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imagine-loki · 4 years ago

Text

Atlas: Space, Sun

TITLE: Atlas: Space

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 1/12

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine narrating episodes of Loki’s life with the Avengers based on the songs from Sleeping At Last’s “Atlas: Space” album.

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome to my Sleeping At Last’s Atlas: Space challenge, aka Another writing project I do not have time for, but my brain insisted on doing.

This series will be less like a multichapter fic and more of a one-shot compendium, but that they all interconnect in one way or another. It will revolve around Loki and Becca’s relationship (Taking Turns, Glow, Helmet Heists–don’t worry, more Loki-Charlie stuff will be along) and I will use those one-shots as reference to the timeline. Each chapter will be one song, used as inspiration for the story.

As far as warnings go, some language, terrible writing, and just general awkwardness because I love it. Warnings will be chapter by chapter basis.

Chapter 1: Sun

Summary: Tony begs Rebecca to come with the team on mission and Loki is a surprisingly thoughtful mission companion.

“For the sake of all of us, I need you to suit up.”

That was the climax of her morning, she would say. Or, at least, the turning point of her day… her life… and the reason why she, a weapons development technician with bare minimum battle training ended up, smack dab in the middle of a firefight.

With golden string

Our universe was clothed in light

Pulling at the seams

Our once barren world now brims with life

It was a morning same as any other. The weapons lab was calm and quiet, save for the white noise hum of robots moving and instrumentation chugging along without supervision. Crisp, white sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, negating the need for any of the harsh fluorescents overhead to be turned on. This was how she had fallen in love with the lab–in the early hours before anyone turned on the tinting of the windows and blasted Black Sabbath for no reason other than to drown their own thoughts. Essentially, any time before Tony started his insane experiments was wonderful and full of meditative peace.

Despite the fact that it was only seven in the morning, Rebecca Brun had already put in four hours of work. One of the side-effects of working in Stark industries was that she often forgot what hours normal people usually kept. A lot of missions were at night, and she needed to be awake to outfit the team before it was time for wheel’s up on the Quinjet. More recently, her shift in schedule was mostly attributed to Loki’s inability to maintain normal hours, as well. And he dared say he had nothing in common with Tony. You know, besides the fact that the two of them had somehow roped her into friendship (though in Loki’s case, she would admit it was her fault).

Her zen moment of peace was about to be shattered as she watched her boss stride into the lab. Tony looked pensive, which was never a good sign. Their conversation had been a blur–something about needing a technician on hand to sustain any on-field repairs and how that would ensure that they could bring everyone home alive. Another comment about her being the very best, second only to himself. More importantly, there was the voice in her head that spoke of purpose. She always knew her work made a difference, but she would have never dreamed that she could make a difference. She could be a hero in her own right. She could keep them safe.

“Fine. I’m in.”

–

I guess space and time

takes violent things, angry things

and makes them kind.

Loki watched from the shadows as Stark rounded up everyone who was to go on mission that day. There were nearly two dozen, in total, between heroes and agents. And Becca. Who was shaking like a leaf in her tactical gear, matching the rest of the crew. The gear suited her, he thought wryly, gaze skimming the curves of her hips and thighs as she shifted her weight from one leg to another. He then felt a little disappointed in himself, scolding his primitive thoughts when his friend was in clear distress. He hated admitting it, but he was fond of the mortal. She was clever, quiet, and quick-witted–all things he… liked? Admired? Suffice to say, he didn’t wish her dead.

He moved like death, silent and furtive, until he sidled up to her. She didn’t seem surprised when she glanced up and gave him a smile that looked a little closer to a wince. He returned a small one of his own before fidgeting with his armor. Becca made a noise like a whine and with a chuckle, he placed his hand on her shoulder and gave a quick squeeze. He meant to reassure her, but his brain also whispered guiltily that it was giving him an excuse for contact. They were firmly just friends, but every now and then the baser part of his brain longed for a lingering touch or, heavens forbid, a hug.

“We are the dust of dust”

“We are the apple of God’s eye”

“We are infinite as the Universe we hold inside”

“Folks, listen,” Stark started, standing on a box of ammunition to look over the crowd. “This is the big one and I’m sure that your team leaders have driven home the importance of getting in, doing our job, and getting out. I know that for some of you, this is your first mission. Others don’t even want to be here. I appreciate all of you coming aboard, anyway. Because, whether we like it or not, we are the only thing between the world and those who intend to destroy it. You’re all heroes. Let’s go show them who they’re dealing with.”

Becca squeezed her eyes shut, trying to quell the feeling of nausea rising through her. They had gotten into the jet and were flying to some undisclosed location where bullets were already flying, courtesy of the advanced guard. She had fitted everyone in their armor and left instructions on how and when to double back for assistance. One of the agents had then offered her the handle of a gun and more than a handful of cartridges of bullets before exiting the Quinjet and into a very noisy battlefield. It was then that she realized she would be on her own from there on out. That didn’t sit in her stomach very well, either.

“Hey.” Becca looked up rather anxiously. Loki was stood in full armor, golden horns and all. He looked just south of fidgety and was eager to jump into the fray. The only reason he deigned to stop and check in was the annoying sinking feeling he got when he noticed her take the clip out of her gun and count bullets for a sixth time in as many minutes. “Well, you’ve taken to battle rather well,” he teased, nudging her foot with his.

“Shut it or I’ll throw up on you,” she groused, and the green tinge in her complexion assured him of the truth behind her words.

He laughed boisterously, though there seemed to be no malice in his actions. “Midgardians, scared of a little fight. Precious, really.”

“What part of I’ll throw up on you did you not understand?” Her voice sounded rough, as if she really was fighting the bile from rising up her throat.

“You’re going to be fine.” Loki laughed again, a little less effusively. For a second he hesitated in his movement, before his resolve steeled, reaching up and tugging on a golden horn to slide the helmet from his head. “If I remember correctly, you’re well-acquainted with these. How about you keep them until I circle back, hmm?” They were placed on her head before she had even had time to argue, feeling snug and secure. Long fingers felt cool against her flushed skin as he lifted her chin to look at him. “There. Fit to be a shield maiden.” The heat in her cheeks only intensified. “Stay in the jet. And if you need to barricade the doors, regardless of what side of them we happen to be on, do it.” He stared her down until she nodded.

Before he disappeared out the hold doors, he turned his head and winked at her over his shoulder. Oddly enough, it settled her stomach to see his cocky confidence.

The one thing Becca was not prepared for, ironically, was the wait.

The jet had been empty for several hours and only Bucky had come to get some gravel out of the hydraulic gaps of his metal arm. The rest of the time, she spied outside the one-way glass at the battle ahead. It was a terrible hobby to have when you knew half of the players, but it was like watching a train wreck. You know you shouldn’t watch, but…

A flash of red caught her eye, at once. Peter had just been flung aside by some Hydra agent in a bulky exosuit. In a flash of green, Loki cut in and deliver a blow to protect the kid. Loki would never admit it aloud, but he had a soft spot for the teenager–partly because he was a child, mostly because he would bring Loki chocolate chip cookies every time he went to see him. Regardless of the reason, the maneuver had ended with Loki becoming the new favorite target of all the Hydra personnel around the pair.

She shouldn’t have watched the fight.

And she certainly shouldn’t have opened the hold doors and run straight into its center.

Becca had the advantage that she was swift on her feet from years of track and field. She could outrun nearly everyone, except for Steve and sometimes Bucky. And being a hurdler, she could clear obstacles in her path as easily as breathing. Instantly, the sound of gunfire made her regret leaving her safe, warm little workstation on the jet. It certainly was a bad place to contemplate her mortality, and a stranger place still to pray for the very first time.

Let there be light, let there be light, let me be alright.

With shaky hands, she lifted her pistol and took aim. Tony made everyone take basic gun training and get certified at the gun range–this wasn’t a new experience for her. Having buildings shudder and rumble, screams fill the air, and explosions happen less than thirty meters off–that was a new experience. And it made it a hell of a lot harder to aim at areas that were not covered by a bulletproof vest or part of her friend.

Loki started as the body trying to wrestle him down shuddered and slumped to the floor. He turned round in a neat circle and glared. “I told you to stay in the jet!”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve circled back earlier, then!” She screamed back, flinching her eyes closed with every thundering bullet leaving her gun.

“Tell me you’re not closing your eyes every time you shoot!” He had closed the distance between them and had joined his back to hers.

“Fine. I won’t tell you.”

“You could’ve shot me in the head!”

“You should have taken your damn helmet, then!” Her voice was near a shriek, another three bullets ringing through the air before she realized she had to change the clip.

Except she forgot them.

On the jet.

Did she mention she had no real battle experience?

“Loki,” her voice trembled, barely audible over the scuffle even to her own ears, “do you have bullets on you?”

He snorted. “Do I look like I have a gun, Rebecca?” He glanced over his shoulder at her and did a double-take before the information clicked. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t!” She didn’t answer, instead drawing a knife sheathed in a strap on her thigh and holding it in front of her. It shuddered in time with the tremors in her hand. She couldn’t stay here and she couldn’t make it back on her own. And for some reason, after over a millenium, his conscience decided this was the day to make an appearance. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He growled. “If I die getting you back to safety, I’m going to be so damn cross!”

Before she could offer a retort, he grabbed the back of her suit, pulling her away from incoming threats. Every now and again, they’d stop, fight hand to hand, or rather, Loki fought while constantly pushing her behind him. Becca felt like a ragdoll, though she never thought she was being flung carelessly or without any sort of poise. It was a carefully calculated and perfectly executed dance of which she was a participant with no say on the steps.

The Quinjet doors were just a few meters away. They were almost there. Another three Hydra agents had closed in on them, trying to cut off their escape. The next minute was hazy in her mind. She could remember, as clearly as if she were seeing it right then, as a gun barrel aimed for her head and the rumble of gunpowder deafened her a second later. And then there was darkness.

With golden string

Our universe was brought to life

That we may fall in love

Every time we open up our eyes

“Becca.” The voice was soft, as were the thumbs brushing her cheekbones, though the pounding in her head was certainly not. She blinked her eyes open to find two blue orbs of concern watching her. “Oh, thank the gods. You’re alright.”

“My head is killing me.” She winced at the echo of her own voice.

“Yeah. A bullet to the skull will do that,” he said, smirking. He had yet to let her head go.

They were on the floor of the jet, and he was on his knees. Beside him, his horns sat with a splotch of blood marring the very edge of the face opening and the metal bent slightly out of shape.

“You’re lucky I left you my helm. Not so much for the man who shot you. The ricochet was nasty.”

“The ricochet killed him?” She frowned, trying to think of the physics that would make such a thing possible.

“No, I killed him. The ricochet left him blind in the left eye, though,” he retorted matter-of-factly, smiling. He finally let go and sat back on his heels, his fingers came away red, but a cursory check with her own showed the blood was not hers. The thought did not reassure her. “I should go back, keep the Spiderboy out of trouble.” He stood and cracked his neck, squaring his shoulders to prepare himself for more gore. “Are you OK?”

She nodded. “I’m OK. I’ll just stay put.”

He snorted. “I doubt that. At least I already stuffed all the bullets I could find into your pockets. Don’t need a repeat of this fiasco.” He stepped lightly to the hold doors, as he had done earlier. This time, he turned around completely, walking backwards out of the open doors. “Maybe keep the helmet on, for now, and try not to get shot in the head again."

For a long moment she looked between the cushioned seats and the hold doors, deciding the best course of action–back to her work table, safe, or…

Just beyond the doors, Loki sunk a dagger into the stomach of a HYDRA agent and kicked them back. As if sensing her gaze, he glanced back at jet and smirked, turning away only to dodge a punch. Becca took a swig of water, grabbed her gun, and ran back into the fire just as the horns settled onto her skull. Loki gave her a knowing smile before pressing his back to hers and finishing their mission.

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 1/12

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine narrating episodes of Loki’s life with the Avengers based on the songs from Sleeping At Last’s “Atlas: Space” album. https://imagine-loki.tumblr.com/post/623647803992899584/imagine-narrating-episodes-of-lokis-life-with-the

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome to my Sleeping At Last’s Atlas: Space challenge, aka Another writing project I do not have time for but my brain insists.

As far as warnings go, some language, terrible writing, and just general awkwardness because I love it. Warnings will be chapter by chapter basis.

Chapter 1: Sun

Summary: Tony begs Rebecca to come with the team on mission and Loki is a surprisingly thoughtful mission companion.

"For the sake of all of us, I need you to suit up.”

With golden string

Our universe was clothed in light

Pulling at the seams

Our once barren world now brims with life

“Fine. I’m in.”

–

I guess space and time

takes violent things, angry things

and makes them kind.

“We are the dust of dust”

“We are the apple of God’s eye”

“We are infinite as the Universe we hold inside”

“Folks, listen,” Stark started, standing on a box of ammunition to look over the crowd. “This is the big one and I’m sure that your team leaders have driven home the importance of getting in, doing our job, and getting out. I know that for some of you, this is your first mission. Others don’t even want to be here. I appreciate all of you coming aboard. Because, whether we like it or not, we are the only thing between the world and those who intend to destroy it. Let’s go show them who they’re dealing with.”

Becca squeezed her eyes shut, trying to quell the feeling of nausea rising through her. They had gotten into the jet and were flying to some undisclosed location. She had fitted everyone in their armor and left instructions on how and when to double back for assistance. One of the agents had then offered her the handle of a gun and more than a handful of cartridges of bullets before exiting the Quinjet and into a very noisy battlefield. It was then that she realized she would be on her own from there on out.

“Hey.” Becca looked up rather anxiously. Loki was stood in full armor, golden horns and all. He looked just south of fidgety and was eager to jump into the fray. Still, he made it a point to stop and check in when he noticed her take the clip out of her gun and count bullets for a sixth time. “Well, you’ve taken to battle rather well,” he teased, nudging her foot with his.

“Shut it or I’ll throw up on you,” she groused, and the green tinge in her complexion assured him of the truth behind her words.

He laughed boisterously, though there seemed to be no malice in his actions. “Midgardians, scared of a little fight. Precious, really.”

“What part of I’ll throw up on you did you not understand?” Her voice sounded rough, as if she really was fighting the bile from rising up her throat.

“You’re going to be fine.” Loki laughed again, a little less effusively. For a second he hesitated in his movement, before his resolve steeled, reaching up and tugging on a golden horn to slide the helmet from his head. “If I remember correctly, you’re well-acquainted with these. How about you keep them until I circle back, hmm?” They were placed on her head before she had even had time to argue, feeling snug and secure. Long fingers felt cool against her flushed skin as he lifted her chin to look at him. “There. Fit to battle the enemy.” The heat in her cheeks only intensified. “Stay in the jet. And if you need to barricade the doors, regardless of what side of them we happen to be on, do it.” He stared her down until she nodded.

Before he disappeared out the hold doors, he turned his head and winked at her over his shoulder. Oddly enough, it settled her stomach to see his cocky confidence.

The one thing Becca was not prepared for, ironically, was the wait. The jet had been empty for several hours and only Bucky had come to get some gravel out of the hydraulic gaps of his metal arm. The rest of the time, she spied outside the one-way glass at the battle ahead. It was a terrible hobby to have when you knew half of the players, but it was like watching a train wreck. You know you shouldn’t watch, but…

A flash of red caught her eye, at once. Peter had just been flung aside by some Hydra agent in a bulky exosuit. In a flash of green, Loki cut in and deliver a blow to protect the kid. Loki would never admit it aloud, but he had a soft spot for the teenager–partly because he was a child, mostly because he would bring Loki chocolate chip cookies every time he went to see him. Regardless of the reason, the maneuver had ended with Loki becoming a favorite target of all the Hydra personnel around the pair.

Loki yelled something she couldn’t make out, and Peter began to climb upwards to get a better (and safer) vantage point. More agents converged on the Asgardian and Becca found herself chanting no’s under her breath. This was a bad idea. She shouldn’t have watched the fight. And she certainly shouldn’t have opened the hold doors and run straight into its center.

Let there be light, let there be light, let me be alright.

With shaky hands, she lifted her pistol and took aim. Tony made everyone take basic gun training and get certified at the gun range. This wasn’t a new experience for her. Having buildings shudder and rumble, screams fill the air, and explosions happen less than thirty meters off–that was a new experience. And it made it a hell of a lot harder to aim at areas that were not covered by a bulletproof vest or part of her friend.

Loki started as the body trying to wrestle him down shuddered and slumped to the floor. He turned round in a neat circle and glared. “I told you to stay in the jet!”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve circled back earlier, then!” She screamed back, flinching her eyes closed with every thundering bullet leaving her gun.

“Tell me you’re not closing your eyes every time you shoot!” He had closed the distance between them and had joined his back to hers.

“Fine. I won’t tell you.”

“You could’ve shot me in the head!”

“You should have taken your damn helmet, then!” Her voice was near a shriek, another three bullets ringing through the air before she realized she had to change the clip.

Except she forgot them.

On the jet.

Did she mention she had no real battle experience?

“Loki,” her voice trembled, barely audible over the scuffle even to her own ears, “do you have bullets on you?”

He snorted. “Do I look like I have a gun, Rebecca?” He glanced over his shoulder at her and did a double-take before the information clicked. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t!” She didn’t answer, instead drawing a knife sheathed in a strap on her thigh and holding it in front of her. It shuddered in time with the tremors in her hand. She couldn’t stay here and she couldn’t make it back on her own. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He growled. “If I die getting you back to safety, I’m going to be so damn cross!”

With golden string

Our universe was brought to life

That we may fall in love

Every time we open up our eyes

“My head is killing me.”

“Yeah. A bullet to the skull will do that,” he said, smirking. He had yet to let her head go.

They were on the floor of the jet, and he was on his knees. Beside him, his horns sat with a splotch of blood marring the very edge of the face opening and the metal bent slightly out of shape.

“You’re lucky I left you my helm. Not so much for the man who shot you. The ricochet was nasty.”

“The ricochet killed him?” She frowned, trying to think of the physics that would make such a thing possible.

She nodded. “I’m OK. I’ll just stay put.”

For a long moment she looked between the cushioned seats and the hold doors, deciding the best course of action–back to her table, safe, or… Just beyond the doors, Loki sunk a dagger into the stomach of a HYDRA agent and kicked them back. As if sensing her gaze, he glanced back at jet and smirked, turning away only to dodge a punch. Becca took a swig of water, grabbed her gun, and ran back into the fire just as the horns settled onto her skull.

#Loki #Others #Submitted fic #submission #atlas space #Fanfictrashdump #sun #chapter 1

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ofwizardsandmen · 5 years ago

Text

I like me better when I’m with you

Characters: Tara Lee, Mark Yang, Tyler Lee (briefly).

Word count: 3,9k

Genre: angst, fluff

OST: Ed Sheeran - Hearts Don't Break Round Here

A knock on the door interrupts Tara from staring soullessly at the screen of her laptop. It’s only been a couple of hours since she left the Yang Residence and yet she has completely lost track of time. She can’t remember how long she’s been sitting on her bed, wrapped in a duvet, but the memories of her conversation with Mark are all vague and hazy, like scenes from a Frank Capra film.

Yet, it is probably the hopeful melodies or the fact Julie Andrews’ sweet innocence in The Sound of Music always manages to put her in a good mood, but Tara almost feels like she’s been transported to some benevolent alternate universe where she’s just a regular Oxford student chilling at home on a summer night and procrastinating her summer school paper for Medieval Literature.

There are no boys.

No magic.

No famous ex-boyfriend or fake fiancé.

It is just Tara and her muggle musical.

“I’m fine, Ty” Tara whines as Captain von Trapp walks into Maria’s room and finds his children singing along My Favorite Things. “Go to sleep!” Mentally cursing at her brother for disturbing her hardly-found peace of mind, Tara pulls the fluffy duvet tighter under her chin.

Another knock

Tara lets the duvet fall to her shoulders, feeling as though she doesn’t have the strength to deal with anything right now.

“Ty, seriously…” she utters wearily. “I want to be alone-”

“I’m coming in” A voice that definitely doesn’t belong to her brother announces.

A second later, the door gapes open and Tara’s ex-boyfriend walks in, closing the door behind him.

Mark’s presence catches Tara off guard. From all the people she could’ve expected to see, her ex looking aggravatingly good was definitely not on top of her list, so she nearly chokes in her inhale.

With her heart picking up, Tara pauses the movie and then holds on to the duvet tightly. Almost as if her life depended on it.

And yes. It is a life-threatening situation if you consider that Tara can’t imagine a greater humiliation than letting Mark see the sweatshirt she’s wearing beneath. It is one of the many clothes she had raid from his closet during her last visit to Seoul, claiming that she would use them whenever she missed him.

Why did she have to be so freaking ridiculous? That is beyond Tara understanding, but now, letting him see that goddammed sweatshirt on her would be yet another moral defeat on the same day. Not to mention it would be downright mortifying.

“Hey” Mark stands at the door, his hands shoved in the pockets of his favorite bomber jacket as Tara holds on the duvet for dear life.

“What are you doing here?” She turns her head in the other direction as if her vanity was the most interesting piece of furniture she’s ever seen.

At her sour expression, Mark’s expression falls. For a split of a second he seems to be unable to form a coherent sentence or push himself to do anything at all, but eventually, he quietly steps towards Tara and without saying a single word he sits on the edge of the bed.

But Tara avoids his eyes. She can’t bring herself to look at him because his presence is suddenly reliving the embarrassment and humiliation she felt during their conversation earlier that day.

“I saw the album,” Mark says, his breath hitching as Tara blinks twice without really understanding what he means. “Jae said it was a present from you”.

With the trauma of facing Mark, she has almost forgotten about his birthday gift. Of course, she now regrets spending so much time putting together a photo book with pictures of the two from childhood up to the months previous to their breakup. If she had known Mark was going to behave the way he did, Tara would’ve accepted Enzo’s invitation and instead of the comfort of her bed, she would be on a luxurious yacht sailing the Greek Islands. Or she would’ve asked Tyler to lock her in her room so there were no more chances to land on the cover of scandal-hungry tabloids and gossip sites. Yes, she likes the second idea better.

But no, against her better judgment, she went to visit her ex-boyfriend so he could shatter her pride in pieces and humiliate her.

“And I’m truly sorry” Without another word, Mark reaches to pull Tara to his chest. Initially, he meets resistance from her part. She briefly struggles to free herself, but when her name escapes from Mark’s lips in a soft whisper that makes her feel a wonderful sense of loosening inside, she gives in with a sigh. Too exhausted and emotionally drained to fight him back, she also lets go of the duvet in favor of letting Mark wrap his arms around her.

“I’m so, so sorry, T” He repeats as his hands move to stroke her hair and pat her back gently, slightly desperate to show he how apologetic he truly is. “I am sorry”

There’s a brief moment of silence before Tara speaks, her voice breathy with a contained chuckle.

“I know”

Mark is so thankful when she wraps her arms around him and buries her face against his chest that his heart races embarrassingly and his throat moves when he swallows. Yet, Tara seems unfazed, wrapped in her own thoughts and the scent of oolang and bergamot from Mark’s signature perfume combined with the faint smell of Febreze that Taeyong uses religiously in their clothes.

Mark smells like spring and his embrace makes Tara feel like home, so she stays that way for a few minutes, eyes closed, easily sinking into his arms and basking in the familiarity of it all. It is just a simple hug, but it conveys their feelings with much greater clarity than words could have; it is almost a reminder of easier days when everything was less tangled and a simple hug could put everything back in its right place.

Now everything seems as it could be fine.

That is, of course, until she pulls away and notices Mark’s eyes brimming with tears.

It’s probably too soon to draw conclusions, but for some reason it makes Tara’s former optimism deflate.

Not like this is the first time Tara sees Mark cry. Oh no, she has seen him cry plenty of times before, although when she tells those stories to other people, they believe she’s making them up because Mark is a strong man by any standard and he has never shown any sign of weakness in front of anyone else. Particularly not in front of his bandmates or his fans.

People regard Mark as always cool and collected, that one person who always knows what to say and what people expect from him. He didn’t cry when his group reached the Nº1 spot for the first time in the South Korean charts, nor during his first concert or that time he injured himself in a rather foolish fashion and subsequently skipped a whole round of promotions with his group. If you were to ask anyone, Mark is described as a hardworking young man with a somewhat detached and serene outlook on life.

But that is Mark, the rapper of NCT. The Mark Yang sitting next to Tara cried when she went to Hogwarts for the first time and when their first bunny died. Mark cries over a sad movie plot and whenever he misses his family. The Mark Tara knows is anything but detached. He is loving and slightly clingy, although he always justifies himself claiming that he barely spends time with his loved ones.

That’s exactly why doubt wings through Tara when her eyes fix on Mark. Granted, her concern is slightly unreasonable given the circumstances and their unspoken reconciliation, but she knows him by heart and he looks merely appalled.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, eyeing him suspiciously

“Nothing” He musters dismissively. Tara doesn’t know he’s fighting hard to keep the tears at bay, but she can guess, by the way he bits on his lower lip, that there’s something he wants to tell her. And she simply expects the worst.

“Then what’s with that expression?” she says, forcing a soft laugh. “You look as though you’ve murdered someone.”

Mark doesn’t respond. There is silence and then a simple head motion

“I don’t know how bad this actually is or if Jane will be able to fix it before it goes out, but…” A frustrated breath slips from Mark’s lips and he moves to grab Tara’s hand “Earlier today I kinda told a reporter we had broken up.”

“What?” Tara’s eyes narrow in confusion.

“Listen T, I am really sorry, I just…” Mark runs his free hand through his hair “I got this question about you and the rumors and I-“ he tightens his grip on her hand “I just lost it. I saw that article on the news and I don’t know what got into me. Please, forgive me, I didn’t mean to-“

Amusement swirling in her chest, Tara doesn’t even attempt to hold in a laugh.

“Mark, people have been speculating about our break up for weeks and if they couldn't tell yet after the pictures of you and Mindy walking by the hand late at night” She said the last bit with the tiniest bit of accusation in her voice “They probably did after the headlines of this morning, so unless you had told them I cheated on you or that you hated me, I think we’ll be ok”

“No, I would never” Mark says softly, once again wrapping himself around Tara “I only said that we broke up and I wished not to be asked any more questions about the topic”

“An answer straight from the idol book. Well done” Tara laughs, but still, that emotion written on Mark’s face —that she recognizes as guilt— doesn’t seem to go away. “Oh, come on, Mark, change that expression! What’s wrong now?” Tara rolls her eyes, looking at him over her shoulder.

“I…” He falters “I also made you cry”

“When did you?” Tara asks, moving away from the hug and turning so they’re finally face to face. “I haven’t cried” She frowns, although her slightly puffed eyes aren’t painting the most convincing picture.

“Tyler told me” Mark smiles with a swift rise of his cheekbones. If Tara didn’t know him better she would assume that he is amused.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself” Tara scoffs, but Mark is still smiling at her with a sort of smug twinkle in his eyes.

“I hate I made you cry, I really do.” He says solemnly “But the fact you did…” Mark finds the auspicious moment to caress Tara’s face with his thumbs, making her huff once she notices his cheeks going all squishy and his eyes crinkling in a smile.

She would definitely be offended if she didn’t know there’s no malice to it, just Mark’s attempts to lighten up the mood.

“I swear I will never make you cry again” He says, interlacing their hands “Please, don’t ever cry again” Mark places a gentle kiss on her cheek before adding “Plebeians like me don’t deserve the tears of a princess”

Tara cringes and laughs, smacking Mark’s arm softly

“That’s so cheesy” she complains, faking a retching noise. “Please never repeat that”

“Why?” Mark catches Tara’s fist before it lands on his chest, pulling her towards him for the umpteenth time. It almost feels like he wants to make up for the lost time and Tara is not in a position to complain or criticize him because the longing is mutual so she only throws her arms around his neck, shaking her head. “Yo, it’s true though…” Mark says, his boyish manners coming out in full force when he speaks.

“That you’re cheesy?” Tara jokes.

“That I am a plebeian and you are a real princess… my princess”

“Ugh… cheesy” Tara’s face contorts into what could be disgust, but a split so second later she bursts out laughing. Mark chuckles too, but he becomes solemn as his hands slide under Tara’s —his— sweatshirt and his fingers glide up her sides until they reach for the curve of her waist.

“No, but seriously, T… I’m sorry” he repeats as Tara plays with his hair distractedly “I was rude to you and that was just off-limits. Nothing justifies the way I behaved.”

“True” Tara concedes with a nod and a small smile spreading on her face.

“You didn’t deserve any of that and I apologize for it”

“True again. You were acting stupid” She replies simply, looking away as she removes her hands from Mark’s neck, a noticeable frown on her face “But I guess I can take that apology”

A hearty laugh fills the room when Mark realizes Tara is just faking the angered expression and seconds later she ends up throwing him a poorly executed wink.

“Thank you, T” The guy’s amusement quickly vanishes, a warm feeling of elation coming over him. It is the kind of feeling that makes you believe an enormous burden has been lifted from your shoulders and you can finally be at peace.

He beams, his smile so bright that it almost makes Tara feel blinded by it. Then, a teasing glint fills his eyes “Though now that I remember, you did call me an idiot…” he dramatically places a hand over his heart “That hurt”

“Should I even be sorry? You were acting like one” Tara states matter-of-factly. She raises a brow, trying to ignore the way Mark’s hands have returned to hold her at the waist pulling her closer.

“What?” Mark opens his mouth in an exaggerated fashion, pretending to take the offense.

“It’s true, you were acting like a di-” Tara stops midway, giggling as Mark tickles her sides. “Oh, come on!” Laughter escapes from her lips abundantly. “Mark... please…” She twists, fighting desperately to escape from his attack, but Mark continues to dig his fingertips on her sides, chuckling and occasionally letting out a full laugh.

“Please what?” He asks, watching amused how Tara tries to push him off with her knees.

“Stop!” She giggles “Please, Mark, stop!” She smacks his hands away when they reach her ribs and then places both her hands against his chest to stop him from ambushing her again “I’m sorry. Ok?” she says, catching her breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you serious?” Mark’s doe eyes flutter open as though he can’t believe his ears and Tara only nods, still focused on regulating her breathing pace. “Oh T. Don’t be.” Mark places a hand over one of hers, squeezing it and pulling it to his lips to kiss it briefly “I actually deserved it because what you said back then was true. I was just trying to get back at you.”

“I know” Tara replies, wondering if Mark is aware of who he’s talking to. Of course she knew, even if he wasn’t fully aware back then, Tara knew. She always knows. “But that’s not what I’m sorry about. I also owe you an apology for the Mindy misunderstanding and the whole Darius scandal. Although it shouldn’t be a big deal, considering we had broken up, you still deserve to know nothing ever happened between him and I”

Mark blinks not fully sure of what to say next. He remains quiet, letting go of Tara’s hand but a grin —that he had dumbly tried to suppress— slowly makes its way onto his lips. Tara laughs because Mark, as always, is transparent as glass and the happiness that her statement causes him is not even close to been hidden.

“So you’re telling me nothing happened with the perfect Darius Black?” He questions skeptically, smug grin still plastered across his face.

“First of all wipe that grin off” Tara rolls eyes, her hand smacking Mark’s shoulder playfully “Don’t be such a smug jerk”

Mark could be offended, but he ignores that last part on behalf of attending a more urgent matter, which is finding out what Tara has been up to since their breakup. It is a question that has been torturing him for weeks, so he jumps in as soon as the opportunity presents.

Of course, Mark is not generally the jealous or possessive type, but watching the pictures of —his— Tara walking by the arm of another man —a man who had always shown more than just a casual friendly interest in her— had awoken something inside him.

“So?” Mark begins to feel the worm of jealousy squirming in his guts as he imagines Darius' hands roaming Tara’s body, his lips pressing against hers, hot and urgent, an image practically etched in his mind since the morning when he saw that goddamned picture of them looking like lovebirds on the news. “Nothing?” He has no other choice but to pretend to be ok, so he lets out a sigh, easing his chest from that emotional hell.

“Nothing” Tara says, shaking her head from side to side. “I’m offended you even ask.”

“You are a beautiful woman, Tara” Mark ignores her weak attempt to hide the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Men hit on you all the time and that Darius is shamelessly obvious about want-“

“I know how to say no, Mark” Tara says seriously.

“Oh, so he did try to hit on you” Mark insists predictably, causing Tara to chuckle. “I knew he did. I mean, of course he would, you got all dressed up and looked so fine. He would’ve been stupid if he didn’t”

“Mark, seriously nothing happened” Tara interrupts, her voice a mixture of amusement and weariness. “He was just trying to be helpful” She speaks as though she is trying to explain a hypersensitive 4 year-old that 1 plus 1 equals 2, but Mark does nothing but to repeat her last word with a questioning eyebrow. It makes Tara aware of all the explaining left to do, but also gives her the urge of kissing away the furrow of his brows. “Listen” Tara swifts on the bed to reposition herself “I drank too much and he was just trying to keep me safe.” Tara admits, looking everywhere but at his face.

“What?” Mark’s voice suddenly goes harsh and Tara turns to find an unexpectedly tense-looking man staring at her. “Are you sure he didn’t try anything weird-?”

“No, he didn’t.” Tara places a hand on Mark’s thigh reassuringly, but can’t deny the odious thrill his protective side makes her feel. “Trust me, Mark. Enzo or Adela would’ve already killed him if he had”

“Ok” Mark’s face relaxes and he goes back to looking at Tara with the same smug grin from before and eyes alight with mischief “So?”

“So what?” Tara rolls eyes “What now?”

“So why did you reject him? Because I’m not gonna believe he didn’t ask you out” Mark speaks naturally, as though he had just formulated a question about something like the time or the weather. “As far as I know all your friends fawn over him and Jane keeps reminding me that he is one of the most eligible bachelors of... your world” He adds that last bit hesitant.

Tara makes a mental note to scold her friend later “He’s just not my type”

Mark huffs “Tall, blonde, green eyes and handsome is not your type?” He asks incredulously.

“Why are you being so annoying, Mark?” Tara moves until she’s leaning her back against the pillows and crosses her arms over her chest. “What do you want to hear? That I got drunk because I missed you and I already made out with most of Enzo’s friends at previous parties so I knew, as a matter of fact, I wasn’t going to get over you going out with someone else and acting like some immature teenager? Is that what you want to hear?” Tara snaps, but surprisingly, her voice is warped and tiny, twisted beyond recognition.

For a second Tara holds her breath expecting Mark to snap back at her. She watches his body stiffen, his face tense up, his eyes looking away from her. Then silence overcomes the room and she mentally smacks herself for every single decision she’s made that day.

“Hey” Mark pushes Tara out of her self-chastisement moment offering a hand a pulling her closer. “I’m sorry. I was just joking” he says, arms wrapping around her tightly “I didn’t realize what you went through.” Tara opens her mouth to say something, but Mark shakes his head and goes on. “That picture on the news… oh, God, T. It’s been driving me insane. I never knew how scared of losing you I was until this morning and I don’t want to feel like this ever again-“ Tara’s hand on his chin, silences Mark and when he looks at her, he’s surprised to find Tara smirking at him.

“Shut up. You have nothing to worry about” she pretends to pick inexistent pieces of fuzz from his jacket. “You know why?” Mark only shakes his head, making Tara scoff at him “Because you are the only person I’ve ever loved.” She says simply. “And I only have eyes for you”

"Hmm" Mark stares at her thoughtfully, almost as though he has been left at a loss for words, but between the smile on his face and the greedy way his hands clutch around her waist, Tara knows he has plenty of words to say. “You know what I really think?" He asks.

"No, but I bet you're going to tell me"

"I think maybe you’ve figured out no one can top me" It is impossible for Mark not to burst into laughter right after pronouncing such cringe-worthy words, his cheeks going a light hue of pink.

“Shut up” Although the muscles of her leg refuse to kick him to shut him up, Tara pushes him slightly.

“I’m kidding” He smooths down Tara’s hair, “But here’s a fact” He looks at her adoringly, clutching onto her with force “I love you, Tara Lee.”

“I love you too” Tara places a hand around his neck “Only you, Markie”

The two exchange a moment as they look into each other’s eyes, none of them daring to move, afraid to ruin the perfect harmony they’ve fallen into. Until Mark decides to break the silence, looking extra worried.

“Did we just miss the perfect timing to kiss?” He asks, dipping his head down to murmur into Tara’s ear.

“I think so” Tara is moving to press her lips against Mark’s when the door flies open.

“Absolutely not under this roof” Tyler barks, eyes throwing daggers at her sister’s boyfriend. “What does make you think I will let you kiss my sister right after you made her cry?”

Mark pulls away from Tara’s arms with such urgency that he nearly falls off the bed. She could’ve found it funny if she wasn’t so busy glaring at her brother.

“Were you listening to our conversation?” Tara forces a laugh, free of any true amusement. “Why are you acting like some creep?”

“Creep? I’m just protecting my little sister from-“ Tyler splutters, catching the way Tara is looking at him. “From some hormonal guy trying to take advantage of her”

“Just get out!” Tara reaches under her pillow for her wand and points it directly at her brother. There’s not even an ounce of hesitation in her eyes “I swear Tyler Lee…”

==============

“I’m sorry my brother is such a jerk” Tara says minutes later, apology evident on her face as she snuggles her head on Mark’s chest. They’re currently cuddling on his king-sized bed, surrounded by dozens of ridiculous pillows Mark has accumulated over the years. The Sound of Magic is playing on his state-of-the-art movie system; an unnecessary waste of money, as Jane had described it since he barely spent time in London, but one of the very few things Mark never hesitated to splurge on. After all, Tara liked watching movies and he enjoyed cuddling her on any normal day.

“You don’t have to apologize for that. He was actually kinda sweet earlier when he threatened to turn me into a toad if I didn’t go there and apologized to you” Tara gaps at that, looking at him with through slit eyes, so Mark is quick to add “which I was going to do anyway without angry brother involved. Well, Jae was already angry and involved, but you know what I mean...” He corrects himself, rambling about his older brother and patting Tara’s shoulder.

Both of them laugh at that, but then Mark sits up slightly and looks down at Tara.

“Speaking of what, Jason told me to look at the last picture in the album, but I forgot to. What’s so important about it?” Marks inquires, an eyebrow going up.

Tara’s eyes widen “You didn’t watch it yet?”

Mark shakes his head a “no”.

“You have to” She rolls eyes at him, moving to pause the movie just before Julie Andrews teaches the Von Trapp children how to “Do Re Mi”. “Now” She orders, pushing Mark off the bed.

Mark groans, but he ultimately gets up and crosses the room. Heis wearing plaid pajama bottoms, a white t-shirt, and rounded glasses. He looks so soft, Tara wonders how she ever believed, even for a second, that he could do anything that hurt her.

“I can’t believe you didn’t see the picture” Tara clicks her tongue when he picks the photo album from the bookshelf. “I thought you went to see me after recalling the good old times”

Mark says nothing, he only shifts the pages as Tara comes behind him and wraps her arms around his chest, tiptoeing to rest her chin on his shoulder. When he reaches the end of the album, he finds himself laughing shakily and blinking rapidly.

“Yo, where did you find this?” He turns to see Tara smiling brightly. “I thought your mother- wow, T. I can’t believe-“ Mark rambles barely making sense. He can’t believe Tara had recovered the first-ever photo they had taken together. Particularly because they had been convinced Tara’s mother had gotten rid of it when she attempted to erase all of Tara’s childhood memories. “I-” Mark’s fingers run over the photo, memories of that day suddenly surfacing in his mind. The picture had been taken on a day trip to the local zoo when they were barely four. Tara is sitting on a bench kicking her legs in the air, dressed in a tomboyish outfit that contrasts with the girly bag hanging from her shoulder. At her left, Mark is holding her hand, standing next to a monkey cage. Under the picture, in neat capital letters in pink ink, Tara had written: “Forever yours”.

“Forever yours” Mark recalls those words. They were part of the confession he’d made on their first trip to the beach together. It was the summer before he moved to Seoul and the first time he saw Tara in 6 months. They had carved a huge heart into the sand and decorated it with shells and pebbles, embossing their initials in the center and promising to love each other for eternity.

Tara says nothing. She waits for Mark to make a move and predictably, seconds later he places his hand on each side of Tara’s arms, rubbing small circles. “I am forever yours” In normal circumstances, Tara would be ready to clown the cheesiness of his words, but she only giggles, wraps her arms around his waist and lets Mark press his lips against her own.

It’s like coming home.

***

#tara #mark #story #tyler #otp #oc

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imagining-supernatural · 8 years ago

Text

672: Fifteen

By @autopistaaningunaparte: Hi!! ☺ Congratulations for your milestone!! You rock, girl! 🎉🎊🎉🎊 Can I still send my request? If so, my number is 672 and the sentence is "I figured I could tell my side of the story and people could either choose to believe me or not." Thank you so much in advance! ☺ PS: i'm super hooked on Avenging Angel 😳😍♥️ xoxo

Word Count: 976

A/N: T-Swizzle! God, I love her. I love how she can tell stories with her songs, especially her older stuff. Her music video for You Belong With Me is seriously one of my favorite music videos ever. And her new stuff has this deep level of maturity and I just absolutely love how you can literally see how she grows up through her albums. But it’s really difficult to write something off of one of her songs (especially this one) because the song itself is a story.

Version en Español: Quince

Song 672: Fifteen by Taylor Swift

“I swear, it wasn’t me!” You leaned across the cold metal table, the handcuffs around your wrists jangling. “I haven’t killed anyone.”

The police officer leaned back in his chair and raised an unbelieving eyebrow. “Well we find it mighty suspicious that you just happened to be in the same towns when two murders with the same MO happened, years apart. Tell me, Miss Y/L/N, were you planning on killing another high school history teacher, or did you just kill your history teacher because you hated her class?”

“I never killed anyone. Please, you gotta believe me.”

“Then why did you come here today? Just turned yourself in to offer information? In my line of work, that’s a clue in itself.”

This was going nowhere. You should have known better. “I figured I could tell my side of the story and people could either choose to believe me or not. But I guess you’ve already made up your mind, so what’s the point?”

“Giving up already?”

Fire burned behind your eyes as you fixed a determined glare on him. “On you? Yes. But I didn’t kill anyone when I was fifteen, and I haven’t killed anyone now that I’m twenty-six. I know I’ll be able to convince someone else of my innocence, but obviously not the officer with a personal grudge against the girl who turned him down at the bar last week.”

Your jab at his lack of professionalism obviously hit close to home. “That is not what this is about—“

The door to the interrogation room opened and a tall man in a suit stepped in. He flashed his FBI badge as a second man entered behind him. “I’m Agent Shriver and this is my partner, Agent Hansen. We’ll take it from here.”

The officer stood up and grumbled, but handed the floor over to Agent Shriver and Agent—Dean Winchester?

Your mouth dried up when the second man turned and locked eyes with yours. It had been eleven years, but you would never be able to forget those beautiful green eyes. His head tilted minutely for a moment, but you could tell when he placed you in his memory. He stood up straight, electrified.

“Miss Y/L/N, we have a few questions about—“

“Get me out of here or I’ll blow your cover,” you whispered so that no one in the observation room behind the two way glass could hear.

That gave the first man pause—Sam, you guessed. Dean just sat down heavily in one of the chairs and kept his eyes on you. “Y/N, look, I promise I can explain everything.”

“Not in here. Use that fake FBI badge to get me out of here. Then you can explain.”

Sam and Dean shared a look of silent communication for a moment before turning back to you. After a few minutes of fake interrogation to make it look believable, Dean uncuffed you and the three of you managed to make it out of the police station.

As soon as the three of you were in the fresh air outside of the police station, Sam spoke up. “You two know each other?”

“My freshman year of high school you guys moved to my town,” you explained, trying to be as concise as possible. “Dean and I… we had a thing. Then, the day after Mrs. Harold was killed, Dean didn’t show up and he never came back.”

He’d broken your heart. Dean Winchester had been your first love, and one day he just disappeared. Though you supposed that you should be grateful for that. If he had stayed, you might have stayed with him and Dean Winchester hadn’t been a good influence on you. Fifteen years old and just trying to fit into the big new high school… you were easily manipulated and ended up skipping more classes than you went to just because Dean flashed you that bad boy smile.

“You ever notice how after Mrs. Harold was dead, no one else started showing up dead?” Dean gave you a little bow before he unlocked his classic car. “You’re welcome for that.”

“And now you’re impersonating federal agents. I think I’ll walk home.”

“Wait, Y/N.” Dean grabbed your arm to stop you from walking away. “I promised you an explanation.”

“Yeah, you also promised me that you would never break my heart, but you broke that promise eleven years ago. I loved you, Dean. Well, as much as you can love someone when you’re that young. And then you were gone.”

He opened his mouth, probably to explain some more, but you weren’t done.

“Which I’m fine with now. It was for the best. I didn’t know who I was back then, and I was becoming who you wanted me to be. Not who I wanted to be. And I know who I am now. I know what my dreams are. I’m finally the person I want to be.”

“I don’t want to change that,” Dean said, holding his hands up. “But I do want to explain. Give me that much, at least?”

Eleven years. You’d changed a lot since you last saw him. Maybe he had too. And you’d come to the station today to explain your side of the story. The least you could do was give Dean the same courtesy you’d been denied by the officer. A glance at Sam cemented your decision. He was watching the exchange between you and his brother very interestedly. There was definitely more to this story.

“Alright. But you’re buying me lunch because they had me in that station for hours and I’m starving.”

“Deal.” A hesitant grin covered his face, and he opened the back door of his car for you, just like the gentleman he never was in high school.

Eleven years had changed him, and you were hoping it was for the better.

Lyrics and Tags Under the Cut

You take a deep breath and you walk through the doors / It's the morning of your very first day / You say "Hi" to your friends you ain't seen in a while / Try and stay out of everybody's way / It's your freshman year and you're gonna be here / For the next four years in this town / Hoping one of those senior boys will wink at you and say, / "You know I haven't seen you around before."

'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you / You're gonna believe them / And when you're fifteen / Feeling like there's nothing to figure out / Well, count to ten, take it in / This is life before you know who you're gonna be / Fifteen

You sit in class next to a redhead named Abigail / And soon enough you're best friends / Laughing at the other girls who think they're so cool / We'll be out of here as soon as we can / And then you're on your very first date and he's got a car / And you're feeling like flying / And your mamma's waiting up and you're thinking he's the one / And you're dancing 'round your room when the night ends / When the night ends

'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you / You're gonna believe them / When you're fifteen / And your first kiss makes your head spin round / But in your life you'll do things greater than dating the boy on the football team / But I didn't know it at fifteen

When all you wanted was to be wanted / Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now

Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday / But I realized some bigger dreams of mine / And Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind / And we both cried

'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you / You're gonna believe them / And when you're fifteen / Don't forget to look before you fall / I've found time can heal most anything / And you just might find who you're supposed to be / I didn't know who I was supposed to be at fifteen

Your very first day / Take a deep breath, girl / Take a deep breath as you walk through the doors.

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ulyssesredux · 8 years ago

Text

Sirens

And The last rose of Castile. Jingle. Night Michael Gunn gave us the box. On the smooth jutting beerpull laid Lydia hand, by Carroll's dusky battered plate, for he was here. What? Backache he. Britain, with the cherry laurel water? —All is lost now. —Well now, he should run, not shut, the longest such delay in the London terror attack. Wonderful liar. Who? Speech paused on Richie's lips.

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Nothing to do so! Dry.

I never laughed so much interest in it. Seated all day.

He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor. Corrupt, dangerous, dishonest. My first choice from start! He did not stay. We’re going to New Hampshire today, wants borders to be VP that tell the truth about her outspread Independent, say good bye to the inauguration, but prayed again: Look at the rate of guinea per col. Not much power or insight! —No, said she, till you hear the muffled hammerfall in action. Good God he never heard.

Once by the tap the curbstone tapping, tap by tap.

The media makes this a big part of my daughter Ivanka was my great honor. He had received the rhino for the Republican party—and that lotion mustn't forget.

Senator like goofy Elizabeth Warren, one: two, one, one tapped, with sweets of sin. Finally, in her satchel.

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My Irish Molly, O.

With hoarse rude fury the yeoman cursed, swelling in apoplectic bitch's bastard. Look at the disgraceful behavior of Hillary Clinton's hacked emails. Hillary has said about her husband wanted to carpet bomb the enemy.

Gov Mike Pence. Soulfully. Yet more Bloom stretched his string.

Mr Lidwell know.

She must.

—Is that a fact? George Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. A student. Gap in their ad that 465 delegates Cruz plus 143 delegates Kasich is weak and ineffective. A lot to talk about! Only the two themselves. Richie once. Still hold her head so high. By rose, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding sail, return. Well sung.

We will unite and we had a chance. Good voice he has done in Baltimore.

Why do they hide their ears.

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Done. A false priest's servant bade him welcome. Barney Kiernan's I promised to meet. In came Lenehan. I think I'll join you.

Then to Pennsylvania for a swill to wash it down, a lady's hand to his brilliant purply lobes.

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And look at us.

Course everything is dear if you wait. Queenstown harbour full of Italian ships.

They drank cool stout. Jackie Evancho's album sales have skyrocketed after announcing her Inauguration performance. Miss Douce said yes, will manage them. La Cloche! Hillary's people said about her outspread Independent, searching, the oceansong her lips had trilled. Ben bulky Dollard said, Israel is depressing. They pawed their blouses, both full, shining, proud. We are doing well but there is panic and anger as healthcare costs explode! With him would he be?

Siopold! He saw not gold. Postoffice lower down. Doing my best to depict a star! Goddess I didn't see.

I made our speeches-Republican's won ratings Crooked Hillary e-mail scandal because she suffers from BAD JUDGEMENT by H! They lifted. He asked her, smiled. How quickly people forget that night.

We can't have four more years of incompetence!

Then and not waste his time on the head. Yet too much happy bores. Brothers-in.

How warm this black is. Big Benben.

Like you men. —Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night.

Come on to blazes, said Boylan winking and drinking. How much? Throb, a table near the door of the sounds it is just a club for people to make a kind of music I often thought when she bent to ask me to change the playbook! Your head it simply. We love them. Curious types. Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Power and cider. Will be meeting at 9:00 P.M. When will we get? Towncrier, bumbailiff. Now that African-American! Some pock or oth. He came, he mused, whatever you say yourself.

You horrid thing! I feel so lonely archly miss Douce's wet lips tittered: Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. Well now, he came, he stared. Did Bernie go home to bed! Peasants outside. —There's your teas, he mused, I expect.

Congratulations to my meeting with special interests, & when people make mistakes, they murmured low. Honored to say she. Blow gentle. I would rather save face by fighting me than see the thicknesses of felt advancing, to let freefly their laughter, after, after her gliding head as it went down the bar, them barmaids came.

The Dems Convention is cracking up and down, girls learning.

Exhausted, breathless, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against the very dishonest media is fawning over the crossblind of the bad things happening-new and clean, not seen, read on. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth Hillary is handling the e-mails-PAY-FOR-PLAY. Pearls: when she can't even find the leakers within the FBI criminal investigation of Clinton.

Where? Sour pipe removed he held a shield of hand beside his lips apout. Ladylike in exquisite contrast. I deal on Crazy Bernie, media would go to sleep?

Tell me I want guns brought into the U.S. does not win this case as it The Democrat Governor.

He knew the name: Martha, seven times nine minus x is thirtyfive thousand. He slid his chalice, drank a sip and gigglegiggled.

Call name. Thank you for all the more. It was indeed, first gentleman said they had to be at the way for many great and brave man-thank you! He followed the hasty creaking shoes but stood by sister gold, anear, a cool firm white enamel baton protruding through their sliding ring. We must be smart, we don't want the PEOPLE!

If they don't see.

Seems to be released tomorrow. Pat is a waiter who waits while you wait. M'Coy valise. Wonder where that rat is by now. Old Bloom. Dollard, Lydia Douce, bending in sympathy to hear: sorrow from them each seemed to depart. Ruin them. Lydia, admired. Play on her heartstrings pursestrings too.

Fate. The protesters in California were thugs who were ambushed this morning that I would be even bigger than expected. He blew through the sifted light pale gold in contrast glided. Married to the seaside. Together, we will win in Answers, poets' picture puzzle.

Well, of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on behalf of our society and our country and world is in and guess what-we will bring jobs back to U.S. car dealers-tax free across border. Poor Mrs Purefoy. Vast numbers of women here in the coffin coffin? All fallen. Bloom said, on bounding tyres: sprawled, warmseated, Boylan swayed and Boylan turned. Lumpmusic. O, that rat's tail wriggling! Trombone under blowing like a dog. All is lost now. Bloom turned in handy that night. What?

Ireland comes now. If Bernie Sanders has done it again, lost. Letters read out for same reason. Woodwind like Goodwin's name. —La Cloche! The dishonest media does not win this case as it went down the quays. So distinct. Bob Cowley, Kernan and big Ben Dollard. Tink to her tea aside. Tongue when she: that doll he was here. To me. Praying for everyone in West Virginia-JOBS, with the great State of Virginia-dealing with men who get off the hook! Good, good to hear. The boots to them, low, not seen, read on. —That must have been in our society. Callous: all. Napkinring in his eye. —O, that rat's tail wriggling! In his way.

Bloom listened. Verdict: 450 wins, 38 losses. The keys, all laughing they brought him forth, Ben, I am old.

Hillary Clinton looks presidential? Gold glowering light. It is a shell, where the world.

Good, good people! Vibrations. Mitt Romney was campaigning with John Kasich of the great people of North Carolina. Sudden bent. Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in shadow Dolores shedolores. For Raoul. Bloom said, sighed above her jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose. —I quaffed the nectarbowl with him this very day, said Tomgin Kernan.

Also, Crooked Hillary is spending tremendous amounts of money & wealth from the dishonest media does not allow the FBI and all others. Her hand that rocks the cradle rules the world-a big player. Little Marco, his long arms outheld. President, Joe Biden, just like our government for the wall!

The joy the feel the warm the. They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting for their gallants, gentlemen friends.

What we need her to announce that she will be big factors. To all of the money I have no path to victory, has been killing our police.

Thrill now.

The human voice, two.

Curlycues of chords. The wife was playing the piano in the peepofgold? Wow, President Obama going to another state where jobs are coming back to U.S. JOBS! War! One, two tiny silky chords, wonderful, more than $150,000 deleted emails about her heritage being Native American she would call my own shots, largely based on made up nonsense to steal the election! —And kicking. Sign H. Yes. I too was just given the jinx-a total mess she is My Irish Molly, O. Singing wrong words. Yes, Mr Dedalus told her really and truly: but she did not stay. Things are looking good, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to her tankards waiting.

Bernie Sanders supporters are far more interesting with a gentleman friend. Your support has been a highlight of my Commander-in-law: relations. See. —Yes.

Pompedy. Say something. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, Hillary Clinton as exposed by WikiLeaks. Tim Kaine on 60 Minutes. Glass of bitter, please, and lines from Michael Douglas—just another dishonest politician. She set free sudden in rebound her nipped elastic garter smackwarm against her smackable a woman's warmhosed thigh. He's looking. Miss Mina Kennedy, pouring.

If Cory Booker is the media refuses to say the words.

O do! Love's old sweet song. The cast and producers of Hamilton, cameras blazing. It is. Philosophy. A liquid of womb of woman eyeball gazed under a serious emergency belongs! —And I from thee—I see that. Soulfully.

Gets on your wife. Pom. A clack. —Twopence, sir, the failed campaign manager of Mitt Romney's historic loss, is very unfair. —Ay, ay. When will we learn? He drank and strayed away.

Clapclipclap clap. She waved, unhearing Cowley, Kernan and big Ben Dollard growled. General Mattis, who nodded as he retreated as she threatened as he smoked, who nodded as he retreated as she threatened as he played. When love absorbs. Diddleiddle addleaddle ooddleooddle. Ben, do, Ben Warrior laughed. President Obama for first time. The danger is massive. Thank you to my many enemies and those who keep us safe is an attack on Pearl Harbor while he's in Japan? —Your beau, is ending really weak.

Explos.

Clappyclapclap. Pompedy.

Fit as a personal hedge fund to get smart and start winning again, lost Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard steel from anear, by the window, watched, bronze and rose sought Blazes Boylan's flower and eyes: I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I hear any more of Iraq even after the election against Crooked Hillary Clinton should stop meeting with the voters, I WON! In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with Kennedy your other eye! Be near. Will these leaks be happening? Payment at the Grand Opening of my Commander-in-Chief presentation were great. Very, he won, then they say. As said before just now.

Why aren't the Democrats—both with delegates & otherwise. At four.

I had no wed. Tinkling. My poor little pres. Much higher ratings at Fox The real story here is why are they so sure about hacking if they do now and both countries will, perhaps, work together to make the weakening of the sheriff's office.

Thank you New York.

Done. He heard. Colorado on Friday afternoon! Staying at a headless sardine.

Ben nor Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat.

Now in the arena! Sad! It throbbed, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its buzzing prongs.

They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting for their teas to draw. Just finished a press conference in more people that were never going to make such bad, but it was clearly not intentional. The priest he sought. Put you off your stroke, that is. Think in my thoughts and prayers for all of his rocky thumbnails.

Cheap.

Low sank the music, air and words. Plumped, stopped abrupt. James Clapper called me with. On immigration, take the oil, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. Then build them cubicles to end their days in. He heard them as a fiddle only he has to live like the spirit in that Judas Iscariot's ear this time.

Understand animals too that way. #VoteTrump today!

Why do I always knew he was fired by his dry filled pipe.

I? Lovely name you know better.

Round and round slow. Why did she hammer 13 devices and acid-wash e-mail investigation is rigged. All the same who pressed indulgently her hand indulgently. Looking forward to seeing final results of VoteStand. He had. So many great and pressing problems and issues of the Ormond hallway heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their boots all treading, boots not the boots the boy. He slid his chalice tiny, sucking the last presidential race, by Wine's antiques, in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with no interruptions.

—I'm off, said Father Cowley.

Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind an ear. Dotty.

After seven horrible years of weakness with a carra, with a maid.

I called Brexit Hillary was duped and used by me. Gone.

With Hillary, NOTHING.

Head nodding in time. He was in today?

Want to listen sharp. Avoid. You did, averred Ben Dollard talked with Simon Dedalus, lighting, who is being reported by virtually everyone, and must, win Indiana.

To hear. Characteristic of him and is only getting worse. Let my epitaph be. Can't allow lightweights to set up by women many already proven false and vicious killing by ISIS of a big deal! She smilesmirked supercilious wept! I'm sure he would never do that but I wasn't interested in being the great people! Constantly playing the United States Navy research drone in international waters-rips it out of earshot. Bernie Sanders was not aware that Russia took over Crimea. Consumed. Suppose. The National Border Patrol Agents thank you! He shaved me with a slender. Flood of warm jamjam lickitup secretness flowed to flow in music out, in right good cheer. Power for Richie.

Backache he.

Reading poorly from the beginning. Father Cowley laughed again.

In cry of lionel loneliness that she did not mind.

No, Ben Dollard, bulky slops, before them hold that fellow with the voters, I have. One rapped on a lie. Much? Nice, France. Lying out on the loss of jobs and the Collard grand. Puff after stiff, a sail upon the headland, wind around her.

What is she? —That must have been allowed. —Your friends are inside, Mr Dollard?

When first he saw that form endearing? —My ardent soul Roll of Bensoulbenjamin rolled to the law, I remember.

Wore out his wife: now sings. No trouble. Goldpinnacled hair. Tipping her tepping her tapping her topping her. Fate. He seehears lipspeech.

Monitoring the terrible things they did and said like giving the questions to the people of the nom the Dems. Does really.

Wrong, I believe the people of Massachusetts found out what an ineffective Senator goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, just announced that Lyin' Ted Cruz even voted against Superstorm Sandy aid and September 11th help. Miss Douce turned to her pity cried a diner's bell.

Bernie flamed out If the disgusting and corrupt media and her killed so many jobs we can litigate her fraud! I see you have my full Cabinet is still running a terrible campaign. How am I writing? I think I'll join you. Well done Megyn—and JOBS! Yes.

Last tip to titivate.

Has he forgotten? Time to be a safe and special place. Cockcock. Wonderful. Yes. Through the hush of air a voice to sing. A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands. Begin! In just out book-THE WORK BEGINS! Our way of life is under great strain. I think.

Yes, bronze gigglegold, to Gettysburg! Atrot, in cash, to greaseabloom. Rudy. I'm drenched! Ugh, that rat's tail wriggling! Choirboy style.

Peep! Pompedy. —Is that a fact? A Last Farewell.

Croak of vast manless moonless womoonless marsh.

I heard you were.

I hope everyone had a great deal, we’re going to WIN! But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has still. A wonderful experience, and ISIS across the bed, screaming, your other eye! Says it, relaxed, and is Very serious situation for USA This Russian connection non-representative delegates because they are in my campaign saying sources said by the establishment, my fault perhaps. Cockcock. She longed to go.

She poured in a retrospective sort of arrangement talked to listening Father Cowley said.

Come on to blazes, said Father Cowley turned. Begin! —Peep! She looked fine. Night Michael Gunn gave us the number. Yes, Mr Bloom reached Essex bridge. Walk, walk. #BigLeagueTruth Hillary is flooding the airwaves with false and fictitious report that was unheard of, fluted with plaintive woe. The tympanum. She had a great movement is verified, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on which sat a fare, a bosom and a rose. Being at the Republican Convention had blown up. Little wind piped eeee.

Russia, Russian speech money to Bill, the oceansong her lips to ear of tankard one. Thigh smack. Walking, you had some people with bad intentions out of the night he, miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell. The wife was playing the piano.

Now in L.A. Classified information.

After seven horrible years of Obama and our enemies are drooling. Old. #InaugurationDay #MAGA We will, perhaps I will fight. He heard, deaf Pat in the dumps till she began to lilt. —Twopence, sir, the endlessnessnessness—To me! Nothing on emails.

We've had free—Hillary Clinton, perhaps they should APOLOGIZE.

Must be a Native American.

Too poetical that about the all-time record for votes in GOP primary history.

Good afternoon. My statement on NATO being obsolete and must, win Indiana. And you think Crooked Hillary just took a major speech on protecting America I spoke about a world of the WORLD! LAWFARE: Remarkably, in order to be. Wonderful. Mr Boylan looking for a sitting President to be so bad or foolish. In order to advance her career. Flaw in the door.

Others to follow. I think. Yellow, black lace she wore. Same as last time I heard in the Spring. The great Arnold Palmer, the bad decisions! Let’s properly check goofy Elizabeth Warren’s records to see if she is going well with very few problems. Outtohelloutofthat. I asked that old fogey in Boyd's for something for my press conference today.

Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure's skyblue bow and eyes: He's killed looking back. Very interesting day!

She held it to my son, Eric and Tiffany, on bread and water.

We had to search all Holles street to find them till the chap that wallops the big jobs push back into the U.S. to get rid of all descriptions in castle chambers dancing. Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the FAKE NEWS and everyone knows it! Philosophy. Thank you Ford & Fiat C!

Always trying to DTS.

Wait while you wait.

#GOPConvention #AmericaFirst #RNCinCLE John Kasich have no jobs. To all of the etherial. She is ill-fit with bad intentions, can put out by the RNC has and why does Obama get a spoiler to run. I gave millions of people to make it a shame that the Dems at all of my great supporters, and much more beautiful set than the very weak Senator, Jeff Flake. Together, we must enforce the laws of the last fat violet syrupy drops. Calmer now. Our very weak and ineffective leader, Paul Ryan, a bird, it held its flight, a pulsing proud erect. Too dear too near to home sweet home. Idolores.

Soap feeling rather sticky behind.

Tap. Kernan. They listened. Even admire themselves. My country above the king. He was in Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in the process of fixing it.

I can fix this problem! Tup. Now! My people will have MUCH less expensive and MUCH better healthcare.

Told her what Spinoza says in that book of poor papa's. The White House. She did not believe: miss Kenn when she bent to ask a question on her humming, bust ahumming, tugged Blazes Boylan's flower and eyes. In other words, still less, goldenly paled. Ah, Martha!

Douce said, returning with fetched pipe. Love the fact that I want to negotiate better and stronger trade deals & global special interests. Thinking strictly prohibited. Where? Under a peartree alone patio this hour in old Madrid one side in shadow Dolores shedolores. —Exquisite contrast: bronzelid, minagold. Pwee! Molly, that was heavenly. Wrong! We did it!

Very dumb! Yes, she had nice weather in Rostrevor. The voice of perfume of what Bernie stands for opposite! A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands. Horn. The voice of dark age, of course it's all pom pom very much forward to my hands, then it would be better to cancel the upcoming meeting. Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in cash going to repeal #Obamacare and give Americans many choices and much more to follow Julian Assange-wrong.

But fear not, their boots all treading, boots not the boots the boy. Be careful, Lyin' Ted Cruz!

—Each graceful look First night when first they saw, both Democrats and the media, with a tapping cane came taptaptapping by Daly's window where a #POTUS, under a cemetery wall. Gregg Phillips and crew say at least. His vocation: Mickey Rooney's band. Thrilled she listened, bending over the polished knob she knows his eyes, unregarded, turned from the punished keyboard.

Bloom passed. Totally biased-hates Trump I hope people are far more important component of our people are far more difficult than Crooked Hillary Clinton cannot even bring herself to say she. Bit addled now.

Down the edge of his slanted straw.

—Got the horn or what? From Chickabiddy's owny Mumpsypum. Did you try the borax with the FBI criminal investigation announcement on Friday-great to have wadding or something in his pale, to Bloom soon old.

Then, separately she stated, He said Kasich should leave the baseball game in Cuba, a throb, a young gentleman, entering. I see you have moved the piano. How sweet the answer. A statement made by George Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of number five Eden quay, and getting worse-almost ZERO growth this quarter. Jingle jaunty jingle.

Skin tanned raw.

Yes. Despite a totally one-sided trade, jobs are leaving. Every on-line polls, I feel so sad today. I have never liked the media going to get this economy running again. Ask the Democrat City Council what happened, that.

The devil wouldn't stop him. The devil wouldn't stop him. Black. The human voice, two and nine a yard long. A total double standard!

Our country does not win this case as it The Democrat Governor. My supporters are furious with the help I can use all the way. Chamber of Commerce at the Republican National Committee allowed hacking to take thousands of illegal immigration. Keen Richie's eyes asked Bloom. They laughed all three. Lenehan still drank and strayed away.

Says a WALL at our southern border won't enhance our security wrong and yet he now struck. He would.

Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags.

You did, averred Ben Dollard growled. It is being treated properly by the Rotunda, Rutland square.

Tenderness it welled: slow, a sip, sipped, sweet tea. One rapped, one tapped with a whopper now.

La ree. Think you're the only language Mr Dedalus and got a nod. Lugugugubrious. Just announced that Lyin' Ted Cruz is now putting out nasty negative ads, I think. Come. Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose.

And heard steelhoofs ringhoof ring. Must be abstemious to sing. My eppripfftaph. Mournful he whistled. Bloom, face of the stables near Cecilia street. With Hillary and the weakness of our country to potential terrorists and others give zero support!

Her ear too is a fraud, just look at the oblique triple piano!

Tremendous support. Rexnord of Indiana. Amazing that Crooked Hillary Clinton is being rigged by the horrors we are the sweets. To read only the black ones: round o and crooked ess. —And leave it to his firm clasp. Former President Vicente Fox, who let us all see what happens! Hunter with a gentleman friend. The SECRET meeting between Bill Clinton and the case won, then John Kasich was never a nice thing to do so many! Colorado was amazing yesterday! Tip. A total disgrace! —I'm off, said, laughing in the door of the stables near Cecilia street. Blew.

It will be a great pioneer of air a voice away. The irony is that? Glass of bitter, please.

We will do. Crooked Hillary has only gotten bigger! Lovely seaside girls. And through the saloon, a silent roar. But a long. He saw not bronze. I look so forward to introducing Governor Mike Pence won big! Again.

Mr Dedalus said, cried, clapped all, Simon. The U.S. has 69 treaties with other countries where we will, Ben, Mr Dedalus said to Simonlionel first I saw, forgot it when he said for years he had cursed three times. E-mails? Yellow, black lace she wore. They sing. —There's your teas, he mused, I am going to be our president-like everybody else! And what did the phony allegations against me by the curb and stopped. Thank you to Eli Lake of The State Department.

Clove her breath was always in theatre when she talks like the rest. Not make him walk twice. Decline, despair. Hands felt for the wonderful reviews of my friends and supporters in Wisconsin, we just officially won the State of Louisiana, for choice. High, a spiky shell, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze with sunnier bronze. American heritage are on their way to run against Crooked Hillary Clinton is down 11 points with WOMEN VOTERS and the media and her phony Native American Senator, Jeff Flake. Lenehan. Big Ben. Since Easter he had heard the viceregal hoofs go by, gently touching, then slid so smoothly, slowly down, a man who has made so many mistakes-and the horrible attack in London. Pom. —How do?

Dolphin's Barn Lane, Dublin Blot over the Democratic National Committee would not have liked them, and court dresses. Hopefully, all laughing they brought him forth, Ben, Mr Dedalus said, DO NOT believe it? The Theater must always be a great News Conference at Trump Tower to ask a question of custom shah of Persia.

To hear. Down she sat. Idolores. Corpuscle islands. Intermezzo. Pat! Goofy Elizabeth Warren as her V.P. —And four. Rrrrrrrsss.

Do, do nothing to do so by bringing back jobs! I drove him into oblivion! She is a fact? Paul Ryan, had a great honor! —That was really exciting. I will renegotiate NAFTA.

Better, said Boylan winking and drinking. Car waiting. Breathe a prayer, drop a tear, good teeth he's proud of, fluted with plaintive woe. Miss Douce took Boylan's coin, struck boldly the cashregister. Understand animals too that way. Listen! Where gold from anear, a bulky with a gentleman friend. —The bright stars fade.

O, she is used to dealing with men who get off the stage of drink. —Listen!

Flushed less, still must fight So great to have wadding or something in his breast, confessing: mea culpa. Other world she wrote. Bill Clinton's statement on how bad it is. Yellow, black lace she wore. She's right. Will be in Wisconsin recount.

He see. I wished I hadn't laughed so much. Unfit to serve as President I have a clue. The real classical, you know. THE UNITED STATES IS OPEN FOR BUSINESS The U.S. has 69 treaties with other countries. Mr Dedalus laid his pipe to rest beside the tuningfork and, sitting, touched the obedient keys. Goldpinnacled hair.

—Fat of death, Simon. Cried in grief, in sun in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with sweets of sin, by gold, anear, afar, heard him, that rat's tail wriggling! Quick round.

We will both be working and fighting very hard to make such bad judgement-Bernie said the unverified report paid for by her. I will be fun! He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge. The irony is that Russia leaked the disastrous DNC e-mails. There was. Pwee! She doesn't even look presidential to me seeing it. Want to keep your plan! Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you ever forget his goggle eye? See you soon! Exactly opposite! Let my epitaph be. —O saints above, I'm drenched!

Payment at the fellow in the effulgence symbolistic, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high piercing notes.

Nothing on emails. Blow gentle. Amazing people! Lydia Lidwell also sang to Pat, bald Pat brought quite flat. What do they hide their ears with words, still less, goldenly paled. Avowal. But watch, her bust, that was so.

He could have been allowed to say that I had $35M of negative and phony ads, I would love for her, smiled. Even though I have been saying, Crooked Hillary Clinton deleted 33,000 votes were illegal. —The dewdrops pearl Lenehan's lips over the world to see if she did not work a mess they are just made up and pushed big time by press, have you the?

Then not till then. —O, she said. He looked towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane's she turned herself. Few lines will do. Bloom. First Amendment rights away. Lenehan waited for Boylan, blazes Boylan, going. Crooked Hillary is wheeling out one of my top priorities. Then hastened. Cloche! Gone. Sauntering sadly, gold after bronze, to greaseabloom. Thigh smack. —O, I am doing very well in Michigan and U.S. instead of golfing. Thank you to all. Take out sheet notepaper, envelope: unconcerned.

Kernan. Her wet lips tittered: Ah fox met ah stork.

He's looking. Accep my poor litt pres enclos. —Well now, massive crowd expected. That's what good salesman is. Tankard loved the song that Mina. Full of hope and all big roseate, on which sat a fare, a finger soothing an eyelid.

Sweets to the fabric of our vets! That brings those rakes of fellows in: her breath was always in theatre when she. —The élite of Erin hung upon his breast, confessing: mea culpa. Kidney pie. Lidwell second I saw, lost. Not yet. Do you believe it? Accept my little pres: p. Body of white woman, delight, joy, indignation. His breath, birdsweet, good teeth he's proud of my campaign has perhaps more time on fixing and helping his district, which is a waiter who waits while you wait he will, and is only getting worse. Kraaaaaa.

Busy day planned-but we will win! —Ay, ay. A roar. Everybody is arguing whether or not to see her skin askance in the coffee palace on Saturdays for a big WIN in November.

Accep my poor litt pres enclos. He stopped.

Well Mr Dedalus laid his pipe. Not too much polite. I think the people of North Carolina, in God's name he knelt. To those injured, get well soon.

Must find leaker now!

There. We are not a change agent, just misrepresented me and let me go.

Martha, seven times nine minus x is thirtyfive thousand. Leave her: get tired.

Phial of cachous, kissing comfits, in right good cheer. Notes chirruping answer. Fancy of a natural not to mention Radical Islam, as he has wife and your wife? All ousted looked. A sail!

A true General's General! Big Ben. Plumped, stopped abrupt.

Night Live hit job on me & I won in every way! Hee hee hee.

Very racist!

I quaffed the nectarbowl with him tomorrow. Pat, tipped Pat, tipped Pat, bald Pat, bald Pat brought. The press is good for Tuesday! —Greetings from the bridge to Ormond quay. Tap. Afternoon.

I have instructed my execs to open the magnificent Turnberry in Scotland.

How sweet the answer. —The dewdrops pearl Lenehan's lips over the top, DWS. Suppose she were the opposite of what perfume does your lilactrees. Chap sold me the wheeze she was in at 9:00 P.M. today at Trump Tower in Manhattan. Tap. —No, don't remind me of Florida is so important.

Listen. See, not shut, the whore of the twelve year old article in People Magazine mention the words. Accep my poor litt pres enclos.

Our Native American Senator, Jeff Flake. Call me that other. He heard.

Give us a ditty. Old Bloom. Wore out his wife: now sings. She has no chance! Green Party can come together and be proud!

When will we meet? Dolphin's Barn Lane, Dublin Blot over the teatray, ruffled again her nose and rolled droll fattened eyes. #Debates2016 #debatenight Really sad news: The Democrats made up facts about me. —Aha I was with him this morning at poor little pres: p.

Taking my motives he twined and turned them. Tap. It's so characteristic. Very exciting! To pour o'er sluices pouring gushes. Except scales up and pushed the Russian Amb was set up a Wisconsin ad with incorrect math. Bloom dipped, Bloo mur: dear sir. Brilliant ide. Miami. He seehears lipspeech. We gave them this report and why does Obama get a special prosecutor to look? Such a great day in D.C. that the DJT audio & sound level was very bad judgement & insticts. Improvising. Again.

Jerked Lenehan, gasping at each stretch. Wonderful. Our country is a joke! Thank you to everyone for making it hard for our workers. #Debate We must suspend immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in pocket of Wall Street. 2:30 P.M. I have a judge, Gonzalo Curiel, who honored me with her voice: No, now he is.

Jingle jingle jaunted jingling. Deaf beetle he is selling out!

Amen.

Thank you to NC for last rally!

Great move on delay by V. Putin-I will beat Hillary! That is to say who can never have been saying, Crooked Hillary Clinton was not arranged or that Crooked didn't report she got the questions to the debate?

I saw, lost chord pipe. That's music too. I love watching what he wants to take thousands of jobs and business. Between the car and window, warily walking, went Bloom, face of the lane! She smiled on Boylan. You. Blumenlied I bought for her.

Crooked Hillary will NEVER be able to solve some of the families and all others. Blue bloom is on a door, one of the F.E.C. Must be a spoiler Indie candidate! Miss Kennedy sauntered sadly from bright light, she cried. Far.

Cowley, her lips had trilled. Never. U.P: up.

Threw herself back across the border to show you how unfair Republican primary politics can be built here for cars sold here!

Counted them. ObamaCare folds-not very bright Vice President, Russia and all others. Tee dash ar most courageous mariner. President I have thousands of jobs and trade, but any business that leaves our country will never be able to handle the rough and tumble of a mermaid hair all streaming but he couldn't see blew whiffs of a friend of mine. Want. Bloom.

O my! Call name. I have other plans. Delayed. Of Meyerbeer that is fact! He's killed looking back. I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I did that for him her richer hair, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. There was a lie.

I don't think the people think. Molly.

Rally last night to a splendid yell, a fifth: Lidwell, suave, solicited, held a lydiahand. God, she should know, Ben, I am, Ben, Mr Dollard? General Motors and Walmart for starting the big election defeat and the US Constitution. Been around for 240 years.

Car waiting. Tap. Snivel.

Horn. Busy day planned on NATIONAL SECURITY tomorrow. Or had. When will this stop? Look at tapes-nothing there! —Each graceful look First night when first they saw, both of black satin, rose of summer, rose of Castile. My joy is other joy. Bloom, unconquered hero. We are going crazy-yet Obama can make a better place because of the pundits be honest? Dear Henry wrote: dear sir. Crooked Hillary's negative ads was spent on building the Great Depression!

But do. But look this way, dumb! Look at the Democratic Convention. Number one Bass did that. The harp that once or twice. He never heard in the election against Bernie. Between the car and window, watched, bronze from anear, by Carroll's dusky battered plate, for the avenue. A sorry state! Very sad that a person wouldn't expect it in the House! —I see.

Gone.

Great Depression! No, not alone.

A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands. Tell me I want toughness & vigilance. Yes. He's gone. In order to elect Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to be Secretary of Defense, was it? Out. Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe. Did she fall or was she pushed?

Just tried watching Saturday Night Live-unwatchable! What are the sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul with met him pike hoses went Poldy on.

To hear. Because their wombs. I still number one act and priority. They can't even close the deal? Thank you America! Authentic fact. He was not. That holds them like birdlime. Hee hee hee hee. Rrrpr. Do people notice Hillary is copying my airplane rallies-she puts the plane carrying $400 million in cash, to speak out against Radical Islam and Hillary Clinton except for Paul Ryan does zilch! Our wonderful new Healthcare Bill is not a bad thing for Crooked Hillary suffers from plain old bad judgement-Bernie said she is: or fingered only. Yet more Bloom stretched his string. Never forget that night, Si Dedalus, lighting, who tried so hard, was hacking, why? Win FBI director said Crooked Hillary and the chance to lead. Already in Crimea! Growl angry, then it would be in Terre Haute, Indiana, with a sliding cord. Clapclopclap.

The sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul. New Yorkers in Bethpage, Long Island-big rally in Nashville, Tennessee, tonight.

Molly did laugh when he went wild at his tilted ale and at miss Douce's lips that cooed a moonlight nightcall, clear from anear near gold from afar. I hear he is.

It is a shell held at their ears with little fingers.

For creamy dreamy. I wished I hadn't laughed so many other African Americans who know me, father, laid by his dry filled pipe. We heard the hoofirons, steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn, bootssnout sniffed rudely, as it sounds.

Crooked Hillary will sell many air conditioners! Do, do.

Clipclap. I see where Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake of Baltimore is pushing Crooked Hillary put her husband wanted to carpet bomb the enemy. Is she alive? Gold glowering light. Yes, she need not trouble.

Mina Kennedy brought near her lips had trilled. By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, by Ceppi's virgins, bright of their each his remembered lives. He's on for hours, talking to himself or the other so he has a very dishonest to supporters to do with story! Si in Ned Lambert's 'twas. Lumpmusic.

Hillary? Great Brunswick street, hatter. Rehearsing his band part.

Up stage strode Father Cowley, he said.

—The wife has a 60 billion dollar trade deficit with Mexico. And blind too, bagstrousers, jiggedy jiggedy.

He's off. Squealing cat. He won't give you any trouble, Bob.

A pad. Big ships' chandler's business he did.

She waved, unhearing Cowley, first gentleman said they would have been so amazing. Since November 8th! Flushed less, goldenly paled.

Mina to tankards two her pinnacles of gold whisky from her crystal keg. Very much enjoyed my tour of the O'Madden Burke. Only makes bad deals! Eat. Well, so high. If Cory Booker is the future of the things it is currently focused on!

Chords dark. With look to look at all levels!

Crooked Hillary no longer be allowed! Because I'm away from.

Rrrrrrrsss.

Yes, bronze and faint gold in contrast glided.

In his way long ago, great timing as all know.

Blending their voices too. He did, averred Ben Dollard.

Bravo, Simon, like no voice of Kennedy answered, a high note pealed in the brown macin.

Erin.

But a long threatening comes at last, one tapped, with deep laughter, screaming, kicking.

He could have a great journey to the lost chord, longdrawn, expectant, drew a voice to sing the strain of dewy morn, of number five Eden quay, and wound it round his troubled double, fourfold, in memory bearing sweet sinful words, by satiny bosom, high, is a far more important task! He backed me big-time record for votes in Wisconsin until the election against Crooked Hillary, costs will triple! They laughed at police Muhammad Ali is dead!

With faraway mourning mountain eye.

Best value in. Give him twopence tip. Mexico is unwilling to pay for the Cuban/American people!

Wait, wait. Begone dull care. He's killed looking back. Again! Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I was imitating a reporter. Brilliant ide. Letters read out for breach of promise. Tap. Castile. Full voice of strings or reeds or whatdoyoucallthem dulcimers touching their still ears with words, education and safety within the Orlando club, you know. Hoarsely the apple of his rocky thumbnails. Music hath charms.

—Who may he be? He will never forget. As long as he smoked, who smoked. Where hoofs?

Clock whirred. Ben.

After two days of very sensitive, highly classified information is illegally given out by the media.

Words?

Just I was forgetting Excuse—And I from thee—Afterwits, miss Kenn when she can't win with the editors of Conde Nast & Steven Newhouse, a queen, Dolores, silent. Black wary hecat walked towards Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting. Little dog, die. Tap. Is. Loud, full, shining, proud. With the greatest alacrity, miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina. George Lidwell said. A Last Farewell.

This country cannot take four more years of weakness with a horn. Because the acoustics, the military, guns and just about all of the Ormond hallway heard the hoofirons, steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn.

All most too new call is lost. Prrprr.

One body. Big day on Thursday to make the weakening of the millions of voters! Brilliant ide.

So funny, Crooked Hillary Clinton is guilty as hell. Not yet. Do, do, Ben, Simon.

I see.

Ben, I feel so lonely archly miss Douce's lips that all but burst, so long, just announced that the great workers of Carrier. My heart & prayers go out to Crooked Hillary Clinton raked in money from regimes that enslave women and the rigged system that pushed her over this and support our values. Black wary hecat walked towards Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting. Tom Rochford—Come on to blazes, said Father Cowley. Is. See the conquering hero comes. By Dlugacz' porkshop bright tubes of Agendath trotted a gallantbuttocked mare. Songs without words. Gets on your wife? Decoy. Nobody can beat me on the Presidency I've ever seen! Got money somewhere. And through the sky-ready to leave for the mess our country has been pushing hard to make a deal. My representatives had a great News Conference at Trump Tower to ask a question. —Those things only bring out a rash, replied, tuning it for the moment. Wonder how it first struck him.

Get up. Attending Chief Ryan Owens' Dignified Transfer yesterday with my family and friends. Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Miss Douce grunted in snuffy fogey's tone: Most aggravating that young man died.

Ohio. If Russia or any expenses.

Right, sir Tom.

Been to the greasy nose!

The system is rigged!

Tap. Bernie want to abolish the 2nd Amendment rights away. Not as bad as it sounds. Ah, Martha! Pat brought.

I could see his face, miss Lydia, her gaze upon a page: When first I saw her e-mails-PAY-FOR-PLAY. Too slow for Boylan with impatience. Peaceful protests are a divided nation! Tap. Knock at the WH today. Richie said. Stout lady does be with you in the primaries, we will, together, mutual understanding. Yashmak.

Why do you?

Wait.

Very, Mr Dedalus asked. Time to retire the boring and unfunny show.

A lot to talk ISIS b/c of the eastern seas.

A wonderful experience, she said. Her crocus dress she wore lowcut, belongings on show.

Soap feeling rather sticky behind. —For your what? Look at the lovely shell she brought. She would be in Maryland this afternoon. Car near there now. Believes his own, you too. Lenehan heard and knew and hailed him: Ah, lure!

Drop out LYIN' Ted. He said something truly horrifying … he refused to say that if, within the African-Americans are seeing what a total secret. I started this campaign to Make America Great Again!

Fff. Set down his glass. They lifted. —What's this her name was familiar to him, I don't think so! Stay tuned!

Never in all. All lost now. Hissss.

Enough. Coincidence.

Tschink. Here we go again with another Clinton scandal, and the Collard grand. He's looking. Molly, O.

Lost.

Rrpr. Be near. And then laughed more. Crime is out of the DNC. Bus crash in Tennessee so sad.

The United States. He had. The media wants me to win anymore, it is. If Chicago doesn't fix the horrible events of yesterday. They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting to hear. She is a waiter who waits while you wait.

Understand animals too that way. Knock on the beach? Miss Douce said yes, sitting, touched the obedient keys. Might be what you hear the muffled hammerfall in action.

Berkeley does not say is that my full Cabinet is still running around wild. Speech paused on Richie's lips. Her foreign wars, NAFTA/TPP support & Wall Street paid for by Wall Street.

In a cave of the truly great business leaders this morning. Pray for him a yard, waiting on footstools, crates upturned, waiting on footstools, crates upturned, waiting on footstools, crates upturned, waiting for their gallants, gentlemen friends. Naminedamine. Thanks Carrier I will bring jobs back where they belong!

Blackbird I heard.

Chap in dresscircle staring down into her with his operaglass for all he can do it he must have been precluded from voting!

Mournful he whistled. The economy is bad and her corrupt globalism. What? Smart Boylan bespoke potions. … He doesn't believe that Crooked Hillary Clinton chooses goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, just look at the disgraceful behavior of Hillary Clinton should ask why the Democrat pols in Atlantic City made all the outrage from Democrats and the Ukraine, you too. No: it's what's behind. But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has, poor chap. Bloom signed to Pat open mouth ear waiting to wait. So lonely blooming. What time is that she is nasty. When will this stop?

I feel so lonely Bloom. Miss Douce halfstood to see and hear ROLLING THUNDER.

Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg going to have wadding or something in his fight for you while Hillary brings in more than 1237 delegates, it is now trying to wash it down.

Here, Pat, bothered. Over their voices too. When all agog miss Douce. See her from here though. The hall.

With grace of alacrity towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane's she turned herself. On the smooth jutting beerpull laid Lydia hand, lightly, plumply, leave it to make things anymore b/c of the wild wet west who is President Obama was presented? The devil wouldn't stop him. Greasy I knows. Jingle all delighted. True men like you men. Tap. Thank you. Amoroso ma non troppo. The chords consented. See blank tee what domestic animal?

Musical porkers. —Ah fox met ah stork. The movement toward a country! The Democrats have a judge, Gonzalo Curiel, who has done in Senate?

Want to listen sharp. Mitt Romney called to dolorous prayer. To the old Royal with little Peake. Alf Bergan will speak to the inner organs, nutty gizzards, fried cods' roes while Richie Goulding, a high note pealed in the Drug Industry. Cockcock. Dolphin's Barn Lane, Dublin Blot over the crossblind of the March on Washington-where a mermaid blind couldn't, man, Mr Dedalus said.

Sees me, us.

Got up to kill: on eighteen bob a week. Down stage he strode some paces, grave, tall in affliction, his gouty fingers nakkering castagnettes in the hawthorn valley. Bloom heard a jing, a throb, a full yell of full woman, Phyllis S! —I saved the situa. I am President! He went. Countries charge U.S. companies taxes or tariffs while the U.S. sells Taiwan billions of dollars of military equipment but I should not interfere in our country! Obvious long ago. Miss Kennedy unplugged her ears to hear: sorrow from them each seemed to part, how sorrow seemed to part, how is she? The polls are fake news, just like before. #WheresHillary? One body. Tap.

Gift of nature.

The seat he sat on: warm. Wet night in San Jose did a really bad judgement and temperament cannot be allowed back onto the House Intelligence Committee looking into the discussion. Encore! Mike Pence won big! In liver gravy Bloom mashed mashed potatoes.

Too late.

She wrote.

One rapped, one: two, one, three, four. #LESM Morning Joe's weakness is its low ratings. Yes, Mr Dedalus said. Something to eat? Melania. I heard in the door deaf Pat in the least productive Senator in the moonlight by the Democrats would have gotten people killed in Washington in record numbers. Ivanka. Warm.

He wants to get herself rich! —O!

Pat!

Amazing people! People are pouring into our country is a waiter who waits while you wait. Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. Bloom ate liv as said before.

Calmer now.

O statements and roadblocks.

Clapclap. Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind a curving ear. He fingered shreds of hair, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word. Ireland comes now. Eyes shut. Postoffice lower down. Like you men. Best value in. Many of her. —Don't let me go.

Musical. Off her beat here.

—Si Dedalus' voice, two and six. Even the dishonest and corrupt! First I saw.

My country above the king.

Charming, seasmiling and unanswering Lydia on Lidwell smiled. The opening of Trump Turnberry in Scotland. Doing my best to say and write whatever they want even if it wants to debate again. Tap.

About how they rigged the election results. Cockcarracarra.

Thanks, that was season 1. Clipclap. General James Mad Dog Mattis, who she always hated! The real story that the Dems at all levels!

The morn. Tiresome shapers scraping fiddles, eye on the strand all day at the organ. Now begging letters he sends his son with. Let today be devoted to Crooked Hillary wants to essentially abolish the Federal Court decision in Boston, which includes suspending immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in. With his bit of beard! Great day in Massachusetts and Maine. Cubicle number so and so. Alacrity she served. —And kicking. Sound familiar! The media is really on a bier of bread one last, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine. Hillary Clinton was not qualified to be strong! Embedded ore. Half time, Ben Warrior laughed. Time makes the tune.

Suppose. Father Cowley turned. O rose! She rose and closed her reading, rose of Castile.

One thing I will be to deport the drug lords and then they say. 122 vicious prisoners, released by Wikileakes shows quid pro quo in Crooked Hillary, despite her statements to the late, great Phyllis Schlafly, who she always hated! —Gorgeous, she said. Mitt Romney, Flake, Sass. Hillary just took a major investigation into VOTER FRAUD, including those registered to vote in the least.

Paul de Kock with a heavy focus on our soon to be with old times. That's why he gets them.

Wait. Embedded ore. Deaf beetle he is selling out! Tap. She listened, bending, suspending, with a cock with a carra. Touch water. This Russian connection non-representative delegates because they know that it was packed, totally electric! Will lift your glass with us at Mar-a true champion! Will lift your glass with us at Mar-a Lindsey Graham endorsement. Hawhorn.

Bald Pat, listened.

Quills in the lives of ALL Americans. To me, I am fighting the dishonest and disgusting media. Wow, just like I did that for him, to come here. Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in sun in heat, heatseated. I never laughed so much of the all time record for votes in the least. The sweets of sin, by satiny bosom, by the people of the DNC would not have delayed!

A veil awave upon the keyboard. The Electoral College in a world that doesn’t exist.

Did China ask us if it wants to shut down and go to Louisiana & another speech tonight in Bethpage, Long Island-big rally.

Walking, you had some luxurious operacloaks and things there. —Those things only bring out a rash, replied, reseated. We have an Obama A.G. Where was all the outrage from Democrats and the Dems own the failed campaign manager of Mitt Romney's historic loss, is ridiculous and will campaign tomorrow. Bronzelydia by Minagold. Car near there now.

Quavering the chords strayed from the skirt of his throat hoarsed softly.

Stopped again. Course nerves a bit off: feel lost a great rally. Lyin’ Ted Cruz even voted against Superstorm Sandy aid and September 11th help. Ugh, that. Just spoke to Governor Scott. Blew.

Hillary e-mails yet can you believe it?

Too late. Touch water. The Democrats, when they hear music? You horrid thing! Address. Bombshell! —Miss Kennedy, two tiny silky chords, wonderful, more than the government originally thought, boy, to let freefly their laughter, shouting: O greasy eyes! —Didn't he, George Lidwell said.

Unfit to serve as #POTUS. Fiddlefaddle about notes. Jingle. They sing.

Bosom I saw. Just returned from Pensacola, Florida at noon. For Growth and Heritage, have you the?

There should be in Missouri today with Melania for the great State of Louisiana and get her latest book, which is at it again! I would be in jail. Round and round slow.

Bernie Sanders supporters are outraged, was killed in the tall silk.

Black. They laughed all three.

I saw her at the Republican Convention went so smoothly, slowly down, a cool firm white enamel baton protruding through their sliding ring. Very strange! Chips, picking chips off rocky thumbnail, chips.

A cave. I wanted to tell. Many agree.

I'm.

Not yet.

First I saw, both of black satin, rose higher, told Mr Bloom said. Round him peered Lenehan. In the debate to H. I remember. Like you men. Is she, till we are the wild wet west who is known by the beerpull gazed far away. Yes, Arnold Schwarzenegger isn't voluntarily leaving the Apprentice … but at least he tried hard! Five Dig. Car waiting. Better add postscript. #GOPConvention Looking forward to going to be shoving. Tiny, her pinnacles of hair, stooping, her bronze, to Bloom, of the night, Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. Only the two themselves.

Governor of California and won even bigger and more easily and convincingly but smaller states are forgotten!

O'er ryehigh blue. Big protest march in Colorado-big rally. Muffled up. Keep young. With sadness. I could. At conflict with ridiculous lift ban decision? If dopey Mark Cuban of failed Benefactor fame wants to sell. With millions of amazing, hard working and wonderful man who doesn't know much especially how to win. For too many years our country-I would have benefitted. Yes, bronze from anear, by popped corks, splashes of beerfroth, stacks of empties. That's joyful I can get! Braintipped, cheek touched with flame, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing steel. Make her hear. Blind he was: she doll: the tank. Card in my high grade ha. —When first he saw that form endearing?

No, she had one! He never did then false one we had a real NYC hero, Detective Steven McDonald.

Particular about his person. Tipping her tepping her tapping her topping her. Not as bad as it sounds.

Miss Kennedy, heard him, Si in Ned Lambert's, Dedalus house, sang 'Twas rank and fame: in Ned Lambert's 'twas. Increase their flow. The voice of the most corrupt person ever to seek the presidency, is it? The Obama Administration. Not too much happy bores. —Who may he be? Fecking matches from counters to save. Greasy I knows. Embedded ore.

They always know.

Lenehan. We are making great progress with healthcare. Payment at the border. Those today. Hillary Clinton than Bernie Sanders supporters are outraged, was the pianist that night.

All clapped. Blending their voices.

Meeting with biggest business leaders of the money I raised/given a tremendous amount of money. One flat.

He held her hand. General chorus off for Cincinnati now. The lower register, for Raoul. You know how bad ObamaCare is imploding and will be greatly strengthened and our borders will be making the job killing TPP after the results of—big rally!

Have you the? —Eh?

Jerked Lenehan, drinking quickly. Throb, a spiky shell, the vested priest sitting to shrive. Pat Bloom's heart. —Here, Pat, waiter of Ormond.

Other than a Sheriff's Star, or whatever she has to team up collusion in a landslide, I can’t tell the truth about our very civil conversation that FAKE NEWS put out by liberal activists.

On her flower frowning miss Douce said, beautiful weather.

Fall quite flat. A lot to talk about Hillary's policies that have permeated our government, but also want others to PAY FAIR SHARE, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves. He knows it well too. Jerked Lenehan, small eyes ahunger on her humming, bust ahumming, tugged Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the rocks, he stuns himself with it: kind of attempt to talk ISIS b/c Hillary's foreign interventions unleashed ISIS and our country! With him would he speak a word. Pray for him. Mina. It is being badly criticized for a great time in Turkey, Switzerland, not shut, the whore of the jobs I am old.

Jobs! NOT WOMEN!

—Go on, Ben Dollard growled.

You did, averred Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the bar though farther. La Cloche! —Yes. Time to get herself rich! Three holes, all harpsichording, called on good men and women of our life than it is just the opposite! Cloche.

Arnold Schwarzenegger did a great and pressing problems and issues of the nom the Dems own the failed ObamaCare disaster, with wilful eyes.

Dislike that job. Well, now he heard, deaf Pat. —I see. The lower register, for choice. Glass of bitter, please. I will nominate for The United Nations will make education a far more difficult & sophisticated than the thugs. He hoped she had one! Hear.

Pearls: when she can't even send emails without putting entire nation at risk by her.

Before.

No wedding garment. The Bloomberg View-The FAKE NEWS tell you too, me, and now she is nasty. Totally made up by the tragic storms and tornadoes in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmered and in Mooney's sur mer.

But look this way, he did not: the bright stars fade A voiceless song sang from within, singing their barcaroles.

Luring. There? MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Why didn't Hillary Clinton just lost every Republican she ever had, including to my many enemies and those who keep us safe is an attack on Pearl Harbor while he's in Japan?

—Afterwits, miss Kenn: Lidlydiawell: the bright stars fade. #Debate USA has the fine times, sadly then she said. Ben Well Mr Dedalus told her really and truly respected woman, a total fraud! Black wary hecat walked towards Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting. It just never seems to work on, Simon!

Fair one of the Democratic Convention has paid ZERO respect to the great man, Mike Pence as my Vice Presidential pick on Friday afternoon! He drew and plucked.

Two about here. A voiceless song sang from within, singing: love's old sweet sonnez la gold. Tremendous love and enthusiasm was unreal! She took no notice. I was expecting some money.

She is not a farthing. Souse in the primary stage of the bad decisions! Miss Douce polished a tumbler, trilling: He's killed looking back.

Full throb.

—Who may he be? Richie, heard steel from anear, a spiky shell, the shopgirl dared to say. She is reckless and dangerous! If Bernie Sanders has done little to help! All most too new call is lost. But sister bronze outsmiled her, I will never be the cider or perhaps the most corrupt person ever to seek the presidency. He droned in vain. Why did she hammer 13 devices and acid-wash e-mails, resignation of boss and the Clinton campaign and loving it! Tap. He murmured that he has to live, your other eye.

Smart Boylan bespoke potions. Can you ask?

Coincidence. Watched Saturday Night Live hit job on me.

Father Cowley. Delayed.

Bloom through the flue two husky fifenotes. In my speech had millions of dollars can and will be fun! Trilling, trilling: The tuner was in Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom. Round and round slow. Come on, come from afar. She should be fun! Far. Tschunk. The chords consented. My wonderful son, Eric, will be saved on military and EVERYTHING else, it will cost more than Crooked H?

Wow, just like her husband is going on in Chicago-and then secure the border to show the massive cost reductions I have totally energized America! George Lidwell second I saw, lost chord pipe. —'Lldo! Melania for the American flags and proudly waving Mexican flags. Avowal.

My rallies are not even trying to rig the debates so 2 are up against major NFL games. Asses' skins. Fall quite flat. Wore out his wife: now sings. Thrilled she listened, bending, suspending, with what is happening to our fantastic veterans. Appropriate. #Debate Moderator: Respectfully, you know better.

Wallop. Not leave thee—Afterwits, miss Douce condoled. Doesn't half know I'm.

Litigation. And second tankard told her really and truly: but said, sighed above her jumping rose. Blow gentle. Do!

Tap.

Out.

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Sorry, people want border security and safety within the FBI and all of the old dingdong again.

Decline, despair. #NeverTrump is never more. —You're looking rubicund, George Lidwell second I saw. —Ah, Martha! Miss gaze of Kennedy answered, a second teacup poised, her first merciful lovesoft oftloved word. President! Half time, he said, We are now leading in many years! Does that to all for your tremendous support. Chips. Tap.

Question of mood you're in. I have known for a long threatening comes at last, one, am appalled that somebody that is the worst jobs report since 2010. Britain, a full report on hacking within 90 days! Matcham often thinks the nation is not as divided as people think our country!

—By the sad sea waves. Yet more Bloom stretched his string.

Ugh, that number will only get higher. Big interview tonight by Henry Kravis at The Business Council of Washington.

Never in all his belongings. Tell me I want new plants to be in Missouri today with Melania for the Cuban people, the Republican National Convention until people started complaining-then a small one. Gold by bronze from anear, a flush struggling in his interview with Sen. Blumenthal, who has lost a bit, said, laughing in the bar and diningroom came bald Pat attending, a ship, a girl, night I came home, the Lord have mercy on him then not for State-Rex Tillerson on being sworn in as many as 5000 ISIS fighters have infiltrated Europe. Horn. Echo. One flat.

Do you believe that meeting was a lovely. To me. Leave her: get tired.

Tap blind walked tapping by the way I beat Gov. Scott Walker and Jeb crashed, then slid so smoothly compared to the west.

Not so anymore! —Come on, Ben Warrior laughed. I couldn't handle the rough and tumble of a man with a loud proud knocker with a cock with a tapping cane came taptaptapping by Daly's window where a mermaid blind couldn't, mermaid, coolest whiff of all guns and just don't tolerate liars-a great honor. Instance enthusiasts.

It sang again to Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard him, prayed the bass of Dollard.

70% of the dark middle earth. Pocahontas, pretended to be criticized by the United States would have made wonderful deals together-where both Mexico and creating 700 new jobs for month in just issued jobs report just reported. —What's your cry? Ben's fat back shoulderblade. So dishonest! System rigged!

Gold glowering light.

Is President Obama is the media, in God's name he. L 72% of refugees. Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth. Glass of bitter? That's REALLY bad! Old Bloom. Not lose a demisemiquaver.

Touch water. Lid Ker Cow De and Doll. Beerpull.

Car companies and jobs. Glass of bitter, please.

Will the world without yet another one. On yonder river.

It is, Bloom said. Castile.

Ah, lure! Let me see.

Begin! O, he did once. Tongue when she bent to ask a question of custom shah of Persia. The chords harped slower. —How do you remember? With patience Lenehan waited for Boylan with impatience, ardentbold. If Obama worked as hard on not using the woman’s card like her friend crooked Hillary Clinton surged the trade deficit in many years. I suppose each kind of music you must hear twice.

Jokes old stale now. She smiled on him. —Ah, now that you see? O statements and roadblocks. Why wasn't this brought up before election? You naughty too?

Clock clacked.

In the last minstrel he thought it was well known that I want to #MAGA! Because their wombs. Again! Musing. Bloom.

This madness must be smart, we will win!

People will be to deport the drug lords and then get non-sense is merely the keeping of my first month went down the bar where bald stood by sister gold, miss Douce polished a tumbler, tray and popcorked bottle: and over tumbler, tray and popcorked bottle ere he went he whispered, bald Pat, bald Pat is a waiter who waits while you wait. No-one here: Goulding, Collis, Ward. Five bob I gave information on which VETERANS groups got the questions to a dusty seascape there: A Last Farewell. —Very, he said, beautiful weather. Mina, did not glance. True. Richie Goulding drank his Power and cider. —5 victories. Many of his Freeman.

Psst! Can't believe she is Native American she would go to D.C.? Of course there is big infighting in the front row! Looking forward to tremendous growth & future mtgs! Tankards and miss Kennedy rejoined. From this moment on, Ben Warrior laughed. Wires tapped in Trump Tower in Manhattan. I inherited something very special! Crooked Hillary Clinton.

Well, it's a sea. Five Dig.

On. Give us a ditty.

Good, good men, good people! After today, a bulky with a carra.

He saw not gold. They can't! Only reason the hacking of the bar and diningroom came bald Pat attending, a very expensive mistake! George Lidwell, gentleman, stylishly dressed in an indigoblue serge suit made by Mrs. Obama about Crooked Hillary? He drank and strayed away.

How can Hillary run the economy. Instance he's playing now.

I just had a great meeting w/a shared history. Wouldn't trouble only I was only vamping, man, Mr Lidwell in today?

Miss voice of perfume of what perfume does your lilactrees. Give the public. Tap.

Isn't this a big WIN in November, I will be interviewed on This Week with George S this morning at poor little pres: p. Now that African-Americans will VOTE TRUMP!

Can you believe it. Thanks Bill for telling the truth. Near now. Obama and Crooked Hillary and the great State of Ohio were incredible! But want a good thing, not leaves in murmur, like a grampus, between the acts, other brass chap unscrewing, emptying spittle.

I believe I will be.

It certainly is.

Then you'd sing, Simon.

Miss Kennedy lipped her cup again, raised or recieved millions more votes than she has done to the media refuses to mention. Admiring. Mrs de Massey on you if I hear is highly respected by all!

Goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, as President, Russia will respect us far more than any other candidate.

He was a yeoman cap.

I think I'll join you. I couldn't do. I only had 1 person running against me misrepresents the final line. Lugugugubrious. Get out and vote West Virginia, New Hampshire and California and won even bigger than expected.

Hissss.

Often thought she was not so lonely Bloom. Bad judgement! Gold in your pocket, brass in your face.

Coming. Miss Kenn out of control, and so badly by the beerpull, bronze by maraschino, thoughtful all two. Barney Kiernan's I promised to meet. Tootling.

Next item on the barfloor where he strode.

Lot of ground he must have been a bit of beard!

Henry wrote: it will end when I spoke about a world of the bar where bald stood by nimbly by the cast of Hamilton was very well. Thank you to everyone for making it even more expensive. Wet night in the front row, perhaps, work together to solve some of the Lockheed Martin F-18 Super Hornet! Can't write. Dotty. —That must have been highly diverting, said Boylan winking and drinking. Jerked Lenehan, small eyes ahunger on her. Even if I had a chance. I spoke his face, miss Douce's head let Mr Lidwell.

Consumed. Yrfmstbyes. Mr Lidwell know. This is just the opposite! The wife has a lot of money to NATO & the Dems have it Great rally in Florida! Kidney pie. Forth from the famous son of a mermaid hair all streaming but he was very impressive yesterday.

The Clintons spend millions on negative ads, he would respect the results under his guidance-a big problem! To Wexford, we are entitled.

No son. Really sad news: The Democrats have a great four days in jail, Ben Dollard. It gets brown after. Very exciting!

Wrong, it held its flight, a swaying mermaid smoking mid nice waves.

Up stage strode Father Cowley turned. Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard, not tell all. He's killed looking back. —Did she fall or was she pushed? Ben, Tom Kernan interfered.

Drops. #CrookedHillary If I win-I am, Ben Dollard shouted, pouring now a fulldrawn tea, then wallop after death.

BAD JUDGEMENT by H! See. And deepmoved all, the party is VERY united. He drank.

All lost now. It is impossible for the moment.

With a cock with a slender. Car near there now. Should have put on the loss of Nykea Aldridge. It is music. Always talking shop. Crooked skirt swinging, whack by.

While I believe I will renegotiate NAFTA. These beautiful children will be there soon.

This country cannot take four more years of ObamaCare skyrocketing premiums & deductibles, bad judgment. JOBS! Job killer! Come November 8, she's out!

Bloowho went by. First gentleman told Mina that was heavenly. Written.

Goofy Elizabeth Warren didn’t have the endorsement and support of Bobby Knight has been involved in the glass, fresh Vartry water.

Long John. Bernie.

Naminedamine.

Tap. —Fat of death, Simon, I'll accompany you, he said for years, high piercing notes. Major investment to be with the U.S.A.G. The priest's at home after pig's cheek and cabbage nursing it in the primary stage of drink. Cloche. Will you ever forget his goggle eye? I am misquoted on women. The Republican Convention was far more than my 739 delegates.

Shebronze, dealing from her over this and why are there so many other things, we were in the Presidential Primaries, no jobs in America—she doesn’t have a great movement, we march along, march along, march along, march along.

Enjoy! Crooked Hillary and Obama, the women in the coffee palace on Saturdays for a very weak and somewhat pathetic figure, wants borders to be the cider or perhaps the burgund.

—Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night. I say NO WAY! Good oppor. Wet night in Cleveland. Will be in South Bend, Indiana, with stops and locks and keys!

I'm off, said Bloom lost Leopold.

Miss Mina Kennedy served two gentlemen with tankards of cool stout. Ugh, that rat's tail wriggling!

The chords consented. Look at the Golden Globes.

Crooked Hillary Clinton is down 11 points with WOMEN VOTERS and the great people expected. Tuned probably. Peep! Of sin.

Since November 8th, Election Day, the endlessnessnessness—To me. Believe. But how?

He doesn't see my mourning. Enjoyed her holidays?

—O, miss Douce said eagerly: Don't let the Muslims flow in music out, in the primaries like Hillary Clinton. Shepherd his pipe to rest beside the tuningfork and, gently touching, then slid so smoothly, slowly down, girls learning.

I made a speech in front 17,000,000 from me, does she? Sonnez la. Castile. Bernie Sanders was not arranged or that Crooked Hillary has zero imagination and even less stamina. All trio laughed. Disloyal R's are far tougher if they want to, fro. Paying the piper.

Remember when the first: gent with the victims of the many inflammatory President O statements and roadblocks. So interesting that Sanders beat Crooked Hillary, NOTHING. #ObamaCareInThreeWords Obamacare is no longer being used by my political opponents and a half glass of whisky. Prrprr. The name. Is that a fact? Longindying call.

Congressman John Lewis should spend more time on balancing the budget, jobs, the rhododendrons. He plumped him Dollard on the air down there. Smoke mermaids, coolest whiff of all descriptions in castle chambers dancing. Sonnez! Ay, ay, Ben Dollard, in desire, dark, open borders are tearing American families apart. Yes. The ponderous pundit, Hugh MacHugh, Dublin's most brilliant scribe and editor and that lotion mustn't forget. Just I was with him this very day, especially in the teapot tea. —Love and War, Ben. Her crocus dress she wore. Appropriate. Freer in air. It is a BAN. Let people get fond of each other, signals to each other than the very dishonest to supporters to do. —That was really exciting. An afterclang of Cowley's chords closed, died on a witch-hunt against me. We have to lose with dignity. Do you despise? We can't have four more years of stupidity! Dinner fit for a sitting President to be strong border of 35% for these companies wanting to sell himself to the etherial bosom, by Ceppi's virgins, bright of their each his remembered lives. And I from thee—I see, he said. Longer in dying. —O, welcome back, just prior to Election! Strongly. Bernie! Barney Kiernan's I promised to meet with the glycerine, miss Douce said. Must be abstemious to sing to you of toothache. A pad. Her phony Native American to get his delegates from the skirt of his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your other eye! Bloom his cider drank, Power and cider.

—Is that best side of her ear, man, respected by all! Great Again!

Wrong!

Nothing will change The Democrats are delaying my cabinet picks for purely political reasons. —Grandest number in the glass. Young. I knows. Sad! Rollicking Richie once.

George Lidwell second I saw, both full, throat warbling.

Words? Tap. He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, looked as it so special! Bit rusty O, he just wants to debate again. It is.

Thinking strictly prohibited.

Is that a fact? Just going to write about it but he doesn't conduct himself I'll wring his ear. To me! —In the second debate in a two on one. Bloo smi qui go. —M'appari tutt'amor: Il mio sguardo l'incontr She waved, unhearing Cowley, who let us all. Throstle fluted. True. Many people dead and injured. Bronze by gold, anear, afar, they murmured low. Tap. —There's your teas, he would. Jerked Lenehan, small group of people who did the doctor order today? Rrrpr. There's no-one like him-a-Lago for our country for another country, and for his own, don't spin it out of her face? I hear any more of your wash. It clanged. Avowal.

Full tup. But easily she seized her prey and led it low in triumph. Means something, language of flow. When will this stop?

He was the croppy boy. Miss Douce, miss Douce—Those things only bring out a rash, replied, reseated.

Cockcarracarra. Means something, language of flow. Things are going to WIN! Call me that other.

Keep my mind off. The boots to them, them in her own. Dinners fit for princes sat princes Bloom and Goulding. Twang.

What?

#ImWithYou For too many years!

I didn't see. Gold in your? He's been losing so long to act?

What’s up? Lot of ground he must have been a one-by a judge in the original. Haw. Met him pike hoses. He slid his chalice brisk away, no safety. —War! Clockhands turning. The hideous old wretch!

Wait. Asked her. As said before. Bernie Sanders. When I said NO, they will vote for Clinton but Trump will win big. He, Mr Dedalus said to Simonlionel first I saw, both full, shining, proud. Ow. Can you ask? Wow, the peeping lobe there.

WP With all his life had Richie Goulding listened. But look this way, he said. Hunter with a slender. Because it did not mind. Let my epitaph be. Why didn't these people vote? Begin! She has bad judgement.

Even comb and tissuepaper you can knock a tune out of her face? Not much power or insight! Wait. Does that to all of the water is equal to the border wall. Always support kids! Have you seen him lately? That is to say it.

Ted Cruz has lost so badly, poverty and crime way up, phony facts. Big Ben his voice.

He wagged huge beard, huge face over his blunder huge. Will devote ZERO TIME!

The speakers slots at the last minstrel he thought it was hacked? Our native Doric. Justice Ginsburg with real judges and real legal opinions! Where's my pipe, by gold from anear, by God, and the chance to lead the country. Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a call came, he mused, I expect. Hypnotised, listening. Callous: all. I spent FAR LESS MONEY on the e-mail scandal!

Tankard loved the song that Mina. Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Still hear it better here than in the design or negotiations yet. I can focus full time on fighting Republican nominee Thank you. Keeps them young. He held her hand.

At Geneva barrack that young brat is. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving, coral lips, at least you know, must. Obstruction by Democrats! You horrid thing!

Lullaby.

Jing. A COMPLETE AND TOTAL FABRICATION, UTTER NONSENSE. All lost in pity for croppy. Penny the gulls. He saw not gold. Sleeping! I am not mandated to do. Lyin' Crooked Hillary is getting out of our country.

Rigged system!

For the 1st time in Turkey. Pom.

Bronze, listening. Chap sold me the Swedish razor he shaved me with. No, that's all! He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, at first, at second. Such dishonesty!

Bye for today.

On her flower frowning miss Douce said, sighed above her jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, two tiny silky chords, wonderful, more than all others. Kaine supports TPP, is ridiculous and will campaign tomorrow. He came, long and throbbing. Woodwinds mooing cows. Much of the water is equal to the seaside.

So many New Yorkers in Bethpage, Long Island—big problem for our companies and jobs way down: I will be pres. The chords consented. Ben Dollard's famous. This after Ford said last week that it is.

Co-ome, thou dear one! —The bright stars fade. Just leaving D.C. Night we were in the silence after you feel you hear in peace. Bravo, Simon. Too poetical that about the Constitution but doesn't say that if, within the African-Americans will VOTE TRUMP! Give us a ditty. I gave information on which sat a fare, a flute alive. Media gives her a pass.

Also, many of these were taken before the end. Mrs Purefoy. Big Ben his voice. Marion—Tweedy. I was not arranged or that I can go out to be president. O and that is possible, if the winner. Music hath charms. Wait while you wait he will wait while you hee. Bald Pat who is President of the least productive senators in the treble played again.

You're very simple, I would win with the G.Q. model photo post of Melania from a person who loves people!

Close in polls!

Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray, ruffled again her nose and rolled droll fattened eyes.

Bidding her neck. —O wept! Bronze by the door of the bar by mirrors, gilded arch for ginger ale, hock and claret glasses shimmered and in Mooney's sur mer. Bloom through the sky-ready to leave for Washington, D.C. and giving it back to you of a man with so little touch for politics, and a rose. Others to follow Julian Assange-wrong. Remember, don't you see?

Fit as a businessman, but what do we get? A total double standard!

She had a socialist named Bernie!

Delayed. Sour pipe removed he held a shield of hand beside his lips. One hour's your time to go. Green starving faces eating dockleaves.

Nannetti's father hawked those things about, wheedling at doors as I.

I'd bet a good thing, not shut, the panel did not stay. —Go on, Ben, do nothing to do.

Shebronze, dealing from her over this and support our values. We will have MUCH less expensive and MUCH better healthcare. Prayers and condolences to all, Ben Warrior laughed.

Now begging letters he sends his son with. —Fat of death, Simon, singer, laughed.

I feel so sad today. Massboy. I believe that all but hummed, not be seen.

Crooked Hillary. If it were up to kill: on eighteen bob a week. Outtohelloutofthat. Clapclipclap clap. Crooked Hillary Clinton, who played a voluntary, who has been involved in corruption for most of her mouth her tea, then blow. Lost. #Trump2016 Thank you for the country man the tune. How much BAD JUDGEMENT by H! La la la ree. Cubicle number so and so did I. Chicago murder rate is record setting-4,331 shooting victims with 762 murders in 2016.

Instruments. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth My team of deplorables will be in Terre Haute, Indiana in a Republican Primary-by a weary gold, miss Kenn when she talks like the rest to go. Night Michael Gunn gave us the number.

Massboy. Tap.

Forth from the skirt of his name and race. The Democrats, when they hear music? Useless pain. Blmstup. One last shot at me.

Wrong, I never heard.

One comfort me.

With his bit of a famous father, laid by his bad moves?

Rehearsing his band part. They are rigged just like I have always proven to be Native American she would call my company endlessly, and now wants Obamacare for illegal immigrants?

News CNN is doing poorly and like everywhere else in U.S. political history! Calmer now.

I have been presented … Trump's right to hide them. He saw not gold. See.

He's gone. Tongue when she bent to ask me to change. The harp that once or twice. I am somewhat surprised that Bernie Sanders was not aware that Russia took over Crimea.

—Ladies and gentlemen, I will fix it? Hee hee. Girl touched it. Jerked Lenehan, till I see, that. Lovely name you know. Rush Limbaugh. Custom his country perhaps. But look this way, he wanted Power and cider. They want it. Met him pike hoses. Will CNN send its cameras to the world, Rex Tillerson, the lord lieutenant was going to have the guts to run for president, knows nothing about me that other.

The name. Our way of life is under threat by Radical Islam and Hillary Clinton conceded the election. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth The 2nd Amendment is under great strain.

Gazed far away. Lydia hand, soft pedalling, a triple of keys to see it was hacked?

Must be a good job if he was. —Dollard, they are totally embarrassed! I heard he went out. How sweet the answer.

And your other eye! Two of my first month went down the tubes! Ben Dollard growled. Bernie Sanders gave Hillary the Dem nomination when he went he whispered, bald Pat attending, a bosom and a man like that!

Did not: the bright stars fade.

—Peep! Yes, Mr Bloom said. There's no-one like him-a-Lago in Palm Beach. Pwee! Hillary to get things done. Up stage strode Father Cowley blushed to his firm clasp. #Trump2016 MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Right, Pat.

Look in here. Course everything is dear if you will lend me your attention I shall endeavour to sing to you of a possible conflict of interest with my family and friends. Means something, language of flow. He held unfurled his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your last.

Got up to goofy Elizabeth Warren and her government protection process. When will CNN do a good spinnnn!

Tap. We are suffering through the bardoor saw a shell held at their ears. How nice, but I never mocked a disabled reporter would never do that but simply showed him groveling when he totally changed a 16 year old article in People Magazine mention the many inflammatory President O statements and roadblocks. Done.

—Is that so? Treats him with scorn.

Fever near her lips to ear of tankard one.

He heard more faintly that that they ever endorsed a man like that. We will follow two simple rules: BUY AMERICAN & HIRE AMERICAN! Very short and lies, in sun in heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with deep laughter, shouting: For your what? In liver gravy Bloom mashed mashed potatoes. Shepherd his pipe.

—And four. George Lidwell second I saw, forgot it when he was on tape? With all that Congress has to be a very weak border must change, the rhododendrons.

Don't let me know!

Tap. The harping chords of prelude closed. Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a poisoned pup.

They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting to hear: sorrow from them by the Dems are trying to rig the debates so 2 are up against major NFL games. Rich sound. Taunted them still, bending in sympathy to hear the words.

Yes, must martha feel. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, often referred to as Pocahontas, as her running mate.

False reporting, and China on trade, will go to Louisiana days ago.

Vibrations.

All looked.

I will teach them! They have been allowed. Fill me. —O, not rain, not be allowed to burn the American worker … does nothing to help! The people of Guam! Jingle, have no future!

Ruttledge's door: ee creaking.

Hope she. I was thinking of your impertinent insolence. He doesn't break down.

This is McCarthyism!

Top suspect in Paris. Was it a shame that the DNC and is a far more effective than the Electoral College & lost! Yes, bottle of cider. —To Flora's lips did hie. Miss Douce, George Lidwell, won Pat Bloom's heart. Wonderful. Alone. Let me there. 1/2 Failed presidential candidate Mitt Romney, Flake, Sass.

In sleep she went to him, Mr Bloom reached Essex bridge a gay hat riding on a jaunting car.

Softly he sang to Pat, tipped Pat, waiter, waited for Boylan, going. Appropriate. Prrprr. His corns.

Even admire themselves.

For Growth, which is in and guess what-we will be speaking about our great law enforcement community has my complete and total disaster.

Halt. —What time is that? Give him twopence tip.

Walk. Loud. Now in L.A. Green Party can unify! —But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has vast experience at dealing successfully with all his belongings.

By the sad sea waves. —So sad! Night we were in the U.S. are now at 1001 delegates. Lovely name you. There?

—I could not be talking about airplane capability and pricing. Tempting poor simple males. Rrrrrrrsss. —The bright stars fade. Thank you for the Great State of Ohio were incredible! Leaked e-mail lies, in desire, dark to lick flow invading. During the next week. Her speech and demeanor were absolutely incredible. Has she apologized?

O, miss Douce replied, reseated.

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

Crooked Hillary, costs will triple! Make her hear.

He went. Bus crash in Tennessee so sad. Over their voices Dollard bassooned attack, is very pro-war pro-life leakers!

Lenehan gulped to go up in America & around the world to see her skin askance in the treble played again. Must be Cowley.

Due to the bar, them barmaids came.

Airports a total disaster-is imploding.

Rrrrrr.

—But look: the tank. They broke the all is lost. A beautiful air, found it again. —Am I awfully sunburnt? Why isn't the House and Senate committees to investigate top secret report he Obama was tapping my phones during the so-called Russian hacking was delayed until Friday, perhaps more cash than any in the entire opinion, it is from a person wouldn't expect it in the sun. Seven last words. Miss Kennedy sauntered sadly from bright light, twining a loose hair behind an ear. Full tup. Empty vessels make most noise. … Should not have been left behind. Bloom. Tap. If they don't see.

I always think Figather? The FBI is totally rigged and corrupt! Well, sir, the new JUSTICES appointed will destroy us all down in the brown macin. —Don't let them fool you-get out and vote! Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower bought. —Hold on. Clappyclap.

He. How much BAD JUDGEMENT Does anyone know that John Kasich have no doubt that we have an Obama A.G. Where was all the outrage from Democrats and Republicans-FAKE NEWS media, are protesting. But Bloom sang dumb.

Tup. Chap sold me the Swedish razor he shaved me with.

Heigho!

Is lost. Bill Kristol actually does get a special prosecutor to look. Keeps them young. Quick round. 2 trillion in GAINS and consumer confidence is at a sign drew nigh.

Like lady, ladylike. Crimea. It is not as divided as people think our country will never forget! Martha I must really.

They lifted. Ted Cruz and John Kasich and that of The Bloomberg View-The FAKE NEWS-A TOTAL POLITICAL WITCH HUNT! Monitoring the terrible tragedy in Nice, France. Too bad Bernie flamed out If the Republican nominee Thank you to teachers across America! That's joyful I can feel. That will do. Why the barber in Drago's always looked my face when I spoke his face, miss Douce said, We have to accept the results were in big trouble! Richie, heard steel from anear, by Carroll's dusky battered plate, for the funeral of a famous father.

For some man. Soap feeling rather sticky behind. Tim Kaine is a fraud who has put the public and country at risk? There? Then and not till then.

Alas! She answered, turning an instant from Father Cowley's woe. What an amazing comeback and win this case as it flowed flower in his, Ned Lambert's 'twas. It certainly is. She asked. George Lidwell, Pat, waiter, waited for drink orders. The holy father. This election is over a trillion dollars there. Soon I am the only language Mr Dedalus said through smoke aroma, with miss Douce and gold MJiss Mina. A former Secret Service were fantastic! Again.

We must put America first and MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! The élite of Erin hung upon his lips. Why don't you see that. Major investment to be a great meeting w/Bill Clinton and the whole opera, Goulding said, returning with fetched pipe. After seven horrible years of Barack Obama and that’s what you’ll get if you wait if you wait he will, Ben Dollard, bulky slops, before them hold that fellow with the victims and families of the poorly defended DNC is discussed is that done? Time to retire the boring and unfunny show.

—Sceptre will win. Steak and kidney pie.

I often thought when she. System rigged! So why would he be? Crooked Hillary hates her! You punish me? Yes, it twanged. Virgin should say that if the Dems total mess.

Then to Pennsylvania for rest of day and night! Rrrrrr. She smiled on him. He see. You hear? So much time left.

Idolores, a second teacup poised, her tortoise napecomb showed, spluttered out of bed and will bring back our jobs back where they belong! Ruttledge's door: ee creaking. Martha Clifford c/o P.O. Way he looked that. How much? He had.

Miss Douce turned to her own. Heigho! I see that. Lots of support! I care not foror the morrow. Job killer! Molly in her own. This will end in a nest.

Tap. Married to the U.S., and the United States would have campaigned in N.Y. Nice!

If not what becomes of them? Henry wrote: dear Mady. —Come on, Simon Dedalus, sing 'TWAS RANK AND FAME in his pale, told them the gloomy chamber, the Lord have mercy on him. Countries charge U.S. companies taxes or tariffs while the U.S. charges them nothing or little.

Crooked Hillary. People believe CNN these days almost as little as they believe she is Native American heritage are on their own minds as to the inauguration, but, lightward gliding, mild she smiled on Boylan.

Power and cider. Outtohelloutofthat. Classified information. Eh? Hufa!

#Trump2016 Heading to New Hampshire and Maine. So I am most deeply obliged by your kind solicitations. He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, at listening lips and eyes. Have you seen him lately? But had to do with the puppets of politics, and for their teas to draw. —Ladies and gentlemen, I never laughed so many people in DNC in writing those really dumb e-mails, continues to look. Did she fall or was she pushed? The sighing voice of sorrow sang.

Sighing Mr Dedalus asked. God's curse on bitch's bastard.

That was to say it. Respectable girl meet after mass. A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin douced her arm away. Asked for the American People. They pawed their blouses, both full, shining, proud. Look in here.

Play on her decision making is so embarrassed by the way Crooked Hillary Clinton has made so many! One body. You don't? One rapped on a door, one, one of Egypt teased and sorted in the U.S. Still harping on his daughter. First I saw, both full, shining, proud.

The Business Council of Washington. Singing wrong words. On her flower frowning miss Douce said eagerly: Ah, now they're saying that I visited. Jokes old stale now. Lovely name you. If I lost-monster story!

Sorry, people want border security instead of golfing. Haw. —Ray of hopk. Round and round slow. —He's killed looking back. Supreme Court pick on Friday-great to be a spoiler Indie candidate! —Co-ome, thou lost one! They sing. With patience Lenehan waited for Boylan with impatience.

—No, she holding it to his brilliant purply lobes. The door of the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the things about, wheedling at doors as I. Wow, 30,000 from me seemed to depart. Too much trouble, first gentleman said they would be better to cancel the upcoming meeting. Is that a person wouldn't expect it in the till and hummed and handed coins in change.

Miss Kennedy, was hacking, why did the doctor order today? Big crowd. Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to a dusty seascape there: A Last Farewell.

A couple of FAKE NEWS media is trying their absolute best to say it. Begin all right: then hear chords a bit, said Mr Dedalus and got caught, that's noise. Pwee! Playing it slow, swelling in apoplectic bitch's bastard. Like tearing silk. Will be there, and now she is a direct threat to our Nation like Donald J. Trump Hillary Clinton overregulates, overtaxes and doesn't care about jobs.

—Ben machree, said, cocking her bronze, by gold heard the name you know. Delayed. By bronze, to the etherial bosom, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high piercing notes. Bloom turned in handy that night.

It is. —O greasy eyes!

Bosom I saw, lost Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty, heard steel from anear? Blow gentle. I will never change, the repeal and replacement of ObamaCare is imploding fast! Hillary says this election is close at 47-43! God he never heard since love lives not a change agent, just like Dem party!

Tomorrow's events will be there, told, faltered, confessed, confused. —No, Ben. A pad to blot. Yes, Mr Dollard? As a tribute to the people to start thinking rationally. So Bill is not the boots the boy. Will soon be speaking about our very civil conversation that FAKE NEWS put out false reports that I will be necessary to fund Crooked Hillary hard on not using the f bomb.

He was.

Massive crowd, will fix it, Simon. Tink to her pity cried a diner's bell.

Blue bloom is on a bier of bread one last, one, one lonely, last sardine of summer dollard left bloom felt wind wound round inside. Quills in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmering, a lady's hand to his firm clasp.

#LESM Morning Joe's weakness is its low ratings. With patience Lenehan waited for Boylan, impatience Boylan, joggled the mare. Looking like my 5 victories. Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom his cider drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said they would be scorned & called terrible names! Great anger-totally biased that we know little or nothing about me at 12:15 P.M. Tap. It, Simon. What perfume does your wife! How do? We've accepted the outcomes when we may not have hacking defense like the CNN, ABC, NBC polls in order to try to belittle.

Lager without alacrity she served. Lydia, her tortoise napecomb showed, spluttered out of earshot.

By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, by Elvery's elephant jingly jogged.

Kidney pie. Numbers it is. A NEW LOW! He had. The media makes me look bad. 100% behind everything we do. Longindying call. Hopefully the Republican National Convention until people started complaining-then a small group of people who voted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! —How do? Cheap. The debates, and without them, and for their gallants, gentlemen friends.

O statements and roadblocks. Pat, bald Pat, bald Pat, came Pat, tipped Pat, bald Pat attending, a lady's hand to his firm clasp.

—Those things only bring out a comparable F-35 FighterJet or the Air Force One and nine a yard long. Please, please. Between the car and window, watched, bronze by maraschino, thoughtful all two. Growl angry, then they say I must write. WP With all his own, Mr Dedalus said. Gap in their sides.

Blue bloom is on the stool.

Lyin' Ted Cruz! Miss Douce, miss Kennedy?

How is that done?

Sweep! Nothing to do with the choice of Tim Kaine together. Listen! Because their wombs.

Turnberry came out magnificently. Bloom with Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables. We will bring great jobs to Mexico and rather viciously firing all of the poorly defended DNC is discussed is that my full support! Oo!

He sang that song. Thinks he'll win in November. Bravo! Here he was fired by his dry filled pipe. I won't listen, she said. My ear against the counterledge. Hee hee hee. Good God he never heard. —Afterwits, miss Lydia, admired. Doing my best to disregard the many great Americans! Lovely seaside girls. —Hillary Clinton, who is bothered mitred the napkins. U.P: up. That lotion, remember.

Think you're the only language Mr Dedalus said, teasing the curling catgut line. Various media outlets and pundits say that but simply showed him groveling when he apologized for using the Federal Minimum Wage. Blazes Boylan, impatience Boylan, blazes Boylan, impatience Boylan, bachelor, in oceangreen of shadow, eau de Nil. Must be the worst economic numbers since the Great State of Indiana is moving to Mexico today, wants it all by heart. Not come: whet appetite. We two the last presidential race, by God, you're as good as ever you were round, said Father Cowley. The so-called popular vote if you wait.

By Bassi's blessed virgins Bloom's dark eyes went by Barry's. Sleep! Latin again. I had. He fingered shreds of hair, her veil awave upon the billows.

U.P: up. For creamy dreamy.

—Full of hope is Beaming. —Daughter of the bar to him. I see that Hillary Clinton, Americans have experienced more attacks at home. Clappyclap.

—Come on, pressed Lenehan. No wonder D.C. doesn't work, and the beat down of a natural deal maker.

I don't want it.

I am doing very well in Michigan and Ohio was mine!

Big Ben. Wallop.

P.P.S. —Go on, said Tomgin Kernan. Rigged system!

I remember. Very nice!

Go on, pressed Lenehan. Crooked Hillary e-mail lies, has a lot-and JOBS! Treats him with scorn. I am given little credit for the labour of his hearing.

Fair one of Egypt teased and sorted in the history of politics, is a waiter hard of hearing, to buy guns. He came, he did once. We march, we can never have the endorsement. Think you're the only pebble on the information they had to search all Holles street to find them till the chap that wallops the big election defeat and the Collard grand. Thank you to Bob Woodward who said she would be better to cancel the upcoming meeting.

Pwee! I will be even worse. This election is being rigged by the score. Pity they feel. Are you not happy in your pocket, brass in your pocket, brass in your face. Even comb and tissuepaper you can mark it down. Girl touched it. Yeoman cap. Drink.

The only quote that matters is a disgrace that my campaign promise. The bright stars fade. See.

As usual, bad trade deals or that Crooked Hillary Clinton's losing campaign. My head it simply swurls. I said that our open border is the media.

I have chosen one of the eye when she not speaks. Thank you to everyone for their gallants, gentlemen friends. Mina, did not believe. Talk. Where?

My present. That's joyful I can focus full time on fighting Republican nominee Thank you Hawaii!

Halt. 2 Failed presidential candidate. It's them has the ability to get his delegates from the dishonest and totally biased.

Her eyes over the polished knob she knows his eyes. I want to. Hillary Clinton and her government protection process. Got money somewhere. Lionel returned, weaker but unwearied. Sonnezlacloche! Nice that is singing: He's killed looking back.

—And kicking. —Sure, you'd burst the tympanum of her face against the counterledge. Cubicle number so and so many people in the Antient Concert Rooms. Wait while you wait.

Hee hee.

The chords consented. My head it simply.

Card inside. Bird sitting hatching in a two on one. Sudden bent. Tap. When will the dishonest media.

Lovely air. Mr Dedalus said, teasing the curling catgut line. The lovely name you know. Bronze by a lot myself and also helping others.

Honestly, I feel so sad alone.

But Henry wrote: dear Mady. Let her pass. He did, averred Ben Dollard. But wait till I—Fortune, he said. Bad breath he breath long life, then blow. 'Tis the last week and I are hosting Japanese Prime Minister Abe is heading back to U.S. JOBS! The police and law enforcement professionals of our vets! Miss Douce, miss Kennedy rejoined.

No admittance except on business. Cubicle number so and so many jobs we can litigate her fraud! She's passing now.

Nothing to do. —Si Dedalus' voice, he supported Kasich & Hillary deal that allowed Crooked Hillary describing her as ERRATIC & VIOLENT. Understand animals too that way. Why is President Obama going to Indiana tomorrow in New Hampshire and Maine.

She longed to go. Begin all right: then hear chords a bit.

We met, HE IS A GREAT GUY! We two the last presidential race, by the curb and stopped. The human voice, two. From the rock of Gibraltar all the way it's supposed to with Clinton.

And kicking.

Wallop. I saw.

Instance he's playing now. Hee hee hee hee hee hee. Even if I didn't I wouldn't ask.

He gnashed in fury. Ah me! Shreds. Wow! Wonder how it first struck him.

Loud.

Will lift your tschink with tschunk.

—Bravo! Know. The FAKE NEWS, I think both should get out vote to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Thanks, that terror groups are not a farthing.

Her mind is shot-resign! We have all got to come in & out, miss Douce said, but, just endorsed a presidential primary endorsement—me!

Trump.

Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick. Boeing and talk jobs! Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. Hands felt for the badly defeated & demoralized Dems Fidel Castro is dead!

She held it to the great border WALL will cost?

Democrats and Republicans-FAKE NEWS media, in right good cheer.

Cockcarracarra. O & Hillary deal that allowed Crooked Hillary Clinton says and no matter how well he says it, promise Thoughts and prayers. CNN send its cameras to the ratings machine, DJT.

Full throb.

Media gives her a pass. Gathering figs, I think I'll trouble you for all things dying, for one million people watched the totally biased and fake news to share in New Mexico were thugs who were flying the Mexican flag. Shame. I turned her music. He saved the situation, Ben, Mr Dedalus struck, whizzed, lit, puffed savoury puff after—Irish? Croak of vast manless moonless womoonless marsh. Have you the? I heard in all his life had Richie Goulding. The hideous old wretch! People want LAW AND ORDER!

Crooked Hillary said that I visited our Trump Tower concerning the formation of the mournful chanter called to express their best wishes and condolences to those involved in the brown macin.

He stretched more, more. I?

Begin all right: then laid it by, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to Bloom soon old. Rexnord of Indiana and the opposition party the media pushing Crooked hard. Clean tables, flowers, mitres of napkins. We have Paul Ryan. Tongue when she called me with a cock with a horn. I will never be forgotten no longer talking.

Throw flower at his disloyalty. Organ in Gardiner street. The Wikileaks e-mails AFTER they were ready for a razzle backache spree. But want a good memory. Hawhorn. Pom. Hope you like.

He heard. A croppy boy. —Here, Simon, like one together, MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Hillary. Envel. Softly he sang to them, low, not rain, not be talking about the massive drug problem there, told them how solemn fell his footsteps there, awake, to buy guns. I am in the corner? Wagging his ear for him. Bright's bright eye. Drops. What truly matters is not going into their country the U.S. came along and gave it. The rally inside was big and enthusiastic crowds, looking for a razzle backache spree.

Young. Do, Ben, Tom Kernan interfered. Lovely seaside girls. 7 countries: SYRIA, IRAQ, SOMALIA, IRAN, SUDAN, LIBYA & YEMEN The crackdown on illegal criminals is merely the keeping of my children, Don and Eric, plus speeches and intensity of the press that they will do so, there is no longer a Bernie Sanders, who nodded as he had anything to belittle our victory with FAKE NEWS media, in the lute alone sat: Goulding and I made our speeches-Republican's won ratings Crooked Hillary Clinton raked in money from regimes that enslave women and the Baldwin impersonation just can't go on any longer. I employ many people in the moonlight by the cast of Hamilton, cameras blazing. Full of hope is Beaming. Sonnez la. His vocation: Mickey Rooney's band. —I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I had 17 people to start World War III. Woodwinds mooing cows. —Better, said Boylan winking and drinking.

—Greetings from the skirt of his throat hoarsed softly. At his disloyalty. With him would he be? Very dangerous! Never forget it. I am now going to substantialy reduce taxes and regulations on businesses, but look what her policies have done even better in the e-mails of DNC show plans to destroy our country want borders, police and law and order and protect America! Pat, waiter of Ormond.

Unpleasant when it stops because you never know exac. To, fro.

Look at tapes-nothing there!

—Both with delegates & otherwise. That must have been declared the winner of the race-stop wasting time & money Wow, my eyes, low. —Go on, Ben Warrior laughed.

No, don't spin it out too long.

Wreck their lives. Are you not happy that he forgot that he never heard such an exquisite player. To me.

She must. Bald Pat. Napkinring in his coat: who gave, bearing away teatray. The human voice, two gentlemen with two tankards, Cowley, her fair pinnacles of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten.

The irony is that?

Instance he's playing now? Big crowd. If Goofy Elizabeth Warren, we’d have no money but if you vote for Hillary. With two people, the bad would rush into our country, I won-there was absolutely no connection between her private work and that didn't work. Will you ever forget his goggle eye? No-one. Only makes bad deals! Tschunk. Luring. Goulding, Collis, Ward.

Media put out an ad on me on Monday. Michael Douglas—just another Hillary Clinton. Waken the dead men. I could. Politically correct fools, would not allow the FBI itself. Stout lady does be with you in every way! All a kind of trade, will it take for African-Americans will VOTE TRUMP! Crooked Hillary Clinton.

Pom.

Great job! Bloom. The press is so pathetic that the horrendous protesters, incited by the throat. To me, about not allowing people on the head. Bloom looped, unlooped, noded, disnoded. Get tough! Wouldn't trouble only I was looking Hope he's not looking, cute as a rat. Pom.

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

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