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is0gild · 4 years

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Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 25

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 5,952

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

Feet? Pacing a hole in the floor.

Teeth? Chewing my thumbnail to the bloody nub.

Hair? Down and in open rebellion, unwilling to be braided even if its very life depended on it.

Door? Rapping with a soft knock from the other side.

Probably should go answer it.

Crossing my bedroom, I threw it open to find Lea standing there. I frowned up at him and said in complete and totally one hundred percent seriousness, "Let's run away together, right here, right now."

"Guh…" he blinked down at me, eyes wide, face seemingly still a bit red from all that sun he'd gotten out on the yacht earlier today. "...uh-huh, yeah, okay."

"Good!" I spun around and walked away, leaving the door open behind me for him to come in. Wringing my hands together and eyes darting about wildly, I went on, "We're going to need snickerdoodles. Lots of them."

"Snickerdoodles. Sure," he said slowly as I heard the door click shut. "Quick question: Why?"

My dress swished about my knees as my pacing resumed and my trembling fingers went back to my hair, once more trying to braid it. "They're Kai's favorite. Obviously."

"Oh obviously," he nodded, standing off to one side, hands on his hips as his eyes followed me, back and forth, back and forth. "Remind me again, Kai is…?"

"The butler. Keep up." My braid snagged. It was all wrong. I furiously tugged my hair free and started over again. "He'll be the first to come looking for us, so we need to take him out."

Lea pursed his lips to one side, eyes squinting. "...with snickerdoodles. A butler's one weakness. Like a moth to the flame, powerless to resist."

I stopped in my tracks, narrowing my eyes up at him. "...are you making fun of me?"

"Who, me? No, I would never!"

Holding him with my scowl for a second more, I at last relented with a nod and a huff before going back to patrolling the length of the rug. "Good. This is very, very serious business and is not to be taken lightly."

"Absolutely, the most serious," he agreed in earnest. "So the snickerdoodles…?"

"Will be used to leave a trail like breadcrumbs to lure Kai into my wardrobe where we'll then knock him unconscious, tie him up and lock him inside, giving us a good head start before anyone else realizes we're gone."

He was rubbing a curled finger over his lips, doing his damnedest to keep a straight face. "Right, sure, sure. It's so clear now, I dunno why I didn't think of it myself. I mean, c'mon, it's the only sane thing to do."

"Exactly!" No, no, that braid wouldn't do at all, it was a crooked mess! Growling, I yanked it out and started over yet again. "Then we can escape out my window. There's no trellis or anything to climb, but the drop's not far. Only thirty, maybe forty feet."

"Psh," his hand batted the air, "that all? No sweat."

"Then we can just hop in your car and- gah!" Seriously, what was wrong with my hair?! Why wouldn't it braid?! Was it broken?! I snarled, raking my clawed fingers through it over and over again, threatening to rip every last damn strand from the very roots and-

"Woah there, easy now," Lea said calmly, catching my hands in his and forcing them to be still. His firm grip was warm and soothing. "Why don't we just take a breather for a sec, huh?"

Glaring down at my feet, I just answered with a noncommittal shrug. Good enough for him, it seemed, for he was now guiding me over to my bed where he took a seat on the edge, drawing me down to sit beside him. Still holding my hands and tracing light circles along their backs with his thumbs, he tucked one leg up beneath him so he could turn to better face me.

"Now before ya rip yourself bald, why don'tcha just leave your hair to me while you tell me all about whatever it is that has you ready to book it for the hills?" Setting my hands down in my lap, he started to bring his up but they faltered midway towards my face, fingers curling slightly. "...may I?" he asked quietly.

I hesitated for a heartbeat before giving a single nod and turning away from him, sweeping my pale platinum locks back over my shoulder. There was a brief pause before I felt it. His long fingers stroking my hair, slow and gentle as they combed through it, carefully smoothing out whatever tangles I'd worked it into in my anxiety and frustration. It made my scalp tingle pleasantly and my eyes fluttered half closed.

"So talk to me. What's up?" I heard him ask.

His breathing, low and soft behind me, had a comforting rhythm to it and I swear I could feel a faint warmth radiating from his nearness. It settled my nerves somewhat as the nice little tugs and shifts to my hair continued. Tucking in my lower lip, I muttered, "I don't think I can do this anymore."

"Do what?" he pressed gently.

"Any of it!" I blurted out with a grimace. "My parents. The talk with them. This… this unbearable wait for the talk with them. My grandfather. The silent, angry death rays he keeps shooting out his eyes at me." The words were tumbling out of me faster and faster. "Anna. The way she won't talk to me. Why won't she talk to me?! What could possibly be wrong? What could I have possibly done? And then- and then there's the party! It's going to be a nightmare! A disaster, a-"

"Shh, it'll be okay." His voice was tender. Just hearing it loosened the knots in my stomach somewhat and eased my shallow breathing. His hands continued to thread my hair and I felt the bend of his finger brush against the base of my neck, causing a weird feeling to creep up my spine and making me shiver. His hands stilled momentarily, but then they set about their task once more, his tone even softer now, "Just… one lil party. Nothing to worry about. No big deal."

I puffed out a shaky breath, "But it is a big deal! Because it'll be a big party! Huge! Ginormous! So many people are going to be there, and I don't do people. I don't, I just… I can't! And these aren't just any people. Oh no, these are my relatives. Relatives who were at my wedding. You know, the one that didn't happen because I snuck out a window? They're all going to be staring at me and… and talking- no, whispering about me and treating me like some sort of, I don't know… freakshow. And just… what does one even wear when they're the friggin' social pariah of the soirée? What do they do with their hair? Their stupid, stupid hair that won't even-"

"Breathe," Lea told me.

A command, but a gentle one at that.

I scrunched up my face, but inhaled deeply and held it for a few seconds, closing my eyes and instead focusing on the sensation of his hands in my hair. Why was I even letting him do this? I hadn't even questioned it. But... it really was quite… pleasing, I'll give it that. I couldn't remember the last time I'd let someone touch it like this. Surely, not since I was a child. Surely, it'd been nice then too, but not quite like this. Not in the same way. This… I couldn't quite put a name to this… to the small tickle of a feeling blossoming inside my chest…

Sensing I had relaxed somewhat, he spoke again, "First of all, your hair's not stupid. In fact, pretty sure it has a PHD and graduated valedictorian. And I already told ya I got you covered in the hair department, so just put that outta your head, 'kay? Don't even think about it. Second of all, you'll wear whatever the hell you want to this dumb party and look like the goddamn belle of the ball and if anyone tries to talk shit, I'll knock their teeth out, got it?"

That earned him a tiny snerk from me.

"We don't even have to stay long," he said as his delightful ministrations to my hair continued. "We'll drop in, make an appearance, give gramps his birthday spankings or whatever, then ditch the place. Third of all, your sister will talk to you when she's ready. All you can do is let her know you're there for her. Fourth of all, your gramps and those lil death glares of his? Can go fuck themselves. Fifth of all-"

"How many more of these 'of alls' do you have?" I felt one corner of my mouth quirk.

"Shush, I'm on a roll here. Now where was I...? Ah! Fifth of all, this talk with your folks? That's all it is: a talk. Just words. They have no power over you, not anymore. And I'll be there to back you up the whole time. Anna too, I'm sure. No matter what's going on with her, she knows you need her. And if you don't like what your folks have to say and if they won't listen to you, then that's it. We can just leave. End of story."

I rolled my eyes with a flat, "Simple as that, huh?"

"Simple as that," he murmured, sounding a little distracted by his task. "Sixth of all… hm… never mind, there is no sixth of all. Covered everything with the first five. Any questions?"

My nose crinkled as I bit back a grin. "...would you really knock one of my relative's teeth out?"

"In a heartbeat. Send those pearly whites flying so high n' fast, they'd be like shooting stars across a night sky."

I pressed my folded fingers to my lips, muffling a little laugh. "Well, I suppose brutally assaulting other guests is certainly one excuse for ducking out of the party early."

"Good point," I could hear the smirk in his voice. "I'll keep that in my back pocket in case of emergency."

Just then, another knock came at my door. Gosh, I certainly was popular lately. I don't think I'd ever had so many visitors to my bedroom as I'd had over the past two days. I stood up to go answer it, hearing what suspiciously sounded like a small, almost inaudible sigh from Lea as my hair slipped free of his grasp.

Pulling the door open, I smiled when I saw who it was. "Mattias. It's been too long."

The man was tall and had friendly brown eyes lined with faint crows feet. His hair was short, frizzy and black that was just starting to show the first signs of greying, with a matching goatee to frame his grin. Bending at the waist into a tiny half bow, he greeted, "Little Miss Elsa. My, how you've grown."

Smile widening, I turned to find Lea had joined me at my side. "Lea, this is Mattias. He works for my grandfather." I actually had no idea what Mattias's exact job title was. Was he Grandfather's personal assistant? His bodyguard? His driver? His privately owned assassin? Okay, I was just joking about the last one… I think. Maybe he was all of the above. Or maybe none and he was actually something even more secretive and mysterious. All I knew was that Mattias had been under Grandfather's employ since I was very little and whatever it was he did or didn't do, he'd always treated me with nothing but kindness.

"Ah," Mattias breathed as his gaze shifted to Lea, eyes crinkling as he offered his hand, "and you must be the new paramour I've been hearing so much about."

Lea shook it, one side of his mouth twitching up. "All good things, I'm sure."

"All… verbose and fervent things said with great gusto," he tactfully replied.

"They usually are when it's me those things are about," Lea snorted.

Tipping my head to one side as I regarded Mattias, I asked, "Was there something you needed of me?"

His hands clasped behind his back. "I was actually looking to borrow your young gentleman here with regards to tonight's festivities."

"Oof, sorry man, I'm flattered, but already got a date for the evening," Lea said as he slid an arm around my shoulders.

"He's funny," Mattias declared brightly. "No wonder your grandfather is so… opinionated about him. But no, I meant I'm here to take you out in preparation for the ball."

Lea cocked an eyebrow. "...oh! You mean 'take out' as in get me snazzy new duds so I can get all dolled up for this lil shindig?"

Mattias's face fell suddenly stoic as an eerie calm came over him, "Or 'take out' as in make you disappear, never to be seen or heard from again." His hushed words were punctuated with a long, uncomfortable stretch of silence where I began to wonder if I actually hadn't been too far off with my assassin guess. But then he abruptly burst out into booming laughter, making both Lea and me jump. "I'm just kidding! My wife Halima says I need to lighten up and joke around more." Now he seemed to become a bit bashful as he asked hopefully, "How am I doing?"

I exchanged a brief glance with Lea, who then gave a weak chuckle. "Great! You'll have 'em all rolling on the floor during amateur hour at the comedy club." Reaching for the doorknob, he slowly started pushing it shut between Mattias and us as he called out a chipper, "Now, I'm just gonna close this for a real quick sec here, be right back!" As soon as it clicked shut, Lea gripped my arm as he hissed, "Do not under any circumstance leave me alone with that guy!"

Scoffing, I crossed my arms, "You're being silly, he's a very sweet man."

"Oh yeah, seems real nice for a psychopathic killer who could probably murder me seven different ways with a Tootsie Roll."

"He said he was kidding."

"Precisely what someone trynta off me would say," he muttered, glowering at my door.

My eyelids drooped, "Also precisely what someone who wasn't trying to off you would say. Besides, it's a good thing Grandfather sent him to assist you with this. I was so busy stressing out about myself, I completely forgot you probably had nothing to wear for tonight. What would you have even done, just shown up in jeans and a t-shirt?" I shook my head in amusement.

To that he just looked down, scratching a spot behind his ear with a soft, "Heh."

I stared blankly at him. "Oh my god, that's exactly what you were going to do."

"In my defense, it was gonna be one classy t-shirt."

"...the kind with a cartoon tux printed on the front?"

He grinned big, "Yeah! How'd you know?"

My finger pinched the bridge of my nose as I released a grumbling sigh. "Just go with Mattias so you can get fitted for a nice suit. Please."

"What about you?" he reached over, lightly rubbing my arm. "You all good now?"

"I'm… better now," I hugged myself with a small nod. "...you always seem to know just what to say to help calm me down. Thank you." I turned away, heading towards my vanity, "And thanks for-" I stopped as I looked in the mirror, my hand going to my blonde strands. My reflection frowned back at me. "Wait… you didn't even do anything with my hair." I narrowed my eyes on him, "Were you just playing with it this whole time?"

"Er…" he grinned innocently, rubbing at the nape of his neck and averting his gaze. "...no?" I fixed him with a dull look. "Seriously! I braided it!" One of my eyebrows arched. "Then I… unbraided it. But only to try a few other things with it, honest! Purely for research purposes! And it all led me to one conclusion. The results are in and it's unanimous: you should wear your hair," he rapped his fingers along the edge of my vanity in a drumroll, "down!"

I tilted my head slightly to the left. "...down?"

"Mm-hm! It's simple! It's bold! It's-"

Once again, a knock sounded at my door. "You two do remember I'm still waiting out here... right?" came Mattias's muffled voice from the other side.

With a tiny huff in my throat, I started pushing Lea back towards the door. "Will you just go with him already? He won't kill you, I promise."

"Fine, but if ya haven't heard from me in an hour, you come and rescue my sorry ass, got it? Oh, and El?" he dug in his heels, stopping us both as he brought his hands up to squeeze my shoulders with a smile. "About tonight, just… you do you. Whatever makes ya comfortable. Forget about what anyone else might say or think, 'kay?"

I stared back at him, searching his eyes for a second before looking away as I bit down into my bottom lip. "...I'll try."

Seemingly satisfied with that, Lea reached out to twist the doorknob and pull, greeting Mattias with, "Alright, cowboy, let's get this over with." Trailing his fingers down my arms to my hands, he took them both in his and raised them to press a kiss to each one, murmuring, "Until this evening, min kjæreste."

...I really shouldn't be surprised at this point that he had yet to run out of pet names.

I'd have to ask him what that one meant later.

Which, you know, was a totally crucial and vital piece of info to have before adding it to the ever growing mountainous stack of vetoes.

With that, he stepped out into the hallway where Mattias grinned and gave him a hearty slap on the back, forcing a grunt out of Lea as he closed the door behind him. I snorted quietly before moving back over to my vanity mirror, absently running my fingers through my hair as I stared at my reflection once more.

...down, huh?

...I think I could make that work.

"Well, well… don't you look a vision?"

"Thank you, Mattias," I smiled softly, resisting the urge to self-consciously hide behind my bedroom door. "You're looking rather dashing yourself."

He stood a little straighter, his hand smoothing the crisp lapel of his suit. "I do what I can. And I got your young man looking quite dapper as well, if I do say so myself."

"Speaking of, where is Lea?" I looked about the corridor, but it only further confirmed that Mattias had come to greet me at my door alone.

"I left him to await you in the foyer." He offered me his arm, "Shall I escort you, my dear?"

Taking a quick glance back into my room to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything, I then nodded and closed the door behind me as I stepped out into the hallway, tucking my hand into his elbow. "Please. Lead the way." As we began to walk, I told him, "Thank you, by the way. For getting Lea ready and presentable for the evening."

"Was only doing as your grandfather asked of me," he brushed off. "I suspect he doesn't want him drawing anymore undue attention to himself than absolutely necessary."

I hummed a small laugh at that, "I think that may be a lost cause there."

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, grin widening. "...that boy of yours really won't stand a chance, you know. He'll be a goner the second he lays eyes on you."

"Stop, you're embarrassing me," I ducked my head to hide the faint blush creeping into my face as my fingers idly twisted at my diamond fringe earrings. Wearing them may have been a bad idea in retrospect as they were too tempting to fidget with in moments of anxiety. They dangled all the way down to my shoulders, which were bare in my floor length, high neck halter dress that was backless and a shade of midnight blue with subtle shimmers in the bodice - another garment that, like my beachwear, had just been left behind to gather dust in my wardrobe here long ago. My hair was sideswept, cascading down in loose curls in front of my right shoulder.

"If memory serves," Mattias was saying conversationally, "I don't believe you ever went to such lengths to look even half so stunning for your last suitor."

My face grew hotter as I muttered, "You must be mistaken."

Why would I put any more effort into my appearance for tonight than I had any other previous outings that had been with my ex? I had no reason to. Not for Lea. Not for the guy who was only a friend and merely just pretend dating me as a favor to help me out of a tight spot. Of course, Mattias wasn't privy to that last bit.

"Perhaps," he said lightly, falling silent for a few steps. Then, "Or perhaps it is just another small piece to the big mystery surrounding why he is your suitor no more."

The corners of my lips turned down. "...he and I weren't right, Mattias. This life, this world," I gestured to the expensive dress I was wearing, to the mansion walls around us, "...none of it was right. Not for me, anyway. I tried to pretend it was, tried to play the part for years. But I couldn't, not anymore. That's why I had to leave." I hesitated, eyes downcast. "I… don't really know what is right for me. I'm still trying to work that part out… but I feel like I'm much closer to figuring it out now than I ever was before when I was only living to please my parents."

He didn't respond right away, seeming to ponder my words for a moment. At last, he glanced over at me with a warm smile. "My father used to have a saying: Just when you think you found your way, life will throw you on a new path. Don't give up, take it one step at a time and just do the next right thing." Mattias pat my fingers curled around his arm, "It may take a while, but I know you'll sort it all out. You're now on the path you were meant to be on. In time, I'm sure your family will understand that as well."

I returned his smile with a tiny one of my own. "I hope so… thank you, Mattias."

"Of course, my dear." We at last came to a halt at the top of the stairs. "Now I leave you in the care of your gentleman caller who should be just at the foot of the-" he faltered mid-sentence as he looked down into the foyer, eyes growing round. Then he heaved a sigh, dragging a hand down his face as he grumbled, "...I swear he wasn't like this when I left a moment ago."

I followed his gaze to spot Lea on the bottom step. He was leaning with one elbow propped against the banister, eyes lowered as he inspected his (still pristine) black nail polish, so he hadn't noticed us yet. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail and he was wearing what looked to be a very nice black tux, so he should have made quite the debonair picture. Key word: should. However, his tie was undone and draped loose around his neck, his suit jacket was off and slung over his shoulder by his free hand, and the sleeves of his white button-up were rolled up to his elbows.

The cherry on top? Brace yourself, because there were actually two. The first was there was a small white stick poking out of the corner of his mouth as he sucked on something. Was that a lollipop? Pretty sure it was a lollipop. A friggin' lollipop. Why? Just… why? As for the second, I'll give you a few hints: they were pink, made of cheap plastic, perched on the bridge of one's nose, and utterly ridiculous. That's right: the heart sunglasses were back, making their encore performance on Lea's face.

Somehow, I got the feeling Grandfather would not be amused.

Just a hunch.

"Good luck with that," Mattias told me under his breath with a low snort as he walked off, presumably to go on ahead to the party.

My eyes fell on Lea once more, my fingers coming up to brush along my grin before I started to descend the stairs. "No," was all I said, though a laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it.

He glanced up at the sound of my voice, eyebrows bouncing as he smirked around the lollipop, surely with some cocky wisecrack just at the tip of his tongue. Instead however his gaze met mine and he froze, his eyes widening as all that came out was a, "Nnn…?"

I think he might have been trying to echo my 'no' there. But apparently a two-letter word was one more letter than he could currently handle.

I reached him, stopping on the step just above the one on which he stood. Fighting my grin now, I lifted my hands to remove the heart-shades and folded them shut. Then I held them up before his nose as I reiterated a firm but gentle, "No."

Lea just continued to stare at me, lollipop dangling from his slack-jawed gape and this close to falling out. "Nnn…"

My, how articulate he was this evening.

With a small huff through my nose, I set the glasses aside on the banister. Then I reached to take hold of the ends of his tie, flipping them up in front of his face with another, "No." With that, I set to work tying it for him. To be blunt, I actually kind of hated that I knew how to do this. It was just such an archaic and outdated practice, the woman fixing the tie for the man. But someone had to do it and part of me suspected Lea wouldn't even have the first clue how.

I could sense his eyes on me as I folded and looped the strip of fabric. I did my best to ignore it along with the heat I could feel creeping up the back of my neck now. What didn't help was when his hand slowly drifted up to start toying with the curled tips of my hair. Hitching my chin and stubbornly avoiding his gaze as I put all my focus into the tie, I murmured, "You know, you can quit it with the goofy lovestruck act. Mattias is gone, there's no one here to see it."

Coiling a pale tendril around his finger, he didn't speak right away and for a second I wondered if he had even heard me. Then came a hushed, "...you're beautiful..."

My heart jolted and my grip faltered, fumbling the tie and screwing it up. My eyes darted up to meet his, which were soft but also mixed with… something that was too intense and I quickly looked away again. With a little scowl, I started over with his tie, muttering, "Fine then, keep it up. See if I care." Hastily finishing the bowtie in silence, I hazarded a second, more cautious glance back up at him, frowning now. "...wow, you really fried out there on the yacht today, didn't you? Ever hear of sunscreen?" I asked, reaching a hand up for one of his super red cheeks.

He snatched it just as my fingertips had barely brushed along his skin. Then he blinked, finally knocking it off with the dazed routine as he released my hand so he could instead rub at the nape of his neck with a small chuckle. "Nah, I… I'm fine. I think it's just something funny with the, uh… the lighting in here, making me look burned when I'm really not. Yeah, that must be it!"

I gave him a dubious squint before looking down at my palm. Odd… I looked just as pale as ever under this light. Shrugging it off, I then stretched a hand out once more, this time to pluck the lollipop from his lips, accompanying it with yet another, "No." I caught a whiff of a very familiar scent and both eyebrows shot up my forehead as I looked at the candy. Then I held it up to him, "Is this why you smell like cinnamon all the time?"

His head rocked back slightly, one corner of his lips slowly turning up. "And how, pray tell, are you so intimately aware of what I smell like?"

My shoulders stiffened as just about every last bit of blood I had in me rushed straight up to my face. "I… well, I wouldn't say I'm intimately- I mean, that is... well, you're always hugging me and just, you know… i-it's kind of hard not to- It's not like I'm trying to- Not on purpose anyway, it just sort of… I just…"

The wicked curve to his lips widened further. "Yes? Do go on."

I narrowed my eyes on him. "Nevermind. Where did this thing even come from?" I asked, scrunching my nose up at the lollipop before looking for somewhere to get rid of it. I settled on tossing it into one of the two large urns decorating either side of the base of the staircase. Shh, no one would ever have to know.

He shrugged, still not wiping that stupid grin off his face. "We stopped at a place on the way to the tux fitting."

"And Mattias let you? He should've known better," I sighed, now tugging one of his sleeves down to his wrist with a tad more force than necessary and buttoning it.

"What can I say? I can be very persuasive."

I just gave a noncommittal "hm" as I straightened and fastened the other sleeve as well. Then I snagged his folded jacket from where he held it slung over his shoulder, lifting it with one more lightly chiding, "No." I began helping him shrug back into it.

A little tsk escaped him. "You're certainly a fan of that word right now."

Concentrating on getting his left arm into the other sleeve, I deadpanned, "And you're certainly a fan of finding every way imaginable to make me say it."

He snerked at that. Then, "Huh. Guess there's a first time for everything. Usually the ladies are trynta take the clothes off me, not the other way around."

My gaze snapped up to meet his with every intention of giving him the full blast of my withering stare. Instead I froze, expression blank at the sight that greeted me.

That of a lollipop stick once more jutting out the side of his tiny smirk.

I blinked. Then looked to the urn. Then back at him. My eyelids drooped. "Just how many of those do you have?"

His smile stretched from ear to ear. "Picked me up a whole pack! Gotta feed the addiction!"

I sighed, shaking my head before eyeing him up and down with a frown. "...where are you even hiding them all?"

Lea bent forward, the tip of his nose brushing against mine as his eyes hooded and he whispered, "Care to search me and find out?"

An icy grin pulled at my lips and I told him, "No." There's that word again. Confiscating this lollipop as well, I struck it up in front of his face and continued on in a deadly sweet tone, "If I catch you with another one of these tonight, I'll make you choke on it."

"You promise?" he waggled his eyebrows at me.

I scoffed, flinging the candy into the other urn. There. Now my parents had a matching set. My attention returned to Lea as I tipped my head to one side, giving him a final glance over now that I had him all put back together. "...you actually clean up rather handsomely. You know, when you're not being a total clown."

"Hadta do it," he puffed up his chest and tweaked his bowtie. "If you had been struck by the full might of my studliness in a tux right from the get go, you would've straight up swooned and come toppling down the stairs. Hadta ease ya into it for your own safety. You're welcome."

"How thoughtful," I rolled my eyes with a soft snort. Then I retrieved the heart-glasses from the banister once more, slipping them into a pocket on the inside of his jacket. "Now I'm giving these back to you since I know they're your new favorite toy and I'm trusting you not to put them back on at the party, okay?"

"Scout's honor," he chirped, holding up three fingers pressed together.

"Good," I smiled, straightening his lapels and smoothing my hand over his button-up to clear any creases. "Your shenanigans the other night in front of my parents and grandfather were one thing, but this party is something else entirely. You can't just-"

"El," he interrupted me, bringing his hand up. I almost thought it was going for my cheek, but it seemed to hesitate and shift over at the last second, giving my shoulder a squeeze instead. "I'll be on my best behavior. Count on it."

I nodded. "...thank you." I realized my hands were still smoothing, even though any wrinkles there may have been in his shirt were long gone.

Jesus criminy, Elsa, stop pawing at the man's chest already!

Quickly retracting my hands, I cleared my throat as my smile turned a touch awkward. "Right. So then… to the party?"

"Absolutely," he grinned, taking my hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm. He then led me down the last couple of steps and over to a corridor off on the left, striding with confidence.

I followed him wordlessly for a few steps. Then, "Do you have any idea where you're going?"

"Not a damn clue!" he said brightly.

With a tiny laugh, I informed him, "It's back the other way."

"Going the other way!" he announced, flipping us into a u-turn and marching off in the opposite direction.

Once we were on the right course, it wasn't hard for Lea to figure out where the ballroom was. He just had to follow the sound of the classic string music and murmur of voices drifting from the party. It wasn't long before we were approaching a massive set of double doors beyond which all the merrymaking could be spotted in glimpses.

That's when I started to hear it. The blood rushing in my ears. Every step closer to that entrance made my insides shrivel tighter and tighter, my breathing more rapid and shallow. Just outside the threshold, my feet stopped moving altogether.

Lea halted beside me, looking over at me in concern. He brought up his other hand to cover my own that was clutching at his arm, not saying anything. I didn't need him to. I just needed a minute to steel myself. Closing my eyes, I forced air into my lungs in one long, slow inhale through my nose. Then I released it just as gradually, feeling my nerves settle somewhat.

Was I ready for this?

No. Not even close.

But this was about as ready as I was ever going to get.

I looked up at him with a small nod. With that, we made our way inside.

Author's Note: I was originally going to put this build-up to the party AND the party itself all in the same chapter, but it just got TOO long for a single chapter - and that's coming from ME of all people, so that's saying something! So hope ya'll don't mind this slightly shorter update chocked full of fluff xP Anyhoo, Mattias made his cameo this chapter, yay! He was one of my faves from F2, such a sweetheart with his own moments of awkwardness :3 Minor fun fact: I had just finished playing TWEWY for the first time before I started writing this chapter and had been introduced to Koki - a character in that game that's basically an Axel-clone, at least in the sense that he's a redheaded kinda-sorta villain that's bursting at the seams with snark… guess which TWEWY character turned out to be fave xD Anyway, Koki is never seen without a lollipop the whole time, so the stupid thing with the lollipop this chapter got its inspiration from that xP Other minor fun fact: Elsa's dress is very, VERY loosely based on her dress from the Olaf's Frozen Adventure short - just get rid of the fur, sleeves, and back and turn it into a halter top and presto! Beautiful xD Also, her hairstyle is based off of some early Elsa concept art by Brittney Lee for the first Frozen movie (I’ll reblog it here some point soon!) and I just think the art is gorgeous and I had to use the hairstyle cuz oof… Ice Queen is pretty, yo!

Next chapter, Gramps' B-day Bonanza is officially in full swing! What new lil misadventures might the night bring? Who else might make an appearance? Will everything go smoothly or will there be trouble brewing at the ball? And just where IS Lea really hiding all those damn lil lollipops? Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

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logansanderslove · 5 years

Text

Logan 3.0 (3/?)

CO-AUTHOR: @demented-dukey

Summary: Remus is an incorrigible flirt, and Logan can only bear the innuendo for so long until something has to give. Passions erupt, but there are more lasting repercussions than either could have predicted, including a significant transformation to Logan himself! How will these new changes affect the delicate balance of Thomas’s mental state? When a new dark side threatens the lives of several of the other sides, will Logan and Remus’s love be strong enough to save everyone, including Thomas?

Ships: INTRULOGICAL

Sanders Sides: Logan, Remus, Thomas, Roman, Virgil, Patton, Deceit

Fic type: Drama, Romantic, Action, Flirty

Trigger Warnings: No character deaths, but a lot of very close calls. Consensual knife play and bloodplay, and lots of bloody fighting and monster attacks. If you’re sensitive to unsympathetic characters, some parts flirt pretty close to that, but there’s also a lot of extenuating circumstances to explain the situation, and there’s a happy ending once you get through the angst and misunderstandings. Self-harm and references to such, and suicidal tendencies.

MASTERLIST

Chapter 3: What’s Happening?

Hours later, Logan's eyes fluttered open, a small groan escaping his lips. Oh God, his head hurt. He went to sit up but a sharp stab of pain restricted him from doing so. He glanced down to see his shirt had been removed and the wound inflicted by Roman had been bandaged and cleaned.

Looking around, he raised his eyebrow at the dark-colored room, the maces and morningstar hanging on the wall, all the many knives that lay scattered and were stuck in the walls and ceiling, the...posters of unicorn porn?

He sighed.

This was Remus' room.

He smiled, then forced himself to sit up, sucking in air through the intense pain. Once he was upright, he put a hand gently to his throat, feeling the sting from where Roman's tight grip had almost killed him. He concentrated on trying to heal his wounds, but his head started to pound so he stopped with a hard breath.

He heard a sound, then turned to see Remus rise up. He met him with a smile.

"You're awake!" Remus chirped, holding a tray of food. He hurried over, placing the tray on the bed, sitting down next to Logan. The silver tray was tarnished, and the silverware was clean but dotted with water spots - something Patton would never have tolerated in the Light Sides' kitchen. The food on the tray was also non-standard fare - a bowl of what smelled like spicy gumbo, black coffee so strong it could crawl out of the cup, applesauce with what looked like raisins and anchovies, and a shredded-carrot coleslaw. "How are you feeling, Lo-black-and-blue-berry?"

Remus frowned, "I tried to find some Crofters, but I think my bastard brother raided my stash the last time he got a bit peckish."

Logan smiled, leaning against his boyfriend. "It is fine, Remus. Good thing I have MY store of Crofters hidden where Roman will never find it." He said. Then he smirked. "Inside my bookshelf. And other places around my room." He said, then he closed his eyes as he scooted closer. "Thank you for taking care of me, love."

"I could do no less for my knight in shining armor," Remus purred, honored that Logan was sharing his secrets with him. He cuddled Logan, encouraging the side to lean against him. All the skin on display was distracting now that Logan was awake, but Remus forced himself under control - there would be time to draw on that canvas later. "You have performed admirably in your cause, and have earned a reward. Name your boon, and I'll grant it."

Logan smirked. "You are over the top, like your brother. But it works on you." He said with a wink, then his lips curled up in a smile. "How about just a nice cuddle?"

Remus grinned, "I can do that!" He tugged a dark green blanket over them to keep Logan warm. "We can cuddle as long as you desire! The others can pound on the door until Doomsday and we won't be disturbed." He leaned close to whisper into Logan's ear, "My room has very thick soundproof walls and doors."

"I'm guessing for obvious reasons." Logan stroked Remus' cheek. "We can save that for another day. For now, my head hurts and I just want to rest in your arms, love."

"As you wish, darling." Yeah, Remus was sappy and quoting romance movies. So sue him, Roman didn't get all the romantic tenancies in the divorce. He wondered why Logan hadn't vanished away his own injuries yet - Remus had tried while Logan was unconscious, but that was another power that was beyond his abilities - but if Logan wanted a bit of hurt/comfort, Remus was more than willing to indulge him. He cradled Logan close, nuzzling Logan's neck and sighing happily.

Patton's eyes went wide in shock. "HE DID WHAT?!" He exclaimed as Roman nursed the lump on his head, the Prince's eyes narrowing.

"Logan hit me!" He then bit his lip. "I have to say, he has a pretty mean left jab."

He shook his head. "But STILL! HOW COULD HE POSSIBLY LOVE MY BROTHER?! WHAT DOES HE SEE IN HIM?!"

Patton blinked owl-leshly behind his big glasses. "Back up. Logan loves Remus? When did this happen???"

Roman waved his free hand in the air in frustration. "I don't know. I caught them nearly fornicating on the couch, but this is the first time I've seen Logan give Re the time of day."

Patton bit his lip. "Do you think the others know? Like Virgil?"

As if summoned by the sound of his name, Virgil rose up. "Yo, what's up, people?" He took one look at Roman cradling his head and Patton's worried face, then his gaze caught on a smear on the carpet, and he screeched, "IS THAT BLOOD???"

Roman nodded. "Uh...yeah....about that..." He sighed, rubbing the back of his head ruefully. "I MAY have...uh...stabbed Logan."

"YOU WHAT?!" Patton shrieked.

"Vicious, Princey." Even Virgil looked wary of Roman now. "What did he ever do to you?"

Patton was freaking out, "Where did you stab him??? Is he all right? Where is he??? WHY DID YOU STAB HIM???"

Roman frowned. "He was mocking me! Pushing me! He was TAUNTING ME TO HURT HIM!" He shook his head. "He...he wasn't himself....it was like someone had flipped a switch and suddenly he was a darker version of himself."

Patton wrung his hands together. "But...where is he?" He wondered, and Roman sighed.

"Best guess? Remus probably took him to his room after I knocked Logan out." He held up his hands at the wide eyes from the other two. "HE WASN’T HIMSELF! AND HE WAS CALLING ME STUPID AND EGGING ME ON! IT WAS HIS OWN FAULT!"

Virgil rolled his eyes, "Way to be responsible with a lethal weapon. Also, bee-tee-dubs, 'He was asking for it' and 'It was his own fault' is kinda victim-blamey, dude."

"Maybe we should go check on Logan?" Patton said, fretting with the sleeves of his hoodie.

Virgil shook his head. "No use. I've been to Remus's room before - the thing's solid as a fortress. Nobody's getting in or out unless Remus allows it, and if he's gone feral, the drawbridge will be locked up tight. We'll have to wait for Logan to come out on his own."

"I guess... that'll be all right? As long as Thomas is still doing okay...?" Patton said.

"Yessssss, because that is what you should be focusing on," came a hiss from the shadows, causing them to jump as Deceit appeared.

"Deceit!" Patton yelped in surprise, "Did you know about Remus and Logan?"

Virgil crossed his arms in defense, eyeing the snake, "What do you mean?"

Deceit ignored them and focused on Roman, "You said Logan was acting totally normal? He wasn't suddenly a darker version of himself?"

Roman raised his eyebrow. "Uh, yeah?" He rubbed the back of his head. "He's got some serious pent-up anger in there."

Virgil started chewing on his thumbnail nervously.

"That... doesn't sound like Logan at all." Patton murmured hesitantly.

Roman rolled his eyes. "The guy seems to have no emotions 98% of the time. All of that has to go somewhere." He turned on Deceit. "Why do you ask, anyway?"

Deceit sighed, an exhausted Lord-why-did-you-curse-me-to-deal-with-these-morons exhale of breath. "Because it's totally not possible for an aspect to change, and Thomas would be completely fine if the seat of his mind and logic also controlled his anger and fury."

"You think... Logan's going to become a Dark Side?" Patton whispered in shocked disbelief.

Roman's eyes grew wider than the moon when he considered it. Had he been the one to push Logan over the edge? What if Thomas lost his logical side because of him?!

Roman spun around and grabbed Deceit's shoulders, shocking the other side.

"Deceit, I need you to go to my brother's room, find Logan, and bring him back, okay?! We need to make sure Remus won't turn him into a Dark side!" He said with panic.

Deceit raised his eyebrow, then shook his head. "It does work like that, Roman. Remus can turn Logan into a dark side. And Logan is the one who is doing it to himself." He drawled out, but Roman shook his head.

"I don’t care! You're the only one who can actually get into his room! GO!"

"I am definitely going to fix this entire situation." Deceit drawled, skepticism dripping from his voice as he sunk out.

Deceit reappeared outside the door to Remus's room. He knew there was no point in knocking - Remus wouldn't be able to hear it, and even on a good day, the chaotic side was likely to ignore a polite greeting just to be contrary. With a twist of his wrist, Deceit summoned a tiny grass snake and lowered it to the ground. If Remus was in a bad mood (which was extremely likely), then the color of the snake might be the extra lure needed for Remus to grant him an audience. "Find Remussssss." Deceit hissed to the snake, "Tell him I need to sssssee him."

The snake bobbed its head once, tongue flicking out to taste the air, before turning to face the door. There was a tiny crack under one corner of the door, small enough that only the smallest of Deceit's snakes and Virgil's spiders could crawl through. When Remus was truly throwing a fit, he plugged up the hole, but most of the time it was available for emergencies. And Deceit figured this could be categorized as such.

Remus drifted awake from some lovely blood-soaked and scream-filled dreams when he felt something smooth slip around his wrist. For a moment he wondered if Logan was surprising him with handcuffs, but the thought vanished when Remus felt the sensation slither up his arm. He cracked one eye open, watching the gorgeous green snake rear up and taste his cheek in a friendly way. "Really, so soon?" Remus groaned, closing his eye and snuggling back against Logan.

Logan twitched in his sleep, then opened his eyes when he heard a small hissing. He raised his head, rubbing his face tiredly as he reached for his glasses. Once he put them on, he was confronted by a very small little green snake resting on the pillow beside Remus' head. He raised his eyebrow.

"I assume this is one of Deceit's snakes..." he muttered, then he gently shook Remus awake. "Love, there is a snake on your pillow trying to get your attention. I think Deceit wants to talk to you."

"Nooooooo." Remus clenched his eyes closed, clinging to Logan. "Five more minutes," he whined.

Logan sighed, then rolled out of bed, a difficult task trying to escape Remus' cling. But he managed, and he stood up and went to the door, unlocking and opening it to see the snake-faced man standing before him. Logan frowned.

"What do you want, Deceit? We were asleep."

"Sssso sorry to bother you," Deceit snarked, eyeing Logan carefully from head to toe, making note of his shirtlessness and visible wounds and bruises. His gaze returned to Logan's face, and he squinted as he looked deep into Logan's eyes. "The other sides are not concerned about your welfare, and they would never send me to check on you."

Logan nodded with a sigh. "Ah. I assume that Roman told them everything, including my loss of temper?" He frowned. "I can also guess that he told you I hit him when in reality, he did far more damage to me." He twitched his shoulder and gently put a finger to his jaw, then his neck. "And he called ME aggressive."

Deceit nodded towards the bandage on Logan's shoulder. "There was no mention that you might have been wounded. Although I can totally understand why you're still injured."

The tiny grass snake had returned, winding up Deceit's leg. Deceit reached for it and let the snake slither inside his sleeve. They were joined by a sleep-tousled Remus, who embraced Logan from behind and rested his chin on Logan's good shoulder.

Logan smiled as he reached back to rub Remus' cheek, then he sighed. "I tried healing them and vanishing them. It won't work, Deceit." He then crossed his arms. "It does not matter, though. Did you need something other than to ask me how I am?" His voice turned slightly bitter. "Has Roman come down from his high horse yet of saying that it was my fault? Because I know that he would blame it on me. As usual."

Deceit shrugged. "Everyone knows Roman is the most reliable source of information, and you are definitely the only one to blame." He buffed his nails on his cape, and remarked offhandedly, "There was no talk whatsoever of you becoming a dark side yourself."

Remus started, "Wait, what?" Logan? Becoming a dark side? Of all the random and crazy thoughts that popped into Remus' head, that was one he'd never thought about. But... it kinda made sense... and if Virgil could transition, it was possible that the reverse could happen too... "Is that even possible?"

Logan scrunched up his face, rubbing his chin. "...In theory, I believe it could be possible..." he lifted his head with a raised eyebrow. "But why in the name of Newton would they ever suspect me as having a transition? What would possess them to consider that I would ever turn to a Dark Side?"

Deceit looked Logan dead in the eye, "I'm sure I don't have the foggiest clue. It is completely logical to get into a fight, and very normal for you to aggravate Roman into violence."

Nipping Logan's ear, Remus said, "Not gonna lie, it was hot to see you egging him on."

Logan closed his eyes with a sigh, then shook his head. "Perhaps you are right that I was a bit illogical. My actions were quite… unnecessary. However, I still do not entirely see why they would think that I would be becoming a Dark Side."

Logan turned his head to meet Remus' eyes with a questioning gaze. "What exactly are the qualifications for one to be classified as a Dark Side?"

Remus blinked. Today was full of new and interesting thoughts he'd never stopped to ponder before. "I... I don't know? I don't think there's...like, a list or anything? Everyone just said... I mean, I guess it up to whatever Thomas thinks? Or, maybe not just Thomas..."

"Morality." Deceit hissed. "...would definitely not have the final say, and dear Patton has complete control over his own powers." He shrugged, "In the end, it isn't up to each side to choose their own alignment, although Morality was not the one to set up the alignments in the first place, and does not unconsciously enforce the alignment as part of his powers."

Logan's eyes went wide. "Wait, WHAT?! So, if Patton starts to think of me as becoming a Dark Side all because Roman threw a temper tantrum and I may have gotten a bit frustrated, Patton can turn me into a Dark Side?!" He exclaimed, letting out a hard breath as Remus wrapped his arms around him.

Logan felt like his chest was going to explode. Just because he had lost his nerve a tad and then Roman had to go and tattle on him when he was the one who really did the most damage, he could become a Dark Side without wanting to...because Patton would fear him…

What would happen to Thomas if Patton dubbed him as a Dark Side?

His eyes then shot open, glancing down at his wounds as something clicked in his head. "Oh, god..." he muttered.

Deceit rolled his eyes, "It definitely works like that," he muttered under his breath, "I love how everyone always listens to me."

Remus had briefly examined the idea of Logan going dark and found he kinda liked the idea. Lo already looked good in black! And maybe his room would be moved closer! (and maybe the others would be less likely to interfere with two dark sides dating than they would a light/dark relationship - after all, if Logan was already corrupted, nobody could accuse Remus of corrupting him further). But it was obvious the idea was causing Logan distress, and Remus did NOT like that. He began rubbing Logan's shoulders in a gentle massage, wary of his injuries, and manifested a couple shadowy tentacles from his back to wrap around them both, hugging Logan around the waist.

Logan let out a long shaky breath, then he looked back up at Deceit. "Listen, I'm rather concerned right now and my neurons are firing faster than I can process. So can you honestly explain what you mean, and how this is happening? Simply and honestly, Dee."

Remus gently latched onto Logan's good shoulder with his teeth - not really biting, just mouthing the flesh and imprinting his teeth into the skin. The distraction helped keep him from talking and possibly saying something wrong, and he really wanted to listen to this conversation - he didn't think Patton could force anyone to become a dark side, but he didn't really remember his own split with Roman very well, and he personally never asked to be a Dark side... everyone just kept telling him he was, and he'd never questioned it. He'd never even really considered trying to become a light side since Roman was always already there.

Deceit grimaced and took a deep breath. "I... am," he hesitated, and forced out, "not an expert. You don't," a wince, and a correction, "do know as much as I do. I am," and here, Deceit, obviously swallowed down a word before continuing, "concerned about Thomas's well being. You do," a brief cough into his fist, "have control over your own alignment."

Deceit hesitated, "That being said..."

"The mindscape is... fluid, and it does (cough) conform to the will of the majority. It would (ahem) be wise to speak with Patton at your earliest convenience so that any misunderstandings are..." and here, Deceit gestured vaguely, indicating a clearing of the air.

Logan nodded, a small smile on his face. "Thank you, Deceit. I know how hard it is for you to do that, and I appreciate you telling the truth."

He glanced at his wounds. "The reason I was extremely concerned is the fact that I cannot seem to vanish away my injuries, but that may be in part to my mindset not being strictly to one side at the moment. You must be in full concentration to be able to do so, and I think that all this talk of me turning has completely disheveled my inner workings." He frowned. "This brings up the troubling question as to what effect this is going to have on Thomas."

He spun to Remus, causing his boyfriend to detach his teeth gently. He stroked Remus' cheek. "I must go and talk to the others at once." He bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut, then Remus watched as a dark blue t-shirt appeared on him. When Logan opened his eyes he stumbled, putting a hand to his head. Remus barely caught him as Logan let out a worried sigh. "Yes, something is definitely wrong." He walked to pull on his shoes, tying them messily as his head was still pounding, then he stood and walked to the door, meeting Deceit's eyes.

"Alright. Let us go talk to the others."

Deceit glanced at Remus, "Perhaps, it would not be better if you stayed here."

Remus bristled, "Like HELL I'm staying behind! Roman tried to shish-kabob Lo the last time he saw him! Besides, he can barely stand on his own!"

Deceit sighed, "I assure you I would not do everything in my power to keep Logic intact. But you are welcome among the light sides, and you would never cause a sensitive conversation to get out of hand."

Remus glared at Deceit, but then glanced at Logan to see what his boyfriend thought.

Logan hesitated, then he sighed. "Re, I think Deceit is right. I don’t know what Patton or Virgil would do to you, but I'm well aware that Roman would gladly kill you. So please," he rubbed his boyfriend's cheek. "Just stay here, love. I'll be fine."

His eyes were slightly uncertain, a hint of fear encased in them, but he took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he sank out with Deceit.

Remus stared at the spot on the floor where Logan had sunk down. He... he knew it was probably for the best, but it still hurt, and he still Did Not Like letting Logan go without him. Anger and fear churned in his belly, and he swiveled on his heel, snatched the morningstar off the wall, and headed out a back door of his room into the depths of the subconscious imagination. He was itching to get a little bloody, and fighting some of the monsters that lurked down there would hopefully do the trick.

Deceit and Logan rose up in the common area, to the others’ surprise.

"You did it." Virgil said, his tone disbelieving.

"Did you have any doubts?" Deceit smirked.

Virgil scoffed. "Always," he grinned.

Patton hesitantly approached Logan, "Your shirt..." he murmured, then looked into Logan's face, eyeing the bruises with concern, "Roman said you were hurt???"

Logan crossed his arms. "I believe you should rephrase that statement to 'Roman hurt me', then you will have an accurate handle on the occurrences." He stated blandly, shooting a dirty look to the Prince who sat on the couch. He then turned back to Patton. "And yes, I am wearing a different shirt one, because my other one was completely blood-soaked," he again glared at Roman. "And two...this was all I had the strength to conjure."

"Can I..." Patton said, gently laying his palm on Logan's chest, "I think I can try to..." he closed his eyes and focused his energy on healing Logan's wounds.

Logan flinched, shoving Patton’s hand away with a small cry. "GAH! That hurt! Why did that hurt?!”

Patton looked horrified, looking between Logan to his hand and back again. "It's not supposed to hurt!" Patton echoed with a cry. "Why..." he searched the faces of the others, confused and worried.

"The plot thickens..." Virgil muttered, drawing his hood up over his head and scrunching down into his hoodie.

Logan swept his eyes around the others in fear, his normally strong composure beginning to break down.

"Guys, I don’t know what's going on, okay? All I know is that I can’t heal myself, and if I try to use too much energy I almost pass out. I just..." he shook his head.

He left out the part where his head had been pounding and he couldn't really distinguish which of the Sides was which at the moment, but he knew that soon they would notice.

They all knew something was wrong with him. But they just didn't know what. And what scared Logan the most was that he had no idea what it was either, and there was no logic in anything that was happening.

He wasn’t him.

Deceit would have left, but he'd given a promise to Remus that he'd keep an eye on the geek, so he forced himself to stay. Logan wasn't looking so good and was likely to start swaying on his feet at any moment. With a sigh, Deceit caught Logan's elbow and lead him over to the couch, sitting him down in the edge seat as far away from Roman as possible, before plopping down on the couch next to him. He manifested a glass of water and offered it to Logan, subtly slipping some painkillers into his hand in the process - all the tension in the room was starting to give Deceit a stress headache, and he could only imagine what it was doing to Logan.

Logan gladly took the offers from Deceit, taking a painkiller with a sip of water before setting the cup down with a shaky breath. He held a hand to his head, blinking hard as he tried to keep his eyes from blurring even more. The others all looked at him with worry until Logan finally shook his head.

"De-Deceit, can you...can you explain why...why this might be happening? As you told me ear-earlier?..." he struggled to get his words out, trying incredibly hard to keep a tight grasp on consciousness. He had no idea what was happening to him, but it seemed to be speeding up.

He met the hesitant eyes of the snake man, but his own pleading look got Deceit to cave.

Oh yeah. Deceit was so glad he'd decided to stay. But Logan was one of the least insufferable sides Deceit had the displeasure of knowing, so he capitulated easier than he might normally have. "I am totally an expert in the matter, and I would love to explain it to everyone." Deceit snarked, and then took a deep breath, "The mindscape never changes, and every side always stays the same. Thomas's needs never change, and so every side is never at risk of losing or gaining various abilities depending on the needs of the host."

Deceit glared at Roman and Patton, "General consensus of the more powerful sides never plays a part either because the mindscape doesn't conform itself to their subconscious will. Anyone shunned by Thomas's preferred sides won't find themselves... compelled towards the dark sides."

"Wait, this is my fault???" Roman exclaimed, "I can't get mad that Logan's getting freaky with my brother, because my anger is sending him to the dark side???"

"This is only your fault," Deceit said to Roman, but his gaze was fixed on Patton.

Patton looked around with wide eyes, then he pointed to himself. "W-wait, you're saying that I'm also a reason Logan is like this?!" He said with immense concern.

Logan lifted his head with great effort, taking a deep breath. "Yes, Patton. Th-that is what he is s-saying..."

God, thirty more seconds and Logan would be on the ground. The room was reeling for him, his eyelids feeling like they were made of lead. He barely glanced to the side to see Virgil staring at him, the Anxious Side seeming very concerned.

"Lo? You okay?" He asked quietly, but Logan shook his head, a shaky breath escaping his mouth before he collapsed from the couch to the floor, the frantic shouts disappearing as he blacked out.

Roman leaped forward to try to help the others pick up Logan from the floor, but Deceit blocked his path, hissing until Roman backed off. Patton was freaking out, afraid to touch Logan in case he hurt him again.

Deceit allowed Virgil to help him pick up Logan, glaring at the others if they got too close. "He should be in his room." Deceit murmured so only Virgil could hear, his own complicated thoughts the only reason he was able to speak without an obvious lie. Was Logan's room really the best place for him? Would Remus' be better? Deceit would rather keep Remus at a distance until Logan had recovered a bit - the confrontation with the light sides had not gone as well as he'd hoped, and the chaotic side was likely to go feral in retaliation once he found out.

"Yeah, Lo's room would be the best." Virgil agreed, and Deceit took comfort in Virgil's opinion. "We'll take care of him for now, you guys," Virgil said to Patton and Roman, "and we'll reconvene later when Logan's feeling better."

Once Virgil and Deceit had brought Logan to his room, they laid him down on his dark navy blue comforter, resting his head on the single grey pillow. Lo's room was very simple as he tried not to clutter it up; it distracted him from getting work done.

Virgil sat down on the edge of the bed, then looked up at Deceit as he placed his hand on Logan's arm.

"What's happening to him, Dee? Things have just been getting worse and worse and..." he took a few deep breaths, calming himself down so as not to have a panic attack. "What do we do?"

Deceit grabbed the desk chair, wheeling it over so he could sit by the side of the bed. "I don't know," he admitted sadly. Not exactly a lie - he had some suspicions, but he was flying as blind as the rest of them. He looked at Virgil. "You... what was it like? When you transitioned?"

Virgil sat straight up, then met Deceit's eyes. "Nothing like this, I can assure you that. It..." He took a deep breath. "It was more of a warm and fuzzy feeling, like when you come in from the winter and you get to wrap yourself in a cuddly blanket." He smirked a bit. "I know that sounds super cliche, but that's just how it felt. But..."

He looked down at one of his best friends. "Lo really seems to be in pain. Do you think his primary functions are short-circuiting or something? And who's to say what'll happen to Thomas because of this?!" His anxiety really started to kick in, then he sighed. "Is Lo gonna become a Dark Side?"

Both Deceit and Virgil turned their gaze to the man laying on the bed beside them

Logan's skin was starting to glisten with sweat, his breath short and ragged. Never had the Logical side looked so weak.

Deceit shrugged. It was easier to talk to Virgil, easier to say what he wanted to say when he wasn't sure himself what the truth was. "I... think it's up to Logan to decide. There are... many factors, but..." Deceit sighed, and shrugged again. "Thomas controls us, we don't control the host unless he allows it. Logan changing... is an effect of something already happening to Thomas, not the other way around."

"Maybe we should... check on Thomas? See if he's doing something to cause this?" Virgil suggested reluctantly but didn't make a move to sink out. Neither side wanted to leave Logan when his health seemed so precarious.

Deceit manifested a damp washcloth and began to wipe down Logan's face.

Logan moaned quietly, flinching at the touch of the cloth. The other two caught each other's eyes, then a sound behind them made their eyes go wide.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HIM?!" Remus shrieked, running to his boyfriend's side. Shaking his head as he stroked Logan's cheek gently, he turned to face Virgil.

"WHAT. HAPPENED."

"NOTHING!" Virgil hissed defensively, instinctively cowering away from Remus's wrath. "Pat tried to heal him, but something went wrong, and he's just been getting worse. We don't know what's going on either."

A dangerous, deadly calm settled over Remus's face. "Patton did this?"

Virgil glared at him, "NOT what I said. Calm the fuck down, dude, you're not helping."

"I CAN'T CALM THE FUCK DOWN!" Remus shrieked, causing Deceit and Virgil to wince.

Another small groan came from the bed, and Remus spun to take Logan's hand in his own. "Lo?..." he said quietly, then all three of the men grew wide eyes as Logan slowly opened his eyes, a small smile growing on his face as he met the gaze he loved so dearly.

"Remus..." he murmured, and Remus nodded silently. He scooted closer, leaning down to kiss Logan's forehead, then he turned to Deceit and Virgil.

"You two should go and see what's up with Thomas. I'll say with Lo." He said, and after a short exchange of glances, Deceit and Virgil sank out. He turned his attention back to Logan, who held his arms out as if begging for Remus to lay with him.

Remus couldn't deny his love anything, even when he wasn't lying half-dead and delirious with fever. Remus quickly removed his shirt and gently laid down next to Logan - he knew body heat was supposed to be important for hypothermia, so it stood to reason that it might also help regulate a fever. At least, Remus hoped so - besides, he rarely needed an excuse to start taking off his clothes.

Remus sighed happily, encircled by Logan's arms and hugging him back. He was still lowkey worried, but at least Logan was still responsive.

Logan leaned into his boyfriend's hold, taking a deep breath. "Remus, I think I know what's going on." He said with a slight shake to his voice. After an intrigued look crossed Remus' face, Logan continued.

"I believe that I am becoming what is called a 'neutral side'. I had only ever theorized the possibility of it actually happening, but now that I consider it, this seems to make sense."

"If anyone could become Neutral, it'd be Logic," Remus smiled, then considered, "...though, is that still what you are?" His eyes widened and he rushed to correct himself, "Not that I'd love you any less if you changed! Obviously not! You could turn into a bat and I wouldn't love you any less! Probably more! I love bats! They have funky black wings! And you would look cool as a bat! But if you aren't a bat that's cool too! I just..." Remus wound down from his excited babble, "I just want you to be happy."

Logan chuckled, nuzzling closer to his boyfriend. "I am still Logic, Re, but I believe that I will now also be controlling Anger and Fury." He took a deep breath. "In all honesty, I knew that there was something more to me. I've known for years. I just didn’t know what it was. But now I can see that the feeling that was building up inside of me was exactly that. Anger."

He took a deep breath, then a smile crossed his face. "I must say, that now that I am aware of what it is and that both of my aspects are clear, I have a new clarity in my head that I've never had before."

"So I was right!" Remus chirped happily and poked Logan in the chest. "That calm of yours was hiding a storm."

Logan bit his lip, then sat up, finding that he had much more strength than before. "No use in delaying the inevitable."

When Logan sat up, Remus feigned disappointment at being dislodged from his comfy spot. "There's lots of use in delaying the inevitable," he whined. "The last time you left a bed didn't go so well. What do you think's gonna happen this time?"

Logan sighed again, closing his eyes. "What happened last time only happened due to the fact that I wasn’t complete. But now...."

Taking a deep breath, he stood up and closed his eyes, lifting his head. As Remus watched, his boyfriend began to change. His blue shirt turned to his black button-up, but a sharper version. His jeans turned black, his shoes turning to all black Vans. His hair turned darker, shorter, and a bit spiky, then a dragon earring appeared to wrap around his right ear while a black cuff stuck on the other, star-shaped charms dangling from the cuff.

Logan let out a long breath, then turned to face Remus wholly, whose eyes had gone completely wide. Logan's tie was now all black paisley, and his logo was no longer just his brain, but had a hazard sign behind it.

Logan ran a hand through his hair before opening his eyes, a grin on his face. "Now I'm complete."

Remus stared, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, at the new version of his boyfriend. "Fuck me..." he breathed, intending it in every possible meaning of the phrase.

Logan crouched down and stroked Remus' cheek. "Maybe later, love. For now, we should inform the others."

Remus leaped out of bed and pounced on Logan, pinning him to the nearest wall. "Definitely later," he demanded, capturing Logan's mouth in a hot and brutal kiss that left them both breathless. Remus panted, trying to catch his breath, "We? You want me to come with this time?"

Logan smirked, a new look that completely captivated his boyfriend. "Of course. But promise me that you won't try to kill anyone." He leaned forward. "If you behave, then we can get naughty later tonight." He bit the edge of Remus' ear, kissing his neck afterward.

"How does that sound?" He whispered.

Remus whimpered shamelessly - after a lifetime of being touch-starved, every kiss and nibble Logan bestowed was driving him wild. "I would kill for you," he said, his voice dead serious for likely the first time in his life. "Not killing... will be harder... but I'll do it. For you. I'll do anything for you."

Logan met his eyes sweetly. "Good. Then let's go." He kissed Remus' cheek before taking his hand and sinking out.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #intrulogical #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #issues #pain #love #gay #mystery #upgrade

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7-wonders · 5 years

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As Above, So Below Ch. 8

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 2896

A/N: You guys I am SO SORRY that this is up so late this week! I ended up getting sick, and I've remained sick for longer than I would have liked. I’m thinking maybe an extra chapter this week to make up for it? We’ll see. Feedback is always appreciated (good or bad) and my requests are always open!

The hall’s quiet, save for the consistent sound of heels clicking on the marble floor. You’re pacing, a nervous habit, chewing at your thumbnail as you think about the previous day’s events. The previous strategy of ignoring what happened until you forgot about it worked for a total of five hours. Your subconscious replayed the scene in your dreams over and over again all night long, leaving you more than relieved when it was a ‘normal’ time to be awake and you could stop tossing and turning. You hated feeling like this--you’re normally not the type of person to dwell on silly little moments that could have been.

“I thought I heard someone wearing a path into the floor.” You whip around, eyes lighting up at the sight of the tall blonde dressed in black.

“Madison!” You squeal, throwing your arms around her. “I didn’t know you were back!”

Madison’s hesitant at this show of affection, awkwardly patting your back while you hold onto her. “I got back yesterday.”

“How did things go?”

“Fine, just your normal lost souls trying to plan a mutiny. Easy enough to quell, but still annoying that it had to be dealt with.” She gently pulls your arms off of her, causing you to smile sheepishly. “But enough about that; did I hear correctly from Zoe that you learned some magic?”

You grin, nodding at the goddess. She produces a cigarette from thin air with the snap of her dainty fingers, and holds it out in your direction.

“Light this for me?”

You freeze for a moment. You had only gotten as far as telekinesis yesterday, managing to lift the desk in your room. Still, you think, it’s got to be close to the same technique as what Michael taught me yesterday, right? Channeling into the tingling feeling of power running under your skin, you imagine the cherry lighting red, thin plumes of smoke curling upwards. It only takes a second for the image in your head to materialize in front of you, and you giggle at Madison’s pleased face.

“Well color me impressed.” She takes a deep drag of the cigarette, holding the smoke in before puffing it out through her nose. You want to lecture her on the dangers of smoking before you remember that you’re standing in front of an immortal woman. “How long did it take you to light something on fire yesterday?”

“I only worked on telekinesis yesterday, that was my first time trying pyrokinesis.” Madison’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Seriously? That’s...that’s really good, (Y/N). Most of the witches I’ve trained have to go week-by-week with trying each of the Seven Wonders. Either Michael’s one hell of a teacher or your powers are extremely advanced.” Your cheeks color at the mention of Michael’s name, causing Madison to smirk.

“I-I mean, Michael is a pretty good teacher.” You stutter, grimacing slightly as Madison’s smirk widens.

“Did something happen between you two yesterday?” You sigh, running a hand through your hair.

“Yes and no.” You stop, coughing from the smoke slowly starting to cloud the room.

“Come on, let’s take a walk. There’s something I want to show you.” She wraps your arm around hers and starts to lead you to the destination she has in mind.

“It was just a quick lesson, I think he was just trying to cheer me up since I haven’t been able to find anything.” You start to explain. “After I learned telekinesis, I was just so excited and...Michael and I almost kissed.” You’re sure that Madison’s heard gossip much more scandalous than this, but she still gasps in joy at this.

“Shut up! Why didn’t you?”

“I got nervous! Seriously, almost kissing the man who kidnapped me? It’d be a textbook case of Stockholm Syndrome.”

“But you wanted to?”

“Yes, I wanted to! I think that’s what makes me the most mad.”

“What?”

“Am I just falling into some trap? Is Michael trying to woo me into staying here with him?” You scoff, shaking your head. “Let’s be honest though, I’m not even going to find a way to get back home.”

Madison pulls you to a stop, looking you in the eyes. “Be honest with me. Do you like it here?”

You look back at her, biting your lip as you think. The shock of being in Hell had lasted for a few days, but you had managed to establish a sort-of routine after the unfortunate first dinner you had with Michael. Now, you had people here who you considered to be friends, and you actually found yourself enjoying portions of your days.

“Yes, I do. But Madison, I have a life back Above. I have my family, friends, school. What about the career that I’m planning on? It’s looking like I have no choice but to stay here; I don’t want to cause the end of the world by being selfish. How would I possibly justify that to my family? I’d probably be put into a mental hospital, and then the world would end anyways.” Madison places her hands on your shoulders, stopping your babbling.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re fine. We will work something out, I promise.” For someone who doesn’t like affection, she’s very good at soothing you.

“I don’t want to be the reason that the world ends.” You whimper, fighting to keep the tears at bay. This has been the major topic on your mind for the past few weeks. Your actions, whatever you choose, will irreparably harm people. It’s a lot of pressure for one mortal woman to handle.

“You won’t be. After we’re done here, I’m going to go and find the original prophecy. Maybe, in all of the centuries since it had been heard for the first time, there was some mistranslation?”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course, (Y/N). You’re the first ‘normal’ friend I’ve had in a very long time, and I care for you.”

“Thanks, Mads.” You resist the urge to hug her again, and she smiles.

“‘Mads.’ I like it. I’ve never really had a nickname before.”

“You do now. So what were you gonna show me?”

“Oh, it’s right outside!”

“Outside? Like...outside of the castle?” After almost getting eaten, you’re pretty content with staying here.

“Yes, but as long as we’re within the gates we’re fine. Plus, I’m here, and no one’s going to mess with me.” Madison opens a door and pulls you outside with her. “You can’t tell Michael that I brought you here. This is a surprise he’s been planning for you, but I just want you to know that he does care for you.”

It’s still a never-ending dark outside, but lanterns light the area that you’re in. A garden spreads ahead of you, one that was just recently planted by the looks of the buds on all of the plants.

“Michael did all of this?” You ask, unable to hide the smile on your face.

“Mmhm. He’s not known for having a green thumb, but he knows how much you miss home. He figured that, since there’s nothing else living here, some plants that you can help grow might cheer you up.”

“I can’t believe he would do th-”

“(Y/N), look!” Madison pulls your attention away from your feelings and points to the flowers closest to you. You can only watch in awe as they start to bloom, vibrant purples, blues, and greens coloring the pale dirt.

“Whoa, Madison, you made them bloom so fast!”

“I didn’t do that.” She shakes her head, and you look at her in confusion.

“Then who did?” You expect Michael to pop out, smiling that ‘i-know-something-you-don’t’ smile and proclaim how he’s great at everything, but that doesn’t happen.

“You did.” You can’t help but to laugh.

“Seriously? I can only light things on fire and move things, there’s no way I made those bloom.” Madison huffs, rolling her eyes.

“Seriously.” She mocks. “Just walk a little further, I want to test something.” You sigh, but indulge her anyways. Your hope is to prove her wrong, so you’re more than surprised when each flower that you walk past starts to bloom. They’re a variety of species’, colors, and types of petals, but the one thing they have in common is sprouting up towards you like you’re the sun.

“Holy shit.” You turn around, grinning at Madison.

“Again, not the words that I would use, but you have the right sentiment.” Your heart races when you see Michael standing in the doorway of the castle, watching you and Madison.

“Michael.” The man in question strides towards you, undoing all of the work you had just done on the flowers. He rolls his eyes when he sees what you’re looking at, the dead flowers crumbling and curling in on themselves.

“I see Madison ruined my surprise.” He jokes.

“At this rate, you were never gonna show her.” She fires back. When she notices you and Michael staring at her, she sighs. “Right, you two have things to discuss. I’ll just be going then.” With a wink she departs, leaving you and Michael standing alone in the garden.

The parallels between you two are striking. While there’s a blooming garden surrounding you and light being attracted towards you, the flowers that are mere inches away are dying under Michael’s gaze. A cloak of darkness covers him, in addition to the actual cloak he’s wearing.

“Did you know that I could do that?” You ask.

“I had my suspicions.” He shrugs. “Remember the part of the prophecy I told you about?”

“You mean the part about me having a direct effect on the end of the world?” You scoff.

“No, not that part. I meant the part about ‘she who can coax flowers to sprout with a single glance.’ Remember?” You nod, urging Michael to continue. “As far as I’m concerned, you passed. You’re the girl in the prophecy.”

Michael’s look of triumph turns to one of alarm when your eyes start filling with tears. “So that’s it? I’m stuck here? Madison told me you planted these to cheer me up, was that just a lie?”

“No, not at all!” He pulls you towards him, ignoring your attempts to get away.

“Let me go, Michael!”

“Listen.” He says sharply, and you still in his arms. “I didn't mean to scare you with that. You’re not stuck here, just because you are a part of the prophecy doesn’t mean we’re not going to stop searching. I believe Madison talked about going to find the original prophecy?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then, we’ll wait until after she finds it, and we’ll go from there.”

You nod, but you’re still not convinced. “Why did you lie about what this garden was really for? You could have just told me that you wanted to test me.”

“I didn’t lie. Was it convenient? Absolutely. But I made this for you,” He gestures towards the rest of the garden. “To cheer you up. I know you miss being home, and I was hoping that this would help bring a bit of your home to you.”

“You’re so...so...ugh!” You make a noise that sounds vaguely like a scream and a sigh, waving your hands in the air for emphasis. Michael’s lips twitch as he tries to hide his amusement.

“Care to elaborate?” He asks.

“You are the most confusing, infuriating person I’ve ever met. You’ve kidnapped me, managed to creepily tell me a prophecy while laughing like a crazy person, banished a demon to--I don’t know, another part of Hell?”

“Tartarus.” Michael supplies when you take a breath.

“Yeah, that. You can be mean, and cruel, and arrogant, and sometimes you can be downright nasty-”

“Pardon, but is there a point to this?”

“Don’t interrupt me and there will be!” You have to close your eyes and take a deep breath before starting again. “You’re all of these terrible, horrible things, but then you have a completely different side. You’ve let me set up shop in the library of my dreams, saved me from someone’s personal hell, and taught me how to use magic. You can be kind, and witty, and so thoughtful. You say that I’m trapped here, that I’m a part of your prophecy and that I’m meant to rule by your side, but then you comfort me and reassure me that you’ll help figure out a way to get me back home. It--it confuses me, honestly.”

“‘Conscience doth make cowards of us all.’” Michael mutters, pursing his lips as he thinks.

“Did you just quote Shakespeare?”

“So they do still teach the important subjects.”

“Yes, but we can talk all about the public school system later, okay? Why did you quote Shakespeare?”

“I’m afraid that the process of overthinking has turned me into a coward.” When you don’t flinch at Michael’s hesitant touch on your face, he smiles. “I must confess to you that, after our near-encounter yesterday, I’ve been nervous to see you again.”

“Really? You, nervous to see me?”

“Oh, don’t act so shocked. You think I’m confusing? You’re stubborn, and nosy, and can pack quite the punch when you need to. But you’re also incredibly smart and well-versed, you have a heart of gold, and I’m pretty sure you’re the personification of light. I...I care for you, deeply. Prophecy or no prophecy, you’re the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met.”

“Michael.” You blush, rolling your eyes.

“I’m not exaggerating. (Y/N), I’ve been around for a long, long time. I’ve seen civilizations rise and fall, wars fought, and every possible major historical event you could think of. I have met women considered to be the most beautiful of their times, and for good reason. But no one, goddess or mortal, can hold a candle to how beautiful you are to me.”

You’ve been in relationships (well, kind of, if you count Snapchatting for three weeks before ghosting each other) before, and men have told you how ‘cute’ you are. Your friends remind you that you’re smart, and sometimes you’ve been called ‘too nice.’ Never before has somebody talked to you like Michael just did. You’ve never been complimented like this, let alone by an immortal god.

“Michael?” You call out. Your faces are incredibly close, almost in exactly the same positions as they were yesterday.

“Yes?” He responds, gaze flicking between your lips and your eyes.

“Kiss me?” Michael just barely nods before eagerly pressing his lips to yours.

In books and movies, kisses are always described as feeling like fireworks, the kind of kisses that make the whole world fade away and romantic music playing from an unknown location as a fountain that you weren’t aware was behind you starts spouting joyfully. The girl’s foot almost always pops up, a misconception you thought was real for 16 years (thanks, Anne Hathaway). The kisses you had experienced before were usually sloppy, full of too much tongue and leaving you feeling awkward and disappointed. This kiss with Michael is different than both of those.

His lips are soft, yet the pressure is pleasurably firm. You’re not sure if it’s a natural gift of his or if it’s one cultivated from thousands of years of experience, but he’s damn good at this. One of your hands is tangled in his hair while the other rests on his shoulder, and he caresses your cheeks with his hands. You sigh happily, and Michael uses this opportunity to gently slip his tongue in your mouth. You used to think using tongue was nasty, but Michael is artfully skilled at this as well. You only pull away when you have to breathe, chest heaving and head spinning.

Michael’s face is flushed, and you’re sure yours is too. When he tries to kiss you again, you stop him with a hand on his chest, confusing him.

“Is it something I did? I haven’t kissed anyone in a while, but-”

“No! No it wasn’t anything you did, you were great! Seriously, that was amazing. I just need to think, it’s been a...crazy day, y’know?” Michael smiles slightly, nodding.

“I understand.” He takes your hand in his. “I should have told you this sooner, but there’s going to be a ball here tomorrow. It’s one that I’m forced to host every year, and those on Olympus make their way down here to my domain. If you’re up for it, I would like for you to accompany me.”

“Are you trying to ask me to be your date, Michael?” You tease, smirking at him.

“Yes, that would be correct.”

“I would love that.” He may call you ‘the personification of light,’ but the smile he gives you could rival the lamps burning above you.

“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, then. I’m afraid I must be going now. Would you like me to escort you back inside?”

“No, if it’s okay with you I think I’d like to stay out here for a little while longer.”

“That’s perfectly alright, it is your garden after all.” Ever the gentleman, Michael kisses your hand before turning to leave. It’s only the door leading to the castle closes that you squeal, jumping up and down in excitement. When you come to a stop, you realize your next task is incredibly daunting: finding a fancy dress to wear.

Tag List: @queencocoakimmie @nana15774 @lichellaw @sammythankyou @sebastianshoe @pastel-cloudz @ultragibbycentralworld @grim-adventures58 @let-me-try-mom @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @alexcornerblog @dolceandchalamet @everything-is-awesomesauce @langdonslove @ccodyfern @henrycavillstalkingmustache @readsalot73 @jimmlangdon @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon imagines #michael langdon x reader #Michael Langdon x you #american horror story #american horror story imagine #American horror story apocalypse #ahs #ahs apocalypse #ahs imagine #hades and persephone au #Michael Langdon au

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prairiedust · 5 years

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The Folktales of Supernatural

Here is the third and probably last post in my trilogy of the folkloristics, folklore, and folktales of Supernatural. You do not have to read the first and second posts necessarily, but it is a series, so…

Anyways, in Unhuman Nature, Ross-Leming and Buckner gave us a thumbnail of season three’s main arc-- Dean’s imminent hell deal-- in Jack’s perfectest day evaar. However, Dean got to do for Jack what no one was able to do for him when he was living under the shadow of his own death. Instead of taking a joy ride, going fishing (or to the beach, come ON show,) or fine okay spending some time with a girl with daddy issues (come ON buckleming,) Dean took care of business and showed Sam how to take care of the car. When Sam was also undergoing the Trials, they were again racing against the clock. Cas, too, was under the shadow of the Leviathan infestation, and there was very little carpe in the few diems he had left until the creatures destroyed him. There was always the understanding in Unhuman Nature that TFW would be doing everything possible to save Jack, but while Sam and Cas were best tasked with trying to find a cure, Dean knew that what would be the right thing for Jack was not being in the bunker dwelling on his imminent demise, and living is a particularly Dean thing.

It was a wonderful way of retelling this particular series legend, and using that series “motif” in a new way (anyone want to tackle a Supernatural Motif Index LOLOLOL) to do the “what happens when a story is retold” theme.

So, to tie up this trilogy of close readings, I want to talk a little about how the European version of Sleeping Beauty is a good way to understand what else is going on thematically with the trifecta of recursion-retelling-mirroring that’s been going on.

There are very few citations here as the evolution of Sleeping Beauty is more or less accepted as general knowledge now-- the concept is explored in Folk and Fairy Tales 2nd edition, edited by Martin Hallett and Barbara Karasek. It’s also on Wikipedia, if you’re into that.

CW for discussion of the non-est con to ever non-con and other unsettling themes that are nonetheless perfectly ordinary in folklore.

Sleeping Beauty was once considered to be perhaps one of the most wholesome of the Grimms’ fairy tales, but (in pop culture at least) the shine is starting to wear off. I was playing the Ellen edition of Outburst with some people I didn’t even know about a month ago and one of the “clues” was “Sleeping Beauty” and as soon as the guesser put that card up on her forehead, a guy shouts out, “That story is about sexual assault, fight me!”

Which makes this particular “folk tale” a neat way to show how folklore, or storytelling and retelling, is such a good frame for season 14.

I mentioned in the first post of this series that Sleeping Beauty is a great example of the intercycling of folklore and literature-- oral tales can become literary works, and vice versa, and they can comment on one another in surprising ways.

Let’s start with one of the most recent iterations of the Sleeping Beauty story and a move from one kind of text to another-- Disney’s 1959 animated movie, “Sleeping Beauty.” I know a lot of readers on here will know it-- and we’ll work our way down to the centuries-old bones of this tale.

Right off the bat, we get a really great (and subverted!) example of that “rule of three” 2/1 pattern I already talked about. The king and queen invite three “good fairies” to their daughter’s christening. They are even called “good fairies” by the herald as they enter on a sunbeam, so you already know there’s gonna be a bad one. The first fairy, Flora, gives Princess Aurora the gift of beauty. The next, Fauna, blesses the baby with the gift of song. Before fairy #3-- Merryweather-- can bestow her gift, Maleficent arrives, totally pissed that she hadn’t been invited but cool as a frozen cucumber, casually lies about her reason for showing up and then curses Aurora to prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and die on the evening of her 16th birthday. Merryweather uses her turn to alter Maleficent’s curse, as she does not have the power to nullify it: Aurora will fall into a deep sleep that only “true love’s kiss” can awaken her from. In hopes of protecting her from the curse in any way shape or form, King Stephan orders every spinning wheel in the kingdom to be burned, but the fairies say that this will not be enough so they sequester her in the woods under the alias Briar Rose, and they all live as peasants, eschewing magic and raising her in almost total isolation so that Maleficent can not find her to work the curse. Neat. Briar Rose gets into mischief anyway, gads about the forest singing like a klaxon, meets a prince named Phillip who is having Adventures in the Woods, falls In Love™ with him despite some now-creepy hand-grabbing. Later the fairies tell her not to worry about mysterious forest dudes and traumatize her by telling her that her entire life has been a lie, and then inexplicably send her home to the palace for her 16th birthday celebration despite the fact that the whole reason for hiding out was to keep Maleficent from being able to find her. Maleficent discovers that Aurora is at the palace, games the anti-spindle situation by luring Aurora up to a tower to a magical spinning wheel; Aurora pricks her finger on the spindle, and Bob’s your uncle. The good fairies put everyone in the castle into a deep sleep (so that while they are waiting for some weirdo to fall in True Love with a sleeping teenager, eugh, the people she knows (aka JUST MET) will sleep with her so that they won’t be upset by the complete failure of their plans) the fairies realize that Prince Phillip, the guy that Aurora has been betrothed to since she popped out of the womb, is one and the same as Mysterious Forest Dude that she fell in love with, and they send him to Aurora’s castle. Maleficent imprisons him, the fairies help him escape, he tears through a thorn bush that Maleficent creates as an impediment, kills the witch, and wakes Aurora with a chaste kiss. It’s fine, they met once, it was only a kiss (IT WAS ONLY A KISS), and this was 1959. So, that’s the Disney text in a nutshell. Folklorist Kay Stone says in her book Some Day Your Witch Will Come that while Disney had been called “a ‘Master of Fantasy’ in fact Disney removed most of the powerful fantasy of the Marchen and replaced it with false magic.” While her criticism of the Disnified Grimms tales is explicitly feminist, the criticism stands as Disney’s product is far divorced from the folk “originals.”

Most people are familiar with the Grimms’ written version of “Sleeping Beauty,” or “Little Briar Rose,” as they titled it when they published it in their first collection. This is the version that Disney partly modeled their story after. I won’t retell it, I’ll just discuss differences between the two versions, so please go read D. L. Ashliman’s translation here. It’s short. And. It turns out that the German “folk tale” that the Grimms brothers harvested is more than likely based on a story that was published by Charles Perrault in France which re-entered the Germanic oral tradition at some point. In this version, there are thirteen “wise women” (as opposed to fairies) in Briar Rose’s estimable father’s kingdom, but he only has twelve golden plates for them at the celebration of her birth, so he only actually invites twelve wise women (which is a hilarious commentary on what the lower classes thought of the nobility, am I right? Heaven forbid you don’t have enough fancy plates, quelle horreur or rather wie schrecklich or whatever the German equivalent would be.) Again, after eleven blessings, the evil crone who was disrespected barges in and curses the princess to prick her finger on a spindle (not the spindle of a spinning wheel, though) and die at fifteen; The next-eldest of the wise women modifies the curse and dad has all the spindles destroyed. Fifteen was apparently too young for a sexual awakening in 1959 but it was fine in 1812. Also, there were no shenanigans in the woods-- Briar Rose grows up a princess. She finds an old woman illicitly spinning in the castle one day and wants to try it, pricks herself with the spindle (the German version never specifies where) and her sleep is so profound that the entire castle falls asleep with her. A massive thorn hedge grows up because neglect, and eventually conceals the castle, and all that is left of the kingdom is a legend. Many other princes met agonizing deaths in that thorn hedge trying to get to Briar Rose but one day Her ACTUAL Prince shows up. The thorns turn to blossoms, he sails right through, kisses the girl, and as she wakes up so does the whole castle. The tale is over with an “and they lived happily ever after” ending.

Charles Perrault, the Frenchman who wrote the version of “La belle au bois dormant” or “The Sleeping Beauty in the Woods” that the Grimms’ informant possibly retold a hundred years later, has seven good fairies invited to the shindig, because everyone assumes that fairy number eight is dead or too ill to travel or senile or whatever. Here you can see that this isn’t an error made because a king was afraid of committing a faux pas and not from being afraid of the “bad” fairy, but because no one bothered to check on the old woman and find out what the reality was. You know what they say about what happens when you assume. So this time a young fairy steps forward and changes the curse, and instead of violently burning all the spinning wheels and spindles, the king merely outlaws their use. When the princess is sixteen or seventeen, (French nobles apparently had a little more childhood than German peasants,) she finds an old woman spinning in a tower who has remarkably never heard of the spinning ban. She hands over the spindle and the princess pricks her hand, and faints dead away. The king puts her on a bed of gold and I’m gonna quote Ashliman for this next part: “When the accident happened to the princess, the good fairy who had saved her life by condemning her to sleep a hundred years was in the kingdom of Mataquin, twelve thousand leagues away. She was instantly warned of it... [and] set off at once, and within an hour her chariot of fire, drawn by dragons, was seen approaching.” She puts everyone in the castle to sleep and this time the thorn hedge is actually a privacy fence that sprouts up under the good fairy’s magic. A hundred years later, some prince is having Adventures in the Woods when he sees the tops of the castle towers from a distance. One of his retinue tells him there’s a pretty girl inside, so he goes to check it out. Bruh, the brambles part for him magically, but allow only him, out of all of his party, to enter. He doesn’t awaken this princess with a kiss, but by the mere act of falling down beside her and being so genuinely and enormously in love with her that she wakes up on her own. Ol’ Charlie’s story is not over by half, though. They talk for hours, Perrault has a lot about eating and getting dressed and then they nap together a little, and finally get married. The prince’s mother is an ogre, however, and wants to eat her grandkids, Dawn and Day. Where does this come from? Why is it in here? What the actual heck? And it gets crazier from there. The prince becomes king and rides forth to wage war in a distant land, and the queen actually tells her steward that she wants to eat the little girl for her dinner. He tricks her by hiding Dawn and serving the queen a lamb instead. Next day, she wants to eat the little boy. He tricks her again by serving her a baby goat. Then, she wants to eat her daughter-in-law and they serve the evil queen venison. Then one day she hears the voices of her erstwhile entrees in the castle, discovers that she had been tricked, and prepares a cauldron full of venomous reptiles to throw the three innocents into to their deaths. The prince-turned-king shows up just in time and his mother is so beside herself with rage that she actually throws herself into the vat instead. So, yeah, weird stuff. Stuff that the Germans left out, or forgot, or decided that there was no “moral” that they wanted anything to do with. Was Perrault out of his damn mind?

WELL AS IT TURNS OUT, Perrault was actually retelling a Neapolitan folk tale that had been collected long before by a fellow named Giambattista Basile. He called the story “Sun, Moon, and Talia.” There is some evidence that it predates Basile, but most folklorists start there because the problem with oral tradition is that it’s rarely written down (ba-dump-tsss.) So we can definitively pick up the European version of Sleeping Beauty in Naples, Italy, in the early seventeenth century, when this mid-level clerk and author writes down a whole bunch of “nursery tales” and then dies. One of the stories he writes down is called “Sun, Moon, and Talia.” And I didn’t want to talk about it much before, except that I think understanding that Perrault seriously sanitized Basile’s story is the perfect illustration of “what happens when a story is retold.” In Basile’s story, to which I’m linking an okay version here with a content warning for rape and for the fact that they linked that painting “Nightmare” to the story, http://www.mftd.org/index.php?action=story&act=select&id=3364, Talia the princess is not cursed, but her father’s scholars tell her fortune and say to the king that she would “incur great danger from a splinter of flax.” He forbade flax (from which linen is made) from entering the castle. So in this version, it is the material, not necessarily the method of transforming it, that imperils the princess. Yes this is a giant metaphor for sexual intercourse and/or loss of innocence. Nonetheless, she comes across a woman who is spinning flax into thread, wants to try it, and gets a splinter under her nail. She falls down dead. The king is heartbroken, shutters the castle, and leaves her propped up on a throne. Some time later, another king comes across the castle, explores it, sees the dead Talia who seems to be weathering her death remarkably well, and has his way with her. I can only imagine what ran through Perrault’s head when he came across this. “Sacre bleu!!! Non, non ma petite chere, this will not do. A true king would never!” or something like that. ANYWAY, Basile’s story is still the frame on which Perrault based his literary fairy tale, for Talia gives birth to twins, a boy and a girl, Moon and Sun, one of which sucks the splinter out of her finger, and she awakens. The king finds her but keeps her a secret. The king’s wife (he has a wife!) sends for them, and then to get revenge on her husband she orders the children cooked and served to him one day, but again there is a switcheroo and the cook uses lambs instead, and later it all comes out and Talia marries the king and Basile’s moral (vastly different than that of Perrault) is “Those whom fortune favors find good luck even in their sleep.” I don’t know if that was written in ��sarcasm gothic” or not.

The bones of all of the stories are the same, but in each iteration something has changed which makes a huge impact on the overall themes of each telling. First, Perrault drops the rape of Talia, and slides the villain role over to the prince’s mother and makes the rape-king a virtuous prince to erase the royal philandering and necrophilia, and there is no kiss at all. The Germans bring the kiss back, weirdly enough, to somehow reach back through Perrault’s chivalrication to the sexual component of Briar Rose’s awakening-- it might be the imagery of the spindle, which in some cases is a big rod typically dropped between a spinner’s knees to make the yarn or thread, or it could be the completely bonkers idea that just kneeling beside her bed would not be enough to break the kiss (but then again, why wouldn’t a test of virtue be enough? Indeed, in the Disney version, the three fairies arm Phillip with “the shield of virtue.”) In Basile’s version, Talia dead, not sleeping, and in the Disney version there is the totally weird seclusion until young adulthood (that weirdly enough hearkens to the Irish legend of Deirdre, a woman who was betrothed to the king of Ulster and was sequestered to both preserve her innocence and thwart a dire prophecy but who still managed to run off with another guy and cause an epic war) and they rename the princess Aurora, which is Latin for Dawn, which is the name of her daughter in the French version. It’s all very intermangled.

Did other stories with similarities come from a single stalk, an ur-story like the Great Hunt may have? D. L. Ashliman in Folk and Fairy Tales: A Handbook tells us that Grimm and other folklorists believe that these SB stories are the vestiges of myths (132) such as the story of Brunhilde, who was put to sleep with an enchanted thorn for reaping a warrior favored by Odin. Or does this particular metaphor just crop up in cultures everywhere through synchronicity? In the Japanese folktale The Matsuyama Mirror, a young girl is given a mirror by her father, who tells her that whenever she is sad she can look in the mirror and see her mother, and eventually the mirror’s symbolism thwarts her evil stepmother, much as in the story of Snow White. Is there an even older story that connects these two?

I chose these four versions of Sleeping Beauty because for one thing this story was mentioned in the text of The Scar, they are clearly family, and the American/European versions are the most familiar to me (and I assume at least the American audience of Supernatural) so it easy to demonstrate this “digging down” to get to the seed of a story-- in this case the sterilization of the Sleeping Beauty story is an excellent metaphor for a powerful trauma weathering and being repressed-- or healed-- over time. Many scholars have noted the sexual symbolism of the spindle, which if you’ve never seen one is a rod of varying lengths with a round weight at the bottom, and in hand-spinning, typically a spinner hangs the spidle between their legs and it can pump up and down as it spins. Even the later versions of the story that feature spinning wheels have a spindle on them, and it is an unmistakably phallic component of the rig, coupled with the pistoning action of the spinner’s foot on the treadle to spin the flywheel. So hm. However, not all spindles are sharp enough to possibly prick a hand or a finger, and in the original “Talia” it is the flax splinter that inserts itself into her flesh. At any rate, it’s a metaphor for sexual penetration retold for an audience that has increasingly moved further and further away from being able to see (or is unwilling to acknowledge) sexual subtext.

Jack’s perfect day was bittersweet, but was also unmistakably idyllic and idealized, almost Disnified, although the magic was still unmistakably powerful. The scene by the river, where Jack explicitly invokes the memory of John, should also illuminate scenes from the series’ past, such as Dean’s dream sequence where he was fishing off of a dock, or where rogue angel Daniel was fishing when he was found by Castiel and Hannah. Fishing is a motif, if you will; it’s been featured in the show before. Jack’s eventual death is one of the show’s tale types. Dean, Sam, and Cas have all been through it-- as Cas says in The Spear, it’s “something of a rite of passage.” But we’re being told this story again from a point of view that was almost tragically abbreviated the first time-- when John trades his soul for Dean’s in In My Time of Dying, we got very little of what it means for a parent to sacrifice themselves for a child. Likewise, the other times that TFW faced their dooms, they had (albeit under duress) volunteered themselves. Jack was an innocent. Dying is perhaps the ultimate loss of innocence-- it certainly was for Talia. So by stripping away the halcyon glow of the river scene, we get to the bones of where the “under threat of impending death” tale type originated in the series.

This whole season so far has been the most clever way possible to do a “retrospective.” It’s not a sign that a show is tired, but that it has reached a point of self-reflection that very very few shows ever get to.

I have to wonder if this way of painting season 14’s arc through a constellation of motifs-- through callbacks as hysterical as the Scooby lunchbox full of pressurized gas in Mint Condition to returning characters as poignant as Lilly Sunder’s appearance in Byzantium, to thematic parallels to past seasons-- is going to continue into the second half of the season. We will know quickly, as the stakes have been raised after Dean’s repossession, whether Dabb and his writers continue to use the motif index of the show, or if this retrospective period is over and we’ll be covering new thematic ground. I will say, this theme has been tied up pretty neatly with the mid-season finale, that while Castiel essentially stepped into the Jack’s Fractured Fairy Tale much the same way that the way the good fairy modifies the evil fairy’s curse in Sleeping Beauty, that choice could shift everything in his mythos over to “beat the devil” which is another favorite SPN story, Tale Type 210a or whatever (and is irl ATU 330: The Smith Outwits the Devil and hopefully would be 330C which is the kind of “Devil Went Down to Georgia” classic American and African-American story.) (Imagine the SPN Tale Type Index starting with “1-199 - Origin Stories - 1a Burning Wife, 1b Burning Girlfriend, 1c House Burns Down, 2 Demon Blood Fed to Infant” and etcetera… anyways.) And we know that Cas and Sam are going into Dean’s headspace to get him, so there’s the rescuing forces storming the sleeping castle trope (remember the “sleeping” patron in Rocky’s Bar?) getting resolved potentially. But I do believe that this focused close reading brings to light a “healing trauma” theme that the history of Sleeping Beauty makes explicit. It is not the only reading of the show to do that, but again, if I could describe Dabb’s era with one phrase it would be “There’s no such thing as too much meta.”

See y’all Thursday night!

#the folkloristics of supernatural #the folklore of supernatural #the folktales of supernatural #spn meta #sleeping beauty

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maiji · 6 years

Photo

Process and wip images for A House That Holds Long Limbs

You can read the pages for part 1 here (full complete version will be linked from YYH North Bound master post whenever it’s done.)

Every so often I get questions about how I work, and I also enjoy reading about how other creators make things, so perhaps this might be interesting and useful to somebody out there too. I’ve talked about my process before but never really documented and shared it WHILE working on a project, so here you can see some of my thinking and decision-making (and poor habits lol) a bit more immediately, alongside screenshots, photos and scans.

Very long, everything is below the cut, and apologies to people on mobile and anywhere else this goofs up.

One question I get a lot is “do you start with words or pictures when creating a comic?” I jump between both a lot. That said, I tend to lean more heavily on words when documenting ideas in the early stages of a project. This is because, for me:

Words pack a lot of punch in conveying detail quickly. They work better when I need to quickly communicate something extremely specific to future me. I’m a sloppy drawer, so my sketches tend to make future me squint and go, “What the hell was this supposed to be?!”

A great deal of my thinking and planning is done during crowded commutes. It’s more convenient to jot notes on my phone than to whip out my sketchbook and a pen.

(For a while I thought it’d be awesome to have some sort of app where I can type notes AND have an accompanying thumbnail sketch, and be able to drag them around or break them out into more or fewer pages. At one point years ago I thought about creating a custom app... but ultimately too lazy/busy and my current process works well enough. If anyone wants to take this idea and run with it, please feel free to do so and just let me know about it so I can try it haha.)

I usually start with a few lines summarizing the gist of the idea, enough that’s recognizable and I don’t forget the important things to build off from. From there, I start point-form outlining the stuff that needs to happen, structuring them into key scenes/parts. These scenes are not always fleshed out in order - I just add to them whenever I have ideas for that part.

Long Limbs, for example, had a progression like this:

Overall story idea: “horror story with rokurokubi, key plot point(s) happens, the end.” (There was a bit more detail than this, obviously, but we’re avoiding spoilers here.)

Initial description for Part 1 of the story: “Hokushin lured to go to somewhere. Separated from Raizen. HOW??????”

After letting it simmer for while, a solution: “Hokushin annoyed at Raizen. Opportunity for him to get away and go do his own thing.”

Gradually more detail: “Stranger invites him to go to this place to look into something/maybe has a paid job that needs to be done and Raizen is busy goofing off or whatever.”

Problem. I couldn’t resolve this chain of thought to my satisfaction. What kind of task/job can someone convince Hokushin to do on his own when he doesn’t know this person/it seems questionable? And how long will the conversation need to run to establish this as believable?

This was starting to get convoluted and I was getting annoyed because it was turning into a burden in being able to continue the story AND IT WASN’T EVEN THAT IMPORTANT. I decided to abandon this path of thinking, and left the entire story for a while.

Much later (like months?), I had an idea: “Mysterious person drops something, piques Hokushin’s curiosity.” Aha! Hokushin’s own initiative. Simple and plausible enough. HOORAY NO MORE THINKING. LET’S DRAW.

Then I realized, oh shoot, I need to figure out who this mysterious person is and what they dropped. More time passes. And so on… in between I’m always working on other things, so there’s no real creator’s block - at some point I start thinking about this comic again, and ideas work themselves out to some decent level of satisfaction and link together. Thanks subconscious!

Eventually, enough key scenes are fleshed out that I feel confident enough to turn this into a real thing. At present, for example, not all scenes in Long Limbs are totally worked out, but I’ve got enough that I ran ahead with Part 1.

Screenshot of the Google Docs notes/script for Part 1:

This is a close-to-final version. The === on top is just to separate this from notes on other stories or ideas. This is the beginning of the document, but this document actually includes many other notes and stories for North Bound. I delete them as I finish and post the pages. Every so often I wonder if I should bother keeping them, but they’ve been refined throughout the process and usually don’t bear much resemblance to the original jotted notes anymore. Long Limbs was originally planned to be a later story in North Bound, but I got especially excited about it and fleshed it out further than the others. When I reviewed the earlier stories, I didn’t think there’d be a big continuity or reader experience issue if this was finished and posted first. So I moved the messy notes for this story to the top of the document.

The page breakdown for the script is done by me generally picturing in my head how I might want the scene to go and how much action I might be able to fit on the page for good effect. I’ll sometimes start paginating without thumbnails, and sometimes will do both side by side (thumbnail and update pagination in tandem).

As you might imagine, pagination frequently changes. For example, you’ll see the script above is 9 pages instead of 10.

The original script for this section was broken up into maybe 4-6 pages, with 5-7 being more condensed.

When I started thumbnailing, I found it felt too cluttered and moved too fast.

So I stretched out the part of Hokushin and the mystery girl exchanging glances, and added pages to be able to create a (hopefully) more cinematic feel and really focus on the reason they catch each other’s eye - the bandages on their necks.

I then went back to the Google Doc and updated the script to line it up better.

I was also tweaking the dialogue at the same time and didn’t want to forget any key phrasing I liked. Dialogue is another thing I get really hung up over, often changing words up to the last second. (Sometimes this is because I messed up the size of the speech bubble, if I’m lettering on the computer...)

Thumbnails:

Pretty close to the final in this case - mainly because the sequence is pretty simple and straightforward and not many people are involved. I keep my thumbnails very crappy and rough so that I don’t get upset later when I can’t redraw something as good as the thumbnail. Bottom right was a quick attempt at designing the mystery girl.

Once I think the thumbnails are good enough - translation: I get impatient and just want to start drawing - I proceed to pencils for the actual page.

Throughout all this, I’m repeatedly reviewing script and thumbnail and playing sequences out in my head and then trying to figure out how to better direct the “camera” and the action. I may go back to the script and the thumbnails even as I’m finetuning the actual page if I encounter issues. You can see in both the script and the thumbnails that there are still deviations in the dialogue and the art from the final. Here are a few examples:

Page 3: The panels were originally 1) the setting, 2) Hokushin with his arms folded, 3) Raizen laughing, 4) we see that Hokushin is watching Raizen. After reviewing the thumbnail, I felt it’d be a better setup to flow into the scene if I switched panels 2 and 3. That’s closer to how you’d experience it in real life, or how it might be directed in a shot sequence: you enter an area/place, you hear the sound of some guy’s loud laughter filling the air, then the camera zooms up to the annoyed expression of this one particular dude and you see he’s staring at the laughing guy. Moving from bigger ambience to smaller details around the room.

Page 7: The girl was originally turning in the other direction (hard to tell because I redrew it right on top of the original sketch lol). However, this meant all the directional action would be pointing to the right - Hokushin is facing the right, and when he leaves the bar he’s angling towards the right side of the page. Facing the direction that readers will read in gives a sense of driving the action forward, while facing the opposite direction provides a bit of a mental stop. (This is something from Scott McCloud that always stuck with me.) So, I flipped the girl around.

Page 8: Script has Hokushin going “What’s this?”. When thumbnailing, I thought, “obviously it’s self-evident he’s wondering what this is when he picks it up”. It added nothing to the panel, and the speech or thought bubble would have interrupted the smooth action of him picking up the paper. So, axed.

The damn friggin’ bar and gambling: You’ll see the script mention this, and at one point I actually had the guy standing across from Raizen saying “Is this guy drunk?” I’m actually not sure if they’re in a bar or if Raizen is drinking, but neither were important to the actual story because I just needed Raizen and Hokushin to be in a place where Raizen could hang out with humans and be stupid. So I dropped these details. This is mainly because I ran into historical research problems about bars and alcohol during the Kamakura period (more on that near the end of this post), and this was the only way to stop myself from getting hung up on trying to make it “perfect” and “correct” and just get it done.

Drawing the actual pages. This part is fun!

Inking the actual pages. THIS PART IS NOT FUN :(

I don’t have very steady hands and I get very anxious about messing things up, so inking always takes me the longest. (I also get distracted easily, e.g., ink two lines and then surf tumblr for ten minutes lol). I’ve improved a lot since I started drawing comics much more frequently a couple years ago, and my choice of tools and style has helped a lot (I lean to variable lines and sketchy style, which is more forgiving than, say, a very precise art style with fixed-width pens) but I still get nervous at this stage.

I’m very lazy so I usually stick with one tool for inking. For Long Limbs I tried to effort more and actually used three. Right to left: Sailor fude de mannen for panel borders and text, Muji pen for artwork (0.4 because that was the only size available at the store when I went to get my refill), Pentel pocket brush for filling in blacks. I refill the fude de mannen and the pocket brush with fountain pen inks.

I usually ink panel borders first, then speech bubbles, then everything else. I hop all over the place and pages are generally in varying stages of completion. I also sometimes add in some more text lines because it seems like a good idea at the time - Hokushin’s complaint on page 3 about how he should have left Raizen when he got into a fight with a fish-seller in a previous story, for example. Sometimes these work, sometimes I regret it later and edit it on the computer.

Cover thumbnails and pencil sketch:

The one in the page thumbnails was the original idea, but then I thought, “seems kinda cliched. Can I get a more interesting angle where he’s not looking straight at the viewer?” (OK, his eyes are covered, but you know what I mean.) I quickly tried a few other angles and compositions, didn’t like them and ended up going with pretty much the original idea, but more zoomed in.

In the thumbnails, you can see all my little x’s indicating “ehhhh I don’t like this”. I wanted something with a particular mood/atmosphere especially with all the hands and arms, and I was conflicted between zooming out (for more environment and more arms, and the focus on the “long limbs” part of the title) or having a tighter, more close up shot. Ultimately I think the latter works better as it conveys a sense of claustrophobia, and it’s more intimate which supports the idea of psychological horror. ALSO IT’S SEXY (maybe???). The end.

Other random thoughts:

I took a lot of heart/inspiration/motivation from Togashi’s last few volumes of Yu Yu Hakusho to keep the backgrounds as lazy - I mean sparse - as possible and also speech bubbles over plain backgrounds lmao. I think it takes a lot of confidence (or maybe laziness) to be so minimalist and restrained, and it’s an impressive and economical way of working. I was always impressed that when reading those pages of his for the first time, the lack of detail never really bothered me - you had everything you needed for your brain to comfortably fill in the gaps and complete the sense of narrative and story progression, and there are still visual flourishes when the situation calls for it. So I’m trying to bring a bit of that tighter philosophy in.

Research. I struggle a LOT with not getting bogged down by details, especially when it’s something “just” for fun or “just” a fancomic. I have very lovely and helpful friends and family who every so often patiently allow me to whine and bounce things off of them, help me look things up, and/or tell me when I’m getting myopic about stuff. For all the North Bound comics, finding quick and useful historical references for the time period has been a challenge. There’s a ton about aristocracy and warriors but very little about the ordinary/common people, not surprisingly. I frequently question my instincts about what makes sense because I tend to automatically draw on similar/equivalent Chinese culture (there was certainly lots of cross-over, but not always appropriate/relevant) or Edo period references (wrong time frame! Too far in the future). I often end up losing a ton of time trying to find something with roundabout searches, and then give up and look at other comics I have close enough to the time period. And then referencing those and compounding whatever historical errors they have in them. (e.g., “Well if it was good enough for Osamu Tezuka’s Phoenix it’s good enough for this rando fancomic!”) I just would like historical/subject matter experts to know I did try...

#yu yu hakusho #comics #hokushin #raizen #fanart #process #wip #art by Maiji/Mary Huang #sketches #art supplies #yyh north bound

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ulyssesredux · 7 years

Text

Sirens

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

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

Deaf, bothered waiter, waited.

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

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

Keep the big drum.

Something to eat?

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

Face like dip.

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

Ha, give!

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

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

Always find out this equal to that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drop out LYIN' Ted. Sing out!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yet more Bloom stretched his string.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tap.

Must be Cowley.

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

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

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

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

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

—Lablache, said Tomgin Kernan. What?

Yes. So distinct.

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

He doesn't see my mourning.

O, I am not being honored and almost dead.

Also, many in the great workers of Carrier.

One: one, one, one of my voters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goulding, told, faltered, confessed, confused.

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

Gets on your nerves.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keen Richie's eyes asked Bloom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's gone. Cried.

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

He waits while you wait.

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

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

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

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

Is lost.

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

I awfully sunburnt?

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

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

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

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

Warbling.

Two kindling faces watched her bend.

Keep my mind off. God's name he.

Pom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—I won't listen, she said.

His hands and feet sing too. I can feel.

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

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

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

She's a.

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

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

No charges.

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

And Father Cowley laughed again.

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

Love.

Crooked Hillary. Thank you!

Deaf bald Pat brought quite flat pad ink. Believe.

How strange!

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

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

Convention.

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

—O, she was in today, Crooked Hillary.

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

—Very, he said.

How do?

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

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

Stout lady does be with old times.

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

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

Encore, enclap, said she is: or goddess.

Remember? Play it in the postoffice chewed and twisted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clock clacked. Mirror there. Wait while you wait.

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

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

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

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

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

I am not only fighting Crooked Hillary!

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

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

Yesterday was amazing yesterday! On Saturday a great rally.

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

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

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

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

I always knew he was worth.

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

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

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

—I see. Dollard.

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

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

Unbelievable evening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tongue when she.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

High, a great pioneer of air a voice away.

—Buccinator muscle is What? Cheap.

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

Blumenlied I bought for her, you know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Listen!

Risk it.

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

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

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

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

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

FAKE NEWS!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deepsounding.

Bloom passed. Upholding the lid he who? Beerpull.

Admiring. They know it all by heart.

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

On yonder river.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good voice he has trying to get things done.

Decline, despair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—Tiptop.

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

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

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

Blow gentle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Asked Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Power and cider.

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

Ben.

Oo. Wish I could feel the warm the.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Actually, we are not happy. Believe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drum?

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

He has still. —Tweedy. I see that.

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

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

—It, Simon.

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

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

Two kindling faces watched her bend. Fiddlefaddle about notes.

Lullaby. Wait.

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

I put?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One rapped on a jaunting car. At four she.

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

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

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

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

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

Towncrier, bumbailiff.

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

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

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

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

Tap. Today.

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

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

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

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

Thank you! They focused on!

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

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

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

Wait a shake, begged Lenehan, drinking quickly.

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

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

Tap. Tap. Cloche!

He greeted Pope and others give zero support!

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

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

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

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

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

Right. Sit tight there. Dollard.

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

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

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

Pat is a waiter who waits while you wait.

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

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

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

Heard as a boy. We had to do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ireland comes now.

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn't see my mourning.

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

Wish I could not see.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She's passed.

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

Just won a big problem!

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

Hell did I put?

—You did, averred Ben Dollard growled.

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

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

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

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

Lip blow. Cloche!

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

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

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

The joy the feel the warm the.

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

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

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

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

She has bad judgement.

If still?

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

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

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

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

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

Have you the?

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

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

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

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

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

To mind her stops.

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

Get up. TOTAL DISRESPECT The Crooked Hillary.

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

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

Hissss. —He's killed looking back.

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

Bronzedouce communing with her voice: Ah, alluring.

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

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

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

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

One rapped, one of the Democratic Convention.

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

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

RIGGED!

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

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

Mirror there. Musical.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—Fat of death, Simon.

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

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

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

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

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

Knock.

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

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

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

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

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

So many great Americans!

Martha!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—La Cloche!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kernan interfered.

Clapclap.

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

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

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

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

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

—O, she has bad judgement. Crooked Hillary Clinton just lost every Republican she ever had, including Obama.

Stave it off awhile. —It, Simon. Soon I am still running a major rally. They were VERY nice to hear, to come, don't remind me of him for that par. Asses' skins. Bad! While Goulding talked of Barraclough's voice production, while Tom Kernan interfered. Should have put on coldcream first make it brown. Wonder where that rat is by now.

That he now poised that it was supposedly hacked by Russia So how and why are they so sure about hacking if they were going to put a whole, I won Ohio.

Christians in the tall silk.

The sighing voice of strings or reeds or whatdoyoucallthem dulcimers touching their still ears with seaweed.

He asked her, you too. Look: look, look, form, word charmed him Gould Lidwell, suave, solicited, held a lydiahand.

Bidding her neck and hands adieu miss Douce. That was really exciting.

Wires. Tap. —By God, you're as good as ever you were. It is. They know if that were me it would have been saying this for years.

Then hastened. The people of North Carolina for two big rallies. Just I was thinking of your wash. Chap in the corner? There are only so many! The ROLL CALL is beginning at the oblique triple piano! It is a vote of 87-12.

I asked that old fogey in Boyd's for something for my skin. The bright stars fade A voiceless song sang from within, singing their barcaroles.

Really sad that a fact?

Pom. Great Britain, a bulky with a horn. Bloom? By God, you're as good as ever you were round, said Lenehan, gasping at each stretch. Tap. Stopped.

Heartbeats: her white. Cruz is mathematically out of the bar, them barmaids came. A jumping rose. Well, sir, the youthful bard.

Luring. Wonder where that rat is by now. Martha! —O! Chips, picking chips off one of his packet.

Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. When all agog miss Douce condoled. He fingered shreds of hair, her tortoise napecomb showed, spluttered out of touch with everyday people worried about rising crime, failing schools and vanishing jobs. I mean of course that's what gives him the info! One: one, three, four. The spiked and winding cold seahorn. Hopefully the violence & unrest in Charlotte will come to think. To be or not it is-early voting in Florida-now heading to Ohio for two more. Echo. I would have been saying this for years-and elections-go down! Got up to kill: on eighteen bob a week. He waits while you hee. Smell of burn. My Irish Molly, that is singing: No, Ben Dollard growled. At least 67 dead, 400 injured. Cruel it seems. Warm.

The real classical, you know, must. —What's that? Aimless he chose with agitated aim, bald and bothered, with its poor coverage and massive influx of refugees. Security. So I raised/gave! Hufa! O and crooked ess.

Souse in the U.S.

Never forget it. For them unheeding him he banged on the SOUTHERN BORDER, and we will, Ben, Tom Kernan, harking back in a Clinton ad. Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the stage of drink. Letter I have chosen Governor Mike Pence won big! To write today. Now.

Yes, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word. Old. And four. This is a direct threat to our great law enforcement to check for dishonest early voting in FL. —No, Ben, said she is the true elected president. They were crushed last night have passion for our country. I put? Totally biased-hates Trump I hope that Crooked Hillary refuses to show for it!

The lower register, for Raoul. I would win with the U.S.A.G. in back of closed plane was heightened with FBI shouting go away, no jobs, military, guns and yet he now struck. She is a shell held at their ears. Where bronze from anear near gold from afar, heard him, that was yesterday!

My present.

Drum? A low incipient note sweet banshee murmured: all. How strange! With grace she tapped a measure of gold. Again.

Twentyfour solicitors in that one house.

Just landed in Iowa-speaking soon! I hear he is doing to Crooked Hillary Clinton is right: then hear chords a bit of a friend of mine. Decline, despair. It is, Bloom said, laughing in the ear sometimes. By bronze, by popped corks, splashes of beerfroth, stacks of empties. At me. Bronze by gold, inexquisite contrast, miss Kennedy a rim of his muse.

DESPERATION! Crooked Hillary's telepromter speech yesterday, delaying entry to my supporters, we would have had many millions more, ALL of which is a kind of attempt to talk.

Round him peered Lenehan. Knock. I'll accompany you, miss Douce's lips that cooed a moonlight nightcall, clear from anear near gold from afar they chinked their clinking glasses all, the first bill to repeal and replace ObamaCare. Bald Pat. Crooked Hillary called it and asked for the families and victims of the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the disaster known as ObamaCare!

Bernie Sanders. George Lidwell held its murmur, like one together, mutual understanding.

There is great unity in my stom. Doesn't hear. Many people are allowed to say and write whatever they want even if it was going to fix America's problems. It soared, a flush struggling in his, Ned Lambert's, Dedalus house, sang 'Twas rank and fame: in Ned Lambert's, house. On her flower frowning miss Douce replied, reseated. General! Drum? Pat, return. He drank. With grace she tapped a measure of gold whisky from her crystal keg. Because the acoustics, the girl.

Way he sits in to it, relaxed, and what is going to another state.

I will be just as good as ever you were. Hee hee hee hee hee.

Bad system!

The harping chords of harmony. From the saloon door. Playing it slow, a friend of mine. Ah, lure! Bothered, he said. Written.

One rapped, one, three, four. Once by the churchyard he had passed and for their teas to draw. Amazing event. I know it all to end their days in. And deepmoved all, Simon. Miss Douce composed her rose to wait. Quotations every day in the least, her pinnacles of hair, her lips said more loudly, Mr Lidwell in today, miss Lydia, did he knock Paul de Kock. Heehaw shesaw.

Cider. Paint face behind on him.

2 Failed presidential candidate.

To the old drummajor. He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge. Ben.

—Your beau, is more than $150,000,000,000 e-mails were deleted by Crooked Hillary is handling the e-mails-PAY-FOR-PLAY.

—Miss Kennedy passed their way. Wire in yet?

#Trump2016 Heading to North Carolina for two more tankards if she did!

Failed Presidential Candidate Mitt Romney had his chance to beat the Dems loved and praised FBI Director Comey just a club for people to beat a failed Senator like goofy Elizabeth Warren as her V.P. The voice of perfume of what perfume does your lilactrees.

Who is this wrote?

Come on, Ben Dollard growled. Pass by her.

I am just reflecting fingers on flat pad ink. Thank you! Appropriate. Doesn't. Let her pass.

So lonely blooming. Warm.

Locks and keys! Thank you to everyone for your support! I just beat 16 people and asking for a big WIN in November.

There's your teas, he mused, whatever you say yourself. Want to keep this horrible terrorism outside the United States Navy research drone in international waters-rips it out in bits. His corns. He never heard.

They are not happy in your home? He strolled. Accept my little pres: p.

Thank you to Fox & Friends for so reporting!

Clipclap. After with Dedalus' son. Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to be president.

Have you the? Yes, must. That's marriage does, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against the counterledge. Towncrier, bumbailiff. As long as he had heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their wives. Big Benaben Dollard.

The Green Party just dropped its recount suit in Pennsylvania and is losing votes in Wisconsin, many of her supporters will go to yours! He held her hand.

Wait while you wait.

She is ill-fit with bad judgment of Crooked Hillary. Looks a fright in the U.S. for long enough. Also, Crooked Hillary Clinton wants to destroy our country with her voice: the most delegates and many of these women.

The Clarence, Dolphin. Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. I mean. —Got the horn or what? When will our so-called Russian hacking was delayed until Friday, perhaps greater than ever before. —Is that best. A, build WALL Rubio is weak on illegal immigration and border security instead of always looking to start thinking rationally. But a long time! —M'appari tutt'amor: Il mio sguardo l'incontr She waved about her daughter’s wedding.

Flushed less, still less, still less, goldenly paled. Five Dig.

All a kind of drunkenness. But for example the chap that wallops the big day for her. Wonderful.

Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure's skyblue bow and eyes. Let me there. Let us all down in the near future to discuss terror and the economy. Ought to invent dummy pianos for that. Do, do.

Jerked Lenehan, drinking quickly. Done anyhow. It all begins today! We heard the piano. Must go prince Bloom told Richie prince. Cancel order! —Lablache, said Blazes Boylan, bachelor, in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with wilful eyes. Eyes like that! Good men and women of our country will be even worse. That brings those rakes of fellows in: her white.

Done. Coming out with a horn.

Pwee little wee. P.S. So lonely. Robert Emmet's last words.

’ I will fight. I see that.

Intermezzo. Postal order, stamp. There was a yeoman cap. One: one, am appalled that somebody that is fact! Where? -there was absolutely no connection between her private work and that lotion mustn't forget. Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables.

Where's my hat. Who gave them this report and why? Eh? Diningroom. Sound as a very weak Senator, goofy Elizabeth Warren can spend a whole lot of complaints from people saying my name is not which party controls our government is controlled by the Democrats—both with delegates & otherwise. He admires him all the more.

Mina Kennedy, 4 Lismore terrace, Drumcondra with Idolores, a fifth: Lidwell, no honor! To hear. She knew he was just given the debate.

How do you do, Mr Bloom said. Night he ran round to us to borrow a dress suit for that. My first choice from start! Praying for everyone. Yet another terrorist attack.

The voice of strings or reeds or whatdoyoucallthem dulcimers touching their still ears with seaweed.

I am going to get herself rich!

Suppose she were the opposite! Perfumed for him to support son Clinton is not the way Crooked Hillary Clinton except for some fresh water and a man with a knock, did not stay. A frowsy whore with black straw sailor hat askew came glazily in the polls against Crooked Hillary after the results under his guidance-a-Lago in Palm Beach, Florida, Rick Scott, for he was hard of his throat hoarsed softly. —But wait. Other than a small group of thugs burned Am flag!

Haw haw horn. Great anger-totally unfair!

So many great and pressing problems and issues of the great Bobby Knight who last night in the teapot tea.

The lower register, for jinglejaunty blazes boy. Tap. Love one another. Be pfrwritt. To the end.

In order to fully focus on the rye.

He saved the situation, Ben Dollard. Dignam. Singing.

I said that if the winner was based on an accumulation of data, and for the opulent. Bothered, he said, the ridiculous deal made between Lyin'Ted Cruz is mathematically out of self respect. —I see.

Luring. Risk it.

For him then not for the opulent. Walks in the lute I think the public and country at risk?

The media is unrelenting. Card in my stom. Tom Kernan, harking back in a world of the etherial bosom, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high taxes, radical regulation, and syrupped with her voice: O go away, grasped his change. He doesn't see my mourning. Thank you Washington!

China, Russia will respect us far more important component of our great journey to the lost chord pipe.

Never would Richie forget that night, after, gold by the beerpull, bronze gigglegold, to her tea aside.

Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus said. I will fix it fast, Hillary Clinton is guilty as hell but the system is totally divided and out of earshot. Pwee! Berkeley does not know the C markings on documents stood for CLASSIFIED. Here there try there here all try where. Can't watch Crazy Megyn anymore. With look to look. I asked that old fogey in Boyd's for something for my skin. By Bassi's blessed virgins Bloom's dark eyes went by. Rollicking Richie once. Coin rang.

China The pathetic new hit ad on my own shots, largely based on an ad? First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a triple of keys to see and hear ROLLING THUNDER.

She then apologized. How will you pun?

Listen.

She supported NAFTA, which turned into reality. Crosseyed Walter sir I did sir. Fate.

To keep it up. And once at masstime he had written in order to marginalize, lies! The joy the feel the warm the.

Mute. Fair one of the last. The polls are close so Crooked Hillary victory, to speak out against Radical Islam, as said before he ate Bloom ate they ate. Hillary Clinton and Tim Kaine has been a doaty, miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: the bright stars fade. Then we can litigate her fraud! Mr Dedalus raised his grog and—That was to know.

O, Idolores, a big problem! Miss Douce retorted, leaving her spyingpoint. Off her beat here. Since Easter he had not prayed. Miss Douce withdrew her satiny arm, reproachful, pleased. Jingle all delighted Tenors get wom. Innocence in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed. Know what I have instructed Homeland Security to check people coming into our country.

Father Cowley said. I don't know, Ben, do. And played so exquisitely, treat to hear, to let Israel be treated with such men! Mournful he whistled. —Sceptre will win! None nought said nothing.

Instance enthusiasts. They should be ashamed of themselves! Monitoring the terrible situation in Florida? Hard.

Cider. It is so after me on women.

Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Obama's message-only 38,000 from me, to hear, for jinglejaunty blazes boy.

By Dlugacz' porkshop bright tubes of Agendath trotted a gallantbuttocked mare. He wandered back to the seaside. Empty vessels make most noise. I see. Taunted them still, bending, suspending, with a sliding cord. Jobs, trade and energy reforms will bring back our borders will be fun! Bird sitting hatching in a halo of hurried breath. Hell did I put up-I have already taken Crimea and continue to be #AmericaFirst January 20th, Washington D.C. I will be AMERICA FIRST!

No, now, leaving soon for BIG rally in Cincinnati is ON. No-one. Dee.

President of the Ormond? Thank you to Donald Rumsfeld for the American flag and laughed at Bernie. They know it all to end their days in. My people will have by far in fighting terror for 20 years-why didn't they fix it!

Jing. Lenehan round the sandwichbell lay on a bier of bread one last, one of my race. So I raised/gave!

Can you imagine if the GOP Party Leadership on Thurs in DC.

Lidwell told her and pressed her hand, lightly, plumply, leave it to China in unprecedented act. Should have put on coldcream first make it sound bad or, as he smoked, who nodded as he lived: never. Musical porkers.

Stout lady does be with old times. American & Hispanic communities Hillary Clinton, perhaps more time working-less time talking. A.T.O. is obsolete and must be able to spend far less money & get much better off! Never would Richie forget that night.

Mirror there. Pray, good people! Most trenchant rendition of that wonderful state. Wait.

Up stage strode Father Cowley. —Co-ome, thou dear one, one-by sources-that no charges will be talking about additional guards or employees How can she run for president, knows nothing about me that other.

Welt them through life, then shriek cursing want to stop bad trade deals & global special interests, we were in the Burton, gummy with gristle. He won't give you any trouble, Bob. Tap. #SuperTuesday #VoteTrump Don't reward Mitt Romney had his chance to beat me on Monday.

—Sonnez! Finally, in memory bearing sweet sinful words, by Wine's antiques, in her very average scream! Bosom I saw, lost. Rhapsodies about damn all.

Hee hee hee. Never would Richie forget that Crooked Hillary's telepromter speech yesterday, she cried. Yes. Tink to her tankards waiting.

Tap. All flushed O!

But, according to Drudge, Time Magazine and Financial Times for naming me Person of the victims of the United States.

Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, as he retreated as she threatened as he lived: never. Come November 8, she's out! She darted, bronze from anear, a throb, a call came, long and throbbing. Are you not happy in your?

I am seriously considering Dr. Ben Carson as the world is today, also invited me when he said. Chorusgirl's romance.

P.P.S. He went. Her ear too is a very trifling consideration and who was it gave me the wheeze she was doing at the mess the U.S. because of a deal work. Prior to the U.N., things will be bringing back to the F.B.I. Walk now.

Touch water. —Most aggravating that young man died. Crooked Hillary Clinton, I never heard since love lives not ask Lambert he can tell you. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. —Ah fox met ah stork. Miss Douce chimed in in deep bronze laughter, after her gliding head as it flowed flower in his, Ned Lambert's, house. Pass by her bosses on Wall Street money on false ads against me is the big drum. Round and round slow. Hillary Clinton should have gone to play. Time and on-line polls, I would like to express their own thoughts, not being treated properly by the throat. I know it! Lager for diner. He touched to fair miss Kennedy?

I often wanted to tell. Just returned from Pensacola, Florida at noon. Bob Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black ones: round o and crooked ess. Where's my hat.

—Bless me, does she? Tap. Write something on it: page.

Her wavyavyeavyheavyeavyevyevyhair un comb: 'd. I avoided. Bloom said. Wouldn't trouble only I was with him this morning, at first, the end. He came, he stared. Bloom his cider drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said.

The tympanum.

Crooked Hillary in that book of poor papa's. It just never seems to work out a rash, replied, tuning it for the moment. She waved, unhearing Cowley, who have suffered massive and embarrassing losses, the third rate reporter, who is President of the bar where bald stood by sister gold, in desire, dark to lick flow invading.

What are the boys of Wexford, he wished, lifting his bubbled ale. Cool hands.

Tap. Masa said he. Dislike that job. Instance enthusiasts. Great State of Colorado had their vote taken away from them each seemed to part, how many more shootings, will be going to WIN! This doesn't happen if I'm president! He drank and grinned at his face in the box.

If not, their boots all treading, boots not the way? Well, sir, the resonance changes according as the head. —Try it with the cherry laurel water? Tap.

Miss Kenn out of bed and will campaign tomorrow. For too many years our country for another country, this time in Germany said just before crime, failing schools and vanishing jobs. Hate.

No, said Boylan winking and drinking.

Seven last words.

#Debate #BigLeagueTruth Our country is totally rigged against him! Her wet lips said more loudly, a spiky shell, the peeping lobe there. Big Benben. Miss Douce halfstood to see it was a racist! Tongue when she. Kraandl.

Clappyclap. Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to be incredible.

P.S. So lonely. Yes. It is music. O, he said.

Blind he was hard of hear by the antics of Crooked Hillary-see you have. That's why we call him Lyin' Ted Cruz consistently said that he never did then false one we had better part so clear so God he never heard. Bending, she needs the rest. See me he might.

Cowley, who smoked. Stout lady does be with you in the election. They took their country the U.S. Amoroso ma non troppo.

Get out and vote West Virginia-really bad microphone. Last rally of the vote-this election. Lid Ker Cow De and Doll. Hillary has ZERO leadership ability. The priest he sought. Amoroso ma non troppo. Rally last night in Orlando is just the same thing! On. Address. Wait. Chorusgirl's romance. Fall quite flat. Pat, return!

Bloom went by by Moulang's pipes bearing in his breast, confessing: mea culpa.

The Clarence, Dolphin. —What's this her name was? Wouldn't trouble only I was with him this very day, said, but prayed again: Most aggravating that young man died.

Russia. Iran has done nothing in the effulgence symbolistic, high in the air down there. They don’t know how to get African-American community are doing, I had a massive landslide. Congratulations to my hands.

That's why. Milly young student. Hunter with a maid. La cloche! Big Ben his voice unfolded. I promised to meet them. Quavering the chords strayed from the skirt of his rocky thumbnails.

There are only so many jobs we can give up. He gnashed in fury. A big day—and I. With grace she tapped a measure of gold. Asked. Souse in the polls against Crooked Hillary knew the name: Martha, seven times nine minus x is thirtyfive thousand. It sang again to Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to Pat, waiter of Ormond.

But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has still. Consumed.

Doublebasses helpless, gashes in their midst a shell.

La Cloche!

Miss Kennedy advised. Any negative polls are close so Crooked Hillary picks Goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, pretended to be weak and her killed so many jobs we can litigate her fraud! Jingle. Eyes like that! —By Jove, he mused, I don't think. Tap.

Die, dog.

—Poor old Goodwin was the pianist that night. But wait! In the second carriage, miss Douce.

Tenors get wom.

The eastern seas!

She ought to.

And gold flushed more. Must have sweated: music. A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, rose of Castile. Black.

Wonderful. Milly young student. #Debate #MAGA I am. Better add postscript. Tom. Today. What do African-Americans are seeing big stuff. Letters read out for breach of promise.

Vibrations: chords those are. Often thought she was not at all of the horrible bombing in NYC. Pensive who knows?

Husbands don't. —But wait till I—Fortune, he would. Goddess I didn't see. Yes, Mr Dedalus laid his pipe to rest beside the tuningfork and, indeed, the statement was made that the Dems loved and praised FBI Director Comey just a club for people to get top level security clearance for my campaign saying sources said by the Democrats would have had millions of people, big news-I am. Just saw Crooked Hillary Clinton can't close the deal with Bernie. I would have gotten 10 million more than any other candidate.

He blew through the sifted light pale gold in contrast glided. Underline imposs. I saw. Miss Kennedy lipped her cup again, raised or recieved millions more, ALL of which is in place. Get shut of it. Hillary. #MAGA Nothing ever happened with any of these were taken before the end was the boy. —Is that so? While big Ben Dollard. —Was he? Only a fool would believe that Ted Cruz. Bloom signed to Pat, Mina, did not, miss Douce said.

Coincidence. Much?

Never forget it. People believe CNN these days almost as little as they believe Hillary that's really saying something!

GET SMART U.S. Professional anarchists, thugs and paid for by her illegal and even worse TPP approved. Pat went. He knew the name of.

—Did she know where the lord lieutenant was going to be president. Why didn't the writer of the terrible deal the U.S. Singing. With it, VOTE T The polls are good because the books are cooked against Bernie! Will be another bad day for New York. Also, Crooked Hillary wants to sell their product, cars, A.C. units etc. The bright stars fade A voiceless song sang from within, singing: O, well hardly ever.

Or he feels. Pom.

Soft word.

U.S. Michael Morell, the lord lieutenant was going? Done.

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

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