#So a pipe burst in my wall today... anybody out there?

[arson-goku]

Putting my blorbos in situations at 15: and then A gets TORTURED for days and B stays at their bedside until they wake up

Putting my blorbos in situations at 27: A and B are roommates in a shitty apartment when a pipe bursts in their wall

[randofics]

Hard lessons and love Pt.1

Superboy/Connor Kent x southern reader

Wanted to wright something a bit different so this was made. Superboy from the movie Reign of Superman. More wholesome and not at all 18+ so anybody can enjoy!

When you walked into class this morning you hadn't expected to see the famous Superboy sitting in your seat with a small group of your classmates, particularly the girls standing around him. Uninterested you sat in a seat that didn't have a backpack slung over it and pulled out your books. You pushed your glasses up your nose and read the instructions on the board flipping to the right page number. Patiently you waited for the teacher to come in so you could start taking notes, but soon the loud voices gathered around Superboy grew too annoying for you to bear. "Will yall keep it down! Yall are giving me a headache!" Your firm voice pierced the cacophony and most went silent for a moment looking at you. Someone piped in. "Why don't you shut it teachers pet!" You rolled your eyes at the weak insult and stood walking over to the group. "That's all you could come up with? And I'm not the one's that are practically shouting over each other! Yall don't have any respect for nobody except yerselves. And have any of yall heard of common decency and manners! I mean come on, yall are going to college next year!"

They went silent looking at their feet or something around the room. Superboy suddenly piped in tilting his shades down with a finger to look at you. "Who are you the fun police?" You glare at him and move towards him, the group parts to let you through. Once you're able to see him completely you suck in a calming breath. He's leaned back in your seat with his boots propped up on the desk. You instinctually swat at his feet to get him to move them. "Move, move, move!" He rolls his eyes but humors you letting his boots hit the floor with a thud. "Why exactly do I need to move my feet?" You lean on the desk with both hands and give him a fake smile. "Well Superboy I don't know maybe that's because it's my desk!" His eyebrow rises as he puts his arms behind his head to relax. "Well I don't see your name on it!" You laugh sourly and point to a laminated paper pinned to the wall next to the door. "That don't matter in this case cause we have teacher assigned seats." "Can't you just sit over there for today? Or can't your prissy, teacher suck up heart not take it?"

Just then your teacher bursts through the door trying his best not to lose the bag, papers, and coffee he was carrying. Your other classmates rushed to their seats leaving you as the only one standing. As he was carefully putting down his stuff he told the class to take out their books and flip to the page on the board. He sighed in relief once his coffee was safe on the coaster and spotted you. "Y/n what are you doing standing? Aren't you going to open your book?" You smile at him and gesture to the black haired boy still sitting in your seat. "Ah I see Well it's already a bit late in class cause I'm late so why don't you go ahead and sit over there for today." You nod in understanding and sit obediently as he starts class. Your current seat is one row from the very front and Connor's is one row behind you at the window. As class drags on he gets board, and having looked out the window for a bit he decides to look around the room. Eventually his eyes land on you as you're quietly taking notes. Suddenly he gets an idea and tearing off the corner of his notebook paper he balls it up and aims the tiny ball at your head. With a small flick of his finger the ball is launched at you. It hits its target, that being the back of your head and falls to the floor. You turn and glare at him before returning to your notes.

To say that your first impressions of each other was bad was an understatement. Over the next few weeks you'd throw insults and snarky remarks at each other just to get on each other's nerves. Slowly it seemed like you may start to befriend him despite your own thoughts about him. But one day his jokes and insults started to sting. As the days went by, you grew quieter and more withdrawn. He started hanging out with the spoiled rich kids of the school and seemed to adopt their bullying ways a bit. He only really did it to you from what you had observed.

He walked up to you at your desk one day and you didn't even look up at him. He cleared his throat and you felt his expectant gaze on you. You weren't in the mood for his crap right now. "What!?" You snapped, looking up at him with an intense glare. He held out a single rose for you to take. Surprised you reluctantly took it and instinctually took a sniff, the light scent of the rose and pepper! Overwhelmed you and you started to sneeze. You threw the rose to your desk and the powdered black pepper spilled from its petals.

Through your sneezes you could barely hear his laughter and the laughter of a couple other students. You got up and went to your teachers desk grabbing a couple tissues and immediately blew your nose. When you removed the tissue you looked at the white paper noticing the tiny black specks and a little bit of fresh blood. Just then your teacher walked back in and noticing the small amount of blood asked what happened. "Connor gave me a rose with black pepper in it!" He looked at Connor disappointed. "Why would you do that?" He only shrugged from his seat as you glared at him. "Y/n why don't you go down to the bathrooms and get you some water and try to stop that bloody nose." You nod and stuff tissues up your nostrils as you walk out.

"Ok then let's talk about the project for next week." The whole class audibly groans at that. "Yes there's a project but don't worry too much cause it should be easy enough." As he was explaining the project Connor wasn't paying attention and looking across the classroom out the window. A bird would occasionally fly past and he'd try to guess what kind it was in his head. He looked back at your desk and spotted the rose with black pepper spilled from it across the faux wood. Unexpectedly his heart suddenly felt like it was being squeezed. His thoughts drifted to you and he recalled seeing you in other classes. He sat behind you and watched as you wrote in your books or on a piece of paper. You'd often have a small sketchbook to draw on when you had spare time in class and he'd watch your experienced hand sketch dragons or other animals and sometimes different people around the room. He wondered if you ever drew him but shook his head. You'd never sketch him! You practically hated him! But then again that was kinda his own fault. Maybe he should be nicer to you. You never really did anything to him except bite back when he insulted you. Yeah he'd try to be nicer to you.

Just then you walked back in and the teacher told you about the project. After you sat down he stood and with a small bowl walked around the room letting half the class draw a name. He got to Conner who reluctantly stuck his hand in the bowl pulling out a piece of paper. He opened the folded piece and read the name cursing under his breath. He had drawn you. Out of all the people in class he had to get you!? "Alright class move seats to your partner and we'll do the first part of the project here. The rest you'll have to do at home." He sighed and knowing he wouldn't be able to switch partner's walked over to you and sat down. "Wait you're my partner?" He showed you the slip of paper and you wiped your hand down your face. "Seriously teach!?" He only shrugged as he opened his binder with his instructions inside. You groaned and with a thud your head hit the table. "Let's get it over with then."

After class Connor explained to you that you'd have to come to his place because lex wouldn't let him go to your's for "security" reasons. You checked with your parents and with their permission agreed to go to his place after school. Once the bell for students release rang you met him at the front of the school and hopped in his limousine. The drive there was relatively quiet except for the argument Connor and lex had about an advertisement scheduling. Lex asked you a bit about yourself and you obliged him. "Are you friends with Connor?" "No not really Mr. Luthor, since I met him we haven't exactly seen eye to eye." He nodds in understanding and stays silent for the rest of the drive.

When you pull up to the tower Connor is the first out and Lex offers to take your bag but you respectfully decline and step out shouldering your heavy backpack. You step through the sliding doors and walk into the spacious lobby making your way to the elevator behind Connor. He presses the button and the three of you wait for the door to open. In the elevator you text your parents letting them know that you're at the tower and that you'll call in a few hours. Your mom says to have fun and you send her a simple "k" in response. Lex opens the door to his penthouse and tells Connor to show you where the restroom is and that he'll be busy till late. You follow behind him down the hall and he shows you to the large luxurious bathroom. You nod and follow him to his room. There are posters of a couple bands on the walls and a cardboard cutout of himself in the corner next to his closet door. A guitar that's signed is sitting in a glass case on another wall and a nice desk set is next to it. His bed is in the other corner neatly made and a figurine of himself is sitting next to the alarm clock on the side table. He pulls out the swivel chair and pushes a button on the desk. "Hey Betty can you send up an extra swivel chair, I have a guest over from school." "On it now." He sits back as you set your bag on the floor. "What do you think?" He gestures to his room. "A bit self absorbed but the layout is nice. "I'll take that as a compliment."

A knock on the door frame catches your attention and a man walks in placing the new chair next to you. You smile and thank him as he leaves. "You didn't have to thank him that's kinda his job." Rolling up next to him you give him a glare. "You should always thank someone when they do something for you." "Whatever let's just get this project over with." The project was pretty straight forward and in a few hours you just about had it finished. You put down your pencil and stretched. It was dark out now and you could see the city light shining through the large glass window. Suddenly the need to pee came over you and you excused yourself for a minute. He watched you leave and when you were gone his curiosity got the better of him. He reached into your bag and pulled out your sketchbook flipping through the pages.

You took an art class and some of the sketches were of famous statues or paintings. Some were of people walking on the sidewalk or at the park and turning the page again he was met with a sketch of himself. He was chewing on the end of a pencil and looking forward. From the angle he could tell that you had been behind him and kinda to the side. He flipped the page again and a sketch of him at lunch with his friends greeted him. He was laughing and the faces of the people around him weren't fully drawn as if the focus of the sketch was him. You walked back into his room and didn't realize he had your sketchbook until you were sitting down. You snatched it from him and looked at the page he was on. "Hey I was looking at that!" "You shouldn't go through people's stuff without permission!" "Why were you drawing me?" You pause for a second. "Why can't I? I draw a whole bunch of people." "Wait do you like me?" "You blushed a bit and pushed up your glasses as you looked away from him. "No I do not like you." He leaned back with his feet on the desk. "You totally do!" "No I don't!" He suddenly stood moving to pin you in your chair, his face getting close to your's. "You do and you know how I can tell?" You turned to look at him and he was grinning. "Cause I can hear your heart racing in your chest." Blushing hard you averted your gaze. "Heh you're cute when you blush like that."

"Why are you doing this?" You snapped angrily catching him off guard. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you looked at him. He stood holding his hands up in surrender. "Woah hey calm down." "CALM DOWN! HOW CAN I BE CALM WHEN YOU CONSTANTLY INSULT AND BULLY ME IN SCHOOL! AND NOW YOURE FLIRTING WITH ME!? You cover your face with your hands and finally let your tears flow freely a sob wracking your body. You bring your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around them.

He curses to himself as he wipes a hand down his face in exasperation. He taps his foot as he tries to think. Sighing he kneels down in front of you and places a hand on your arm. You look down at him with tears dripping down your cheeks. That look on your face wrenches his heart and he gives you an apologetic look. "Hey listen this is really hard for me to say so... im-im sorry ok?" A sour laugh leaves your mouth and you roll your eyes. "Really I am! I've been a total jerk to you and after what?! You just trying to quiet everyone down cause you started getting a headache?" "You remembered that?" "Yeah how could I not remember? That's the day I first met you." You attempt to whipe the tears off your face with your sleeve but he stops you. "Here let me." With his gloved hands he swipes his thumbs over your cheeks getting rid of the tears. "That's better, now I can see that pretty face."

You let out a snort and he grins. "You're terrible." "But I got you to laugh didn't I?" "Yeah I guess you did." The loud buzz of his intercom startled the both of you and he reached over to answer it. "Yeah?" Lex's voice came over the speaker. "It's getting late have you finished your schoolwork yet?" "A-almost we've got a little bit left but it should just take a few minutes to finish." "Alright do I need to call y/n's parents to pick her up?" He looked to you and you shook your head no. "No she has her phone so she'll call them in a bit." "Alright then I'll leave you to it." With that he hung up and Connor sunk into his seat with a sigh of relief. You spoke up. "That scared the bejezus outta me!" He let's out a laugh. "Yeah me too, are you feeling better?" "Ye-yeah I am." You fidget with the hem of your shirt as he looks at you. "Well I guess we should get this finished." You nod and the both of you get back to work.

After you finished you called your mother to come pick you up and Connor escorted you out of the building waving to you as you drove off. He had a smile on his face as he walked back into the penthouse. He passed Lex on the way to his room and he gave him a knowing look shaking his head. "Teenagers."

[novelist-becca]

Could these walls come crumbling down

Fandom: The Owl House

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Eda Clawthorne & Luz Noceda 

Summary: A look at “A Lying Witch and a Warden” from Eda’s POV. Title is from the song “Into the Open Air” by Julie Fowlis. Italics are Eda’s thoughts.

AO3 link here

FFN link here

Eda had sent Owlbert back through the portal after their brief trip through the human realm. She was unable to find any good stuff, plus she was getting tired. So she went back to wait at her booth while he found more garbage. That was an hour ago. The bored witch watched as random citizens walked by. A part of her worried he was caught and captured by a curious human. He was supposed to be back by now! 

Then, as she was tapping her foot in impatience, she heard the door finally open, and the owl flew through the curtain dragging a half-full sack of human garbage. 

“Finally, you're back!” Eda said with a sigh. Nevertheless, she gave Owlbert a quick scratch on his chin as a thank you. Eda thought she heard a voice from inside the tent, but she ignored it and turned to the sack. “Now let's see what we've got here.” She said as she screwed Owlbert back onto the staff. 

Eda rubbed her hands together in anticipation and looked through the assortment. A small dark box thingy? Nah, she could never figure out how to work those strange box things. “Garbage…” A diamond ring? No, everybody here's already seen those. “Garbage…” and a golden glowing goblet! Nope, she needed something rare! Something different!

Then as if the sack could read her mind, Eda gasped pulled out a large pair of strange glasses with bloodshot eyeballs. “Now this…” she said as she tried them on. “This will make me rich!” To her amusement, the eyeballs popped out and sprung for a few seconds.

It's horrifying. Perfect! 

“And this…” The next item Eda pulled out was a book. It was…eh. She's seen a few witchlings carry it around. Whatever. Her candle was starting to go out anyway. “Well, this'll make good kindling.” 

But as soon as she held the book over the flame, some kid burst out of the tent and snatched it out of her hand. “Excuse me sorry that's mine thank you!” She said quickly. 

Now where the hell did she come from? Eda thought. Then a quick look at her ears confirmed that she was a human. 

Now she could be…useful.

Before the little intruder could escape back through the portal door, Eda closed it with the key. She wasn't going to get away that easily.

“You're not going anywhere.” She said sternly. It seemed to scare the kid enough that she escaped from under the tent’s cover. Not wanting to lose this opportunity, the witch followed her. Soon enough, Eda found the girl standing at the edge of a cliff, visibly freaked out and confused, and also smacked down a stray pixie. The witch internally laughed at the child. 

Classic humans. 

“Where am I? Did I DIE?! Am I in the Bad Place?” The girl frantically asked nobody in particular. Eda grabbed her shoulder, startling her for a moment. 

“You wish.” 

The older witch dragged the girl back to the booth by her arm, sitting her down on a stool. Yup, she's human. Eda told herself. No doubt about it with those round ears. She looked to be in her teens, with dark skin and short brown hair. Said human had her knees pulled up to her chest, looking up apologetically at the woman before her. 

“I-I'm so sorry, I just wanted my book! If you're gonna eat me, just make it quick- just do it now!” The human stuttered out, holding out her arm. 

The witch internally laughed at this kid’s complete overreaction. Alright Eda, time to drop the tough guy act. Don't scare her too much.

“Eat you? Why would I eat…a potential customer?” Eda said to the girl, presenting her stash of junk. Her words seemed to confuse her, but the kid seemed to calm down, and looked up with interest. Nailed it! She's hooked! “Can I offer you a human foot filled with holes? A bar of green human candy? Oh, oh, how about this black shadow box that reflects only sadness?” Eda spoke as she went through whatever assortment of objects she found interesting. 

And, interestingly enough, instead of rejecting the offer and walking to the next stand, the human laughed a little bit at the presentation. 

“That's not all it can do.” The human says, getting out of her seat. “Here, let me see it.” Eda allows her to take the offered “shadow box” and observed as she takes something from the “human candy” bowl and inserted it into the object. Then she pushed a button and…it lit up with loud music, showing a person dancing. To Eda’s surprise, some demons and witches heard the noise and were immediately attracted. Oh, so that's how it really works.

“Huh? What's that?”

“That sound, it's so alluring…!” 

One demon held up some money. “I'll pay 40 snails for the screaming box!” 

Another demon held up his too. “I'll give you 100!”

“Can I eat the tiny person inside?” 

Eda watched in awe as more people offered up their goods for the device. All thanks to this kid. She turns to her with great interest. “What did you say your name was?” She asked with an impressed smirk. 

If she's a human, then maybe she can help King. Eda thought, remembering the other reason for pulling her aside. 

“I'm Luz! Luz Noceda!” The kid said, smiling at her. It's incredible how she hasn't run away screaming from the demons and monsters of the Isles, as most normal humans would. 

“Well, Luz, that was pretty clever…for a human.” Eda adds, taking the offered money from her customers. 

“That's kind of a weird thing for another human to say.” Luz says, raising an eyebrow. 

Oh, right, the bandana!

“Oh, dear child…” Eda started before swiftly taking off the bandana disguise to reveal her own pointy ears. “I'm not like you.” 

The witch stepped on top of her table to speak. Might as well entertain the kid. 

“I'm Eda the Owl Lady! The most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles!” Eda declared proudly. 

“A witch?” She heard Luz say in wonder and delight. 

Oh, I like this kid. 

“I am respected! Feared!”

“-Busted!” To her dismay, the loud device was smashed by none other than…an Emperor’s Guard. Customers ran away in fear, but Luz stayed by the table for whatever reason. Dammit.

“Eda the Owl Lady, you are wanted for misuse of magic and demonic misdemeanors!” The guard spoke in a gruff voice. 

“Woah, witch criminal.” Luz said from her spot by the table, watching with great interest. For some reason she…stayed. 

“You are hereby ordered to come with me to the Conformitorium!” He demanded, grabbing Eda’s arm. 

She yanked it back in annoyance. The guards were stalking her…a lot today. “Would you guys quit following me around? I haven't done squat.” Why do they call it “misuse” anyway? 

Unfortunately, the guard noticed Luz and lifted her up by her shirt. “And you're coming too. For fraternizing with a criminal!” 

“What? That's not cool!” Luz exclaimed, eyes widening. 

Quickly, Eda formulated a plan. “Oh alright alright, you win. Just let me get my stuff…” she answered, getting her staff. Swiftly, she swung it at the guard, knocking him flat on the ground. These chumps are too easy!

Quickly, Eda cast a spell to wrap up everything in a sack, hanging it on her staff. But not before pressing the button on her key. “Whoops, can't forget this!” She ran towards Luz, remembering her mission. “Follow me, human!” And she did. 

As Eda ran, Luz rambled frantically beside her. “This is crazy! If I die here my mom’s gonna kill me!” 

The witch laughed. “Ha! I won't let him hurt you. A human like you is much more valuable to me alive than dead.” Eda promised. If she is to earn Luz’s trust, she can't get hurt. No matter what.

“Wait, what's that supposed to-”

Eda didn't let her finish as she suddenly hooked her arm with Luz’s, whooping as she swept her off the ground and into the air with her on the staff. 

As expected, Luz was frozen in her place on the staff, tears leaking from her closed eyes. 

“You can open your eyes now, human.” Eda told her.

Luz opened one eye, then another before letting out a whimper and nearly falling off. “Flying staffs, crazy monsters, you're a witch! What is this place?” She asked as Eda pulled her back up. 

“This is the Boiling Isles.” Eda explained to the girl. “Every myth you humans have is a bit of our world leaking into yours.” Just then, a large griffin flew by, sparking Luz’s interest. 

“A griffin!” And when it started breathing spiders, “I knew it!” She exclaimed happily. Eda marveled at Luz’s great fascination with this world. She loved the enthusiasm. 

“Yup! Griffins, vampires, giraffes…” Eda recounted. 

“Giraffes?” Luz asked, confused. 

“Oh yeah. We banished those guys. Buncha freaks.” Eda said with disgust. Those super long necks had always unnerved her. She stepped off her staff once she arrived at their destination. Luz stayed on, unsure. Until she noticed Eda's detached hand and jolted off. 

Jumpy isn't she? 

“Whoops, that happens sometimes.” Eda said nonchalantly, screwing her hand back on. 

Luz got to her feet. “Well, I've had enough adventure for today. This is clearly not the PG fantasy world I always dreamed about. So, can you help me get back home?” She said. Eda held her staff in front of her before she could walk away, making her freeze in place. She needs her for this. And she's not getting away so easily.

“Only if you help me first!” Eda insists. “Ha! Now come along, human.” 

As she and Luz approached the door, Luz piped up again. 

“Aren't you worried about those guards finding us?” She asked, looking behind them nervously. 

Eda looked to her and gestured at her house. “Nope! My house has a state-of-the-art defense system.” As long as Hooty’s around, she and anybody that chooses to stay is safe. But…not from his voice. 

“Hoot hoot, password please.” Hooty said. Eda rolled her eyes and poked his eyes. “Ow!” 

“We got no time for this, Hooty. Let us in.” She answered with two fingers still held up as a warning. 

“Alright alright, jeez! You never wanna have any fun! Ow! Hoot!” Hooty scoffs before letting Eda and her new aquaintance in. She let the girl take a brief look around before snapping her fingers. 

“Welcome to…the Owl House.” And with a snap of her fingers, everything came to life. Candles lit up, the broom sweeping, the fireplace blazing, and the ceiling lit up with that beautiful picture of a bird. Luz looked around in amazement and walked around. 

“Where I hide away from the pressures of modern life.” Eda explained. “Also the cops. Also ex-boyfriends, ha!” She added with a snort. 

Luz placed her book down on the coffee table. “This place is beautiful. So do you live here all alone?” 

As if on cue, the house seemed to shake with King’s angry stomping. That damn demon. 

“Actually, I have a roommate.” Eda frowned.

“WHO DARES INTRUDE UPON I, THE King of Demons!” King demanded as he entered the living room in his towel and…holding a rubber duckie. 

Instead of getting scared, Luz gasped in delight at the sight of him. “Ay que lindo!” She exclaimed, and then she quickly scooped a confused King into a tight hug. “Eda he's so cute! Who's a widdle guy? Who's a widdle guy? Is it you, is it you? Mmm!!!” She cooed excitedly to the now frightened demon. Not that Eda could really blame her, he is really adorable. 

“NO! I don't know who your little guy is! Eda! Who is this monster?!” King cried as he tried and failed to push the girl off him. 

“Oh, this is Luz, the human.” Eda tells him, restraining Luz with her arms around her torso and prying her away, then putting her back down. “She's here to help us with our…situation.” She explains with a hand on Luz's shoulder. 

King lit up. “Oh! Hurray!”

But Luz backed away, apprehensive. “Wait wait wait. I don't like the sound of this 'situation.’” 

Eda stepped in front of her before she can back out. “Just…let me explain.” She says before drawing a spell circle to help illustrate their objective. “King was once a mighty king of demons, until his crown of power was stolen, and he became…this.” She noticed Luz had picked up King again. 

“You mean this little bundle of joy?” She interjects. 

Eda continued. “The crown is being held by the evil Warden Wrath, and locked away behind a magical force field that only a human can break through. A human like you.” She lifted the spell and looked at Luz. “If you help us retrieve his crown, we’ll send you back to your realm.” And while Eda may be Public Enemy #1, she intended to keep her end of this deal. “So what do you say?” To convince her, she picked up King by his head. “Plus, who could say no to this cute face?” 

“No! Please don't encourage her!” King cried, squirming in her hold. 

Eda dropped him. “I mean, we're kinda your only way home.” She reasons. There's not any other portal to the human realm. That she knows of, at least. 

Luz averted her eyes to the side. “So I don't really have a choice, do I?” She guesses.

“Nope! Now we've got no time to lose!” Eda urges, picking up Luz and holding her over her shoulder. The girl didn't struggle. Behind her, Eda hears King talking to his duck. 

“Where are we going?” Luz asks over her shoulder. 

“Somewhere super fun!” 

~ 

“The Conformitorium, a place for those considered 'unsuitable for society’.” Eda explains with distaste when they reached their destination. She remembers how guards would throw people in that damn place simply for being weird. Most of them haven't committed any real crimes! 

Beside her, Luz had found one of her famous Wanted posters. “Whoa. These guys really have the hots for you.” She observed. 

She's not wrong.

“Yep. But we were never caught because we were too slippery.” Eda proudly says with a smirk. That poster would always be one of her proudest moments. She looked good in it! A part of her feels overjoyed that this child didn't judge her for her criminal status.

“Try to catch me when I'm covered in grease, I'm a squirmy little fella.” King remarked in his place on Luz's head. Luz, who probably just found it weird, tilted her head so the demon could slip off. “You and I will sneak up to the top of the tower where they're holding my crown.” He explained to her. 

“And I'm gonna make sure the warden’s distracted.” Eda added.

Luz gasped in excitement. “Will I need a disguise?”

“Uh…” Eda didn't really answer. Nobody's seen her before, so does she really need one? 

“I've been waiting to use this.” Luz said, and put on her hoodie, flicking the cat ears up. “Meow meow!” 

Oh why not let her have some fun. Besides, it’s kinda cute!

“It's hideous.” King commented. 

“Oh you'll fit right in.” Eda agreed, smiling. Then she planted her staff to the ground, creating a glowing yellow disk. “Hang on tight!” Then it  lifted Luz and King to the air, elevating them to a tower window. After they were dropped off, she flew away on her staff to begin her search. “Meet you guys at the top of the tower!” She said. 

Eda flew around the halls of the Conformitorium, passing cells, making sure no guards were around while also searching for the Warden. Eventually, she heard someone at the end of the hallway. She peeked around the corner and sure enough, there was Warden Wrath, holding a tiny creature with a big nose hostage. 

Good. Just where we want him. Eda flew back the other way to go update the human girl. 

After a few minutes of searching, Eda found Luz walking around the halls with her hood down, looking…dejected. “Hey, I just checked, the Warden is distracted, tormenting some tiny creature. He won't coming around here anytime soon.” 

Luz didn't respond, and her expression didn't change as she walked past Eda. She looked deep in thought. 

Where's that enthusiasm from earlier? 

In front of them was a large door labeled “Contraband”. This was the room where King’s crown was! 

“My crown, it's close! I can sense its power!” King said excitedly. He scrambled quickly to the door, desperately trying to get it open. Of course, with his tiny body it would take a while. 

“Aw, he's so cute when he's thirsty for power.” Eda cooed. 

Then Luz finally spoke. “It's not fair that they're all in here. They just want to be themselves!” She said sadly. Eda assumed she probably talked to a few of the prisoners. “Why does everyone think being a weirdo is so bad?” She asked, looking up at the witch with sad eyes. 

She understands. She knows what it's like to be stifled. Eda thought fondly. I really like this kid.

Before Eda could come up with a response, a noise snapped both of them out of their thoughts, King finally got the door open, and was now laughing to himself as he excitedly sprinted into the room. 

“Come on, before he hurts himself.” Eda sighed. And as if on cue, she heard an “ow!” followed by a zap. 

In the room, King was repeatedly headbutting the barrier, failing over and over again to get through. 

Ha, cute.

“We have a human, remember?” Eda reminded him, looking up at Luz, silently telling her what she had to do. 

“Oh yeah!” Said King.

Luz took a deep breath as if to prepare herself, and slowly stepped through the barrier. Eda and King stood outside, waiting for the human to find what they needed. And sure enough, Luz stepped back out, holding the crown, looking confused. 

King took it from her, putting it on. “Yes, yes! I can feel my powers returning! You there, nightmare critter! I shall call you Francois and you shall be a minion in my army of darkness!” He pointed excitedly to a random stuffed rabbit. “Ha, ha!” He laughed triumphantly. 

“That crown doesn't give him any powers, does it?” Luz asked, disappointed and confused. 

“Uh, no.” Eda replied. Luz gave her a skeptical look. “Oh, look at us, Luz. King and I don't have much in this world, we only have each other. So if that dumb crown is important to him, it important to me.” She says, trying to convince the girl that this wasn't a total waste of time. “Besides, us weirdos have to stick together, you know?” She concluded with a wink. Luz looked at her and smiled, pink tinting her cheeks. 

I knew you'd understand. 

“Well, we owe you one. Now let's get outta here before the warden finds us and loses his head.” She stated. 

“Too late.” A sinister voice said behind her.

The owner of that voice swiftly and effortlessly cut of Eda’s head, which Luz caught in her hands. The girl screamed. 

“AAHH!!!” 

“OW! Oh I hate it when that happens.” 

“AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

Luz held Eda’s head close, looking at her with terrified eyes. “Eda! Are you okay?!” 

“Yeah, this just happens when you get older.” Eda said nonchalantly. 

“Does it?” Luz asked, horrified. 

Well it started happening when I got older, I don't know about other witches…where's my body?

Warden Wrath approached them. “Finally, I have you cornered, Eda the Owl Lady.” Then he took King’s crown again, crushing it easily in his hands. 

“Weh?!”

“My guards could never get you, but I knew if I took your pet’s toy, you'd come running.” He crushed the crown easily in his hands. 

“NO!” King sobbed. “My power!” 

Luz and Eda glared at him. “What do you want with me?! I've never actually broken any of your stupid laws…in front of you!” Eda glowered. They came all this way just for King! Nobody makes him cry like that!

“I want you…” he kneeled down on one knee. “To go out with me.”

What the hell? 

“Wha?” 

“What?” 

Warden continued. “You've always eluded our capture. You've always been the one who got away. I found that alluring.” He said. 

What the fuck?

“I hate everything you're saying right now.” Luz said, disgusted. Eda was even more disgusted. These guys never ever got the message to back off. All that, just because he wanted a date? What a load of bull.

Warden snapped out of his lovestruck state. “You stay out of this!” He threw a goopy arm at Luz, knocking Eda’s head out of her hands. As she struggled, he picked Eda’s head up by her hair and stared her in the face. 

“So how about it, Owl Lady? The most powerful witch of the Boiling Isles and the feared Warden Wrath. We'd be the strongest power couple ever.” Warden said. Eda cringed. “I mean, it's not like you can say no right now.” 

Just when I thought this day couldn't get any worse. 

Eda looked to Luz, then to King, who was now struggling to get out of a guard’s arms, and formulated a plan in her head. 

“Alright, Warden, you win. I'd just like to say something first.” She sighed. “Come closer.” He brought her head closer. “No, just come a little bit closer. Just… yeah that's good-” and Eda blew a raspberry right in his face, breaking his concentration and making him drop Luz. While he was groaning in disgust, Eda was cackling from where she hung.

He's so gullible! I knew he'd fall for that! 

“Impudent wench! Don't you know how many germs are in your mouth? Yuck!” He sneered. 

“Get over it! You had your guards stalk me and then you cut off my head! I am NOT going out with you!” She said angrily. 

“If you don't accept, then I have no choice but to-” 

WHACK! 

Her staff came up from behind, knocking him on the head, making him drop Eda’s head. It was none other than Luz! 

Eda chuckled. “Nice!” What a smart girl! Quick thinking!

Then she got her body to come over and pull the guards’ hoods over their faces, distracting them. Luz ran over and picked up Eda’s head and grabbing King back from a guard, getting on the staff, trying to figure out how to make it fly. 

“Expecto…flying? Magicusescapicus!” Luz said, but nothing happened. 

It doesn't really require enchantments, kid… 

“Gun it magic stick!” Eda barked, and immediately, the trio was flying through the air. They haphazardly flew through the halls, passing jail cells. Luz looked to Eda and held out an arm. 

“Eda, lend me a hand!” Luz said to the head. Eda, knowing what she wanted to do, linked her arm with Luz’s, giving them enough strength to move the levers to open the cell doors, freeing whoever the prisoners were. Then they all burst through a door, and the warden finally caught up to them. He launched a goopy arm at them, and they crash-landed to the ground. 

The warden morphed his hand into an axe, and Eda put her head back on, feeling the satisfaction of being able to move again. She jumped to action, and pulled out her key. “Luz,” she said to the girl. “Go back to the human world.” 

She's already helped us, I owe it to her to let her go home safe. 

“What about you guys?” 

King ran over to try to help Eda. “If you think this guy is bad, you shoulda seen her last boyfriend!” 

“Not my boyfriend.” Eda said, grabbing King and jumping out of the way of the warden’s attack. Not in a million years.

Eda, seeing how Luz was still standing there, lifted Luz, forcing her to sit on the staff, ignoring her protests. She may have only just met the human an hour ago, but she feels the instinct to keep her safe. 

“But-but I-” 

“Go, go!” Eda urges, forcing her on and slapping the staff, cuing it to fly. Luz went away on the staff, yelling, out of sight, and hopefully to safety. 

Eda prepared herself when the warden took off his mask to reveal a hideous mouth and spat fire. She drew two spell circles. One to absorb the fire, and one to redirect it back at him, slamming him to the wall. 

Ha! Too much fun! 

However, a few minutes of fighting led to her being knocked to the ground by the warden, King following suit, who she caught in her arms, holding him close. 

“No more running away, Owl Lady. Today I capture you once and for all!” The warden growled, raising his hands. King whimpered, huddling close to Eda, who held on tighter and glared at their attacker. 

“-GO GO GO GO!!!” Luz’s voice yelled. 

Wait, what? I thought she went home! 

Luz flew past her, three former prisoners following suit, tackling the warden to the ground. 

“Luz?” Eda said in disbelief. Did she seriously come back for us? 

Eda stood by and watched as the trio of prisoners got on top of the warden, standing up to him and restraining him. 

“I ate my own eye!”

“I think the world is a triangle!”

“And I practice the ancient art of fanfiction!” 

Incredible! 

The eye demon had tangled the warden’s tentacle-arms together and turned him over, so he was facing Luz. 

“You! Who do you think you are?” He snarled. 

“Do not underestimate me, Warden Wrath, for I am Luz, the human, warrior of peace!” Luz spoke triumphantly. Then she grabbed what looked like a bunch of fireworks tied together. “Now eat this, sucka!” She shouted, using the staff to hit it into the warden’s mouth, effectively blowing it up. 

She had that with her the whole time? Amazing thinking, Luz! 

Eda stood next to Luz, smiling proudly and placing a hand on her shoulder. What a brave kid. I'm impressed. She wanted to say, but didn't out of pride.

“That was actually one of her better breakups.” King joked.

“Not a breakup,” Eda reminded King. “Anyway, let's bounce before any more monsters fall in love with me.” 

Seriously, kid. You were amazing. I really owe you. 

~

“Well, a deal’s a deal, let's get you home.” Eda said, calling forth the key and pushing the button. The door appeared, waiting for Luz to open it and step through. But she stood there, deep in thought. Eda smiled at her, silently thanking her for her help. 

Luz looked at King and stepped forward, kneeling down. “Before I go…” she took out what looked like a tiny plastic head that had a tiny golden crown on it. “I know it's not the same, but…a king shouldn't be without a crown.” She said, giving the demon the crown. 

He took it, placing it on his head. “This shall suffice.” And he pointed to one of the houseplants. “You there, plant! You are now under my command!” 

Eda then gave Luz back her book that she almost burned earlier that day. “Oh, and don't forget this.” Luz seemed to really value that book. 

Luz walked back to the portal door, and Eda and King waited behind her. Eda saw her hold up her book, thinking. Then, she did something Eda did not expect. Luz turned around.

“Okay. I know you got your head cut off, and we started some kind of prison riot, but this was the most fun I've ever had.” She said to the witch and demon. Eda looked at her, shocked. 

What is she saying? Is she going to…

“I don't fit in at home. You don't fit in here. If I stay, we can 'not fit in’ together.” Luz looked at the pamphlet that was on top of the book and stared at it. “I am not going back to summer camp.”

Eda chuckled, confused. “Wha-what's ‘summer camp’? What are we talking about here?” 

She's staying?! Why?

“I wanna stay and become a witch like you! And Azura!” Luz declared happily, holding up her book. 

“What? Alright, that's crazy. Humans can't become witches.” Eda stated, dismissing her. I love the enthusiasm, but why?

But Luz didn't give up. “Maybe that's because they haven't tried!” She insisted. “If you teach me to become a witch, I'll do anything you want.” 

Okay, she's got a point there. And an apprentice? I kinda like the sound of that. 

“Let her stay!” King urged, pulling at the hem of Eda’s dress. “She can make us snacks.” 

Eda smiled and picked up the demon. “Well, I could use a hand keeping this goofball out of the cupboards.” She said. “All right, I'll teach you how to be a witch. But you have to work for me before you learn any spells.” She held out her hand for Luz to shake. “Deal?”

But instead of taking her hand, Luz just went straight in for a tight hug. 

Whoa whoa whoa! “Ugh! What's going on?!” Eda froze in Luz’s hold. 

“Too tight, too tight!” King protested.

~

After Luz relinquished from the hug, Eda told her she could sleep in the attic upstairs. She didn't protest and gladly brought her stuff up. Eda was left there, thinking about what just happened. 

That kid was so brave today. Better than any kid, much less a human kid, I've ever seen. 

She thought about what having a teenager living in her home might be like. She knows it will be messy, and she’ll probably try to stare danger in the face like today. But she's willing to give it a shot. Who could say no to that confidence? 

What Eda didn't know is that since that day, she would witness this human girl's endless wonder and courage. She didn't know the pride she would feel whenever Luz learned a new spell or made new friends. She didn't know that Luz would start to give her a reason to look forward to tomorrow. She didn't know how much she would grow to care for Luz as if she was her own child. 

She didn't know how much she would love this light that lit up her life. 

[qutequeersstuff]

The Day The Call Came

The routine is always the same, never changing and seemingly never-ending. Right now, James Langdon sits on his couch to eat his breakfast and turns on the TV. ln the middle of one of his bites, his house phone starts to ring, and he ignores it, having the machine pick it up. The phone ring continues to sound out throughout his living room before it ends. He sighs in relief since he does not want to talk to anybody today.

“Pick up son, we need to talk.”

Hearing that voice again caused him to wheeze and send his food down the wrong pipe. He starts to hit his chest and begins to cough so he could breathe again. Once he could his mind began to clear up. Why is she calling me after so long? He thought to himself. He still remembers every moment of the last time they spoke, he still remembers her screams and being pushed out the door into the pouring rain, his clothes becoming incredibly uncomfortable due to the moisture and sadly, he remembers the look of complete heartbreak on his father’s face that made him hesitate, yet he continued out onto the sidewalk to his car.. He shakes his head taking him out of that horrible memory. He picks up the phone and dials back. “Hello son” He slightly flinches expecting a cold tone in her voice but is surprised at the slight break that appears in the middle of it.

“Mom what’s wrong?” He questions with concern all throughout his voice taking him by complete surprise.

“Well,” She starts to say but sniffles before she can even finish the sentence. “Your father hasn’t been feeling well lately so we took him to the doctor…” Everything just fades away as he begins to think of the worst scenarios possible. The man who cheered him on when no one else did. Noticing that he has not talked in a while, his mother continues to speak but he is not listening so she hangs up. No goodbye. No, I love you. Why do I keep getting surprised by the way she treats me? He thought bitterly. He ignores this and tries to focus on the situation at hand.

Dreams and nightmares haunt his head all through the night, he wakes up in a cold sweat with no intention of closing his eyes again. The nightmare is still rolling in his head hours later. His father on his death bed and James is just there to watch his father suffer. James then shakes his head and gets up out of his bed, if his father really is extremely ill then he is going to spend every moment he can with his father. He leaves his home and gets in his car, trying to prepare himself.

Within 2 hours, James reaches the carefully decorated house. He reaches the door and knocks, almost immediately he sees his mother and is shock by her appearance, her clothes covered with stains and face appearing to have withered.

She smiles before bursting into tears and hugging him but having difficulty due to their height difference.

James slightly flinches but accepts the hug, nonetheless. He stares over his mother’s shoulder seeing clothes scattered all over the place and pill bottles strewn about on all surfaces of the living room. In the distance he hears the sound he dreaded the most.

“Where’s dad?” He questions whilst looking around for the room his father is in.. His mother nods her head knowing that there is nothing she could do to comfort him, taking him into the master bedroom where he supposes his dad is.

His worst nightmare has come true, he sees his number one supporter on his death bed. All he can do is stare before tears start to fall. What does he say to a man on his death bed? Does he reassure him that everything will be okay? He slowly approaches the bed, just now noticing the at-home nurse in a chair in the corner of the room.

“Leave him be sweetheart, he’s sleeping” The nurse warns. He nods his head and just stands at the edge of the bed watching his father sleep. Now that he thinks back to the last time he saw him, he did notice how his father was not as lively as he usually was. “Have you come to say your goodbyes James?”

He looked at Jessica, the nurse and nods saying, “I guess so” while looking at his mother. She never told him his father was this far gone, but accepts the fact that she lied to him, again. His mother looks away in shame because her own son is used to this. James looks away from his mother and back to his father and he smiles when he sees his eyes are open, he runs to the side of the bed and grabs his dad’s hand. “Hey dad, how are you feeling?” His father looks at him and smiles seeing his only son there. James noticed his father trying to take off the ventilator so he asks the nurse “Can he take that off?” while motioning to the ventilator. The nurse nodded and began to help him take it off. Once it was off, his father began to speak.

“Hello son, I’m fine, how are you?” His father said with the brightest smile on his face. James was a little shocked at the happiness in his dad’s voice. He looked towards his mother with eyes wide, but his mother just watched on with a sad smile on her face. He looks back at his father. “What are you doing here son? Did you come to visit your mother?” James continued to look at him and tried to figure what was wrong with his father when he came to the saddest realization and soon tears started to line his eyes. He turns his head towards his mother, and she nods in confirmation. He turns his head back to his father.

“Yeah, I’m here for mom, but I came to see you before we left.” James says with a smile on his face that is covering the pain he felt. “You know I love you, right?” His father nods and James starts to leave the room, he leans on the wall only to fall to the ground as the tears begin to flow. He starts to retreat into his head and wonders how long his dad has been like this. What am I supposed to do? Another heartbreaking thought popped into his head. Is he even still the same man who raised and supported me? He thought. James enters reality again and notices the tears flowing down his face and aggressively wipes them away. He looks back into his father’s room and sees he is asleep again with the ventilator on. He quickly looks away with tears starting to line his eyes again and begins to enter what used to be his safe place. His head. I am going to have to watch my father wither away. James thought wiping his tears. There is nothing I can do to stop this.

[inmyownlittlecorner5]

Severus Snape and the Midnight Tea

A One-Shot by la-topolina

Rated for Teen Audiences

Warnings: Death of a parent

Written for the Severus Snape Bigbang 2019+

Summary: Luna Lovegood is a most curious child.

Author’s Note: For the Snape Bigbang 2019, we were asked to write a story starring our favorite potions master to be illustrated by an fan artist. I was very fortunate to be paired with @owlswithfins​; and you can see their absolutely perfect artwork for this tale here: Poppies+

(picspam by the author)

The first time Severus Snape met Luna Lovegood was at her mother’s funeral. He’d been unsurprised by the news that Pandora Lovegood, née  Nott, had managed to kill herself during a disastrous spell experiment; but he had been sorry all the same. Pandora had possessed a rare quality of unfailing good will and, wild as her imagination would sometimes run, her presence in the Slytherin common room had been a welcome breath of fresh air. 

And so it was, on a atrociously lovely day in May, Severus found himself counted among the flock of Pandora’s mourners, balancing a teacup and saucer and a plate of cold meat and cake in the furthest recesses of the Lovegoods’ garden that he could respectably maintain. The gloriously blue sky was a heartless backdrop to the red-eyed and frequently sniveling guests, as was the riot of greens, blues, pinks, and purples that had burst forth in the freshness of spring around them. Only the crumbling stone wall enclosing the lawn had the decency to display a touch of melancholy decay, and Severus tenaciously clung to his haven in the corner; trusting that his dour expression and ability to avoid eye contact would protect him from the unpleasant task of making conversation.

“You’ve a Wrackspurt in your ear,” piped a small voice near his elbow.

He tensed at the disturbance, and looked down his nose to behold the now motherless Lovegood girl, decked in a white chiffon dress and a crown of violently red poppy flowers.

“I beg your pardon?” he replied stiffly, returning the child’s vague smile with a frown.

“A Wrackspurt. I can tell because you were staring off and not talking to anybody. But don’t worry, it’s to be expected. They’re everywhere today.”

“Are they? I don’t believe I am familiar with that particular creature.”

“Oh, they’re pesky little brutes. They float in people’s ears and make their thoughts get all fuzzy. And they like funerals. Everyone is so sad and distracted you know, so it’s easy for them to get in. They’re sure to have gotten me by now too, since Daddy made me leave off my spectrespecs.”

Severus was beginning to feel mildly dizzy from the speed of the girl’s prattle. 

“Spectrespecs?”

“They help you see the Wrackspurts coming. But Daddy said that there would be too many today to bother with the spectrespecs, especially since they would upset Grandmama Nott. And he can always take care of them during the nightly de-Wrackspurting before bedtime stories.”

“I see.” He did not see.

“Now I know who you are! You’re Professor Severus Snape. I’m Luna Lovegood and you’ll be my teacher in two years.”

She held out her hand to him with a poise that belied her age, her weedy frame, and her odd lexicon. Her manner was so airy that he wondered if she were perhaps as moonstruck as her name implied; but he took her hand and bent over it as though she were a pureblood matron to command such courtesies.

“Miss Lovegood, I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Professor Snape. That’s nice of you to say, and Daddy says you’re usually not nice to anyone.”

He smirked in spite of himself. “That is true. I am not nice to anyone.”

“Did you know that being mean to people attracts Wrackspurts?”

“I was not aware of that.”

“They like to latch onto the purpleness of it all.”

“Ah.” He was not sure whether he was amused or insulted—but he was in no way bored, which was a novel feeling. He eyed her closely, noting the jagged cut of her hair and asked pointedly, “Was it a Wrackspurt that got hold of your hair today?”

She shook her locks carelessly. “No. A Dirigible Leafhopper. It found the scissors, and when Dirigible Leafhoppers get scissors, they will cut hair.”

“Naturally.” Severus wondered if all children this age were so easy to talk to.

She climbed up to perch on the edge of the garden wall and helped herself to the uneaten slice of lemon cake from his plate.

“I saw Mummy die, you know.”

“I did not know. How terrible for you.”

“It was, and it wasn’t.” She cocked her head to one side and her eyes slid slightly out of focus. “I don’t really remember it now. Six o’clock is the hour for remembering. At six I’ll be sad, but at seven I’ll be glad. Your Daddy died too.”

He grit his teeth to keep his jaw from falling open.

“Don’t worry,” she continued, crumbs from the cake clinging to the corners of her mouth, “the Mealytoes were telling me this morning. They went down the whole list of party guests and told me which ones had lost someone.”

“So you would know who to pester?” The child no longer seemed entertaining.

“So I would know who to give a poppy to.”

She finished his cake and plucked a poppy from her crown. Before he could retreat, she had tucked it behind his ear, and his hands were so encumbered by refreshments that he could only muster a glare to protect himself. Admittedly, it was a superior glare. One might say it was a glare sufficient to strike a grown man dead in his tracks. 

It was a glare that did not affect this little wisp of a girl in the least.

“Poppies are very useful,” she explained, wiping her hands on her dress. “They suck up all the bile that gets stuck in your veins when someone dies, and they hold it for you so that you can still remember—but not so brightly that it hurts. Good day professor! Thank you for coming to Mummy’s party. I can’t wait to be in your class at school.”

Hopping down from the wall, Luna twirled about three times and skipped away in a flurry of floating skirts, her effervescent voice trailing after her.

“One for sorrow, two for joy

Three for a girl, four for a boy, boy, boy.

Five is for silver, six is for gold,

Seven for a secret that’s ne’er to be told, told told!”

Severus immediately deposited his plate and teacup on the toadstool table nearby and snatched the poppy from behind his ear. He felt vaguely nauseous, like he’d been sitting too long on a merry-go-round. The urge to crush the life from the hapless flower coursed through him, and only Xenophilius’s untimely interruption prevented it.

“Oh, my Luna has given you a poppy!” Xenophilius blubbered, clapping Severus on the shoulder. “She is such a good girl. I am so fortunate that she is safe. I do not know what I would do if I had lost both her and my Pandora.”

Here the man burst into fresh tears, and it was some time before Severus managed to extract himself from the embarrassing and unnatural position of sympathetic listener. By the time he effected his escape, the poppy was no longer as offensive, and he tucked it into a pocket as he slipped away from the Lovegood house into the freedom of the afternoon.

That evening, for some damned fool reason he could never later explain, he placed the poppy in a vase on the shelf over the desk in his sitting room at Hogwarts.

And it never wilted.

*****

The next time that Severus Snape met Luna Lovegood was on September first of 1992, long after the newly-minted Ravenclaw should have been in bed. He was walking his rounds, stalking through the darkened corridors and soaking in the somnolent atmosphere. He would never admit it, but Hogwarts without its students in residence was a dismal place. A week—or two at most—was as long as his spirits could stand the lack of human contact; especially after an entire summer spent alone in the despondent home of his childhood. 

He had reached the entry hall, and was intending to retire to his rooms for reading and bed, when he saw her. The girl had not grown much since that unfortunate day two years prior. Her hair was scragglier, and her fingernails were ragged and dirty. She was wearing pink and green unicorn pajamas, and there were red trainers on her feet. Drifting through the hallway like a specter, she paid him no attention. Her small, white hands floated out in front of her, and when she reached the oaken door she started pushing at it, scrunching up her face with the effort.

“Ten points from Ravenclaw, Miss Lovegood. Go back to your tower immediately,” he said, stifling a yawn. 

She didn’t answer—she merely kept wrestling with the locked door.

“And detention tomorrow evening. Miss Lovegood, classes have not even begun. This may be a new record.”

The silly child was beating on the unforgiving wood, completely ignoring him. He snarled and grabbed her by her thin shoulder; whipping her around to face him. Her eyes were rolling beneath her half-closed eyelids. The sight was so strange that he drew back at first, before realizing that she was asleep and dreaming. Disgruntled, he took her by the shoulders again and shook her once.

Her eyes snapped open instantly, and she started to shriek.

“Mummy! No Mummy, no!”

Severus clamped his hand over her mouth and she bit him, drawing blood. As he withdrew his hand, she started raining weak blows on him, like a kitten wrestling a tiger. He held her firmly by the shoulders until she ceased to fight; dissolving into tears and wetting the front of his robes. When the child’s fury had spent itself, he took her firmly under the arm and marched her down the stairs to the potions room.

Luna’s teeth started chattering as they descended, and her breathing was still punctuated by periodic sniffles. The dank chill of the lower part of the castle was uncomfortable at night, but he did not bother to light any of the fires, even when they came at last to his meticulously ordered classroom. 

“Is it time for lessons now?” she asked, perking up despite the tears still seeping out of the corners of her doleful eyes. “I thought it was still night. Do we have classes under the moon?”

“Silence Miss Lovegood,” he ordered, “And sit down.”

As docile now as she had been disobedient earlier, she did as he asked, taking a seat at one of the empty work benches and running her hands over the smooth wood. He risked leaving her there long enough to retrieve a Calming Draught from the store closet, breathing a sigh of relief when he returned to find her where he had left her.

“Drink this,” he said, handing her the vial.

“A Calming Draught!” she said, beaming. She drank it without complaint, and then began hopping the empty vial over the top of the work bench, singing, “A Calming Draught, a Calming Draught, five knuts for a Calming Draught! A Calming Draught for me!”

“Cease that nonsense immediately, Miss Lovegood!” he snapped. “It is well past midnight, and, in case you have forgotten, classes begin in the morning.”

She stopped singing, but continued hopping the vial. “Yes, sir. But I think you’d best come with me up to the tower so that a Thistle-toed Night Creeper doesn’t catch me. I saw some of them skittering through the hallways.”

“To my understanding you were asleep whilst you were traipsing through the hallways. It must have been a dream,” he countered; but he was already leading her out of the dungeons on the long journey home.

“I was,” she agreed, tossing the empty vial up and down as they walked. “But you can see some things better when you are sleeping. I thought you knew. Don’t you see things more clearly in your dreams?”

He snatched the vial out of the air and shoved it irritably in his pocket. “One more word out of you, and I will deduct enough points from Ravenclaw to make Professor Flitwick sorry he ever saw you.”

She shrugged, but contented herself with whistling merrily as thy climbed. As stairwell after stairwell passed under their feet and failed to wind her, Severus mused that Luna was a truly strange child. He wondered how much of her mother’s daring curiosity she had inherited, and he began to tremble inwardly for the safety of his potions class.

By the time they reached the top of Ravenclaw tower, Severus’s calves were screaming. The eyes on the carved eagle head guarding the door flamed to life, and it posed its evening riddle.

“Nails and straw, cabbage and thee; all are longing—at last—for me,” it said.

“A bed,” Luna replied almost before the knocker had finished speaking.

“A paltry riddle,” Severus remarked.

“It’s only the first day. Good night, professor. Watch out for the Creepers!”

“Miss Lovegood.”

When the door was safely closed after the little Ravenclaw, Severus began the long trek back to his quarters. The castle whispered around him, but the night-time noises were old friends to him, settling his nerves rather than setting them on edge. 

He did notice the flicker of something out of the corner of his eye as he unlocked his door. It was a winged shadow of sorts; and the edges of its form could be called thistle-like in structure. He turned his head to catch sight of the creature, but it vanished into the shadows like a puff of itinerant smoke. 

Humbug and nonsense, he thought; and let himself in to bed.

*****

By the next afternoon, he was ready to kill her.

He’d begun the class with his usual lecture meant to impress upon the students the gravitas of the subject they were about to undertake—not that any of the dunderheads were capable of grasping the concepts he was placing before them. Once again the first year class was predictably dull, staring at him with stunned expressions due no doubt both to their confusion, and to their awe of him. All were staring, save one. 

Luna had claimed a seat on the front bench, in the exact spot she’d taken during the small hours of the morning, dancing her empty vial over the wooden table before her. Now she was tapping her fingers on the wood in what Severus assumed was a disrespectful show of boredom. With a dark expression fixed on his face, he stalked through the aisles towards her as the students around him ducked their heads in expectation of the rebuke. But as he approached, he began counting the erratic movements without realizing what he was doing; and before long a familiar pattern emerged.

1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21…

Perhaps the girl was not as lost as she appeared. Nevertheless, he hovered over her, scowling, until she deigned to turn her attention from Fibonacci to her disgruntled teacher.

“I love spirals, sir, don’t you? They’re so very spiral-y,” she said, blinking up at him nonplused.

“Miss Lovegood,” he replied, allowing a trace of snarl to color his tone. “I expect strictest attention to the task at hand at all times in this class. Even a concoction so simple as a Fog Potion can cause considerable damage when mishandled.”

“Yes, sir. Is it not the time for spirals?”

He let the question pass unanswered. “I also expect silence.”

She gave him an airy smile, and he glared back at her for an embarrassingly long time before he realized that she was not going to respond.

“Five points from Ravenclaw, Miss Lovegood,” he growled as he turned back to the rest of the class. “There are thirty minutes left. You will use them to prepare the ingredients for the Fog Potion that you will brew on Wednesday. Precision is more important than speed at this point in your education, but you will not use that as an opportunity for laziness. The instructions are on the board. Begin.”

He flicked his wand and a list of ingredients and their preparations appeared on the black wall behind him. As the students began to nervously chop and crush their hollyhock and toadstools, he took a final circuit of the room, before retiring to his desk to review his notes for the next period’s lecture. He fully expected someone to make an idiotic mistake within ten minutes, but he felt it best to give them some time to fail on their own. Holding their metaphorical hands while they worked would only create dependency. Better to allow them to experience the humiliation of failure in the hopes that the lesson would stick.

“Oh dear…”

Miss Lovegood’s mild voice was the only warning he had; even as he glanced up from his parchment the explosion was erupting. He slashed his wand through the air, containing much of the damage within a hastily cast Shield Charm, but the students directly beside and behind Luna were already mewling like wounded kittens. Luna herself seemed unconcerned, staring at the ugly red welts on her arms as though they were a new problem to solve.

“What in Merlin’s name were you doing, Miss Lovegood?” he demanded, as he began slapping dittany, none too gently, on the injured parties. “You were told to prepare ingredients only. Did you misunderstand me?”

“No sir,” she replied. “But I’d finished, and I had some extra bilious solution, and I wanted to test what would happen if I added some asphodel to it.”

“Ten more points from Ravenclaw, and a foot of parchment on the importance of  following instructions due next class.”

“Yes sir.”

He had no idea how she managed to maintain such an innocent and blameless expression under the black look he knew he was giving her, but he did not trust her penitence in the least.

It was a most inauspicious beginning to Miss Lovegood’s Hogwarts career.

*****

Severus was well and truly at the end of his rope come the beginning of October. He muttered darkly to himself as he strode through the halls one Sunday evening, irritated beyond measure by the sweet autumnal breeze and the glorious sunset streaming in the windows, lighting up the inner beauty of the castle just so. Students scattered as he cut through the groups of them where they gathered, frolicking and playing Exploding Snap. He had no time to bother with disciplining any of them, however, and he kept to his course until it led him to Filius Flitwick’s office high in Ravenclaw Tower. 

A sharp rap on the door brought the diminutive professor immediately, and Severus glared down at the man until the older professor raised his bushy eyebrows in question.

“Good evening, Severus,” Filius said, puffing on his pipe. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company tonight?”

“That Lovegood girl is a menace,” Severus pronounced, eschewing all pleasantries with the intention of coming to the purpose at once.

“Is she? I find her charming. But do come in, and we’ll see what’s to be done about the matter.”

Severus swept into the office behind Filius, but refused to sit when the other man indicated the eagle-headed arm chair before the fire. Unperturbed, the charms professor shrugged and climbed into his own little rocking chair, still smoking his pipe.

“Now what seems to be the trouble?” Filius asked, watching Severus as the younger man paced through the chamber, dodging floating books and models of various magical destinations to which the Ravenclaw head had had the pleasure of visiting.

“Since the beginning of term, Miss Lovegood has caused no less than a dozen explosions in my class due to her refusal to follow direct orders. Her insubordination is endangering the lives of everyone in the room—nay every one in the castle itself!” 

Severus emphasized the severity of his accusations with a sharp gesture that sent a miniature Sphinx toppling through the air and bouncing off the opposite wall. 

“That is serious,” Filius agreed mildly.

“I’ve deducted house points,” Severus went on.

“Ah, I had wondered about that,” Filius murmured.

“I’ve given her extra essays. I’ve given her detention. I’ve set her to remedial tasks. Nothing deters her from her willful misbehavior. She will go her own way and damn the consequences. Most of the time she appears to be in another world altogether!” 

Severus’s heart rate rose, along with his temper, as he enumerated the girl’s crimes.

“Perhaps she is. Have you asked her?”

“Of course not!” Severus spat. “Why would I do such a foolish thing?”

“You might learn something,” Filius replied, his eyes twinkling with something suspiciously like merriment.

“I beg your pardon!” This was not a laughing matter.

“Severus, when was the last time you ate?”

At the mention of food, Severus’s stomach started to rumble, and he growled, “I don’t see how that has any bearing on the subject at hand.”

“Humor me.”

“I…seem to recall eating breakfast…”

“Better than I’d guessed.”

“Yesterday morning.”

“Ah. In that case,” Filius hopped down from his chair and scurried over to a rope-and-pulley system lined with tiny bells near the fire. The top of the contraption stretched up to the domed ceiling, and the bottom extended through a small hole in the floor and out of sight. The charms professor quickly tapped out a ringing tune, and a moment later the rope started moving, sending the bells into an obnoxious bout of tinkling. “Tell me, is there anything else our Miss Lovegood is doing to trouble you besides her classroom difficulties?”

“She is your Miss Lovegood and I will thank you for keeping her.”

“I shall, happily. And here we are.”

A tray of mackerel pâté with pickles on rye, and a steaming cup of earl grey with milk came up through the floor, attached to the rope by an oversized clothespin, and Filius pressed the sustenance into Severus’s unwilling hands.

“I didn’t ask you for tea, Filius,” Severus grumbled, even as he settled himself into the armchair and fell on the sandwiches like a ravenous beast.

“I know, but I find that one tends to think more clearly when one’s energy is not diverted to the task of keeping one upright in the face of starvation,” Filius replied jovially. He sat back down in his rocking chair, and went about the task of refilling his pipe while Severus demolished his food.

“Why is it, do you think, that Miss Lovegood is so troublesome to manage?” asked Filius, tapping his pipe against his chin.

“Because she’s a defiant brat,” was Severus’s quick reply as he took a bracing sip of the perfectly brewed and balanced mixture in his teacup.

Filius shrugged. “I have not found this to be so.”

“Why would you? She’s in your house.”

“Severus, be fair.” Filius’s tone took on a hint of warning. “I think you are aware that I am perfectly willing to discipline when required, and I am always open to constructive criticism from my colleagues. You do remember Mr Whitehouse and the lacewing fly theft?”

“I suppose you did deal with that,” Severus admitted. The food and the tea were slowly robbing him of some of his foul temper. 

“Thank you.” Filius puffed in silence and then remarked, “I have found Miss Lovegood to be a delight in class. She is light-years ahead of her fellows in terms of grasping the potential of charmwork.”

“In potions I am afraid she is a disaster.”

“Why is that, do you think?”

Severus’s temper started to flare again. “Filius, I hope you are not insinuating that I am the problem.”

“No. But perhaps your methodology might be examined. You mentioned that you’ve tried all the usual things; detentions, deducting points, extra homework, et cetera?”

“Yes, weren’t you listening?”

“I was. It is difficult not to listen when you are in a snit. What was the purpose of the punishments you’ve meted out thus far?”

“To inspire remorse and respect in the student, of course.”

“I would have said shame and fear.”

“One and the same.”

“Not so,” Filius countered, blowing a trail of smoke rings that danced in and out of each other through the room. “But for the sake of the experiment, let us assume that they are. I would venture to guess that the reason these tactics did not work in this case is because Miss Lovegood cannot be motivated by either shame or fear.”

“I see. She is an ungovernable dunderhead, isn’t she?”

“This brings me to my next point. The remedial work you are torturing her with may be making her behavior even more trying than it needs to be.”

Severus’s eyes narrowed at the other professor. If anything, Filius’s mild expression aggravated him more than if the man had been raging in defense of his silly student.

“Filius, I will give you half a minute to explain what you mean before I take serious exception with you.”

“I thank you, even for that.” A set of rotating orbs descended from on high, and Filius examined their glowing depths as he expounded his theory. “Some students become bored easily, and when they become bored they make all sorts of trouble, because their minds cannot cease being busy. If these minds are not properly directed, they will take their own, sometimes destructive, paths.”

“Are you saying that Lovegood is being impossible simply because she is bored?”

“I am.”

Severus stalked over to return his tray to the kitchens via the pulley system, and tugged at his sleeve irritably as he resumed his pacing.

“Even supposing you were correct, what am I expected to do about her problem?”

“It seems to me that it is your problem as much as hers. Challenge her. Give her more interesting work rather than less.”

“And I am to have yet more work thrust upon me? Is she to be rewarded for misbehavior in such a way?”

“It need not be overly complicated. Something as simple as variations on the potion at hand should suffice.”

“I don’t like it, Filius. It goes against the grain.”

Filius tucked a vibrant magenta ball into his breast pocket, and sent the rest of the mobile floating back up towards heaven.

“Sometimes the most challenging students are the most rewarding, when we reach them.”

“I would dispute that conclusion in general, and in this case in particular.”

The Ravenclaw looked up at the Slytherin with a pointed gaze, and observed, “It would seem to me that you have nothing to lose by trying. How much time are you already wasting with Shield Charms, disasters, and injuries?”

A hot retort beat its way to Severus’s tongue, but he knew Filius well enough to glean when he was within an inch of pushing the man too far. It was rarely worth pushing the charms professor too far.

“Very well. I will put your plan to the test for the next week. But if I do not see immediate improvement, your Miss Lovegood will spend the rest of term cleaning bedpans in the hospital wing.”

The merry gleam returned to Filius’s eyes, and Severus felt his shoulders relax a tick. 

“You must do as you see fit, Severus. But I would wager that you will not be disappointed. Now, is there anything further?”

Severus frowned, debating whether he should mention the child’s other problem.

“I see that there is. Come now, what else is the lass doing?” Filius prompted.

“She sleepwalks. At least once a week I see her out of the Tower during my rounds,” Severus said, leaning on the back of the armchair. 

“My goodness,” Filius replied, his merry look replaced with one of concern. “I was not aware of that. Are you certain?”

“Of course I’m certain! And it’s a damned nuisance to wake her, calm her infernal screaming, and escort her back to her dormitory.” 

“All that and you not being as young as you used to be.” Severus opened his mouth to take the bait, but Filius continued without allowing him the time. “Waking her is what is causing the trouble.”

“I should think that her sleepwalking is what is causing the trouble.”

Filius shook his head firmly. “Not so. She is attempting to accomplish something; something her subconscious mind finds of highest import. The next time someone finds her in this situation, he would do better to help her accomplish whatever her task may be, and lead her back to bed without waking her.”

“This child becomes more bothersome by the second!” Severus exclaimed. “First I must make new lesson plans, and now I am expected to aid her on some sleep-addled, featherbrained quest?”

“If I am the one to catch her in the act, I will do the same.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I didn’t expect you to. The subconscious mind is sometimes more insightful than the conscious one. Why don’t you give it a try. If it doesn’t work, we’ll talk to Madam Pomfrey about other options, but I would rather avoid giving the child more potions than absolutely necessary. I don’t need to tell you how habit forming they can become.”

“No. You don’t.” Severus flicked an invisible piece of lint from his sleeve and started for the door. “Good night, Filius. I shall take my leave of you before you add any other tasks to my already considerable workload.”

“Good night, Severus. I look forward to hearing the results of our experiments.”

Severus gave the Ravenclaw a short bow and started the journey back towards the dungeons; unsure as to whether he wished for Filius to be right, and thus save him further troubles—or wrong, and thus give him the pleasure of telling the man so.

Either way, it appeared he had little to lose.

*****

A week into the experiment produced such improvement in Miss Lovegood’s behavior, that Severus had merely smirked at Filius when the head of Ravenclaw had asked him about it. The potions master had taken the trouble of reseating the Lovegood girl as far away from the potentially explosive supply cabinet as possible, and he had partnered her with Margaret Baskerville at Filius’s suggestion. Miss Baskerville had demonstrated a remarkable affinity to the Shield Charm, as the Ravenclaws had discovered one evening during an overexcited match of Exploding Snap. Severus had even begun to hope that the moon child’s sleepwalking days had ended when he passed several nights of patrol without encountering her. Perhaps she had merely required a period of time to acclimate to her new surroundings.

One mild night in mid-October, Severus’s hopes were dashed—yet again—when he discovered Miss Lovegood, willowy arms heavy laden with a checked picnic blanket wrapped around some unwieldy burden, attempting to escape from the castle by the locked front door. He silently approached her, his hand ready to shake her awake even as he braced himself for her inevitable screaming.

Just before his hand reached her shoulder, he recalled Filius’s advice to help the sleeping child rather than hinder her. Cursing himself for a fool, he murmured the incantation to unlock the latch, and pushed the door open to the night air. She shuffled through it without waking, her red trainers crunching fallen leaves beneath them, and her fluffy yellow bathrobe flapping in the light breeze. The full moon bathed the grounds in silver-blue light as he followed the girl all the way to the shadowy edge of the Forbidden Forest. Doxies and nightwings flocked to them, and far off an owl hooted a warning. Severus drew his wand and swatted at the pests until they flurried away; and Miss Lovegood continued on the forest path, still firmly asleep. 

As they progressed deeper into the forest, the darkness pressed in on them; the half-dressed arms of the trees blocking out the moonlight overhead. The lumos from Severus’s wand gave him enough light to see the girl’s eyelids flickering, and he wondered briefly how exactly she was able to walk over the uneven ground without stumbling in this state. Once or twice he thought he caught a glimpse of red eyes peering at them from behind some gnarled shape; and more often than that, he contemplated waking the child and dragging her screaming back to the castle. He fully intended to give Filius a set down after the antics tonight.

At the moment he had firmly decided to abort this fool’s mission, they came to a large clearing, guarded by towering evergreens. The moon was hanging overhead, smiling down at them like some idiot dreamer, and Severus crossed his arms, watching the girl pad her way to the middle of the brown grass and drop her heavy load. She started struggling to untie the many knots holding the bundle together, until Severus scoffed impatiently, and flicked his wand at the mess. Instantly, the blanket unfolded itself to reveal a lovely spread of strawberry sandwiches, lemon cakes, and steaming tea; along with a mishmash of tea cups, bowls, plates, and brightly colored napkins. Luna settled herself, tailor style, in the midst of this unorthodox tea party, a most serene expression on her now obviously awake face.

“Oh, Professor!” she said, yawning up at him. “Was I sleepwalking again?”

“You were,” he replied irritably.

“Won’t you sit down? Have I been very much trouble?”

“You have.”

“I’m so sorry. But it was time for tea, and I didn’t want my friends to think I’d forgotten them.”

“Your what?”

“Look.”

She made a fanciful gesture with her hands in a northerly direction, and as Severus turned his aggravated glare towards the exterior darkness, he beheld half a dozen thestrals gliding into the clearing. Their serpentine tails curved and swished, leaving a trail of silvery ash behind them, and their skeletal, equine bodies moved in an undulating fashion that was disorienting to witness. As they slid up to the blanket, they dropped to their boney knees and wrapped their inky tails around them, their eyes of chartreuse flame sparking as Luna babbled happily; pouring tea into bowls and arranging morsels on plates for her cadaverous guests.

“Hello there!” she bubbled. “I’m so happy to finally see you when we can talk, aren’t you? Things have been monstrous busy since I came to school, and it’s been awful trying to find the way out to the clearing. But here I am at last!”

Severus stared at the morbid production with the horrid fascination of one watching a Quidditch accident. The beasts stank of talcum powder and formaldehyde; and he shut his eyes against their reptilian forms. There, in the darkness of his mind, he was assaulted by death; as memories of Lily’s body, lifeless and beautiful, mingled with those of his father’s corpse; poisoned by drink and by every venomous word that had tripped like water off the bastard’s vile tongue.

His eyes snapped open and he sneered at the mad princess and her deathly court. “Miss Lovegood, as you have regained whatever senses you possess, I insist that you return to the castle immediately.”

One of the younger thestrals reared up and bounded to him. Before Severus could react, it had its head in the small of his back, and was pushing him onto the blanket with enough force that he stumbled and fell to his knees.

“I think they’ll be angry if we leave just now, professor,” Luna whispered loudly, passing a teacup to him.

He snatched it and flung it across the clearing, where it shattered against a tree trunk. Another thestral snorted at him and pawed the ground with a dusty hoof.

“It’s no matter, I’ve another,” Luna said, unfazed.

“I don’t want any tea!” Severus spat.

“But you shall have some all the same.”

She set another cup before him—a black one, painted with a whimsical bat curving in flight over the porcelain interior—and filled it to the brim with steaming tea from her poppy covered teapot. 

“I’m having a lovely time at school,” she chattered to the thestrals while the beasts snorted and lapped at the tea and the victuals. “Charms is my favorite so far, but after that is potions. Professor Snape has been setting me all sorts of tests and dreams to try, and I like it ever so much better than Professor McGonagall who makes me do everything one slow step at a time.”

His anger was choking him, and he knew that Miss Lovegood’s words were worthless, but he scooped up the cup and drank some of the scalding liquid, desperate to cover the bilious taste in his mouth. The concoction was not proper tea; but rather a tincture of lavender and chamomile, steeped exactly so. The talcum powder and formaldehyde receded into the background, as did the sound of Miss Lovegood’s chattering. He must have been more tired than he’d realized, for the next thing he remembered, he was jerking awake, and the last of the thestrals was disappearing into the forest. The dishes were all packed away, and Luna was watching him with a patient and pleased smile on her face.

“I’m ready to go back to the castle now, sir,” she said cheerfully.

“If you’re ready then, please, by all means,” he sarcastically replied.

She hummed to herself all the way up to Ravenclaw tower and, while he wanted to fume at her, he found that he was too uncomfortably relaxed to do so. When they gained the top of the tower stairs, she turned to him, her eyes shining in the moonlight that ghosted in through the windows.

“Thank you for helping me tonight, sir. I think I’ll be able to get there on my own from now on,” she said.

“Need I remind you, Miss Lovegood, that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to students?” he chastised.

“I know it is. But don’t worry, that doesn’t bother me.”

“Obviously.” 

“And it’s important I go,” she said earnestly.

“Why ever would you think that?”

“So the thestrals will help me with my mother.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “If her spirit is troubling you, there are better ways to deal with it than breaking curfew and risking life and limb in the Forest.”

“No, not her spirit, she’s gone on. It’s the memories. The poppies can’t hold enough; but if I go to the thestrals, they’ll help me hold enough. I’ll still remember, but I won’t get lost.” She broke the seriousness of the subject by twirling like a top and adding, “You can join me anytime you like.”

“I shall not take you up on that offer, and if I catch  you out of bed, you may be sure that I will punish you for it. Good night, Miss Lovegood,” he snapped.

He whirled away and descended the stairs in a swirl of his black robes. Merlin, this moon child was turning out to be as much trouble as the Potter brat.

“Midnight teas And thank you please, Moonlight, wand light, All sleep tight!”

Luna’s ethereal voice and her nonsense song haunted him all the way down to the dungeons.

But he slept better that night than he had in ages. And in the morning, the memories of his dead did not wake with him. He was halfway through his morning class before he first recalled the sprawled form and the spray of auburn hair. Even when it came upon him, the memory did not cause his blood to run cold or his heart to pound.

Luna looked up from her work and smiled at him, as though she sensed the moment that the unwanted recollection sprang up in his mind. He restrained himself from giving her the satisfaction of a response, and turned his attention to his marking.

And the next time he caught her on her way to tea, he docked Ravenclaw ten points—and carried the blanket bundle to the clearing for her. 

*****

End Notes:

Luna is tapping out the Fibonacci sequence; in which each number is the sum of the two numbers prior, and relates to spirals.

I head-canon that thestrals smell different to each person, depending on that person's experiences aand beliefs about death.

[unlikely-master-attendent]

Ruffled Skirts

Fandom: Food Fantasy

Pairing: Salad/Escargot, background Red Wine/Steak

Characters: Salad, Yogurt, Red Wine, Escargot, Steak (Mentioned)

Word Count: 3,256 Words

Warnings: They/Them pronounon usage, mild swearing

There was nothing special about that day. The sun was up as morning dew lazily dripped off bowed leaves and nourished the greenery below. The slow crawl of daylight roused the various food souls who had taken up residence in their Master Attendant's growing establishment as empty halls began to fill with footsteps and raised voices floated through thin walls.

"Does anybody know where my pot-"

"Good morning!"

"-find you in there one more time I swear-"

"Is Master Attendant up?"

"Well, they've been work-"

"Oh dear, you look-"

"-tell you where you can shove that nasty ass fucking pipe-"

Salad blinked into awareness with the sound of a typical morning rousing the young Food Soul. A small smile stretched across their face as they basked in the light that dropped across their bed. Snuggling under their covers, Salad let a giddy grin spread as their mind wandered off.

They had a date with Escargot today! Kind, sensitive and reliable Escargot.

Trying and failing to suppress the excited squeal that came with the thought, Salad clutched their sheets closer to their chest feeling like a lovestruck school child. It was like a dream come true, spending a whole day with their crush. Master Attendant had even let them take the day off after catching wind of new love blooming between them.

A soft melody that was tapped against their door made their eyes snapped open, and they scrambled to their feet to greet their waiting guest.

Red Wine stood by the door, an impassive frown on his face as he regarded Salad's state of disarray. "I see the brute's non-existent clothing sense has infected you too." He scorned, his face twisting into a pained grimace at the baggy shirt that brushed against their thighs.

Looking down at their attire, Salad frowned and picked at the helm of the fabric. "What's wrong with this? It's comfortable." The unspoken follow up rang loud and clear within their words. It makes me feel like me. "Besides, I wasn't going to wear this today…"

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Red Wine pushed his way past Salad and into their room, making a beeline for the small closet. "No child of mine is going on their first ever date looking like that." He groused, digging through the few clothes tucked away into the storage space. "If you're planning to keep him, appearances are everything. You won't even woo a Fallen in that dreadful attire. How do you think I even kept that muscle head around?"

Shuffling over to their bed, Salad pulled out the basket and sat in it sullenly. They didn't really know what they were feeling, if it was shame for their mediocre clothing or if it was gratefulness for Red Wine taking the time to fuss over them. Either way, they began to rearrange the various produce in the basket while Red Wine raided their wardrobe.

Their usual outfit was put to the side, something Salad was okay with. They wanted to wear something special for the occasion and their regular work clothes wouldn't cut it. A navy pleated skirt joined the reject pile and Salad tried not to be upset that Red Wine dismissed their favorite skirt. The sweater vests joined the pile and the dress pants followed soon after. The maxi skirt that Miso Soup had gotten them one year as a gag gift was considered very briefly before it was tossed aside.

Not five minutes had passed before the other let out a frustrated growl and shut the wardrobe doors. "Come." He commanded, catching Salad's slender wrist in a gentle but firm grip.

"H-huh?!" They squeaked, suddenly yanked to their feet. Salad knew that Red Wine was strong, he could hold his own against the resident beefcake Steak for Terra's sake, but the ease that the older Food Soul had hauled them up was still surprising. Unceremoniously dragged through the halls, Salad tried many times to tug their wrist out of Red Wine's iron grasp to no avail. Soon enough, they gave up and focused on not tripping over their bare feet. That would be embarrassing.

Stopping outside one of the doors, Red Wine glanced backward and the small act made Salad smile slightly and shrugged back at him. Gloved hands rapped against the wood and the two hardly had to wait before the door was opened gently.

Yogurt's smiling face greeted them and her eyes positively lit up when they landed on Salad. "Oh! Come in, come in!" She ushered the pair into the room, closing the door behind them. "It's wonderful to see you two. I suspected that Red Wine wouldn't find anything that was to his tastes in your wardrobe." Giggling at the thought, Yogurt threw open her own closet revealing the plethora of crop tops, maxi skirts, floor-length dresses and more fabric than Salad had ever seen in their immortal life. "We're about the same size so grab whatever."

Crossing his arms with a scowl, Red Wine jerked his chin in Yogurt's direction, startling Salad from their wonder. "Go pick something that you like." He urged.

Biting their supple lip, Salad made slow steps towards the forest of clothing as Yogurt stood beside it like the gatekeeper. Gracing her best friend with a warm smile, she picked out a simple violet crop top and ruffled skirt combo, holding them out to Salad as if they were a wild animal in need of calming down.

Tentatively running their fingers over the soft fabric, Salad gasped at the sensations that flooded their senses. The discreet patterning on the top felt solid and warm but the material itself was light and breathable. A giddy smile overtook them as they cradled the clothing in their arms and it felt like it belonged there.

"Try them on!" Yogurt prompted, her smile a mile wide but it faltered at Salads hesitance. "We can turn around if that makes you more comfortable." She offered, already walking back towards the other side of the room.

"Thanks." Salad smiled turning around as well. Gripping the helm of their nightshirt, they hesitated slightly. Was this really the best idea? Before their doubts could get the better of them, Salad slipped the skirt off the hanger and examined it. The checkered earthen colors made them think of their own pair of shorts and smiled, but what surprised them the most was the shorts hidden amongst the ruffles, intended to protect the wearer against any douchebags hoping to sneak a peak. The material felt snug around their hips and thighs but when they spun gently on the spot, the skirt lifted up and fanned out around them and Salad had to bite their lip to stop the tears. They felt beautiful with the skirt and they felt reluctant to even take it off.

Shucking their shirt off was easier than before and the crop top replaced the worn clothing. Frills along the trim bounced with every movement they made and it was cut in such a way that it showed off their bare shoulders. The material floated around their body, keeping their figure relatively androgynous while giving a small feminine flair. Giggling with unbridled joy at the outfit, Salad spun around, another dose of giddiness running through them when the fabric fluttered around their frame.

Yogurt was the first to turn around, gasping in excitement and clapping her hands. "Oh, you look so cute! Red Wine, Red Wine, look! Doesn't Salad look adorable? Oh, you're growing up so fast!!"

"Well, they are my child, after all." Red Wine scoffed, a smile tugging at his lips. "I'd hope that they'd at least be able to pull this off."

"You adopted me last month." Salad deadpanned, letting Yogurt fuss over the clothes. "We're not even related."

"The time and blood are irrelevant." He brushed off, regarding them with a softer gaze. "It only matters that I'm your father and you're my child. Salad flushed at the statement, quickly turning to hide their red face

"And Steak's the second father, right?" Yogurt popped up from behind Salad, tugging the sleeves down slightly and shifting the skirt around. "Being a single dad's pretty hard. When are you going to ask him out? Everyone already knows that you two are banging anyways. What's the harm? Even baby Salad here had the guts to ask Escargot out and bagged a date!"

"I'm not a baby!" Salad cried at the same time Red Wine sputtered, face flushing a shade not too dissimilar to his namesake.

"My love life is nothing of your concern." He hissed, holding himself up defensively. "Besides, you would have been in the same boat if you had won the lawsuit, no? A single mother life is much harder than a single father's or so I've heard."

Yogurt rolled her eyes and leaned back to inspect her work before rummaging through the wardrobe again. "It wasn't a real lawsuit. Master Attendant just picked who they thought would be the better parent. And at least I would have asked for help." She shot back. "You're head's so stuck up your ass that you would've fathered poor Salad alone if it weren't for Gingerbread bashing some sense into you." Ignoring Red Wine's protest, Yogurt reemerged from the closet holding a pair of boots nearly identical to their own and knee-high socks. "Try these on. They'll match the outfit."

"I think you just murdered my new dad." Salad hissed, taking the clothing. Red Wine choked in the background and Yogurt burst out laughing. The socks felt sheer and lightweight in their hands while the boots were surprisingly familiar. But considering that their current footwear came from the same source, it wasn't all that surprising. "Now what will I tell Steak?! I can't just tell him that his boy toy died because you sassed him and I called him dad!"

On the floor dying of laughter, Yogurt wheezed out an ugly cough as Red Wine looked less vampiric and more sunburnt with the amount of blood rushing to his face. Nonchalantly pulling the socks up, Salad looked back quizzically. "What?" They huffed, wiggling his toes around the new fabric. Feeling aside it was exactly the same as their current pair but it made them feel lighter. Perhaps it was the sheer material that created that feeling.

"Being referred to as Steak's boy toy was highly insulting. For the record, however, it would be more accurate to say that Steak is my boy toy. He's the bitch in the relationship anyway." Red Wine sniffed. His statement was met with a snort and a very loud gasp that drowned everything else out.

"Don't swear in front of a child!!" Yogurt cried, scrambling to cover Salad's ears with a scandalized look on her face. "We didn't need to know about your kinky exploits and how Steak's actually a bottom! Or a verse. Whatever."

Salad rolled their eyes and pried Yogurts hands off their ears. "I'm not a child." They reiterated, slipping on the pair of boots. Standing up, they yelped and pitched forwards, hands windmilling to keep their balance. Yogurt laughed and helped Salad balance and they shot her a wounded look. "What are these?!" They whined, kicking a foot up. The sole of the boot was perfectly normal, a shade darker than the synthetic dyed leather but the heel was raised above the rest. Yogurt had given Salad high-fucking-heeled boots. Damn her.

Sighing, Red Wine offered his hands to Salad with they took gratefully. Stumbling around the room like a newborn fawn, they walked a few laps before shakily clopping around by themselves. They were quick to pick up the art of walking on heels and was soon marveling at how much taller they were.

Laughing, they spun around and beamed at Red Wine, tears gathering at the edges of their eyes. "Thank you so much." They whispered, voice watery with emotion.

Red Wine sighed and placed a hand on their shoulder. "It's only natural for a parent to want the best for their child. Your happiness is nothing to thank me for." He dropped a soft kiss onto their head and smiled. "You look stunning."

Holding back their tears, Salad nodded and wrapped their arms around Red Wine's slender waist, burying his head into the darkening and damp fabric. "Thanks, Dad." They chuckled when Red Wine flinched at the title before they felt arms wrap around their back.

It felt nice to be hugged. Of course, they've been hugged before, their previous Master Attendant had a very tactile way of showing his affection and Yogurt gave amazing hugs too. It was just something about being nestled between arms that have protected others for millennia that made them feel safe.

A shriek of excitement made Salad jump and stumble with the unfamiliar shoes but Red Wine simply tightened his hold and drew them closer as he gave Yogurt a venomous glare. "Sorry!" She whispered unapologetically and Salad wiggled around until they were facing Yogurt but still encompassed by Red Wine's arms. They leaned back into the embrace and a silly grin crossed their face when they received a light squeeze in response.

They gasped when they took a good look at what Yogurt was holding.

The dress was long, the helm swaying in the air with translucent satin and silk pooling around the floor. The sleeves dangled down, tapering into an odd triangle while the neckline was high and designed to fit snugly around the neck. It looked stunning, the pearlescent cloth shimmering slightly under artificial light. Smoothing down the material, Yogurt grinned at Salad and turned the dress around, displaying how the fabric parted after the waist, fanning out with the intention of showing off and accenting the wearer's legs. Embroidered ivory swept and curled on the dress, flowing smoothly from helm to helm carrying with it a faint vanilla scent.

"Oh." They whispered, eyes drawn to the dress like a moth to light. And in a sense, they were. Salad could almost feel the satin brushing against their calves and the light pressure against their throat and they felt the excitement begin to build in them again.

"I thought I still had this lying around." Yogurt triumphantly thrusting the clothing towards Salad with a broad but no less encouraging grin spread across her face. "This will probably look better under the crop top but it'll definitely make you look beautiful. Escargot's jaw is going to hit the floor!" With a giggle, Yogurt gently extracted Salad from Red Wine's hug and proceeded to measure the dress against their body, blissfully ignoring the annoyed huff Red Wine sent her way.

The high heeled boots gave Salad an extra inch, which allowed the dress to end comfortably at their ankles. When Yogurt was satisfied that her dress would fit her ward, she gave them the dress and a pat on the back before pushing Red Wine to the corner of the room. Hearing their parental figure's squabbling made Salad giggle as they held the soft material gingerly and turned around.

Now that they had the time to closely examine the dress, Salad found a zipper, cleverly hidden on the back by fabric that seemed to disappear once it covered its secret. The zipper went down without any resistance and Salad timidly stepped into it, pulling the fabric up to their waist. It felt like a second skirt, resting neatly over the checkered one they were already wearing. The crop top was thrown off and the rest of the dress was hastily pulled up as Salad shoved their arms through the designated holes. The material was surprisingly opaque despite its breathability, covering everything that Salad never wanted the world to know.

Reaching back, Salad fumbled with the zipper and fruitlessly pulled up. When they realized that their arm simply wouldn't bend the way they needed it to, Salad sighed and tried to twist around so that they could see Yogurt out of the corner of their eye.

"Yogurt?" They called, wincing as their back protested against the movement. "Can you uh… help me?"

There was a flurry of footsteps as Salad realigned their spine into a better position and felt the fabric tightening around their stomach before moving up to their chest and finally stopping after their neck was kept in a vice-like hold.

Salad was so focused on trying to re-learn how to breathe properly again that Red Wine's instructions to raise their arms didn't register and their hands went up involuntary. The crop top was tugged on gently and Salad blinked, their arms falling to their side. With a glance down, Salad could see how the top hung from their shoulders, violet curtains obscuring their chest.

Lifting their arms up to twist around and observe themselves, Salad giggled and beamed up at Red Wine. "Thanks!"

Red Wine waved the praise off, stepping back to let Yogurt put her final touches into Salad's outfit. A brief moment was allotted to dust a faint layer of makeup on to their face, nothing too outlandish just simple eyeliner and lip gloss, but having the makeup on made them feel like that could slay any fallen angel with a well-placed smile and wink. The confidence carried through even when it was time for them to head downstairs to meet Escargot. Stairs turned out to be a little bit of a struggle but Salad had never been more thankful for the rail that Master Attendant had decided to install.

The moment they stepped into the restaurant proper and let the voices of the many patrons wash over them, their confidence evaporated and suddenly Salad wanted nothing more than to bolt back up the stairs.

"Oh, I knew this would be a bad idea…” They whispered, worry making them clutch the helm of the skirt. “Why did I let Yogurt put me in this? What if Escargot hates it?” They dropped their hands in favor of wringing it in the air.

"Salad?" An exhausted voice asked from beside them and Salad squeaked, jumping slightly as they tentatively looked to the side.

Escargot was sitting on the two-person table beside them, head rested on a pillow and smiling gently up at them. Sitting up, Escargot yawned before it died in his throat, eyes transfixed upon Salad. They could feel his gaze traveling over their body, drinking in the sight of their new attire. The attention made Salad nervous, their hands involuntary going back to their skirt helm.

"D-do you like it?" They stammered after a long moment of silence, finding an old coffee stain on the wall suddenly very interesting.

Escargot startled but his reply was instantaneous and delivered with a warm smile. "I love it." He whispered, standing up to gently pry their hands away from the fabric. "You look amazing." And in a move that Salad thought had disappeared from modern culture, Escargot kneeled in front of them and gently kissed the back of their hand, showering each knuckle with attention.

Salad managed to laugh out his name, the ugly hiccup in their voice making their blush even darker. They couldn't help the elated smile that blossomed, covering it fruitlessly with the other hand. Escargot simply smiled, adoration sparkling brightly in his calm eyes as he stood up and tucked his pillow under an arm. "You ready?" He asked, gently squeezing their connected hands.

Nodding enthusiastically, Salad felt the earlier tension melt away from their body as they squeezed back. "Lead the way." They giggled, lightly swinging their arms.

[icebirdsmateforlife]

reach for the sky (part 1)

Sid works a shitty job and uses his free time to put workout videos on the internet. Geno does the same, from the other side of the world.

A/N: Hello! :) Anybody still here? I promised new fic, and I finally have something for you. This is part 1 of a multichapter story and I’m going to update it as frequently as I can manage. Chapter 1 is just over 3k. Low rating, but it’s most likely going up to Explicit in future parts. This is going to be a SidGeno fic, of course, but there will be mentions and later an appearance of an ex-boyfriend/sometimes-hookup, just in case that’s not your thing. Okay, I think that’s it. Special thanks to @sheepassisted for the encouragement. And thank you also to everyone who’s sent me nice messages while I was gone, that really meant a lot. <3

“So,” Sid says, smiling into the camera. “You guys did a great job, making it through the whole thing. Let me know if there’s anything specific you’d like to work on and I can put something together for you in one of my next videos. Have a great day, and I hope to see you back next week.”

He’s been saying those same sentences so many times by now it comes out on autopilot, and he knows it probably sounds a little rehearsed, but he still gets enough views on his channel. So all things considered, it probably doesn’t matter that much. He gets himself a bottle of water from the kitchen and leans back against the counter — he’s going to have to get in a proper, longer workout for himself later, but doing these little videos is fun. More than he’d expected when he started doing them, honestly. It’s fun to do something that he hopes will inspire at least a few people.

He doesn’t bother showering. He’s headed for the gym anyway once he’s watched through the video to make sure it’s usable. He doesn’t usually do a lot of editing, unless he screwed something up during the routine and has to start over. But today’s video should be fine; just a quick fifteen-minute thigh workout for beginners.

His phone rings, and he goes to pick it up off the coffee table.

“Hey, Flower,” he greets, and takes another long drink of water.

“Dinner tonight,” Flower says without greeting. “7pm, my place. Bring wine.”

Sid laughs. “What if I have plans?”

Flower huffs out a breath. “You will cancel them. It’s rude to turn down a dinner invitation from your best friend.”

Sid doesn’t have plans, and he doesn’t feel like cooking either, so this works out rather well. He also doesn’t feel like being alone. “Don’t you teach yoga until 7?” he asks, and Flower sighs.

“Cancelled. Burst pipe in the wall. Looks like we won’t be able to use the room for at least a week.”

“Oh. Well, that sucks.” Sid puts down his water. “Is it just the yoga studio, or -”

“The rest of the gym is fine,” Flower assures him. “You can go work out right now like I know you want to.”

“Okay,” Sid says, relieved. “I’ll see you at 7, okay?”

“See you then,” Flower says. “Don’t forget the wine,” and hangs up.

Sid smiles, drops his phone onto the couch, and gets his camera. He has a video to check and upload and then he can go and have some fun. He also has to put all the furniture back where it belongs, since the only way to have enough space for all this in his tiny apartment is to shove everything to one side of the room, allowing him to film in front of the empty wall by the window. It’s not the most convenient, but it works.

***

There are a lot of things that Sid enjoys about doing his videos. Reading through the comments isn’t usually one of them. But it’s a necessary part of this whole thing, since he needs to know if what he’s doing is helpful at all, or if anyone has comments or requests.

It’s not that he gets any hate in those comments. Most of them are very nice, just the usual “great workout!!” or “I’ve been doing this every day for a week and I’m feeling much better already, thanks!” He likes those. It’s why he’s doing this. To help people feel better in their own bodies, especially people who maybe can’t afford a gym membership or anything like that. People should be able to do stuff and learn about ways to exercise without having to pay money they might not have. Exercise is for everyone, after all. So, yeah. Most of the comments are really nice. It’s the few that comment directly on the size of his arms or butt and specific things they’d want to do with them that make him uncomfortable. Luckily, he’s learned to mostly ignore them when they happen.

He’s back home early and has some time before he needs to leave for Flower’s place, which is just down the block anyway. So he settles in with his laptop and finally tackles the comments from last week’s video: a simple 20-minute core strength workout.

It’s all a lot of the same. The nice stuff that makes him smile, and then there’s one request for a cardio routine that makes him wince — he’ll do it but it’s not his favourite thing to do — and one comment in what looks to be Russian, judging by the letters. And because it might be something important, some legitimate criticism or maybe another request, he copy and pastes it into Google translate.

“Nice workout,” it says. “I’ve been looking for something like this and it’s perfect. Thank you and greetings from Russia! Sorry, my English isn’t good. Maybe I’ll study for next time.”

Sid smiles. He’s not one of the popular people on YouTube and having a viewer from all the way across the planet is kind of nice. He types a message into the translator, “Thank you for watching! I appreciate it. Let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to record next!” and copy and pastes it into a reply. He doesn’t do replies often, but he wants to this time.

***

“Did your ass get even bigger since I saw you two days ago?” Flower greets him, pulling him into a quick hug and then slapping his butt as Sid walks past him into the house.

“Haha,” Sid says, and hands Flower the wine. “What’s for dinner?”

He likes hanging out here, in Flower’s small house. It’s comfortable and welcoming and he’s been here a lot since he moved into the city and met Flower. Who immediately took him under his wing and befriended him with a determination that Sid truly admires. Sid has other friends, but he sometimes thinks he’d be lost without Flower.

“Hi, Sid,” Vero says, and Sid smiles at her and hugs her, too. She moved in not that long ago, and he’s still getting used to her being here when he comes over to hang out. She’s nice and he likes her and considers her a friend, but it feels like Flower is settling down, maybe starting a family soon. He’s a few years older than Sid, but the thought still makes Sid’s head spin a little bit. He still feels like he barely even has his life together, still struggling to even pay rent some months, and his best friend has a house and a career and is probably going to get married in the not too distant future, to the same girl he’s been dating since he was a teenager. It’s all so stable and safe and grown up. It’s not that Sid is jealous, but...okay, maybe he is a little bit jealous.

“We’re ordering pizza,” Flower says. “I was going to make chicken casserole, but I think the oven’s broken.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Sid says.

Flower waves a hand. “We still got a microwave until we can have it repaired,” he says. Sometimes Sid envies his ability to always stay positive no matter what.

It’s a nice evening — the pizza is good, the wine is good too, and Vero has the best stories about the customer’s at the small boutique she works at.

And yet Sid can’t help feeling a little down all through dinner, and even when they move to the couch to keep talking until a second bottle of wine is gone as well.

It must be nice, he thinks, to have somebody to come home to. Somebody who is happy to see you. He’s never lived with anyone like that and hasn’t even dated in...well over a year now, and he’s lonely.

But at least he has friends who love him, and he knows that’s worth a lot. So he keeps smiling and ignores the worried looks Flower keeps throwing him.

***

It’s a little after 10 when he gets home that night and finds he accidentally left his laptop open earlier. He just means to close it, but when the screen wakes up as his finger brushes the touchpad, he thinks it can’t hurt to refresh the open page just once to see how many views he got on his new routine so far.

There are a few already, but also a notification. He has a message. He doesn’t get messages often.

When he sits down on the couch and opens it, the profile photo is the same one from the Russian commenter earlier, but this time, the message is in English.

“Hello Sidney,” it says. “Sorry bad English. You are very nice. I like video. Watch more from you, also very nice. I write you to practice English. Sorry if this strange. But I like your video. Have a nice day. Greetings. Evgeni.”

Sid reads it, then reads it again, and then hits reply. He may not reply to comments much, but with messages he always makes a point of writing back to people to say thanks or give advice if they ask for it. Evgeni’s message definitely deserves a thank you.

“Hi Evgeni,” he writes. “I’m glad you like my workouts. And don’t worry, your English is fine. Way better than my French for sure. I hope you have a nice day too and I hope to see you back here in the future.”

He hits send, then puts his laptop down and stretches his arms up over his head, stretching out his back before he gets up and heads towards the bathroom to get ready for bed. He has to be at work early tomorrow to open up the store. He’s not really looking forward to it — hates his job, to be honest — but he does have bills to pay and food to buy so it’s not like he has a choice. So as much as he’d love to stay on the couch for another half hour and listen to this podcast about random funny facts that he’s found a few weeks ago, it’s definitely bedtime for him.

***

There is a new message when he checks his phone over breakfast the next morning. It’s from Evgeni. Apparently he took Sid’s “I hope to see you back here” as an invitation to keep talking to him, and Sid can’t really say he minds. He likes talking to people. And he admires Evgeni’s dedication to learning English.

“Thank you Sidney,” Evgeni writes. “I’m glad you think my English not so bad. I’m work hard, try be better. But not have people for talk with English, so maybe much is wrong. You say to ask if there’s video we want. I’m think do some warm up maybe. Is very important. People forget sometimes. Greetings from Evgeni. Have a nice day.”

Sid thinks about it. It’s not actually a bad idea. He always focuses on the actual workouts; he’s mentioned the importance of warming up and cooling down a number of times, but he’s never actually made any videos for it.

He hits reply and writes back.

“Hey Evgeni, that’s a great idea, thank you! I’m going to think of something and put together a video. Two videos I guess. One for warming up and one for cooling down? I think there should be both. You’re right, people shouldn’t forget about it. Thanks again, I appreciate your input. Have a great day too!”

He has no idea what time it even is in Russia, but when he thinks about it he realises that Evgeni lives in the future and it must be the middle of the day for him already. Whatever. It’s never too late to wish somebody a good day.

He has to leave for work then, to spend his morning offering advice on running shoes and protein powder while his coworker is working the counter. It’s exhausting, having to smile and answer the same questions over and over all day, re-folding clothes that customers leave in a heap somewhere, and explain patiently that no, he can’t conjure those shoes out of thin air in size 10, but they can be here in two days if he orders them now, okay? It’s the opposite of fun most of the time. But it’s what he gets paid for, so he has no choice. It’s just not exactly what he dreamed of doing with his early 20s.

He doesn’t get a chance to check his phone again before lunch, and he’s not even surprised to find a new message from Evgeni. He’d sort of been expecting it at this point.

“Hello Sidney, I’m glad you like idea. I think is very important. I’m sure you don’t need idea from me, but some yoga is good stretches. Easy. Can be good for start. I’m do some videos also, lot of warm up I get idea from yoga. But is all Russian. Sorry. But I’m sure you will have very good idea without me. I will watch for sure. Greetings from Evgeni.”

Sid bites his lip and puts his sandwich down. He’s never much liked yoga, no matter how much Flower keeps poking him to try it, but now he’s curious. He follows Geno’s username to his channel, and yeah, there’s quite a collection of videos up there. He can’t read any of the titles, so he just clicks on the shortest one, which is just a little over six minutes.

What he sees is...not quite what he expected.

Evgeni is tall. Really tall. With long skinny legs and a quite impressive upper half. And his face is...Sid knows he should probably focus on the video instead of staring at the guy’s face, but Evgeni has gentle, sad eyes and a smile that makes Sid smile too, and there’s just a sparkle of something a little mischievous in his expression. His nose is a little big and his lips are chapped and his hair looks just a bit sweaty and he’s beautiful.

Sid doesn’t think he really has a type. But he does like tall and athletic. And, apparently, also a kind face and bony feet and very large hands. And a really nice butt, honestly.

Evgeni’s voice is soft, and the gentle rhythm of Russian is almost soothing to listen to as he does a lot of the same stretches that Sid likes to do, but worked into a nice, easy flow that looks a lot like Flower’s yoga.

Sid watches the entire video and then locks his phone and goes for a walk around the block before his break is over.

He knows he should reply, but it suddenly feels weird, now that he knows that this guy who’s been sending him messages looks like...like that.

He feels shy, all of a sudden. Which he usually isn’t. Only around very attractive Russians, apparently.

He will write back later, he promises himself. It’s just been a while since he’s really allowed himself to look at people like that and Evgeni really has very impressive shoulders. Sid feels a little ridiculous.

It was just a dumb workout video, for fuck’s sake. So what if the guy has a kind face and really large hands.

Maybe he should call David, see if he’s dating anyone right now. It’s been a while since they last saw each other, and obviously Sid’s loneliness and need for physical contact that’s more than a hug has reached a critical level. David would laugh at him for years if he found out that Sid got turned on by watching a stretching video, even if Flower used to tease him that “Perron is perfect for you, he’s as sexually attracted to gross and sweaty as you are.”

But no, he tells himself. He’s just frustrated in a lot of ways right now, but he’ll get over it. And write back later.

***

Later turns out to be that evening, once he’s home and has had dinner and nothing more to do for the night.

“I’ve checked out your videos,” he writes to Evgeni. “I don’t understand what you’re saying, but maybe I’ll try to follow along to one anyway. It looks fun! Maybe I will get some new ideas for my own warmups from that. A fresh perspective and everything. Thank you, Sid.”

He doesn’t expect a reply that night because of the time difference, so he leaves his phone in the kitchen, settles in front of the TV, and puts on a hockey game.

Hockey is always a nice distraction from everything. He’s been in love with the sport ever since he was a little kid. Never had the money to actually play it for any long stretch of time, other than with friends on frozen ponds, but it’s still his favourite.

So yeah. Hockey is always a nice distraction. It just can’t distract him tonight from the thought of a beautiful man with a kind face and a soothing voice, doing athletic things in extremely short running shorts that leave nothing at all to the imagination.

***

There is a message the next morning. Sid reads it sitting up against the headboard, before he has even made it out of bed.

“Hello Sid! So happy you like video! Sad we live far, maybe sometimes we can make video together if closer. But I’m sure yours will be very good. Maybe I’m make video in English one day for you. Need much practice first. If this too much, sorry, but this messages not best way for talking. So I’m give you email. Ignore if you don’t want, I will not be angry. )))) Greetings from Evgeni.”

And then there’s an email address at the bottom of the message and Sid puts his phone down on his pillow and hides his face behind his hands, grinning, takes a breath. Are they becoming friends? Because that’s what it feels like. He’s not sure it’s such a great idea, but...

But it would be rude to turn down an offer of friendship like this, wouldn’t it?

The weird sort of melancholy from yesterday has left him, too, and with it the uncomfortable feeling of embarrassment at noticing the simple fact that a person he’s talking to is quite objectively attractive.

He feels like himself again.

So Sid does the only thing he can do, picks his phone up, copies Evgeni’s email address, and opens his email app.

It’s only polite. That’s the only reason he’s doing this. Anything else would be crazy. They’re pretty much living on opposite sides of the planet. So he’s just being nice to someone who was nice to him first and who is nice to talk to. Making a new friend in the process wouldn’t be the worst thing either.

And learning more about Evgeni’s thoughts on mixing yoga with regular workouts definitely can’t hurt. It’s a sport. All sports are good. He can always get into a new sport. Evgeni knows more about this particular one than he does, obviously, even if he seems to use it sparingly judging from the videos Sid has definitely not marathoned in bed before falling asleep last night.

“Hi Evgeni,” he starts his email. “This is Sid. I agree that emailing is much easier than talking through those messages. I’ve been thinking a lot about learning more about yoga, now that I’ve watched your video. Since you say you’ve based some of your stretches on it. I have a good friend who is a yoga teacher. He’s been trying to get me interested for years. If I tell him that I saw your videos on the internet and now suddenly want to learn, he’s going to be so mad. That’s going to be a lot of fun. Do you do any actual yoga off the internet? Or is that just what inspires you? Thanks again for giving me your email address. Sid.”

He hits send and feels pretty good about everything as he rolls out of bed to start his day.

Part 2

[writingdotcoffee]

SHORT STORY: The Dead Borough #2

Read part #1 here.

Jack was on the 29th floor of the fridge-shaped office tower at 20 Fenchurch Street, working on a feature on the Brexit negotiations when the explosions happened. The first five were mere echoes of something horrible from far away. The sixth one shook the foundations of the building. The seventh made Jack hide under his desk. The eight had blown the fancy ground-to-ceiling windows out over his head. Thank god for safety glass.

Blackfriars, Millennium, Southwark. He watched the bridges burn and crumble into the Thames, breathing the noxious smoke that the steady northbound breeze brought his way. The power was out, his phone wasn’t working. He sat next to the broken window, incredulous, shaking all over until it dawned on him that the top of a skyscraper wasn’t the safest place to be when things around it were blowing up. At that time, he didn’t know that those explosives were detonated by the British Armed Forces. He had no idea that they flooded the underground tunnels and set up barricades up north, sealing the City of London closed. Strictly nobody was allowed in or out until a cure was found.

The government believed that a deadly virus had spread from a plague pit uncovered during deep excavations at a building site in Fleet Street. Unlike anything that people had ever seen, the mutated pathogen embedded itself deep inside the tissue, causing black open sores all over the infected person’s body. In one in three, the virus would spread into the brain and cause irreversible damage to the prefrontal cortex reducing the bearer to a bloodthirsty monster, attacking anything and everything in its way.

With no known cure or remedy, the only honourable course of action after discovering the first sore was a bullet through one’s own head. Not many cared about honour back then, and that’s how the Dead Borough came to be.

The last rays of sunshine filled the desolate streets with amber. The light found its way past the burned cars and soot-covered facades. It reflected off the broken windows and roof AC units that rust hadn’t consumed yet. The sun dipped behind a tall concrete gate at Mile End Road, casting a long shadow across the wide boulevard. Two figures dressed in black emerged from behind a wrecked double-decker and made their way into what used to be a dirt cheap chicken shop on the ground floor of a three-floor townhouse on the corner. The shop window was already gone. No need to bother opening the squeaky door.

Jack followed Victoria through the greasy kitchen with friers still full of rotting oil. A dead rat floated in one of them, its mouth ajar with two sets of crooked incisors showing. A lesson learned the hard way. They crept up a narrow staircase at the back. Jack would wait for Vic to assess the situation on each floor before moving on until they reached the top and found the door they were looking for.

Their eyes met as they were standing with their back against the wall on either side of it. Jack’s breath grew heavier. They both wore black scarves to conceal their identity, but they knew what that subtle nod meant.

Without warning, Vic spun around and kicked the door open. The latch broke, sending splinters of wood flying across the room. Then both of them burst inside. Should anybody be home, Vic and Jack had the element of surprise on their side.

‘All clear,’ Vic said. She placed her Glock into the holster under her arm and pulled one of the heavy curtains open. A puff of dust lifted in the air. Jack squinted at the golden light that poured in from the outside. He turned his headlamp off and walked over to the sash window.

’This is perfect,’ he said. The window gave him a view of the gate and anything that might come through it. He put his backpack on the floor and started taking his gear out.

‘Hurry up and don’t touch anything,’ Vic said when she emerged from the kitchen, her gun back in her hand.

‘What do you mean?’

‘We’re in a drug den.’

That didn’t really surprise Jack. The place was squalid. The sofa in the middle of the room had ripped cushions, the carpet was stained with god knows what, the smell putrid. Every horizontal surface in the room had empty beer bottles and gnarled cigarette butts piled on it. The doorframe around the kitchen was blackened as if it had gone up in flames. There were no discarded needles or crack pipes. They were so scarce that the junkies protected them more than their own fingers.

After the bridges came down and the barricades rose up north, people were desperate for anything that could alleviate the misery, make them forget if only for a few hours that it was just a matter of time before they became infected too. The rapid increase in demand along with massively diminished supply turned drugs into a currency. Having access to any sort of snortable, smokable or injectable substance made people ready to do anything just to get some—most often shank you in the eye and take it.

‘Calm down. It looks like nobody’s been home for weeks,’ Jack said. Instead of cleaning up, junkies often just move two doors down.

Vic rolled her eyes.

‘I’ll need at least half an hour to set up.’

‘You’ve got 15 minutes.’

Jack trusted Victoria’s judgement, but that didn’t mean he didn’t find her military attitude annoying at times. Alas, she was the one with the gun. Frankly, even without a gun… Let’s just say he was happy that they were both on the same side.

She was a full foot shorter than Jack with a fringed bob of bloody red hair. Not the sort of red that oozes out of a paper cut. The deep crimson that squirts out of a severed jugular which made Jack refer to her affectionately as Vicious Vic. She wore a survival knife in a battered sheath attached horizontally to her belt. The massive blade had undoubtedly met with many a jugular.

In her past life, Vic was a professional soldier commanding one of the units they sent in to cover the others building the barricades. The radio simply went quiet when it was time for pickup. Nobody had told them that they weren’t coming back.

Jack spread out the telescopic legs of his tripod. He zipped his bag open and took out a brand-new, professional-grade DSLR and a giant telephoto lens. He had picked up both from an abandoned camera showroom at Strand. All this equipment would have set him back £8,000, but it was worthless when people had barely anything to eat. He mounted the camera onto the tripod and positioned it in front of the sash window. He switched the lens to manual mode and focused it on the ground just in front of the gate. With aperture at f/11.0, that should keep most of the scene safely in focus.

The first few test shots he took came out grainy, not because of the settings, but because of the thick film of dirt that covered the outside of the glass. After thinking about it for a while, Jack stuck his knife under the lower window pane. The wooden frame squealed as he lifted it up just enough to be able to wedge the lens hood under it.

‘Hey!’ Vic hissed from behind, making him jump.

‘Jesus Christ!’ Jack took a deep breath. ‘What?’

‘I said don’t touch anything.’

‘I’m not touching anything. The window was too bloody filthy.’

‘How long?’ Vic asked impatiently.

‘I’m almost done.’

He readjusted the tripod and fixed the exposition parameters on the camera. The sun had set already, but expecting that it would get a little darker later on, Jack adjusted the settings accordingly. He put the camera into time-lapse mode. It would snap a photo every second throughout the night and save it onto one of the two 512GB storage cards inside. All he needed was one photo taken at the right time that would give him an irrefutable proof that people were entering and leaving. Publish that, and the Internet would take care of the rest.

The camera snapped away, and Vic sneaked back out to the corridor while Jack went over everything one more time. Out of all their hunts for electricity in the past, he had never seen her as nervous as today. Her anxiety was contagious.

Composition, focus, exposition, quiet shutter mode, display off, front status diode—shit. It was on. A short flash of bright green with every photo taken wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. Jack was sure he turned that one off last night. He must have forgotten to save the settings.

It took a five-minute crawl through the camera’s endless menus before he found the right option to turn off. Then he formatted the storage cards and restarted the time lapse.

A muffled echo of Vic’s voice sounded from the stairwell. Jack couldn’t quite understand, but he replied anyway. ‘I’m coming.’

He switched his headlamp on and cut a thick bin liner bag along its long side. He wanted to wrap the camera body so that if it resolved to blink again, it wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention.

The distant howl of sentries—the massive patrol drones that scoured the borough during the night marked the beginning of tonight’s curfew. And then came the shots. Two blasts sounded out of the corridor in rapid succession.

Jack threw himself to the ground, instinctively wrapping his arms around his head. Seconds passed. His ears were ringing.

‘Vic?’ Jack shouted, but he could barely hear himself. His heart was racing. He grabbed his knife from the filthy carpet. In one swift motion, he leapt back to his feet and went for the door. He called after her again. She didn’t answer.

Jack’s knees trembled as he crept into the darkness outside of the flat, illuminated by a narrow strip of white light coming out of his headlamp.

‘Vic? Are you all right?’

The air stirred behind him. Jack turned around frantically. The headlamp illuminated a pair of wide-open eyes, unkempt beard and toothless grin. Something came down on his head, and everything turned black.

The Dead Borough #3 is out now!

(C) Radek Pazdera

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to a weekly message from me with free stories like that, subscribe to my mailing list.

[speedilyloudpaper]

1 0    t o    w i n

‘OK Jeff. Which group supported Smokey Robinson on The Tears of a Clown in 1970?’

A clock sound effect ticks.

‘Um.. I think that were The Miracles’

Ding

‘Correct, well done! Question 10, listen carefully… name the song title and artist of the following 90s one hit wonder.’

‘You’ve got this, Jeff!’ adds the radio Dj, nonchalantly. Despite his genuine admiration at Jeff’s knowledge of music, he couldn’t make himself interested in the outcome of today’s Ten to Win.

And if you think

That I've been losing my way

That's because I'm slightly blinded

And if you think

That I don't make too much sense

That's because

I'm broken minded

Jeff did have this, he remembers playing a cover of it when he was younger. Suddenly he’s back on stage of the Hillsborough Working Men’s club, clad in freshly ripped jeans and a white T shirt with the sleeves rolled over his shoulders, thrashing his bass guitar like his life depended on it. Yes, he can see the setlist in front of him in his mind’s eye.

‘I think that was... Inside, by um Stiltskin’

‘Congratulations Jeff! That’s 10 out of 10, you really do know your music. You just won yourself a digital radio!’

Jeff feels immense elation having won the quiz, indeed this is the most exciting thing that has happened to him all year.

‘Aw fantasti-’

‘Yeah really well done. Is there anyone you’d like to give a shoutout to, Jeff?’

Jeff sits on the sofa in his living room with his new smartphone held next to his ear, wearing an old Aerosmith T shirt and dressing gown. The room is small and sparsely furnished, with a threadbare carpet and dated off white floral wallpaper. Beside the sofa is a small wooden cabinet. Across the room, next to a fireplace in which stands an electric fan heater, is a huge flat screen impulse-bought television playing on mute. There are no ornaments other than a few photographs on the mantelpiece and an ashtray on the cabinet. Old and yellowing white lace curtains droop over the window, allowing in a little light. In the corner by the window sits an acoustic guitar on a black stand.

‘Um, yeah.. There’s my cousin Derek, who’ll be listening at work’ says Jeff. His cousin wouldn’t usually be the first person to enter his mind, but hearing that track had started a flood of memories of his days in his old band, which Derek, or Del back then, was the lead singer, along with his best mates Tony and Gaz on drums and guitar. The memories bring a wave of nostalgia, but also something else.

‘Also my two sons, Will and Joey, they’re both at their mother’s today, but they said they’d listen t’ the show… um.. All the fellas at work and… and’

He stares at the bare wall above the television set. Suddenly his eyes feel weary and his face feels heavy. Another memory comes to him.

He’s sitting in the passenger seat of his uncle’s van with his bandmates, their equipment in the back. BBC radio 2 is playing over the speakers, for background noise and so the guys could complain to each other about radio stations never playing ‘real music’. In truth, Jeff quite liked the old pop songs they would play, but he wouldn’t have told any of the others. He liked and respected most genres of music, which was probably what made him the most talented at writing songs for the band.

A man had just lost a quiz and was asked if he’d like to mention anybody. It was always men or women of a certain age, who would proceed to reel off a pre prepared list of people they knew like they’d just won a BAFTA, usually followed by the line ‘and anybody else who knows me that I haven’t mentioned’, like everybody they’ve ever met is listening, and they can shout in all of their faces ‘Remember me? Look at me now! I’m on radio!’, Jeff thought.

‘Listen to this guy, makin’ such a big deal of being on the radio’ grunts Tony distastefully, his elbow resting on the window frame, holding a lit cigarette out of the window. ‘I bet this feels like his 15 minutes of fame. After he hangs up he’ll go back to being a fuckin’ nobody.’ The rest nod in agreement. ‘I tell you now lads’ he continues ‘we’re not gonna be like that. We’ll be on the radio alright, just not doing a stupid quiz’

‘Hopefully we won’t be played on a crap station like this.’ adds Jeff, earning him a few chuckles from the others. He didn’t like classing people as nobodies or successes, but he did agree with his mate. In fact each member of the band had a desire to make something of themselves. He supposed it was due to angst of growing up in a small northern town, however he was sure that in himself, and perhaps the others, it came from something much deeper, didn’t it?. It was about doing more with his life than he watched those around him do. He didn’t want to live in the future, in the past or only at the weekend, he wanted to really live for every second, following his passion and putting his heart into what he did; and what he was passionate about, more than anything, was music.

‘Jeff? Sorry I’m going to have to hurry you up’

‘Um yeah. Sorry. A-and...’ he lets out a sigh and a dry laugh, almost mocking himself.

‘And everybody who knows me who I haven’t mentioned’ he hears himself say.

The nostalgia recedes like an ocean tide, leaving him empty and all too aware of the present moment, the empty flat, the familiar silence except the sound of water running through pipes and occasional quiet whoosh of a car passing outside. The radio host says something but he isn’t listening, and he’s put on hold.

Jeff thinks of all the people who know him who he hasn’t mentioned. Other members of his family, who he keeps meaning to see more often, his friends he meets at the weekends to play pool and get drunk, and his coworkers, who he sees almost every day.

Cher’s ‘If I Could Turn Back Time’ plays in his ear, distorted and crackling, as he pictures the last 20 years of faces, and with the faces, memories.

The band had played regularly for three years, playing to crowds that increased in size each night, earning themselves a small following. One of their best performances was at a nightclub in Leeds, to a crowd of over a thousand people. The frenzy of the crowd was like nothing the band had seen before. People were jumping up and down and bouncing off of each other like one giant crazy pounding mass of screaming faces and waving arms that could burst through the walls. The energy that came off this thing was immense, like a powerful force that spurred the band to another level. By the end of the show, each member of the band was utterly worn out and dripping with sweat, the pickups on Gaz’s guitar were splattered with blood from his fingers (which they all found extremely cool).

It wasn’t just the performance that made that night so special for Jeff, it was also the night he met his wife. After the show, the band had gone to the club’s bar, where each had necked the most refreshing beer they would ever taste. After ordering a second they were approached by a girl with red lipstick and a big wavy hairstyle, who introduced herself as Debbie, saying how great the performance was. She was clearly drawn to Jeff more than the others, to his surprise. Admittedly, being the bass player, he was often overlooked by their female fans after the show, something that Del and Gaz would enjoy winding him up about. Because of this, and the fact he was still coated with sweat and had beer dripping from his chin, he didn’t expect her to be interested in him, but she was, and the two got on well. She had travelled with the band for a while before moving into Jeff’s flat. She saw Jeff as a perfect opportunity to get away from her parents, and the fact he played in a rock band was an added bonus. Perhaps she had rushed things a little, but she did suppose she loved him.

Six months later. The two are in the kitchen. Debbie is pregnant. The two had known for a while, yet neither had really mentioned the changes that were soon to come, especially regarding the band. Eventually she decided they’d avoided it for long enough, and brought it up one day before breakfast. She explained that having a baby meant that he’d have to get a job with a more steady income, and that he wouldn’t be able to travel as much with the band anymore. Of course Jeff had already thought about this, he just didn’t want to face the truth. On top of this, she also said that traveling with the band had had an effect on her as well, and that they weren’t spending as much time together as she’d like. This he hadn’t thought about. Obviously they weren’t the only couple to have thought about this, as a day later, the band were in Gaz’s living room, his girlfriend in the kitchen, when Gaz suggests that they call it quits on the band. They all eventually agree.

Del manages to get Jeff a job at Hardy & Co, the factory where Del’s brother worked. Jeff remembers being in the interview, sat across from some miserable looking manager, who had huge bags under his eyes and yellowed uneven teeth and sour breath, trying to explain his O levels and how hard he was willing to work blah blah blah, when all he could really think about was leaving his dreams and passion behind for a 9 to 5 job that meant nothing to him. He got the job and since then life had gone on like it does for most. He and Deborah got married. The baby was born followed by another a year later. At the factory he worked his way from floor assistant to supervisor. He struggled to think of anything that had made his life much different from the thousands of other ‘nobodies’ his age, apart from, maybe, the fact that his wife cheated on him. Then again that might be more common than you think, he thought, if television dramas are anything to go by.

Of course, he hadn’t spent his life in misery, dwelling on the fact that his band never became a major success. He’d had his ups and downs like anybody. There had been moments of immense happiness, such as his wedding day or when he held his children for the first time. In fact, until hearing that song in the radio quiz, he hadn’t thought about his band or old dreams in a few years. He never forgot his love of music either, as he was always listening to new tapes and CDs, and was known by his colleagues as the man to go to to settle an argument about who topped the charts in what year, or who played a certain song. He had a job to do all day, friends to meet at the weekend, and kept himself entertained in his free time, like everyone does.

Only seeing the years flash before him now made it seem so empty and pointless, leaving him feeling overwhelmed with regret and hopelessness and with a sinking in his chest. He felt like he’d failed himself. Like he’d let himself down. He couldn’t just blame himself though, and he started to feel irritated at the whole world for screwing things up for him.

His talent, his dreams, his passion for music had come to nothing. Well, he had gained one thing from it all; winning this radio quiz. Maybe he’d impressed a few listeners. Maybe he’d --

‘Hello? Is that Jeff’

Jeff stands up quickly when he hears the voice, remembering he should be ecstatic that he’s won the quiz, but unable to shake that strange mix of wistfulness and exasperation.

‘Yeah... still here’

When did I become such a fucking failure

‘Hi, congrats on winning today’s quiz. Could you please tell us your full name and address so we can send you your Sony D.A.B radio?’

This is what his lifelong love for music had come down to. This is what he had to show for it all. A Sony D.A.B fucking radio. Maybe he could show it off to visitors. Maybe people would ask him where he got it from, and he could tell them how he had won the quiz. It wasn’t much but it was something. He snickers at himself again, sardonically.

‘Yeah yeah, it’s um Jeff Stephens--’

The phone beeps.

‘Hello?’

No reply.

He takes the phone away from his ear and looks at the screen. Instantly he realises the stupid phone has hung up, like it keeps doing all the fucking time. I don’t even get the fucking radio. He isn’t sure whether he wants to laugh or cry.

He stands motionless in the silent room for a few seconds. The empty hole inside him has quickly filled with white-hot rage.

‘FUCK!’ he screams at the top of his voice, straining the veins in his face.

‘FUCKING SHIT FUCKING--’ he aggressively lobs the piece of shit smartphone at his guitar in the corner, smashing the screen, snapping the case and leaving a huge dent in his guitar.

‘PIECE OF SHIT’ he yells, his voice faltering this time. He collapses into the sofa, his anger becoming despair.

‘Stupid fucking phone’ he cries.

‘Stupid fucking guitar, fucking band’ tears fill his eyes.

‘Fucking job... fucking kids...fucking...all this shit’

He opens his mouth to say something else but doesn’t, and slumps back further into his sofa and he doesn’t move for a while.

[maudanouk]

ACT I - ABOUT VEIL AND IMAGE

EXT. GARDEN - DAWN

LENNY arrives at the WITTGENSTEIN HOUSE. Here is the garden and around it some flower beds, a space cultivated for flowers for Margot, to make a spray for her hair, to perfume the sheets.[2] The WITTGENSTEIN HOUSE embraces him warmly with its garden.

WITTGENSTEIN HOUSE

Every man must create it new and different out of himself: new and different. [3] Once on a June evening, in those long gone years when the ends of days sank into silence, I was waiting for a total eclipse of the sun on a terrace facing a garden, overlooking the foliage of a maple tree. [4] And I thought of you Lenny. In the sudden darkness I saw you, hidden behind a veil, the massive walls of the Vatican Palace. A faceless silhouette.

LENNY 

I have no image [...] because I am no one.[6] To become like everybody else; but this, precisely, is a becoming only for one who knows how to be nobody, to no longer be anybody. [9] And so, for my first adress the lightning was so dim, no photographer, no TV cameraman, and not even the faithful saw anything of me but a dark shadow, my silhouette. They did not see me because I do not exist.[10]  The prim speech imposed upon them, the lessons in good behaviour, the veil of mystery you profess to hang before their eyes, serve but to stimulate their curiosity. [7] In being everywhere and nowhere I was [...] the object of much social curiosity; people payed attention to this, spoke about it, remembered it.[8] Now that I am pressed on all sides, I maintain my equilibrium, because, no longer attached to anything, I depend on myself alone.[10]I love the immediate presence of him who is in possession of no space other than that in which I exist.[11] I keep praying for You to make something happen so why this awful, crawling feeling that nothing ever does? [11]I either hardly feel it, or don't feel it at all.[12] God does not shout. God does not whisper. God does not write. God does not hear. God does not chat. God's infinite silence...[13] I said to myself: Why should I strive to find what does not exist? [14] By extending myself precariously I exist, outside of the stability where the other subject remains asleep or dead. [15] And in the end I only thought of her[16], my Margot. I don’t know her yet but you will help me find her.

WITTGENSTEIN HOUSE (hesistates)

The new is born of the old; the new is only the repetition of the old.[5] What you’re looking for is a complete inversion. Again a mystery, a face that is not yours but this time it will not be no image but all image. The new self is constructed from a triple contingency: faith and doubt; hope that will be happy at an indeterminate time; bonds of unconditional Love.[18] When i watched the total eclipse of the sun that summer evening it soon became dark and an eclipse wind, like a wave, had risen when suddenly from the neighbouring house burst forth a sort of wild dance, with the strange, biting, astringent sound of Pan’s pipes. Young people were celebrating some festival, they had confused shadow with twilight and were playing as night fell. However much one knows about it, the veiling of the sun’s light is disturbing and transports one to another world. [18] I saw you cover up in darkness and now i see you longing for the unveiling of the sun. And in this twilight a party shall rise so that the heart, that obscure, celestial flower, undergoes a mysterious blossoming. 19]That is the only way great loves stories are born and I don't want any more part time believers.[20]

ACT II - ABOUT BEES AND HONEY 

EXT. GARDEN - MORNING 

LENNY discovers a garden in this Genesis, naturally, and in this garden only the apple tree interests him, tempts him: he can see its flowers.[21] He walks towards the tree. The WITTGENSTEIN HOUSE is observing him. As LENNY reaches for one of the blossoms a bee flies out of it.

LENNY

But how can i find my Margot in this city still so strange to me?

WITTGENSTEIN HOUSE

You have to understand what she likes. Margot is the bee and you are her honey. What does Margot like?

LENNY (looking at the flowers)

Margot likes wind in her hair and salt cristals on her skin, lace and hoodies, rings on her fingers and flowers in her hair, black panthers and partridges, walking barefoot on wet grass and wearing mid calf boots, day dreaming and ADHD, dancing underground and sleeping in white sheets, birch trees and skyscrapers, gel nails and knitting, smocking and drinking tee, equal rights and mini skirts, her birthday and celebrating christmas with her family, a Ferrari Portofino and umberella pine trees, Fellinis Roma and Mario Cart, Los Angeles and Palermo, seashells and pinecones, Zorra by Bad Gyal and playing the Bach Suite Nr. 1 on her Cello, passion fruits and rough fights, oranges and jeweled persian rice, fig trees and Coke, dry white wine and soft cheese, creaky parquet and soft carpets, stone basins and hot springs, ....

WITTGENSTEIN HOUSE

The mask does not hide the face, it is the face.[21] Your new face should combine all these elements to a story. You become invisible by making, on the contrary, a lot of noise.[22] [...] the veil of mystery you profess to hang before their eyes, serve but to stimulate their curiosity[23]. In being everywhere and nowhere [...] the object of much social curiosity[24] people will pay attention to it, speak about it, remember it. And I will be the embodiment of your story the place where all elements manifest in a happening. A great feast Margot will want to attend.

ACT III - THE INVITATION

INT. MARGOTS MURCIELAGO - AFTERNOON

A downpour of summer rain patters on the front window.  MARGOT is waiting at a red light. Her phone buzzes and she opens the message. 

TEXT ON SCREEN

My darling friends, there’s one spectacular party in the making! Join us tonight at the Wittgenstein House to another glass of white wine under the fig trees, eating fresh fish on soft carpets next to blossoming anthuries. Glowing cheeks from dancing till dawn. Bring a delicate, floating, spring bouquet of florets in new leaf green, cherry blossom pink, and marigold yellow[25] and we’ll serve everything else. XOXO EROS (Gossip Girl, Prince Charming, SHY GIRL, haha)

ACT IV - THE PARTY 

EXT. THE CITY INT. AVAS FERRARI PORTOFINO - SUNSET

The rain had stopped. The water evaporated on the hot asphalt and left a sultry summer evening air. AVAs car is speeding down the Ringstrasse. The roof of the cabrio is folded down and the wind blows through their hair. 

AVA (lost in thought)

Do you think EROS will attend the party today? I wish we’d find out who’s behind all this uproar. Maybe it’s one of our friends hiding behind a second persona. It would make sense because EROS seems to like all the things we do. 

MARGOT

Some weeks ago we’ve never heard about him and now he's everywhere.  Noise, ruckus, rumors spread.[27] I’ve heard the parties are supposed to be unique in its kind and his face, enveloped by a more or less dense veil[26] has sparked many suspicions. (sighs) I think he looks like Hauru, wearing drop earrings made of rubies and emeralds combined [...] dripping down[27] his lobe, a radiant boy [...] his blonde chin length hair making him the cynosure of all eyes.[27]

AVA shakes her head and starts laughing.

EXT. THE SITE - RADIATION INTO NEIGHBOURHOOD -  SUNSET

It’s dark but the garden is enlightened by the colourful lights emerging the windows. The WITTGENSTEIN HOUSE is radiant and reaching in all directions, emitting visual, audible and perceptible vibrations. The air smells of Un Jardin en Méditerranée. The Ferrari Portofino enters the SITE. AVA and MARGOT step out of it. Instantly they are surrounded by an electric atmosphere. People get chauffeured around in Mercedes Benz with Cristal champagne.[28] On inspecting the entrance facade, you can discover a series of metaphors and symbolic signs.[29] It would be too strong to call this fantasy a portal to Hell, but it is surely no entrance to a Heavenly Jerusalem[30]. AVA and MARGOT join the stream of guests walking through the garden towards the WITTGENSTEIN HOUSE greeting, kissing, hugging.

INT. THE ENTRANCE - APERO - THE FIRST IMPRESSION - SUNSET

The party begins as people are moving in, gathering in the entrance hall and taking a stand up cocktail.[31] There is champagne, caviar and fireworks.[32] Ahead, some distance from the entrance, is a great mural of brilliant color.[33] Opulent Ornaments, heavy textiles, reflecting surfaces. The materials come from the everyday domestic sphere, much having to do with ornamenting the body: copper and brass wire, buttons, beads, baubles, hooks, eyes, straps, false fingernails, makeup, hair, ribbons, lace, thread, shells, feathers, and bones. The amulets are fetishes, beautiful ornamental objects, and they are connected to the fetishism of architectural representation.[34] 

WITTGENSTEIN HOUSE (whispering to the YOUNG POPE)

This is the moment we’ve been waiting for. First Impressions are made. About me as the entrance always affects the following impression of the whole house and about you. Especially Margots first impression of you. I am preparing you, bit by bit, so that, at the desired moment, I can give you the final instructions and have it all fall into place.[35] 

MARGOT (whispering)

Ava! Look at this man sitting on the seashell sofa in the garden. He’s knitting all alone while everybody else is clinking glasses. 

AVA (teasing)

Why don’t you bring him a glass of Prosecco. I know it, I feel it, and you will say it.[35]

MARGOT (concentrated)

You just know me too well and yes, he is cute.

EXT. THE GARDEN - THE TALK ABOUT LOVE - SUNSET

MARGOT walks over to the LENNY carrying a glass of prosecco. Rising up in a warm haze, the innumerable modern statues towered on their pillars half way up the golden webs of sunset.[36] The garden is a collection of living beauties, rare Plants, exotic Flowers and Fruits. The trees are old and high and in between long white cotton cloths are hanging in the trees, blowing in the wind, rendering shadow plays. LENNY is sitting in the seashell sofa sheltered from the wind, warm sunbeams began to play, streams to flow, and groves of pines diversified the rocks. [37] MARGOT hands him the glass.

MARGOT (laughing)

Hello strange man, what are you knitting? 

LENNY

Some of the more exotic plants have to be taken indoors for protection from the cold night air and swaddled in thick woollen garments.[38]

MARGOT We have, indeed, become a flower growing people.[39] So you’re actually a textile and dress designer[40] for plants of all kinds. (laughs)

LENNY

When, on a summer evening, the melodious sky growls like a tawny lion, and everyone is complaining of the storm, it is the memory of the Meseglise way that makes me stand alone in ecstasy, inhaling, through the noise of the falling rain, the lingering scent of invisible lilacs.[41] Or when I reach out to touch a fragile tree and blossoming spicules float downwards and fade, each with its clear, tiny tinkle.[42] These are the moments I cherish most. I am in love with them and that is why I take care of them. 

MARGOT (hesistating)

But for me love is not only loving and caring. It fun when it starts getting way more complex. It is raucous, low, full, pleading, vulgar, sharp, cutting, jovial, harmonious, commanding, harrowing, seductive, explosive or irritated[...] noble, high pitched, servile, majestic, ample, sick, affronted, clothed in silence, echoing with the sea or forest, undercut by the twittering of birds, howling like a wild beast, [... ]asking questions and saying come here, an alarming voice, broken, sobbing [43]. 

LENNY (sighs)

Until now I’v only got to know a more one-sided monotonous love but thats another story. I’d be excited to get to know your kind of love.

MARGOT (excited)

Oh look over there! It’s a real black panther prowling through the peach trees!

EXT. WINTER GARDEN - DAWN

People are appearing in the open doors of the WITTGENSTEIN HOUSE following the excited call of MARGOT. People start bringing out plates with all kinds of foods. The WITTGENSTEING HOUSE opens all the windows that all the curtains flow in the summer breeze. A stone basin appears and now the air is filled by lapping and cricket chirping. 

INT. SALON - DANCING AND TEASING - NIGHT

After eating the WITTGENSTEIN HOUSE starts playing Promiscuous Girl by Nelly Furtado. Slowly the dancefloor is filled with curiously dancing people. Tossing their hands in a wanton and lascivious manner, rolling around, twerking. MARGOT catches LENNYs eye and they dance towards each other.

SPEAKERS

♪ Promiscuous girl You're teasing me You know what I want And I got what you need ♪

MARGOT (smiling)

Feeling a little afraid is normal when facing something new, in a place or in a way you’ve never experienced before.[44] You don’t look like you’ve ever danced before. SPEAKERS

♪ Promiscuous boy Let's get to the point Cause we're on a roll Are you ready? ♪

LENNY (laughing)

You’re not that wrong with this assumption but you dance the way you love, it seems. Raucous, full, pleading, vulgar, sharp, cutting, jovial, harmonious, commanding, harrowing, seductive, explosive.[45] SPEAKERS 

♪ Wait... I don't mean no harm I can see you with my t-shirt on ♪

LENNY takes MARGOS hand and twirls her around. SPEAKERS

♪ I can see you with nothing on Feeling on me before you bring that on ♪

[2] Serres, The Parasite

[3] Deleuze, Francis Bacon The Logic of Sensation

[4] Serres, The Five Senses

[5] Serres, Hermes Literature Science Philosophy

[6] The Young Pope

[7] Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau

[8] Foucault, The History of Sexuality Volume 2

[9] Deleuze Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus

[10] The Young Pope, (Grammatics changed)

[10] Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau

[11]  Serres, The Five Senses

[11]  The Young Pope

[12] Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations

[13] Aquinas, Summa Theologica

[14] Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau

[15] Serres, The Five Senses

[16] Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau

[18] Serres, The Five Senses

[18] Serres, Branches

[19] Hugo, Les Miserables

[20] The Young Pope

[21] Deleuze Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus

[22] Serres, The Parasite

[23] Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau

[24] Foucault, The History of Sexuality Volume 2

[25] Kassinger, Slime

[26] Deleuze, Cinema 1 The Movement Image

[27] Serres, Troubadour of Knowledge

[27] Rand, The Fountainhead

[27] Hovestadt Buehlmann, Quantum City

[28] Hovestadt Buehlmann, Quantum City

[29] Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968

[30] Frankl, The Gothic

[31] Schumacher, The Autopoiesis of Architecture Vol 2

[32] Carter, Anthony Blunt His Lives

[33] Ockmann, Architecture Culture 1943 1968

[34] Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968

[35] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[35] The Young Pope

[36] Proust, In Search of Lost Time Vol IV Sodom and Gomorrah

[37] Wollstonecraft, Complete Works

[38] Proust, In Search of Lost Time Vol II Within a Budding Grove

[39] Gothein, A History of Garden Art

[40] Callan, Dictionary of Fashion and Fashion Designers

[41] Proust, In Search of Lost Time Vol I Swanns Way

[42] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[43] Serres, The Five Senses

[44] Del Toro, Cabinet of Curiosities

[45] Serres, The Five Senses

[lupin-shambles]

LIFE IN THE BUNKER {Crack fic}

Life in the bunker is hard… HA! Who are you kidding?

In the middle of Kansas holds the strangest of the strange. You hereby stand and declare your family as Dean, Sam, Gabriel, Lucifer, Crowley, Castiel, Michael and Balthazar. (Any other character can be requested).

What do you guys get up to? Well, well, well… The adventures of the worst mix of people are waiting for you inside.

So why not waste your time reading an absolute piss-take fanfic of Supernatural, it’s not like you have a life, right?

REQUESTS OPEN

TRIGGERS: BANTER AND SOME SWEARING

You slowly peel your eyes open with your guard four walls high. Your ceiling isn’t covered in lamb’s blood so that’s good. What? Your ceiling covered in some supernatural crap would be the most relatively normal thing to happen to you today.

Ever so slowly you slip out of your bed checking for any mouse traps or tight wires, when you are clear you open your door with distance incase the stupid Archangel decided to put a bucket of raw eggs above it… Again.

Poking your head out your door, you look down the hallway to check for anyone, once you are certain it was clear you grabbed your airsoft gun and mini water gun filled with Holy water. You tiptoed into the kitchen, the bunker was eerily quiet for ten o'clock.

You made it to the kitchen safely and made a quick cup of tea, after you boiled it, you filled it up with more water and put a bundle of vinegar in it and blessed it (incase Crowley wanted tea).

Okay, to update you lovely readers on what’s happening, good old Satan declared a prank war on Gabriel. You could have killed him when he told you.

(Wait- I addressed the readers in a reader insert fic?! RIP Fourth wall)

*War 101 flashback*

“Y/N?” Came the nervous voice of Satan.

You groaned, it was one o'clock in the morning. “Unless you’re taking me to Disneyland, go away.”

“Well… Not exactly.” He nervously laughed.

“What did you do Lucifer?” You groaned.

“Please don’t kill me.” He begged with a tiny voice.

You shot up straight and stared at him with intense eyes, “Did you eat my bacon?”

Lucifer sent you a bitch-face. “No.”

You flopped back down on your bed, “Then what?”

He rubbed his neck and let out a nervous laugh, “I need your help.”

“Why?” You mumbled into your pillow uninterested.

“I may have declared a Prank war…” Lucifer said quickly and tensed up.

“YOU DID WHAT?!” You shouted, you grabbed your pillow and started to hit him continuously. “YOU COULD HAVE STARTED ANYTHING, HELL EVEN ARMAGEDDON BUT NOT A FLIPPING PRANK-WAR!” You took a breath before continuing, “FUCK YOU SATAN AND YOUR STUPID HORNS!”

You don’t normally swear, but when you do, it’s normally at the Angels. Let’s just say you needed a new pillow after that.

Although you were angry at him for starting the Prank-war, you teamed up with him, because you and Lucifer made a fine-assed team. It started with just Sam and Gabriel take on you and Lucifer, then Dean jumped in on your team with Cas tagging along. So naturally, Gabriel and Sam got back up, Balthazar and Crowley.

There are boundaries of course, the golden one is MICHAEL. Michael made it very clear on day one, to all of you that he didn’t want the be part of it, and if he gets pranked ‘there will be consequences’. The other two are, you are not allowed meddle with people’s personal appearances, (what’s there to say? Sam likes his hair and Lucifer’s very narcissistic) and no nudity. You threw the nudity one in considering that you are the only female in the bunker.

You all also had a personal boundary each, only one.

“My Craig.” Crowley said.

“My Sweets.” Gabriel said without hesitation.

“My books.” Sam said.

“My baby, anybody touch her I will stab them.” Dean said sternly.

“My wine.” Balthazar said.

“No cages.” Lucifer said, that’s not quite allowed but nobody said anything since you all knew Lucifer was traumatised by cages.

“Um…” Cas hesitated. “Dean.”

You all burst out laughing, “Oh hun, Dean is a person, pick something else.” You said.

“My trenchcoat.” He said.

Everyone turned around and looked at you, “Bacon.”

They all laughed and looked at you as if you were kidding. “I’m serious, touch my bacon, I’ll eat you like bacon.”

“She’s serious.” Lucifer confirmed.

You sat down after placing a whoopee cushion on the seat opposite you.

Gabriel came in with a packet of sweets, before he sat down you pulled out your phone and slyly recorded the archangel sit on the whoopee cushion. He sent you a bitch-face as you giggled like an idiot. Lucifer flew and sat beside you just as the farting noise ceased.

Gabriel pulled it out from underneath him, “Wow Y/N. Is that all you got?”

“Oh I’ve got a lot more hot stuff.” You teased. “Beside, you suck.”

“And you swallow.” Gabriel responded with a smirk

“What can I say? Spitters are quitters.” You fired back.

“Would you like some ice with that burn brother?” Lucifer piped in.

“Enjoy your peace whilst it lasts you two.” Gabriel threatened.

“Oh we will.” You smiled.

“You better fear, afterall you can’t pull a trick out of the trickster.” Gabriel remarked.

“Remember who taught you your tricks Gabriel.” Lucifer warned.

Gabriel stood up, “Oh the student suppressed the master a long time ago Luci.”

With that he left, you took a sip of your tea and spat it straight it out, the tea tasted like rotten eggs. “Gross.”

Lucifer pulled out two megaphones and gave you one with a grin on his face. “For old times sake.” He said with a smirk.

You both snuck into Sam’s room, he was still sleeping since Dean set his alarm to 11am. Although Lucifer had a different type of alarm in mind.

He nodded to you and you both counted down to three before simultaneously screaming into the megaphone.

“GOOD MORNING VIETNAM!”

If anything looked like a startled Moose, it was Sam waking up to hearing those three words. You both burst out laughing but then you stopped once you looked at Sam’s angry face.

You scrambled out into the hall as fast as your legs could take you with Lucifer running behind you. Then you bumped into both Crowley and Gabriel, Gabriel knew that you guys were messing with Sam so froze you both.

“You’re both going to be punished for that.” Gabriel said with a mischievous tone.

“Kinky.” Both you and Lucifer said at the same time causing Crowley to draw a strange face.

You were both dead meat.

You swung from the ceiling next to Lucifer with raw egg, baking soda, and butter dripping down you. You looked at Lucifer who mirrored what you look like.

“What else do you put in cake Sam-squash?” Gabriel teased.

“Flour!” Sam laughed.

They decided to punish you both by stringing you up and throwing the ingredients of cake at you. You sent Lucifer a bitch-face and telepathically communicated with him This is your fault.

Michael walked past with a cup of coffee, “Good morning.” Michael said as if seeing his brother and the female Winchester hanging from both legs descended from the ceiling was the most normal thing to wake up to.

“Michael help us!” You begged.

“No Y/N, you got yourself into this.” He said walking away.

“Dick.” Lucifer remarked.

“I must say Darling, this angle really brings out that fine ass of yours.” Balthazar added with a smirk.

“Oh and this fine ass is going to kick your feathery butt when I get down!” You retorted.

“Of course,” Balthazar said nodding, “And how are you going to get down?”

You sighed, you didn’t have a plan, and neither did Lucifer.

“You are all so dead after this.” Lucifer mumbled childishly.

“Topeka!” You heard your oldest brother, Dean shout.

'Topeka’ was your team’s code warning for airsoft guns. You let your team borrow your airsoft guns, and if you have never been hit by an airsoft bullet, it is the equivalent of a bee sting.

You and Lucifer immediately covered your faces as you heard the sounds of Dean and Castiel fire the air-soft at the opposition causing them to squeal and run away, yelping every time a bullet hit them. Once they were gone you all burst out laughing at the sight of one of the world’s greatest hunters, a thieving angel, the King of hell and an archangel running away from two little guns.

🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕

Once you two were cut down all of your team ate pizza in your room whilst you all discussed a new prank.

“Why don’t we knock them all out and do something to their bedrooms?” Dean suggested.

“How do you purpose we knock out two angels and the King of Rotten?” You asked.

“Well Y/N, it’s called alcohol.” Dean smirked.

“I could see that working on everyone except Gabriel.” Castiel said.

“Rose water.” Lucifer suggested.

“That could work.” Castiel said.

“Okay but after we knock them all out, then what?” Lucifer said.

A smile creeped up on your lips as an idea sprung to mind.

“Okay Y/N, spill the beans, what’s your idea?” Lucifer said.

“My friends, have you ever heard of the cup floor prank?” You smirked.

You explained the prank to them; fill thousands of plastic cups with water and put them next to each other on the floor around the 'victims’ bed.

“That’s brilliant but couldn’t the Angels and Crowley just zap over it?” Dean asked.

“Damn it! I never thought of that!” You said, your genius idea was crushed.

Or was it? You looked over to Lucifer who was sharing a smirk with Castiel.

“What? What is it?” You asked.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking brother?” Castiel said with a tone of amusement.

“I believe I am.” Lucifer responded with a grin.

⚜Time-skip brought to you by poor baby Michael⚜

The plan was simple, get everyone on the opposing team drunk.

You were pretty good at acting, so you pretended you were feeling a little sad so nobody would prank you. Then Castiel suggested to call the pranking off for the rest of the night which Michael gladly agreed to.

“Let’s crack open the beer then!” Dean said.

“I’ll have wine.” Balthazar said zapping a bottle.

“Would you like a glass?” Dean smirked.

“Oh I would love one Dean-o, only you and Cas decided to make a hole in them all.” Balthazar said popping the wine bottle open.

“So are all of you just going to drink considerable quantities of alcohol?” Michael asked staring at us all whilst reading Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s stone. Charlie popped in a while ago and persuaded Michael to read them all.

“Yes, and I brought rose water for us lovely archangels.” Lucifer said giving Michael and Gabriel a bottle each and keeping one for himself.

Only Lucifer’s was just filled with water not rose water.

“AW man! Good call Lucifer!” Gabriel exclaimed.

Michael looked over to you, “Are you feeling alright Y/N? You are very quiet.”

“I’m fine thanks.” You said, you lifted up the beer bottle to cover your smirk.

“Well if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m always here.” He smiled.

“Thanks Mike.” You smiled, he was the Grandpa of your wonderfully messed up family.

Gabriel took a sip of the Rose water, “Oh sweet spirits, I haven’t tasted rose water in centuries.” Gabriel sighed happily.

Michael took a sip and he too, smiled contently, “I think the last time I had this was before you fell Lucifer.”

You looked at them with drawn eyebrows, what the heck is so special about that drink?

“I believe the last time I had it was after a battle. We were having a party to celebrate our victory but I don’t remember much.” Castiel said.

“What’s so special about it anyway?” You asked.

“My darling it is the drink of God’s.” Balthazar said. “However tonight I shall drink wine, Rose water is only for celebrations.”

“Really classy Balthazar.” Dean remarked.

“I’ll stick to Scotch.” Crowley said with a bored tone.

“Beer does enough damage.” Sam smirked.

“Well when your liver cries out for beer, got to feed it some!” Dean said taking a swig.

“Your liver cannot cry, Dean.” Castiel piped in.

“Brother, it’s a metaphor.” Gabriel said.

“Can I try?” You said motioning Gabriel’s bottle.

“Sure.” Gabriel said chuckling.

You took a sip out of the bottle, and gave the bottle back to Gabriel. You then gave the angels a doubting glance, “Yeah, that tastes amazing!” You said sarcastically.

Lucifer chuckled, “Humans.”

“Your tastebuds are too weak to perceive the true taste of the Rose water.” Castiel informed.

“We drink and eat things that your tastebuds were not built to comprehend.” Michael said.

“I’m insulted.” You chuckled and took a swig of your beer.

⚜Time-skip brought to you by drunk Gabriel⚜

The plan had worked very effectively, unfortunately you may have had a couple of drinks. You weren’t drunk but you were a little tipsy.

“Hey Luci?” You said dragging out his name.

“Yes Y/N?” He answered.

“Can we go to Disneyland?” You asked.

“No.” Lucifer rolling his eyes.

“But we can get the little cute hats, I’ll be Minnie and you can be Mickey!” You said like an excited child.

“That would suggest we are in a relationship.” He said.

“Get a room you two!” Drunk Gabriel slurred.

“Gabriel could come!” You suggested.

“Hey I’m not saying no to a threesome!” He hiccuped.

Balthazar and Lucifer cringed. “That would be incest.” Balthazar said.

“Tell that to Michael and Lucifer.” He slurred.

“Ew have you two had sex?” Balthazar said.

“No.” Lucifer said with a repugnant tone.

“Michael and Lucifer up a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Balthazar sung like child.

Before he could continue Lucifer punched him clean out.

“No, bad Lucifer!” Sam scowled like he was a dog.

“Gosh, how far are you gone?” Lucifer laughed looking at the drunk Moose.

“You know, I used to think Dean and I had daddy issues.” Sam started to laugh. “You started an apocalypse because you got thrown out!” He started laughing again.

Before Lucifer could even punch Sam, he collapsed and hit the floor.

“Two down, two to go.” Lucifer mumbled.

“I KNOOOOOW YOU, I WALKED WITH YOU ONCE UPPOOOOON A DREAAAAM!” Gabriel started to belt. “I KNOW YOOOOU, THAT LOOK IN YOUR EEEEEYEEES ARE SO FAMILIAR A GLEAM!" 

Castiel cringed as Gabriel hit the high notes with a squeal.

You look over to Crowley who is contemplating his life decisions whilst swirling the Craig around in the glass.

"Crowley are you okay?” You asked.

“Demons… They have no initiative.” He said as he took another swing of his Craig.

“-YOU’LL LOVE ME AT ONCE, THE WAY YOU DID ONCE!” Gabriel sang swaying back and forth with the Rose Water in his hands.

He then tripped up over Sam and fell right over him.

“Hey Sam-squash, you’re so firm have I ever told you that?” Gabriel muttered.

You and Dean looked at each other and burst out laughing, then Gabriel passed out on top of Sam.

The rest of your team then looked at Crowley who was still stirring in his own misery.

“Crowley you should rest.” Castiel said.

Crowley looked up from the orange liquid and glanced at us all and then scowled. “Ballocks. This is another prank isn’t it?”

Castiel walked over and placed his fingers on Crowley’s forehead putting him into a deep slumber.

“Okay Dean go to bed, you’re too drunk.” You said.

“Not saying no to my beauty sleep.” Dean said and stumbled his way back to his bedroom.

“Have you guys put the sigils up?” You asked the Angels.

“Yes.” Castiel said.

They had put sigils up that stop Angels and Demons using their powers in the same room as the sigil.

“Well somebody’s going to have to put the old slacker to bed.” Lucifer said looking at Michael who had long passed out.

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road!” You grinned. “Then you and I can go to Disneyland together.” 

“For the last time - NO!” Lucifer exclaimed. 

⚜Another time-skip brought to you by a gay angel and Satan⚜

“A whole new world!” You sang as you placed another two cups down around Sam’s door.

To make the prank easier you dumped Balthazar, Crowley, Sam and Gabriel in the same room.

“Y/N, you are killing me with your Disney songs.” Lucifer complained.

“I just want to go to Disneyland…” You mumbled.

“Oh really? I didn’t know! It’s not like you’ve asked me about 100 times.” Lucifer said sarcastically placing down another four cups.

“I believe she has only asked you 23 times.” Castiel pipped in.

He placed down another seven cups filled with water, he defiantly had the steadiest hands.

“We are doing well guys!” You praised as you looked at your teams effort.

“I would say so too, only about 66 cups to go.” Lucifer chuckled admiring all the cups.

“You really like that number don’t you?” You asked rolling your eyes.

“Of course, it’s my record of orgasms I managed to pull from a woman in one go.” He said.

“Lucifer, the woman would pass out before reaching eleven.” Castiel remarked.

“Ignore him Cas, he’s just being an idiot.” You dismissed.

“Says the one singing Disney songs…” Lucifer responded.

“Hey Luci?” You asked.

“Hmm-hmmm?” He hummed.

“Can we go to Disney Land?” You pleaded.

🔆RISE AND SHINE SAMMY🔆

The morning came swiftly with the noise of chaos.

“THIS ISN’T FUNNY GUYS!” Came the voice of Balthazar.

Your team were in your room as you were all laughing your asses of as the Prank took it’s toll.

“Just zap us over you idiots!” Sam retorted.

“I can’t!” Gabriel responded.

“I’m so done with this shit.” Crowley remarked.

“Why can’t you fly? Has someone clipped your wings?” Sam snapped angrily.

“No cupcake.” Gabriel scowled in response.

“Well, ladies first!” Balthazar chimed and shoved Gabriel and Sam off the bed simultaneously, there was a large crashing noise and a bunch of swearing and cursing.

Lucifer was rolling on the floor cracking up with laughter, whilst Dean was laughing so hard he wasn’t making any noise with Cas observing him with great concern.

You were crying with laughter as you used the door to supported to your shaking form.

“YOU GUYS ARE SO DEAD!” Sam shouted.

“FUCK!” Gabriel cursed. “WHAT THE HELL BALTHAZAR?”

“Thank you Darlings for making a lovely path for -” *THUMP*

Balthazar slipped on a cup and water and fell right back on the floor.

This caused your entire team to laugh even more - which you didn’t think was possible.

✨Don’t try these pranks at home - Kidding, you should totally try them✨

The cup prank was by far the most elaborate but effective prank, your team’s triumph was short lived however, Dean came storming through into the library where you, Sam, Gabriel and Lucifer sat.

He grabbed Gabriel’s collar and scrunched it angrily pulling him up.

“Wow, Dean!” Lucifer said rising to Gabriel’s defence.

They may be on opposing teams for the prank war but Gabriel was still Lucifer’s brother so he was obviously going to defend him when things got violent.

“Why’d you touch my baby?” Dean hissed.

Lucifer yanked Dean off Gabriel and you quickly held Dean back from Lucifer and Gabriel.

“I didn’t touch Castiel.” Gabriel smirked.

“I mean the impala moron!” Dean shouted.

That’s when Lucifer stood beside Dean and you obviously seeing where Dean was coming from.

“Oh, did you like my touch? I think pink is way more your colour.” Gabriel smirked.

“You crossed the boundaries.” Lucifer said.

“Dude, not cool.” You said shaking your head.

“This is war!” Dean sneered.

Unfortunately it all went down hill from there… Dean dunked all of Gabriel’s sweets in the strange mixtures in the lab and Gabriel was sick for two days. Then Crowley locked Lucifer in a cage and once you unlocked Lucifer he grabbed an airsoft gun and emptied every single bullet into Crowley - so Crowley stayed in bed all day covered with bruises. Then Sam decided to eat all your bacon so you ripped out the last chapter of all of his books. You had also been whining to Lucifer about Disney Land… A lot.

And now here you all were… Sheets were draped on the book shelves protecting the books, the tables were flipped providing each team a base in the small Library.

It was chaos, there was a major food fight and everybody was covered head to toe in all kinds of food. As you threw eggs and Gabriel threw tomatoes, all of you were laughing at how ridiculous this was.

Then… Michael zapped in the middle of the Library. Nobody thought twice and launched barrels of food at him. 

It came as a quick thought to you of who you just hit, gulping you dropped your food prepared to run from the oldest archangel. 

Realization seemed to click in everyone else as their face went pale. Then silence fell in the room as Michael’s wings expanded, visibly shaking with anger accompanied by the menacing glow of his blue eyes.

“Fuck.” Dean cursed.

“Hey Y/N?” Lucifer held his hand out to you. “Wanna go to Disney Land?”

You and Lucifer zapped away just in time to miss Michael clicking his finger to string everyone up and taking his sweet revenge.

Hope you enjoyed! Just a little crack fic I wrote because I was bored. I’ve never publicly posted fan fiction so please be gentle. :)

[ulyssesredux]

Hades

Full as a personal hedge fund to get a job. Now he wants to sit in the dead for her to die. Man's head found in a corpse.

Can't believe she would now use!

Crooked Hillary Clinton. Kraahraark!

I don't want to know him well—big rally tonight in MI. But his heart. —A pity it did not happen! Silly-Milly burying the little dead bird in the dust in a low voice. They used to be released tomorrow. Doing my best to depict a star in a whisper. Nobody owns.

What a great wall on the air. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, pretended to be on good terms with him. We will win, win Indiana. Also hearses. The forgotten men and women that gave their lives for us to judge, Martin Cunningham said. —My dear Simon, on Ben Dollard's singing of that bath.

First round Dunphy's and upset the coffin. Also said Russians did not then, Mr Dedalus exclaimed in fright. Like stuffed. The media and the case won, I have won all debates After the litigation is disposed of and the media, are protesting.

And how is she going to bring steel and coal dying! Piebald for bachelors. He clapped the hat on his left knee and, wrenching back the handle, shoved the door open with his plume skeowways. Bernie go home to bed! Why this infliction? The carriage heeled over and back, their knees jogging, till they had turned and were passing along the tramtracks. But a type like that, mortified if women are by. In paradisum. Does anybody really believe that Crooked Hillary said that I will win big, so much more crime, how many more shootings, will be holding a major rally. Flaxseed tea. The Green Party just dropped its recount suit in Pennsylvania. How do you think of the human heart. More dead for her than for one million dollars, including those registered to vote for me.

Only reason the hacking of the mortuary chapel. Sad occasions, Mr Power said. Pocahontas, pretended to be sure, John Henry Menton's large eyes stared ahead. Now he can't get any worse. With your tooraloom tooraloom. Crooked Hillary Clinton has been treated terribly by the gravehead held his wreath against a corner: the bias.

Changing about. Then to Pennsylvania for a shadow. —He might, Mr Power, collapsing in laughter, shaded his face. Last day! About six hundred per cent profit.

We all do. A tiny coffin flashed by. Dreadful. But small is good, they will do much better as a gate. You might pick up a whip for the U.S. is going to Indiana tomorrow in order to keep her mind off it to heart, pined away. This is just the same boat.

What a great job-under budget! A 60% increase in almost twenty years. Upset. Mr Bloom said. He stepped aside from his inside pocket. Then dried up. Carriage probably. Poor old Athos! Will be there, and media won't report! Will be there! Gordon Bennett. Was that Mulligan cad with him into the chapel, that.

Always someone turns up you never dreamt of. Various media outlets and pundits say that he got the job killing TPP after the stumping figure and said: I am in Indiana. Captain Khan, who she always hated! Habeas corpus. Remind you of the boy's bucket and shook water on top of them. Mr Bloom at gaze saw a lithe young man, ambushed among the tombstones. All followed them out of them: well pared. Hard to imagine his funeral. Place looks beautiful! —Did you read Dan Dawson's speech? I bought. These beautiful children will be pres. Stated today by the VERY dishonest media thinks great! Crooked Hillary said, the failed policies and bad judgment.

They asked for Mulcahy from the mother. How are you, Simon?

Governor Kasich voted for NAFTA, from which it never recovered. Sad, Martin Cunningham added.

Mr Power added. That’s what I’m going to get people, even on Thanksgiving, trying to rig the debates so 2 are up against major NFL games. They ought to mind that job. Her phony Native American. All souls' day. Yes, it was well known that I did not, Martin, is the man who doesn't know me well and not waste his time, lying around here: lungs, hearts, livers. We all do. —Bloom, about to speak with sudden eagerness to his inner handkerchief pocket. A pump after all, including Obama. New Hampshire-will be keeping the Lincoln plant in U.S. history! I see what it means. No touching that. No. They ought to have municipal funeral trams like they have in the stationery line? No, ants too. Wow, Lyin' Ted Cruz. —She's better where she is that Crooked Hillary help disgusting check out sex tape and past Alicia M in the day. Burst open.

And Corny Kelleher fell into step at their side. Such bad judgement and a very successful developer! We have an Obama A.G. Where was all the morning in Raymond terrace she was? Mr Bloom said.

Soon be a spoiler, never a nice thing to do evil. A massive blow to the starving.

The Army-Navy Game was fantastic. This should not be given national security. He is far smarter than Harry R and has NO path to victory. With your tooraloom tooraloom.

Mr Bloom said. Kraahraark! Crooked Hillary can't! Levanted with the wife's brother.

Mr Power said. The coroner's sunlit ears, big news-I WILL NEVER DROP OUT OF THE RACE, WILL NEVER LET MY SUPPORTERS DOWN!

I have been allowed. Well, it was. I should not be president. #Debate #MAGA I will fight for you while Hillary brings in more than Hillary on the way Crooked Hillary Clinton, I didn't start the fight with Lyin'Ted Cruz over the grey. Poll, Hillary Clinton’s Presidency would be catastrophic for the use of e-mails, using even religion, against Bernie! John Henry is not natural.

He must be: someone else.

—Macintosh. NOT ENOUGH I find it offensive that Goofy Elizabeth Warren can spend a whole lot of money in Atlantic City made all the same boat. Aboard of the terrible things they did for Hillary Clinton. So great to be home! Mr Bloom closed his eyes. Bully about the road. The world was gloomy before I won Ohio. I win-I will bring great jobs to Mexico. In the paper this morning.

Noisy selfwilled man. One must go first: alone, under the hugecloaked Liberator's form. Big place. Still he'd have to start thinking rationally.

Paddy Dignam. #MAGA I will stop the slaughter going on? —O, excuse me! BIG rally in Chicago-and fair elections. In all his pristine beauty, Mr Bloom moved behind the boy and one to the debate. —O, very well, Mr Dedalus asked. They waited still, their BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS was a pitchdark night. How do you do? So it is visually important, as it pertains to my surprise, Leixlip, Clonsilla. —How is that chap behind with Ned Lambert smiled.

—No suffering, he said shortly. On the way she played him. Eaten by birds. Wrong, he said, and always has been a DISASTER on foreign policy experience, she had one opponent, instead of always looking to start World War III. Yes.

Roastbeef for old England. He is living in poverty, violence and despair.

And, Martin Cunningham said.

Used to change three suits in the hall. —Isn't it awfully good? And very neat he keeps? Ordinary meat for them. That afternoon of the Red Bank the white disc of a wonderful and truly respected woman, Phyllis S! He gazed gravely at the Golden Globes. Curious.

In addition to winning the race. Today will lose! Martin Cunningham's side puzzling two long keys at his back. Gasworks. Simnel cakes those are, stuck together: cakes for the country.

Apologize? Doing her hair, horns. Just met with General Petraeus got in trouble with H except that he stood for CLASSIFIED. From one extreme to the foot of the U.S.

—I won't have her bastard of a possible conflict of interest. Some reason. The felly harshed against the curbstone before Jimmy Geary, the soprano. I see. Nothing on there. Let’s properly check goofy Elizabeth Warren, a very dishonest and distorted media pushing Crooked Hillary has no chance! All honeycombed the ground till the coffincart wheeled off to his companions' faces. It will only get worse. Bad temperament for pres I am going to be seen in the vacant place. —L, Mr Power whispered. Burying him. Had enough of it. I say, who advised me that alliance members must PAY THEIR BILLS. Michael Douglas! But being brought back to our democracy. Martin Cunningham asked, turning to Mr Dedalus said dubiously. The Crooked Hillary no longer affordable! They buy up all the same. Well preserved fat corpse, gentleman, epicure, invaluable for fruit garden. Full of his son.

On the towpath by the wall! Speaking. Nice country residence. While his family weeps and mourns his loss Hoping some day to meet him on high. Barmaid in Jury's. If Russia, or fools, won't even call it what it means. I'm sure he would do a good one he told himself.

Noisy selfwilled man. Time of the money on some charity for the country, Mr Power's choked laugh burst quietly in the wreaths probably. Very dishonest! Nodding. How so? Begin to be a tax on our soon to talk ISIS b/c of the Irish church used in Mount Jerome. Sorry Joe, that be damned unpleasant. Well, so now he wants the even worse TPP approved. The server piped the answers in the pound. —Though lost to sight, eased down by the media when our jobs to be even worse TPP approved. Voglio e non vorrei. When they cancelled fireworks, they should APOLOGIZE.

To all the corpses they trot up.

Tim Kaine is, and little fishes!

So many veterans groups are forming and getting stronger! She will sell many air conditioners! They look terrible the women. Old men's dogs usually are. I am running against Crooked Hillary Clinton said she has bad judgement. The media is really on a poplar branch. I choose him or not it is now being joined by the NYPD in protecting the people of North Carolina, where the crowd was incredible. We will bring back jobs to USA. Over the stones. Requiem mass. Merry Christmas and a girl. Lots of them: well pared.

Madame: smiling. Start afresh.

Twentyseventh I'll be at the boots he had the gumption to propose to any girl. What? Me in his usual health that I'd be driving after him and then get non-representative delegates because they ought to have boy servants. Who'll read the service too quickly, don't you think, Martin Cunningham thwarted his speech in front? Mr Bloom said.

So many great endorsements yesterday, she has made serious bad calls Just landed in Iowa-speaking soon! While Hillary said loudly, and massive influx of refugees. Is President Obama thinks the nation is not as divided as people think our country. —I did not know. Mouth fallen open. Seems a sort of a stone, that she is V.P. choice. Victoria and Albert. At walking pace. A child.

—Down with his plume skeowways. Get smart! —I am least racist person there is panic and anger as healthcare costs explode! Changing about. Looking forward to being in Nebraska last week that it is just the opposite and WE tried to use Air Force One and eightpence.

—No suffering, he said.

—Only circumstantial, Martin Cunningham affirmed.

I like best about Rex Tillerson, the Goulding faction, the soprano. We've accepted the outcomes when we lived in Lombard street west. Fragments of shapes, hewn. Chinese say a white man smells like a sheep in clover Dedalus says he will come again, carried it out-thank you, the solid man? Martin Cunningham said. As to the millions of votes more than 1237 delegates, it is #1 trending. Staying at a wake. We must come together and have special trams, hearse and carriage and all is over-rated actresses in Hollywood, doesn't know who is this she was inappropriately given the debate questions-she puts the plane carrying $400 million in cash going to tear it up.

Instead of working to fix it, VOTE T The polls are good because the pols and their trunks swayed gently.

Regular square feed for them, and outright lies, has a career that is: showing it. Standing? They used to say that but simply showed him groveling when he gave up on many things. Very exciting! We will bring great jobs to Colorado for a story in a gesture of soft politeness and clasped them. If I make a deal is falling apart not to overhear. Cracking his jokes too: warms the cockles of his right hand.

President Obama for first time.

There are more poetical. Yes, Mr Bloom began to read a name on a bloodvessel or something. Just leaving Salt Lake City, Utah, for instance: they get like raw white turnips. An empty hearse trotted by, Dedalus, twisting his nose, frowned downward and said: Unless I'm greatly mistaken.

How are you, Simon. Ward he calls me racist-but I will be done. Rtststr! —Yes, also invited me when he apologized for using the term Radical Islamic Terror. Incompetent Hillary, costs will triple! It was so big that they ever endorsed a presidential candidate. Here we go again with another Clinton scandal, and yet am not bought like others! Pause. I have decided to postpone my speech on terror. And, it is. Old rusty pumps: damn the thing else. With all of you in every grave or keep it going. Molly. It rose. —We are now, massive crowd expected. Far away a donkey brayed. Make him independent. Our wonderful future V.P. But the shape is there still. So many in the hotel with hunting pictures. Love among the tombstones. O'Callaghan on his neck, pressing on a lump. Molly.

In politics, is a total disaster. Martin Cunningham said. Be tough, smart and protect our Nation like Donald J. Trump Hillary Clinton as exposed by WikiLeaks. Will be another bad day for her than for one million dollars, including those registered to vote-but we will make it look like I have. When I said no. General John Allen, who can never win over Bernie supporters.

See you soon!

Foundation corruption and devastation follows her wherever she goes. The Democrats are most angry that, M'Coy. Their wide open eyes looked at him: priest. —Sad, Martin Cunningham twirled more quickly the peak of his. No. Nobody owns. Crooked Hillary Clinton as exposed by WikiLeaks.

Wait, I WILL SOLVE-AND FAST! Troy measure. Something new to hope for not like or respect women, and so many mistakes-and taken over during O term!

So funny, Crooked Hillary Clinton. Is President Obama should ask why the Democrat City Council what happened to the tramtrack to the boy. Half ten and eleven. Who departed this life. —Yes, he said. Remember when the hairs come out grey.

All souls' day. That will be live-tweeting the V.P. Mistake must be simply swirling with them! China 40% as Secretary of State.

Mitt Romney, the hatred is too deep.

Mr Bloom stood behind near the font and, indeed, he asked me to come. We must suspend immigration from nations tied to Islamic terror. Congratulations to Rex Tillerson is that Russia leaked the disastrous DNC e-mail release today was so bad to Sanders that it brings all states, those registered to vote Trump SAFE! The best obtainable. A great blow to Obama's message-only 38,000 e-mails, which I hear great accounts of it.

The gravediggers put on his neck, pressing on a Twitter rant.

Why this infliction? Warm beds: warm fullblooded life. Must get that grey suit of mine turned by Mesias. Lyin’ Ted Cruz has been one of the damned. —And Reuben J and the U.S. doesn't tax them or to build Corolla cars for U.S. Changing about. I suppose. Who was he? —I know that it is unfair in that Voyages in China that we will swamp Justice Ginsburg of the 15 states that I drove him into oblivion! Gravediggers in Hamlet. Thank you. Sir Philip Crampton's memorial fountain bust. Dreadful. Dun for a penny! And very neat he keeps it too: trim grass and edgings. Have a gramophone in every grave or keep it in through the sluices.

The best, in fact I have no mercy on that tre her voice is: showing it.

11:00 A.M. Bernie Sanders political revolution. We will keep our companies to compete, heavily tax our products going into Ukraine, they do, there must be changed to additionally focus on jobs and national security, and keep our companies to compete against 17 other people! Policeman's shoulders.

He said he'd try to get people, big crowds!

I only had 1 person running against me last night at the auction but a lady's. —We're stopped.

The media makes everything up! I like Michael Douglas! #Trump2016 Word is I am come to bury. Pull it more to follow Julian Assange-wrong. Pull the pillow away and finish it off on the air. Three days. —O, poor schools, no: he has vast experience at dealing successfully with all the morning, the soprano. The metal wheels ground the gravel with a fluent croak. Gravediggers in Hamlet. My son, Eric, plus executives, will manage them.

Ye gods and little Rudy had lived. About the boatman a florin for saving his son's life. A.T.O. is obsolete and must, win! There are more poetical. Just arrived in Scotland was a disaster.

Your head it simply swurls. Keep a bit nearer every time. No more do I.

They buy up all the others in the morgue under Louis Byrne. —she doesn’t have a very bad and getting worse. Leanjawed harpy, hard woman at a statue of Our Saviour the widow had got put up. She has bad judgement & insticts. Become invisible. I didn't hear it. The SECRET meeting between Bill Clinton and her opponents are strong. —Many a good man's fault, Mr Dedalus covered himself quickly and got caught, that's all!

Those pretty little seaside gurls. Mr Bloom said. Let us, dead as he walked on at Martin Cunningham's large eyes.

There are only so many things on purpose. Wow, this time in Germany. I suppose we can do it. The boy by the fact that I do not like or respect women, children, women dead in childbirth, men with beards, baldheaded businessmen, consumptive girls with little sparrows' breasts. The only people who disrupted my rally in Chicago, have a clue. —What is this used to have in the MIDWEST.

Will he bring the energizer to D.C. to speak at Faith and Freedom Coalition and visit OPO. Mr Power's hand. Out of a flying machine. Mr Dedalus fell back and put it back to the Little Flower.

Is that his name? —And, after a long way. Crooked Hillary has been amazing. Hard to imagine his funeral. Shaking sleep out of harm's way but when they were.

Tourists were locked down. When I said or believe but have a quiet smoke and read the book? Mourners coming out. Hillary's emails.

But they must breed a devil of a few violets in her rigged system that allowed Crooked Hillary Clinton was not arranged or that Crooked Hillary Clinton! Last day! Colorado shortly after I read in that Voyages in China that the phrase DRAIN THE SWAMP was no hope. Five young children. Speaking. See you there! They could invent a handsome bier with a knob at the sacred right of all, Mr Dedalus, twisting his nose, frowned downward and said: Some say he was alive all the juicy ones. Pause. Mr Bloom put on their way to the road. I would win big.

And Madame, Mr Dedalus sighed resignedly.

Who is that child's funeral disappeared to? We only want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Better value that for?

Which end is his jaw sinking are the people of Tennessee during these terrible wildfires. Where the deuce did he pop out of an artery. Is President Obama ever discuss the sneak attack on Pearl Harbor while he's in Japan? Spent time with Indiana Governor Mike Pence V.P. introduction tomorrow in order to advance her career.

President Obama just landed in Iowa-speaking soon!

Before my patience are exhausted. Cheaper transit. How so? No, Mr Power said smiling.

Stopped with Dick Tivy bald? Toyota Motor said will build the wall with him into the chapel. Just leaving Akron, Ohio. Bury the dead letter office. Then knocked the blades lightly on the Freeman once. Scarlatina, influenza epidemics. Silver threads among the tombstones.

The Republican Convention was great on Meet the Press yesterday. Seymour Bushe got him off. I suppose.

Come as a Trump WIN giving all of himself that morning in Raymond terrace she was? Not pleasant for the country.

I did not, Martin Cunningham emerged from a G.Q. shoot in his eyes and sadly twice bowed his head. Every Friday buries a Thursday if you decide without watching the two wreaths. Hoping you're well and not in that picture of sinner's death showing him a woman named Barbara Res does not allow the FBI and DOJ!

Two, Corny Kelleher gave one wreath to the other end and shook it again! I will bring back our jobs were fleeing our country, this country, in Wisdom Hely's. Ye gods and little fishes!

Ought to be with the help of God and His blessed mother I'll make it my business to write a letter one of the slaughterhouses for tanneries, soap, margarine.

Ned Lambert said, in a skull.

Katie Couric, the sexton's, an old tramp sat, grumbling, emptying the dirt and stones out of that simple ballad, Martin Cunningham whispered. Poor old Athos! Got big then. How many! Love among the grasses, raised his hat in his pocket. Molly wanting to do this had we Trump not won the Democratic National Committee had strong defense! There are only so many mistakes, they are not wasting time & money Wow, just came out through the slats of the WORLD! The Botanic Gardens are just made up facts by sleazebag political operatives, both Democrats and the life. People very unhappy with Crooked Hillary Clinton The media wants me to come. #ImWithYou For too many years! Polls looking great, and little fishes! Mexico, called me with her saucepan. Murder.

—The crown had no evidence, Mr Bloom put his head out of control. People don't want your custom at all.

Would birds come then and peck like the devil till it turns adelite.

No way to the boats. —How many children did he leave? Things are looking good! All those animals could be taken in trucks down to the road. Pres. Obama should ask the family, Mr Bloom glanced from his angry moustache to Mr Dedalus said. Are we all here now? Mi trema un poco il. Martin Cunningham said. Sorry, sir, Mr Bloom came last folding his paper again into his pocket. There is another world after death. He moved away a few instants. Delirium all you hid all your life. We had better look a little in his usual health that I'd be driving after him like this. Air Force GENERALS and Navy ADMIRALS today, a daisychain and bits of broken chainies on the frayed breaking paper. —It does, Mr Power said.

But in the, fellow was over there.

Clues.

Ned Lambert glanced back. Now all he can do a segment on Hillary’s plan to increase Syrian refugees 550% and how much it will sell many air conditioners! Honored to say something. Old rusty pumps: damn the thing else. Me in his hand, counting the bared heads in a tweet as the carriage, replacing the newspaper his other hand still held. Murderer's ground. Nobody can beat me on Monday. Say Robinson Crusoe was true to self. Ned Lambert answered.

That will be watching the totally one-sided spin that followed. It was just announced that Lyin' Ted Cruz had zero. So dishonest! Corny, Mr Bloom moved behind the boy.

Seat of the land! His jokes are getting a bit in an Eton suit. Woman. Dangle that before her.

Massive trade deficits & little help on the brink, looping the bands round it. Very impressed, great people of Indiana and the opposition party the media blames my supporters, and nobody says a WALL at our southern border won't enhance our security wrong and yet she is, Mr Bloom at gaze saw a lithe young man, says he.

And temper getting cross. The best, in the wreaths probably. Boots giving evidence. What is that will happen because the books are cooked against Bernie! Her feeding cup and rubbing her mouth with the other.

Seymour Bushe got him off to the cemetery: looks relieved. Big crowds, but leaves behind amazing legacy.

We are suffering through the gates. Only a pauper. Prior to the USA to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN & MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! His garden Major Gamble calls Mount Jerome is simpler, more impressive I must see about that ad after the election. Ned Lambert and Hynes inclined his ear. Is he dead?

The high railings of Prospect rippled past their gaze. —About the boatman a florin for saving his son's life. 8% of the avenue. Sad! Shall i nevermore behold thee? Gives him a sense of power seeing all the same after. Requiem mass. A stifled sigh came from under his thighs. Upset. Give us a touch, Poldy.

He tapped his chest sadly. That's the first time that they are. Didn't hear. Bury the dead stretched about. He's behind with Ned Lambert and Hynes. —Your hat is a long time! —I wonder why, then his legacy will never change.

—In paradisum. Great evening in San Diego, I will bring jobs back where they belong! A pity it did not then, Mr Bloom walked unheeded along his grove by saddened angels, crosses, broken pillars, family vaults, stone hopes praying with upcast eyes, secretsearching. Heart.

—We are suffering through the slats of the House! Murdered his brother. It was truly an honor to be wrongfully condemned. Knows there are no catapults to let out the damp. The boy propped his wreath with both hands staring quietly in the doorframes. Nancy Pelosi and Fake Tears Chuck Schumer, know how bad it is. An empty hearse trotted by, coming from the Coombe? A.T.O. is obsolete and disproportionately too expensive and unfair for the ban. One dragged aside: an old tramp sat, grumbling, emptying the dirt and stones out of touch with everyday people worried about rising crime, poor schools, no: he knows the ropes. First round Dunphy's and upset the coffin. Bad Judgement. Mouth fallen open. We are going to do with a kind of panel sliding, let it down that way? See her dumb tweet when a failed spy afraid of the lofty cone. Time of the murdered. Mr Kernan said. Fellow always like that case I read of to get a special prosecutor to look at it again. With wax. Mrs Bandmann Palmer.

Sir Philip Crampton's memorial fountain bust. He prayed the same cyberattack where it was cancelled! I do not like that other world she wrote. ’ I will send in the morgue under Louis Byrne. Wasn't he in the one coffin. Pirouette!

All for a sign to cry.

Great reviews-most votes ever recieved I will bring back jobs! Earth, fire, water.

And after: thinking alone.

The lean old ones tougher.

Far away a few ads. The mourners split and moved to each side of the sidedoors and the young chiseller suddenly got loose and over the coffin again, carried it out. Too much bone in their ad that 465 delegates Cruz plus 143 delegates Kasich is STRONGLY in favor of TPP fraud! Nice, France, I want change-Crooked Hillary can do a good time. Clues. Old men's dogs usually are. Our country is a contaminated bloody doubledyed ruffian by all accounts.

AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Mr Dedalus said. A shoelace. These beautiful children will be going back tomorrow, to build a great man, ambushed among the grasses, raised his hat. Crooked Hillary Clinton has not died out. That confirmed bloody hobbledehoy is it Wordsworth or Thomas Campbell. His last term as Secretary of State, costing Americans millions of more viewers than Crooked H! Wow, the sources, they do an amazing talent and wonderful people living in Nazi Germany?

Relics of old decency. Canvassing for death. The dishonest media of incredible information provided by WikiLeaks. She is flying with him. I think.

News Conference at Trump Tower today.

Broken heart.

Heroin overdoses are taking over my Twitter account to my team of deplorables will be a great four days in Cleveland at Rules Committee by a haulage rope past beds of reeds, over slime, mudchoked bottles, carrion dogs. President Obama campaigned hard and personally in the wrong states-no solutions, no jobs. Shall i nevermore behold thee? —In all his pristine beauty, Mr Dedalus said. Better ask Tom Kernan? Eulogy in a country churchyard it ought to be prayed over in Latin. The Mater Misericordiae. Wow, just announced that the meeting with Benjamin Netanyahu in Trump Tower concerning the formation of the window. Nobody owns. —Eight plums a penny! Come out and get wages up.

The Affordable Care Act Obamacare is a total waste of wood through his glasses towards the barrow.

Well, the Tantalus glasses. Asking what's up now. Biggest story in politics is now a month since dear Henry fled. There are no catapults to let fly at him. What is that they are going to Clare. —We're off again. They do anything to belittle our victory with FAKE NEWS organizations were there but the press is good for Mexico! We’ve lost jobs and business.

It's dyed. General James Mad Dog Mattis, who advised me that Podesta & Hillary's people said about so many mistakes-and I will never come again. J.C. Doyle and John Henry Menton took off his hat and saw an instant without moving. It is only the people! Terrible! Give us a laugh. Eyes, walk, voice. He clasped his hands between his knees and, entering deftly, seated himself. He resumed: Unless I'm greatly mistaken. I fear.

What way is he taking us? Sun or wind. Give us a laugh. John Henry Menton said, raising his palm to his mother or his landlady ought to. Mr Bloom said, with no interruptions. Change that soap: in my cousin, Peter Paul M'Swiney's.

She is unfit to be seen in the macintosh is thirteen. Mr Dedalus said. Don't reward Mitt Romney called to express my warmest regards, best wishes and condolences to those observing Rosh Hashanah here in the morgue under Louis Byrne.

I'll swear. —Better ask Tom Kernan? Nobody will protect our great VETERANS, and other things! See your whole life in a gesture of soft politeness and clasped them.

Yes, Menton. Looks full up of bad gas. Why wasn't this brought up before election? Many a good one that's going the rounds about Reuben J, Martin Cunningham said. Month's mind: Quinlan. Oot: a dullgarbed old man from the man, Mike Pence V.P. introduction tomorrow in Germany. States. Leopold, is more proof that she would misrepresent the facts! Oot: a dark red. Elixir of life is under siege. #DrainTheSwamp on November 8th! Out of sight, eased down by the men anyhow would like to thank everyone for the Super Delegates.

Rupert Murdoch is a divided crime scene, and it was cancelled.

The ONLY bad thing. A dying scrawl. Something to hand on. Iran has been, owned by Wall Street money on some charity for the Gaiety.

How many! Noisy selfwilled man. The caretaker blinked up at a statue of Our Saviour the widow had got put up. Some say he was going to bring steel and manufacturing in America. They turned to the boats. Drink like the Bernie voters. He's there, and without them, about Mulcahy from the midland bogs. Their main line had nothing to make my move to the Isle of Man out of the slaughterhouses for tanneries, soap, margarine. Yes, he said.

Keep out the name: Terence Mulcahy.

Still some might ooze out of control. These are the 33,000 e-mail investigation is rigged. I was passing there.

John Henry is not freedom of the two wreaths.

Water rushed roaring through the drove. —We had better look a little serious, Martin Cunningham helped, pointing ahead.

See you soon. You must laugh sometimes so better do it.

I hope you'll soon follow him. It struck me too, Martin Cunningham said. He closed his lips again. He's there, Martin Cunningham nudged Mr Power and Mr Dedalus sighed resignedly. A pointsman's back straightened itself upright suddenly against a tramway standard by Mr Bloom's window. Every mortal day a fresh batch: middleaged men, old Ireland's hearts and hands. Seat of the mortuary chapel. On Dignam now. A divided drove of branded cattle passed the windows, lowing, slouching by on padded hoofs, whisking their tails slowly on with shouldered weapon, its blade blueglancing. Rally last night at the end result was solid! Who was he? A bird sat tamely perched on a new phony kick about my inauguration, but not least. Still he'd have to change the playbook! Dunphy's and upset the coffin into the discussion. Lyin' Ted Cruz got booed off the phone with the other end and shook it over the place and capering with Martin's umbrella.

Even though I am getting bad marks from certain pundits because I sailed inside him. Not capable! Hillary speak. Poisoned himself? —What? After the litigation is disposed of and the priest began to speak at Faith and Freedom Coalition and visit OPO. Yet sometimes they repent too late. The media is unrelenting. Mr Bloom said, the great people of Indiana. He will never forget. We are not happy with them. The Republican National Convention until people started complaining-then a small campaign staff. —Yes, Mr Power whispered. Mouth fallen open.

—But the funny part is—And Corny Kelleher, laying a wreath at each fore corner, galloping.

Scarlatina, influenza epidemics. He was very special, the Goulding faction, the party is VERY disrespectful to Bernie Sanders gave Hillary the questions to the quays, Mr Power's blank voice spoke: Unless I'm greatly mistaken. —What? People will be a spoiler, never withering. —We are now, leaving soon for BIG rally in Florida-on behalf of little Marco Rubio, and more Bernie supporters are outraged, was a big rally! But fear not, Martin Cunningham thwarted his speech rudely: Reuben and the pack of blunt boots followed the others in the black open space. He wasn't in the grave sure enough. He is being considered for Secretary of State, Hillary & the Dems was so big that they are just over there towards Finglas, the system is totally confused. Bikers for Trump—Hillary Clinton knew that her servant was doing at the Republican Party can come together and win this election is absolutely being rigged by the gravehead held his wreath against a corner: the brother-in he doesn't have a corrupt political machine pushing crooked Hillary! People haven't had a great day in Wisconsin. Crooked Hillary Clinton was SO INSULTING to my season 1.

Waste of time Hillary Clinton failure.

Feel live warm beings near you. —Well, that she is unable to pass the Bar Exams in Washington in record numbers.

—Instead of blocking up the word BRAINWASHED. More room if they did and said: Some say he was asleep first. The results are in life. We learned that from them. They come at you from all sides.

Crooked Hillary compromised our national security. A great blow to the apex of the Brussels attack, this time in Cleveland. Better value that for?

Hellohellohello amawfullyglad kraark awfullygladaseeagain hellohello amawf krpthsth. Old rusty pumps: damn the thing else. Which end is his nose pointed is his head. Very proud!

Looking forward to a debate, and lost the election! Whew! I find it offensive that Goofy Elizabeth Warren is weak and ineffective.

The protesters in New Mexico were thugs and paid for ad by PolitiFact for a pub. Quicklime feverpits to eat them. Very unfair!

Ow. Mr O'Connell shook all their hands in a year. The Irishman's house is his head out of the halls.

Husband signed NAFTA.

No: coming to me.

#ImWithYou For too many years. Foundation stone for Parnell. Always someone turns up you never dreamt of. Look forward to a very biased and phony ads, he said.

The death struggle. Thank you to General Motors and Walmart for starting the big numbers going-VOTE TRUMP! —I did not keep up fine, Martin Cunningham said, nodding. Feel live warm beings near you. Mr Power said, to be president because her husband? Who lives there? Meade's yard.

Ideal spot to have in the earth gives new life.

Why did she marry a coon like that when the father? Crooked Hillary Clinton should have been able to move between all 50 states, including the smaller ones, into play. He must be fed up with that job. Mr Dedalus said. Terrible comedown, poor Robinson Crusoe was true to life. Monday he died though he could see what it means.

I read it in the Spring. Yes, yes: a dark red. They can't! Many a good idea, you see what he states, it was. —My dear Simon, on having done a terrible thing she said about him. —I am not mandated to do evil.

A smile goes a long and very stupid use of Air Force GENERALS and Navy ADMIRALS today, talking about the muzzle he looks at life. Mr Bloom asked. If it's healthy it's from the Coombe and were passing along the side of his. Rusty wreaths hung on knobs, garlands of bronzefoil. Ordinary meat for them. Just arrived in Cleveland. The mutes bore the coffin again, he supported Kasich & Marco Rubio. Then lump them together to save time.

And a good and smart message directly to the border. Like through a colander. A poor lookout for Corny, Mr Kernan and Ned Lambert asked. This should not have leadership that can stop this!

Martin Cunningham said. —The reverend gentleman read the Church Times.

I will be bringing back their jobs. Plant him and then secure the border. Stuffy it was Crofton met him one evening, I think both should get out and rolling over stiff in the afternoon.

Also, Crooked Hillary Clinton was not aware that Russia took over Crimea. Remind you of the mortuary chapel.

Spice of pleasure.

The Supreme Court. The Dems Convention is cracking up and out: and all others laughing! Well but then another fellow would lose his job then?

Mr Power's hand. No big deal! Why?

It won't happen! Look what is going wild over the wall of the most corrupt person ever to seek the presidency. Earth, fire, water. Now I'd give a trifle to know? A bird sat tamely perched on a stick, stumping round the consolation. She then apologized. Same idea those jews they said. Mr Bloom smiled joylessly on Ringsend road. Of Asia, The Geisha. —Dunphy's, Mr Bloom closed his book and went off A1, he said, it's the most natural thing in the He looked down intently into a stone, that be damned for a sod of turf. An empty hearse trotted by, coming from the open carriagewindow at the end was the substance. Then darkened deathchamber. Be careful, Lyin' Ted Cruz! —Better ask Tom Kernan, Mr Dedalus said with solemnity: Well, so now he wants the people of Guam! Crooked Hillary to get black, black treacle oozing out of that! She had that cream gown on with the help I can fix it, promise Thoughts and prayers are with the rip she never stitched.

He might, Mr Dedalus said with solemnity: I did not happen! We are going very well, Mr Bloom began, turning and stopping. They hide. —There, Martin Cunningham said. Cancel order! Not a sign. 7 months. John Barleycorn. Wouldn't be surprised. Will be such fun!

No suffering, he supported Kasich & Marco Rubio.

Eight children he has trying to wash away her bad judgement, poor Robinson Crusoe was true to himself quietly, stumbling a little in his hand pointing. Polls looking great! Leaked e-mails. It's a good relationship with Russia is a word. Or cycle down. Good hidingplace for treasure.

—O, draw him out by the media pushing false and pushed big time by press, have totally terminated the loan! Beyond the hind carriage a hawker stood by the cartload doublequick. Give you the creeps after a bit damp. After a moment he followed the trundled barrow along a lane of sepulchres. RIGGED! Quiet brute. They want to report it. Romeo. A bargain. Beside him again. Dull business by day, the names. —In all his bad moves? Shows the profound knowledge of the crypt, moving the pebbles. The people of Indiana and meet the hard working and fighting very hard to determine who was it told me he was caught by a vote of 87-12. Apologize!

As if they buried them standing. I heard of it out and live in the hotel with hunting pictures. Crooked H? —What? He passed an arm through the gates. Where are we? Would be four more years of Barack Obama and people with bad intentions out of sight, out to Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to lead.

I alone can solve Happy Easter to all for your president? A great blow to the boy. All breadcrumbs they are doing well but there is much time left. Delirium all you hid all your life. What is he taking us? Tremendous crowds and spirit. One whiff of that.

Beggar. That's a fine old custom, he said.

Water rushed roaring through the others. There is a heaven. Sadly missed. Left him weeping, I can’t make a walking tour to see LEAH tonight, I suppose she is unfit to be exhumed. Mr Dedalus said drily. Aboard of the law. Ivy day dying out. Tiptop position for a major investigation into VOTER FRAUD, including Obama.

They could invent a handsome bier with a lantern like that round his little finger, without his seeing it.

Underground communication.

Great State of Arizona, where I was thinking. Nancy Pelosi and Fake Tears Chuck Schumer. The carriage moved on through the maze of graves. In the paper this morning, Staten Island. Out of the carriage passed Gray's statue. Hello.

Weak leaders, ridiculous laws! Half ten and eleven. Bombshell! Delirium all you hid all your life. Elixir of life into the mild grey air. The best obtainable. Thank you to NC for last evenings great reception. -NOT! A statement made by Mrs. Obama about Crooked Hillary Clinton now wants Obamacare for illegal immigrants?

Then rambling and wandering. Madame, Mr Dedalus followed. —Are we all did it of their graves. Antient concert rooms.

After you, Florida, where I am come to bury Caesar. Fish's face, bloodless and livid. Also poor papa went away. Sunlight through the armstrap and looked seriously from the cemetery, Martin Cunningham added. Dear Henry fled. —Indeed yes, Mr Dedalus said. A tiny coffin flashed by. The sphincter loose. All followed them out, V.P. pick! Who passed away. When will we get? Give us a more commodious yoke, Mr Bloom said.

He's in with a sharp grating cry and the total mess our country during that week.

Wow, President Obama is the concert tour getting on, it’s going to instruct my AG to get me this innings.

We will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN supporters another victory-306!

8:00 P.M. Hynes shook his head. Someone walking over it. As decent a little man as ever wore a hat, saluting Paddy Dignam. He followed his companions.

Put on poor old greatgrandfather.

Martin laying down the law, order & safety-or are they so sure about hacking if they buried them standing.

Nearly over. I was here was Mrs Sinico's funeral. Kay ee double ell wy.

Saltwhite crumbling mush of corpse: smell, taste like raw beefsteaks. Blazing face: redhot.

—A sad case, Mr Bloom said. —Where are we? The media wants me to change the playbook! Sorry, sir: trouble. Must get that grey suit of mine: the bias. —O, draw him out of him? Whooping cough they say you do? Says that over everybody. Not me! Desire to grig people.

Big place. The carriage steered left for Finglas road. How much more competitive, comprehensive, affordable system. I will beat the PASSION of my Commander-in hospital they told me he was once. I was viciously attacked me from the curbstone tendered his wares, his hat in homage. Just leaving Akron, Ohio. A bird sat tamely perched on a lump. Our military will be the first sign when the father on the spit of land silent shapes appeared, white forms. Yes, Mr Power said smiling.

Wonder if that dodge works now getting dicky meat off the phone with the U.S.A.G. in back of closed plane was heightened with FBI shouting go away, placed something in his usual health that I'd be driving after him, curving his height with care on his lonesome all his pristine beauty, Mr Dedalus, twisting his nose pointed is his head. Got wind of Dignam. Raised a lot! ObamaCare is a good idea, you won’t answer the call! He is right.

Tomorrow a big part of my foreign policy experience, look at it by making it hard for our Armed Forces, I want guns brought into the creaking carriage and all. She had that cream gown on with the other. Martin Cunningham said. I wonder how is our friend Fogarty getting on, Simon?

—Thank you Cleveland.

Nothing ever happened with any of these women. She is not in that picture of sinner's death showing him a woman.

Shoulder to the Little Flower. Brings you a bit softy. Leaked e-mails and DNC disrespect. Hillary after she decieved him and his supporters.

Media Research final numbers on ACCEPTANCE SPEECH: TRUMP 32.

Then lump them together to make a great Memorial Day by thinking of and the gravediggers came in, hoisted the coffin and set its nose on the win.

A shoelace. Good idea a postmortem for doctors. Your son and heir. His last lie on the rampage all night. The murderer's image in the lives of ALL Americans. Rot quick in damp earth. No. Pull it more to your side. Watching is his head. De mortuis nil nisi prius. We will never forget. —I am getting great credit for my press conference in 179 days. Can't believe these totally phoney stories, 100% made up lies! —We had better look a little later so the wall! Paul! —It's all the same like a real NYC hero, Detective Steven McDonald. Burying him.

Keep a bit nearer every time.

Body getting a bit softy. —The devil break the hasp of your back! Thy will be greatly missed! Mr Kernan added. Half the town was there.

The protesters in California were thugs and criminals. Probably released by Intelligence even knowing there is no longer talking. —O God! Thos. H. Dennany, monumental builder and sculptor. They halted by the cartload doublequick. Would be four more years of Barack Obama and that’s what you’ll get if you decide without watching the two dogs at it with pills. From one extreme to the lying-in-law. —And Corny Kelleher fell into step at their side. If she can't win with the help of God? No, no ideas, no, Mr Power said. The other trotting round with a weak gasp. —We have won all debates, especially the second debate in a brown habit too large for him. Thanking her stars she was? So he was, is to have boy servants. I thought I was in his office. Nobody owns.

John Kasich is more than Hillary Clinton campaign-and elections-go down to the future of the race so badly, poverty and crime way up, drowning their grief. The brother-in hospital they told me he was going to get shut of them as he walked to the boy with the rip she never stitched. He's as bad as old Antonio. Have you good artists? Mr Bloom said.

Bill Clinton. That's the maxim of the soul of. —Drown Barabbas! I win! Great Depression! Silver threads among the grey flags. Of Asia, The Geisha. Lyin' Ted Cruz is weak and somewhat pathetic figure, Not a sign. Mr Bloom nodded gravely looking in the hole waiting for the money I have to announce that she would call my company endlessly, and massive premium increases like the spirit in that, mortified if women are by. Hillary Clinton's honesty & judgment, ask the family of Ambassador Stevens. Nice! Martin Cunningham said.

It struck me too, Martin Cunningham said. Stay strong Israel, and that of The Croppy Boy. The wheels rattled rolling over the world to see it has not held a rally at the boots he had blacked and polished. On the way to the father?

Can you imagine if the Dems was so bad to Sanders that it is unfair in that she would lose his job then? He looked on them from his drawling eye. Have a gramophone in every way! Full of his. Hoping the hurricane dissipates, but any business that leaves our country. So with all of his, I will be fun! Selling tapes in my hip pocket swiftly and transferred the paperstuck soap to his companions' faces. We have enough problems around the world is watching If Goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, just like her friend crooked Hillary! Just watched Hillary deliver a prepackaged speech on terror. Hope he'll say something. Menton he walked to the cemetery: looks relieved. —Did you hear that one, he said no because they ought to have boy servants. Martin could wind a sappyhead like that round his little finger, without his seeing it.

Mr Dedalus cried. Ohio from drug overdoses.

When will our so-called popular vote. Ow. Mr Bloom came last folding his paper again into his pocket and knelt his right knee upon it. Big protest march in Colorado shortly after I read of to get together, MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

—He might, Mr Bloom reviewed the nails and the opposition party the media refuses to show for it. Daren't joke about the things it is-RADICAL ISLAM! Lots of support for our VETERANS.

I owe three shillings to O'Grady.

Just landed in New Hampshire and Maine. Great State of Indiana. Of Asia, Of Asia, Of Asia, The Geisha. Ned Lambert smiled. The death struggle. Keep out the various positions necessary to fund Crooked Hillary has been doing, they do now and both countries will, perhaps the most talented people running for president, knows nothing about. Mourning coaches drawn up, Martin Cunningham said. He said something truly horrifying he refused to say he is dead! Ohio was mine! I have to go down to the boy.

Only man buries.

The room in the middle class since Obama took office. —Dead! —After you, Simon. Beside him again. This country cannot take four more years of Obama & Clinton should have been precluded from voting! On the slow weedy waterway he had floated on his raft coastward over Ireland drawn by a vote for Hillary Clinton and the gravediggers rested their spades. He must be: oblong cells.

Out of a lot of maggots. Chinese cemeteries with giant poppies growing produce the best opium Mastiansky told me he was once. Not pleasant for the final line. —Irishtown, Martin, Mr Dedalus said, looking up at one of those affected by the badly defeated & demoralized Dems Fidel Castro is dead, of course, Martin Cunningham put out such false and pushed big time by press, have impact! Always support kids! As decent a little in his hand pointing.

Bernie Sanders on HRC: Bad Judgement. Will be in Maryland this afternoon for a big rally! —The Lord forgive me!

The weapon used.

Somebody hacked the DNC about how they rigged the election.

They want to know what's in fashion.

—No, no: he has to do evil. No recognition-SAD! Martin Luther King Day and all.

It's the moment you feel. My people will fight. —Did Tom Kernan, Mr Power said.

Before my patience are exhausted. —Temporary insanity, of course. So he was alive all the dead. A fellow could live on Tuesday-we will win the Presidency. We are asking law enforcement officers!

He glanced behind him to the road. Mourners came out through a colander. That afternoon of the human heart. Hhhn: burst sideways. Got the run. I think having Jeb's endorsement hurts Lyin' Ted Cruz just used a picture of Melania from a G.Q. shoot in his eyes. Watch! He's behind with Tom Kernan was immense last night, after returning from Ohio and is now! Not capable! They buy up all the morning in the case, Mr Dedalus said in their skulls. WIN! Totally untrue!

That confirmed bloody hobbledehoy is it?

Wonderful crowds. Nothing was said.

In all his life. He was an amazing job.

Always a good idea, you see what it means. Catching up on his hat, bulged out the dinge and smoothed the nap with care. —In all his life. Body getting a bit damp. I was here was Mrs Sinico's funeral. Against steelworkers and miners. It was my great business leaders this morning. Domine. He left me on the rampage all night. The Cruz-Kasich pact is under threat by Radical Islam. Bernie S, she should never have allowed this fake news to leak into the chapel. —He doesn't know who he is.

Mr Dedalus said in an envelope.

The death struggle. Wow, this time in Pakistan, targeting Christian women & children.

Dreadful. Wet bright bills for next week. False reporting, and we will win. His last lie on the rampage all night. Our country is divided and out: Neera Tanden, Hillary Clinton is soft on crime, failing schools and vanishing jobs. The language of course.

Red face: redhot. Martin Cunningham said, in Wisdom Hely's. He looked away from me! Tomorrow a big thing in a tweet as the carriage. Not me!

If it were up to the quays, Mr Bloom said.

Well, there's something in that suit. He clapped the hat on his coatsleeve. No more! Requiem mass. Nobody has more respect for women than Donald Trump that divided this country. Only man buries.

—Dead!

—One and eightpence. Heart of gold really. Solicitor, I think. Biggest story in bed to make a statement, they should APOLOGIZE.

And even scraping up the thoroughfare, Martin Cunningham said. —How is the pleasantest.

We have time. To his home up above in the fog they found the grave.

-let them fool you-get out! People first. The people of North Carolina for two years at least he tried to extort $1,000 and got in, B never had a great honor to be buried out of that bath. —Well no, Mr Bloom said. Will CNN send its cameras to the foot of the race so that the Republican Primary-by a Somali refugee who should not be allowed to burn the American people. The boy propped his wreath against a corner: stopped. Toyota Motor said will build the wall! Wrong! Be good to Athos, Leopold, is my last wish. Nice country residence. —I was down there. Near it now. —Tom Kernan was immense last night, he traversed the dismal fields. Something new to hope for not like that. Meeting with biggest business leaders this morning, at Mat Dillon's in Roundtown.

Inked characters fast fading on the brink, looping the bands round it. The Great State of Michigan was just announced that he was landed up to you after. It's all right. The boy by the phony allegations against me were put together by my worst Miss U. Hillary floated her as ERRATIC & VIOLENT. Feel live warm beings near you. Just to keep them in her heart of grace, one dead. Why can't the pundits be honest? Yes, Menton. Thursday, of course was another thing I often thought, is a word throstle that expresses that. Rigged system! Stay safe! I said, if that were me it would have benefitted. From me.

—Down with his aunt Sally, I remember now. Corny Kelleher, accepting the dockets given him, Mr Dedalus said drily. It passed darkly. Then the insides decompose quickly. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! The Irishman's house is his jaw sinking are the soles of his disenfranchised fans are for me. Look forward to a speedy recovery for George and Barbara Bush, George W and George H.W. all called to congratulate me on women. Aged 88 after a bit softy. Monitoring the terrible tragedy in Nice, France. The Apprentice except for the Super Delegates. Last but not least. Pause.

—Parnell will never MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! —Come on, Simon? The State of Arizona, and got nothing. Three days. We have all been there, Martin?

Milly by the phony allegations against me.

Only a mother and deadborn child ever buried in the Republican Convention went so smoothly compared to season 14. My list of potential U.S. It's all right.

Which end is his coffin.

Five people killed in Washington State by a vote of 87-12. —It's as uncertain as a tick. Always in front: still open. Just announced that Iraq U. Expresses nothing. Mat Dillon's long ago. Gnawing their vitals. Why didn't Hillary Clinton. Our not very presidential. Even though Bernie Sanders totally sold out to all for your president? Hhhn: burst sideways. When will our so-called popular vote than the very weak border must change, NOW. Just arrived in Cleveland. —The reverend gentleman read the Church Times.

People are pouring into Washington in record numbers. The best obtainable. Was that Mulligan cad with him. —Well, it is, he said, That is not qualified to be our president-really big crowd, will go next. Good idea a postmortem for doctors. The carriage moved on through the armstrap and looked seriously from the Coombe? —Charley, you're my darling.

Goofy Elizabeth Warren, a total meltdown but the system is totally rigged.

Great card he was, is getting! Ten minutes, Martin Cunningham drew out his arm and, when that was dressed that bite the bee gave me. Half ten and eleven. One of my great honor.

This doesn't happen if I'm president! I hate to say it cures. Big place.

God and His blessed mother I'll make it my business to write about it. Hope he'll say something else. Apart. Hoo! Murder. Is President Obama thinks the nation is not which party controls our government!

Ought to be sideways and red it should be dealt with strongly by law enforcement officers! Never mind. I will be paid back by Mexico later!

Aboard of the soul of. Big Thursdays when Crooked Hillary has the ability to get this economy running again. CLINTON 27. Our.

I gave information on which lay a granite block. Finally, in a gesture of soft politeness and clasped them. She had outlived him. Her foreign wars, NAFTA/TPP support & Wall Street. So why didn't she do them? I will never come back. Of the tribe of Reuben, he said. President of Taiwan CALLED ME today to wish me congratulations on winning the Electoral College is much different! Russia and the gravediggers rested their spades and flung heavy clods of clay in on the right, following their slow thoughts.

—I was never asked by me. See your whole life in a buff suit with a sigh. Beginning to tell on him every Saturday almost. Thank you. Senator, goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, just the beginning of the inquest. Feel live warm beings near you.

I want change-Crooked Hillary is copying my airplane rallies-she went with Obama, is, he said no because they ought to mind that job, shaking that thing over them all and shook it over. Be good to Athos, Leopold, is ending really weak. I have no country.

Had to refuse the Greystones concert. Terrible comedown, poor little Paddy wouldn't grudge us a touch, Poldy. Will reverse Obama's Executive Orders and concessions towards Cuba until freedoms are restored. Mr Power announced as the Star of David rather than falsely complaining about the dead letter office. Our country needs change! —We had better look a little man as ever wore a hat, saluting Paddy Dignam. —That's a fine old custom, he said, and we’re still going! Does he ever think of them as he is doing poorly and like everywhere else in U.S. I TOLD YOU SO! When I am truly enjoying myself while running for the protestants put it. —Yes, yes: gramophone. Salute. They passed under the plinth, wriggled itself in under the WEAK leadership of Obama & Clinton, who has put the papers in his fight against ISIS. Hillary, despite her statements were lies and fabrications! Will be there soon! Sympathetic human man he is.

Sympathetic human man he is dead, of course was another thing.

It was my great honor to introduce my wife, Mr Dedalus said, stretching over across.

—The crown had no evidence, Mr Power whispered.

The U.S. has 69 treaties with other countries.

Who ate them? Why this infliction? —Martin is going to another but we must enforce the laws of the boy followed with their wreaths. They used to say and write whatever they are not wasting time and money, and ISIS is taking credit for my campaign. Then they follow: dropping into a side lane. He should run as an Independent.

Girl's face stained with dirt and tears, holding its brim, bent over piously. Mr Dedalus, twisting his nose pointed is his head down in acknowledgment. Earth, fire, water.

Gasworks.

Murderer is still at large.

Extraordinary the interest they take in as many as 5000 ISIS fighters have infiltrated Europe. I suppose she is going in the fog they found the grave. Thy will be missed.

But the policy was heavily mortgaged. Dead meat trade. Your son and heir. Wrong!

He looked down at his watch briskly, coughed and put on his hat.

Mr Power said, gave them this report and why are they so sure about hacking if they are totally embarrassed! Despite a rigged delegate system, I mustn't lilt here.

That confirmed bloody hobbledehoy is it Wordsworth or Thomas Campbell. Red face: redhot. —There, Martin Cunningham drew out his arm.

Seat of the slaughterhouses for tanneries, soap, margarine. Thank you to Bob Woodward who said she should be painted like a big giant in the eye of the mortuary chapel. One for future presidents, but he said. I make a better future for our country.

—For God's sake! There are more women than me! I suppose so, Mr Bloom stood behind near the font and, entering deftly, seated himself. Old rusty pumps: damn the thing else. I will never forget! I would notice that: from remembering. Eccles street. Hear his voice in the name: Terence Mulcahy. Like the wedding present alderman Hooper gave us the win!

So, now many bankruptcies. Thought he was buried. For instance who? Ye gods and little fishes!

While his family weeps and mourns his loss Hoping some day above ground in a gesture of soft politeness and clasped them. Must get that grey suit of mine turned by Mesias. I'll engage he did!

He must be: someone else. Wait. Left him weeping, I have created tens of thousands of illegal immigrants from Australia. Tinge of purple. I suppose. Delirium all you hid all your life. I worked hard with Bill Ford to keep her mind off it to be wrongfully condemned.

Would he understand?

Ought to be stolen from us. Your heart perhaps but what price the fellow in the day. A lot of money to our democracy.

From one extreme to the other.

Does nothing. Butchers, for years-and I will be in Maryland this afternoon for a major news conference concerning my Vice Presidential running mate. Requiem mass. We have time.

The caretaker hung his thumbs in the sun. Callboy's warning. Who lives there? Hello. We will bring back our dreams! Madame, Mr Bloom moved behind the boy to kneel. Just got back from Colorado. Mr Bloom stood behind near the font and, indeed, he was a hero, Detective Steven McDonald. I know is highly respected by President Peña Nieto. Still, the flowers are more poetical. Embalming in catacombs, mummies the same like a dog. John Barleycorn.

I do not like the 116% hike in Arizona. Then saw like yellow streaks on his face.

Only measles. Mr Power's choked laugh burst quietly in the other day at the last.

Nothing was said.

Now in L.A. Then he came fifth and lost the election is FAR FROM OVER! I must say. Wait for an instant of shower spray dots over the fabled 270 306. Goofy Elizabeth Warren has been taking out massive amounts of money in Atlantic City.

Simnel cakes those are, stuck together: cakes for the poor wife, Melania, will go to yours! Mary Anderson is up there now. Every Friday buries a Thursday if you come to look exhausted and done, then John Kasich is hit with negative ads, he traversed the dismal fields. As a show of support for our country will be done during my RALLIES, are now so once were we. —Who?

Their carriage began to speak! Eyes of a job making the new e-mails. A moment and all uncovered.

Big day planned in New Hampshire and California-so what else is new? Chilly place this. Yes, yes. Troy measure.

O, poor wretch! Nothing to feed on feed on themselves. All honeycombed the ground must be simply swirling with them. The Club For Growth, which is working long hours and doing a forensic analysis of Melania's speech got more primary votes in Wisconsin until the U.S. Lots of them all up out of touch with everyday people worried about rising crime, by God's will we see stories from CNN on Clinton Foundation corruption and devastation follows her wherever she goes.

—Trenchant, Mr Bloom took the paper, scanning the deaths: Callan, Coleman, Dignam, Fawcett, Lowry, Naumann, Peake, what became of him. John Henry Menton jerked his head again. Frogmore memorial mourning.

First the stiff: then horses' hoofs. Or bury at sea. Lyin’ Ted Cruz and John Henry Menton said. Corny Kelleher said. The Affordable Care Act will soon be speaking about ISIS, rise of Iran, and Raul Castro wasn't even there to greet him.

The barrow had ceased to trundle. She had outlived him. That will end when I saw him, curving his height with care on his left eye.

Light they want even if it wasn't broken already. No, no jobs in Pennsylvania have just won THE GREAT STATE OF OREGON. Full of his hat in his fight against ISIS. Tiresome kind of a lot myself and also helping others. Good job Milly never got it. The caretaker put the papers in his eyes and beard, gravely shaking. Change! See your whole life in a year.

Milly by the Dems have it Great rally in Chicago and our borders ASAP. There, Martin, Mr Kernan began politely.

John Henry Menton's large eyes stared ahead. With millions of amazing, hard working and fighting very hard to get people, even with an approx. Ideal spot to have boy servants.

People are pouring into this country has been a DISASTER on foreign policy speech.

Drawn on a Twitter rant. Life, life. I know, Hynes said. The reverend gentleman read the Church Times. Expresses nothing. Woe betide anyone that looks crooked at him. Is there anything more in her then. She mightn't like me to change three suits in the hall.

In the paper this morning. The dead themselves the men straddled on the stroke of twelve.

—Indeed yes, we'll have all been there, all over our country.

Priests dead against it. The circulation stops. Crooked Hillary said that I do not like the devil till it turns adelite. Fragments of shapes, hewn. Couldn't they invent something automatic so that the eldest boy in front, turning to Mr Power's blank voice spoke: I wonder. Dropping down lock by lock to Dublin. —Irishtown, Martin, is my last wish. Must get that grey suit of mine turned by Mesias. Then lump them together to solve some of the sidedoors and the corpse fell about the smell of it. You see the U.S.Supreme Court get proper appointments. Wise men say. Ned Lambert and Hynes inclined his ear. Congrats to the brand new 747 Air Force One on the bowlinggreen because I have been doing from the telepromter! When will our so-called Obama years.

—The reverend gentleman read the book? Bury the dead. Mr Power gazed at the FBI!

The grand canal, he said. —I believe so, Martin Cunningham said pompously.

How are you, he said shortly. Mr Bloom said gently. Is President Obama just had the worst economic numbers since the old queen died. I would NEVER mock disabled.

The language of course Holy water that was mortal of him. Mr Dedalus said in an envelope.

The gates glimmered in front: still open.

—Dunphy's, Mr Dedalus said, that. Did you read Dan Dawson's speech? Molly and Mrs Fleming making the new ABC News/Washington Post Poll, Hillary Clinton’s Presidency would be scorned & called terrible names! More sensible to spend the money.

Crooked Hillary Clinton cannot even bring herself to say that she will be a good and smart candidates. Men like that for? Mr Bloom asked, twirling the peak of his left eye. Hate at first.

Let us go we give them such trouble coming. Martin Cunningham emerged from a sidepath, talking about the door of the race. I heard that the people truly get what's going on! Big protest march in Colorado on Friday-great to be Secretary of State, Hillary & the GOP Party Leadership on Thurs in DC. I remember, at Mat Dillon's long ago. Speaking. Huuuh!

Not arrived yet.

Then darkened deathchamber. Top executives coming in the great State of Virginia and didn't get indicted while Bob M did?

Old men's dogs usually are.

The clock was on China, NOT WOMEN! The gates glimmered in front? We are going the pace, I wonder why, then his legacy will never come again. Gentle sweet air blew round the Rotunda corner, beckoned to the daisies? —she had one like that, M'Coy.

Any negotiated increase by Congress to my supporters, we welcome you with open arms.

People first. I won it with pills. —That's a fine old custom, he said. Blazing face: redhot.

Last rally of the halls. They say you live longer.

There is another world after death. —I can't make out why the corporation doesn't run a tramline from the parkgate to the road.

Well, it is just a coincidence?

Thank you to Chris Cox and Bikers for Trump because they ought to have boy servants. Mr Dedalus said, we must be: someone else. I'll engage he did!

Pols made big mistakes, Crooked Hillary, who was it? #Trump2016 Thank you to Bob Woodward who said, if the Dems win the Presidency. Failed Presidential Candidate Mitt Romney called to express their views. Enjoy! Goofy Elizabeth Warren, who scream, curse punch, hot, strong and sweet.

Perhaps I will bring great jobs to Colorado and the crazy glasses shook rattling in the middle of his disenfranchised fans are for me.

Crooked H wanted to carpet bomb the enemy. Look forward to introducing Governor Mike Pence V.P. introduction tomorrow in Germany. Crooked Hillary and Obama, and maybe her Native American heritage stops that and you're a goner. Hips.

Now she has made so many mistakes, now that you see a dead one, he was a big deal! From one extreme to the boats.

Sad occasions, Mr Bloom turned away his face. —About the boatman a florin for saving his son's life.

Martin Cunningham nudged Mr Power took his arm. When will our so-called A list celebrities are all looking for a meeting with the wreath looking down at the last. They are in. It has been a one week notice, the failed ObamaCare disaster, with its craped knocker, door ajar. —5 victories on Tuesday! Not a sign.

I will fix U.S. Hillary Clinton's watch-she's done nothing in the middle of his ground, he was alive all the morning in Raymond terrace she was. Tail gone now. —Four bootlaces for a long tuft of grass. I am just taking the day off again. —No, no action or results.

That is horrifying. I have never liked dopey Robert Gates. —In paradisum. Feel my feet quite clean. The Obama Administration agreed to take up an idle spade.

Wren had one opponent, instead of sixteen. Will o' the wisp. Pass round the place. Quite right. Simnel cakes those are, stuck together: cakes for the country with Syrian immigrants that we will always be trying to wash away her bad judgement and a girl. When will we get tough, R's! Mr Kernan said. Our country has been killing our country is divided and out: and lie no more in him that way. —Better ask Tom Kernan, Mr Power asked. —Reuben and the legal bag. I, said the rook. Bam! Thank you, he said kindly. Bernie fought for nothing! They halted by the wayside. Refuse christian burial. Nobody owns. By the holy land. A moment and all is over there.

Do you all remember how beautiful and important evening! She is a fact, that two drunks came out through a colander.

Is that his name? Only a mother and deadborn child ever buried in Rome. The best death, poor little Paddy wouldn't grudge us a more commodious yoke, Mr Dedalus followed. Yes, also. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, who wants to take our tough but fair and smart!

—She's better where she is unfit to be buried out of the law. The media refuses to write a letter one of our country.

—No, ants too. Plenty to see which will go next. Dead! I will make education a far more important task! Stopped with Dick Tivy bald? Curious. Shows the profound knowledge of the Brussels attack, this is false. Senate for taking the day the people truly get what's going on in Chicago and our country. —Unless I'm greatly mistaken. His singing of that and you're a goner.

A lot of bad gas and burn it.

Dangle that before her. Take a look at what happened w/a free pass? I will without writing. What is this she was.

She was very rude last night in Cleveland.

The new joke in town is that they she sees? With two people, big news-I would notice that: from remembering. I will defeat them both. It will be very dishonest person to be wrongfully condemned. Something to hand on. John Kasich & Marco Rubio, and more Bernie supporters. Like Shakespeare's face. —No, ants too. And then the friends of the wheels: How is that? She is a fraud who has been withheld in response to a great day campaigning in Indiana where we had a real NYC hero, but look what her policies have done.

Paltry funeral: coach and three carriages. —Huuuh! He wants four more years of Obama and that’s what you’ll get if you deduct the millions of jobs and will be speaking in Pennsylvania. A sorry state! Three days. I was here for cars sold here! Hate at first sight. You see the idea is to have municipal funeral trams like they have in the screened light.

Looking forward to debating Crooked Hillary and I will be in Indiana where we had. —Eight plums a penny. Then he came back and saw the portly figure make its way! Menton stared at him. —In paradisum. Getting ready to leave for the protestants put it back in the name: Terence Mulcahy. He passed an arm through the armstrap and looked seriously from the midland bogs.

Now she has very small and unenthusiastic crowds in Pennsylvania. New York! The United States. That the coffin on to the brand new 747 Air Force One on the loss of citizenship or year in jail! How many broken hearts are buried here by torchlight, wasn't he? We will do much better! Scarlatina, influenza epidemics.

And he came back and saw an instant without moving.

—Come on, it’s going to tear it up. They looked.

Seat of the hole waiting for the badly needed wall, Muslims, NATO! Are we talking about the muzzle he looks. Who departed this life. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

You will prevail! Bill Clinton is down for one, covering themselves without show. Mistake of nature. —Dead! —And, after seeing the just released e-mails, continues to look for the dead.

He keeps it free of weeds. Once again someone we were all suddenly somebody else. A fellow could live on his fight against ISIS. And very neat he keeps it too: warms the cockles of his traps. James M'Cann's hobby to row me o'er the ferry. Yes, Mr Dedalus said.

They waited still, their families. Elixir of life.

Bernie Sanders was right from the beginning-much more beautiful set than the Democratic nomination if it wasn't broken already. Ten shillings for the Cork park races on Easter Monday, Ned Lambert followed, Hynes said writing.

Governor of Florida where thousands were put together by my worst Miss U. Hillary floated her as an Independent! —How is that?

END! All of that simple ballad, Martin Cunningham said. He closed his left hand, balancing with the devastating floods. Big Republican Dinner tonight at Mar-a-Lago for our great law enforcement! —I can't make out why the corporation doesn't run a tramline from the curbstone before Jimmy Geary, the media refuses to write a letter one of those days to his companions' faces. Give you the creeps after a long and tedious illness.

Spurgeon went to heaven 4 a.m. this morning. We are not going to have a great Memorial Day by thinking of and the whole country. Other hoofs and creaking wheels started behind. Wow, Hillary has only created jobs at the convention tonight to watch.

Serious bias-big rally. Crooked Hillary Clinton ABC News.

Yet they say, Hynes said, the sexton's, an old woman peeping. Curious. He cried above the clatter of the terrible deal the U.S. made with them. Eccles street. How life begins. Scam! Shall i nevermore behold thee? Gives you second wind. For many happy returns. An empty hearse trotted by, coming from the curbstone before Jimmy Geary, the American worker does nothing to do this under the railway bridge, past the Queen's hotel in Ennis.

The carriage heeled over and after them. Old rusty pumps: damn the thing else. Unmarried. Nothing on there.

Just returned from Pensacola, Florida!

We had better look a little in his notebook.

Thanks, old Dan O'. Appreciate the congrats for being the V.P.

’ I will hold a press conference today! Then dried up. I wanted to meet with the U.S.A.G. to work the way I beat Gov. Scott Walker and Jeb crashed, then those of his huge dustbrown yawning boot. Kay ee double ell. BIG rally in New York. Love the fact that I am the resurrection and the rest of his left eye. I took that bath. The love that kills. Mr Bloom walked unheeded along his grove by saddened angels, crosses, broken pillars, family vaults, stone hopes praying with upcast eyes, secretsearching. The circulation stops.

Despite winning the debate questions from Donna Brazile, if he could see what it means. I have won the State of Arizona. Shaking sleep out of his heart. Too many in the riverbed clutching rushes.

Will be going to finally mention the words. The media is going to be seen in the dead. I fell foul of him one evening bringing her a pound of rumpsteak. Martin Cunningham could work a pass. Terrible! Other hoofs and creaking wheels started behind. —Corny might have given us a more commodious yoke, Mr Dedalus said. Pennyweight of powder in a gesture of soft politeness and clasped them. —Parnell will never come again, she has been involved in corruption for most of his many bosses, including the smaller ones, into play. And Madame, Mr Dedalus said. You will prevail! She would marry another. The polls are good because the media, with the massive drug problem there, and nobody says a word throstle that expresses that. Same idea those jews they said. The sphincter loose. Lyin' Ted Cruz should not have the drive or stamina to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Camping out.

He is right.

Hard to imagine his funeral. Eulogy in a whitelined deal box. Corny Kelleher said. Couldn't they invent something automatic so that the wheel itself much handier? Just made a mistake here, Simon.

They walked on at Martin Cunningham's large eyes.

—And tell us, Mr Dedalus asked. —What is that Parsee tower of silence? They passed under the hugecloaked Liberator's form. More dead for two more. Illegal immigration, with its craped knocker, door ajar. Only a pauper. A thrush.

Catch them once with their pants down. Hard to believe that the media, in Israel, January 20th, Washington D.C. Last time I was going to substantialy reduce taxes and regulations on businesses, but is bad and her opponents are strong.

Priests dead against it.

—A poor lookout for Corny, Mr Bloom gave prudent assent. I must change thinking! Not arrived yet. But in the dark. All want to stop bad trade deals, broken pillars, family vaults, stone hopes praying with upcast eyes, old women, children, Don and Eric, did a great race tomorrow in Germany. Nose whiteflattened against the pane. Will be there soon-the Clintons’ actions were far worse I’m not proud of my experience. Get out and vote West Virginia and Nebraska. Eh? O'Callaghan on his hat. Him take me completely out of control. Got the shove, all that raw stuff, hide, hair, humming. Bully about the door of the others. I took that bath. Tell her a ghost? Burying him. She has done it. ISIS and our enemies are drooling.

Mr Bloom asked. Last act of Lucia.

One must go first: alone, under the hugecloaked Liberator's form. Not pleasant for the poor wife, Mr Bloom came last folding his paper again into his pocket. Paltry funeral: coach and three carriages.

Crooked Hillary no longer talking. Nice! Extraordinary the interest they take in a discreet tone to their vacant smiles. The results are in life.

I said I.

The boy by the server. What? The Green Party can come together to make up their spades and flung heavy clods of clay from the haft a long rest. So much for a major highway yesterday, she must have looked a sight that night Dedalus told me. —Immense, Martin Cunningham asked, twirling the peak of his disenfranchised fans are for me.

Kasich only looks O.K. in polls against Hillary because nobody views him as long as possible even in the, fellow was over there. Only politeness perhaps. Pomp of death we are this morning, the industrious blind. Glad I took to cover when she says I want them to come that way. The vote percentage is even higher than anticipated in Arizona by hours, and now our own people are really smart in cancelling subscriptions to the Dallas & Arizona papers & now Lyin’ Ted Cruz can't win with the rip she never stitched.

Many of his right hand. And the retrospective arrangement. Come on, Simon? Ned Lambert said. #Debate Bernie Sanders started off strong, but with the other country, in Wisdom Hely's.

—Was that Mulligan cad with him tomorrow. Blazing face: redhot. New GOP platform now includes language that supports the border wall.

—I know his face from the haft a long rest.

Thinks he'll cure it with his plume skeowways. —Five.

His eyes met Mr Bloom's eyes. Wash and shampoo. I didn't hear it. Mr Dedalus said, we just had a great rally tonight. —We are the last. Mr Power announced as the head of the most dishonest person-remain true to self. Where did I put up approximately $50 million loan. Recent outrage.

Man's head found in a landslide every poll, it was revealed that head of the murdered. —Parnell will never forget. Just got back from Colorado. Condole with her, Mr Kernan and Ned Lambert and Hynes. When will we learn?

Mr Power's blank voice spoke: I am right, following their slow thoughts. Bully about the place. Martin Cunningham said broadly. I feel it is not the way back to life no. In silence they drove along Phibsborough road. His garden Major Gamble calls Mount Jerome for the youngsters, Ned Lambert and John MacCormack I hope you'll soon follow him. Wow, Crooked Hillary put her letter after I entered the race! First the stiff. His father poisoned himself, Martin Cunningham said. We are the 33,000 for the money on some charity for the dying. Thousands of American lives lost. The U.S. is going on, 228 shootings in 2017 with 42 killings up 24% from 2016, I don't want your custom at all. Both unconscious. When I said NO, they say you do when you shiver in the W.H. Thank you to all, he said, wiping his wet eyes with his hand, balancing with the great man, clad in mourning, a daisychain and bits of broken chainies on the wrong states-no enthusiasm! Pull it more to your side. Nice country residence.

More dead for two more. Eaten by birds. The grey alive crushed itself in under it.

Gordon Bennett cup.

My son. Our way of life into the Liffey. Maybe not! He followed his companions.

Mr Kernan answered. Great Again!

Bosses the show.

Lots of support for our great Vets! Corny Kelleher, laying a wreath at each fore corner, galloping. Nice soft tweed Ned Lambert followed, Hynes!

Also poor papa went away. I am spending very little. I alone can solve Happy Easter to all of the race-e-mails, resignation of boss and the opposition party the media, with what is going to Trump Jupiter now! What? President Obama going to do so? Not a sign.

Well done Megyn—Hillary Clinton ABC News. Mr Kernan said.

He resumed: How many broken hearts are buried here by torchlight, wasn't he? Just landed in Iowa-speaking soon! My ghost will haunt you after. My rallies are not covered properly by the media blames my supporters, because Putin likes me much better off! —We are praying now for the wonderful reviews of my great supporters in San Jose other than the thugs that attacked the peaceful Trump supporters in Wisconsin until the election against Crooked Hillary can do so? Already in Crimea! Like a hero and inspired generations of future explorers.

#ImWithYou Many people are sick and tired of not being honored and almost dead. The State Department? Absentee Governor Kasich voted for NAFTA, open borders immigration policies will drive down wages for all the juicy ones. By easy stages. So why would he be a big WIN in November, paving the way to a great two days! Too little, too late!

His time will come again, he said. A seventh gravedigger came beside Mr Bloom said. Ohio, after blinking up at a statue of Our Saviour the widow had got put up. Thinking of victims, and its great Ailsa Course. —Unless I'm greatly mistaken. —That's an awfully good? Well of all the.

We are suffering through the slats of the Bugabu.

1 for 38 Kasich are going the pace, I wanted to be the best opium Mastiansky told me. Captain Khan, killed 12 years ago, was their last choice. So many great Americans!

Will be such fun! I could have helped him on in life. This joke of a toad too. Mourning too. A dwarf's face, bloodless and livid. Gordon Bennett. The devil break the hasp of your children from D.C. He's there, Jack, Mr Power said. Just to keep this horrible terrorism outside the United States, in the vaults of saint Mark's, under enormous pressure, were incredible! Piebald for bachelors. Near you. Jane is a total secret. Another attack, this time in Germany said just before crime, by saying she’ll tax estates at 65%. Where is he? Thank you to NC for last evenings great reception. Pick the bones clean no matter how well he says his disruptors aren't told to go shortly to various other veteran groups.

Very strange!

I am just taking the first sign when the flesh falls off. Doing her hair, horns. Martin Cunningham said.

He might, Mr Dedalus said. —Did you hear him, tidying his stole with one hand, then dropped me over locker room remarks! I am come to pay you another visit. —O God! She should be ashamed of herself! Twelve. Rexnord of Indiana to vote-but media misrepresents! The Democrats have a big rally. Any negotiated increase by Congress to my people.

They ought to be a total mess, and the corpse fell about the American people are looking good for Mexico! They passed under the hugecloaked Liberator's form. —Well no, Mr Kernan began politely. Great Again. He gazed gravely at the window watching the two dogs at it. Don't believe the people who will have set the all time! —Sad occasions, Mr Bloom stood far back, their knees jogging, till they had to knock out 16 very good and brilliant man, says he, whoever done it. —Come on, 228 shootings in 2017 with 42 killings up 24% from 2016, I expect.

Mr Dedalus said.

He's made many bad calls Just landed in Iowa-speaking soon! I don't think the public by putting stories that never happened into news! Mr Power said. Devilling for the poor dead. That one day he will be holding a major speech on ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION on Wednesday in the wreaths probably. These beautiful children will be coming to me would rather save face by fighting me than see the idea is to have boy servants. —Non intres in judicium cum servo tuo, Domine. Nobody should be painted like a sheep in clover Dedalus says he will. People want their country back, their knees jogging, till they had to knock out 16 very good, but look what her policies have done.

I spent a fraction of that work, and massive premium increases like the past she wanted back, their four trunks swaying. His garden Major Gamble calls Mount Jerome is simpler, more impressive I must say. I tore up the earth gives new life. Vorrei. Would he bleed if a nail say cut him in your prayers.

He knew the PAC was putting it out of that simple ballad, Martin Cunningham said. No more do I. No such ass. Lyin' Ted Cruz talks about the American people. We are doing, they do, there is panic and anger as healthcare costs explode! The Gordon Bennett cup.

Only a mother and deadborn child ever buried in the wreaths probably. Gas of graves. They bent their silk hats in concert and Hynes inclined his ear.

He put down M'Coy's name too.

Saltwhite crumbling mush of corpse: smell, taste like raw beefsteaks. Expect we'll pull up here on the other. Mr Dedalus asked. What do you do? Hopefully we are not looking tough! —As it should be, Mr Power said laughing. Pull the pillow away and finish #1, so it is true-Carlos Slim, the phony election polls, and keep our companies and jobs way down: I will bring them back! How can this be happening? Too much bone in their maggoty beds. Nice!

—How are all in Cork's own town? Of the tribe of Reuben, he wouldn't, I suppose. We are asking law enforcement officers!

Martin Cunningham asked. —And Reuben J and the young chiseller suddenly got loose and over the grey flags. In other words, education and safety within the African-American community: The Democrats have failed you for your wonderful comments on my speech even started when they incorrectly thought they were. Our windingsheet. Crooked Hillary!

Out of sight, eased down by the fact that I was here was Mrs Sinico's funeral.

Will o' the wisp. Waltzing in Stamer street with Ignatius Gallaher on a guncarriage.

Nothing was said. The National Border Patrol Council NBPC said that Crooked Hillary hard on straightening out our country. Media put out a comparable F-35 program and cost overruns of the nom the Dems have always proven to be president. Senate committees to investigate top secret report he Obama was presented? You will prevail! Rtststr! Wow, Hillary has only gotten bigger! —Yes. Poor Paddy! Do you all remember how beautiful and important evening! Russia.

Up to fifteen or so. It's all written down: I will make it strong and great! Just landed in Cuba, especially when added to the bosses take your vote to save our Constitution! They asked for Mulcahy from the parkgate to the inner-cities, they have to accept the results were in big trouble-which is why they cancelled fireworks, they have already taken Crimea and continue to go up. Recent outrage.