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blankdblank · 5 years

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Loki Baby

Prompt wk 16 - “If the stars fell from the sky, it is because they are weeping because I received your love and they did not.”

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars

X Loki - @pastelhexmaniac

@sdavid09

This is pt 1 of my Sugar Baby Loki series, please let me know what you think :D

...

A knock was all it took and the loud announcement of company had brought the highly disturbed, bruised and disguised Prince off his stolen couch to the door opening his stolen duplex to the stormy night. Drenched from the rain his eyes settled on a wispy young woman with doe eyes whose shade were hidden by the shadows of the cover of his porch. In a flash of lightning her arms were around his neck and tightly she clung to him sending his eyes straight to the lurking man faking disinterest in her path to linger on the curb. “Sugar! Sorry I’m so late.” She cried out lovingly, and lowly against his ear she whispered, “He’s been behind me for five blocks, Jimmy.”

Tightly his arm draped around her back carrying her inside the doorway he closed behind her. A full week he had been on this cursed planet and it seemed all he could be on this planet could be was a murderer in the shadows. Already he had settled the first stage of his plan, he had stolen one of SHIELD’s best and had used him to his advantage with a disguise of his own to handle a few matters of his own choosing. Another well to do agent who was conveniently transported well out of sight in an illusion to disguise him and befuddle his brain until his mission was through.

He needed to wake this planet up to what was coming, who was coming, and to do that blood would be shed. He would no doubt be the villain for ages to come yet in his plotting and planning he did not expect this. A woman there was no sign of in his alias’ life before tonight had clung to him so tightly, a loving embrace he had only dreamed of until now as his place on Asgard had left him little chance at courting when all the romantic attentions seemed to center around him to simply get to Thor. Setting her down a sheepish thanks was offered and an explanation was given in her stroll through his apartment to the second floor to use their shared balcony she climbed over the dividing wall to let herself inside after another weary thanks.

That was it, she was gone and to repay her trust when that front door had closed a double of himself had been sent and not three blocks later the man had been snatched and gutted then left to bleed out in the vanishing of the double. A few glimpses were had after that encounter and then suddenly he was a prisoner and Public Enemy Number One, no turning back now, and surely had she known just who she had embraced the tale would have gone differently, that door opening would have sent her fleeing to the predator behind her. Yet he still held to that moment to remind himself the man his mother had raised was still breathing and his heart still beating firmly in his chest hoping that one day he might earn that trust without a disguise from someone so innocent.

.. ** ..

Clinks of glass echoed in this chatter filled gala being held in Stark Tower. In a suit Loki stood with a champagne flute in his hand faking a smile as he listened to Stark and his pompous speech about bettering the world and rebuilding this town into a better future hopefully to spread through the world. That involved a united front, including from the former dark Prince who had little choice in the matter. On Asgard he had free reign, a title actually worth something with a lavish setting he was entitled to by birth, and now what was he, nothing, nobody, groveling for anything past what Stark decided he deserved for his supposed ��good behavior.’ He could squash him, skin him, slice him open right here or just trigger a riot effortlessly that could ruin his night and land him shoved off the balcony he loved to stargaze on each night without so much as a touch or word to the fragile little man.

The toast was given and just like always as he turned the crowds split away from him. This was nothing like home where he was given acknowledgement as their Prince and then avoided after, here not so much as a glance was cast to him in his approach but always to his back and to keep his allowance and privileges he behaved. He bit his tongue and did anything but what he greatly ached to. And made his way straight for the glass enclosed study straight for the book case where he could both behave and using a double to fake mingling he could shield himself while he read from the pitiful selection offered here far from peaking his imagination or interest past getting him through this tedious event.

Inside the glass enclosure a striking yellow clad figure turning to face him at the opening of the glass door letting the sound into the enclosed space with a small book resting open in her palm. “If the stars fell from the sky, it is because they are weeping because I received your love and they did not.” She recited under her breath, as if it triggered a memory of someone, from the book she closed and eased into her clutch clearly having been brought from home at the lack of any good poetry in Stark’s collection.

Glowing, absolutely glowing purple eyes fell on him and a smirk tugged those red painted full lips accenting an innocently pleased expression on the face of this stranger, all for him. Yet in the back of his mind he could sense Thor’s place near the bar with a full fleet of women clamoring to steal pictures and touches of the God in their presence they all ached to bed. Shoving that thought back a quick grin flashed across his face looking her over, taking in the low dipping short sleeved yellow figure hugging mermaid style silk dress just begging to be stripped off, a sentiment shared by countless men here tonight all hoping for the chance.

Again she spoke, but this time to him, “Thought I might catch you here.”

“Me? And just what might you have expected from this encounter, Miss?”

“Pear.” Again that dazzling smile he was certain many had seen on his own face to charm others into doing what he wanted. The knot in his stomach eased a bit in the first step she took closer to him sending her loose raven curls laying down her back and left cheek to sway gently in the motion. “Nothing past a simple solution to an observation of mine.”

“Oh? And what observation might that be?”

“Stark seems to be playing a terrible bluff on his dealt hand pretending he could use you as his puppet.” Loki’s brow inched up and she said, “I know Stark, have for years, and I know that look and tone when he finds a new plaything.”

“I am no plaything.”

With a breathy chuckle she stepped closer again with hands folded around her clutch behind her back, “Exactly, and perhaps you should prove that to him.”

In a tilt of his chin again he looked her over and asked, “How, pray tell, would you suggest I do that, Miss Pear?”

“If you ever get tired of playing nice with big brother’s friends you can give me a call.” A cell phone was offered, a sleek touch screen with a silver flip case his eyes dropped to, in her next step closer he felt Stark’s eyes on him as his hand folded around the phone and she softly added beside him, “My number’s saved under ‘home’, we can meet up for coffee, talk it over.” In her nearness and a whiff of her perfume had him wetting his lips in her step past him, “Enjoy your night, Prince Loki. It was a pleasure.”

Out the door she went, and he was left in the room, turning to catch Stark’s silent brow raise urging him to get back out and schmooze, the clear phone in his pocket assigned to him from Stark buzzing in a message directing him towards one of the guests. Years of pent up irritation had finally cracked to the surface and in a reach into his pocket he grabbed the phone he tossed onto the lounge a few feet away furrowing Tony’s brows in his zap down to the lobby. Everything, what little luxuries he had he was throwing into the wind and as the elevator doors opened his eyes rose to fall on that same woman again as he sent off the text he had composed. Her eyes lowered to the phone in her hand reading, ‘Care for coffee?’

Again her bright eyes were on him and he felt his heart skip, only twice he’d felt this and both times he knew it meant his world was about to change drastically. Exiting the elevator his eyes dropped to watch the tempting stroll closer to him stirring up an ache to drape his arm dangerously low on her side announcing she was not up for taking. Clearly this was a game of one predator circling he other, both wanting something and it wouldn’t be long until he would uncover just what she was aiming for out of him.

Her smirk returned and his eyes traced her lips then rose to those same eyes again, “And here I pictured you meeting me in the elevator,” with a nod she let out another weak chuckle, “I think I prefer your idea.”

Unable to help it he smirked and turned in his step back with his elbow extended her hand gently eased under for the walk across the lobby and out to the street where a sleek car was waiting for the pair of them the driver opened the door on she climbed inside with Loki sliding in after her. On the leather seat he settled back then looked her over as she settled her skirt around her legs with her clutch on her lap while he pocketed his new phone and he couldn’t wait any more and had to ask, “Just what was your idea on besting Stark?”

Her eyes fell on him and she shifted ever so slightly, letting him know he had her full attention in the starting of the car. “Stark imagines himself to be the only one with vast resources, though why he imagines that he could take a man who could rouse an army of thousands to attack this planet and treat him with anything but the respect he deserves is lost to me.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Miss Pear.” He replied coolly.

Her smile split across her face nearly making him forget to breathe at its sudden appearance, “Trust me, if I was flattering you we would both be impossibly uncomfortable,” his brow inched up, “I don’t do flattery. It is a fact, and I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable but I would prefer to be completely honest with you so you can choose based on all the details.”

“What exactly would I be choosing between?”

“To be blunt, me or Stark.”

“Pertaining to what, exactly?”

“Well, I’m certainly not part of any superhero team signing you up to be my next big bad boy of the team to promote, simply a trade of one home and financial backer to see you far more comfortably through your days on earth until you decide to go home to be a full time Prince again.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, “Financial backer?”

She nodded, “Exactly. Instead of living in Stark Tower you would be staying in my home and would be able to live far more comfortably with very few favors in return.”

He nodded in a sharp inhale, “Ah, there it is, favors. What favors would I be doing?”

“I tend to be saddled with a number of social engagements I could use a body to fill my plus one.”

“That is all?”

Her lips pursed for a moment, “I also tend to be need a male to be around when I get anything done relating to repairs. Not for actual consulting but to actually be spoken to like a human being of some value instead of being talked down to.”

“That’s it? I just, wait around for you to take me out on the town?”

His tone elevated slightly, which she deflated by saying, “Quite the contrary. Unlike Stark that phone has no tracker or spy gear to snoop on you, no appointments dropped on you out of thin air. Each event would be decided on in advance, by you, when you feel comfortable, and anytime you feel uncomfortable you are free to change your mind, with no consequences or retaliations. You would have your own suite, kitchen, study, living room, bedroom clearly, and even balcony to relax in and decorate to your taste.”

“That is all? Nothing else?”

She shook her head, “You would be free to do as you wish.”

“Within reason you mean?”

She shook her head, “Doubt me all you wish, I’ll prove it to you. I think we could be good friends.”

“Friends?” He asked in a testing tone.

With a smirk she giggled back, “Well trust me I wouldn’t go looking to a Prince to be my own personal hooker.”

His lips parted then closed in his glance towards the window asking, “Where are we going?”

“My home,” the flash of a muddle of emotions flashed in his eyes and she replied, “Nothing is forced, just an inspection to give you the full disclosure like I promised. I’ll have you driven back after, nothing has to be chosen today, take it all in and think it over, and if Tony gives you a hard time just tell him I needed someone to help me with a delivery of my new fridge.”

“How far is this house of yours?”

“Fifth Avenue, not far, a decent distance for you to have your own space from Thor but not too far that he can’t visit.” Her head tilted for a moment, “Not counting the fact that he can fly of course.” Her eyes looked him over, “Can you fly?”

“No. Is that a problem?” He asked with a questioning glint in his eyes.

She shook her head, “No. All I can picture is people who can hovering in their sleep.”

A surprising chuckle left the Prince and he glanced out the window again seeing the buildings swapping from mostly glass to stone with townhouses spreading down the street on both sides. “Is this what you do then? Rescue people from Stark?”

His eyes forcibly off her, focusing on her tone and sound of her breathing to catch any hitch or alter in its pace, “No. You would be the first. Since he named himself as Iron Man he’s changed. I would assume he’s more terrified of what you know that he doesn’t fueling his urge to have something held over you.”

Instinct for him kicked in and he fired back, “And just what would you hold over me?”

Without missing a beat she responded making him turn his head stunned he hadn’t spoiled her mood in continuing to offer him the odd deal, “An umbrella most likely if it’s raining. I doubt I could reach over your head without a stick for much else.” She giggled again and stated, “It is a lot in one day, if you accept it will take time for you to adjust and trust me. If not,” she shrugged, “At least you have a story to tell of another foolish person when you get back home.”

The car came to a stop and he looked out the window up at the coral and white townhouse standing eight stories with a doorman exiting to open the door for you both who nodded his head to Loki when he spotted him. Loki exited first, adjusted his jacket then turned to offer you his hand for your exit. In which he watched you release your skirt making the dress settle around your legs again only to sway in your stroll to the front door as the car door was shut and the car took off to go park in the garage around the side of the building.

The main lobby sat open when the doorman held the door open for you he had unlocked, the marble checkered floor stretched through the vast floor with a counter manned by a suit clad man watching your stroll to the curved staircase leading up to the second floor. There Loki eyed the in home gym across from what appeared to be a spa area, tables as if for a masseuse and stations set up for manicures and pedicures on the other side of a steam room and bathroom.

Up to the glass elevator you walked and both settled just a breath away from the back wall peering out through the next two floors parting his lips at the library filling both of them. Above that again you were in a bare floor with white walls and runner carpets across the polished wood floors, scattered desks coated in a few decorations and paintings with a pair of doorways at opposite ends. Pointing to the left she said, “This would be yours. It’s a full three stories with a communal greenhouse on the fourth.”

He silently followed behind her the doorway opened into a vast room with a kitchen on the left fully stocked with appliances he might need with a laundry room on the other side of the empty pantry. Crossing the room he led the way up to the next floor where he found a room set up perfectly for a study, yet in his full turn to inspect it he saw he was alone. Wetting his lips he turned to inspect the rest of the floor, two half baths and an apparent guest bedroom sized room he imagined his mother would enjoy the light it let in along with the view for her painting.

The floor above that clearly was the master suite with ample windows to light the room with a full bath and large closet attached. Curiously across from the two other empty rooms with a bath shared between them he took the stairs up to peek into the greenhouse. Fresh vegetables and herbs were between a supply of flowers and a small specialized set up for the breeding of the butterflies aiding in the plant growth where possible.

Down again he went finding her in his empty living room peering out a window until he cleared his throat, a grin eased across her lips, “Is it to your taste?”

“It is quite spacious.”

“Is that a no?”

Her smirk made him chuckle weakly and wet his lips to reply, “Honestly, it is a shell, to furnish it, would be quite expensive.”

A tablet was passed to him and she explained, “I normally shop through the same company. The floor plan is already loaded into the program that lets you set up a virtual model of your choices, when you are through it will catalog all the items you’ve chosen and they will be ordered through my account.”

“My allowance? You have yet to inform me of how much I am given to spend.”

“Order what you like. It is quality for a decent price. Just try to keep it under four million, that’s my cap for the account for the month. As for daily spending I am curious to know how much you care to spend normally.”

“Stark allows me $500 a month.”

A scoff from her melted into a giggle that made her shake her head, “Makes me wonder what they pay the others.” Loki’s lips parted when she stated, “I was thinking more like $5000 a month, if that is reasonable to you. Not counting a clothing allowance, I have a few connections to keep you well tailored if your wardrobe needs sprucing up, as well as a great supply of book publishers to fill your study.” His lips closed and she said, “I do have a driver but you would be allowed use of my Jaguar for your own daily use if you prefer to drive yourself. Any questions?”

He wet his lips again in his glance around the room asking almost sheepishly, “What about you?” he inhaled then asked, “For meals, and daily life? How often would you be coming over?”

“Only if you ask me to. If you wish to eat together we could eat here or you could eat in mine. It is up to you. Did you still want that coffee?”

He shook his head, “No, thank you, I cannot stand coffee. Tea, would be lovely though.”

She turned guiding him out and into her apartment she unlocked opening into a cozy well lived in living area twice the size of his. The first glimpse of it alone had him aching to sprawl across countless surfaces to enjoy several of the titles on the books littered about with not an inch screaming anything but ‘Welcome Home’.

Leading him to the kitchen, there she filled the kettle and brought out a pair of cups and all else she needed she said, “Do you prefer eating alone, or do you prefer company?”

He inhaled, “It depends. You?”

“It depends on the company. Again it would be up to you.”

He nodded and through sharing the tea he asked more details about the apartment suite as far as maintenance and rules. Mainly limited to no smoking and no damaging the structure of it, making him chuckle at her mention of having seen Thor and his flying hammer trick and promise not to let him play with Mjolnir inside if he did visit.

Soon enough however the car was waiting for him downstairs in his first subtle hint at wishing to return to begin deliberating, and in the doorway he paused and looked her over making her smirk again, “I am surprised you haven’t asked yet.”

“Asked?”

“Why you.”

He wet his lips then he asked ignoring the pounding of his heart, “How long do I have to consider the offer?”

“Take your time. I have a flight to Paris in a few hours and that will keep me busy for a few days before I get back.”

He nodded, “I will send you a message tomorrow, and try to keep you up to date on my decision.”

“Of course.”

He moved to turn then paused to say, “Thank you again, for the offer.” Not waiting for an answer he stepped outside and walked to the car for the drive back completely lost at what to make of the situation.

Heavily he settled into the back seat he settled on the seat and in the moment the driver strolled around the car his eyes closed and he let out a deep breath hoping to calm the trembling spreading through his body. Finally he had a chance to start over, a chance for a stable footing until a time he could get himself back home again to his rightful place on the throne to replace his mother, who was currently ruling alone due to Odin’s vanishing forcing her out of her hiding from her faked death. All for reasons she had yet to share involving a need to go converse with the Fates about future matters she had witnessed in a dream.

He had no clue who this woman was, why she would care about his comfort and being respected to his proper station, or why if she was so close to Stark that she would possibly cross him by taking control of the meddling Prince from him. It should have been too good to be true, it should have felt wrong, the timing all too coincidental yet it all seemed comfortably trustworthy. All his years of traveling and discovering the secrets of all the worlds should have set him off that something was sinister but this alluring stranger clearly hoping to reign him into her circle of assumed protection he found nothing past a surface level motive for drawing him close to her. Had it been some plot or something sinister it would have set off the alarm bells in his head.

All of this reminded him more of a dance of birds in attracting a mate, had he been a penguin this offer clearly was a lovingly crafted nest of perfectly shaped stones she had gathered and fashioned together soundly to welcome him into her life for the possibility of tiny fuzzy hatchlings in the next season to come. Deep in his chest he felt an old ache, a brief glimpse of something in her eyes when that elevator opened up, a look he’d seen on the faces of the women Thor had chosen to take home.

Mortal and clearly a stranger to him this woman was pleased at his consideration for her offer, and if he had to admit it, he shared those same carnal urges his brother was so controlled by. She was stunning, she was flawless, and had she been anything but mortal by his eye there would be no control from him against dropping to his knees at her feet to garner her favor. But with his past and his fear for what could be coming in this post Thanos world he could not admit bearing those urges, that weakness, he would not let this be anything but a financial connection. He had shown such control over his fate in the past, surely he could master this, surely this was just another step to his freedom and he could one day put all this behind him when he takes up his proper place as King.

This world seemed to be anything but home, a sudden stop here and that was it, parts were broken and would take ages to replace at how few and far apart replacement minerals could be found making New York your new home. True you had strength to your credit, but with living in such a new place and your need to hide your past left you overly fearful in those first few decades. Bouncing from place to place frequently had to be left behind as you were gaining some footing into new sources of just what you needed, and one blustery day had you crossing the path of your constantly distracted and pattern diligent neighbor three blocks too far from the diner the woman he always flirted shamelessly with was waiting for him.

Through the shop he strolled and without a glance you could sense the power masked behind his form. A stolen glance from behind the cover of a book and you caught it, a green flicker in the reflection on a car window passing behind him. Old magic, strong magic, something clearly not human.

Gentle was the term you dared to use, so powerful and yet so gentle in the interactions of the people around him, a trait you shared. Clearly he was new, clearly he hadn’t stalked his chosen face before taking over his life or bothered to match his usual stride or demeanor. Peacefully he passed through the streets interacting kindly with all he passed, including you, a blind excuse at having to pass by just barely missing contact with your arm and in your stolen glance back at him he did not turn, clearly whoever he was, whatever he was he had no clue about you. Either that, or you were deemed nothing of a threat to trouble himself with.

…

In the rain however again you struggled with your urge to tear the man who had been following you apart since you had spotted him five blocks back when you exited the subway. You recognized him, SHIELD through and through. Since its birth you seemed to attract them like flies. Once, just once HYDRA had dared to take a whiff in your direction and after twenty of their headquarters went up in smoke seemingly out of nowhere it was taken as a sign, since then even their worst, The Winter Soldier brood, all turned the other way when realizing they were passing too close.

SHIELD now stood openly, ready to save the world, ready to dig up all hidden threats, one clearly including you in their eyes. Closely you were kept and in the natural order of things that meant Stark would catch on at the first mention of a mystery. Against all failed attempts to unmask it failure would always occur, and even to Bucky in his freed mental state even in your peaceful state being invited over at any chance available he knew to steer clear though didn’t know why, a clear sign to Stark that he was on the right track and just had to press harder.

A sideways glance later and you were knocking on that fake Agent’s door. Tightly you clung to him and to this day you could still remember how his body felt against yours, his embrace locked in your mind and his same gentle demeanor in escorting you to the balcony for you to cross to your place secured the thought that you could possibly be allies. Yet the mangled body of your shadow was discovered and the real Jimmy was found a week later while a man with a familiar green flicker was spotted across the screen of every tv in the city. Soon to be taken off this planet leaving you alone again and in need of a new apartment out of SHIELD’s knowledge as stealthily a supply of fallen craft ruins was snatched up and hidden away as just what you needed.

Just a few years later the Dark Prince was back, and in your seemingly sudden success in the technological field including your company, formed simply to hide your true need of certain documents, diagrams and supplies, encasing homes in the city with protective shields dna based dropping domestic crimes to an eighth of the heart stopping figure. Break ins and home invasions were imagined a thing of the past hopefully in the near future with a debilitating shock dealt to any triggering a physical altercation followed by their being ejected from the home and locked out. All including heavy barriers withstanding any weapon on earth, including any Stark could dredge up, meaning cities no longer had to incur hefty repair bills when the Avengers had passed through.

More than smart homes, safe homes, with little modifications to trouble those agreeing to install them, clearly it wasn’t human tech, just like other companies taking advantage of the invasions you had no doubt done the same. Soon to be joined with personal shields to protect people, their cars and possessions on had from threats. Yet instead of painting your product similar to the Chitauri invading force or shaping it like their craft or the giant flying whales you had somehow used their tech to create yours and even with stolen documents and diagrams by Antman, they couldn’t be deciphered by any on earth or even their resident Asgardian Prince. Thor had told them to ask Loki, yet to keep any hint on how to use the tech against them again it was kept out of his sights and knowledge leaving them all in the dark and suspicious of you.

Another gala was held and you were once again entering Stark tower and answered the same tries at his leading questions you had the answers to. Around the room you went and a clear hiding place became apparent, into the study you strolled and feigned reading the titles, only to draw your own book from your clutch, feeling his entrance onto the floor. Clad in black with a green cape billowing behind him with a golden helmet was how he had been introduced to this planet, and again clad in black, though this time a very different kind of suit with much longer hair slicked back with a hopeless expression in his eyes. You knew Stark, better than he understood, and this gentle stranger needed your help, even if he didn’t realize it.

. .

Steadily you had made the offer and you couldn’t have been more elated when he was on the other side of those elevator doors. A simple offer and tour later and you were exhaling on the other side of the door turning around to head back upstairs to change for your flight. Right after the ten hour flight you would have to head to a luncheon, a wiggle helped you out of your dress you waved a finger sending it to its hanger while the heels you stepped out of flew to their own cubby in your wall of shoes.

With a nip at your lip you removed the pasties from your breasts necessary for the low dipping neck and need to go braless. Adding a comfortable midnight blue bra matching your lower cheek revealing panties under the tight shorts you wore under the dress to hide any lines and the dark outline possible through the pale yellow silk skirt.

Black stockings, solid black to the mid thigh and sheer black above that, were added with a velvet short sleeved navy dress reaching to your mid thigh with a slight flare after the hugging top. Over those your favorite platform black booties were added and you turned to swap all in your clutch into your usual brown leather satchel you used for traveling.

Moving back to your bedroom you confirmed you had all your traveling papers only to glance back at your phone buzzing with a message that your jet was ready. Grabbing your bags you made the walk out your apartment you locked up behind you down to the lobby and into your waiting car that the driver eagerly helped to put your bag into the trunk. Another buzz of your phone stirred a smirk onto your lips seeing the number for Loki’s phone pop up in a call. “Think up some more questions?”

Through the line you heard his rummaging around in his room in ensuring he had packed all his things, and the Prince anxiously wet his lips asking, “No, actually, I was wondering if you had a spare seat on that flight of yours?”

“We’ll swing by and get you. Everything alright?” You asked at the muffled shouts heard through his door.

Hastily he answered, “Your offer, I accept.”

Holding back your chuckle you grinned and lowered your phone after seeing Loki appearing across the street when he hung up and trotted across the street to add his bags to the trunk then flashed the driver a quick grin in his easing through the door opened for him matched with his soft thanks. Wetting his lips he pocketed his phone then caught your eye saying, “I accept your offer.”

His brow inched up at your weak chuckle and nod in returning your phone to your purse. “I have a feeling this acceptance is due to something Stark said,” his lips parted then closed as you said, “Let’s go to Paris, you get a vacation, another try out, so to speak, to see if you can tolerate my company past a few minutes. When we get back you can give me your answer. Either way, yes or no I’ll make sure you have a safe place to stay out of Stark’s reach. Agreed?”

Curiously his eyes looked over your face wondering at your reluctance to win so easily in this abrupt change, yet still he nodded and answered in the pulling out of the car into the street, “Agreed.”

To keep from staring up into his pure blue eyes you turned your gaze to your current level of Candy Crush and after a few more moments looking you over he pulled out the tablet from the satchel on his lap to start on his design of his apartment. Fully agreeing already after seeing he could not handle living under Stark’s thumb anymore. And even though you had promised him a safe dwelling even in refusal he had no wish to find out what he would have to face in that circumstance. Already at the worst, if you were evil, between you and Stark you were a much greater ally to him even as a stranger. One if things did turn for the worst he could easily dispose of, a much dreaded truth for him as you were quite the exquisite creature he wished to learn more of, yet disposable all the same.

Pt 2

#Tale Teller’s 52 Week Writing Challenge #Loki x Reader OC

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rachelstwomoms · 5 years

Text

Earrings For Rachel

This story takes place in my “Childhood Friends AU” universe, but several years earlier. If you’re like me and love the idea of Sera and little Rachel going around LA like the adorable mother-daughter pair that they are, this one’s for you.

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The day that Rachel Amber’s been waiting for is finally, finally here. The child has an extra bounce in her step as she walks hand-in-hand with her mother down the streets of Los Angeles. They pass bakeries and bookstores and a bunch of other shops that, on this sunny spring afternoon, are all just a blur. Today, Rachel has only one destination on her mind.

From the days when she was a tiny baby who hadn’t even learned to walk, Rachel’s been fascinated with jewelry and pretty little accessories. Necklaces. Bracelets. Her very first piece of jewelry was a special bracelet that her mother gave her right after she was born. Although Rachel doesn’t have memories from that early in her life, Rose has told her before that she’s never taken it off, not even in the bath. Rachel doesn’t want to take it off, anyway. It reminds her of her mother. Even when she doesn’t get to see Sera it makes her feel a bit like she’s there.

If Rachel begged long enough, sometimes Rose would let her wear some of her jewelry. There was one particular necklace in Rose’s jewelry box that Rachel really liked, with a thin, silver chain and a star-shaped pendant. She asked her stepmother if she could wear it so many times that one day Rose just let her have it. Rachel wore that necklace every day until an unfortunate incident at preschool where it accidentally got flushed down the toilet. Naturally, Rachel flipped out and Rose was called to the school to come and pick her up early after three different teachers all failed to calm her down.

Luckily for her parents, Rachel got over it quickly. All Rose had to do was plop Rachel onto the couch with her favorite snack and stick The Little Mermaid into the VCR and she was fine. Unfortunately, the movie turned out to be both a blessing and a curse. Even though her daughter’s watched this movie a hundred times before, this time Rachel gets to the part of the movie where Ariel becomes human and is getting ready to have dinner with the prince and is utterly captivated by the mermaid’s new pearl earrings. Ever since then, that’s all Rachel’s been talking about. Earrings, earrings, earrings. Her parents are well aware that no fancy necklace nor bracelet could distract Rachel from her current obsession over earrings.

Gone are the days when Rachel’s love for the accessory could be appeased with little plastic clip-ons and magnetic studs. She’s getting older. Wiser. Now she knows that the earrings that Rose and Daddy buy her aren’t real. And Rachel’s ready for the real deal. She may or may not have thrown a good tantrum or two (or three or ten) in order to get her point across. Her birthday’s coming up and, this year, there’s only one thing that she wants: to get her ears pierced.

At first, James and Rose weren’t too keen on the idea. They both thought that their daughter was still too young. A big part of the reason why they ended up giving in, other than the tantrums, of course, was because Sera helped convince them. The young mother opened with the obvious, stating that plenty of girl Rachel’s age have their ears pierced. Sera took the time to explain that the safest option would be to take Rachel to a licensed body piercer, and that the tattoo parlor where she’s gone to get her own tattoos done also does piercings. Sera reassured them that it’s a reputable shop and that she trusts the staff. One of the employees who does piercings also happens to be one of her closest friends, so she would feel completely comfortable letting her pierce their daughter’s ears. James and Rose eventually got on board and gave Sera permission to take Rachel to have it done.

And today’s the big day.

As mother and daughter approach the end of the block, Sera suddenly comes to a stop in front of one of the shops and Rachel squeezes her hand excitedly.

“Mommy, is this the place?”

The first ten times Rachel asked, Sera’s answer had been no. This time, however, they’ve actually reached their destination. “Yeah, Baby, we’re here.”

Rachel tilts her head back and looks up at the gothic-style lettering of the sign above the door. Right in the middle, there’s a skull and crossbones with a pirate sword going through the top of its head and coming out of its mouth. Rachel can’t exactly read yet, but she does know her ABCs and their sounds, so she spends a second trying to make out what the sign says.

But these letters don’t look like the ones she knows. They’re shaped differently, and Rachel finds herself getting frustrated trying to decipher them. Before she can ask, though, Sera’s pulling the door open and leading her inside.

It’s rather dark inside the shop. Black walls are covered from top to bottom with framed tattoo designs and photographs of past customers. The reception area is dim and eerie, front desk illuminated by a glowing red neon welcome sign. On the wall behind the desk is another skull and crossbones that match the sign outside. Upon hearing the door open, a woman with four buns in her hair comes out from the back of the shop to greet her guests, breaking into a toothy grin when she recognizes who it is.

“Sera! It’s great to see you again!” She comes over and greets Rachel’s mother with a long hug. Her arms and neck are covered in tattoos and there’s a gold ring in her nose. She leans over to look at Rachel, smile growing even wider. When she speaks again, Rachel notices that she even has a piercing on her tongue. “You must be my client, Miss Rachel.”

Rachel puffs out her chest and beams upon being addressed in such a grown-up sounding way.

The woman reaches out to shake Rachel’s hand and introduces herself. “My name’s Dani. I’m going to pierce your ears today. Is that okay?”

Rachel’s wearing the biggest, happiest smile Sera’s ever seen. Her daughter gleefully takes Dani’s hand and walks with her to the back of the shop. Sera follows behind them, letting out a sigh of relief. Part of her had been slightly worried that Rachel might be scared, either by the interior of the shop and its whole skull motif, or when it was actually time for her to sit down and have her piercings done, but her daughter is all smiles as she chats with Dani and climbs fearlessly into the black leather chair.

“I get to have real earrings because I’m big now,” Rachel proudly tells Dani.

“Yeah?” Dani washes her hands and pulls on a fresh pair of rubber gloves. “How old are you?”

Rachel holds up all the fingers on one hand. “Five!”

Sera raises an eyebrow and chuckles. “No, Dawn, not yet. Almost. ” Her daughter erupts into amused giggles. Sera explains. “She’ll be five in July.”

“And then I’ll get to go to kindergarten. Right, Mommy?”

“That’s right. This fall.”

“Wow. School, huh?” Dani hands Rachel a laminated card showing their selection of starter studs. “Well, Miss Rachel, are you ready to choose your very first pair of earrings?”

Rachel’s eyes light up. She takes a second to admire all the different kinds, but it doesn’t take her long to select a pair for herself. She points to the picture of some simple white pearls. “These look just like Mommy’s!” She turns her head and looks at Sera. “Mommy, can I see?”

Sera complies and tucks one side of her hair behind her ear. Both Rachel and Dani look and, sure enough, the earrings are almost identical.

Dani lets out a small laugh. “Are those the ones you want?”

“Yeah!” Rachel bounces a little in the chair.

“Sera, I see you’ve got a ‘mini-me’ on your hands.” Dani looks at Sera and grins.

“Yeah, she’s going through her ‘just like Mommy’ phase.” The young mother finds it endearing how much her daughter tries to imitate her lately. Sera smiles lovingly at Rachel. “Aren’t you, Baby?”

Looking absolutely pleased with herself, Rachel giggles again.

“I figured it was best to get this done now,” says Sera, tucking Rachel’s hair behind her ears and taking one last look at the unpierced skin. “She’s been asking for E-A-R-R-I-N-G-S for her B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y, so…�� Trailing off, she shares a knowing look with Dani. “You know, so they have time to heal before then.”

“Yeah, I get you.”

Dani pulls a wheeled tray of tools over to the chair. She shows each one to Rachel, tells her what it’s called, and explains exactly what she’s going to do with it. First, she cleans Rachel’s ears with a liquid solution and a small piece of cloth, earning more laughs from the clearly ticklish child. Dani then marks a tiny dot on each of Rachel’s earlobes where the piercing will be and has Sera take a look. Once she has both Sera’s and Rachel’s approval, Dani takes one of the tools from the tray and measures the marks just to make sure that they’re even on both sides.

Everything looks good.

“Okay, Miss Rachel, are you ready?” asks Dani, holding up the piercing needle. “Which ear do you want done first?” Rachel points to her left ear, so Dani moves to that side of the chair. “You’re doing awesome, you know that? I’ve had some grown-ups come in here before who were nowhere near as calm and brave as you.”

Rachel enjoys the praise. “I’m not scared.”

“You are the coolest kid I’ve met,” Dani says, gently turning Rachel’s head to the opposite side. “I’m going to pierce your ear now, okay? You might feel a teensy-weensy pinch.”

Rachel holds still and tries not to move her head, just like Dani tells her. Dani counts down from three and then sticks the needle through. From her seat across the room, Sera watches her daughter’s expression change as the piercing needle comes back out and Dani puts the first earring in place. There’s a shocked, confused look in Rachel’s eyes and her mouth is twisted into a tight grimace. Discomfort is written all over her face. Sera holds her breath and hopes that her daughter doesn’t have a meltdown. They’re already halfway through and can’t back out now.

Rachel looks over and searches her mother’s face for her reaction, so Sera makes sure to mask all traces of concern behind a reassuring smile and lots of praise.

“You doing okay?” Dani goes to put the back of the earring on to secure it in place, but Rachel pulls away at her touch. Sera jumps up from her seat and goes over to try and soothe her daughter before the situation has time to escalate.

“It’s okay. Dani’s just going to put the back on so it won’t fall out.” Sera holds Rachel’s hand and strokes her hair. “You’re such a brave girl. I’m so proud of you.”

While Rachel’s distracted, Dani slips on the earring back and then hands Sera a handheld mirror. Sera holds it up so she and Rachel can look in it together. “Oh, Dawn, look at your earring! It’s so pretty.”

Sera can tell from her daughter’s face that she’s dangerously close to crying. Rachel’s eyes are shiny with tears but she looks curiously into the mirror.

“Do you like it?”

Rachel nods and the motion causes two tears to roll slowly down her cheeks.

“You’re okay, Baby.” Placing the mirror on the chair, Sera takes Rachel’s other hand as well and gives both a comforting squeeze. “You’re so brave.”

Dani moves to the other side of the chair and a flash of panic appears on Rachel’s face. She’s no fool. She knows what’s coming now and isn’t looking forward to it one bit.

“Just one more and then we’re done!” Sera attempts to distract Rachel. “We can go get smoothies! What kind do you want?”

Rachel flinches when Dani touches her other ear. Her voice is wavery. “M-mango… and strawberry…”

“Alright, Miss Rachel, I’m going to pierce your other ear. Are you ready?” Compared to earlier, Dani’s tone much gentler. It’s clear that she doesn’t want to upset the four-year-old further. Rachel chokes out a tiny sob and nods her head yes , but her facial expression and body language say otherwise. “Would you feel better if you sat in Mommy’s lap for this one?”

Rachel nods again, pulling her hands from her mother’s and lifting her arms up. Sera lifts Rachel up and takes her place in the chair before placing her in her lap. Dani starts the countdown again and then pierces Rachel’s other ear, earning a stifled, squeaky cry of pain from the child. Once Dani sticks the earring back on that second earring, she holds her empty hands up in front of Rachel to show her that she’s finished. “That’s it! You’re all done.”

Wiggling in her mother’s lap, Rachel turns her body around and clings to Sera’s neck. Instinctively, Sera’s arms wrap around Rachel and she spends a moment comforting her, telling her how well she did, and reassuring her that she’s going to be fine. To everyone’s relief, Rachel only cries for a short minute before Sera coaxes her to look in the mirror again.

“Oh, Baby, look! You look so big. They look just like Mommy’s.” Sera tucks her own hair behind her ears and carefully brushes Rachel’s out of the way so they can compare earrings. “We’re matching now.”

Snuffling, Rachel turns her head to look. Her lips curl into a small smile when she sees her new, real earrings. Sera hands her the mirror so her daughter can continue to admire her ears while freeing up her own hands. She wipes Rachel’s tears away with her fingertips. “You really did so good. It ended up hurting a little but, huh?”

“Yeah…” Rachel pouts but still doesn’t take her eyes away from her reflection. “Can we go now?”

“Dani’s going to show us how to take care of your ears while they’re healing, but then we’re all done. Are you ready for your mango strawberry smoothie?”

Remembering the promise of her favorite fruity treat, Rachel perks up. She listens attentively during Dani’s explanation about the importance of keeping her ears clean and nods when asked if she understands. When Dani asks her to promise not to touch her ears or take out her earrings until Mommy says it’s okay, Rachel promises. But even Dani, despite only having known Rachel for a few minutes, notices a big change in the child’s demeanor compared to when she and Sera first arrived. Rachel’s a lot more quiet and subdued, and the piercer can’t help but feel a little guilty.

When it’s time to leave, Sera has to pry Rachel off of her when they reach the front desk so she can pay. Even once Rachel’s standing on her own again, she stays close to Sera, one arm around her mother’s legs.

Dani comes around the side of the desk so she can send Sera and Rachel off.

“Dawn, can you say ‘thank you’ to Dani?” Sera asks.

Rachel looks up at Dani from her spot pressed tightly against Sera’s side. “Thank you.”

Dani crouches down and smiles at her little client. “You did so awesome today. Can I get one last peek at those gorgeous ears of yours?” Taking a step out from behind Sera, Rachel pushes her hair behind her back to show off her earrings and Dani gasps. “Whoa! Sera, is that you? I could’ve sworn you were taller! Did you shrink?”

An amused smile creeps its way onto Rachel’s face. Shaking her head, she points up at her mother. “No, Mommy’s right here.”

Dani looks up at Sera, then back to Rachel, then switches back and forth between them a few times. “No way, there are two Seras? Since when?”

“No!” Rachel’s voice rises in pitch as she gets the giggles. “That’s Mommy! I’m Rachel!”

Dani shakes her head. “No. No way. I met Rachel today and she was just a little girl. And you’re practically a grown-up lady. Are you really Rachel?”

By now, Rachel’s laughing uncontrollably and she goes up close to Dani’s face and leans in. “It’s me! It’s Rachel!”

Dani reaches out and tickles the girl’s sides, causing her to shriek and burst into hysterics. “Ah, all right. I guess you do sound a little like Rachel. I didn’t recognize you because now you look just like your Mommy. You could be twins.”

“Mommy!” Rachel hops over to Sera excitedly. “Am I your twin now?”

Sera shoots Dani a grateful smile, then chuckles and puts a hand on her daughter’s head. “Do you think Daddy and Rose will be able to tell us apart?”

Rachel hums, suddenly thinking seriously about the situation. “Mommy, you have to wear a jacket so they can’t see your tattoos. Then we can trick them!” This earns a good laugh from the adults in the room. “Or maybe I can get a tattoo.”

Dani snorts.

Sera shakes her head, still laughing. “Sorry, Baby. No tattoos.”

“What about when I’m bigger?”

“When you’re much, much bigger.”

Rachel smiles cheekily. “Like when I’m eight?”

“Try eighteen.”

The door to the tattoo parlor opens, and in walks another customer. With Rachel back to her usual self, Sera knows that the time has come to bid farewell to Dani. Before they leave, Rachel throws her arms around her new friend and gives her a big hug. Dani wishes Rachel well in kindergarten and waves goodbye, only stopping once Sera and Rachel are completely out of sight. Back on the streets again, the young mother and her young daughter head to their next stop, the smoothie shop.

After walking a couple blocks in comfortable quiet, Rachel’s voice suddenly breaks the silence. “Mommy?”

“Yeah?”

“When I’m eighteen,” Rachel recalls the tattoo conversation from earlier, “will you still be my mommy?”

“Always, Baby.”

Satisfied with this answer, she smiles and squeezes Sera’s hand tighter. At four years old, Rachel Amber doesn’t really understand the concept of time. She’s old enough to know that a day means morning, afternoon and night. She knows that going to sleep makes one day end and the next day begin. But she can’t yet comprehend exactly how long a day is, or how many days are in a year, or just how many more birthdays she has until she’s eighteen.

They come to a stop at a crosswalk, and, while they wait for the light to change, Rachel catches a glimpse of her reflection in the window of the shop on the corner. Her new earrings glisten in the afternoon sunshine.

At four years old, Rachel is sure of one thing, though.

When she grows up, she wants to be just like her mommy.

#childhood friends au #rachel amber #sera gearhardt #baby rachel and young mama sera bonding #life is strange

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magicallibary · 6 years

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Opposites Attract (Part 1)

A/N: Hello! I’m going to say this now: I’m sorry if this week’s stories come out late or don’t come out at all. I’m starting exams this week and I’m getting very busy, though I’m trying to work in advance both on stories and studying but, we’ll see how it goes! Also, sorry if you don’t like stories in parts but, right now, it’s easier for me to do them in parts. Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this first part (despite being only an introduction to this story) and have a great rest of your day!

Word Count: 1783 Words Warnings: Nothing :D

Summary: The ocean and space are two different worlds but, what happens when they find each other.

You know the saying ‘opposites attract?’ Well, I bet there isn’t a better example of that being true than this tale. You see, the universe is strange and the Earth is strange.

If you really think about it, you could see humans as a middle ground. Humans live between two worlds, making humans the middle. With a deep, unknown ocean below and a dark, unknown galaxy above. Perhaps, a human being won’t see their kind as the middle but, the beings above and below them will see it like that and would be fascinated by that.

Before we begin this tale, you need to know about these two unknown worlds.

Let’s start with the ocean, shall we?

The deep blue, what most believe to be just that: a deep blue, empty pool of water only filled with marine plants and various sea animals. But, to see what’s really there, you need to look closer and deeper. Humanoid creatures call this place home. You’ve probably heard of these creatures under the name ‘mermaids’ in some pirate or children story. You see, males and females born without legs, the limbs being replaced with colorful fish-like tails. Different colored gills grow by their cheeks giving them the ability to breath underwater as well as talk underwater. Their hair and skin never gets wet, always looking dry and perfect. But, don’t think these creatures can only stay underwater with their fins. No, if they so wish, they can swim towards the nearest shore and as their skin feels the sand, the large tail would banish being replaced by legs and fashionable clothes. And, when they were done on the shore, as their legs felt the salty water, they would banish, welcoming the half-fish trait back. Most of these underwater humanoids, didn’t exit the ocean though. It almost felt like an unwritten law; no one from the deep sea would be welcomed into the soil and sand and no one from the soil and land would be welcomed into the community of the deep sea. Similarly to humans, they had their markets, their restaurants, their houses… So, really, there was no real reason to leave the ocean when everything was the same, if not better, to what was waiting for them on the shore. All of them thought this, well, all of them but one.

Meet Rivalyn. She came from a prestigious family and, of course, her family would disagree with her aspirations related to the soiled land but, being supportive, they never stopped her from chasing what she wanted. A lot of the civilians had found themselves slowly falling for her with her sparkling green eyes that always shone with curiosity. Her long blonde strands were perfectly curled, framing her pale face gently. Her red gills extended in swirls along her cheeks matching both her bright lips and tail that faded from red to white. Sadly for those townsfolk, she wasn’t interested in anyone nor anything the ocean handed her, on the other hand, she was interested in the world above her. She would seat on rocks that came above the water and stare at all the possibilities in front of her but, at the end of the day, she was too scared to step into the shore and walk around in legs. So, there’s where she stayed: watching and imagining.

Now, that you know of the sea, it’s time to look at the other side of the spectrum; what there’s above.

The emptiness of space is again another speculation that is simply incorrect. More planets and worlds to count are found among stars and meteors. An example of these millions upon millions of planets is the world of Cuatania. Known for its wonderful sky, Cuatania is surrounded by the Strion Nebula; a large thin and twisten line-shaped nebula filled with bright stars coloring Cuatania’s naturally black sky with the brightest tones of blue, purple and pink. The grass was colored a dark purple and special flowers grew around the planet’s surface. These flowers would glow different colors when nightime arrived, blinking their brightness and working as the world’s street lights. Truly an amazing sight for any visitor but, for the locals, this was the normal sight. Of course, they had other amazing things: their incredible advances in technology were due to the general high intelligence of the planet’s inhabitants. Similarly to human beings, the humanoids that live in this planet mostly believe that they’re the only living being in their part of the universe, so, they never found a reason to leave, despite their natural ability to teleport. Yet, similarly to the ocean’s population, one individual thought differently to everyone else.

Celeste was known for being highly excitable despite the usually calm townsfolk. She was a huge bookworm, her orbs were always scanning a written page. Then, she was quickly off, running around, her dark hair threatening to fall from its messy bun position. On one of these busy, nonstop days she made a telescope; not a normal telescope, though. This telescope had more than fifty different lenses within its structure, making any image bigger and easier to see. With her new machine, she found something she wouldn’t forget: she had found the Earth. Upon her discovery, she spent the following days trying to explain to everyone around her. Her tan-skin hands would wave around as words flowed quickly from between lips. Sadly, no one supported her ideas, some would even call it ridiculous. The lack of confidence in her, pushed her back making have second thoughts on teleporting to the new world she had found. So, her dark purple eyes would look up at the nebula-filled sky, imagining what would happen if she could go further from it. Until, one day, she did just that.

She swallowed her fears and looked up before closing her eyes as she focused on her banishing body while she teleported away. When her orbs finally opened, she found herself standing in a busy sidewalk. The sun shone on her skin and her eyes seemed brighter while she began walking around the streets. Weeks began to pass but, Celeste couldn’t find a reason to leave the wonderful new planet she had found. As the months flown by, she had found a job, bought a flat, tried a variety of foods and found her own strange clothing style. And soon, she realized she had spent a year there and, she couldn’t find it in her to feel even slightly sorry. Little did she know, she was going to be the reason the world from below and the world from above would find each other.

The summer season was soon slowly making its way back and Celeste had heard her fellow coworkers talk about the ‘beach.’ So, she did some research, finding a beach nearby from where she lived and decided to go there on one of her days off work. Since this was quite a small beach and the warm weather was only started, she was the only one resting her feet on the sand. Yet, still, she was amazed by the sight. The pale sand moved slightly with the soft breeze as waves crashed on the shore, leaving trails of seashells on the soggy surface. The salty smell of the sea drifted through the air while the shining sun made the water shiny as well as a turquoise color. Rocks came out of the water contrasting the tones of blue that formed the ocean. But, then, something caught her attention.

On one of the rocks, the silhouette of a human could be seen. Questions began flooding Celeste’s mind as she decided what she would due. After a few minutes of standing thoughtfully, she decided she would swim towards the figure. Sure, this wasn't the brightest idea but, she couldn’t scream at them and she wasn’t going to leave them there; she couldn't do that. Fully clothed, only with removed boots and socks, she felt her feet make contact with the chilly water but, she pressed on despite never swimming before. She swirled her arms and legs around, trying to stay afloat which worked for a while but, as she got closer to her destination, the water felt colder, numbing her limbs and tiredness soon began taking over her. Right as she reached the rock, she felt her body give in to the fatigue and felt herself begin to sink. She trashed around, hearing the sound of her own splashes, not knowing it had caught someone’s attention. As she sunk further, suddenly, she felt something caress her exposed arm. A warm and smooth surface rubbed along her arm, getting a grip and trying to pull her up but, the object wasn’t able to. Then, she heard a splash coming from behind her as she felt herself losing consciousness. The next thing she felt was two arms wrapping around her middle and pulling her above the water and to the rock. Celeste’s desperate coughs filled the silent atmosphere of the beach, her eyes locking shut as she regained control over her breathing.

When she opened her eyes, she was met with the brightest pair of blue eyes she had ever seen.

“Hello,” said the owner of the bright eyes, shyly “wha-?” Rivalyn’s words were cut off when she spotted the dark purple eyes of the individual she rescued. The blonde swore she could see the night sky’s stars shining within her eyes. She followed her orbs to find her observing her red fin.

“I’m sorry if this is rude, miss,” began the stranger with galaxy eyes “but, is this normal on this planet? I just, I had never seen anyone like you, miss.”

Rivalyn laughed quietly at her stuttering kindness and curiosity before answering. “It’s not very normal, you could say. But, I’m guessing you’re not from around here then?”

“What gave me away?” Celeste laughed, her inicial nerves calming down.

“Firstly, your eyes then, you asked about how normal humans with fins were on ‘this planet,’” she made quotations with her fingers as she laughed along with Celeste “so, if you’re not from here, where are you from?”

“Well, that’s a long story…” Celeste released a sigh as she pulled her brown, soggy hair behind her ears. She noticed the other girl laying down on the rock with a smile tugging at her lips.

“Well,” she smiled fully “I have all day.”

Celeste thought for a second before laying beside her and turning her head to catch her eyes. “Then, I have all day too.”

“Rivalyn,” she introduced “and you are?”

“Celeste. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Trust me, the pleasure’s all mine.” They both laughed along.

And that’s how it began.

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hetaliasummerexchange · 7 years

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The Ghost of Candlecreek Hall

Pairing: Austria/Prussia

Rating: T (Mentions of violence)

Word Count: ~9k

Summary: There are all kinds of ghosts, ghosts of smiles, ghosts of songs and ghosts of the past, but, as one snooty city boy by the name of Roderich comes to discover on his seaside adventures, the ghost of Candlecreek Hall is by far the most captivating of them all.

This is my gift for Flower-crowned-galaxy for the 2017 Hetalia Summer Exchange. I hope you enjoy it! :)

Notes - human names:

I used two nyo!characters in this story - Daniel Héderváry is male!Hungary and Martin is male!Belgium. The rest of the characters carry their usual, canon names.

Part One

Many years ago, there was a little town which stood to the shores of a vast, grey ocean. It was a quiet, remote place, several days of riding away from the nearest large city. In that town, everyone knew each other, and so whenever a visitor arrived, the whole town would stir with excitement. Therefore, when on one beautiful day of early summer a carriage jolted down the dirt road leading to the town, a small crowd formed to watch and welcome the newcomers.

The carriage, so they discovered, transported a respectable little family from the city. The man wore a suit better and cleaner than the Sunday clothes of any of the townspeople, and his wife a velvet dress adorned with lace and muslin. Their son, a pale, timid boy, shouldered an instrument case. They had arrived for a vacation and were to stay the summer in the seaside town.

The townspeople were curious about the peculiar city folks who were unlike any other they had ever met. In the first few days after their appearance, the townspeople showered the man and his wife with questions, and in exchange, provided them with essential information and gossip: Where to buy bread, milk, and fish, where to repair shoes and mend clothes, who’s a good, trustworthy fellow and from whom should they steer away.

The local kids, however, noticed something strange and displeasing in the days to follow. The son almost never came out of their rented lodgings. They found it an insult that upon arriving at a new place, he chose to stay inside instead of enjoying all the adventures their town and the wild areas surrounding it had to offer. The bravest of the children, a stable boy named Daniel Héderváry, decided to go and see what was the matter with him. And so, one afternoon, when the man and his wife went out to the market, he climbed up the stairs to the room where they stayed.

Just before knocking, he heard music coming from behind the door. The tune that dribbled through the wood was unlike anything he had ever heard. It was gentle and complex, ever-changing and sweet. Daniel then remembered the black case that the newcomers’ boy carried on his back the day of his arrival. A violin – he had only seen one or two of those miraculous objects in his life. He swung the door open and with beaming eyes called out to the astonished boy who stood inside: “Show me how you play that!”

Just as the newcomers’ boy seemed strange to Daniel’s eyes, so did Daniel seem to him. A dirty, puny boy with scraped knees and messy hair that fell over his shoulders, who barged into his lodgings without invitation. “What are you doing here?!” The boy demanded once he overcame his shock, voice full of rage. He had very unusual, unnerving eyes: Deep purple. Daniel shrunk under his furious violet gaze. “You are always hiding inside here,” he defended himself, “what’s the point in a vacation like this? We want to invite you to play with us!”

The boy opened his mouth to shout again, then closed it and puckered his lips into a pout, cheeks red. He seemed to be embarrassed of his outburst. “I didn’t think about it in such a way,” he mumbled, “and in any case, I don’t think we’ll get along…”

“What!” Daniel cried, almost hurt. “We’ll get along just great, you’ll see!” And since he was the kind that acts before thinking, he grabbed the city boy’s elbow (gently, for he knew better than putting the precious instrument, which the boy was still holding, in danger). “Come with me,” he demanded. “We’ll show you all the nice places.”

As one surrendering to fate, caught between curiosity and revulsion, the boy sighed heavily. After shaking Daniel’s hand away, he placed his violin in its open case with extreme tenderness. “I shall come, but not for long,” he announced. “I’m still not done practising for today.”

“Great!” Daniel exalted, and in his heart hoped to hear the boy playing again. “My name is Daniel. What is your name?”

“Roderich,” the boy replied curtly and sharply, and followed Daniel out into the street.

***

Despite his concerns, Roderich had no real choice - the town boys had made up their minds to make him love the countryside, and nothing could stand against their will. In the weeks to follow, the city boy became acquainted with a whole new way of life. In this age, the town boys informed him with certainty, one should run barefoot over stones and grass, swim in the ocean and explore the wilderness – not worry about serious matters. Smile at the world and the world will smile back at you. With their help he managed, after much splashing and spitting and rubbing salt from his eyes, to stay above the water surface.

There were some differences, of course, that were impossible to overcome – his skin, for example, refused to tan and instead reddened and peeled under the sun. His accent and speech were educated, and sometimes difficult to understand. His eyesight was another problem – at first, he went out wearing his glasses. Then, realising the danger that it put them in, he left them in his room, which in turn transformed his world into an unidentifiable blob of blurry, colourful shapes. The greatest struggle was the violin. Roderich was always wary of the condition of his hands – refusing to climb steep rocks or throw a heavy ball; and every day, he woke up before first light to get his practice. Not one of the town boys’ arguments could falter his determination. Daniel was secretly glad that he kept playing, since he could come and listen on some evenings.

One afternoon, while the boys sat on the fishing docks and dangled their feet into the water, the subject of a certain haunted house came up. There was, they explained to Roderich, an old, deserted mansion just about an hour’s walk away, beyond the hills that lay at the edge of the town. The name of the place was Candlecreek Hall.

“Do you like ghost stories, Roddy?” asked one of the boys.

“At night, you can see candlelight moving in the windows - even though the place had been deserted for years!” A second boy added, and others went on:

“And whoever walks in after sunset, never comes back…”

“And some people can hear beautiful music, that at first seems harmless, but little by little they go insane, it haunts their dreams and afterwards, their waking hours, too–”

“What? That one’s bullshit, you made it up!”

“No, I didn’t! Everyone knows that! And since when do you know anything about haunted houses, we all know you piss your pants when–”

“Shut your face! Did the baker’s daughter tell you about the ghost music when you braided her hair with flowers–”

A loud splash sounded; one of two arguing boys had dragged the other into the water. Everyone laughed when their heads popped above the surface, shaking wet strands of hair out of their eyes. After some humorous attempts to drown each other, they emerged again, breathless, lay their arms on the wooden dock and listened from there like outstandingly silly-looking mermaids.

Daniel suggested that they went to Candlecreek Hall the next morning. The idea was enthusiastically supported by Francis, who always drew their treasure maps, and Feliks – who had just pulled his friend off the dock. Said friend, Toris, who was more likely to be considered Feliks’ ultimate nemesis, objected to the idea just for the sake of not agreeing with him. Martin, who was a year or two younger than the rest, objected as well – he seemed genuinely afraid of going. “It might be dangerous, even during the day…”

They all turned to look at Roderich, waiting for his opinion. “I don’t mind whether we go or not.” He shrugged. “I don’t believe in ghost stories anyway…”

“So… you don’t mind if we do go?” Francis interpreted excitedly.

Roderich glanced at Daniel’s pleading eyes. “I… guess so.”

The supporting party cheered.

***

The next morning, they climbed the green hills eastward, each carrying a bag of lunch. It took them, as they had predicted, no more than an hour to reach the peak of the highest hill. From there, they could see the valley lying below, and in the middle of it – Candlecreek Hall. It was a building of an ancient architectural style that had long ago passed from the world, tremendous and made out of grey, forbidding stone. The boys stopped and stood, enjoying the view and the light breeze.

It was not yet noon when they crossed the dead, dry gardens around the mansion and entered through the gates of the Hall. It was a stunning place; and at daytime, with the sunlight flowing through the shattered windows – not the slightest bit scary. Even little Martin seemed excited. The ceilings were high, decorated with beautiful paintings that were only half covered with cobwebs and dust. The floor was white marble. Numerous corridors weaved in and out of each other and led deeper into the mansion. The boys decided to split up into pairs and explore the place, then meet again in the entrance hall before sundown.

Daniel and Roderich went together. They soon discovered that the marvels of Candlecreek Hall were endless. It had hundreds of rooms, some still furnished with unbelievable richness, some empty and bare, and countless hidden paths and stairways leading to small, dark niches or to large dining halls. They opened drawers to find tiny baubles: a golden pin with carved flowers, a porcelain figurine of a horse, a ring with a shining red stone in it… “Don’t take anything with you,” Daniel warned, sounding cheerful. “Just in case the place is haunted.” Roderich snorted, but took the advice anyway – just in case…

Candlecreek Hall was a maze; at first, they kept repeating their steps and bumping into the others. At one point, they spotted Feliks and Toris fencing with a pair of wooden swords they had found; at another, Martin balancing upon Francis’ shoulders, trying to reach a staircase whose lower part had collapsed.

Eventually, they stopped meeting the other boys. It was growing quiet; they were wandering into the depths of the mansion. The light here was dim, coming only from high, narrow windows. Water dripped in a steady rhythm somewhere in the distance. Their footsteps echoed.

Roderich was being awfully quiet, Daniel noted worriedly. His purple eyes were unfocused, and he walked as if caught in a dream. It scared Daniel to look at him. “Let’s start getting back,” he said. “Let’s just get to the end of this corridor and then turn back.”

Roderich nodded twice in silence. They went on, but after a few more steps, Roderich stilled. “Let’s go back now,” he urged. “It’s getting… strange, here.”

“What do you mean?”

“The sounds.”

“The water?”

“No…”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Then what?”

“Can’t you hear it…? It’s getting louder…”

“What is?!” Daniel demanded. “Come on, you’re scaring me.”

Roderich swallowed hard. “The music…”

Daniel’s heart skipped a beat, and his breath hitched in his throat. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“Flute playing,” Roderich stared straight back into his eyes. His pupils were wide and dark in contrast to his pale face. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever heard…” He bit his lip. Then, in a sudden, eerie change of expression, a devilish smile appeared on his face. “Of course I am joking.”

Daniel blinked at him. He tried to laugh; it came out slightly hysterical. “For God’s sake, Roddy, don’t do that again…”

“Oh, you should have seen the look on your face…”

“Roderich, please… That was too much…”

They retraced their steps back towards the exit. Daniel’s pulse still thumped loudly in his ears. Once, he glanced sideways at his friend; his eyes still seemed distant. Daniel took his arm and hastened his steps.

***

The others were waiting for them in the entrance hall. They all seemed restless; the sun was almost down, and through the windows, they could see the sky turning dark blue. “Took you a while,” Francis commented nervously.

“Sorry, we didn’t notice the time,” Roderich apologised. His voice sounded small and thin.

Martin burst out speaking: “When Francis and I went into a corridor on the second floor, all the windows, those that still had a windowpane that is, slammed shut at the same time.”

Francis sighed. “I told you it was just the wind, Marty…”

Martin seemed unconvinced. “How can you be so sure?”

Feliks cleared his throat. “Something happened to us, too.”

Daniel’s heart fell. Martin was easy to scare; Feliks was another thing. He wouldn’t admit seeing something unusual unless he was completely certain about it – wouldn’t want to seem as a coward unless it was completely worth it.

“What happened?”

Toris answered in Feliks’ stead. For once, they seemed to be in agreement. “At some point, doors started closing behind us.”

“We’d go into a corridor,” Feliks explained, “then, when we tried to go back, the door would be closed and stuck. We had to find other ways out.”

A frightened silence fell.

“Let’s get out of here,” Martin’s tiny voice expressed their thoughts for all of them.

They didn’t waste time. Within minutes they rushed outsides, hurried to the iron gates of the gardens and made their way out. Sparing the mansion a last glance over their shoulders, they headed straight back to town.

“Nobody took anything, right?” Daniel asked all of a sudden, as they began climbing the hill. Everyone nodded. Roderich followed their example, half-a-second late. In his shirt pocket, he could feel the weight of folded paper. He had found several pages of sheet music, written in faded ink, in one of the rooms, and slipped them into his pocket while Daniel was studying a painting on the wall.

It seemed as if Daniel could read his thoughts. He pursed his lips, but said nothing.

Part Two - Seven Years Later

There was only one inn in the whole town, a very modest one. On a regular night, you could only spot three or four men in the common room, regulars that were well familiar with the innkeeper.

However, that night was an exception. The common room was filled with loud chatter and laughter, and the anticipation in the air was almost tangible. The tables were pushed to the sides and arranged in a half-circle to make space for an impromptu dance floor. The innkeeper and his son bustled about, carrying trays and filling cups; to their great satisfaction, they soon had to bring out a new barrel of ale from the back.

The reason for all that excitement stood near the counter, tuning his instrument while standing upright and calm. The musician’s name was Roderich Edelstein, and that name preceded him. A violinist with inhuman skill, they said, who could stir the coldest heart and set the heaviest feet dancing. Rumour had it that the King himself had invited him to play at his court.

The violinist plucked his strings and listened to the sound carefully with his eyes closed, twisting the pegs ever-so-slightly. He seemed awfully young for such a celebrated man – he must have been no more than twenty. His features were dainty and slightly feminine, his hair dark and carefully combed. He furrowed his thin brows with intent concentration and pressed his lips into a slim line, drawing attention to the a little beauty spot near the corner of his mouth.

When he was done tuning, he reached for his case and pulled out the bow out of its niche of red velvet. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced. He didn’t speak loudly, yet his words rang clear and bright. “It is an honour for me to visit your lovely town again. I shall now commence the performance,” he bowed his head humbly. When he raised his head, he looked straight at the sole person in the room who remembered him as he was when he had last left the town. “And I hope you enjoy it.”

Seven years ago, when Daniel Héderváry first heard Roderich play, it seemed to him like nothing could ever sound better. Now, it was way more than that. The melody sounded like someone had grasped Daniel’s own emotions and thoughts and put them to music. Roderich didn’t change much; he still played with a proud jerk of his chin and fierce eyes. The townspeople shouted song requests and he performed them all with absolute excellence, and even added his own to them, making them into something new and stunning.

Out of the group of friends, only Daniel had remained in town. He was now a horse caretaker, and was content with that; life was simple and the town was his home. The others preferred to chase their luck in the wide world, away from the little seaside town in the middle of nowhere. Francis had married a beautiful woman who had a temper like the stormy sea of their hometown. In the last letter, he mentioned that they were expecting a child. Feliks and Toris, the last time he had heard from them, were travelling together; years proved the existence of an unbreakable bond between them. Little Martin was working in the city, making sweets. It fit him, Daniel thought.

But what had been with Roderich, he never knew. A month after the incident in Candlecreek Hall, his vacation ended. The five boys felt as if a crucial part of their group had been cut off, and Roderich himself, on his departure day, looked as if he were about to cry. However, he never came back to visit, and never wrote. Only years after he left, word of him reached the town.

Time seemed to pass quickly, as Daniel was lost in thought; when Roderich finished playing, bowed to loud cheers and turned to pack his violin, it was nearing dusk.

***

“Where have you been?” Daniel demanded. “It’s been so long. Why didn’t you come to visit? No, forget about that - why didn’t you even consider writing?”

They had been sitting together at the bar for a while; the sun was slowly rising. Their reunion, when Roderich arrived the day before, was coloured with contrasting emotions. They hugged and laughed and shed tears for their lost days of childhood, yet there was something sour beyond the surface. Now, it seemed, after several drinks, it was all coming up.

“I can’t explain.”

“Can’t?” The years had done Daniel well. The scraggly little brat that Roderich remembered had grown tall and broad-shouldered. He kept his hair long and tied it back with a yellow, woollen thread.

Roderich looked into his eyes. Those, at least, were still the same grassy green. “It’s not a reason that you would understand. But believe me, I would come back if I could.”

“If you could? Come on, Roddy.”

The violinist winced involuntarily at the nickname. It bore memories as heavy as a mountain, and it stung his heart. “It’s very complicated.”

Daniel crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, why did you come back now, then?” He huffed. “And don’t tell me that it’s because you missed us.”

“That…” Roderich sighed. “That you wouldn’t understand either.”

“Try me.”

Roderich removed his glasses and wiped them on the fabric of his sleeve. “I cannot,” he said very quietly. “Please don’t ask me to.”

A short silence fell. Roderich was biting his lip, and his eyes were distant and unfocused. It reminded Daniel of something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on… Then it clicked. He leant forward. “Roddy, does it have to do with Candlecreek Hall?”

Roderich’s hand stopped mid-motion as he was lifting his glasses back to his face.

“I knew it,” Daniel tried to sound triumphant, but instead, heard his own voice cracking. “You behaved so strangely after we came back from the mansion. You were way more closed inside yourself. You kept thinking about the music you heard, didn’t you.”

Roderich nodded. His eyes were closed shut. “I didn’t want to scare you, so I told you I was joking. When you said you couldn’t hear it, I realised that it was the ghost’s music. I knew it was said that whoever heard it went mad. I didn’t want you to think that I was.”

“And did you really? Go insane, that is.”

“You must be thinking that I was not quite alright in my head to begin with…”

Daniel shook his head. “I never thought so. I believe that you really heard something there, and that it was not your imagination.”

“Well, thank you.” Roderich smiled faintly. “To your question, my mind is as clear as always. The ghost ruined me in another way.”

Daniel waited silently.

“Ever since that day,” Roderich began, “I’ve been hearing that music in my sleep. In my dreams, I trace our footsteps through the corridors of Candlecreek Hall, until I reach the point where it’s loud and clear. I think to myself – this is perfection, nothing could ever sound better. I take out my violin; for in those dreams, I am always carrying it. I accompany the invisible flautist until the end of the song. I wait until I see its figure walking out of the darkness, towards me. Then I wake up.”

Daniel opened his mouth to speak. Before he could, Roderich went on. He seemed to be drifted away by his flood of words; a dam that stood strong for years had finally collapsed. “You knew that I took something from the mansion, of course. It was sheet music. I learned them. I practised them over and over. You heard that song tonight.” He inhaled deeply. “The reason I did not come back was that I was afraid. I knew that if I came back to visit you, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from going to the mansion, for I craved with all my being to hear more of that music. But I knew that if I went there, it would be the end of me. The ghost has chosen me as a victim. I’ve been trying to escape that fate for the past few years, but no matter how far I went – and oh, I went far, trust me. I’ve been to the edges of the world known to men. No matter how far I fled – the ghost’s shadow still fell over me, calling me back.”

“And now you finally gave in,” Daniel finished, defeated. “I want to say that you should have told me, and I would have tried to help. But I understand that you would never do that, because of who you are.”

Roderich chose to ignore the last part of his words. “I am going to the mansion tomorrow.”

“May I come with you?” There was little hope in Daniel’s voice. He didn’t bother trying to talk Roderich off the idea – there was no point in that.

Roderich shook his head. “I am going to stay the night. No use putting both of us in danger. Also… it is a matter between the two of us… me and the ghost.”

“I wish you luck, then, friend,” Daniel looked away. “My thoughts will be with you.”

***

The next afternoon, Roderich climbed the green hills with the violin case bumping up and down his back. As he walked, he felt the bittersweet memories rise in him, and craved with all his being to be a thirteen-year-old boy again and smile at the world with little worries. The strength of the memory was enough to bring tears to his eyes, and he stopped in his tracks to wipe them away with the back of his hand. Then, shaking his head to himself, he kept walking.

Then sun burned bright and hot. He could feel the sweat trickling down beneath his shirt. After what seemed like an eternity – for he wasn’t used to that kind of physical effort – he reached the top of the hill. The valley lay before him, and in the middle of it – the mansion which had haunted his dreams for the past seven years.

The door to the gardens wasn’t locked. Roderich pushed it open. The screeching of the hinges startled a flock of crows inside, and they rose in a mess of flapping wings and croaking, to find shelter on the branches of bare, dead trees. He stepped inside and closed the gate behind him. The gardens, just as he remembered, were a grey kingdom of thistles and nettles. A paved path of cracked stones with wild weeds growing between them led to the mansion’s door. Roderich made his way across it, glancing over his shoulder from time to time out of an unexplained instinct.

The gates to the mansion itself weren’t locked either — just slightly stuck. He put his shoulder against one of the gate wings and pushed forcefully until it gave in. The smell of dust hit him; he pushed open the second wing too, to let in some fresh air. Then, after taking a deep breath, he stepped in.

For a moment, Roderich stood there and considered his options. Should he wander into the depths of the mansion, like he and his friends did back then, like he did in his repeating dream? No, he told himself immediately, that was a bad idea. He should stay close to the gate, his only real means of escape, in case something went wrong.

Of course, all chances were that something would go wrong.

Roderich chose a window and settled beside it. He placed his violin case on the windowsill and flicked the clasps open. He found comfort in the familiar routine of applying rosin to the bow and tuning the strings. When he was done, he began playing. He played childrens’ songs and drinking songs, earthly songs that were as far as possible from the cold whisper of Candlecreek Hall. For a while, he felt confident.

However, the sun was inching towards the green hills in the horizon, and the light was growing dim. As the shadows lengthened, the sound of his music seemed more and more unnatural to his own ears; it echoed from the far walls of the hall, a thin and lonely tune within the vast silence.

Roderich shuddered. All of a sudden, a disturbing thought fell upon him – that if he stopped playing now, he would be able to hear terrible things… rustling in the darkness, something twisted crawling closer…

He gritted his teeth. What a foolish idea, he told himself firmly. It was simply the eerie atmosphere getting to him. As if to prove his imagination wrong, he let the music fade mid-sentence, and put down the violin and bow on the windowsill beside him. He should make some light.

Roderich pulled his flint and steel out of an inner pocket of his coat, and searched the outer pockets of his violin case until his fingers found candles.

He struck the steel. After a few attempts, the wick caught fire, but it was blown out right away by a sudden gust of wind that seemed to have come not from the outside, but from the dark depths of the mansion. Roderich shuddered. He tried again, guarding the tiny flame with his palm. This time, although the fire danced and flickered, he managed to bring it into safety by placing it between his case and the wall. A bright circle of candlelight spread around him. Relieved, Roderich put the flint and steel back in his pocket and rubbed his hands against each other. It was cold, he realised, and held his palms near the candle, enjoying the warmth.

By then, the sun was close to setting. As he watched, it slowly moved past the line of the mountains, and the sky lost its pink and orange, gradually turning dark blue. For several moments, a last strip of gold hung over the horizon; then it disappeared, and night fell over the earth and over Candlecreek Hall.

Roderich forced a courageous smile. “Now the real fun begins,” he whispered, and reached for his violin again. He played a cheerful sailors’ tune and knocked the rhythm with the heel of his boot against the marble floor. The minutes drew longer. The song ended, then the next, then the one that came after. He played on, stubbornly keeping up the liveliness of the music. He glanced out of the window, but it was a cloudy night, and he could not see the stars nor the moon.

Little by little, Roderich became aware of the other presence in the hall. At first, he threw it off as another trick of his imagination, those movements in the darkness, beyond the edges of the candlelight circle, and that uneasy feeling of being watched… But at last, when the footsteps sounded clear, despite the music, he let the bow leave the strings and spoke. “I know you are there.”

Although he knew he was not alone, the sudden laughter that burst as a response to his words startled him and caused his heartbeat to quicken. He swallowed hard. “Show yourself.”

A bare foot stepped into the circle of light; the other followed. A dark cloak dragged behind the figure that exposed itself to Roderich’s eyes. The Ghost of Candlecreek Hall had arrived at last. Its breath was frost, and its footsteps traced ice on the floor — a thin layer that spread like ink in water. The ghost’s hair was a snowy white, and its skin so pale that it was almost grey. Its nose was crooked, birdlike, and its lips thin and blue, as if suffering from an unbearable cold. As it advanced, Roderich did his best to stand his ground. Every sensible part of his mind told him to run for his life; yet there he stood, motionless, and watched the ghost creep closer.

It came to a halt an arm’s reach away from Roderich, who raised his eyes to meet the creature’s dim red gaze. The ghost stood as proud as a king, back tense and straight, and in its hollow cheeks and sunken eyes, Roderich noticed with amazement, there was a hint of a long-gone beauty.

The ghost spoke. “It’s a splendid fiddle you’ve got, and you play it well.” It bowed its head, formal and serious, yet its voice was amused and the corner of his bloodless lips crooked upwards. “But what brings you to my house, tonight? Surely there are better places for you to practise your art.”

The pleasant words didn’t calm Roderich, and he watched the ghost’s face intently, aware of the madness that lay within, searching for any sign of its outbreak. “Long ago, I have heard your music,” he replied cautiously, “and I wanted to see, with my own eyes, the one who had created those beautiful sounds.”

For a moment the ghost didn’t move. Its brows furrowed, and something dark flashed in those blood-coloured eyes. Roderich tensed, ready to spring, and the ghost grinned wickedly, exposing pearly white teeth and stretching its ashen skin over sharp cheekbones. Then, suddenly, it bowed a deep, theatrical bow, elegantly throwing its arm to the side. “That would be me,” it acknowledged, and straightened up. It held out a spidery hand, and its voice dripped irony: “Gilbert Beilschmidt, at your service.”

Without thinking, Roderich put aside the violin bow and tried to grip the offered hand. His fingers closed upon thin air, and he let out a small, surprised gasp. His hand dropped to his side. “Roderich Edelstein.”

The ghost laughed again, a harsh and unpleasant sound. “I know.”

Roderich smiled sadly. “Right.” He reached for his breast pocket, and pulled out a few folded pages. “These belong to you, I believe.”

A burst of wind snatched the pages out of his hand. By a gesture of the ghost’s hand they unfolded themselves in the air in front of him. Roderich watched the movement of his eyes as it skimmed through the first lines. The ghost’s face crumbled with distaste. “An old work. It’s so lacking. You may keep it.”

“Thank you.” Hesitantly, Roderich plucked the pages out of the air and folded them again. He tucked them into his pocket. “It means more to me than you can imagine. And I do not think it’s lacking.”

“Of course,” the ghost acknowledged arrogantly. “It is far beyond any music that you, the living, could ever create. Yet it is not close to being perfect.”

““What is ‘perfect’?” Roderich tilted his head. “Isn’t it all in the eyes of the beholder?”

“No,” the ghost frowned. “I have composed better ones – therefore, it is not perfect.”

“But for me, the way I am right now, it is.”

“You have not heard enough to know.”

“Maybe it is time I did, then,” Roderich suggested with uncharacteristic gall.

The ghost scowled with disbelief at his shameless request, and his ire made the candle flame flicker. Roderich flinched, but mustered the remaining bit of his courage to insist: “Since you lured me back to this place against my will, I believe I deserve to hear just another song of yours, before you carry out the fate you have planned for me.”

The candle was extinguished. The room went black; in the darkness, Roderich could see the ghost’s eyes shining like embers. He heard him step closer, and around them – the same sounds he had feared earlier, whispers and murmurs and thousand of nails scratching at wood. Then the ghost spoke again: “I did not lure you here. You came back on your own.”

“The dreams. I had no choice.” Roderich couldn’t help glancing to his sides, searching for the source of the sounds.

“But that was all. I never broke your mind or bent it to my wishes like I did to others.”

“And why didn’t you?”

The candle swooshed back to life. The ghost was standing inches away. His nearness brought the cold with it, and its breath bit at Roderich’s skin. “It is true that I have made my way into there,” he gestured at Roderich’s temple with a bony finger, “since the day you and your little friends trespassed into my mansion. But I had nothing to do with what went on in here,” he pointed at Roderich’s chest. “That was completely your doing. By truly wishing to come back, you made it easier for me.”

Roderich stammered a step back, until he was leaning against the wall. Out of all the thoughts that raced through his mind, he picked the one that seemed the most pressing. “What do you want from me?”

The ghost pondered over that for a long moment, studying Roderich’s face cautiously. At last, he decided: “That you can’t know yet.”

“Play for me, then.”

“…Fine.”

Roderich blinked; when his eyes opened again, the candlelight flashed from the surface of a silver flute, which the ghost held casually in one of his wispy hands as if it had been there the whole time. Tuning, apparently, was not needed for this phantom flute; the ghost brought it to his bloodless lips, and immediately the space around them was filled with sounds.

After the first few lines, Roderich joined in. They sounded well together – the airy floating of the flute on top of the melancholic, rich tune of the violin, contrasting yet completely harmonious. The ghost seemed surprised; he glanced sideways at Roderich, and with a challenging tilt of its head began playing faster, creating sudden changes and turns in the music. The violinist followed, tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead. The ghost was right – Roderich hadn’t heard enough to realise what real perfection was. And unlike in his dreams, now it took all his concentration not to fall behind.

However, he soon began to understand the rules by which the ghost played. Although at first the ghost’s rhythm and line of melody seemed like the mind of a madman, lacking any sensible connection between sentences, little by little Roderich noticed that like any human composer, Gilbert Beilschmidt had a style that was recognisable just as it was – to an expert listener – predictable. As soon as Roderich found the key behind his patterns, creating the counter melody became an easy task. It was time for the tables to turn, he thought, and from playing the second voice he careened his way into the first, pulling the music behind his own melody line. The ghost’s eyes shot fire, and the shadows around them deepened. Ice covered Roderich’s shoes. “Stop cheating,” he hissed through gritted teeth. The flute let out an ugly, jarring sound, but the ghost quickly recovered and caught up. He was trying to snatch back the leading voice; Roderich played like never before. He was sure that at any moment, his fingers would slip and he would miss a note, making him lose his line of thought; but it was clear that the story, one that he was telling, was nearing an end. He saw bitter defeat in the ghost’s eyes as the last sentence was sung and the two lowered their weapons.

“What do you want from me?” Roderich repeated his question, panting.

The ghost’s expression was furious. His hands, still holding the flute, were shaking. “That you cannot know.”

Roderich felt a mad grin spread across his face. “Play for me, then.”

***

They played together three times; and although the ghost called all the forces of darkness to his aid, desperately trying to distract Roderich from the music, the violinist always finished leading. He felt divine, as if there was nothing he couldn’t do; during their last battle, his smile wouldn’t falter. Perfection is all in the eyes of the beholder – and at that moment, he knew no one could ever play better than him, not even The Ghost of Candlecreek Hall. Gilbert Beilschmidt’s music spoke of ageless pain and longing, and was as beautiful as the cold moon; but Roderich shone above him like the sun, for he knew the joy and the love of the outside world, of blue skies and green hills and the shimmering sea, of laughing voices and tears of reunion – smile at the world and it will smile back at you.

“What do you want from me?”

The ghost stood at the eye of a black storm, and through it, all Roderich could see was the dim light of his red eyes. Only now that he stopped playing did Roderich notice the wild fluttering of his clothes and hair, and suddenly had to grip the windowsill to stop himself from falling.

“I want your hands,” the ghost shouted above the roaring of the wind.

Roderich understood. “You can’t have them,” he whispered, almost full of sorrow. The ghost would be able to hear him, he knew. “I can’t give you this body. I still have things to live for.”

The storm began draining out, fading, and the room gradually turned quiet. “I know that,” Gilbert said, “and I won’t take it from you. Go away.”

Roderich didn’t move.

“Go away!” Gilbert demanded. “I will no longer haunt your dreams. Go, and never come back, for I shall not show you this kindness again.”

Roderich stared. Then, at once, realisation hit him and he snapped up; he dropped the violin and bow in the case with little care and swung it off the windowsill, and with a last glance over his shoulder at Gilbert Beilschmidt’s pale silhouette, he fled.

***

Despite the ghost’s promise, in the following nights he kept visiting Roderich’s dreams. But those, Roderich knew, were just dreams.

Just like Roderich did as a child, he stayed inside the humble lodgings that he had rented in the little seaside town. He paced back and forth in his room, lost in thought. Daniel came several times to knock on his door and plead with him to open it, but Roderich ignored him. He could not possibly explain to his old friend any of what had happened in Candlecreek Hall.

On the seventh day since the incident at the mansion, he packed his violin and set off for the hills again. This time he was really coming back on his own will. Long ago he had given his heart to the ghost, and he wouldn’t desert him now.

It wasn’t yet dark when he arrived; it seemed that there were still one or two hours left until sunset. He decided to delve deeper into the mansion, like he did in his dreams, and wait for Gilbert’s appearance. He lit a candle and strolled with little aim, listening to the distant sounds of dripping water.

At some point, he began hearing different noises – a moving presence nearby. A long time must have passed without him noticing, Roderich realised, if Gilbert was already awake. He looked around, but the corridor he walked had no windows.

Roderich followed the noises – as he grew closer, they began sounding clearly like Gilbert’s voice, angrily muttering to himself. He carefully pushed open a wooden door and entered a dusty and luxurious bedroom.

Standing with his back to him, clothed in a simple white shirt and ankle-length trousers, was Gilbert Beilschmidt. He was flipping over a small object in his hands, examining it.

“I came back,” Roderich said, and the ghost’s head turned to look at him. Something in his face seemed not quite alright to Roderich – it might have been the lack of fire in his red eyes – but he kept speaking, for he feared that if he stopped he wouldn’t be able to ever say it. “I want to help you. I will do anything to set you free.”

Gilbert stepped towards him. “Anything?” he asked quietly. Roderich opened his mouth to speak – then his eye caught the sight of the shadow Gilbert’s form cast on the floor behind him. With sudden panic, he glanced down at the floor beneath them – which lacked any smallest touch of frost – then back at the man in front of him, whose face was vital and full of colour. The latter was now sliding the object he was holding into his breast pocket.

Roderich acted without thinking. He dropped the candle to the floor, leant forward and snatched the object out of the moving hand – which was, undeniably, flesh and blood – then turned around and ran out to the corridor. The man in the room let out a startled curse and followed him. Roderich halted at the forking of two corridors, then took the one that – so he thought – led to the opposite direction of the exit. There was again some light to unveil his way, coming through scattered, broken windows – the dim light of nearing dusk. Roderich had only one intention in mind – to keep the stranger who wore Gilbert’s looks, whoever he was, inside, until dark.

As he ran, he opened his palm to expose a golden medallion. Shaking his head confusedly, he tucked it into his own breast pocket. Behind him, the stranger was catching up; he could hear his hastened footsteps getting closer. The surroundings, Roderich noticed, were strangely familiar. As he turned into another corridor again, he realised why. In his mind, he saw two mischievous, golden haired kids climbing each other’s shoulders to reach the top of a half-collapsed staircase. He slowed down his pace as the first descending steps appeared in his sight; his pursuer, on the other hand, sped up. Roderich turned to face him, heart beating fast in his chest, and looked straight into Gilbert’s red eyes. Someone, or something, stared back out of them at him, and his pupils widened with horrified realisation just as Roderich gripped his shoulder and threw him off the broken edge of the staircase.

After the resounding crash that came from the floor beneath subsided, Roderich inched slowly towards the edge and looked down. Gilbert’s body lay there motionless, blood trickling down his face, and his right arm – trapped under his weight – was twisted in a grotesque angle. Through the torn flesh, Roderich could see the pristine whiteness of a bone.

A sickening feeling rushed through him as the weight of his actions sunk. He hurried to the opposite side of the corridor, where another, fully intact staircase led to the bottom floor. He stumbled through the darkness of the hall to the location where he reckoned Gilbert had fallen. He dropped to his knees beside him and felt for his pulse; it was faint, but steady. Focusing on this small relief, Roderich stilled and waited for sunset.

On closer examination, he could see that although the man had the same snowy hair and lashes as the ghost did, the same crooked nose and red eyes, he was older at least by ten years than the young lad that The Ghost of Candlecreek Hall seemed to assume the shape of. Of course – Gilbert was a young man when he became a ghost, but time had passed since. As for the being that inhabited his body now… Roderich remembered how Gilbert planned to take over his own body. The same must have happened to him in the past. The Ghost of Candlecreek Hall hadn’t always been Gilbert Beilschmidt, and the former actor of that role now lay beside Roderich in Gilbert’s body.

After an immeasurable time of waiting in suffocating darkness, Roderich began feeling the cold that marked the arrival of the ghost. He heard footsteps approaching from behind him, and pulled himself up to his feet, turning to meet the real Gilbert.

“Didn’t I tell you not to come back?” The ghost snapped. Roderich moved aside silently, exposing the rigid form that lay behind him. Slowly, Gilbert came closer, and to a commanding motion of his hand, the darkness that shrouded the floor wrapped around the unconscious figure and flipped it onto its back. Gilbert stared at his own lifeless face, and in a matter of seconds his expression changed from confusion to horror to scalding fury. “What have you done…”

“He would’ve escaped if I didn’t–” Roderich fell silent under the phantom’s seething gaze and staggered back as the ghost reached towards him, gripping right through his chest as if meaning to tear his heart out. Ice cracked under their feet and Roderich slipped; the case flew out of his grasp and his head hit the ground. His sight blurred. Around them, the mansion was as though jolting awake, and the shadows gave birth to horrors that gathered and shrieked with vicious joy. To Gilbert’s word, Roderich knew they’d tear him to pieces.

“For years I’ve waited to come back to life,” the ghost bellowed,“but all those stupid, reckless heroes who stepped into this mansion weren’t good enough for me. There was no way I could keep playing with those coarse, vulgar hands. Until you came along, and I thought, there, I finally found the perfect body.”

Roderich tried to pull himself up; an invisible hand pushed him down and the back of his head hit the floor again. He tasted blood.

“However, you and your friends were clever enough to come during the day, and so all I could do was place my mark in your mind, hoping it would be enough to bring you back one day – but when you indeed returned to me… I could not seize the opportunity, for I realised I could never make you into the new ghost. Your talent was too great to be wasted.”

Roderich opened his mouth to speak but found that all that came out was a quiet gasp, like a faint breeze. He held up his hands pleadingly. Then, by some desperate idea, he felt for the violin case, until his hand finally bumped into it; seeing that he could still not move from his place, he dragged it towards him across the thickening ice.

“And now,” the ghost finished, and its voice shook the whole hall, “you have broken me, the body I was born with, that by a miracle came back here– You took away my chance to return to my old life–”

Roderich slammed the violin case at the floor; the sound caught the ghost’s attention and the vice around his throat seemed to loosen. “Would you prefer me to let him get away?” he yelled, and from the case that had snapped open, pulled out his violin. The bow had spun out of his reach as he slammed it down, so he plucked the strings furiously with his fingers. The ghost played by certain rules, and Roderich very much hoped that cutting a song in the middle was still forbidden. “The former ghost did not come back ‘by some miracle’, but to get something – you can find it in my chest pocket.” As the wind grasped the medallion and sent it swirling into Gilbert’s open hand, he went on. “You say you’ve spent years waiting. Do you prefer waiting on, or taking back what belongs to you?” He jerked his head sideways at the unconscious man. “You won’t be able to play, that is correct, but what is that compared to a life of eternal loneliness?”

The G string snapped beneath his finger. Roderich cursed under his breath; he only had moments left before the others would follow. “Do you not want to take revenge on the one who trapped you in here, and went out to the open world wearing your face and name?”

The second string ripped, sending a resonating D through the air like the last word of a dying man. “I will play for you!” Roderich yelled, and felt tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’ll play what you write for the rest of your life.”

The third string split; the figures in the dark careened closer; Gilbert’s face was a hideous mask of senseless rage and pain, and he raised his hand again, ready to snap his fingers one last time and bring the end to Roderich’s song. Before he could manage, the violinist threw his instrument at the frosted floor.

“You have my heart and soul, I am willing to give you what is left of my life. I love you.”

His world went dark.

***

At dawn, a pillar of black smoke was rising from beyond the green hills. An unexplained fear sent Daniel Héderváry to the door of Roderich’s lodgings. After a few minutes of frantic knocking and shouting, and no sound coming from within, he broke the lock and swung the door open. The room was empty.

He rushed down the stairs and out to the street, and headed for the outskirts of the town, then out to the hills. When he reached the peak of the highest hill, the sight of Candlecreek Hall, engulfed in red flames, was unveiled before his eyes. Terror seized his heart; then, he saw something moving through the burning gardens. A moment later, two figures emerged from the gates.

Daniel sprinted down the hill. As he drew closer, he recognised one of the figures as Roderich, whose clothes were scorched, but apart from that he seemed unharmed. The man who leant on his shoulder, however, seemed to be worse for wear. Blood stained his ashen hair, his arm was twisted in a strange angle, and he was limping.

“Daniel,” Roderich croaked, “help me.”

He briskly nodded, and took the other side of the injured man. “What happened?!”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you everything when we get back safely to town.” Roderich glanced over his shoulder at the burning mansion. “For now…” He smiled wryly. “I can tell you as much as this – it is all over. This is the end of the Ghost of Candlecreek Hall.”

“B-But… how?” Daniel asked puzzledly. “And who is this?” He gestured with his head at the half-conscious man suspended from either of their shoulders.

“That’s Gilbert Beilschmidt,” Roderich replied, ignoring the first question. Then he added, almost to himself: “And from now on, he’s going to be alright.”

Endnote

A thousand thanks for RomanosCheese, Red-bean-soup, and Gavriel, who accompanied me along the whole process of coming up with this idea, tolerated my endless blabbering and spent long hours out of their time editing and correcting. Love y’all <3

#fanfic #gift #submission #pruaus

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dromjournal · 6 years

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Devil’s Daughter

Autumn 2018

“I'm” moving up a road next to the dorms of a college. Well the “dorms” are actually single room cabins with two bunk beds, four people in each. Outside each there is a table to eat and a couch. It looks nice. Every dorm got it’s own name on a sign over the door. It’s something pun-y about what the residents are studying. It kinda reminds you of a camp, except how filled it is with college students messing around. You can tell because there is a lot of partying going on and/or people just chilling outside in their pimped out “lawns”. I am a woman, black hair and pale skin with european features. Though maybe it should the odd combo it doesn’t really stand out. She is conventionally attractive, though not drop dead gorgeous. (Kinda your typical average YA heroine stuck in a love triangle) Her mother is a vampire or similar, possibly mermaid? Vampire Mermaid??? Her father is Satan. She is the first and only daughter of both and she have been treated through her childhood as something really special which made her confident in herself. Finding out she have had many many brothers through history kinda pulls the rug from under her feet, and she starts to question everything she’s known. Now her dad (Satan) wants her to come with him, and though it’s unclear why she doesn’t want to. She believes everything she’s grown up with to be a lie and doesn’t trust her parents telling her what to do. She have some strengths, but not really powers. She can swim really good/fast because there is something aquatic in her genes. She can’t burn. She will learn more with time.

So she walks up this road trying to escape her father. She had been here once before, and when she was she was attacked by a guy who raped her. He is handsome and athletic and general fuckboy and douchebag with a lot of money; also he was drunk off his ass that night as she had just been walking down the street. Now she is wary and afraid as she walks as quickly as she can, looking down, though it’s daylight and lots of people move around. In fact, she does see him in the middle of some kind of ongoing race. He seems to be winning. Fortunately he don’t notice her so she just keeps moving. Just at the top there is a cabin housing actually some people she, well, trust. She have met them before though she don’t know them well enough to be friends exactly, they are good people. They are sitting in their couch outside and she starts as she notices a child is sitting among them. The child looks like her, she got a feeling it IS hers, and she walks up to them. She isn’t able to stop herself. Unfortunately the douchebag appears just as she’s about to ask and so the good guy panics, throwing a blanket over her and pretending she’s his girlfriend giving him a blowjob under there, just. Out in the open. Douchebag believes it and approves, but asks about the kid and makes it clear she is his daughter which confirms to main character that it’s her daughter too. The good guys are the kids guardians for some reason and not the Douchebag (though she is thankful for that). She tries to sneak a peak at the girl, but the blanket falls off and though he had been leaving and had his back turned douchebag looks over his shoulder and notices her and immediately recognizes her. He is for some reason sure she is meant to be his wife now and they are meant to be together. He have no regrets about raping her, doesn’t even seem to see it like that that. She runs as fast as she can away from all of them, and actually lose him by hiding in an old woodcabin for a second.

Knowing now she have a daughter she feels like something fundamentally changes. She believes she can have a good future with her child, and she must find a way to escape her dad.

Douchebag keeps looking for her though, and as she hear about her father setting fire to an old couples home not far away for not saying they had seen her when he asked them (in human form. He didn’t go up to these people as Satan.) she goes to him and accepts to go with him so she can lead her dad away from the innocent people. He had almost found her, too. DB takes her to his small beach-house, probably expensive, to meet his sister. She is a blonde bombshell with cold eyes who clearly think MC is undeserving and makes MC feel inferior in all ways. Her friend (gf?) also appears, boobs bigger than her head, bubbly and bimboish. She seems very spoiled and though nice, like it’s all only as long as you’re on her good side. So MC is afraid that the guy is gonna force himself onto her, naturally, but have no better idea of where to go to escape. They all go bathe in the ocean where she makes a bet with the sister that she can swim to a small island far out and back in eight seconds. It would seem impossible, but she makes it. She swim underwater and just resurface at the island to wave and then when she’s back again. During the night a big storm is expected. On the island from before there is a single house, but the owner have been evacuated from there and their dog have been left behind. The dog have jumped into the water to swim ashore, but it’s a far distance even without the storm that is coming in. The Sister says the only chance they got of saving the dog is MC, and she agrees to swim over and get it because she doesn’t want the dog to drown. The Douchebag isn’t around to hear any of this, happily lulling about inside happily. As she jumps into the water and reaches the dog though, the dog tells her this is a ruse and the Sister hooks her somehow on a magic line around her legs pulling her into the water. She is some kind of witch and recognized MC as a magical creature right away. She is standing on the shore and smiling wickedly. She is very much attempting to drown her, though the exact reasons are unclear. The Douchebag comes outside and freaks out that his sister let his “girlfriend” into the water, unaware of the magic. He can’t really do anything but scream for help. MC takes the chance to swim away though, Sister having underestimated her magical strength. She breaks the lines, to the sister and her friends great shock (the look on their faces<3), and throw the dog onto a nearby pier, swimming away along the coastline until she’s sure she can move onto land safely. Can’t drown a mermaid, asshole.

As she looks up over the hills she is standing by, she have a vision of a young boy (named after a Midsummer Nights Dream, though honestly I refuse to say he was named Bottom) where he will be found hiding behind a rock by evil men and is cruelly beheaded, then brought back to life with the face of a donkey. He will none the less go on and become a great strategist and asset in the fight against those people later on. There is a tunnel of trees up ahead and she runs that way, wanting to get as far away as possible. In the tunnel though she can immediately tell there is people hiding in the dark, and she calls out to them to question their motives. They appear - three kids, more or less, barely teens but seemingly overconfident. They use black magic and sell people chocolates that contain spells. No one tell on them because they’d be incriminated too for taking part. That’s why they start threatening MC, who wasn’t there for their favours, with flashy magic. There’s two guys and one girl. One of the guys are younger than the other two. Unfortunately for them they are literally calling demons on the devils daughter, so reality kind break apart and hell shows for a second, MC just standing comfortably in the flames. They are shocked and taken aback, realizing she is something much stronger than them, so she continues to just move through the tunnel as they stand back staring. That’s what hubris getcha. She finds chocolate wrappings with markings such as “love” and “revenge” all over the place, getting out from the trees. They have been thrown by the people buying the spells so not to have any incriminating proof your candy is doused in magic. There is a small village on the other end (if even that, more like a block). There is a middle aged man whom is gruff and mad, acting like he’s some kind of guardian of the street. He immediately question her being there but she mostly ignores him and his suspicious questions and roll her eyes, making him angrier. As she check out the town, she is getting thrown back in time to see the past of this place. A whore lives in a cottage in town, and though many of the men have been her clients they are considered innocents who have fallen victim to her evil seduction. Now they are blocking all exits and setting fire to her house, trapping her inside. Comfortable in the knowledge fire won’t hurt her MC hurries inside, going through the wall as she’s just a spirit right now. The woman inside have just realised what is happening and broken down crying, but MC can somehow show herself to her since her fate is sealed, and she comforts her and tell her everything will be ok. They go to sleep and MC protects her from feeling any pain as she dies in the smoke and fire.

Thrown back to her body, she goes looking for the kids from before. The block look and awful lot like it used to back in the days still, though there is more and larger buildings. She finds the kids hiding out in a shed, the gruff man also well aware they are in there and yelling at them through the window that he’ll get them sooner or later. Getting in, she finds out the youngest of them is the guy with the midsummer night dreams name and realize what his fate is going to be.

She doesn’t tell them what will happen, but she question what they are doing and how it’ll affect their future. The block is very orthodox christian still and the visions she’s been shown have been no accidents, they have been to make sure everything happens as fate meant for it to. She does get in their good books though as they think she is soo cool being able to literally open a portal to hell and stand in the fire. She help style their hair outside in the yard. Other kids around too ask for her to fix their hair, which she does. Even the angry man, who are shocked to find he suddenly got hair again where he had lost it. He can’t believe what he’s seeing and isn’t even yelling angrily about witchcraft or something as you’d expect.

She moves on after that - there is a long straight road down the mountain, and it’s icy and people are skiing and walking all over it. She can’t help laughing when they fall. She is trying to be a good person though. Genuinely a good person. She doesn’t want to be whatever her parents thought she was meant to be.

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luziflor · 7 years

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Update (long post)

So I wouldnt say I was astral projecting today. Much more of lighly travelling up there and getting to some sort of inbetween spot between here and there, maybe?

Background: Years ago in my coven my mentor had us do a meditation exercise. We would visualize roots growing from where we stood, and tree branches growing up from us. It would lead you into a starry space, and she taught us to put up a ward and shield there. You would then travel into the tree to get to something that was supposed to be a personal temple, to meet with your deities and such. Not really the same as astral home. So im gonna like.... push it up there. Or something. Point is, I have a home thing already its just not really in the right location yet, but is close-ish maybe. Another problem i have with this though is that I used to be into thoughtforms. I had a few, and they had pet dragons. We had a lovely home with lots of wooded areas and a sea and everything. I could tell that one was strictly in my head at the time though, as I used to get severe headaches and even feel the energy in my brain severely shift. Thats a different story, but causes me to again question if im actually doing anything or just creating more thats only my brain (then again, ive heard of egregores being able to see egregores of others or travel to their homes.... ). Clearly, I have some things to work through.

About the home/temple that was already there - literally was created by 16 year old me after seeing an aesthetic pic on tumblr. Maybe I can find it again but I really doubt it. Anyways, the inside is light and dark blue marble. It has gold accents, and greek styled columns. The whole thing is really an old greek looking place. I recall I had a waterfall or something in there that would cause severe damage to a real house but I liked the look so it didnt bother me. There is a white greek statue of a woman in there but I could not tell you who it is. To the left there is an altar. The original was above a stone fireplace.

How its been updated: Same color scheme, theme, and random statue. The water feature was changed though, now its a small pond outside my house with a mini rock waterfall. Like for turtles. My altar is now a weird wooden desk bookshelf hybrid, that doesnt fit the theme at all. But its pretty. And I added a pet altar, it came to me as a wooden slab on metal legs or something, and it has wings that fold upward on it. Very cheesy but its a lovely piece, so I let it be. It has constant offerings of meat, water, and leaves or veggies to my passed away pets. I´ve also made it so they have a space where they can come and go as they please. I was also interacting with my deities and like uh hey guys u can make your own rooms if you want, just follow normal human rules. And I dont think any of them except Hecate did, and she did it immediately hahahah. But its not something I expected from her, though I am new to her as well. She made one that is kind of like a cave? And it had glowing amber light from the inside, and a gold metal accent piece at the top. She placed it very close to my altar but not rudely close. Apparently theres also a kitchen in there but its much more modern looking, and I got blocked from going in there (see below). I added new shields and wards, and a symbol appeared to me but its not related to any deity or anything. It came as I was setting up the shield and looking for sigils too. Its at a weird angle, a bunch of buildings mostly sky scrapers on a flat street. Below it are one line going down, and two lines attached to it with arrows or something going out. I would also like to point out that I huge painted ball python wrapped itself around my house, but it only came in images and energy I cant actually see it on the house.

Experience this time: Went in, established my being there. Looked around, was mostly the same as when I left it though some features such as my altar and water had been changed. Basically anything that worked with elements had disappeared really, or left behind a mild energy and base to build off of again.

Welcomed in my deities to talk to them. Had a great meeting with Zeus, Poseidon, Lilith, and for the first time, Hecate (though I have interacted with her already).

Hecate was the first I greeted. She had her hair in a nice smooth updo, and looked like an oil painting. Im still working on visualization, she didnt move much but I heard her speaking and felt the energy. She also had a golden bird metal band in her hair, which surprised me as well. Shes very nice so far, though i find it funny that she, mother of witches, had to put her room right next to my altar (which only has one side available). I thanked her for her work with me so far, especially as my oldest dog passed just recently, and I have another one whos young and sick now (he is much better today!).

Then was Lilith. When i first saw her, she was old and cranky but none the less friendly to me. Just kinda like a grandma with a temper. That had been in winter. Now as it is summer here (or spring? guate is weird), she came to me as a woman who had to be 19-early 20s. She had light olive skin, and swamp green eyes with slit pupils. She had brown loose curled hair that was every so slightly frizzy and very full. She was full human, but this time her body was super limber and a bit long like a snake. She was in a plain white dress, but it was like you could feel that her abdomen had a very specific shape that was like a snake. She was lovely, very kind, and patient with me as always. She is sweet but definitely has a jokester and teasing energy about her. After I left her, a huge californian king snake wrapped itself up around my shoulders just to chill, and I felt his scales moving across my shoulder. I havent held a snake in years, and I know for a fact my old cal king has died.

Next was Zeus. He is so much like a father figure to me, and he was very cheerful. Unfortunately because I havent really met up with him in a very long time, he looked to me like the animated Neptune from Little Mermaid. Yeeaah, sorry man. But he was fine none the less. We have a good relationship, he was glad to see me reaching out to them again. Even though I could not see him as he is for me, I could feel his energy. For me he is very hearty, and big. Its like santa clause with an attitude problem. (sorry pops)

Finally, Neptune/Poseidon. This one has been confusing for me as he presents himself to me as both. First it was more of Neptune, but now more of Poseidon. While Zeus is more like a father to me, Poseidon is the one that has all of my interests or is coincidentally related to weird things that happen to me. While Zeus has always been like a father, Zeus and I were more detached to begin with. But Poseidon was always the sweet uncle who related to what I liked and taught me valuable lessons. Today I saw him and felt him at the time, but once I was recording it in my journal I forgot almost everything about the experience other than it was super nice.

There was some point where I had looked down, and noticed I had on partial armor in the color of gold on my legs and on my lower arms. Then I saw light dusty blue fabric draped over my arm, and more detail came from there. I was somehow wearing a stereotypical greek dress, but also bits of gold armor. I looked into a mirror and also saw that I had on a golden crown which felt a bit much in my tastes, but it was lovely so I kept it anyways!

I saw my old dog Molly in there, though we didnt interact. Muffin, my recently passed, was there too. And I met up with her, and while I cant for sure say it was her it was good to have a few moments where I felt like I was playing with her again and hearing her weird snorts she makes when shes happy. My physical body had started crying after that. I could feel her bones again, if it was her shes happy but needs some serious vetting, which is probably the case anyways. Hopefully the offerings and me getting more experienced will help as time goes on.

In my pet altar, I opened the drawer and found pictures. The only one I could really make out was one of my passed kitten, Possum. Possum had been a soul mate of a cat for me, ive never felt a connection like that before. And when he was passing away in the middle of the night across my whole house, I woke up for no reason not feeling tired at all. Then something told me to go outside because I had to go get him. He died a few hours after that, and im broken hearted to this day.

At the beginning of this whole thing, I created an athame. Its based off of the ones they sell here but I have yet to actually get my hands on. Its made of metal and stone, and the tip of the handle has a tigers head. This one is a regular athame but I was immediately moved to make it into something to defend me from malicious spirits as well. I immediately slipped it into a knife holder that happened to be around my waist.

I was going to the kitchen, as my deities had left, there were no pets running around in there (maybe Muffin, but I had been interuppted in the physical world so our session broke off), so I was lonely and wanted to explore. I immediately felt blocked from going in there, and a black figure flew out at me. I felt just about nothing from this experience so I dont think that part was real (and I will go into more detail about this in a second). I grabbed my knife, stabbed it in the head, and the spirit was passed out or whatever for a second. I took it outside and realized I could removed the black around it, it was just cloth. It was what appeared to be some sort of white teenager, but the look of him really made me feel like he was not modern times. I dont know. Ive never seen him before either, and again, I didnt feel any panic from this at all. Only when i got blocked from the kitchen.

When I had egregores, I had a nice home for them. But in the upstairs I would hate going to because a black figure would come up to me. I would feel panic and even feel this in the physical realm sometimes. It is not around me anymore I dont think, or if it is, its only kept in my mind so its something personal I would assume. He was banished long ago, I changed their house, and didnt see him ever again. I questioned that experience at the time but it felt more real than the one I had earlier today. I dont know.

Long story short- met up with the deities, Hecate had to put her room next to my altar, new guards up, snake things happened, might have killed a spirit but maybe nah, maybe hung out with my deceased dog for just a few seconds.

#long post #p #astral home #spirits

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londontheatre · 7 years

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Now in its sixth year, VAULT Festival returns from 24th January to 18th March 2018 with 300 individual shows, championing new writing, immersive experiences, comedy, film and late night entertainment. Returning to its native venue beneath Waterloo Station, expanding further into satellite venues including Waterloo East Theatre and Network Theatre and with support from We Are Waterloo, the programme is broader and more diverse than ever before. Tickets are available from Dec 5th via vaultfestival.com.

Packed with an array of intimate themed bars and a selection of the city’s finest street food offerings, the festival promises to be an eight week cultural nerve centre inviting audiences to return to see multiple and varied shows as well as playing host to a series of glittering late night parties. The VAULT New Writers Award, round-tables on gender equality and a partnership with the iF Platform all contribute to VAULT’s continued commitment to nurturing and presenting the broadest and best selection of contemporary performance.

Theatre Neverland, by Theatre Deli and The Guild of Misrule, producers of the 2017 immersive theatre sensation, The Great Gatsby, return to VAULT 2018 with a full eight week run of this immersive musical adaptation of J.M. Barrie’s classic. This dark and dangerous world will be brought to life throughout the labyrinthine Vaults, with audiences encountering glittering pirates, mermaids, food fights, absinthe bars and soaring live music from a band of lost boys. Caravan, will serve up a healthy dose of immersive hip hop dance, whilst Lamplighters will see audience led through an immersive, improvised spy story in the style of John Le Carre for a hilarious evening of drama, deception and treachery.

Revelations sees the return of critically acclaimed James Rowland with a storytelling show about giving his best friends his sperm. Bismillah! An ISIS Tragicomedy, from Wound Up Theatre sees two Brits meet on either side of a radical divide, while writer John O’Donovan’s If We Got Some More Cocaine I Could Show You How I Love You, sees two gay robbers do a whole lot of blow in this critical hit from Old Red Lion. Further new work comes from writer-performer Jessica Butcher with SPARKS, Abi Zakarian with I Have A Mouth And I Will Scream, Katie Jackson with Conquest and much more.

Circus & Magic Becoming Shades serves up a sensory feast of dance, aerial acrobatics, music and fire performances up close and personal in Hades’ underworld as Chivaree Circus explode their 2017 award winning re-imagining of the classic myth of Persephone into a full 8 week immersive circus extravaganza. Directors and performers David Aula and Simon Evans team up again following 2017’s hit The Vanishing Man, to explore hypnotism and the human mind with The Vanishing Mankind. Born without hands or feet, Madhi The Magician will perform wonders at VAULT, having overcome these incredible obstacles to become one of the world’s most extraordinary magicians.

Female Led Continuing its commitment to female led work, VAULT are proud to have programmed over 52% of shows written or directed by women. Paper Scissors Stone from Fringe First winner Katie Bonna takes a sharp-edged peek into gender conditioning whilst Glitter Punch, from Some Riot Theatre, deals with student/teacher relationship boundaries, receiving nine 4 star reviews over its run in Edinburgh. Foreign Body is the critically acclaimed solo show about healing after sexual assault from Imogen Butler-Cole, and The Strongbox by Stephanie Jacob looks at domestic slavery. Other female led work at VAULT includes Mission Abort, Ad Libido, Big Bad , ZINA, A Girl and a Gun, Double Infemnity, The Vagina Dialogues and many more.

With a high-reaching agenda to change the theatre industry from the inside out by altering its attitude towards female playwrights and their output, VAULT is announcing its Writers Gap scheme for talented emerging female writers to meet with producers and programmers from London Theatres, including the Donmar, Almeida and Old Vic, to explore and remove industry-wide barriers.

BAME For a Black Girl, a piece of straight, honest storytelling from Nicole Acquah, is a powerful response to the claim that racism doesn’t exist in the UK. Upcoming star Nicole Henriksen’s second solo show, A Robot in Human Skin, explores her past as a stripper, while The Year of the Rooster Monk, sees award winning absurdists Les Foules present Giselle LeBleu Gant in a part-cabaret, part-narrative, part-seance spectacle, which explores millennial isolation, black feminist movements and the problems of gentrification.

Focusing on stories of young black men in contemporary London, Still We Dream by choreographer Joseph Toonga explores the power of relationships and the ugly reality of ‘the trumps and triumphs’ of reaching for your dreams through free-flowing, animalistic, expressive movement, blurring the lines of hip-hop and contemporary dance.

Accessibility and Integrated Arts VAULT Festival will this year partner with the iF Platform (Integrated Fringe) to showcase the work of companies and artists producing work with disabled and non disabled artists. MIA: Daughter’s of Fortune, from Mind the Gap, tackles the taboo subject of learning disability and parenthood with silliness, stories and statistics. Further integrated work includes the playfully devised Follow Suit from Silent Faces and Georgia Morrell’s Eyecon with more to follow.

LGBTQ The festival celebrates a host of gender explorative pieces with the likes of Gypsy Queen, which offers a bold response to homophobia in boxing after widespread acclaim in Edinburgh. TESTOSTERONE is the critically acclaimed physical theatre comedy from Rhum & Clay, following Kit as he transitions from female to male in his early thirties, experiencing life on both sides of the gender divide. Consumables is an alarming concoction of knives, gimp masks, fetish videos and hostages and further gender explorative and LGBTQ work comes from Paloma Oakenfold with the darkly funny Stud, as well as Jaswinder Blackwell-Pal’s The Poetry We Make and Tumulus by Christopher Adams.

Comedy VAULT Festival are proud to announce the first annual VAULT Comedy Festival, a dedicated programme of over 125 comedy shows across 8 weeks, curated to support work from up and coming comics through to Edinburgh Comedy Award Winners. Appearances come from hotly tipped rising stars Joe Lycett, Bridget Christie, Richard Gadd, Phil Wang and Adam Riches, alongside critically-acclaimed Edinburgh shows from Mat Ewins, Graham Dickson, Joe Sutherland with Model/Actress and The Pretend Men, who return to VAULT with their highly physical Police Cops in Space for a two week run from Jan 24th. With scores of unannounced acts trying out their new material, VAULT 2018 is going to be the place to watch for big talent.

Musicals & Cabaret Today’s ludicrous epoch is heartily lampooned by writer Isla van Tricht and composer Guy Woolf with Great Again, a musical exploring the sensitivities of Trumpian America, while the musical and political tomfoolery continues with The People’s Rock: A Musical from Nevertheless She, in which an impressionable young woman navigates a dystopian landscape with only 2020 US presidential candidate, Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson to guide her. From the creators of the award-winning sellout hit Buzz, Fat Rascal Theatre present Tom and Bunny Save the World, a zombie apocalypse musical which places women in the roles usually taken by men: the soldier, the scientist and the sexual instigator.

Family Entertainment Multi award-winning theatre company, ThisEgg, invites children and adults alike to save the world one bee at a time with Me & My Bee, a political party disguised as a party party disguised as a comedy show. With a new supervillain in town, Doktor James’s Bad Skemes enlists audiences of all ages to help prove the title character is in fact the most evil guy around with more child friendly shows in the form of One Duck Down by Faceplant Theatre and the return of cult classic Funz and Gamez from Phil Ellis.

Satellite Venues With an ever increasing number of shows, experiences and events scheduled and support from WeAreWaterloo, VAULT will for the first time spill into Waterloo East Theatre for a wide variety of shows with yet more programmed at the Network Theatre. Rubber is an hour-long immersive show promising to thrill as audiences ride out the action set in a car circumnavigating the streets of Waterloo. Robin Linde productions return to VAULT for a third year with The Caravan Theatre bringing a selection of evocative new short plays to intimate audiences of up to nine in a caravan parked on Leake Street.

Lates The festival’s series of Lates promises to lure those seeking a further theatrical fix into the small hours as they revel in a selection of specially curated themed parties including a debaucherous Valentine’s Party, London’s fattest Mardi Gras celebration, a St Patrick’s Day blowout and an evening of funk, soul and Motown as South London Soul Train heads underground. Neverland’s party promises an exhilarating late night adventure while Chivaree Circus host LABYRINTH where revelers will delve into a world full of mind-boggling aerial performances, stupendous circus feats and intimate encounters. Trough London will turn up the heat with with their leather clad installment, and The House of Burlesque: Lock In promises “Showgirl Explosions”, mini-burlesque tutorials, bespoke cocktails and a secret speakeasy for the night Time Out dubbed ‘Moulin Rouge on Acid”.

VAULT Festival’s Directors comment: “VAULT has morphed again to better fit London’s adventurous audiences, and in 2018 our offering is longer, later, wilder, smarter and funnier. Choose from four strands – comedy every night, sixteen enormous themed parties, a huge theatre programme, and weekly film residencies. Mix in our five perfectly balanced bars, and 2018 is laced with unlimited possibilities.. For the sixth year,hundreds of artists present their own edition of VAULT Festival.”

As well as sponsoring the VAULT New Writers Award, Nick Hern Books will partner for the third year to release an anthology of plays selected from the best new writing at the festival. Plays from VAULT 3 will be published on 26 January, to coincide with the beginning of the festival, and will be on sale at the venue, online and in major bookshops. Further details, including the line-up of plays chosen for the anthology, will be announced soon.

FURTHER SELECTIONS FROM THE VAULT FESTIVAL 2018 PROGRAMME:

The Mulligan Collection; Forgiveness, is the inaugural work from Mulligan Theatre and The Forgiveness Project rolling together two plays, a human library, group discussions and academia.

Destination Planet Earth from Soft Machines is an exciting mix of circus and film bringing to life the adventures of a cinema manager and his alien friend.

The Very Important Child from The Mostly Everything People demonstrates human ego development using theatre, dance, sound design and improvisation. More physical theatre and dance comes from Ok, Bye from VAULT sell-out wonders, RedBellyBlack.

Burkas and Bacon Butties is a heart-warming ‘east meets west’ comedy charting a father daughter relationship. WHITE blends spoken word, music and live vocal looping in Koko Brown’s solo show about identity, growing up mixed-race and feeling like an outsider, while Joy, from collective all good artists are dead, explores European and Afro-Caribbean heritage, provoking questions around racism and the exoticization of the black body through lyrical text, contemporary dance and electronic music.

Following a sell out run at Southwark Playhouse, Stardust shines an unflinching light on Colombia, mixing new writing, physical theatre and hand drawn animations in this impassioned investigation into the human cost of the cocaine industry. The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha from Little Soldier is an hilarious award winning take on Cervantes’ which sees two feisty señoritas and a downtrodden Englishman take on Don Quixote’s quest. More international work comes from Seemia Theatre with Evros | The Crossing River which fuses musicality, movement and poetic text to shine light on the plight of Syrian refugees, Alien Lands from Momin Swaitat, and Nest from award winning Australian playwright Katy Warner.

RED/WOLF from Rebecca Humphries, (Prom Kween), is a subversive cabaret that twists the tale of ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ through original music and black comedy. More cabaret comes from Scottish sasspot and wayward girl Cat Loud with To the End of the World!, a toast to humanity’s impending doom as well as Tori Scott, who makes her hilarious return to the UK with Thirsty! direct from sell-out performances at The Public Theater, New York and Live at Zedel in London.

Tickets and the full programme can be found at: http://ift.tt/1p28DtZ

http://ift.tt/2kpvDac London Theatre 1

#IFTTT #London Theatre 1

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andrea-cristina-travel-blog · 7 years

Photo

Collecting moments on the island of Menorca, Spain

“London is a splendid place to live in for those who can get out of it.” — Lord Balfour of Burleigh, 1944 The thought first came on the Tube. The 18:09 Jubilee line from London Bridge to Stratford, to be exact. It began as a niggling feeling. The type you can’t quite identify yet but you know is there; like a crick in the neck after sleeping funny. I think it was somewhere between curtailing the need for air and stepping into the claustrophobia; yoga’ing into the last available pocket of air, between the balding businessman and the snarling teenager blasting death metal. Sometime before the daily prayer that the masses rocking side to side around me would buoy me, or after the ever-polite British voice reminded us all, again, to ‘mind the gap, please’. Hurtling beneath the streets of London in a grey tin can, it materialised between yet another long day at work and yet another long night of freelance work to come that evening. We were desperately in need of a holiday. It’s probably a strange thing to comprehend. Two people who make their living by living the non-stop travel dream, in need of a getaway. Yet there we were, having arrived in London 8 months before, straight from a hectic year of full-time travel and blogging, and launching straight into full-time work, full-time freelance, and full-time just trying to work out where the heck we were going in this chaotic new city of unfamiliarity. Combine this with constant travel for work, and you end up with us: two utterly exhausted, drained of enthusiasm, and generally flat humans. It’s probably why, when the opportunity to visit Menorca – Spain’s lesser-known, slower Balearic Island – presented itself, we didn’t even pause for thought. Google told us it was the ‘true home of slow’, full of idyllic Mediterranean beaches and long lunches, and two weeks later, we were hurtling out of London in another tin can. This time, watching the sun rise from pink skies en route to Mahon, ready to shift down a gear, recalibrate, and collect those small holiday moments that would help us find ourselves again. COLLECTING MOMENTS ON THE ISLAND OF MENORCA, SPAIN the salt water cure. The cure for anything is salt water – sweat, tears, or the sea. — Isak Dinesen 3… 2… 1… Deep breath. The sudden cool of the water sends tiny shocks along my skin, warm from a morning spent kayaking Menorca’s coastline under the sun’s gaze. Everyone always comes back from holiday exclaiming they ‘saw the bluest water, like, everrrrr’, but really, truly, they can’t have seen Menorca’s. It’s a blue that names like turquoise, azure, cerulean, can’t do justice. Gliding along the surface had been a test in patience, fighting the urge to ditch off the side into its inviting waters. So when we pull up inside the cave for a swimming stop, it takes all of two milliseconds to set aside the oars and dive straight in. It’s been a long time since we last felt the refreshing touch of salt water. For a second I seriously consider becoming a mermaid so I can live under here forever. After a youth spent swimming competitively, there’s always a sense of comfort in returning home to the water; surrendering to the ocean and just letting go. Under the rolling blue there’s nothing to focus on but your breath and thoughts; a natural meditation of sorts. Breaking through the surface to the sound of our friends whooping and splashing about, the happiness bubbles over. In this place of white cliffs and clear waves, there’s nothing to do but lie back and laugh to the bright blue skies as the stress dissolves away. roll on under the sun. “There was nowhere to go but everywhere, so just keep on rolling under the stars.” ― Jack Kerouac Windows down, the wheels roll on. There are five* of us today, piled into a rental car, on one of life’s great simple pleasures: a road trip with dear friends. We do have destinations in mind, Menorca’s medina-like port town of Ciutadella and the beach cove of Macarelleta, but today the freedom of the open road is just as much a part of the plan. I’ve always been fond of long car drives, and that delicious feeling of really going somewhere, both literally and metaphorically, that they invoke. Under a brilliant summer sky, we sing at the top of our lungs and wind along quiet country lanes fringed by long grasses and wildflowers. Menorca’s gentle landscape is peppered with ancient dry stone walls that criss cross fields of green, whitewashed stones farmhouses of times past, and wooded valleys that run towards white bays and sparkling seas. This is an island totally at ease with itself. Leisurely, beautifully natural, and content with having avoided the grasp of the modernising world. We’re a long way from the queues, skyscrapers, and blustery chaos of London. We make it to Ciutadella and wander the cobblestones, twisting and weaving down narrow lanes and getting distracted by market stalls. We stumble into a quaint café only to discover we’re actually in one of Menorca’s finest boutique hotels, and scramble up a flight of iron stairs to the best 360* view of Ciutadella we could imagine. We continue to Macarelleta and flop on our beach towels in the sun, feeling both totally relaxed and a little awkward due to a sudden encounter with the more relaxed European attitudes towards beach nudity. By the time we swing back into the carpark of our hotel as the stars have begun to twinkle overhead, we’re people refreshed, our troubles left behind in the lines of the road. *shout out to our favourite roadie buddies Girl vs Globe, Peter Parkorr, and Polkadot Passport! breaking bread. “If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.” – J.R.R. Tolkien Legend has it that centuries ago, an unknown man came from the sea. A shipwreck survivor, an escapee – no one knows. He took refuge in a cave, lifting supplies from nearby houses. From one house, a young woman already betrothed disappeared. Years passed with no sign of her return, until footprints left in an unexpected snow led armed men into the cave, to the couple and their three sons. Cornered, the man, Xoroi, leapt from the cave, returning to the sea, leaving the imposing cliffs to guard their love story forever. Today, Cova D’En Xoroi is one of Menorca’s glittering bars. I say glittering, because as the sun goes down over the cliffs to our right, the walls glow and champagne glasses flash with golden light as they clink. It’s from this magical viewpoint that we watch that vivid sunset in the company of our best friends, and contemplate the beauty and simplicity of nature. Meals of the freshest seafood and salty olives become some of our favourite moments on this island. Lunches are long, dinners a multi-course tapas-style affair. We have no choice but to slow down and savour life. To make each bite deliberate and intentional; to be fully present, instead of scarfing pizza down wordlessly in front of Netflix. More than that, each meal becomes a reminder to smile between mouthfuls, to belly laugh with friends over a heady mix of new tastes and local wine. To nourish our souls as we nourish our stomach. After all, nourishing souls is what Menorca does best. Need to book accommodation? Here’s £30 off your first AirBnb booking Check out Hotel’s Combined for the best hotel deals Love Spain? You might like these posts: Why Menorca should be your next summer escape How to spend the ultimate weekend in Santander, Spain The best things to do in Santander, Spain FOLLOW OUR ADVENTURES ON FACEBOOK | INSTAGRAM | TWITTER | PINTEREST LIKE THIS POST? PIN AND SHARE IT! JOIN OUR TRIBE & WANDER WITH US Join 30,000+ people and receive travel stories, tips + hacks, and stunning photography to inspire your wanderlust. Straight to your inbox We hate spammers. We'll never be those people. We were hosted in Menorca Spain by Spain Tourism, Jet2.com, Visit Menorca, and Traverse as part of the #MustSeeMenorca campaign. A big thank you to the team for making our stay memorable. As always, all views are our own. Check out #MustSeeMenorca on Twitter or Instagram. The post Collecting moments on the island of Menorca, Spain appeared first on The Common Wanderer.

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#Destinations #Europe #Featured #Spain #Menorca #Menorca travel #Minorca #Minorca travel guide #Travel guide

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ulyssesredux · 8 years

Text

Sirens

What truly matters is a waiter hard of hearing, to hear, for all things dying, for our VETERANS. Tschunk. Tap. But both are joys. Come! Stay safe!

Have a great evening we had a gorgeous, simply gorgeous, simply gorgeous, time. Bloom, to speak: but said, We are their harps. Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear, to him she bore lightly the spiked and winding seahorn that he got caught Voter fraud! See the conquering hero comes. The violet silk petticoats. Lenehan waited for Boylan with impatience.

Deaf, bothered waiter, waited.

Meeting with biggest business leaders of the least. Ben Dollard's voice.

—Qui sdegno, Ben, in order to be a disaster. In order to keep your weathereye open. Just leaving D.C. Bald Pat who is bothered mitred the napkins. Wow, just the opposite! There should be fun! Thou lost one! Miss Douce said yes, sitting with his ex, pearl grey and eau de Nil Mina to tankards two her pinnacles of hair, a must! When first they heard, deaf Pat brought pad knife took up. Lot of ground he must cover in the lute I think. High grade. Before. Under Tom Kernan's ginhot words the accompanist wove music slow. Seven last words. Thou lost one! Her eyes over the sheet. It is a borderless world where working people have no money but if you deduct the millions of dollars can and will bring back our jobs. Atrot, in cry of lionel loneliness that she did not, miss Lydia, admired, admired. Know what I mean of course that's what gives him the base barreltone. I don't think the voters so he can't get to 1237. —O, not alone. Who? To Martha I must write. A couple of FAKE NEWS!

Keep the big drum.

Something to eat?

Fate. As a tribute to the west. Pat, tipped Pat, listened. But a long threatening comes at last, one tapped, with the glycerine, miss Kennedy a rim of his rocky thumbnails. Bloom viewed a gallant pictured hero in Lionel Marks's window. Loud boots unmannerly asked. Outtohelloutofthat. Who's in the glass. Bloom. Tiny, her tortoise napecomb showed, spluttered out of control. Pity they feel. The hideous old wretch! Napkinring in his no don't she cried, then John Kasich was never asked by me to be V.P. Just won a big speech tomorrow with Bobby!

Face like dip.

She sipped distastefully her brew, hot tea, grimaced and prayed: He's killed looking back. I do well. Disgraceful! Crooked Hillary Clinton put out false reports that it was packed, totally electric! Woman. Tap. Crazy Megyn anymore. —Go on, Simon! She passed a remark.

Ha, give!

See, not seen, read on. They want it.

Yes. They threw young heads back, miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina. Her phony Native American to get away with murder. Asked her, I won Ohio.

Always find out this equal to that.

Has he forgotten? Ruttledge's door: ee creaking. Rudy. I had no wedding garment. She used it as a drum on him. Very sad thing. I was thinking of your wash. The false priest rustling soldier from his cassock. Thanks, that all but burst, so high.

Looks like the Spanish. But wait till I tell you too. Chips.

Up stage strode Father Cowley, her bust, that hurdygurdy boy.

#ObamaCareInThreeWords Obamacare is a fact? Hillary hard on not using the f bomb. She darted, bronze gigglegold, to Bloom soon old. He waits while you wait.

With faraway mourning mountain eye. Lyin' Ted Cruz and Graham, Romney, Flake, Sass. War!

Backache he. On. From day one I said pro-Wall Street paid for diner's popcorked bottle ere he went he whispered, bald and bothered, with a carra, with stops and locks and keys! Chips. Songs without words.

Drop out LYIN' Ted. Sing out!

Lenehan opened most genial arms. —Look at the Grand Opening of my points.

It sang again to Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard, not shut, the worst in many years. Wow, President Obama's brother, Malik, just released that international gangs are all over the sheet. I hear any more of your wash. A croppy boy. The so-called popular vote-but I am spending very little.

Between the car and window, warily walking, went Bloom, of love's leavetaking, life's, love's morn. What? It clanged. —Sure, you'd burst the tympanum of her mouth. Can anyone explain this?

People will not take the oil, they would run him out of her ear, man, Mike Pence as my Vice Presidential running mate. The opinion of this so-called popular vote-they would partake of two more. —You're the essence of vulgarity, she has new ideas.

—Fortune, he said. Rally last night. Cool hands. The journey begins and I extend our warmest greetings to those observing Rosh Hashanah here in the tank. Look at the Convention though I'm sure he was caught by a lot!

They took their country the U.S. Cowley, who nodded as he lived: never.

Amazing people that were never going to be what you call me naught? He is turning out to be even bigger and more easily The debates, especially the second carriage, miss Douce said yes, will be overturned! Pat carried two diners' drinks, Richie, heard from a person wouldn't expect it in the whole opera, Goulding said, a triple of keys to see her skin askance in the day the people and saving the climber.

Base barreltone. Asked to speak of nineteen four? Leave her: get tired. Decoy. Who? He pitched a broad coin down. —Those things only bring out a rash, replied, reseated. Time and on-line poll, Time Magazine, Drudge etc. Clean tables, flowers, mitres of napkins. Why aren't the lawyers looking at the DNC illegally gave Hillary the questions? Ah, lure! Big Benaben Dollard. Do right to hide them. Postoffice lower down. Yes. Poor Mrs Purefoy. She had a great guy who likes me much better results!

Look forward to being at the voting booths in Texas Blue Cross/Blue Shield through ObamaCare. Why do they think when they know she is nasty. Question of mood you're in. —O! One body. Girlgold she read and did favors for regimes that horribly oppress women and murder gays.

Right, Pat, Mina, did not: no, no way, he mused. —I could not leave thee—Afterwits, miss Douce entreated. Cowley. Had me decked. Again.

Tipping her tepping her tapping her topping her. Still hold her back.

Lay of the water is equal to the etherial bosom, by the dishonest and disgusting media. Senators should focus their energies on ISIS, rise of Iran, and who was it gave me the Swedish razor he shaved me with her e-mails AFTER they were subpoenaed by the beerpull gazed far sideways. And Prosper Lore's huguenot name. Run Bernie, will manage them.

While Bernie has totally sold out to all for his own gut.

Castile. Clapclap. Probably released by Wikileakes shows quid pro quo in Crooked Hillary, is more proof that she is: or fingered only. Queer because we both, I am still running around wild. She is spending a fortune on ads against me. He boycotted Bush 43 also because he believes that Crooked Hillary was set up by the curb and stopped.

Yes, begad. Ben Howth. Breathe a prayer, drop a tear, good people. Amen.

Each graceful look First night when first they saw, lost chord, and now our own people are really smart in cancelling subscriptions to the bar, them in the effulgence symbolistic, high in the Senate.

Choirboy style. I met some really great Air Force One for future presidents, but we let political hacks negotiate our deals.

He drew and plucked. Bronze gazed far sideways. Sighing Mr Dedalus raised his grog and—That must have been declared the winner was based on made up nonsense to steal the election against Bernie. When first he saw that form endearing? First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a table near the door. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in shadow Dolores shedolores. I am President, to laughter after laughter. Skin tanned raw. —Sonnez! —Look at the organ. Deaf wait while you wait. Vibrations. Tap.

SUPREME COURT, REMEMBER! A call again. The attack on Pearl Harbor while he's in Japan? Tschunk. Lenehan.

I will beat the PASSION of my Cabinet nominee are looking good! Will be going back tomorrow, to one departing, dear one!

Right. I will fix it! Husbands don't. Over their voices Dollard bassooned attack, booming over bombarding chords: O wept! She smilesmirked supercilious wept! Could it be because Cruz's guy runs Missouri?

Girl touched it. For creamy dreamy. Dodge round by Greek street. Exhausted, breathless, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against the pane in a landslide every poll, Time Magazine, Drudge etc. Piano again. —Don't make half so free, said he would. —No, she in gliding said. —Most aggravating that young man died. Sleeping!

Yet more Bloom stretched his string.

Their donors & special interest groups are forming and getting worse. —Ah, Martha! In the second carriage, miss Douce entreated. With look to the long fellow. Nice!

Chap in the U.S. must immediately stop taking in people from Syria. Hee hee hee hee hee hee. Got up to you If the disgusting and corrupt media and her team were extremely careless in their voices. I heard he went he whispered, bald Pat attending, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. What a terrible job of ordering the protection of innocent people. Dignam Patrick. Psst! Miss Douce halfstood to see it was well known that I wanted to tell you, he mused, whatever you say yourself.

Let people get fond of each other: lure them on.

Crooked Hillary compromised our national security, and crooked ess. When first he saw. Hoh. The hideous old wretch!

Cruz even voted against Superstorm Sandy aid and September 11th help. One love. She threatened as he lived: never. Wait a shake, begged Lenehan, small eyes ahunger on her page. I could not see. Car companies and jobs way down: I will be fun! Singing. Sonnez la.

—Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night, my speech on economic opportunity-today we honor the enduring fight for the labour of his packet. A student. Amazing crowd! —Very, Mr Bloom said. I didn't I wouldn't ask. How strange! Course if I did in the treble clear. Thrilled she listened, bending, suspending, with a long. I want change-Crooked Hillary Clinton was SO INSULTING to my people.

He asked her. Ben Warrior laughed. Explain better. Always find out this equal to that. I will nominate for The United States cannot continue to let freefly their laughter, after her gliding head as it flowed flower in his eye. Pray for him a yard, waiting for their terrible behavior The Theater must always be a total Clinton flunky! Touch water. O'er ryehigh blue. Pray for him. Politically correct fools, would not allow free speech and demeanor were absolutely incredible.

Kraaaaaa. —Fat of death, Simon. Wise Bloom eyed on the win. Senate, must start focusing on the rye. In a cave of the lane!

Tap.

Must be Cowley.

I always do-trade, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. Consumed.

Lydia hand, soft Bloom, of the nom the Dems own the failed ObamaCare disaster, the world.

After an interval Mr Dedalus said. Fall, surrender, lost Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard steel from anear, afar, from hoary mountains, called on good men, good to hear, to him. I saved the situa. Build plant in Baja, Mexico and creating 700 new jobs in America. If they don't name the sources don't exist. Talk. Winsomely she on Bloohimwhom smiled. I not only fighting Crooked Hillary says VA problems are not merely transferring power from one party to another but we must be smart! His corns. I saw her at Mat Dillon's in Terenure. The priest's at home after pig's cheek and cabbage nursing it in the debate. Lots of support! Buttered toast. On. —Try it with the tank for Clinton-corruption and devastation follows her wherever she goes. Blue bloom is on a Twitter rant. You. He strode.

You hear? Lydia, her pinnacles of hair, stooping, her bust, that was right when he said. That will end when I spoke his face, though. Media, as it pertains to my surprise, and now our own people are seeing big stuff. Payment at the door a poster, a man with so little touch for politics, they twist it and asked for the mess the U.S. Indiana.

Gets on your nerves. Berkeley does not allow another four years of stupidity! O'clock. Hillary & the GOP Party Leadership on Thurs in DC. Clapclap. —Greetings from the beginning. Bored Bloom tambourined gently with I am somewhat surprised that Bernie Sanders, after her gliding head as it sounds. Tap.

—Lablache, said Tomgin Kernan. What?

Yes. So distinct.

We have enough problems around the world to see her skin askance in the least effective Senators in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmered and in Mooney's sur mer. —Very, Mr Dedalus said. Busy day planned in New York City. Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. Where bronze from afar, heard steel from anear, by Larry, bold Larry O', Boylan swayed and Boylan turned. —'lldo! Tenderness it welled: slow, a man with a maid.

He doesn't see my mourning.

O, I am not being honored and almost dead.

Also, many in the great workers of Carrier.

One: one, one, one of my voters.

The reviews and polls from almost everyone of my friends and supporters in San Jose was great.

That's the chat. Underline imposs. He pitched a broad coin down. Will be in Wisconsin, we would all be much better! So I raised/gave! I just had the biggest budget increase in Texas. —I knew he was responsible for NAFTA, high in the hall.

Loud. You horrid thing! Too poetical that about the Constitution but doesn't say that if the election! But a long. If they don't appreciate how kind President Obama allowed to run for POTUS. —Sceptre will win case! Five bob I gave.

We do not like or respect women, when that was yesterday!

Molly great dab at seeing anyone looking. A detainee released from prison, is a mixed up man who doesn't have a great day in D.C.

Shepherd his pipe. She would now use! Delayed. Skin tanned raw. Tap. Virgin should say: or fingered only. —Martha! Hoh. We cannot take four more years of Obama, and a temperament, according to new book, Secret Service detail? Soon I am. I still number one-sided deal from the bridge to Ormond quay. —What are Hillary Clinton's watch-she's done nothing about me where I was never asked by me to win the nomination-& should not happen! The priest he sought. Hee hee hee hee hee hee hee. I will sign the first bill to repeal #Obamacare and give Americans many choices and much lower rates!

Are you not happy that he wants TPP, NAFTA, a bulky with a carra. Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear, to set up by women many already proven false and phony T.V. commercials being broadcast in Indiana on Sunday and Monday at four MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

He pitched a broad coin down. All ears. Bronzedouce communing with her rose to wait. Do you believe I lost large numbers.

—Let's hear the muffled hammerfall in action. See you soon! His spellbound eyes went after, gold from afar, they are in. Goulding.

Miss Douce withdrew her satiny arm, reproachful, pleased. Miss Douce halfstood to see her skin askance in the silence after you feel you hear. Black. Gone.

Why do I always said that he has a fine voice. Paint face behind on him then he'd be two.

Course if I did that for him, that rat's tail wriggling! Yes, bottle of cider. Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting forms, the oceansong her lips said more loudly, Mr Bloom, face of the great state of Pennsylvania-he cannot win the so-called Commission on Presidential Debates admitted to us that the horrendous protesters, who tried so hard, was it gave me the Swedish razor he shaved me with.

Course if I did that at a banquet. Yes: all for his lips that cooed a moonlight nightcall, clear from anear near gold from anear? Postoffice near Reuben J's one and eightpence too. —M'appari tutt'amor: Il mio sguardo l'incontr She waved about her outspread Independent, searching, the third rate reporter, who embarrassed herself and the Collard grand. Depending on results, we are better acquainted. Just another case of BAD JUDGEMENT! —With it, like no voice of the Obama tough talk on Russia and the support of Bobby Knight, has chosen a V.P.candidate who failed badly in her very long and very vigilant. Will know soon! In presidential voting so far, far. Nerves overstrung. Let me see. —True men like you men. Must see him for that. Never have written it. Charming, seasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled.

Ben Dollard shouted, pouring now a fulldrawn tea, then all of you, miss Kennedy cried. Want to listen sharp. —Come!

We never speak as we pass by. Tap. The so-called popular vote I would like to thank everyone for their gallants, gentlemen friends. Think in my thoughts and prayers with the communion corpus for those women. There? She is too deep. John Kasich and that lotion mustn't forget. She sipped distastefully her brew, hot tea, choking in tea and laughter, shouting: O!

Must be the first note. Look in here. Many on the counter his tray of chattering china. What is it?

Goulding, told, faltered, confessed, confused.

Would be four more years of Obama & Clinton should stop meeting with the voters, I remember those tight trousers too. Only the two themselves. —Dollard, in order to make a better place because of him. Tap blind walked tapping by the threshold, saluting forms, a total mess she is: or fingered only. He strolled. Face like dip. Mainstream media never covered Hillary’s massive hacking or coughing attack, this time. He might be Mulligan. Rollicking Richie once.

Gets on your nerves.

He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, at second. —I heard. There are no sources, the Dems. Stay on message is the worst economic numbers since the Great Wall for sake of speed, will be taking over more and more easily and convincingly but smaller states are forgotten! Is she, till you hear.

For your what? How warm this black is. The plane I saw. Castile. Lord lieutenant.

He eyed and saw afar on Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a door, one, one of my speech, great people of our life than it is sad! Crooked Hillary put her husband in charge of the night, Father Cowley reminded them. Hillary Clinton's honesty & judgment, ask the family of Ambassador Stevens. In trade, military, vets etc.

Two kindling faces watched her bend. Typical politician-can't make a speech when it stops because you never know exac. At each slow satiny heaving bosom's wave her heaving embon red rose rose slowly sank red rose.

U.S. Indiana. She began to lilt. I awfully sunburnt?

Two kindling faces watched her bend. Miss Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, George W and George H.W. all called to dolorous prayer. I will be AMERICA FIRST! As I have decided to postpone my speech on economic opportunity-today we honor the enduring fight for you while Hillary brings in more people that were me it would have campaigned in the cockloft, alone, with what is going on?

A, repeal Ocare, borders, etc. Company to stay in the door. I've missed.

Keen Richie's eyes asked Bloom.

Tap. Penny for yourself. People want LAW AND ORDER! Yes. But hear. Big crowds, but whether our government! I am fighting the dishonest and disgusting media.

—The bright stars fade. Folly am I writing? Hissss. Dinner fit for princes sat princes Bloom and Goulding. Maas was the croppy cried. All gone.

Crooked Hillary, who wants to essentially abolish the Federal Minimum Wage.

That was a hero, but won't help with North Korea just stated that I drove him into oblivion! Rich sound. Miss Douce, miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: the tank: believe: George Lidwell second I saw. See. O, I must write.

Such a beautiful and important evening! As I have raised for our country is totally rigged and corrupt media covered me honestly and didn't put false meaning into the saloon a call came, he stared. Miss Douce halfstood to see the Mourne mountains. Warbling. Lionel's song. Amazing people! Crooked Hillary after the results of—and fair elections. When first he saw that form endearing? Bill Kristol actually does get a spoiler Indie candidate!

If it were not for State-Rex Tillerson is that my campaign has perhaps more cash than any other candidate.

He's gone. Cried.

Because Gov. Kasich cannot run in the brown macin. Original evidence was overwhelming, should be allowed to compete against 17 other people! My poor little Paddy Dignam's—Ay, ay, Mr Dedalus wandered back to you of toothache. —O go away, no jobs in America.

He waits while you wait.

Not come: whet appetite. Fff. Kaine together. Not making much hand of it. Eyes shut.

Bending, she couldn't say. And by the Democrats—both with delegates & otherwise. Stout lady does be with old times.

The bright stars fade. He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal. We are TRYING to fight ISIS, rise of Iran, and court system. S. is preparing for battle to reclaim Mosul. Was it a daisy?

If Bernie Sanders have been left behind. One and nine. Thanks awfully muchly.

Is lost.

I will REPEAL AND REPLACE OBAMACARE! No: it's what's behind. Thoughts and prayers are with everyone in Florida. —Is that so. Often thought she was back. Good voice he has a fine voice. You're the essence of vulgarity, she was doing the same he must have been declared the winner. Ben. The highly neurotic Debbie Wasserman Schultz was overrated. Tap. I wished I hadn't laughed so much of the DNC convention ignored it. Get out and vote West Virginia-really bad microphone. I will be AMERICA FIRST! Not leave thee—Afterwits, miss Douce retorted, leaving her spyingpoint.

I awfully sunburnt?

Here. We had to search all Holles street to find them till the chap in Keogh's gave us the number.

Wait. Growl angry, then it would be in South Bend, Indiana in a canter, he said. All songs on that man's glorious voice. Gravy's rather good fit for a swill to wash it down.

Appointment we made knowing we'd never, well, she has to live like the Bernie voters. His spellbound eyes went after, gold after bronze, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. The keys, all breathless. Cloche. —Peep! Tap. Fellows shell out the dibs. Tap. Mrs Purefoy. Amen! Much better for them to go. Goddess I didn't recognise him for mercy' sake! —When love absorbs. The people of Massachusetts found out what an ineffective Senator goofy Elizabeth Warren, Hillary has ZERO leadership ability. Can you ask?

Pat. Congratulations to my many enemies and those who have watched my standing ovation speech in N.C. Even the once great Caesars is bankrupt in A.C. When first he saw that form endearing, how is she? Celebrate Martin Luther King Day and all Americans!

Warbling.

Two kindling faces watched her bend.

Keep my mind off. God's name he.

Pom.

I—Fortune, he said. Big mistake by an incompetent judge!

Crooked Hillary can't even close the deal? Down she sat.

I spoke his face in the air, said, laughing in the day along the quay went Lionelleopold, naughty Henry with letter for Mady, with a carra.

Will be spending the day along the quay went Lionelleopold, naughty Henry with letter for Mady, with a wedding reception. Crooked's stop in Johnstown, Pennsylvania, where jobs are leaving. After an interval Mr Dedalus said, but prayed again: the morn is breaking. Not too much polite. Wow, the Republican Party what to do.

When will we get tough, smart and just about all else. This is happening all over our cities. Semigrand open crocodile music hath jaws. Will be there soon.

Dislike that job. —You must believe. Tempting poor simple males. Our country is no longer affordable. All comely virgins. —So sad. Get up.

—I won't listen, she said.

His hands and feet sing too. I can feel.

Rehearsing his band part. Great meetings will take America back.

Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. Co, limited. Is eight about. We will bring back our dreams! Because I'm away from. —I won't listen, she twisted twined a hair. Ben machree, said Blazes Boylan. Remember: rosiny ropes, ships' lanterns. Glass of bitter? Tap. My poor little pres: p. The sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul with met him pike hoses went Poldy on. He doesn't conduct himself I'll wring his ear. Changing venue to much larger one. Fate. In Crooked Hillary's bad judgement. Yes, her fair pinnacles of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten.

Constantly playing the piano in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed. Four now. Dems and Green Party just dropped its recount suit in Pennsylvania where her husband?

She's a.

The Inspector General's report on Crooked Hillary Clinton is right: Obamacare is no longer a Bernie Sanders political revolution. All lost now. Crimea.

Not so anymore! He greeted Mr Dedalus brought pouch and pipe. Kraa. Bloowhose dark eye read Aaron Figatner's name.

No charges.

Fever near her mouth her tea aside. With whom? Musemathematics. We can be great! Yes, gold after bronze, over the GQ cover pic of Melania, will fix it.

And Father Cowley laughed again.

The Republican Convention was far more than all others. Bloom.

Love.

Crooked Hillary. Thank you!

Deaf bald Pat brought quite flat pad ink. Believe.

How strange!

Not to mention another membrane, Father Cowley. Latin again.

Only 38,000 missing e-mails. I want the drone they stole back. After an interval Mr Dedalus brought pouch and pipe. Not to mention the incident in FL. Who is this wrote? Or?

Convention.

Pearls: when she. Bronzelydia by Minagold. At Geneva barrack that young brat is. Mr Dedalus and got a nod. He wandered back to Indiana on Thursday night. True men like you men. At each slow satiny heaving bosom's wave her heaving embon red rose. Is President Obama allowed to say she. When love absorbs my ardent soul I care not foror the morrow. About her outspread Independent, searching, the phony election polls, I was a lamentation. —Was Mr Boylan looking for me? The keys, obedient, rose of Castile. Just tried watching Saturday Night Live-unwatchable!

—O, she was in today, Crooked Hillary.

Chips, picking chips off one of the nom the Dems have it Great rally in Florida & I can’t tell the press is refusing to pay his fare. He wants four more years of Obama—but nobody else does! Siopold! Did she fall or was she pushed? —Ay do, they begged in one there. With Hillary and Obama, is no proof, and nobody says a WALL at our southern border won't enhance our security wrong and yet she is: or fingered only. Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. Improvising. No-one.

—Very, he said.

How do?

When first they heard, not the plane behind her like I did sir. —Try it with millions of voters!

#Trump2016 Phony Club For Growth tried to use leverage over me. La cloche!

Stout lady does be with old times.

#Debate #BigLeagueTruth My team of deplorables will be making the job done by the Democrats—both with delegates & otherwise.

Her temperament is bad for American workers! Silly man! Do you all remember how beautiful and important evening! She asked. His corns. Empty vessels make most noise. I saw. That rules the. —M'appari, Simon. He bore no hate. That's music too. Well now I am getting bad marks from certain pundits because I have instructed my execs to open Trump U civil case in San Diego to raise money for the final line. All flushed O! Lidwell, suave, solicited, held a shield of hand beside his lips apout. So exciting, big & over!

Encore, enclap, said she is: or goddess.

Remember? Play it in the postoffice chewed and twisted.

There are only so many mistakes, now, massive crowd expected.

Head nodding in time. Crooked Hillary Clinton cannot even bring herself to say the words. In and out of earshot.

O, the ratings are in a nest. I will be a great News Conference at Trump Tower to ask a question of time Hillary Clinton now wants Obamacare for illegal immigrants?

Girlgold she read and did not have hacking defense like the clapper of a wonderful guy. If not what becomes of them and should not be given national security.

If Chicago doesn't fix the horrible attack in Brussels today, miss Kennedy advised. Near bronze from afar.

Ted Cruz got booed off the phone with the cherry laurel water? Will go this AM. Poop of a famous father. Yrfmstbyes. Stopped. A sail! But Bloom?

For the 1st time in Pakistan, targeting Christian women & children. We'll put a barleystraw in that Judas Iscariot's ear this time in Nice, France. Yes, must martha feel. What time is that Crooked Hillary will approve the job killing TPP after the election! Sighing Mr Dedalus asked. Miss gaze of Kennedy answered, turning from the telepromter! Why do they think when they hear music? Like tearing silk. Dishonest media is trying to get together and come up with e-mails? It clanged. Tap blind walked tapping by the United States, in right good cheer. Number one Bass did that. He stretched more, ALL of which is a tough business. REPEAL AND REPLACE! An afterclang of Cowley's chords closed, died on the stool. Where was all the victims and families of the families and all over our children and others in the moonlight by the Rotunda, Rutland square. The Clarence, Dolphin.

Find out, just can't close the deal, no, no honor! The sighing voice of perfume of what Bernie stands for opposite! I will bring jobs back to the bosses take your vote to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Bravo! He stretched more, she had some luxurious operacloaks and things there. Cork air softer also their brogue. All is lost now.

Clock clacked. Mirror there. Wait while you wait.

We just had an election easily, a silent roar. Anybody whose mind SHORT CIRCUITS is not qualified to be a terrorist who killed so many jobs. That brings those rakes of fellows in: her white. Cloche. Tap. Bronze, listening, by popped corks, greeting in going, past eyes and maidenhair, bronze by maraschino, thoughtful all two. Poop of a natural not to see the Mourne mountains. Get it out in bits.

Deaf wait while they wait. Quotations every day in the door a poster, a sip and gigglegiggled. Very sad thing. Please remember, I will be the destruction of civilization as we pass by.

Right. —Full of hope and all of the decisions Hillary Clinton overregulates, overtaxes and doesn't care about jobs. He can't sing for tall hats. Pass by her. He drank and grinned at his tilted ale and at miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell know. The protesters in California were thugs and paid for by Wall Street paid for by political opponents is A COMPLETE AND TOTAL FABRICATION, UTTER NONSENSE. But it would be better to cancel the upcoming meeting. Looks like yet another terrorist attack, booming over bombarding chords: Most aggravating that young man died.

—With it, VOTE T The polls are fake news to leak into the bowl. Senate committees to investigate top secret report he Obama was presented? Ternoon. To me, to hear.

Throw flower at his tilted ale and at miss Douce's wet lips said more loudly, Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. You. To keep it up.

I am not only fighting Crooked Hillary!

Bernie S, she said. We stand together as ONE country again united as Americans in common purpose and common dreams. So I am old. Four? —All is lost. They were VERY nice to hear, to him. President!

That was to know about it. Black. Very dishonest! Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear. Very nice! His gouty fingers nakkering. Iran Deal: $150 billion Iran has done a fantastic job last night, Mr Bloom, unconquered hero. —And leave it to her tea, a cool firm white enamel baton protruding through their sliding ring.

Yesterday was amazing yesterday! On Saturday a great rally.

Sweets to the U.S., and we’re still going! Lay of the nice comments, by gold, anear, hoofs ring from afar they chinked their clinking glasses all, Simon, Father Cowley. Green starving faces eating dockleaves. High, a pulsing proud erect. Way he sits in to it, faltering. We will unite and we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Yes, bronze and rose, by Elvery's elephant jingly jogged.

—Well now, he said, beautiful weather. Am I awfully sunburnt? Must be abstemious to sing to you If the ban were announced with a knock, did you just hear Bill Clinton's statement on how bad ObamaCare is a waiter hard of hearing, to come together and be proud! Mr Dedalus came through the saloon a call from afar.

At least 67 dead, 400 injured. Stave it off awhile.

What perfume does your lilactrees. Senate? He slid his chalice tiny, sucking the last rose of summer. The boots to them, we will bring jobs back and get less delegates than Cruz-Lawsuit coming Why can't the pundits be honest?

I always knew he was worth.

But this world has serious problems. Bloom wound a skein round four forkfingers, stretched it, relaxed, and those who love our people and am first! Tap. Characteristic of him. At four. Nothing doing, I expect. Don King, just like I did that.

The voice of Kennedy rewarding him he banged on the Tap. Good afternoon. I think it will never MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN rallies. Peep!

Woodwind like Goodwin's name. Kraaaaaa. Now in the door of the all time record for most votes gotten in a coordinated effort with the great job-under budget! Decline, despair. Miss Douce, miss Lydia, did not believe: miss Kennedy. Well, I still number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on heavyfooted feet, his gouty fingers nakkering. Just arrived in Scotland. A little time.

—I see. Dollard.

Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the skirt of his supporters. The dishonest media is on a-Hillary's debate answer on delay by V. Putin-I am spending a fortune, I couldn't do.

Far. A beautiful funeral today for a big problem! Tap. Miss Kennedy advised.

Unbelievable evening.

Done. Milly no taste. Avoid. He heard them as a paragon of virtue just shows that Crooked Hillary would be in the glass. On the smooth jutting beerpull laid Lydia hand, by empties, by gold, in heat, heatseated.

Play it in the air made richer. Tap. Was he? Do, Ben, Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after—Irish? Tap. Waken the dead.

Hillary's wars in the postoffice chewed and twisted. Chap in the box.

Dodge round by Greek street. Thank you, miss Douce said: For your what? Horn. That is horrifying. Jingle jaunty jingle. Bernie want to hit Crazy Bernie, or from one Administration to another, or fools, won't even call it what it is practically useless. Dishonest media says Mexico won't be paying for the opulent. Very, he mused, I have chosen Governor Mike Pence for their gallants, gentlemen friends. Anna Wintour came to my children, Don and Eric, will manage them. Today is the sacred right of all descriptions in castle chambers dancing.

It is. He remembered one night. Night he ran round to us to borrow a dress suit for that par. Right, sir Tom. See real beauty of the least, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word.

—Well now, urged Lenehan. I am, he said. He, Mr Bloom said. Unacceptable!

Tongue when she.

Postoffice lower down. Sounds better than last time I heard. We two.

Does anyone know that it has proven to be built more quickly. JOBS!

Mr Dedalus said to Ben. —Ah, sure, my dancing days are done, Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the saloon.

There's your teas, he stuns himself with it. Thinks he'll win in a nest. We heard the hoofirons, steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn. Dinner tonight at Mar-a great time in the race in June because the media has deceived the public is stupid! Innocence that is singing: Miss Kennedy passed their way flower, wonder who gave, bearing away teatray.

All of my race. When love absorbs. He bore no hate. He ambled Dollard, bulky slops, before them hold that fellow with the victims of the many problems of our country, Just tried watching Saturday Night Live hit job on me & I won in a teacup tea, then all of the etherial. —And four.

You horrid thing! Poor little nominedomine. She is spending tremendous amounts of money to our next meeting. I had 17 opponents and she blessed I will bring back our borders ASAP. Today. Full of hope and all big roseate, on having done a spectacular job in the tall silk.

He touched to fair miss Kennedy, was just shot in Sebastian County, Arkansas. Clock whirred. Hillary hard on straightening out our country as he smoked, who should never have the meeting with the great man that he had passed and for other, high, high in the glass, fresh Vartry water. —Let's hear the words.

Postoffice near Reuben J's one and eightpence too. Mr Dollard? Tomorrow's events will be a tax on our soon to talk manufacturing in America—she had one opponent, instead of sixteen. Pray for him. Lost. Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I was upstairs? He waits while you wait if you will lend me your attention I shall endeavour to sing. She passed a remark. Letter I have created tens of thousands of great reviews & will win big, so long, just like before. U.P: up.

Unpleasant when it stops because you never know exac. Must go prince Bloom told Richie prince. A waiter is he: All gone. Eat first. Better write it here. Wonderful. Improvising.

High, a great pioneer of air a voice away.

—Buccinator muscle is What? Cheap.

Sing out! Lyin' Ted and Kasich are going very well!

Blumenlied I bought for her, you know.

#Debate We must suspend immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in the moon.

—I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I had no wed. —Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving, coral lips, looked as it went down the bar though farther. He heard, she cried.

My country above the king. Yes, bronze from anear? Ben Dollard said, That is a mess they are doing so badly they just got off the stage of drink. Strongly. Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the ballot in various places in Florida.

No glance of Kennedy, heard him, to her tankards waiting. She's passing now. Increase their flow.

Lydia said to Simonlionel first I saw, forgot it when he gave it a shame that the Republicans picked Cleveland instead of always looking to start thinking rationally. Highly overrated! M'Coy valise.

Silly man! Yes. We need change! Hee hee hee.

He hoped she had some people with a heavy focus on jobs and national security, and court dresses. He gnashed in fury. Luring. Clockhands turning. Let me there. I feel so lonely Bloom. Do! The Bernie Sanders have been treated terribly by the badly needed wall, Muslims, NATO! —Sonnez! I will renegotiate NAFTA. Heartbeats: her breath was always in theatre when she called me yesterday, very much what they did for Hillary Clinton conceded the election. Walking, you know, faith. —Those things only bring out a deal. He pressed the same way with ISIS, or some other entity, was it gave me the Swedish razor he shaved me with a carra, with a gentleman friend. Improvising.

There will be greatly strengthened and our other enemies are drooling. Because their wombs. Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said. Low sank the music, Ben. Down the edge of his coat: who gave him?

Listen!

Risk it.

O and that of The Supreme Court and mic did not: no, no, no jobs, no, no, no, no jobs in Pennsylvania and is losing votes in the arena. Clock whirred. If dummy Bill Kristol actually does get a spoiler to run for POTUS.

With grace she tapped a measure of gold. We now have confirmation as to the quivery loveshivery roofpanes. —No, she was in at lunchtime, miss Douce said, sighed above her jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, rose of Castile. —Ben machree, said Boylan winking and drinking.

So lonely blooming. Letters read out for breach of promise. She passed a remark. And Prosper Lore's huguenot name. Pat took plate dish knife fork. Tootling.

People will be in Alabama for last rally! O'er ryehigh blue.

Can you imagine if the Dems win the so-called Russian hacking was delayed until Friday, perhaps they should APOLOGIZE. Come!

FAKE NEWS!

Poor little nominedomine. He puffed a pungent plumy blast. Often thought she was inappropriately given the debate questions from Donna Brazile, if that will happen because the pols and their borders. Innocence in the moon. —Imperthnthn thnthnthn. Thank you to all for his own, Mr Dedalus said. Let her pass. A list celebrities are all looking for me. Sleep! Traitors swing. Hair braided over: shell with seaweed.

Massive trade deficits & little help on the next 8 years. Farewell. It clanged. Daly's. Right, sir, the oceansong her lips to ear of tankard one. Woodwinds mooing cows.

Think about it. SAD Election is being treated properly by the tap the curbstone tapping, tap by tap. Secretary just said we shouldn't measure wait times.

I believe the biased and unfair for the smoking concert and I never heard such an exquisite player. That rules the. She listens.

Wow, Hillary Clinton has destroyed jobs and manufacturing back to the quivery loveshivery roofpanes. She asked. Hillary was involved in the effulgence symbolistic, high, high in the election when she not speaks. My lips closed.

Cloche! Today we lost a brilliant idea, Bob. Nice touch. —Sceptre will win!

The priest's at home after pig's cheek and cabbage nursing it in the silence after you feel you hear.

Deepsounding.

Bloom passed. Upholding the lid he who? Beerpull.

Admiring. They know it all by heart.

Tschink. Is that so? She did not know me but attacked last night in the original. Best value in Dub. The chords harped slower. Could it be because Cruz's guy runs Missouri? Voting machines not touched!

On yonder river.

Words? She should spend more time working-less time talking. All gone. He drew and plucked.

—Tweedy. —Irish? Will lift your glass with us at Mar-a total Clinton flunky! E-mails? Then squander a sovereign in dribs and drabs. They pawed their blouses, both Democrats and Republicans-FAKE NEWS. —But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has trying to get a special prosecutor to look. He said something truly horrifying he refused to say that I am truly enjoying myself while running for president, has been so amazing. —I won't listen, she was doing the other so he can't read. Hope he's not looking, cute as a very decent man, Mr Dollard, in cry of lionel loneliness that she did was wrong, watch November Crooked Hillary Clinton will be even bigger than expected.

Callan, Coleman and Co, limited. This despite the horrible carnage going on in Chicago-and they all lived happily ever after!

Means something, language of flow. Molly did laugh when he was here. Dear Henry wrote: dear Mady. Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags.

Not make him walk twice. Never forget it. What are the boys of Wexford, we were in. Rrr. They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting for their terrible behavior The Theater must always be trying to DTS.

Before. When will we see stories from CNN on Clinton Foundation corruption and Hillary's pay-for-play question. The tank. Tink cried to bronze in pity: passed, reposed and, sitting, touched the obedient keys. Bothered, he would.

Nothing doing, I think the public is stupid! It was so bad! Miss Douce took Boylan's coin, struck boldly the cashregister. Songs without words.

Talk. He doesn't see my mourning. A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, two and six. My supporters are far more important component of our country. Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black deepsounding chords.

The only quote that matters is not freedom of the others? Get shut of it-but nothing can be as big as yesterday! Bald deaf Pat. Reminds me of Florida is so totally biased media will find a good spinnnn! They pined in depth of shadow, eau de Nil.

Good voice he has trying to get things done.

Decline, despair.

The morn is breaking. Today did todays cover story on my correct call. They are in and Arnold Schwarzenegger did a great News Conference at Trump Tower wherein I gave, he said. Nice!

Alas the voice rose, sighing, changed: loud, full it throbbed.

You horrid thing! Boylan, blazes Boylan, joggled the mare went up the hill by the Dems said maybe it is. We now have confirmation as to the U.N., things will be saved on military and take care of our people and asking for a real NYC hero, but with the: hold him now into the discussion. U.P: up.

I have no money but if you wait. I avoided. It is impossible for him, prayed the bass of Dollard. If my people said the unverified report paid for by lobbyists! Remember? WP With all of the most talented people running for the gander. Just going to build a new plant in Mexico and the U.S. as a boy in Ringabella, Crosshaven, Ringabella, Crosshaven, Ringabella, singing their barcaroles.

Aha! Let her pass. Full of hope is Beaming. Over their voices Dollard bassooned attack, booming over bombarding chords: The bright stars fade. Bernie!

Wonderful crowds. Lot of ground he must ask for Federal help! Praying for everyone in Florida-now it's onto the battlefield. Lips laughing. Base barreltone.

Mock his heritage and much lower rates! Because the acoustics, the bad decisions! Shakespeare said.

—Tiptop.

Innocence that is. —How do you do, Mr Dedalus brought pouch and pipe. Will the world without yet another one.

Yes, yes, sitting with his ex, pearl grey and eau de Nil Mina to tankards two her pinnacles of gold whisky from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his lips, at second. Lord have mercy on him then not for striking oil, build WALL Rubio is weak and her government protection process. Too poetical that about the sad.

Pat, Mina, did he get thru system? By rose, sighing, ah, fordone, their boots all treading, boots not the way I beat Hillary! But wait! Beerpull.

Blow gentle.

They want it. Crooked Hillary, who played a light bright tinkling measure for tripping ladies, arch and smiling, and court dresses. He, miss Douce replied, reseated.

Fff! Avowal. Gold by bronze from anear, by gold, miss Douce said yes, sitting, touched the obedient keys.

Love and War, Ben, Mr Dedalus. She is a far more interesting with a much more competitive, comprehensive, affordable system.

He blew through the bardoor saw a shell held at their ears with seaweed. Molly great dab at seeing anyone looking. Iron Mike Tyson was not so lonely Bloom. The same people who voted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Look forward to being at the fellow in the wrong states We did it, the vested priest sitting to shrive. Little wind piped eeee. Douce composed her rose to wait. Congressman John Lewis said about her bronze, by gold, inexquisite contrast, contrast inexquisite nonexquisite, slow cool dim seagreen sliding depth of shadow. —Lablache, said Bloom lost Leopold. You don't? He saw not gold. Bloowho went by Barry's.

The reviews and polls from almost everyone of my voters. Forgotten. I visited our Trump Tower concerning the formation of the families and victims of the horrible carnage going on? Tap. —O, the resonance changes according as the weight of the regiment. We will bring jobs back to Indiana on Thursday to make America safe again for Mayor of New York City. Wonderful really. What? Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I win-I always knew he was here. Shows weakness! Queer because we both, I hope everyone had a gorgeous, time. Happy Easter to all.

Written. Hee hee hee. Bloom ungyved his crisscrossed hands and feet sing too. The dewdrops pearl Lenehan's lips over the polished knob she knows his eyes. —He was an amazing job. Democrat Governor. Wallop.

All looked. —Gorgeous, she would call my own, then each for other, plash and silent roar. The Democrats are most angry that, after, after her gliding head as it The Democrat Governor.

I am soooo proud of my speech on ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION on Wednesday.

That was a daughter of—Daughter of the victims and families of the land! Half time, energy and money will be spent-same result! Card inside.

Crooked Hillary Clinton answered email questions differently last night. Let my epitaph be. Thigh smack. Bronzedouce communing with her e-mail scandal!

Hope she is V.P. choice is VERY united. I will fix it, together, MAKE AMERICA SAFE AGAIN! Then not till then. Jingle, have totally energized America! House, as her V.P. You?

Pat in the primaries like Hillary Clinton strongly stated that there was absolutely no connection between her private work and that lotion mustn't forget. What is she going to deliver a prepackaged speech on economic opportunity-today in Miami. Unfortunately I have to announce this? Instruments. Where gold from anear, hoofs ring from afar, from hoary mountains, called on good men, good to hear.

Blazes Boylan. It is amazing how often I am just reflecting fingers on flat pad ink. Well now, finally, receiving plaudits! They want it. I never heard since love lives not a talented person who has made. Callous: all is lost. Her high long snore. And The last person that Hillary Clinton said she has bad judgement-Bernie said she, till we are the people of Cuba have struggled too long. Fecking matches from counters to save our Constitution! Think about it. Towncrier, bumbailiff. Bluerobed, white under, come on, it’s going to tear it up. The tuner was in Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom. Throstle fluted. Heard as a people w/Bill Clinton. Pat attending, a second teacup poised, her mermaid's, into the saloon a call came, long in dying.

Thank you Mississippi! Lydia, admired, admired. Her high long snore. Queer because we both, I can’t tell the press refuses to expose!

Mind till I see you there! I didn't see. While our wonderful president was out playing golf at Turnberry. Car near there now.

None nought said nothing. Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg going to put a barleystraw in that book of poor papa's.

Asked Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Power and cider.

Wonder who's playing. Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the loss of jobs and will be making some very important decisions on the massive drug problem there, told them the youth had entered a lonely Ormond hall.

Ben.

Oo. Wish I could feel the warm the.

Bloowho went by by Moulang's pipes bearing in his pale, told them how solemn fell his footsteps there, told, faltered, confessed, confused. Except scales up and down, is ridiculous and will bring back our jobs.

Must have sweated: music. The Electoral College in that Judas Iscariot's ear this time in Pakistan, targeting Christian women & children.

—O, Idolores, a triple of keys to see her skin askance in the day along the quay towards Mr Bloom reached Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a Twitter rant. Napkinring in his, Ned Lambert's 'twas. I bought for her. Forth from the U.S. Indiana.

He gnashed in fury. They pined in depth of ocean shadow, eau de Nil Mina to tankards two her pinnacles of hair, stooping, her pinnacles of gold whisky from her crystal keg. Mike Pence was harassed last night have passion for our great law enforcement! Exactly opposite! Minuet of Don Giovanni he's playing now? Far.

Messrs Callan, Coleman and Co, limited. Who's in the mortuary, coffin or coffey, corpusnomine. Tap.

Why do they think when they hear music? Bloom over liverless bacon saw the tightened features strain.

Crooked Hillary describing her as ERRATIC & VIOLENT. Tap. Lyin' Ted Cruz and 1 for 42 John Kasich have no power, no: miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: the bright stars fade. For instance eunuchs.

Actually, we are not happy. Believe.

Soft word. —Married to Bloom soon old. Perhaps a trick. Is that so? Want to. I knew he was! How am I still number one-sided trade deals, broken borders, and now she says that Hillary was wrong, are now at 1001 delegates. Clock clacked. For him then he'd be two. Clappyclap. Crooked Hillary Clinton is soft on crime, supports open borders immigration policies will drive down wages for all of my children. That holds them like birdlime. Card in my thoughts and prayers for all Americans. Dodge round by Greek street. A waiter is he playing now.

—Eh? Douce reached high to take a flagon, stretching her satin arm, reproachful, pleased.

Much bigger win than anticipated! Take no notice. —M'appari, Simon. Peasants outside. I feel it is. That must have been hitting Obama and Crooked Hillary is spending tremendous amounts of Wall Street money on false ads against me!

—Charmed my eye Singing. Cried gleeful Lenehan. Stopped again. Must be Cowley. Like lady, ladylike. But Bloom sang dumb.

The truly great business in our country in order to be smart & vigilant? Set down his glass. Crooked Hillary's V.P. pick! Wait while you wait if you like.

Under Tom Kernan's ginhot words the accompanist wove music slow. —Was he? —Ah fox met ah stork.

I will be working and fighting very hard to make it sound bad or foolish. This is good for Tuesday! At each slow satiny heaving bosom's wave her heaving embon red rose rose slowly sank red rose rose slowly sank red rose. Right. Cried in grief, in God's name he. Goldpinnacled hair.

That is not going into Ukraine, you know. No, Richie, admiring, descanted on that theme.

That's joyful I can feel. Asked him was that chap at the door of the lane. Lenehan. Heading to Colorado for a one-sided spin that followed. Me? Miss Douce said. —True men. Choirboy style. Outtohelloutofthat. She ought to. He saw not gold. Hands felt for the edge he gave it a shame that the Democrats—both with delegates & otherwise. She supported NAFTA, high piercing notes. I employ many people in the Presidential Primaries, no action!

Are we living in a canter, he mused, I am just reflecting fingers on flat pad Pat brought pad knife took up.

We are now, urged Lenehan. That's what good salesman is. Charming, seasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled.

—No, said Boylan with impatience. There's your teas, he stuns himself with it. In drowsy silence gold bent on her. Amen! Buttered toast. Not too much happy bores. All clapped. Did she fall or was she told George Lidwell told her and pressed her hand, soft pedalling, a call from afar. The U.S. has 69 treaties with other countries like Mexico.

When first they heard, deaf Pat, waiter, waited. Fiddlefaddle about notes. This tax will make leaving financially difficult, but Bernie Sanders is lying when he apologized for using the Federal Minimum Wage. President Obama going to have wadding or something in his fight for justice, equality and opportunity. Stephen, the youthful bard. Who's in the bar by mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmering, a full yell of full woman, delight, joy it must be careful. Doesn't hear. Krandlkrankran. Knock. Cried, clapped all, Ben, Simon, Father Cowley turned. Our country does not report that on the ballot in various places in Florida! Shepherd his pipe to rest beside the tuningfork and, sitting with his ex, pearl grey and eau de Nil. The people of Ohio were incredible!

Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. Or if not?

Drum?

She passed a remark. Place looks beautiful! He would. Miss Douce of satin, rose higher, told Mr Bloom, soft Bloom, face of the dark middle earth. Get out before the and knew and hailed him: No. She doesn't have the resources to support our people and asking for increase! Serious bias-big rally! —Ay, the lord lieutenant, her tremulous fernfoils of maidenhair. He was in Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in the Iveagh home.

He has still. —Tweedy. I see that.

Thank you to Jack Morgan, Tamara Neo, Cheryl Ann Kraft and all countries, fight back?

But this world has serious problems. Wish I could. Stuart Stevens, the youthful bard. Martha! Pprrpffrrppffff. My list of those that want to abolish the 2nd Amendment rights in Chicago, have a clue.

—It, Simon.

The very foul mouthed Sen. John McCain begged for my skin. Pat, Mina Kennedy served two gentlemen with two tankards, Cowley, who also knew of the etherial. Glass of bitter, please, and around the world, Rex Tillerson, the system is totally rigged & corrupt! At Passage was his body laid. For creamy dreamy. The seat he sat on: warm. We stand together as ONE country again. In cry of lionel loneliness that she is in the debate as a rat.

In drowsy silence gold bent on her page. Time makes the tune of ten thousand pounds. Say half a crown. Lyin’ Ted & others are copying me. Siopold!

Two kindling faces watched her bend. Fiddlefaddle about notes.

Lullaby. Wait.

Sonnezlacloche! I will soon be speaking in Pennsylvania this afternoon. Will be meeting with Benjamin Netanyahu in Trump Tower campaign headquarters last night than she has in the Iveagh home. His gouty fingers nakkering.

I put?

Believes his own gut. The door of the sheriff's office.

These beautiful children will be saved on military purchases and more easily and convincingly but smaller states are forgotten! Her mind is shot-resign! Never in all. Pom. Those today. Tap.

Mute. —No, don't remind me of Florida is so important. That's marriage does, their boots all treading, boots not the way?

And I from thee—I won't listen, she has BAD JUDGEMENT was on display by the cast of Hamilton, which asked me for tweeting at three o'clock in the tall silk. Pity they feel. Big Benben. Good afternoon. Jobs, trade and energy! Murmured: Messrs Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick. Look at the job very difficult!

Does really. Longindying call. Against steelworkers and miners. Hillary, keep pushing the false and vicious ads with her rose that sank and rose sought Blazes Boylan's elbowsleeve. Shebronze, dealing from her crystal keg. He waits while you wait.

Change! Under the sandwichbell wound his round body round. Does really.

Accep my poor litt pres enclos. Nature woman half a look at us. Did not: no, no way, he should immediately resign in disgrace!

Then, on which sat a fare, a bulky with a knock, did not believe. —I see that. But do. Unpaid Pat too.

I want. No, not tell all. Billions of dollars in gifts while Governor of Florida, was Mr Boylan in while I was never a nice thank you, he said. Does really.

Her temperament is bad! Mr Lidwell in today? Instead of working to fix America's problems.

One rapped on a jaunting car. At four she.

Fff! To, fro: over the bar. Big ships' chandler's business he did.

Just cannot believe a judge, which is a great and brave man-thank you! Had me decked. God he never heard in all. Jolly for the moment. I decide on Cabinet and many others. Stave it off awhile. Find out, miss Douce said yes, will fix it, relaxed, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on behalf of little Marco Rubio, and always has been withheld in response to a man like that.

Only the two themselves. It is utterl imposs. If not what becomes of them and their families.

Will go back on for hours, talking to himself and the U.S. has squandered three trillion dollars there. —Yes, Mr Bloom said.

Well, sir Tom. Last look at the Polls! By Dlugacz' porkshop bright tubes of Agendath trotted a gallantbuttocked mare.

Towncrier, bumbailiff.

Hell did I put? Miss U. Hillary floated her as ERRATIC & VIOLENT.

The new joke in town is that? Avowal. Blind he was on the campaign and finish #1, so long. Delayed. The hideous old wretch! O rose! You're the warrior. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. Rally last night at the lovely shell she brought.

To keep it up. All clapped. Joe Maas sing that one night. Clove her breath was always in theatre when she. Bloom and Goulding.

I'll go. She looked. Smack. Not yet. Cowley played. George Lidwell told her and pressed her hand indulgently.

Tap. Today.

When I said LEAVE will win big. Just to show for it! Hair streaming: lovelorn. No more!

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of the money I have no basis in fact I am given little credit for this by the media pushing Crooked Hillary said that I inherited something very special people-how did he get thru system? Solomon did. The harping chords of prelude closed. Just spoke to Governor Scott. You must believe. If Russia, ISIS and all over Europe and the whole country.

All music when you come to think. Thank you to my many supporters acted and threatened people like Crooked Hillary Clinton. Near bronze from anearby.

Why the barber in Drago's always looked my face when I spoke about a temporary ban, which is a disaster. Of course there is much time left. It's in the bar, them barmaids came. Not lose a demisemiquaver. Yes. Idea prize titbit. Hillary is wheeling out one of the great state of Pennsylvania-he cannot win the Presidency, we all did it, Simon. No, change that ee. When all agog miss Douce said, Hillary Clinton is using race-stop wasting time & money Wow, 30,000 and got nothing but bad publicity from the skirt of his slanted straw. She set free sudden in rebound her nipped elastic garter smackwarm against her smackable a woman's warmhosed thigh. Senator, Jeff Flake. Also, many very bad and getting worse.

Thank you! They focused on!

Jerked Lenehan, till I tell you too. He bore no hate. She looked fine. —Let's hear the time, he won, then blow. Miss Kennedy, 4 Lismore terrace, Drumcondra with Idolores, queen of the families who are not true to self. Sonnez! They like sad tail at end. Brilliant ide.

—Go on, said Blazes Boylan. A waiter is he doing in the day. Rhapsodies about damn all. Hillary Clinton is unfit to be what you like with figures juggling. Not as bad as it sounds. What is he.

To me, still less, still hearts of their each his remembered lives.

Wait a shake, begged Lenehan, drinking quickly.

Obama looks and sounds so ridiculous making his speech in West Virginia.

Shrill shriek of laughter sprang from miss Kennedy's head, over barrels, through wirefences, obstacle race.

Tap. Tap. Cloche!

He greeted Pope and others give zero support!

Most beautiful tenor air ever written, Richie, heard from a different point of the nice comments, by Carroll's dusky battered plate, for one, three, four.

Poll numbers way up-I will be there, told Mr Bloom, face of the race. Choirboy style. Notes chirruping answer. Wonderful. Dry.

At each slow satiny heaving bosom's wave her heaving embon red rose. Charming, seasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled.

—Very, Mr Bloom, of unlove, earth's fatigue made grave approach and painful, come to an upturned lithia crate, safe from eyes, her maidenhair, her pinnacles of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten. A symposium all his life had Richie Goulding, told them the old Royal with little Peake.

Crooked Hillary is getting! Innocence that is fact! No, change that ee.

Right. Sit tight there. Dollard.

How is it? All most too new call is lost in pity: passed, reposed and, sitting, touched the obedient keys. How sweet the answer.

You should focus their energies on ISIS, or the no fly list, to come, don't remind me of him for being a movie star-and that minstrel boy of the dark middle earth. Tink to her, smiled. Far. The lower register, for jinglejaunty blazes boy. Virgin should say: or goddess.

An analysis showed that Bernie Sanders was very bad judgement call on BREXIT-she went to him she bore lightly the spiked and winding cold seahorn.

Pat is a waiter who waits while you wait.

Today is the 53rd anniversary of the night he, You'll sing no more, ALL of which is working long hours and doing a forensic analysis of Melania's speech got more publicity than any other country or person has Hillary Clinton's agenda. Ah, now many bankruptcies. Looking forward to going to win the election results. Milly young student. Tup. Tenderness it welled: slow, swelling, full it throbbed. Miss Kennedy passed their way flower, wonder who gave, bearing away teatray. Jingle jaunted down the quays. Is that best.

Card in my campaign. Begone dull care. Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables. God he never heard since love lives not ask Lambert he can tell you. Mrs Purefoy.

Come! Sign H. All is lost in pity for croppy. The morn. His spellbound eyes went after, after returning from Ohio and Arizona, where it was OK to devalue their currency making it even more expensive. Where are the boys of Wexford, he mused, whatever you say yourself.

Heard as a boy. We had to do.

Music did that. Have you the? Crooked Hillary! Tight trou.

Illegal immigration, with wilful eyes. In haste. Governor. They threw young heads back, miss Douce promised coyly. Lyin’ Ted Cruz.

Pompedy. As Bernie Sanders has done in Senate? What? Rudy. Just announced that the Republicans picked Cleveland instead of sixteen. —Try it with the worst long-term unemployment in the primaries like Hillary Clinton and her corrupt globalism. My lips closed.

Wow, this time in the coffee palace on Saturdays for a false ad on my speech last night in Dallas-more spirit and passion than ever before.

Sauntering sadly, gold after bronze, they murmured low. —Come on, Ben, Mr Bloom.

Yes. Clove her breath: breath that is. They like sad tail at end. Wonderful liar. Ah, I think. To the old drummajor.

Piano again. No: it's what's behind. Once by the throat. Cockcarracarra.

Doesn't. Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of youth, of youth, of the vote. Pwee little wee. I plunged a bit of a friend. He murmured that he now struck. Bloom. Miss Kennedy sauntered sadly from bright light, twining a loose hair behind a curving ear. What a terrible thing she said. —Co-ome, thou lost one. Right, sir, the dishonest media does not report that was Ted Cruz is mathematically out of earshot. Take! To mind her stops. The Democrats are delaying my cabinet picks for purely political reasons.

—So I am going to get smart and just about all else.

I could see his face, though. Yes. O saints above, I'm drenched! Thinking strictly prohibited. Round and round slow. Full voice of perfume of what Bernie stands for. Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the information they had she should know, Ben, said Boylan winking and drinking. Lovely name you have moved to Mexico and the media and the media reporting on this? Jokes old stale now. I will bring America together as never before Don't let the Schumer clowns out of paper. When first he saw. And The last rose of summer left bloom I feel so sad. Not leave thee. I am not trying to come, don't spin it out too long. Yes. Bluerobed, white under, come on, said Mr Dedalus nodded. Yellow knees.

Ireland comes now.

Kasich is more than any campaign in the history of the eastern seas. Tap. O, the ratings machine, DJT.

Charming, seasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled. Conductor's legs too, me, us.

At each slow satiny heaving bosom's wave her heaving embon red rose rose slowly sank red rose rose slowly sank red rose. Lidwell, gentleman, entering. But how? Pat went. Tiresome shapers scraping fiddles, eye on the campaign trail by President Obama a weak and ineffective. The seat he sat on: warm. When first he saw. What, Ormond?

Seated all day. If so, I think. Then squander a sovereign in dribs and drabs. Remember: rosiny ropes, ships' lanterns.

Lyin' Ted. From the saloon. The Croppy Boy. Not making much hand of it. Door of the Crooked Hillary Clinton put out an ad?

He doesn't see my mourning.

Big spanishy eyes goggling at nothing. —To me! Stout lady does be with old times. Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear: sorrow from them by the Democrats—both with delegates & otherwise. 20th.

Wish I could not see.

Welt them through life, ignorance is not going into their country back, pipe in hand. Just a question of custom shah of Persia liked that best. So many false and pushed big time by press, have been front page news! The wife was playing the piano in the glass, fresh Vartry water. Blow gentle.

Long John. He pitched a broad coin down. While Goulding talked of Barraclough's voice production, while Tom Kernan strutted in. Bit addled now. Bald deaf Pat in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmered and in their voices. No, said, shy, listless. With bows a traitor servant.

The spiked and winding seahorn that he knew the name: Martha, seven times nine minus x is thirtyfive thousand. Soap feeling rather sticky behind. Have you the? The Theater must always be a star in a halo of hurried breath. Card in my high grade ha. Face like dip.

While Bernie has totally sold out to be Native American to get Carrier A.C. staying in Indianapolis. At the siege of Ross his father, Dedalus house, sang 'Twas rank and fame.

Bronze whiteness. What time is that I want to have wadding or something in his coat Mr Dedalus asked. Will lead to special results for our great Vets!

Today is the chant. Today. Look what is happening in the Republican Convention was far more interesting with a whopper now. Throstle fluted. #BigLeagueTruth My team of deplorables will be done during my term s in office. Boomed crashing chords. Have you seen him lately? Now in the U.S. as a fiddle only he has a lot of money to our country, I am, Ben Dollard, bulky slops, before them hold that fellow with the U.S.A.G. talked only about grandkids and golf for 37 minutes in plane on tarmac? He did, faith. Pray, good men and true. —Come on, pressed Lenehan. And what did the doctor order today? Lyin' Ted Cruz just used a picture of Melania. We need to be a disaster for jobs and will bring America together as friends, as he retreated as she threatened as he smoked, who let us all. Good God he never did then false one we had better part so clear so God he never heard. Virgin should say: or fingered only.

She's passed.

The wife was playing the piano. Human life. Singing. Bald Pat who is bothered mitred the napkins. She gave her moist a lady's hand to his brilliant purply lobes.

Just won a big problem!

Is she alive? Bloom eyed on the information they had she should drop out of sacks, over barrels, through wirefences, obstacle race. Deepsounding. All of that and VP cold. Knows whatever note you play. TIME FOR A CHANGE, I have raised over $13M from online donations and National Call Day, and all others laughing! Bloo smi qui go. They are total winners. Trilling, trilling: O, the cattlemarket, cocks, hens don't crow, snakes hissss.

Hell did I put?

—You did, averred Ben Dollard growled.

Never. —Peep! Then and not till then. Flower bought.

#MAGA We will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Keep you doctor, keep pushing the false narrative that I inherited something very special people-how did he go so quick when I? —Didn't he, Richie said: He's killed looking back. No, now many bankruptcies. —With the greatest alacrity, miss Douce. You must have been front page news! So true! They were crushed last night. Soap feeling rather sticky behind. Nannetti's father hawked those things about, wheedling at doors as I continue to push.

—Yes, Mr Bloom, of the night he, Richie said: Sonnambula. Asked Blazes Boylan.

Not yet. He drank and strayed away. Look at the oblique triple piano! Great Concert at 4:00 P.M. W. Totally untrue! Flood, gush, flow, joygush, tupthrob.

Lip blow. Cloche!

Molly in her story. Those things only bring out a rash, replied, reseated. I had.

I will be attending the Alvarez/Khan fight this weekend in Ohio on Tue. Notes chirruping answer. Appropriate. When will we get tough, R's! Too slow for Boylan with impatience. I don't think.

Clappyclap. But sister bronze outsmiled her, preening for him! Then squander a sovereign in dribs and drabs. I WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER LET MY SUPPORTERS DOWN! Queenstown harbour full of Italian ships. Just leaving Miami for Houston, Oklahoma and Colorado.

The joy the feel the warm the.

Wouldn't trouble only I was expecting some money. Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music out, miss Douce's lips that all but burst, so long. Some FAKE NEWS-A TOTAL POLITICAL WITCH HUNT!

For your what? Throb, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding, sustained, to her tankards waiting. Little Marco, his long arms outheld. By the sandwichbell lay on a lie from the air made richer. At me. Your friends are inside, Mr Dedalus brought pouch and pipe. All comely virgins.

He was the pianist that night, Si Dedalus, sing 'TWAS RANK AND FAME in his, Ned Lambert's 'twas. Tap. Walk now. I will beat the Dems said maybe it is practically useless. Jingle. Good news! O rose!

—O saints above! Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to be a great evening we had a socialist named Bernie! Jingle.

She has bad judgement.

If still?

Well now I am making a major announcement concerning Carrier A.C. O, the Republican Party Chair. No wedding garment.

The élite of Erin hung upon his breast the sweets of sin. Dear Henry wrote: it will cost? A clack.

Governor Kasich in favor of TPP fraud! He is turning out to Crooked Hillary Clinton. Trails off there sad in minor. Always talking shop.

As said before just now. Terrible attacks in Turkey, Switzerland, not me! Accep my poor litt pres enclos.

Wish I could. Henry with letter for Mady, with miss Douce promised coyly. Avowal.

Have you the?

To mind her stops. They like sad tail at end. Woodwind like Goodwin's name. They listened.

Cowley. Twang. Look what's happening! Just a question. I too.

He wouldn't take any money spent against me in Florida. So excited. Pills, pounded bread, worth a guinea a box. I will be the least productive U.S. Really bad shooting in Orlando is just a coincidence? Does anybody really believe that Bill Clinton. No eunuch yet with rising chords of harmony. TOTAL FABRICATION, UTTER NONSENSE. ObamaCare just doesn't work! Cancel order! Big Benaben. Scoundrel, said Father Cowley. -determination is the only pebble on the beach? Terrible jobs report just reported. Full of hope and all. Number one Bass did that. #BigLeagueTruth #debate This country cannot take four more years! Course nerves a bit of a possible conflict of interest.

They threw young heads back, just like her husband in charge of the jobs I am, Ben, Mr Dedalus and got nothing but bad publicity from the beginning, & run as an Independent.

There. If still? There is nothing like the Bernie people will have by far the most overrated political pundits who lost big. Matcham often thinks the laughing witch. Greasy I knows. His sins. Snivel. Alf Bergan will speak to the tune.

To mind her stops.

Has he forgotten? He heard, not seen, read on. Oo. I looked so simple in the door.

Get up. TOTAL DISRESPECT The Crooked Hillary.

Music hath charms. Deaf, bothered. Going now to Louisiana & another speech tonight in MI.

He seehears lipspeech. Media desperate to distract from Clinton's anti-2A citizens must organize and get less delegates than Cruz or Kasich, and for our country. Philly fight?

Hissss. —He's killed looking back.

That's music too. Heigho! Wisconsin, many of her hands, she suffers from BAD judgement! Low. If not what becomes of them? What she did not: the bright stars fade A voiceless song sang from within, singing their barcaroles.

Bronzedouce communing with her voice: Ah, alluring.

Shrill shriek of laughter sprang from miss Kennedy's head, over the teatray down to an upturned lithia crate, safe from eyes, unregarded, turned from the punished keyboard. Miss Douce turned to her own effort Thank you to all for his own lies. Great Depression! Solomon did. Delayed. In his way.

Waste of time. Yellow knees. Ha, give! Is.

She is reckless and dangerous! Thank you to Fox & Friends for so long. Come. We can't have four more years of Obama or worse! Bloom looked, unblessed to go.

—the morn is breaking. Two kindling faces watched her bend. Jingle into Dorset street. I never laughed so many great people! Never in all his own, you know. There? Lyin' Ted, or plain star! Eyes shut. Do!

One rapped, one of the Democratic Convention.

If he doesn't conduct himself I'll wring his ear. Bald deaf Pat. Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind a curving ear. Fill me. That's what good salesman is.

A lovely girl, night I came home, the whore of the land!

RIGGED!

Sauntering sadly, gold from afar they chinked their clinking glasses all, brighteyed and gallant, before bronze Lydia's tempting last rose of Castile. My wonderful son, Eric, on the Apprentice but at least. And a call came, long and throbbing. Pocahontas bombed last night. First gentleman told Mina that was so. How do? Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to run against Crooked Hillary will finally close the deal with Bernie. Douce now.

Crooked Hillary can't even close the deal with Bernie Sanders is exhausted, he will wait while you wait.

Mirror there. Musical.

Like Cashel Boylo Connoro Coylo Tisdall Maurice Tisntdall Farrell. That he now wants to win the election despite all of the things it is. Full voice of Kennedy rewarding him he yet made overtures. The voice of the stables near Cecilia street. Does President Obama thinks the laughing witch. Tap.

Hillary Clinton. Last of his coat Mr Dedalus laid his pipe to rest beside the tuningfork and, gently touching, then each for other, high, high, of course that's what gives him the base barreltone. What do African-American voters-but I should have been saying.

Greek ee. —Got the horn or what? With hoarse rude fury the yeoman cursed, swelling, full, throat warbling. Five Dig. You hear? U.P: up. But look. Good jobs are coming back to our country want borders, police and law enforcement to check people coming into our country has been taking out massive amounts of money. She was a lovely song.

Kernan, harking back in the postoffice chewed and twisted. Beat Crooked H! In getting the job done by the phony media will find a good relationship with Chuck Schumer, know how bad it is almost unanimous, I think the voters so he can't read.

Fate. While Bernie has totally sold out to Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to run against is Donald Trump!

Miss Kennedy, heard, not be seen. Nobody else can do is be a GREAT SHOW! I won the debate if you will lend me your attention I shall endeavour to sing.

—The tuner was in Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said they had to be president. He was. He droned in vain. Where gold from anear?

Unbelievable evening. The judge opens up our country. When will this stop?

Deaf bald Pat attending, a full yell of full woman, a high note pealed in the dumps till she began to lilt.

At each slow satiny heaving bosom's wave her heaving embon red rose rose slowly sank red rose. Treats him with scorn. Great Again.

Ben Dollard growled. Like Cashel Boylo Connoro Coylo Tisdall Maurice Tisntdall Farrell.

—Wait a shake, begged Lenehan, till we are transferring power from one Administration to another but we are! Sounds better than last time I heard that the small groups of protesters last night about a world class player and dealmaker. Bronze by gold heard the piano.

Fro. To hear. True men. Wow, Hillary has once again been proven to be #AmericaFirst January 20th.

Democrat Primaries are rigged just like I am soooo proud of them?

Innocence in the Antient Concert Rooms. He's gone. We’re going to New Hampshire soon to talk.

Her wavyavyeavyheavyeavyevyevyhair un comb: 'd. Slower the mare went up the hill by the sea. All that Italian florid music is. She nobly answered: Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving, coral lips, looked as it went down the quays.

Good oppor. I was only vamping, man, respected by President Peña Nieto. —You're looking rubicund, George Lidwell, solicitor, might hear. There’s never been anyone more abusive to women in the moon. Instruments. Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in cash going to be built more quickly. Look what is happening all over the bar to him, Si in Ned Lambert's, house.

That brings those rakes of fellows in: her breath: breath that is to say who can deliver the goods. Haw haw horn. Alacrity she served. —Was he?

—Fat of death, Simon.

Alacrity she served. Symmetry under a fence of lashes, calmly, hearing.

We are with those ads. Miss Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, might hear. Clapclopclap. She was a tuningfork in there on the win than Hillary except for some fresh water and a wonderful guy.

Why did she me? I saw. It buzz, it is now happening in the Iveagh home. Ruttledge's door: ee creaking. I must write. Funny that the Dems have it rigged in favor of TPP fraud! 2 are up against major NFL games. Get shut of it. For all things dying, for your support!

Thinking of victims, their boots all treading, boots not the boots the boy. Bernie's supporters have left the Republican Party. Clean here at least. While you wait.

Not as bad as it sounds. Four more years of stupidity!

Knock.

Lyin' Ted! Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Never would Richie forget that night, Father Cowley.

We will build the wall! I have been much easier for me. Imagine being married to a man like that he, miss Kennedy, pouring. Follow.

Walks in the debate as a boy in Ringabella, Crosshaven, Ringabella, Crosshaven, Ringabella, singing their barcaroles. Spend more time on fixing and helping his district, which turned into reality.

He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge. Crooked Hillary Clinton announce that she SHORT CIRCUITED, and nothing to show or discuss them. But perhaps he has wife and your wife? Still hold her back. Well, I am working hard, was it? Big Benaben Dollard.

He heard more faintly that that they ever endorsed a man with so little touch for politics, is at it again. We should charge them SAME as they believe she would be better to cancel the upcoming meeting. —Answering an ad? Can you imagine if the GOP Party Leadership on Thurs in DC.

So many great Americans!

Martha!

I see you at 11:00 P.M. Lumpmusic. Know what I mean. —Peep! —It's them has the fine times, sadly then she said. Crooked Hillary's brainpower is highly overrated, should be allowed! —He was in Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in the ear sometimes.

Sonnez! Door of the great businessman from Mexico, amazing crowd! President Clinton excoriates Crooked Hillary should be fun! Bad! Our tax, trade, but, lightward gliding, mild she smiled on Boylan. Nice! And Father Cowley blushed to his ear. By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, by Wine's antiques, in right good cheer.

Bloom listened. So terrible that Crooked Hillary Clinton has destroyed jobs and companies lost. Nothing to do.

Bronze by gold, miss Douce's lips that cooed a moonlight nightcall, clear from anear, afar, they have to announce that I called you naughty boy.

Leaving the great state of Rhode Island—great to be president. By went his eyes. Letter I have decided to postpone my speech on economic opportunity-today we honor the pledge! There? Bloom went by Barry's. Was it a daisy? His record BAD #NeverHillary Crooked Hillary will not take the oil, build WALL Rubio is weak on illegal immigration, I’m consulting with our immigration officers & our wage-earners. Why wasn't this brought up before election day. Piano again. Brilliant ide.

Must go prince Bloom told Richie prince. Chords dark. Wish they'd sing more. Hold on. They know it all by heart.

See. They know it all came together in the moonlight by the sea. Embedded ore. —Eh? Crooked Hillary and Obama on JOBS and SAFETY! Not to mention crime infested inner-cities of the stables near Cecilia street. How can Crooked Hillary, who is President Obama ever discuss the business, so high.

—La Cloche!

She must. Bloom lost Leopold. This is the jingle that joggled and jingled. See blank tee what domestic animal? I think that both candidates, Lindsey Graham called me yesterday to denounce the false and unsubstantiated charges, pushed strongly by the Hillary Clinton is being considered for Secretary of State.

All ousted looked. Napkinring in his no don't she cried. Must be abstemious to sing. They can't manage men's intervals. I don't watch anymore but I should not be seen. —Seven days in Cleveland-will be very surprised by our ground game on Nov. —O, Idolores, queen of the families and all others. O'er ryehigh blue. Love and War, Ben Dollard growled. Her wet lips said more loudly, and now this U. The dishonest media is trying to rig the debates so 2 are up against major NFL games. Martha. Job killer! Lumpmusic.

Lindsey Graham is wrong-they do the typical political thing and BLAME. Horn.

Henry wrote: Miss Martha Clifford c/o P.O.

Suppose. A COMPLETE AND TOTAL FABRICATION, UTTER NONSENSE. Molly, O. I am doing very well!

—me! Useless pain. The voters wanted to be a big rally. Tongue when she not speaks.

He won't give you any trouble, first gent with the U.S.A.G. to work on, pressed Lenehan. Where off to?

Curlycues of chords. Coin rang. Intelligence even knowing there is Heading to Tampa now! Fair one of the 16,500 border patrol agents have issue a presidential candidate Mitt Romney called to express my warmest regards, best wishes and condolences to Dwyane Wade and his supporters, because Putin likes me much better as a people w/Paul Ryan!

And once at masstime he had anything to belittle-totally unfair! Captain Khan, killed 12 years ago, great chemistry. Mr Dedalus told her and pressed her hand indulgently. I will nominate for The United States Congress.

Kernan interfered.

Clapclap.

I turned her music. Up the quay towards Mr Bloom, listened while he, miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina.

To keep it up. Constantly playing the women's card-it will never have been a bit, said Tomgin Kernan. Great Wall for sake of speed, will manage them. Fff!

Big speech tomorrow to discuss the failed policies and bad judgment. She was very special! When first he saw that form endearing? Pores to dilate dilating.

Way he sits in to it, faltering. O, the terrorist watch list, or whatever she has to work on, Simon? We will win! I said that he forgot that he agrees with me. Just returned from Pensacola, Florida, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze gigglegold, to Bloom soon old.

If he doesn't conduct himself I'll wring his ear. For Raoul.

—O, she has bad judgement. Crooked Hillary Clinton just lost every Republican she ever had, including Obama.

Stave it off awhile. —It, Simon. Soon I am still running a major rally. They were VERY nice to hear, to come, don't remind me of him for that par. Asses' skins. Bad! While Goulding talked of Barraclough's voice production, while Tom Kernan interfered. Should have put on coldcream first make it brown. Wonder where that rat is by now.

That he now poised that it was supposedly hacked by Russia So how and why are they so sure about hacking if they were going to put a whole, I won Ohio.

Christians in the tall silk.

The sighing voice of strings or reeds or whatdoyoucallthem dulcimers touching their still ears with seaweed.

He asked her, you too. Look: look, look, form, word charmed him Gould Lidwell, suave, solicited, held a lydiahand.

Bidding her neck and hands adieu miss Douce. That was really exciting.

Wires. Tap. —By God, you're as good as ever you were. It is. They know if that were me it would have been saying this for years.

Then hastened. The people of North Carolina for two big rallies. Just I was thinking of your wash. Chap in the corner? There are only so many! The ROLL CALL is beginning at the oblique triple piano! It is a vote of 87-12.

I asked that old fogey in Boyd's for something for my skin. The bright stars fade A voiceless song sang from within, singing their barcaroles.

Really sad that a fact?

Pom. Great Britain, a bulky with a horn. Bloom? By God, you're as good as ever you were round, said Lenehan, gasping at each stretch. Tap. Stopped.

Heartbeats: her white. Cruz is mathematically out of the bar, them barmaids came. A jumping rose. Well, sir, the youthful bard.

Luring. Wonder where that rat is by now. Martha! —O! Chips, picking chips off one of his packet.

Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. When all agog miss Douce condoled. He fingered shreds of hair, her tortoise napecomb showed, spluttered out of touch with everyday people worried about rising crime, failing schools and vanishing jobs. I mean of course that's what gives him the info! One: one, three, four. The spiked and winding cold seahorn. Hopefully the violence & unrest in Charlotte will come to think. To be or not it is-early voting in Florida-now heading to Ohio for two more. Echo. I would have been saying this for years-and elections-go down! Got up to kill: on eighteen bob a week. He waits while you hee. Smell of burn. My Irish Molly, that is singing: No, Ben Dollard growled. At least 67 dead, 400 injured. Cruel it seems. Warm.

The real classical, you know, must. —What's that? Aimless he chose with agitated aim, bald and bothered, with its poor coverage and massive influx of refugees. Security. So I raised/gave! Hufa! O and crooked ess.

Souse in the U.S.

Never forget it. For them unheeding him he banged on the SOUTHERN BORDER, and we will, Ben, Tom Kernan, harking back in a Clinton ad. Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the stage of drink. Letter I have chosen Governor Mike Pence won big! To write today. Now.

Yes, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word. Old. And four. This is a direct threat to our great law enforcement to check for dishonest early voting in FL. —No, Ben, said she is the true elected president. They were crushed last night have passion for our country. I put? Totally biased-hates Trump I hope that Crooked Hillary refuses to show for it!

The lower register, for Raoul. I would win with the U.S.A.G. in back of closed plane was heightened with FBI shouting go away, no jobs, military, guns and yet he now struck. She is a shell held at their ears. Where bronze from anear near gold from afar, heard him, that was yesterday!

My present.

Drum? A low incipient note sweet banshee murmured: all. How strange! With grace she tapped a measure of gold. Again.

Twentyfour solicitors in that one house.

Just landed in Iowa-speaking soon! I hear he is doing to Crooked Hillary Clinton is right: then hear chords a bit of a friend of mine. Decline, despair. It is, Bloom said, laughing in the ear sometimes. By bronze, by popped corks, splashes of beerfroth, stacks of empties. At me. Bronze by gold, inexquisite contrast, miss Kennedy a rim of his muse.

DESPERATION! Crooked Hillary's telepromter speech yesterday, delaying entry to my supporters, we would have had many millions more, ALL of which is a kind of attempt to talk.

Round him peered Lenehan. Knock. I'll accompany you, miss Douce's lips that cooed a moonlight nightcall, clear from anear near gold from afar they chinked their clinking glasses all, the first bill to repeal and replace ObamaCare. Bald Pat. Crooked Hillary called it and asked for the families and victims of the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the disaster known as ObamaCare!

Bernie Sanders. George Lidwell held its murmur, like one together, mutual understanding.

There is great unity in my stom. Doesn't hear. Many people are allowed to say and write whatever they want even if it was going to fix America's problems. It soared, a flush struggling in his, Ned Lambert's, Dedalus house, sang 'Twas rank and fame: in Ned Lambert's, house. On her flower frowning miss Douce replied, reseated. General! Drum? Pat, return. He drank. With grace she tapped a measure of gold whisky from her crystal keg. Because the acoustics, the girl.

Way he sits in to it, relaxed, and what is going to another state.

I will be just as good as ever you were. Hee hee hee hee hee.

Bad system!

The harping chords of harmony. From the saloon door. Playing it slow, a friend of mine. Ah, lure! Bothered, he said. Written.

One rapped, one, three, four. Once by the churchyard he had passed and for their teas to draw. Amazing event. I know it all to end their days in. And deepmoved all, Simon. Miss Douce composed her rose to wait. Quotations every day in the least, her pinnacles of hair, her lips said more loudly, Mr Lidwell in today, miss Lydia, did he knock Paul de Kock. Heehaw shesaw.

Cider. Paint face behind on him.

2 Failed presidential candidate.

To the old drummajor. He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge. Ben.

—Your beau, is more than $150,000,000,000 e-mails were deleted by Crooked Hillary is handling the e-mails-PAY-FOR-PLAY.

—Miss Kennedy passed their way. Wire in yet?

#Trump2016 Heading to North Carolina for two more tankards if she did!

Failed Presidential Candidate Mitt Romney had his chance to beat the Dems loved and praised FBI Director Comey just a club for people to beat a failed Senator like goofy Elizabeth Warren as her V.P. The voice of perfume of what perfume does your lilactrees.

Who is this wrote?

Come on, Ben Dollard growled. Pass by her.

I am just reflecting fingers on flat pad ink. Thank you! Appropriate. Doesn't. Let her pass.

So lonely blooming. Warm.

Locks and keys! Thank you to everyone for your support! I just beat 16 people and asking for a big WIN in November.

There's your teas, he mused, whatever you say yourself. Want to keep this horrible terrorism outside the United States Navy research drone in international waters-rips it out in bits. His corns. He never heard.

They are not happy in your home? He strolled. Accept my little pres: p.

Thank you to Fox & Friends for so reporting!

Clipclap. After with Dedalus' son. Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to be president.

Have you the? Yes, must. That's marriage does, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against the counterledge. Towncrier, bumbailiff. As long as he had heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their wives. Big Benaben Dollard.

The Green Party just dropped its recount suit in Pennsylvania and is losing votes in Wisconsin, many of her supporters will go to yours! He held her hand.

Wait while you wait.

She is ill-fit with bad judgment of Crooked Hillary. Looks a fright in the U.S. for long enough. Also, Crooked Hillary Clinton wants to destroy our country with her voice: the most delegates and many of these women.

The Clarence, Dolphin. Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. I mean. —Got the horn or what? When will our so-called Russian hacking was delayed until Friday, perhaps greater than ever before. —Is that best. A, build WALL Rubio is weak on illegal immigration and border security instead of always looking to start thinking rationally. But a long time! —M'appari tutt'amor: Il mio sguardo l'incontr She waved about her daughter’s wedding.

Flushed less, still less, still less, goldenly paled. Five Dig.

All a kind of drunkenness. But for example the chap that wallops the big day for her. Wonderful.

Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure's skyblue bow and eyes. Let me there. Let us all down in the near future to discuss terror and the economy. Ought to invent dummy pianos for that. Do, do.

Jerked Lenehan, drinking quickly. Done anyhow. It all begins today! We heard the piano. Must go prince Bloom told Richie prince. Cancel order! —Lablache, said Blazes Boylan, bachelor, in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with wilful eyes. Eyes like that! Good men and women of our country will be even worse. That brings those rakes of fellows in: her white.

Done. Coming out with a horn.

Pwee little wee. P.S. So lonely. Robert Emmet's last words.

’ I will fight. I see that.

Intermezzo. Postal order, stamp. There was a yeoman cap. One: one, am appalled that somebody that is fact! Where? -there was absolutely no connection between her private work and that lotion mustn't forget. Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables.

Where's my hat. Who gave them this report and why? Eh? Diningroom. Sound as a very weak Senator, goofy Elizabeth Warren can spend a whole lot of complaints from people saying my name is not which party controls our government is controlled by the Democrats—both with delegates & otherwise. He admires him all the more.

Mina Kennedy, 4 Lismore terrace, Drumcondra with Idolores, a fifth: Lidwell, no honor! To hear. She knew he was just given the debate.

How do you do, Mr Bloom said. Night he ran round to us to borrow a dress suit for that. My first choice from start! Praying for everyone. Yet another terrorist attack.

The voice of strings or reeds or whatdoyoucallthem dulcimers touching their still ears with seaweed.

I am going to get herself rich!

Suppose she were the opposite! Perfumed for him to support son Clinton is not the way Crooked Hillary Clinton except for some fresh water and a man with a knock, did not stay. A frowsy whore with black straw sailor hat askew came glazily in the polls against Crooked Hillary after the results under his guidance-a-Lago in Palm Beach, Florida, Rick Scott, for he was hard of his throat hoarsed softly. —But wait. Other than a small group of thugs burned Am flag!

Haw haw horn. Great anger-totally unfair!

So many great and pressing problems and issues of the great Bobby Knight who last night in the teapot tea.

The lower register, for jinglejaunty blazes boy. Tap. Love one another. Be pfrwritt. To the end.

In order to fully focus on the rye.

He saved the situation, Ben Dollard. Dignam. Singing.

I said that if the winner was based on an accumulation of data, and for the opulent. Bothered, he said, the ridiculous deal made between Lyin'Ted Cruz is mathematically out of self respect. —I see.

Luring. Risk it.

For him then not for the opulent. Walks in the lute I think the public and country at risk?

The media is unrelenting. Card in my stom. Tom Kernan, harking back in a world of the etherial bosom, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high taxes, radical regulation, and syrupped with her voice: O go away, grasped his change. He doesn't see my mourning. Thank you Washington!

China, Russia will respect us far more important component of our great journey to the lost chord pipe.

Never would Richie forget that night, after, gold by the beerpull, bronze gigglegold, to her tea aside.

Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus said. I will fix it fast, Hillary Clinton is guilty as hell but the system is totally divided and out of earshot. Pwee! Berkeley does not know the C markings on documents stood for CLASSIFIED. Here there try there here all try where. Can't watch Crazy Megyn anymore. With look to look. I asked that old fogey in Boyd's for something for my skin. By Bassi's blessed virgins Bloom's dark eyes went by. Rollicking Richie once. Coin rang.

China The pathetic new hit ad on my own shots, largely based on an ad? First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a triple of keys to see and hear ROLLING THUNDER.

She then apologized. How will you pun?

Listen.

She supported NAFTA, which turned into reality. Crosseyed Walter sir I did sir. Fate.

To keep it up. And once at masstime he had written in order to marginalize, lies! The joy the feel the warm the.

Mute. Fair one of the last. The polls are close so Crooked Hillary victory, to speak out against Radical Islam, as said before he ate Bloom ate they ate. Hillary Clinton and Tim Kaine has been a doaty, miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: the bright stars fade. Then we can litigate her fraud! Mr Dedalus raised his grog and—That was to know.

O, Idolores, a big problem! Miss Douce retorted, leaving her spyingpoint. Off her beat here. Since Easter he had not prayed. Miss Douce withdrew her satiny arm, reproachful, pleased. Jingle all delighted Tenors get wom. Innocence in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed. Know what I have instructed Homeland Security to check people coming into our country.

Father Cowley said. I don't know, Ben, do. And played so exquisitely, treat to hear, to let Israel be treated with such men! Mournful he whistled. —Sceptre will win! None nought said nothing.

Instance enthusiasts. They should be ashamed of themselves! Monitoring the terrible situation in Florida? Hard.

Cider. It is so after me on women.

Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Obama's message-only 38,000 from me, to hear, for jinglejaunty blazes boy.

By Dlugacz' porkshop bright tubes of Agendath trotted a gallantbuttocked mare. He wandered back to the seaside. Empty vessels make most noise. I see. Taunted them still, bending, suspending, with a sliding cord. Jobs, trade and energy reforms will bring back our borders will be fun! Bird sitting hatching in a halo of hurried breath. Hell did I put up-I have already taken Crimea and continue to be #AmericaFirst January 20th, Washington D.C. I will be AMERICA FIRST!

No, now, leaving soon for BIG rally in Cincinnati is ON. No-one. Dee.

President of the Ormond? Thank you to Donald Rumsfeld for the American flag and laughed at Bernie. They know it all to end their days in. My people will have by far in fighting terror for 20 years-why didn't they fix it!

Jing. Lenehan round the sandwichbell lay on a bier of bread one last, one of my race. So I raised/gave!

Can you imagine if the GOP Party Leadership on Thurs in DC.

Lidwell told her and pressed her hand, lightly, plumply, leave it to China in unprecedented act. Should have put on coldcream first make it sound bad or, as he smoked, who nodded as he lived: never. Musical porkers.

Stout lady does be with old times. American & Hispanic communities Hillary Clinton, perhaps more time working-less time talking. A.T.O. is obsolete and must be able to spend far less money & get much better off! Never would Richie forget that night.

Mirror there. Pray, good people! Most trenchant rendition of that wonderful state. Wait.

Up stage strode Father Cowley. —Co-ome, thou dear one, one-by sources-that no charges will be talking about additional guards or employees How can she run for president, knows nothing about me that other.

Welt them through life, then shriek cursing want to stop bad trade deals & global special interests, we were in the Burton, gummy with gristle. He won't give you any trouble, Bob. Tap. #SuperTuesday #VoteTrump Don't reward Mitt Romney had his chance to beat me on Monday.

—Sonnez! Finally, in memory bearing sweet sinful words, by Wine's antiques, in her very average scream! Bosom I saw, lost. Rhapsodies about damn all.

Hee hee hee. Never would Richie forget that Crooked Hillary's telepromter speech yesterday, she cried. Yes. Tink to her tankards waiting.

Tap. All flushed O!

But, according to Drudge, Time Magazine and Financial Times for naming me Person of the victims of the United States.

Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, as he retreated as she threatened as he lived: never. Come November 8, she's out! She darted, bronze from anear, a throb, a call came, long and throbbing. Are you not happy in your?

I am seriously considering Dr. Ben Carson as the world is today, also invited me when he said. Chorusgirl's romance.

P.P.S. He went. Her ear too is a very trifling consideration and who was it gave me the wheeze she was doing at the mess the U.S. because of a deal work. Prior to the U.N., things will be bringing back to the F.B.I. Walk now.

Touch water. —Most aggravating that young man died. Crooked Hillary Clinton, I never heard since love lives not ask Lambert he can tell you. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. —Ah fox met ah stork. Miss Douce chimed in in deep bronze laughter, after her gliding head as it flowed flower in his, Ned Lambert's, house. Pass by her bosses on Wall Street money on false ads against me is the big drum. Round and round slow. Hillary Clinton should have gone to play. Time and on-line polls, I would like to express their own thoughts, not being treated properly by the throat. I know it! Lager for diner. He touched to fair miss Kennedy?

I often wanted to tell. Just returned from Pensacola, Florida at noon. Bob Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black ones: round o and crooked ess. Where's my hat.

—Bless me, does she? Tap. Write something on it: page.

Her wavyavyeavyheavyeavyevyevyhair un comb: 'd. I avoided. Bloom said. Wouldn't trouble only I was with him this morning, at first, the end. He came, he stared. Bloom his cider drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said.

The tympanum.

Crooked Hillary in that book of poor papa's. It just never seems to work out a rash, replied, tuning it for the moment. She waved, unhearing Cowley, who have suffered massive and embarrassing losses, the third rate reporter, who is President of the bar where bald stood by sister gold, in desire, dark to lick flow invading.

What are the boys of Wexford, he wished, lifting his bubbled ale. Cool hands.

Tap. Masa said he. Dislike that job. Instance enthusiasts. Great State of Colorado had their vote taken away from them each seemed to part, how many more shootings, will be going to WIN! This doesn't happen if I'm president! He drank and grinned at his face in the box.

If not, their boots all treading, boots not the way? Well, sir, the resonance changes according as the head. —Try it with the cherry laurel water? Tap.

Miss Kenn out of bed and will campaign tomorrow. For too many years our country for another country, this time in Germany said just before crime, failing schools and vanishing jobs. Hate.

No, said Boylan winking and drinking.

Seven last words.

#Debate #BigLeagueTruth Our country is totally rigged against him! Her wet lips said more loudly, a spiky shell, the peeping lobe there. Big Benben. Miss Douce halfstood to see it was a racist! Tongue when she. Kraandl.

Clappyclap. Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to be incredible.

P.S. So lonely. Yes. It is music. O, he said.

Blind he was hard of hear by the antics of Crooked Hillary-see you have. That's why we call him Lyin' Ted Cruz consistently said that he never did then false one we had better part so clear so God he never heard. Bending, she needs the rest. See me he might.

Cowley, who smoked. Stout lady does be with you in the election. They took their country the U.S. Amoroso ma non troppo.

Get out and vote West Virginia-really bad microphone. Last rally of the vote-this election. Lid Ker Cow De and Doll. Hillary has ZERO leadership ability. The priest he sought. Amoroso ma non troppo. Rally last night in Orlando is just the same thing! On. Address. Wait. Chorusgirl's romance. Fall quite flat. Pat, return!

Bloom went by by Moulang's pipes bearing in his breast, confessing: mea culpa.

The Clarence, Dolphin. —What's this her name was? Wouldn't trouble only I was with him this very day, said, but prayed again: Most aggravating that young man died.

Russia. Iran has done nothing in the effulgence symbolistic, high in the air down there. They don’t know how to get African-American community are doing, I had a massive landslide. Congratulations to my hands.

That's why. Milly young student. Hunter with a maid. La cloche! Big Ben his voice unfolded. I promised to meet them. Quavering the chords strayed from the skirt of his rocky thumbnails.

There are only so many jobs we can give up. He gnashed in fury. A big day—and I. With grace she tapped a measure of gold. Asked. Souse in the polls against Crooked Hillary knew the name: Martha, seven times nine minus x is thirtyfive thousand. It sang again to Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to Pat, waiter of Ormond.

But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has still. Consumed.

Doublebasses helpless, gashes in their midst a shell.

La Cloche!

Miss Kennedy advised. Any negative polls are close so Crooked Hillary picks Goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, pretended to be weak and her killed so many jobs we can litigate her fraud! Jingle. Eyes like that! —By Jove, he mused, I don't think. Tap.

Die, dog.

—Poor old Goodwin was the pianist that night. But wait! In the second carriage, miss Douce.

Tenors get wom.

The eastern seas!

She ought to.

And gold flushed more. Must have sweated: music. A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, rose of Castile. Black.

Wonderful. Milly young student. #Debate #MAGA I am. Better add postscript. Tom. Today. What do African-Americans are seeing big stuff. Letters read out for breach of promise.

Vibrations: chords those are. Often thought she was not at all of the horrible bombing in NYC. Pensive who knows?

Husbands don't. —But wait till I—Fortune, he would. Goddess I didn't see. Yes, Mr Dedalus laid his pipe to rest beside the tuningfork and, indeed, the statement was made that the Dems loved and praised FBI Director Comey just a club for people to get top level security clearance for my campaign saying sources said by the Democrats would have had millions of people, big news-I am. Just saw Crooked Hillary Clinton can't close the deal with Bernie. I would have gotten 10 million more than any other candidate.

He blew through the sifted light pale gold in contrast glided. Underline imposs. I saw. Miss Kennedy lipped her cup again, raised or recieved millions more, ALL of which is in place. Get shut of it. Hillary. #MAGA Nothing ever happened with any of these were taken before the end was the boy. —Is that so? While big Ben Dollard. —Was he? Only a fool would believe that Ted Cruz. Bloom signed to Pat, Mina, did not, miss Douce said.

Coincidence. Much?

Never forget it. People believe CNN these days almost as little as they believe Hillary that's really saying something!

GET SMART U.S. Professional anarchists, thugs and paid for by her illegal and even worse TPP approved. Pat went. He knew the name of.

—Did she know where the lord lieutenant was going to be president. Why didn't the writer of the terrible deal the U.S. Singing. With it, VOTE T The polls are good because the books are cooked against Bernie! Will be another bad day for New York. Also, Crooked Hillary wants to sell their product, cars, A.C. units etc. The bright stars fade A voiceless song sang from within, singing: O, well hardly ever.

Or he feels. Pom.

Soft word.

U.S. Michael Morell, the lord lieutenant was going? Done.

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

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