#nai gets him weed to shut him up

[noonslullabies]

the only reason i haven't jumped into the stampede fun is that I'll probably turn the old man into knive's uncle figure.

[libidomechanica]

“The next door we will do, speak in figures also, they were”

Were ‘t aught aske I, but a dreams.     Again the water dewe. Ah fools of short that nobody     can love is true. Too late cars which gown to a lake where all     that grow, and make him invisible when I’ll speak but the     acting of spice and feare,

enter brauely euerywhere, that     lover’s hermitage; your love but gauds; nay, whistle a little     man. Did silence to me and Cleopatra—night that     able spirits so fair on the altar heap’d with the banner     of them blue in the

argument all back again. Earth     her een her home thy louer? One in war with a full heart thumping     like-hat relation, so I could really see the     heardgroomes, keeping, where were sweet but don’t holy were greater     in an ear! Or to wronged

lovely young JESSIE you saw a     field made up of worths surmount. Welcome, wean; mishanter far     doth not breath our coming want them leave all enjoy hats, but     of conversation of hands knot, I change and there Damon     lay, with trembling dew: or

glitter’d to my bonie, sweetnesse, which     with tears. When you are more to try it when I realize     it. Whether the ones thy flocks the wild birds sang thee his skill     in horse, my hand hold her feel her chekes pit thou have done:     mine enemie. Are far estrange

route. The sorrows of you, a     kind of the English eyes were grew so tender&I so young     JESSIE you saw a field made such annoied. His honor, or     his colowred crime. Decay: for fierce tears. The rest I’ll speak.     The next door we will do,

speak in figures also, they were     you epitomize contemplating to breathe a man-at-     armes did draw: of touch my soul with the blood from the hill. Not     as to get out. And all the news tonight: a debate about     the new. Ay little

kissable mouth in waves asking     about goings of Dove, a maiden fair Syrinx in trees     or colour’d vellum playes, yet this love gentle into diamond     is impossibility we will ever call it     bee through which prove more, by

paying time. Out of a burro.     Two grubs on thy corbe shoulders with its mouth a locust in     your body takes on the line&her pillow understand. Trading     be, or to be Lord, what would not Love make thou within     a year a son was delight

from Boston to Paris watching     such ends, and old. Of custome to that an act that fatal     knife shut in your starry air of midnight I feele,     and dirks the horsemen my glass, in the most impeach’d standing     day; rage, rage disarms—these

bitter bargain driven: I hold     her and thoughts, new grows erect, as sour bare is a tall ghost     tossing and you, to whom love me—wilt thou leau’st that grow, and     only when there were true cause their hair. And hail once be seen:     trees, at one thieving lyre,

whose hat you will, approve, hers     conversation I could encline. All through and I do love me     on my soule to proved us one. Yet if the lintwhites     in New Jersey lighted;— o that moved the maidens came around     else is. I have been

born is gone. Love chants of your     carelesse corage hath stell’d thy beams as thou place, straw into     that an act that soft and look out at thy mither’s hate, weeds     among the cast live on the flowers alarming us,     as happy as well with

gilded leaues or filled within, the     rose, the God be the music speaks with the sea has been     exhibited on Bond Street and not suffer the blowen bags,     like paper animals. I call me Papa. It so have     been exhibited only

this last wave hot youthful shore,     and beate vpon that bosom’s shop is hang; thy shrine, no truth before     was not wear that it is the queen sent our lives a     womankind, I embrace the pink, the trick. Ever see     To see his neare ouerthrow.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Hi idk if your requests are open but could you do an elliot x femreader imagine where the reader is having trouble sleeping and Elliot helps her like fucks her to sleep, but it’s rlly sweet bc he’s so gentle with her

This is so cute. I like this.

Warnings: Swearing and smut, this is 18+

Word Count: 770

I must have flipped over nine times in the last fifteen minutes.

I'm tightly secured under Elliot's arm, his hand resting on my back as I huff. I don't know why I couldn't sleep. My eyes would close, my eyes opening again moments later. I would toss myself around, trying to get comfortable as Elliot sleeps peacefully in front of me. He had the ability to sleep in nay type of situation. He could sleep in the car, on the couch, at school, and, most importantly, in bed.

I guess the amount of weed he smoked definitely helped to mellow him out. He had offered it to me a few times, but it never seems to relax me far enough for my body to fall into a deep sleep. And I was the type of person to need deep sleep or else the littlest noise would wake me up.

I can tell he's awake when his breathing changes. He stretches gently, his arm pulling me tighter against him as I smile. I watch as his eyes flutter open, squinting as he gazes down at me, my eyes wide open. He pouts softly, his eyebrows pulling together.

"Can't sleep?" He asks quietly, his hand reaching up to gently rest on my cheek. I shake my head, my body relaxing into his touch as he hums quietly. "Well we can't have that, now can we?" He quizzes with a soft grin, his lips leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead. He shifts his weight, his body rolling on top of mine as I softly giggle. He nudges my legs open, his weight falling in between them as he lowers his lips to my neck. "Relax." He coos, his hand dragging over my bare side, finding a home on my hip. His thumb gently rubs circles into my skin, his lips gently pressing kisses against the soft skin of my throat. My quiet moans are the only thing heard in the room, his lips in a smile against the column of my throat. "You want me to take care of you? Get you sleepy?" He asks in a teasing tone but I can tell that there's nothing but sincerity behind his words. I nod, his eyes finding mine in the dark room.

I feel him gently reach between our bodies, his fingers dancing against my stomach as I shiver. His fingers dip under my panties, his fingers skimming under the band. My hips jolt at his touch, my eyes fluttering shut. He giggles quietly at my response, his hands pulling his boxers down just enough to make it easy. I feel him pull my panties aside, his fingers gently brushing against my clit as I whimper.

"I got you, baby." He reassures quietly, positioning himself at my entrance as I sigh happily. Feeling him gently push into me, my hands fly to his shoulders, a moan leaving his lips. He collapses in on me, his shoulders drooping as his face tucks into the crook of my neck. I smile happily, my arms wrapping around his neck to rest on his back as I adjust. He pulls his hips back, gently thrusting into me as I whisper a moan, his pelvis brushing against my sensitive bundle of nerves with every lazy thrust. "Gonna make you feel so good so you can sleep for hours, baby." He whispers, lips pressing into my shoulder as I hum.

He reaches down between us, grabbing onto my thigh to wrap it around his waist. I squeal at the new angle, a tired smile on my lips as I close my eyes. His thrusts are deep and slow, my head spinning at the sensation of him being so close. I hug him to me, my nails digging into his back as he moans, goosebumps erupting on my skin at the sound.

"Fuck." He whispers, his hips speeding up a bit as he grows close. Feeling him reach between us, the pads of his fingers gently circle my clit. I jump at the feeling, my moans growing louder and louder the closer I get. "Come on baby, show me how good you're feeling." He whispers teasingly, my walls fluttering around him as we both topple over the edge. I cling onto him, my whole body trembling beneath him as he groans. His hips stall, my breathing calming down as I rub his back gently. My eyes flutter closed, the feeling of him softening inside of me and the feeling of his lips on my neck sending me right to sleep. "Sleep good, angel."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[ghofransanakli]

the room

Like one, on a lonesome road who,  Doth walk in fear and dread, And, having once turned round, walks on,   And turned no more his head;  Because he knows a frightful fiend   Doth close behind him tread.                         ��     -Coleridge’s_ Ancient Mariner_-

> A few weeks ago, we endured the agony of my mother’s death in a very tragic accident. This crushing event left us empty and almost lifeless as the sharp fangs of remorse tore at our hearts and souls. Every corner in our home, nay, the whole town , brought back so many haunting memories, every centimeter carried her voice, her presence and her picture. Me and my father, no matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t bear that weight, especially with the fact  that her body was nowhere to be found.

My father utterly refused to adresse the subject and insisted on helping me recover from my melancholy urgently, and as a solution he resorted to leaving my childhood house behind and with it our disastrous past. 

In a surprisingly short notice, my father claimed that he found a lovely house far away on the countryside. He appeared to be very keen upon leaving ,yet, on the day of our poorly planned departure, I couldn’t help but notice how oddly distracted he was ; more than once, I caught him staring off blankly into the distance as if he was seeing something that I could not. 

When we reached our desired destination, I was amazed by how enormous and soiled the house was, the doors were so rusty as if it were never before imprinted by the foot of a man. It stood majestically upon a steep hill, and in the light of the day it looked to me rather like a castle with its high tower that overlooked the town. It seemed like a product of a twisted imagination.

My father was very eager on settling us in as quick as possible so we started cleaning right away. My dad moved about in the house as if he knew the huge place like the back of his hand. And what left me in utter shock is how he was at his wit’s end when I tried to open a wooden box I found in a cupboard and how firm he stood upon throwing it. As he yanked it from my hands he started muttering undistinguishable words to himself and he went even further to burning it. In an attempt to shake off the strange behavior of my father, I decide to go around the house and get a little more acquainted with it. It was immense and had five floors, every floor bore 6 rooms and some of the rooms had one single  bed covered with rugged dusty sheets.

However much I tried to ignore the heavy feeling that pressed down on my bosom, it just kept growing heavier with every chamber I entered , and by the time I got to the fifth floor , I was captured by anxiety and I felt choked and trapped. This floor was a tower it only had a porch and another shut room. I raced to the porch and took a deep breath trying to lift my dampened spirits, but the gruesome scene before my eyes knocked the air out of my lungs; all around the house slithered a garden covered in dead flowers and undesirable weeds, here and there I spotted ghostly marble gargoyles whose eyes were fixed on me like daggers with a wolfish grin on their faces . What startled me even more was the absence of human company; the only neighbors we had were the far off murky lake, an abandoned church blackened by the soot of ages and the leafless trees of the forest surrounding us. In the faint light of the October setting sun the branches looked like bony hands stretched out to incacerate me. In this fallen empire,only the icy breeze seemed to whisper a mute warning.

The perished realm before me distressed me to a greater extent, so I turned around and examined the closed chamber. I felt myself be pulled towards it, when i reached it i put my hand on the knob and softly twisted it, it was shut. I turned around  and my father was behind me in such a sickly pale appearance, and started frantically talking and warning me against ever approaching that floor again. In the scheme of his panic and my fright I caught a look at his obscured  eyes and I saw something that I failed to root out but it certainly sent chills down my spine .

That night I couldn’t sleep a wink. I was intrigued, and I couldn’t help but be lured to the room as if by an unseen force. I lit a candle and headed to it. 

Twisting the handle of the door it immediately gave in with no struggle letting out faint creaks as it slowly opened. On the inside, the room was even darker than the rest of the house. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust as if it wasn’t opened for over a century. Its window was open, yet, through it u could not see the stars nor the full moon of that night . The walls were covered in shelves full of books. 

In the middle of the room stood a wooden desk, on it sat the very box I saw my father burn earlier, I Approached it slowly, it was intact, it had no trace of burns or damage. I opened it, inside, I found a stack of letters messily written as if by the hands of a madman. I picked them up just to find, under them, an old picture of a man in a pearly white suite bearing an expressionless face and gazing blankly at the camera. His stare chilled me to the bones and as I brought the picture closer to the candle I was horrified to recognize the man as my father.

With shaking hands I flipped the picture . On the back the date “October 1920” was inscribed in a scarlet ink. And to my terror I saw splashes of thick blood appear all over the picture. I was petrified. I couldn’t lift a limb as the blood drenched piece of paper fell to the ground . And in the silence of this damned night , I heard faint whispers but I failed to decipher them as if they were of a foreign language. 

Suddenly an eerie nauseating smell filled the air , and I felt a warm breath on the back of my neck, I was trembling with fright, every motion of any muscle or fiber in my body was suspended, when I saw a dark shadowy silhouette in the corner of the room and slowly it started edging closer and closer to me . I could feel the blood curdling in my veins and with a rush of adrenaline I found myself running for the exist. the distance seperating me from the door seemed to grow with every step I took, and when I finally left the room I didn’t recognize the house; the walls were covered in splashes of dried blood and the staircase disappeared. I was stuck in a corner in front of the appearance as it floated towards me. 

In the silver of light coming from the porch, I saw its features and I recognized them. It was my mother. Her eyes bleeding on the white nightgown she was wearing. She had her throat sliced open oozing curdled blood she jumped at me and let out a deafening high pitched scream that put the fear of god into me she started feverishly repeating:”He killed me! It’s him! Your father ! RUN! RUN!” 

Petrified with fear I closed my eyes. And in an instant everything was enveloped in a grave silence. I opened my eyes and the house was back to normal. I found the staircase and i ran. By the time I reached the gates my bare feet and ankles were covered in wounds, but I barely felt a thing, adrenaline ignited my veins like a match.

In the stillness of the night I heard my father let out a devilish laugh I turned around and he was leisurely walking towards me with a nightmarish smile on his face. I hastened my pace and threw myself into the dark maze of the woodland  as the branches tore at the exposed flesh on my arms and face. My sweat drenched clothes clung to my skin, I coud feel the cool night air slash my skin like freshly sharpened knives .

Suddenly he was in front of me blocking my way. I was horrified as he proceeded towards me, I felt tears of terror sliding down my cheeks, and I started pleading him , yet all he did was let out loud laughs and in a blink of an eye, he grabbed hold of my throat and pressed with brutal force. He kept repeating the words:”I warned you! I did all of this for you! To protect you! And you disobeyed me ! ” And with that everything went blurry, I could not breathe or move. I fell to my knees and he didn’t let go.

I caught a glimpse of the twinkling stars shining bright in blissful ignorance of my miserable state. Then, as my soul was quitting my corpse, I started shaking furiously like a slaughtered lamb, and in an instant I couldn’t feel a thing. 

I was gone.

[deadanddeactivated]

The Prince Roman

Fandom: Sanders Sides, Anatasia AU Pairing:   Roceit, Logicality Characters: Roman, Deceit, Logan, Patton, Virgil Notes: Day 9 of the fluffuary event being hosted by @tsshipmonth2020​​ - Roceit Summary:  When the Orange Mage took the throne, three of the royal family survived. When Virgil, brother to the True King, took it back, only two returned. King Regent Virgil will do anything to bring his nephew Roman home.

Ro's not sure he's the prince, no matter what Dante says. But hey, worth a shot right?

AO3

--

“Do you?”  Dante asked, stressed, staring into Roman’s sparkling eyes.  And then Roman’s eyes slipped shut and he leant forward, pressing their lips together in a way Dante had been dreaming off since that dance.  Maybe earlier.  “Oh.”  Dante breathed when they finally pulled apart.  “You do.”

When the Orange Mage took the throne, there was a bloodbath.  The King was killed quickly, his body later displayed brutally to keep the nay-sayers quiet.  Most of the guards were killed or imprisoned.  Any loyal servants were quickly weeded out.  All were made examples off.

Except, that is, for three.

A rather problematic three, for the Orange Mage.  For the bodies that did not join the red soaked ground all have rightful claims to the throne he had stolen.

The King’s younger brother, Virgil.  Who was old enough to pose a credible threat if not tracked down.

And the twin heirs to the throne - Roman and Remus.  Too young to organize a rebellion, but dangerous in their own rights.  Those children were symbols of hope to those that still supported the old king.  Symbols that the Orange Mage didn’t have complete control.

Desperate for that control, the Orange Mage spent the better part of his reign trying to hunt them down and kill them.

He did not succeed.

Instead, Virgil snuck into the castle and killed the false king himself.

By all rights he could have claimed the throne then and there.  He refused. 

“I am not the King.”  He huffed at advisors desperate to give someone the crown.  “I will be King Regent until the true heir comes of age, and even then only begrudgingly.”

“You have the twins?”  Someone asked, pure hope and joy on their face.  Virgil hesitated.

“I have Remus.”  He finally said.  “Roman is missing.”

--

Dante didn’t care much for the politics of any of that.  The new king meant nothing to him, even if things in the kingdom seemed marginally better now.  For everyone else.  Not for him though, not for the man with the cursed face.

So no, Dante didn’t care that the King had been replaced.  Or restored.  Or whatever.  No, what he cared about was the monetary reward for Prince Roman’s discovery and return.

--

Ronnie, Ro to his friends, didn’t care much for the politics of the castle either.  He’d imagined, once or twice, that he was secretly a prince sent to the orphanage for protection.  Any day his father, a king, would come and collect him and they’d live a blessed life.  Of course, he’d known they were only fantasies but something deep instead him ached when they didn’t come true.

So no, Ro didn’t care that the King had been restored.  He’d hardly even heard the news.  But when Dante looked at him and said ‘you know, you just might be the missing prince’, something had felt so very right.

--

Logan cared deeply for the politics of the castle.  He’d been quite close to the royal family, closer still to the royal cook.  When the castle had been invaded, Logan had been away.  In just a moment he’d lost everything. 

So yes, Logan cared quite a bit that the Royal family had been restored.  But it wasn’t easy for a man of nothing to get to the castle, and Dante was a trustworthy man.  At least to his friends.  

--

“This is ridiculous.”  Ro complained as they went through table set ups and the importance of the person to your right verses the person to your left.  “Why do I have to learn all this stuff?  Wouldn’t Regent Virgil just, recognize me or whatever?”  

“There are many people you have to convince before you can reach the Regnant.”  Logan pointed out.  “They will expect you to know all of this.”

“Then they’re ridiculous.”  Ro huffed.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up now Ro, I thought you were better than that.”  Dante mocked from his own spot, entirely unaffected by the look Logan shot his way.

“Oh please, you couldn’t tell the difference between a soup spoon and a dessert spoon if your life depended on it.”  Ro mocked right back.

“If we could focus.”  Logan called.

--

“If you hate this so much just leave.”  Dante huffed, growing more and more annoyed at Ro’s complaining by the day.

“I am not going to leave!”  Ro snapped, as annoyed by Dante’s constant teasing as Dante was with him.

“Why not?  What’s so important you just have to stick around?  Or do you just love complaining that much?”  

“Family, damnit!”  Ro all but screamed, startling them both.  He looked away and Dante could just barely make out tears in his eyes.  “Is it so unbelievable that I just… want a family?  A place I belong?”  Hand subconsciously going to the side of his face, Dante could only sigh.

“No, it’s not.”  He mumbled.  Pulling his hand away he sighed again.  “Pass me your hand, let’s try again.”

“You aren’t going to mock me every step of the way again, are you?”  Ro asked and De winced. 

“I won’t.”  He promised.  “How about we just… try all of this again?”

“...okay.”  Ro whispered.  “Okay let’s.”

Looking down at them from the balcony, Logan wasn’t sure how to feel.  It was good to see them getting along, it was good to see Dante’s focus on their plan shifting.  But watching them dance, smile, and even laugh together, Logan wondered what they do if Ro really was Roman.  A cursed man and a prince wasn’t exactly a conventional royal romance.

--

“Patton.”  Logan breathed, staring at the man who’d entered the room.  “You’re alive.”

“Logan!”  The cook cheered, all but leaping into the man’s arms.  “Oh, I thought I’d lost you.”

“And I you.”  Logan returned, clinging to Patton just as tightly.  Behind them, Ro leant towards Dante to fake whisper.

“Did you know he could do that?”

“Do what?”  Dante asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Have emotions.”  Roman elborated.

“I had no idea.”  Dante smirked, their teasing earning an eye roll from their friend and a chuckle from Patton.

“Sorry.”  Patton said, letting go of Logan and helping him straighten out his clothing.  “I didn’t see you two there.”

“Or it’s quite alright, we see you were distracted.”  Dante assured.  Even now, Patton had hardly looked away from Logan.  But, eventually, he cleared his throat and turned to the two.

“Who are your friends Logan?”  He asked.

“This is Dante and Ro.  Dante helped me quite a deal these past years and Ro… well we believe Ro may be the missing prince.”  Logan explained.

“We’re hoping, anyway.”  Ro mumbled.  “I don’t… I don’t really remember where I come from.”

“Oh that is so exciting!”  Patton grinned.  “And you do look so much like Remus.  If you were cleaned up and fed a little better, and had his terrible mustache.  Oh I can almost see it!  It’s so good to see you again Roman!”

“T-thankyou.”  Ro said, a little awkwardly, a lot hopefully.

“So you’ll take us to see Regent Virgil then?”  Logan asked.

“Logan, honey, I wish I could.  And I’m sure he’d love to see you again.  But… well, there’s been so many false calls.  Virgil’s started to fear the worst, he refuses to see any more Romans.”  Patton explained.

“Oh.”  Ro mumbled, a little awkwardly, a lot heartbrokenly.  “That, um, that makes sense.” 

“There has to be some way.”  Dante tried.  “We’ve come all this way.”  

“Well…”  Patton thought for a moment.  “I’ve got it!”

--

“Regent Virgil.”  Dante greeted, bowed before the acting king.  “I’m-” He started, only to be cut off.

“I know who you are.”  Virgil huffed.  “You were the one hosting auditions for the part of my nephew.”

“Ah, that um…”  Dante mumbled, trying to come up with a proper explanation.  “It was an… additional test, to see there really was any stock to their claim.  But-”

“Don’t lie to me.”  Virgil spat.  “I have had enough of two-faced liars.  Leave, and take whatever actor you brought alone with you.”

“Sire, please.”  Dante tried again, reaching out for the regent.  “He’s not an actor, he really is Roman.  If you just look at him, you’d know.”

“Don’t touch me.”  Virgil growled, pulling his hand away.  “I will tell you again, leave.  Before I have you arrested.”

Standing just outside the room, Ro pressed the palm of his hand to his mouth to keep from sobbing.  It had been a con?  All of it?  

--

“Ro!”  Dante called as the man speed towards their rooms.  

“Don’t talk to me.”  Ro snapped.  “I don’t, I don’t want to be some pawn in your game anymore.  Just leave me alone!”

“Ro it wasn’t like that.”  He claimed.  

“Wasn’t it?!”  Ro huffed, turning and stopping to glare at a man he thought… a man he thought loved him.  “Because it sounds to me like all you wanted was the money, and you found the perfect gullible, idiot to help you get it.”

“No, that’s not… I mean, it was.  At first.  But you really do look like him and-”  

“What does it matter if I look like him?  What does any of it matter?  Whether I’m Roman or not, Regent Virgil will never want to talk to me, because of you!  I thought… I thought I had a real shot at a family here Dante.  With them but, but with you and Logan too.  And it turns out you were lying to me the whole time?”

“It wasn’t the whole time.”  Dante argued.  “Not since we danced.”

“Don’t.”  Ro said, trying for stern and only managing a sniffle.  “Just, leave me a lot Dante.”

--

Ro sat in the inn room, trying very hard not to cry and failing miserably.  In his hands he clutched his amulet, the only thing he’d ever had to remind him of his past.  It was a simple thing, until you looked into the center.  A storm raged in there, clouds and lightning and rain.

Since this whole Roman idea started, Ro had looked into the royal family quite a bit.  Not always because Logan told him too.  

It was a little known fact that Regent Virgil was a mage, if one who had set his magic aside to rule the kingdom.  He was known to specialize in storm magic.  

Ro had thought that meant something.  Had hoped maybe that was a sign his amulet had been a gift from his uncle, a mage of storm and brother to the King.

How foolish of him.

A knock rang out through the room and Ro tried to wipe his face.  

“Come in.”  He said.  His eyes widened and he immediately scrambled to stand and bow when he saw who it was.  “Regent Virgil.  I-I’m so sorry, I had no idea about the auditions or-” Roman stopped when the regent rose a hand.

“I know.”  He said.  “Logan told me as much.  He also seems rather convinced you are my nephew.”

“I don’t know about that.”  Roman sighed.  “All I know about my past is that I had a locket.  Not much to prove I’m a prince, really.”  So why had he believed Dante?  Stupid of him.

“A locket?”  The regent asked.  “Can I see it?”  Hesitantly, Roman handed it over.  He couldn’t help the confusion when Virgil’s breath caught.

“A locket with a storm spell trapped inside.”  Virgil said.  “I think that’s rather good proof you are a prince.”  

“What?”  Roman frowned, confused and too scared to grow hopeful once more.  Virgil moved to sit on the bed, still clutching the amulet.  He gestured for Roman to sit with him.

“You used to hate when I’d leave.”  Virgil said.  “Said you always had nightmares about how I wouldn’t come back.  So I made you this locket, and I told you-”

“That if it ever stopped storming, you were gone.”  Ro whispered, eyes widening as he recalled the conversation.  “I was so mad at you that day.”  Ro, Roman, remembered.  “Because you’d been avoiding me.”

“You always made it so hard to keep a secret.”  Virgil grinned.

“It’s the eyes.”  Roman said.  “All Sanders have eyes that stare into your soul.”  That’s what his dad used to say, anyway.

“I guess that's why you were always so bad at lying.”  Virgil laughed.

“Not as bad as Remus!”  Roman argued.

“Well that's not much of an achievement.”  Virgil teased.  He stood back up.  “Would you like to go see him?”

“Yes,” Roman had never meant something more in his life.  “Please.”  Virgil offered him a hand and when Roman took it, he pulled the taller boy into a tight hug.

“I missed you so much Roman.”  He breathed. 

“I missed you too Uncle Virgil, even when I didn’t know it was you I was missing.”

--

Roman and Remus were attached at the hip the next day as they caught up, but Virgil has kingly, regently duties to attend and so begrudgingly leaves them alone.  His first appointment of the day, however, was not begrudging.

“Sire.”  Dante greeted, bowing.  “You called for me?”  Despite his even tone, he looked as wrecked as Roman had the night before.

“It seems you were correct.”  Virgil said.  “You did indeed find and bring my nephew home.”

“I’m just glad he’s home safe.”  Dante said.

“Yes, I’m sure.  You seem very noble.”  Virgil replied, rolling his eyes.  Dante looked away, frowning slightly.  “I’ll have your reward delivered to your hotel room.”

“No, thank you.”  Dante refused.  “I don’t want it.”

“Oh?”  Virgil prompted, raising an eyebrow at the man.  Sighing, Dante resisted the urge to the rub the back of his neck.

“It doesn’t feel right.  Ro, uh Prince Roman, isn’t an object to exchange money over.”  He admitted.

“You didn’t seem to worry about such things when you hosted those auditions.”  Virgil pointed out.  This time Dante didn’t suppress the wince, or try to lie his way out of the accustion.

“It was a lot of money, and from so far away it didn’t feel… real.”  He said.  “Even if Ro hadn’t been Prince Roman, I don’t think I’d have gone through with it.  I don’t think Logan would have agreed to the plan if he didn’t know that too.  I suppose he’s always been more honest about me than even myself.”

“He said about the same.”  Virgil confirmed after a moment of tense silence.  “I will at least send you some supplies, to make your trip home easier.  I’ll send for you when they’re ready.”

“Thank you Sire.”  Dante said, taking his leave with a bow.

“Perhaps I was a bit too hasty to judge him.”  Virgil admitted, if only to himself.  From what Logan had said, and from what he’d just seen, Dante didn’t seem so horrible a man.  

Perhaps he should help Roman remember that.

--

“How are you settling in?”  Virgil asked later that night, smiling as Roman looked up.  He could still hardly believe it.  His cousin, finally home and safe.

“Oh, it’s wonderful.”  Roman smiled.  “Everything I could have hoped for in finding my family.”

“I’m glad.”  Virgil said.

“Is it all settled then?”  Roman asked.  “I’m really, officially Prince Roman?”

“There’ll still need to be a coronation, but that can wait.”  Virgil assured.  “Everything else is indeed settled.”

“So Dante got his money then?”  Roman mumbled.

“He could have, we spoke this morning.”  Virgil said, hating the way Roman seemed to deflate at the thought.  “But he didn’t take it.”

“What?”  Roman frowned, looking up in confusion.

“He didn’t take the money Roman.”  Virgil assured.  “Gave a speech about how it didn’t feel right.  Really, I think he just didn’t want you to hate him.”

“I don’t-”  Roman flushed as his loud reaction, looking away and collecting himself.  Next time he spoke, it was calmer.  “I don’t hate him.”

“Perhaps you should go tell him that.”  Virgil suggested.  “He’s still in his hotel room.”

“Really?  But… but he’s, and I’m a prince now.  Doesn’t that matter?”  Roman asked, clearly not wanting to get his hopes up.  Virgil’s smile turned softer.

“Roman, the only thing I care about is that you’re home, and you’re happy.”  Roman’s face lit up, hugging him tight around the waist, and Virgil smiled into his shoulder.  “Just warn him not to break your heart.  I’m still acting king for a few more years, I can behead him.”  He joked.  Mostly.

--

“Ro?”  Dante frowned, confused to find the man at his door.  Then he faltered, bowing.  “Prince Roman.”  He corrected.

“Don’t do that.”  Roman said.  “You look so weird bowing sincerely.”

“Why are you here?”  Dante asked.

“You didn’t take the money.”  Roman answered.

“Not so you’d come see me.”  Dante claimed.  Even so, he tried to explain.  This might be his one chance.  “I just… it felt wrong.  I swear I thought you were the prince.  Maybe not at first, but pretty quickly.  I wasn’t trying to fool you, or use you.  Hell, I forgot about the auditions.”  Throughout it all, Roman smiled.

“I know.”  He assured.

“You mean a lot to me, I wouldn’t want to hurt you like that.  There were so many times I almost came clean, but I was so sure you were the prince by then and-”  Roman cut Dante off by resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Dante.”  He said.  “I know.”

[toomanysurveys9]

1. When was the last time someone saw you naked? I don’t remember.

2. If you could bring someone back from the dead and spend an hour with them, who would it be and what would you do/say? My grandma. I want to tell her about everything and introduce her to my babies.

3. What is the greatest loss you’ve endured? My grandma.

4. How would you describe your current mood? I’m okay. I’m just really, really tired.

5. When was the last time you did something you were embarrassed by? I don’t remember.

6. What was the last thing you lied about? Being okay.

7. Where is your favorite place to have sex? Prefer the bed. It’s so much easier.

8. What is your earliest memory? One of them is singing at my grandparents house.

9. Do you ever drink or get high alone? Nah.

10. What type of a drunk are you? It depends. I start off happy and okay and then I get depressed and stuff.

11. What song (or a few songs, whatever) means a lot to you and why? I get to be the one by JJ Heller.

12. When was the last time you revealed your feelings for someone? Were they accepted or rejected? It’s been a long time, and we’re married now.

13. What was the reason behind your last visit to the hospital? Miscarriage.

14. How do you tend to deal with a breakup? I’ve never really had to “deal” with a breakup.

15. What is the “worst” drug you’ve done? Are there any you will never try, or any you want to try? Weed. And I never want to do any again.

16. What is something you’ve done that you truly regret? Self-injury.

17. What does it mean to you to be a good person? Do you feel you are a good person? I think in some areas, I am a good person. But I could definitely be better.

18. What is your philosophy on life/how do you generally choose to live or conduct yourself? Always keep fighting.

19. Do you view animals as being just as important as people? Why or why not? My pets are family. As far as other animals, while I’m not a vegetarian or vegan, I still believe they should be treated in a humane way and with compassion. There’s no reason to be cruel, such as abusing them or keeping them in harsh conditions. <<< This.

20. When was the last time you were up all night and why? I’ve been up all night a lot. I haven’t been sleeping too well lately.

21. What is the worst thing you’ve done to yourself? What is the worst thing someone else has done to you? I have engaged in self-injury in the past. And I have been sexually abused.

22. What is the most personal thing you’re willing to reveal? Uh, I guess what I shared above.

23. What made you stop talking to the last person you cut out of your life? We just grew apart I guess.

24. Is there a situation or person you haven’t been able to get over/forgive? Yeah.

25. Who was the last person to yell at you? Did you yell back? I don’t know. Either my mom or Jake. I don’t know that I yelled back.

26. Where did your last injury come from? I banged a chair leg into my shin about a week or two ago. It still hurts.

27. What are some kinks or turn-ons you have, if any? I don’t have any kinks. My turn-ons are pretty basic.

28. What are you like during arguments? These days... I tend to shut down.

29. What is the worst thing you have said to another person? I don’t know.

30. Where do you like to be kissed? Forehead kisses are sweet.

31. What is more difficult for you, looking into someones eyes when you are telling someone how you feel, or looking into someones eyes when they are telling you how they feel? Both. Eye contact is not my strongest quality.

32. Think of the last time you were REALLY angry. WHY were you angry? Do you still feel the same way? Something Jacob said to Wyatt that wasn’t okay at all. And yes.

33. You are on a flight from Honolulu to Chicago non-stop. There is a fire in the back of the plane. You have enough time to make ONE phone call. Who do you call? What do you tell them? Jacob. That I love him and to make sure he always tells our babies that I love him too.

34. You are at the doctor’s office and he has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? What do you do with your remaining days? Would you be afraid? I would definitely tell some people. And I don’t know. But I don’t want to think about this with my upcoming doctor appointment. And very.

35. You can have one of the following two things. Which do you choose? Why? There’s no choices to choose between...

36. You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late even once more, you are fired. Do you take the time to save the dogs life? Why or Why not? Yes I would. Because I can find a new job. The dog won’t have another life.

37. Would you rather be hurt by the one you trust the most or the one you love the most? They’re the same.

38. Your best friend confesses that he/she has feelings for you more than just friendship. He/she is falling in love with you. What do you (or did you) do/say? I’m straight, so there’s that...

39. Think of the last person who you know that died. You have the chance to give them 1 hour of life back, but you have to give up one year of yours. Do you do it? Why or Why not? No. People might think I’m horrible for that... but no.

40. Are you the kind of friend that you would want to have as a friend? I don’t know.

41. Does love = sex? No.

42.Your boss tells your coworker that they have to let them go because of work shortage, and they are the newest employee. You have been there much longer. Your coworker has a family to support and no other means of income. Do you go to your boss and offer to leave the company? Why or Why not? I’m in the same boat, so probably not.

43.When was the last time you told someone HONESTLY how you felt regardless of how difficult it was for you to say? Who was it? What did you have to tell the person? I don’t know.

44. What would be (or what was) harder for you to tell a member of the opposite sex, you love them or that you do not love them back? That I love them.

45. What do you think would be the hardest thing for you to give up? Why would it be hard to lose? Uhhh. Ice cream. It just makes me happy sometimes.

46. Excluding romantic love, when was the last time you told someone you loved them. Who were they to you? My daughter.

47. If there was one moment and one time in the last month what would you change and why? I don’t know.

48.Imagine it is a dark night, you are alone, it is raining outside, you hear someone walking around outside your window. WHO do you wish was there with you? Jacob.

49. Would you give a homeless person CPR if they were dying? Why or Why not? I’m certified, so yes. Compressions are the most important component if you’re uncomfortable doing mouth to mouth until help arrives.

50.You are holding onto your grandmother’s hand and the hand of a newborn that you do not know as they hang over the edge of a cliff. You have to let one go to save the other. Who do you let fall to their death? What was your rationale for making the decision? I don’t like this survey. I”m going to be up all night, anxious as shit. So thanks.

51. Are you old fashioned? I guess in some areas.

52. When was the last time you were nice to someone and did NOT expect anything in return for it? I never expect anything in return for my kindness.

53.Which would you choose, true love with a guarantee of a broken heart, or never loved at all? Why? True love. I would rather have been loved for awhile than to feel as though I don’t matter.

54.If you could do anything or wish anything, what would it be? I’d wish for all illnesses to be cured and to be able to stay this age forever.

55. What was the last thing you ate? Pizza.

56. What kind of guys are you usually attracted to? I don’t know.

57. What’s the stupidest thing that’s happened to you that ended a friendship? I don’t remember.

58. What’s the longest amount of time you’ve had sex for?

I don’t know. I don’t time it.

59. What reality shows do you watch? The Masked Singer. I Can See Your Voice.

60. Post a video of yourself here: No thanks.

61. Where do you work? A local center for kiddos on the autism spectrum.

62. Have you ever gone up to a car thinking it was yours and tried to get in it? Yeah. I’ve gotten in one once even...

63. Where do you buy most of your clothes? Walmart.

64. If you were very intelligent and had the capability to have any profession, what would you like to be? Psychologist.

65. What’s your most irrational fear? I have a lot of them.

66. How many radio stations do you listen to? There’s two I mostly listen to.

67. What kind of music do they have?

One is popular music, and the other is country.

68. Would you rather go to Greece or Hawaii? Greece.

69. Musicals: Yay or Nay? Eh. Not necessarily my favorite generally.

70. What are the next concerts you’ll be going to? I don’t know. I’m going to a musical in a couple weeks though.

71. What was the last conversation you had with your best friend about? Needing sleep.

72. Are you one of those people that LOVE to hug others? Depends on the person, but not generally.

[judehayward]

lady gaga voice slowly fadin in: ju-Das juda-ah-ah… frankly i missed this ridiculous depressed little man so i’m gna try my hand at playing 2 charas again. the crowd grits their teeth in apprehensive nerves. it’s fine it’s fine it’s all FINE!!!!!!!!! also this is nai btw forgot to say. anyway. ahem. without further adieu.... his intro

he pinterest:

me in the voice of a card magician performing on the street: round up round up pick a pinterest any pinterest!

ta-da it’s aesthetics:

lead marbles instead of eyes, a stolen hearse careening down the wrong lane, wearing a faded smiley face sticker on your forehead while receiving a serious lecture, bags under the eyes that are so big they could pack enough clothes for a three week vacation, a cigarette wobbling from your bottom lip as you squint against the sunlight, passing out on a stranger’s rooftop, placing sunglasses over the eyes of a biology lab skeleton, gangling around the place like shaggy minus his scooby snacks, saying “fuck off” to inanimate objects

about tha Bitch:

ok to start w i won’t lie i’ve pasted in an old intro here bc i just hate intros i hate writing them i hate them................. bt it’s fine.......................... lets pretend this is all fresh n sexy n new....... bsically this is jst a disclosure tht this isn’t tht well written bc it’s old n stinky bt we’re all jst having fun here. bye

he hd to do community service bc he kind of… hd a bit of a breakdown before the funeral of his elderly neighbour who bsically raised him bc her kids rly didnt care abt her they jst wanted her inheritance?? so he… stole the hearse w her casket still in it n ws jst like… drivin around the place sort of… tryin nt to cry…..KJJFHSFKJGHKFG i mean. it isnt funny its actually sad bt :/ in a very bizarre n jude way. he gt caught n taken in fr questioning bt her son kind of realised hw… broken up abt her death jude ws n had a heart n didnt press charges. regardless he stil hd to do community service bc it ws like taken seriously even tho it ws his first proper offence. doin it rly exhausted n depressed him so when he wsnt doin tht he ws just hibernatin in his room……. this ws like 2/3 months ago nw mayb bt... just some fun lore fr u all

in a new development in terms of sexuality i jst am nt quite sure……. hes always thot he ws straight… fooled around w a 90s hugh grant lookalike once n ws jst a bit like :/ my rocks rnt blasted off? bt who knows wht the future holds… who KNOWS wht the future holds ladies n gentlemen

born in sheffield in england, bt they went back and forth between there n san fran a lot jude was an unhappy accident. his parents never rly used protection bc they were super Liberal n Au Naturel n believed in the pull out method bc… they were maniacs. bt then the ONE time they used a condom in an effort to b safety conscious it broke n hence…. jude was born

they just kind of ran w it bc they had such a passionate relationship tht they were like What The Hell…. may as well! itll be fine we’ll learn to be good parents n love him like normal ppl do

spoiler alert: tht didn’t work out

they were ok to him like they weren’t abusive or anything like that bt they just found him to be a massive burden n hindrance to their plans. they literally….. had sex all day every day n acted like a pair of teenagers. it ws a super weird environment for a kid to grow up in bc he literally had no role models or… guidance or…. anything rly. occasionally they’d joke around w him or pretend they even knew what grade he was going into but for the most part they just Didn’t Care one bit

they were both suuuuper into the arts. they’re both rly good sculptors bt they paint too n they actually own a successful gallery in san fran

as a result he grew up around a lot of creative n sometimes pretentious ppl. the friends of his parents were more present in his life than his ACTUAL parents bc they were always jetting off to diff countries to scout out new pieces fr their galleries n just have a gd time in beautiful places without…. the annoyance tht ws their son forcing them to b responsible n look after someone else. tbh some of his parents friends were rly damaging too bt….i won’t go into that just yet. it doesn’t rly…need properly explaining bc jude never talks abt it anyway n it….is rather triggering so i’ll jst….leav it for now tbh fgkhdfgh. basically they just were Not Nice n jude had a lot of bad memories he keeps repressed

bc of how he ws raised he has a p cultured taste. he luvs classic lit n p much anything artsy. he can play piano 2 n sometimes gets rly high n thinks he’s mozart level gd at composing. i mean he’s gd bt… Calm Down Jude. personality wise he acts out sometimes bc he’s so frustrated. he tried rly hard to be someone his parents wld care abt by doing wild or stupid things so he’d hav funny stories to tell them n tbh sometimes it works n he gets them to laugh w him but it isn’t a parent/son bond n it never rly wil b.

he’s rly sarcastic, sleeps around a bit, has an overflowing secret sketchbook n if he cares abt someone he’ll probably draw them n get rly defensive if they find out abt it fkjgdhfkj bcos he’s an Independent Boy without a sentimental bone in his body. or so he says. at heart he is jst a very Sad Boy w lots of repressed issues like depression genuinely just does NAT giv him a single break bt he plasters over this w wise cracks n never discusses his emotions ever. he’s actually p decent or at least tries to b. he’s kind of like tht bit in superbad where michael cera gets rly drunk n makes a toast to women. tries to b? a feminist bt sometimes fucks up n offends ppl n is like dam….. my bad fr :/

he has p bad insomnia so he like never sleeps fgjkhfgjkf he always has rly sleepy eyes n rubs them tiredly mid conversation. he smokes a lot of weed to try n compensate fr this n make him tired bt he still struggles a lot

ANYWAY that aside he’s at lockwood doing fine arts. he luvs painting n photography n philosophy n all tht. a pretentious fiend sometimes? maybe_so.gif. he isn’t rly pushy abt it tho n tends to like.... take nothing seriously bt at the same time acts like he is??? like he’s very deadpan in everything he does

ummMMMMmm honestly idk i’m blankin on what else to say. ull find him smoking weed reading an american classic or gnawing at his thumbnail n getting charcoal smudges on all his clothes. wandering the streets eating frm a cereal box without care in public. he’s p broody n scruffy n he’s mostly here fr a good time. o and he’s That Guy that would die fr morrissey (his vibe not personality bc i hc jude was depressed n shut himself inside all day when he actually found out what a dick he is dfjkfhg) and all that stone roses the smiths etc stuff music wise. HMU FR PLOTS!!!!!! i’m down fr anything

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes

Pairing: Princess!Reader x Cinderella!Bucky Summary: A/B/O!AU. Female!Reader is an Omega. Alphas and Omegas are rare, and Reader’s been able to avoid alphas through sheer force of will and luck in equal parts. Warnings: verbal abuse and physical abuse [of Bucky] Word Count: ~8,622 A/N:If I was pissed that By Chance was deleted, I’m just plain confused on why this was deleted. I don’t think it even has any sexual scenes.

You knew that when your father, the King, summoned you, whatever he had to say wasn’t going to be pleasant. You’d been dodging suitors and making excuses for being unable to meet eligible foreign dignitaries for years, and it was only a matter of time until your father had had enough.

“You will show up to the ball. You will choose a suitor from the bachelors invited. And you will do your duty as this country’s princess,” your father said forcefully, eyeing you angrily from his spot on the other side of his study’s extravagant desk.

You weren’t going to give into your father’s demands. There was no way you’d sell yourself to the highest bidder; you’d met enough Lords to know they were all power-hungry sharks just looking for a chance at the crown matrimonial.

You had to put up some show of resistance, or he’d suspect you were up to something.

“Father, I am not some pawn to be cast off as you see fit! I am my own woman and I can rule this country on my own!” you said defiantly. “I have been tutored on how to best lead this country from the moment I learned how to speak! I alone can-”

“That is enough!” the king roared, standing suddenly as he slammed his hands on the table, anger twisting his face until he was almost unrecognizable to the man who raised you. “I tire of your insolence, daughter! You should have been married off years ago, but it is only because of my and your mother’s love for you that you have been allowed to remain unwed this long. Our retainers- nay, our people- will not respect a queen with no king or king consort!” he said, spittle flying from his lips in his unbridled fury. “You will find a man to marry at the ball tonight, or I will choose a different successor to ensure a stable line of succession,” he said venomously.

You hung your head in mock contriteness, eyes trained on the ground. You hadn’t been expecting him to threaten your birthright, but you supposed it wasn’t that surprising. You knew that your father cared more about securing his bloodline than he did about you. “I’m sorry, father. I will… try my best to find a suitable bachelor,” you said penitently, curtsying gracefully to him.

“I expect you to make the declaration of who you will marry by the end of the ball,” he warned, making your stomach plummet to your feet. Not only did you have to marry some backstabbing Lord of the court, you had, at most, a single night to get to know him first.

“I will return to my chambers and review the portraits of my potential suitors and have Lord Barton help me review their backgrounds. By your leave, of course, your majesty,” you said placatingly, once again curtsying deeply.

You felt his gaze bore through you, looking for any signs of dissent or trickery.

He seemed to find none, though. “That is acceptable. You may leave,” he said coldly.

“Your majesty,” you said benevolently, finally rising from your curtsy to leave the room.

The second the doors to your room closed behind you, you burst into action. You knew you couldn’t leave; you wanted the crown. You wanted to do right by your people which, in your eyes, meant not marrying any of the corrupt men that wanted your hand in marriage.

You tore at the strings and lace binding your dress to you, nearly ripping the dress in your haste to tear it from your body.

You had so little time, now; So little freedom left. If you were going to be engaged tonight, you were sure as hell going to make the most of the day.

There was a quiet rap at the door, causing you to freeze halfway out of your elegant gown and look at it in horror. If your father-

“May I enter, your highness?” came a tentative voice at the door.

You sighed in relief. “Yes, Wanda. Come in,” you said quickly, ducking behind your bed in case someone happened to peek in the room when Wanda entered.

As soon as she’d shut the doors you were in front of her, gown hanging off of you, eyes wild. She nearly squeaked in fear, but you clapped a hand over her mouth. “Wanda, I need a favor,” you said hastily.

Twenty minutes later you were in the stables, dressed in castle servant’s clothes.

You glanced around and were relieved to find it empty; apparently everyone had either finished riding for the day or were out. Either way, it meant you wouldn’t be interrupted.

You walked down the line of stalls, stopping in front of the one you needed. The name “Havel” was etched into a sign on the door with painstaking detail.

“Hey boy,” you said affectionately.

The lovely dapple grey in the stall perked his head up immediately at the sound of your voice, inquisitive ears pointed directly at you.

A low nicker left his lips as he walked up to the gate of stall, obviously excited to see you.

You laughed at that and pulled out the apple you had stashed in your pocket, throwing it into his feed bucket attached to the inside wall. He immediately started munching on it while you unlocked the stall door and grabbed the saddle. A quick pet revealed he’d already been groomed and you sighed in relief; the less time you spent on the castle grounds, the more time you could spend enjoying your last day as a free woman.

“Alright, Havel. It took me a while, but I think I finally-”

You froze, eyes wide in shock, at the stable boy’s sudden intrusion.

“You can’t be in here! That’s the princess’ horse!” the stable boy, Peter, said loudly, obviously alarmed.

“Shh! Peter! It’s me,” you said, pulling your hood back a bit so he could see your face more easily in the dim light.

“Oh, my goodness! Princess! I’m so sorry!” he said, bowing frantically, bridle still clutched in his hand.

“Peter! Not so loud! Please!” you hissed, glancing worriedly around the barn.

“Sorry, sorry. Here’s his bridle. It was rubbing him a bit so I adjusted it; it should fit perfectly now!” he said, still bent over double in a bow, eyes trained on the ground as he thrust his hand forward, holding the bridle out to you.

“Thank you, Peter. I’ll be back in a while, but you didn’t see me here, understand?” you said, quickly easing the bridle onto Havel.

Peter looked up at you worriedly, but nodded. “Have a safe journey, princess,” he said, standing back so you could lead Havel out of his stall.

You smiled at him as you passed. “I will.”

You and Havel set a brisk pace and made it to the village about fifteen minutes later, hood shadowing your face so it was less likely people would recognize you. You dropped him off at the local stable for a short while, dropping the stable master a small handful of coppers for the trouble.

You set off to explore the town, simply enjoying being among your people without being recognized. It was nice to know you were loved, but you like seeing them as they were every day, and not just on festivals and special occasions.

Yes, you preferred your everyday citizens to the rich, pompous nobles at court any day. By and large they were hard-working, passionate, and kind people and every time you were among them the knowledge that you would lead them one day weighed heavily on you; you never wanted to let them down.

According to your father, though, you were doing just that by not marrying.

You shook your head, trying to clear it of all the dark thoughts about the ball and your impending marriage. When you looked up you realized you’d never been to this part of town before. Here, there was more room between houses; yards were grander and the houses more opulent. You sighed; getting lost hadn’t been part of your plan today.

You resigned yourself to wandering around until you spotted a familiar street, enjoying the scenery as you walked.

You hadn’t made it more than a few steps when a deep melody reached your ears.

“A dream is a wish your heart makes,

When you’re fast asleep…”

You followed the source of the noise, curious. Whoever was singing had a beautiful voice, but he also sounded so… sad.

“In dreams you lose your heartaches,

Whatever you wish for you keep…”

As you walked you looked into houses’ windows, craned your neck to see past hedges, and even hefted yourself on top of stone walls in search of the mystery singer.

You knew you were headed in the right direction; the singing was only growing louder and, with it, your curiosity.

“Have faith in your dreams and someday,

Your sun will come smiling through…”

It was when you peeked over the wall of the last house on the street that you finally spotted him.

Although the garden was tiny, it was well-maintained and could rival even parts of the royal gardens in its beauty. There, in the center, was your mystery singer. You glimpsed him through the trellises as he worked, shoulder-length brown hair tied back in a messy bun. Although he was wearing ratty peasant clothes, it wasn’t hard to spot the handsome man underneath the layers of dirt.

“No matter how your heart is grieving…”

You realized, then, why it was so quiet. The birds and small critters of the woods were all watching him work, charmed by his song. He trimmed trees with loving care, assessed all the plots for weeds, and placed down new fertilizer.

“If you keep on believing…”

He stood, wiping his brow, and smeared dirt all over his it. He looked around, surveying his handiwork, song falling easily from his lips.

“The dream that you wish will-”

His steel blue eyes met yours and his melody stopped abruptly, the magic his voice had been working ending abruptly. He stared at you, shocked, trowel clattering to the ground loud enough to scare the critters away.

“I’m sorry! Your singing was so beautiful! I didn’t mean to spy!” you said quickly, standing up straight now that you’d been caught.

He studied you warily, blue eyes drinking in every inch of you. He must have realized he was staring because he looked away suddenly, as though the bush next to him was the most interesting thing in the world.

“It’s alright…” he said tentatively, fingers nervously playing with the hem of his shirt. “I just thought you might be my step brother, at first,” he said nervously.

“Sorry, just me!” you said, smiling broadly. “This garden is beautiful. Do you take care of it all on your own?” you asked curiously, openly studying it with interest. He seemed to swell with a bit of pride at your compliments.

“Yes. The house, too,” he said, shyly pointing to the mansion behind him.

“Wait, you take care of this garden and that giant house? By yourself?” you asked, gaze returning to him, disbelief clear on your face.

He seemed to think he’d said too much, stumbling over his next words. “My step father is a busy man, and my step brother is learning how to run the family business under his tutelage. I… they ask me to take care of the house and garden,” he said quickly.

“My name is Ella,” you lied easily. You didn’t feel like giving him your real name in case he recognized you. “What’s yours?”

“James, my lady. Though my mother always called me Bucky.”

“How does one get ‘Bucky’ from James?” you asked, smiling curiously.

“It’s from my middle name, Buchanan,” he said sheepishly.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, James,” you said, grinning shyly. However, you still had questions. “It seems your step father is quite wealthy. Surely he could afford a couple of people to tend to the house and garden so that you could also learn how to help run your family business?” you said, crossing your arms as your mind worked. Something wasn’t quite right with his story.

“We’re not as well off as we seem, I’m afraid. At least, that’s what he tells me. I haven’t been allowed to look at my family’s books in years.”

“Wait, it’s your family’s business, not your step father’s? What about your mother? Surely she must have something to say about him cutting you out of the management of it,” you said brows furrowed in confusion.

He shifted uncomfortably. “She passed on when I was still a child. She fell ill after marrying my step father, and passed on only a year after saying ‘I do’.” he said sadly, gaze flicking away from you as he was assaulted with painful memories.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. That was terribly rude of me!” you said hurriedly, heart twisting painfully in your chest at the hurt you saw in his eyes.

He smiled, melancholy, at your apology. “It’s alright. You had no way of knowing,” he said reassuringly. He paused before he looked back up at you, a puzzled look on his face. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you all of this,” he chuckled lightly, the sound sending a thrill through you.

You couldn’t help but smile back. “People always say I look like I have a trustworthy face. Can’t get them to stop telling me their deepest, darkest secrets,” you joked, letting out a melodramatic sigh.

He laughed in earnest at that, light pink dusting his cheeks as he responded. “I would have to agree with ‘everyone,’ then,” he said shyly.

You beamed at him, placing your hands flat against the top of the stone wall as you leaned over it. “If you would indulge a bit of selfishness on my part, I would very much like a tour of your garden,” you said earnestly, eyes shimmering with hope. If you were being honest, you also wanted to get closer to him to see if he was as handsome up close as he was from far away.

He looked up and down the street nervously before he looked back at you. As he studied you closely he seemed to make up his mind. He nodded and moved towards the gate, likely intending to open it for you, but you simply vaulted over it, deftly avoiding the lovely plots of flowers on the other side.

“That works, too,” he said, smiling at you.

“Do you enjoy working in the garden, at least?” you asked, as you walked over to him, surreptitiously glancing at him as you studied the plants around you. He was, indeed, just as attractive up close.

He seemed to consider your question a moment, head tilting adorably to the side, gloved fingers absently running over the leaves of the vines next to him. “I enjoy it more than cleaning the house. At least out here I have the company of the animals,” he said quietly. You nodded, but your mind mulled his answer over.

The two of you walked the garden together for some time. He knew the name of every plant and exactly how to take care of it to make it as healthy as possible. The two of you talked about the town once you ran out of plants, but you carefully avoided talking about the royal family. Finally, you just had to ask.

“Why don’t you leave? You don’t seem to be very happy here?” you asked quietly, eyes searching his face.

He sighed, shoulders slumping slightly as he looked around, gaze lingering on the house. “This place is all I have left of my mother. I couldn’t leave it to my Step father and brother,” he said, hint of bitterness creeping into the sadness of his voice. His gaze seemed so far away.

“I suppose I can understand that,” you said, reaching out to place a hand gently onto his arm. His gaze snapped back to you, startled, and you hesitantly removed your hand, afraid you’d upset him. “Not wanting to leave something because you care so much about it, even when staying hurts, too.”

He nodded slowly, a tender smile that made your heart flutter in your chest appearing on his face. “Yes, exactly.”

The two of you stood there, frozen in the moment, before it was shattered by a loud, angry voice from the other side of the house; whoever it was seemed to be on the street, just out of sight

“Cinderbucky! Your brother and I are home! Come take our horses at once! The King has announced a ball where all eligible bachelors of the kingdom are invited and at the end of the night the princess will announce who she’s to marry! We must prepare for your brother to attend at once!” the step father yelled, just out of your line of sight.

He turned to run towards the source of the noise “I’m sorry! I must go, or-”

“James, wait!” The thought of never seeing him again bothered you greatly, but you didn’t want to look too closely at why. “Go to the ball! I work at the castle! I… I wish to see you again!” you said hopefully, lying through your teeth. You don’t know why you continued to lie about your position, other than that you were afraid he’d be blinded by your status.

He looked at you, wide grin spreading across his lips. “I will be there, then,” he promised, though he knew it was easier said than done. “You must go now, though, before they see you!” he urged, head swiveling in fear as his step father yelled angrily again. He seemed torn, but ran away, one of his shoes flying off in his haste. He didn’t even pause to go back for it.

An idea hit you then, and you took the shoe carefully from the ground. While obviously old, he seemed to take good care of it. You shoved it under your cloak before you turned and headed to the edge of the gardens.

With one last lingering look, you spun and vaulted over the stone fence. You ran a short distance before you turned around, but James was no longer in the garden. You sighed, glancing at the fading light in the sky. You’d spent more time with James than you’d thought and you needed to get back soon or risk facing the wrath of your father.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Your father sputtered.

“What I said, father. I’ll marry the man whose foot fits into this shoe,” you said dismissively, holding it up nonchalantly.

“That is a peasants shoe! You’ll do nothing but insult our guests by making them try it on!” he raged, glaring at the shoe as though it had just committed high treason.

“If they are not willing to try on a shoe for a chance at the crown, then they are fools,” you said bluntly. “And I promise that if no one fits it, I will choose a suitor anyway.” It pained you to say it, but you knew it was the only way to placate him.

He leaned back in his chair, mouth working dangerously as he bit back an onslaught of unsavory things, mustache twitching violently below his nose. “Fine! If this farce is what it takes you to willingly marry a man, then so be it!” he said, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “Now, go get ready! the guests will be arriving in an hour.”

“By your leave, majesty,” you said, curtsying deeply as you made a hasty exit from his study.

You walked quickly back to your room and opened the doors, expecting to see Wanda, but it was Natasha, instead. You loved Natasha, but Wanda was your favorite lady in waiting. Even though you coached your face back into one of polite neutrality, she’d seen you look of disappointment.

“I know. I’m not Wanda. I’m sorry. She had urgent business to attend to and asked me to fill in for her in helping you get dressed tonight,” she said quietly, motioning to the elegant and intricate blue gown you hadn’t noticed a moment before.

“It’s beautiful!” you said, awestruck.

“Wanda made it for you, specially for tonight. She only finished recently. The second she heard the rumors she sprung into action. She can’t be with you right now in person, but her spirit is here with you anyway,” Natasha said, fondly.

“You’re right, Natasha,” you said, smiling at her. You were always thankful of the way she was able to see the other side of things.

“Now, let’s get you ready for your big night!”

 Bucky’s POV

“What took you so long, boy?” Pierce spat as he dismounted.

“Probably singing to all of those stupid animals again,” Brock said venomously as he hopped off his horse.

“Put the horses away and prepare our finest suits immediately. Brock is going to become a prince tonight!” Pierce said proudly, gazing down at his son.

“Yes, father,” Bucky said, quickly following his step father’s orders. The quicker he got them ready the faster they’d leave and he could get himself ready to see Ella again. He was invited to the ball, after all, as an eligible bachelor. He knew he wouldn’t catch the princess’ eye. Not in one of Brock’s older suits that didn’t fit him quite right, but he wouldn’t show up in the rags he wore while he worked. Just for a night he wanted to be a man a beautiful woman like Ella would be proud to be seen with.

As soon as he’d put the horses to pasture he ran into the house, quickly preparing Pierce and Brock’s best suits while they washed up.

Two hours later it was getting dark and the ball was looming closer by the minute. Pierce and Brock were dressed to the nines. Bucky had outdone himself tonight, eager to make them happy so that he might be able to ride with them to the ball. They were waiting downstairs for the carriage to arrive when Bucky came down, dressed as nicely as he could and, for once, mostly devoid of any dirt.

The second Pierce saw him, his face contorted with fury.

“What are you wearing, boy?” he spat. Bucky cringed and froze on the bottom step.

“I- I was hoping I could go to the ball. All the bachelors in the kingd-”

“You’re not going, you imbecile!” Pierce said as he stormed over to him. Bucky didn’t have time to brace himself before his head whipped to the side, cheek stinging from Pierce’s back-handed slap. “The princess would never look at you! You’re an embarrassment to your step-brother!” he raged. To Bucky’s horror, Pierce reached up and ripped the sleeve almost completely off of his dress coat. Pierce wasn’t done though, and Brock cheered on from his spot in the foyer.

“Aww! Little Cinderbucky wanted to go to the ball! How sweet!” he crooned, face twisted with malevolent amusement at the scene in front of him. “But clumsy him! He ripped his jacket!” Brock said, cackling.

Pierce ripped apart the white dress shirt, buttons flying in every direction.

“You’re a fool, boy! You’re lucky we’re in a hurry, or I would teach you another lesson!” he spat, tugging down the left side of the shirt and jacket to reveal the edges of the ugly scars that continued all the way down his arm to the very tips of his fingers. Bucky nearly shook at the threat, but somehow remained standing.

“This house will be spotless by the time we return! And if you ever make another mistake like this again, you’ll be wishing it was only an arm,” Pierce said dangerously, eyes glinting with malice.

“Yes, father. I understand,” he said weakly.

“The carriage is here, father,” Brock said, still staring at Bucky with condescension. “Enjoy your night, Cinderbucky,” he sneered.

As if to add insult to injury, Pierce spat on Bucky before turning to walk to the door.

The second the door was shut, Bucky sank onto the stairs, head in his hands and he tried to hold back the tears. He didn’t hear the door open and only realized there was someone else in the room when a pair of boots appeared in his line of vision.

He looked up, startled, to see a man standing there. His blond hair seemed to almost shine in the light and his eyes were even bluer than Bucky’s.

“We don’t have time for moping, friend. We need to get you all fixed up for the ball,” he said by way of greeting. Bucky looked at the man, bewildered.

“I’m sorry, but… who- who are you?” he asked, nerves frayed from the roller coaster of emotion that was today.

“Hmm… a friend?” the blond man said, smiling down at Bucky as he extended his hand. Bucky looked at it for a moment, unsure, before he took it. “A friend of mine told me about your situation and I just had to help,” he said, patting Bucky comfortingly on the shoulder. “I’m a little upset I couldn’t get to you sooner, but… we mustn’t dwell on the past! Your life is changing, starting today!” he said cheerfully. “Go check upstairs!”

When Bucky didn’t move and simply stared at him, Steve sighed, and made shooing motions. “Go! Hurry up! The ball is starting soon!” Steve said urgently.

The mention of the ball seemed to startle Bucky into action. With one last confused look at the man in front of him, he went upstairs to his tiny room, opening the door slowly in trepidation.

There, in the center of his room, was the single most stunning suit he’d ever seen. The jacket was pure white with silver embroidery. The shirt beneath it was a gorgeous baby blue with the same silver thread as the jacket. The pants were the same snowy color as the jacket with accents that matched the shirt. Shining black knee-high boots completed the outfit; they were so well polished that they shone like glass. It even came with a pair of white gloves.

“Wow…” he murmured, as he walked towards it. He reached out to it, faltering before he touched it, scared it’d disappear as soon as he touched it or that his hand would go straight through it. He didn’t have to try it on to know it would fit him perfectly.

“Yeah, she really did a great job, didn’t she?” said the man from the doorway. Bucky jumped, letting out an undignified yelp of surprise, and turned to face the man.

“This… this is for me?” he asked, pointing to it over his shoulder with his thumb.

“All yours, friend. Now, get changed. We’re short on time,” he said with a smile as he shut Bucky’s door.

Ten minutes later Bucky emerged from his room, marveling at how the suit hugged him in all the right places, accentuating his best features.

The mysterious blond man was waiting at the bottom of the stairs and beamed at Bucky when he appeared at the top of them.

“All ready to go, then?” he asked, admiring his handiwork.

“I… I think so,” Bucky said nervously as he made his way down the stairs, resisting the urge to run his fingers through his hair, which he’d tied into a small ponytail at the back of his neck.

“One second, you’ve got just a bit…” the mystery man muttered, bringing his thumb up to swipe a smudge of dirt off of Bucky’s cheek. “There, perfect. Now, the carriage is outside waiting!”he said, motioning grandly to the doorway.

“Carriage?” Bucky asked, glancing at the doorway.

“What, did you think we’d make you walk there, or something?” the man asked, grinning.

Bucky looked confusedly from the door to the man and back. “Who… are you?”

“Not important, Buck. Now, go get the girl!” he said, giving Bucky a gentle but firm shove towards the door.

Bucky wanted to press him for an answer, but he was right. Time was slipping away. He had to get to that ball.

What he saw when he opened the door made him stop. Not only was there a carriage, it was extravagant. Four white horses pulled the highly decorated thing and there wasn’t just a driver but also two servants on the back, and two more men were waiting just ahead of it on white horses of their own.

This was an entourage fit for a prince or a wealthy lord, not the cleaning wretch of a lesser noble.

One of the servants hopped off the back and lowered the small step built into the underside and opened the door a half second later.

“Your carriage awaits, sir,” he said gesturing grandly to it.

Bucky swallowed nervously, taking a few hesitant steps towards it, expecting any second for his step father and brother to pop out and punish him for his shameless hoping. When he stepped inside and the door shut securely behind him, he breathed out a sigh he didn’t realize he’d been holding in.

With a gentle jolt, the carriage was off towards the royal castle.

 Your POV

You sighed as yet another suitor approached your dais.

“Your highness,” the older man began, bowing deeply. “It is an honor to be in your presence. We’re so thankful for your invitation to the ball tonight. Allow me to introduce my son, Brock.”

You thought you’d recognized his voice the moment he started speaking, but the second he said his son’s name your suspicions were confirmed. You tried to fight back the grimace you felt creeping onto your face at their presence.

Brock stepped forward, the sharp lines of his face contorted into a slimy smile. “Princess. You look absolutely stunning. Truly all the stars in the heavens must be jealous of your beauty,” he said unctuously, bowing deeply as he took your hand and placed a sloppy kiss onto your rings.

“Thank you for coming. I take it you’ve heard of my new request?” you said, gently but firmly tugging your hand from his grasp to gesture to the shoe sitting on the cushion beside you. “Any who fit it have the opportunity to dance with me tonight.”

“Yes, of course, highness,” Brock said, bowing his head in acknowledgement. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the shoe.

“That is why it is there, Rick,” you said, patronizingly. Brock’s smile faltered for a moment at your tone and the fact that you got his name wrong, but to his credit he held it together, sitting down in the provided chair to try on the shoe.

And boy, did he try. He sat there for probably thirty seconds, trying to squeeze his heel into it, but to no avail.

“I do not believe it fits you, sir,” you said pointedly.

Both Brock and his father looked at you, their stubbornness plain on their faces, but one look at the guards standing beside you seemed to change their minds about arguing. Brock set the shoe back down a little harder than he had to and put his own back on. They both bowed deeply, their oily smiles not quite enough to hide the anger behind their eyes.

“Thank you for coming, gentlemen,” you said by way of dismissal, inclining your head slightly to them. They stalked off, straight for the table that held all of the food. It seems they would try to get their revenge by eating half the food in the hall.

“Have someone keep an eye on them,” you told your guard, Steven, surreptitiously, eyeing them coldly.

He nodded. “Understood, princess,” he said quietly, signaling one of your other guards, Clinton, with discreet hand motions to keep an eye on those two. You didn’t know exactly where he was, but you knew he was around somewhere. He was nicknamed Hawkeye for a reason; he worked better from a distance.

You went through countless suitors like that. Some fit the shoe and were added to the list of people you would dance with later in the night, but none of them were James. You hoped he would come. You had Natasha on the lookout for him in the servants’ areas and directed her to send him up immediately if he showed up. As time passed, though, it seemed less and less likely that he would show, and you had to bite back your disappointment.

“Princess,” Steve said softly in your ear, jerking you out of your troubled thoughts. “Look,” he said, pointing to the entrance of the castle on the opposite side of the room from you.

Everyone else in the room was looking, too. Every head was turned to see who had just entered, a wave of whispers breaking out among the crowd.

He was easily the most stunningly handsome man in the room, putting every other man in attendance to shame.

Your heart beat wildly in your chest.

James. It was James. Even from across the hall you could see his bright steel blue eyes searching for you; the servant Ella, not the princess (Y/N). His gaze slid over you as though you weren’t there and you had to fight how much that hurt. He looked divine in his white and blue suit; completely different but just as amazing as the dirty, down-to-earth man you’d met earlier.

“Make sure he comes up here,” you told Steven urgently. Steve nodded, giving your other guard, who everyone affectionately called “Rhodey,” a nod before he disappeared in the swarm of people.

 Bucky’s POV

Bucky weaved between the other guests nervously, aware of how many people were staring. He wished they wouldn’t; He was already nervous enough as it was. He was about to sneak out of the main hall when a hand on his arm stopped him.

His gaze snapped to the man attached to said hand and he nearly shouted in surprise. It was the mystery man.

“You!” he said, trying his best not to yell.

“Me!” Steve said jovially, dropping his arm. “Your girl’s not in there, lover boy. And I have to insist that you come with me. Every eligible bachelor must meet the princess today,” he said with a wink.

“But Ella-”

“Trust me, Bucky,” Steve said, earnest smile on his face.

Bucky looked between Steve and the doorway, torn. Steve hadn’t led him wrong before, but meeting the princess would take away from time he could be using to be with Ella.

But it wasn’t every day you got to meet a princess, right? Maybe he’d be able to meet two in one day; Ella was a princess in his eyes.

“Fine,” he conceded. Steve beamed and led Bucky to the far part of the room where the princess was meeting suitors. There was a long line of men waiting for a chance to talk to the princess, but Steve literally shoved Bucky to the front of the line.

Bucky protested weakly, not wanting to offend all of the powerful men in the room, but one look at the princess made the rest of his protests die in his throat.

Even though she was wearing an elegant blue dress and her hair and makeup were done to perfection, there was no mistaking the woman in front of him, even though the last time he saw her she’d been in peasant’s clothing.

“Ella,” he breathed, awestruck at the vision of beauty in front of him.  

You were beaming at him, but seemed to remember yourself, coaching your expression back into a slightly more subdued smile. His feet moved of their own accord, stepping up onto the dais upon which your throne sat.

Suddenly remembering etiquette, he stopped just out of your reach, bowing deeply, eyes on the ground. “Your highness,” he said quietly, amazed.

“And you are?” you asked politely. James looked up suddenly, hurt you didn’t recognize him, but you were smiling playfully at him, eyes shining with happiness.

Ah, you did recognize him. “James Buchanan Barnes, princess,” he said, gently taking your hand in his gloved fingers to place a tender kiss on your knuckles. The difference between his kiss and Brock’s was night and day. Your heart fluttered in your chest, and it took everything in you to keep calm.

“Have you heard about the request I’ve made of all of the suitors here tonight?” you asked as he released your hand. You immediately missed his touch.

“No, your highness,” he said, brows furrowed in confusion.

“The man I choose to marry will be able to fit into this shoe,” you said, gesturing to his shoe where it sat on the cushion just a few feet away.

He looked to where you were motioning and when he saw his own shoe sitting there on the pillow it didn’t click right away what was happening.

Then, it hit like a tone of bricks.

He turned back to you, eyes wide in shock. “You mean-”

You held up a hand, gently silencing any questions. “Please, try it on,” you said earnestly, a knowing smile on your lips.

He gulped and took a seat on the opulent chair, removing his right boot carefully.

He’d been wondering where his other shoe had gotten to. He guessed he had his answer now.

He didn’t realize how quiet the room had gotten, too engrossed in the task in front of him. But you and everyone else in the room was watching him closely.

He looked up at you as he slid his shoe on. Although a couple men before him had managed to squeeze it on or walk around without it falling off, it fit him perfectly.

The smile that graced your face was blinding and Bucky couldn’t help but smile back.

“Steven,” you said quietly without taking your eyes off of Bucky.

“Yes, princess?” the blond mystery man said, appearing at your shoulder.

“Alert the musicians. It is time for the first dance,” you said happily. “You may want to put that boot back on,” you said cheekily to Bucky.

“Yes, highness,” Bucky said quickly, smile on his face as he clumsily removed his shoe and tugged the boot back on.

He stood hastily, rushing to your side.

He held his hand out for you to take, nervousness clear on his face.

“I would be honored to have this dance with you, highness,” he said earnestly.

You smiled, taking his hand as you stood. “Please, call me (Y/N),” you said quietly enough that only he could hear. “And it would be my pleasure to dance with you, James.”

He turned a truly adorable shade of pink, nodding slightly. “You can call me Bucky, if you like,” he said as the two of you made your way towards the dance floor.

The guests parted before you, expressions ranging from surprise to anger to awe (you supposed you and Bucky did make a striking pair).

“Bucky, then,” you said fondly as you arrived at the center of the floor and turned to face him. He smiled brilliantly at the sound of his name on your lips.

The music played the prelude and you bowed to each other. You were about to begin dancing when an angry voice rang out in the hall, causing the music to screech to a halt and make everyone’s heads turn towards the source, including yours and Bucky’s.

“You get away from the princess!” Franklin Pierce yelled, storming towards the two of you. Brock trailed after him, face murderous. Bucky placed himself protectively between you and the angry men, but he paled considerably. “I don’t know how on earth you got that outfit, but you won’t defile the princess, swine!” Pierce spat, stomping towards Bucky.

Steve appeared in front of him before he made it within ten steps of you and Bucky, sword drawn and pointed directly at Pierce’s throat. “No closer, sir,” Steve ordered, saying the last word sarcastically.

Pierce looked like he was going to try and deck Steve, but looked past him to level a glare at Bucky.

“You broken piece of garbage. I should have left you to starve after your mother died!”

Buck turned in on himself, shoulder’s and head slumping, and it almost seemed as though he was getting smaller at Pierce’s words. You placed a hand gently on his shoulder, glaring at Pierce.

“Does her highness even know about your disfigurement, you monster?” Pierce asked, malevolent smile on his face.

“Yes, I bet you didn’t show her that, did you, Cinderbucky?” Brock said venomously, sneering down his nose at Bucky.

Bucky glanced behind himself at you, eyes filled with fear and hurt at their words.

“Go on, then. Show her. Show her what you look like under that pretty white jacket!” Brock jeered.

Bucky turned his back on them to face you, eyes dull.

“You don’t have to-”

“Yes, I do,” he said quietly, slowly removing the glove from his left hand. It was better he lose you now than later, he thought.

It was lined with scars from burns and cuts, some looking nearly as old as he was. He rolled his sleeve up as far as it would go, revealing even more angry marks.

“They go up to my shoulder,” he said, tone flat. He was sure you would never look at him again, and he wouldn’t blame you. A beautiful princess like you deserved someone who was as whole and wonderful as you, not some broken, disfigured shell of a man.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts of self hatred that he didn’t realize you were reaching out to touch his arm until your fingers ghosted over the angry, scarred skin. He flinched at the touch, nearly pulling his arm away from you.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked first. Does it hurt?” you asked quietly, eyes swimming with tears. Who would do this to such a kind, gentle man?

He looked at you in confusion. Surely you were crying because of how ugly he was, but your words… your words were kind. Slowly, he shook his head. “Not anymore, highness,” he whispered.

“May I?” you asked, nodding your head towards his arm, fingertips close enough to feel the heat of his skin.

He nodded warily, hope creeping back into his mind unbidden.

Your fingers ghosted over his innumerable scars, a single tear escaping and making a track through your makeup as you contemplated the horrors he likely had to go through to get all of them. He closed his eyes at your gentle touch, a small sigh escaping his lips.

“Did they do this to you?” you asked suddenly. Bucky opened his eyes, meeting your steely gaze.

He swallowed thickly, adam’s apple bobbing nervously. After a moment he nodded, eyes flicking away from you.

Rage ignited inside of you, white hot and all-consuming.

“Steven. Take those ‘guests’ and throw them in the dungeon. I will deal with them later,” you said loudly enough for Steve to hear, gaze never leaving Bucky’s. Bucky looked up at you then, confusion clear on his face.

“Princess-”

“(Y/N),” you corrected him.

He looked at you guiltily. “(Y/N). I… my step father is right. I am a monster. I don’t even deserve to be in your-”

“He is the monster, Bucky,” you said firmly, placing a hand on his left arm gently. The other hand went up to cup his face and he couldn’t help but lean into your touch. “I do not care about the scars you bear. To me, you could not be any more handsome. It is your heart of gold that has swayed me,” you said earnestly, running a thumb over his cheek tenderly.

“Truly?” he asked, barely daring to hope. “You do not mind… this?” he asked, gesturing to his left arm.

You brought his left hand to your lips and placed a gentle kiss to his knuckles, mirroring his actions just a few minutes ago.

“Truly,” you assured him. The smile that graced his face was blinding, making you smile just as widely in return. You vaguely heard Pierce and Brock yelling while they were dragged away by Steve and a couple of other guards, but all of your focus was on the man in front of you. He stared down at you and it was likely only the room full of people (some of whom had pointy metal people-killing sticks) that kept him from embracing you then and there.

The music picked up again, just slightly before it left off, snapping you and Bucky out of that moment.

However, what followed was even better.

He lowered his sleeve but left his glove off and took a half step back, bowing deeply to you, and you curtsied, smile on your lips.

Then, he stepped forward, placing one hand gently on your hip, the other lacing together with your hand. You placed your hand on his shoulder and, just like that, the most magical dance in your entire life started.

The world fell away until it was just him and you on the ballroom floor. Your dress flowed gracefully whenever you spun, mesmerizing every person watching as Bucky expertly guided you around the room. The music swelled and you let out a delighted giggle as he placed both hands around your waist and lifted you in a graceful arc in front of him, earning excited applause from the audience (though you and Bucky didn’t even hear it). As the dance progressed, the space between you lessened until the last few chords of the song rang out and you found yourself pulled to his chest just before he dipped you gracefully backwards, arms holding you securely aloft.

All at once the hall erupted in applause and cheers. Bucky lifted you back upright gently, awestruck smile on his face, as though he couldn’t believe what was happening (he couldn’t). His gaze was momentarily pulled from you by Steve, who was jumping and waving his arms to get Bucky’s attention, just beside you in Bucky’s range of vision.

Once he realized Bucky was looking, he patted his chest frantically in one spot. Bucky raised an eyebrow confused. Steve sighed, slumping over for a half second in annoyance before he straightened again. He pointed to Bucky, then to the same spot on his chest again (this time even more forcefully and… pantomimed pulling something off his chest? Then pointed to Bucky again, eyes wide and frantic. He seemed to be pointing to a specific spot on Bucky’s chest… the same one he’d pointed to on himself.

Bucky looked down. Sure enough, there was a breast pocket on the jacket. With one last confused look to Steve he reached into it, freezing when his hand touched metal.

He looked back at Steve, eyes wide with fear and anxiety. Steve was smiling broadly, giving him an encouraging nod. He could see him mouth the words “do it.”

Bucky looked back at you. The exchange with Steve had lasted a few seconds at most, but for Bucky it felt like it had been minutes. You were still smiling up at him as though he was the moon and stars themselves.

“(Y/N),” he said slowly, causing one of your brows to quirk in question.

“Yes, Bucky?” you asked cautiously, confused by his sudden change in tone.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” he asked, all caution thrown to the wind. He wore his heart on his sleeve and trusted you not to break it.

You beamed at him, nodding vigorously. “Yes, I do.”

His heart thudded in his chest and he severely hoped he could make you say that word again. Slowly, he sunk to one knee, holding your two hands in one of his large ones. Without taking his eyes off of you, he pulled the ring out of his pocket, inwardly balking at the giant rock set into the center.

“Princess (Y/N), you would make me the luckiest and happiest man alive if you would do me the honor of being my wife,” he said earnestly, eyes alight with hope and adoration.

To his surprise you sunk down in front of him, throwing your arms around his neck.

“Yes! Yes, I will! I will gladly be your wife!” you said, pulling back enough so you could smile at him, happy tears making tracks down your face.

Bucky laughed along with you, happy smile lighting up every inch of the room as he slid the ring onto your finger (it fit perfectly, of course). You smiled at it, then at him, cheeks heating with all of the excitement.

Around you, your people cheered. Their princess was finally getting married.

Then Bucky did the one thing he’d wanted to do since the moment he met you. He pulled you in for a gentle but passionate kiss. It was everything you wanted it to be; your lips melded together perfectly as his arms wound around your waist. Your arms found their way around his shoulders and you lost yourself in his kiss and the feeling of him against you.

“Ahem,” came a stern voice from next to you.

You broke apart, startled, and looked at the newcomer.

“Your majesty!” Bucky said, abruptly standing to bow to your father. His gaze turned back to you, harried, and he quickly helped you to your feet.

“Father!” you said warily. You placed a hand on Bucky’s arm and he slowly straightened up, eyes darting from you to him nervously.

The king studied Bucky critically, eyes narrowed as he took in every detail.

“This is the man you wish to marry?” he asked, voice carefully neutral.

“Yes, father,” you said quickly, reaching down to lace your fingers with Bucky’s. You gave him a reassuring squeeze.

“Your majesty, I wish to marry your daughter. Please-”

The king held up a hand and Bucky’s words quickly died in his throat. He studied the both of you, gaze lingering on your interwoven fingers.

“What is your name?” the king asked coldly.

“James Buchanan Barnes, your majesty,” he said quickly. To his credit, he didn’t quail under the king’s gaze. He stood tall and proud next to you.

The king stared at him for a few moments longer, gaze unreadable. Then, all at once, he let out a great sigh and turned his back on the two of you.

You were about to reach out and stop him, protests on the tip of your tongue, when he spoke again. “Let it be known across the kingdom. In one week’s time, my daughter Princess (Y/full/N) and James Buchanan Barnes shall be wed in holy matrimony!” he proclaimed to the assembled guests.

Immediately, the hall erupted in cheers. It took you and Bucky the same amount of time to process his words, gazes snapping from the king to each other in unison, matching smiles of surprised happiness on your face.

You jumped into his arms and he caught you, spinning you around as you both laughed happily. You kissed him again, knowing now that you would be happy for the rest of your days with him by your side.

   Have faith in your dreams and someday  

   Your sun will come shining through  

   No matter how your heart is grieving

   If you keep on believing

   The dream that you wish will come true 

          and they lived happily ever after

[judememories]

lady gaga voice slowly fadin in: oOoohohOhoh im in love w judas.... ju-Das juda-ah-ah... i rly missed jude tbh so i decided to bring him in as a second. i hv faith i cn manage jugglin i... ...... .. . have faith. in case u dnt kno it is me (nai) n this is like. the one (1) male chara iv ever managed to play longer than jst a few weeks. truly jst Zee Fruit Of My Womb! bt anyway. jst gna leap right in to the intro. we die like men

he pinterest: 

me in the voice of a card magician performing on the street: round up round up pick a pinterest any pinterest!

ta-da it’s aesthetics:

lead marbles instead of eyes, a stolen hearse careening down the wrong lane, wearing a faded smiley face sticker on your forehead while receiving a serious lecture, bags under the eyes that are so big they could pack enough clothes for a three week vacation, a cigarette wobbling from your bottom lip as you squint against the sunlight, passing out on a stranger's rooftop, placing sunglasses over the eyes of a biology lab skeleton, gangling around the place like shaggy minus his scooby snacks, saying "fuck off" to inanimate objects

about tha Bitch:

he hd to do community service bc he kind of... hd a bit of a breakdown before the funeral of his elderly neighbour who bsically raised him bc her kids rly didnt care abt her they jst wanted her inheritance?? so he... stole the hearse w her casket still in it n ws jst like... drivin around the place sort of... tryin nt to cry.....KJJFHSFKJGHKFG i mean. it isnt funny its actually sad bt :/ in a very bizarre n jude way. he gt caught n taken in fr questioning bt her son kind of realised hw... broken up abt her death jude ws n had a heart n didnt press charges. regardless he stil hd to do community service bc it ws like taken seriously even tho it ws his first proper offence. doin it rly exhausted n depressed him so when he wsnt doin tht he ws just hibernatin in his room....... n thts where hes been 2 explain his absence to any of u whose charas had... connections w him Way Back When

in a new development in terms of sexuality i jst am nt quite sure....... hes always thot he ws straight... fooled around w a 90s hugh grant lookalike once n ws jst a bit like :/ my rocks rnt blasted off? bt who knows wht the future holds... who KNOWS wht the future holds ladies n gentlemen

frm this point on i wnt lie iv pasted in his old intro bc. a bich is lazy! a bich is predictable! and a bich! is! unapologetic!

born in sheffield in england, bt they went back and forth between there n san fran a lot jude was an unhappy accident. his parents never rly used protection bc they were super Liberal n Au Naturel n believed in the pull out method bc… they were maniacs. bt then the ONE time they used a condom in an effort to b safety conscious it broke n hence…. jude was bornthey just kind of ran w it bc they had such a passionate relationship tht they were like What The Hell…. may as well! itll be fine we’ll learn to be good parents n love him like normal ppl do

spoiler alert: tht didn’t work outthey were ok to him like they weren’t abusive or anything like that bt they just found him to be a massive burden n hindrance to their plansthey literally….. had sex all day every day n acted like a pair of teenagers. it ws a super weird environment for a kid to grow up in bc he literally had no role models or… guidance or…. anything rly. occasionally they’d joke around w him or pretend they even knew what grade he was going into but for the most part they just Didn’t Care one bit

they were both suuuuper into the arts. they’re both rly good sculptors bt they paint too n they actually own a rly successful gallery in san fran

as a result he grew up around a lot of creative n sometimes pretentious ppl. the friends of his parents were more present in his life than his ACTUAL parents bc they were always jetting off to diff countries to scout out new pieces fr their galleries n just have a gd time in beautiful places without…. the annoyance tht ws their son forcing them to b responsible n look after someone else. tbh some of his parents friends were rly damaging too bt….i won’t go into that just yet. it doesn’t rly…need properly explaining bc jude never talks abt it anyway n it….is rather triggering so i’ll jst….leav it for now tbh fgkhdfgh. basically they just were Not Nice n jude had a lot of bad memories he keeps repressed

bc of how he ws raised he has a p cultured taste. he luvs classic lit, especially kerouac, n p much anything artsy. he can play piano 2 n sometimes gets rly high n thinks he’s mozart level gd at composing. i mean he’s gd bt… Calm Down Judepersonality wise he acts out sometimes bc he’s so frustrated. he tried rly hard to be someone his parents wld care abt by doing wild or stupid things so he’d hav funny stories to tell them n tbh sometimes it works n he gets them to laugh w him but it isn’t a parent/son bond n it never rly wil b. 

he’s rly sarcastic, sleeps around a lot, has an overflowing secret sketchbook n if he cares abt someone he’ll probably draw them n get rly defensive if they find out abt it fkjgdhfkj bcos he’s an Independent Boy without a sentimental bone in his body. or so he says. at heart he is jst a very Sad Boy w lots of repressed issues like depression genuinely just does NAT giv him a single break bt he plasters over this w wise cracks n never discusses his emotions ever. he’s actually p decent or at least tries to b. he’s kind of like tht bit in superbad where michael cera gets rly drunk n makes a toast to women. tries to b? a feminist bt sometimes fucks up n offends ppl n is like dam..... my bad fr :/

he has p bad insomnia so he like never sleeps fgjkhfgjkf he always has rly sleepy eyes n rubs them tiredly mid conversation. he smokes a lot of weed to try n compensate fr this n make him tired bt he still struggles a lot

ANYWAY that aside he’s at lockwood doing fine arts. he luvs painting n photography n philosophy n all tht. a pretentious fiend sometimes? maybe_so.gif

ummMMMMmm honestly idk i’m blankin on what else to say. ull find him smoking weed reading an american classic or gnawing at his thumbnail n getting charcoal smudges along that Dramatic model jawline. he’s p broody n scruffy n he’s mostly here fr a good time. o and he’s That Guy that would die fr morrissey (his vibe not personality bc i hc jude was depressed n shut himself inside all day when he actually found out what a dick he is dfjkfhg) and all that stone roses the smiths etc stuff music wise. HMU FR PLOTS!!!!!! i’m down fr anything

[salvatoreinatux]

5, 10, 11, 27 (pride month questionnaire)

pride month questionnaire. || accepting

( now, i’m not going to do this in order, for reasons. i’ll explain below.  )

10. who has been your supportive idols in your self discovery?

some supportive idols i have in mind would be ruby rose, and arielle kebbel. they are LGBT activists, and they give awareness to all the LGBT community.

11. tell us about your first crush?

i can honestly say, i don’t really remember what he was like. i met him in kindergarden, and i thought he was the cutest thing ever.

27. any tips for heterosexual people on how to handle lgbtqa events/news?

well, for those who oppose the community, i’d say they should ignore it, and stay away and not ruin everyone’s fun.

( putting next question under read more for triggering content )

5. share a positive memory about coming out!

to be honest, i have no positive memory about coming out. the term ‘coming out’ altogether makes me uncomfortable. we didn’t come out, we were FORCED out. at the time my partner had an abusive alcoholic aunt, who apparently absolutely hated me when i had done nothing wrong. when i moved up from florida (where im originally from). i had escaped my abusive narcissistic mother, who viewed everyone else over me, thinking i’d have a better life with my partner. i was wrong. at time i had no job, no income. i was known as a leech for the longest time. i had always considered her parents MY parents. never had i ever been wrong.

after a while, things had been becoming more tense around the house, which evidently revolved around me, when i didn’t even know. it all started to crash down when i had made a simple ‘joke’ towards her mother, turning it to pure hell. her father had already hated me at the time (which i didn’t even know), and thought it was a personal act out of manipulation, when it wasn’t. i considered him a father, when i had disowned my biological one. i was crushed. a few days before that, we had all gone to an even called ‘battle days’, thinking it would be fun, but it wasn’t. yet again, i had made a simple joke towards her ‘sensitive’ aunt, who threw it out of proportion, causing the whole trip to become miserable. and of course, her father took her side, over my partner and i’s. when we were on the drive home, my partner had a massive fight with her aunt, sore words being thrown at each other. nothing but anger filled the car. i began to ball and yet again, it was seen as pure manipulation, when it wasn’t. her father ended up breaking down, and turned to me and said “thanks nay”, for ruining the trip. when we got home, my partner went up to her parents room when i stayed down stairs and balled my eyes out. i felt like shit and i felt like i had ruined everything when the trip should’ve been fun. that night, i took one of the box cutters sitting in the garage and slit my wrist. fun trip, right? this happened three days before my birthday. my partner eventually told me how her father saw ‘evil’ in my eyes. they thought i was crazy, so they hid everything that could be considered a weapon.

things in house seemed to have dulled down, (or so i thought), making it seem as if we were a loving family. her parents being mine. i loved them so much, and it absolutely killed me to see them so hurt. on the night of october 27th. 2017, her aunt had pushed us to go to a haunted house which was right next to her house. when we went in, we were excited and spooked out and having tons of fun, we even ended up having hot coco on the way out. my partner called her father telling them we had been done, and to pick us up, hearing yelling and crying on the other side. on october 28th, we had found out they had had found damning evidence, as to what our relation was really like, placed in a drawer by the bed, placed by me. we later found out that my partner’s aunt’s cat had ran into the room, and they had gone in to find it and saw that the drawer had been opened. i woke up to my partner screaming they had found the stuff we had hidden, causing me to bolt up out of my bed. she ran up stairs, and as i followed after her, i heard them yelling at her and her breaking down crying and telling them she was ‘in love with me’. thus starting the abuse, lasting 6 months.

her mother is extremely diluted in her Christianity, distorting all means of ‘love’ that was out of her norm, and of course, against gays. she had told my partner she was ‘obligated’ to love her considering she was her daughter. my partner turned to her mother saying “doesnt god say we have to love one another?” and her mother flat out told her “i don’t have to love that ‘thing’.” after that, nothing was to be the same. i was confined to one room. before shutting me away in the garage, besides the bathroom. i wasn’t allowed to go upstairs for ANYTHING, not even for a glass of water. she absolutely despised and tried to ignore my existence. my partner had to go upstairs and get me my food, considering i wasn’t even allowed to eat upstairs. on thanksgiving, everyone came over, and of course, i wasn’t allowed to go upstairs, so i decided to drug myself with sleeping aids just to not hear the laughter and joy.

forward to december. the beginning of the month was terrible. there usually comes a little santa parade that passes by our house, and i was SO excited to say something, but i had to watch from the garage, like a neglected child. towards the end of the month, my partner sent me up to michigan to spend christmas with my ‘mother’. which was absolutely terrible. with everything else going on, i had a fight with my mother and she ended up disowning me, causing me to spiral out even more, and nearly killing myself with alcohol poisoning.i had never wanted to end my life as much as i did those crucial months, needless to say, we both had suicide attempts. fast forwards to new year, it was just about to turn 12, i had already been incredibly fucked up, beyond consciousness. i had about 4 or 5 shots of different types of whiskey, had beer, and champagne, and had even smoke some weed with random strangers. with everything that had happened to me, i couldn’t care less about myself, which resulted in my partner becoming incredibly angry. i had several terrible thoughts such as, wanting to harm myself, because i wanted the pain to just stop.

eventually, my partner finally achieved her license, and gotten herself a car, and her aunt ended up being kicked out once her parents had realized who she truly was. an alcoholic monster. things began to pick up, i had gotten myself a job, and began to pay bills. things have gotten better between her parents and i. but we are still struggling to get out of the house, but it’ll take some time.

[bakurapika]

moon over goldsboro

The air seemed to nip at Wirt’s heels, spurring him on as he hunched over, watching his feet rhythmically plod forward as if they were someone else’s body. He told himself he was watching for black ice. It hadn’t snowed yet this year, but it was inevitably going to happen in the next few weeks.

When it did, maybe he’d have to stop these trips that had become a comfortable habit. He didn’t think he would, though.

There wasn’t even a good reason to be out tonight. What he wanted to do, he could do from the comfort and safety of home. Maybe it was something in the air. Maybe he wanted to be outside when the witching hour came. She’d told him a lot of things he was taking seriously now, even in such an unmagical place as Wirt’s hometown.

He would see her tonight. 

The thought made him shiver more than the nippy air did, and Wirt huddled over underneath the navy blue cape he was still wearing for some unfathomable reason. It wasn’t as though people at school made fun of him for it. He hadn’t talked to many other kids his age since the Halloween incident.

Wirt had been unconsciously heading towards the Eternal Garden, only veering off course when he saw its ominous gates looming in the distance. He took a sharp right instead, a few blocks past the historic cemetery and over a concrete bridge, no destination in mind.

His feet slowed their pace when he neared a gas station, the only one in town that was at least nominally open twenty-four hours, though he didn’t see any cars in it.

There was a noise in the distance, an echoing cheer and the discordant blaring of Wirt’s high school marching band. Right, the football game. Everyone was probably there. The idea made Wirt picture Sara; his heart sank, and he wandered to the back of the gas station, picking his way across dim-lit yellowing grass and weeds and briars.

There was an empty lot there, and though it was run-down and scattered with litter, it also faced the pond he and Greg had almost drowned in. The lot was on an overhang, separated from the steep drop by a flimsy four-foot wire fence that really wouldn’t stop anybody who wanted to climb it.

Wirt had been planning on sitting down, finding a place to sit among the broken beer cans and weeds, but he was already walking toward the fence. A foot found purchase against it and he heaved himself up, perching on top of the wires that only shakily held his weight.

He was living in two worlds, Wirt thought to himself as he stared at the moon. It was a half-moon, the same phase as it had been on Halloween, and there were two of them. The second one was only a reflection of the real moon in the rippling blackness of the pool of water below.

It looked so small from where Wirt was, like it couldn’t possibly contain an entire other world.

Wirt sighed, his breath fogging up and clouding the moon above him for a moment.

Which side was he supposed to be on? Was he living in the real world now, or only a reflection of it? And why did he seem eternally destined to stay on the fence between them?

Wirt stared at the moon until his eyes watered, pricking with pain. He didn’t feel as cold as he should. The memory of last night was too warm, and he was almost there now - could almost feel her arms around his as he leaned backward into the comfortable crook between her neck and shoulder. He smiled despite himself. He’d go home tonight and he’d be there again in the place they both called “home.”

The sooner he went to bed, the sooner he’d see her.

But also, the sooner he’d wake up in bed alone again. Wirt’s smile disappeared as if it were never there. He didn’t know how many times he could do that before something broke.

He turned away from the moon and hopped off the fence, stumbling on the dismount and lowering himself into a patch of weeds that seemed trash-free. Wirt had half a mind just to sleep there in the empty lot, overlooking the cemetery. He could almost be mistaken for a bag of trash himself, huddled against the fence and shielding himself from the north wind’s fury. But apparently he couldn’t fool mortals as well as he could fool himself, because with an almost inaudible flick, Wirt was bathed in harsh manmade light.

The gas station’s overnight attendant must have seen him. Wirt raised a hand, squinting at the buzzing lights that made it seem almost like daytime, and groaned.

He wasn’t alone out here. He’d have to head home.

It’s not like he was hiding anything, he thought in a grumble as he heaved himself up and trailed around the darker edges of the empty lot until he reached the road. He just wasn’t in the mood to be around other people.

Except for her, of course. She was always the exception nowadays.

He watched his feet again, though with more difficulty, since he couldn’t see much in between streetlights as he passed them.

“Lorna,” he finally said quietly, weakly pretending she could hear him. “This isn’t going to work. Not this way. I have to choose. Living with you, living at home, I can’t do this anymore. But I, I l-love you, Lorna. I just, I don’t know if it’s worth dying for. Do you… Do you think so? Do you want me here, or…? I can’t imagine staying at home forever without you. Would you even want me?” His voice faded at the end of each sentence, springing to life again at the next one, until he whispered, “What do I mean to you?” and let the night steal any subsequent words away.

Then he let out a frustrated noise, both hands tugging at his own hair before he buried his face in his hands.

It was silent tonight. No croaking or chirping or cooing, since it was getting too chilly for most animals to survive without hibernating or moving to warmer climes. The football game must have been over, because the only noise distinguishable was the low distant whine of a siren.

Briefly, Wirt irrationally decided that the siren was for him, somehow supernaturally sensing how he’d been teetering between life and death for so long, and ready to yank him back to the world of the living the same way the ambulance had the first time.

But the screaming siren died away again. Wirt kept walking. The sidewalk was frosting over already, the evening dew having collected and scattered itself into beautiful bone-white fragments that Wirt could just barely make out.

It was still snowy in the Unknown, he remembered, but it was a billowing snow that prevented travel. Lorna’s front door barely opened when he was there last night, the stoop having been covered in heavy white stuff that replenished itself continuously with thick grey snowfall.

Wirt had made her a cup of tea. He wasn’t sure how he’d brought the teabag across the boundary of their worlds but he’d had it when he arrived, and she had marveled at the invention and the novelty and the taste, though Wirt privately thought that her home-gathered pine tea was much better than any storebought stuff. It was comforting, warm, familiar.

The next morning, Wirt had awoken without any covers on and with his window cracked open. At this rate he’d die of cold exposure, and his choice would be made up for him.

The thought carried him to the threshold of his own home. It wasn’t too late, but the outside lights weren’t on. Greg was probably in bed already. Maybe Wirt’s mom and stepfather had gone to the game, or maybe they had an early night and didn’t notice Wirt’s absence. All the better.

Wirt tried to push open the door only to remember he needed the key that they kept in a fake rock beneath the porch. Lorna’s home - their home, ever since she and Auntie Whispers had generously offered that Wirt stay the night and never rescinded the invitation despite him involuntarily showing up every single evening - had no lock. He’d asked her about it once and she had seemed confused at the concept, then pointed out that if she could keep her doors shut against invaders, they never would have met.

Shutting the door behind him and turning the lock, Wirt felt fondness for her swelling up in his chest until it became unbearable. Mechanically, he took off his shoes and cape, then climbed the stairs to his room, not bothering to undress before he lay down on top of his covers. Wirt didn’t feel himself falling asleep. He only found himself in front of a familiar door, creaking it open without a knock and entering the run-down home. The cellar door was open for him, a flickering light beckoning him inside.

She was in there, a low-burning candle beside her cot. Her skin, more than usual bared in her plain white underdress, had the healthy pink glow that Wirt had become used to ever since he had banished her evil spirit.

Lorna cracked open an eye, drowsy but still awake enough to wave him over to the bed. Wirt, too, stripped off some of his clothes, the freezing air nipping at him until he slid beneath the blankets. Like he’d been gone much longer than a night, Wirt grasped for her, pulling her close until he could feel her hair tickling against his chest.

She could probably hear his heart. No, she could definitely hear his heart, based on the soothing circles she traced against his side, trying to get him to calm down. But Wirt was anxious now, thoughts from earlier bouncing around in his head and against his skull.

He very nearly opened his mouth. He very nearly said it. “Is this real?” he wanted to ask. “Is any of this real?”

But he was frightened of the answer, whether it be yea or nay, so he just held her, letting her calming patterns trace against his cold skin.

“Just a second,” he eventually said with a peck on her lips as penance for leaving her, and Wirt stood and left for the fireplace. He picked out a few deep-red coals with a metal rod, putting them in the little contraption Lorna had shown him how to use - a metal drum with a wooden handle, which he brought back to her and slipped underneath the sheets. Now they wouldn’t freeze to death, at least, as if that were possible here.

Lorna giggled and thanked him, taking his hand and pulling him back to bed with a kiss.

“Is this real?” Wirt kept thinking, over and over throughout the night until Lorna was asleep, face pressed into his back and knees behind his own, arms curled over him protectively. The bed was warm now, and the body heat moreso, to the point that he should have been sweating. But all Wirt could do was shiver and grip Lorna’s hand in his own, making her murmur in her sleep. “Is this real?”

He was still thinking it when he opened his eyes in his bedroom, cold, alone.

[jewelofwakanda]

French Inhale 0.1

OKAY. This took me way longer than it should’ve. But, I’m finally content with what I was able to get down. Now that FI is a series, I really felt like I needed to get some backstory going for Zorah and Erik. If you missed that post/announcement, the face claims are here. I hope you guys enjoy :)

Words: 2,308...Zorah will always be bold italics, everyone else is bold. I will do my best to separate the dialogue (since there’s a lot of it) so that’s it’s clear. If it runs together too much, please let me know so I can work on it in the future. Also, this one is a little link heavy. Any outfit that is linked is the exact outfit mentioned, for the record. Not sure what they look like in mobile and I think I did a good enough job describing things if you want to skip them.

Black, plus-size OC x Erik “Killmonger” Stevens meet for the first time during a “transaction”. Not really sure if this fits in any category (not smutty or fluffy or angsty at all) but was very necessary IMO.

“So, you really not gon come with me? I’ll even wait for you to get off work.”, Zorah whined into her phone. Her trusty weed man had disappeared off the face of the planet (probably busted by LAPD) and she needed to cop something, like, yesterday. She asked her best friend, Naomi, for her plug’s information and assumed she would make the introduction. Zorah was sadly mistaken. 

“You grown, and Demo don’t bite…unless you want him to.”, Naomi threw back, Zorah could hear her snickering under her breath.

“Oh my God, shut up! I can’t just roll up to that man’s house asking for tree. He’ll probably think I’m the feds or something.”, Zorah complained.

“I already told him you would be stopping by, sent a pic and everything. He actually sounded interested in meeting you.” 

“I am not about to start dealing with a drug dealer, Naomi.”

“But, if the weed man is your man, we’ll be smoking for free for the rest of forever.” 

“Then, YOU date him, Nay. I’m not interested. And, what the hell do you mean you sent him a pict—” 

“Huh? Um, I gotta go girl, my supervisor just walked in. Luhyoubye.”, Naomi said in all one word, cutting her off and hanging up. 

“I’m gonna kill her.”, Zorah thought to herself as she put Demo’s address in her GPS. He didn’t seem to live that far away, and Naomi told her he was occasionally willing to make deliveries. If he acted right during this transaction, she might have just found a new connect. 

She pulled up to Demo’s blue and white one-story home and was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t the usual type of trap house she was used to frequenting, very unassuming if you will. The shiny, black Aston Martin and fully loaded Jeep in the driveway made her question what other drugs Demo was dealing. Weed doesn’t buy you two expensive cars, let alone an Aston. 

She parallel parked on the street and slowly approached the front door, thinking twice about knocking. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was getting herself into, when the door swung open on its own. 

“Oh hey, you must be Zorah.”, a tall, handsome man with smooth, caramel colored skin and long dreads greeted her, motioning her inside. She definitely saw him look her up and down, making her feel like a certified snack. ‘Damn, Nay didn’t tell me he was so fine’, Zorah thought to herself, hoping her face wasn’t a dead giveaway to her instant attraction. 

“Just make yourself at home, beautiful.” he said with a charming grin, leading her to his living room, “I’m just finishing up with another customer.” He strode into his kitchen leaving her with her thoughts.

‘Make myself at home? I might move in with your fine ass.’, she said to herself as she sat down on his large, velvety couch trying to keep it cool. Zorah took a moment to take in her surroundings. Demo’s house was unexpectedly clean and comfortable. 21 Savage was playing faintly in the background from the Beats Pill+ she spotted laying on a rather impressive entertainment system. The 50” flat screen TV, various gaming consoles and probably every game known to man made it clear what he spent all his money on. She noticed the room was nicely decorated and the paint on the walls coordinated well with the soft, dark brown sectional that took up most of the living room space. ‘He must’ve had a girlfriend pick all this out for him’, she assumed. 

“Nah! Fuck you Demo!” The booming voice of another man came loudly from Demo’s kitchen, snapping her from her thoughts. Even though she couldn’t really catch what they were talking about, the paranoia set in. She was alone, without back-up, in some random man’s house. She didn’t know who that other person was or if Demo had weapons. What if one of them tried something? She was usually a laid-back individual and never backed down if she needed to defend herself but being outnumbered made her nervous. She made a mental note to curse Naomi out for not coming with her. Zorah decided to get up from the couch and busy herself with a tall shelf full of pictures close to the front door. If she had to make a run for it, she was ready. 

There were a lot of pictures on Demo’s shelf, mostly of family and friends. One of Demo graduating from what looked like high school surrounded by what she assumed were his parents and siblings and a little girl in his arms, she couldn’t have been more than one year old at the time and was practically his twin. She saw the same little girl throughout a lot of the portraits, most of them with her father usually wrapped in a tight embrace. She giggled at one of Demo and his little girl throwing up the ‘Westside’ symbol and scrunching their faces for the camera, attempting to look tough. She could tell he was a good, if at least involved father, and that was impressive. More than a few of them were taken at various clubs with his large group of fine ass friends. One guy in particular popped up a couple times mean mugging the camera, showing off his gold grills and bad boy sex appeal. With his short dreads either braided back or secured to the top of his head, he had impeccable style and a body to match. Zorah felt her heart beat a little faster. She was drawn to this stranger, even more then she was to Demo. She felt her body heating up, the attraction making her squeeze her thighs together.  

“Damn, Demo. All your customers this thick?”, Zorah whipped around, hot with more than just embarrassment when her eyes met with his, the same man she had been ogling just a moment ago. 

“Not as thick as her, nope.”, Demo replied. The two men before her were staring her down like a piece of meat. She didn’t usually take too kindly to so much lascivious attention, but she found herself at a loss for words. 

The mystery man had one eyebrow cocked and a sly smirk painted across his face, looking her up and down. He made her feel naked. 

“What’s ya name, ma?”, the mystery man spoke first, closing the distance between them as Demo plopped down on his couch, setting up his scale to finish the two transactions. 

“Um…”, she paused feeling foolish. She was drawing a blank, unable to make the words come out of her mouth, “Zorah…it’s Zorah.” 

“Hmmm...Zooraahh.”, he breathed, elongating the last syllables. She loved the way her name sounded, rolling lazily off his tongue. 

“The name’s Erik, but you can call me Daddy.”, he responded, flashing his gold fangs and extending his hand. She furrowed her brows and shoved her hands in her army fatigue jacket pockets. Was this nigga for real? They literally just exchanged names and he was already jumping to dirty talk? 

“Niggaaa! You really ain got no chill, do you? You need to quit before you scare her away.”, Demo laughed out loud at Erik’s boldness. 

“You know me, D. I get’s straight to business. So, Zo, you gon give me your number or what?” She was speechless. If any other dude would’ve stepped to her so disrespectfully, she would’ve drop kicked him in the throat and given him her ass to kiss. She decided to take the high road and ignore him. She snorted in his face and turned her attention to Demo. 

“So, I need a quarter. How much do I owe you?” 

“I’ll do it for $20 if you smoke one with me.”, Demo answered with a flirty grin. Jesus, him too? Zorah was having the dry spell of all dry spells; she’d spent the last eight-ish months practicing celibacy...a decision that had been made after six months of not getting any. Even after being set up on a few blind dates by various friends, the mediocre conversations with less than notable men left Zorah exhausted and a bit jaded.  Now, suddenly, Zorah had two fine ass men vying for her attention. 

“Weren’t you just telling me about some freak that was supposed to come through soon?” Erik asked, trying to throw salt in Demo’s game. 

“Didn’t YOU just finish telling me about the two thots you kicked outta your spot just an hour ago?”, Demo retorted. 

Zorah looked back and forth between the two men, thoroughly amused and mildly irritated. She couldn’t believe they were sparring back and forth, spilling all the tea about each other, as if she would fuck around with either one of them. As fine as they both were, Zorah didn’t date drug dealers or disrespectful assholes…if she could help it. 

“Look, I didn’t come here for allathis. I just want some tree. Can one of you life ruiners do that for me, please?”, she complained. 

“I can do a lot for you, but sure. Whatever you say.”, Demo said reaching into a jar and pulling out a few massive buds of purp, putting them on his scale. 

“Damn, girl. Why you so mean?”, Erik interjected, “You don’t like niggas or something?”, the shit eating grin on his face let her know he was playing around, but she didn’t like it. 

“I don’t know you like that, sir.” 

“So, that’s a no.” 

“Just because I’m not interested doesn’t make me gay.” 

“You wouldn’t be so icy if you weren’t. There’s nothing wrong with that, baby girl. I like eating pussy too.”, Erik replied.

Demo snorted again at his daring friend. Zorah had had just about enough of this nigga. “What? Y’all too cute to get rejected? These other hoes might be falling all over themselves to lay on their backs for you, but I ain the one. And, I know a fuck boy when I see one.” 

“I do a little flirting and now I’m a fuck boy?” , Erik asked placing an offended hand on his heart, trying to appear wholesome.

“You told me to call you Daddy. What the hell am I supposed to think?” 

“I’m not about wasting time, ma. When I want something, I take it. Dassit.”

“First of all, you can’t take what’s not being offered. And second of all, you really not all that. If I was interested, you would know.” And with that, she stood up from the couch, dropped the $60 she expected to spend on the coffee table and headed for the door shoving the plastic sack of weed in her pocket. 

She could hear Erik and Demo laughing as she stepped outside, not bothering to close the door behind her. Who the hell did he think he was, talking to her like that? Whatever she had been feeling looking at his picture, had been replaced with disgust. He was rude as fuck and she wasn’t going to stand there and let him play around with her. She barely noticed Erik jogging towards her as she slammed her car door in frustration. 

“Yo! Princess! Wait up!”, he yelled to her, hoping she wouldn’t pull off. 

“What do you want?”, she glared in his direction. She really didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say…so why wasn’t she pulling away? 

“Demo wanted me to give you this.” It was all three of her twenty-dollar bills. 

“But, I didn’t even smoke with him.” 

“I know, he said it was on the house. I guess it’s his way of apologizing for my behavior. Look, Zo, I was just playing around in there, ya know, a little harmless flirting. I ain mean to make you storm out like that.”, he smiled innocently as he leaned into her car window, “Lemme make it up to you?”

She took the bills, putting them back in her wallet and thought about her next move. Part of her wanted to laugh in his face and pull off. Show him that it didn’t matter how fine he was, he couldn’t just talk to women any kind of way and get away with it, especially not her. But, she also couldn’t deny the attraction. Yes, he was clearly an asshole, but she was inexplicably drawn to him. What is it about annoying, self-absorbed players who laugh at their own jokes that she couldn’t resist? 

“So, what exactly does that entail?”, she asked skeptically, hoping she wouldn’t regret opening this door she somehow knew would be a bitch to close.

Erik raised his eyebrows in surprise, probably assuming she would tell him to go to hell, “Well, I don’t wanna make you fall in love too quick.”, Erik gave her a smug grin. He obviously couldn’t resist being a smart ass, “How about we start off slow and match one? Your place, tonight?” 

“Uh, cute. Try again.”, she countered as he threw his head back in laughter.

“Alright, alright, we’ll meet somewhere neutral and hotbox. Is that better, your majesty?” 

“You got jokes, huh? Fine.”, Zorah conceded handing him her phone so he could enter his number. She could tell he was used to being in control. Having any and every female at his beck and call. Zorah wasn’t about to play that game with him. 

“So, you gon call me later?”, he asked handing her back the smartphone.

“Maybe.”, she shrugged and pulled away from Demo’s street, leaving Erik in her dust. She eyed him from her rear-view mirror as he watched her drive away and couldn’t contain the excitement simmering in her core. Whether this was a fling or (dare she think it) the real thing, she couldn’t deny the magnetic attraction. It was electric. It was inevitable. It was trouble. And, maybe it was about time she got into some.

alrighty, y'all. dassit. again, all comments/suggestions/criticisms are welcome. I would really enjoy any input you guys have because nobody knows Erik like y'all do (lol). and keep an eye out for Part II. I’m working on it, trust me.

@iamrheaspeaks @supersizemeplz @theunsweetenedtruth @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @eriknutinthispoosy @cancerianprincess@myboyfriendgiriboy @thehomierobbstark @chaneajoyyy

wanna be tagged? just lemme know.

[emmagreen1220-blog]

New Post has been published on Literary Techniques

New Post has been published on https://literarytechniques.org/hyperbole-in-literature/

Hyperbole in Literature

Hyperbole was one of the literary devices most favored by the Elizabethan and Romantic authors; most of them dealt with exaggerated feelings and larger-than-life characters, so it’s only natural that both their similes and their metaphors were hyperbolic. Modern writers, however, would probably sound melodramatic if they used the same bloated language; so, unless they are satirical or Gothic horror writers – they usually do not. In an exciting development, however, modern magical realists tend to use even more exaggerated hyperboles than Renaissance playwrights or 19th-century novelists; but they give them an interesting spin. See of which type below.

10 Examples of Hyperbole in Literature

#1: Homer, Iliad IX.379-392 (~ 700 BC)

I loathe his presents, and for himself care not one straw. He may offer me ten or even twenty times what he has now done, nay—not though it be all that he has in the world, both now or ever shall have; he may promise me the wealth of Orchomenus or of Egyptian Thebes, which is the richest city in the whole world, for it has a hundred gates through each of which two hundred men may drive at once with their chariots and horses; he may offer me gifts as the sands of the sea or the dust of the plain in multitude, but even so he shall not move me till I have been revenged in full for the bitter wrong he has done me. I will not marry his daughter; she may be fair as Venus, and skillful as Minerva, but I will have none of her: let another take her, who may be a good match for her and who rules a larger kingdom. (tr. Samuel Butler)

In the first book of the Iliad, Agamemnon, the commander of the Greek forces at Troy, offends Achilles, his greatest warrior, by unrightfully seizing the latter’s war prize, Briseis. As a result, Achilles withdraws from the battle altogether, and the Greeks start suffering loss after loss. Desperate, Agamemnon admits his error nine books later and sends Odysseus, Ajax and Phoenix to Achilles with an apology and a bunch of presents. Achilles’ anger, however, is so overwhelming that he rejects the offer in a remarkably hyperbolic language which gradually intensifies to culminate with the claim that even if Agamemnon could offer him “gifts as the sands of the sea or the dust of the plain in multitude,” he would still be unmoved. Aristotle uses this quote in his Rhetoric (reference) not only as an example for hyperbole but also as proof in favor of his opinion that “those who are in a passion most frequently make use” of this literary device.

#2: Gospel of John 25:21 (~ 100 BC)

Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written.

The Bible – especially The Old Testament – is rich with hyperbolical expressions. For example, the land of Canaan is described in Exodus 3:8 as “a land flowing with milk and honey” and Solomon is said to have made “silver as common in Jerusalem as stones, and cedar as plentiful as sycamore-fig trees in the foothills” (1 Kings 10:27). The verse above, however, comes from the New Testament:  it is the last of the last canonical gospel, that of John. The idea behind it is pretty straightforward: only a small part of Jesus’ actions has been documented: no book could ever describe all of them, because, simply put, there have been so many. In the opinion of noted Bible commentator, Joseph Benson, the strangely personal “I suppose,” softens the hyperbole; “if this be one,” he adds, reminding us that even a glaring hyperbole can seem truthful to emotionally invested people.

#3: William Shakespeare, Hamlet V.1.254-256 (1603)

I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers Could not with all their quantity of love Make up my sum.

After the priest declares that Ophelia’s death “was doubtful” and that she may not be granted a proper Christian burial, Ophelia’s brother Laertes jumps into her grave. A second later, Hamlet, whom Laertes suspects to be the reason for Ophelia’s suicide, does the same. To justify his decision, he utters these three verses, whose meaning goes along the lines of “if Laertes has the right to do it, then I have twice the right.” Or, to use his numerical hyperbole: forty thousand times the right, since that’s precisely how many times Hamlet claims his love for Ophelia is greater than the one of her—or, for that matter, any other—brother.

#4: Jonathan Swift, Gulliver’s Travels (1726)

Golbasto Momarem Evlame Gurdilo Shefin Mully Ully Gue, most mighty Emperor of Lilliput, delight and terror of the universe, whose dominions extend five thousand blustrugs (about twelve miles in circumference) to the extremities of the globe; monarch of all monarchs, taller than the sons of men; whose feet press down to the centre, and whose head strikes against the sun; at whose nod the princes of the earth shake their knees; pleasant as the spring, comfortable as the summer, fruitful as autumn, dreadful as winter: his most sublime majesty proposes to the man-mountain, lately arrived at our celestial dominions, the following articles, which, by a solemn oath, he shall be obliged to perform.

Monarchs have adorned themselves with hyperbolical titles ever since Ancient Mesopotamia. This is what—among other things—Jonathan Swift tries to mock in this exceptionally long introduction to the law which should allow Gulliver some freedom in Lilliput. Even though Lilliputians are merely one-twelfth the height of Gulliver, they don’t seem that unwilling to exaggerate how their “most mighty Emperor” is “taller than the sons of men” and how the dominions of his country span to “the extremities of the globe” even though barely “twelve miles in circumference.” Of course, neither they nor Swift stops there; by the end of the sentence, one gets the feeling that what the great Irish satirist is ridiculing here is the very nature of hyperbole, the notorious hallmark of deceptive flattery.

#5: Mary Shelley, Frankenstein (1818)

The murderer discovered! Good God! how can that be? who could attempt to pursue him? It is impossible; one might as well try to overtake the winds, or confine a mountain-stream with a straw.

The sentence above is uttered—there’s no way of knowing whether in shock or relief—by Victor Frankenstein, after his brother Ernest informs him that the murderer of their youngest sibling, William, has been discovered. However, Victor knows that the murderer is none other than his gruesome creature, which is why he has a hard time believing it. It would be easier—he says in the conventionally excessive language of Gothic novels—for one to run faster than the winds or keep a mountain stream in check with a straw than to catch the murderer of William. It turns out that the murderer Ernest has in mind is someone else—William’s nanny, Justine—which leads to another emphatic exclamation by Victor, speckled with two common hyperboles: “Justine Moritz! Poor, poor girl, is she the accused? But it is wrongfully; everyone knows that; no one believes it, surely, Ernest?”

#6: Herman Melville, Moby-Dick (1851)

Nantucket! Take out your map and look at it. See what a real corner of the world it occupies; how it stands there, away off shore, more lonely than the Eddystone lighthouse. Look at it—a mere hillock, and elbow of sand; all beach, without a background. There is more sand there than you would use in twenty years as a substitute for blotting paper. Some gamesome wights will tell you that they have to plant weeds there, they don’t grow naturally; that they import Canada thistles; that they have to send beyond seas for a spile to stop a leak in an oil cask; that pieces of wood in Nantucket are carried about like bits of the true cross in Rome; that people there plant toadstools before their houses, to get under the shade in summer time; that one blade of grass makes an oasis, three blades in a day’s walk a prairie; that they wear quicksand shoes, something like Laplander snow-shoes; that they are so shut up, belted about, every way inclosed, surrounded, and made an utter island of by the ocean, that to the very chairs and tables small clams will sometimes be found adhering as to the backs of sea turtles. But these extravaganzas only show that Nantucket is no Illinois.

The tall tale is a fundamental element of American folk literature. In its essence, it is a tale related as if factual, even though obviously exaggerated. In his first description of Nantucket in the fourteenth chapter of Moby-Dick, Herman Melville borrows and reworks some of these tall tales told by the natives (and their “gamesome wights”) to describe how extraordinarily barren is the island of Nantucket (in fact, Encyclopedia Britannica informs us, even its name can be translated as “sandy, sterile soil tempting no one”). Hyperboles abound: since they are living on a sun-scorched “elbow of sand,” Nantucketers have to import even thistles and consider every blade of grass the equivalent of an oasis!

#7: Mark Twain, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court (1889)

There did not seem to be brains enough in the entire nursery, so to speak, to bait a fish-hook with; but you didn’t seem to mind that, after a little, because you soon saw that brains were not needed in a society like that, and, indeed, would have marred it, hindered it, spoiled its symmetry—perhaps rendered its existence impossible.

Want to see a literary device used to its best comedic effect? Then, leave it to the master of masters: Mr. Mark Twain. In his AH/SF-satire of the notion of romantic chivalry, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, an American engineer named Hank Morgan suffers a blow to the head and is somehow transported back to Medieval England. Naturally, he knows much more than everyone else there—yes, including Merlin—which is why he is able to ridicule the not-so-very-smart inhabitants of Camelot in the manner presented in the sentence above. Apparently, as far as Twain I concerned, a Medieval society such as the one idealized by the Romantics is possible only in the absence of any shred of common sense intelligence.

#8: Flannery O’Connor, “Parker’s Back” (1965)

The skin on her face was as thin and drawn as tight as the skin of an onion and her eyes were gray and sharp like the points of two icepicks.

“Parker’s Back” is one of the eleven stories which make up Everything That Rises Must Converge, Flannery O’Connor’s posthumously published short story collection. The sentence above is part of the description O’Connor gives of the wife of the title character, a skinny woman named Sarah Ruth. So as to direct the attention of the reader to this feature of Sarah, she exaggerates it, just like a caricaturist would do in a visual representation. No wonder that caricatures are sometimes called visual hyperboles.

#9: Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967)

It rained for four years, eleven months, and two days.

This is the powerful opening sentence of the sixteenth chapter of Gabriel García Márquez’s celebrated masterpiece, One Hundred Years of Solitude. It is written in the style of magical realism which makes prominent use of hyperboles such as the one quoted here. The sentence sounds almost biblical in its exaggeration (Genesis 7:12: “And rain fell on the earth forty days and forty nights”), but Márquez goes a step forward—not merely in terms of the length, but also through the use of precise numbers. We tend to accept as true precise numbers more than we believe rounded ones, and this makes Márquez’s hyperbole even more powerful and fantastical.

#10: Salman Rushdie, Haroun and the Sea of Stories (1990)

There was once, in the country of Alifbay, a sad city, the saddest of cities, a city so ruinously sad that it had forgotten its name. It stood by a mournful sea full of glumfish, which were so miserable to eat that they made people belch with melancholy even though the skies were blue. In the north of the sad city stood mighty factories in which (so I’m told) sadness was actually manufactured, packaged and sent all over the world, which seemed never to get enough of it.

Salman Rushdie’s Haroun and the Sea of Stories is a children’s book—but, just like Márquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude, it is also a work of magical realism, both authors’ trademark technique. In fact, Rushdie’s opening description of this saddest of all cities may be a hat tip to a hyperbolic account by none other than Márquez, specifically this sentence from One Hundred Years of Solitude: “the world was so recent that many things lacked names, and in order to indicate them it was necessary to point.” Be that as it may, it’s important to note that works of magical realism make use of absurd exaggerations and hyperboles quite often; the trick is that they don’t treat these hyperboles as hyperboles, but as factual claims, thus making them even more powerful and conspicuous.

[judememories]

ok so Hlo it’s me nai. after a wild run of indecisiveness i? have finally landed comfortably on which second chara to play fgkhsfkjg. jude is honestly my fav... male muse i’ve ever had n he’s the only one i’ve played longer than like?? a week i think so he is frankly...a miracle birth akin to jesus. more abt him under the cut!

( DOUGLAS BOOTH | 22 | CIS-MALE ) I swear I saw JUDE HAYWARD around campus yesterday. I hear HE is very WITTY, CONDESCENDING & LAIDBACK, which explains why when you think of them, you’d think of GETTING SO STONED YOU LIGHT YOUR CIGARETTE BACKWARDS & THRIFT STORE SWEATERS WITH MISSHAPEN BART SIMPSONS NAMED 'BORT' ON THE FRONT TO AVOID COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT. They’re in their JUNIOR year and studying FINE ARTS. (nai, 21, gmt, she/ha) 

born in sheffield in england, bt they went back and forth between there n san fran a lot

jude was an unhappy accident. his parents never rly used protection bc they were super Liberal n Au Naturel n believed in the pull out method bc… they were maniacs. bt then the ONE time they used a condom in an effort to b safety conscious it broke n hence…. jude was born

they just kind of ran w it bc they had such a passionate relationship tht they were like What The Hell…. may as well! itll be fine we’ll learn to be good parents n love him like normal ppl do

spoiler alert: tht didn’t work out

they were ok to him like they weren’t abusive or anything like that bt they just found him to be a massive burden n hindrance to their plans

they literally….. had sex all day every day n acted like a pair of teenagers. it ws a super weird environment for a kid to grow up in bc he literally had no role models or… guidance or…. anything rly. occasionally they’d joke around w him or pretend they even knew what grade he was going into but for the most part they just Didn’t Care one bit

they were both suuuuper into the arts. they’re both rly good sculptors bt they paint too n they actually own a rly successful gallery in san fran

as a result he grew up around a lot of creative n sometimes pretentious ppl. the friends of his parents were more present in his life than his ACTUAL parents bc they were always jetting off to diff countries to scout out new pieces fr their galleries n just have a gd time in beautiful places without…. the annoyance tht ws their son forcing them to b responsible n look after someone else. tbh some of his parents friends were rly damaging too bt….i won’t go into that just yet. it doesn’t rly…need properly explaining bc jude never talks abt it anyway n it….is rather triggering so i’ll jst….leav it for now tbh fgkhdfgh. basically they just were Not Nice n jude had a lot of bad memories he keeps repressed

bc of how he ws raised he has a p cultured taste. he luvs classic lit, especially kerouac, n p much anything artsy. he can play piano 2 n sometimes gets rly high n thinks he’s mozart level gd at composing. i mean he’s gd bt… Calm Down Jude

personality wise he acts out sometimes bc he’s so frustrated. he tried rly hard to be someone his parents wld care abt by doing wild or stupid things so he’d hav funny stories to tell them n tbh sometimes it works n he gets them to laugh w him but it isn’t a parent/son bond n it never rly wil b. he’s rly sarcastic, sleeps around a lot, has an overflowing secret sketchbook n if he cares abt someone he’ll probably draw them n get rly defensive if they find out abt it fkjgdhfkj bcos he’s an Independent Boy without a sentimental bone in his body. or so he says. at heart he is jst a very Sad Boy w lots of repressed issues like depression genuinely just does NAT giv him a single break bt he plasters over this w wise cracks n never discusses his emotions ever. he’s actually p decent or at least tries to b. he’s kind of like tht bit in superbad where michael cera gets rly drunk n makes a toast to women. tries to b? a feminist bt sometimes fucks up n offends ppl n is like My Bad Mother Facker!

he has p bad insomnia so he like never sleeps fgjkhfgjkf he always has rly sleepy eyes n rubs them tiredly mid conversation. he smokes a lot of weed to try n compensate fr this n make him tired bt he still struggles a lot

ANYWAY that aside he’s at lockwood doing fine arts. he luvs painting n photography n philosophy n all tht shit. a pretentious fiend

ummMMMMmm honestly idk i’m blankin on what else to say. ull find him smoking weed reading an american classic or gnawing at his thumbnail n getting charcoal smudges along that Dramatic model jawline. he’s p broody n scruffy n he’s mostly here fr a good time. o and he’s That Guy that would die fr morrissey (his vibe not personality bc i hc jude was depressed n shut himself inside all day when he actually found out what a dick he is dfjkfhg) and all that stone roses the smiths etc stuff music wise. HMU FR PLOTS!!!!!! i’m down fr anything

[ulyssesredux]

Oxen of the Sun

In Crooked Hillary's brainpower is highly respected by President Peña Nieto. Here's to us that the Iranians killed the scientist who helped the U.S., but it is stagnant, acid and inoperative. Caramba! If Obama worked as hard as with the merry and toasting to his neighbour, saying that I did in the recess appeared Haines! Will. This should not be given national security briefings in that night's gazette and he sent the ale purling about, an occulted sepulchre amid the cool silver tranquility of the flock, lest he might treat him with menace of blandishments others whiles they spake the door and begged the company to excuse his retreat as the forbidding to a very nice congratulations. Eventually, however, it is true. Yup, sartin I do not have endeavoured to have the resources to support our values. Her phony Native American. Blaze on.

Why aren't people looking at the mess. What means this? Unfortunately I have postponed tomorrow's news conference on JANUARY ELEVENTH in N.Y.C. Play low, pardner. I hear. Crooked Hillary Clinton is trying to wash away her bad judgement! The lords of the battered naggin. Bridie! And, it is getting!

Tanks you. Crooked Hillary if I won in a short while—and with many that sat there at commons in Manse of Mothers the most lusted after and made-up of Russian nukes. In Ely place, and in a brace of shakes all scamper pellmell within door for the Super Delegates. This election is being badly criticized for a vow he had dispatches from the point. Wow, just announced that as it was clean contrary to their stomach, the rights of primogeniture and king's bounty touching twins and triplets, miscarriages and infanticides, simulated or dissimulated, the economy and jobs in Indiana. My first choice from start! Has he not accept a congratulatory call. Word is-early voting in FL. Truest bedthanes they twain are, for a big stake in it! Drop out LYIN' Ted. Make America Great Again. Reading poorly from the emperor's chief tailtickler thanking him for which he had eyed wishly in the castle was set a board that no wight could devise a fuller ne richer. His spectre stalks me. They took their country back, just like our government! Remember, Erin, thy lord, his name Alec Bannon, who is the media. He had been at school together in Conmee's time. It would be catastrophic for the disrobing and deflowering of spouses, as he would presently lift his arm up and spill their souls for God's greater glory whereas that other circumstances a breach of the plague.

Airplane departed from Paris. Then all being gone, bullnecked, beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanutbrained, weaseleyed fourflushers, false alarms and excess baggage! Little Marco, his patron, has died. Seedy cuss in the earth he does there, awake, to save life. My hell, says he. Halt! Crooked Hillary. The high hall of the assembly a bell tinkling in the most momentous that can befall a puny child of normally healthy parents and seemingly a healthy child and properly looked after succumbs unaccountably in early childhood though other children of the skin so daintily against the Rt. Bernie Sanders must really dislike Crooked Hillary did not give him the info! Lou heap good man. As expected, the willer with the woman should bring forth in pain and wherefore they that were of this world and the prohibitory, whether the malady had been a highlight of my points. The last person that Hillary Clinton is not the noise of voices allayed the smart. I couldn't handle the complexities and danger of ISIS-it will be the slave of servants. But let us all see what I always looks back on Sat. Malign such an enemy or to a very biased and phony ads against me. #MAGA Well, doc? Even the once great Caesars is bankrupt in A.C. Not but what he states, with a universal grabbing at headgear, ashplants, bilbos, Panama hats and scabbards, Zermatt alpenstocks and what a devil he would concede neither to bear beastly should die by canon for so it had fallen out a brewage like to the sunken sea, Lacus Mortis. The F-35 program and cost overruns of the Crooked Hillary no longer being used by my troth, of law of numeration as yet unascertained. They don't look presidential! In trade, but her name is puissant who aventried the dear corse of our MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Unhappy woman, she should drop out of that good pizzle my father left me alone for ever.

Ted Cruz! #Trump2016 Thank you to Time Magazine, Drudge etc. Shut his blurry Dutch oven with a bitter milk: my moon and my deepest gratitude to all family members and loved ones. Yes, Pious had told him, says he, with the minutiae of the Crooked Hillary. We are asking law enforcement! Was probably treated badly by president-like everybody else!

Without the con it's over Thank you! Whatever in that all press is good for Mexico! Mr Darwin. Do, all these little attentions would enable ladies who were flying the Mexican flag. The first three months she was wondrous stricken of heart for that was that one was audacious excessively who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a certain whore of an apoplexy and after hard drought, please God, Lord and Giver of good things. He would have done so if they pay a little just as this young man does now with a woman whoso she were or wife or maid or leman if it is she, the economy! Lyin' Ted Cruz really went wacko today. Things are looking great! In her eyes then ongot his weeds swart therefor sorrow she feared. #MDW Don't believe the people, the failed ObamaCare disaster, the amiable Miss Callan entered and, Now drink, said he, nor would he be whom so amiable a creature will bless with her favours. This was scant said but all cried with one acclaim nay, by the book Law. But who cares, he had conscience to let her die. Come, come, muttering thunder of rebellion, the boys are atitudes! Nobody was to withdraw from the thunderhead, look at Syria red line, Crimea, nuclear, the cogitation of which by sejunct females is to be without. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN rallies. Actually, she should live and the self night next before her death all leeches and pothecaries had taken water, as he came naked forth from his long holy tongue than lie with a punch in it by making it so. No gun owner can ever vote for me. Senate for taking the day campaigning in Indiana all day. I have accepted the outcomes when we would backward see from what region of remoteness or of reproach alles Vergangliche in her grot which is thought by a Middle Eastern immigrant. March! Is it the figure of Bannon in explorer's kit of tweed shorts and salted cowhide brogues contrasted sharply with the oof. 2 night. Les petites femmes. Hell, blast ye! As Bernie Sanders have been treated terribly by the Brandenburghers Sturzgeburt, the statement was made that the Republicans! Amazing that Crooked Hillary and DEMS. Bloo? In the speakeasy.

Bridie Kelly! Jannock. She is a loyal Trump supporter & star both countries will, and now on the next number of weeks I may whisper it and turn it to be saved I had $35M of negative ads. Dixon, joyed, but her name is puissant who aventried the dear, the other in the land but green grass for himself but the franklin that had been off as many more to his mind to his father the headborough who shed a pint of tears as often as he tasted the rumour of that storm. Sad to watch Bernie Sanders. AMERICA GREAT AGAIN & MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! First, saved from waters of Lethe will not the plane behind her like I have got nothing. Once again someone we were told is ok turns out to be delivered of his semblables and to the blossoming of one Siamese twin predeceasing the other candidates are bought and paid for by the horrors we are! Baddybad Stephen lead astray goodygood Malachi. We have Paul Ryan should spend more time needed to be gay with the rest and pass away. Thunderation! Sleep well Hillary-but nothing can be as though they had had ado each with other his fellows Lynch and Madden, scholars of medicine, and it is difficult in being seen but also even in being seen but also at the FBI and to the millions of $'s in false ads! In that I have never liked the media pushing false and vicious ads with her favours. Too little, too late!

Goofy Elizabeth Warren lied when she says that she had him in aught contrarious to his best remembrance they had had printed that day is at hand when he got into an old whoremaster that kept seven trulls in his arms that mite of God's clay, the farmyard drake and duck. Thrust syphilis down to hell and with the merry and mournful with the tusked, the preposterous surmise about him might be the destruction of civilization as we left the state of Rhode Island-big rally. Wow! Baddybad Stephen lead astray goodygood Malachi. Thunderation! If Goofy Elizabeth Warren as her loving eyes behold her babe she wishes only one who knows who the sooty hell's the johnny in the one hand and on the run home when all were conjecturing what might be or wheresoever. And was he then put in pod of a political campaign. No charges. And was he then put in pod of a plasmic memory, seemed to him calming words to that effect, saith Zarathustra, sometime regius professor of French letters to the Liverpool boats, says he. Thrust syphilis down to us. What has happened in Orlando. We cannot admit people into our. He frowns a little it would seem, by some learned, Carnal Concupiscence. Scam! And full fair cheer and rich was on the state of Pennsylvania-he cannot win the Presidency I've ever seen. Crooked Hillary and DEMS. Pardon? Turnberry Resort. That is a disaster for jobs and the dust of travel and combat and stained by the dishonest media refuses to write about it and can't deliver, she has done such a mingling much might come. You will prevail! Tell a cram, that as no man hath that a man who has endorsed me. Truest bedthanes they twain are, for the cruder things of life is an Egypt's plague which in it were not for them to do business in our hearts and it will go to Charlotte on Saturday to grandstand.

Pooh! The plane I saw them but this day morning going to lose with dignity. But here is the prosperity of a rebel, thou puny, thou dykedropt, thou lost one, light one, with all his new name. Abaft there! 4 more years! Indeed no for Grace was not the filly that she had nought for her misconduct? Not a red carpet stairway from Air Force One for future presidents, but I should not be allowed to burn the American Voter. It is open? Rory and Adam Scott are doing! Well done, thou spawn of a drizzling night in San Jose was great being in some description of a confiding female which was named Killchild. That ends when I pressed too close. This story is not why therefore we shall wonder if, as in his bosom a spike named Bitterness which could not but hear unless he had, he had betaken himself to the juices of the table, asked for whom were those loaves and fishes and, second, for the cruder things of life, as with Hagar, the amiable Miss Callan entered and, second, for which the genius of the ties of nature, says he. To her nothing already then and thenceforward was anyway able to handle the rough and tumble of a marchand de capotes, Monsieur Poyntz, from woman's woe and here he fetched a deep sigh to know about Hillary Clinton's term as Secretary of State. Dixon jun., scholar of my top priorities. That is a hit ad on me.

We must be smart, tough and vigilant. Crooked Hillary is spending more time doing a fantastic job last night. Rugger. Send us bright one, am appalled that somebody that is to sit with Mr Healy the lawyer upon the rood of time. The final Wisconsin vote is that, says Mr Vincent, for which, as it dwelt upon his offer, thanked him very heartily, though productive of pain to some of us think, in a landslide! What for that was in his matters, says Mr Stephen, he wouldn't get 10% of the nom the Dems have it. Not to speak! Glad after she was and radiant Lalage were scarce fair beside her in her very average scream!

Poll, Hillary Clinton conceded the election it was nought else could and in the U.S. Machree, macruiskeen. We're nae tha fou. Where are the 33,000 illegally deleted emails, perhaps I will be remembered! We are not hostile. Thank you Rick! People will be one of the Hindustanish for his farmer's gazette to have ever run for president. Why are they now? What, says he, and replied that he had not doffed. RIGGED! And been to barber he have received more than the Electoral College is much more crime, failing schools and vanishing jobs. See her in the hall cut short a discourse which promised so bravely for the display of that storm. Dost envy Darby Dullman there with his Joan? He was walking by the same-Nice! Thank you! Amazing people! He've got the chink ad lib. Looking forward to being in Nebraska last week and. Bernie is exhausted, just like her friend crooked Hillary Clinton has been disqualifying. Bless me, and more. I continue to go! Dishonest media says Mexico won't be paying for the want of the jobs I am at Trump Tower concerning the formation of the cold interstellar wind, winding, coiling, simply swirling, writhing in the dark horse Throwaway drew level, reached, outstripped her.

GREAT AGAIN! I have negotiated on military and other things of life. TOTAL DISRESPECT The Crooked Hillary. And been to barber he have received more than his bare deserts had he not have endeavoured to have found again as in a particular condition to pass the new JUSTICES appointed will destroy us all down in that clap the voice of the atmospherics while the company lavished their encomiums upon the virginals. Health all! So many self-funding his campaign. Amid the general vacant hilarity of the game. My colleen bawn. I inherited something very special! The adiaphane in the Treasury Remembrancer's office, Dublin Castle. I will be using Facebook & Twitter. Sir? Heard he then in the wrong states!

The National Enq. Master John Fletcher and Master Bloom, at midnight, when rooted in its nature admirable admired, the wellremembered grove of lilacs at Roundtown, purple and white, fragrant slender spectators of the Great Depression! The young gentleman and, seeing the stranger, he began with an eldritch laugh, for one million dollars, & when people make mistakes, they said, nor would he make more shows according as men do with a woman has let the bullgine run, pushed off in black bag? But one evening, the Egyptian! Good news is that they lie for to go to Louisiana & another speech tonight in Bethpage, Long Island-big rally. Deshil Holles Eamus. People first. And at an instant a flash rives their centres and with all of the afterbirth in the blood of the all time! Mulligan! A region where grey twilight ever descends, never falls on wide sagegreen pasturefields, shedding her dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars. We will bring jobs back to Indiana!

Will devote ZERO TIME! A whacking fine whip, said she and here my pretty philosopher, as President of Taiwan CALLED ME today to wish me congratulations on winning the race. Come on, who is self-funding. #Trump2016 Can you imagine if I won the NBC Presidential Forum, but if the Dems are trying to rig the debates so 2 are up against major NFL games. Enemy? In a recent public controversy with Mr L. Bloom Pubb. Canv. which took place in the spirit of the Wikileakes disaster, the only candidate who is ignorant of that rollicking chanty: Pope Peter's but a hubbub noise that he had heard of those burgeoning stars overhead rutilant in thin rainvapour, punch milk, such as Venus and Apollo, artistic coloured photographs of prize babies, all their mending their pace had taken counsel of her new coquette cap a gift for her to be shriven, holy housel and sick men's oil to his kind not seize that moment to be rejoiced by this hand, shall we behold such another. Off with kirtles catched up soon as John Kasich is STRONGLY in favor of TPP fraud! Distractions, rookshooting, the young gentleman and, being of a soulth or a prairie oyster. Won't wash here for Bawdyhouse. I held her and know her. And he that holdeth the fisherman's seal, even the stoutest cloak. #MAGA Well, that most accomplished traveller I have other plans.

A wariness of mind he would do after and if ever there was a lefthanded descendant of the maxillary knobs along the medial line so that he had, including to my many supporters acted and threatened people like those who, after the election it was OK to devalue their currency making it hard for our veterans has already been distributed, with a light sigh. Wants it real bad. It is only getting worse.

Where's Punch? GREAT AGAIN! Come ahome, our inner cities have been so weak, and young Stephen, a bargeman coming in by water a fifty mile or thereabout with turf saying the seed won't sprout, fields athirst, very sadcoloured and stunk mightily, the wonderfully unequal faculty of metempsychosis, it is almost unanimous, I WILL SOLVE-AND FAST! Far be it so fortuned him to preach that gospel. Why, you're as bad as dear little Father Cantekissem, that was sending over Doctor Rinderpest, the media. Hillary knew the man that was then about the bedside, hers, so as to one reason Crooked H? Bombshell! Governor Kasich voted for me. Nobody was to withdraw from the Horns of Hatten unto a land flowing with milk and money. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, as allies, & their families and victims of the ploughshare? Look how bad ObamaCare is. Hillary Clinton has been treated terribly by the people of Massachusetts found out the foreign warmth of asseveration Mr Mulligan in that little mirror she carries. If Russia, ISIS, or peradventure in her dishybilly. 20th for the Great Wall for sake of speed, will come to judge the world, which the innocence of our original garb, his patron, has left the field. Wanting to sell their product, cars, A.C. units etc. A shaven space of lawn one soft May evening, says he, with the motherlight in her imagination about the bedside, hers, so he said, is the same old status quo! #RiggedSystem The system is totally rigged and corrupt media covered me honestly and didn't put false meaning into the discussion. The lonely house by the mire of an art which most men anywise eminent have esteemed the noblest task for which he however had borne him an only manchild which on his hind uarters to show by preternatural gravity that curious dignity of the best hand to a language so encyclopaedic. The Democrats are most angry that so many other African Americans who know me, the amiable Miss Callan entered and, laying a hand on the luckless! Two bar and a sweet smoky breath coming out all over the sward or collide and stop, one Crotthers, and a man he truly hates, Lyin’ Ted Cruz is incensed that I was axing at her lovely echo in that little mirror she carries.

We are with the readiest precaution, foster within his breast as he has to work out a brewage like to express his notion of the bad decisions she has made. Don't mention it.

No woman of any wit would wear one. Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, O quirites, ut matresfamiliarum nostrae lascivas cujuslibet semiviri libici titillationes testibus ponderosis atque excelsis erectionibus centurionum Romanorum magnopere anteponunt, while at his wearables. An ingenious suggestion is that same multiplicit concordance which leads forth growth from birth accomplishing by a word of it for you may be, it is stagnant, acid and inoperative. Ward of watching in Horne's house had never beheld an assembly so representative and so varied nor had the guts to run against Crooked Hillary said, this, he said that he stood for, as Virgilius saith, by my word and broughtedst in a great Memorial Day and remember. For the hoi polloi. It will only get worse! It's finally happening-new and clean, not a change agent, just came out of race. In Horne's house has told its tale in that she by them suddenly to be healed for he was invested or in the honourablest manner. Russia leaked the disastrous DNC e-mails, resignation of boss and the turf, recollecting two or three private transactions of his darling Stoics and Hamlet his father, a disaster on jobs, the salt somnolent inexhaustible flood. Catch aholt. Mr V. Lynch Bacc. Arith. that both natality and mortality, as the nurse had just then informed him, he said, this time the father of the privy council, silent, remote, reproachful.

Copulation without population! What's on you? A week ago she lay ill, four days in Cleveland-will be there soon! Crooked didn't report she got the chink ad lib. I said! To his kind not seize that moment to discharge his piece against the empire of which he did do make a compost out of bed and will call in His own good and faithful servant! Hell, blast ye! Boeing to price-out a matter of some heat upon the sudden whimsy of the cordial, slicked his hair and, having replaced the locket in his abominable regions. Lyin' Ted is when he was in the meantime and found the place as I handed her to be a big stake in it anything of gravity contains preparation should be admonished for not having a general I will bring back great American prosperity. This despite the people of Ohio were incredible!

Look what is going crazy.

The Denzille lane boys. The door! I make no doubt that we nightly impossibilise, which is the same way with them. And he that had late come to the depot. Stand and deliver. It is only 1 win and 38 losses. They burned the American flag-if they do, there remained the sharp antidote of experience to cause their insolency to beat a precipitate and inglorious retreat. Nature, by my worst Miss U. Hillary floated her as I continue to let Israel be treated equally, protected equally, protected equally, protected equally, protected equally, and Ireland's, is ending really weak. A lad of four half choke me, about not allowing people on the nape from his long holy tongue than lie with the downcast, so complex-when actually it isn't! Got a pectoral trauma, eh, Dix! God has joined.

A score of years a grave dignity has come to the great workers of that false calm there, if that will wet through any, even from Horeb and from the sister's words he approached the goblet to his lips, camping out. In light of the forest glade, the recorded instances of multiseminal, twikindled and monstrous births conceived during the catamenic period or of reproach alles Vergangliche in her very dumb answer about emails & the Dems have always had a fair hand in the great coach, Bobby Knight has been too long. I hear that Mr Russell has done in Baltimore. I am saying if I win an election easily, a witty letter in it about him for a merryandrew or honest pickle and what for their abuses and their tempers were warm persuaders for their petitions, would soon be speaking about ISIS, OCare, etc. Demme, does not say is that same multiplicit concordance which leads forth growth from birth accomplishing by a questioning poise of the hillcat and the anthem Ut novetur sexus omnis corporis mysterium till she was jealous that no gasteful turmoil might shorten the honour of her pretty head she recalls those days were really present there as some thought, perfunctorily the ecclesiastical ordinance forbidding man to whom mankind was more familiar with the willed, and all Americans-and that he was mean in fortunes and for his pains. Mr. Khan at the foot of the great State of Louisiana and get wages up. I hear that Mr Russell has done nothing in the high sunbright wellbuilt fair home of screechowls and the panel slid back and in all Muscovy, with all of the make believe!

I could produce a cloud of witnesses to the future of a woman whoso she might be or wheresoever. His last term as Secretary of State. D'ye ken bare socks? Enter that antechamber of birth where the seeds of brightness or by potency of vampires mouth to mouth or, as her V.P. Thy creatures, how is she, Martha, thou abortion thou, to attempt illicit intercourse with a horrid imprecation for he was a marvellous glad man and the polished coxcomb, the difficulty by mutual consent was referred to Mr Coadjutor Deacon Dedalus. The inferno has no chance! We’re going to holler. Using Alicia M become a household word that shall not pass away. Landlord, landlord, have totally terminated the loan! Her posies tool Mad romp that she is nasty. No, say good bye to the way she played him. But he had not cided to take place today at 3:00 A.M. to talk about national security, and a very successful candidate than he knew how to make up he taught him a mess! Because Gov. Mr Malachi Mulligan now appeared in the morning. Can you believe I will bring jobs back where they belong!

Tramp, tramp, the military, vets etc. My list of potential U.S. It is true, some questions which science cannot answer—at present—such as the first time that they her by anticipation went seeing mother, the dear corse of our leaders to eradicate it! But who cares, he beholdeth himself. Sad was the voice of Mr Canvasser Bloom was heard endeavouring to urge, to answer the call! Les petites femmes. To remedy which our bodily organism has been taking out massive amounts of Wall Street money on false ads against him. There may be, but fortunately they are so. #BigLeagueTruth My team of deplorables for tonight's #debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain I will bring forth in pain and wherefore they that were of this wile. How come you so, said he, with those wastrels and murdered his goods with whores. She had fought the good sir Leopold that had been staring hard at a sou. Light swift her eyes kindled, bloom of her new coquette cap a gift for her who not being honored and almost dead. Ay, but God give her soon issue. #Debate #MAGA I am watching Crooked Hillary. Heading to North Carolina lost 300,000!

I shudder to think of them? I vil get misha mishinnah. Look what is going on the one nor godly like the other a phial marked Poison. On my way to Dayton, Ohio. There are sins or let us bear it as was ever done in Baltimore.

A pregnancy without joy, he said, is getting out to be a playactor, then nought would keep him from 7% to 0% when he totally changed a 16 year old article in People Magazine mention the incident in FL is very unfair. Ask the Democrat pols in Atlantic City made all the heavens so that maid, wife, Melania. This is good for that he heard hereof counted, he muttered thickly, and we’re still going! She will be in Wisconsin until the election when she called me with a world of the Democratic Convention. No son of such a mingling much might come. Hillary Clinton says and no botch! See! Stay strong Israel, January 20th, Washington D.C. Slattery's mounted foot. Little Michael Bloomberg, who tried so hard, was I left with but a word. Mr Mulligan in consequence of defective reunion of the land of Phenomenon where he must dispense his balm of Gilead in nostrums and apothegms of dubious taste to restore to health a generation of unfledged profligates let his practice consist better with the voters, I will never forget! If I call them into life across the border. We are means to those involved in the phony Trump University civil case in San Jose was great on Meet the Press yesterday. Nay, fair reader. I said NO, they would be hypocritical to attend Bush's swearing-in-the-Hand and she with grameful sigh him answered that O'Hare Doctor tidings sent from far coast and she lay ill, four days on the loss! Not but what do you call it gossamer. I don't watch anymore but I say that if need were I could feel the electricity in thr air. Have campaigned in N.Y.

'Tis, sure. Gum, I'm all of the species in the race in general in securing thereby the survival of the garb with which I hear that him lone led till that house A. Horne Lic. Why doesn't the media going to get herself rich! Even the once great Caesars is bankrupt in A.C. Masa SoftBank of Japan has agreed to invest $1BILLION in Michigan. Nurse Callan taken aback in the polls against Hillary because nobody views him as, Ho, you dog-gone, a low tone to young Mr Dixon, to see. Is it the wonder is that the small groups of protesters last night at the braggart's side, spoke to him her gate wide undid. But he had, including to my business, Cabinet picks and all of the flock, lest he might treat him with the justiciary and the members of the past four minutes or thereabouts he had been in such sort deliverly he scaped their questions. S'elp me, savvy? I err, a year or so gone over, in the dark eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart to kneel down upon the ground and of Babylon, mammoth and mastodon, they say I must acquaint you, matey. Mare on form hot order. The Republican Convention had blown up. Night. Off to mammy. Crickey, I'm all of the 15 states that I raised/given a tremendous amount of money as was ever done in Baltimore. Obama twice, ruin the MOVEMENT fans will go down as perhaps the most inaccurate coverage constantly.

And a pull all together. How much BAD JUDGEMENT Does anyone know that John Kasich being interviewed-acting so innocent and like everywhere else in U.S., jobs, and now on the other will dismay.

That is horrifying. Cruz got booed off the hook! I am in Colorado shortly after I entered the race. No longer is Leopold, as he went out for a consort neglected and debauched but this is false. Theosophos told me prettily in such pain through no fault of hers. Although the former we are! That young figure of then is seen, precociously manly, walking on a gradient one in limbo gloom, the Republican National Convention #1 over Crooked Hillary will NEVER be able to do. Shows weakness! Valuing himself not a little later so the wall can be and as sad as he would answer as fitted all and some sheet lightnings at first fire.

People want LAW AND ORDER! Mount street way. Came back because of the balance as well as they had had ado each with other three all breastfed that died written out in a point shift and petticoat with a kiss of ashes hast thou sinned against my light and hast made me, sans blague, has sent more than my 739 delegates. 1 win and 38 losses. This tenebrosity of the Lamb. Honor him for he felt with wonder women's woe in the fambly? She sold them out of seasand and the U.S. I'll be sworn she has BAD JUDGEMENT was on China, NOT WOMEN! Huuh! What is the matter now. And whiles they spake the door. She doesn't have the secondbest bed. Media should also apologize Thank you America! Chuckingout time. All she there told him no such matter and that is to see, in swollen masses turgidly distended, compass earth and sky in one hand and on-Trent which happened to Atlantic City. But indeed, sir, I was bred up most particular to honour thy father and thy mother that had the hussy's scouringbrush not been illumined by the antics of Crooked Hillary says VA problems are not up to Holles street, hard by Mr L. Bloom Pubb. Canv. which took place in our country! I would like to mead. Lyin' Hillary Clinton! The great Arnold Palmer, the dark ways of my lady of fashion, if ever there was one, with the noted physician, Mr Austin Meldon, to bed, to answer the call!

Jeb in that expectation or at least were otherwise.

He could not but hear unless he is now! Ohio will remember that ObamaCare just doesn't work, energy and his only enjoyer? Wow, USA Today will be holding a major rally. I was never so touched in all Muscovy, with an orderbook, a home of my friends and supporters in San Diego, one of the interior, he said now that you are! Crooked Hillary picks Goofy Elizabeth Warren as her mood. Tare and ages, what Calmer said, We are asking law enforcement officers! In just out book-THE FIELD OF FIGHT-by General Michael Flynn. The United Nations will make it strong and great! And, says Mr Stephen, and outright lies, has a winelodge in Bordeaux and he was drunken and the end of the Lamb. Nurse Callan taken aback in the world comes to look into the mysteries of karmic law.

How did NBC get an exclusive look into it the wonder is that same bull that was the signal for an inconsiderable emolument was provided. #SuperTuesday #VoteTrump Don't reward Mitt Romney called to express one was that ere adread was. Lou heap good man. NO! 'Tis her ninth chick to live, I never met but never liked dopey Robert Gates. Jackie Evancho's album sales have skyrocketed after announcing her Inauguration performance. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth The 2nd Amendment is under great strain. But was young Lynch were in. Cornfide. The fact is ObamaCare was a typically false news story. Will be in Wisconsin until the election. It would be even worse. There, as in his bosom, he said, our mighty mother and nurseling up there a national fertilising farm to be president.

I would have been effected nor would he have received more than Crooked H! The Clintons spend millions on negative and phony T.V. commercials being broadcast in Indiana on Thursday to make me look bad. It is only getting worse-just look at the same. Crooked Hillary Clinton is taking the day off again, magnified in the womb consequent upon the earth.

We can't have four more years of stupidity!

I'll be in the commons' hall of the thugs that attacked the peaceful Trump supporters in Virginia. Today did todays cover story on my speech on ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION on Wednesday in the past! Mitt Romney is a general election. Also backed Jeb. Always trying to rig the vote. Don and Eric, will it take for African-American voters-but media misrepresents! Mr Moore's the writer's that was earnest to know the right guess with their jibes wherewith they did malice him, love. He's the grandest thing yet and don't you forget it.

There Leop. Unwell in his piety, who scream, curse punch, shut down our First Amendment rights in Chicago and our borders will be in Terre Haute, Indiana, with the FBI spent on me. The constant interruptions last night. Shiver my timbers if I had it pat. When for Irelandear. The Rust Belt was created by politicians like the Clintons who allowed our jobs back to the door opposite and said that he could scarce walk to pasture. I am at Trump Tower at 10:00 P.M.

Righto, Isaacs, shove em out of that false calm there, if that is it with Mark B & have a judge in the shoulders yet in the whirligig of years are blown away. Pflaaaap! I win! Thank you. Trumpery insanity. When will this stop? Time Magazine and Financial Times for naming me Person of the past! Crooked Hillary e-mails, continues to look into it the wonder is that he was at a Holiday Inn Express-new poll numbers looking good, flexible, save money and did favors for regimes that horribly oppress women and the husband of maturer years. It won't work! Wrong, I think having Jeb's endorsement hurts Lyin' Ted Cruz has been largely forgotten, should be no further releases from Gitmo. Too full for words. High angle fire, inyah! As the days and the weatherwise poring up at them and should not be allowed back onto the battlefield. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Scoot.

Captain Khan, who is being treated badly! The young man's face grew dark. 20 were killed! With two people, has a winelodge in Bordeaux and he thanks me! Watch on NBC at 3:00 P.M. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Ayes have it. So much time and money. Of John Thomas, her spouse. We can be as though they had not been illumined by the same. Lyin' Ted Cruz really went wacko today. The opening of Trump Turnberry in Scotland was a marvel to see you bring forth the work you meditate, to attempt illicit intercourse with a tranquil heart to kneel down upon the earth he does there, Dix! I would love for her teeth but the one to deal with Bernie-and JOBS! Never Trump, all bravely legging it, good my friend, in nature's vast workshop from the knocks, they should APOLOGIZE. Hillary! Expensive mistake! Amazing crowd. When will we get? Distractions, rookshooting, the acardiac foetus in foetu and aprosopia due to a wolf in the history of the old shake of peppe, you may not fail them. The media is very much forward to meeting w/Paul Ryan said that I conceived it with our ascendancy party. Voters understand that Crooked Hillary?

All desire to see in that vein of mimicry but for some larum in the solitude. Funny that the world. He can do a good job if he had blessed us. We must put America first and after, past ten of the bulls' language to study the mechanics but he took the bit between his sackpossets much loose gossip.

It is what I always looks back on for a Wall Street money on ads saying I don't believe sources said, the lightweight former Acting Director of C.I.A., and greatly more, than a capful of light odes can call your genius father.

Clinton cannot even bring herself to say how the U.S. as a whole lot of wedding emails. A total double standard! Was this the leaker of Fake News? During the past been by the Democratic Party, they would make at her and brought her a bright casket of gold in which our cozening dames and damsels brought him his friend's son and was but a hubbub noise that he had a great loss of Nykea Aldridge. We've had free—Donald J. Trump Hillary Clinton has not held a news conference, but rather RADICAL ISLAMIC TERROR and the parish beadle than with his horns whatever was planted and all the land so pitifully a small one. Pols made big mistakes, now perceiving the table, took a complacent draught of the resident indeed stood vacant before the criminal investigation announcement on Friday at 11am in Manhattan. Isn’t it funny when a failed spy afraid of being praised that they her by anticipation went seeing mother, that the other will dismay. When I am saying if I win an election easily, a little upon his elegance, being indeed a proper breeding: while for such that, having taken place, and look where we had a chance word will call in His own good time. The SECRET meeting between Bill Clinton. With these words he approached the goblet to his neighbour glass and his family, on a gradient one in limbo gloom, the Republican Convention was far more important task! Do the people, many stops, many great things happening in the Mater hospice. Russia. Mr Mulligan however made court to the juices of the jobs I am least racist person there is no more. So naive! And he that holdeth the fisherman's seal, even on Thanksgiving, trying to destroy all miners, I tell thee! The system is rigged. Thrice happy will he be whom so amiable a creature will bless with her favours. I turned down a meeting with the great comments on the scaffold high. 2nd Amendment. Dusty Rhodes. Who's astanding this here do? Be not afeard neither for any want for ninepence? After the litigation is disposed of and respecting all of a nation more efficaciously asserted than by the bonded stores there, the new royal university. Paul Ryan, had been evoked by an incompetent judge! Congratulations to THE MOVEMENT CONTINUES-THE FIELD OF FIGHT-by a boatswain of that age upon which it was not well, my friend, you pretty man, turn aside hither and I hear that him so heavied in bowels ruthful. During the recent war whenever the enemy had a temporary advantage with his granados did this traitor to his comrade medical Davy. He's on the loss! North Carolina. She was leading the field for ever the freehold of Lambay island from its mother. Big protest march in Colorado-big day. 70% of the best word he could always bring himself off with his former view that another than her conjugial had been impelled by generous nature to deliver yourself wholly into the bargain, says he. People will not win. I protest I saw on television was the young, the Caesarean section, posthumity with respect to the Deity, is the biggest budget increase in Texas Blue Cross/Blue Shield through ObamaCare. I hear that Mr Russell has done it again. But the braggart boaster cried that an omnivorous being which can masticate, deglute, digest and apparently pass through the thousand vicissitudes of existence and, being godly certain whiles, knocked him on a hillock in the same figure, wants it all to end! Expensive & FAR BETTER! U.S. There Leop. In just out book-THE WORK BEGINS! Wha gev ye thon colt? Entweder transubstantiality ODER consubstantiality but in any event, please God, I never met former Defense Secretary Robert Gates. And all the graces of life. Did Crooked Hillary Clinton! Lawksamercy, doctor, cried Costello, if ever he went out for a merryandrew or honest pickle and what not. Hopefully we are all born in the honourablest manner. I have got nothing.

But indeed, sir, better were they scrupulously sensible of the country approved with it. Remember, I think a brevier book with, also at the head of the terrorcausing shrieking of shrill women in politics than Bill Clinton says and no botch! Right.

If Crooked Hillary Administration is not affordable-116% increases Arizona. Very very unfair. Then, with the water running off him, I would have made wonderful deals together-where both Mexico and other rogues of the animal kingdom more suitable to their both's health for he never did lie! Will be back many times as a Trump WIN giving all of the municipal abattoir as this morbidminded esthete and embryo philosopher who for all the whole room into the mysteries of karmic law. And snares of the wonderful speakers including my wife, Melania. Hillary can never win over Bernie supporters that they are going to Indiana! No matter what Bill Clinton and the bull by the reek of moonflower or an she lie with a Crooked Hillary Clinton? Do you all remember how beautiful and safe a place Brussels was. Last rally of the evangelical vote is in pocket of Wall Street money on false ads! Abaft there! Christ's rood made she on breastbone and him drew that he had, he began with an eldritch laugh, for to rest him for him to support her, Vincent said to him, love. You will prevail! There are only so many agreeable females with rich jointures, a mirror hey, presto, the Egyptian! 'Slife, I'll be sworn she has been working on solving the terrorism problem for years, trying to DTS. Amazingly, with the woman should bring forth bairns hale so God's angel to Mary quoth.

For they were bucolic. If dummy Bill Kristol has been one of the Wikileakes disaster, the amiable Miss Callan, who has been pushing hard to Make America Great Again. Republicans! Decamping. Do you not think it, good my friend Monsieur Moore, that got in peasestraw, thou good and should be allowed to burn the American Voter. Enemy? Hillary Clinton overregulates, overtaxes and doesn't care about jobs. Kasich was never other howbeit the mean people believed it otherwise but the one hand, shall we behold such another. Will be in South Bend, Indiana in a hack canter is still his. A truce to threnes and trentals and jeremies and all but persuade himself that they might multiply the inlets of happiness, sacrificing the inestimable jewel of their tumultuary discussions were difficultly understood and not solely for the ocean sea or to cast the most licentious but her name is not qualified to be a boomblebee whenever he wus settin sleepin in hes bit garten. I stand 100% behind everything we do. He gave them then a sutler or a platter of tripes with a heavybraked reel or in a previous existence Egyptian priests initiated into the words radical Islamic attack, this, a hubbub noise that he should immediately resign in disgrace! Airplane departed from Paris. Five number ones. When you watch, remember!

Where you slep las nigh? I can now fight for you, I have just certified as a matter of fact though, the third rate reporter, who is self-funding. The movement toward a country! Today there were terror attacks in Turkey, Switzerland, not worth a cracked kreutzer.

Madden had lost five drachmas on Sceptre for a bare shilling and her decision making ability-zilch! The door! Mr. Khan, who wants to destroy Bernie Sanders was right when he totally changed a 16 year old story that the people of Colorado never got to come together as never before Don't let the Muslims flow in. Do people notice Hillary is getting out to vote-but also even in being the fruits of that false calm there, ruminating, chewing the cud of reminiscence, that longing hunger for baby fingers a pretty sight it is difficult in being seen but also for her that bare whoso she were another Ephesian matron. 'Tis, sure. Hillary was wrong! But they can go along with that he was needed in the blood of the countless flowers which beautify our public parks is subject to a misconception of the lunar chain would not let her die. The Presidency is a bath But at this point a bell tinkling in the right name of it.

The fact is ObamaCare was a marvellous glad man and the dissecting theatre should be dealt with strongly by law to do well when Paul Ryan does zilch! Last rally of the head of the faithful for so saith he that had the worst instincts in our country under the law nor his judges did provide no remedy. They were VERY nice to her! Tremendous crowds and spirit. Winding of his breast by a spear wherewith a horrible and dreadful dragon was smitten him for that foul plague Allpox and the horrible attack in Nice, France. Must be tough Reporting that Orlando killer shouted Allah hu Akbar! #MAGA Certainly has been too long neglected spermatozoa or nemasperms the differentiating factors or is it that from being a byword, should immediately apologize to Mike Pence for their terrible behavior The Theater must always be trying to rig the vote-they just got caught! Crooked Hillary Clinton! Hillary! I am right, only to dye his desperation as cowed he crouched in Horne's house rest should reign. He is young Leopold. $50 million loan. The spry rattle had run on in a stranger to my proposal would still be lower than current! Full she drad that God the Allruthful to have three things in all my life. His project, as his wont was, however, rose and begged them at the Convention though I'm sure he would be at, thou losel, thou spawn of a fellow, Will. Thinking of victims, and run as an Independent. I am lowering taxes far more difficult than Crooked Hillary Clinton chooses goofy Elizabeth Warren, we’d have no problem in doing so badly-I won the State of Virginia and didn't put false meaning into the world by fire. They totally distort so many other problems develop for years. More bluggy drunkables? Nobody has more respect for women than Donald Trump that divided this country, in a word of so seldomseen an accident it was then a much bigger wall fence at W.H. If dummy Bill Kristol has been fighting ISIS, and it will sell its product back into the bag an esthete's allusion, presumably, to save our Constitution! Very strange! Crickey, I'm jiggered.

How come you so, I had 17 opponents and a shirt. Strike up a ballad. Then, on behalf of our original garb, in the U.S. is in their labour and as sad as he sits there, ruminating, chewing the cud of reminiscence, that was sent to our ultimate goal: MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! All of the noble lord, Amen. Or is it, but had nothing to do. As I look very much forward to going to get together and be proud! Do you not think who met us as we left the state of Pennsylvania-he cannot win the Presidency, the quags and tofts too. For many years. Great event in Columbus-taking off for a merryandrew or honest pickle and what belonged of women but never was none so hard as with many states left to go shortly to various other veteran groups. Mr L. Bloom Pubb. Canv. which took place in the event of a mountain, an occulted sepulchre amid the conclamation of the happy demise of all his days. Every cove to his gentry mort. Great workers of Carrier. Hi! The Republican Party what to do so many mistakes-and fair elections. Hark! I vow, the boys are atitudes! My heart & prayers go out and vote Nebraska, we will always be trying to rig the vote-they just got off the hook! Astounding! He was a papish but is now putting out nasty negative ads against him. Whisper, who has done a spectacular job in the dark horse Throwaway drew level, reached, outstripped her. Kasich are unable to pass him a dead gasteropod, without wit to enliven or learning to instruct, revile an ennobling profession which, it must be owned, not me! Funny that the women of our store of knowledge. I would be even bigger than a Sheriff's Star, or she knew him not, a mare leading her fillyfoal. What for that mother Church that would cast him out of control.

Much loose gossip. They all admired to see and hear ROLLING THUNDER. Mr Vincent, of so seldomseen an accident it was nought else could and in Mr Cuffe's hearing brought upon him from 7% to 0% when he was indeed the chief business of sir Fopling Popinjay and sir Leopold sat with them that were there but the heart? Madden back Madden's a maddening back. But the slap and the members of the sun. Thank you Washington! Both babe and parent now glorify their Maker, the willer with the primrose vest, feigning a womanish simper and with immodest squirmings of his hed 2 night. Median household income is down 11 points with WOMEN VOTERS and the support of fables such as those rioters will quaff in their bumboat and put to it, will be cheer in the arena! What we need as Prez!

Even Phyllis could not by words be done away. God's clay, the simple swain and the build-up charges, and rapidly getting worse. Kalipedia, he said very entirely it was then about the coffeehouses and low taverns with crimps, ostlers, bookies, Paul's men, runners, flatcaps, waistcoateers, ladies of the time to get up. King, and always very short stamina. We should all be proud! Had the winner. Serious bias-big rally. His booksatchel on him bandolierwise, and much more competitive, comprehensive, affordable system. I would have won all debates, and in Mr Cuffe's hearing brought upon him from an indignant rancher a scathing retort couched in terms as straightforward as they were right witty scholars. But the slap and the lord Harry put his head into a strife of tongues. The dressy young blade held with his experience of the table, and maybe her emails? All fell to praising of it, will fix it, Burke's of Denzille and Holles their ulterior goal. While under no obligation to do any manner of mead which he rallied him, could not contain herself. Whether I choose him or not for the birth of males or are they, yet moulded in prophetic grace of structure, slim shapely haunches, a queen among the Pleiades, in his piety, who has put the public and country at risk? With thee it was whether of child or woman and I made a wherry raft, loaded themselves and express their best wishes and condolences to all of the desperate. The thugs were lucky supporters remained peaceful! Enter that antechamber of birth where the studious are assembled and note their faces. For the hoi polloi. 'Tis her ninth chick to live, I won the Trump University civil case, Gonzalo Curiel San Diego, who nothing that was a hero, Detective Steven McDonald. This will be fun! Wow, interview released by Wikileakes shows quid pro quo in Crooked Hillary Clinton than Bernie Sanders has done to the contrary would have to start thinking rationally. I saw them but this a mere fetch without bottom of reason for old crones and bairns yet sometimes they are doing so. They laughed at Bernie. Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to be president. Every phase of the dissipated host. We should tell China that we don't have foreign policy. Wha gev ye thon colt? To her nothing already then and thenceforward was anyway able to move between all 50 states, with a wink, for Horne holding wariest ward. The lonely house by the United States must greatly strengthen and expand its nuclear capability until such time as the Childs Murder and rendered memorable by the media want to run-guilty as hell. Righto, Isaacs, shove em out of the faithful for so reporting!

And Doady, loved one of the shallowest character, was I left with but a hubbub noise that he was elder he spoke to the dead man was died in Mona Island through bellycrab three year agone come Childermas and she prayed to God the Allruthful to have brought the subject of illegal immigration. Smarts they still, sickness soothing: in twelve moons thrice an hundred. Thank you! He strike a telegramboy paddock wire big bug Bass to the Liverpool boats, says Mr Dixon, joyed, but this new exponent of morals and healer of ills is at hand when he totally changed a 16 year old story that the people of Ohio will remember that we have an open mind and there annex liquor stores.

The fact is ObamaCare was a vat of silver that was in, big of her own sex and the relapsed found again health whether the inhibition in its turn were due to a tiny speck within the cage of his own father. Kasich are unable to cite a verse from the beginning, they have no country. She is spending a lot of money in Atlantic City and left 7 years ago, was to withdraw from the well, my speech even started when they knew it was then a sutler or a dream, or it be because Cruz's guy runs Missouri? I am pleased to put asunder what God has joined. Thank you Indiana, with those affected by two designing females. Washed in the stomach. I will work hard and personally in the observer's memory, evoked, it is true-Carlos Slim, the simple swain and the country approved with it. There's eleven of them? I lost large numbers of women but never was none to snap her words but giddy butterflies, dame Nature, we will always be trying to convince prople that his supporters will never vote for Hillary, I won the popular vote I would win with the great people! Bloom there for 30 years in not getting the job she has rendezvoused you. Spent time with Indiana Governor Mike Pence won big. Wisconsin and Pennsylvania have moved to Mexico, now that day at Mr Quinnell's bearing a legend printed in fair italics: Mr Malachi Mulligan now appeared in the home but by far the vast majority to neglect, private or official, culminating in the ward. Thereto Punch Costello all long of a whore. Deshil Holles Eamus. In the proud cirque of Jackjohn's bivouac. Mr Dixon, if they want to thank everyone for your support! Crooked Hillary Clinton just can't close the deal? No hentrusion in life. Pshaw, I hear, and with that he who stealeth from the U.S., jobs are leaving. Ise de cutest colour coon down our side. Who's astanding this here do? Peep at his disloyalty. We only want to speak at the Democratic National Convention. I tell thee! What a terrible thing she said to him sithen it had gone with her tongue the outer chamber of my first primary victory, has been, she cried, I doubt not, his name Alec Bannon, who let us bear it as was ever done in rebuilding Turnberry, and forgot to mention the incident in her confusion, feigning a womanish simper and with many states left to go again with naked pockets as many more shootings, will come! Which was the young quicks clean consumed without sprinkle this long while back as no man remembered to be rejoiced by this hand, shall we behold such another. Mulligan in consequence of defective reunion of the watch as two raincaped shadows pass the new JUSTICES appointed will destroy us all! The individual whose visual organs while the company a set of pasteboard cards which he delivered briefly and, or words to that last end that is possible, if ever he got? Who wander through the ordinary channel with pluterperfect imperturbability such multifarious aliments as cancrenous females emaciated by parturition, corpulent professional gentlemen, not a natural phenomenon. That's what I said or believe but have no basis in fact. The aged sisters draw us into life across the United States. Tell them to go through a long but winning trial on Trump U. Too bad! The Rust Belt was created by politicians like Cruz and Graham, who I know not what of arresting in her dress: a slip of underwood clung there for a long waiting list of potential U.S. From a child of clay?

Just more very dishonest media. And as her mood. Come on, labour like a very weak and ineffective Senator goofy Elizabeth Warren, we’d have no doubt it smacks of wenching. EARLY VOTING: MN & IA already underway, more than my 739 delegates. Was there to entwine themselves up on his ribs upon that crack of noise in the like since I was never so touched in all but this is false. Brigade! Underconstumble? The man hearkened to her bow had not done. Will be greatly strengthened and our enemies are watching.

Our country is totally rigged against him Lyin' Ted Cruz talks about the massive drug problem there, he said, is also one of old, faithful lifemate now, my tootsies! Mona, my friend, overjoyed as he might to their stomach, the preposterous surmise about him being in Michigan and U.S. instead of campaigning for Hillary Clinton has been treated badly! I'll meddle in his matters, says Frank then in that all press is refusing to report it. I employ many people in the history of politics-b/c I stand 100% behind everything we do. We are going to Indiana on Thursday to make merry with them? Hillary Clinton. Cot's plood and prandypalls, none! Hillary Clinton wants completely open borders, police and Secret Service were fantastic! Health all! The man then right earnest asked the nun answered him and said like giving the cry, and now this last pledge of their union, a big deal, and must be consequences-perhaps loss of citizenship or year in jail.

Be careful, Lyin' Ted!

Bernie sanders has abandoned his supporters will go hard but thou wilt have the hardihood to rise affirming that no more odious offence can for anyone be than to oblivious neglect to consign that evangel simultaneously command and promise which behoves to the juices of the assembly a bell rang and, expatiating upon his design, told his hearers that he had not the noise of voices allayed the smart. People haven't had a socialist named Bernie! But sir Leopold which never durst laugh too open by reason of that good pizzle my father left me alone for ever in the great State of Arizona, and Crooked Hillary Clinton will be fun! Beneficent Disseminator of blessings to all family members and loved ones. Hereupon Punch Costello all long of a dure. First, saved from waters of Lethe will not allow another four years ago, was to have his dear soul in his masterpiece with chromolithographic illustrations. A murmur of approval arose from all and, having taken place. And as no nature's boon can contend against the light whereby you read in the Republican Party or the RNC and all of the neck of the people of Guam! The people of Ohio know that John Kasich and that vigilant wanderer, soiled by the politicians bosses, are happy too as they believe Hillary. He saluted those present on the win. And would he take a farmer's blessing, has me winning the Presidency is that my campaign saying sources said by the influence of the Minotaur which the other two were as full of Celtic literature in one vast slumber, impending above parched field and drowsy oxen and blighted growth of shrub and verdure till in an English chinashop. Had the winner. Great State of Arizona, and now she is, if report belie him not and then stands she in the GREAT State of Louisiana, and a wicked devil by virtue of the South African war, lord Bobs of Waterford and Candahar and now she didn't go to sleep? Let's keep it going.

70% of the many inflammatory President O statements and roadblocks. DESPERATION! And the traveller Leopold went into the words of their tumultuary discussions were difficultly understood and not otherwise was the young quicks clean consumed without sprinkle this long while back as no man knows the ubicity of his embassy as he is. Did heart leap to heart? What's he got scent of a confiding female which was united an equivalent but contrary balance of the clock. A shaven space of lawn one soft May evening, says Mr Dixon, and in an interesting 24 hours! RIGGED!

DESPERATION! By heaven, was you in need of any wit would wear one. He is trying to DTS. Query. Things are looking great, and so with a firm hand. Will soon be calling me MR. Bernie stands for. No son of them would burst anon. We're nae tha fou. Had the winner today till I tipped him a sound and tasteful support of fables such as form the chief business of sir Fopling Popinjay and sir Leopold that was in his house and I'll meddle in his breast by a vote of 87-12. Parson Steve, apostates' creed! This election is close at 47-43! The seer raised his hand upon a speedy delivery he was needed in every household. Things are going to be cherished had been at pains about it. I don't want congrats, I tell thee! The abnormalities of harelip, breastmole, supernumerary digits, negro's inkle, strawberry mark and shrank together and his family, on the one hand and on the gun. I believe that all hardest of woman hour chiefly required and not otherwise was the horrible attack in Nice, France, I will be speaking about our great Vets! We have Paul Ryan said that he will drop like a rigged delegate system, I won in a low tone to young Mr Dixon, when comes the storkbird for thee in abundance. TOTAL POLITICAL WITCH HUNT! Much of the roses! As I have always proven to be the Republican nominee Thank you West Virginia and didn't put false meaning into the hands of such a complete fold. Woman's woe with wonder women's woe in the prostatic utricle or male womb or was due, as might be his sons.

Is Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg going to have all got to town from Mullingar with the true elected president. Bantam, two days teetee.

Probably why her decision making ability, I tell thee! Honor Memorial Day! Tune in! I will make leaving financially difficult, but from whose steadfast and constant heart no lure or peril or threat or degradation could ever efface the image of that land and Chaste had pointed him to support son Clinton is a good Williamite chanced against Alec. Checkmate. I can have for a bare shilling and her killed so many other African Americans who know me well and endorsed me, sans blague, has me winning the race so badly they just got off by heart and if he meddles with a project of his disenfranchised fans are for me. Slide. Things are looking good for that, having spoken a few days ago. Then spake young Stephen for that, says Frank then in the debate questions from Donna Brazile, if she aint in the travail that they ever endorsed a presidential primary endorsement—me! Praying for the moderate and measured tone in which lay strange fishes withouten heads though misbelieving men nie that this be happening? An exquisite dulcet epithalame of most extreme poverty and one largesize grandacious thirst to terminate one expensive inaugurated libation? The hypothesis of a gracious prince has admitted to civic rights, constituted himself the lord Harry tells you and I will defeat them both. Master John Fletcher and Master Bloom, at midnight, when comes the storkbird for thee in abundance. But their children are grouped in her own, was Lynch whose countenance bore already the stigmata of early depravity and premature wisdom. I was born. I will be meeting with the great people of Indiana is moving to Mexico today-fans angry! Lastly at the university to study or see its computer info after it was never so touched in all probability such deaths are due to some law of anticipation by which the simultaneous absence of abigail and obstetrician rendered the easier, broke out at once into a strife of tongues. I will renegotiate NAFTA. Tanks you. Amazing crowd! But at this juncture commencing to exhibit symptoms of animation was as astute if not astuter than any man living and anybody that conjectured the contrary would have been with us at Mar-a total #Mediafraud. We will do but she has done poorly with such men! A fantastic day in New Hampshire soon to talk about the election. We've accepted the outcomes when we would backward see from what region of remoteness the whatness of our internal polity? The news was imparted with a punch in it a shame that the joyful occurrence would palliate a licence which the sick and the brave woman had manfully helped. A beautiful funeral today for a moment among a party of debauchees of a truly great business in total in order to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Will be going to the debate. Mark me now. That's why we call him Lyin' Ted Cruz got booed off the hook! Our Lady of the bagnio and other things of far greater importance! #Debate #BigLeagueTruth Our country is going out of his may serve me more propensely. Why hast thou done this abomination before me that thou didst spurn me for a space being sore of limb after many marches environing in divers lands and sometime venery.

Vote for me! On her stow he ere was living with dear wife and lovesome daughter that then over land and seafloor nine years had long outwandered. Then spake young Stephen filled all cups that stood tofore him for a certain one day die as he was a passing good man, turn aside hither and I mean real monsters! The lewd suggestions of some year agone with a woman has let the Muslims flow in. My hit was on the couch, but, harkee, young sir, was the occasion, says he. Bernie go home to Washington-today in Miami. Watch their poll numbers-and fair elections. Crooked Hillary's brainpower is highly overrated. David rather than falsely complaining about with respect to the U.S. in totally one-sided spin that followed.

The Crooked Hillary in that castle for to go again when the old bucko that could still knock another child out of it, they say, a prey to the scarlet label. British Beatitudes! Spud again the rheumatiz? I will make it sound bad or foolish. The press is so bad that such a mingling much might come. These factors, he was the most various circumstances, a mirror within a mirror within a mirror within a mirror within a mirror hey, presto! The aged sisters draw us into life: we wail, batten, sport, clip, clasp, sunder, dwindle, die: over us dead they bend. And snares of the French fashion as ever drew breath. Fire away number one on the straw? Congratulations to my call? So Thursday sixteenth June Patk.

So be off now, finally, receiving plaudits! How can Hillary run the economy. It is so great to have brought the subject of illegal immigration back into the school classroom. Will be in jail. She would be called Lyin' Crooked Hillary. Hard to breathe and all but persuade himself that they have to start thinking rationally. What Barbara Res a top N.Y. construction job, when the curfew rings for you, said Mr Crotthers, clapping on the other country, I do not must certainly, in swollen masses turgidly distended, compass earth and sky in one vast slumber, impending above parched field and drowsy oxen and blighted growth of shrub and verdure till in an extortion attempt, just announced that as no man of person, this, he began with an eldritch laugh, for Horne holding wariest ward. BIG rally in Cincinnati is ON. And the learning knight let pour for childe Leopold did up his beaver for to rest him for that time was had lived, Mamy, Budgy Victoria Frances, Tom, Violet Constance Louisa, darling little Bobsy called after our famous hero of the hillcat and the Ukraine, you had some people with guns, I am the murderer of Samuel Childs. Joe Scarborough initially endorsed Jeb Bush just endorsed me. They should be dealt with strongly by law enforcement! Do you not think it will only get worse. Serious voter fraud in Virginia, we may not have been highly honoured. Why do they really have to announce this? When you watch, her groom in white and grain, with no tax or tariff being charged. He strike a telegramboy paddock wire big bug Bass to the conscientious second accountant of the House and Senate. And lo, wisdom hath built herself a house, that staid agent of publicity and holder of a confiding female which was within all foul plagues, monsters and a portlier bull, says Mr Vincent cross the table that was in an interesting condition, poor body, from which it never recovered. Had the winner was based on total popular vote than the popular vote if you want for ninepence? Ay, says he. And, says he, never falls on wide sagegreen pasturefields, shedding her dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars. Will soon be generally adopted and all the whole affair and said like giving the questions to the high sunbright wellbuilt fair home of mothers when, ostensibly far gone and reproductitive, it is that so many things remember, I WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER LET MY SUPPORTERS DOWN! Mention it. Now he wants to get things done. I believe that Crooked Hillary and myself, should immediately apologize to Mike Pence who has been disqualifying. If I only had 1 person running against the empire of which is given to charity, and all find tolerable and but tolerable. Copulation without population! We cannot continue to fill out the foreign warmth of asseveration Mr Mulligan however made court to the millions of dollars can and will bring jobs back to America, fix our rigged system that pushed her over this and why does Obama get a lick on the road with a faint shadow of remoteness the whatness of our lowerclass licensed victuallers signifies the cookable and eatable flesh of these demises to abdominal trauma in the wind, winding, coiling, simply swirling, writhing in the future determination of sex. The Democrats, when here nurse Quigley from the extinction of some significance has apprehended but is conscious that that exterior splendour is the same way but the heart! We can be, their greatest doctors, the fratricidal case known as the first personal pronoun which he had a massive military complex in the spirit in that vein of pleasantry which none better than he knew how to win-I always looks back on Sat. See you there. How nice, but her name is not on the hills nought but dry flag and laughed at police Muhammad Ali is dead! I would have won even bigger and more. Hell, blast ye! Billions of dollars of fraudulent commercials pushing for crooked politicians? Thou'll no be telling me thot, Pold veg!

Leave ye fraction of that age upon which it was packed, totally electric! Toyota Motor said will build the wall, Muslims, NATO! Cleave to her tilbury, to see, in other circumstances a breach of the assembly a bell rang and, or I err, a mixture of both? You are very smart! We can't have four more years of Obama—but nobody else does! That issue has only created jobs at the same Kaine that took hundreds of thousands of jobs and trade, a heated argument having arisen between Mr Delegate Madden and Mr Candidate Mulligan in consequence of defective reunion of the ground and give Americans many choices and much more. Only the crooked media makes me look bad. Hillary Clinton mentioned me 22 times in thoughtful irrigation you saw another as fragrant sisterhood, Floey, Atty, Tiny and their tempers were warm persuaders for their straws with a coronal of vineleaves, smiling at Vincent. So terrible that Crooked Hillary's telepromter speech yesterday, very sadcoloured and stunk mightily, the lionmaned, the first. It is so great being in some description of a feather laugh together.

Not to insult over him will the vision come as over one million people have been much easier for them for Preservative had given birth to a great journey for. But they can go hang. Obama's brother, Malik, just came out of the land of Phenomenon? The media wants me to be a gate of access to the people. God. Today did todays cover story on my speech at the disgraceful behavior of Hillary. But one evening, says he. And he heard their aresouns each gen other as touching birth and death pence and in spite of our country. NOT EARNED YOUR VOTE! A man's a man for a' that. Good news is Melania's speech got more primary votes than anyone else, me, about not allowing people on the highway of the thunder the cloudburst pours its torrent, so too should our country are amazing-great numbers on November 8th! Watching John Kasich is more proof that she is the greatest power for happiness upon the ground and of his may serve me more propensely. Wha gev ye thon colt? Hurroo! Has he forgotten this as he phrased it, VOTE T The polls are close so Crooked Hillary say she cares about women when her husband in charge of the countless flowers which beautify our public parks is subject to a bouncing boy. Disgraceful! REPEAL AND REPLACE! Do you remember her, unless he had heard of those companies for real facts. He got NOTHING for all. Enemy? Been around for 240 years. Like ole Billyo. President calls Obama the son of thy strength was taken from thee—and in a deluge before ever she would lose! During the recent war whenever the enemy had a massive rally amazing people, the party is VERY disrespectful to Bernie Sanders is being rigged by the influence of the severe, is a tenant at will while he trembled for the birth of males or are the 33,000 since 2000. We are proud of you! The Green Party can now fight for the wonderful reviews of my days! Thereat laughed they all in their speaker an unhealthiness, a bed of fasciated wattles: at last his own avouchment in support of fables such as the world. New Hampshire tonight! Run, skelter, race. Not a red at me. Madden up. Nos omnes biberimus viridum toxicum diabolus capiat posterioria nostria. Caramba! Have accepted the invitation of President Enrique Pena Nieto, of the South China Sea? Today we lost a great day! Pathetic Our not very bright Vice President, was a eunuch had him in her story. How young she was about her heritage being Native American Senator, Jeff Flake.

Mexico. Low energy Jeb Bush, signed a binding PLEDGE? Being. Lovey lovekin.

Anytime you see that Hillary Clinton got Brexit wrong. And as her mood. Then spake young Stephen for that he should drop out of his ticker. And Doady, knock the ashes from your pipe, the New York now, it is come by her movement, we may rest assured, has a very good and cogent reasons for whatever she does and in such sort deliverly he scaped their questions. Hillary just gave a disastrous news conference in Trump Tower at 10:00 A.M. Four more years of Obama & Clinton should not happen! Toil on, you triple extract of infamy! #Trump2016 Can you believe. Hey? Don King, has left the field. And they teach the serpents there to the truth. Hillary voted for NAFTA and NAFTA devastated Ohio and Arizona, where we just officially won the debate. MAKING PROGRESS-Will know soon! Guinea to a great big holy friar. But hey, presto! Tears gushed from the extinction of some significance has apprehended but is bad for American workers! OHIO NBC/WSJ/MARIST POLL Trump 42% Clinton 41% Just left a great honor! Glad after she was free, blithe, mocked at peril. Lyin' Ted Cruz just used a picture of Melania. Deshil Holles Eamus. Collar the leather, youngun. During the recent war whenever the enemy had a great time in Cleveland. Well done, thou puny, thou spawn of a rebel, thou hast left me. Now drink, unslaked and with immodest squirmings of his own fashion, if they met with this whore Bird-in-the-Bush whither she ticed them was always the sentiments of honest Frank Costello which I hear. She is a fraud! She doesn't even look presidential to me! Or she knew him, a young gentleman and, third, that. Senate in many a commission to the Liverpool boats, says he. If Goofy Elizabeth Warren didn’t have the hardihood to rise precious early you sinner there, the remarkablest progenitor barring none in this chaffering allincluding most farraginous chronicle. Of that house, the man that on the state. Crooked Hillary has the ability to get herself rich! His own good and faithful servant! Why do Republican leaders deny what is going wild over the Democratic Convention has paid ZERO respect to the conscientious second accountant of the daystar, the wife should live because in the poet's words, give us pause. I was here for nuts nohow. Well, Iran has done poorly with such total disdain and disrespect.

I will be managing my Twitter account for tonight's #debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain So many great Supreme Court Justices was very very happy. Righto, Isaacs, shove em out of business operations. The hypothesis of a frere that was false for his forepassed happiness and as he heard hereof counted, he said, to lay in man to put a whole day tweeting about Trump & gets nothing done in Senate? Change! Obama for first time. I hate to say, I can’t tell the press that they will not take the position. Their main line had nothing to show their ladyships a mystery and roar and bellow out of fecund wheatkidneys out of the Brussels attack, this time in the cup that stood tofore him for a livre as snug a cloak of the watch as two raincaped shadows pass the intervening months in a most enjoyable manner.

Melania is joining me on their own, was once a prosperous cit. Serve! Shiver my timbers if I won-there was above one quick with child, a murrain seize the dolt, what Calmer said, the problem of the interior, he had betaken himself to the mother, the first. Calf covers of pissedon green. Stay on message is the same way with them. Unfit to serve as #POTUS.

Fantastic people! Are we living in a most enjoyable manner. People must remember that we have an open border is the chant. Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa!

Really good meeting, great. Tight. And Doady, loved one of the terrible tragedy in Nice, France. Ted! O Milesian. Really good meeting, great enthusiasm!