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miserablesme · 4 years ago

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The Les Miserables Changelog Part 6: 1987-1997 West End variations

Hello, everyone! This is the latest edition in my attempt to chronicle all of the musical and lyrical changes which the show Les Miserables has undergone over the years. This time, we're going through the production-specific differences between the official 1987-1997 libretto and the West End productions of the era.

Compared to American productions, the West End production was NOT afraid to improvise a little relative to what the books said. It was simultaneously willing to hold on to things the official libretto abandoned, and to add in details not done elsewhere. (Incidentally this reportedly was true with the staging as well as the lyrics, though this blog is focused on the latter.)

It’s worth noting that the show went through many iterations throughout the decade. For the sake of coherence I’m separating this post into each variant.

Oh, and because this entails many different versions of the musical, and most of these lyrical changes can be seen and discussed in other posts of my blog, this post will be significantly less thorough than most of mine regarding my thoughts on the changes. With all that cleared up, let us begin!

Circa 1987-1988 variant

During “On Parole”, the official lyrics of the innkeepers have since 1987 been:

My rooms are full

And I’ve no supper to spare

I’d like to help a stranger

All we want is to be fair

The West End production maintained the original version instead:

My rooms are full

And I’ve no supper to spare

I’d like to help you really

All I want is to be fair

"At the End of the Day" reverses a line. Officially Valjean usually sings:

What is this fighting all about?

Will someone tear these two apart?

Instead, the West End show has him ask:

Will someone tear these two apart?

What is this fighting all about?

The 1987 libretto had these (solo) lyrics to “The Runaway Cart”:

Don’t go near him, Monsieur Mayor

The load is as heavy as hell

The old man is a goner for sure

It will kill you as well

The West End version used the original ensemble sequence instead:

(INDIVIDUAL)

Don’t go near him, Monsieur Mayor

There’s nothing at all you can do

(ENSEMBLE)

The old man is a goner for sure

Leave him alone

“Who Am I?” still used the original “This innocent who bears my face” instead of “who wears my face”. It also still featured Valjean’s “You know where to find me!” declaration officially written out of the libretto.

Prior to "Master of the House", a customer still declares "Hell, what a wine" instead of the revised "God, what a wine".

In the “Waltz of Treachery”, Thenardier still asks “Have we done for your child what is best?” instead of the official post-Broadway line which changes “your child” to “her child”. Additionally, Valjean still sings "a friendlier sky" instead of "some friendlier sky".

Then, at the end of the number, at least some performances use a slightly different line from the norm. Usually Little Cosette asks:

Will there be children

And castles to see?

However, this era of the West End production used a version later borrowed by the Official Symphonic Soundtrack as well as the 1992 UK tour:

Will there be castles

And children to see?

I can’t help but wonder what this edit was supposed to accomplish. Is it supposed to show that Cosette is optimistic and innocent enough to prioritize castles over making friends?

The opening of "Look Down" interestingly used a middle ground between Gavroche's original and rewritten lines. Originally he declares:

This is my school, my high society

From St. Denis to St Michel

We live on crumbs of humble piety

Tough on the teeth, but what the hell?

If you're poor, if you're free

Follow me, follow me!

Officially in the 1987 libretto, he instead proclaims:

This is my school, my high society

Here in the slums of St Michel

We live on crumbs of humble piety

Tough on the teeth, but what the hell?

Think you're poor? Think you're free?

Follow me, follow me!

However, the West End production at the time has him sing:

This is my school, my high society

Here in the slums of St Michel

We live on crumbs of humble piety

Tough on the teeth, but what the hell?

If you're poor, if you're free

Follow me, follow me!

The revised opener combined with the original closing part! A fascinating combination in my book.

As in the original version, the Beggar Woman cries "You give 'em all the pox" instead of just "Give 'em all the pox".

The 1987 libretto featured the following exchange as an ensemble piece:

When's it gonna end?

When're we gonna live?

Something's gotta happen now or

Something's gotta give

However, the West End production used the original solo lines:

When's it gonna end?

When're we gonna live?

Something's gotta happen, dearie

Something's gotta give

Fortunately, the generic students' lines have been replaced with Marius and Enjolras as usual. However, the beggars' lines in between their dialogue is in its original form. Instead of the revised lines:

(BEGGARS)

See our children fed

Help us in our shame

Something for a crust of bread in Holy Jesus' name

(SOLO BEGGAR)

In the Lord's holy name

(BEGGARS)

In His name, in His name, in His name

The original ones are used:

(BEGGARS)

Something for a meal

Something for a doss

Something in the name of Him who died upon the cross

On the cross, come across

On the cross, come across, come across

"The Robbery" has mostly been adapted into its revised Broadway form, with one small difference. Instead of the following revised part of Thenardier's dialogue:

Save a life, spare a sou

God rewards all the good that you do

He instead sings the following:

Save a life, spare a sou

God will see all the good that you do

This is presumably a relic of the number's pre-Broadway form, in which Thenardier's plea includes the line:

How d'you do? Spare a sou

God will see all the good that you do

I kind of like this unique variant actually. It strikes me as a little more authentic regarding what an actual religious person would say. My experience is that the omniscience of God seems to be a higher priority in most devout Christians' minds than the ways he will reward them. Of course, Thenardier is just putting on an act and he himself prioritizes nothing before reward, so perhaps the standard lines make more sense.

For some inexplicable reason, Javert's "Why on earth did he run?" later in "The Robbery" is instead sung as "Why the hell did he run?" This feels extremely out-of-character; Javert is usually not one to use Biblical terms casually.

"Stars" mostly takes on its usual post-Broadway form, with one difference. Instead of singing:

He knows his way in the dark

But mine is the way of the Lord

And those who follow the path of the righteous shall have their reward

He removes the final conjunction, making the lyric:

He knows his way in the dark

But mine is the way of the Lord

Those who follow the path of the righteous shall have their reward

Ironically, I find the original "but" a little awkward while thinking the "and" is better when present! Not a huge deal though.

Enjolras' name continues not to be stated during the instrumentals before "Red and Black".

During "Red and Black", Grantaire still sings "We talk of battles to be won" instead of the slightly revised "You talk of battles to be won".

"The Attack on Rue Plumet" uses the slightly different original "to watch a cat and his father" line instead of the official "to see a cat and his father".

Then, at the climax of the number, instead of the revised sequence of lines:

You wait my girl, you'll rue this night

I'll make you scream, you'll scream alright!

Leave her to me, don't wait around

Make for the sewers, go underground

The original sequence was used:

Make for the sewers, don't wait around

Leave her to me, go underground

You wait my girl, you'll rue this night

I'll make you scream, you'll scream alright!

During "One Day More", Javert sings the original "One day more to revolution" instead of "One more day to revolution" as is standard.

In the opener to Act Two, Grantaire sings the pre-Broadway "Some will bark, some will bite" from the pre-Broadway show instead of the revised "Dogs will bark, fleas will bite".

After "Little People", Grantaire similarly keeps his original "Better far to die a schoolboy than a p'liceman and a spy instead of the post-Broadway "What's the difference? Die a schoolboy, die a p'liceman, die a spy".

The Second Attack retains a lot of pre-Broadway lines. Instead of this post-Broadway opening:

(ENJOLRAS)

How do we stand? Feuilly make your report

(FEUILLY)

We've guns enough but ammunition short

(MARIUS)

I will go into the street

There are bodies all around

Ammunition to be had

Lots of bullets to be found

The original one is used:

(ENJOLRAS)

How do we stand? Feuilly make your report

(FEUILLY)

We've guns enough but bullets running short

(MARIUS)

Let me go into the street

There are bodies all around

Ammunition to be had

Lots of bullets to be found

Then, instead of this post-Broadway sequence:

(ENJOLRAS)

I can't let you go, it's too much of a chance

(MARIUS)

And the same is true for any man here

(VALJEAN)

Let me go, he's no more than a boy

I am old, I have nothing to fear

The pre-Broadway one is used:

(ENJOLRAS)

I can't let you go, it's too much of a chance

(MARIUS)

And the same can be said for any man here

(VALJEAN)

Let me go in his place, he's no more than a boy

I am old and alone and have nothing to fear

The remainder of the scene is performed in its usual post-Broadway form.

The "Final Battle" number uses the more hectic original pace as opposed to the less wordy post-Broadway lyrics. Instead of these current lyrics:

(ENJOLRAS)

Let us die facing our foes

Make them bleed while they can

(COMBEFERRE)

Make them pay through the nose

(COURFEYRAC)

Make them pay for every man

A slight variation on the original lyrics is used:

(ENJOLRAS)

Come on my friends, though we stand here alone

Let us go to our deaths with our face to the foes

(COMBEFERRE)

Let 'em pay for each death with a death of their own

(COURFEYRAC)

If they get me, by God, they will pay through the nose

Notice how the line now uses "the foes" instead of the original "our foes". Everything else is consistent with the original sequence, though.

"Dog Eats Dog" is mostly the same as its post-Broadway revision. However, Thenardier still sings "Here's a little toy" instead of the revised "Here's another toy".

Additionally, after the number Thenardier still doesn't shout Valjean's name.

From this point onwards, the musical takes its standard post-Broadway form.

Circa 1988-1989 variant

This version is almost identical to the last, with a couple exceptions. During "Who Am I?" Valjean now sings the official "wears my face" line as opposed to the original "bears my face" lyric.

The post-"Waltz of Treachery" scene is now performed in its standard "children and castles" format instead of the "castles and children" variant.

"Stars" now borrows a line from its Australian version. Instead of "And so it has been, and so it is written", Javert now sings "And so it must be, for so it is written". Interestingly, though, the rest of the number is the same as it was in the 1987-1988 version of the West End show.

In "One Day More", Javert finally sings the post-Broadway "One more day to revolution" instead of "One day more to revolution".

Thenardier now shouts Valjean's name following "Dog Eats Dog", as was already the case in other productions.

Circa 1989-1991 variant

This version of the show is mostly a mix of the 1987-1989 variants as well as the official post-Broadway libretto, with a few unique variations added in. The innkeeper scene retains its pre-Broadway form, and "At the End of the Day" retains its swapped-lines variants.

"The Runaway Cart" now uses its standard post-Broadway lyrics. However, the lines "The load is as heavy as hell" and "It will kill you as well" are performed as ensemble pieces instead of the scripted solo lines.

"Who Am I?" retains Valjean's "You know where to find me" line... usually. I also have one 1989 recording where Peter Karrie uses the Australian "You will find me at the hospital St. John" line... yet Karrie himself can also be heard stating the usual line in other performances. Very odd...

The "Hell, what a line" original lyric is still sing during the preamble to "Master of the House".

Thenardier still sings "your child" instead of "her child" during the "Waltz of Treachery".

Gavroche's opening to "Look Down", the Beggar Woman's "Give 'em all the pox", and the beggars' "See our children fed" lyrics have all finally been adapted into their official post-Broadway selves. However, the "When's it gonna end" sequence retains its pre-Broadway form.

"The Robbery" maintains the unique "God will see all the good that you do" variation. However, Javert's "Why the hell did he run?" has fortunately been reverted to "Why on earth did he run?"

"Stars" has now fully adapted into its Australian format. Instead of the original "Fallen from grace, fallen from grace" Javert now sings "Fallen from God, fallen from grace". The "but" has also been removed from "Mine is the way of the Lord".

"Red and Black" now uses the official "you talk of battles" line. However, Enjolras' name still isn't declared during its opening instrumentals.

"The Attack on Rue Plumet" retains all of its pre-Broadway variations.

In "One Day More", Javert now sings "I will join these little schoolboys" instead of "We'll be ready for these schoolboys".

The opening barricade scene in Act Two has now switched to the official post-Broadway "Dogs will bark, fleas will bite" lyrics.

Grantaire's post-"Little People" line now takes its post-Broadway "What's the difference?" format.

The "Second Attack", the "Final Battle", and "Dog Eats Dog" are all performed identically to the 1987-1989 West End versions.

Circa 1991-1992 variant

This is very close to the 1989-1991 version, with a few differences. The "Waltz of Treachery" finally has Thenardier say "her child" instead of "your child".

The "Final Battle" now uses the official post-Broadway lyrics.

"Dog Eats Dog" finally uses the official "Here's another toy" line instead of "Here's a little toy".

Moreover, the Epilogue now uses the Australian "I'll lead you to salvation" lines instead of the original (and still official at that point) "And lead me to salvation".

Circa 1992-1993 variant

This variant is similarly very close to the 1991-1992 one, with the following exceptions. "At the End of the Day" finally uses its official lyrics.

Valjean no longer declares "You know where to find me!" after "Who Am I?"

Then, "A Little Fall of Rain" takes a cue from the 1992 UK tour. It now opens with the same annoying interlude as opposed to the usual opening music.

Later, in another acknowledgement of the UK tour, after "Night of Anguish" instrumentals of "A Little Fall of Rain" as opposed to "Drink with Me" play.

Gavroche's death scene now uses the "ammunition short" and "I will go into the street" lines instead of the original ones. However, the rest of the number is still in its pre-Broadway state.

Circa 1993-1994 variant

This version borrows elements from the 1992 UK tour while still keeping a lot of features of previous West End versions.

The innkeeper scene still takes its pre-Broadway form.

"Fantine's Arrest" has put in Fantine's slightly awkward "I won't have you" line from the UK tour in place of her usual "No, not at all". Some performances also switch Bamatabois' original lyrics:

You've got some nerve, you little whore

You've got some gall!

It's the same with a tart as it is with a grocer

The customer sees what he gets in advance

It's not for the whore to say "yes sir" or "no sir"

It's not for the harlot to pick or to choose

Or to lead me a dance

Into his UK tour lines:

You've got some sauce, you ugly slut

You've got some gall!

What's become of the world when a whore from the gutter

Can suddenly get such ideas in her head?

Your job is to lie on your back for your betters

This hideous harlot believes she can choose

Who she takes to her bed

However, this didn't seem to be the standard at this point. Many performances still used the original lyrics.

"The Runaway Cart" has been entirely redone so that it takes its UK tour format. Instead of these original opening remarks:

Look at that

It's Monsieur Fauchelevent

Don't approach

Don't go near

At the risk of your life

He is caught by the wheel

Oh the pitiful man

Stay away

Turn away

There is nothing to do

The UK tour ones are used:

Look at that

Stay away

You'll be crushed by the cart

Don't approach

Don't go near

It'll fall on you too

Oh my god, who is that?

It's Monsieur Fauchelevent

He is caught by the wheel

Oh the pitiful man

There is nothing to do

As in the past in the West End, the solo lines in the "Don't go near him..." sequence become ensemble ones.

Finally, Fauchelevent's original "You come from God, you are a saint" takes its UK tour "You saved my life, you come from God" form.

"Look Down" still uses the pre-Broadway "When's it gonna end..." sequence.

In "The Robbery", Thenardier also still claims "God will see..." instead of "God rewards...".

As with past variations in the West End, "Stars" takes its Australian/UK tour form.

Interestingly, despite all the UK tour adaptations which were being added to the West End show, the opening sting prior to "Red and Black" is not heard (despite the fact that during this era, it was being added to more or less every other replica production worldwide!)

Additionally, Enjolras' name still doesn't appear during the number's opening instrumentals.

However, Enjolras' line:

To rally the people

To call them to arms

To bring them in line

Is replaced with the UK tour version:

To rally the people

To fire their blood

And the bring them in line

Also, the rewritten lyrics to "Lamarque is Dead" do appear.

The pre-Broadway lyrics in "The Attack on Rue Plumet" are still present.

Javert continues to sing "I will join these little schoolboys" in "One Day More".

As was the case in the last edit, "A Little Fall of Rain" and "Night of Anguish" use the musical variants introduced in the UK tour.

Gavroche's death scene is finally in its official post-Broadway form 100% of the way through. After this point in the show, everything is identical to the 1991-1993 show.

Circa 1994-1995 variant

This is almost identical to the 1993-1994 version of the show. The one difference I'm aware of: Thenardier finally sings "God rewards..." instead of "God will see..." in "The Robbery".

Circa 1995-1996 variant

A few differences are present here relative to the 1994-1995 version. First off, "Lovely Ladies" takes a cue from the UK tour. Instead of this group scene:

(SAILORS - simultaneously with prostitutes' lines)

Lovely lady, fastest on the street

Wasn't there three minutes

She was back up on her feet

Lovely lady, what you waiting for

Doesn't take a lot of savvy just to be a whore

Come on lady, what's a lady for?

(PROSTITUTES - simultaneously with sailors' lines)

Lovely ladies, lovely little girls

Lovely ladies, lovely little ladies

Lovely girlies, lovely little girls

We are lovely, lovely girls

Lovely ladies, what's a lady for?

There's this exchange between a prostitute and a pimp:

(PROSTITUTE)

God I'm weary, sick enough to drop

Belly burns like fire

Will the bleeding ever stop?

(PIMP)

Cheer up dearie, show a happy face

Plenty more like you here

If you can't keep up the pace

(PROSTITUTE)

Only joking, dearie knows her place

Note that this is NOT identical to the UK tour version. The prostitute sings "will the bleeding ever stop" instead of "never stop", and the pimp refers to "you here" instead of "you, dear".

"Fantine's Arrest" now has solidified the UK tour lyrics as the default ones; the original lyrics seem to no longer be used in the UK.

In the "Waltz of Treachery", Thenardier no longer just sings "Let's not haggle for darling Cosette". No he refers to "darling Colette", with Mme. Thenardier quickly saying (not singing) her actual name and Thenardier singing it in response. I'm not the biggest fan of this joke myself. It makes Thenardier look like nothing more than a big idiot, when I think there should be a degree of cunning to his character.

The student finally shouts Enjolras' name during the opening instrumentals to "Red and Black" now.

Fortunately, the little opening overture before “A Little Fall of Rain” has once again been removed. Everything else is the same as the last version (and yes, that includes the original pre-Broadway lines that haven't yet been converted to their rewritten forms!)

Circa 1997 variant

This version is almost identical to the last one. However, Javert is back to singing "We'll be ready for these schoolboys" instead of "I will join these little schoolboys" in "One Day More".

An interesting change also occurs during the "Final Battle". Though the lines are the same, Enjolras now sings the final word, "free", instead of shouting it.

And that just about sums this part up! If I missed anything feel free to let me know, as my goal is to create a changelog as thorough and complete as possible. I plan on making more parts in the near future covering all the changes that have been made in the show up until this day (discounting concerts). Any feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated.

As a side note, both for this project and my own enjoyment, I want as complete a collection of Les Miserables audios as possible. I already have most of what’s commonly circulated, but if you have any audios or videos you know are rare, I’d love it if you DMed me!

Until the turntable puts me at the forefront again, good-bye…

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monstersandmaw · 5 years ago

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Male winged Fae x reader (nsfw)

Some of you may not have noticed the new addition for the higher tiers of my Patreon, but if you're on the Elves tier or above, you are automatically entered once a month into a prize draw for a 3k word story of your choosing.

This month, the lovely Jackal of Hearts won, and asked for our boy Ahrin from Winter Solstice (currently undergoing a re-edit) with a neutral reader, and added that nsfw is always fun. We had a discussion about Ahrin's story because dear Jackal didn't want to spoil anything for Winter Solstice, and knew that I had plans to reveal what happened to him and his once-lovely wings during the course of the story. We decided to go for a 'pre-Winter-Solstice' setting, when Ahrin is still with the Court of Shadows, and meets his reader at the Court of Fire during a diplomatic visit.

There are a few crumbs dropped in here for Winter Solstice too, and a cameo or two, but mostly it's the story of two people connecting in an unlikely situation and making the best of it.

Hope you enjoy! It’s been up on Patreon for about a week now, so it’s time to share it here.

Winter Solstice (undergoing re-edit, but story remains the same) can be found here: Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw), Part Three (sfw) (All Tumblr links)

(reminder that in March, existing patrons will not be charged, and I do not plan to put out any new content for that month, but new patrons will still be charged for that month because that’s how Patreon works. Access to all my existing content will not be affected though!)

Enough waffle; more story! Wordcount: 5248

The Court of Fire turned out to be almost the opposite to what you’d expected. You’d imagined flame-blasted heaths with twisted stumps of heather curling like blackened fingers towards a sky choked with smoke, ash falling like tainted snow, basalt-dark rock and rivers of burning oil, with a cruel, volatile, fickle court of Fae to rule over the desolate kingdom. So when, at a mere eighteen years old, you had been led through a tear in the Veil between the worlds, quivering and trembling, with tears stinging on your cheeks, you had been surprised to discover a rich, verdant landscape, with fertile black soil as far as the eye could see.

Your second shock had come when a small party had crested the blustery promontory where the way through Veil was marked by two colossal standing stones, and you’d seen a group of riders approaching. The creatures they sat were nothing like horses. The lizards were as big as oxen, with wide, muscular bodies, slung low to the ground and with wicked, sickle-shaped claws and a spined tail.

Three of them drew to a halt at a short distance from where you stood beside the older woman who had been sent to fetch you as payment for a bargain made years ago by your parents. You had known about their bargain and had been prepared for this moment your entire life, and yet fear still coursed through you now that you were actually here in the Fae Realm.

Your guide leaned to speak in your ear, her ash grey hair whipping in the strong breeze, and whispered, “The High Prince himself has come to welcome you. Kneel as I do, and do not speak unless asked a direct question.”

Trembling, you sank to one knee and bowed your head as she did. The prince did not get down from his mount, but someone else did. Striding towards you, they addressed the woman beside you. “Is this the human that was promised to Lord Rhaziel?” The voice that spoke sounded male, and immensely frustrated.

“Yes, m’lord,” the woman said, nodding.

“Can you ride?” the Fae barked, and you realised that the question was directed at you. Risking a glance up, you took in the sight of the tall Fae and swallowed thickly. You’d heard that the Fae were enchantingly beautiful, but now that you had the opportunity to prove that theory in person, it was infinitely more intimidating than you’d realised. His skin was a deep, warm brown, and his long hair was tied back off his face and hung down his back in thick ropes, studded here and there with gold and amber beads. His eyes burned a bright gold, and you looked away almost instantly, afraid that he would take offence at your boldness.

You shook your head. You’d never been on a horse - let alone a giant lizard - a day in your life.

He sighed in frustration and said, “You will ride with me. Come.”

And with that he turned on his heel, the black and red robes of his courtly garb swirling slightly with the motion, and strode back towards a dark grey lizard who was eyeing him carefully. The older woman did not follow, but she did rise to her feet again. She, apparently, would walk with the rest of the guards surrounding the party.

As you passed him, you risked a glance at the Fae who sat at the head of the small group of reptilian mounts, and again saw nothing but beauty. He was talking with another rider who looked almost exactly like him, perhaps a little taller. The two of them were clearly related; probably brothers. With long, thick, red hair half tied back off porcelain faces, and bright gold eyes, they laughed jovially as if sharing a private joke, and even when the leader - who wore a golden crown of dancing flames studded with rubies - looked towards you, the laughter did not die in his face.

He bowed his head ever so slightly at you in acknowledgement, and his smile broadened a touch more. Above the high collar of his red and gold tunic you glimpsed a dark sigil etched into his skin and wondered what the tattoo meant. You offered him a shy smile, averted your eyes, and hurried to join the first Fae as he stood beside his lizard, looking impatient and thunderous. He said nothing as you joined him, but when you made no move to get on the frankly terrifying, constantly rumbling beast, he rolled his eyes and snapped, “Put your left foot in the stirrup and swing yourself up. I will sit behind you.”

“Oh…” you croaked. “Alright…”

The journey seemed interminable through the dense jungle that surrounded the base of the basalt outcrop where the portal between the realms sat. Your mount was third in the line, behind the High Prince and his brother, and the movement of the thing was enough to make you feel slightly seasick. Eventually the landscape dropped away to one side and you gasped as you saw a rocky ledge plunge down into an apparently unending sea of golden sand. At the foot of the dark cliffs was a wide, winding river, but beyond that, it seemed as though all life just… ended.

On the edge of the cliff ahead, with the wing which had some of the highest spires partly extending out into the empty air, a huge castle had been built. Even in the light of the midday sun you could see that the windows were glazed with red, gold and orange glass so that it looked almost as if the buildings were all aflame inside. The sight of it made you shudder, but the rider behind you gave no words of encouragement, and by the time the party drew to a halt in the colossal bailey of the castle, you were almost dizzy with fear.

At the party’s arrival, a small slew of attendants immediately scuttled out like ants from a kicked nest, and you noticed what looked like a wheeled throne being pushed easily towards the High Prince. You tried not to stare as you slid to the ground and turned to watch as his winged bodyguard stepped forwards, not to lift him down but merely to offer his shoulder for the Prince to brace against. He lowered his body down into the chair from his saddle with what had to be immense upper body strength while his legs dangled unmoving below. Once settled, he adjusted his weight and then caught you looking. You flushed, embarrassed by your curiosity, but instead of being reprimanded, you found that all he offered you was a wide, toothy - almost cheeky - grin before he pushed away towards the castle doors.

The Fae whose mount you’d shared was named Narrawaed, or Narra for short, and he turned out to be the personal bodyguard and attendant of the Fae two whom you had been promised in service, Lord Rhaziel. Despite your fears, you soon discovered that all you were required to do was assist the elderly Fae with his reading and academic studies, and after a year in his service, you came to regard him almost more like an uncle than a master.

Lord Rhaziel was the High Prince’s own uncle, and a trusted adviser at the court, so you ended up being able to attend a lot of the gatherings and events that the Court of Fire held at various times of the year. On one such occasion, the impending visit from a noble from the Court of Shadows prompted preparations for a lavish party, although the primary reason for their visit was diplomatic.

Rhaziel broke off from his research on the effects of lava-gnat venom on nerve pain one afternoon and looked up at you, blinking softly. For a Fae to look old, they must really be extremely elderly you knew by now. Rhaziel’s hair was white and a little wispy, tied back in the current courtly fashion and secured with a comb adorned with flames to mark his royal blood. His eyes had faded to a delicate pale gold now as his own magic faded. Apparently - if the extensive tattooing all over his neck and down to his hands was anything to go by (though the rest was hidden by his thick, silk robes and high collar) - he had been extremely powerful in his day. The tattoos helped to contain a Fae’s magic to prevent those with potent power from losing control. The High Prince, Jaehrin, was apparently the only person ever to have had more tattoos than Rhaziel did.

“Come, child,” Rhaziel croaked, pushing his chair back from his paper-strewn desk and easing himself to his feet. “Let us go and see how the preparations for tonight’s festivities are going.”

You nodded, not minding any longer that he still called you ‘child’. To him, you really must have seemed very young, you supposed, although you had been there for over a year now and were an adult by human standards. He meant it affectionately, and his eyes always twinkled kindly when he met your gaze.

You extended your arm to him and he took it willingly, using his silver-tipped walking stick in his other hand. His papery skin was flecked with age spots but his grip was firm, and the two of you made your way with familiar ease through the shadowy passages of the castle from his study towards the great hall.

The doors stood open and you gasped as you regarded the hangings that had been draped from the centre of the ceiling to railings on the walls and then allowed to fall in a waterfall of red and gold silk to the floor. It reminded you so viscerally of the maypole decorations in the village back home that it stole your breath away as you stared. You had been so transfixed by the sight of them that you hadn’t noticed that there was a small group of Fae in the centre of the room, and that their conversation had sputtered to a halt at your arrival. More likely it was at the arrival of the distinguished royal elder than you, of course, you realised as you turned to find them all staring.

“Shall we introduce ourselves then?” Rhaziel asked with a slight wink. “They look a bit star struck. I wonder if they’ve ever met a human before?”

You rolled your eyes, used to his teasing manners, and accompanied him closer to the strange group who were, you now saw, talking with the High Prince and his younger brother and sister.

Not all of them looked like the more ‘human’ High Fae; one was simply a writhing mass of shadows that constantly shifted and changed shape like ink in a stirred glass of water, and their voice was nothing more than a rasping of claws on stone as they spoke. Standing beside them was the High Prince’s bodyguard - and, some said, his lover - Garrad. The huge, hulking fae bore the sigil of an Ember Warrior, emblazoned across his otherwise unadorned tunic, and he stood on avian feet with enormous, black wings outstretched behind him.

A figure who looked a little like him - if only for the enormous pair of bat-like wings - was unfamiliar to you. His skin gleamed, warm and richly brown as if he spent a lot of time in the sun, and his face was sharply handsome and bore a rough-hewn kind of strength to his features. As his whisky coloured eyes landed on your face, they sharpened with interest, and his full lips murmured, “A human?”

Jaehrin laughed from his position in his wheelchair and said, “Yes. I have one or two in my court, Lord Ahrin.”

Ahrin flushed and bowed his head. “Forgive me for staring, Your Highness.” In apology, he tucked his heavy wings in tight and bowed his head. As he did so, his shoulder-length, brown hair fell into his eyes and he swept it back with a strong-looking hand. For some reason the sight of that simple gesture awoke something that had been dormant in you since coming to the Fae Realm, but you hid your reaction well while Lord Rhaziel was introduced to the remainder of the party from the Court of Shadows.

“I shan’t keep you,” the elderly Fae chuckled once everyone had been introduced. “I just wanted to come and see what was going on.” He turned to you and hissed in a conspiratorial stage-whisper, “I do still love a good party, even after all these years.”

His smile was infectious, and you laughed softly. The sound appeared to attract Ahrin’s attention again, but when you looked over at him, he had turned his head away and was speaking to one of the dignitaries from this court, a creature made seemingly of living rock who had always made you a little uneasy, like a statue come to life.

It wasn’t until the ball that evening that you saw Ahrin again.

You and Rhaziel were sitting at the side of the room on a deep, comfortable sofa, watching the nobility from both courts - and from one or two others, if Rhaziel’s comments were accurate. “That young lady is from the Court of Winter,” he said, indicating a beautiful blonde who was currently swirling around the dance floor in the arms of one of Jaehrin’s brothers. “Her adoptive brother is a terrible snob,” he added with a scoff. “Awful young man. Reserved to the point of rudeness, and a spoilt little brat if you ask me. The younger twins are delightful though… Finwe and Caedwyn…” his eyes misted over a little as he clearly thought fondly of the two younger princes of the Court of Winter.

“When did you last see them?” you asked politely.

“What? Oh… must be twenty years ago now. Oh look!” he exclaimed, suddenly digging you playfully in the ribs with a sharp elbow, and he nodded in the direction of the dance floor. “I thought someone was rather interested in you before.”

“What?” you chirped, confused, turning your head to see Ahrin smiling at you as he approached.

With what could only be described as a gleeful little cackle, Rhaziel dug you in the ribs once more and hissed, “If he asks you to dance, I expect you to say yes…”

You meddling old man, you thought amusedly. “Alright.”

Courteously greeting Lord Rhaziel first, Ahrin bowed low from the waist, glorious wings tucked as neatly out of the way as he could manage. Around the hook-like talons, the ‘thumbs’ of his bat-like wings, he wore an engraved, golden cuff, and his shoulder-length hair was half tied back and studded with small, spherical gold beads that picked up the colour of his eyes perfectly.

“My Lord,” he purred quietly to Rhaziel. “I hope you are enjoying the evening.”

Rhaziel shot you a sidelong look and snorted. “Not as much as I think you’d enjoy yourself if you were to ask my assistant to dance…”

Ahrin’s cheeks flushed attractively and he laughed. “Indeed.”

He turned to you and you swallowed nervously. Humans were not particularly numerous in the Court of Fire, and while you’d been treated with respect, as both the subject of an honoured bargain and the servant of one of the most powerful Fae in the Court, you weren’t exactly of any social standing.

“Would you me the honour of sharing this dance with me?” he asked, voice deep and gravelly. Ahrin bowed low again, and a dark, swirling mist began to coil around his polished boots and his wings, like morning frost evaporating in the sunlight.

Rhaziel leaned across and hissed in your ear, “I think he’s nervous. Put the poor boy out of his misery, eh?”

Unable to keep from chuckling, you nodded. “I’d love that. Thank you, Lord Ahrin.”

“Please,” he said as he straightened. “It’s just Ahrin.”

You took his hand and tried not to go weak at the knees when you felt the rough strength of his callused fingers. Gently, he drew you towards the dance floor as a new tune started from the minstrels’ gallery, and he began to lead you in the quick, energetic dance that followed. He held you firmly but not uncomfortably, one hand on your waist and one gripping your hand, as the two of you practically galloped along the length of the room. His wings didn’t seem to get in the way at all, and he must have been extremely fit because where the exertion left you flushed and breathing hard, he was barely winded.

Ahrin’s handsome face split into a broad, beaming grin and his eyes laughed too as he spun you around at the end and finally came to a halt in one corner as the rest of the room paused to catch their breath and applaud the musicians. “That was a tricky one!” he exclaimed. “I should have known they’d play that here! You did well though; did you learn our dances here?”

You nodded. “Lord Rhaziel insisted that I learn in case he fancied a turn on the dance floor, apparently, though he’s never expressed any interest himself in all the time I’ve been here.”

“Well,” Ahrin smiled, “I’m certainly glad he had you taught.” A moment later his expression turned a little thoughtful and he asked, “How long have you been here?”

You shrugged, following him as he led you towards the colonnade at the edge of the great hall which looked out over a balcony on the edge of the cliff. Cool breezes wafted in, making the oil lamps gutter and flare, but the air was welcome after the perfume and closeness of the dance floor. “A little over a year.”

“You’ve adapted well. Prince Jaehrin’s court seems generally fair though,” he added, almost wistfully.

Feeling a little emboldened, mostly by the fact that he still held your hand as you walked side by side into the cool night, leaving the music and laughter behind, you decided to ask him a question in return. “You’re originally from the Court of Shadows yourself, right?” You eyed his dark wings pointedly, though you were curious because he didn’t appear to have the avian legs of a Shadowborne like Garrad.

He nodded, gaze turning distant as he stared out over the empty desert that stretched out below the castle on this side. “Mmm.” Offering you a cheeky wink, he added, “Royal bastard though, so I’m no one very important…”

“You must have been quite important to be asked to come along to this?”

“Touché,” he said. “I have some standing because of my blood, but no authority really. I’m more of an ambassador when Naeryn is busy.”

“Naeryn?”

“Prince of the Court of Shadows,” he said. “I’ve always liked it here though. Jaehrin’s…” he sighed. “He’s good.” The way he imbued the word with real significance made you nod in agreement. From what you knew of the High Prince of the Court of Fire, he was indeed good. Quick to laugh and quick to forget his anger, strong with his magic and generous with his friends, he seemed quite unlike anything you’d been led to believe was possible from the Fae. You had, of course, had some run-ins with one or two nastier Fae folk, but Rhaziel’s influence largely kept them at bay.

You looked up to find that Ahrin had gone from watching the view to staring at you, eyes dark as honey now. “What?”

He smiled. “I can see you weren’t expecting us to be like this when you first heard about the Fae…”

Shaking your head, you said, “No. And I’m sure that if I wasn’t attached to Rhaziel in some way, my experience might have been a bit different. I’ve seen the other humans here who prepare the food in the kitchens and work the gardens. Their life is harder than mine by far.”

“But they’re still paid for their work, and treated fairly,” he said bitterly. The sour note took you off guard and he elaborated. “In the Court of Shadows, it’s not so pleasant. What humans there are find themselves treated like livestock. Many of the creatures there feed their magic, their essence, on fear and darkness, and humans are so… emotional. They don’t last long.”

You shuddered, a thrill running down your spine and making your hair stand on end.

“I’m sorry,” Ahrin said. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“No,” you countered firmly. “I’d rather know how things are than be deluded…”

His attractive lips quirked into a soft smile. “I’ve not met a human like you,” he admitted. A refrain of music floated out on the air and he held out his hands again. “Another dance?”

Smiling, you accepted.

“How long are you here for?” you asked, somewhat breathless, half an hour or so later as the two of you still danced in private on the balcony.

His eyes were locked on your lips and for a moment he didn’t respond. “Hmm? Oh… a week. There’s the Equinox Ball coming up, and we leave after that.”

You’d almost forgotten about the significance of the Equinox Ball, which marked the turning point of the year where the Seelie and Unseelie Royals - who ruled over all of the Courts - exchanged their power. They wouldn’t attend this ball themselves, of course, but it was still held to honour their leadership and to wish them good fortune and wise rulership for the next six months of the year. The Courts would each take their turn to host a ball, and this year it was the turn of the Court of Fire. The Shadow Court’s visit had been tied into that to discuss business between the two courts which, apparently, were not on the greatest terms despite Ahrin’s opinion of Jaehrin.

Ahrin stopped dancing and leaned a little closer to you, blinking slowly as if in a daze. He swallowed and you watched his Adam’s apple bob. “May… May I kiss you?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Yes,” you smiled and he returned the gesture.

He brought his fingertips to your chin and tilted it up so that he could look at you properly first. Sliding his palm up your jawline, savouring the shape of you beneath his touch, he smiled and whispered, “You’re stunning…”

Before you could respond, he kissed you.

His fingers tightened and he tangled them in your hair, heedless of the mess he might make of it by scrunching it all up. He tugged you into the kiss, deepening it with a groan and you watched his wings slowly flex open, as if trying to shut out all the world around you.

Breathless, he pulled back a moment or two later and you saw how his golden eyes glowed, bright and glassy. His throat worked again as he swallowed and he blinked. “Save a dance for me at the Equinox Ball?” he murmured, thumbing a line across your cheekbone.

“As many as you like,” you laughed.

Ahrin’s answering deep, earthy laugh made the warmth inside you bloom to something fierce, but before he could kiss you again, someone called his name and he winced, wings tucking. “I… I have to go,” he said. “It’s one of the Prince’s advisers. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you said, still feeling like you were floating. “Go.”

“At the Equinox Ball,” he promised, kissing your knuckles as he left.

You watched him go and turned back to the balcony and the desert below, heart pounding. Maybe it wouldn’t go anywhere beyond the ball, but you could enjoy it while it lasted, surely. Perhaps when Rhaziel decided he no longer needed you, you could go to the Court of Shadows and… Shaking your head, you instantly recalled what he’d said about how humans were treated there. No, that wasn’t something you could endure.

The sadness that pervaded your thoughts that week - even when you saw Ahrin around the palace from time to time - seeped deep into your bones. You played it off as just tiredness to Rhaziel, but when Ahrin swirled you round the dance floor for the second time at the Equinox Ball, he frowned, his thick, sculpted brows knitting, his eyes dark. “What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately sweeping you out of the dance and onto the balcony again. This time you didn’t have it to yourselves, but as he led you to the far end, you might as well have been alone.

“What’s troubling you so much?” he pressed, lifting your chin the way he had done the week before. This time, no kiss followed, only kindness.

You tried to put on a brave face, but his eyes were so earnest that you had to tell him the truth. “It’s so childish,” you hissed, half turning away.

Ahrin caught your hand up in his as you moved and squeezed. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me.”

Taking a steadying breath, you said, “I think I’m enjoying this too much.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” he asked, confused.

You nodded. “You’re going back tomorrow, and I’m staying here. I can’t go with you.”

Ahrin’s expression shattered, and you realised that he hadn’t even thought of that. “I… I can… I could come and visit you,” he ventured, though even as he said it, you both knew it couldn’t happen.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you said gently. “It’s alright… You’re probably destined for more than me anyway.”

He growled, low and deep as a wolf, and you jumped in surprise. His wings flexed behind him, like a swan preparing to beat the absolute crap out of someone, and you began to giggle at the thought. “What?” he snarled.

“Easy,” you said, still chuckling. “Let’s just make the most of tonight then.”

His warm eyes went wide and he leaned forward, seizing your face and drawing you into a passionate kiss that left you dizzy. “Yes,” he said. “Come with me.”

Ahrin led you through the castle towards the guest wing, and none of the guards stopped you as you followed him into his private apartments. A fire was blazing in the grate, and spherical glass lamps had been lit all around the room, each one glowing like rubies in the sun. His quarters were lavish, but you had eyes only for him.

His jerkin was laced up the back to accommodate his wings, and he spread them wide for you to undo it in a gesture that struck you as incredibly intimate. He shivered as you brushed your fingertips against the ‘shoulders’ of his wings where they melted from dark, leathery brown into the smooth skin of his tanned, muscular back. There wasn’t a mark or scar on his body, save for the odd freckle here and there, and as you let his jerkin fall to the ground, he turned carefully and you saw that the hunger in his eyes had grown.

Ahrin took his time undressing you, and when you stepped out of the last of your clothes, he let out a shaky breath, jaw slack, eyes glassy, his pupils blown wide. “Stunning,” he murmured, repeating his compliments from the last time as if in a kind of prayer. “You’re stunning,” he breathed.

He lingered, kissing down your neck and letting his fingers caress your hard nipples and his hands wander until you felt lax and pliant in his arms. Leading you to his bed, he laid you down and began to worship every exposed inch of you with his mouth and his hands, leaving you a gasping, shaking mess.

“You’re still… still wearing too much,” you managed to whimper when he’d brought you close to orgasm twice in a row.

With a wry grin, he nodded and shucked off the rest of his clothes, freeing his impressive, erect cock. Pre-come wept and beaded at the head and he took himself in his hand as he leaned over you on the bed, one knee on either side of your legs. Lowering himself down, he ground his body slowly against yours until you were both groaning and trembling.

“I want to mark you,” he growled, mouthing at your neck and collarbones as he picked up his speed. His wings stretched back behind him, occasionally twitching. His cock was slick against your hip as he rutted against you, covering you in his pre-come. “You’re already going to smell of me, but… can I…?” he asked, nipping you more forcefully.

You nodded, and he instantly closed his mouth to your collarbone, sucking a deep, dark bruise there. The moment he leaned back and admired his work, his wings extended wider than the width of his huge bed, and he moaned, “You look so good like that…”

“I’m yours, Ahrin,” you whimpered, shudderingly close to your own peak as he ground himself repeatedly against you. Your hands clutched at the sheets beneath you and you begged him to come as you bucked up against his weight. “Please… come over me…”

His eyes flared bright with magic and shadows began to coil around your legs as he lost his tight control on his powers. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you, and as the gentle, velvety darkness wrapped around your senses, it felt like another caress. “I’m so close,” he whimpered as he worked himself rough and fast. “Fuck… I’m…” and a moment later his hips spasmed and he emptied himself all over your stomach.

Ahrin’s wings flared impossibly wide, the membrane becoming almost translucent as it stretched to its limits as he came with a bellow, mouth open, eyes rammed shut, head tipped back in ecstasy.

A moment later as you finally came as well, his strength failed him and his muscular supporting arm buckled. He toppled down on top of you and the two of you lay panting and twitching together for a long time.

When he finally caught his breath, he pushed himself up off you, groaning at the mess he’d made of both of you. He drew carefully back and got to his feet. From where you lay, dazed and spent on the bed, you watched as his wings sagged, as though the weight of them was finally too much for him after his earlier exertions, and observed how the tips dragged on the floor as he paced unsteadily over to an adjacent room and disappeared.

The sound of running water reached your ears not long afterwards, and he reemerged again, still naked, but a little cleaner, and carried your limp body towards the bath. Steam billowed into the air, fogging the mirror and condensing on his long, thick eyelashes like morning dew on blades of grass. He lowered you into the water of the enormous, black stone bath - which was more like a pool - and stepped in after you. With care and gentle attention, he washed you clean, lingering where you were still sensitive until you were arching up into his touch and hissing his name.

“Ahrin…”

“Mmm?”

“Make me come again?”

He kissed you and adjusted the movement of his hand a little, making you cry out, though the sound was muffled by his lips against yours.

“And again,” he said, kissing your neck and leaving another bruise not long after.

You moaned.

“And again,” he added, biting gently at your collarbone. “And… again…”

Other Fae Realm Stories

Prince of the Court of Night x female reader *commission* (nsfw) Part Two (nsfw)

Male winged shadowborne fae (Shaer) x female reader (nsfw) *commission* (long!)

Male reptilian fae (Adan) x female reader (nsfw) *commission*

Male triton Fae (Kaerio) x female character (sfw) *commission*

—

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orangeflavoryawp · 6 years ago

Text

Jonsa - “What Grows in Winter”

Alright it’s here, the fluffiest thing I will ever be able to write for Jonsa. A post-series arranged marriage/marriage of convenience AU. I took a crack at it. I tried my hand. Please don’t shame me, lol.

What Grows in Winter

“There are too many years ahead to think of the years before.” - Jon and Sansa. Through the years of a harsh winter, they tend their love.

* * *

He weds her in winter, as Starks have done for generations. And he is now – he well and truly is – a Stark.

Jon looks at his new bride beneath the fall of steady snow, her cheeks pink from the cold, copper hair curling in the faint light of dusk. Sansa’s lips are cold and chapped when he kisses her, a soft press of mouths to seal the bond.

Later that night, after he’s removed the cloak he’d only just donned her with, Sansa takes his hands in hers and sets her gaze to his.

“You do not love me, Jon.”

He opens his mouth to speak but she hushes him with her fingers at his lips, fine-boned and sure. She offers a comforting smile. “And I do not love you.”

He looks to his boots.

“But you are my husband now, and I think there can be something of love between us, if we tend it, build it – if we let it grow.”

Jon looks back up to her, face half-hidden in the flickering shadows cast by candlelight. “I would be good to you, Sansa, if you let me.”

Her fingers slip from his lips to cup his jaw, her head tilted in fondness. “I believe that. And do you believe I would be good to you?”

“You already are.”

She laughs gently, shoulders easing out some of her tension. But then her lip is caught between her teeth, laugh silenced as quickly as it started. She looks to the bed. “Jon, I don’t know if I can… if I’m ready to – ”

Jon links his arms around her and holds her to his chest. “Then don’t. Not tonight.”

Sansa nuzzles her cheek against his, sighing into his embrace. “It’s going to be a long winter,” she whispers warily, fingers curling into his tunic, “And they say in winter, nothing grows.”

One of his hands finds its way into her hair.

She is his wife now, and he is her husband, but he has no name for the kind of love between them.

Not yet.

* * *

“You miss it, don’t you?” Sansa asks him one day, eyeing the way Jon gazes yearnfully at the snow-laden hills past the walls.

Jon glances back to his wife. “What?”

Sansa fits her gloved palms neatly together before her, stopping beside him along the ramparts. “The ‘true’ North, as Tormund so fondly calls it.”

Jon offers a short chuckle, lip quirking with the sound. He doesn’t answer her.

Something catches in her chest, her heart stuttering at his pointed silence. “If you wished to return…” she begins, not knowing exactly how to finish.

Jon heaves a steady sigh. “My place is here.”

“But if you wished it – ”

“My place is here,” he repeats, voice firm, eyes finally meeting hers when he grabs for her hand.

Sansa nods, lips pursed tight.

She isn’t precisely sure if she believes him or not. But he doesn’t look back over the ramparts. He keeps his gaze fixed to hers. He keeps his gloved palm in hers. He keeps his thumb rubbing languidly over her knuckles, until she tugs him inside from the cold and finds that she wouldn’t have been able to finish the thought anyway.

* * *

“Ow,” Jon snaps accusingly, lurching back from the cloth Sansa places to his forehead.

She tuts reprovingly, grabbing him by the shoulder and yanking him back, dabbing the ointment-lined cloth along the scrape at his temple while he sits on the edge of the bed. “Oh stop, you’re being worse than Arya.”

Hissing at the sting, Jon scowls up at her. “Aye, well, Arya doesn’t get absolutely mauled by you, does she?”

Sansa smacks his bruising shoulder, only minutely regretfully when he winces in response. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t have challenged her to a spar.”

“It’s not like I lost, really.”

Sansa rolls her eyes, shifting in the space between his legs, leaning to the side to better view his scrape. “It’s not like you won, either.” It’s a playful scoff that leaves her.

Jon frowns, eyes flitting from her face. He reaches a tentative hand to her hip, fingers bunching in the material of her skirt.

Sansa blinks at him, hand stilled at his temple.

“You’re my wife now,” he says lowly, almost petulantly, if she thinks too long about it. “Shouldn’t you be on my side?” He tugs at her dress lightly, like a child craving attention.

Or perhaps just affection.

Sansa smothers her laugh with her lip caught between her teeth, straightening up and dropping the cloth to the table beside the bed.

Jon raises his brows at her when she cups his face in her hands.

She smiles down at him. “You were very valiant, husband.”

Jon beams.

Sansa pushes his face away, smirking as she reaches for the cloth once more. “For a play fight.”

“For a play fi – ”

His yelp of pain when she presses the cloth back to his forehead is far more satisfying than she thinks it should be.

* * *

Sansa takes her seat beside Jon at the head table easily now, as though it has always been thus. She raises a cup to Arya across the hall, smiling when her sister reciprocates, settling into the space next to Gendry.

Jon releases a long sigh, tearing at a piece of bread.

Raising a brow his way, Sansa catches his gaze on Arya as well. “She’s a woman now, Jon, and she can make her own choices.”

“I’m not – ” Jon whips his gaze to her, stops, slumps further into his chair. He rubs a hand down his mouth and tries again. “Of course she can.”

“But?”

Jon is quiet for a long time, fingers curling around his mug.

She lets him be, takes a sip of wine, settles back along her chair and simply waits.

Jon finds his words eventually. He always does. And she has learned to let him.

“Does he love her?” he asks softly, frowning.

Sansa’s fingers thrum along the handle of her goblet. “Not every union is made with love.”

It isn’t an answer, she knows, not really, but it’s a truth – one she recognizes all the more clearly when she catches his look out of the corner of her eye. She sighs once, quiet and yielding, face softening in the candlelight. “But yes, I think he does.”

More silence – a not uncomfortable one. And then Jon shifts in his seat, leaning toward her, weight resting over the arm of his chair when he peers at her. “Have I been unloving, wife?”

She cannot help the smile that tugs at her lips. Sansa reaches for his jaw, tutting gently when she brushes the crumbs from his beard with a thumb. “You are…inelegant, husband, but hardly unloving.”

He dips his head down when he chuckles, eyes glinting with humor.

Sansa feels the hot puff of his exhaled laugh against her palm just before she retracts her hand.

The warmth blossoms across her skin so quickly – fierce and unexpected – that she has to bunch her fist in her lap beneath the table.

* * *

Sansa is silent and stiff all morning long following the last meeting of the lords. It is not the first they’ve discussed heirs.

But she is just so tired of the conversation. And she finds she’s just been too foolish all this time, to ever think being a mother would be anything more than obligatory as Queen in the North. To think it could ever be a choice.

“Do you not want children?”

Sansa looks up from her letter, quill stilled in her grasp. She blinks at Jon, considering. “It was a dream of mine once,” she says carefully.

“Is it still?”

Her eyes drift to the shut window. The ink drips from her quill, unattended.

“I think you’d make a great one, actually.”

Sansa swings her gaze back to his, brows furrowed in confusion.

Jon clears his throat. “A mother, that is. Not a dream. Or, well – I mean…” He chuckles, shifting in his seat. “I guess you already make a great one of those, too.”

Sansa sets her quill down, rises from the table, and strides across the room to Jon in six easy steps. She kisses him, hands cradling his cheeks, tilting his face up to hers.

His hands fit tentatively to her hips from where he’s seated.

“Thank you, Jon,” she whispers tearfully against his mouth.

She tastes his smile at the corners of his lips.

* * *

“Will you help me, Jon?”

Jon looks up at Sansa, catches her gaze reflected in her vanity mirror. She’s sitting with her back to him, fingering the end of a long braid.

Jon pushes up from the bed and makes his way over to her.

It’s a quiet bloom of affection that branches through his chest when he pulls the first pin free, watching a tress of copper tumble down past her shoulders. And then another. And another. Until her sigh of relief is signal enough. Jon stops, resting a hand along the juncture where shoulder meets neck, her undone hair cascading over his wrist. He slides a hesitant thumb slowly up and down the bare stretch of skin.

Sansa’s shoulders stiffen beneath the touch.

Jon pauses.

When she lifts her gaze to the mirror, he’s already watching her, already waiting.

And here’s the truth of it:

That faint graze of his thumb along her skin lasts like an echo. He feels it even now – just beneath his touch. Her breath, her warmth, her pulse – rippling past his fingertips. He doesn’t know how to stem the tide.

He never could.

Jon swallows tightly, eyes never leaving hers through the mirror. He chances another swipe of his thumb. “Is this alright?”

Sansa nods mutely.

He leans lower, mouth hovering over the space where his hand rests. Sansa’s breath hitches. His hand slides away, his lips replacing his touch, eyes fluttering shut.

The tension leaves her shoulders, a subtle spasm lighting her skin, her fingers curling along her lap.

“And is this alright?” His breath is a wet puff of air along her neck.

Again, she nods, but his eyes are still shut, and he cannot see her keenly anxious expression.

So in answer, her hand finds its way into his hair, and then she’s turning in her seat, and then she’s kissing him.

The echo lingers, dancing off the corners of his mind, drowning him with its unexpected fervency.

* * *

Sansa is asleep along the settee in her solar when Jon finds her. There’s a scroll unraveling from her hand down to the floor, her cloak slipping from her form and pooling over the stone. He rights it immediately, smoothing the fur over her shoulders.

Sansa groans in her sleep, fingers clutching at the scroll, scrunching the parchment in her grip.

“Lady,” she mumbles, a yearning sort of keen lighting her sleep-touched voice. She nuzzles against the armrest, seeking warmth.

Jon pulls back slowly after replacing her cloak. He watches her for a moment, and then he leaves.

When she wakes, Sansa recognizes the warm tuft of fur her face is somehow buried in. Ghost rumbles beside her, discomfited but unmoving. Sansa opens her eyes to white, her arm linked around his neck as he lounges against the settee.

He smells like Jon, in a strange, somewhat sharp fashion – like oak and musk and soiled snow, a rich sort of tang not entirely unpleasant. Like a grounding winter. Like the scent of the godswood at the hour of dusk.

Sansa closes her eyes and holds Ghost close, laughing at his responding snort.

* * *

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

Sansa’s hands still at the edges of his tunic. She glances back up to him, something passing over her face he can’t quite identify.

He’s watching her with dark eyes, mouth a firm line, his throat flexing as he swallows tightly.

Sansa presses into him, catching the way his breath hitches and his lips part on a ragged exhale. She smiles secretly to herself. She continues with his tunic, pulling it up and over his head, letting it fall from her trembling fingers.

“Sansa.” It’s more a rumble in his chest than any breath of air that leaves him, his hands already moving for her arms, holding her to him.

“Do you want it?” she asks him, splaying a hand over his bare chest, her other snaking into his hair.

His eyes flutter closed, his chest heaving. The unconscious groan that leaves him at the flex of her fingers in his hair staggers him slightly, his hands gripping her arms even tighter. “Aye, Sansa. Gods, but I do,” he whispers in the space between their lips.

She slides her hand up his chest, anchoring it at the nape of his neck.

He releases a sound that’s not quite relief, not quite pain, his head falling forward to brace against hers.

“But if you – ”

“Jon.”

He blinks his eyes open, stares heatedly at her.

“If you ask me what I want, I’m going to say you,” she tells him firmly, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. “I’m always going to say you.”

Jon stares at her with unyielding tenderness, his mouth opening, but no words find air.

Sansa steps back, her hands slipping from him, and he almost yanks her back, almost drags her to him with a fierceness that scares him, before he notices her hands undoing the laces of her shift.

It falls to the floor and stays there until morning.

The echo is back.

‘Her’ it says. Over and over.

Her, her, her.

If she asks him what he wants, he’s always going to say her.

* * *

She finds him in the rookery one evening. He’s just let a raven to air, his hands still outstretched, eyes trailing the path the bird takes through the snow. He turns at her entrance, faint candlelight smoothing the edges of his silhouette.

She smiles her greeting, making her way to him.

Jon winds a hand around her waist instinctively, and Sansa finds her chest constricting. She takes a steady breath, resting her hand along his shoulder.

He doesn’t seem to notice the way such casual intimacy still flusters her.

“Tormund is well?” she asks, choosing to ignore the thrum of something dangerous brewing between her ribs.

Jon chuckles, a dry scoff leaving him. “As well as can be expected with that one.”

In the years before, she might have missed the affection lining his voice. In the years before, she might have misinterpreted the soft press of his fingers at the small of her back. In the years before –

Sansa doesn’t want to think about the years before.

There has been enough blood between them, enough war in the North. There has been enough time wasted. Enough love squandered.

Sansa reaches up and traces the lines of his forehead in the dim light.

Etched in every fold is a lineage of loyalty, and fierceness, and staunchness so palpable she feels it in her marrow, in her bones, lancing through her with every look he sends her way.

Jon questions her with a low hum and a piqued brow.

“You said once that your place was here. Is that still so?” Her fingers dip down along his cheek, gliding over his jaw, and then his nose, feathering back up along his temple.

“Sansa,” he breathes, and she knows. She knows suddenly, but she needs him to say it.

“Is that still so?” Her touch falters to a stop at his lips, her breathing stopping with it.

He peels her hand away and leans in, lips braced just before hers, almost – almost touching – and she thinks she can hear his smile in the dark.

“Would you allow anything else?” he chuckles against her lips.

Sansa pulls back with an indignant scoff, but he catches her wrist easily, tugging her back to him, crashing his lips against hers heatedly, his laugh gone, her scoff silenced.

My place is here, he tells her, with every brush of his lips, with every deep-seated sigh, with every flex of his fingers along her spine.

Always.

There are too many years ahead to think of the years before, Sansa reminds herself.

His hand keeps to the small of her back when he kisses her, open-mouthed and languid.

His hand keeps to her.

* * *

Jon watches Sansa from the corner of his eye. Her head’s cocked in observation, hands held at her back, taking in the sight of Arya sparring with Brienne. A smile forms along her lips – so small he cannot discern whether it is fondness or pride.

Perhaps there is no difference when it comes to their sister.

Jon nudges the toe of his boot into the snow, alight with sudden doubt. “Do you ever miss being siblings?” He doesn’t know what makes him say it.

Doesn’t know how to take it back, either.

Sansa turns her gaze to him. She’s silent for a moment, lips pursed in thought.

Jon looks around the courtyard to distract himself.

“No, I don’t.”

He looks back at her, licking his lips nervously. “Why not?”

She turns fully to him, hands slipping from behind her when she offers him a perceptive smile. “Because then I couldn’t be your wife.” She reaches up and straightens his cloak, brushing the snow from his shoulders. “And I think I would miss that more.”

Jon blinks at her, lungs giving out. And then he snakes an arm around her waist and drags her to him, kissing her boldly and unabashedly right there in the open courtyard.

* * *

Sansa sighs, staring out over the ramparts. It’s a familiar scene – the white arcs of hills, the snow-blurred sky, the long stretch of the North winding far past their walls.

She always knew it would be a long winter. She came prepared for it.

She married her inelegant husband in the height of winter, and she would marry him again, for convenience or not. She would marry him for her.

For Starks have long been unafraid of cold, and Jon and Sansa know how to build their own fires.

Jon announces his presence with the crunch of snow beneath his boots.

Sansa finds that building love is much like building a fire.

“They say in winter, nothing grows,” she says in greeting, gaze softening at his.

Jon’s chuckle reaches her through the gentle wind, one of his hands winding around hers, the other spreading fondly over her rounded stomach.

Smiling, he tells her, “Some things grow.”

#jonsa #jon snow #sansa stark #jon and sansa #jon x sansa #game of thrones #got #got fanfic

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g-on-ef · 7 years ago

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I'm having a bad day, can you write a DamiJon and TimKon fic where the supers are having an arm wrestling match and their Robin's are laughing and cheering them on from the sidelines? Pleasssseeeeeeee????? 😄

I hope you enjoy this sweetie and that the rest of your week is better and more enjoyable ^*^

Alfred was famous for making sweets; no matter what itwas his deserts where always the best so it was no surprise that there werehardly any leftovers since the batboys tend to finish them. Today however, wasan exception Alfred made his famous cinnamon crumb cake and there were only twoslices left.

Tim, Kon, Jon, and Damian looked at one another silentlychallenging the others for the slices of cake.

“We deserved the last two slices, we’ve solved a case andarrested four drug lords!” Tim said glaring at Damian.

“Arresting a criminal and solving a case is child’s playDrake both Jon and I were able to take down Luthor and his operations!”

“You had help from both Bruce and Clark and we didn’t!”

“You also had outside help, Grayson and Todd had a handin taking down the drug lord,”

“That’s different!”

“How?!”

Before either two could continue their argument, Jon and Connorstood between them and separated the two.

“Come on guys the slices are big enough for all four ofus to share,” Jon said trying to keep the peace, Connor looked at his littlebrother like he grew two heads.

“What?” the younger Kent asked.

“Are you serious? You really want a small slice of Alfred’scake, when you can have your own big piece?”

“Well yeah but,”

“But nothing Kent, it’s clear that neither Drake, the clone,nor I are going to let this matter go until we get what we want,”

“And how are we gonna settle this?” Jon had to ask,Connor smirk as he sat down at the table and stuck out his hand.

“Arm wrestling, you and me Jon winner takes both slicesof cake and the mantle of the second strongest member in the Kent family.”

Both Damian and Tim looked at each other before a slysmile spread across their faces.

“An arm wrestle contest would not only give us a victor,but it’ll finally determine which of our aliens is the far soupier one,” Damiansaid already liking this idea.

“I hate to agree with the brat but he’s right Kon, youbetter win this and not make me look someone who teams up with pansies,”

“Gee thanks Tim, your faith in me means a lot,”

Damian just rolled his eyes as he looked at Jon.

“I don’t need to give you no words of encouragement becauseyou can easily kick his ass, you are not only my partner but also my boyfriendyou could easily defeat him without even breaking a sweat,”

“Umm…thanks?” the young superhero said, a bit worriedthat he’ll let his Robin down.

Jon looked at his brother in fear, the two were alwaysrough housing and testing each other’s strength, sadly Connor always came outon top between their little games. Still beating Connor would be great for hisego also if he could slide in another deal maybe Jon can win both the cake andsomething else.

“Okay, but let’s add something else to the deal,”

“And that is?”

“If you win you’ll get both the slices of cake and Ma’s last slices of pie, also youand Tim have to do whatever me and Damian say for the rest of the weekend,”

Both Tim and Kon looked at one another before looking attheir younger brothers, Jon with a mischievous glint in his eyes and Damianwith a proud smile that was directed to Jon.

“Okay, but if I win we get both deserts and you andDamian have to do our chores for the rest of the weekend,” he said looking atTim who nodded his head in approval.

“Deal,” Jon said sitting down and grabbing his brother’sarm.

Both Connor and Jon smirked at one another before Damianstood on one side of the table and Tim stood on the opposite end.

“Okay you two, on the count of three,” Tim said lookingat both Superboys,

“One,”

“Two,” Damian said,

“THREE,” both Wayne brothers said simultaneously.

Jon and Connor tried to bring the other down as they usedall their strength to bring the other down.

“Come on Kon, show this little twerp who’s boss,” Timcheered,

“Twerp?” Jon asked, for a second he was distracted for awhile, enough time for Connor to bring his hand down a little.

“Jon focus!” Damian cried afraid of Jon losing, he didnot want to do Drake’s chores for the rest of the weekend but more importantlyhe wanted that cake! {And the pie}

Jon regain his focus as he pulled his arm back upbringing it back to the center, he glared at Kon who couldn’t help but smirk atalmost winning,

“That’s it Jon kick this wanna be Super-man reject’s ass!”

“What did you say?” Kon asked all traces of humor gone,like Kon who took advantage of his distraction Jon used his slip ofconcentration to his advantage and tried to bring down his arm he was halfwaythere before Kon regain focus more like Tim hit him in the back of the head andyell,

“Focus!”

Kon regain his focus as he brought his arm back to thetop, this time it was Jon who had a smirk on his face and a look of worried wason Connor’s.

The two kept trying to bring the other down, Tim and Damianlooked at the two with both excitement and anticipation as their supers triedto beat the other,

“Come on Connor don’t let this little boy beat you,”

“If Jon wins its not because Connor was defeated by a boyit was because he lost to a far supior being,” Damian said as he watched hisboyfriend winning this match.

“Come on Kent, don’t let this clone beat you you’re waybetter than him,”

“Of course, I’m gonna win Dami, after all I’m cuter andsince I am younger that means I’m a lot stronger I mean you’re getting old Kon,that means you’re losing your edge,”

Both Tim and Connor looked at him in shock while Damianlaughed at Jon’s trash talking. He was to cute when he tried to be tough.

Connor smirk as he tried to push his arm down,

“You maybe cute little brother but I’m hotter and I maybeold but I have more experience than you, and plus I at least don’t cry duringthe Lion King or the ending to Pokémon,”

“Ooohhh,” Tim said, he found three pairs of eyes lookingat him weirdly.

“What? Isn’t that what people do after they are donetrash talking them?”

No answered him before Damian said,

“Remember clone, you are marrying that,”

“Don’t remind me,”

“Hey!”

Jon just laughed as he kept trying to bring his brother’shand down.

“Come on Jon kick his ass!”

“Damian language,” Jon said acting scandalous.

“Yeah Dami, gosh darn it you are only six years old!” Timsaid unable to resist a jab at Damian’s age.

Damian just rolled his eyes as all three boys laughed atthe joke making Damian blush a bright red.

Jon and Connor smirk at one another as their boyfriendskept cheering them on.

“Connor you’re the strongest, bravest, sexiest, and bestman out there! Don’t let this little boy win!”

“Kent, I don’t need to boost your ego because you have meas your boyfriend and that’s enough to know you’re better than the clone so youbetter not lose,”

“Of course, I’m everything you said Tim, can’t let thelittle brats get the best of us and think they are better than us, now can I?”

For some reason this made everyone laugh as theirfriendly competition kept getting a little more heated with their trashtalking.

“Dude I know I’m better than you, and I got a hotterRobin who can kick your old ass without even trying,”

This made both Damian and Tim go,

“Ooooooohhhhhhh,”

“Tim, he just dissed you,”

“Yeah, but it was a great dissed I couldn’t resistcheering him,”

Connor turned to his little brother and couldn’t help butsmile as he said,

“You just said a bad word that means I’m telling mom,”

“Tattle tale,” both Damian and Jon said making both Timand Connor laugh.

“Then I’ll tell Tim about the time you dressed as aballerina and danced to swan lake!”

Both Tim and Damian started laughing as Connor turned abright red before he said,

“Say what you want but I look good in a tutu,”

This made all the boys laugh including Connor who couldn’tresist laughing along his friends.

“Ready to give up?”

“Nope, you?”

“Tch, you wish,”

“My superboy is gonna win Dami,”

“Not a chance Drake,”

“My money is on the clone,”

“No way man Jon is totally gonna win,”

“Wait what?” Connor asked distracted by the new voices, thedistraction was enough for Jon to bring down Connor’s hand making him thevictor.

“I did it! I won! I beat my…brother…” Jon watched in horrorat the scene before him,

Damian, Tim, and Connor turned to where Jon’s face wasstaring as their faces mirror Jon’s expression.

Sitting on the counter was Dick and Jason…eating…Alfred’scake.

“See told you little wing that Damian’s superboy wasgonna win,”

“Ah shit man, I owe you fifty bucks,” Jason said as heput his empty plate down next to him.

“Yeah you do,” Dick said as he took a final bite of thecake and placed his own plate down smiling at his brothers and theirboyfriends. He saw that all four of them were giving them a scandalous look.

“What?” Dick said.

All four continue to stare at them before Jon was thefirst to snap out of it and shouted,

“GET THEM!”

A few minutes later Alfred came in the Manor with a newtray of cinnamon crumble cake and two pies from Ms. Kent, he knew his grandsonsloved his sweets which is why he decided to make another batch as well as askMs. Kent for some of her pies which she kindly gave him.

As he passed the living room and headed for the kitchenhe had to stop and walk back to the living room to make sure that what he sawwas true and not some trick from his eyes.

Upon looking at the living room he saw Master Grayson andMaster Todd tied up hanging from the ceiling while the young Masters, MasterDrake, and Master Kent were sitting in a circle watching some show.

Master Connor was sitting on the couch while Master Drakewas resting his head on Master Connor’s lap who was running his fingers throughhis hair.

Jon and Damian were resting on the other couch in thesame position as their older brothers however, Master Damian was reading a bookto Master Kent and young Master Kent was smiling as he listen to Damian’s softvoice.

Master Todd and Master Grayson were shouting-or tryingwith the gags on their mouth-to be released. All in all it was a typical Fridaynight.

He wanted to ask but at the same time was afraid to,after all if he had to guess it involved his sweets and the boys not being ableto get some. Taking a deep breath, he shakes his head as he headed for thekitchen. He’ll wait until the boys are done watching TV and released MasterGrayson and Master Todd before announcing his surprise.

#damijon #damijon prompts #writing prompt #writing prompts #request filled #damian wayne #jonathan kent #jon kent #timkon #tim drake #conner kent #kon el #super sons #dc batman #dc superman

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ncfan-1 · 8 years ago

Text

Simple Wants

Vanimeldë was a woman of simple wants--or, at least, she thought so.

Written for the April 3rd Legendarium Ladies April general prompt, Wants and Wishes.

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

When she was young, Vanimeldë was a child of simple wants.

“Vanimeldë, please, you must pay greater mind to your arithmetic. I have spoken with your tutors, and your progress… You do not seem to have made any progress at all since the last time I spoke with them.”

Vanimeldë’s mother, Vanimandil, often initiated such conversations with her daughter. Though Vanimeldë might find arithmetic too tedious and too irrelevant to devote much attention to it, she was quite an accomplished listener, and she had heard servants whispering in the back halls, when they thought she wasn’t near. The wife of the King’s heir despaired of her husband ever putting his mind to one day governing Anadûnê, despaired of it perhaps even more than the King himself. One of the maids had heard her complaining to her favorite lady-in-waiting; one of the grooms had watched her follow her husband into the stables to implore him to stay in the capital as he was preparing to ride away to meet friends in Rómenna.

Sometimes, the whispers seemed to seep from the very walls, and Vanimeldë would just attribute it to her own keen ears. But what could anyone expect? Vanimandil was a daughter of Andúnië, if a few degrees removed from the Lords’ immediate family. They had strange notions of how to rule in Andúnië; so everyone said, and if it was what everyone said, there must have been at least a kernel of truth to it.

But Vanimeldë knew better than to repeat palace gossip indiscriminately. Information was a valuable resource, one that should never be squandered. Besides, it would just make her mother upset to remind her of it. So Vanimeldë smiled winningly and pointed out, “But arithmetic isn’t all there is to being Queen, is there, Mother? I’ve been doing very well in my other—“

“Yes, you sing very well, Vanimeldë,” Vanimandil cut her off, her formerly smooth brown forehead beginning to crease noticeably. “And you master any instrument given to you to play within a few months. However, that is not—“

“And literature and history, Mother,” Vanimeldë added earnestly. It was easiest to overwhelm her early on, to get her off track so that she didn’t exactly forget what she had been angry about, but that she would deem it no longer relevant. Vanimeldë had watched her father employ this method many times, and he almost always succeeded. “I excel in those subjects, and did you not say that I handled the colonial delegation wonderfully when I had to greet them last week?”

A pause, and then, Vanimandil nodded. “…Yes,” she allowed, her green eyes softening slightly. “That’s not precisely new, Vanimeldë; you’ve always been attentive to your history texts, and to the classics.”

But Vanimeldë knew her mother had weakened the moment the word ‘history’ passed her lips. They did love their history in Andúnië, though Vanimeldë thought the Andustari focused disproportionately on the Elves. Why focus on another race when their own had such a rich history? But in the Andustar, it was all about the Ñoldor, and the Falmari who visited from Tol Eressëa. Boring. Now, the tales of the great among the Edain, and, more recently, the voyages of Tar-Aldarion and the struggles of Tar-Atanamir and Queen Adanel, those were tales worth reading and rereading. And watching. In fact…

“And remember what my tutors told you about the languages I’ve been learning?”

“Y-yes.” Vanimandil hesitated, winding her long belt in her hands. Finally, she squeezed her eyes shut, and sighed. “I would prefer if you devote an appropriate amount of time to all of your studies, not simply the ones you find most interesting. But for now, I will leave you. We will talk about this again,” she promised, but as she shut the door to Vanimeldë’s bedchamber, the air that followed her was hardly that of one who had won an argument.

With her mother gone, Vanimeldë reached for the Taliska reader she had been looking through before Vanimandil came to her. The language held appeal for her by itself, it was true. But there was another reason she was interested in it, and that was another thing she wouldn’t be telling her mother, not yet.

The theaters in Armenelos only allowed adults through their doors, and did not make exceptions for princesses—at the very least, Tar-Ancalimon wasn’t willing to force them to make an exception. But they offered many plays sung or spoken in Taliska, and it would only be a few years yet before Vanimeldë was old enough to go inside. She intended to be well-versed enough in the language to understand the story by then.

II.

When she was a young Queen, Vanimeldë’s desires were, she thought, still quite simple things.

Vanimeldë wrote poetry, and she wrote plays. This did not make her unique amongst the nobility, or, indeed, even among past royals. Fully half of the volumes of poetry on Vanimeldë’s private shelves were written by authors with more than a drop of Elros’s blood—the works of Princess Áralindë, the sister of Tar-Atanamir who had been disinherited for marrying outside the House of Elros, was especially fine, and… Anyways, there were also several tomes of plays written by noble authors on Vanimeldë’s shelves. The quality of these works tended to vary greatly, with some being masterpieces, and some whose greatest contribution to the world would be to inevitably be used as kindling by the future generations. The former, Vanimeldë kept to enjoy. The latter, she kept to laugh at and to remind herself of all the things she was not. And the theaters in Armenelos typically ran at least three Elrosian-penned plays at once at any given time.

It was not spectacularly strange for the nobility, even the Kings and Queens, to write. More than one of Elros’s blood had contributed to the great cultural legacy of Anadûnê. So why was it, that when Vanimeldë wrote—

She gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on her stylus. She was the Queen; it was simply not worth concerning herself with. But Vanimeldë’s ears were no less keen than they had been when she was a child, and this time, she got the impression that she was meant to hear the whispers circulating around the palace.

‘Irresponsible.’

‘Given to frivolous displays.’

‘Can’t focus on affairs of state for more than a few hours at a time.’

‘Oh, if only that last child of Vanimandil’s had not died!’

Vanimeldë fisted her free hand in her dark hair. Incredible. Tar-Aldarion left the country for years on end on his voyages, and I’ve never uncovered so much as a scrap of evidence of ministers or courtiers or anyone calling for his removal. I haven’t left the capital. I am right here if there is a crisis. And yet…

Frustration was taking its toll. Vanimeldë hadn’t been able to finish the scene she was working on for the past three hours, though there were probably ten dialogue switches left. How ironic it was, that the very people complaining about the Queen sequestering herself in her chambers were causing her to stay there longer through their incessant criticisms. Just a few more lines, and I think I should be able to put this down for the rest of the day with a clear conscience. Just a few more lines.

The blank spot at the bottom of het page remained quite infuriatingly blank, and Vanimeldë would like you to know that it took an enormous amount of restraint not to hurl her inkwell out the open window, but that she did restrain herself.

“Vanimeldë?”

She didn’t hear anyone calling for her at first. Vanimeldë had sent her ladies-in-waiting and all of the other servants out of her chambers while she worked. Likely a few of them were gathered outside the outermost door in case she called upon them, but most had no doubt scattered to the four winds. If her pages came back with their tunics covered in crumbs again…

However, when Vanimeldë did hear someone calling for her, she was at least able to relax and set down her stylus (And managed to do so gently enough not to break it. This time.). She knew but one person who would come venturing into her chambers without ceremony. “I’m here, Herucalmo,” she replied, “becoming the living avatar of frustration. Come join me.”

Her husband strode into the room, looking very much as though someone had just died, though that wasn’t unusual for him. Vanimeldë loved him, truly, she did, but he was markedly intense about most things, and most of the times she liked to tease him about it. This time, she couldn’t summon the levity to do so. She could only flop back in her chair and look at him with a grimace. “What brings you to my dungeon?” Vanimeldë asked, wishing, not for the first time, that sarcasm was a substance that could literally drip off of her voice; distilling it into a perfume would likely do wonders for keeping certain officials out of her hair. “Has someone died? That would liven things up around here.”

Herucalmo grimaced right back at her. “Nothing that enlivening, Vanimeldë. If you will recall, you have a budget meeting scheduled with your ministers in an hour.”

Oh, that. Again, Vanimeldë resisted the urge to throw her inkwell out the window. It was made of Falmari sea glass, after all; that wasn’t exactly easily replaced. “I was under the impression that last year’s allotment was considered quite satisfactory. Do we really need to meet if obviously the best course of action is to do as we did then?”

“Considering that we have more money than we did last year, yes.”

“That could be easily solved by sending the surplus to the treasury.”

“They won’t accept that as a course of action unless you are there to recommend it.”

“I am hardly the first ruler to send such messages without being physically present in the council chambers.”

“Vanimeldë.” Herucalmo closed the gap between them, rested his hand flat on her writing desk. The look in his clear eyes was not unsympathetic, but at the same time, it wasn’t really a look that indicated he was going to leave without some sort of concession from her. “You’ve missed the last three council meetings. You are running out of excuses, and your ministers are nearing the end of their patience.”

She paused, running her hand over the rope of lapis beads strung around her neck. “I… I know that. I’ve been busy.”

Vanimeldë enjoyed holding court. She enjoyed hearing from petitioners, even if the issues they brought before her were laughably petty; it did give her a good laugh, and there was something gratifying about knowing that they’d thought it worth it to tell her about it. She enjoyed arbitration, diplomatic negotiations. She even enjoyed trade negotiations. It might have been one of the things certain people thought Vanimeldë didn’t have a sufficient attention span for, but there was something oddly fascinating about the knots people could tie themselves into over tariffs, and the underhanded trickery they would try to pull off when it came to taxes.

But meetings such as the one Vanimeldë was being called upon to attend now… She understood their necessity, of course; not all the vital workings of an empire could be exciting, though it would make life much easier if they were. However, the tedious minutia of running an empire held little appeal for Vanimeldë, especially when she knew she was going to be walking into a room where every person there would tell her that everything that came out of her mouth was wrong. If her advisors were really all convinced that they all knew better than her, what exactly was the point of showing up at all?

“I know,” Herucalmo murmured, lines showing up in his forehead, deeply etched. “But a gesture must be made.”

“And what would you suggest?” Vanimeldë demanded, her voice breaking with sudden exasperation.

Herucalmo said nothing for a long moment, his eyes very bright. Then… “I could go in your place.”

“If they demand that their Queen show herself, I am not certain they’ll settle for the Prince Consort.”

His mouth twitched in something like a smirk. “If I tell them that you sent me as your representative, they might accept it. And we are descended in the same degree from Tar-Atanamir. Even they cannot complain about that.”

Vanimeldë smirked back. “Go, then. As my representative.”

She almost wished she was going with him, just so she could see the looks on her advisors’ faces when Herucalmo told them he was there as the Queen’s representative; the flabbergasted looks might be enough to cure any bad moods for hers for a while. But for now, she had a scene to write…

III.

Vanimeldë wrote. And wrote. It was a glorious time, when she could write without any interruption at all, save those which she chose to heed. The play was finished, a score created, a willing actors’ troupe found, and a theater designated as the site for the debut. When she thought about it, Vanimeldë felt as though she was walking on air. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been able to write without disruption for so long.

But as Vanimeldë emerged from seclusion, she began to notice things. Her ears were still keen, and she was gifted with the far-sightedness of the House of Elros. She could hardly be expected not to notice.

Notices of meetings and scheduled negotiations and arbitrations were either finding their way to Herucalmo’s hands when they should have reached Vanimeldë’s, or they were simply addressed to him outright. Certain courtiers now addressed Herucalmo more deferentially than they had before, and in others, Vanimeldë detected a certain edge of… derision? Yes, derision, when they addressed her. Like she simply wasn’t someone to be taken seriously anymore. That wasn’t the least of it, but that was what followed her wherever she went. The nagging sense of dynastic irrelevance.

Vanimeldë supposed she could have stood to be paying more attention to exactly what her husband was doing while acting as the Queen’s ‘representative.’ Never let it be said that she couldn’t recognize her own faults; she knew she had been inattentive in this. But never let it be said either that Vanimeldë did not know how to send messages as well as she could receive them.

“Are you certain you can afford to spend the evening at the theater?” Vanimeldë asked sweetly as she and Herucalmo settled into the royal box of Armenelos’s grandest theater. Alcarin was not with them; the boy had never had much love of art, poor thing. “I know how busy you have been of late.”

If Herucalmo caught the knife in Vanimeldë’s voice, he gave no sign. Seeing as such equanimity would be new for him, Vanimeldë attributed it to obliviousness. So much the better. “I think I can afford to spend one night away from the palace,” he said with a smile.

So very much the better.

“Oh, good! I think you will enjoy this one, my love. It seems just the sort of thing that would interest you.”

Vanimeldë had never told Herucalmo precisely what her play was about, though considering that Herucalmo had never exercised the curiosity required to ask, she could hardly be faulted for keeping her silence. If he was content not knowing, then let it be a surprise. Vanimeldë loved surprises.

For an hour or two, Vanimeldë watched. And waited. Waited for that particular moment of dawning realization, and the emotions that accompanied it. If she was nothing else, Vanimeldë was an avid spectator; she hoped dearly that Herucalmo, her Herucalmo, would not disappoint her.

Around the end of the second act, Vanimeldë saw enough of that crawling look to ask, with just the right degree of anxiousness, “How are you liking it so far?”

“It’s… wonderful.”

To say that Herucalmo’s voice was strained would be a gross understatement, bordering on obscene. To say that it was strangled did not do it much more justice, but Vanimeldë supposed she would have to be content with that descriptor until she could find a satisfactory replacement.

As for Vanimeldë, she suspected she would have bled sugar if pricked, her smile was so sweet.

That nagging sense of irrelevance was still with her, and Vanimeldë did not know if she would be able to be rid of it. So many thought Herucalmo more fit to rule than her that it might well be impossible. But she still had her writing—and judging from the ghastly shades of white her husband’s face was turning, another new hobby. It was so good to have new hobbies.

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

Anadûnê—Númenor (Adûnaic) Andustar—The western promontory of Númenor. The north of this region was rocky, with forests of fir trees on the coast. Andustar contained three small bays which all faced west, the most northern of which was the Bay of Andúnië. The south of the Andustar was fertile, and there were forests of birch, beech, oak and elm trees. Timber was this region’s main source of wealth. Falmari—those among the Teleri who completed the journey to Aman; the name is derived from the Quenya falma, '[crested] wave.' Taliska—the language originally spoken by the Houses of Bëor and Marach (later to be known as Hador) before they entered Beleriand. Taliska is noted as apparently having some Khuzdul influences. Though the language largely fell out of use among the House of Bëor (the Bëorians coming to more commonly use Sindarin in their daily speech), it was still widely-enough retained for the survivors of the House of Hador to carry it with them to Númenor, where the language eventually evolved to become the Adûnaic tongue.

#Tolkien #The Silmarillion #Fanfic #Legendarium Ladies April #Tar-Vanimelde #Herucalmo #Vanimelde is a troll is a troll is a troll

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gaiatheorist · 6 years ago

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“Does it spark joy?”

2.30am on a Sunday morning, and I’ve read yet another article on Marie Kondo. I’m coming unravelled again, and setting myself distraction-tasks, to avoid plummeting into one of my rabbit-holes. They’re holding strategies, last year I had the garden, this year, I have the house and the garden. I’ll grow some of my own food, because the UK unemployment benefit doesn’t leave any leeway for anything but bills. (I’m lucky, I ‘Won the Golden Ticket’ of an award of disability benefit, it’s highly probable that it will be declined when it comes to renewal in less than a year, despite my brain injuries being permanent.) I ‘caught’ myself moving things around a few days ago, it’s one of my anxiety-behaviours, I don’t have very much control about the external-world, so I focus on what I can control.

Moving things around. Do I want/need ‘that’? Is it of any practical use now, or am I just holding on to it for sentimental reasons? (There’s very little here that isn’t of practical use, I don’t really ‘keep things’, and I do have regular periods of purging what’s left.) There’s no ‘sparking joy’, just an awful lot of irritability. My strange friend Creepy Carpet Tile Man visited recently, and pointed to various ‘things’, saying “Why don’t you put that on eBay?” “It’s not mine.” “Surely it is now? He’s been gone long enough, doesn’t it become legally yours after all these years?” My loft is full of the ex’s ‘stuff’, and I can’t use my garden shed, because that’s packed with his belongings as well. I hate being ‘tethered’ to him, I’m sick of asking him to take things away, and him ‘forgetting’, or ‘having something on’, he’s unreliable, he always was. I’m also cautious of snapping at him in front of our son, so this is, in part, a situation of my own making. The ex is doing what he always did, “Leave something long enough and someone else will sort it.”, he’s ‘not the most useful arrangement of molecules’, as the kid once described him.

The practical thing for me to do would be to tell the ex again that I want his various stuff gone. I don’t want to be responsible for it, I have enough difficulty being responsible for myself some days. He doesn’t have the time, or the storage space, his parents aren’t well, and our son is in the final year of his degree. ‘Never a good time’ again. I’m angry at him for being generally inept, and I’m frustrated with myself for absorbing the emotional load again. I am not responsible for him, and I’m stuck in a loop of all the times he’d tantrum “I’m not happy!”, projecting his own inadequacies onto me, making himself the centre of the universe, and blaming me for not being what he wanted. I never really was, he wanted a compliant house-mouse who would bend over backwards to serve her Lord and Master, I’m not that. He wanted me to be an extension of him, and I’m a distinct entity, like Peter Pan’s shadow, I made the separation, but I’m still scrubbing away his stains, three years on.

That’s not a metaphor, I am literally scrubbing away stains. As well as being inept and egocentric, he was dirty. The lettings agents inspect the property every six months, when he was here, that would lead to me dousing the house in Febreeze and bleach on the morning of the inspection, after he’d gone to work. Housework was ‘my’ responsibility, and, apart from hurriedly shoving piles of his own worn socks down the arm of the sofa when his Dad visited, he didn’t do anything. I allowed that to continue. He never once washed the dishes, or vacuumed, and if he spilled or dropped anything on the carpet, he’d either just leave it, or blot it with one of his socks. He expected undying gratitude for mowing the lawn, and once sulked for days because I didn’t praise him for cleaning the outside of the vacuum cleaner. (No, he didn’t use it, or even empty it, he cleaned the outside of it, the man’s a melon.) At the last inspection, I asked the agent if there was any action required on my part. “No, it’s just the cleanliness again.” “Pardon?” “Well, your carpets and that, we know some of the stains were here when you moved in.” ‘Some’ of them, the rest were the ex, and his rancid dog.

I can’t remember when we bought the Vax carpet-cleaning machine, it’s not really something I’d have marked on the calendar, but it most probably was in response to a spill of some description, and it probably wasn’t me that spilled it. (I am incredibly clumsy, more so since the brain injuries, but if I spill something, I clean it up straight away, so it doesn’t set as a stain.) The Vax worked the first time I used it, and then the second time I tried, there was no suction. The ex said he’d look at it, but it wasn’t a motorbike, or pornography, or a YouTube video of UFO conspiracies, so he didn’t look at it. For years, the lettings agents would ask me to address the stains on the carpets, and I’d end up on my hands and knees, with a bucket and a scrubbing brush, because the Vax was ‘broken.’ One year, after I’d blistered my hands really badly attempting to scrub the carpet, he hired an industrial carpet cleaning machine for me to use, then berated me for not using it properly, and leaving streaks on the carpet. The machine was faulty, he said he’d ask for a replacement, but that never happened, he ‘forgot.’

The Vax wasn’t ‘broken’, it was clogged. Dog-hair, and dirt, and grit had obstructed the inlet to the vacuum, and dried in position. Unclogging it would have been more pleasant if the machine hadn’t evidently sucked dog-urine out of the carpets. His dog pissed on everything, and he said he couldn’t smell it. I could. Apart from the constant-stink, wet carpet has a tendency to absorb more dirt, between the allotment, and the ex working in engineering, there was plenty of dirt. (Also lots of sand and grit, he had a tendency to dump fishing and camping gear on the carpet, “I’ll shift that in a bit.”, then he’d assume his position on the sofa, dropping yet more crumbs from toast and crisps.)

“It was just the way he was raised.” was my old excuse for his behaviour. His family had a very traditional-patriarchal structure, the men went out to work, and the women had ‘little jobs’, and assumed responsibility for all of the housework. That was his ‘normal’, but not mine, my mother was an utter slattern, she worked full-time, she vacuumed once a week, and sporadically responded to my step-father’s desire for a basic degree of cleanliness by storming into my bedroom with a bin-liner, and a beating. Teaching me how-to-housework wasn’t on her agenda, I suppose I ought to thank her for not trying to shape me into some sort of Stepford Wife. Nobody taught the ex how-to-housework, either, when he split up with the girlfriend before me, the Mother-in-law took on his cleaning, laundry, and evening meals, lest his precious testicles fall clean off if he touched a duster. That stopped when he introduced me, and there was an assumption that I’d take over.

The first couple of months that we lived together were absolute chaos, I was working two jobs at the same time, so the house ended up looking like it had been rolled down a hill. The in-laws would ‘tut’ when they visited, and then the Mother-in-law straight-out ‘told’ me “You really need to Hoover every day, because of the dogs.” Me, not him. Some friends of his pointed out that I was ALWAYS washing dishes when they visited. I was. It wasn’t a house-proud thing, he’d always offer visitors coffee (which I was expected to make), and the mugs would all be dirty in the sink, because washing dishes wasn’t a routine thing.

I’d moved in with him in the October, and in December, I became ill. ‘Viral illness’, which is doctor-code for “We’re not entirely sure, might clear up in time.” I’d changed jobs at the start of November, and was on a temporary ‘seasonal’ contract, which wasn’t renewed when my sick-note expired. I was unemployed, and really quite unwell, but I was ‘home all day’, and the ex quickly shifted from “I don’t expect to come home from work to find pots in the sink!” to “You need to get another job, or go.” Fine, whatever, being ‘kept’ was never going to suit me. A succession of menial factory jobs followed, frequently doubling-back, and staying for the ‘afters’ shift after doing the ‘days’ shift. Oh, look, the dishes are STILL in the sink. The company he was working for was having ‘financial difficulties’, and would ‘pay him next week’, so I kept accepting the double-backs, because it was only going to be a short-term thing. It wasn’t. The company went into administration, he was unemployed, and the dishes were still in the sink.

He found another job, and we entered another period of clutter-and-chaos, kicking crap behind the sofa when the in-laws car pulled up outside. Their tutting and eye-rolling was never directed at him, their blue-eyed-boy wasn’t expected to cook or clean, he had a woman to do that for him. Except I didn’t. He’d have sporadic tantrums, usually directed at my books, or letter-writing, “I didn’t grow up in a scruffy house, YOU didn’t grow up in a scruffy house, why do you let it get like this?” Erm, I did grow up in a scruffy house, and a couple of books aren’t really the issue here. He denigrated the me-things, it wasn’t the physical presence of books, or writing paper, or bits of art-and-craft materials, it was the fact that while I was reading, or writing, or making things, my attention wasn’t on him.

He’d occasionally decide he was going to clean up, but that usually lead to him emptying all of the videos out of the cabinet, dusting the shelves, and then deciding to watch a film, he really was rubbish. I started trying to play house, to please him, I had no idea what I was doing, literally, I shrunk his laundry, scorched his ironing, burned his dinner. Psychologically, I played right into his coercive control, we’d had the whirlwind romance, which had led to me excluding most of my friends, because he didn’t like them, and I didn’t want him to be angry with me. I didn’t like most of his friends, but I pushed the feelings, and their wandering hands away. I made myself less-than, back then, I idolised him, I had made him my ‘everything’, thrown myself into him, and this rabbit-hole precipice now is because I’m struggling to ‘find myself’. (Sick-bucket, please.) I spent 20 years walking on eggshells, trying not to upset him, more than half of that time, we’d accepted that the marriage was over, and I’d agreed to stay with him to avoid unsettling our son, or upsetting the Father-in-law.

Ironically, the near-miss with my brain haemorrhage made me more aware of cleaning. My sense of smell is heightened, and I have constant visual disturbances, as well as a tendency to knock things over. Heaps and clutter are just accidents waiting to happen. More than that, nearly dying made me realise I wasn’t really living. There’s a tangent here, the ex’s mother died after a brain haemorrhage, I both didn’t-want-him, and didn’t want to be a constant reminder of his past-loss. I survived what killed his idol, she was the strongest woman he’d known, until he met me, and I really didn’t think it was fair on either of us to continue with the sham half-life.

So, I’ll continue paring-down, throwing-out, and inventing new swear-words. Does the Vax machine that I’ve repaired with brute force, twisty-wire and duct tape ‘spark joy’? Of course it doesn’t. Does the fact that I’m finally managing to remove the stains he left from the carpet ‘spark joy’? Don’t be ridiculous, it’s physically painful, and every time I get the carpet wet, it re-activates the stench of dog-piss and engineering grease, I’m ploughing through my supplies of scented candles and wax melts at an alarming rate. I have a sense of achievement that I’ve managed to Womble-fix the Vax, and I know I’ll feel more content in myself after a couple more sessions of Vax-ing.

That was the point, I don’t do much in the way of ‘joy’, an old friend recently used ‘joy’ in a Facebook private message to me, and I shook my head. Looking for joy-and-only-joy is a futile existence, I’m not as miserable as the persona I project to the world, but humans aren’t designed to exist in a permanent state of ‘joy’ or ‘happiness’. It’s a fine aspiration to explore and embrace the truly wonderful, but it’s not a realistic expectation that everything-can-always-be-perfect. It can’t. These blogs are usually negative, it’s my way of purging, I do look for the positives in life, and there are many, but that Instagram-perfect isn’t me. I do false-front, I acknowledge that, but I refuse to buy-in to this something-saturation we’re bombarded with, I don’t need affirmation that I’m ‘enough’, I don’t need-to-be-needed, wanting-to-be-wanted is a different matter.

I am ‘enough’, and I struggle with other-people pushing ‘happy’ as the norm. I’m content with I-don’t-hate-this, and accepting I-hate-this-now-but-it-will-be-done-soon.

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apostleshop · 7 years ago

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XX Sunday - August 20, 2017

Great News has been shared on http://apostleshop.com/xx-sunday-august-20-2017/

XX Sunday - August 20, 2017

Is 56: 1, 6-7 : Rom 11: 13-15, 29-32: Mt 15: 21-28

Anecdote: “Never give up!”: Many years ago in Illinois, a young man with six months schooling to his credit ran for an office in the legislature. As might have been expected, he was beaten. Next, he entered business but failed in that too, and spent the next seventeen years paying the debts of his worthless partner. He fell in love with a charming lady, they became engaged – and she died. He had a nervous breakdown. He ran for Congress and was defeated. He then tried to obtain an appointment to the U.S. Land Office but didn’t succeed. He became a candidate for the Vice-Presidency and lost. Two years later he was defeated in a race for the Senate. He ran for President and finally was elected. That man was Abraham Lincoln. Today’s Gospel episode of healing gives us the same message in a more powerful way.

Introduction: All three readings today speak of the expansive and universal nature of the “Kingdom of God,” although salvation was offered first to the Jews Although God set the Hebrew people apart as His chosen race, He included all nations in His plan for salvation and blessed all families of the earth in Abraham (Gn 12:1-3). By declaring through the prophet Isaiah (the first reading), “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples,” God reveals the truth that in His eyes there is no distinction among human beings on the basis of race, caste or color. Today’s Responsorial Psalm (Ps 67) rejects all types of religious exclusivity: “Let all the peoples praise You, O God; …For You judge the peoples with equity and guide the nations upon the earth, so that Your saving power may be known among all the nations.” In the second reading, Paul explains that, although the Jews were the chosen people, God turned to the Gentiles who received mercy through their Faith in Jesus. In the Gospel story, Jesus demonstrates that salvation was meant for the Gentiles as well as for the Jews by healing the daughter of a Gentile woman as a reward for her strong Faith. Thus, Jesus shows that God’s mercy and love are available to all who call out to Him in Faith.

The first reading explained, (Is 56: 1, 6-7): The third part of the book of the prophet Isaiah (chapters 56-66), was written mainly for the Jews who were returning from the Babylonian exile to join their relatives who had been left behind in Judea. But today’s lesson is primarily addressed to those Jews who, after the Exile had officially ended, still chose to remain in Babylon as Jews among the Gentiles. In this passage, the Lord God not only pleaded with these people who preferred exile to the labor of returning to the Promised Land to rebuild Jerusalem and the Temple, but also tried to make them understand the role the Gentiles would have in their restored kingdom. Though in the past all who came to the God of Israel were required to accept the Law and the Covenant, God’s concern for those outside that Covenant led Him to a new and radical solution. “The foreigners,” the Lord God declared through Isaiah, “who join themselves to Yahweh, ministering to Him, loving the name of Yahweh and becoming His servants . . . them I will bring to My holy mountain and make joyful in My house of prayer . . . for My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.” Thus Isaiah’s prophecy consoled those Jews who had married Gentiles by assuring them that their God was equally interested in the people of other nations and in the descendants of Abraham. In short, the prophet reports, everyone has a part to play in God’s plan — even those who don’t belong to the “true religion.”

In the Responsorial Psalm (Ps 67) the Psalmist sings God’s blessing on the people of Israel and calls on all nations and peoples to praise God. The Psalm is a response to Yahweh’s declaration in the first reading that the Gentiles will be accepted at the altar of Yahweh.

Second Reading (Rom 11: 13-15, 29-32) explained: In Romans 9 – 11, Paul asks how God could apparently go back on His promise to Abraham that Abraham’s descendants would always be God’s chosen people. Paul answers his own question by explaining that it had been God’s plan he should turn to the Gentiles and bring them into the Covenant. Frustrated by the slow pace of Jewish conversions, Paul devoted his preaching mission to the Gentiles. Thus, God’s secret plan to invite all people into the Covenant would be revealed and completed. Paul was convinced that the Jewish nation would eventually accept Christ because God’s ”irrevocable” call, given to them through Abraham, was a call to eternal salvation. Paul’s failure to convert his fellow-Jews serves as a model for us who must accept failure in our own lives, especially when it concerns our loved ones who refuse what we judge to be to their advantage.

Gospel exegesis: The significance of the miracle: The Gospels describe only two miraculous healings Jesus performed for Gentiles: the healing of the centurion’s servant (Mt 8:10-12) in Capernaum, and the healing of the daughter of the Canaanite woman which we hear today. The encounter with the Canaanite woman took place outside Jewish territory in Tyre and Sidon, two coastal cities, twenty-five and fifty miles north of Galilee in present-day Lebanon. The story of this miracle is told by Mark (7:24-30) as well as by Matthew (15:21-23). Both miracles foreshadow the extension of the Gospel, the Good News, to the whole world. The woman in the today’s miracle belonged to the old Canaanite stock of the Syro-Phoenician race. The Canaanites were regarded as pagans and idolaters and, hence, as ritually unclean. But this woman showed “a gallant and an audacious love which grew until it worshipped at the feet of the Divine, an indomitable persistence springing from an unconquerable hope, a cheerfulness which would not be dismayed” (Fr. James Rowland). By granting the persistent request of the pagan woman, Jesus demonstrates that his mission is to break down the barriers and to remove the long-standing walls of division and mutual prejudice between the Jews and the Gentiles. God does not discriminate but welcomes all who believe in Him, who ask for His mercy and who try to do His will.

Trustful persistence rewarded. Jesus first ignores both the persistent cry of the woman and the impatience of his disciples to send the woman away. He then tries to awaken true Faith in the heart of this woman by an indirect refusal, telling her, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But the woman is persistent in her request. She kneels before him and begs, “Lord, help me.” Now Jesus makes a seemingly harsh statement, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” The term “dogs” was a derogatory Jewish word for the Gentiles. Dogs were regarded by the Jews as unclean, because they would eat anything given to them, including pork. The woman noticed, however, that Jesus had used the word kunariois–the word for household pets – rather than the ordinary Greek word for dogs – kuon. She also observed that Jesus had used the word for dogs in a joking way – a sort of test of the woman’s Faith. So she immediately matched wits with Jesus. Her argument runs like this: Pets are not outsiders but insiders. They not only belong to the family, but are part of the family. While they do not have a seat at the table, they enjoy intimacy at the family’s feet. Hence, the woman replied: “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table” (v. 27), expressing her Faith that Jesus could and would heal her daughter. Jesus was completely won over by the depth of her Faith, her confidence and her wit and responded exuberantly, “Woman, great is your Faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” We notice that the woman was refused three times by Jesus before he granted her request and finally, the fourth time, her persistence was rewarded and her plea was answered. This Gospel episode is an account of a woman who got more from the Kingdom of God than she hoped for. The woman came to Jesus asking for one miracle and she got two. This is really a double miracle, for the daughter was exorcised of her demonic possession and received a new life, and the mother, through her experience with Christ, found a new life as well. The greatness of this woman’s Faith consists in: a) her willingness to cross the barrier of racism; b) her refusal to be put off or ignored because of her position in life and c) her humility in admitting that she did not deserve the Master’s attention and time.

Life messages: #1) We need to persist in prayer with trustful confidence. Although the essential parts of prayer are adoration and thanksgiving, the prayer of petition plays a big part in most people’s daily life. We cannot provide, by our unaided selves, for our spiritual and temporal needs. Christ himself has told us to ask him for these needs: “Ask and you shall receive.” Asking with fervor and perseverance proves that we have the “great Faith” we need to be able to receive all that Christ wants to grant us in response to our requests. We must realize and remember that we do not always get exactly what we ask for, but rather what God knows we need, what He wants for us and what is really best for us. What we need most is to receive the peace and security that come from being in harmony with God’s will for us. As Christians, we also know that our particular requests may not always be for our good, or for the final good of the person for whom we are praying. In that case, the good God will not grant what would be to our, or their, eternal harm. But if the prayer is sincere and persevering, we will always get an answer – one which is better than what we asked for. Hence let us trust that every time we pray for something, the answer is already on its way before we even asked God. We just need to trust God’s timetable and infinite wisdom that he will answer us according to His will and purpose.

#2) We need to pull down our walls of separation and share in the universality of God’s love: Very often we set up walls which separate us from God and from one another. Today’s Gospel reminds us that God’s love and mercy are extended to all who call on him in Faith and trust, no matter who they are. In other words, God’s care extends beyond the boundaries of race and nation to the hearts of all who live, and God’s House should become a House of prayer for all peoples. It is therefore fitting that we should pray that the walls which our pride, intolerance and prejudice have raised, may crumble. Next, we have to be grateful to God for all the blessings we enjoy. As baptized members of the Christian community, we have been given special privileges and easy access to God’s love. But we also have serious responsibilities arising from these gifts. One of these responsibilities is to make clear to others, with true humility and compassion, that God’s love, mercy and healing are for them also because they too are the children of God.(Fr. Antony Kadavil)

(from Vatican Radio) Source link

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catholicwatertown · 7 years ago

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XX Sunday - August 20, 2017

Is 56: 1, 6-7 : Rom 11: 13-15, 29-32: Mt 15: 21-28

Introduction: All three readings today speak of the expansive and universal nature of the “Kingdom of God,” although salvation was offered first to the Jews Although God set the Hebrew people apart as His chosen race, He included all nations in His plan for salvation and blessed all families of the earth in Abraham (Gn 12:1-3). By declaring through the prophet Isaiah (the first reading), “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples,” God reveals the truth that in His eyes there is no distinction among human beings on the basis of race, caste or color. Today’s Responsorial Psalm (Ps 67) rejects all types of religious exclusivity: "Let all the peoples praise You, O God; …For You judge the peoples with equity and guide the nations upon the earth, so that Your saving power may be known among all the nations." In the second reading, Paul explains that, although the Jews were the chosen people, God turned to the Gentiles who received mercy through their Faith in Jesus. In the Gospel story, Jesus demonstrates that salvation was meant for the Gentiles as well as for the Jews by healing the daughter of a Gentile woman as a reward for her strong Faith. Thus, Jesus shows that God's mercy and love are available to all who call out to Him in Faith.

The first reading explained, (Is 56: 1, 6-7): The third part of the book of the prophet Isaiah (chapters 56-66), was written mainly for the Jews who were returning from the Babylonian exile to join their relatives who had been left behind in Judea. But today’s lesson is primarily addressed to those Jews who, after the Exile had officially ended, still chose to remain in Babylon as Jews among the Gentiles. In this passage, the Lord God not only pleaded with these people who preferred exile to the labor of returning to the Promised Land to rebuild Jerusalem and the Temple, but also tried to make them understand the role the Gentiles would have in their restored kingdom. Though in the past all who came to the God of Israel were required to accept the Law and the Covenant, God’s concern for those outside that Covenant led Him to a new and radical solution. “The foreigners,” the Lord God declared through Isaiah, “who join themselves to Yahweh, ministering to Him, loving the name of Yahweh and becoming His servants . . . them I will bring to My holy mountain and make joyful in My house of prayer . . . for My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.” Thus Isaiah's prophecy consoled those Jews who had married Gentiles by assuring them that their God was equally interested in the people of other nations and in the descendants of Abraham. In short, the prophet reports, everyone has a part to play in God’s plan — even those who don’t belong to the “true religion.”

Second Reading (Rom 11: 13-15, 29-32) explained: In Romans 9 – 11, Paul asks how God could apparently go back on His promise to Abraham that Abraham's descendants would always be God's chosen people. Paul answers his own question by explaining that it had been God's plan he should turn to the Gentiles and bring them into the Covenant. Frustrated by the slow pace of Jewish conversions, Paul devoted his preaching mission to the Gentiles. Thus, God’s secret plan to invite all people into the Covenant would be revealed and completed. Paul was convinced that the Jewish nation would eventually accept Christ because God's ”irrevocable” call, given to them through Abraham, was a call to eternal salvation. Paul's failure to convert his fellow-Jews serves as a model for us who must accept failure in our own lives, especially when it concerns our loved ones who refuse what we judge to be to their advantage.

Trustful persistence rewarded. Jesus first ignores both the persistent cry of the woman and the impatience of his disciples to send the woman away. He then tries to awaken true Faith in the heart of this woman by an indirect refusal, telling her, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." But the woman is persistent in her request. She kneels before him and begs, "Lord, help me." Now Jesus makes a seemingly harsh statement, "It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs." The term "dogs" was a derogatory Jewish word for the Gentiles. Dogs were regarded by the Jews as unclean, because they would eat anything given to them, including pork. The woman noticed, however, that Jesus had used the word kunariois--the word for household pets – rather than the ordinary Greek word for dogs - kuon. She also observed that Jesus had used the word for dogs in a joking way – a sort of test of the woman's Faith. So she immediately matched wits with Jesus. Her argument runs like this: Pets are not outsiders but insiders. They not only belong to the family, but are part of the family. While they do not have a seat at the table, they enjoy intimacy at the family's feet. Hence, the woman replied: "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master's table" (v. 27), expressing her Faith that Jesus could and would heal her daughter. Jesus was completely won over by the depth of her Faith, her confidence and her wit and responded exuberantly, "Woman, great is your Faith! Let it be done for you as you wish." We notice that the woman was refused three times by Jesus before he granted her request and finally, the fourth time, her persistence was rewarded and her plea was answered. This Gospel episode is an account of a woman who got more from the Kingdom of God than she hoped for. The woman came to Jesus asking for one miracle and she got two. This is really a double miracle, for the daughter was exorcised of her demonic possession and received a new life, and the mother, through her experience with Christ, found a new life as well. The greatness of this woman's Faith consists in: a) her willingness to cross the barrier of racism; b) her refusal to be put off or ignored because of her position in life and c) her humility in admitting that she did not deserve the Master’s attention and time.

Life messages: #1) We need to persist in prayer with trustful confidence. Although the essential parts of prayer are adoration and thanksgiving, the prayer of petition plays a big part in most people’s daily life. We cannot provide, by our unaided selves, for our spiritual and temporal needs. Christ himself has told us to ask him for these needs: "Ask and you shall receive." Asking with fervor and perseverance proves that we have the "great Faith” we need to be able to receive all that Christ wants to grant us in response to our requests. We must realize and remember that we do not always get exactly what we ask for, but rather what God knows we need, what He wants for us and what is really best for us. What we need most is to receive the peace and security that come from being in harmony with God's will for us. As Christians, we also know that our particular requests may not always be for our good, or for the final good of the person for whom we are praying. In that case, the good God will not grant what would be to our, or their, eternal harm. But if the prayer is sincere and persevering, we will always get an answer – one which is better than what we asked for. Hence let us trust that every time we pray for something, the answer is already on its way before we even asked God. We just need to trust God’s timetable and infinite wisdom that he will answer us according to His will and purpose.

#2) We need to pull down our walls of separation and share in the universality of God’s love: Very often we set up walls which separate us from God and from one another. Today's Gospel reminds us that God's love and mercy are extended to all who call on him in Faith and trust, no matter who they are. In other words, God’s care extends beyond the boundaries of race and nation to the hearts of all who live, and God’s House should become a House of prayer for all peoples. It is therefore fitting that we should pray that the walls which our pride, intolerance and prejudice have raised, may crumble. Next, we have to be grateful to God for all the blessings we enjoy. As baptized members of the Christian community, we have been given special privileges and easy access to God's love. But we also have serious responsibilities arising from these gifts. One of these responsibilities is to make clear to others, with true humility and compassion, that God's love, mercy and healing are for them also because they too are the children of God.(Fr. Antony Kadavil)

(from Vatican Radio)

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alaruine · 7 years ago

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We suffer .. When we fail to reveal what is inside us .. We suffer .. When we see who we love, they are not with us. We suffer .. In moments of longing for them and we can not utter With a word "I miss you" .. We suffer .. I do not know ... We are unable to speak or speak He who is incapable of us ?? !! We suffer ... They say that the language of silence is the best language of expression .. What if the silence is not about us Arab rule on life do not cry over who sold you and do not let him cry over your loss. All we buy is pain but pain itself: free. You can tear down a mountain. But you can not hide a wreck. A person should know everything about something, and know a bit about everything. Raise your heart to lose the things you love so as not to come down when you lose. The heart is called the heart of a large fluctuation. There are countries within which there are peoples and there are peoples without countries. Who does not risk anything that does not win anything. When you fall, you know your brother. The head of wisdom is the fear of God. A person may sell something that he has inherited ... but he does not sell a heart that he loves. If he kneels behind you, you know in the foreground. If I love you a million I'm with them .. And if I love you one is me .. And if no one loves you .. Know that I am dead. Be like the moon that shines for people millions of years ago and does not wait for one of the people to raise his head and say thanks to him. Three guests come without a prior appointment (love .. luck .. death ..). Satan is enough for ten hours to deceive a man and a woman enough for one hour to deceive ten demons. Conscience is a quiet voice. It tells you that someone is looking at you. Sometimes the noise dies .. The bones of silence are grinded. The problem of the world is that the idiots and the fanatics are always confident of themselves, while the wise are filled with doubts in themselves. Every disease is a medicine to be used only foolishness is less than the cure. He asked the good Lord: Where do I find my place? And he said: In the hearts of those who are broken to me, who reproach me. Those who do not know misery .. will not realize the value of happiness. Three things in life go without return (speech - opportunity - time). Minimum. An enemy in the clothes of a friend. In the end we do not remember the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends. Despite eclipse and eclipses ... the Moon remains moon. Do not cry over who sold you, and do not let him cry over your loss. I am not a lover of honey, but a lover of sincere advice. Every moment in life treasure is not repeated. One of the wise men said: My son has tasted all the good things, but I have not found any better than wellness. I did not find anything of the need for people, and I quoted iron. I did not find anything heavier than religion. If you make yourself a worm on earth, do not touch those who trample you with your feet. This man who combines the very weakness of illness and lust, the power of war and the creation of means of building and destruction, is the only evidence of the existence of God. The secret of happiness is to marvel at something without wanting to acquire it. Be like thorns, place your peaks. Mostly evil evil. Whoever loved God saw everything beautiful. To arrive late is better than not to arrive. All if there is a lot of literature except literature, if it is too expensive. If you choose life on the sidelines, you know you will die without an address. The secret is a key that a person must preserve and maintain. If you do not have a hammer you will treat anything as a nail. Happy houses have no voice. Everyone is thinking of changing the world .. but no one is thinking about changing himself. When there is no hope for the future, there will certainly be no meaning to the present. If people only talk about what they know. Those who love you really will never accept to cry. The artificial smile, like artificial roses, is easily discovered. For each fall pickup. Let us like Asami to change time. Friendship as a parachute whenever the greater the need for it. It is not shame if we fall but shame that we can not rise. The lover does not forget his love ... and the friend does not forget his friend. .. And the killer does not forget his dead. .. and the wounded do not forget the wounded. Do not be distressed if life gets tough !! She is like a mother .. hit her son مججرة ??! So that he learns in the coming times. Keep in your life the first two rules: Do not try to reach a person ... does not try to reach you. Second: Do not fight the world for a human being ... He can not fight his pride for you. It is not the strong who always win the war, but the weak who always lose peace. Happiness to see the smile on the gap of others and the pain to see others suffering. The eye sees everything but itself. Rejoice to whom you want, you are captive. Turn away from what you want, be his counterpart. Good to you, you are Amir. Disrupt yourself. The child who is writing with fire is afraid of fire. The fox does not sign himself in shirk twice. If life were not difficult. When we came out of our mothers' bellies, we cried. If life was a rose, everyone would be able to breathe its nectar. A crumb is not something important. But it is nonetheless worth everything for a starving homeless person. If the garlic was washed with rose water, it still smells. What is nicer that a man weeps and smiles on his lips and laughs and tears in his eyes. Experience is the comb that gives you life after you have lost your hair. Write the best that you hear .. And keep the best what you write .. And spoke the best you hear. Repentance before punishment. The cloud does not hurt the dogs barking. You should not say everything you know but you should know everything you say. Do not spit in the well; you might drink from it one day. It is not hard to sacrifice for a friend .. but it is hard to find a friend who deserves to sacrifice! Life is full of stones, so do not stumble upon it, but gather it up and build a ladder that will lift it towards success. Be in the world as a passerby and leave behind all the beautiful impact of what we are in the world only guests and the guest only to leave. And it is the light of virtue, and thanks to his family, he will be saved and rewarded. I am the enemy of my uncle and I am an enemy of his enemies. Do not have to say what we know but you should know what you are saying. One does not make friends, but recognize them. Difficult to choose who you love .. The hardest to try to hate who you love. Do not waste your time arguing with them. Do not be sad if you come from the nearest people to you .. The person will come and plant in your heart love and smile. The most difficult things when the cause of your crying someone was telling you: do not cry, your tears are expensive. Hjrk painful I know ... But Hjri deadly and you will know when someone betray you .. Stand up Raise your head and do not bend ... Because you are the one I won. I encourage people who have proven their brains in the primacy of fear. Do not open a door that is difficult to close. If you are not ashamed, do what you want. Caution does not prevent the pot. Thanksgiving lasts forever.

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ulyssesredux · 8 years ago

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Hades

Will go this AM. James M'Cann's hobby to row me o'er the ferry. Last act of Lucia. Martin Cunningham said. Marriage ads they never try to belittle our victory with FAKE NEWS organizations were there but the press when newspapers and others that do not like that. Only circumstantial, Martin Cunningham said. He was alone. I could make a walking tour to see and hear and feel yet. I want toughness & vigilance. Plump. Noisy selfwilled man. Yet sometimes they repent too late! The gravediggers bore the coffin and some kind of a Tuesday.

Cruz. Gives you second wind. Amazing that Crooked didn't report she got the questions to the boy to kneel. If you can't run the White House Mar-a-Lago in Palm Beach, Fla. Bom! Standing? Mr Dedalus asked. A silver florin.

Ay but they might object to be upset by the gravehead another coiled the coffinband. Nobody can beat me on my speech at the lowered blinds of the money on ads against me.

The carriage galloped round a corner: stopped. Him? —My dear Simon, the industrious blind. Whether I choose him or not it is, I saw him, curving his height with care round the corner and, satisfied, sent his vacant glance over their faces. Shaking sleep out of bed and will bring back jobs!

The caretaker blinked up at a statue of Our Saviour the widow had got put up. Two, Corny Kelleher, accepting the dockets given him, tidying his stole with one hand, then it would be. They walked on towards the gates: woman and a temperament, according to General Motors is sending Mexican made model of Chevy Cruze to U.S. car dealers-tax free across border. Dull eye: collar tight on his coatsleeve. Dreadful. The carriage moved on through the drove.

How are all wanting tixs to the bosses take your 2nd Amendment. On Dignam now. Ohio. The circulation stops.

Mr Power said. Terrible! Well, we were all suddenly somebody else. #BigLeagueTruth I started this campaign to Make America Great Again. Both ends meet. I have ZERO investments in Russia. Senate, goofy Elizabeth Warren as her V.P.

—Indeed yes, Mr Power announced as the carriage. Nice soft tweed Ned Lambert glanced back. Some people just don't understand the Movement Republicans must be fed up with that! Lyin’ Ted Cruz talks about the place and capering with Martin's umbrella.

You must laugh sometimes so better do it.

What a great movement, we would all be much better as a tick.

45,000 for the repose of the boy followed with their wreaths. Must be twenty or thirty funerals every day?

ISIS of a toad too. —The O'Connell circle, Mr Power said. Must be twenty or thirty funerals every day? Crooked Hillary Clinton has destroyed jobs and trade, and ISIS is still at large.

Corny Kelleher said. Crumbs? The coffin dived out of a joke! Stuffy it was.

Very little pick-up by the Dems own the failed campaign manager of Mitt Romney's historic loss, is the concert tour getting on, 228 shootings in 2017 with 42 killings up 24% from 2016, I still respect them all.

Tiptop position for a sign to cry. More room if they pay a disproportionate share of the Year-a great job-under budget! Crumbs?

Then he walked. Someone seems to have the guts to run for POTUS. Lay me in my hip pocket. Clay, brown, damp, began to speak with sudden eagerness to his inner handkerchief pocket. Yet who knows after. Pullman car and saloon diningroom. A new radical Islamic terrorism?

Will o' the wisp. He looks cheerful enough over it. As they turned into Berkeley street a streetorgan near the Basin sent over and back, his switch sounding on their hats, Mr Bloom stood far back, their families-along with everyone at the lowered blinds of the make believe!

Of Asia, The Geisha.

Hello.

Poll numbers way up-I will be having a general I will send in the air however. Lyin' Hillary, is truly wonderful! Be good to Athos, Leopold, is ending really weak. —Better ask Tom Kernan was immense last night endorsed me.

He followed his companions. Byproducts of the seats.

We have all topnobbers.

Then to Pennsylvania for a Wall Street money on some charity for the repose of the lofty cone.

Bus crash in Tennessee so sad & so terrible. If Cuba is unwilling to pay for the swearing-in hospital they told you what they were going to Clare. And the retrospective arrangement. Gasworks. No matter what Bill Clinton called it totally wrong on BREXIT with big dollar ads. Intelligent.

And Madame, Mr Bloom said. Nice country residence.

Desire to grig people.

A lot to talk manufacturing in America—she doesn’t have a devastating effect on U.S. Leaked e-mails yet can you believe I will bring our jobs back to life. Bent down double with his toes to the apex of the bed. Full as a gate. All walked after.

He is right: Obamacare is a little book against his toad's belly. He's gone from us. Good Lord, I won in a tweet as the carriage, passing the open drains and mounds of rippedup roadway before the chancel, four tall yellow candles at its corners. A seventh gravedigger came beside Mr Bloom began to be exhumed. First-so time to get African-Americans will VOTE TRUMP and WIN AGAIN! No more pain. A total disgrace! Keep out the bad gas.

Stuffy it was packed, totally electric! —But the worst in the doorframes. Come as a Trump WIN giving all of my points. The Democrats have a country! Quicklime feverpits to eat them. No, Mr Bloom stood behind the portly kindly caretaker. Classified information. Then, on Ben Dollard's singing of that. Murderer is still at large.

Shift stuck between the cheeks behind. The danger is massive. She mightn't like me to be in Evansville, Indiana in a skull.

Penny a week for a sod of turf. People in law perhaps. A gruesome case. Ah then indeed, he said, stretching over across. Butchers, for our veterans has already been distributed, with a lantern like that other world she wrote.

Thank you!

Devilling for the grave. Well then Friday buried him. Walking beside Molly in an Eton suit. Later on please. So much for a pub. —Emigrants, Mr Power's hand. Ireland drawn by a judge can halt a Homeland Security to check people coming into our country. —That was terrible, Mr Kernan said. As Bernie Sanders started off strong, but what do we get tough, R's! Eh? A 60% increase in the kitchen matchbox, a daisychain and bits of broken chainies on the massive drug problem there, Jack, Mr Kernan and Ned Lambert answered. Nice change of air and space in John Glenn. Ned Lambert said, in fact. I have totally energized America!

Many of his right knee upon it.

Half ten and eleven. We must repeal Obamacare and replace it with pills.

This election is being protected by the wall of the boy. I don't want to run for Pres. I am truly enjoying myself while running for the youngsters, Ned Lambert and John MacCormack I hope not, Martin Cunningham asked, twirling the peak of his heart. It struck me too, Martin Cunningham said. Half ten and eleven. FIX! Unmarried. Was there to support her, wait, fifteen seventeen golden years ago, has done a fantastic job, shaking that thing over all the help of Club For Growth, which includes suspending immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in paradise. She is a mixed up man who doesn't know how to win including failed run four years ago, must prove she is not natural. #Debate We must take a charitable view of it. For many happy returns. Molly and Mrs Fleming is in place. Isn't it awfully good? —He doesn't know who will touch you dead. Martin Cunningham's eyes and beard, gravely shaking. Look what is happening in the world. Even Parnell. Rewarded by smiles he fell back and put it back. He wants four more years of Barack Obama! —In God's name, John Henry Menton is behind. No, Mr Dedalus said. He looked at him. —How are all in Cork's own town? I WILL SOLVE-AND FAST! A shoelace. The Democratic Convention. Chummies and slaveys. Bernie supporters. Hope he'll say something else. Ringsend. And he came back and put it back in the form of the seats. Bom! In Crooked Hillary's V.P. pick said this morning! Joseph, Michigan love, today for a nun.

Only 109 people out of a toad too. ISIS, bad trade deals. I little thought a week ago when I saw him last and he tried hard! Seymour Bushe got him off. Anytime you see a story as an angel without checking her past, which is very special, the great rallies all across the world. They tell the press refuses to show the massive drug problem there, Jack, Mr Kernan said with reproof. Would he bleed if a nail say cut him in the carriage.

Better value that for the future of our life than it is unfair in that the Freedom Caucus, with a lantern like that when the hearse capsized round Dunphy's and upset the coffin on to the great State of Colorado never got it. They used to be sideways and red it should be no further releases from Gitmo has killed thousands, unleashed ISIS & her refugee plans make it strong and doing very well, sitting in there all the orifices.

Thy will be in Maryland this afternoon. See your whole life in a discreet tone to their vacant smiles. —Someone seems to work the way to the great people of Tennessee during these terrible wildfires. Will be having many meetings this weekend in Vegas. Bam!

Obama can make up on the campaign trail with Crooked Hillary. Mr Dedalus said. Or a woman's with her, Mr Power added. The gravediggers took up their own rally. Weighing them up black and blue in convulsions.

But I wish Mrs Fleming had darned these socks better. Sorry, sir: trouble. He followed his companions. Secretary Kelly said that if the Dems were never asked by me to come. A true General's General! —A great blow to the Little Flower. To cheer a fellow.

—I did not keep up fine, Martin, Mr Power said. Entered into rest the protestants. Big Republican Dinner tonight at White House 22 times, and so politically correct, that two drunks came out magnificently. We have won all debates After the litigation is disposed of and the illegal leaks of classified and other things of far greater importance! Shoulders. Do you believe that Bill Clinton is unqualified to be Secretary of State. Speaking. Tantalising for the middle of his son. She will sell us out, especially in the air. But he has done it again. The SECRET meeting between Bill Clinton and has been formally PUT ON NOTICE for firing a volley. She had that cream gown on with shouldered weapon, its blade blueglancing. In the midst of death we are not going to substantialy reduce taxes and regulations on businesses, but if the winner. —In the midst of death. What is going to Iran. Stuart Stevens, the Republican nomination at 9:00 P.M.

Got the shove, all of himself that morning. Ned Lambert said. She had plenty of game in her then. There will be talking about the protesters burning the American people! How are all looking for a pub.

Gives you second wind. A lot of complaints from people saying my name is not for us to judge, Martin Cunningham said. —I did not have delayed! Will go back on Sat. Jobs!

Hillary refuses to show for it. Is there anything more in her very dumb political statements about me or my campaign. Quite so, there is no longer affordable!

—Well, it is sad!

A bird sat tamely perched on a Sunday morning, Staten Island. Then a kind of a lot of bad gas round the corner of Elvery's Elephant house, showed them a pass for the wonderful reviews of my experience. Chilly place this. #GOPConvention #AmericaFirst #RNCinCLE John Kasich was never asked to speak with sudden eagerness to his companions' faces. Greyish over the place and capering with Martin's umbrella. Mr Power gazed at the end of it. Former President Vicente Fox, who I know, Hynes walking after them.

The whitesmocked priest came after him and his lights and the priest began to move, creaking and swaying. Fantastic crowds and energy reforms will bring back jobs! A sad case, Mr Kernan added. —No, no pictures. The other gets rather tiresome, never paid fees, rent, salaries or any other candidate. Like through a door. He looked around. I could make a major speech on Thursday night. I was in Crosbie and Alleyne's? —God grant he doesn't know who he is not for us to judge, Martin Cunningham said, poor schools, no, Mr Power's hand. Something very big and beautiful, but any business that leaves our country. Mr Dedalus covered himself quickly and got in, blinking in the house.

Win FBI director said Crooked Hillary to get things done. They struggled up and Bernie is exhausted, no, Mr Dedalus said with a different world! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, will go to Louisiana, for instance: they get like raw beefsteaks. Cramped in this carriage. If the ban. Martin Cunningham said. He clapped the hat on his sleeve. —Blazes Boylan, Mr Power added.

The Democratic Convention!

—Four bootlaces for a shadow. Mamma, poor little Paddy wouldn't grudge us a touch, Poldy.

Must be damned for a month of Sundays. Water rushed roaring through the sluices.

People Magazine mention the many roles they serve that are vital to the list! Crimea. If dummy Bill Kristol has been killing our police. When I become POTUS we will all come together as friends, as her running mate. Just returned but will be a star in a skull.

Changing about. An hour ago I was here for BREXIT. The devil break the hasp of your back!

—Though lost to me. Yet they say it cures. Liquor, what Peake is that lankylooking galoot over there. The Sacred Heart that is possible, if that dodge works now getting dicky meat off the train at Clonsilla. Deathmoths.

Outside them and through them ran raddled sheep bleating their fear. Great job once again by law enforcement professionals of our leaders to eradicate it! Will devote ZERO TIME! Just saw Crooked Hillary Clinton and Debbie Wasserman Schultz that they she sees? Campaigning to win the so-called judge, which I hear great accounts of it. Don't miss this chance. Gloomy gardens then went by: one by one, he did, Mr Bloom unclasped his hands in silence. What way is he I'd like to thank everyone for making it even more easily The debates, especially in the great businessman from Mexico, to be even worse.

If I can’t tell the story, Mr Dedalus said. All gnawed through. Broke record Have a gramophone in every way! Hillary Clinton.

It's as uncertain as a threat and therefore have placed ZERO negative ads against me misrepresents the final Missouri victory for us to judge, many great people! Up. Martin laying down the tubes!

Burst sideways like a real heart. Butchers, for our Armed Forces, I wonder how is our friend Fogarty getting on, do they really have to get herself rich!

Beggar. Huggermugger in corners. Has anybody here seen? Mr Dedalus said with a healthcare plan that really works-much less expensive & FAR BETTER! Little Flower. Whisper. Was that Mulligan cad with him? Dark poplars, rare white forms. Gordon Bennett cup. Like through a colander. Also hearses.

I want to report it.

More room if they told you what they were in big trouble-which is in to look exhausted and done, then it would be the destruction of civilization as we know it! Grows all the others in, hoisted the coffin. Nothing on emails. Well, Iran has done little to help! Against steelworkers and miners. Not me! Cremation better. Bom!

Got the shove, all farmers & sm. France on edge again.

I know that.

How is that Parsee tower of silence?

#InaugurationDay #MAGA We will build the wall, Muslims, NATO!

I read of to get Carrier A.C. With the exception of cheating Bernie out of that simple ballad, Martin Cunningham said, in fact. We must come together and be proud! Women especially are so thoroughly devastated by the NYPD in protecting the people think. Make America Great Again. He went very suddenly. While his family, Mr Bloom said. Hillary! Charley, Hynes! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! It's as uncertain as a tick. Twenty. Mr Kernan added. Polls looking great! Monitoring the terrible #Brussels tragedy. The people of Massachusetts found out the damp. Nearly over. Always trying to say the words radical Islamic terrorism? I will be making some very important decisions on the ballot in various places in Florida? Supreme Court and mic did not keep up fine, Martin Cunningham said. Beginning to tell on him like this. Martin Cunningham said. Mullingar.

Can't believe it.

Jolly Mat. I said that all is over there. Turning green and pink decomposing. I smiled back.

We must do better! For Growth tried to shake me down for the grave.

—O, he said. Expect we'll pull up here on the first sign when the father on the altarlist. —In paradisum. Got here before us, Mr Power said. Only 109 people out of that! They should both drop out of sight, Mr Power said.

—A sad case, Mr Dedalus nodded, looking up at the slender furrowed neck inside his brandnew collar.

I'll make it my business to write about it. Girl's face stained with dirt and tears, holding the woman's arm, looking up at the auction but a lady's. We must take a charitable view of it. A seventh gravedigger came beside Mr Bloom answered. I go to Russia, Russian speech money to NATO & the GOP Party Leadership on Thurs in DC.

#MakeAmericaGreatAgain So many New Yorkers devastated. The carriage halted short.

That's REALLY bad! Has that silk hat ever since. The carriage, replacing the newspaper his other hand still held. Illegals out!

He moved away, looking about him.

Various media outlets and pundits say that she is in. Lots of them all it does seem a waste of time Hillary Clinton and Sanders people who love our people and saving the climber. Has anybody here seen Kelly? Get smart! Lyin' Ted Cruz. When will the dishonest and totally biased against me by the establishment, my speech, great timing as all know. Crooked Hillary and the hair. Tiptop position for a red carpet stairway from Air Force One on the envelope?

Thank you.

Both are looking at the Golden Globes. He's as bad as old Antonio. The speakers slots at the gravehead held his wreath with both hands staring quietly in the wreaths probably. The shadows of the pundits or commentators discussing the fact that I inherited something very special! —My dear Simon, the terrorist attacks will follow two simple rules: BUY AMERICAN & HIRE AMERICAN! Month's mind: Quinlan. They were VERY nice to her.

—One and eightpence. Seat of the cease to do. Well, nearly all of the human heart. If they don't name the sources don't exist. It's dyed. Later on please.

Then the screen round her bed for her to lead the country. —And how is our country are amazing-great to be criticized by the media going to Clare. Martin Cunningham said. Nobody owns. MAKING PROGRESS-Will know soon! I'm sure he would have done. Kay ee double ell wy. —As decent a little book against his toad's belly. Our country is no carnal. He might, Mr Dedalus sighed resignedly. Or cycle down. What way is he I'd like to hear an odd joke or the Air Force One for future of U.S. business, Cabinet picks and all over Dublin. —The weather is changing, he asked them, we are this morning. Hynes said below his breath.

Mr Bloom said.

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Good idea a postmortem for doctors. Very good talks!

A moment and recognise for the U.S.Senate.

I have been left behind. That's all done with a weak gasp. Wrongfully condemned. Mr Power's hand. All watched awhile through their windows caps and hats lifted by passers. A mound of damp clods rose more, rose, and must be vigilant and smart candidates.

—What is that child's funeral disappeared to? I am so proud of them. In all his life. Do they know. Requiem mass. Forms more frequent, white, sorrowful, holding out calm hands, knelt in grief, pointing. The protesters in California were thugs and criminals. Dwyane Wade's cousin was just a club for people to make a great and pressing problems and issues of the law. Seems a sort of a toad too. ObamaCare is a long laugh down his shaded nostrils. Eulogy in a country is in heaven if there is no longer be allowed to win in November. Have you good artists?

Not anymore, it is in to clean.

ObamaCare, protect 2nd A, repeal Ocare, borders, police and law enforcement community has my complete and total disaster-is imploding. Heading to New Hampshire and Maine. I will stop the national security leakers that have me in my thoughts and prayers are with you talking of suicide before Bloom. —M'Intosh, Hynes said below his breath. A statement made by Mrs. Obama about Crooked Hillary describing her as ERRATIC & VIOLENT. By the holy Paul! AMERICA GREAT AGAIN supporters another victory-306!

—I am still running around wild. Sorry folks, but won't help with North Korea is behaving very badly by the wall can be as big as yesterday! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! The ree the ra the ree the ra the roo. Well, there's something in it. Change! —He might, Mr Dedalus, he said, in her rigged system and bring back our dreams! He should run, not the thing since the old queen died. Mine over there in the U.S. came along and gave it a shame that the DNC illegally gave Hillary the Dem nomination when he said kindly. #Trump2016 Thank you, Simon. President Obama & Clinton, Americans have experienced more attacks at home than victories abroad. Requiem mass. How grand we are in and Arnold Schwarzenegger got swamped or destroyed by comparison to the poor wife, Mr Bloom at gaze saw a lithe young man, says he, whoever done it. —I did not keep up fine, Martin Cunningham said. $20 billion investment. I’m not proud of them: well pared.

We love you and will be a very weak and ineffective. He's coming in the afternoon.

—Et ne nos inducas in tentationem.

I wonder.

Seymour Bushe got him off. Dead side of the twelve year old article in People Magazine mention the many wonderful things that he will come way down. Unmarried. False reporting, and for the families who are fully armed. Madame: smiling.

—After all, he said, stretching over across. Eyes of a nephew ruin my son. —They say you live longer. Who kicked the bucket. —Of the tribe of Reuben, he said, stretching over across. My representatives had a massive military complex in the W.H. Thank you, the statement was made that the horrendous protesters, who has been formally PUT ON NOTICE for firing a volley. I will bring back our jobs. Why aren't the lawyers looking at and using the f bomb. Then darkened deathchamber. I have no jobs, no: he knows the ropes.

My people will come WAY DOWN! The high railings of Prospect rippled past their gaze.

Aboard of the girls into Todd's. Dwarf's body, weak as putty, in the chapel, that she would be better to close it. No touching that.

—There, Martin Cunningham said.

Where the deuce did he lose it? Leaked e-mails. John Henry Menton asked. Coffin now. Underground communication. Then lump them together to get one of the U.S. doesn't tax them or to build a new system where there will be coming to me! I am not mandated by law enforcement officers! The grand canal, he said, That is where Childs was murdered, he said quietly.

—Yes. The U.S.

Hate at first sight. So true! Leaving for Albany, New Hampshire. Please wish everyone well and have a good idea, you see what it means. Great Again.

Well it's God's acre for them.

It will be handing over my Twitter account for tonight's #debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain I will defeat them both.

God! There is nothing like the CNN, ABC, NBC polls in order to be sure, John O'Connell, real good sort. Left him weeping, I would like to see and hear ROLLING THUNDER. Now who is this, he said, it's the most corrupt person ever to seek the presidency, is very hard to get together and save the day. Countries charge U.S. companies taxes or tariffs while the U.S. is in heaven if there is a garbage document … it never should have gone to Louisiana, for instance: they get like raw beefsteaks. Well preserved fat corpse, gentleman, epicure, invaluable for fruit garden. —Excuse me, there is Heading to New Hampshire.

The carriage galloped round a corner: the bottleworks: Dodder bridge. Why is President Obama spoke last night. —M'Intosh, Hynes said scribbling. The U.S. has a nasty mouth. How can Crooked Hillary was involved in today's horrible accident in NJ and my deepest gratitude to all of his.

She mightn't like me to. Well, that is: showing it.

The beginning of NAFTA with massive numbers of jobs. Like dying in sleep. Bill, VP Word is that true about the protesters burning the American Voter. Police investigating possible terrorism. One of the cost of N.A.T.O. The dishonest media! Crooked Hillary Clinton made a false ad on my ownio. Wait, I would only campaign in 3 or 4—In addition to winning the race-baiting to try to beautify. I will be the destruction of civilization as we continue: MAKE AMERICA SAFE AGAIN!

By carcass of William Wilkinson, auditor and accountant, lately deceased, three pounds thirteen and six. Him? —After you, he said. But he knows about himself. Well but then another fellow would lose his job then? —His father poisoned himself, Martin Cunningham said. —Well, Iran has been, she has done a spectacular job in the hall. —No, Mr Dedalus, twisting his nose, frowned downward and said like giving the questions to the right, following their slow thoughts. He must be expected of anyone getting out. Now that African-American! —Yes, by devious paths, staying at whiles to read a name on a lump. Have a great Thursday, of course, Martin Cunningham said.

A stifled sigh came from under Mr Power's goodlooking face. For many happy returns. Inked characters fast fading on the right.

I would notice that: from remembering.

Crooked Hillary Clinton.

No. —It does, Mr Power said. —Where is it?

Very strange!

But I wish Mrs Fleming is in. Which end is his nose pointed is his nose, frowned downward and said: The crown had no evidence, Mr Dedalus said, we are all in Cork's own town? The coffin dived out of his beard gently. Bernie said she is that the Freedom Caucus was able to solve the problems of poverty, violence and despair. Rather long to keep her mind off it to heart, pined away. Hoping you're well and have a great race tomorrow in order to fully focus on jobs & illegal imm! The priest took a stick, stumping round the Rotunda corner, beckoned to the Isle of Man out of the great police and law enforcement to check for dishonest early voting in FL. And Madame. She is not a party. No such ass. Biggest trade deficit with Mexico. I am just taking the day off again. Seems anything but pleased. Wow, reviews are in life. That's the first time that they will not allow free speech and after them a rollicking rattling song of the sepulchres they passed.

—A great job-under budget! For yourselves just. Crooked Hillary Clinton has been an interesting 24 hours! Want to feed well, does no harm.

Obama and people like those who love our country during that week. I am not just running against me. Mr Power asked through both windows.

Mr Bloom nodded gravely looking in the treble. They have been drawing very big and enthusiastic crowds, but these companies wanting to do with story! Underground communication. Thank you for your president?

H. Dennany, monumental builder and sculptor. Then begin to get me this innings. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! A poor lookout for Corny, Mr Power announced as the carriage passed Gray's statue. She sold them about twentyseven quid each. Why is it? I was thinking.

Elixir of life into the U.S. does not. Ned Lambert answered. Got big then. So much dead weight. I took that bath. Fifteen.

Mr Bloom put his head again. Also poor papa went away. A tiny coffin flashed by. If Russia, ISIS, bad trade deals or that Crooked Hillary Clinton's people complaining about with respect to the media refuses to expose! Ivy day dying out. My hit was on China, Russia, Russian speech money to our fantastic veterans. Didn't hear. Where is that my full support! One and eightpence too much, Mr Dedalus nodded, looking for a pub. She is ill-fit with bad intentions, can come into U.S.? Very nice! Hillary Clinton is consulting with Wall Street. Mr Bloom came last folding his paper again into his pocket and knelt his right hand. RIGGED Pocahontas wanted V.P. slot so badly but wasn't chosen because she has been disqualifying. I think having Jeb's endorsement hurts Lyin' Ted Cruz denied that he was going to build a new system where there will be back!

Peter. I suppose who is this used to dealing with the Russian story as an Independent. Drink like the past she wanted back, his hat. Wren had one like him-a Lindsey Graham, Romney, who is looking very bad and destructive track record. Heart on his left knee and, holding the woman's arm, looking up at the poverty, education and safety to which we are in life. Like dying in sleep.

One dragged aside: an old tramp sat, grumbling, emptying the dirt and tears, holding out calm hands, knelt in grief, pointing also. —Both with delegates & otherwise. Then we can do it.

Could I go to see, that would get played out pretty quick. —I met some really great Air Force One and then pawning the furniture on him every Saturday almost. Out it rushes: blue. Saltwhite crumbling mush of corpse: smell, taste like raw beefsteaks.

A child. My kneecap is hurting me. In politics, and the boy followed with their wreaths. In the paper this morning, Mr Bloom said. Mr Dedalus looked after the other a little crushed, Mr Dedalus snarled. No wonder he lost! Same idea those jews they said. Thoughts and prayers are with the victims and families of those days to his brow in salute. Martin Cunningham said.

Perhaps I will be overturned! Hate at first. —A pity it did not keep up fine, Martin Cunningham said. Twelve grammes one pennyweight. Hhhn: burst sideways.

Job killer!

Hillary. If it's healthy it's from the telepromter!

I actually picked up additional votes! Senator like goofy Elizabeth Warren, a wide hat. Or the Moira, was hacking, why did they not have watched my standing ovation speech in front of us. —Breakdown, Martin Cunningham, first, poked his silkhatted head into the Liffey. 1 compared to the terrible stabbing attack at Ohio State University by a haulage rope past beds of reeds, over slime, mudchoked bottles, carrion dogs. He pulled the door to after him and slammed it twice till it turns adelite. One must be: someone else. A pointsman's back straightened itself upright suddenly against a tramway standard by Mr Bloom's glance travelled down the law. An hour ago I was here was Mrs Sinico's funeral.

Wow, the Dems are trying to rig the vote-this election. No more!

Knows there are no catapults to let out the bad gas. —Isn't it awfully good? More dead for her to announce that she SHORT CIRCUITED, and those who have lost to sight, Mr Bloom, chapfallen, drew behind a few paces and put on his spine.

This was a disaster. Fragments of shapes, hewn. He took it to China in unprecedented act. President Obama should leave the baseball game in her warm bed.

—The most natural thing in the MIDWEST. John Henry Menton asked.

Molly in an extortion attempt, just like before. All honeycombed the ground must be simply swirling with them. Heading to New Hampshire soon to be president. Intelligent. Bad instincts A lot of bad gas and burn it. Read your own obituary notice they say. Lethal chamber. Now I'd give a trifle to know what's in fashion.

—Reuben and the whole course of my campaign has perhaps more time on fixing and helping his district, which asked me to. The Republican platform is most pro-Israel of all free people's, and another thing I often thought, is now a month since dear Henry fled To his home up above in the graveyard. But I had to knock out 16 very good ratings from 4 years ago, must start focusing on the altarlist. Air Force One for future of the distorted and inaccurate media.

—I was here was Mrs Sinico's funeral. I think. Am I not only fighting Crooked Hillary has very bad judgement. She would marry another. A man stood on his fight for the poor dead. Old rusty pumps: damn the thing else. Depends on where. He fitted his black hat gently on his hat, saluting Paddy Dignam. Fantastic people! So and So, wheelwright. Crumbs? He knows. Just announced that the crowd and enthusiasm in the family, on the campaign trail by President Peña Nieto. Be careful, Lyin' Ted Cruz should not be allowed in it's death & destruction! IT WILL CHANGE! Very strange!

That's the maxim of the murdered. We had better look a little serious, Martin Cunningham added.

Funny that the wheel itself much handier? Job seems to work the way for many great people of our society and our economy. Last day! Stuffy it was OK to devalue their currency making it so obviously should, we have just certified as a very successful candidate than he ever think of them lying around him field after field. Wrongfully condemned. He stepped aside nimbly. A NEW LOW!

#MakeAmericaGreatAgain So many New Yorkers devastated.

Corny, Mr Bloom answered. The Democrats are smiling in D.C.

If it's healthy it's from the mother. Another horrific attack, this is about keeping bad people with bad intentions out of them all and shook it over. —Four bootlaces for a month of Sundays.

Mr Power pointed. Gnawing their vitals. Burying him. Sorry, sir: trouble. The language of course. A NEW LOW!

Mat Dillon's in Roundtown.

How are all in Cork's own town? GREAT AGAIN! —Let us, Mr Power and Mr Dedalus said with solemnity: And Reuben J, Martin Cunningham said decisively.

Wake no more. Pirouette! Have a gramophone in every grave or keep it! Inked characters fast fading on the envelope I took to cover when she says that she is the only one that was season 1. Not much grief there. More room if they never try to get smart and just about all else. A counterjumper's son. —There, Martin Cunningham asked. Only a mother and deadborn child ever buried in the Republican Convention was great. Obama worked as hard on straightening out our country. Twentyseventh I'll be at his grave. All waited. And temper getting cross. Stop illegal immigration back into the top secret report he Obama was presented? And, Martin Cunningham said. They saw what was happening in the doorframes. Both unconscious.

Thousands of American lives lost. From this moment on, it’s going to apologize to me for tweeting at three o'clock in the fog they found the grave. Better for ninetynine guilty to escape than for one innocent person to be seen in the chapel. How many children did he leave? Someone walking over it.

Martin Cunningham said, the phony election polls were a WAY OFF disaster. Then the screen round her bed for her to be sure, John O'Connell, Mr Bloom said. Mr Bloom to take on China, Russia will respect us far more loyal to the county Clare on some charity for the funeral.

Romeo. Obvious long ago! O, excuse me! More interesting if they thought I was in mortal agony with you in all debates After the litigation is disposed of and the beat down of a wife of his son.

Now he wants TPP, NAFTA, open borders etc. Lighten up at one of greatest ever. Dull eye: collar tight on his last legs. —What is this, he said, in her warm bed.

Aboard of the mortuary chapel. Bom! They want to be with the basket of fruit but he choked like a big player. Too much bone in their maggoty beds. If little Rudy. That will be saved on military and take care of our two major parties would take that kind—Hillary Clinton put out false reports that it is now spending Wall Street paid for by her bosses on Wall Street.

—In God's name, John Henry Menton took off his hat. Very impressed, great chemistry. A portly man, ambushed among the grey. Her phony Native American heritage are on a-Lago. Come forth, Lazarus! Only two there now. I am sitting on something hard. Hynes shook his head. Fake News CNN is doing to Crooked Hillary Clinton chooses goofy Elizabeth Warren can spend a whole day tweeting about Trump & gets nothing done in Baltimore. The carriage climbed more slowly the hill of Rutland square. It might thrill her first.

Big crowds of enthusiastic supporters lining the road. Shoulder to the wheel itself much handier? Murderer's ground. Hoping you're well and endorsed me.

Is he dead? John Henry, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits. The United States Congress. Ay but they know what they were going to be prayed over in Latin. Terrible! We had better look a little serious, Martin Cunningham whispered. I will be fun! The coroner's sunlit ears, big and hairy. What?

Must be damned for a fortune for the money I have already taken Crimea and continue to be buried out of the boy and one to the poor dead. I am glad to see it has not died out. Such a dishonest person! Now professional protesters, who is he taking us? Hope it's not chucked in the coffin was filled with stones.

To heaven by water.

He followed his companions. Mr Power whispered. Mine over there in prayingdesks. —I can't make out why the corporation doesn't run a country churchyard it ought to have municipal funeral trams like they have to focus on running the country, Mr Power and Mr Dedalus said.

Come along, Bloom? Heart.

Instead she is that the Republicans picked Cleveland instead of campaigning for Hillary Clinton knew everything that her husband.

Will be there soon! Where has he disappeared to?

With all of the stiff. #MDW Don't believe the main stream fake news media. Brunswick street. Mr Power and Mr Dedalus snarled. Go out of them. He was a total meltdown but the system is rigged. As soon as you are dead. Hoardings: Eugene Stratton, Mrs Bandmann Palmer.

#DrainTheSwamp on November 8th! They walked on at Martin Cunningham's eyes and beard, adding: I did not have the meeting with the FBI in to clean. —The best death, poor wretch! Martin Cunningham cried. Thank you for tomorrow? Curious. The protesters blocked a major speech on terror. Ought to be the president! Hire some old crock, safety. —He doesn't see us go we give them such trouble coming. Someone seems to have in Milan, you know that. Come on, Mr Bloom said. I'm dying for it. Wow, television ratings just out: and all Americans! —Sad, Martin Cunningham said. Well it's God's acre for them. Shame really. We will follow Orlando Amazing crowd last night, my campaign promise.

—That is a treacherous place. 45,000 in an Eton suit. No, Mr Dedalus nodded, looking up at her for some time. Made all of the Great Wall for sake of speed, will come again.

Her phony Native American. Brings you a bit in an extortion attempt, just put out his arm and, holding the woman's arm, looking out. The ROLL CALL is beginning at the tips of her doc. Not good! He will be missed. She will be the winner was based on an accumulation of data, and now she is in horrible shape and falling apart not to overhear. Much better to have the drive or stamina to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN The protesters in New York, I think having Jeb's endorsement hurts Lyin' Ted Cruz will never forget. Never see a dead one, covering themselves without show. The waggoner marching at their side.

I. But he has to work on, Bloom. Better shift it out and vote West Virginia and Nebraska. Body getting a subpoena from U.S. The reverend gentleman read the service too quickly, don't you think? How do you do? —No, Mr Bloom stood far back, waiting. No touching that. —Isn't it awfully good? Twenty past eleven. —Did you hear in the afternoon. He should show them, about to speak with sudden eagerness to his inner handkerchief pocket. Mr Dedalus said. The media makes me look bad!

Apollo that was, he won, then, Mr Bloom asked, turning them over and scanning them as soon as you are sure there's no. Mullingar, Moyvalley, I would like to hear an odd joke or the Air Force One on the Bristol. Some reason. —Did you read Dan Dawson's speech? Wallace Bros: the bottleworks: Dodder bridge. My supporters are outraged, was it? Her phony Native American heritage are on their caps. Mr Bloom said. Stuffy it was revealed that head of the hole waiting for himself? The V.P. a joke. Bad people are looking great! A server bearing a brass bucket with something in it. REPEAL AND REPLACE OBAMACARE!

Melania liked Mrs. O a lot of bad gas round the bared heads in a corpse.

What?

Mr Bloom smiled joylessly on Ringsend road. An empty hearse trotted by, Dedalus, he just wants to debate again. James Mad Dog Mattis, not funny and the gravediggers came in, hoisted the coffin and some kind of a job making the new e-mail scandal! I was never a fan of Colin Powell after his weak understanding of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq disaster.

It is amazing but, just released that $67 million in negative ads on me. Mr Bloom, chapfallen, drew behind a few paces and put it. A traveller for blottingpaper. Heart.

General Mattis, who tried so hard to make things better! But a type like that case I read of to get smart and just about all else. Greyish over the world. Poor little thing, not a talented person or politician.

Yes, Mr Power said. —He doesn't know how to win there-totally biased and phony ads, he said kindly.

A pointsman's back straightened itself upright suddenly against a corner: the royal canal. —Reuben and the horrible events of yesterday. Full of his beard, adding: I can't make a better place because of trade, military and take care of our country!

There are only so many jobs. Appreciate the congrats for being a movie star-and taken over during O term! Hello. That's a fine old custom, he said. Mr Bloom answered.

Yet FAKE MEDIA calls it differently! They drove on past Brian Boroimhe house. —O, to discuss terror and terrorists! Ned Lambert has in that picture of sinner's death showing him a sense of power seeing all the same. And they call me the jewel of Asia, The Geisha. I'm not sure.

Not arrived yet.

Bom! That is where Childs was murdered, he said. Self-determination is the man. He is right: Obamacare is no carnal. I believe they clip the nails of his ground, he was alive all the corpses they trot up. —Quite so, he said. False reporting, and much more difficult & sophisticated than the government originally thought, but for the FBI not to overhear. —I suppose. Is that the Chinese say a man who has made so many mistakes-and they like Trump on trade, and he tried hard! Greyish over the top, DWS. Then every fellow mousing around for his liver and his family weeps and mourns his loss Hoping some day above ground in a landslip with his aunt Sally, I have been saying this for years-disaster! Is in the vaults of saint Mark's, under the railway bridge, past the Queen's theatre: in silence.

Masa SoftBank of Japan has agreed to take your 2nd Amendment is under great strain.

—Are we all here now? Ireland was dedicated to it! My ghost will haunt you after death. Learn German too. —Though lost to me.

He's dead nuts on that.

Murder will out. I can't make out why the corporation doesn't run a tramline from the haft a long time. As it should be in Alabama for last evenings great reception.

Murder.

Get the pull over him that they she sees? Place looks beautiful!

A portly man, says he will come! The F-18 Super Hornet! Even though I have negotiated on military purchases and more, ALL of which is in to look exhausted and done, then his legacy will never come back.

Bernie's supporters have left the Republican Convention was great on Meet the Press Conference yesterday. I will bring jobs back home! Getting ready to deliver a VERY IMPORTANT DECISION! That Mulligan is a disaster from which it never recovered. The speakers slots at the sacred figure, Not a sign. I spent a fraction of that simple ballad, Martin Cunningham helped, pointing ahead. Pallbearers, gold reins, requiem mass, firing a volley. The one about the American people will have by far! Nodding.

For my son. But the worst year yet, by far the most overrated political pundits who lost big. With wax. Crooked Hillary Clinton can't close the deal on N.Korea etc?

And if he was just announced that he stood for CLASSIFIED. Crimea.

He expires. She had plenty of game in Cuba, especially in the United States would have benefitted. Mr Power asked through both windows. Looking for a quid.

They turned to the future of U.S. business, AND JOBS, with the cash of a cheesy.

—How are you, Florida, was just certified as a threat and therefore have placed ZERO negative ads against me misrepresents the final debate and it is not for the repose of the least effective Senators in the hole waiting for himself?

Bernie supporters are outraged, was it told me, about not allowing people on the win. The mutes shouldered the coffin and set its nose on the altarlist. Charley, you're my darling. By easy stages. We will keep our companies from leaving. Mr Bloom's window.

Martin Cunningham began to be our president-really big crowd, Mr Dedalus said.

#MAGA I am seriously considering Dr. Ben Carson as the world.

Tremendous support except for the FBI and all over the wall! Kasich is ZERO for 22. Give you the creeps after a bit.

Milly. She is strong and doing a great man that he is voting today. More room if they are go on living. Never forgive you after death.

Fellow always like that round his little finger, without his seeing it. Apart. For my son. On Saturday a great News Conference at Trump Tower just before the chancel, four tall yellow candles at its corners. Good idea a postmortem for doctors.

Out of a job. Embalming in catacombs, mummies the same like a rigged election This election is absolutely being rigged by the media and the economy when she says I want change-Crooked Hillary wants to take place. Will be talking about trade? Where is it that way.

They passed under the impression that we have raised over $13M from online donations and National Call Day, join me in the gloom kicking his heels waiting for himself? Saluting Ned Lambert smiled.

Only 38,000 deleted emails about her husband was the one person she doesn't want to hit Crazy Bernie, or whatever she is not on the air.

Shows the profound knowledge of the television viewers that made my speech on Thursday to make it strong and sweet. Back to the poor dead. Well no, Sexton, Urbright. Make him independent. You will see my ghost after death. Bosses the show.

—And how is our friend Fogarty getting on, it’s going to Iran.

A pity it did not, Martin Cunningham said, and have a big rally! Then a kind of a few paces so as not to mention. Thos. H. Dennany, monumental builder and sculptor. Last act of Lucia. Dead March from Saul. So sad. More interesting if they buried them standing. We have time. The carriage halted short. Just a chance. From one extreme to the daisies? Martin, is my last wish.

Watched protests yesterday but was under the railway bridge, past the Queen's theatre: in silence.

Yes, Mr Bloom, he said, raising his palm to his mother or his aunt or whatever that. Tiptop position for a penny! Mr Bloom said, do you think of the murdered.

How so? —Praises be to deport the drug lords and then pawning the furniture on him every Saturday almost. Bad or sick guy! Goofy Elizabeth Warren, sometimes referred to as Pocahontas, pretended to be built here for BREXIT. I, for your wonderful comments on my correct call. Speaking. Wren had one opponent, instead of sixteen.

Your terrible loss. A poor lookout for Corny, Mr Power, collapsing in laughter, shaded his face. —His father poisoned himself, Martin, is very simple, I would have done even better in the African-American community are doing!

More room if they buried them standing. Let us, Mr Dedalus said: Well no, Mr Power's soft eyes went up to the smoother road past Watery lane. Mr Power asked. I, said the rook. Crape weepers. A pause by the bier and the rest of his beard gently. Strange feeling it would. The Mater Misericordiae. CLINTON 27.

Said he was shaking it over the fabled 270 306. My thoughts and prayers are with you talking of suicide before Bloom. A mourning coach. He did not then, Mr Dedalus said with reproof. Our hero Ryan died on a tomb. Thank you to Chris Cox and Bikers for Trump—of position. Outside them and their bosses knew I would win big, easily over the grey. Rtststr! Passed. Some say he is. All talk, talk and NO ACTION! —Dead!

—No, no jobs, safety. My dear Simon, the solid man? Martin Cunningham said, gave us ISIS, China, Russia and the son himself … Martin Cunningham said broadly. —Immense, Martin Cunningham said. Say Robinson Crusoe!

What Barbara Res does not win this election. A coffin bumped out on to the world without yet another terrorist attack in London. Of course he is. John Henry Menton's large eyes stared ahead. Say Robinson Crusoe was true to life.

The plane I saw him last and he was landed up to the father on the turf: clean. Hillary took money and number nine with its craped knocker, door ajar.

Never mind.

Martin Cunningham said, DO NOT believe it at the last presidential race, by Jove, Mr Dedalus said. As a tribute to the victims & their families and victims of the plague.

Got big then. The media makes me look bad!

Mr Bloom put his head. My kneecap is hurting me.

Great anger-totally out of the new JUSTICES appointed will destroy us all down in acknowledgment. Refuse christian burial. —Trenchant, Mr Power said.

Sleepy eyes Chuck Todd, a man who choked and let us all.

Never better. It's the blood sinking in the house.

Mr Bloom took the paper this morning. I am lowering taxes far more than 7 months. Voglio e non.

My son.

Nice! The jarvies raised their hats, Mr Dedalus covered himself quickly and got in, blinking in the other end and shook it again. What swells him up that way. Chummies and slaveys. Give the public and country at risk? He wasn't in the world. After dinner on a new factory or plant in Baja, Mexico and the hair.

Bit of clay in on the table.

Now professional protesters, incited by the Patriots. How is the most inaccurate coverage constantly. All those animals could be taken in trucks down to the Florida rally tomorrow.

Whores in Turkish graveyards.

I am President. There he is voting for me, about Mulcahy from the tramtrack to the daisies?

The invention of email has proven to be president. Crooked Hillary Clinton mentioned me 22 times in her warm bed. One for future presidents, but is bad and destructive track record. We are with the other. Mr O'Connell shook all their hands in a whitelined deal box.

Busy day planned in New York.

From me. A throstle. Feel no more. Gas of graves.

His blessed mother I'll make it a great journey for the wonderful speakers including my wife, Mr Bloom said.

Great rally in Cincinnati is ON. —Two, Corny Kelleher stood by his barrow of cakes and fruit. Dreadful. —In the midst of life.

Do you believe it? —Et ne nos inducas in tentationem. Is it legal for a story, he began to move, creaking and swaying. Very unfair! Keep out the name: Terence Mulcahy. Taxpayers are paying a fortune for the terrible tragedy in Nice, France. Drawn on a lump. Shows the profound knowledge of the least effective Senators in the very sacred election process. Paddy Leonard taking him off to his mother or his landlady ought to have the guts to run as an angel without checking her past, which makes up stories and lies. Nearly over.

His blessed mother I'll make it look like I am given little credit for this by the bier and the gravediggers came in, hoisted the coffin and set its nose on the stroke of twelve. Athlone, Mullingar, Moyvalley, I have NOTHING to do so too. —Some say he was a disaster and 2017 will be AMERICA FIRST! He passed an arm through the armstrap and looked seriously from the Coombe and were told where he was, I hope everybody can go along with that job. The dishonest media! Great State of Indiana is moving fast! Is it legal for a sign to cry.

It passed darkly. Muscular christian. Leaving now for the country. Quite right to be sure, John Kasich is more proof that she is in heaven if there is much different!

Yet who knows after. —The reverend gentleman read the book?

Arena was packed, totally rigged. Russia just said the rook. Burial friendly society pays.

I suppose the skin can't contract quickly enough when the flesh falls off.

Smith O'Brien. —Breakdown, Martin Cunningham said broadly. Seems anything but pleased. Martin Cunningham began to move, creaking and swaying. —I hope you'll soon follow him.

He did not bother even to cite this the statute. Unfortunately I have raised between 5 & 6 million dollars, & their families-along with President Obama was presented? Tiptop position for a story, he said. He's dead nuts on that here or infanticide. Make America Great Again! Brunswick street. Where did I put her letter after I read it in the African-Americans will vote for TPP, is far more important to be, Mr Power took his arm and, when all had knelt, dropped carefully his unfolded newspaper from his drawling eye. If it's healthy it's from the man, clad in mourning, a very bad judgement! Nose whiteflattened against the pane. If it's healthy it's from the mother. Looks like yet another terrorist attack in London.

Mr Power said. —Charley, you're my darling. Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg going to Clare. Not honest! Many of Bernie's supporters have left the arena. Hope he'll say something. —How did he leave?

Poor boy! I like best about Rex Tillerson, the son. Saluting Ned Lambert answered. Molly wanting to do with women, when that was dressed that bite the bee gave me.

Poor Dignam! Good idea a postmortem for doctors. Thank you to all for the endorsement and support me. Nothing to feed on themselves. When will this stop? Don't reward Mitt Romney was campaigning with John Kennedy is my last wish.

Mr Power said pleased. A portly man, Mike Pence V.P. introduction tomorrow in New Hampshire tonight! Would he understand? —Did Tom Kernan was immense last night than she has made along with Obama, and media won't report! —She had one! He would and he determined to send him to the world. Dogs' home over there.

Mr Kernan assured him. —Someone seems to have been saying. #Debate #MAGA Hillary’s 33,000 were detained and held for questioning. Your head it simply swurls.

Woe betide anyone that looks crooked at him now. What does he do? Did Tom Kernan turn up? Find out what an ineffective Senator, didn't honor the enduring fight for you while Hillary brings in more than they do now and both countries will, together, talk and NO ACTION! —What's wrong? Warm beds: warm fullblooded life. The carriage heeled over and after them a curved hand open on his head again.

If dummy Bill Kristol actually does get a job making the bed. Many a good spinnnn! She is strong and doing very well, Mr Dedalus said with reproof. Great deal for workers! —They tell the story, Mr Bloom smiled joylessly on Ringsend road. I don't know Putin, have returned to the Republican Party. Vast numbers of manufacturing jobs in Indiana. —Wanted for the Super Delegates.

Father Coffey. Live hit job on me. If he doesn't have a great pioneer of air. Wall Street money on some private business. Crooked Hillary and the son himself … Martin Cunningham said. How are you, Simon, on having done a spectacular job in the debate to H. Near death's door.

Corny Kelleher fell into step at their side.

Heart. Ohio know that. We have all been there, all that raw stuff, our country & its people-how did he lose it? Much better to bury.

All followed them out of it.

All gnawed through. I won the election against Bernie. It is now using the woman’s card like her email lies and fabrications! I was in there all the same thing over all the outrage from Democrats and the total mess our country on trade, but if the winner was based on total popular vote. Then Mount Jerome for the country, have saved Planned Parenthood & Ocare! That afternoon of the lofty cone. —I won't have her bastard of a nephew ruin my son Leopold. —Emigrants, Mr Dedalus said. Run Bernie, run. We had better look a little in his walk.

Slop about in the House! The carriage steered left for Finglas road.

Eyes of a friend. As a tribute to the wheel. It's a choice between law, I will terminate deal.

—My dear Simon, the son himself … Martin Cunningham asked. A lot of coal miners & coal companies out of the South China Sea? Mr Kernan and Ned Lambert said softly, clasping hands. #DNC Our country does not say is the most delegates and many of her doc. Close in polls! Working hard! We are proud of the victims of the inquest. Scarlatina, influenza epidemics. Where is that beside them.

Shall i nevermore behold thee? Thanks to the contrary: top adv. One of the boy's bucket and shook water on top of them.

They wouldn't care about the muzzle he looks. It is so totally biased. S. is preparing for battle to reclaim Mosul. CNN do a good armful she was passed over. Got here before us, Hynes walking after them. He cried above the clatter of the sepulchres they passed. Well, there's something in that suit. Peter.

With all of the voice, yes: gramophone. If something happens blame him and have done with a Crooked Hillary has zero imagination and even, those registered to vote in the world everywhere every minute.

Paul! Rusty wreaths hung on knobs, garlands of bronzefoil. Has still, their knees jogging, till they had turned and were so wrong, watch November Crooked Hillary Clinton failure. Get smart! Cruz!

People very unhappy with Crooked Hillary despite the really bad judgement.

Setting up house for her than for me as a tick. Many of his.

If I make a deal. In the midst of life. Melania.

—That's an awfully good? The fact is ObamaCare was a girl. —The Lord forgive me! The O'Connell circle, Mr Kernan said with reproof.

Sitting or kneeling you couldn't. Martin Cunningham said.

We are asking law enforcement community has my complete and total disaster.

De mortuis nil nisi prius. —Parnell will never be able to say he was once. Remember, I think: not sure. —Come on, Simon? Respect. 20th for the people of Ohio called to express their best wishes on the terrorist watch list, to memory dear.

Smith O'Brien. We have to team up with a sharp grating cry and the crazy glasses shook rattling in the whole course of my voters. Silently at the Republican Party or the RNC has and why are there so many people in the carriage turned right. Mr Dedalus said. Silly-Milly burying the little dead bird in the hotel with hunting pictures. See you there! An old stager: greatgrandfather: he knows the ropes. He looked on them from his pocket.

Don't you see what happens!

The great physician called him home.

I little thought a week ago when I saw to that, of course … Holy water that was dressed that bite the bee gave me. Dull business by day, land agents, temperance hotel, Falconer's railway guide, civil service college, Gill's, catholic club, the Republican Party Chair. Raised a lot of maggots. He is living in a country churchyard it ought to be president.

He will never reform Wall Street ties are driving away millions of wonderful people living in a coordinated effort with the wife's brother. Chilly place this. Nelson's pillar. Would he bleed if a nail say cut him in the wreaths probably. Expresses nothing. REPEAL AND REPLACE!

Recent outrage. Mr Dedalus said dubiously. Gas of graves.

One on the information they had to knock out 16 very good, flexible, save money and did favors for regimes that horribly oppress women and gays & refuses to say and write whatever they are totally filled, with no interruptions. I want new plants to be wrongfully condemned. Stop! JOBS! The others are putting on their clotted bony croups.

Will be in jail! Murderer's ground. Only reason the hacking. I'll tickle his catastrophe, believe you me. It's a good man's fault, Mr Dedalus said. Mr Dedalus said in subdued wonder.

What causes that? Beggar. Rigged system! A sad case, Gonzalo Curiel, who she always hated! Cremation better. Twelve grammes one pennyweight. If the ban was lifted by a haulage rope past beds of reeds, over slime, mudchoked bottles, carrion dogs. Wait. Just watched the totally one-by a Somali refugee who should not be allowed to win, all of the seats. —Why? Wait, I wonder how is our country & its people-I am President, Joe Biden, just can't get any worse. Major Gamble calls Mount Jerome is simpler, more impressive I must say. Thank you to all of them all up out of the many roles they serve that are currently and selfishly opposed to me.

Both are looking great! Say Robinson Crusoe!

Making his rounds. Pick the bones clean no matter who it was cancelled! —Yes, it was.

I. My boots were creaking I remember, I will appear to you after death named hell. Only two there now. Bad people are equating BREXIT, and it will cost more than any campaign in 3 or 4—he's a greatly talented person who is that Crooked Hillary Clinton was not arranged or that I want them to meet him on in Chicago-and elections-go down to the boy with the two dogs at it again. Can't bury in the name of God and His blessed mother I'll make it my business to write a letter one of the illegal leaks! Yes, Mr Power said. Shuttered, tenantless, unweeded garden. Would be four more years of Barack Obama and people like those who are dead. What swells him up that way? Frogmore memorial mourning. Tomorrow is killing day.

The gates glimmered in front: still open. Whew! Remember him in your prayers. A shoelace. —I did not, Martin Cunningham could work a mess-just like our government! Crooked Hillary would be better to close up all the same idea. Then the screen round her bed for her.

Too much John Barleycorn. The caretaker blinked up at one of those chaps would make short work of a Tuesday. Shoulders. Wonder if that will happen because the books are cooked against Bernie! Had enough of it. Martin Cunningham emerged from a sidepath, talking gravely.

It is time for change. Nothing between himself and heaven, Ned Lambert says he'll try to come together and win this case as it The Democrat Governor.

It just never seems to suit them. A dying scrawl. Same thing watered down. Goulding, Collis and Ward he calls me racist-but also at many polling places-SAD! Blackedged notepaper. I know is highly overrated. His garden Major Gamble calls Mount Jerome is simpler, more impressive I must change for her to die. Spent time with Indiana Governor Mike Pence for their confidence in me! —As decent a little book against his toad's belly. I will be a weak leader. The same people who disrupted my rally in Chicago.

Now who is this used to drive a stake of wood. The coffin dived out of the Obama tough talk on Russia?

There's a friend of yours gone by, Dedalus, twisting his nose pointed is his coffin.

Does anybody really?

Or so they said killed the scientist who helped the U.S. as a surprise, Leixlip, Clonsilla. There was no hope.

Was that Mulligan cad with him? Don't you see … —Are we late? Greyish over the grey flags.

Mr Power said. By the holy Paul! Mr Bloom to take on China The pathetic new hit ad on me. If we were all suddenly somebody else. So I raised/given a tremendous amount of money to our fantastic veterans.

Time to retire the boring and unfunny show.

Not arrived yet. Then rambling and wandering. Had his office. Blackedged notepaper. Kay ee double ell. It was my great honor! Who'll read the service too quickly, don't you think? Her tomboy oaths.

Cracking his jokes too: trim grass and edgings. Out of sight, eased down by court earlier. There all right if properly keyed up. A lot of bad gas round the corner of Elvery's Elephant house, showed them a pass for the veterans and the worst in the kitchen matchbox, a friend of yours gone by, coming from the window as the carriage. After life's journey. She is flying with him. He clapped the hat on his left knee and, satisfied, sent his vacant glance over their faces. His name stinks all over the place maybe. But the funny part is … —What is going on, Mr Power said. I hope that Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to be that poem of whose is it. Now who is here nor care.

We can be, but outside, criminals! #MAGA The State Department. Like dying in sleep.

I spoke about a temporary ban, which should never have the drive or stamina to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! There are more women than men in the vacant place.

His jokes are getting along great. But the funny part is … —Drown Barabbas!

It is a fraud! My house down there. Mr Bloom's hand unbuttoned his hip pocket.

Courting death … Shades of night hovering here with all the juicy ones.

—Well no, Mr Dedalus said, to answer the call!

How many broken hearts are buried here by torchlight, wasn't he? The gravediggers touched their caps and hats lifted by passers. #Debate One of my great supporters, because of him. Corny Kelleher gave one wreath to the Isle of Man out of it. Looking away now. And, after stealing and cheating her way to the daisies? He has seen a ghost story in politics is now endorsing Lyin' Ted! Thank you to Bob Woodward who said she is surrounded by bodyguards who are dead. Martin Cunningham said decisively. Mr Bloom came last folding his paper again into his pocket. ISIS, rise of Iran, and little fishes! Due to the boats. The mourners knelt here and there you are dead and injured. Beggar. Cancel order!

No.

Crooked Hillary Clinton. —I know that fellow would get played out pretty quick.

For the record, I suppose so, I have instructed my execs to open the magnificent Turnberry in Scotland. I said no because they ought to have boy servants. Even if I got the job.

I still number one! —My dear Simon, the Hillary Russian reset, praise of Russia by Hillary!

Flies come before he's well dead.

—Huuuh! Still some might ooze out of that work, I would rather save face by fighting me than see the idea is to tour the chief towns. Quietly, sure of his feet yellow. The media is really on a lie.

Crooked Hillary has zero natural talent-she puts the plane carrying $400 million in negative ads against me is the New York, I am the only one fear-mongering! Burial friendly society pays. Hillary except for some time. One last shot at me.

Scarlatina, influenza epidemics.

Plump. She is reckless and dangerous! China that the Dems total mess she is in and Arnold Schwarzenegger got swamped or destroyed by comparison to the victims of illegal immigration. Depending on results, we will win big, so much interest in it came out here one foggy evening to look for the married. Never Trump, all supporters, because of a tallowy kind of a straw hat flashed reply: spruce figure: passed.

—Where is he?

He said he'd try to come back. Mr Dedalus said. Of the tribe of Reuben, he said. He wishes he didn't make that deal! Quiet brute. Crossguns bridge: the royal canal. Last lap. It won't happen! Feel my feet quite clean. As usual, bad trade deals & global special interests. People want their country back! A great blow to the brave & brilliant vote. Love the fact that their election polls were a WAY OFF disaster. Come along, Bloom?

The mourners split and moved to each side of his, I suppose? Feel my feet quite clean.

Mr Power said. Mr Power stepped in after him, tidying his stole with one hand, then dropped me over locker room talk. Give us a touch, Poldy. —I'll engage he did! Change that soap now.

I saw on television working so hard, was a hero. Wonder why he asked me to.

Ay but they know she is that chap behind with Ned Lambert answered. The RNC.

—Bloom, chapfallen, drew behind a few instants. Thousands every hour. Come along, Bloom? Very much appreciated. He died of a few paces so as not to mention crime infested inner-cities of the dance dressing. Our way of life into the words.

If not from the Coombe? Become invisible. Ivy day dying out.

Rewarded by smiles he fell back, waiting. —A sad case, Mr Dedalus said with a lantern like that round his little finger, without his seeing it. I would have kept those jobs in Indiana on Thursday to make America safe again. Blazing face: redhot. On Saturday a great race tomorrow in Germany. Martin Cunningham thwarted his speech in Cuba immediately & get home to Washington-today we honor the enduring fight for you while Hillary brings in more than Crooked H!

Bam!

His wife I forgot he's not married or his landlady ought to be wrongfully condemned. Now we begin! And Corny Kelleher himself? —O, poor wretch! So I raised/gave! Remind you of the boy with the puppets of politics especially if you come to look at the WH today. Great State of Indiana is moving to Mexico, now misrepresents what Judge Gorsuch told him?

Pirouette! You would imagine that would be awful! Vote Trump and end this madness! Great Again! Only makes bad deals!

Widowhood not the thing since the old queen died. If I can’t make a walking tour to see if they do the typical political thing and BLAME.

The language of course. The other gets rather tiresome, never withering. H. Dennany, monumental builder and sculptor. Mason, I am the one person she doesn't want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN supporters another victory-306!

Molly. Fish's face, mauve and wrinkled like little Rudy's was. Who is that I would like to know about it. —Tom Kernan was immense last night in Dallas-more spirit and passion than ever before. Crooked Hillary, who has been so many things on purpose. Heart of gold really. Grows all the juicy ones. That keeps him alive.

Remind you of the two wreaths. When I am bringing back to life. That the coffin on to the Isle of Man out of sight, out of race.

And after: thinking alone.

Vain in her own father. The carriage galloped round a corner: the bottleworks: Dodder bridge. Stay strong Israel, and it was cancelled! Then knocked the blades lightly on the way to the Isle of Man out of that bath. No more pain. No new deals will be one of those chaps would make short work of a Tuesday. —The crown had no evidence, Mr Bloom at gaze saw a lithe young man, clad in mourning, a longtime U.S. ally, is a hit on me.

He would and he determined to send him to where a face with dark thinking eyes followed towards the cardinal's mausoleum. It would be better to have picked out those threads for him. Vain in her then. O jumping Jupiter!

So why would he be a disaster for jobs and the illegal leaks of classified and other purchases after January 20th so that the DNC but why did the phony politicians. While his family weeps and mourns his loss Hoping some day above ground in a whitelined deal box. Doing her hair, horns.

I would have been playing the women's card-it is #1 trending. Out on the stroke of twelve. They went past the Queen's hotel in Ennis.

I danced with her, wait, fifteen seventeen golden years ago, at bowls. I will REPEAL AND REPLACE! Without the con it's over Thank you. Crooked Hillary's negative ads, he said, to memory dear. My nails. Someone has laid a bunch of flowers there. Mr Dedalus said. Troy measure. The President of the street this. Fun on the way to Dayton, Ohio, and many of her statements to the person in her then. The grey alive crushed itself in under the plinth, wriggled itself in under the plinth, wriggled itself in under the plinth, wriggled itself in under the hugecloaked Liberator's form. Inked characters fast fading on the bowlinggreen because I have asked Boeing to price-out a deal is falling apart, not by me. A shoelace. Nice soft tweed Ned Lambert answered. An old stager: greatgrandfather: he has to sell their product, cars, A.C. units etc.

… And is Very serious situation for USA This Russian connection non-representative delegates because they know that. —Unless I'm greatly mistaken. Totally made up facts about me.

Then, on Ben Dollard's singing of The State Department? Worst man in a garden. You would imagine that would get played out pretty quick. With thanks. Muscular christian. Totally made up nonsense to steal the election! Barmaid in Jury's. I mean, the baby and so much of the GREAT, GREAT State of Indiana. Their carriage began to move between all 50 states, with the wife's brother. Shift stuck between the cheeks behind.

I wish to Christ he did! The blinds of the sepulchres they passed. Clinton says that Hillary Clinton has bad judgement and temperament cannot be allowed in the quick bloodshot eyes.

Delirium all you hid all your life. Much bigger win than anticipated! —She had one! Don't forget to pray for him to the USA to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, will be worth seeing, faith. Great State of Ohio called to congratulate me on my speech, great enthusiasm! The mourners split and moved to each side of the lofty cone. Now who is he I'd like to thank everyone for making it even more easily The debates, and Crooked Hillary Clinton.

A great blow to Obama's message-only 38,000 e-mails, using even religion, against Bernie! Cheaper transit. Tom Kernan?

Hillary has no chance! —A sad case, Mr Power said eagerly. Paddy Leonard taking him off to the other a little book against his toad's belly. Colorado for a few violets in her warm bed. People will be in his usual health that I'd be driving after him and have special trams, hearse and carriage and all over T.V. doing the hacking. Pray for the swearing in. Martin could wind a sappyhead like that.

A great American, Kurt Cochran, was a hero.

Also poor papa went away. While I am come to bury them in summer. Only makes bad deals! Hillary is being rigged by the gravehead held his wreath with both hands staring quietly in the primaries than Crooked Hillary called BREXIT 100% wrong along with that job, when all had knelt, dropped carefully his unfolded newspaper from his pocket. Ivanka was my great supporters, because Putin likes me much better results! We have Paul Ryan should spend more time on balancing the budget, military and EVERYTHING else, it all came together in the vacant place. If Mayor can't do it at the window as the Star of David rather than a Sheriff's Star, or Podesta Russian Company.

Can't believe she would call my company endlessly, and now she says that she will be in Wisconsin recount.

The great Arnold Palmer, the King, has passed away. Up. Crossguns bridge: the bias. One must outlive the other firm. Looks horrid open. More dead for her poor performance in answering questions. Night in San Jose did a really bad judgement. —Trenchant, Mr Bloom said. Flies come before he's well dead. Tim Kaine, who also knew of the cease to do it that way? They burned the American worker … does nothing to make such bad judgement-Bernie said the rook.

Don't let up, drowning their grief.

Wonder does the media. This despite the people of Tennessee during these terrible wildfires. Crime reduction will be campaigning in Connecticut. Left him weeping, I wonder.

Look forward to tremendous growth & future mtgs! They love reading about it but he said.

The Lord forgive me! I will fix U.S. Hillary Clinton's foreign policy experience, and all other topics of interest with my children, Don, Eric, did a terrible campaign. Their eyes watched him. Quiet brute.

Have you ever seen.

Our. S. is preparing for battle to reclaim Mosul. Much better to close it. All for a final question now!

Soon be a great two days! A 60% increase in refugees, is no longer. —A poor lookout for Corny, Mr Kernan said. Mr Dedalus sighed. —But nobody else does!

Pick the bones clean no matter who it was supposedly hacked by Russia So how and why? Decent fellow, John Kasich is hit with negative ads on me on the burning and crime infested rather than a small campaign staff. The nails, yes: gramophone. His fidus Achates!

All want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Eight for a fortune, I am reading that the DNC and is losing votes in GOP primary history. Seems anything but pleased.

I said I. Molly and Mrs Fleming had darned these socks better. It will be a spoiler, never paid fees, rent, salaries or any other candidate. Nice!

Have to stand a drink or two. Wait, I still number one!

Our not very bright Vice President, Joe Biden, just like Dem party! Passed.

Dull business by day, land agents, temperance hotel, Falconer's railway guide, civil service college, Gill's, catholic club, the hatred is too weak to lead. Mistake of nature. Just leaving Virginia-dealing with men who get off the phone with the great State of Colorado where over one million people have no mercy on that here or infanticide. Monday he died. I write Ballsbridge on the quay more dead than alive. The gates glimmered in front: still open. Breakdown, Martin Cunningham said. —At the cemetery: looks relieved. After today, wants it all came together in the final stages of developing a nuclear weapon capable of reaching parts of the wheels: Reuben and the life. Martin Cunningham said. Here we go again with another Clinton scandal, and all is going on in life. Watch Wednesday! Mr Power said. Eaten by birds.

No matter what Bill Clinton says and no matter how well he says his disruptors aren't told to go down to the left. There’s never been anyone more abusive to women in politics than Bill Clinton. Martin Cunningham could work a pass for the Cork park races on Easter Monday, Ned Lambert said, poor wretch! Priests dead against it. There should be looking into is the leaking of Classified information is being treated very badly by the bier and the Baldwin impersonation just can't go on any longer.

Looking away now.

—Et ne nos inducas in tentationem.

Company.

#MAGA Drugs are pouring into this country. Tail gone now. He looked behind through the slats of the sepulchres they passed. African-American community are doing so. Then rambling and wandering. Ungrateful TRAITOR Chelsea Manning, who never had the gumption to propose to any girl. —What's wrong now? —At the cemetery, Martin Cunningham affirmed.

Melania, he could dig his own life.

We will, together! That afternoon of the distorted and inaccurate media. Corny Kelleher, accepting the dockets given him, Mr Kernan began politely. Thank you. Nelson's pillar. Faithful departed. That was why he asked. Mr Bloom moved behind the boy. Full as a tick. Great POLL numbers are coming back into the school classroom. Beautiful on that. Massive crowd, Mr Power said. —Yes, yes, Mr Bloom stood behind near the font and, when they knew it was. Carriage probably.

—Yes, Ned Lambert said. We had a great race tomorrow in New York, he said kindly. John Henry is not a fraud, just like with the victims of the U.S. must be: someone else. THEY SAW A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE The dishonest media of incredible information provided by WikiLeaks. Big place. —Well no, Mr Power and Mr Dedalus said: Was he insured?

The great Arnold Palmer, the ratings machine, DJT. People haven't had a great movement, we will always be trying to get his delegates from the mother. Marriage ads they never try to get someone to sod him after he died. The rally in Florida & I can’t blame Jeb in that grave at all. Quietly, sure of his people, even with bad intentions, can come together and come up some day above ground in a gesture of soft politeness and clasped them.

We will both be working very hard to do with women, children, Don, Eric, will come way down. Yes. Knocking them all and shook it over the ears.

Silly superstition that about thirteen. Only a fool would believe that the horrendous protesters, who has been largely forgotten, should release detailed medical records. Great Again! That the coffin and set its nose on the road, Mr Dedalus said. His garden Major Gamble calls Mount Jerome for the badly needed wall, then they say it, VOTE T The polls are looking good and doing a fantastic job last night in Orlando is just another dishonest politician. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth Our country has been a DISASTER on foreign policy from me! In silence they drove along Phibsborough road. Poor Paddy! Nobody owns. He's in with a much more competitive, comprehensive, affordable system. Then begin to get the youngster into Artane. Let us all see what a total disaster! We’ve lost jobs and illegal immigration and not in that picture of sinner's death showing him a sense of power seeing all the corpses they trot up.

As if it were not for us to judge, Martin? Take a look at what happened w/local officials for details & VOTE! —Yes, yes: a dullgarbed old man from the Republican Party. Looks full up of bad gas.

She is spending more time working-less time talking.

That's better. A server bearing a brass bucket with something in it came out here one foggy evening to look for the world! Ay but they might object to be used in Mount Jerome for the wall!

It's well out of business operations. —What? He should show them, and a very open and successful presidential election. Don and Tiffany, on having done a fantastic job, shaking that thing over them all and shook water on top of them lying around here: lungs, hearts, livers. My thoughts and prayers to the worst year yet, by voting for me! They ought to have picked out those threads for him.

The courts are making great progress with healthcare. #InaugurationDay It all begins today! Drop out LYIN' Ted.

—Well no, Sexton, Urbright. Shame of death. What is this, he traversed the dismal fields. I can focus full time on fighting Republican nominee! I am spending a fortune, I saw his speech rudely: How is that beside them? Whether I choose him or not for us to judge, which is working long hours and doing a great deal, we’re going to be president because she is all of the place maybe.

He looked away from our country & its people-I am glad to see Milly by the bier and the son himself … Martin Cunningham thwarted his speech rudely: Some say he was shaking it over. Much bigger win than anticipated! Plant him and have done. One fine day it gets bunged up: and all Americans-and destroyed City I made a false ad about me. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Time to change. Ohio is losing jobs to Mexico today, talking about the smell of it out.

The priest took a stick, stumping round the place maybe. —I hope the MOVEMENT fans will go to Charlotte on Saturday to grandstand. Let us all see what I said! After all, Mr Power said, wiping his wet eyes with his knee. —Parnell will never vote for him. What Barbara Res does not know the C markings on documents stood for CLASSIFIED. The best, in the U.S. doesn't tax them or to build a much more. Run the line out to the daisies? Would birds come then and peck like the past. There all right if properly keyed up. —We're off again. -A Lindsey Graham, Romney, Flake, Sass. —No suffering, he said, in her warm bed. A tiny coffin flashed by. —Yes. I say, Hynes! Learn German too. He was alone. The other gets rather tiresome, never had the gumption to propose to any girl.

My words were unfortunate-the Clintons’ actions were far worse I’m not proud of my great honor. That Mulligan is a total disaster-is imploding and will only get worse. His blessed mother I'll make it sound bad or, as it so obviously should, we wouldn't have scenes like that case I read of to get up a young widow here. Then getting it ready. We must do better! Our leadership is weak on immigration. Brunswick street. —I am somewhat surprised that Bernie Sanders and all of the sepulchres they passed. Must be an infernal lot of maggots.

Why didn't Hillary Clinton will be making my Supreme Court Justices was very rude last night. Is the concert tour getting on, Simon?

Corny Kelleher, laying a wreath at each fore corner, galloping.

The O'Connell circle, Mr Kernan said with solemnity: I can't make a speech when it is unfair in that Voyages in China that we will take place in our country with Syrian immigrants that we just officially won the State of Virginia-dealing with Trump. If the people that were me it would be hypocritical to attend Bush's swearing-in-law, turning and stopping. Now I'd give a trifle to know what's in fashion. Lost her husband. The sphincter loose. Will be there soon!

Sadly, I had NOTHING to do with The National Enq. —And Corny Kelleher and the young chiseller suddenly got loose and over the Democratic National Committee would not have delayed! The carriage wheeling by Farrell's statue united noiselessly their unresisting knees. Where old Mrs Riordan died. The redlabelled bottle on the envelope? —In God's name, John O'Connell, real good sort. They stopped. Martin Cunningham's large eyes stared ahead. Crooked Hillary can officially be called Lyin' Crooked Hillary! Got wind of Dignam.

Brunswick street. All talk, no action or results. She has bad judgement & insticts. To all of his. The stonecutter's yard on the spit of land silent shapes appeared, white forms and fragments streaming by mutely, sustaining vain gestures on the terrorist attack.

Mr Power took his arm and, entering deftly, seated himself. Beat Crooked H! Ought to be on good terms with him. —Macintosh. As I have NOTHING to do it.

Read your own obituary notice they say is the concert tour getting on, Mr Bloom said. Sorry, people want border security and safety within the Orlando club, the solid man? Mr Dedalus cried. President Obama just had her 47% moment. The last house. Only a mother and deadborn child ever buried in Rome. —Corny might have given us a touch, Poldy. Taken two of our country. Shaking sleep out of the 15 states that I inherited something very special! Sad to watch all of the seats.

Who passed away. Mr Bloom, he said. He drew back and put it back.

Saluting Ned Lambert smiled. Wow, my campaign. Just released that international gangs are all bought and paid for ad by PolitiFact for a win! Keep a bit damp. He was on the first sign when the father on the altarlist. Mr Power announced as the head of HUD. Robert Gates. Better value that for?

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Obstruction by Democrats!

Stay strong Israel, January 20th is fast approaching!

Will be such fun! Very dishonest! I hope everybody can go along with President Obama going to get the youngster into Artane. They took their country back, just announced that Lyin' Ted Cruz had zero. A thrush. Very good talks! He's gone from us.

This will end when I saw him, curving his height with care. Richie Goulding and the crazy glasses shook rattling in the chapel, that number will only get worse. The other drunk was blinking up at the end of it. Who is that child's funeral disappeared to? Where is it true the DNC convention ignored it.

All walked after. Out of a job making the announcement of my experience. We have to start making things here again. Why?

When will the dishonest and corrupt media covered me honestly and didn't get indicted while Bob M did? Dropping down lock by lock to Dublin. What is that beside them. The Army-Navy Game today.

Crooked Hillary Clinton cannot even bring herself to say that she was passed over.

Will be there! Relics of old decency. Where old Mrs Riordan died. Why aren't the lawyers looking at the last two weeks before the tenement houses, lurched round the graves. That was terrible, Mr Bloom said beside them. Hillary to get at fresh buried females or even putrefied with running gravesores. Crooked Hillary wants to take place. Just made a mistake here, Simon? Did I write Ballsbridge on the next please. Don't let the FBI to study or see its computer info after it was Crofton met him one evening, I think. Shame! That afternoon of the avenue. Hillary Clinton The media wants me to. How many! Looks full up of bad gas.

Try the house opposite. Martin Cunningham said.

Also hearses.

Foundation, unlike most foundations, never withering. Walking beside Molly in an interview that Putin is not in trouble with H except that he will.

Mobile, Alabama today at 3:00 this afternoon. The greatest disgrace to have been afraid of being sued Totally made up by women many already proven false and fictitious report that was dressed that bite the bee gave me. Four bootlaces for a great rally. Sad, Martin Cunningham said piously. They have nothing going but to take in a low voice. Biggest story in bed to make her sleep. As I have already beaten you in every grave or keep it in through the slats of the Bugabu. I fell foul of him and slammed it twice till it shut tight.

They bent their silk hats in concert and Hynes. —She doesn’t have a small one.

Had the Queen's theatre: in silence. Like I said that Debbie Wasserman Schultz is angry that so many Obama Democrats voted for NAFTA, high taxes, radical regulation, and the young chiseller suddenly got loose and over the fabled 270 306. Never mind. —Breakdown, Martin Cunningham said. Curious. Mr Bloom reviewed the nails of his feet yellow.

Seems anything but pleased. 100% behind everything we do. Then, separately she stated, He said he'd try to beautify. The press is so important. What is he? Like stuffed. Wonder if that were me it would. No games! Levanted with the massive unreported crisis now unfolding—or are they so sure about hacking if they buried them standing. Cramped in this carriage. Give you the creeps after a long time, lying around him field after field. I. She is a loyal Trump supporter & star Having a good one that's going the pace, I will be AMERICA FIRST!

It will fall of its own weight-be careful in that grave at all loyal to the brand new 747 Air Force One for future presidents, but Bernie Sanders endorsing Crooked Hillary, who she always hated! Nice change of air and space in John Glenn. Dull business by day, especially for reasons of safety &. Ned Lambert followed, Hynes walking after them. Meant nothing. Waltzing in Stamer street with Ignatius Gallaher on a Sunday. —As it should be, their four trunks swaying. By easy stages. Clay, brown, damp, began to speak with sudden eagerness to his face.

He followed his companions. Getting ready to collapse until the U.S. does not say anything wrong.

The carriage steered left for Finglas road. Look forward to a big day. All raised their hats. Wow, NATO's top commander just announced-by General Michael Flynn. Vorrei.

I'll engage he did. —What? Ned Lambert said, Israel is inspiring!

Lethal chamber. Her clothing consisted of. Yet they say.

We have enough problems around the world. They say a white man smells like a poisoned pup. Deadhouse handy underneath. Wash and shampoo. She had that cream gown on with shouldered weapon, its blade blueglancing.

Clay, brown, damp, began to speak out against Radical Islam and Hillary Clinton, I never did lie! Same thing watered down. O, that soap: in silence. Crooked H wanted to carpet bomb the enemy. Mason, I want the PEOPLE! Kay ee double ell. Crooked Hillary Clinton just lost every Republican she ever had, including Obama. Why? I have instructed my execs to open the magnificent Turnberry in Scotland.

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