a luxury spa and more of an alternative medical service. People are looking for alternative ways to treat pain and aches, but they don’t want to waste time spending half a day in a doctor’s office, so they come here. I crafted the massage menu based on specific complaints from clients. The “Geek Massage,” for example, is designed for people who spend most of their time in the office and targets pains and aches from sitting in a chair and typing on a computer.

The most efficient way for a massage therapist to achieve results in the short period of time is by focusing on the feet and hands, because they communicate with the entire body, like a map. If you have limited time, even 15 minutes, tell your therapist to focus on your feet and hands and you’ll leave happy, tuned up, energized and loving life.

A misconception

As a female massage therapist I hear this constantly: “You aren’t strong enough to treat a tough guy.” I remember I had a very athletic guy come in for a deep tissue massage once and he was using a gift certificate, and I could immediately tell he was skeptical. He gave me this look like, “I’m in the wrong place because I’m a dude and this is a spa and it’s for girls, and you’re a tiny woman, what can you possibly do for me?’ I didn’t like that, so I gave deep tissue massage so intense it actually made him sweat.

After I was done he turned over and asked in a totally shocked tone, “Can you tell me where you got your training?”

I looked him right in the eye and said, “In prison.”

He’s now one of my best clients.

Photos by Louisiana Mei Gelpi; Creative Direction by Emily Zirimis.

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ulyssesredux · 7 years

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Lotus Eaters

I saw on television was the one who started talks to give them any of it. They do. They were about him here and there, will manage them. Glimpses of the time? It does. Clearly I can see today. These beautiful children will be overturned! Meet you knocking around. Glimpses of the so-called Russia story on my speech even started when they incorrectly thought they were supposed to with Clinton. Aq.

Then the priest stow the communion every morning. Make America Great Again. Open it. Thank you! Talk: as if that would mend matters. Also said Russians did not have been declared the winner was based on popular vote if you really believe in it. Just a Stein scam to raise money! His time will come! She raised a gloved hand on the twenty-fifth. He gazed at the corner and passed the drooping nags of the baths. She stood still, waiting for it to make that instrument talk, the Stabat Mater of Rossini. What is this the right name is not as divided as people think. Wisconsin's economy is bad! Music they wanted. Lethargy.

Silk flash rich stockings white. Do it in the witnessbox.

I was with him? Mr Bloom said. Horrific incident in her very long and very vigilant. #MAGA! Stylish kind of evening feeling. —I'll take this one, and around the limp father of thousands of dollars can and will campaign tomorrow. I TOLD YOU SO! Against steelworkers and miners.

Feel fresh then all the same person-remain true to himself and his belief that good day to this. With it an abode of bliss. All weathers, all in the Coombe would listen. By Mosenthal it is. No more!

Keep him on hands: might take a turn in there on the invincibles he used to Guinness's porter or some temperance beverage Wheatley's Dublin hop bitters or Cantrell and Cochrane's ginger ale aromatic. He strolled out of his periodical bends, and more: all. Still the other. Paragoric poppysyrup bad for the use of e-mails? Crooked Hillary Clinton was not arranged or that Crooked Hillary knew the PAC was putting it out of the Great Wall for sake of speed, will manage them.

That must be why the women go after them. Too showy.

Their full buck eyes regarded him as he went by, amid the sweet oaten reek of horsepiss. Bald spot behind. Bury him cheap in a short while—you have. Mr Bloom said. Year before I was just announced plans to destroy all miners, I would have been playing the women's card-it will just go on forever. Reformed prostitute will address the meeting. Sociable. Study the world to see about that French horse that's running today, Bantam Lyons doubted an instant, leering: then thrust the outspread sheets back on Mr Bloom's arms. Then I will be having a general I will stop the national security. Bantam Lyons' voice and puts his fingers on his back, reading a book with a cunnythumb. Piled balks. It's a kind of evening feeling. Numerous patriots will be the first one that was coming it a bit of pluck. Always happening like that. The glasses would take their fancy, flashing. Governor. No: I.H.S. Molly told me one time I go to Mexico, now they're saying that I said. Want to be strong! Get rid of him quickly. Thought that Belfast would fetch him.

Just got an engagement. Go further next time. At eleven it is just the opposite of what Bernie stands for. I do not like my job. Thank you, Florida at noon. Try it anyhow. Women knelt in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on June 25th-back to Japan. ’ I will be a weak leader.

And past Nichols' the undertaker.

Wonderful organisation certainly, goes like clockwork.

She raised a cake to his surprise. Quarter past. —Yes, he said. His eyes on the steel grip. Remember, don't they? I am. The priest bent down to put on sixpence. The honourable Mrs and Brutus is an honourable man. M'Coy for a day like this, looks like a wheel.

Yes, exactly. O let him! She is a world that doesn’t exist. Reformed prostitute will address the meeting. Simple bit of pluck.

Such a bad headache. Perhaps he was caught by a con.

The rallies in Utah and Arizona were great!

The constant interruptions last night in Dallas-more spirit and passion than ever before. Not like Ecce Homo. Hamlet she played last night. Lovely spot it must have been front page news! A 60% increase in traffic into our country in order to elect Crooked Hillary and Obama, and always very short stamina. She might be here with a ribbon round her neck and do the other one? Peter Claver I am working hard, was very necessary! Big protest march in Colorado shortly after I entered the race in June because the pols and their doss. Clever idea Saint Patrick the shamrock. The Democrats have failed you for that. Half baked they look. Yes, sir, the braided drums. Goofy Elizabeth Warren didn’t have the resources to support her, unless he is selling out!

The real story is FAKE NEWS media lied about.

—Hello, M'Coy said.

Chicago doesn't fix the horrible Iran deal, and we will prevail! The United Nations will make it much harder! The quick touch. In the last 2 weeks, I will be competition in the U.S. without retribution or consequence, is he? Flicker, flicker: the flower gravely from its pinhold smelt its almost no smell and placed it in the prescriptions book. Glorious and immaculate virgin.

Jobs! These pots we have no border, we have. Just watched the Inauguration, 11 million more votes than Donald Trump is going on: photo perhaps. To be sure, poor fellow. Watch!

Pity to disturb them. Still like you better untidy. That must be why the women go after them. For many years our country want borders, police and Secret Service detail? Poisons the only cures.

I hadn't met that M'Coy fellow. —Yes, sir? Poor papa! Singing with his eyes wandering over the place. Crown of thorns and cross.

A photo it isn't. People get it! Wow, Corey Lewandowski, my speech on protecting America I spoke about a temporary ban, which makes up stories and lies, and it was all about.

Where's old Tweedy's regiment? Obvious long ago! In Westland row he halted before the door of the money to be made in Hillary Clinton's losing campaign. M'Coy said. —Are there any … no trouble I hope?

I employ many people in the theatre, all places, time or setdown, no, no, the dusty dry smell of sponges and loofahs. Now have an open border is the leaking of Classified information is being given to charity, and I forgot that latchkey too. She then said, moving to get out there, will you? Try it anyhow. The thing I like Michael Douglas—just another dishonest politician. Please write me a long letter and tell me what is the big debate. Prefer an ounce of opium. Seven people shot and killed walking her baby in Chicago, have a great man, Elie Wiesel, passed the drooping nags of the leather headband inside his high grade ha. But watch, her rich gloved hand on the road. Thing is if you don't. Just spoke to Governor Mike Pence. Hello. Blind faith. Then the next one.

Wellturned foot.

Prior to the Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg going to be strong! Henry I got your last mass? No-one can hear. Thank you: not having a press conference today. College sports today I see where Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake of Baltimore is pushing Crooked Hillary e-mails were deleted by Crooked Hillary help disgusting check out sex tape and past Alicia M become a U.S. citizen so she could use her in the air. Poor papa! At his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and hand said: Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the low tide of holy water. I got your last letter to me and lost so badly by the media and her corrupt globalism. My missus has just got an engagement. In the dark tangled curls of his baton against his trouserleg. Looking forward to meeting w/the Hispanic Chamber of Commerce at the typed envelope. No use thinking of it. No one has worse judgement than Hillary Clinton. Barrels bumped in his pocket and folded it into the words radical Islamic attack, this time next year.

Hence those snores. O, he said. Do it in the dead sea floating on his back, reading a book with a letter. What time? Congratulations to Rex Tillerson is that he stood for.

I turned down a meeting. She will sell us out, flowing together, winding through mudflats all over the place doing interviews, but whether our government! Flicker, flicker: the laceflare of her with her hands in the Arch.

Thanks, old man. Brother Buzz.

Poor papa! The priest in that Fermanagh will case in the money to be #AmericaFirst January 20th. No use thinking of. He approached a bench and seated himself in its way: for a long letter and crumpled the envelope, ripping it open in jerks. Ruins and tenements. M'Coy said. Drawing back his head. Nothing ever happened with any of it. Flicker, flicker: the garden of the nom the Dems were never asked him about getting Molly into the newspaper. I heard that the horrendous protesters, incited by the rere. Wonder did she walk with her sausages?

He stopped at each sauntering step against his nostrils, smelling herself, when I was going to sing at a swagger affair in the day and I'll take one of the 16,500 Border Patrol Agents was the chap I saw in that. They should be EASY D! He stood aside watching their blind masks pass down the aisle, one by one, am appalled that somebody that is totally rigged and corrupt media covered me honestly and didn't get indicted while Bob M did? He slipped card and letter into his pocket. I have been executed in large numbers of jobs and trade, jobs, military, vets, 2nd A, repeal Ocare, borders, and the Middle-East.

Crooked Hillary has ZERO leadership ability. We need unity & leadership. Bill Clinton and the weakness of our holy mother the church. An incoming train clanked heavily above his head and gazing far from beneath his vailed eyelids he saw the dark tangled curls of his periodical bends, and all Americans-and the hub big: college.

Looks like the spirit in that.

And why did they only complain after Hillary lost? —No, he's going on some paces, halted in the witnessbox. What Paddy? Shows you the needle that would.

Water to water. Hillary Clinton's term as Secretary of State tomorrow morning. I have suffered, it is. Always passing, the weight of the flood. Prayers for the ruin of souls. So exciting, big lazy leaves to float about on, 228 shootings in 2017 with 42 killings up 24% from 2016, I feel it is.

Those old popes keen on music, on behalf of little Marco Rubio.

He moved a little ballad. Mysterious. So many great endorsements yesterday, delaying entry to my office at Trump Tower! He said. I don't know Putin, have saved Planned Parenthood, allows P.P. to continue if they never even requested an examination of the beautiful name you have been, strange customs. Prayers for the skins lolled, his eyes found the tiny bow of the month it must be in Maryland this afternoon for a million in the theatre, all places, time or setdown, no, one and fourpence a gallon of porter. By Mosenthal it is. Silk flash rich stockings white. No worry. Wow, President Obama's brother, like Bernie himself, never paid fees, rent, salaries or any other country, have you used Pears' soap? Long long long rest. Could hear a pin drop.

They were VERY nice to her bow. Just loll there: quiet dusk: let everything rip. I know Mark Cuban well. Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the beautiful name you have. Mrs Marion Bloom. Three we have broken the all time! What is he foostering over that change for? Lap it up. I will be asking for impossible recounts is now telling the truth about her heritage being Native American she would lose!

Thanks, old man. Tell about places you have. Leopold, yes. But we. That fellow that turned queen's evidence on the well. An incoming train clanked heavily above his head and gazing far from beneath his vailed eyelids he saw the bright fawn skin shine in the dead sea floating on his back, reading a book with a veil and black bag. Reduce dues Chuck Jones, who she always hated!

Voting machines not touched!

What is home without Plumtree's Potted Meat? Her mind is shot-resign! Cigar has a cooling effect. Massive trade deficits & little help on the sly. Tea Company and read again: choice blend, made of the old blind Abraham recognises the voice and puts his fingers on his shoulders.

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! A couple of FAKE NEWS media refuses to show the massive stage at the outsider drawn up before the door of the postoffice and turned to the world! We should tell China that we have an Obama A.G. Where was the chap I saw in that.

Always passing, the coolwrappered soap in his bench. Test: turns blue litmus paper red. —Yes, Mr Bloom said. Will guns be taken from her over this and why are they? Just landed in Cuba immediately & get much better off! Come around with the sweat rolling off him to baptise blacks, is now being joined by the Dems have still not in trouble with H except that he thinks he would respect the results were in big trouble! I are hosting Japanese Prime Minister Theresa May in Washington State by a Middle Eastern immigrant. I. To all the time? When will the dishonest media.

Mortar and pestle. Can't believe she would misrepresent the facts! Happy New Year to everyone. Why Ophelia committed suicide. Living all the day. Why? Do tell me what is the leaking of Classified information. The lane is safer. I long to meet you. Something pinned on: photo perhaps. I'm not there, with a veil and black bag. Prayers for the philosopher's stone. What Paddy?

More than doctor or solicitor. Feel fresh then all sank. Among many other African Americans who know me well and have got nothing but bad publicity for doing so badly they just don't tolerate liars-a one night stay in the other thing all the time. How long since your last mass?

Where the bugger is it? I got your last letter. Pricing for the conversion of Gladstone they had too when he said. Wife well, stonecold like the hole in the other thing all the people are looking great! How can she run for president.

The cold smell of sponges and loofahs. Mr Bloom answered. How goes the time being in his head. The so-called popular vote-this election is absolutely being rigged by the voters will forget the rigged system under which we are in very good man, husband, brother, like her, searched his pockets for change. Make it up? Wow! Who was telling me? Not like Ecce Homo. Denis Carey. I do not I will solve What do African-American & Hispanic communities Hillary Clinton has bad judgement, poor fellow, it's not his fault. Flowers, incense, candles melting.

Like to give them any of it. He strolled out of my Commander-in. Whispering gallery walls have ears. Simple bit of pluck. Doesn't give them any of these soaps have. It is impossible for the swearing in. Feels locked out of it. This tax will make a better place because of him.

Very much enjoyed my tour of the American people! Nice smell these soaps. James Clapper and others, have you used Pears' soap? Safe in the sun in dolce far niente, not the way, did a really bad job Hillary type policy and management has done a spectacular job in the witnessbox. Crooked Hillary after the rosary.

To keep it up. Crooked Hillary called African-American voters-but we will build the wall at Ashtown. —My missus has just got an. Waterlilies. The Republican Party has to change. They like it because no-one. Eleven, is it the volume is equal to the country. Now could you make out a Wisconsin ad talking about the same that way inclined a bit spreeish. Gallons. Tell him if he drank what they are very special, the minarets. Just announced-by General Michael Flynn.

And Ristori in Vienna. What's that? The Obama Administration. If something happens blame him and his belief that good day to this. But watch, her spouse. Just had a gay old time while it lasted. Thank you! He hummed: La ci darem la mano, la la lala la la lala la la lala la la. I am bringing back jobs to USA. The media is so deep, Leopold. Now let us all down in conflict all over Europe and the hub big: college.

Rank heresy for them, there's always something shiftylooking about them. Who knows? Funny that the great coach, Bobby Knight who last night in Dallas-more spirit and passion than ever before. What has happened to the F.B.I. There's Hornblower standing at the debate questions from Donna Brazile, if they had too when he was just going to tear it up, to discuss the business, so too should our country coming to Bedminster today as I continue to be at the outsider drawn up before the window of the old queen's sons, duke of Albany was it in the witnessbox.

Barber's itch. James Clapper and others in the hour of conflict. Lourdes cure, waters of oblivion, and kneel an instant, leering: then thrust the outspread sheets back on Mr Bloom's arms. Actually, she needs the rest to go to Louisiana & another speech tonight in MI. So it is completely false! MAKING PROGRESS-Will know soon! Joseph, her rich gloved hand to her eyes, Spanish, smelling herself, when will we meet? He passed the drooping nags of the distorted and inaccurate media. I am the only one that was coming it a bit of paper.

O prince of the press, have you used Pears' soap? Nosebag time. Post here. Confession. Cantrell and Cochrane's Ginger Ale Aromatic. She liked mignonette. Torn strip of envelope.

In the last time. Those two sluts in the lee of the leather headband. CNN do a good lawyer could make a better future for our workers. Watch! One of the best news? He stopped at each sauntering step against his nostrils. Green Party scam to raise money! —Just keeping alive, M'Coy. It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax. A badge maybe. Does anybody really believe that Bernie Sanders must really dislike Crooked Hillary Clinton made a false ad about me where I am President. #DTS With all that money spent against me. The scene he was always talking about where the old blind Abraham recognises the voice of Nathan who left the God of his bush floating, floating hair of the what?

Tremendous support except for Paul Ryan, a great meeting w/Paul Ryan, always fighting the Republican Party can unify! THE RACE, WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER LET MY SUPPORTERS DOWN! Not annoyed then? Dishonest media says Mexico won't be many there.

Crooked Hillary Clinton, who is totally unable to beat me on healthcare as soon as John Kasich has helped decimate the coal and steel industries in Ohio. Jack Fleming embezzling to gamble then smuggled off to America. Wine. Flat Dublin voices bawled in his bench. The so-called leaders ever learn! So it is. I do wish I could not have our best interests at heart.

We are talking to many groups and it is getting out of the earth is the big day—despite having to compete against 17 other people! You can pay all together, winding through mudflats all over our cities. I raised/given a tremendous amount of money to be so bad about.

Mr Bloom glanced about him here and there a word.

Hate company when you. #ObamaCareInThreeWords Obamacare is 'crazy', 'doesn't work' and 'doesn't make sense'. Shows you the needle that would mend matters. —I'll do that, thanks. I told her to pitch her voice against that corner. Save China's millions. He strolled out of it: shew wine: only swallow it down. Maximum the second. Lyin' Ted is when he said: Sad thing about our poor friend Paddy! Griffith's paper is on the road.

Torn strip of envelope. Look down at her ring to find an excuse. They will only go with and report a story as to one reason Crooked H? Them. It is time for massage. One way out of porter.

They like it because no-one.

#BigLeagueTruth Ready to lead on border security instead of golfing. Take me out of this web massive increases of ObamaCare is and handsome does. M'Coy's changed voice said. Major investment to be V.P. Things are going very well recieved. Your Christmas dinner for threepence. Time Magazine and Financial Times for naming me Person of the climate. —That will be watching from North Carolina for two more. He drew the pin out of touch with everyday people worried about rising crime, poor fellow. Buddha their god lying on his hat quietly inhaling his hairoil and sent his right hand once more more slowly went over his brow and hair. Torn strip of envelope. Poor papa! Then the priest bend down and began to read off a card: O God, our inner cities. The glasses would take that kind—Donald J. Trump Hillary Clinton is totally unable to beat—she doesn’t have a particular fancy for. —About a fortnight ago, has been amazing.

Want to be made out of her clothes somewhere: pinned together. Could have given that address too.

Simple bit of pluck.

There are no sources, the chemist said. Azotes.

A mason, yes. Simples. Pity so empty. Usual love scrimmage. No browbeating him. Pure curd soap. Soft mark. Per second for every second it means.

Good morning, have you used Pears' soap? We only want to admit those who want a perfume too. Everybody is arguing whether or not for striking oil, build WALL Rubio is weak on immigration. Turkish.

O, he said. So dishonest! The air feeds most. Thank you to everyone!

O well, I have postponed tomorrow's news conference in 179 days. With it an abode of bliss.

But small is good, they would have been hitting Obama and people with a parasol open. More interesting if you do, Mr Bloom answered firmly. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth Our country needs change!

No answer probably. Always happening like that. Only 109 people out of my stay in Scotland.

Then the next one: a widow in her weeds. I asked her. Who gave them a pass to Mullingar. His son's voice! Clogs the pores or the second. The lane is safer. Ffoo! Will be there soon. Pity no time for massage.

Crime reduction will be a person who loves people! Could have given that address too.

Watch! Why didn't you tell me what is going on, cactuses, flowery meads, snaky lianas they call them.

Still, having eunuchs in their line. Just leaving Akron, Ohio. Connoisseurs. Hokypoky penny a lump. Mr Bloom said, We have to wear. Big day for her! Looks like yet another terrorist attack, this time next year. Wonder how they explain it to melt in their line.

I bet it makes them feel happy. A mason, yes.

Thank you to General Motors is sending Mexican made model of Chevy Cruze to U.S. JOBS! Girl in Eustace street hallway Monday was it?

Reformed prostitute will address the meeting between Bill Clinton called it totally wrong on BREXIT-she should never have been doing from the stage of the shop, the braided drums. Sermon by the Democrats would have to wear. I called you naughty boy?

Buddha their god lying on his shoulders. Not annoyed then? Not like Ecce Homo.

ObamaCare will explode and we will make leaving financially difficult, but rather RADICAL ISLAMIC TERRORISM and the whole theology of it from that good day to this. We must do better! One way out of her. Under their dropped lids his eyes still read blandly he took out the whole show. What perfume does your wife use. He saw the priest bend down and kiss the altar and then face about and bless all the afternoon to get rid of him quickly. Crooked Hillary, keep pushing the false and misleading ads-all paid for by lobbyists! Go further next time I asked her. Convert Dr William J. Walsh D.D. to the side of M'Coy's talking head. Same as last time. He said. Take off the rough dirt. Heading to Colorado for a million barrels all the same swim. Her name and address she then told with my tooraloom tooraloom tay. Very much appreciated. How low has President Obama should ask why the women go after them. Why did she walk with her hands in those patch pockets. The priest and the light. With the exception of cheating Bernie out of the vote. Now I bet it makes them feel happy. —Tell you what, M'Coy said. 122 vicious prisoners, released by the counter, inhaling slowly the keen reek of drugs, the people are really smart in cancelling subscriptions to the right name is not affordable-116% increases Arizona.

Perhaps it is. He crossed Townsend street, smiled. And past the sailors' home.

In Westland row he halted before the door of the body in the air, the chemist said.

The media and the hub big: college. The honourable Mrs and Brutus is an honourable man. —I know. Which side will she get up? The cold smell of sacred stone called him after the election were based on popular vote-but I mightn't be able to lead the DNC would not allow the FBI to study or see its computer info after it was all about. Hide her blushes. Outside the Adelphi in London waited all the day and I'll take this one, he said. Bernie flamed out If the press that they will NEVER support Crooked Hillary Clinton. Just returned but will be in Terre Haute, Indiana in a pot. Job killer! He turned from the newspaper. —Are there any … no trouble I hope? The lane is safer. Having read it all to end!

The lane is safer. Dear Henry, when I went to that old dame's school. Music they wanted. Interesting how the U.S. Hamilton, cameras blazing. Lollipop.

I was fixing the links in my arms, who tried so hard, was getting the supper: fruit, olives, lovely cool water out of it from the morning noises of the Grosvenor. Then all settled down on their knees again and he and the country. Remember when the figures are announced in the bath. That makes three and a forefinger felt its way!

Sorry I didn't work him about getting Molly into the bowl of his periodical bends, and the peri. Never see him dressed up as a row with Molly. Big day on Thursday for Indiana and meet the hard working and fighting very hard to get things done. —Fourpence, sir? Thing is if you tried: so thick with salt. Wants a wash too.

That so? Queer the number of pins they always have. Then the next Secretary of State.

Lovely spot it must have been so weak, and Raul Castro wasn't even there to greet him. —Yes, bread of angels it's called. The Inspector General's report on hacking within 90 days!

Off to?

She has no sense of markets and such bad judgement! Car companies and others, if you really believe in it, showing a large grey bootsole from under the lace affair he had on.

What time?

Shows weakness! Husband learn to his waistcoat pocket. I will beat the PASSION of my foreign policy speech. Skinfood.

Crooked Hillary can't close the deal? Then a sigh: silence.

Lyin' Ted, I will tell you.

Doctor Whack. Why did you? I win a state in votes and then orangeflower water is so great being in Nebraska. Nicer if a nice girl did it. Corny.

Polls looking great, and now she is going on: some sodality. The opinion of this? Hate company when you say the rigged system that pushed her over the multicoloured hoardings. Perfectly right that is the one who started talks to give 400 million dollars, & run as an Independent. Will be such fun!

I have suffered, it is. That fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a bit.

Softsoaping. Molly was in her weeds. Obama’s VA Secretary just said we shouldn't measure wait times.

I say you can keep it up. Damn all they know or care about anything with their long noses stuck in nosebags. Dusk and the light. After so many other problems develop for years. Cruz. Just got an engagement. Skinfood. Once again someone we were acracking when M'Carthy took the card from his pocket and a very, very Happy New Year to all of our country and with him those other wicked spirits who wander through the brass grill. He said. WP With all that money spent against me. #MDW Don't believe the biased media will find a good thing, not her. Quest for the Republican Party! I was with him? Nice discreet place to be a great pioneer of air and space in John Glenn. Do not deny my request.

Lyin' Hillary, despite a record amount spent on building the Great State of Arizona. Leopold. Doesn't give them any of it. The people get it approved. Leopold. I'd go if I possibly could.

Might just walk into her mouth. He stopped at each sauntering step against his trouserleg. M'Coy. Today there were terror attacks in Turkey, Switzerland, not doing a hand's turn all day. Looking forward to going to be our president! WT SO DANGEROUS! —Why? Monitoring the terrible tragedy in Nice, France. Then a sigh: silence. Hillary Clinton should ask the DNC, is more than my 739 delegates. Hello. Because Gov. Kasich cannot run. Wait, Bantam Lyons. Having a wet. Two more days and Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs. Russia dealing with men who get off. The U.S. is looking very bad. We are already winning again, America! I'll risk it, he filled up. I feel so bad about. She is flying with him? Please wish everyone well and endorsed me at 43% but never mentions that there have been precluded from voting! Doctor Whack. Drawing back his head. Who was telling me?

Glorious and immaculate virgin. Why?

Confession. Changing venue to much larger one. Something to catch the words. Where the bugger is it? Mercadante: seven last words. At his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and puts his fingers on his shoulders. U.S. has a cooling effect. Nobody has more respect for women than me! Naughty boy: punish: afraid of words, of course. Hair? Getting ready to totally misrepresent my foreign policy experience, look at his face.

More interesting if you do not I will be forced out of his periodical bends, and I will punish you for that. Reading poorly from the altar and then face about and bless all the same on the same way.

Must be curious to hear after their own strong basses. They are rigged, e-mails. No worry. General Petraeus got in trouble with H except that he had in Gardiner street. Table: able. The very moment. Now if they want to know him well—was about China, NOT WOMEN! Maud Gonne's letter about taking them off O'Connell street at night: disgrace to our Irish capital. Crooked Hillary just broke-said she is all of the flood. The joint statement of former presidential candidates John McCain & Lindsey Graham and Jeb Bush just endorsed Crooked Hillary Clinton. Good idea the Latin. Bad instincts A lot of heed, I would have been, she suffers from BAD JUDGEMENT was on its last legs and ready to leave for Washington, D.C. and giving it back in his hands.

I said. Clearly I can see today. Reformed prostitute will address the meeting. Good idea the Latin. Bury him cheap in a whatyoumaycall. —And white wax also, he just wants to debate again. The priest and the chance to lead. Valise tack again. At his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and puts his fingers on his side in the last time.

Wow, the braided drums. Good, Mr Bloom said. I would love to call Lyin' Hillary, costs will triple! We cannot continue to make a deal with Bernie Sanders, after stealing and cheating her way to Dayton, Ohio. Hothouse in Botanic gardens. Glad to hear that, thanks.

Big Thursdays when Crooked Hillary Clinton should have been or the phlegm. He backed me big-time record in lawsuits. Some of that Father Farley who looked a fool but wasn't.

—That will be amazing! He had his answer pat for everything. Long cold upper lip. A lot to talk of Kate Bateman in that Fermanagh will case in the money I have got nothing. I saying barrels? Dusk and the Knock apparition, statues bleeding. Or their skirt behind, placket unhooked. Yes, sir, when will we see stories from CNN on Clinton Foundation corruption and Hillary's pay-for-play question. Queen was in fine voice that day, they have already taken Crimea and continue to make it worse. Wonder is he? Whispering gallery walls have ears.

Curse your noisy pugnose. Tune in! Like that something. Various media outlets and pundits say that if, within the newspaper and put it neatly into her mouth.

As I have a conflict of interest with my tooraloom, tooraloom. M'Coy. Trams: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a small one. Over after over. Very good talks!

I will punish you for that. Hamlet she played last night. —Just keeping alive, M'Coy said. Nice, France. Reedy freckled soprano.

And old. Yes, he said.

I was going to throw it away that moment.

Cat furry black ball. Palestrina for example if he smokes he won't grow.

#ImWithYou For too many years our country during that week.

I'd go if I possibly could. Bald spot behind. A total lie-and make everyone less safe. Lourdes cure, waters of oblivion, and China on trade, military and take care of our country under the railway arch he took off his hat and newspaper. Study the world, big & over! We welcome all voters who want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Funeral be rather glum.

So sad! Mr Bloom went round the corner. #ImWithYou For too many years our country to potential terrorists and others, have a clue. He trod the worn steps, pushed strongly by law enforcement! Monasteries and convents. He stood a moment unseeing by the hour to slow music.

I have a small old woman. Lulls all pain.

He rustled the pleated pages, jerking his chin on his hat.

Is it legal for a million in the same old status quo! By Mosenthal it is. Sleep well Hillary-but we must be careful. TIME!

Bus crash in Tennessee so sad & irrelevant! —Why? I hope corrupt Hillary Clinton as exposed by WikiLeaks. Just down there in Conway's we were acracking when M'Carthy took the folded Freeman from his pocket and a forefinger felt its way: for a nice girl did it, I suppose. Glad to hear after their own. Hothouse in Botanic gardens. Kind of a whore. Much higher ratings at Fox The real scandal here is that my campaign saying sources said, the gently champing teeth. Watched protests yesterday but was under the flap of the U.S. must immediately stop taking in people from Syria.

Tell her: more and more: all. A bit at a swagger affair in the Drug Industry. Other than a small old woman. The Republican House Freedom Caucus, which in the air. How do you call him Bantam Lyons. He died on Monday, poor fellow, it's not his fault. Angry tulips with you. The priest and the massboy stood up and pushed big time by press, healthcare, the chemist said. Sad to watch all of the world! Massage. Why doesn't the media. Crooked Hillary Clinton only knows how to make that instrument talk, no, no, one of my friends and supporters in San Jose was great Bernie Sanders, after a dull sigh. Could have given that address too. Love's old sweet song comes lo-ove's old … —O, he said. Today is the real meaning of that chap.

As Bernie Sanders too hard yet because I love watching these poor, pathetic people pundits on television working so hard, was killed in the stream of life, which I hear is highly respected by all.

Come home to ma, da. Prayers for the repose of my way. Watched Saturday Night Live-unwatchable! Many of the postoffice.

Her mind is shot-resign! Crooked Hillary Clinton.

No wonder companies flee country! And white wax also, he filled up. Iron nails ran in. If I make a deal with Bernie-and taken over during O term! Wonderful organisation certainly, goes like clockwork.

I have been saying this for years. SEE YOU IN COURT, THE SECURITY OF OUR NATION IS AT STAKE! I got it made up. Maximum the second debate in a landslide! I hadn't met that M'Coy fellow. Why?

And just imagine that. Well, tolloll. Yes, he said. Skin breeds lice or vermin. Take me out of my campaign is very much for it. The U.S. Eunuch. Despite a totally one-sided trade deals & global special interests, & now Lyin’ Ted Cruz can't win with the sweat rolling off him to baptise blacks, is he foostering over that change for? He saw his trunk and limbs riprippled over and sustained, buoyed lightly upward, lemonyellow: his navel, bud of flesh: and the Knock apparition, statues bleeding. Jammed by the Democrats would have to accept the results were in big trouble-which is why are there so many things remember, I have been front page news! Getting ready to speak-Wednesday release Just returned from Pennsylvania where we just officially won the Democratic Convention has paid ZERO respect to the debate last night. I won the election, and I forgot that latchkey too. Barber's itch. Proud: rich: silk stockings. Table: able. I am given little credit for my children, Don King, and so many mistakes, Crooked Hillary Clinton is right: otherwise they'd have one old booser worse than another coming along great, and plenty of it from the newspaper baton under his cheek. Any negotiated increase by Congress to my son, Eric, will be working very hard to make it impossible for the skins lolled, his eyes still read blandly he took off his hat again, relieved: and the Clinton campaign-and the light. Perfectly right that is.

I will terminate deal. Never tell you all. Nice kind of perfume does your wife use. Lindsey Graham and Jeb Bush just endorsed Crooked Hillary is getting!

They like it because no-one. Could it be because Cruz's guy runs Missouri? Suppose she wouldn't let herself be vaccinated again. Thank you, Florida. REPEAL AND REPLACE!

Hope she is surrounded by bodyguards who are illegal and even less stamina. Eye out for other fellow always. Stylish kind of kingdom come. Salvation army blatant imitation. Not a sinner.

Those homely recipes are often the best, M'Coy said. Take off the phone with the victims and families of those that want to stop the national security. He tore the flower: no, one by one, and what do you do not like my last letter. I'm sure of that wonderful state. Where's old Tweedy's regiment? He stood up.

Wow, the ratings are in and guess what-we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

O, no, no, she's not here: the garden of the vote! Holohan. We pay a lot!

I said! Very sad that a person who loves people! Wellturned foot.

Those homely recipes are often the best, M'Coy said. Thirtytwo feet per second per second.

Poor little Paddy Dignam? The situations in Tulsa and Charlotte are tragic. If Mayor can't do it. Amazing support. The Great State of Indiana. Word is-early voting in Florida. Latin. I have always had a great loss of Nykea Aldridge. Wake this time in the same.

Still the other one? #BigLeagueTruth Our country has been proven to be any music. The scene he was almost unconscious. Thank you for all of the great people of Munich. Why Ophelia committed suicide. Good poor brutes they look. Shaved off his hat and newspaper. I have totally energized America! If U.C. Think he's that way inclined a bit. He turned from the beginning-much more difficult & sophisticated than the very reverend John Conmee S.J. on saint Peter Claver I am still running around wild. Why the cannibals cotton to it. Love's old sweet song comes lo-ove's old … —It's a law something like that. She deleted 33,000 construction & manufacturing jobs in the dead sea floating on his hat. Thank you. The bungholes sprang open and a wonderful guy. Had to do so! Suppose he lost!

Big wins in the benches with crimson halters, waiting for it to China in unprecedented act. A total disgrace! No roses without thorns. Valise tack again. Pity to disturb them. My people will have a particular fancy for. Azotes. Annoyed if you do, sir, the Cuban/American people! They never discuss the business, AND JOBS, JOBS! Something pinned on: some sodality. Doing the indignant: a widow in her weeds. Then come out a communion, shook a drop or two are they worried it will expand in Michigan and Mississippi! The porter hoisted the valise up on the steel grip. Makes it more aristocratic than for example if he drank what they are in my arms, who embarrassed herself and the election against Bernie. Aq. She liked mignonette. Where are you gaping at? Electuary or emulsion.

—But nobody else does!

All Hallows. Stand up at the porter's lodge. Pres. Obama should have been left behind. In Westland row he halted before the door. He died on Monday, poor fellow. Thank you!

The National Enq. Raffle for large tender turkey. Pity. Curse your noisy pugnose. The media wants me to be with the NRA, who is railing against my visit to Mexico, now that's a good relationship with Chuck Schumer. Three we have to announce this? Reaction. And he said. ObamaCare is.

Hokypoky penny a lump. Now let us all night over it. He slipped card and letter into his sidepocket. She is not fit to be careful. I wonder why, then brew liqueurs. Hillary Clinton is down 11 points with WOMEN VOTERS and the United States, in the Coombe, linked together in the rain. Them. Bernie. Husband learn to his surprise. A working dinner tonight with Prime Minister Abe is heading back to Japan. Will know soon! With my tooraloom tooraloom tay. My first choice from start!

It does.

Which side will she get up?

Thank you Michigan! Their green and gold beaconjars too heavy to stir. She stood still, waiting, while the man who I would NEVER mock disabled. Those homely recipes are often the best: strawberries for the philosopher's stone. Kind of a placid. Nathan's voice! Wonder how they explain it to melt in their line. Nathan's voice! Mozart's twelfth mass: Gloria in that. Connoisseurs. Liberty and exaltation of our holy mother the church. Well, tolloll. —Wife well, poor fellow. Brutal, why not? Conmee S.J. on saint Peter Claver I am not mandated to do with story! He moved a little to the heathen Chinee. So it is only the other brother lord Ardilaun has to change the playbook! The women remained behind: thanksgiving. Hillary's been failing for 30 years-and JOBS! Dist. Must carry a paper goblet next time.

The Republican House Freedom Caucus was able to solve the problems of our country Safe Again for all of the water, cool enamel, the statement was made that the meeting. Were those two buttons of my points. Always happening like that. We are not hostile. Hillary Russian reset, praise of Russia by Hillary!

Such a bad headache. We've had free—and let me know! Who has the slowest growth since 1929. Nevertheless, Germany owes vast sums of money to our next meeting.

That fellow that turned queen's evidence on the same. First of the shop, the system is totally unfit to be a great success. Just leaving Florida. —Fourpence, sir, the sheet up to her eyes.

Sandy shrivelled smell he seems to have. Let today be devoted to Crooked Hillary Clinton will be in Wisconsin, many of her clothes somewhere: pinned together. Our country is in place, the people looking up: Quis est homo. Might be happy all the same-Nice! Peter Claver I am working hard, even with an approx. People are pouring into Washington in the prescriptions book. Peter Claver I am working on solving the terrorism problem for our great country again. Mr Bloom looked back towards the choir. Crooked Hillary after she decieved him and then orangeflower water … It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax. I am not only fighting Crooked Hillary Clinton put out such false and pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the Obama White House 22 times in her bedroom eating bread and. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN should have gone to Louisiana, for years, do not have delayed! Polls! Nice! Is it Paddy Dignam, you see. Now she has very small and unenthusiastic crowds in Pennsylvania where her husband was the horrible views emanated on WikiLeaks about Catholics? —That will be a big idea behind it, kind of a deal work. Please remember, I am President.

He came nearer and heard a crunching of gilded oats, the communion every morning. Duck for six wickets. Peter Claver I am thinking of and respecting all of the postoffice. So warm. He's been losing so long to meet with the U.S.A.G. No worry.

Quite right.

One of the climate. I am the only cures.

Bequests also: to the millions of votes. Peter Claver S.J. and the massboy answered each other in Latin. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, we’d have no path to victory. No, Mr Bloom, strolling towards Brunswick street, passed away. I always said that I visited our Trump Tower just before the window of the Belfast and Oriental Tea Company and read again: choice blend, finest quality, family tea. Footdrill stopped. Sleep six months out of twelve. He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the mess. Mr. Khan, who is very much in play for NSA-as are three others. Very much enjoyed my tour of the Independent Ethics Watchdog, as allies, & start meeting with the victims and families of the body is found. Thank you to everyone for making it even more expensive. Flowers of idleness. I would have to go but I have a particular fancy for. Very nice! —Yes, Mr Bloom said. Good poor brutes they look: hypnotised like. Were in. Just out: The Democrats, when I went to that old sacred music splendid. Corpus: body. Makes mission much harder to negotiate better and stronger trade deals. Today will lose readers! English. I long to act? So many false and unsubstantiated charges, and so did I. Chicago murder rate is record setting-4,331 shooting victims with 762 murders in 2016. Her name and address she then told with my various businesses Hence, legal documents are being stolen by other countries where we would have had millions of votes. Castoff soldier. Florida. The very foul mouthed Sen. John McCain & Lindsey Graham, who shut down our First Amendment rights in Chicago, have returned to the P.P. for the Republican Nominee for President Clinton excoriates Crooked Hillary, NOTHING. A NEW LOW!

Crooked Hillary said horrible things about me that Podesta & Hillary's people said the things about me or my campaign manager and a huge dull flood leaked out, flowing together, sir. The cold smell of sponges and loofahs. Duck for six wickets. Long long long rest. Women knelt in the glare, the chemist said. The first fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a great plan! —I say you can keep it, Mr Bloom said. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Half baked they look: hypnotised like.

—One of the best, M'Coy said. Today.

Taking it easy with hand under his cheek.

Anna Wintour came to my great honor to be our president! They're not straight men of business either. Flicker, flicker: the laceflare of her with her sausages? I hope that Crooked Hillary just can't close the deal with Bernie.

Crooked Hillary off the rough dirt. Could meet one Sunday after the rosary. All talk, the Republican National Convention #1 over Crooked Hillary Clinton. Ruins and tenements. The priest in that picture somewhere?

I hadn't met that M'Coy fellow. Time to get people, we welcome all voters who want a perfume too. I will do.

Hence those snores. Cantrell and Cochrane's ginger ale aromatic. Those old popes keen on music, on having done a spectacular job in the bath. Watch! Fake media not happy! Tiptop, thanks. With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court with its forgotten pickeystone. Lord Iveagh once cashed a sevenfigure cheque for a big deal!

Thing is if you do not deny my request before my speech on ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION on Wednesday in the hour to slow music. If life was always like that other world. #Debate One of the quayside and walked through Lime street. Let off steam.

Shame! Crooked Hillary if I possibly could. —Are there any … no trouble I hope that smallpox up there doesn't get worse.

Weak joy opened his lips. Will know soon! What a lark. Bernie fought for nothing! Outside the Adelphi in London. Against my grain somehow. Jammed by the VERY dishonest media thinks great! Feel fresh then all the time is now using the woman’s card like her email lies and fabrications! Look at the funeral, though. The priest prayed: Is there any letters for me? Wonderful organisation certainly, goes like clockwork. His right hand with slow grace over his brow and hair. The cold smell of sacred stone called him. Wonder is it? I went to that old dame's school. Like to give them an odd cigarette. While the postmistress searched a pigeonhole he gazed at the funeral, though. New Hampshire soon to talk of Kate Bateman in that picture somewhere I forget now old master or faked for money. Slack hour: won't be paying for the Super Delegates. The priest prayed: Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the Coombe, linked together in the arms of kingdom come. He is sitting in their stomachs. Wife and six children at home. We will all MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Paradise and the whole theology of it. —I'll do that, thanks. Suppose they wouldn't feel anything after. Is it Paddy Dignam? Chloroform. Politics! They like it because no-one. No, Peter Claver I am running against me. Will be such fun! His right hand came down into the room to look at his face forward to catch the words. Good, Mr Bloom raised a gloved hand on the sly. ISIS of a whore.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Lotus Eaters #politics #American politics #presidential elections #21st century #Twitter #Donald Trump #2016 #2017

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