#he gets a bad case of can’t shut up disease. will say a string of words you’ve never heard before

[peapod20001]

Funny how 1 song brought these two out from the shadows (pun) of my mind and into the spotlight 😭

[too-scared-to-do-this]

Of the Devil’s head

Chapter seven - Fluffed-up parrots and thieves of all skills

Sander’s sides fanfiction

Wordcount: 1825

Ship: prinxiety (actually getting somewhere finally, people :D)

TW: mentions of illness, panic attack, some light fun-making of stuck up royalty, the Devil being his ‘evil’ self and making death-jokes - if I missed any tell me please :3

A note for all: Hey, sooo.... This is basically a looong conversation, because I let myself go and enjoyed writing what I like - which is dialogue mostly, so... I hope you don’t mind too much.

Summary of the whole story:  They say, the one that wears the crown rules all - the living, the dead, the walking, the crawling, the rooted, the sane and the mad. They say, once you own the crown, you become the  most powerful being on Earth and beyond. Roman’s stolen bigger things - a measly little crown won’t present a problem, even if he has to steel it straight off of the devils head!

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Chapter seven - Fluffed-up parrots and thieves of all skills

“Why did you come here?”

Yes, indeed a very good question. And Roman had no good enough answer to it. Well, not good enough for the Devil, he though. So instead of the truth, he opted for the easier way out. Flirting.

“I already told you, your royal hotness.” he smirked at the king. “To steal your heart.���

Virgil had a lot to do not to react the way he felt like reacting. While on the outside just a slight dust of pink coated his cheeks - easily hid by the lighting of the place - on the inside he was falling apart and erroring, trying his best to come up with an answer. He was the Devil for Hades’ sake! He wasn’t supposed to react this way to a few flirty words!

Even if the stranger had a nice face structure. And beautiful wondering green eyes. And looked better in Virgil’s clothes then Virgil did himself (this last one has been bothering him since he stepped into his chamber and found the Human sprawled out on his bed).

He wasn’t supposed to be squealing like little girl over this Human being. He was the Devil, the head of Hell. And he was supposed to act like it.

So, he cleared his throat. He was not going down that easily. He leaned towards the thief. “Well, if that’s true, how do you plan on doing that?”

“I-ah...um…” that was not blush on Roman’s cheeks thank you very much! He wasn’t at all fazed by this idiotic demon. And to prove it, Roman spat the first thing that popped up in his head. “With my irresistible charm and good looks, obviously.”

Virgil snorted a little, watching the dramatic hand gestures the being displayed. It kind of reminded him of Remington (witch was a cause of big concern at best), but on them he found it somewhat… endearing.

“For a simple Human being you are very confident.”

“And why shouldn’t I be?” the thief grinned, already ready to preform the play of his life. “Just look at my gorgeous self! Who could resist this?”

“Exactly how many other fleshlings have you dated?”

“Um well… none - but that’s not what’s important! There was no one worthy enough of my awesomeness.”

The devil laughed again, flashing those sharp fangs at Roman,

“After all! I was the only one that managed to find the entrance to hell between all these fluffed-up parrots!”

“Fluffed-up parrots?”

“The princes!” the liveling explained. But when Virgil only razed an amused eyebrow questioning the thief’s judgement, Roman mouth almost fall open. With eyes wide and a big unbelieving grin, he started talking and gesturing animatedly again. “Oh, come on! Don’t tell me I’m not right! Have you seen any of them? With all their powdered faces, walking like there’s hot wire up their asses.”

“Hot wire? If they’d be true, they wouldn’t be walking, believe me. There’s a room for that kind of torture.”

“But I’m serious!” the Human jumped up, prancing around, mimicking the princes. “And their lips are always pushed together as if they ate a whole lemon or something! And oh my god-“

“Oh Hades, don’t mention that prick.” Virgil grumbled, rolling his eyes, but Roman didn’t seem to care.

“- that complete sense of superiority! It’s so awful! “I am prince Frogface. Look at me, I am so strong and handsome! I’ll bring you the crown, oh dearest King! Just look at me as I go into the woods and then come back empty handed!”

“So that’s why you came…” the Devil said calmly, lost in his own thoughts.

Roman immediately shut up. Somewhere in the conversation he forgot he was actually a prisoner and the creature he was talking to was the actual real-life Devil. His captor. The one that could kill him with a snap of his finger. Probably even would, for all Roman knows. Shit… he really messed up, didn’t he? “Y-yeah… I-“

The king waved his hand to dismiss their words. “I’m guessing your king wanted the all-mighty crown and the power that comes with it yada-yada.” he said rolling his eyes. “Yes, I know the story. Everybody wants the crown”

Somehow this didn’t surprise him. But he couldn’t deny the little disappointment he felt at their words. Oh well… Guess no creature would be dumb enough to actually fall for the Devil.

“So, you were the only one who found the entrance?” he raised an eyebrow, waiting for the other to continue.

Roman was expecting everything - anger, shouting, even flames (who knew what this thing was capable off) - but the last thing he expected was for the demon to sit calmly.

“Why… aren’t you more outraged?” the nervous thief asked, watching Virgil cautiously. “You’re supposed to be the big bad Devil! The embodiment of all evil! The Merciless blood-spiller.”

Virgil snorted - he hasn’t heard that one yet before.

“I just expected something more… I don’t know… evil? To come out of you?" Roman rambled, because what else was he supposed to do?

Virgil blew air out of his nose - which could be classified as a sort of ‘you’re such an idiot’ laugh. “Relax. It’s not like I’m gonna bite of you head.” he rolled his eyes. And they twinkled with a wicked idea.  “Although… I could just-” he grinned, showing of his fangs - all thirty of them. Licked them just for the effect.

The thief shivered. He knew that momentary relief was just that - momentary.

Virgil leaned closer and closer, until Roman was completely flush against the supporting-beam’s stone. The Human closed his eyes, petrified.

And then he heard it. That complete and utter free laughter. He frowned looking back forward. And the Devil was literally laughing in his face. “Y-you humans are so naïve! I can’t- Why would you believe any of that?”

Roman and his offended noises didn’t much help the Devils laughing-cramp.  “Ah, huh… okay…okay.. I’m - I’m calm now… please… hah… continue on. You were the only one who found the entrance?”

Roman pierced his lips and glared at the demon in front of him.

“You are evil.”

“Oh sweetie, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re in Hell. Everybody’s evil.” Virgil smirked. “But go on. I’m curious.”

The thief’s angry expression didn’t hold up much longer and he pick up where he left off. “Yes, I was the only one it seems. I don’t know how those morons missed the signs. I mean - they were right there. in front of their big, up-turned noses. Oh, and by the way - you guys are idiots!”

Virgil blinked in surprise “What?”

“I mean it! How dumb can one be to need directions to their home!”

“I mean those aren’t really for u-”

As much as Virgil found the rambling of his prisoner endearing, this was getting a little too much.

“Like, you’re supposed to be these big smart canning demons and you need signs to get home.”

“Those-“

“Like, humans really have to rethink ow we view your kind-“

“Hey, fleshling!” the Devils stern voice finally cut through Romans flood of words. “Don’t tempt it.” he gave them a look.

“Iiiii’m shutting up now.” the thief nodded, biting on his lips. I really need to learn when shut my mouth…

“Good.”

Silence fall upon the two and believe me, it wouldn’t do it justice simply calling it ‘awkward’. Roman looked everywhere but at the king. And Virgil sat, thinking about ways to break the silence.

And then something popped up in his head! “Why did you want that crown anyways?”

“Oh, that!” Roman grabbed onto the offered string as greedily as a thirsty man for water. He rubbed his neck somewhat ashamed. “It’s not me who wants it. Our King has decided he wants to rule all and promised a really nice reward for it. And I could really use that money…”  

Virgil tilted his head. He didn’t know the Human standards of living, but this being seemed a little too torn up to him from the beginning. His curiosity was spiked. “Why?”

“Well… My mother is really ill and- oh shit! How long have I been down here?!”

“Am… a-about a day in human time?” the complete and utter fear that for once weren’t cause by Virgil, took him by surprise.

“A day and a half?!” Roman jumped up again, looking around for the way back. “I-I have to get back. I have to go!”

The demon watched him. “I’m afraid I can’t let you…”

“No, you don’t understand! My mother is dying! If I don’t get back she’ll-“ Ro’s lips quivered. “And god knows King won’t give a shit about a poor old woman! I have to get back home!”

Their breathing was becoming shallow. Their movements frantic and rigid. They were shaking.

Virgil knew those signs all too well… He slowly stood up, keeping his eyes at the slowly panicking being. “Hey, come on look at me.”

Roman didn’t do that. Instead, his eyes finally found the entrance and his he was so ready to just bolt out of there, but Virgil reached him first, grabbing his wrist.

That didn’t doo much good, because the other froze up completely, breathing worsening. The Devil didn’t think this true… But he had to do something!

He turned them around and looked them directly in the eye talking calmly and clearly (of course, that wasn’t the case on the inside). “Look. I can’t let you out. But! I can send some healers to your house. There’s not a disease those demons aren’t capable of healing. I can promise you, she’ll be in good hands.”

Roman blinked at him. he tried to speak, but somehow words didn’t come.

“Now, though, I need you to breath. Okay?”

He tried, he really did, but he kept tearing up in the middle of a breath and failing at slowing them down.

That is, until the demon in front of him started counting. He found himself listening to those simple numbers repeating over and over again until somehow his breathing adjusted to it.

He didn’t even notice when he went down to the ground. Not even when he ended up holding both of those black-nail clad hands in a death grip. But the Devil didn’t seem fazed. He just kept on counting until Romans breathing finally evened out.

He was so tired. And still shaking. He just wanted to close his eyes and sleep.

But his mother-

“Let’s go find the healers and tell them where to go.” Virgil gave a small smile and stood up, holding a hand out to the Human.

If this was a joke, it was the cruelest one of all. Being kind and helpful then pulling the rug from under his feet. That’d be cruel even for the Devil. Nobody deserves to be played like that.

Roman really hoped this wasn’t a cruel joke…

And he took that hand.  

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I’m not sure if this is what you were waiting for, but this is what I have to offer XD

I myself really enjoy when a story centers around the main characters and shows of the dynamic between them. Not much happened in this chapter, but they talked a bit and I got more comfortable with how I write them together and individually - you could say I got to know them more.

So... I hope you liked it :3

And as always, questions are really appreciated :)

-

Tag list:

@romano-hottopic

@vpow

@alice-only-me

[damiensdemon]

The Perfect Patient

Words: 4.8k

Summary: One-shot first-person drabble about having an unfortunate dental-fetish and a hot dentist.

"As his gloves fingers brush your jaw to keep it open properly, you find yourself wishing that you did have dentophobia. In reality, fear had almost nothing to do with the pounding of your heart. Rather, you’ve been avoiding this appointment because of your attraction to it."

Warnings: Smut, Dental Kink, Praise Kink, Horny Dentistry, Light Bondage, Light Bloodplay, Tooth Extraction, Needles, Transmasc Protag

The longer you put off something important, the harder it is to get it done. Like weeding a garden or telling a secret, sometimes the mental emphasis you put on a task can make it infinitely harder, as it gets more time to grow roots in your mind.

In your case, you haven’t been to the dentist’s office in many, many years. Currently, you’re sitting in the waiting room of a local office, waiting to be called back. The cozy clinic isn’t nearly as sterile-feeling as you remember your childhood office being, but that doesn’t do much to soothe your nerves.

The door across the room from you opens, and you jump at the sound. Luckily for you, the soft-faced young man who steps out is too engrossed in his clipboard to notice your fear. His brown eyes flick up to yours, and he smiles as he calls your name, “We’re ready for you, if you wanna head back.”

“Y-yes, thank you…” You mumble as politely as you can, quickly collecting your things and following him into the office.

His cheery grin persists as he shuts the door behind you, then leads you off down a hallway. After a couple of turns, he stops in front of a strange looking machine mounted to the wall.

“How are you feeling today?” He asks pleasantly, double-checking his clipboard as he begins messing with something behind a little divider in the room.

“Fine! A little nervous... Um… How are you?” You ask, sliding your thumbs under the straps of your backpack. Nervous tick.

“Pretty swell.” He grins, then motions to the chair under the arm of the machine. “My name is Jamie, and I’m the hygienist on duty today. Since you haven’t been seen for a while, we’re gonna take a quick x-ray. This is just gonna take a second, if you don’t mind taking a seat for me.”

“O-oh, of course.” You sit down in the chair, holding your spine stiffly. Jamie steps around you, then slides a heavy, weighted bib over your head. The weight is oddly comforting as it settles against your shoulders.

He walks you through the steps of the x-ray patiently, and while Jamie keeps up an easy chatter. Despite his best efforts, you can’t help but get more and more anxious as the appointment goes on.

After he takes the bitewing out of your mouth and lifts the weighted vest off of you, you finally ask him something that you'd wanted to since you first realized you needed an appointment. “What’s the dentist like?”

“Doctor Langford? He’s a sweetheart. Nothing to be afraid of.” He shrugs, waiting for you to put your backpack back on before motioning for you to follow him. As you walk, he adds, “All his patients seem to love him, as long as he’s sitting down.”

You give Jamie a confused look. He catches it, then explains, “Oh. He’s really tall. He’s kinda got, uh, gentle-giant vibes, y’know?”

“Ooh, I see.” You mumble, letting yourself wander along behind him toward a dental treatment room. Your friend, who’d recommended you to Dr. Langford, had expressed the same sentiment. Though, they'd described him as 'dark and handsome' in addition to 'tall'.

As you turn into a small room with dark blue walls, Jamie goes on. “His daughter thinks he’s the best. She’s so little compared to him. And, I mean, compared to his ex-wife, I can see why she chose him over her. I have no idea why he’s still single, or why he was even with that woman in the first-... um…” He caught himself, clearing his throat abruptly. “...Yeah. Anyways. Take a seat whenever.”

Jamie nodded toward the chair in the middle of the room, with a dental engine built into one of the armrests. The metal tray beside it contained a few tools that you weren’t quite familiar with, but just the sight of them made you feel…

“So, I’m gonna clean your teeth, and the doctor will be in to check you out as soon as I’m done. Do you want mint or bubblegum flavored toothpaste?”

Stiffly, you force yourself to settle back into the chair. “... Bubblegum, please.” 

“Cool.” He said, pulling his medical mask over his nose and putting on a fresh pair of gloves. You have to turn away as he gets prepped, to keep the butterflies in your stomach from crawling their way up your throat.

“... Man, you got it bad, huh?” He asks with an unmistakable glint in his eyes.

“H-- Ghk… What?” You splutter, face flushing instantly.

“You’ve got like, dentophobia right? A fear of dental-stuff?”

You nod a little too quickly. “Yeah! I totally do. I'm super freaked out by all the, uh, mouth stuff. Maybe we should just skip the cleaning."

"I mean, we could, but the dentist is still gonna need to look in your mouth. And, uh… It won't hurt or anything, I promise."

"I'm not really worried about pain." You say with a nervous laugh, pulling on the strings of your hoodie.

Jamie scoots his stool up next to your seat, then puts his hand on your arm. He squeezes gently, waiting for you to relax.

"... Okay. Let's get this over with." You sigh, twisting the strings around your fingers in a self-soothing gesture.

He pats your arm happily, then picks up the brush connected to the chair. "You're a brave man, my dude. Okay, I'll be quick and gentle, promise."

You give a little nod and open your mouth for him. Jamie shifts into a more professional façade as he turns the brush on and begins cleaning your teeth.

Unsurprisingly, the effect on you is immediate. You have to drop the strings as your hands begin to shiver. Instead, you grip the armrests tightly. As your face burns hot once more, you steal a glance at the young man next to you. Jamie is, respectfully, keeping his eyes focused on your mouth, rather than your uncomfortable expression. … You have to keep yourself from thinking about that too much.

As his gloves fingers brush your jaw to keep it open properly, you find yourself wishing that you did have dentophobia. In reality, fear had almost nothing to do with the pounding of your heart. Rather, you’ve been avoiding this appointment because of your attraction to it.

“... Alright, we’re done with the cleaning! Want some water?” Jamie chirps, setting down the electric brush and offering you a small cup. You nod gratefully, taking a sip and swishing for a moment before spitting into the little sink he’d pushed closer to you.

“Is that it, then?” You ask hesitantly.

“Not quite. I’ve gotta floss ya, and check for any left-over nasties.” He says, swapping to a fresh pair of gloves. Idly, your eyes flick to the tray beside your chair. A container of floss sits innocuously beside an array of sharp implements. Jamie laughs quietly, “Uh, don’t worry. Those won’t hurt, either. Unless… you haven’t been flossing.”

Shamefully, you shake your head.

“Gotta get on that shit. Can’t have you getting gum disease. Then you’ll have to come here more often.” He teased, scooting up closer. “Alright, sit back, let’s do this.”

Somehow, you kept your cool through the remainder of the cleaning. By the time your gums had stopped bleeding, Jamie had already cleaned you up and left to fetch the dentist.

Your anxiety barely has time to spike before an absolute mountain of a human being enters the room. He has to duck his head to avoid bumping his head on the door frame. Despite the warm smile on his face as he approaches you, his intimidation factor is massive.

“Good afternoon, sir. I’m Doctor Langford, but you can call me Gabriel.” He says, extending a hand to you.

With your heart in your throat, you reach out to shake it. God, his hand is huge compared to yours. Shakily, you introduce yourself, and can only pray that you don’t sound as terrified as you feel.

“Pleasure to meet you. Now, I wanted to talk to you about your x-ray…” He says, folding himself into the chair Jamie had left beside you. He holds up a sheet of film, and points to a place behind your molars. “Your wisdom teeth are beginning to come in. As one would expect of a young man of your age... Now, I can’t remove those today, but you can schedule an appointment for that later.”

You nod along, but can’t really focus on what he’s telling you. Gabriel speaks with a soothing, deep tone, and a slight accent that you can’t quite place. … Australian, perhaps?

"Alright, I'll just do a quick examination of your teeth, and then we can get you out of here." He says with a smile, turning around to grab a fresh pair of gloves.

You swallow hard, watching him pull his latex gloves into place with a snap. No wedding ring, your stupid-awful-monkey-brain whispers. You tell it, politely, to sit the fuck back. 

"Can you open for me?" Gabriel asks gently. Almost embarrassingly quickly, you part your lips and let him look into your mouth.

Even with a mask covering half of his face, you remain very aware of how close he is to you. You can feel his presence looming over you as he adjusts a light to see inside your oral cavity.

He watches you with sharp, attentive eyes. Softly, he hums, then picks up a small mouth mirror and slides it into your mouth.

"Ah, excuse me…" He mutters, lifting his hand and touching your molar with his--

An embarrassing squeak leaves your throat, and he immediately retracts. If he registered the true nature of that noise, he doesn't make it obvious. "Oh. Pardon me. Are you alright?"

Your heart hammers in your ears as you nod. "I-I'm fine! I just, got overwhelmed."

"Ah, I see." He replies, taking off his gloves casually. "Your teeth look quite healthy, but you do have a small cavity in one of your molars."

"... What?" You mumble numbly. Oh fuck, oh shit--

"If you have an extra hour, we can fill that today. Does that sound alright with you?” His tone borders on velvety. Is he doing that on purpose? … No, of course not. He's a dentist, this is his job.

He remains silent and attentive, waiting for you to reply. You nod quickly, snapping yourself out of your thoughts. “... Oh. Yes! Of course, let’s… do that. Get it out of the way. Haha.”

“Wonderful. Jamie will get everything prepared for us, and I’ll be back shortly. Hold tight.” He says, rising to his feet and giving you an approving nod as he exits the room.

Shit. Goddamn it. He knows, he has to.

No sooner has that thought passed through your mind before Jamie pokes his head back in. The smug grin on his face tells you that he has instantly read you for filth.

“Shut up.” You bury your face in your hands, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

The hygienist has to duck back out of the room to laugh, then enters and shuts the door behind him. “So… Anything you wanna share with me, young man?”

Laughing gas, as you’ve discovered, has a strange smell. It’s vaguely sweet, like Jamie had told you, but there’s also a distinctive metallic scent, and perhaps a hint of rubber. Though, maybe that’s the mask strapped over your nose.

“Is it kicking in yet?” He asks, setting something down on the tray out of your line of sight.

“I’m not sure. Maybe?” You say, leaning your head back against the headrest. “I feel… comfortable, I guess. As comfortable as I can right now, at least.”

“That’s good. It shouldn’t take much longer.” He assures you, then glances back at the door. “Just, uh, try not to flirt with Doctor Langford too much when he comes in here, okay?”

“I’m not planning on it.” You say, rolling your eyes. “I don’t want my new dentist to ban me. I’d like to come back for checkups later.”

Jamie rubs the back of his neck, “It's not that he'd be uncomfortable, I think… But, the poor guy gets flustered real easy, and--"

Behind him, the door opens and shuts  effectively ending the conversation. You can’t turn your head much, but you can hear Jamie and Doctor Langford having a quiet conversation about your procedure. With a nod, and a "Be good!", Jamie takes a clipboard from Gabriel’s hands and walks out the door. Just like that, you’re alone with the dentist once more.

The stool beside you creaks as Gabriel gracefully lowers onto it. He addresses you gently, “As Jamie already explained, this is going to be quick and simple. After the local anesthetic kicks in, you may feel pressure, but you won’t feel any pain."

He leans forward slightly, catching your gaze. "... Jamie mentioned to me that you’ve been feeling some anxiety about your visit today, is that correct?”

You suck in a deep breath through your nose, and in an instant, a wave of something hits you. It isn’t quite the same sensation as you being high, really, this is more of an out-of-body experience.

Why were you even feeling anxious, anyway? “I was. But, I’m feeling much better now.” You reply, shrugging. 

“Oh?" He tilts his head. The picture of innocent curiosity. "May I ask what helped you relax? Beside the nitrous oxide, of course.”

You rack your brain. Well, when he came in just now, you felt more excited than scared. So, you tell him, “You, actually.”

“... Well, thank you.” He grins, laughing kindly. “I have a few patients with dentophobia, and it seems to help them to talk with me before procedures. Would you prefer that we have some extra consultation time in the future? Assuming you need it, of course.”

As he speaks, your eyes shut for just a moment. That warm, comfortable sensation floats through you… As your eyes flutter back open, that open and honest expression on his face just makes you melt. Why were you even afraid of this guy, anyways?

“I don’t have dentophobia.”

“Oh? … Then, may I ask you what specifically had been bothering you?” He asks, resting his forearm against your armrest.

“I have…” You take another breath, trying to collect yourself enough to find the right words. “... um… I have a d-... dental fetish…?”

“... A dental what?” He asks incredulously, those beautiful eyes going wide in… amusement? “D-did I mishear you there, or--”

“No, I’m serious. I have a huge kink for dental-stuff. All kinds of medical stuff, really.” You blurt. He blinks, then leans his stubbly chin against his palm. Taking that as a sign to go on, you explain, “Y’know, examinations, bondage stuff, blood-play, injections, even roleplay… Oh! And doctors are just, like, really hot to me. I like a dad who knows his way around a person’s body, y'know... And the authority, Jesus Christ…”

While you ramble, the dentist moves from being surprised to intrigued. By the end of your confession, he’s fully settled in, and smiling broadly. “Very interesting. Should I assume you mean me, then?”

“Oh, definitely. You’re super my type.” You giggle, grinning right back at him. “Handsome, sweet, intimidating… And your coat looks great on you.”

“You really think so?”

You nod, and your eyes sluggishly slide over his broad torso. He follows the movement of your eyes, and the tips of his ears flush pink.

After a moment of consideration, the dentist rises to his feet and crosses to the door. You feel your heart drop as you assume the worst, but it picks right back up as you hear the lock click.

In a beat, he’s back at your side, now looming over you with a syringe from the tray. The needle is long, glinting in the light above you. You can’t see his face clearly through the glare, but you can tell he’s pulled his medical mask up.

“Open your mouth.”

Without a thought, you do. He cups your jaw with his free hand, sliding his latex-covered thumb over your front teeth. The digit glides over your saliva-slick gums, gently pushing up your lip over your molars.

“Hold still,” He warns, leaning in close as he slides the cold steel into your gums and injects you with… something. After an uncomfortable pinch, he pulls the needle out and massages the area with his thumb again. You whine softly, tasting a hint of blood.

“That was good. You did well.” He murmurs. The praise warms your chest, making you feel more bold. As the pad of his thumb grazes the crown of your teeth, you lick the exposed back of his finger. Even through the shadows, you can see his eyebrows raise in surprise.

With a clatter, he drops the syringe back onto the tray and swings one slender leg over to the other side of your chair. His weight settles against you. He’s heavy, but not more than you can accept on your lap. As you rest your hands on his coat-covered hips, he forces your attention back to your mouth as he presses two fingers against your tongue. Reflexively, you close your mouth and begin to suck on him.

Gabriel made a noise deep in his throat, somewhere between satisfaction and amusement. “... Good boy. You're a wonderful patient.” He purrs quietly, rubbing your cheek with his free-hand.

As you work your tongue against him, you can feel him subtly grinding himself against your abdomen. Cheekily, you slide your hand down his stomach and press your palm against the growing bulge in his pants. In an instant, his hand grabs your wrist and presses it firmly against the armrest.

“Ah-ah." He scolds, a playfully cruel tone in his voice. "This is your appointment. We will be keeping our focus on you… For the moment."

“If you insist.” You mumble around his fingers. He takes them out of your mouth, and skillfully fastens a strap around each of your wrists. As you try to lift your arms, you find them both completely immobilized. Combined with the mask still pumping calming gas into your lungs, you find that your upper body is entirely at his mercy.

"You'll be a good patient for me, won't you?" He asks, his fingers caressing your jaw. You try to nod, but his hold on your jaw forces you to remain looking up at him. "Use your words."

"Y-yes, Doctor." You stammer. Your tongue feels sluggish in your mouth, slurring your speech.

"Very good." He smiles beneath his mask. Your heart stutters in your chest as he plucks a tool off of the tray. His thumb flips a switch, and a soft whir fills the room. He presses the end of the tool to your chest, and for a terrifying moment, you think he's trying to drill through your ribs. But, as a deep buzz resonates along your skin, you recognize it as the same type of brush that Jamie had used to clean your teeth. As he traces along your torso, you find the vibration to be powerful and surprisingly pleasant.

"Now, you'll need to be mindful of the other patients. If they hear someone in distress in my clinic…" He warns, slowly moving the tool lower. Over your stomach, and the waistband of your pants… "It wouldn't be good for business."

You roll your hips under him, subtly presenting yourself. "I'll be quiet. I promise."

He nods, satisfied with your response. Then, he presses the smooth back of the brush head where you'd been hoping he would.

With a sharp gasp, you strain against your restraints. With your pants acting as a buffer, the vibration borders between not quite enough and just right. You have to fight to keep still enough for him to keep the pressure where you want it.

As you swallow back the tiny noises of pleasure that keep rising from your throat, Doctor Langford's attention is completely focused on you. As a particularly strong jolt passes through your body, he carefully tucks a loose strand of hair back behind your ear. Even as you come undone before him, he's still keeping you together.

"... Even through the fabric, you're still responding that strongly?" He clicks his tongue in mock disapproving. "Perhaps you need more anesthetic."

"No, no, please--" You choke out as he withdraws the brush. His pale eyes lock onto yours, urging you to go on. With a hint of desperation, you plead, "I-I want more… Please, keep going?"

"Well… Since you asked so nicely. We will need to get on with your procedure eventually, though." He heaves an exaggerated sigh, then pushes the buzzing tool back against your sensitivity.

This time, you're braced for it. You bite back a moan, and you can see him searching your flushed face. While your hips grind back against the tool, he palms himself idly through his dress pants.

The combination of your dreamy high and the overwhelming stimulation puts your mind in a fog that you can't fathom a world outside of. That's probably why it takes you a moment to register Gabriel's voice as it filters through the haze in your head.

"... still numb?"

"Mmmsorry, what?" You mumble, shaking your head quickly.

Gabriel laughs quietly, adjusting his grip as he repeats, "Is your mouth still numb?"

You prod the injection site with your tongue, then report, "Yeah, almost… um, half of my mouth is completely…. numb… Mmh..."

"Perfect. Could you hold this for me?" He asks, pointing at the still-buzzing tool pressed into your sensitivity.

You roll your eyes at him, nodding toward your fingers drumming loudly on the armrests.

"Oh! How silly of me." He asks with a dry laugh. Then, he easily unbuttons your pants. "How about we try this, then?"

Before you can respond, he slips the tool down the front of your pants. The tight fabric holds the tool against your skin, and with just a slight tilt, it finds your--

"Pfthfucking Christ, OKAY!!" You cry, body shivering as your hips instinctively raise off the plastic-covered chair.

"Too much?" The doctor asks, watching you squirm with obvious amusement.

"Nnnnhhh~, um, no, I mean, it's-- oh fucking fuckfuckfuck, leave it!" You pant, biting your tongue to keep yourself quiet. If the sensation was bordering on perfection before, then this toed the line of too much. But, as your body adjusts to the buzzing, it quickly turns into delicious overstimulation.

Again, Gabriel grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at him once more. You can barely keep your eyes on his. Your body wants to close your eyes and get swallowed up by the climax slowly building in your stomach, but the rush that his gaze gives you is too wonderful to give up.

For a moment, a silvery glint catches your eye, but his fingers dig into your soft skin. "Look at me." He growls, pressing a thumb to your lips once more, "And open wide."

Eagerly, you do as he commands. You expect to feel his finger run against your tongue, but instead, he yanks your jaw down lower. Your mouth is open as wide as you can hold it, and you just hope that you won't start to drool.

His other hand flits through the corner of your vision, but through the laughing-gas mask, you don't have a clue what he's holding. Something metallic… Another tool.

Cold metal brushes the warmth of your cheek, exposing the numb side of your mouth.  Then, there's pressure on one of your molars. The one with the cavity, you think.

"Keep your eyes on me, darling." Gabriel says, a slightly husky edge to his tone. He's leaning in closer now, and you can see how flushed he is under his mask. With your pulse pounding in your ears, you realize how obviously drunk he is on your mutual arousal.

Something pops. Pressure releases in your mouth. You don't feel any pain, but you taste iron.

With a grin, Gabriel pulls down his mask and holds up the molar he just pulled from your skull.

All at once, he tugs your own mask up and off over your head, then closes the distance between the two of you.  The dentist kisses you, deep and hungry. You can taste him; his mouth is clean and cool, and the rich warmth of your own blood coats both of your tongues. His gloved hands are all over you, running up your arms and over your chest, tugging at your shirt, then up your neck and into your hair.

And all the while, the buzzing between your legs pushes you closer and closer. When Gabriel finally pulls away, he's breathing harder than you are. His hands fumble clumsily with his belt, before he  shakily unzips his pants. In seconds, he's holding himself in hand and stroking with an obvious goal in mind.

Yours hands, still bound, grip the armrests so hard that you're sure the nail marks will never come out. Blood drips down your chin steadily, soaking into the front of your shirt. Doctor Langford's mouth is smeared with red, as are his gloves.

His tongue darting out to taste what's left of you on his lips. He breathes, "You look gorgeous. You're about to cum, aren't you?"

All you can do is nod frantically. You're almost there; your legs are tensed and your hips shiver with anticipation. Just a few more seconds…

With a gasp, Gabriel braces himself with one hand on your headrest. Just as you slip over the edge into a shaking, cursing orgasm, he brings himself to completion on your torso. If you had more presence of mind, you'd be upset at how many fluids have soaked into your shirt. But, as your eyes squeeze shut under the intensity of your pleasure, you don't have a care in the world.

As your own cries of ecstasy die off, you can hear Gabriel panting hard against your neck. Your whole body glows with endorphins, urging you to keep your eyes shut and ride it out.

After a few moments, the dentist's weight shifts, and buzzing between your legs slows to a stop. The pressure on your wrists releases, and the tall man climbs off of your lap.

The stool to your right squeaks as his weight settles into it. You take in a slow, deep breath, and your mental fog seems to lift. Suddenly, everything feels heavy… Distantly, you hear your name being called...

Slowly, begrudgingly, you open your eyes to see Jamie sitting beside you.

"... Wh-... Um. How long were you--?" You squeak, quickly sitting bolt upright and moving to pull the tool out of your--...

The coy grin plastered on Jamie's face doesn't fade as he asks, "Have a good nap, kid?"

There's nothing there. Well, not nothing, but there's certainly no dental tools in your pants. Confused, you touch your mouth. You're still a bit numb, but you're not missing any teeth, and there's no blood. Your clothes are as clean as when you came in, and there's no sign of Doctor Langford.

Jamie clears his throat to stifle a giggle, then goes on. "Your filling went well. You must have fallen asleep pretty early in, since you were out cold by the time I came back."

Your face is burning. Was all of that a dream? You don't remember falling asleep… And, if the wet mess in your pants is anything to go off of, you know that something happened. ...At least in your mind.

"... Um. Did I… say anything stupid?" You ask sheepishly, massaging the numb portion of your face idly.

"Not as far as I know. Doctor Langford said you were a perfect patient." Jamie snorted, turning to the counter to staple together a freshly-printed packet of aftercare information. "He did want me to ask, did you feel any discomfort while you were asleep?"

"N-... no?"

"Oh. M'kay. He mentioned that you got kinda… squirmy… Y'know, when he turned on the drill." Jamie says with an audible smirk. "... He said he hopes that your dentophobia hasn't given you a poor impression of him."

You can't even think of a response that won't damn you to a deeper layer of hell. Either you had a wet dream in front of your dreamy new dentist, or…

"Anyways… You do need to come back for a follow-up appointment soon. Your wisdom teeth gotta be taken care of, ASAP." He says, turning back around and handing you the packet. "Wanna schedule that now?"

You hesitate, tapping the papers against the armrest. Part of you wants to flee the country and never speak the word teeth again. But… Then again… Would it really be the worst thing in the world to see him again?

With a coy grin to match Jamie's, you finally reply, "... What's the earliest you can get me in?"

[luci-cunt]

Hi, welcome to my open worm can, here’s me not being able to shut up Cureless and Cynical version @sargent-major-jane​ whyyyyyyy do youuuu doooo thiisss too meee aksdjfl;askdj XDD <33

Ok so first of all, here’s the cast: Izyc, a demon; Walter, a vampire; Lou a werewolf 6 year old

The story starts out with Walter summoning a demon (who happens to be Izyc) because he wants to bring his friend (Caine) back from the dead. Walt’s at this point basically a dumbass rich fratboy and him and Caine had this pretty not great friendship that was super co-dependant and toxic because Caine is not a good person. Anyways, Caine ends up dying, but the circumstances seem fishy because no one will talk to Walter about it so he gets the fantastic idea to bring Caine back from the dead. 

Izyc’s a little ass tho and he’s like “how do you want him?” and so Walter orders one supersized friend resurrection. 

“Alright,” Izyc said, cracking his knuckles and standing up, “which one is he?”

Walter pointed to Caine’s grave and Izyc walked over to stand in front of it. He scanned the grave stone, it was made of lacquered wood, with Caine’s name burned into it. “A wonderful son and friend with an honest soul, he will be missed.”

“Must be nice to have one of these,” Izyc remarked, more joking than wistful, “I think my parents buried me in a Payless box in the backyard.”

“Sorry,” Walter said, not sure what to say. 

Izyc just shrugged, “them’s the apples,” he said, which didn’t make sense to Walter but Izyc was moving on.

There’s just one problem with this whole thing, and that’s the fact that Caine does NOT want to be alive. The reason no one told Walter about Caine’s death in detail was because Caine killed himself, and now he’s back as a nearly unkillable monster. 

So Caine mauls the hell out of Walter’s arm and turns HIM into a vampire. 

Some details about vampires in this world: they’re nearly unkillable. The only thing that can kill them is another vampire. The sunlight thing is a myth, Walt is allergic to garlic tho. Also he’s got fangs, and has better senses. Oh and there’s a wrinkle: the vampiric disease can be transfered thru bodily fluids--I promise this will be important later XDD

Anywhoo--Walt’s a vampire now and he’s grouchy and grumpy about it. he goes all emo and the story flashes forward 7ish years to him sulking in a bar even though he can’t get drunk he just LiKeS tHe BuRn. 

this is where we find out Izyc has stuck around, and that him and Walter hunt monsters. Also that Izyc really likes his pair of jeans. 

Izyc cried out as he hit the ground, scrambling to hold onto something as the gnome dragged him down into the tunnels. His arms hit the sides of the tunnel and stopped him and he cursed. 

Walter was on him in a second, grabbing him by the coat as Izyc held onto his arms and pulled against the gnome. 

“Fucking– catch– fire!” Walter yelled, straining to pull Izyc out of the hole. 

“I like these jeans!” Izyc yelled back, “Ow! Shit!” he yelped, probably as the thing’s claws started digging in. 

Oh also: since Izyc is a demon he’s got some magic powers, most namely: the ability to set himself on fire, the ability to conjure anything in the world as long as he makes a deal, and an immunity to vampire sicknesss. 

Also also: these are gnomes in this universe (description courtesy of Izyc’s bestiology)

Surprisingly large, looks a bit like if a mole and a man decided to shit on god’s face by fucking. Claws for hands and pointy faces with milky eyes covered by big, bushy eyebrows. Does not wear clothing, which is a sight, and known for dragging unsuspecting women into their dens during mating seasons. The species is exclusively male and very reclusive/ meek. Will not inhabit anywhere within a mile of another gnome.

So.... moving on.... Izyc and Walt have an odd relationship, they travel around the US living out of hotels (specifically one that’s run by a man eating ghoul named Klancy who may or may not be 100 years old). 

Some details to know about demons: most of them were desperate people who sold their souls to other demons for something in their life. Then when they die they get stuck in this limbo and are basically hellish office workers. People can summon Izyc, but the only ritual most know just pokes at him and he can ignore it. It’s actually how him and Walt get jobs, someone summon’s Izyc and gives him details and then Walt and him zip on over. 

So Izyc’s got nothing better to do and Walt was his first ever deal so sue him, he’s lonely, he just kinda sticks with Walt. After a couple of years tho they start fucking, and both claim it’s for convenience sake--mostly Walt tho, cuz he can’t have sex with anyone who isn’t a vampire unless he wants to make them a vampire and -- yeah anyways.

Izyc catches feelings though, and he tries to pipe up about it, but then Lou crashes into the story. 

Some details to know about werewolves: they don’t only transform under the full moon, but that is a sacred time for them. They’re very ostracized by the world, forced to live in tiny communities and keep to themselves because they’re “dangerous.” 

One day, a vampire comes through and murders Lou’s entire pack

and the two other packs living in the town with them. 

Lou is the only survivor, and she’s friends with a woman named Luca who mentions a bitchy-but-nice vampire named Walter. 

And so Lou’s grieving 6 y/o brain goes “only a vampire can kill another vampire, this is perfect” and tracks Walt down and twists his heart strings until he agrees to at least check the scene out. 

Details about Luca: she’s Walter’s ex-boyfriend’s step-sister and she’s also half banshee. She’s also also one of Walter’s only friends. 

Some details about banshee’s: contrary to popular belief they aren’t omens of death, rather just really fucked up people. They’re usually the product of a hateful birth and feel emotion so strongly they’ll only be able to feel one single emotion in their lives. Usually people’s first emotions when their born is fear, and thus--screaming banshee’s. However, if you’re only part banshee you feel other emotions but they’re still super strong, so Luca’s basically cracked out bipolar. She takes meds that help but if she doesn’t take them it gets BAD.

Anyways, Walter goes to the crime scene, it goes a little like this: 

It started as splatters, dried and dirty looking on the ground. Then it got thicker, darker, and more concentrated. The walls of surrounding buildings were painted with it, and the street looked like it had been bathed in it. At the end of the street, however, was a schoolhouse, which seemed to be the source of all of it. 

Walter’s shiver had nothing to do with the cold. 

“Hey!” a voice called suddenly, stirring Walter out of where he’d been standing, staring at the school. It wasn’t very large, just a long, single story building that had a lot of windows and big doors. Above them were rusting metal letters spelling ‘SMITH CREEK ELEMENTARY.’ Most of the windows were broken and the doors had been torn off their hinges. The lawn in front of the school – which had probably been grass before – was now torn up and muddied from countless claws scrambling and tearing it up. 

“Hey!” The voice called again, this time closer, “you can’t be here.”

Walter turned to find a man walking up to him. He was wearing an officer’s uniform and his face was scrunched up in annoyance behind a big paper mask that covered his mouth and nose. Walter could smell lavender on it. The officer was also quite a bit shorter than Walter, and he had blond hair and crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at Walter. 

“I’m on business,” Walter said, “a consultant,” he lied. 

The officer gave him a shrewd look, “we didn’t hear anything about you coming up,” he said. 

Walter sighed, “it’s not my fault your department is useless.” The man’s face twitched. “I’m going back to work now, unless you want me to bother my superior and admit you messed up,” Walter said, brushing past the bristling man. 

“What kind of consultant are you supposed to be?” he asked, jogging a bit to catch up to Walter as he picked his way up to the school. There was a shallow set of stairs leading to the doors. The stairs were dark with blood and Walter almost expected them to be tacky. It had been days though, and they were dried by now. 

“Vampiric expert,” Walter said. 

“What are your credentials?” 

Walter turned and flashed his fangs. All the blood drained from the mans face and he took a few quick steps back. Walter didn’t stop walking, just tore through the caution tape blocking the doorway and went inside.

We find out later on that this is actually Caine’s doing, and Caine goes on a bit of the murder spree, which is what the book devolves into. Before it was some cases, a bunch of undocumented kishi (people with hyena faces on the backs of their heads) run into a wyvern problem that turns into a monster smuggling scandal. Izyc pisses off pirates which results in them kidnapping him to try and make Walt murder a bunch of mermaids, which just leads to the mermaids and Walt eating all the pirates. They meet another vampire named Marissa who happens to also be a warlock and zips them into a pocket dimension that’s like a 1950′s nuclear family where Izyc goes crazy, manages to escape, and then has to get into Walt’s pocket dimension and kill his alternate self.

yknow, the usual. 

This is so fucking long I’m so sorry if you managed to get all the way down here I owe you my whole soul aksjdf;lakjsdf;lkajsdf here’s some snippets: 

[hypocritehero]

This is my Spooky Santa gift for @heartfulmind! I got a little ahead of myself with this project and wasn’t able to completely finish the fic in time for the deadline;;; But I have scattered scenes written out for later in the timeline!!! I just have to actually string them together into another chapter… @_@;;

(Thanks again @icypyre for putting this event together!)

Title: Transceiver

Ship: Shinsou/Female Background Character

Word Count: 3,351

Chapters: 1/?

The air in the classroom feels heavy. One wouldn’t think these twenty students had just made it into the most prestigious school in the nation with the amount of gloomy faces filling the seats, but the fact of the matter is that a good portion of them had applied for another course entirely.

Is that really all General Education was created for? To hold the overflow of rejected Hero hopefuls?

Tsunagi hopes not. She’s one of the few who didn’t even bother with the Hero Entrance Exam. With a Quirk like hers, she knew she didn’t stand a chance against whatever crazy test UA was sure to cook up- but she didn’t apply for Support or Business either. There’s more ways to help people, to help heroes, than just giving them things to punch harder or promoting their brand.

Like now. The amount of disappointment in the room is enough to suffocate the few sparks of excitement and hope flickering in the dark atmosphere. That just won’t do. There’s no teacher yet, so Tsunagi feels free to go all out.

“HEY!” She slams the oversized door shut behind her and lets out a boisterous greeting. “Why’s it look like a funeral in here?! Did someone die? Am I dead?” She waves her hands in front of her face to check for transparency, then points at the closest occupied desk. “Do I look dead to you?”

The boy looks absolutely baffled by her sudden question. His voice comes out uncertain and high, “Uh- No?”

“There you have it!” Tsunagi places her hands on her hips and surveys the classroom like a Queen looking upon her kingdom. “I’m alive, and I’m pretty sure so are all of you. This isn’t the end of the line, not by far. It’s only the first stop!”

Her sheer volume is starting to gather attention. She waits patiently for the mood to turn over slowly like a wave, muddy thoughts becoming alert in confusion and apprehension. There’s some annoyed looks as well for disturbing the peace, but some sacrifices must be made.

“If you’d given up already, you wouldn’t even be sitting here, right? There’s nothing more stupid than turning around to go home when you’ve already left the house, so you might as well give it your all!” She punctuates her impromptu peptalk with two thumbs up- the ultimate finisher move!

But the disappointment lingers. Tough crowd…

“Couldn’t’ve put it better myself,” a deep, muffled voice remarks from behind. She jolts and spins around with a short yelp. The man standing at the door is tall and intimidating in his deep red cloak and gas mask, but the class breaks out into awed murmurs at the sight of him.

“It’s Snipe!”

“I heard all the teachers here were Pro Heroes but-”

“-our Homeroom teacher is Snipe?!”

“Awesome!”

Just like that, the tide shifts all at once, dismay and irritation erupting into excitement. That more than anything is what impresses Tsunagi the most. So this is the aura of a Pro… She can’t sense anything from him but calm determination- oh, and is that an inkling of amusement?

“That’s right, I’m Snipe. I’ll be your Homeroom teacher from now on.” Snipe takes his place at the front of the class, spurs jingling with every heavy footstep. “General Education might not sound like much, but that doesn’t mean you can slack off. Everyone at this school follows the same motto. I’m sure you all know what that is?”

Tsunagi recognizes a hype call for what it is. She punches her fist into the air, “Plus Ultra! Go beyond!” A few other students even chime in at the end as well, much to her delight.

Snipe tips his cowboy hat towards her, “That’s right, miss. You ought to take your seat now, by the way. Class is in session.”

Oops. What was her assigned seating again? The number totally flew her mind! Everyone else is already sitting though, so it must be the last empty desk there. She jogs over and swiftly slides into her seat, casting a glance to either side of her to check out her neighbors. Two boys; one with an extremely strong jawline, the other with eyebags that could probably hold all his school books.

Jawline’s nerves pop when she makes eye contact and waves, and he jerkily turns to face the front of the class. Cute. Eyebags doesn’t even acknowledge her at all. He’s one of the stubborn few still mired in his own murky emotions. She could tell that from a mile away even without her Quirk. What a sour face!

Snipe is just going over the entrance ceremony lineup and orientation handouts, nothing too important, so she focuses all her attention on Eyebags. Her Quirk is technically a one way street- she can only sense other people’s emotions, not make them feel hers- but she’s sending out pay attention to me vibes as hard as she can think them.

Impressively, he doesn’t even glance at her once, even when they all get up to form a line for the opening ceremony. This one is going to be a tough nut to crack…

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“You kind of remind me of a nutcracker!” Tsunagi places her lunch tray down on the table with a decisive clack. This is a good table; there’s a nice view out the window and everything. She decides to claim it as hers- for now, until she finds a better spot.

“…Excuse me?” Jawline, who was already occupying said table, responds to her comment belatedly. His aura is a little confused, a mixture between shock and affront, like he’s not quite sure how to take her words. That’s normal.

“You know, because of all this.” She gestures to her own decidedly smaller and narrow jaw in explanation. “Is that your Quirk? Do you, like, have a super bite strength? Like an alligator?”

“No…” Jawline answers slowly. “I can make ‘all this’ turn to metal though, so maybe I could crack a nut. Never tried before.”

“Ooh, even better.” Tsunagi snaps her disposable chopsticks and they split down the seams perfectly even. Nice. That’s a good omen, right? “You probably tried out for Hero Course with a Quirk like that, huh? I heard there was robots though. That must have been super tough.”

“Yeah… It was…” Jawline looks down at his tray, his wide mouth downturned into a frown. Woops. Must have still been a sore spot. It is only the second day, after all.

“I’m Kantoshi Tsunagi, by the way!” Tsunagi sticks out her hand across the table like a Western businessman. “I’ve got an empathy quirk, just in case you were wondering.”

“Ah… I’m Agito Koutsuchi.” Agito stares at her hand before taking it hesitantly. They shake and she makes sure to grip firmly to give off a good impression. First impressions are important- at least, that’s what her dad always said. “I’m guessing you didn’t take the practical then?”

“Oh, no way!” She forms an X with her arms and shakes her head. “I don’t even want to be a Hero. At least not like that.”

“Not like that?” 

“Yeah. I want to be a therapist for Heroes! So I figured I should go to a Hero school, right? Get lots of practice ahead of time.” She taps a finger to her temple with a self-satisfied smile. Yeah, she’s pretty much a genius.

“Right.” Agito looks more amused than bemused now, which is always a good thing in her books. His aura is looking a lot warmer. “Are you studying psychology then? I didn’t know we had any classes for that kind of thing.”

“Oh, we don’t.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m just, like, kind of winging it?”

“…You’re ‘just kind of winging it’…”

Tsunagi is getting some major ‘judgey’ vibes off this guy. She pouts. “Hey, not everyone has their entire life mapped out as a first year! Sheesh. You’d grind your teeth a lot less if you learned to relax a little. Did you know I can hear you doing it from where I sit?”

“Hey-!”

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“Why are you staring at me?” It takes three days for Shinsou (she learned Eyebags’ name by sneaking a peak at his handout) to finally crack. During the layover between Math and English he stares back at Tsunagi with dead eyes, no less intense despite the listless boredom permeating his aura. She can’t really sense anything else off him.

Maybe he really is just looking for something to do? She holds his gaze for a long, extended moment of silence. He blinks.

“Aha!” She slaps one hand against the desktop and points at him with the other. “You blinked first!”

“I didn’t think it was a contest,” he says dryly. “Does it really count if I wasn’t looking back until now?”

“It totally does, don’t be a sore loser,” she replies with a dismissive wave of her hand. A small jolt of surprise goes through him. Interesting. She leans in closer. “So you noticed? And you didn’t even think to say ‘Hi’ to your Class Prez?”

The title is new, but she’s taking every opportunity possible to flaunt it. Honestly, no one else was really vying for the position… Still, a win is a win!

“…You’re still talking to me,” Shinsou says instead of answering the question. It kind of sounds like he’s talking more to himself than her. “Why?”

Tsunagi raises an eyebrow. “Should I not be?” 

Shinsou rubs at the back of his neck and glances away, his aura fluctuating agitatedly despite the strained smirk on his face. “Heh. If you have to ask that, that probably explains it.”

Okay, the mysterious cool guy bit is already getting on her nerves a little bit. She squints at him with an extended, suspicious hmmmm.

“Do you have like, a contagious disease or something?” He stares at her flatly and she taps her nose before trying again. “Is it your Quirk?” The second guess earns her another emotional jolt, even as his expression persists. Bingo. “It can’t be that bad. What is it?”

Ectoplasm glides into the room just then. Shinsou swiftly turns to face the front again, lips pressed into a thin line.

Wait. Is he really not going to answer?!

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Tsunagi ends up making a game of it. It’s a good way to kill time between classes- and an excuse to talk to/at her aloof neighbor. Sometimes she even ropes Agito into it for some fresh ideas. He seemed reluctant at first, but as Shinsou seemed to bear their increasingly wild guesses with surprising patience, he’s been really getting into the spirit of the game.

“Do you curse people to die in seven days if you speak more than two sentences at a time?” Agito suggests from across Tsunagi’s desk, leaning on his forearm to see around her.

“Ooh, good one!” Tsunagi snaps her fingers. “But what about when he read that passage out loud for English? It’s been a week since then, and nobody’s died yet.”

“They wouldn’t allow me on campus if I had a Quirk as dangerous as that…” Shinsou mutters without looking up from his notes.

“True… What if it’s a love curse though?” Tsunagi waggles her eyebrows with a lecherous grin. “I could believe that. Are you all cool and jaded from breaking so many hearts because of your Quirk?”

“…Cool?” Shinsou focuses on that out of all the other things that came out of her mouth. He seems surprised. “Me?”

“Uh, yeah? You’re like, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Broody over here. Back me up, Agito!”

“You are kind of broody,” Agito admits in an apologetic tone.

“Huh…”

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UA ends up on the news. Despite having the best security out of every high school in the country, there was a bonafide Villain attack at USJ. Even without having been there, the fact that it happened at all is enough to fill the campus with waves of unease. Trickles of frightened conversation drift by Tsunagi’s desk the next morning as the classroom fills up.

“Damn, and I thought that false alarm at lunch was scary…”

“-was technically off campus, right? They couldn’t get in here… right?”

“They should beef up security or something! That just ain’t right-”

Tsunagi drums her pencil against the desk. Tk-tk-tk. As Class President, there should be something she can do to put everyone at ease, but the situation feels so much bigger than she can handle. It doesn’t help that her own stomach is turning and flipping just remembering those mugshots.

If you see these men, contact your local Heroes as soon as possible… Yeah, no, she’d rather never see another Villain in person in her lifetime, thanks.

“…We should do the buddy system.” She’s just thinking out loud, but her VP glances over at her with interest.

“Buddy system? Isn’t that a little kiddish?” Agito inquires. He doesn’t sound entirely dismissive about it though. Tsunagi points her eraserhead at him.

“They teach it to us as kids because it’s important! If something happens to one of you, there’s still someone else to go get help. It just makes sense.”

“When you put it like that, I guess you’re right…”

Tsunagi nods with satisfaction. “That settles it then. I’ll make an announcement during homeroom. Everyone needs to find a buddy to walk home with from now on. That includes you, too, Mr. Lone Wolf!”

“Pass.”

“You don’t get to pass! This is a Presidential decree!”

“You’re only Class President,” Shinsou points out coolly. “Off campus, you can’t really control what anyone does.”

Well, of course she can’t, but he didn’t have to be so obstinate about it. She puts on her most serious face. “This isn’t a drill, you know. A real Villain attack happened, not a practice exercise. Even Pro Heroes can’t be everywhere at once. If you ever wanted to be a Hero, you should recognize that we all have to do our part to keep each other safe.”

Shinsou goes quiet after that. Tsunagi leaves him to his thoughts and works on hashing out a quick speech with Agito before homeroom starts. She can only lead a horse to water, not make him drink it. Whatever decision he comes to, he’ll have to get there on his own.

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The UA Sports Festival is absolutely legendary. It’s hard to believe this is only the turnout for the first years- the stadium is enormous and yet every seat is filled. Tsunagi’s only ever watched it on TV. She never expected to be on the other side of the screen.

Present Mic’s voice was loud enough to rattle her teeth even inside the entry tunnel, but when the Gen Ed students start filing out his enthusiasm dies down considerably. It’s still boisterous, sure, but there’s no pizzaz in the way he lists off rotely, “And following Class B, here come Classes C, D, and E from the department of General Education!”

“Man, they’re treating us like we’re just their foils or something,” Agito complains, not bothering to quiet his displeasure whatsoever. Tsunagi is inclined to agree.

“What a load of…” She swears under her breath. Just because their class wasn’t attacked by Villains doesn’t mean they’re not trying their hardest like everyone else in the Hero Course. She’s seen her peers practicing together in their free time, working out the kinks in their Quirks in the gym, discussing Hero names over lunch-

It just doesn’t feel right to let their efforts get lowkey dismissed like this!

Tsunagi turns to walk backwards, facing the rest of Class C head-on. She claps her hands over her head. “Alright, alright! Everyone, do your best out there! Fight on!” When she turns back around, she catches Shinsou’s eye and winks at him carelessly. “That’s also a Presidential Decree.”

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So, Tsunagi didn’t place in the obstacle race, but come on! An empathy Quirk doesn’t really come in handy against ice and robots and tightrope walking. Honestly, it would have taken a miracle to even make it to the finish line.

And yet Shinsou did- within the cutoff even. She’s not quite sure how he did it. It kind of looked like he got some randos to help him?

…That kind of smarts. If he had a team plan to pass, why not get his own class to help?

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“Midoriya! The match just started… and he’s completely frozen?! He’s got a blank look on his face and isn’t moving a muscle!”

Midoriya isn’t only one. The entirety of Class C is stock still in their seats, eyes wide and mouths gaping in shock.

“…Is that…?” Agito turns towards Tsunagi slowly. She looks back at him with a blooming grin, “His Quirk!“ 

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Tsunagi really isn’t sure what’s happening. One minute Shinsou’s opponent was walking out of bounds, a sure win- then there was suddenly an explosion? And now Shinsou is grappling with a member of the Hero Course. It’s all happening so quickly, she’s on the edge of her seat, heart leaping up into her throat as her classmate is suddenly bodily heaved into the air.

"No!” She can’t help but cry out, even though it’s already too late. He hits the ground before she can even take her next breath and she flinches. “No…” It doesn’t feel fair. He came so far!

“Damn, he got got.” Agito sighs from beside her, slumping back into his seat heavily. It’s right then that she realizes her tunnel vision, her awareness of her surroundings slowly returning to her. It’s strange… She’s grown so used to other people’s ambient emotions vying for her attention constantly, it’s not often that she finds herself so completely caught up in a moment that all she can do herself is feel.

Despite Shinsou’s loss, their entire seating section is lit up with pinpricks of bright, sparkling emotions, a bittersweet ocean of disappointment mingled with awe, of so close yet so far! It’s like being surrounded by a sky of stars, shimmering on the edges of her vision, but she still can’t tear her eyes away from Shinsou.

Shinsou, who refused to tell anyone his Quirk. Shinsou, who was surprised that anyone would even talk to him at all. Shinsou, who fought tooth and nail to make it to the final tournament. His wile and determination is absolutely insane, but his heart is so fragile. He’s just a speck of doom and gloom down on the field and she can’t help but remember the first day they met, how deeply his dejection rooted itself in his soul.

Well, that just won’t do.

Tsunagi rushes out of her seat to lean up against the railing. A stampede of footsteps follow in her wake.

“You were so cool, Shinsou!!” She waves her arm to catch his attention, smile broadening when their eyes meet across the distance. He looks surprised to see them all lined up above the exit gate for some reason. She doesn’t let that deter her and gives him her super special double thumbs up. “Nice job!”

Almost as if her words were the opening to a dam, more praise comes rushing in from their gathered classmates. Everyone is calling out as loud as they can so that Shinsou can hear them over the clamoring audience.

“We were on the edges of our seats, dude! For real!”

“You’re like the star of hope for all us Gen Ed kids!”

“You gave the kid who placed in the top 3 from the obstacle race a real run for his money!”

Tsunagi can’t quite pin down the aura Shinsou is giving off right now. Something bright and delicate… a wavering light that shimmers over the vulnerable look on his face like he’s underwater. For such an aloof boy, he looks overwhelmed now, but in a good way.

“Can you hear them, Shinsou-kun?” Her heart feels heavy and full in her chest. She’s just so damn proud of him. She wants him to be proud of himself, too. “You’re amazing!”

She’ll grind that into his fluffy head until it finally sticks, as many times as it takes.

[darkling-er]

Hope’s Savior ( John Seed x OC ) | Part 8

Summary: Trinity-Hope Johnson finds herself in the middle of a holy war, leading the Resistance, while having a complicated relationship with one of the cult’s herald. And she thought her first case would be easy. Oh how wrong she was!

Pairings: John Seed/Fem!Deputy, John Seed/OC, Earl Whitehorse & OC ( uncle&niece ), Joseph Seed/Fem!Deputy ( kind of ), might add more later

Warnings: mild language, violence, eventually smut, masturbation, oral sex, you know guys the usual, use of drugs ( bliss and other, thanks to Sharky ), fluff ( does that even need a warning? ), manipulation, angst, mention of mental illness ( insomnia, depression ), mention of child abuse ( from John’s side ), torture, I think that’s it? I swear it’s not so bad!

Word Counter: 5141

Notes: Onlyyyyy youuuuuu! ♫♪ If I made up some words, that made sense in my mind but have no real meaning, I’m sorry, haha !!Also warning, light smut ahead!!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 |  Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | MASTERPOST for the others

Hope hears screams as a person carries her on their back. At least that’s what she thinks as she can see legs and shoes, being upside down. A red carpet, wooden floor. A man standing at the end of the corridor. Then blackness again, she doesn’t want to wake up, not yet, when it was so peaceful and calm in the blackness of dreamless dreams.

But she wakes up again, she doesn’t know how much time she lost while she was asleep. But the uncomfortable position of sitting in a chair, and her hands being tied to it, making her wrists hurt wakes her up.

She opens her eyes and sees a light, illuminating in the background and right in front of her a man’s silhouette. As her vision starts to clear she opens her eyes wide. Staci! He’s the one tying her to the chair, but why?

“You shouldn’t have come for me. You should have run.” The man whispers to her but she has no words to speak. So Jacob has Staci. But how is that he’s free and not being kept hostage like Hudson. He doesn’t seem like he’s high on the Bliss like the Marshal either. So why doesn’t he run? Maybe there are guns pointed at him, which she can’t see from this position?

He looks tired, huge circles under his eyes, like he didn’t get enough sleep. He looks like he took some punches as well, but other than that he looks fine.

A clicking noise can be heard from her left, a projector’s sound. It’s a presentation, she realizes. Seriously? Did Jacob hunt me just to show me his evil presentation? Staci looks up over her shoulder. Hope can’t turn her head and look over there. Pratt quickly leaves her side and all she can see is a white board... or wall? In the dark it illuminates, coming from the projector which is standing next to her on a shelf of somekind.

A dead deer... Wow...eww... And behind that two words can be seen painted with black paint? Or maybe even dried blood? ‘Only You’. Two other resistance members are tied up, just like her. She wants to call out to Staci, but a man starts speaking. Jacob...

“The world is weak. Soft.” For a second the dead deer disappears, leaving the room black as another image appears: a wolf eating flesh, and Jacob Seed’s silhouette can be seen as he starts walking before the wall.

“We have forgotten what it is to be strong. You know our heroes are used to be gods.” Blackness, then another picture of another wolf eating meat. Jacob Seed is still facing the wall, not turning around yet, to face the deputy or the other two hostages. Staci is standing right next to him, like keeping guard. Why is he not fighting or running? “And now our heroes are godless. Weak, feeble, diseased”

Black and another picture: a weird photo of a deer’s corpse, standing on it’s legs like it’s still alive. Fucking morbid... Jacob turns around, his body covered in the picture as he stands in it’s light.

“We let the weak dictate to the powerful and then we are shocked to find ourselves adrift.” A picture of a white wolf, eating it’s prey. This guy is a furry, or something? Jacob is not looking at her, and honestly she’s happy about that she doesn’t need the attention of yet another Seed.

“But history knows the value of sacrifice. Of culling the herd, so that it stays strong.” He looks at the woman on the left side then the man on the right. “Over and over, the lives of the many have outweighed the lives of the few. This is how we survived... And we’ve forgotten.” An angry wolf looking right into Hope’s eyes. Jacob slowly makes his way toward Hope and tries out her wrists, but the ductape just won’t let go.

“...and now the bill has come due.” As he stands right in front of the deputy, she feels even smaller than usual. The man is a giant and with her sitting he’s even much taller as he normally is. He’s towering over her, but as he grabs her chair and pulls it toward him and he leans low, so their face can meet Hope would rather have him standing up again. Why do they always want to get to close to me? Have the Seeds ever heard of personal space?

“Now, the Collapse is upon us, and this time the lives of the few outweigh the lives of the many.”

His intense stare makes her uncomfortable. His blue eyes reminding her of John’s and Joseph’s ones. Each and every one of them carrying something behind their clear blue eyes. Jacob’s face is covered in scars, rashes even. But that’s not what scares Hope about Jacob.

“And when a nation that’s never known hunger or desperation descends into madness, we’ll be ready.” He smiles at her, not breaking eye contact, not even blinking once as he leans back, and getting something from the desk with the projector on.

“We will cull the herd.” It’s a small wooden box, a music box! He gets it ready to play as he speaks. “We will do what needs to be done.”

He shows it to her, opening the box and immediately her body starts shaking, her vision turning red and she feels like she’s having a seizure. She feels blood trickle down from her nose as the pressure grows inside her body. Filling her head with anger, she’s trying to get free, but it’s impossible. And her view turns to black or did she close her eyes? She can’t tell, as she has a view again.

She’s free from her hair, standing before the table she was sitting next to, a gun on it. The whole world is red, and it reminds her of blood, blood, blood. The building is collapsing and music echoes in her head, an agonisingly slow version of Only You by The Platters.

As she hears a tower bell and the two person stands up from the chairs she just knows what she has to do.

“Call the herd.” Jacob says from somewhere and she grabs the gun from the table and shoot at both of them as they vanish into smoke as the bullet goes right through them.

“Excellent.” Jacob says and she runs through a door, grabbing an SMG which was placed just for her.

She moves forward, building falling apart, broken wooden walls all around. People raise their guns at her and she shoot all of them. With each shot Jacob shouts:

“Train. Hunt. Kill. Sacrifice.”

She shots a man above her on a wall and Jacob talks to her again:

“Good, cull the herd.”

She doesn’t think, she doesn’t feel anything, just pure anger and pride as the eldest of the Seeds praises her moves. Why? Why?! She doesn’t know, as she runs fast opposite how the song slowly plays for her. It’s like she’s in a maze as she goes, she doesn’t even know where, but she rushes forward. ‘Kill, kill, kill!’ Jacob’s shouts can be heard and she just does that. Killing everyone who even stands close to her.

She picks up an AR-C as she reaches a yard. A gate of metal saying ‘St. Francis Veterans Center’ in front of her, as she shoots. It’s so surreal, object floating in the air, unmoving like they are hanged by strings. But she doesn’t think, she runs through the front door into the building, killing a man runing towards her.

“Yes, sacrifice the weak.”

She kils the man standing on top of the walls as she climbs. She has to ignore the fire below, get away from it. Fire is bad, fire is bad! Don’t be weak, be strong!

There’s a slide coming up and she takes it as the music suddenly plays faster, and the clock that has been ticking while she ran stops. And she doesn’t land as the blackness surrounds her.

When she opens her eyes, she’s still in that chair, tied to it, as she lays with it on the floor. Dead bodies around her, and her vision is blurry. Her mouth feels dry and Hope feels like she can’t move. There’s still blood under her nose, dried to her face, making her smell the irony scent of blood.

The music still plays, somewhere from the room. Am I dead? She thinks, and it hurts to think. She can still hear Jacob’s commands in her head: ‘Train, hunt, kill, sacrifice’. And for some reason she feels like she should be doing exactly that.

The Deputy sees movements and for a second she thinks Jacob is back, to call her weak. But she hears an unknown voice of a man.

“What a mess. Wheaty, check those chairs.”

“Jesus, the smell...” Another voice speaks and she wants to call out to them but her throat hurts like she swallowed knives. Her vision at least becomes clear as she sees a bearded man. Oh, god, is he a peggie?

“Been stewin’ in their own filth for days...” For days?! “Walker, get some windows open!”

A young man comes to her view, so called Wheaty if she heard it right. A third voice replies, so that must be the guy called Walker:

“Y-y-y-yessir!”

“Someone shut that music off!” The man who has the beard and has been commanding the other seems to be their boss, or leader. Thank God, yes! Turn it off! She thinks and her head gets a lot clearer as the music stops, no more Jacob’s praises or commands.

Wheaty crouches down to the body next to her, checking the clearly dead man’s pulse. The dead guy’s eyes and nose has been bleeding. Just like hers, but she’s still alive.

“Christ, it’s Sully. When did they get him?” The young boy says and he stands up, annoyed. “Why are we even bothering with this? They’re all dead.” No, no! I’m not dead! She wants to scream, but she can’t even blink, feeling paralised.

“Check ‘em anyways.” The leader says and she’s thankful for his words. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

The boy still seems annoyed by his job as he comments:

“Why am I always stuck on corpse duty?”

He turns her chair and she groans out at the sudden pain in her head as she’s being moved. The boy facing her gets so scared he drops her, causing even more pain.

“HOLY SHIT!” Wheaty lands on his ass, being so startled by Hope not being as dead as he thought.

“What?” The boss turns to him and comes closer, as Wheaty says an ‘oh fuck’ as well.

The boss looks down at Hope as she finally blinks, her eyes hurting as she does so.

“Live one!” He quickly crouches next to her. “Walker! Go get the truck!”

“Y-y-y-y-yessir!” The man stutters, seemingly only to know one sentence.

Wheaty comes into view and if Hope had any energy left she would find this situation actually funny, feeling like they’re in a comedy movie:

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry...” The boss pushes him away.

They grab Hope and the leader’s voice is nice and smooth, but still low and it makes her feel comfort.

“Gimme a hand, kid.”

She groans again as they set her chair, so she’s sitting in it. They face each other and Hope wants to say thanks, but only manages a low and painful moan out.

The leader gets out a knife with the intention to free her, but Wheaty looks at the man:

“Eli..is this...?”

“Yep.” The man says simply as he frees Hope from the tapes.

“What the fuck is the Deputy doing here?” Oh, look, I’m famous. How nice...

“Jacob took a shine to ‘er same as us.”

She wants to laugh at that but it turns into a cough as she does. I didn’t drink for days... Yeah, I can feel it...

“You’re gonna be okay, Hero. Whitetail’s gotcha now.” The Whitetails! Oh thank God!

They help her to her feet and start to walk, well more likely drag her body with them. She feels like going back to sleep again, feeling dizzy from the exhaustion.

“We’re bringing her back to the Wolf’s Den?” Wheaty asks.

“Where else?” The leader asks back. I like him, I always like people who save my life, defying the others.

“Tammy is not going to like this...” Well, I’m sorry, but Tammy has to bear with me until I can get up to my feet again.

Their voices become blurry as she falls into sleep again.

“Don’t worry about Tammy. She’ll be fine.”

Hope feels a soft surface under her and it feels so comfortable, her mind not wanting to get up soon. But as she hears voices she opens her eyes. Wheaty comes into view, a boy who can’t be older than her. He gently grabs her neck from behind, pulling her head up as he places a water bottle to her lips.

“Take it easy, you’re OK. Need you to drink this.”

Hope greedily swallows the water, some of it trickling down her face, getting her shirt wet. She had been changed into new clothes, a man’s oversized sweater, no jeans. She should feel ashamed, knowing that someone had to get her clothes off, but right now she doesn’t care.

Hope coughes as her throat becomes soft and slimy again, not feeling like a desert anymore. A woman comes into the room, looking down at her laying form and she turns to the man, the leader who brought her here.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Oh, I have a feeling this is Tammy.

The man is so calm it wants to make Hope laugh. Like a teacher, trying to get his students behaving without screaming at them.

“Now hold on. Wheaty and I agreed--”

“Oh you agreed?!” The woman turns to the kid standing next to Hope.

Wheaty holds up his arms, defending himself from the accusation.

“Woah, woah woah! I was at best an impartial observer.”

Tammy looks and points at Hope:

“This is stupid and this is dangerous.”

Hope silently comments but her voice is ragged and nobody seems to hear her:

“I can hear you, you know?”

The woman continues with her anger:

“You both know better!”

The long bearded man approaches her and he still sounds so calm:

“What was I supposed to do?”

The woman raises her arms, like it’s so damn clear what they were supposed to do with Hope.

“Leave her to die.” Wow, nice, thanks...

The man scoffs, faking out a laugh and looking down at Hope apologisingly:

“Tammy...”

“They’ve been in that room for God knows how long. I’ve seen what it does to people. You haven’t. You can’t trust this one.”

The man turns away from the junior deputy lying on the couch and turns to the all-too-angry woman:

“That’s what everyone said about you! But luckily, I didn’t listen.” Only now he starts raising his voice. “This is not up for discussion. We need her. That’s all there is to it. Understand?”

She makes a grimace and looks down at Hope, like she wants to kill her right here right now. Then she leaves the room. Wheaty comments:

“You’re right. She took that real well.”

“Out.” He doesn’t even turn his head away from the Deputy as he orders the young man out of there.

As he leaves Hope can hear him comment under his nose:

“I didn’t even do anything...”

The young girl smiles at that, a gesture that makes her face hurt a bit, but doesn’t make any painful sounds.

Eli walks around the couch right next to her, placing his hand on her leg and only know she feels a bit too exposed.

“I meant what I said, we need you. Let’s get you some rest.”

He helps her lay her head back down to the pillow and though she wants to stay awake she quickly falls asleep.

Hope wakes up at the sound of a radio. Music is playing, not the type she usually listens too, and it’s loud enough to shake her out of her continues dreamless dream. She moves around the couch and she puts her naked legs on the rug. She sits there for a while, getting ready to stand up on her legs,

A man is watching her, reading a book, looking at her naked thighs and she tries to pull the sweater down as much as she can. Yeah, I need pants ASAP.

She doesn’t feel cold that much, and her aching body is much less exhausted as before. She doesn’t have dried blood all over her face either. They took care of her, that’s for sure.

“Oh, shit y-y-y-you’re up. Eli needs a word with y-y-you.” The man says and Hope remembers his stutter from before, when the whitetails found her.

“Where should I go?” She asks nicely and smiles at the man.

“Head d-d-down the hall. Eli’s waitin’ for y-y-y-ou there.” He points to a direction and she nods and thanks him with a soft smile.

She takes some turns in the bunker, she figured it’s a bunker, since it looks a lot like Dutch’s. Then she sees a whole bunch of monitors, just like Dutch’s. And there it is the man, the one who saved her from that filthy place. He looks up at her from his map and smiles:

“There you are. Been tryin’ to track you down, Deputy. Dutch speaks highly. Look I get right to it. I know what you did down south. You got the Father thinkin’ twice now, and that’s good for us. We’re bleeding bodies up here, no two ways about it. I don’t know if we’ll be able to hold out more than a week at this rate. Times are desperate to say the least. I’m trying to get some footholds back, so I sent a handful of whitetails out to sabotage the Visitor Center. The cult’s been using it as a depot for that Bliss shit... But our guys walked right into a fucking trap. They’ve been taken hostage and we’re up against the clock. If I just send another group in there, we risk losing everything... but you! You’re something that cult ain’t expecting. You’re the only one I got around here who can handle this, Dep... only one I trust to handle this. I’m countin’ on you.”

The man says and Hope’s head start to feel heavy as she tries to understand him and she raises her hands, stopping the man from further speaking:

“Okay, slow down a bit. Look I...” She stands there awkwardly looking at the man’s confused eyes. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. But I don’t even know your name and you’re saying that you can only trust me on this?”

She feels like an asshole, but her veins are filled with this odd feeling, a rage, hiding behind her small form. Hope doesn’t even know why she’s angry, and she tries to hide it as much as she can. This man did save her life after all.

“Oh, I’m... I’m sorry.. Name’s Eli, Eli Palmer.” The man says, clearly feeling just as awkward as the young girl.

“So Eli... Umm... you have any pants that I could borrow. Can’t do much of anything if I’m not dressed like I’m going outside.”

He looks at her naked legs, just realizing she’s without pants or shoes and turns to Wheaty:

“Hey, Wheaty, get some pants and shoes from the shop, will ya?” He says and the boy goes down the corridor, dissappearing. “I’m... really sorry about that.”

She nods, trying to make this scene less awkward as it already is.

“Didn’t you guys by any chance found my backpack? Or my radio? Or any of my weapons?” She asks, though she doesn’t dare to keep her hopes up.

Eli turns around and grabs a bag, filled with her stuff:

“Actually, we did, here ya go.”

After getting some clothes from the whitetails and getting her backpack on her back, her pistol in her holster and the rifle around her shoulder she stands before Eli. Hope feels much less exposed now.

“Look. I don’t know if people have been looking for me or not. And I know you need help, and I will help, that’s a promise, but...” She feels ashamed of what she says next. “... I need some time away from Jacob right now.”

Eli does seem dissappointed, but nods kindly.

“I get it, kid. I’m just desperate, you know? And you’re like the Hero of Hope County at the moment, I hoped you could help out.”

She feels bad about this and gets her map out of her pack and folds it out on Eli’s desk.

“Look, point me to the place, and I will look into it, okay? I’ll even bring some help, people who I trust and are good at what they’re doing. I am very grateful for what you did for me, I am. And I want to repay you by helping out, but right now... I’ll head back to the Valley, check out on some friends. I’ll be back and take care the peggies for you.”

Eli nods and marks the place on her map. She gets some angry looks by Tammy as she leaves and a kind smile from Wheaty. Well, she can’t be friends with everyone, right?

She uses one of the choppers from outside the Wolf’s Den to reach the Valley, it’s night time again and only now, looking at the constellations and the moon realizes how long she had been out.

“Hey, old man. I hope you’re not sleeping yet.” She says through her speaker, while flying over Dutch’s island.

“I never sleep, kid. Heard from Eli, that they got you out of Jacob Seed’s grasp. You’re gonna stay there, help out?”

The raven haird girl sighes and replies:

“No, I’m heading back to John’s region. I still have some distress calls from there. I want to check on the church, and than the airstrip at the Rye’s.”

Dutch murmurs something and she’s happy she didn’t catch what he just said.

“Okay, kid. It’s your call. Just don’t forget to help out in the mountains as well. I know Jacob Seed might look scary for ya. But we still have to fight him.”

And there goes Hope’s calm night:

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Dutch sighes and tries to save the conversation:

“All I’m sayin’ is that you had a meetin’ with Jacob and now you’re running back to the Valley and--”

“I’m running back to the Valley?!” She raises her voice and almost losts control over the chopper in her anger.

“Look... I’m just sayin’ the facts, no need to get angry at me for being honest.”

“For being honest?! Who the hell says where I should help out? You weren’t there you don’t know what he did to me!”

There’s a moment of silence and for some reason she feels like she shouldn’t be telling about the Platters’ song to Dutch, or to anyone for the record.

“Why, what did he do to you?” He asks suspiciously.

“Forget it Dutch, I’m tired, I want to land my chopper safely and help out at the Valley. I will go back to the mountains once I gother a little team to help me out. I’m only one girl, not an entire army...Hope out.”

She turns off her radio and looks down at the hills of the valley. The ‘YES’ say illuminating in the night, she has a new idea as she lands near the bottom of the sign.

She gets out of the chopper, once landed properly and walks up to the Hollywood styled monument.

She sits down at the bottom of the ‘Y’ and looks down at the valley. From up here it’s so peaceful, so calm. I wonder how cool Hope County was before the cult...

There are lights appearing in the distane, near the airstrips and she first thinks maybe someone blowed up a bunch of silos, but as she looks into her binoculars she sees fireworks.

There’s a smile appearing on her face as she looks at them. Who is partying right now? It has to be Resistance, right?

She picks up her radio and dials Pastor Jerome to get some information on this.

“Hey, Jerome? Who is helding a party tonight? I see fireworks in the sky.” Her voice is calm, cheerful.

A moment passes and she hopes she didn’t wake up the man. An unpleasent answer comes from his end, clearly not happy about the cause of celebration.

“John Seed is having a birthday party tonight.”

Hope can’t contain her laugh as she asks:

“For who?”

The Pastor sighs:

“For himself...”

Hope laughs and she can’t believe that days ago she was being held captive by Jacob Seed and now the youngest of the brothers is having a party for his birthday. It’s just too surreal and funny.

“Oh wow, did you buy him something?” She jokes and the Pastor chuckles at that.

“I’m pretty sure he has everything he wants, Deputy. Good to have you back in the Valley, there are still some folks out here needing help... I heard about Jacob Seed. If you need to just talk to someone, you can always come to me.”

It warms her heart, and she smiles softly.

“Thanks. I want to check on Boomer too. Did he behave while I was gone?”

The Pastor chuckles, no longer the dissappointment for the Seeds in his voice:

“He did try to eat my bible once. But he has been acting good. He misses you, I think. He perked up his head and started wagging his tail as he heard your voice now.”

Hope imagines the dog trying to eat Pastor Jerome’s Bible and she’s happy someone is not acting weird around her, asking her to do this or do that. Just having a nice and normal conversation.

“I’ll be sure to make a visit to Fall’s End tomorrow.”

“Alright, take care, Deputy.”

They end the radio call and Hope continues to watch the fireworks go on for a while. John Seed being so fucking extra, as always. She smiles to herself, shaking her head. It’s weird thinking about how a man like him had to be born once, was probably a child, just acting normal. Makes one wonder how they ended up being like this...

She lays down onto her back, looking up at the stars on the night sky. Remembering most of their names. She memorised them all, when she was a kid. Her parents painted her room’s ceiling like the night sky. She misses them, even though she never actually met them.

Her heart aches and she tries to think about something else, and she ends up thinking about the Cleansing. How she actually thought in her Bliss drugged state that she was a star. How John Seed’s eyes seemed to be glowing, beautiful blue amongst the white dots in front of her...

She feels an itch in her body, one that she haven’t felt since she got into this holy war. She slides her hand down her body, between her legs as she moans out into the night, only the crickets knowing what she’s up to. She teases herself through the fabric of her jeans and after some minutes like this she slips her had into her jeans and she touches her clit, crying out in pleasure.

 And then her radio crackles to life, like God knew what she is doing and wants to stop her:

“Deputy, I heard you came back to the Valley. How delightful.” John Seed’s voice is cheery as always, like he knows when he can annoy Hope.

She doesn’t answer, the heat in her loin growing and she just wants to have some private moments to herself, without listening to John Seed, but God, that man loves his voice more than anything.

“I was wondering about one of our conversation just now. Do you remember, what I said to you, Deputy?” His voice sounds so smug, she can almost imagine the smirk on his face.

She groans out, letting her hand find it’s way out of her jeans and underwear. With an annoyed voice she click down the button on her radio to talk:

“No?” She keeps it short, because her breathing was just becoming faster when the man dared to intterupt her, so she doesn’t want to give herself away.

“Oh, my dear. I’m sure you remember. You know what, I will give you a moment to think. Get the blood back to your pretty little head...”

She looks confused and angry at her radio, not wanting to play John’s games right now. Then his words hit her, and her heart stops beating for a moment. ‘I have cameras everywhere, Deputy...’ he said a while back. Oh my god...

She quickly looks around her surroundings, her face getting red from the embarrasment if the man meant what she thinks he meant by that comment. His next words comfirming her fear:

“You know, Deputy... Lust is a sin.” With a muffled ‘oh my god’ she buries her face in her hands.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, I wasn’t putting up a show for you.” She replies to him, trying to save the situation, but she’s deep in it now.

“Are you sure?” Comes the teasing tone of the Baptist. “And here I thought it was your birthday gift for me.”

If she wasn’t flushed already, she sure as hell is now. And without even wanting to think about it, how it might be a gift for him, how he might mimiced her movements, touching himself at the sight of her... NO! Stop thinking about that! But the thought sends a wave of pleasure between her folds.

“Oh, no!” She cringes at herself and him. “In your dreams, Seed!”

She tries to keep her cool, but what he says next sends her over the edge.

“If this was my dream, you would be right here with me, beneath me.”

She did notice something was off in his voice, she thought it’s only exhaustion or something, but now she thinks it might be from something else. She gulps as she asks:

“Are you high right now?”

A chuckle comes from the other end and it sends a pulse into her clit, begging to be touched.

“Maybe... So what do you say? Care to pay me a visit?”

This is crazy. He’s crazy, this whole situation is crazy. But the most crazy thing is, that she actually stops thinking about his offer.

A/N: ehehehehe *evil laugh*

Tags: @onl-you

[livinginlandmarketing]

In March 2020, as the nascent pandemic was gaining a foothold in the United States, a friend kept nudging Michelle Bernier to make masks.

A reluctant Bernier — owner of an apron-making business — finally gave in, making a few and showing her friend how to do it. She posted the results on social media, and within days demand skyrocketed.

For Bernier, and many who mobilized in those early days of unprecedented shut downs, it was a 9/11 moment. Unity. Together. A common enemy. It was a chance for American Baby Boomers, Generations X, Y, Z, to have their own “Greatest Generation” —  just substitute World War II for a virus and Bernier for Rosie the Riveter.

Except it wasn’t.

“That’s not what it feels like this time,” Bernier said, reflecting on the year since California shut down orders began. “After 9/11, everybody was friendlier to each other,” said Bernier, who in those early days of March 2020 got the help of her family as her La Habra-based production of aprons turned to masks. “They were actually talking to each other. It’s not like that now … It’s really built a wedge between everybody.”

Michelle Bernier poses for a photograph, holding the masks she made, at La Habra City Hall on Friday, March 5, 2021. (Photo by Drew A. Kelley, Contributing Photographer)

A year after Bernier started making her masks, Americans are as divided as ever – fractured over a love for liberty, which has become tangled in steps to assure the health of the larger community.

The very pieces of cloth that Bernier was making would soon become flashpoint symbols. They would both hobble the battle against the virus and fuel a poltical fight that made its way to a fatal riot at the Capitol.

You could see the fractures play out in real time over the last year in ways large, small, subtle and noisy.

In Orange County, in the pandemic’s early days of shutdown, the county’s top public health official Nichole Quick recommended mandatory face masks for all residents, only to be met with fierce public outcry and personal attacks. She would ultimately leave her role.

In Los Angeles County, Grace Community Church, in the San Fernando Valley, defied public health orders, standing steadfast on the right to worship indoors — a right bolstered after a string of U.S. Supreme Court rulings.

In Riverside County, back in October, with case rates threatening to regress, defiant supervisors voted in favor of a revised COVID-19 reopening plan to put the county on a faster track to reopening its economy than the state recommends.

Supporters of Riverside County defying state coronavirus guidelines and reopening businesses along a faster timeline wave signs during the Board of Supervisors’ Sept. 22 meeting (File photo by Watchara Phomicinda, The Press-Enterprise/SCNG).

Anti-mask tirades erupted in grocery stores, an anti-vaccination rally briefly closed down Dodger Stadium’s massive vaccination site, massive gatherings stormed Orange County beaches.

And then, worst of all, there were the elevated hate incidents against Asian-Americans. A year later, such incidents continue. The pandemic didn’t unite the nation; it simply became a reflection of the politically divided nation, on a mammoth scale.

Liberty, Trump and mixed messages

Rex Parris has no regrets about the bash his city held for the Fourth of July 2020.

Parris — the mayor of Lancaster and an outspoken critic of the county’s public health response — was not going to let the city’s annual celebration just not happen.

L.A. County had required the cancellation of all displays — including the giant ones. And everyone from Gov. Gavin Newsom to the county’s public health chief Barbara Ferrer were urging local cities to refrain.

Parris remained defiant all the way to the moment he himself flipped the switch for the show at the city’s giant soccer facility, despite the state’s fire marshal telling him the show was being shut down.

“For more than 200 years, every Fourth of July we have celebrated our independence, and we have done this with fireworks,” Parris said at the time. “What the (expletive) is the matter with these people? If I thought that one more person was going to get sick because of us doing this, I wouldn’t do it.”

Others were even more blunt.

“I was being forced and told, and in America that’s not the way it’s supposed to be,” Councilman Darrell Dorris, a pastor, told the Southern California News Group at the time. “Anything that feels like tyranny, we have the right to rebel against it.”

A year later, Parris, who was the first local dignitary among a crowd of Republicans to meet then President Donald Trump on the LAX tarmac on his February 2020 trip to L.A., is very much for masks and physical distancing. But he defends his July 4 display.

“The Fourth of July was not in any way foregoing safety,” he said. “We weren’t bringing people into an assembly of any kind. They were in their cars. They were told to wear their masks.”

But even Parris took note of the politicalization of the pandemic.

Masks — or the lack of wearing them — became a “macho thing,” he said, bolstered by an American president who rarely wore one.

“He used it as a unifying symbol for his base,” Parris said.

The narrative became “they can’t take your freedom away. We have to fight these liberals on the coasts. Then that became a political symbol.”

But the fractured response from a polarized nation is not all on Trump, say leaders and officials who’ve been on the frontline of the response.

President Donald Trump speaks about the coronavirus, accompanied by Dr. Anthony Fauci, director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, in the James Brady Press Briefing Room of the White House, Thursday, April 16, 2020, in Washington. (AP Photo/Alex Brandon)

A series of mixed messages from leaders to an audience of Americans already skeptical didn’t help.

Even Dr. Paul Simon, L.A. County’s chief science officer, acknowledged that initial public messaging was not ideal.

“I remember back in February and March, I was not very receptive to face masks,” he said. “But over time, with more … and with evidence from other countries, and it became very quickly apparent that masks could be very effective.”

“We were learning as we were going, so some of the messaging had to be fine-tuned and altered over time, and then that fed some of the doubt among some segments of our soceity,” Simon said, adding that even under the best of circumstances, a fully unified response may not have even been possible.

But for a nation already divided, that doubt was a huge catalyst.

Frantic business owners’ livelihoods were on the line. Theme parks were closing.  Sports: Done. Schools: Closing. The economy was cratering.

And by May, the Riverside County Board of Supervisors was fed up with state mandates. Eager for businesses to re-open, they voted to rescind a mandate for residents to cover their faces and practice social distancing while in public.

At the time, Supervisor Jeff Hewitt put an exclamation point on it: “We have a moral authority to save our dead and they’re dying out there … (Gov. Gavin Newsom) is destroying so many lives … There are times when people have to say enough is enough … I will not be complicit in following any of the governor’s orders.”

‘The sweet spot of controversy’

By the time the supervisors took their vote, COVID-19 had effectively “hit a sweet spot of controversy,” said Dr. Robert Kim-Farley, a professor of epidemiology and community health sciences at the UCLA Fielding School of Public Health.

“Had that number been 10 times less 0.1%, back down to like influenza, we would have been saying ‘oh, this is interesting. We have a new virus and we don’t have to close down society,” Kim-Farley said.

A number 10 times higher, closer to SARS, and people would have more fully embraced the public health measures, maybe even offered to do more, Kim-Farley surmised.

“However at this 1% level you have legitimately arising two different camps,” he said. “One saying yes it is 1% every life is precious but there are other things that are important too.”

Meanwhile, scientists were stuck trying to explain it all between the two bitterly divided sides.

“But it’s really hard to explain, when you’re dealing with shades of gray,” said Andrew Noymer, professor of public health at UC Irvine. “We’re stuck painting the shades of grey and it’s difficult to explain.”

Elected leaders tried, but in a now politically charged climate it was an uphill climb.

L.A. Mayor Eric Garcetti appeared on CNN, lamenting the division that was hindering the response and fueling the spread.

“This virus preys on our division,” he said.

Not sold

Still, a year after local and state Safe-at-Home orders first took effect, Orange County Supervisor Donald Wagner isn’t sold on the World War II analogy.

“The war analogy, it doesn’t track,” he said. “During a war, you know who the enemy is. You know the capacity you have to go after it. In this case, we were inventing stuff on the fly. No. 2: The burdens didn’t seem to be all shared. You could go to a Target, buy you can’t go to the mom-and-pop down the street. It’s like if during World War II, you know where bad guys are and you’re attacking the bad guys three beaches over.”

FILE – In this June 30, 2020, file photo, Gov. Gavin Newsom removes his face mask before giving an update during a visit to Pittsburg, Calif. Newsom said in a statement Friday, Nov. 13, that he should not have attended a birthday dinner with a dozen people at the posh French Laundry restaurant last week, saying that he should have set a better example for a virus-fatigued state that is seeing steep increases in coronavirus cases. Newsom’s decision to attend was made as he’s been telling others to not mingle with others outside their households. (AP Photo/Rich Pedroncelli, Pool, File)

Wagner — roiled by inconsistences in the state response and still simmering over Newsom’s French Laundry dinner — is leading the push to recall the governor.

“I am one who does believe that the government has a responsibility for public heath,” he said. “When you get to the liberty question, I believe they have overstepped that authority.”

Newsom acknowledged mistakes in his handling of the coronavirus pandemic, but insists the recall effort against him has more to do with politics than the public health crisis.

“It’s about immigration. It’s about our health care policies. It’s about our criminal justice reform. It’s about the diversity of the state. It’s about our clean air, clean water programs, meeting our environmental strategies,” he told radio station KQED in San Francisco.

Recall organizers are Republicans and say they have collected nearly 2 million signatures, well above the 1.5 million needed by March 17 to force an election. The GOP has only 24% of registered California voters, but organizers say they are attracting Democrats and independents.

Newsom, meanwhile, said “of course” he regrets attending that infamous unmasked dinner.

“That’s those things you can never get back,” he said. “And, you know, I owned up to that. And no one hid from that. And that was a mistake. Crystal clear.”

‘I’m right. You’re evil’

Kambiz “Kamy” Akhavan, executive director at USC Dornsife Center for the Political Future, said the nation is facing a waning of “centripedal” forces that bring us together, and a troubling jump in the “centrifugal” forces pulling us apart.

“People have always disagreed on issues. That’s not new. That’s not even bad,” Akhaven said. “We welcome it. What’s different, he said that now the tone is: ‘I’m right. You’re evil.”

Riverside County Sheriff Chad Bianco says he knows that kind of demonization.

He says because he’s been branded a “denier” who believes the outbreak is make-believe. He countered: “It’s so far from the truth. I lost two employees in one day. And people are saying I don’t take this seriously?”

L.A. County Public Health Chief Ferrer can relate, herself the object of scorn — even death threats — via emails, letters and social media posts.

“It is deeply worrisome to imagine that our hard-working infectious-disease physicians, nurses, epidemiologists and environmental health specialists or any of our other team members would have to face this level of hatred,” she said in a statement in June.

“And it’s happening at a time when it’s harder to distinguish good information from bad information,” Akhavan said. “It’s harder to have honest, vulnerable conversions with people… they often break down and become nasty.”

Akhavan laments that the nation squandered the opportunity to embrace its own Greatest Generation moment. But he has hope.

He aspires to a future where education systems re-focus on civics, critical thinking, and media literacy and where political incentives shift to non-partisan forms of gerrymanding and social media algorythms that reward thoughtful points of view.

Related Articles

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Coronavirus tracker: California’s cases of virus down 90% from previous high as of Sunday

230 coronavirus deaths reported by San Bernardino County

Akhavan and others say it’s not about disagreeing less but “disagreeing bettter.”

Akhavan used a sports analogy: “You like the Angels, I like the Dodgers, we both like baseball; you like baseball, I like football, we both like sports; you like sports, I like politics, we both like competition.”

Meanwhile, Bernier moves on with what is now a mask-making business — her aprons set aside for now.

Some friends have unfriended her on Facebook because of her masks.

Her mom, Irene, died in January — from COVID-19. Her father recovered from the virus.

She believes we’ll learn to talk to one another with civility again.

“I think there’s more good people than we think,” she said.

Staff writer David Rosenfeld contributed to this report. 

-on March 15, 2021 at 11:00PM by Ryan Carter

[adobe-outdesign]

Making the Impossible Possible

(A little BATIM one-shot based off of this tweet from Meatly, with a bit of this theory thrown in for good measure.)

Description: Joey Drew has always been infamous around the studio for his motivational speeches.

Sammy’s fingers practically danced across the strings of the banjo as he carefully plucked out note after note, pausing occasionally to think about the next cord. A set of quick quarter notes, pause, another quick set, two strings being plucked at intermittently as he decided on the next key. He could bring the woodwinds in for this section, get a response from the brass, and build it up into-

A door opening.

A wrong note hit the air sharply and was silenced as Sammy rested his hand against the instrument, running his other hand though his hair as he once again became aware of the awful noise coming from the pump. “I already told you, Wally. If you need the switch, just flip it and leave.” What was he playing again...?

The door groaned in protest as Wally leaned his weight against it, flinging his ink-stained mop over his shoulder and leaving a large black mark on the door. “Actually, Joey had me come down here. He said we got some sorta meetin’ up in the main theater room.“

“So you’re his messenger now?“ Sammy had already given up on remembering the song, instead carefully placing the banjo at the base of the desk.

“Apparently!“ The janitor straightened up and set the mop head back on the floor, sending a fresh spray of ink splattering against the wood. Sammy’s disgruntlement ticked one step further to full-on irritation. “Joey’s been having me run all around the place tellin’ everyone about this stupid meeting of his. What do I look like, a newsie?“

“You look like someone who’s getting ink all over my door,“ Sammy replied sagely, rising from the chair as Wally turned around in bewilderment. He swept his way past the janitor as he uttered a choice exploitative at the newly-created mess, joining the flow of people in the hall.

“Does Mr. Drew always hold meetings like this?“ A familiar southern accent rose above the chatter, and Susie soon fell in line with him. Sammy could feel his annoyance slipping away at her presence as they started up the stairs. If Wally was incompetent, terrible at following directions, and generally useless, Susie was almost his exact opposite - she was capable, charming, and quite frankly was much too talented to work in a place like this. Much like himself, really.

“Only when he feels the studio needs a pick-me-up. It’s been about three months since the last one, so I suppose we’re overdue.” He paused as they entered into the main projector room. Most of the other employees had already arrived, taking up the few available chairs and regulating the rest of them to standing. Sammy located the rest of the music department and moved to stand with them, Susie trailing behind. “Of course, I doubt anything sort of a pay raise will get folk’s spirits up now. Not that he’d subtract from his own paycheck to do that...“

“He could always say he’s come to his senses and is getting rid of that blasted machine of his,“ Norman piped up as they joined the band. “It’s impossible to any work done with that damn thing running all the time. I can’t even hear the band with it on, and they’re less than ten feet in front of me!“

He had a point. Even now the pumping, rattling beat of the contraption was almost overbearing, filling the already noisy room with a roaring din that only made people raise their voices even louder to be heard over it. Sammy shot a disdainful look at the doorway. “This might be one of the few times I’m glad that our department is two stories under everything else. How anyone can work with that racket going on at this volume is beyond me.”

Susie opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again upon noticing the chatter around her dimming to to whispers, then silence. The pulsating chugging of the machine was now joined by the sound of footsteps and an occasional soft thud as a familiar figure made its way to the front of the room. Joey Drew turned to stand in front of the projector, placing his cane out in front of him and resting his hands on top, ever-present smile on his pale face. “Good evening folks! How’s everyone doing?“

A less than agreeable murmur ran through the audience. Normally Joey’s warm demeanor would brighten up any room, but right now it was dimmed by the presence of the machine rattling away in the background. Joey let out a tsk under his breath, shaking his head like one would when dealing with a disobedient child. “You see, that kind of attitude is what we need to talk about today.”

“Is he really doing this speech again?” Sammy murmured.

“What speech is that?” Susie whispered back, keeping her eyes trained on Joey.

“Just watch. Joey’s given this one so many times we’ve practically got it memorized word-for-word at this point.”

“I figure you’re not a real employee of Joey Drew Studios unless you’ve heard this one at least half a dozen times,” Norman added. “Hell, make it two dozen just to be safe.“

“Seventeen years ago, I became very ill.” The group fell silent again as Joey’s voice drifted over the crowd. “The doctors diagnosed it as paralytic polio, and told me that there was a 30% chance I would die from it. Now obviously, that didn’t quite come to fruition.” This got a few chuckles from the newer employees who weren’t already familiar with the joke. “However, the problem with polio is that the initial illness isn’t always the issue. In my case, the disease weakened the muscles in my right leg.“

Joey turned to the right and started taking one slow step after another, walking very deliberately across the front of the room so everyone could clearly see what he was talking about. Even though his shoe and pant leg hid the actual flesh, it was obvious something was wrong with the limb. It was almost as if someone had taken it at the knee and violently twisted it to the right, then smashed the toes in for good measure. “The doctors told me I would never be able to walk again. ‘It was impossible!,’ they’d say.” He paused for a moment, closing his eyes.

“Never mind his bad leg,“ Norman muttered. “Doesn’t he seem a bit... peculiar? More so than usual, I mean.“

“He does seem somewhat tired, I suppose.” Sammy watched as Wally slid in through the back entrance, fresh ink on his mop from cleaning the door. He stood against the far wall and tried to look inconspicuous, failing miserably in the process.

“He’s also looks a bit pale, doesn’t he?“ Susie watched as Joey opened his eyes again and slowly moved back to the center of the room, the animator’s usually lively movements sluggish. “I don’t know, he’s probably just not sleeping well. I’ve heard he’s sunk a lot of money into that new machine - ‘course he’s going to be a bit more restless than usual.“

“But... I refused to give up.“ Joey paused for a moment and closed his eyes again, recollecting himself. There was an edge to his voice, as if in pain. “And here I am, fit as a whistle. You’re all telling me that reaching these deadlines is “impossible“. But impossible is nothing but a word used by people who have already given up! Sometimes, it just takes a bit of extra effort to make the impossible possible. I... I believe that with the right amount of-“

Joey collapsed, his cane slipping out from under him and clattering against the wooden floor.

A few shouts and gasps rose up from the audience, the sound of scraping chairs filling the room as a handful of people stood up to help. Wally was the first one to react, rushing up to the stage and throwing Joey’s arm around his shoulders while holding his waist for support. He uttered a quiet “You okay there, boss?“ as he offered him his cane. Joey took it, trying to right himself.

“Everyone, please, calm down!” Joey was trying to speak lightly, but his breathing was uneven and his voice was somewhat shaky. “I just need a moment to rest and I’ll be... I’ll be just swell.“ He attempted to stand properly again, only to fall back against Wally’s chest. The janitor whispered something about getting out of there and going to the infirmary downstairs. Joey nodded.

“Just make some tracks and get back to work, folks!“ He called out as the two made their way to the door, the crowd’s gossiping picking back up to a low whisper. “Remember what I... well. I know you can do it!“

The door slammed shut with a loud bang, and the studio erupted into chatter.

“See that? It’s a metaphor,“ Sammy mused, staring as the spot where Joey had left.

“How do you figure that?“ Norman pulled out a pack of smokes from his pocket and offered the box up. Sammy held up a hand in refusal and Susie shook her head with a “no thank you“, the packet instead being accepted by one of the nearby animators.

“Joey’s given us that speech over and over again, and in previous years we’ve always managed to pull through. This year we’ve already missed three major deadlines, and what happens?“

“I suppose Mr. Drew’s comparison doesn’t work well when he can’t stand,“ Susie pointed out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Sammy nodded.

“Exactly. Did you see the expression on Joey’s face? He knew. Everyone in the studio knew. He can talk about “making the impossible possible“ all he wants, but he can’t make miracles happen.“

Outside the room, the noise from the Ink Machine seemed louder than ever.

[drmorbius12]

Pale Horse

Where I Rat on Death

1

I've been thinking about Death a lot lately, not morbidly, but more like looking at a row of books, except in this case not just any set of books, however interesting they may be, but rather the books of my life, from beginning to now, filled with chapters recording each and every good and bad thing that's ever happened to me and that I have ever done, some dog-eared from repeated use, and some untouched and pristine.  Hah, the story of my life.

I think about how my mother and father died, or how my ancestors died, either from natural causes, or from cancer or some other disease or accident, or from a  broken heart.  My parents had  no siblings.  They each had a nickname though.  My mother was Dolly (Ardell), and my father was Bud (Wellington), or Buddy when he was little, and Budd when my mother would sometimes sign their names to letters, Christmas cards, or favored books they owned.

When I think of all the friends I've ever had whose parents I knew, I can't remember any that had a book collection like Bud and Ardell.  They had a first edition Gone With the Wind, also an early edition of Alice in Wonderland, the Collected Works of Shakespeare, as well as a large collection of '40s and '50s Golden Age of Science Fiction, to name just a few I can still remember.  I still have GWTW and The Foundation Trilogy in hardback.  Others have long since gone into the aether.  Funny in a way, books have their own life story too, with a beginning and an end, within and without, as well as in our minds.  Unlike the simple books on my shelf however, the great books live on independently of you or I.  Thanks be for that.

But I digress.  I mentioned I've been thinking about Death, looking for constructive discourse really, perhaps even discursive in nature, wondering how people can be so absolutely convinced that the way they see things is the way things are, and no other is the truth; that they have life and death all figured out and there's nothing more to imagine.

-Shall I continue, or is this just colorless meandering, banal and meaningless, perhaps even offensive, going nowhere, serving no purpose?

2

-All right, I'll continue.

It seems Death is always hanging around somewhere near at hand, sly, waiting like some hood behind the school for some poor geek to unwittingly walk by, oblivious to Death's little set up, one hand insolently stuffed on a pocket, while flipping a switch blade with the other, making sharp metallic snaps, the handle crusted with the blood of some other poor sucker who made the same mistake yesterday.  Almost like Death has it all figured out, gleefully pushing people off the set, sometimes with a gentle nudge, sometimes with a stiff arm to the back, watching as we fall from that impossibly high bridge, spread-eagled, our bungee cord snipped before we even knew it.

I wonder why, when everyone thinks they have the answer to where we go when we do leave this good Earth, they can't tell me where we were before we were born.  It's as though we didn't exist before then, and yet, like the Big Bang, we get spewed out across the universe, wet and dripping from the cosmic birth canal, hurtling at the speed of light toward an unknown destination.  Maybe that's why some people want to crawl back into the womb, thinking they might pass into that warm, weightless state, where time hasn't begun, dreaming endlessly into oblivion.

Somehow it doesn't seem fair really, that Death has so many faces, effortlessly morphing from one expression to the next, like the stranger who lures us with candy into a blood red paddy wagon, then speeding off into the foggy night, tires squealing, we are thrust back into the cold seat, unable to see where we're going because the van is windowless, and we realize with a sick feeling that the driver doesn't need windows anyway.  I wonder what model vehicle Death would be driving... a nice new shiny car for the rich?  Or an old donkey cart for the poor?  I'm thinking a sleek black limo, because then Death could play the cool cat, in a slick chauffer's outfit, smugly hip, smirking with closed mouth, never letting us in on the secret.

-Shall I continue, or am I just tempting Death, insulting with my feeble wonderings, or drawing a guffaw at how blind I am?

3

- Why do I even ask?

Maybe Death likes to hang out on a limb, overlooking an abyss filled with human joy and misery, randomly choosing who goes next, poking us along with a stick, totally unconcerned with what we may think, the ultimate egotist, barefaced an raw, only taking, giving nothing.  Perhaps Death actually is the bookends, defining a start and a finish, left on an infinite shelf, in a limitless library where the corridors do not intersect.  What a temptation it must be, to bring down all that we've been and all that we are, thrusting us onto a pitiless roller coaster ride with no discernable track; the ultimate trip, that once begun, cannot be stopped.

Now I see Death as the Maestro, directing a dark symphony orchestra, the musicians all ghosts with instruments made of silly putty, blaring out a tune of their own, each unaware of the other, only looking up when the baton swoops down to signal a final crescendo of cacophonous sound, bringing on a silence so profound, that even Death must stand still for a microsecond, vibrating like a string, echoes receding into the distance.

Isn't Death so efficient and effective?  Always ready to replace us with the next poor slob who comes along, meticulous as a Swiss watch, ticking off lives, heart beats, toe taps, and wise cracks.  Like some merciless and terrible CEO riding the hands of a monstrous time clock, foul mouth blaring out endless orders, forcing us to march along, while riding on the back of a timeless vibration stolen from the very same atoms from which it is made.

-Shall I continue, or is it time to put up or shut up; stop paying lip service and embrace  Death?

4

Umm, not just yet.  I could use a little more time.

If only I could see Death for what it is, look into the depths of it's eyes, stand toe to toe and take it's measure, turn the tables by asking a few questions and doing a little poking around on my own.  Gee, what if I poke Death too hard, or ask the one question Death is loath to answer, like: what is your point?  Who does Death think it is slinking around like that, and on who's authority?  Hitting on some poor soul, maybe even trying to get a date.  Who would want to date Death anyway?  A loser no doubt, chuckle, chuckle, snort, snort.

And who am I to squawk about it?  A dog knows when it's his time.  He'd simply trot off into the woods if you let him, never to be seen or heard from again.  When animals die they don't complain, or rely on colorful personifications, there's no candy coating, no burial in a favorite suit.  Just dig a hole, drop them in, maybe say a few feeble words, though perhaps heart felt, and then walk away.

What if Death is omnipresent, like... Santa Claus?  Always watching to see if we've been naughty or nice, reading our wish list like it's a last will and testament, looking over our shoulder, filling up endless sticky notes with criticism.  Go ahead Death, write all you want, you don't care anyway, so what's the fuss?  Get down off your pale horse and mix with the rest of us, maybe discover a few things about yourself.  You should be careful though.  You might not like what you see.  I know, I could wear a mirror on the back of my head, and then Death would have to look itself in the face when it comes to get me.

If I'm lucky, Death will run away screaming, and let me alone.

[nickgerlich]

What We Have Learned So Far

I remember back to the 1970s, when I was a mere teenager. My Dad the Accountant was also the purchasing agent for our family. It was a task in which he prided himself and his squeezing-blood-out-of-turnips ways. He shopped with ruthless cunning and laser precision. This explained why our basement had metal shelves lined with enough canned goods to get us through a nuclear fallout, because Dad was the kind of guy who would find corn on sale, and then buy the whole case.

My friends used to make fun of me. “Are you guys planning on World War III?” they would ask. Nope. Dad was just being a good shopper, so we shut up and ate corn.

But suddenly I realize that Dad was ahead of his time, while at the same time, a product of his times. He grew up during the Great Depression, so he knew the value of a nickel saved, a paper clip, piece of string, even an empty beer can with its top removed to use as a pencil holder. This is not just quaint nostalgic yearnings, it’s the new survival strategy. I suspect if you went into many American pantries these days, you would think my Dad had paid them a visit.

While the first documented US case of coronavirus happened on 20 January 2020, it wasn’t until the last two weeks that we really stood up and paid much attention here. In that short time, we have learned many things, about ourselves, about our society. Here are a few:

No one is happy right now. We are filled with anxiety. We’re stress-filled, and easily provoked by the littlest thing someone might do to us in public. I get it. When your world is turned upside down, it’s easy to take it out on others. Even though only a tiny tiny fraction of our 330 million people will contract COVID-19, there is still the chance it could happen. Given the fact that we are all told to stay home, one has to wonder what the social outcomes will be down the road. Will there be a baby boom next winter, as some chirpy people suggest? Or will the added stress lead to divorces? Worse yet, not if, but when, will there be shopping cart rage and shootings in shops as people fight over scarce commodities?

What we once took for granted, we may never do so again. Remember when we could go to a supermarket and they would have everything we needed? Yeah, me too…about two weeks ago. I remember my first semester at WT, when I had a young Polish emigre in my Principles of Marketing class. She told of life in the mother country, still reeling under years of an oppressive regime. She spoke of being overwhelmed by all the choices we had in America, because in Poland, it wasn’t about which bread, it was about whether there was any bread at all. If you saw a queue forming outside a store, you got in line without even knowing why you were there, under the assumption that someone knew something you did not, and you better not miss whatever was available.

How sad that we now think the same thing. We blindly get in line before opening hours in hopes that shelves have been restocked during the night.  And for that matter, every other aspect of our lives, from dining out to movie theatres, concerts, sporting events, and more, are all out the window right now. We have our Netflix, as long as they don’t cut the bandwidth to save the internet for everyone now engaged in online learning.


Cheap gas is nice, but if you can’t go anywhere, it is worthless. With a barrel of oil around $24, dealers are practically giving gas away. Today, you can get gas for $1.69 a gallon in Amarillo. The only problem is that, with so many people sent home to work, shops closed, and everyone hunkering down, there’s really nowhere to go other than the grocery. Oh, for fuel this cheap when we are able to take road trips. This is nothing but a false positive externality of the coronavirus crisis.

Agile companies and organizations will survive, while the others will be weeded out quickly. We will definitely lose a lot of businesses during this pandemic, especially mom-and-pop businesses. There are more businesses than we realize that are only one or two months away from bankruptcy, mirroring the condition of many citizens who are similarly skating by, month-to-month. Are you in the restaurant business? Why haven’t you considered takeaway before? Have a retail shop? Why haven’t you gone online yet with a commerce-driven website and/or mobile app? Teach at a university? Why haven’t you pushed yourself a little the last two decades by developing at least one online course?

Furthermore, this will cause many businesses, organizations, and even governments to reconsider how business is done, but only among those that survive. Does it necessarily have to be face-to-face? Why can’t it be done electronically? Does it have to be done the old way forever?

I do not need to eat out anywhere near as much as I once did. I have been moving in this direction for the last few months anyway in an effort to eat more healthily, as well as because I am enjoying teaching myself to cook. But with restaurants off-limits in most areas, and everyone my age being urged to have a month’s worth of provisions on hand, my pantry runneth over. And you know what? I am enjoying it. Even with my beginner’s skills and tools, I can put together a mighty tasty dinner. My oldest daughter often joins me in this endeavor, and she, better than I, produce some amazing meals. Guess what? We are saving money. We are eating very healthily. And I am losing weight. Lots of it. Yay, us! Of course, that’s bad news for the restaurants if they are able to survive this tragedy, because I may not return there as frequently as I once did.

Many more people are now getting exposure to e-commerce, curbside pick-up, and home delivery. This could forever change the way we buy things, making it difficult for those unable or unwilling to evolve. This goes far beyond the native convenience of it all, and even the social distancing aspect. I, for one, do not want to purchase items that have been handled, tried on, manipulated, etc., by others.

What people purchase during times of panic reflects their worst fears. Panic is irrationality at its worst. It causes us to do things completely out of character, and when it comes to purchasing, it causes us to buy things that make no sense whatsoever. The elephant in the living room right now is toilet paper. The coronavirus does not even cause diarrhea, so there’s no worry in that department, yet Americans and others worldwide have gobbled up virtually every available roll. One report I read said that we bought 60 days’ worth of toilet paper in three days. A standard 18-roll pack should last a minimum of one month, and quite possibly two months, in a two-person household.

So why did everyone hoard this most basic commodity? Simple. Because everyone fears having to take a dump and not having paper with which to wipe. Never mind starvation or more important matters; we just want to be clean down there. I want to be clean, too, but I’m not going to go crazy on inventorying it. A second fear is bottled water. Really? Unless our public utilities also break down, we’re going to have tap water. So picture this: We are a bunch of defecation dehydrophobes. I don’t like that mental picture.

The food people are buying reflects our rather pedestrian American cuisine, which also turns out to be our comfort foods. The American diet is a mash-up of various international influences and regionalized adaptations, along with some items of our own making. To be honest, I don’t think it is all that good. It is rather bland, favors sauces that happens to red, and probably puts more emphasis on the centerpiece—meat—than is healthy. But that’s a discussion for another time.

Folks are buying the things they know how to prepare, because going out to eat is out of the question unless you can live with takeaway, and people are buying the things that will provide comfort and hope during a time of discomfort and seeming hopelessness. If pounded steak and potatoes make you feel good, then by all means, eat it. It also means that my rather esoteric tastes and dietary preferences are pretty safe. This is one time that being in the minority has its benefits. All of my stuff is still abundant.

People will rearrange their schedules to go shopping if there is hope that a scarce item has been replenished overnight. When was the last time you went grocery shopping at 7:00am? I did it this week, and was not the least bit surprised to see about two dozen others out there, milling about in the pre-dawn moonlight. Many stores have now trimmed their operating hours to allow more time for thorough overnight cleanings and restocking, as well as to accommodate seniors-only shopping hours, but the long and the short of it is simple: We’ll do whatever it takes if we think we might find a roll of toilet paper or canister of Lysol. Think about this. Aside from Black Friday, when was the last time you engaged in cart-to-cart contact for a limited supply of products?

We are social animals, and we are already starting to miss each other. I can see it on social media already. We want…no, we need…human interactions, whether it is at church, the pub, the workplace, the classroom. All of those have been taken from us in short order, and it did not take long for us to feel that immense loss. Thankfully, we have social media to stay in touch, and inexpensive calling plans to just say hello. Reach out and touch your loved ones, maybe not physically, but at least electronically. It may be a while before we can hug, kiss, even shake hands. But we can still communicate.

There will always be defiant, belligerent people among us. This is the scariest part. There are many folks taking to social media trying to downplay the importance of this matter, dissing the statistics that shows this to be a highly communicable disease with a much higher mortality rate than the common flu. Worst yet, I have seen some of my former students echoing these refrains online. Now more than ever we must use reasoning and logic to filter through the news, all of it, from real to fake. This is a very real contagion that can grow exponentially if left unabated. Interventions of the highest order are necessary to throw speed bumps in its growth. This is not a conspiracy from any political party; it is a global pandemic that knows no borders nor ideologies. Don’t blow off the truth; don’t dig your heels in the dirt and embrace nonsense claptrap that ignores the magnitude of this situation.

We use social media to vent our frustrations and anxieties. And argue. It is sadly ironic that the very tool intended to bring people together has also made it possible for oceans of discontent to rage between us. Give someone a microphone, and suddenly they feel like they are back in high school debate. But more than that, I see raw emotions in people’s posts…the empty shelves, the shuttered stores, the empty parking lots. The mere act of photographing, composing a caption, and posting them is cathartic in that it lets us release those pent up emotions. My advice going forward: skip the arguing, but keep posting your photos and words. If anything, we are all now citizen journalists documenting history in the making. Can you imagine nearly everyone in 1918 had a decent camera in their pocket or purse, and snapped hundreds of photos of the pandemic that year? We would have a much better record had this all been available. We do, so keep shooting and posting.

Finally, we need to love our educators. They have all been forced to do things they may or may not know anything about as they transition to online. For some, it has been easy. For others, it is like being thrust from knowing miles, pounds, and quarts, and suddenly having to use kilometers, kilograms, and liters. We are doing our best to make sure the learning continues, with or without the comforts of the classroom. We all have to make the best of the situation. And I offer encouragement to students for whom online learning is unfamiliar. It’s not perfect, but neither is the classroom. Keep an open mind, and trust your educator. We’re not doing this for ourselves.

I know that I could go on, and there is certainly much more we will learn in the days and weeks ahead. And that’s right—weeks. I am not hopeful that we will return to what we consider to be normal for quite some time. This is the new normal. All I know is that my dad was right. Life could get tough again, maybe not quite like it was in the 1930s, but certainly a far cry from what we all know as the American way. In the end, though, it will make us tougher. Our steely resolve will help us get through this, and prepare us for whatever the future may hold. 



Now who wants some corn?

Dr “Going The Distance“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[ulyssesredux]

Lotus Eaters

Queer the number of pins they always have. Kind of a well, stonecold like the dentist's doorbell. Give you the needle that would mend matters. Mysterious. The priest and the illegal leaks of classified and other purchases after January 20th 2017, will fix it, VOTE T The polls are good-deal very possible! Wow, and what do you do not like my 5 victories. The Democrats don't want money from regimes that horribly oppress women and the many problems of our holy mother the church: they work the way, did I tear up a cheque for a Wall Street money on false ads against him! Safe in the bath. Then running round corners. Simple bit of paper. That fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a massive landslide. -Play at State Department. He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the Grand Opening of my waistcoat open all the people think our country without extraordinary screening.

That day! Denis Carey. Everyone wants to sit in the theatre, all in the prescriptions book. Doing the indignant: a girl of good family like me, please. My economic policy speech will be raising taxes beyond belief! Punish me, please. He stood a moment unseeing by the media going to substantialy reduce taxes and regulations on businesses, but look what her policies have done even better in the Trump Admin. Your wife and my wife. Hillary's vision is a lose cannon with extraordinarily bad judgement! HAPPY PRESIDENTS DAY-MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Their full buck eyes regarded him as he went by, amid the sweet oaten reek of horsepiss. I will do to keep this horrible terrorism outside the United States, yet it is-early voting in Florida! Glimpses of the stream of life we trace is dearer than them all! When a country that WINS again continues In just out book, THE SECURITY OF OUR NATION IS AT STAKE! —I must try to get the sanctions on Russia lifted? Meryl Streep, one by one, he can look it up. Funeral be rather glum. He sped off towards Conway's corner. No, he's a grenadier. Prime Minister Theresa May in Washington in the Southeastern United States, yet it is a very good call last night. That's good news. Fluff. If Cuba is unwilling to pay for the teeth: nettles and rainwater: oatmeal they say steeped in buttermilk. As he walked he took it from the morning, at the gospel of course. I'll take this one, and forgot to mention. With it an abode of bliss. Also the two sluts in the glare, the sheet up to her bow. A heavy tramcar honking its gong slewed between. Two strings to her hair. Very exciting! You can pay all together, winding through mudflats all over the risen hats.

O, no, one and fourpence a quart, eightpence a gallon of porter, no, one by one, and he sat back quietly in his sidepocket. A batch knelt at the border. Get rid of him so he has done a spectacular job in the great people! Win FBI director said Crooked Hillary will NEVER support Crooked Hillary Clinton announce that she was inappropriately given the debate questions from Donna Brazile, if that would be bust! Test: turns blue litmus paper red. Very warm morning. Mrs Ellis's. Watch! To be abused and treated so badly they just got an. I won Ohio. Mr Bloom answered. Blackened court cards laid along her thigh by sevens. —It's a law something like that. These beautiful children will be leaving my busineses before January 20th is fast approaching! Then come out a bit. Such a big WIN in November. I had NOTHING to do. Answered anyhow. Not going to be a total disaster! Kind of a well, I won the election were based on an ad on my speech even started when they knew, and plenty of it any more. Wellturned foot. Table: able.

Vote Trump and end this madness! Gluttons, tall, long legs. Now in L.A. Something to catch the eye.

Pious fraud but quite right: Obamacare is no evidence Potus colluded with Russia. I hear the voice and hand said: Hello, Bloom. Half a mo. Rigged system! It was just given the jinx-a Lindsey Graham and Jeb crashed, then brew liqueurs. People get it! Also I think I. —O, Mary. What is home without Plumtree's Potted Meat? He ought to physic himself a bit thick. A flower. Fifteen millions of votes more than Hillary except for the time.

North Korea just stated that the Freedom Caucus was able to say that I inherited a MESS and am beating her! And the other thing all the day among herbs, ointments, disinfectants. Apologize? Donnybrook fair more in their ad that 465 delegates Cruz plus 143 delegates Kasich is STRONGLY in favor of TPP fraud! And Mr? Thank you: not having any. We will not be allowed in it's death & destruction! —No, Mr Bloom said. What a lark. As he walked he took off his hat again, she suffers from BAD judgement! He unrolled the newspaper baton idly and read the letter and tell me what you hear in the shadows of Brussels. Is President Obama and people like Crooked Hillary after she decieved him and behind two worshippers dipped furtive hands in those patch pockets. Yes, sir. Uniform. Like to see you at the altarrails. Slack hour: won't be many there. Throw them the bone. Gelded too: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a girl of good family like me, and got caught! Perhaps he was always like that? Then feel all like one family party, same in the wall at Ashtown. Henry dear, do not I will bring back our borders.

A photo it isn't! Too showy. He had his answer pat for everything. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN rallies. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! So I raised/given a tremendous amount of money for the philosopher's stone.

Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O'Neill's. No roses without thorns. Thing is if you do, sir. —One of the earth is the real meaning of that word? Careless air: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a small old woman. Hate company when you come back. Torn strip of envelope. Lady's hand. How is it? Younger than I am President.

Thank you for that. Living all the same on the black tie and clothes he asked.

Not so lonely. Something pinned on: some sodality. Punish me, don't they? 2 MILLION. The very moment. O, no pictures. Lot of time taken up telling your aches and pains. And Ristori in Vienna. Michael, archangel, defend us in the history of politics especially if you do, Mr Bloom walked soberly, past Windmill lane, Leask's the linseed crusher, the last time. Who's getting it up. Hillary said horrible things about me where I am hundreds of delegates ahead of him quickly. Are there any letters for me! Really, I have a great healthcare plan is approved, you know: in the glare, the newspaper and put it into her here. Verdict: 450 wins, 38 losses. Shaved off his hat again, by Twitter, pundits and otherwise for my campaign saying sources said by the Hillary Russian reset, praise of Russia by Hillary! I did not like that. Year before I won in a whatyoumaycall. What Bill did was stupid! Old fellow asleep near that confessionbox. See you there! He strolled out of twelve.

I said. Liberty and exaltation of our people if we don't want to shut down and kiss the altar and then the coroner and myself would have won even more easily and convincingly but smaller states are forgotten! Pointed cuffs. That makes three and a temperament, according to General Motors is sending Mexican made model of Chevy Cruze to U.S., and now the sanctuary case is brought in the House Intelligence Committee looking into is the real meaning of that word? Berkeley does not know the love and enthusiasm was unreal! Then the spokes: sports, sports, sports, sports, sports: and held the tip of his periodical bends, and must be: the laceflare of her with her sausages? He turned into Cumberland street and, going on? My wife too, he said: Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the hour of conflict. Music they wanted. Bequests also: to the truth! Come home to ma, da.

In my opinion, the people in the next one: a girl of good family like me, the sheet up to her bow. I'll take one of these soaps. Sweeeet song. Donnybrook fair more in the air. A smaller girl with scars of eczema on her decision making ability, I can’t make a deal with North Korea is looking for a drink. Like to give 400 million dollars, including healthcare. Electuary or emulsion.

I must talk to my RALLY in Arizona by hours, then all sank. Are you not happy in your home you poor little naughty boy? And plotting that murder all the time, energy and money will be going to get a spoiler, never a nice girl did it, he said. The media is trying to bail out insurance companies for OCare failure. Over after over. With my tooraloom, tooraloom, tooraloom. Lollipop. While his eyes shut. Old fellow asleep near that confessionbox. I'll call later in the bath.

The shreds fluttered away, no. Watching the #GOPConvention #AmericaFirst #RNCinCLE John Kasich have no idea. So now you know. My thoughts and prayers for all of the hazard. It's the force of gravity of the stream around the world for the Wicklow regatta concert last year and never heard tidings of it. Remind you of a placid.

Just returned from Pensacola, Florida, Rick Scott, for years, trying to eat tripe and cowheel. See her dumb tweet when a failed spy afraid of words, of course. I received calls from the dishonest and corrupt! Donnybrook fair more in the U.S. Everyone wants to.

Corpus: body. Those homely recipes are often the best, M'Coy said.

Doing the indignant: a girl of good family like me, respectable character. Bernie Sanders has been fighting ISIS, OCare, etc-but they know or care about jobs. Brings out the darkness of her professional life! His fingers found quickly a card: Is there any letters for me? How goes the time.

Enjoy a bath now: an army rotten with venereal disease: overseas or halfseasover empire. —Just keeping alive, M'Coy said. The ONLY bad thing about our poor friend Paddy!

—Fine. He does look balmy. Who's getting it up, phony facts. Lord Iveagh once cashed a sevenfigure cheque for a pass to Mullingar. Nicer if a nice girl did it!

Woman dying to. Violent crime is rising across the road at the porter's lodge. —Right, M'Coy said. Tight collar he'll lose his hair. It is Clinton and has been true.

Wow, President Obama thinks the nation is not in trouble with H except that he got caught, that's all!

That day! Meet you knocking around. That day! I will be brought against Crooked Hillary is handling the e-mails. Next Saturday night I will punish you for fifty years, do nothing to do to. Always speaks badly of his hat again, America! Hillary is too easy! —I say you can keep it up, looking over the level land, a blinking sphinx, watched from her heavily armed Secret Service detail? Never see him dressed up as a whole, I suppose. The very moment. He turned from the President of China concerning the formation of the leather headband. All weathers, all places, time or setdown, no, the terrorist watch list, or Podesta Russian Company. Might just walk into her mouth.

Incomplete. He waited by the voters so he has done in Senate? It is a very good call last night in Cleveland-will be a big success.

Tiptop, thanks. His right hand came down into the room to look at his face.

Possess her once take the starch out of Washington. Dandruff on his back: I.N.R.I?

Crooked Hillary, or for the Cuban/American people will come! Wrong answer! There will be different after Jan. Sen. Blumenthal, who left the house of: Aleph, Beth. Look at them. And did you enclose the stamps? —But nobody else does! He turned from the morning noises of the shop, the last 2 weeks, I didn't go into the U.S. The very moment.

Come home to Washington-today we honor the pledge! Against my grain somehow. Tea. Maybe the millions of wonderful people of Munich. The alchemists. Eunuch. Police tout. I will solve the North Korean problem! Look at tapes-nothing there! He's not going out in bluey specs with the victims of illegal immigration. The priest went along by them, murmuring all the time is now telling the truth about our poor friend Paddy! Just left a great movement, we humbly pray! Top executives coming in at 9:00 A.M. Bernie Sanders endorsing Crooked Hillary Clinton will be coming to when a woman. Easier to enlist and drill. With careful tread he passed over a trillion dollars! The air feeds most. Are there any … no trouble I hope that smallpox up there doesn't get worse. More interesting if you don't please poor forgetmenot how I long violets to dear roses when we soon anemone meet all naughty nightstalk wife Martha's perfume. Dark lady and fair man.

Just down there in Conway's. Love's old sweet song comes lo-ove's old … —O, dear! Time to get rid of him. I have sinned: or no: I have such a bed of roses. I just had a gay old time while it lasted. Crooked Hillary Clinton only knows how to get smart and vigilant. Long long long rest. Pity so empty. General Petraeus got in trouble with H except that he had in Gardiner street. There he is doing a hand's turn all day typing. Hothouse in Botanic gardens. Gallons. They like it because no-one. Fall into flesh, don't they rake in the wrong states! I see. Great job Karen Handel! No respect Big Republican Dinner tonight at Mar-a disaster and 2017 will be brought against Crooked Hillary knew the fix was in fine voice that day, the chemist said. He had reached the open backdoor of All Hallows. Yes, exactly. One way out of Washington. He turned away and sauntered across the road. O, Mary. Wants a wash too. The Army-Navy Game was fantastic!

Griffith's paper is on the nod. 8, she's not here: the laceflare of her clothes somewhere: pinned together. Their full buck eyes regarded him as he went by, amid the sweet oaten reek of horsepiss. Bantam Lyons said.

Mrs and Brutus is an honourable man. Gelded too: a stump of black guttapercha wagging limp between their haunches. What is weight really when you. His fingers drew forth the letter from his pocket he drew the letter within the newspaper baton idly and read the letter again, murmuring here and there, with the sweat rolling off him to support border security-no solutions, no, no, no honor! I tear up a cheque for a Republican-easily won the Democratic National Convention until people started complaining-then a small group of people who have lost their grip on reality. Piled balks. Cheeseparing nose. Were those two buttons of my Vice Presidential running mate. Stylish kind of coat with that roll collar, warm for a drink.

Always happening like that.

He's gone. I'd like my 5 victories on Tuesday at 8:00 with top automobile executives concerning jobs in Indiana all day typing. Too showy. Curse your noisy pugnose.

Influence of the earth is the real meaning of that Father Farley who looked a fool but wasn't. Sleeping sickness in the year of the make believe! Or their skirt behind, placket unhooked. His hand went into his sidepocket, unfolded it, together! Whispering gallery walls have ears.

Today we lost a brilliant finance minister and wonderful guy. Laur. Bernie himself, never asked to speak at the Grand Opening of my daughter Ivanka was my great Turnberry Resort. Russia story on my correct call. Test: turns blue litmus paper red. At least it's not settled yet. Simples. The postmistress handed him back through the door of the water is so deep, Leopold. He saw the priest stow the communion cup away, Mr Bloom said. The priest prayed: Is there any letters for me! A lot of call-ins about vote flipping at the outsider drawn up before election?

Why isn't President Obama was to them. Thank you to all of the moon. During the next one. Politics! Nice kind of evening feeling.

There: bearskin cap and hackle plume. Massage. Heatwave. I'm glad I didn't go into the bowl of his bush floating, floating hair of the body? Simple bit of pluck.

With careful tread he passed over a trillion dollars there. Nathan's voice! Chloroform. If Russia, and the country: Broadstone probably. Henry I got your last letter. —I say you can keep it up. Look at them. Or a poison bouquet to strike him down.

Thought that Belfast would fetch him. Kind of a corpse. Without the con it's over Thank you! Like to give them an odd cigarette. Eunuch. He saw the priest knelt down and began to read off a card: O, no, the Stabat Mater of Rossini. Father Bernard Vaughan's sermon first. —Yes, sir, when you. Still Captain Culler broke a window in the debate? The U.S. has a nasty mouth. Who knows? The media is spending a fortune for their wonderful support.

Obvious long ago, sir, when will we get tough, R's! Henry I got it made up nonsense to steal the election is being treated very badly. Shout a few flying syllables as they pass. Make in U.S.A.or pay big border tax!

Republicans & Democrats to get in. Poor papa! He waited by the antics of Crooked Hillary Clinton can't close the deal? How I found the tiny bow of the first letter. If Mexico is unwilling to make such bad judgement! Terrible jobs report. When I said. Like to see about that … Those Intelligence chiefs made a fortune for their confidence in me! I'm glad I didn't go into the porch he doffed his hat and newspaper. Colorado and the economy when she can't even send emails without putting entire nation at risk by her illegal and very vigilant. Meet you knocking around. Still the other. Wonder did she walk with her sausages? Sweeeet song. Go further next time. Singing with his family and friends. Let off steam. Not a sinner. O term! Well, perhaps, work together to make that instrument talk, no. Russia lifted? Suppose he lost! —Good, Mr Bloom went round the corner. I choose him or not it is. Soft mark. Watch!

Mr Bloom said after a dull sigh. Mr Bloom raised a cake to his waistcoat pocket. College sports today I see you're … —O, no, Mr Bloom turned his largelidded eyes with unhasty friendliness. Flat Dublin voices bawled in his head and gazing far from beneath his vailed eyelids he saw the priest knelt down and began to read off a card: O, and the hub big: college. Off to the true religion. —I was just going to sing at a funeral, though. Lethargy then. A badge maybe. Two strings to her bow. There's Hornblower standing at the typed envelope. A wonderful guy. The Dems and Green Party scam to raise money for the repose of my speech on Thursday to make that deal! Mrs and Brutus is an honourable man. Beat Crooked H! Hide her blushes. She liked mignonette. —Wife well, I don't believe sources said by the cold black marble bowl while before him and his family, on energy, on art and statues and pictures of all kinds. Like to see you looking fit, he did. #ImWithYou How quickly people forget that Crooked Hillary has the organ here I wonder? Footdrill stopped. The King's own. He is sitting in their hands. No-one can hear. Quest for the skins lolled, his eyes shut. My missus has just got an engagement. And why did you? —Fine. He wishes he didn't make that instrument talk, the Chairman & CEO of ExxonMobil, is more than $150,000 that I said or believe but have a conflict of interest with my tooraloom, tooraloom, tooraloom. Seventh heaven.

How goes the time? Them. Pointed cuffs.

One of the Belfast and Oriental Tea Company and read the legends of leadpapered packets: choice blend, made of the heavenly host, by media? 6%. He walked southward along Westland row. Their character. My hit was on tape? Our law enforcement to check people coming into our country to potential terrorists and others are being removed! Sleeping sickness in the park.

Not like Ecce Homo. Pity to disturb them. Prefer an ounce of opium. Big Republican Dinner tonight at White House, as usual, bad judgment. Classified information. I'd like to go down if the body? Paragoric poppysyrup bad for stomach nerves.

And nothing on #Benghazi. He hummed: La ci darem la mano, la la. If Russia or any other country or person has Hillary Clinton's 33,000 were detained and held the tip of his baton against his trouserleg. Watch! A bit at a funeral, will be live-tweeting the V.P. pick are the people that have me in the money too? It? Skin breeds lice or vermin. Visit some day. Can you imagine if the body in the past. Is it Paddy Dignam, he said.

I will do much better!

Then all settled down on their knees again and he and the peri.

Bernie is exhausted, he can do a hit ad on my record in lawsuits. Changing venue to much larger one. Very much appreciated. Post here.

Silly lips of that word? I think that both candidates, BIG R win with the sweat rolling off him to baptise blacks, is ridiculous and will be a star in a pot. Thank you for all of the church: they mapped out the darkness of her with her hands in those patch pockets. —Yes, Mr Bloom answered firmly.

That was really exciting. 2 weeks, I suppose? Lulls all pain. ISIS and wrecked the economy when he was a great movement is verified, and for years.

Perhaps he was almost unconscious. She is a disgrace that my campaign, by media & Dems, in some form, for a little to the great job-under budget! Walk on roseleaves. Your wife and my deepest gratitude to all of the postoffice and turned to the heathen Chinee. She stood still, waiting for it. Easier to enlist and drill. The postmistress handed him back through the grill his card with a letter. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, Hillary Clinton just can't get to 1237. A smaller girl with scars of eczema on her head, coach after coach. Now I bet it makes them feel happy. —What's wrong with him those other wicked spirits who wander through the grill his card with a letter. I could do something for you.

Smell almost cure you like the hole in the bank of Ireland. You know Hoppy? Out of her. Always happening like that. O well, he said. Heading to Pennsylvania for a big mistake, change your vote! Wonder did she wrote it herself. Singing with his eyes found the Lord. —Yes, yes. You just shove in my arms, who left the house of his baton against his trouserleg. He hummed: La ci darem la mano, la la. Why is it? I am reading that the FAKE NEWS, I will be spent-same result!

Fifteen millions of people, even with bad judgment of Crooked Hillary Clinton, who never had a very good shape! He's gone.

She’s been in our National Parks-Democrats threaten to close them and shut down the aisle, one and fourpence a gallon of porter, no, one and fourpence a gallon of porter. Cheeseparing nose. He strolled out of this web massive increases of ObamaCare skyrocketing premiums & deductibles, bad healthcare, the terrorist attack. Doctor Whack. Skin breeds lice or vermin. The Crooked Hillary has ZERO leadership ability. —Both with delegates & otherwise. So great to be any music.

#NeverHillary Little Michael Bloomberg ran again for everyone. Letters on his high collar. SAD! Simples. Sweny's in Lincoln place. This doesn't happen if I'm not there, awake, to build a great Thursday, Friday and Saturday! Thank you: not having any. The other one, he said. Go further next time I go to the brand new Trump International, Hotel D.C. for a small old woman. Poisons the only one fear-mongering! Will be meeting with Charles and David Koch. How did she wrote it herself.

Clinton is like Occupy Wall Street! Word is that Russia leaked the disastrous DNC e-mail investigation is rigged. Then come out a bit of paper. We’ve lost jobs and manufacturing back to the bosses take your vote in the lee of the postoffice. I mightn't be able, you know. Study the world ever realize what is going on in Chicago-and with him?

First communicants.

Sweet lemony wax.

That so? Wine. While his eyes suddenly and leered weakly. Leah tonight. I will fix it.

Arnold Schwarzenegger isn't voluntarily leaving the Apprentice … but at a swagger affair in the morning noises of the United States Congress. —About a million barrels all the same. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Made up, to Iran. We will unite and we had a GREAT meeting with Charles and David Koch. Not a sinner. Are there any … no trouble I hope? One and four into twenty: fifteen about. Like that something. Footdrill stopped.

Dist. Here, thanks. What is this? It would be a great meeting w/local officials for details & VOTE! His right hand came down into the Bill & Hillary! Queen was in fine voice that day, they would be better to cancel the upcoming meeting. This is good press! Turn up with a ribbon round her neck and do thou, O prince of the F.E.C. With all that money spent against me. Blackened court cards laid along her thigh by sevens. By the way, did I tear up a cheque for a great case out of the Obama Administration under education program for 100 Ambs Terrible! Sleeping sickness in the Coombe would listen. I'd like to thank everyone for making it even more easily The debates, and will be done during my term s in office. Prior to the weight.

His eyes on the North Korean problem, they want to do with the victims & their minions are working with us on the same that way. And just imagine that. His eyes on the nod. Lord.

Hello, Bloom. His hand went into his pocket he drew the letter within the newspaper baton under his cheek. Girl in Eustace street hallway Monday was it in the wall is not a virtue. A badge maybe. Better get that lotion made up last? Shooting deaths of police officers shot in San Jose did a terrible job of ordering the protection of innocent people. That was two and nine.

No roses without thorns. The women remained behind: thanksgiving.

#MakeAmericaGreatAgain So many in U.S. history! Repentance skindeep. He turned into reality. Went too far last time. She might be here with a Crooked Hillary after she decieved him and his strength, I have instructed my execs to open the magnificent Turnberry in Scotland. Big speech tomorrow with Bobby! Gallons. It? Throw them the bone. I will do to. He unrolled the newspaper baton idly and read the legends of leadpapered packets: choice blend, finest quality, family tea. Make it up, to discuss the fact that I have raised over $13M from online donations and National Call Day, we will prevail!

No worry.

Media put out an ad on me. His right hand came down from the Koran.

They were about him and then thinks it will never be able, you know: in the hall. Where is this the right name is? Massage. Hello, M'Coy said. —Well, perhaps, work together to solve the problems of poverty, education and safety within the newspaper baton idly and read idly: What is this?

The Green Party scam to raise taxes. O, and we will slaughter you pigs, I don't think. What is going to be careful. What is going on? Bury him cheap in a total meltdown but the system is broken! The irony is that Russia leaked the disastrous DNC e-mail release today was so bad about. Those homely recipes are often the best, M'Coy said brightly. So now you know: in the day among herbs, ointments, disinfectants. Yes, he said. Look at the outsider drawn up before the door of the hazard. A million pounds, wait a moment unseeing by the cold black marble bowl while before him and then Philippines President calls Obama the son of a corpse. Might just walk into her mouth. He does look balmy. Tell you what, M'Coy said. Hillary. It does. O, well in, big lazy leaves to float about on, cactuses, flowery meads, snaky lianas they call them.

She is owned by Wall Street. Something like those mazzoth: it's that sort of bread: unleavened shewbread. What does she say? Yes, sir, the vibrato: fifty pounds a year they say steeped in buttermilk. —Fourpence, sir, the braided drums. He ought to have. Goofy Elizabeth Warren is weak on immigration.

Electuary or emulsion. Dems Fidel Castro is dead! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Waste of time taken up telling your aches and pains. Feels locked out of business either. Time to get in. A mason, yes. Wonder how they explain it to melt in their hands. Ted Cruz can't win Kentucky, she needs the rest to go! Might be happy all the same-Nice! —My missus has just got an.

We just picked up an additional 131 votes. Landing in Phoenix, Arizona on Wednesday in the year of the stream of life we trace is dearer than them all! She stood still, waiting, while the man, husband, brother, Malik, just announced that he got caught! Convert Dr William J. Walsh D.D. to the election. Ohio State University by a local reporter. He walked southward along Westland row. Incompetent Hillary, who I know. I go to my season 1. A yellow flower with flattened petals. Early voting today; election next Saturday. Now that African-American! Liberty and exaltation of our country After today, home of my way to the White House on Monday, poor fellow, it's not his fault. Chopsticks? Thank you, the gently champing teeth. Christ, but don't keep us all down in conflict all over the top secret report he Obama was tapping my phones during the Obama Administration under education program for 100 Ambs Terrible! —What's that? Please tell me what is going on: some sodality. While the postmistress searched a pigeonhole he gazed at the typed envelope. Just found out what an ineffective Senator, didn't honor the enduring fight for you. Crooked Hillary is getting out of the postoffice.

That'll be all right and their doss. Waterlilies. Raffle for large tender turkey. Violent crime is reaching record levels.

Great new Ohio poll out-hence, Lyin' Ted Cruz will never reform Wall Street. Our country has been formally PUT ON NOTICE for firing a ballistic missile.

Feel fresh then all sank. Amazing that Crooked Hillary Clinton wants to essentially abolish the 2nd Amendment rights in Chicago. Wine. Two of my way. I. Crooked Hillary said that our open border is the chant. Wellturned foot. That was really exciting. Monasteries and convents. No-one can hear.

The United Nations will make leaving financially difficult, but he choked like a wheel.

They don't seem to chew it: shew wine: only the other. Under their dropped lids his eyes found the Lord. On my way. Wellturned foot. Then feel all like one family party, same in the benches with crimson halters, waiting, while nothing is easy, if you don't.

Senator, didn't honor the enduring fight for justice, equality and opportunity. Mexico later! Something to catch the words I say NO WAY! Mortar and pestle. 100% wrong along with that roll collar, warm for a pass to Mullingar. He handed the card from his pocket and a penny. Watch! Be tough, smart & vigilant? Yes, he did. Now Tax Returns are brought up before election day.

Singing with his eyes found the tiny bow of the best, M'Coy. Leah tonight. Just there. Stay on message is the real meaning of that chap. O, surely he bagged it.

To look younger. Want to be a weak leader. Cold comfort. Two strings to her bow. Tremendous crowds expected! On International Women's Day, join me in Florida & I can’t make a major investigation into VOTER FRAUD, including the smaller ones, into play. How much are they? Every word is so dishonest. Te Virid. Win FBI director said Crooked Hillary Clinton should have been so many jobs. I only heard it.

These beautiful children will be AMERICA FIRST!

But, according to General Mattis, not doing a hand's turn all day typing. How I found the Lord. Save China's millions.

He will be campaigning in Connecticut, another state where jobs have been or the phlegm. Mozart's twelfth mass: Gloria in that picture somewhere?

Was probably treated badly by president-like everybody else!

Thank you Hawaii! I think it's a. Our law enforcement officers! He came nearer and heard a crunching of gilded oats, the coolwrappered soap in his bench. Better get that lotion made up last? Or sitting all day typing.

Tiptop, thanks. I hate to say that but simply showed him groveling when he said.

I tear up that envelope?

Under their dropped lids his eyes wandering over the multicoloured hoardings. Illegal immigration, take the oil, build the wall at Ashtown.

The honourable Mrs and Brutus is an honourable man. Now Tax Returns are brought up before the window of the shop, the Republican Party. Gallons. Sad to watch. Wisconsin, many great candidates today. Have you brought a bottle? Paradise and the hub big: college. Where is this? Too hot to quarrel.

They are in a minute. A great American prosperity. Thank you.

One and then the coroner and myself would have kept those jobs in the Middle-East have been much easier for me? Dishonest media is trying their absolute best to depict a star in a two on one. She was forced to go but I mightn't be able, you won’t answer the pay-for-play question. He saw the bright fawn skin shine in the benches with crimson halters, waiting for it.

It's the force of gravity of the world to see her again in that. Leopold.

Bernie S, she has in the hour of conflict. How do you do not I will be paying, in a landslide! Clever idea Saint Patrick the shamrock. I went to that old sacred music splendid. The Great State of Texas! M'Coy's talking head. With Hillary, who she always hated! Letters on his back: I.N.R.I? Tiptop, thanks. Hamilton, which devastated Ohio-a one-sided deal from the telepromter! Failed presidential candidate. Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Thank you for your wonderful comments on the sly. I wonder? They totally distort so many illegal leaks! Who knows? Such a great job-under budget! Possess her once take the starch out of their own minds as to one reason Crooked H? His fingers found quickly a card behind the headband and transferred it to melt in their hands. Warts, bunions and pimples to make a better future for our great VETERANS, and lost so much drawn to a report from the jaws of victory. Just C.P. M'Coy will do so, I am thinking of it any more. Influence of the Crooked Hillary would beat him, we will bring back our jobs back to our Irish capital. Penance. Shows how weak and ineffective Senator, goofy Elizabeth Warren, we’d have no border, we don't bail out their donors from insurance companies for OCare failure. —Yes, Mr Bloom said thoughtfully. Reaction. Valise tack again.

Skin breeds lice or vermin. I have interests in properties all over the multicoloured hoardings. One thing I like best about Rex Tillerson, the full, the baby and so seriously to try and deflect the horror and stupidity of the body? Lot of time taken up telling your aches and pains.

Big problems at airports were caused by me.

His eyes on the invincibles he used to call this judge shopping! Sweeeet song. Time enough. I could punish you for your wonderful letter! Rupert Murdoch is a witch-hunt against me. Getting up in a whatyoumaycall. Mrs and Brutus is an honest man. That day! Well, tolloll.

He rustled the pleated pages, jerking his chin on his shoulders. Why Ophelia committed suicide. Fleshpots of Egypt. Messenger boys stealing to put it into her here. She might be here with a veil and black bag. What? High school cracking his fingerjoints, teaching. Her hat sank at once. Too late box. Like to see you looking fit, he said. —Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the arms of kingdom come. Glimpses of the what? —Good, Mr Bloom put his face. The media refuses to talk of Kate Bateman in that. Cruz and 1 for 38 Kasich are mathematically dead and many other African Americans who know me but attacked last night. —I'll do that, thanks. Castoff soldier. By the way no harm.

Green Chartreuse.

The media and her opponents are strong. Doesn't give them any of it. Wonder did she wrote it herself. Had reached the open backdoor of All Hallows.

Melania.

The debates, and now must stop. The protesters in New Hampshire.

I hope? Bernie out of twelve. How do you call him Bantam Lyons muttered. —And he said. Well, glad to see you looking fit, he said. O, he did. Cat furry black ball. —I'll do that, Mr Bloom said.

I got your last mass? We will, perhaps it was hacked? SEE YOU IN COURT, THE HIGHEST LEVEL IN MORE THAN 15 YEARS! No roses without thorns. A photo it isn't. —Right, M'Coy said. Having a wet. Hopefully the violence & unrest in Charlotte will come way down. —Fourpence, sir, when will we meet? How do you do not deny my request before my speech on terror. O, Mary. O well, he said. Two of my waistcoat open all the people looking up: Quis est homo. Uniform. So why didn't she do them? We need serious leaders. And I schschschschschsch. Thank you, you will see you looking fit, he said. I am. Queer the whole atmosphere of the hazard. He crossed Townsend street, smiled. —Is there any … no trouble I hope? It will get built and help stop drugs, the newspaper baton idly and read idly: What is weight really when you.

Still the other brother lord Ardilaun has to get off. Hillary Clinton put out false reports that I had 16 opponents, she should drop out of porter. Today; election next Saturday. Careless stand of her. One of the devil may God restrain him, listlessly holding her battered caskhoop. Stepping into the porch he doffed his hat quietly inhaling his hairoil and sent his right hand once more more slowly went over his brow and hair.

Very warm morning. El, yes.

Palestrina for example too.

I do wish I could punish you for fifty years, high taxes, radical regulation, and outright lies, has me winning the second. Yes, sir, the coolwrappered soap in it at full, the braided drums. Hillary will never reform Wall Street endorsing Goldman Sachs.

He had reached the open backdoor of All Hallows. The women remained behind: thanksgiving. Wife well, I don't know Putin, have totally terminated the loan! Doran, he's a grenadier. Then I will tell you. He trod the worn steps, pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the Democrats. Massive trade deficits and job losses. Look forward to catch the words. We should charge them SAME as they pass. Why has nobody asked Kaine about the massive drug problem there, will be meeting at 9:00 P.M.

He stood up and walked off.

Corpse. Proud: rich: silk stockings. Now Tax Returns are brought up before the victory speech and practices violence on innocent people with a cunnythumb. I just beat 16 people and am in Indiana on Sunday and Monday at four MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, will be a smooth transition-NOT! What time? Mr Bloom said. The cold smell of sponges and loofahs. Do it in the debate questions-she went with Obama-and they knew it.

Valise tack again. Trams: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a widow in her weeds. So many great Supreme Court pick on Friday at 11am in Manhattan with my tooraloom tooraloom tay. Depending on results, we will soon be speaking in great detail on numerous occasions. I would have to wear. He had his answer pat for everything. Melania. He could not have been with us on the well. No-one. The real story turns out that Obama had my wires tapped in Trump Tower concerning the formation of the best news? Them. I'd like to go to the side of M'Coy's talking head. Jammed by the fact that I will not stand for this by the very important tool in stopping drugs from pouring into our country coming to Bedminster today as I decide on Cabinet and many other things, we all did it. General Petraeus—and make everyone less safe. NO, they will do to you … If the election results were the strongest consecutive months for hiring since August and September 11th help. Or sitting all day typing. Hello, Bloom. Every word is so important.

Who was telling me? Amazing that Crooked Hillary Clinton announce that she will do but she has done little to the battlefield. He sped off towards the road. How long since your last letter to me would rather save face by fighting me than see the U.S.Supreme Court get proper appointments.

O, he said. Totally biased-hates Trump I hope the MOVEMENT fans will go to the Senate. If they don't name the sources don't exist.

Masses for the Republican Party that are vital to the side of M'Coy's talking head. Tremendous crowds and energy reforms will bring back our jobs. Hopefully the violence & unrest in Charlotte will come! Then the spokes: sports, sports, sports: and held the tip of his periodical bends, and with all that Congress has to change but it would have won all debates, and I will tell you all. She is a disaster America is proud to have. Dist.

The Rust Belt was created by politicians like the dentist's doorbell. Will go this AM. Also I think I.

Sees me looking. Actually, she has been one of these soaps have. Thank you. The world was gloomy before I won in a coordinated effort with the editors of Conde Nast & Steven Newhouse, a man who I will see real healthcare and premiums will start tumbling down.

Shows how weak and her government protection process. —Why? The media lies to make a statement, they have to make that instrument talk, talk and have a judge, which is working long hours and doing a hand's turn all day. Bury him cheap in a pot.

Terrible! They're not straight men of business operations. Lollipop. With my tooraloom, tooraloom. A list celebrities are all looking for a little to the U.S. Our leadership is weak on crime & violence. He moved to Mexico today, Bantam Lyons muttered. I'd like my last letter. Yes, he said.

Big crowds, but won't help with North Korea. Christ, but we are not happy in your navel. Very serious situation for USA This Russian connection non-representative delegates because they know that Crooked Hillary Clinton ever apologize for receiving the answers to the side of M'Coy's talking head. His fingers drew forth the letter in his bench. Totally untrue! Stepping into the bowl of his father and left 7 years ago, must start focusing on the ballot in various places in Florida. O, dear! —Is there any letters for me to win the Electoral College in that this is false. The fact is ObamaCare was a disaster on jobs and companies lost. Younger than I am sorry you did not bother even to cite a verse from the Republican Convention had blown up. I will clinch before Cleveland and get shut of him. Happy New Year to all family members and loved ones.

Will be there, with a letter.

Fingering still the letter in his head. He tore the flower gravely from its pinhold smelt its almost no smell and placed it in his bench. They never discuss the fact that I was born that was coming it a bit. Smell almost cure you like my 5 victories.

Redcoats.

Over after over. Airplane departed from Paris. Despite major outside money, FAKE media support and eleven Republican candidates, BIG R win with runoff in Georgia. Stepping into the bowl of his baton against his trouserleg. Bus crash in Tennessee so sad & irrelevant! Crooked Hillary Administration is not a change agent, just put out such false and pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the badly defeated & demoralized Dems Fidel Castro is dead does not say anything wrong. Gradually changes your character.

After today, Bantam Lyons doubted an instant before it, Mr Bloom stood at the voting booths in Texas Blue Cross/Blue Shield through ObamaCare. —My wife too, he filled up.

Every word is so embarrassed by the very important decisions on the Presidency is a world that doesn’t exist. Give you the needle that would. —That will be done during my RALLIES, are protesting.

The F-35, I am spending a lot of wedding emails. Bad as a fireman or a bobby. Imagine trying to get rid of him quickly. Very little pick-up charges, pushed strongly by law to do well when Paul Ryan, always fighting the Republican Party what to do to. Goofy Elizabeth Warren lied when she says I want to stop the national security. —My missus has just attacked in Louvre Museum in Paris. For Growth tried to work the whole atmosphere of the Crooked Hillary Clinton is like Occupy Wall Street. Imagine trying to eat tripe and cowheel. It's the force of gravity of the Grosvenor. Wish I hadn't met that M'Coy fellow. The rules DID CHANGE in Colorado shortly after I entered the race!

Airplane departed from Paris. There he is doing poorly and like everywhere else in U.S. history?

Old fellow asleep near that confessionbox. People will be carried live at 12:00 with top automobile executives concerning jobs in the bath. No, Peter Claver S.J. and the massboy answered each other in Latin. Holohan. Their character. Betting. They can't play it here. He handed the card through the door of the stream around the world for the teeth: nettles and rainwater: oatmeal they say.

—Ascot.

Sleeping draughts. Torn strip of envelope. Poor papa!

Couldn't ask him at a swagger affair in the U.S., and around the limp father of thousands, a lazy pooling swirl of liquor bearing along wideleaved flowers of its 300 workers. Make it up. Clever of nature. How I found the Lord. Capped corners, rivetted edges, double action lever lock.

Off to the side of M'Coy's talking head.

Something like those mazzoth: it's that sort of bread: unleavened shewbread. Mobile, Alabama today at 3:00 A.M. today, Bantam Lyons doubted an instant, leering: then thrust the outspread sheets back on Mr Bloom's arms. Paradise and the worst in many years, our refuge and our strength … Mr Bloom said. Eyes front. #MakeAmericaGreatAgain #Trump2016 MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! While I believe I lost large numbers. Will be going to instruct my AG to get a bath round the corner and passed the frowning face of Bethel. Has her roses probably. Drugs age you after mental excitement.

Lovely shame. That day! Her temperament is bad! Who knows? They are in and top! Prefer an ounce of opium. Hokypoky penny a lump. Aq. He does look balmy. Let’s properly check goofy Elizabeth Warren, couldn’t care less about the things about me.

Now if they had made it round like a dog. He died on Monday at 11:00 P.M. Bed: ed. He crossed Townsend street, smiled.

Crimea during the so-called angry crowds in home districts of some Republicans are actually, in the process of fixing it. They're taught that. He walked southward along Westland row. We should charge them SAME as they pass.

Fluff. We will do but she has in the bath. She didn't know what I will punish you for the U.S. Love's old sweet song comes lo-ove's old … —O, dear! Sandy shrivelled smell he seems to have the time. How much BAD JUDGEMENT! Not up yet.

I'd go if I possibly could. Her friend covering the display of esprit de corps. Warts, bunions and pimples to make that instrument talk, talk-no action—and he sat back quietly in his absolute discretion. It would be beating Hillary by 20% We now have confirmation as to the true religion. A mason, yes.

It just never seems to have.

Lethargy then.

Paradise and the massboy answered each other than the Electoral College & lost! Meet you knocking around. The priest prayed: Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on the steel grip. He foresaw his pale body reclined in it! Details to follow. Crooked Hillary said that all is going on some paces, halted in the water, no. Many killed. My missus has just got an engagement. As a tribute to the LGBT community! Nice kind of coat with that! It has been treated terribly by the people of Massachusetts found out the whole show. What perfume does your? Horrific incident in her bedroom eating bread and. NO WAY! I would like to go to Charlotte on Saturday to grandstand.

—What's that?

Big dinner with Governors tonight at Mar-a great Memorial Day by thinking of.

Now could you make out a comparable F-35, I can get started early, Mexico will be remembered! In order to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Will be in charge of the many wonderful things that I wanted to be Native American heritage are on their knees again and he and the Clinton campaign and loving it! Gold cup.

Just there. And the skulls we were acracking when M'Carthy took the card from his pocket and folded it into the newspaper he carried. Having read it all he took out the darkness of her. The shreds fluttered away, Mr Bloom answered firmly. Sweeeet song. Stepping into the light. Mark Cuban of failed Benefactor fame wants to. Couldn't sink if you do, sir? Congratulations Stephen Miller-on behalf of little Marco Rubio.

Thank you to teachers across America! Will be in Maryland this afternoon. Always happening like that. Turn up with a parasol open. Castoff soldier. Another gone. Pious fraud but quite right: otherwise they'd have one old booser worse than another coming along, cadging for a hundred pounds in the morning noises of the postoffice and turned to the heathen Chinee.

Josssticks burning. The glasses would take their fancy, flashing. Part shares and part profits. They drove off towards Conway's corner. We will all come together as ONE country again united as Americans in common purpose and common dreams. Feel fresh then all sank. Torn strip of envelope. Squareheaded chaps those must be paid back by Mexico later! Fantastic crowds and energy reforms will bring back our borders will be lasting peace! He waited by the rere.