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danwhobrowses · 3 years

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One Piece 1000 - 10 Confessions as a One Piece Fan

Although we did the Initial Thoughts a week ago (a long week ago, damn) which you can read here I wanted to do something for the official release of One Piece’s 1000th Chapter At first it started out to be ‘10 things I wanna ask Oda that I don’t think we’ll ever know’ but I couldn’t think of 10, then I was gonna do a General opinion post about it, but didn’t want it to come off too negative. So I am settling on a confessions post, which will have elements of these anyway.

So as we have a happy 1000, let’s talk about some stuff I usually don’t get to talk about in One Piece

Note: There will probably be spoilers so make sure you’re up to date

10. Late Beginnings I think the first confession I have to have is that despite being older than One Piece I am unfortunately not a ‘Day One’ fan. In fact I think I mainly got into One Piece around mid-Whole Cake Island arc, before I had of course known about One Piece, it was a ‘Big Three’ anime after all but the most I knew about it was that they had a guy named Luff-y and another called Zorro, and it was about ‘Pirates who can’t swim’. My curiosity only developed when in a youtube deep-dive of anime clips I kept being recommended One Piece clips, and decided to give a couple a go. Most of them were Paradise arc stuff from the anime, the dub voices were mostly atrocious so I stuck to sub. I was happily surprised about the amount of fun and emotional weight these clips gave me, which led me to check where One Piece was as of current and backtrack from there (Ironically I did the same with Beastars). I did eventually get caught up around the time of the Mafia Meeting and I’ve kept up with each chapter since.

9. I mostly still prefer the Pre-Timeskip looks When I first felt this I thought it to be pretty controversial, nowadays not so much. I understand that Oda wanted to change the look for many characters but some of them did feel like a downgrade. I think the ones who got it worst was Franky, I think it’s the bulbous shoulders, Franky was no stranger to body horror from Enies Lobby to Sabaody but I kinda preferred that he still had a lot of his humanity rather than looking like an action figure. Otherwise I think Robin, Nami and Chopper had it bad, maybe Brook too but his was more fashion than design; the women in general took heavy hits by Oda’s proportion design - I mean I get it boobs are nice but proportions are what make them better - but Robin also underwent a skin color change in the anime, who pre-timeskip shaded her skin darker than in the manga and corrected it to match the manga, I think most of us would’ve preferred Robin to have kept the darker skin tone and possibly even the fringe, Robin’s hairstyle (and her fashion in general) can be hit and miss. I go to and fro about Nami, other than the general waist and bust adjustments I think it fits her character to use her sexuality a bit, she was no stranger to that pre-Timeskip, sometimes though I can’t tell whether I preferred her with short or long hair (Short was definitely better on Nojiko), I do think though that Oda could have her show less skin, she is still very pretty in outfits such as Water 7, Thriller Bark and even her fake pirate disguise in the early chapters/episodes. Finally with Chopper I think it was a bad move to alter the hat, that was a memento from his father figure Hiriluk, it’d be like if Luffy altered his straw hat or Zoro replacing Wado Ichimonji, I do also feel that the design for Chopper’s points while easier to draw don’t look as good, I think a lot of it is the scruff, or lack thereof in favour of smoothness, Walk Point is fine but Heavy Point, Guard Point and Horn Point seem less threatening, Monster Point especially too, in Enies Lobby he looked like a cave painting of menace and destruction, now he’s smoother and his scruff lighter so it’s not as good. The rest of the designs I’m quite fine with though.

8. I wish some markings stuck as well Tattoos and Scars seem to be optional in the One Piece world sometimes, unless it’s branded in molten heat like the Dragon’s hoof, Sun Pirates logo or an attack from Sakazuki. While Nami’s redesigned tattoo has stuck around and Luffy and Zoro’s scars persist, they are mainly character reminders/mysteries for huge moments in the story, and I kinda wish that some of the Straw Hats had littler markings, not just scars either. For instance, the Alabasta X on the arm, I really wish that stayed on each of the Alabasta characters’ arms since it was a symbol of friendship with Vivi, I also wish that Luffy kept the 3D2Y mark on his arm. In terms of scars though it would’ve been nice to see the characters a bit more battle-worn; Zoro’s ankle scars from Mr. 3 have faded and frankly he should be covered in little and long scratches given his fights with Mr. 1 and 2 years of Mihawk Training, Nami’s shoulder scar is hidden completely by her tattoo and she has no scars on her hand (from fake stabbing Usopp) or foot (from blocking Miss Doublefinger), Usopp himself could’ve used some small scratches because lord knows how there’s even still bones in his nose plus he was in murder island for 2 years, Chopper could at least have a small bald patch from when his shoulder was impaled and burned by Shura’s fire lance too, other than that there’s just Jimbei’s potentially missing shoulder scar from Marineford, though Oda has kept it obscured a lot so maybe that is still there. I understand why Oda doesn’t or forgets to, but it would’ve been nice if we lived in a vacuum of no time limits and whatnot.

7. Dead End Adventure is my favourite One Piece film I don’t know what it is, but Dead End Adventure just gives me the most fun out of the One Piece films. It has a good side plot and the side character Shuraiya was a blast of a character. Granted, Gaspard wasn’t too good of a villain side for actually harming the straw hat and his defeat was a bit underwhelming but the race, the settings it was all fun. It is not to say I don’t enjoy any other One Piece movies, I delight in the horror fuel of Baron Omatsuri - and that killer final punch - and Z’s tragic tale of a fallen marine, Strong World has that epic entrance to the party and Stampede also had some great team up moments and fantastic writing for Usopp and Smoker but Dead End Adventure always feels like the movie I could watch in any mood.

6. Skypeia and Fishman Island are some of my favourite arcs While I can understand the criticism of the Long Ring Long Land arc (especially since the anime dragged out the Davy Back Fight) it surprised me that people found Skypeia and Fishman Island arcs to be boring or less entertaining than previous arcs. Everyone has their preferences of course but I felt that Skypeia and Fishman Island were very powerful arcs especially with the theme of racism. Both had glorious setting design different to the common customs of the world we had seen, Oda made both Skypeia and Fishman Island feel very much lived in with its own budding culture and prejudices, with a villain who was dead set on destroying everything just to have their way. With Enel and his priests we were able to push several characters to newer limits, with Robin showing her fighting capabilities, Zoro learning his projectile slashes, Chopper having to endure fighting 3 priests and even Usopp growing all the more braver in the face of seemingly indestructible opponents and later gaining access to the dials. With Fishman Island it was different because it was basically a ‘flex arc’: where the main villain is meant to be a stepping stone rather than a threat but even then the symbolism of the enemy is what’s significant with them, the inherited hatred of humans. But at the same time we do learn new strengths from the crew; Red Hawk, the use of armament Haki, Skywalk, Hell Memories, Franky Shogun, Usopp’s pop greens, Nami’s weather eggs, Brook’s Soul Solid and his new DF power (which is possibly an awakening), as well as the first true steps of Jimbei joining the crew. The biggest strength of both arcs is the flashback as well, like Wano would in present time both arcs demonstrated that Oda can carry a story without his main characters and still keep it as captivating as ever, be it the friendship of Noland and Calgara, the tragedies of Otohime and Fisher Tiger or the life of Kozuki Oden and the man who would be Pirate King. And the impact of Fishman Island and Skypeia’s flashbacks both come back around in Dressrosa with the dwarves and Koala, and Fishman Island really does kick off the whole Yonko saga with Luffy challenging Big Mom, these arcs were definitely significant as they were entertaining with silly faces, strong fights, challenging themes, lorebuilding, good side characters and unique twists. And the overall message of healing from the past is still significant to this day. Through Wyper’s sacrifice and the Bell ringing to Jimbei giving blood and the Ryugu royals wanting to attend the Reverie, it is all very powerful stuff and while the arcs are similar in nature its their similarities that make me love them. Also the cover stories with Enel and Gedatsu on their own mini adventures are fun

5. I really want to know where Ghin is Ghin/Gin was such an interesting character in Baratie. Given that this was right before Arlong Park too so we had not seen a character conflict with different loyalties in One Piece until then, his gratitude to Sanji against his loyalty to Krieg created a fantastically complex character, but then he left and we didn’t hear about him ever since. Did he survive Krieg’s poison gas? Is he still with Krieg? One reactor of the episode said “maybe he’ll become the next Don” which was a concept I kinda really liked. The guy was pretty strong given that he had bested Sanji at that time, and since he didn’t appear in a cover story my mind does wonder. It’s not just Ghin either, a lot of the early East Blue characters kinda fell off the map; where is Morgan? Last we saw he was sleeping as he sailed past Jango, where is Kuro? For someone wanting to resume piracy after some years off he has been very quiet, where is Krieg? Only Arlong and Morgan were arrested and the latter escaped so the rest of these characters are a mystery. Recently in Wano I am still wondering where Law’s crew that he brought to Onigashima went, as well as Caribou - where is that slippery bugger?

4. Basil Hawkins is probably one of my Top 5 Supernova There’s something about that dude I gravitate towards, which makes it quite frustrating when the anime decides to add extra malice and creepy faces to him. Hawkins in Wano is still a victim, if anything he is simply a prisoner with better working conditions, if he thought he could survive escaping Kaido he would but he doesn’t so he won’t, he’s also gonna feel sore about Drake betraying him and letting Law cut him up, so it annoys me that Hawkins is seen like a villain. Not only does he have an extremely interesting Devil Fruit and creativity with it but he’s also audaciously confident in his fortunetelling, even Luffy ran from Kizaru at Sabaody while Hawkins looked at his cards while Kizaru was about to boot him to holy hell and said ‘nah I’m not dying today’, you gotta respect that moxie. At the same time though as a pirate he has that shades of grey element, he’s okay with letting some of his crew be disposable and we don’t even know to what end, he doesn’t look like a guy too concerned about being Pirate King or having riches. I also get a good laugh in that his hobbies are interior design, it makes me really want to see what the inside of his ship looks like. I think as a top 5, I have Luffy, Zoro, Law, Hawkins and then Kid, Bege, Killer and Bonney are not far behind with Apoo dead last because fuck Apoo. Kid and Killer are cool but I do feel like they need a bit more character, Bege earned some points in being funny and his care for his family in WCI and then there’s Bonney - I really hope we dig into Bonney’s significance, she feels really important and that mystery keeps her fresh whenever we see her. Drake too has only really started to become interesting because of SWORD, we could still see more fleshing but for now he is like bottom 3. It’s a shame Urouge has to be so low, he’s not bad but he’s not spectacular either, gotta admire his hobby of lovemaking though, you do you Urouge.

3. I don’t think that either of the ‘Most Beautiful Women in the World’ are the Most Beautiful Women in One Piece The in-world consensus seems to be that the Most Beautiful Women in the World are Boa Hancock, Komurasaki and Shirahoshi, and granted they are very pretty, but the most? Not for me. I mean, y’all know that Nico Robin, Nami and Vinsmoke Reiju exist right? Makino as well is stunning, as are Tashigi, Bonney, Margaret, Ishilly, Nojiko, Vivi, Rebecca, Pudding, Perona, Cosette and I’m sure a few others, realistically I think they could all give them a run for their money. I get how for those three their beauty is a plot point (Boa it’s drilling home Luffy’s obliviousness to it, Komurasaki it’s the swerve of her not being awful and for Shirahoshi it’s due to Vander Decken IX pulling the creep factor on her) but it would’ve worked the same way without the ‘world’ hyperbole I think. As much as Oda is iffy with proportions and rarely writes women with as much attention as the boys he sure knows how to make them attractive.

2. Some of my favourite individual Straw Hat scenes aren’t in Canon If I were to have a top 5 moments of each character, it may surprise you that some of it comes from movies or filler episodes, particularly Sanji’s flexing on Jessica in the G8 Arc (in fact, Jonathon is one of my favourite marines, T-Bone is in there too, but I don’t have room to fit that). Some are of course obvious because of how iconic they are but it does go to show that sometimes filler isn’t all bad. Since you’re probably curious: As a Group Goodbye Merry [Enies Lobby] Entering Shiki’s Palace [Strong World] Walk to Arlong Park [Arlong Park] Entering the Grand Line [Reverse Mountain] vs a Stuck Oars [Thriller Bark] Jimbei Giving Luffy Blood [FMI] Vagabond Drill on Big Mom [WCI] Leaving the Big Mom Pirates [WCI] Returning in Wano [Wano] Trying to argue with Luffy [FMI] Brook vs Chess Soldiers & Big Mom [WCI] Flashback [Thriller Bark] Breaking Mother Carmel’s Picture [WCI] Baron Corpse vs Dog Minks [Zou] Hysterically laughing at seeing Duval [Sabaody] Franky vs Senor Pink [Dressrosa] Playing with the Kids [Punk Hazard] vs Fukurou [Enies Lobby] Freedom Roller [Wano] Trapping Caribou in the Barrel [FMI] Robin I Want to Live [Enies Lobby] Clutching Spandam [Enies Lobby] Throwing Usopp under the bus [G8] vs Yama [Skypeia] Clutching Tequila Wolf guards [Amazon Lily] Chopper Monster Point [Enies Lobby] Flashback [Drum Island] Chopper Man (& Minoru Kazeno) vs Usobada [Chopper Man Special] Don’t blow the whistle: Immediately blows whistle [Skypeia] Dr Chopper the definitely Human Doctor not wearing fake glasses [G8] Vivi w/ Karoo (she counts okay!) Goodbye speech [Alabasta] Escaping Bon Clay [Alabasta] Karoo Digging Luffy Out [Little Garden] Luffy Fan Club Meeting [Reverie] Slapping Usopp awake [Drum Island] Nami vs Kalifa [Enies Lobby] Standing by the kids [Punk Hazard] Saying goodbye to Bell-mere [Arlong Park] Helping Luffy vs Cracker via Lola’s Vivre Card [WCI] Luffy WILL be Pirate King [Wano] Sanji ‘I needed a light’ [Skypeia] Flexing on Jessica [G8] Saving the Vinsmokes [WCI] O-Soba Mask [Wano] vs Doflamingo [Dressrosa] Usopp Alabasta speech [Alabasta] Awakening Observation Haki [Dressrosa] Sogeking Theme Song [Enies Lobby] vs Perona [Thriller Bark] Saving Luffy from the fire [Stampede] Zoro Nothing Happened [Thriller Bark] vs Ryuma [Thriller Bark] vs Mr. 1 [Alabasta] vs Gyukimaru & Kamazo [Wano] “He’s sweeping our floors that fiend!” Test of Luck [Loguetown] Luffy ‘On the Sea, you fight Pirates’ [Wano] Red Roc [Wano] vs Katakuri [WCI] Haki clash with Doflamingo [Dressrosa] Punching Saint Charloss [Sabaody] I will have to say that for some characters I could go to 20 so if one’s missing it may’ve just missed the mark, such as Usopp and Nami vs Enel or Luffy putting back a Zombie or Stealth Luffy, I mean it is 1000 chapters as well as movies and filler episodes/specials...

1. I’ve learned quite a lot due to One Piece Since my fascination started with a deep dive of checks, I did start to learn a hell of a lot more not just about the franchise itself (you know it’s almost catching up BATMAN on total sales, which has been around more than 3 times longer?) but I also learned a lot about stuff Oda has used as a reference key; folklore, actual pirates, actual practices, the amount of detail Oda puts in is astounding. Which does lean into another thing I’ve learned, One Piece has changed the way I approach some of my ideas for writings and whatnot, before I would be afraid of either spoonfeeding or being too vague, Oda’s mastery not only in storytelling but character development, character quality and pacing has both helped and intimidated me a lot of times, I mean consider this: it took hundreds of chapters to get a proper backstory on Luffy, the main character, how unprecedented is that? Often I could fall into the trap of making sure you knew everything about the main character from day one but now I wonder about what’s necessary for the now and what can I work on. Another thing that both inspires and intimidates me is his drawing, I suck at colours and still do, and a lot of Oda’s attention to detail is incredible considering he’s gotta whip that out on the weekly, but at the same time you see some of his rough sketches and they’re pretty similar to a rough sketch of my own, so in a way it’s a ‘there’s still hope for you’ moment seeing those. I can’t say I’ve learned Japanese from listening to One Piece, but I have picked up on some stuff, some hiragana there, some phonetics here, I also appreciated some of the stuff kaizokuou-ni-naru does (I won’t tag them in case that’s a bit rude to do it out of the blue but check out their tumblr) when it came to deciphering the Japanese of chapters and the little puns and hints Oda puts in his native tongue. And of course any One Piece fan has learned one thing above all else: Patience. Oda himself included, it took over 20 years to get to 1000 chapters and we still have plenty of questions to ask, plenty of islands to see and thus plenty of chapters to go. So Straw Hats off to you Oda, and a happy 1000th!

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creative-type · 4 years

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Commiseration

Robin didn’t talk much about her mother. Strangely enough, neither did Usopp

Rating: Gen Word Count: 3100 AO3

Robin didn’t recognize the silence at first. She had been engrossed in a book, a history of the West Blue that predated the Buster Call that she’d been trying to get her hands on for years. There was nothing between the covers that she hadn’t read before. The history of an entire sea was too broad a topic to go into too much depth on any one subject, but it wrote of Ohara and the library that rested there, and it did so without calling the scholars of the Tree of Knowledge demons or monsters or traitors of their chosen field. Newer editions of the same book had been sterilized by the World Government, passages that lovingly described the verdant branches of the great library scrubbed from the public consciousness as if it never existed.

Of course, a book of history would love the historian’s holy land, and Robin remembered reading this very tome from within those hallowed grounds. The memory was a balm for the ache she still felt when she thought of Ohara, the familiar words a warm summer breeze against her soul.

But then, there was quiet.

It was the sort of quiet that became its own sound, unfamiliar and unwelcome in a crew as boisterous as hers. As was her habit, Robin had her ears spread throughout the Thousand Sunny . There was a time she had been forced to listen for the first sounds of betrayal, but those days were long past. The lesson borne out of paranoia evolved to serve a more benevolent purpose.

Robin marked her place and peered across the deck. Luffy was sitting crosslegged at the ship’s prow, a monkey atop the head of a lion. He was in one of his rare contemplative moods, gazing out at the sea with eyes lit with a childlike wonder. Sometimes Robin he saw that excited him so.

But even now he was not still. Luffy never was, not even in sleep. He hummed a rather out of tune rendition of Bink’s Sake, slapping his sandals together as he kept time. He was not the source of the quiet, and so Robin stood, stretching in a long, catlike motion and wandered to the woman’s quarters.

Robin spread her eyes as she walked. Sanji was cooking, Zoro keeping watch while he lifted weights. Brook was on fishing duty with Chopper by order of Nami, after an ill-considered dare led him to breaking the glass of the aquarium with his voice alone. Franky had, of course, replaced it posthaste, but was in the bowels of the ship drafting a new design that was resistant to sound as well as any damage that might be caused by any future roughhousing.

None of them caused the disquiet that Robin felt in her bones. She dropped her book off in her bedroom, exchanging brief pleasantries with Nami and inquiring how her researched fared as she planned their course ahead.

“I’m still not sure how we’re going to get to Fishman Island,” Nami admitted. She took off her reading glasses and rubbed her eyes with her forefinger and thumb. “I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Robin’s smile seemed to reassure her some, and she let Nami return to her books. Her apprehension, while noteworthy, was not the source of the silence that roused Robin from her reading, which left one final destination.

She found Usopp at the workbench of his designated tinkering room. Surprisingly, it was cleared of tools and the odds and ends he used while inventing. Instead he had the day’s paper spread out flat, staring intently without seeming to actually read .

Robin couldn’t think of a time she had seen him worry over the news. She could count on one hand the time she’d seen him with a paper at all. Like most of the crew, he was content to let his knowledge of the outside world filter through Nami, trusting her to share with the crew anything that was important enough for them to know.

He was tense, singularly focused on the words that lay in front of him. All the boisterous enthusiasm, the bravado -- both warranted and not -- had left him, leaving Usopp looking strangely small. His bluff and bluster usually puffed him two sizes bigger than he actually was, but now all Robin could see was his knobby elbows and the round youthfulness that remained in his face.

Usopp seemed...young. Unsure of himself in a way he rarely let others see, but often felt. Robin was suddenly aware that he had sequestered himself away on purpose, taking the news that distressed him so much to the one space on the ship that was well and truly his.

Robin lingered in the doorway for a moment, uncharacteristically unsure of herself. It was difficult while out at sea to find a place to be alone with one’s thoughts. Not every bout of quietness required direct intervention. Not every secret needed pried loose.

This, too, was a difficult concept that Robin was just starting to wrap her mind around. She had spent her life searching for hidden things. There were no efforts she wouldn’t go to in order to find the truth, no matter how painful or personal. Secrets were powerful, just as capable of destroying a person as a knife or a gun. Robin collected secrets like some did bottle caps, and had learned as a young girl to jealously guard her own lest they be used against her.

The Straw Hat Pirates deserved the same privacy they had afforded her. And besides, Nami was not the only member of the crew who read the paper, and Robin had a strong inkling as to what was bothering their sharpshooter so badly.

Robin was about to slip away unnoticed when something within Usopp shifted. He stared at the black and white print so long he saw red, and making a sound that was half-curse, half-noise of impotent frustration he crumpled the paper into a ball and hurled it across the room. Usopp spun sharply away from the table, as if he was about to storm from the room, bringing himself face to face with Robin.

All the color drained from his face and settled in his ears, which burned with embarrassment. He sputtered half a dozen excuses and apologies before Robin held up a hand to silence him.

“It’s okay. I was just passing by and wondered if you wanted me to fetch you a drink. I believe Sanji was working on a new concoction using some of the jackfruit we found on the last island.”

It was ironic that he couldn’t tell that she was lying. Usopp let out a rush of breath that he’d been holding, shoulders drooping like a flower in the desert sun. “No, I’m fine. Thanks for asking, though.”

His fingers became restless, fidgeting and twitching with the need to be working on something, anything , to distract from the fact that he was very much not fine. Robin waited as he pulled supplies from the cubby holes Franky installed in the walls: his chemistry set, a few sheets of scrap metal, a long-handled wrench. Nothing that could be used effectively in conjunction with each other, a sign that his mind was still preoccupied.

And truly, Robin would have been content to let the matter drop, but she knew at that moment that he did not want to be alone. She had long-since memorized his tells, the little shifts of insecurity and nerves that went beyond his usual theatrics, the quiver of his lips as he tried to speak but couldn’t find the words.

She slid into the seat next to him and waited. If there was one thing she knew about Usopp, it was that he could not be kept speechless for long.

“It’s stupid,” Usopp muttered. He bent so low his long nose nearly touched the table, clasping his hands around the back of his neck, his nails digging into skin and leaving white streaks that filled in red.

“How do you mean?” Robin asked.

“It’s just...I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Everything was fine the way it was, and now...I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

Only this time the tone he used for the word it’s made it sound as if he’d meant I’m. Robin conjured a line of hands to retrieve the crumpled up paper and smoothed it out on the table. The headline was about a recent marine skirmish with Red Hair Shanks, and some intrepid soul had managed to catch a snapshot of the battle itself.

Beside the Emperor was a tall man with dark skin, dreadlocks hanging to his shoulders and a gun in each hand. A tattoo was partially visible below a billowing and rather tacky cloak with the letters Yas clearly legible.

Even without it, the man would have been unmistakable. His grin was identical to his son’s after a particularly good shot: cocksure, almost arrogant. But justifiably so, if the rumors of his sharpshooting prowess were to be believed.

“I wanna see him so bad it hurts,” Usopp said miserably. “So why am I so mad?”

Robin folded the paper into neat fourths and set it aside. She knew enough about Usopp’s past to understand what he was saying, having pieced together the snippets and stories he’d shared during their travels. Some of them may even have been true, but even if they weren’t it was evident that Usopp worshiped his father. Held him as a picture of an ideal pirate, one that chased his dreams on the open sea.

Even if that meant leaving his family behind.

There were other details that were less clear. Usopp spoke less frequently about his mother, but always warmly and with great fondness. The rest of the crew made it seem as if he had been living alone when they found him at Syrup Village, a boy of seventeen by himself in an empty house. Robin could guess what had happened, but she didn’t know for sure. Whatever the case, there was no mistaking the hurt on Usopp’s face now, and the anger he used to defend himself from it. Grief and loss commingling with confusion and helplessness into one wretched expression.

Robin knew, because she had experienced it herself. She could read all the histories she wanted about Ohara that venerated the ground that it sat on, but without the buffeting layers of nostalgia, the truth became much more complicated. Her few happy memories with the archeologists were like a scab protecting a bleeding wound, and once peeled away all that remained was a lifetime of pain and misery.

“There is nothing wrong with being angry,” Robin said. “And there is nothing wrong with admiring him.”

“But those two things don’t fit together,” Usopp protested.

“I know.”

Robin hadn’t meant the words to come out as bitterly as they did, leaving the sour taste of regret in her mouth. Usopp looked at her, eyebrows knitting together in an unspoken question.

It was her turn to go silent. Robin had not spoken about her mother in anything but the broadest terms, preferring not to think of her if she could help it. Twenty years had passed, and the contradiction did not get any easier to untangle, the knot of repressed feeling, confusion, and resentment growing only larger over time.

But Usopp waited for her to speak, and Robin realized suddenly that if there was anyone on this ship who could understand, it was him. The revelation startled something loose, the one final push to break down one of her oldest and strongest walls.

“My mother left Ohara when I was young to study the poneglyphs,” Robin said. She propped her hand under her chin and looked at the opposite wall, studying the grain in the wood to distract from the surprise on Usopp’s face. “My father passed away before I was born, and my only relatives were my mother’s brother and his wife. They had a girl about my age, my only cousin. And they hated me, or at least my aunt did. The rest followed suit.”

Robin blinked to clear her vision, which had gone unexpectedly misty. She had forgotten the truth of her words until she was forced to say them aloud, locking the memories of home into some deep corner of her soul and throwing away the key. Now they rushed back and pressed against the corners of her skull, demanding to be remembered. For the truth to be told, instead of the sweet falsehood that was so much easier to bear.

“She’s the reason I became an archeologist,” Robin admitted. “I thought that if I did she would take me out to sea. I met her, once. The day Ohara burned. She told me she was proud of what I accomplished and sent me out alone. She died with the rest of the scholars trying to save the library.”

A lost cause, Robin knew. Had always known. Ohara had been doomed the moment the World Government pressed the golden den-den mushi. And still her mother stayed.

Perhaps it wouldn’t have made a difference, but Robin had always wondered what her life would have been like if she hadn’t. If anything would have changed if Robin had one person who she could trust and depend on instead of spending twenty years struggling to keep her head above water in a sea of loneliness and isolation.

“Why?” Usopp asked.

“I wish I knew,” Robin said. “She said I would understand someday, but it hasn’t come yet.”

It occurred to Robin then that she was doing a very poor job, sharing her own woes instead comforting Usopp. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her nose before turning back to look at him properly. It was difficult to find a smile for him, but she managed. The caustic aftertaste of her own bitterness twisted it into something less than genuine.

“I’ve worshiped my mother and cursed her name, sometimes in the same breath. I’ve hated her, and loved her, and wanted her, and wished I never knew her all at once. I’ve dreamed of seeing her and wanted nothing more than to hurt her beyond the grave. It’s not logical, and there was a time when it almost consumed me.” Robin paused, more memories of an angry and self-destructive adolesce causing an involuntary shudder down her spine.

Really, it was a wonder she was still alive at all. There had been nothing left after the rage burnt itself out, the pressing need of her own survival giving her little time to nurse the hurt into a wrath that could sustain itself. Bit by bit the weight of life had pressed against her, smothering what little hope she had left and leaving a bleak wasteland that made Robin want to curl up and die.

After all, she’d twice been abandoned by her own mother. Who would want a monster as unlovable as that?

“I just don’t understand why he never came back,” Usopp said after the silence went on a beat too long to be considered comfortable. “Or write, or something. Was he trying to protect us?”

He looked down at his hands, calluses and fine white scars crisscrossing into a map that laid out the path of his adventures. He clenched them into fists, the strain pulling the tendons taunt against his knuckles.

“Did he forget about us? Does he know what happened to Mom? Does he even care ?”

Usopp kicked at the leg of the table, then yelped when he succeeded in stubbing his toe. His eyes shone with unshed tears, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. Robin knew the physical pain wasn’t their source.

“I don’t know,” Robin said. The blunt truth startled another yelp out of him, and Usopp looked up at her with his jaw slack and an unguarded look of terror in his eyes. Robin felt her expression soften, and she reached out to lay her hand over his.

It had been a long time since her touch could offer comfort instead of destruction. The simple act of holding his hand brought back more memories, one that was neither the tearing pain of her miserable childhood nor the false nostalgia that she’d hidden behind for so long. It was a healing sort of hurt, powerful in its simplicity, and Robin gave a soft, reassuring squeeze.

I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.

“What I do know is that your father is still alive,” Robin said gently, “and when the right time comes I believe that you will have the courage to face him.” She paused, one last silence in a day that had been full of them.

“And...you don’t have to follow his path. No matter how similar you are, no matter how much of him rests in your heart, you are not your father.”

Robin thought back to that last meeting with her mother. She had been honest when she said she didn’t understand why she had stayed behind. Her mother had chosen her dream over the people she loved. Despite Robin’s best efforts to convince herself otherwise, as time passed and she became, if not unbiased, then more openminded, it became clear that her mother had loved her very, very much.

He mother said that Robin would someday understand, and when faced with the same impossible choice Robin thought she finally would. Had her mother been at Water 7 Robin had no doubt that she would have chosen her own survival over the life of the Straw Hat Pirates. After all, that’s what she had done at Ohara.

But Robin couldn’t. Twenty years later, and she was still no closer to understanding. She made her peace with that. She had to, or the contradiction would have torn her in two.

Usopp broke through her ruminations with a hug that threatened to crush her. Robin sprouted arms to keep her chair from tipping, then returned the embrace, digging her fingers into the rough fabric of his coveralls as if he’d disappear if she didn’t hold on with all her strength.

“Thanks, Robin,” he said, his voice muffled and wet.

Robin smiled, not caring when a tear slipped down her cheek. She had no answer, safe to tighten her hold, the silence holding more understanding than words ever could

#creative-type writes #Nico Robin #usopp #one piece #One Piece Fanfiction #complicated family relationships are my jam #in case you couldn't tell

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hergan416 · 4 years

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First line meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 15 stories. See if there are any patterns. Then tag your favorite authors!

I was tagged by @touchmycoat and I will pass this on to anyone who wants to do it. Even if I don't follow you, or you don't think I mean you, I mean you if you think this sounds fun. Feel free to tag me so I can see what you learn!

About formatting--I am considering each chapter in the fic "Thirty One Days" a unique chapter for the purposes of this meme, as they are written to be loosely connected one shots.

I am using both of my pseuds to better get a picture of my writing history, so if you end up looking up my yugiomo pseud...know that there WILL be omorashi and consider this your warning. If you do not know what this is, and are over 18, use urban dictionary or something.

Astonishingly, all of the first lines of all of the fics are tumblr safe. Horray. Most of the fics aren't. If you look up any fics, PLEASE pay attention to the ratings on AO3, and any content warnings.

Patterns: Every. Single. One. Of my new (2019 holiday season forward) fics starts with the name of a person and a paragraph. This paragraph immediately sets up the person's thoughts. Previously, I had begun fics with much more action, often with dialog, or specific thoughts or actions. "Keijo!!!!!" was sitting in my drafts for years before it was finished and posted, so it makes sense that it followed my old format, despite falling on the newer side of the break I took writing. (It is the only thing I published besides the 2018 YGOME before the 2019 YGOME started me writing again.) The long break coincides, to my memory with the tumblr purge and me entering a long-term relationship with my current partner. I should maybe think about adding more action into my writing again.

15. "War of Love: The Game" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Draw!” Atem yelled as he pulled the card out of the deck and looked at it.

14. "Dignity Lost! The Ship Ride to Duelist Kingdom" (yugiomo pseud, and yes apparently I'm mainblogging that now). --- Anzu grit her teeth as she listened to the gentle sound of water on the hull of the giant boat, every wave torturous to her ears. Finally she stood from her position crouching next to Honda. “I’m at my breaking point,” she complained, her voice a slight whine.

13. "Paladins: Champions of the Realm" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Enemy double kill... enemy triple kill!” the automated voice announced. "Enemy killing spree.”

12. "Failure" (yugiomo pseud) --- Stupid Kaiba and his stupid rules! Jounouchi thought, desperately working at the restraints that held him him in place. Who even made desks like this anyway? It almost seemed like the chain was built in, like it was meant to be on the desk. But that couldn’t be right. Kaiba had said he’d had this desk as a kid.

11. "More Sex Play" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Want to play something other than Duel Monsters this afternoon?” Atem suggested to Kaiba as he dug through the golden box for his deck. “I live in a game shop, surely there is something else you’d like to try to beat me at.”

10. "Alone" --- All Kaiba wanted was to shrink away from the music, the noise and the crowd. He didn’t want to play this part anymore, but he had to, for Mokuba’s sake. Mokuba was all that was left.

9. "Trying (On) My Patience" -- “Look, all I’m saying is that you need to find something other than a discarded school uniform to throw over your shoulders. And maybe some better jewelry.”

8. "Keijo!!!!!" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Don’t you think we should check it out?” Atem insisted, his intense gaze meeting Kaiba’s across the desk. “It’s the latest competitive fad in Japan. According to Yugi, men are going crazy for it.”

7. "Liquid Gold" --- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9XaS93WMRQQ

Atem sat at the computer, simply searching the internet while he waited for Seto to finish up with his work. While he almost exclusively had been using this specific computer in Seto’s office space since coming back from the afterlife, occasionally Seto would use it to set the ambiance while Atem was gone. What Seto didn’t know is that Atem had figured out how to search the browsing history, and that he had recently seen that there were nearly 20 plays of the same youtube video.

6. "All I Want For Christmas..." --- Yugi yawned as he watched out the window of the Kaiba jet . It was the private one, not the blue eyes white jet; Yugi had always been secretly nervous about that plane’s capability of flying, and regardless, there wouldn't have been enough room for Mokuba, Yugi, and Seto to fly in the dragon-shaped jet together. He’d been woken by the announcement of the plane’s descent, as dawn broke over the unique arrangement of city and harbor that forms Sydney, Australia.

5. "Help Me Doctor (I Have Sinned)" --- Marco always had an eye out for sails as he went about his daily tasks on Whitebeard’s peaceful home island. He’d been expecting Edward Weevil to make his way there eventually, and in the meantime needed to protect the small island from bands of low-class marauders. So, when he was walking down the beach and he recognized the telltale black flag, he immediately pulled out his spyglass. The jolly roger showed a skull surrounded by a fluffy pink scarf, with giant red lips and a brown and pink tricorne on its head, and Marco’s heart rate immediately increased.

4. "Shimmering Blush" --- Tony Tony Chopper woke up bright and early, excited to go back to see his friends. The last two years in Birdie Kingdom without seeing any of the other Straw Hats had been long, even with the new friends he’d made here. He knew he was stronger, and would do his best to support everyone now that he would finally get to see them again.

3. "House On A Hill" --- Marco wasn’t about to listen to Katakuri (of all people) lecturing him on selflessness. They both had always been the kind of people that would prioritize their families over themselves. That was why they had ended and Marco was cursing Katakuri for not leaving the island after yet another ill-advised tryst.

2. "Relief" (yugiomo pseud--you thought this died in 2017, didn't you?) --- Ryou had, for the most part, reached an understanding with the Spirit of the Ring. Unlike Yugi, Ryou was well-aware of the other person that had come attached to the Millenium Ring, the Item his father had gifted him from one of his archeological digs. Most people probably would have assumed they were cursed the first time they saw the disembodied Spirit following themselves around, and thrown the Ring away as far as they could. Ryou, in contrast, turned around, faced the Spirit, and said hello.

1. "Shared Nightmares" --- Robin has had nightmares about the Buster Call that destroyed Ohara ever since she escaped her fate. Sometimes it’s just the kids back home that picked on her and called her a devil child, all in the rescue boat and dying because she might have made it on board, sometimes it’s the burning of the Tree of Life, sometimes it’s Saul’s laughing face as Akoiji froze him solid.

0. "Seek and Ye Shall Find" (I miscounted and started a fic late and I am not spending time readjusting this nonsense) --- Atem was so happy he’d finally found a way to at least view what was happening back in Domino. Rather than getting surprised by the Gods’ future requests at world-saving, he could keep an eye on things from the afterlife. It’s not like he could transport himself to Domino without the Gods’ help, so it was more a way to keep an eye on things in the meantime. The Kaiba Dome seemed the best place for the mirror into the realm of the living; after all, Seto Kaiba now seemed the center of all the trouble.

youtube

#long post #my writing #writing meme #mobile doesnt have see more #Youtube

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anubislover · 4 years

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A Heart to Be Used as Needed (a dark Corazon!LawxBaby 5 fic)

“Joker killed another one, huh?”

Sniffling and tearfully nodding her head, Baby 5 skulked into Trafalgar Law’s lab, the young Corazon’s afternoon coffee carefully balanced on a silver tray. “The bastard didn’t even give me enough time to set a wedding date.” The Buki Buki no Mi user was a mess; mascara blended with tears down her cheeks, her eyes were red and puffy, jet black hair tangled, and there were thin rips throughout her maid uniform. She’d clearly just come from another failed attempt at killing Doflamingo, her rage at once more being denied her dream of marital bliss no match for the shichibukai and his Ito Ito no Mi powers.

Law scoffed as he continued to dissect the man on his table. His victim was barely conscious, chest cavity wide open, any resistance he might make suppressed by restraints, a cocktail of opioids, and the fact that his limbs were in a bin on the other side of the operatory. Doflamingo had caught the guy snooping around the castle, so he’d been generously donated to the lab for the Surgeon of Death’s amusement. He’d started off using his powers, but after a while decided to practice more traditional surgery—minus the anesthesia, of course. The result was a rather bloody operating table, organs lined up in little trays encased in their own Rooms to keep his subject alive as long as possible.

Holding the man’s liver up to the light, Law tsked at the cirrhosis that had formed. “You know, they say insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.”

Grimacing at her superior’s handywork, the maid replied haughtily, “I’m pretty sure it’s also finding pleasure in playing around with a man’s organs while he watches.”

“No, that’s sadism. Completely different.” Turning around, he pulled off the bloody latex gloves and surgical mask, switching them with the coffee mug, warm viscera dripping onto the polished silver. Despite being red with tears, Baby 5’s eyes rolled heavenwards in annoyance; with his abilities, he could have easily thrown those in the trash, but he always left it to her to clean up instead. Frowning at the red stains on his dress shirt and white lab coat, she knew she’d also be spending a good hour on his laundry. Oh, well. At least it made her feel useful.

Taking a sip of the bitter beverage as he leaned against the operating table, Law quickly scanned her for injuries. Apart from a few bruises and some thin cuts, she seemed relatively unharmed, but it was still worse than Joker’s usual retaliation. Either he’d been in a bad mood, or Baby 5 had really gone all out this time. “Need me to bandage those up?” the surgeon asked, indicating the long, thin slash at her waist.

She waved of his concern as she dumped the contaminated gloves into the trash. “Oh, don’t trouble yourself; I’ll take care of them later.”

It was an expected response; heaven forbid the maid allow anyone to do something for her. Half the time he had to drug her just to fix her up after a mission, as she’d insist on not being a burden even while bleeding out. So, knowing it was a lost cause, he pointed to the sink. “Then at least wash your face; I don’t need you dripping snot and makeup all over my nice, clean lab.” It wasn’t clean, and Baby 5 would inevitably be the one to mop up the blood later, but she was smart enough not to comment.

As she dutifully bent over the sink, scrubbing away tears and reapplying her lipstick, Law diverted his gaze from her injuries to instead appreciate the way her short dress and high heels made her legs look impossibly long. He couldn’t help it; as a doctor, he enjoyed studying anatomy, and as an admitted hedonist, he loved a sexy pair of legs on anyone. The way she leaned over, arching her back and presenting her pert ass, filled his head with impure thoughts of burying his stiff cock inside her, fucking her hard and slow while she made helpless little sounds of pleasure.

Joker really was a sadist, parading a beautiful, biddable woman around in such a tempting outfit, then basically forbidding anyone from touching her. It was easier on everyone else, as most saw her as a sister or niece if they regarded her at all, but as Law’d never bought into the family crap, he lacked that barrier. Instead, his main reason for not going after the sexy little maid boiled down to the knowledge that if he did, she’d cling to him for life, and Doflamingo would be pissed.

Even the best fuck in the world wasn’t worth upending his ultimate plans.

Downing half the mug of coffee in one go to quell his urges, he said, “Not that I approve of any of the worthless peons you’re stupid enough to fall for, but if you want to get married so badly, quit telling Joker and just elope. Why ask permission when you know you’ll never get it?” Despite his harsh words, he was vaguely impressed—foolish as it was, he’d give her props for persistence. Her intense desire to get married was almost comparable to his drive to bring the Heavenly Demon’s world crashing down around him before finally crushing his heart in his bare hands.

The fact was, despite being Corazon, Law had spent the past decade plotting to destroy Joker and his sick criminal empire. It was hardly for altruistic reasons; he’d set the whole world on fire so long as Doflamingo burned with it. All that mattered was avenging Cora-san, and there was no line he wouldn’t cross. A man in his position couldn’t afford to have scruples; his job generally revolved around torture, unethical experimentation, helping enforce Joker’s rule, keeping his twisted subordinates alive and in line, and more. How could he ever hope to take down the former Celestial Dragon if he wasn’t willing to do the same for his plans?

Besides his lack of limits, Law’s greatest strength was his patience. Much as he wanted to simply rip out his still-beating heart, Doflamingo was too strong to fight directly. At least, too strong for the Surgeon of Death. At first, Law’d planned on simply earning his trust and killing him on the operating table under the guise of performing the Perennial Youth Surgery, but after seeing how monstrously powerful and resilient he was, the young doctor had been forced to figure out a new plan. Then, two years ago, he’d had an epiphany; to take out a Warlord, you needed an Emperor, and he was in the perfect position to sabotage Joker and Kaido’s partnership. He would break one of the gears that kept the New World running, then sit back and relish the beautiful storm he’d ushered in.

It wouldn’t be easy, and at the moment, his greatest challenge was gathering the right allies to help him enact his brilliant scheme. Violet used her powers and sexual relationship with Joker to keep him informed of their boss’ plans and divert any suspicions of betrayal. Law had amassed a small but devoted crew eager to follow him into Hell. Last year, he’d secretly saved the Straw Hat boy at Marineford, healing and handing him over to Silvers Rayleigh to train with the intention of calling in the life debt once he and his crew were strong enough for the New World. The young upstart’s brand of chaos would be useful for destroying Joker’s SMILE factory and invoking Kaido’s wrath.

Slowly Trafalgar D. Water Law moved the pieces into place, playing a quiet game of chess with the unwitting shichibukai while acting as his sadistic but loyal Corazon.

Perhaps it was that devotion to subtlety and meticulous planning that made him so annoyed at Baby 5’s foolishness. “Seriously, you do this every time; flounce into his office crowing about how you’re getting married, and the next day the guy’s entire town has been razed to the ground.”

“But I want the Young Master’s approval!” she declared. She simply could not understand why everyone was so against her getting married. Ever since she was a child, she’d longed to belong somewhere, to be useful and needed by someone. To be a man’s wife meant that there was someone who truly valued her, who saw how useful she was and was happy to let her tend to his every need. To be useful was to be needed, to be needed was to be loved, and a loved person would never be abandoned in the mountains, determined a burden, or forgotten.

Once more presentable, her cheeks flushed as she basked in a romantic fantasy, imagining her hypothetical wedding day. “I know he’s just being protective and doing what he feels is best, but he’s never even met my boyfriends! Once he sees how truly in love we are, he’ll walk me down the aisle and give me away to my beloved—”

“That’s just it—he doesn’t want to give you away,” the Dark Doctor interrupted sourly, running a tattooed hand through his messy hair in irritation. Really, how was he the only one who saw through their boss’ illusion of “family” for the brainwashed cult that it was? Was it because he’d witnessed first-hand what he’d done to his own brother? The volatile maid was one of the few he cut any slack; he’d spent the past twelve years watching Doflamingo cultivate her psychological need to be needed into something fanatical and horribly unhealthy, whereas the rest were just plain cruel, stupid, or greedy. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t gleefully tear into her I delusion like a pinned-down frog, though. “You’re most useful when you’re solely devoted to him. If you marry outside the Family, your loyalties will be divided.”

“No, they won’t,” she argued, clasping her hands over her heart, eyes sparkling dramatically under the cold, florescent lights. “I’ll always be loyal to the Family!”

“But what if your husband wants you to choose between us and him?” Law pressed, setting down his mug. Normally, he didn’t bother trying to reason with her, but he was feeling particularly sadistic at the moment. Such utter devotion to that monster disgusted him, and something urged him to pick at the fresh scab over the maid’s damaged psyche and watch it bleed as she was forced to face painful reality. “Your taste in men is generally atrocious, so who’s to say you wouldn’t end up falling for the enemy? Let’s say your husband needs you to shoot Joker, but Doflamingo needs you to kill your husband. Who would you obey?”

“I—I would…” she trailed off, eyes dropping to the floor and hands wringing her apron as her mind struggled. Cheeks flushed red with strain, white teeth bit into her plump, cherry red lip, and sweat started to form across her brow. The butt of her cigarette fell to the floor, slowly burning out on the white linoleum. Law didn’t need to check her pulse to know her heart was racing, and her bountiful chest heaved as panicked adrenaline raced through her veins. It was like a computer attempting to process a paradox, slowly frying its own circuits trying to figure out the unsolvable answer.

A wide, cold smirk stretched his lips, gold eyes greedily taking in her mental anguish. Really, it was quite an attractive look on her. Control freak that he was, he got a special, sick thrill from the knowledge that he could play with her emotions so easily, his words as precise and sharp as his scalpel. “Exactly. That’s why he’ll always kill your pitiful fiancés. He doesn’t trust you to make good decisions on your own, so he guards you like a dragon would a princess, incinerating any would-be knights in shining armor trying to rescue you.”

“But I don’t need to be rescued,” she insisted weakly.

“Well, that’s good, because none of those idiots cared about you enough to want to rescue you. They wanted to take advantage of your weakness, just like everyone else.”

“You’re wrong; they loved me!”

“Then tell me all about your latest ‘romantic’ proposal,” he said sarcastically, slowly circling her like a leopard sizing up a wounded doe, deciding what part of her soft, defenseless flesh he should sink his teeth into first. “Did he get down on one knee and declare his undying devotion? Whisper sweet nothings as you gazed at the stars? Give you a sparkling diamond ring and a bouquet of red roses?” he rasped in her ear as his hand teasingly stroked along her shoulders.

“He…he gave me a daisy,” she muttered, hopelessly staring at the floor.

“Ooo, a daisy! I’m sure it was the prettiest weed freshly picked from a crack in the sidewalk a woman could ask for.”

Spinning around, she struck him, the deafening slap of her open palm against his cheek echoing throughout the operatory. “Why are you such an asshole?!” she shouted, tears once again welling up in her big, dark eyes.

Even though he’d been expecting it, Law glared at her like a basilisk for her insubordination, smirk returning as she instantly cowered before him. Toying with her was so amusing, her reactions volatile yet comically predictable. Really, it was something he’d grown to enjoy over the years—seeing just how far he could push her before she snapped, only to watch her immediately regret it from nothing more than a cold look.

Relishing the power trip he got from her fear, the Corazon stalked back to the table. His victim’s eyes were becoming a bit clearer and his struggles had renewed, strained noises bubbling up in his throat as the drugs wore off. It seemed his body had processed the opioids more quickly than expected; too bad for the unlucky fool, but that just meant more fun for the Surgeon of Death.

Chuckling, Law glanced over his shoulder at Baby 5. With no one to cling to like she normally would, she’d remained frozen in place, trembling as she fearfully awaited his response. Dismemberment was his go-to punishment for her if her were in a particularly bad mood, though he always put her back together, and by the next morning she’d be back to scolding him for not showing the young master enough respect or stealing her last cigarette.

Lucky for her, this was one of his better days, so instead of having her join the man on the table, Law threw her a bone. “I need you to fetch me that gag on the counter. I don’t trust my patient not to start screaming again, and it would be rude of him to cause a racket when we’re trying to have a conversation.”

The second the word “need” had left his mouth, Baby 5 ceased her cowering, dashing over to the counter and grabbing the leather gag, nearly tripping over herself in her eagerness to be useful.

Despite himself, the Dark Doctor gave the barest hint of a smile. Much as the woman annoyed him with her fanatical devotion to Doflamingo, her desire to help was just so pure it was, at times, endearing. If he were honest, Baby 5 was probably the one he hated the least in the organization; besides being the nicest to look at, her wants and needs were simple, and she could be surprisingly compassionate in little ways. She was one of the few who, despite considering him a traitor, had acknowledged just how much Cora-san had meant to Law. Held his hand while he’d mourned for his savior after he’d been dragged kicking and screaming back to the Family. Been genuinely thrilled that his Amber Lead Disease was cured. Taken up smoking with him as a small tribute to the former Corazon, huddling behind a tree as they retched at their first taste of tobacco.

If nothing else, he always enjoyed watching her attack their boss when he murdered her fiancés. Even when she failed, Law found it to be catharsis-by-proxy, as he spent most of his days plotting how to horribly and painfully murder the shichibukai. A hell of a turn-on, too; who wouldn’t have the occasional sexual fantasy about a hot maid trying to assassinate the man you hated most?

Sparing a nod of thanks, the surgeon shoved the gag into his patient’s mouth before tightening the restraints. He prided himself on his steady hands, and he wouldn’t have his work ruined because the worthless fool couldn’t keep still. “You may call me an asshole, but I’m the only one who cares about you enough to give the cold, hard truth. Everyone else sugar-coats their words so they can keep you compliant and unwilling to think for yourself. So, you’re welcome.”

Hands fisting on her hips, Baby 5 scowled. It was remarkable how she could go from trembling before him to arguing like they were still children. “Oh, so people who are awful to me care, and yet the men you claim give such horrible proposals don’t? You’re so full of shit, Law!”

He shrugged, taking another sip of his now-lukewarm coffee. “Am I? Even when I was officially promoted to Corazon, you still treated me the same as when we were kids—slapping me when I got mouthy and refusing to kiss my ass like all the other sycophants in this shithole. Are you saying you don’t care about me?”

Her beautiful face twisted in genuine confusion. “I…well, of course I do, but…”

“I let you get away with so much more than anyone else. You hit me, insult me, order me about, and the most I’ve ever done is cut off your limbs for a few hours, and I always fix you back up good as new. Because, even though you’re a foolish, emotional pain in the ass, our little spats are the only thing that feel genuine some days. To you, I’m just Law, and I actually appreciate that.” It surprised him how honest he was being, but he supposed it was as he said; he cared enough not to bullshit her, at least compared to the others.

“You do?”

“Yeah. So that’s why I’m telling you to stop accepting every ‘proposal’ a guy throws your way. You’re famous for your eagerness to please, and men are always looking to take advantage of that. And even if you did manage to find the one decent soul in this world who genuinely loved you, Joker will never let you go. He’ll kill anyone who might take you from the Family.”

Something sparked in her eyes at his words, as if he’d given her the greatest epiphany of her life. “Maybe…maybe I could marry someone in the Family, then! Trebol nearly offered just this afternoon!”

Law gagged on his coffee at the very thought. A man like him needed a strong stomach, but perhaps he did have some limits, after all; not even he would inflict marriage to the snot-dripping freak on someone. “Please tell me you had to good sense not to accept.” He facepalmed at her embarrassed blush. How could anyone’s standards be so low? Was marriage really such an enticing concept that she’d bed that? And the risk of death aside, shouldn’t a woman as sexy and submissive as her attract better suitors?

A sudden, cruel idea popped into his head. What if he married Baby 5? A dangerous assassin and obedient maid could certainly be useful in his scheme. Doflamingo wouldn’t dare kill him for proposing; not if he wanted that Perennial Youth Surgery. He wouldn’t even have a good excuse to refuse the match, considering how it would both keep Baby in the Family and—so he’d believe—further secure his Corazon’s loyalty. After all, what better reward could Law ask for after years of faithful service than a gorgeous trophy wife?

And on the day he finally enacted his revenge against the Heavenly Demon, he’d either have a powerful, completely devoted ally in Baby 5, or she’d be too crippled by indecision to pick between them, keeping her from interfering. Either way, Joker would have lost a piece on the chessboard and not even know until it was too late.

A little voice that sounded disturbingly like Cora-san’s whispered in his ear that using Baby 5 like that made him no better than the Doflamingo, but Law brushed it away. If anything, he was being kind to the silly maid; hadn’t Rosinante wanted to keep him, Baby 5, and Buffalo out of Joker’s clutches? The Marine’s own methods of doing so hadn’t been gentle or entirely ethical, either—throwing kids out of a window wasn’t exactly a safe way to deter them from a life of piracy. Besides, even with his not-so-noble intentions towards her, Law was still a far better suitor than anyone she’d pick on her own. In fact, he was making her dream of becoming a wife a reality, and wasn’t that generous of him?

Putting his mug down, the surgeon reached out to gently rest his fingertips under her chin. Startled at the unexpected contact, Baby 5 nearly stumbled back, but he stepped closer, wrapping his arm securely around her waist to steady her. “It astounds me that a woman as beautiful as you would even consider settling for a disgusting thing such as Trebol,” he said lowly, looking deeply into her obsidian eyes. It would be easy to simply say he needed her or demand she marry him, but he wanted to be sure her loyalty fully shifted to him, otherwise, she could become a liability.

Besides, seduction was just so much more fun; since he’d hit adulthood, Law’d indulged in all manner of sexual vices with hundreds of partners, men and women alike. After all, he hadn’t expected to live past thirteen, and even with his Amber Lead Disease gone, he was on a ticking clock. Death loomed on his horizon, whether it he be killed in battle, forced to fulfill his purpose and conducting the Perennial Youth Surgery, or Joker uncovering his betrayal. So, in between plotting and research, why not make the most out of the time he had? And for all her annoying quirks, Baby 5 was a gorgeous, obedient woman, and he’d be lying if he didn’t like it when she showed her feisty side. She’d starred in many a wet dream over the years, and now he could finally justify making them a reality.

Hot, coffee-scented breath made the wispy strands of hair that framed her face flutter delicately. “You’d see you’ve got far better options if you simply opened your eyes.”

For her part, Baby 5 was utterly shocked. First, Law admitting that he cared about her, and now he was implying there was someone out there who might be interested in proposing? Was he serious, or just making fun of her like Trebol?

Slowly, the tattooed fingers at her chin journeyed south, brushing lightly down her pale throat, over her trembling heart, between her voluptuous breasts, across her trim waist, until they reached the pocket of her apron. Her eyes were fixated on his hand as he fished out a cigarette and her lighter, her breath quickening as he raised the former to her mouth. Instinctively, she opened up to take it, but with a playful smirk, he teasingly ran the filter over her bright red lips, amused at the way the cherry gloss stained the white paper.

Finally, he pushed the cigarette between her lips, murmuring, “Have you ever been kissed before, Baby-ya?”

The way her cheeks went pink was so uncharacteristically demure he had to chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, sending strange but thrilling tingles between her legs. “N-no,” she stammered bashfully.

With a soft click, Law flicked the sparkwheel with his thumb, carefully bringing the dancing flame to light the tip of the cigarette. He could tell he was making her nervous by the way she hurriedly took several steadying puffs, embers flaring with every inhalation.

“Such a shame. I imagine there are women who would kill for lips like yours. And the way you practically suck on that cigarette,” he growled, gold eyes fixating on her mouth, “it gives a man ideas.”

“What kind of ideas?” she asked, breathless and full of wide-eyed, eager curiosity.

Unconsciously, his arm tightened around her waist at her innocence, forcing her to arch against him, soft curves molding against hard muscle. God, she didn’t even know how tempting that question made her. If he were a man with less control, she’d be on her knees learning first-hand what a mouth like hers was made for.

Plucking the cigarette from her unresisting lips, Law took a long drag before blowing the smoke out his nose as he looked down at her with hooded eyes. Licking his lips, he could taste the lingering hints of cherry gloss, sharp and sweet and delicious. “The kind a sweet little thing like you wouldn’t ever dream of.”

“Are they,” she swallowed harshly, pupils dilating as she instinctively gripped his lab coat, “the kind husbands and wives have?”

“Husbands and wives, lovers, bedmates, bored, horny teenagers; basically, anyone who likes to fuck,” he replied before taking another drag. As he leaned back his head to release the stream of smoke into the air, he smirked devilishly at her rapt expression. Oh, he was going to ruin her.

Gently tucking a strand of raven hair behind her ear, he murmured, “Let me talk to Joker. Maybe I can pick his brain, figure out if there’s anyone he would consider a worthy husband for you.”

He forced himself not to laugh at the shadow of disappointment that crossed her face. Dropping her gaze, she pushed against his chest, trying to break away. “Ah…thank you, Law, but you don’t have to. I’d hate to be a burden, and you’re so busy—”

“Nonsense. A loyal, caring woman like you deserves a husband who appreciates everything you have to offer.” Deftly, he maneuvered them so her backside was pressed against the operating table, caging her in and thwarting her escape. Their legs entangled, Baby 5 had no choice but to meet his piercing gaze as he absently flicked the cigarette’s ashes onto a small puddle of blood by her hand. “I may not always agree with him, but he was right to kill the worthless bastards you were so infatuated with. Hell, my only complaint is that he always got to them before I did.”

“What?”

“I mean, if killing every man on the planet is what it takes for you to notice me…”

Baby 5 blinked blankly, mind desperately trying to process what he’d just let slip. “Law, are you…?”

“Am I what, Baby-ya?” he teased, leaning forward as he took another drag, his hot breath mingling with the sweet smoke as it fanned over her lovely face.

“Are you…proposing?”

“What if I were? Would you blindly accept like you did Trebol’s?” Putting the cigarette down, he ran the very tips of his fingers over her exposed collarbone before resting his palm over her thundering heart. He was positive if he removed it, it would jump right out of his hand. “Are you so desperate that you’d accept the proposal of a man who’s cut you apart for fun?” Roughly, his other hand buried itself in her thick, jet black hair, yanking her head back and pulling her even closer until their lips lingered barely an inch apart. “So desperate you’d give yourself over to a man covered in blood, pressed against an operating table occupied by a half-dissected idiot?”

“Yes,” she replied with bated breath, hopeful eyes sparkling.

God, she was weak. Law could pin her down and fuck her on that table, do any number of depraved things to that luscious, untouched body and she wouldn’t even complain so long as he said he needed her. The thought was tempting, but he couldn’t risk Joker refusing their union because he couldn’t control his libido. The Heavenly Demon had to feel like the surgeon genuinely desired his approval—that he wasn’t trying to go behind his back and destroy his wretched “Family.”

“Then no, I’m not.” Despair crumpled her face, tears once more welling up at how easily he’d played with her emotions. Before they could fully fall, Law released her hair to cup her chin. “Mainly because my pride would never let me give such a half-assed proposal. When I ask you to marry me, I’ll have Doflamingo’s blessing, a ring, and it’ll be somewhere far more romantic than my laboratory.”

Jaw dropping, she stared at him in disbelief. “Y-you mean that?”

“Absolutely. I can’t stand the sight of your tears; if marriage is what it takes to make you happy, I’ll do everything I can to help.”

“Thank you, Law!” she cried, flinging her arms around his neck. “You really do care about me!”

He had to chuckle as he returned her embrace; he knew she’d readily agree, but her pure joy at just the prospect of marrying him stroked his inflated ego.

“I promise I’ll be the best wife you could ask for! I’ll clean your surgical equipment twice a day, launder your lab coats by hand, give you back rubs, make onigiri for dinner every night—whatever you need!”

A tiny smile pulled at his lips. All such sweet, innocent promises from a woman who was far more sheltered than one would ever imagine from an assassin for a family of criminals. Though, he’d definitely take her up on that last one.

“Just promise me you’ll be a loyal, dutiful wife, Baby-ya, and I’ll give you a marriage unlike anything you’ve ever imagined,” he whispered intimately, cradling her cheek. His hand was so big he could fit the whole side of her face in his palm. She turned her face to nuzzle it blissfully, causing his calloused thumb to brush over her plump bottom lip.

Gold eyes darkened at the sight of her red lips against the tattooed appendage. Unconsciously, he stroked it against the seam of her mouth, gently coaxing her to open up and let it slip into her soft, hot mouth. He gave a faint moan at the sensation of her silken lips wrapping around him, molten tongue curiously stroking the rough pad. Experimentally, he gave it a few shallow thrusts, and he nearly lost his damn mind when she responded with an instinctive suck.

“Good girl,” he whispered without thinking, and the way her pupils dilated with desire at his words forced him to pull away, lest he jump the gun and the eager maid before him.

“Is…is that the kind of idea my mouth gives you?” she asked, panting faintly, her pale cheeks flushed as she nibbled on her bottom lip.

“That’s one of the tamer ideas,” he rasped, retrieving the forgotten cigarette. It had almost burnt down to the filter, but there was just enough left for a few steadying puffs. “Once we’re married, you’ll get to experience every dirty thought I’ve ever had about you. Would you like that?” he asked, unable to help himself.

Her harsh swallow was audible in the taut silence of the lab. “Yes.”

The pleasant throb between his legs urged him to start the wedding night early, but besides the logical part of his brain telling him he needed to set things in motion with Doflamingo, it was coaxing him to wait; this wasn’t the time or place to indulge in such a delicious morsel. Baby 5 needed to be savored, like a gourmet meal he’d spent hours preparing, not swallowed down in one bite. Once she was officially his, he’d have plenty of time to mold her into his perfect concubine, subordinate, secret weapon, and tool.

Desire under control, he took her hand, pressing a chaste, gentlemanly kiss to her knuckles. “I’ll meet with Joker tonight; I’m sure I can convince him we’re a match made in heaven. But I need you to not to tell anyone about us until I formally propose, alright? I want everything to be perfect, and we can’t risk Joker finding out too early and thinking we didn’t value his approval.”

Black eyes sparkled as his careful choice of words. “I promise, darling!”

“Such a good girl,” he chuckled, admiring the way her cheeks instantly flushed at his praise. How…interesting.

As Baby 5 giddily skipped out the door, the click of her heels silenced by the door slamming shut behind her, Law turned to the man bound to his table staring at him with wide-eyed shock. He’d nearly forgotten they’d had an audience, and he’d have to make sure he was properly disposed of before meeting with Joker; he couldn’t let anyone spoil his plans before he even got to the good part, after all.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he said as he pressed the smoldering embers of the dying cigarette against his patient’s cheek, smirking as the accusing eyes watered in pain. A fresh pair of surgical gloves stretched over his long fingers, and as he selected his scalpel, he added, “Trust me—I’m still a better option than that fucking creep Trebol.”

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mistergrass · 4 years

Note

In your fic (which is lovely btw) who found Yuki after he'd accidentally cut his wrist? Like how must that have gone down? Also, I'm not sure what you're going through right now but know that I'm rooting for you and I'm sure a lot of other people are too!

Thank you so so much for the well wishes! I’m in a much better place now, and I really appreciate the support from so many people!

And I have a very clear image of how that whole episode went down. It was never something that I planned to show in full in my fic, but here’s a brief drabbling on what happened:

cw: suicide mentions, cutting mentions

It was Yuki’s mom that found him. Everything really comes back to entrance exams.

Yuki falls into a numbing routine during middle school. He wakes up, he eats in silence with his mother (and maybe once a week his father is there, too). Yuki is driven to school, he sits through his classes, he talks to no one, the day ends and either he goes to the dojo or to the main house to see Akito.

When Yuki first joined the dojo, he liked it a lot. His body constantly felt restless in the main estate–it was nice to kick and punch and shove. His voice was always talked over–it was nice to yell and scream.

By the end of middle school, Yuki doesn’t think he feels anything in particular about the dojo. His body works on muscle memory. He’s so disconnected from the sounds his voice makes, he doesn’t even realize when he yells out of habit. Really, it becomes another thing that doesn’t matter at all.

When Yuki first started seeing Akito, it was the worst thing that could have happened to him. Everything Akito said felt like a hot branding iron. Being around Akito meant suffocating. His body felt weaker and slower around him. When he talked it was like talking into the open dead-air of space.

By the end of middle school, Yuki doesn’t think he feels anything in particular about Akito. His body has already accepted that it’s sick, that it��s dying, that this is what life feels like. He’s not so naive to convolute his mind by trying to convince himself otherwise (or by listening to Haru, who seems more like a friendly house spirit than anything). Really, it becomes another thing that doesn’t matter.

That’s what he convinces himself, anyways.

It’s getting close to the end of middle school and everyone starts considering what high school they’ll go to the following year. Yuki isn’t friends with anyone at his school, but he overhears the other students talking about the nearby all boy’s high school that they’re planning to attend. The middle school Yuki attends is known to be a feeder school for there, so it’s no big surprise.

Yuki doesn’t really think much about it at first. In general, the future isn’t something he thinks about much of at all.

That changes a few weeks later.

Yuki gets home after the dojo one night and his mother calls out from the living room that there’s mail for him on the kitchen table.

They’re big envelopes, and it feels like thin magazines might be inside them. Yuki grabs a letter opener from the drawer and slices the first one open.

It’s a brochure for the all boy’s high school nearby. Yuki stares at it for a long, long time before he flips through. The students on the pages of the pamphlet bear a striking resemblance to his tormenters at school, but maybe that’s because they’re all starting to look the same.

He slices open another envelope and it’s more of the same–more pretentious, all boys academies that promise to be a stomping ground for the deadened, crystalized misery wound tightly inside Yuki’s heart.

For the first time in a very long time, as Yuki eyes the other envelopes on the table, he feels something that he hasn’t allowed himself to feel in ages–fear.

He’s been numbing himself to get through this–to try and one day be someone strong enough who isn’t affected by all of this. By the bullies at school, by his family’s indifference, by his mother’s cold nature, by Kyo’s hatred, by Akito. Because years ago, when he placed that hat on that little girl’s head, he knew that one day he would be strong enough to matter. He just needed to get through this first, right?

Yuki realizes along the way that he stopped fighting for himself. That he just became numb, and now what if he’s stuck? What if he’s stuck here? Like this? Day after day? Forever?

He slices open another envelope. And another. And another–

He means it when he says he doesn’t mean to do it. He also means it when he says he doesn’t quite remember what happened. He puts too much force on the letter slicer, and it pushes past the envelope and into Yuki’s wrist from the base of his palm.

Yuki doesn’t eat much at school, and when he’s at the main estate (unless Akito is specifically watching him) he never eats his dinner. He’s weak and tired and anemic and overwhelming by years of emotions all coming back at full force, so when the letter opener cuts through him he passes out almost immediately.

Yuki’s mom hears the sound of him falling from the other room and when she comes to check on him, all the blood in her face drains completely. At first she tries to wake him up. She yells at him and puts pressure on his wrist. She screams for the maids to call an ambulance while she clutches her son’s body to her chest in a cold, cold panic. (It would figure that Yuki’s mother finally shows him the attention that he craves only when he’s unconscious.)

Yuki’s mother doesn’t ever talk about it again. Especially not to Yuki, who might have been able to clarify what happened. But Yuki’s mother can’t handle the idea of her son saying out loud that she is the reason he might have tried to take his life.

When Yuki wakes up, it’s autumn. And things need to change.

Now that he knows that he’s alive, he needs things to change–because he refuses to live as though he’s numb to the world. He refuses to believe that this is all that life can be. He refuses to die without at least trying first.

So, not too surprisingly, when he starts making quiet, reluctant demands, they’re met almost immediately–out of fear of what he might do if they don’t. When Yuki asks his mom if he can attend a high school of his choosing, she agrees. When Yuki asks his dad if he can move out, he agrees. When Yuki asks Shigure if he can move in, he agrees. It actually goes a lot simpler than he imagined (it isn’t until later, when Haru confronts him close to tears and pleading with him not to try again, that he realizes what the whole estate has been thinking).

It’s the final straw for Ayame, as well. When he hears what’s happened with his brother something in his shifts. This journey to become better, more self-aware reaches its crux when he feels a desperate need to be by his brother’s side. And then when he realizes that that wouldn’t comfort Yuki at all, because he doesn’t know Yuki. Because he’s never been there for him. Ever. It really, really starts to haunt him. (So he asks his closest, most trusted friend to be the one to house him–so that he can at least know that he brother is safe, and can keep an indirect eye on him).

But Yuki wants to live. He never wants to feel numb again. He wants to embrace life with the same fire and passion and rage that Kyo does. He wants to feel that fire, himself. He’d rather burn in it than slowly freeze to death.

Because there is good in this world that are worth the fight. Yuki will never stop believing that.

#asks #anonymous #WHYYYYY do read mores never work the first time around JEEZ #anon I hope you don't mind me just Rambling Again #Fruits Basket #grassy's fic tag #tporh #tw suicide #BUT NOT REALLY I MEAN #Yuki wants to live that's the moral of all of this #he very much wants to live and love properly #he just gets a little lost along the way but that's okay #he's getting there

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sanjuno · 6 years

Note

Hey! I saw your prompts were open and I can’t really think of anything big, but I’d love to see what you have in mind for team minato and team 7 in the truth in hyperbole verse? Put in as many tropes as you like!! (I’m so sorry if this isn’t what you’re looking for!) I love your writing thank you for sharing it with us!!

Nah, this is good. I’ve had most of this idea plotted out for a while now, so it’ll be good to finally write it down.

(Ideas of March Prompt Fill 14/15)

Tangled up with his team in their weird little bower of woven living branches, Obito was quite content to remain where he was indefinitely. Kakashi’s head was tucked up under Obito’s chin, the younger ninja keeping his weird new dojutsu pressed into Obito’s shirt. Rin had plastered herself to Obito’s side, her forehead resting against the back of Kakashi’s neck and her arms around both her boys. Obito had one arm around Rin’s back to support her and the other wrapped around Kakashi to keep him close.

… Sage, Obito had never really noticed how small Kakashi was before. It was really obvious that Kakashi was younger than them when he was curled up in a miserable shaking ball in Obito’s lap. The unsteady hitch in the soft breaths against Obito’s chest ignited something fierce and protective inside Obito’s ribcage. Kakashi was suffering, and Obito wanted to track down the source and burn it to ash.

Less than an hour after Rin finished patching him up, Kakashi took a deep breath and stiffened. “The mission.”

“Screw the mission.” Scowling Obito, refused to let go as Kakashi tried to wiggle free. “Stop that! What’re you doing, Bakakashi?”

“We need to complete our mission, Obito.” Fuming over the inescapable cage his teammate’s hold proved to be, Kakashi crossed his arms and pouted. It was probably meant to be a glare, but Kakashi’s mask was gone and his lower lip jutted out when Kakashi narrowed his eyes. “I’m healed and it’s time to continue on.”

“No!” A hand pressed against his shoulder, and Obito turned to look at Rin. She shook her head, pulling away from their huddle. Obito grit his teeth. “But!”

“I want the war to end, Obito.” Voice quiet but implacable, Rin tugged on Obito’s hand to encourage him to release Kakashi. “Destroying this bridge is important. That’s why Sensei was sent out as a distraction. We can’t waste his effort, Obito.”

“Rrrh-! Fine!” Obito let Kakashi go and they all stood up. With jerky motions Obito slung the pack of explosives onto his back and hissed through his teeth. “We’re doing the stupid mission! I have no idea how to use the sharingan. Bakakashi’s hurt. You used up most of your chakra healing him. But sure! The mission comes first! I still think this is a bad idea and I’m not happy about it!”

“Be unhappy quietly.” Was Kakashi’s flat rejoinder, obviously displeased by the reminder of his injuries. The light coming from Kakashi’s left eye flared brighter and he winced, hand flying up to cover the scarred lid. “The last thing we need is another ambush.”

Obito snapped his mouth shut on another complaint. Furious resolve kindled in the young Uchiha. The rest of this mission was going to go perfectly. They were going to go blow the bridge up, and then Obito was getting him team right back to Konoha. No delays. No detours. No demonic tentacles snatching Kakashi away while Obito watched helplessly.

The Uchiha were all about making things explode with fire. Obito was going to destroy the hell out of this bridge and good riddance.

/…/

The trip to the bridge was tense, all three of them hyperaware of their surroundings. Kakashi had needed to pull his forehead protector down over his dojutsu, not wanting the glow to give his position away. Given the way the silver-haired boy’s tense shoulders relaxed once the eye was covered, Rin had the suspicion that Kakashi had mostly done it to cut off the input. There was no telling what the Hatake dojutsu picked up on and there was no way Kakashi had known to train for it.

The Hatake had been a dying Clan for a long time, and if there had ever been a Kekkai Genkai the knowledge of it had long since faded from memory. Worry clogged Rin’s throat. They just needed to finish this mission, then they could all go home and Rin could safely wrap both her boys in blankets so she could sit on them until the entirely rational fear that they were going to disappear again was less overwhelming.

They just needed to blow up a bridge. Simple. That bridge was coming down on the first try or so help her Rin was going to on a full-bore Tsunade-shishou rampage and turn this entire section of the forest into a smoking crater.

/…/

Slipping away from the destruction raging behind them, Kakashi sighed in relief. His covered eye throbbed, and the new flesh on his chest was tender and sore. He just wanted to go home. Now that their mission objective was complete and the bridge was beyond the enemy’s ability to repair, Kakashi had no objections to heading straight back to Konoha.

His team probably agreed with the sentiment. Rin and Obito had followed orders with grim determination, and they had been rather more liberal with the application of the explosives than the job really called for. Still, Kakashi was not complaining. Maybe once the headache faded, Kakashi would be more inclined to concern himself with his teammate’s mental states.

These were thoughts for later. The job was done, but they still needed to make it home before they could call the mission a complete success. Kakashi hid a wince.

It was going to be a long, painful trip.

/…/

“I can’t sense anyone.” Obito murmured when they stopped to rest, passing the water bottle to Rin as spinning red eyes roamed over their surroundings with startling focus. “You?”

Face turned to the breeze, Kakashi let the air roll over his tongue as he breathed deep, scenting the air. “… Nothing.”

“Thank goodness.” Rin murmured, handing Kakashi the water bottle and pressing her hand against his chest without hesitation. “Stop that, Kakashi. You’ve already put enough stress on the healing I did earlier. Now let me check.”

“He good?” As soon as he saw Rin nod and pull her hand back, Obito stepped forward and scooped Kakashi up into his arms. “Let’s get going.”

“… No.” The flat tone was a warning all on it’s own, but Obito ignored it cheerfully. Kakashi’s glare increased in intensity. “Obito. Even you aren’t stupid enough to carry me all the way back to the Village.”

“Like the pretty princess you are, Bakakashi!” Taking the lack of physical struggle as agreement, Obito started moving. “Right, Rin?”

“The prettiest!” Rin agreed as she paced them, one hand held over her mouth but doing nothing to hide the amusement in her eyes. The levity felt good, releasing the leftover tension from completing the mission after two sequential ambushes. “Don’t drop him, Obito!”

Obito scoffed, pulling Kakashi closer. “Or you’ll do what?”

“Or I’ll take my turn as the dashing samurai!” Rin stuck out her tongue, miming taking Kakashi away from Obito.

“… You’re both complete idiots.” Rolling his eyes at their antics, Kakashi huffed grumpily but let Obito continue to carry him. As embarrassing as it was, Kakashi took careful note of the paranoid way his team was watching the ground for movement that did not belong. Whatever other side effects the changes Kakashi had gone through might have, they had left him exhausted. Letting Obito do all the work and not moving a single muscle for the rest of the week sounded like a great idea.

Kakashi would just need to make sure they put him down before they were seen by any of the perimeter patrols. It would be fine.

/…/

Sakumo stared at his son’s sleeping face, fingers denting the doorframe as he logged the new scars. The Uchiha curled around his boy lifted his head, red eyes gleaming with silent threat before recognition set in. Kakashi was mostly hidden by his teammates, wrapped in their arms and buried in blankets. Obito was still watching Sakumo silently, wary of him waking Kakashi but not willing to tell his teammate’s father to leave.

Smiling faintly at the young Uchiha, Sakumo finally managed to tear himself away from Kakashi’s bedroom door. Making his way back to the kitchen, Sakumo ignored the dejected blond slumped facedown at the table. Orochimaru said nothing as Sakumo sought comfort in the Snake Sannin’s embrace like his was trying to hide from the rest of the world.

“… We almost lost him.” Tremors wracked the hoarse words, and Sakumo felt Orochimaru’s hand go still against the back of his head. “He’s still so young and he almost died today, lovely.”

Arms wrapped around his husband, Orochimaru looked angry. Hard gold eyes looked at Jiraiya over Sakumo’s shaking shoulders. Jiraiya’s face was grim, one arm wrapped around Minato’s back as a tactile source of support as the younger man tried to shake the terror that had seized him after hearing his students report.

“… He lived.” Orochimaru murmured into Sakumo’s hair, eyes still on his teammate. “We’ll keep him safe now.”

“Yeah…” Jaw firming inresolution, Jiraiya nodded his agreement to the plan. There had been far toomany ambushes on critical missions for it to be coincidence. This had been thelast straw. “Things’re gonna change now. We’ll take care of it.”

=/=

And then the Legendary Three go steal Sarutobi’s hat and kick him out of office. It’s great.

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mariequitecontrarie · 7 years

Text

Beguiled

Summary: When Belle decides to woo Rumplestiltskin, Jefferson gives her pointers on how to be more alluring with interesting results. Rating: T | Word Count: 3863 A/N: Written for @a-monthly-rumbelling: “You have a lot of nerve saying ‘hello’ like nothing happened.” An early birthday present for the wonderful @still-searching47, who was excited about Dark Castle fluff with Jefferson in the mix. Happy Birthday, love!

{ON AO3}

“Try pushing your shoulders back more,” Jefferson suggested, tenting his fingers. “And lift your chin.”

Belle rolled her shoulders twice and stuck her chest out, pressing her book against her abdomen. “Like this?” she asked, sucking in a deep breath.

“Not quite.” He wasn’t even looking at her as he rose from the plush fireside chair to study the display cases lining the walls of the great hall. He sipped his tea with an ungracious slurp. “But you’re, ah, getting better.”

Belle snorted. “If that’s you feigning nonchalance, you’re a worse actor than I am, Jeff.”

“Fine,” he snapped, spinning on his heel. “I was trying to be kind, but if you’re going to take that attitude, I’ll give it to you straight: for the love of the gods, Belle, didn’t your nurse teach you anything about feminine wiles?”

“She taught me how to read and speak twelve languages,” she said tartly. “I was rather busy.” Her cheeks warmed with the implication that she was lacking.

Jefferson rolled his eyes. “Nobody likes a know-it-all, love.”

“Yes, well nobody likes a giant arse wearing a top hat either, but here you are!” Belle flung her long, chestnut curls over her shoulder, retreating to her chaise by the fire.

She slumped over her book in defeat, more annoyed at herself for her failure than she was with Jefferson. He was only trying to help, but she’d been peevish with him the moment he knocked on the door. She’d told him what happened with Rumple, and now he was brimming with pointers on how she could be more alluring.

Posing felt ridiculous and unnatural, like she was a set of wares on display, instead of a person. She didn’t know how to behave like the silly, simpering maidens in the village where she had grown up, pursing their lips and pushing their breasts together to entice and entertain. Content with her books, learning how to apply rouge and tighten her corsets until she couldn’t breathe were foolish lessons she had been happy to live without.

Attracting another person had never interested her—until she’d met Rumplestiltskin.

Oh, she knew she was pretty; she’d been told often enough. But beauty wasn’t as important to her as brains or bravery. Besides, all the beauty in the world couldn’t make up for her clumsiness; Belle had been awkward from the womb. For as long as she could remember, she’d been prone to dropping things, tripping over her own feet, and running into walls.

Since coming to the Dark Castle as Rumplestiltskin’s maid, her gracefulness hadn’t improved. She’d lost count of the times she’d let the kettle boil dry, over-steeped the tea, or burned the cakes. Last week, she’d dropped a candle on the floor while reading and set fire to the carpet that lined the great hall. The magical tome she’d filched from Rumple’s laboratory had narrowly escaped the flames. The priceless heirloom rug from Agrabah, on the other hand, hadn’t fared so well. Belle cast a guilty look toward the scorch marks at her feet.

For all his seductive words and smooth ways, her former fiancé Gaston hadn’t fooled her. He wanted her purely for her title and fortune—nobody liked a clumsy girl, he had said. When she spilled champagne on herself at their engagement party, he suggested that instead of reading books she balance them on her head. “A man needs a graceful, elegant wife, Belle. We wouldn’t want you to trip on your way down the aisle and embarrass yourself.”

When compared to a lifetime shackled to Gaston, the decision to be Rumplestiltskin’s price for saving her village was an easy one. The Dark One—the most fearsome being in the realm—had never teased her about her awkwardness. Not once had he scolded her for dropping a plate or breaking an expensive artifact. He even insisted on taking his tea out of the teacup she chipped on her first evening of work. Rumple was kind, thoughtful, sensitive. Or he had been, until she had spoiled everything.

“Come now, Belle,” Jefferson coaxed, rising from the settee. “I’m sorry. Let’s try again. And tug your bodice down…maybe half an inch?”

“No.” She tried to focus on her book one more, but tears burned her eyes and the words were a blurry mess. A fat tear dropped onto the page and she rubbed the stain with her finger. “He won’t be impressed that I’m prancing around with my breasts on display.”

“Balderdash. You haven’t seen the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention. It’s as though you’ve hung the moon in the sky.”

“Then where is he?” She dabbed at her wet eyes with the starched corner of her apron. “Two days ago he disappeared without a word. No goodbye note, no mention of when he’s coming home. Nothing but a crimson poof of smoke!”

Jefferson frowned. “He’ll be back…eventually.”

xoxo

It was her own fault.

She’d driven him away by kissing him in front of the villagers. She had embarrassed him in public, and now he would never forgive her.

All because the townspeople refused to sell their goods to the Dark One’s harlot. Bread? No. Fruit? Go to the next shop, Miss. Spices? We’re all sold out!

Even the straw Rumple had requested was denied. They took one look at her, and their faces had gone white with fear. They sprinkled holy water, scattered herbs, and shuttered their shops. Every door was barred; every tent flap closed. One man with venomous eyes had even spit at her feet when she’d taken a wrong turn on the long walk back to the castle Two Days Earlier

“How is it you’ve returned without any of the supplies?” Rumplestiltskin didn’t look up from his spinning wheel when she entered the great hall. “I let you out of the monster’s lair to travel to town for some fresh air, to spend time in the company of normal people…is this is how you repay my lenience, Maid?” he asked in a teasing tone.

Belle set down the heavy basket of gold he’d given her to buy goods and dropped her cloak on the back of a chair with a sigh. “I tried to buy everything on the list. They wouldn’t help me.”

“What do you mean?” He stopped spinning, his amber eyes flaring to a dangerous bright yellow.

She twisted her fingers, hesitating. He’d been in a good mood a moment ago and the last thing she wanted was to anger him. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Out with it!” he ordered, pointing a sharp nail in her direction.

“They think I’m your mistress,” she confessed, her cheeks flaming.

“Why…how dare they!” Rumple leapt to his feet, overturning his stool. His teeth were bared in a feral snarl. “I’ll turn them all into snails. Every. Last. One.”

Belle watched wide-eyed as he waved his hand; his dragon hide cloak materialized between his thumb and forefinger as he stomped toward the door.

“Well?” he barked, swinging the spiked garment over his shoulder. “Come along then. Time to teach some villagers a lesson in manners.”

“No! I can’t let you do this. Rumple, those people…they were afraid of me. Storming down there won’t solve anything.” Belle laid her hand on his forearm in an effort to calm him.

“I’ll give them something to fear all right,” he said, rubbing his fingers together as he often did when he was prepared to cast a spell. “Let’s go!”

She donned her cloak and hurried after him, hoping she could stop him before he transformed the entire population into slugs.

xoxo The Present

“Come on, Belle. It’s not like you to give up. Let’s do this without the book, maybe. And stand…here.” Jefferson pointed to a spot in front of the hearth and flexed his fingers, his knuckles cracking.

Belle groaned in complaint but acquiesced, taking her place by the fire. Jefferson stood behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders, pressing them down and back. “Relax,” he whispered, an edge of mocking in his tone. “Pretend I’m Rumple.”

She screwed her eyes shut, trying to imagine the warm body at her back being several inches shorter, wiry, and clad in leather, that the fingers kneading her neck muscles were long, clawed, and sparkling with gorgeous golden flesh. It was a challenge, to say the least. Jefferson wasn’t Rumplestiltskin; he was nice enough and they were friends, but having his hands on her felt all wrong. He didn’t cause her palms to sweat or set her blood on fire.

A hot tear leaked from her closed eyes, escaping down her cheek. She wanted Rumple, and even standing here with Jefferson touching her felt like a betrayal.

xoxo

Rumplestiltskin staggered, clawing against the stone wall for purchase, his breath coming in gasps. Seeing Belle in his oldest friend’s embrace made him want to raze a village, cast a curse, smash a castle to smithereens—anything to erase the image of his friend and the woman he loved entwined like lovers.

His eyes narrowed. Perhaps choking the life out of a certain milliner would suffice.

Despair settled in his gut as he watched Belle lean back against Jefferson, the traitor’s hands drifting down to frame her hips. Bastard. He would cut off his hands and display them, dripping with blood, on a pedestal in the great hall. He would shred every one of his infernal hats and make him watch…He would rip out his heart and crush it to dust with the heel of his boot. He would…

“Relax, Belle,” Jefferson muttered, squeezing her shoulders, and Rumplestiltskin nearly burst into the room like a wounded animal, howling at him to unhand his maid.

But that wasn’t an option.

He had to act natural, to pretend their trip to the village hadn’t meant anything. None of it mattered. Not the sweet glory of Belle’s lips against his, nor the silken feel of her hair against his cheek, nor the comfort of her arms clinging to his worthless neck.

Belle was within her rights to move on, even with his former friend. It wasn’t as though many people came to the castle to visit the likes of him; naturally, she was lonely and would seek companionship. That, and he had hidden away from her in his laboratory for two days, terrified to face her after acting like a complete fool.

He’d been through worse, though—recovered from Milah, triumphed over Cora, even survived allowing his only son to slip through a portal. Surely he could bear losing a slip of a girl with bright blue eyes and a dazzling smile. But no one had ever made his heart trip and tumble the way Belle did. His darling, absentminded bookworm who was forever burning dinner and forgetting the tea, who dusted with a cloth in one hand and a book with the other. Belle was the only person who spoke to him like he was a person, like he mattered.

xoxo

It was his own fault.

He had escorted Belle to the village, kissed her, and then fled like a child. He had embarrassed her in public, and now she would never forgive him. Two Days Earlier

Rumplestiltskin charged out the door and down the mountain in the direction of the village. Belle skipped and sashayed a few steps behind him, struggling to keep up. She tripped over a rock, and he caught her by the wrist before she pitched forward into the dirt.

“Thank you.” Belle slid her arm through his, cupping his elbow with the opposite hand.

She beamed at him, and he grunted in reply, his cheeks growing warm under her soft gaze. All he’d done was keep her from falling on her face.

They wound their way along the path to the village at the foot of the Black Mountains against the breeze, the tangy spring air blowing in their faces, arms looped together.

Once they reached the village, he escorted Belle to each shop and stand that had banned her, leveling threatening stares at the shopkeepers. The vendors’ hands shook as they served her, their brows damp with sweat, but not one of them rejected his money or refused to sell Belle anything she wanted. They eyed him warily, stammering their thanks each time she handed them a gleaming spool of pure gold.

When the gold was almost gone and the basket filled with food and supplies, Belle grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bustling bakery. “Mmmm, do you smell that, Rumple? We should buy you some fresh rolls that aren’t blackened to a crisp. I’ll get better with the oven someday, I promise.”

“It’s no matter,” he assured her. She’d burned the bread every time she made it in the six months since she had come to live with him and it was of no consequence. He craved her company, not her service. “I don’t mind crunchy bread.”

“Crunchy. Ha! You’re kinder to me than I deserve,” she said, squeezing his hand.

He arched an eyebrow, thinking of the dungeon he’d cast her into when she’d first come to work for him. “You have a strange definition of kindness, Belle.”

“You have a strange definition of servitude,” she replied.

The aroma of the fresh loaves was tantalizing, though, and he and Belle purchased several kinds of bread. He smiled as she tried to balance them on top of the basket.

They turned to leave the shop just as a throng of children came running into the bakery, bouncing toward the display case like a litter of spring bunnies. A little towheaded girl with pigtails bumped into Belle, and she tumbled sideways, upsetting the contents of her basket. Bread, spices, books, and bolts of fabric went flying, as did Belle.

He caught her in his arms and their gazes locked. Smudges of flour decorated her cheeks, and he wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs. Belle’s eyes darkened, pupils blown wide, and Rumplestiltskin shivered. No woman had ever looked at him that way. Her hands slid up his chest and around his neck and she pressed her lips to his with a tiny moan that was his undoing. He crushed her against his chest with a groan and plundered her mouth, his tongue demanding her sweetness.

Through the roar of blood in his ears, he heard a throat clear and he released her mouth, his breath thready.

His lips tingled slightly from where they had been pressed against hers, and his tongue swiped at the lingering taste of her on his bottom lip. She was there, merely inches from his face, ready to be kissed again, and Rumplestiltskin felt the darkness recede in the presence of her light, the love he felt for her piercing through the blackness of his heart.

“Ahem.” There was a cough, and Rumplestiltskin turned toward the bakery case. Fifteen pairs of curious eyes were fixed on them, including the baker, and he looked back, his brain a hazy mess of confusion and desire.

“Mama,” a little girl whispered, tugging on her mother’s skirts. “Why is that monster kissing that lady?”

Belle giggled at the child, but he recoiled at her words, slumping his shoulders and backing away like the coward he was. He had lost control in front of a hoard of villagers, showing himself to be every inch the animal they’d claimed him to be. Horrified, he snapped his fingers and transported himself to his tower, leaving Belle alone in the crowded bakery.

xoxo

Present Day Rumplestiltskin sneered as Jefferson leaned down to whisper into Belle’s ear. He had no excuse for his bad behavior, but he was still the Dark One, and he wouldn’t play the fool in his own castle. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned in the doorway. The Hatter would pay for this outrage.

“Hello,” he said quietly.

“Rumplestiltskin!” Belle stepped away from Jefferson, her eyes alight with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. “You’re home!”

“Good evening, Belle. Hatter.” He grunted at Jefferson’s broad back and pushed off the wall with a clenched fist. How dare he be so cavalier? “Belle didn’t tell me you were here for a visit.”

“I didn’t know you were home, or I would have,” Belle said evenly. “I…”

Jefferson whirled around to face him, his jaw hard and eyes stormy. “You have a lot of nerve saying ‘hello’ like nothing happened.”

“Jeff,” Belle swung pleading eyes in the Hatter’s direction. “Don’t—”

Rumplestiltskin held up a hand. “Let the ingrate speak, Belle. Do you have something to say to me, Hatter?”

Jefferson’s eyes flashed like lightning bolts. “How can you treat Belle so badly? She deserves better.”

“You are treading where few who have dared to tread survive.” Seething, Rumplestiltskin stalked toward Jefferson, conjuring a fireball in the center of his palm.

“Rumple, stop!” Belle begged. “What are you doing? Jefferson is our friend.”

“Friendship is a farce,” he said through clenched teeth, holding the fireball aloft.

The Hatter shrugged. “Threatening me with parlour tricks won’t change the facts. You don’t love Belle.”

He lowered his arm and blinked at Jefferson in confusion. Is that what Belle thought? “Who says I don’t love her?”

Jefferson eyed him askance. “When a man kisses a woman and disappears for two days, that’s the impression he leaves.”

So Jefferson knew all about his shameful showing in the village. Once a monster, always a monster, it seemed. And once again he was paying the price. Tears blurred his vision and he hurled the fireball toward the hearth, triggering an explosion of flames and thick black soot.

“Impressive.” Jefferson smirked, waving his hand in front of his face as the smoke cleared. “Rumple, there’s no need for all this drama. Just be good to her.”

“Or you will?” he countered nastily.

“You have the wrong idea, my friend.”

“Is that why you were pressed up against my maid in my castle in front of my fireplace?”

“I was trying to help.”

“Your help is not welcome.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. “I could tell by the way you were handling—”

“Oh, both of you shut up!” Belle screamed.

Rumplestiltskin whipped around to see Belle standing on top of the table in the great hall, her hands on her hips, her face flushed, and her breasts heaving. She was annoyed. She was angry. She was magnificent.

“Belle…” He gulped. While he was arguing with Jefferson he had completely forgotten her presence, and from the way her eyes were snapping, she was not happy about it.

“If I wanted to be squabbled over as though I were not in the room like some ridiculous prize to be won, I would have remained in Avonlea and wed Gaston,” she said crisply, climbing down from the table. “Enough of this madness. Jefferson, would you please go? I need to talk to Rumplestiltskin. Alone.”

Jefferson tipped his hat and swept Belle a deep bow before slipping out the door.

Rumplestiltskin hung his head in shame, too miserable to even acknowledge Jefferson’s departure. He would apologize to Belle, and then he would leave so that she could pack her bags and plan her future.

“I’m sorry, Belle,” he said after the door closed behind the Hatter. “You’re free to go. To be with Jefferson or anything you want. I won’t…hold you here any longer.” He stole one last longing glance at her, memorizing her beloved features before drifting towards the door.

Her sweet face would be branded on his heart for as long as he lived.

xoxo

“Rumple, wait!”

He turned around slowly, and Belle watched myriad emotions rippled across his face. He did care for her. But he was afraid of his own shortcomings, just as she feared hers. She hurried across the room, then stopped when she was still a hands breadth away. She longed to be in his arms, but first she had to know.

“You don’t understand. Jefferson was trying to help me…um, be more, um, noticeable. That’s what we were doing when you saw us. Practicing.” Belle felt her cheeks heat with the admission.

“What?” He shook his head. “Belle, sweetheart, you don’t have to do anything to win me over. You’ve owned my soul since the moment I saw you in your father’s war room.”

She studied him, her throat thickening with tears at the endearment. He looked tired and scared, like a little boy who had gotten lost on a long journey. “Never mind that now. It was a foolish idea. Is what Jefferson said true? Do you love me?”

His eyes were wary and his throat bobbed. “I do.”

“Oh, Rumple!”

She launched herself at him, hurtling into his arms as she had at the bakery two days ago. Only this time, she fell on purpose. She peppered his cheeks, chin, and forehead with kisses, touching him everywhere she could reach. “I’m so sorry. I was never angry with you about the kiss; I thought you were angry with me for being so clumsy.”

“No, Belle,” he said, “I could never been angry with you. I love that you read and walk into walls. I love that you can’t make a decent pot of tea. I love that…” He shrugged. “I love you. And I’m sorry for running away. I thought that you…I’m a monster Belle. I always have been, I always will be.”

“You’re not a monster,” she chided. “Those people that looked at you like we were doing something wrong by kissing, by being happy, they are the monsters.”

He didn’t look convinced, but it didn’t matter. She had a lifetime to show him that she was right.

His stomach growled and she offered him a smile as she toyed with the soft curly hair at his neck. “You haven’t eaten anything in two days, have you? Would you like tea? Some of the bread we bought at that bakery? It’s probably stale now but maybe you could freshen it with a little magic. What would please you?”

“What would please me is to hear you say nothing more to Jefferson for the rest of the year,” he complained, tightening his grip on her waist.

She kissed his ear. “I’ve already told you, there’s no reason to be jealous. Jefferson is not lover material; he’s more like the brother I’ve never had.”

“Aye, a halfwit brother, dropped on his head when he was a babe.”

Belle laughed at his grumblings. “In any case, I don’t think he’s going to be a problem—at least for today,” she said.

“Good.” He sighed against her neck, then rubbed his nose into her curls.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” she teased, lacing her fingers behind his neck. “Will you promise me something before I do?”

He tilted his head, in that impish adorable way she adored. “I’m not very good at keeping promises. What do you want?”

“Promise me that when I kiss you, you won’t run away.”

“That I can do,” he said, lowering his head. “That I can do.”

###

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumplestiltskin x belle #jefferson #a monthly rumbelling #dark castle rumbelle #beguiled #mqc writes

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ulyssesredux · 7 years

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Hades

That will be using Facebook and Twitter to expose dishonest lightweight Senator Marco Rubio. Whores in Turkish graveyards. A total lie-and make sure or an electric clock or a telephone in the six feet by two powerful earthquakes in Italy and Myanmar. Shovelling them under by the dishonest media didn't mention that Bernie Sanders says, she must have looked a sight that night Dedalus told me he was going to bring steel and manufacturing back to drink his health. Once you are dead you are sure there's no. Whores in Turkish graveyards.

To Christ he did, Martin Cunningham explained to Hynes. Women especially are so touchy. What a terrible thing she said about him.

Unclean job.

Ohio from drug overdoses. If you can't run your own obituary notice they say. They are not hostile. Then, separately she stated, He said he'd try to belittle-totally biased that we have just won Missouri! Wall Street Crooked Hillary Administration is not for State-Rex Tillerson, Chairman of Ford, who was it told me, sir, Mr Power said. I suppose the skin can't contract quickly enough when the hearse capsized round Dunphy's and upset the coffin. About the boatman?

Make America Great Again.

We have all got to come. Mr Bloom admired the caretaker's prosperous bulk. He doesn't know who is he now? Just had a massive landslide. On Dignam now. Mary Anderson is up there now. Will be going back soon.

No passout checks. She had that cream gown on with the wife's brother. Demand is unreal. I'll soon be speaking about our great election victory. Slop about in slipperslappers for fear he'd wake. The terrorist who killed so many other African Americans who know me but attacked last night in Dallas-more spirit and passion than ever before. If we were all suddenly somebody else. Has anybody here seen Kelly? Crooked Hillary compromised our national security. Does anybody really? Shaking sleep out of it. Ideal spot to have in the fog they found the grave sure enough. Mr Bloom unclasped his hands in silence. He passed an arm through the sluices.

Nose whiteflattened against the curbstone: stopped. Who'll read the service too quickly, don't you think Crooked Hillary Clinton was not at all loyal to the quays, Mr Bloom stood behind the boy followed with their pants down. Terrible comedown, poor schools, no, Sexton, Urbright. I haven't yet. —Well no, Mr Power said. No, no ideas, no, Sexton, Urbright.

—That's a fine old custom, he said. Changing about. Dunphy's, Mr Bloom said. His wife I forgot he's not married or his aunt or whatever that. Dignam, Fawcett, Lowry, Naumann, Peake, what Peake is that true about the place doing interviews, but for the gardener. Meant nothing. Scandal! No wonder he lost! Two, Corny Kelleher, laying a wreath at each fore corner, beckoned to the boat and the hair. He greeted Pope and others are allowed to respond? Hoping some day above ground in a total Clinton flunky! Who wouldn't know this and why does Obama get a special prosecutor to look for the repose of the Lockheed Martin F-18 Super Hornet! Just out: Neera Tanden, Hillary Clinton, can put out false reports that I want to #MAGA! —No, ants too. Dying to embrace her in his walk. No, Mr Dedalus said, we will win big, so now he is dead! Silly-Milly burying the little dead bird in the one coffin. Sad! The great physician called him home. O yes, we'll have all been there, Martin Cunningham asked. For many happy returns. Poor old Athos! Same as last time. The server piped the answers in the U.S. doesn't tax them or to build a massive landslide. That's the first ballot and are not going to lose the election. I write Ballsbridge on the burning and crime infested rather than falsely complaining about the road. Mourning too. Typical politician-can't make out why the corporation doesn't run a tramline from the tramtrack, rolled on noisily with chattering wheels.

The ONLY bad thing about winning the Presidency I've ever seen a fair share go under first. Got a dinge in the world. Some animal. Bernie said the things she will be coming to me for tweeting at three o'clock in the dust in a whitelined deal box. They could invent a handsome bier with a weak gasp. He pulled the door of the amazing first responders. Their eyes watched him. Fun on the frayed breaking paper. —A pity it did not keep up fine, Martin Cunningham said, in order to fully focus on the table. #ObamacareFailed We are the last. Media is protecting her! Mr Dedalus said with solemnity: And Reuben J and the son of a toad too. On whose soul Sweet Jesus have mercy. But in the sky. Details to follow.

Many of her doc. We must repeal Obamacare and replace ObamaCare. Hillary's wars in the wreaths probably.

Leave him under an obligation: costs nothing. —Someone seems to suit them. Great hate and sickness! Martin Cunningham said decisively. Had the Queen's hotel in Ennis. #ImWithYou How quickly people forget that Crooked Hillary. I am come to look for the U.S. as a surprise, Leixlip, Clonsilla.

Put on poor old greatgrandfather. He expires. Big problem!

Delirium all you hid all your life.

#ImWithYou For too many years! Get the pull over him that way without letting her know. Him take me whenever He likes. The Gordon Bennett cup. Levanted with the devastating floods. He lifted his brown straw hat flashed reply: spruce figure: passed.

Liquor, what became of him. One, leaving soon for BIG rally in Florida I won the NBC Presidential Forum, but any business that leaves our country. He cried above the clatter of the horrible attack in Nice, France, I saw him, turning and stopping.

#Imwithyou SC has kept us safe is an attack on Mosul is turning out to all of the slaughterhouses for tanneries, soap, margarine. O, excuse me! Ah then indeed, he said quietly.

Like Shakespeare's face.

A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE Hillary and the son were piking it down the law, turning away, looking up at a Holiday Inn Express-new and clean, not enough signatures. Only reason the hacking. Better ask Tom Kernan?

Dearest Papli. —That's all done with him tomorrow. So I raised/gave!

I mustn't lilt here.

The wheels rattled rolling over stiff in the dark. Polls close, but if the election results were in big trouble-which is a direct threat to our country. —Eight plums a penny! Grows all the same boat. —He's at rest, he did, Mr Power said. Mr Power asked: Reuben and the media, with the massive stage at the auction but a lady's. Our Saviour the widow had got put up a young widow here. President Obama working instead of golfing.

Bit of clay in on being the V.P.

Mr O'Connell shook all their hands in a gesture of soft politeness and clasped them.

China wouldn't provide a red nose. Clinton and the boy with the help of God? Widowhood not the worst president in the six feet by two with his plume skeowways. Totally made up events THAT NEVER HAPPENED. No touching that.

Bent down double with his shears clipping. They buy up all. Got big then. Give you the creeps after a bit. Not he! 8 MILLION. I alone can fix this problem! It was a total disaster! He died of a cheesy. Under the patronage of the street this. Warm beds: warm fullblooded life. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, who shut down our First Amendment rights away.

Many killed.

Just tried watching Saturday Night Live hit job on me. Looking forward to meeting him tomorrow. We owe him an open border is the concert tour getting on, Mr Power said. I could. I am working hard, was the first sign when the flesh falls off.

I owed it to conceive at all. Bernie want to talk about you a bit softy. To be buried out of their own accord. Dressy fellow he was, he supported Kasich Hillary Wow, and backed Iraq War. Martin Cunningham said. Ye gods and little Rudy. Time of the large rallies, plus speeches and intensity of the Independent Ethics Watchdog, as well as some of the Venetian blind.

#Debate #BigLeagueTruth Hillary is handling the e-mails, continues to look into your situation bc there's never been anything like your lies.

Mr Power's hand. If she can't win Kentucky, she had one the other a little man as ever wore a hat, saluting Paddy Dignam shot out and vote West Virginia-JOBS, JOBS! I think that both candidates, Lindsey Graham called me about getting together for a big day for New York, he said, Madame Marion Tweedy that was. —I suppose the skin can't contract quickly enough when the two wreaths. Relics of old decency. Wonder does the news go about whenever a fresh batch: middleaged men, old women, children, Don, Eric, plus OUR GREAT SUPPORTERS, gave them this report and why does Obama get a spoiler to run against Crooked Hillary will finally close the deal, and always very short stamina.

Sadly missed. De mortuis nil nisi prius. Sad! It will be in one of the tombs when churchyards yawn and Daniel O'Connell must be stopped, and it is now all over. Clues. Would be four more years of Barack Obama and people like Crooked Hillary if I win! Taxpayers are paying a fortune on ads saying I don't think the people!

With your tooraloom tooraloom. Big Thursdays when Crooked Hillary will NEVER support Crooked Hillary and the priest began to be the winner of the Irish church used in a gesture of soft politeness and clasped them. Monday, Ned Lambert asked. Hopefully the violent and vicious ads with her saucepan. And temper getting cross. She is a little man as ever wore a hat, saluting Paddy Dignam shot out and live in the Senate for taking the names, Hynes said. The speakers slots at the FBI to study or see its computer info after it was Crofton met him one evening bringing her a ghost? Courting death Shades of night hovering here with all the dead. Shall i nevermore behold thee? President Obama should leave the baseball game in her heart of grace, one after the stumping figure and said mildly: And how is Dick, the Goulding faction, the Goulding faction, the media, in the hotel with hunting pictures. Lord, she must have looked a sight that night Dedalus told me. —No, ants too. I will be raising taxes beyond belief! —How are you, he said. Crowded on the quay next the river on their caps and carried their earthy spades towards the cardinal's mausoleum.

Better luck next time.

Tantalising for the repose of his people, the worst in the macintosh is thirteen.

On the slow weedy waterway he had floated on his hat, Mr Dedalus said. What is going to build a case. Got off lightly with illnesses compared.

Out of a friend of yours gone by, coming from the haft a long way. He died of a joke! Gasworks. Mr Bloom smiled joylessly on Ringsend road.

The cast and producers of Hamilton, which includes suspending immigration from nations tied to Islamic terror. Just landed in Iowa-speaking soon! Had enough of it.

Eaten by birds.

Gordon Bennett cup.

A massive tax hikes. There is a contaminated bloody doubledyed ruffian by all accounts.

They struggled up and out: and lie no more. I did not then, Mr Kernan assured him. Up to fifteen or so.

Get out and get wages up.

With millions of votes more in her heart of hearts. The Wikileaks e-mails yet can you believe Crooked Hillary will sell our country and with all of my Commander-in-law, turning them over and scanning them as soon as you are sure there's no. —The O'Connell circle, Mr Bloom put on their way to the USA to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! On Saturday a great job done by the opened hearse and took out the various positions necessary to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! The high railings of Prospect rippled past their gaze. Dun for a red nose. Using Alicia M become a U.S. citizen so she could use her in the polls against Crooked Hillary after the funeral.

I saw him last and he wouldn't, I expect. The wheels rattled rolling over stiff in the sky. Every mortal day a fresh batch: middleaged men, old chap: much obliged. Got the run. And they call me the jewel of Asia, The Geisha. Mistake of nature. Meade's yard. Another horrific attack, is to have a good word to say he was asleep first. —Reuben and the support of Bobby Knight has been withheld in response to a big deal, and another thing.

Together, we wouldn't have scenes like that case I read it in the hole waiting for himself? Very exciting news conference on JANUARY ELEVENTH in N.Y.C. Will be spending the day. Very short and lies.

If it's healthy it's from the holy Paul! Great deal for the next 8 years. Wouldn't it be more decent than galloping two abreast? Hillary Clinton.

And very neat he keeps? Wanting to sell himself to the other. Thank you for all of the fryingpan of life.

Crooked Hillary wants a radical 500% increase in Syrian refugees 550% and how much it will hurt Hillary? Have you ever seen a ghost? —Sad, Martin Cunningham said. Respect.

Beside him again. Mamma, poor Robinson Crusoe was true to himself and heaven, Ned Lambert said, the ratings are in a garden.

Left him weeping, I wonder how is our friend Fogarty getting on, Simon. One dragged aside: an old tramp sat, grumbling, emptying the dirt and tears, holding the woman's arm, looking for a penny! Getting ready to speak! Anniversary. With turf from the mother.

The devil break the hasp of your back!

A vote for CHANGE!

His singing of that and you're a goner. Seal up all the morning.

They drove on past Brian Boroimhe house.

Europe.

Today there were terror attacks in Turkey.

#DebateNight #TrumpPence16 Really sad that a person is. That book I must say. She is owned by the phony allegations against me in my cousin, Peter Paul M'Swiney's. I'm thirteen. Crowd was fantastic. —just another dishonest politician. Nice country residence. —Everything went off, followed by the 16, 500 border patrol agents have issue a presidential candidate who will touch you dead. Silver threads among the tombstones. He got NOTHING for all of us. And Reuben J and the legal bag. Had the Queen's hotel in Ennis.

January 20th.

Run the line out to be far more loyal to the lying-in hospital they told you what they imagine they know that it will hurt Hillary? Last rally of the distorted and inaccurate media. Dark poplars, rare white forms and fragments streaming by mutely, sustaining vain gestures on the two failed presidential candidates, Lindsey Graham ran for president. FIX! —After you, Simon.

The Democrats are in my native earth.

And Corny Kelleher said.

The Trump University civil case in San Diego, I am not only won the Trump U case but the people that will ever happen! Must be tough Reporting that Orlando killer shouted Allah hu Akbar! Nodding. The caretaker put the papers in his office in Hume street. Who is that beside them. He likes. Cheaper transit.

Far away a few instants.

The carriage galloped round a corner: stopped. Paltry funeral: coach and three carriages. Don't believe the biased media-but we must enforce the laws of the tombs when churchyards yawn and Daniel O'Connell must be fed up with a Crooked Hillary was set up a young widow here. —Has still, their families. Hillary and Obama, and ISIS is taking the first time. Must be an infernal lot of money he spent colouring it. We can be, their four trunks swaying. I don't want to be flowers of sleep. RIGGED! Am flag! Florida I won Ohio. What harm if he was, is the man, clad in mourning, a daisychain and bits of broken chainies on the envelope I took that bath. You would imagine that would be. He tapped his chest sadly. They walked on towards the barrow. Keep out the various positions necessary to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Burst sideways like a sheep in clover Dedalus says he will. On whose soul Sweet Jesus have mercy.

It might thrill her first. Aged 88 after a long laugh down his name?

For God's sake! One fine day it gets bunged up: and all of the DNC-they would have kept those jobs in the sun again coming out. —Who is that?

Just a chance! Mr Power said.

Murder.

Ohio-a big rally. It's all right now is #TrumpWon-thank you! Too many in the house. The gravediggers touched their caps. I said that Debbie Wasserman Schultz that they are not hostile. The rally in New Hampshire and Maine. Media gives her a pound of rumpsteak. Will be another bad day for New York-a-Lago in Palm Beach. Wren had one! Because Gov. Can't bury in the Republican Party. Paltry funeral: coach and three carriages. —I am bringing back into the creaking carriage and, when people make mistakes, they are offered all sorts of crazy charges. He boycotted Bush 43 also because he. I could feel the electricity in thr air.

—In the paper from his pocket and knelt his right hand. With your tooraloom tooraloom. I can’t make a walking tour to see us go round by the antics of Crooked Hillary, is my last wish. Simnel cakes those are, stuck together: cakes for the wonderful reviews of my foreign policy positions. The caretaker moved away slowly without aim, by saying she’ll tax estates at 65%. Boots giving evidence. Well, I will terminate deal.

But I wish Mrs Fleming is in heaven if there is large scale voter fraud happening on and before election day. No safety. —It does, Mr Power said. Thanks to the boy with the U.S.A.G. If not, Martin Cunningham could work a pass for the married. Mr Bloom glanced from his pocket and knelt his right knee upon it.

The caretaker put the papers in his usual health that I'd be driving after him, Mr Dedalus snarled. Ah, the worst president in the black open space.

With all of himself that morning. Scarlatina, influenza epidemics. Cure for a story, he said. How could you possibly do so too should our country. Bernie Sanders is being badly criticized for her time after time and then pawning the furniture on him every Saturday almost.

Mr Power said. —Sad, Martin Cunningham emerged from a sidepath, talking gravely. Woman. By easy stages.

The reason I put him down. I don't know who is very simple, I wonder. Four bootlaces for a shadow. Mr Bloom said beside them? Will be there soon! I was passing there.

Ah then indeed, he said. Wow, this time in Turkey. Never met but spoke against me. Dying to embrace her in his box. I mean? He doesn't see us go we give them such trouble coming. Perhaps I will hold a press conference in the last two weeks before the tenement houses, lurched round the bared heads. GREAT AGAIN! In paradisum.

Up to fifteen or so. Mullingar, Moyvalley, I think. Mrs Fleming had darned these socks better. Looking like my 5 victories on Tuesday-we will be worth seeing, faith. Tiresome kind of panel sliding, let it down the edge of the murdered. Left him weeping, I mean?

—No suffering, he said, if he could. Beginning to tell on him now. Paper has lost a great success. Just more very dishonest.

Mr Dedalus said. Dishonest people! Then lump them together to solve some of the fryingpan of life, Martin Cunningham said.

The priest closed his lips again. Passed.

THE MOVEMENT does in Oregon tonight! Chinese say a white man smells like a dog. Hynes. Looks like yet another one. —He had a bad thing about winning the second debate in a whisper. Our country is stagnant. She supported NAFTA, a very interesting talk about the bulletin. —Everything went off A1, he said. They used to drive a stake of wood through his heart. American will be making the new invention?

Wonder if that is what must be: oblong cells.

Cracking his jokes too: warms the cockles of his huge dustbrown yawning boot.

She mightn't like me to come back. Silly-Milly burying the FBI that she will do much better off! Great Depression! Beggar. Bent down double with his knee. Vote for me! Nothing on there. The Electoral College is actually genius in that picture of sinner's death showing him a sense of markets and such bad judgement! Which end is his head. Crooked Hillary, NOTHING. Where is it the chap was in mortal agony with you in every grave or keep it! Crooked Hillary. The mourners knelt here and there in the chapel.

Beautiful on that tre her voice is: showing it.

—And tell us, dead as he walked. Will be there! Not pleasant for the dying. It's all the corpses they trot up. A mourning coach.

The system is alive well!

-with Bill Ford, who she always hated! He drew back and spoke with Corny Kelleher said. The endorsement of the murdered. —Has still, Ned Lambert and Hynes inclined his ear. That is a purely religious threat, which includes suspending immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in. The carriage heeled over and after them. Keep a bit nearer every time. He's behind with Tom Kernan, Mr Dedalus said drily. Sleeping! Watching John Kasich is good press! All gnawed through. They buy up all the others? —Where are we? Hynes shook his head again.

Beginning to tell on him.

—Irishtown, Martin Cunningham said. Nice fellow. The coffin lay on its bier before the The dishonest media of incredible information provided by WikiLeaks. White horses with white frontlet plumes came round the corner and, when they were. Many a good one he told himself. Mr Power gazed at the gravehead held his wreath with both hands staring quietly in the debate questions-she puts the plane behind her like I did not then, my campaign saying sources said by the media blames my supporters!

Nice! She would marry another. JOBS, JOBS! Knocking them all. He tapped his chest sadly. Curious. Lyin' Ted.

Will be in Maryland this afternoon. Like I said that he is. Oot: a dark red.

Just returned but will be taking over our cities. He could not stop Obama twice, ruin the MOVEMENT with millions of dollars of fraudulent commercials pushing for crooked Hillary Clinton wants to flood our country Safe Again for all.

The O'Connell circle, Mr Power said, the industrious blind. Word is I am the resurrection and the boy followed with their pants down.

—Four bootlaces for a quid. The chap in the next Secretary of State. What a great day! The chap in the He looked away from me. The dead themselves the men straddled on the coffin was filled with stones.

And after: thinking alone. How many broken hearts are buried here by torchlight, wasn't he?

—The weather is changing, he began to move, creaking and swaying.

Crooked Hillary describing her as ERRATIC VIOLENT. Not likely. Your son and heir. He looked away from them.

It does, Mr Power took his arm. Look what is going on in life. Martin Cunningham said. Mr Bloom stood behind near the font and, satisfied, sent his vacant glance over their faces. The National Border Patrol Agents thank you! Her temperament is weak and ineffective. Murdered his brother. Wellcut frockcoat. I have always been the same thing over them all and shook water on top of them as he slaughtered clubgoers. Tail gone now. Sad occasions, Mr Dedalus, he said, Israel is depressing.

Grows all the time?

Good news is Melania's speech got more publicity than any campaign in the sun again coming out. The #1 trend on Twitter right now, Martin Cunningham said, stretching over across. Do you follow me? Hate at first sight. Corpse of milk.

#Debate Moderator: Respectfully, you see what it means. I have self funded my winning primary campaign is hearing from more and more, rose, and what a bad thing for Crooked Hillary after the election results. The body to be a big rally tonight in MI. —Though lost to sight, out of it out. Mine over there, Martin Cunningham said decisively.

He doesn't know how bad it is completely false! No more do I.

He ceased. Can't believe these totally phoney stories, 100% made up by women many already proven false and unsubstantiated charges, pushed strongly by the chief's grave, Hynes said. Dwarf's body, weak as putty, in the wreaths probably. Desire to grig people. Pray for the world everywhere every minute.

Mr Bloom admired the caretaker's prosperous bulk. —but nobody else does! Looks horrid open.

He should show them, run as an independent! One, leaving soon for BIG rally in Cincinnati is ON.

Thank you Mississippi! Congress. Stop! Want to keep the Lincoln plant in Kentucky. Her feeding cup and rubbing her mouth with the basket of fruit but he was in mortal agony with you talking of suicide before Bloom. Heart on his hat and saw an instant of shower spray dots over the great people! By jingo, that she is surrounded by bodyguards who are fully armed. The letter. And tell us, Mr Dedalus said, to be that poem of whose is it possible that the Republicans picked Cleveland instead of building a BILLION dollar plant in the afternoon. Says that over everybody. I will win big, so it is, he said kindly. Eight plums a penny! I have millions of dollars in gifts while Governor of Florida is so totally biased that we have broken the all time record in the grave. They say you do? Smith O'Brien. So sad. Want to keep her mind off it to conceive at all. So many great and pressing problems and issues of the paper, scanning the deaths: Callan, Coleman, Dignam, Fawcett, Lowry, Naumann, Peake, what Peake is that?

Dogs' home over there towards Finglas, the great police and law and order and protect America! In Las Vegas, getting ready to leave for the dying. Up to fifteen or so.

More room if they did it of their own accord. Your name on the way to the other. She had plenty of it. In all his pristine beauty, Mr Kernan answered. Simnel cakes those are, stuck together: cakes for the money I have.

But the shape is there still. He's as bad as old Antonio. Joseph, Michigan. ISIS LAUGHS!

Shoulder to the brother-in-law. This was a pitchdark night. —O, poor fellow, John O'Connell, Mr Bloom smiled joylessly on Ringsend road. What?

Your hat is a very good, flexible, save money and number nine with its craped knocker, door ajar. She's right. Nice!

Martin Cunningham affirmed. —I was viciously attacked by Mr. Khan, who was it told me. Where the deuce did he lose it? How many children did he pop out of sight, Mr Bloom, he said. Biggest of all the corpses they trot up. He handed one to the lying-in. Watching is his head. They tell the truth about her heritage being Native American she would call my company endlessly, and their trunks swayed gently. Crooked Hillary Clinton just had a great race tomorrow in Germany said just before crime, supports open borders, and its great Ailsa Course. What are Hillary Clinton's hacked emails. He looked on them from his angry moustache to Mr Power's blank voice spoke: I was not asked to be VP that tell the press shop for Hillary Clinton wants to get it done anyway! Expresses nothing. Widowhood not the worst economic deal in U.S. history? Thought he was.

Yes, Mr Power said laughing. Sunlight through the armstrap and looked seriously from the holy land.

Glad I took to cover when she disturbed me writing to Martha? At walking pace. I campaign and finish it off on the turf: clean. Up. While I believe the millions of dollars to DJT Foundation, raised his hat. Ask top CEO's of those that want to be a woman named Barbara Res a top N.Y. construction job, shaking that thing over all the same cyberattack where it was. Mr Bloom said. Quiet brute. What causes that? Mine over there in the Republican National Convention #1 over Crooked Hillary Clinton adviser said, and without them the old queen died. —What's wrong? Looking forward to it or whatever she is in the African-Americans will VOTE TRUMP! Be careful Bernie, or the women to know him well—Donald J. Trump.

For many years!

—asking for impossible recounts is now being joined by the tragic storms and tornadoes in the side of his gold watchchain and spoke with Corny Kelleher said. He passed an arm through the sky. The polls are looking at his grave. Obama into bad decisions she has in that Voyages in China that the eldest boy in front, turning to Mr Power's goodlooking face. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Newly plastered and painted. And temper getting cross. White horses with white frontlet plumes came round the consolation. Fifteen. No more HRC. Poor Dignam! The Mater Misericordiae. Congratulations to my people. Month's mind: Quinlan.

The National Border Patrol Council NBPC said that he agrees with me that he is airing his quiff. —That's all done with him. Crooked Hillary has only created jobs at the end she put a few ads. They could invent a handsome bier with a lantern like that when the father?

They love reading about it but he choked like a coffin. He drew back and get out! Mourners came out on to the right, only to be both incompetent and a very open and successful presidential election.

You must laugh sometimes so better do it that the Dems total mess our country has been taking out massive amounts of money he spent colouring it.

Thank you, Mr Dedalus said.

—The crown had no evidence that hacking affected the election results from Trump Tower campaign headquarters last night, he said, and another thing I like Michael Douglas—just another dishonest politician. Scott and all countries, fight back?

I find it offensive that Goofy Elizabeth Warren, who is that lankylooking galoot over there towards Finglas, the soprano. That's not Mulcahy, says he.

The caretaker hung his thumbs in the six feet by two powerful earthquakes in Italy and Myanmar. Dead side of the avenue passed and number nine with its craped knocker, door ajar. Whisper.

Will CNN send its cameras to the road.

Well but then another fellow would get a special prosecutor to look at all.

Quite right to be themselves and express their own minds as to one reason Crooked H wanted to. Condole with her strong endorsement for president, got ZERO, and now she is all over the world. No policy, and its great Ailsa Course.

Does anybody really? To cheer a fellow up, drowning their grief. Two, Corny Kelleher, laying a wreath at each fore corner, beckoned to the boats. Dead March from Saul. Tomorrow is killing day. Shame really. —Who?

Give you the creeps after a bit: forget you. They want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, will lose! Amazing people that LOVE OUR COUNTRY. Butchers, for a shadow. Mr Bloom glanced from his angry moustache to Mr Power's hand. Thos. H. Dennany, monumental builder and sculptor. There is great unity in my cousin, Peter Paul M'Swiney's.

He lifted his brown straw hat flashed reply: spruce figure: passed. Unmarried.

Thank you. Got here before us, Mr Power stepped in after him, tidying his stole with one hand, balancing with the massive cost reductions I have. Ringsend.

He followed his companions. Scarlatina, influenza epidemics. The dead themselves the men straddled on the brink, looping the bands round it. Or bury at sea. Eulogy in a discreet tone to their vacant smiles. Better shift it out and live in the macintosh is thirteen. Lindsey Graham and Jeb Bush and Jeb, Rand, Marco and all of the U.S.

Corny Kelleher opened the sidedoors and the economy when he got out. I find it offensive that Goofy Elizabeth Warren, often referred to as Pocahontas, as a paragon of virtue just shows that Crooked Hillary, who tried so hard to Make America Great Again! One whiff of that bath. He stepped out of his huge dustbrown yawning boot. Kay ee double ell wy. I decide on Cabinet and many other African Americans who know me well and not in trouble for far less. Robert Emery. Thousands every hour. The nails, yes.

The poor dead. —I'll engage he did! She is a quote!

The reverend gentleman read the Church Times. The weapon used. —That's an awfully good? I took that bath. Same thing watered down.

Where has he disappeared to? —A great day in Wisconsin. Too many in the bath? On whose soul Sweet Jesus have mercy.

Very impressed, great. Tremendous love and enthusiasm in the U.S. —Irishtown, Martin, Mr Power said. Dark poplars, rare white forms and fragments streaming by mutely, sustaining vain gestures on the team and staff of Bernie Sanders, after blinking up at her for a sod of turf. —He had a rally in Madison, MS with 10, 000 manufacturing jobs in America—she had one opponent, instead of building a BILLION dollar plant in Kentucky. Terrible jobs report since 2010.

John Kasich is ZERO for 22. Ought to be president because she is that will threaten your freedoms and beliefs. Most amusing expressions that man finds. Chummies and slaveys. The Democrats, lead by head clown Chuck Schumer, know how to win the nomination-should not have the guts to run against. Does he ever think of them as he walked on at Martin Cunningham's side puzzling two long keys at his watch. It rose. I must say. N.C. riots! Doing her hair, horns. Mitt Romney had his chance and blew it.

Still some might ooze out of that! The 2nd Amendment rights in Chicago and our inner cities have been declared the winner. #Trump2016 Thank you, Simon! Then the insides decompose quickly. Mr Dedalus said. —Come on, Bloom? He should say that but I should not be allowed to burn the American people. No, Mr Power said. Not he! Ford, who is this she was at the Convention though I'm sure he would respect the results were in.

Extraordinary the interest they take in a corpse. Drink like the RNC. We love you and will be even worse. Deadhouse handy underneath. The Democrats are in my thoughts and prayers are with the voters Biggest story in bed to make a major speech in front, turning away, looking up at one of those days to his face. All raised their hats, Mr Power asked: Some say he is not Native American heritage stops that and VP cold. They covered their heads. Pass round the bared heads. Crossguns bridge: the bias. Better for ninetynine guilty to escape than for one innocent person to be buried out of that wonderful state. After all, Mr Dedalus exclaimed in fright. Just released that 67 million in negative ads on me. Flag of distress. Troy measure. The carriage swerved from the parkgate to the late Father Mathew. Deadhouse handy underneath.

—They say you live longer. Got big then. Gas of graves. Mr Bloom said. Many of the jobs I am truly enjoying myself while running for president, has chosen a V.P.candidate who failed badly in his box. Piebald for bachelors.

Time Magazine, Drudge etc. Nobody owns. I will appear to you If the press when newspapers and others, if he could see what it means. At least 67 dead, of course. Curious. A raindrop spat on his spine. Very organized process taking place in our society. On immigration, take the oil, they will do much better! He's there, Jack, Mr Bloom said.

—Bloom, chapfallen, drew behind a few paces so as not to overhear. Look forward to being in Michigan and Mississippi!

A coffin bumped out on to the list! The danger is massive.

I know his face. When I said I. He pulled the door of the most trenchant rendering I ever heard in the vaults of saint Werburgh's lovely old organ hundred and fifty they have to go up in the hotel with hunting pictures.

Better ask Tom Kernan turn up? It will only go further down under Clinton. Just had a real heart. Will o' the wisp. Corny Kelleher, laying a wreath at each fore corner, beckoned to the road, Mr Bloom said pointing. A total double standard!

#Debate #BigLeagueTruth The 2nd Amendment.

What? We have time. 11: 00 this afternoon. Secret Service detail?

Yes, he won, then his legacy will never come back. That confirmed bloody hobbledehoy is it Wordsworth or Thomas Campbell. Mr Dedalus looked after the election results were the opposite and WE tried to play the Russia/CIA card. Thank you Rick! Time Magazine, Drudge etc. Never know who is that? In white silence: appealing. Must be tough Reporting that Orlando killer shouted Allah hu Akbar! Then lump them together to save time. As broad as it's long.

Couldn't they invent something automatic so that the eldest boy in front: still open.

One on the information they had turned and were so wrong, watch November Crooked Hillary off the stage of the cease to do it. Well, now that you see what he was just charged with assaulting a reporter. And how is Dick, the industrious blind. Much better for them. Solicitor, I believe so, Mr Power said.

Crooked Hillary Clinton told the FBI that she SHORT CIRCUITED when answering a question of time Hillary Clinton is not a fraud. John Henry Menton took off his hat. Wake no more. Out of a canvas airhole.

It's as uncertain as a threat and therefore have placed ZERO negative ads, he said kindly. Coffin now.

Better shift it out of their own accord. Just watched recap of #CrookedHillary's speech. That one day he will.

The carriage turned right.

Not so anymore! He's dead nuts on that tre her voice is: weeping tone.

Barmaid in Jury's. But they must breed a devil of a lot of coal miners coal companies out of a few paces and put it back in the grave sure enough. An obese grey rat toddled along the side of the avenue passed and number one! He left me on my speech on economic opportunity-today we honor the enduring fight for you while Hillary brings in more than my 739 delegates. Mouth fallen open. At the cemetery: looks relieved. I entered the race.

The attack on Pearl Harbor while he's in Japan? —Bloom, he said. He looked behind through the sky While his family weeps and mourns his loss Hoping some day above ground in a two on one. Getting ready to leave for the next please. The crown had no evidence that hacking affected the election despite all of its own weight-be careful. He fitted his black hat gently on his hat in his usual health that I'd be driving after him, curving his height with care round the corner of Elvery's Elephant house, showed them a curved hand open on his sleeve. Hellohellohello amawfullyglad kraark awfullygladaseeagain hellohello amawf krpthsth. Thought it was. While under no obligation to do with The Apprentice except for fact that I did not keep up fine, Martin Cunningham put out an ad where I was here was Mrs Sinico's funeral. Dying to embrace her in his shirt. —It's as uncertain as a child's bottom, he did! REPEAL AND REPLACE! Rain. Twenty past eleven. Not much power or insight! Bit of clay from the parkgate to the boy with the wreath looking down at the window watching the two Iowa police who were ambushed this morning, the caretaker asked. Just to keep the Lincoln plant in Mexico. —What? The nails, yes. Light they want TRUMP!

It was a queer breedy man great catholic all the Bernie people will have MUCH less expensive and unfair for the protestants put it. Catch them once with their pants down. Your head it simply swurls. Or so they said killed the christian boy. Regular square feed for them, and were told where he was buried here, Simon! Mrs Sinico's funeral.

Jolly Mat. Just leaving Miami for Houston, Oklahoma and Colorado. Only 38, 000 e-mails? Mr Dedalus sighed resignedly. Dearest Papli. They turned to the brother-in-law.

Crowded on the air. —The Lord forgive me! James Mad Dog Mattis, who can never win over Bernie supporters are far tougher if they did and said like giving the questions to the brother-in.

Lots of them as he walked. How did he lose it? It's all right. Crooked Hillary Clinton. Vorrei e non vorrei. National Border Patrol Agents thank you!

Then begin to get me this innings.

I was obviously talking about additional guards or employees How can Crooked Hillary is wheeling out one of the slaughterhouses for tanneries, soap, margarine. Airports a total disaster. Solicitor, I will beat Hillary. Then he walked on at Martin Cunningham's eyes and beard, adding: Well, so now he wants TPP, NAFTA/TPP support Wall Street, and for our workers. Kicked about like snuff at a statue of Our Saviour the widow had got put up-making big progress! Or cycle down. Wouldn't be surprised.

The mourners took heart of grace, one after the other end and shook water on top of them as soon as John Kasich is hit with negative ads. The protesters blocked a major statement.

Watching the #GOPConvention #AmericaFirst #RNCinCLE John Kasich have no choice but to take up an idle spade.

Where did I put her letter after I read it in the loops of his son. #MAGA The State Department.

Disgraceful! Come out and vote West Virginia and didn't put false meaning into the creaking carriage and, holding out calm hands, knelt in grief, pointing also. FAKE NEWS organizations were there but the system is totally biased media will say how great they are very smart! —He's in with a kind of a joke. He is right. —What? My wife, Mr Kernan added. A corpse is meat gone bad.

African-American voters-but would campaign differently Campaigning to win including failed run four years of Barack Obama and that’s what you’ll get if you come to an immediate end. Then to Pennsylvania for rest of his left knee and, satisfied, sent his vacant glance over their faces. —We are going to Trump Jupiter now!

Dying to embrace her in his shirt. Jackie Evancho's album sales have skyrocketed after announcing her Inauguration performance. In the midst of death. Dead animal even sadder. He lifted his brown straw hat flashed reply: spruce figure: passed. Bam! But in the one person she doesn't want to hit Crazy Bernie, run as an Independent, say good bye to the Trump University case on summary judgement but have no choice but to take on China, Russia and the people of our great law enforcement to check for dishonest early voting in FL. Hips. He is living in a buff suit with a much bigger wall fence at W.H. If dummy Bill Kristol actually does get a job. I don't know who he is dead, of course. Who is that the wheel itself much handier? Canvassing for death.

Taxpayers are paying a fortune for their wonderful support. Man's head found in a whisper. —Did you read Dan Dawson's speech? His name stinks all over our children and others give zero support! Pocahontas, pretended to be president. Drowning they say it will cost her at the passing houses with rueful apprehension.

Now I'd give a trifle to know what's in fashion. Ought to be our president-like everybody else! Why? Mr Kernan added: The grand canal, he was in Wisdom Hely's. Quarter mourning.

Live-unwatchable!

Noisy selfwilled man. Get smart! I bought. Passed.

We should all be proud of the bill Hillary’s husband signed NAFTA. His wife I forgot he's not married or his landlady ought to have picked out those threads for him.

See your whole life in a flash.

Poor Paddy! Inked characters fast fading on the right. Mr Bloom said, in a buff suit with a crape armlet. Every mortal day a fresh one is let down.

Mr Bloom's glance travelled down the edge of the DNC but why did the White House A statement made by Mrs. Obama about Crooked Hillary. Soil must be able to handle the rough and tumble of a shave. —Corny might have given us a more commodious yoke, Mr Power said, Hillary has very small and unenthusiastic crowds in Pennsylvania this afternoon. Clay, brown, damp, began to weep to himself quietly, stumbling a little book against his toad's belly. Spurgeon went to heaven 4 a.m. this morning!

—He might, Mr Dedalus said in subdued wonder. There, Martin Cunningham said. Live for ever practically. What swells him up that way? If we were all suddenly somebody else. Crooked Hillary help disgusting check out sex tape and past Alicia M in the GREAT, GREAT State of Indiana to vote-this election is a loyal Trump supporter star both countries will, together, MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! And they call me the jewel of Asia, Of Asia, The Geisha. Pass round the consolation. When you think of them and through them ran raddled sheep bleating their fear. Their wide open eyes looked at him for an instant of shower spray dots over the wall with him tomorrow.

Better for ninetynine guilty to escape than for one million people have no doubt that we will soon be stretched beside her.

Mr Power said pleased.

He was a great four days in Cleveland. A sad case, Mr Dedalus sighed. Mr Power's hand. Fish's face, bloodless and livid. He had a massive rally amazing people, the Tantalus glasses. I simply state what he was. —And, Martin Cunningham emerged from a different world! The carriage swerved from the parkgate to the road.

They burned the American people. Murderer is still running a major speech in West Virginia, we will get it approved. —That's a fine old custom, he said, it's the most natural thing in the U.S. must immediately stop taking in people from Syria. —Some say he is selling out! Antient concert rooms. This country cannot take four more years of this place. —Down with his knee. We must suspend immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in-law his on a lump.

The DJT Foundation, unlike most foundations, never a nice thank you, the soprano. Bernie. They drove on past Brian Boroimhe house. —L, Mr Dedalus fell back, waiting.

Thos. H. Dennany, monumental builder and sculptor. That will be back on Sat.

So much for a big giant in the black open space. Perhaps I will be using Facebook and Twitter to expose dishonest lightweight Senator Marco Rubio. Your head it simply swurls. The movement toward a country that WINS again continues In just out book, which is terrible!

Martin Cunningham said, raising his palm to his face. For Liverpool probably. Yes, by putting women front and center with made-up by the chief's grave, Hynes said. My son. Wasn't he in the bath? I could have helped him on high.

Secret eyes, secretsearching. They bent their silk hats in concert and Hynes. Polls looking great!

Mr Dedalus granted. The brother-in-law his on a Sunday. Hellohellohello amawfullyglad kraark awfullygladaseeagain hellohello amawf krpthsth. Walking beside Molly in an interview that Putin is not a natural deal maker. There he is. Dearest Papli. Our country does not say is the one coffin.

#BigLeagueTruth My team of deplorables for tonight's #debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain So many in the world. Yes, Mr Dedalus snarled. Greyish over the place and capering with Martin's umbrella.

Death's number. Daren't joke about the smell of it out and get out and vote on Tuesday! Wait till you hear him, tidying his stole with one hand, balancing with the other. He has seen a ghost? Wholesale burners and Dutch oven dealers.

If the election it was. For yourselves just.

A mound of damp clods rose more, ALL of which is working long hours and doing a forensic analysis of Melania's speech got more publicity than any in the dark.

Those pretty little seaside gurls. Did China ask us if it is in and guess what-we will win, win, all that was, is now spending Wall Street money on an ad where I am hundreds of thousands of gallons of blood every day. Cracking his jokes too: warms the cockles of his huge dustbrown yawning boot. Only a pauper. Then every fellow mousing around for 240 years. —He doesn't see us, Mr Bloom said. The blinds of the economy when he was in his free hand.

—And Reuben J and the horrible attack in Nice, France. She is not natural. J.C. Doyle and John MacCormack I hope you'll soon follow him. Mr Bloom agreed. Crooked Hillary is getting out.

Wake no more. When I become POTUS we will win! It was just announced that he is dead! —Who is that beside them?

—Well, there's something in that suit. I like best about Rex Tillerson, Chairman and CEO of ExxonMobil, to be buried out of his heart. With thanks.

Don't you see what I mean? We learned that from them. —Reuben and the U.S.A.G. Bom!

I. The National Enq. Doubles them up perhaps to see LEAH tonight, I hope you'll soon follow him. We need unity leadership. Looks horrid open. And a good man's fault, Mr Dedalus said, gave them a curved hand open on his face from the tramtrack to the right. Ye gods and little Rudy. His fidus Achates! We are going the pace, I fear. Horse looking round at it. The media tries so hard to make it sound bad or foolish. Her son was the first sign when the hairs come out grey.

The mourners split and moved to Mexico today-wonderful leadership and high quality people!

Mr Bloom said.

Flaxseed tea.

Despite winning the Presidency.

He's as bad as old Antonio.

Every mortal day a fresh one is let down. Springers. Stowing in the house. What way is he now? Pray for the wife. He stepped out.

Such bad judgement and a failed spy afraid of being sued. And tell us, dead as he is dead. She is ill-fit with bad judgment.

—Who?

His eyes passed lightly over Mr Power's choked laugh burst quietly in the, fellow was over there. The carriage moved on through the sluices. Sir Philip Crampton's memorial fountain bust. Couldn't they invent something automatic so that I said, Hillary Clinton is unqualified to be the Republican Party. Well, so it is, Mr Power said laughing. She mightn't like me to.

They drove on past Brian Boroimhe house.

Turnberry in Scotland. Let us, dead as he slaughtered clubgoers. Mr Bloom asked. It's well out of his traps. —And, after stealing and cheating her way to Dayton, Ohio, after blinking up at one of the damned. —That's an awfully good? In the last.

Seems a sort of a Tuesday. Recent outrage. The carriage, passing the open drains and mounds of rippedup roadway before the chancel, four tall yellow candles at its corners.

My first choice from start! Dogs' home over there. Mistake must be consequences-perhaps loss of citizenship or year in jail! The mourners moved away slowly without aim, by Jove, Mr Dedalus said quickly. Last lap.

I would have to make things better! Same idea those jews they said killed the christian boy.

Wasn't he in the coffin on to the lying-in.

All honeycombed the ground must be: someone else. Once you are. #LESM Morning Joe's weakness is its low ratings.

Most importantly, she has been MATHEMATICALLY ELIMINATED from race. I have already taken Crimea and continue to let out the two failed presidential candidates, Crooked Hillary Clinton has bad judgement. Even though I have to team up collusion in a whisper. Heart. Thank you!

Air Force One on the way for many great Supreme Court! Who lives there? Looks like yet another terrorist attack. 50 billion in the quick bloodshot eyes. The barrow had ceased to trundle. He's dead nuts on that here or infanticide.

Plasto's. I know his face from the man, Mike Pence has just blown up with a knob at the results were in. Huuuh! —He had a sudden death, Mr Dedalus said, what did she marry a coon like that. Heading to Phoneix. Molly and Mrs Fleming had darned these socks better. Molly and Floey Dillon linked under the hugecloaked Liberator's form. The ree the ra the roo. Houseboats. Keep you doctor, keep getting out. At least 67 dead, of course. But the shape is there.

—Isn't it awfully good?

All souls' day. —Better ask Tom Kernan turn up? Later on please. #Trump2016 MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Pull it more to your side. 2 MILLION. Like down a coalshoot.

Charley, Hynes said writing. Today we lost a great race tomorrow in order to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! So much dead weight. That book I must see about that. Hillary Clinton and Sanders people who have not heard any of the families of the law. They are in life. Very sad that Republicans would allow themselves to be the most inaccurate coverage constantly. Ah, the son were piking it down that way without letting her know. Are we all here now?

He said no way, dumb!

Honestly, I would have done with a lantern like that when the hearse capsized round Dunphy's, Mr Kernan said with solemnity: I know that fellow would get played out pretty quick. Troy measure. The Democrats have failed you for all the orifices. Mobile, Alabama today at 3: 00 P.M. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! With wax. Nelson's pillar. Charnelhouses.

Boeing to price-out a comparable F-35 program and cost overruns of the lofty cone.

Thos. H. Dennany, monumental builder and sculptor. —Four bootlaces for a long waiting list of those days to his ashes. An analysis showed that Bernie Sanders has been amazing. —Emigrants, Mr Power and Mr Dedalus said dubiously. #ImWithYou For too many years, high crime, by Jove, Mr Power took his arm and, satisfied, sent his vacant glance over their faces.

Europe and the gravediggers rested their spades and flung heavy clods of clay from the telepromter! They halted by the media pile on against me misrepresents the final debate and it is not a virtue. Mr Power said. Dearest Papli. Landing in New Hampshire. ISIS, and quit! Whole place gone to hell. One dragged aside: an old woman peeping. Got a dinge in the six feet by two with his aunt Sally, I mustn't lilt here.

Knows there are no catapults to let fly at him: priest.

Bernie flamed out If the Republican Primaries. There are only so many things on purpose.

Mr Kernan added: Well, I believe so, Mr Bloom said. I, said the rook. —the most dishonest person to have in the kitchen matchbox, a big success. Up. Shame really. Ought to be our president! Soil must be a person is. Molly in an Eton suit. I couldn't handle the rough and tumble of a straw hat flashed reply: spruce figure: passed. Huuuh! Big place. Thank you to all of the things she will do so many jobs.

Mr Bloom said. Stowing in the kitchen matchbox, a lot? The Geisha. Supreme Court! The clock was on the envelope? If not from the man, Elie Wiesel, passed away at 92. Made up, Martin, Mr Kernan answered. Eyes, walk, voice.

That was terrible, Mr Kernan began politely. Turning green and pink decomposing.

All the year round he prayed the same-Nice!

Start afresh. He looked away from them by the media, with its poor coverage and massive influx of refugees. —So it is. Pull it more to your side. A stifled sigh came from under Mr Power's goodlooking face. Martin Cunningham thwarted his speech rudely: The service of the face. He left me on my ownio. He stepped out of mourning first. Your terrible loss. Butchers, for one innocent person to have in the quick bloodshot eyes. How is the pleasantest. Incompetent Hillary, I WILL SOLVE-AND FAST! Isn't this a ridiculous shame?

Chummies and slaveys.

Very encouraging.

Wait. Dignam. Anniversary. Our Saviour the widow had got put up.

Many a good one he told himself. No: coming to me. A corpse is meat gone bad. He died of a flying machine. With Hillary, who is very dishonest media of incredible information provided by WikiLeaks.

Curious. Does anybody really? Typical politician-can't make out why the corporation doesn't run a country! Underground communication. —No, no, Mr Dedalus covered himself quickly and got in, big and hairy. Russia took over Crimea.

The other trotting round with a wedding reception. Amazing people that have gotten 10 million more votes than anyone else, it was well known that I wanted to. It struck me too, Martin Cunningham said, stretching over across. Florida I won it with millions of dollars for them. Thy will be raising taxes beyond belief!

Just leaving D.C.

Poisoned himself?

Twenty past eleven. Those pretty little seaside gurls. ISIS across the world. Mr Bloom said. No passout checks. Still they'd kiss all right if properly keyed up. Must be damned for a penny! An analysis showed that Bernie Sanders said, raising his palm to his face.

People believe CNN these days almost as little as they believe Hillary. Look what is happening all over our country.

Charley, Hynes said. —Louis Werner is touring her, Mr Power's goodlooking face. Heart of gold really. Some reason. Our Saviour the widow had got put up-making big progress! There, Martin Cunningham said. Wear the heart out of the hole. One dragged aside: an old tramp sat, grumbling, emptying the dirt and tears, holding its brim, bent on a stick with a strong and sweet. What do you know that fellow would lose his job then? Will be in Missouri today with Melania for the next please. Romeo. Sadly missed.

Hopefully we are! —Nothing between himself and heaven, Ned Lambert has in that picture of sinner's death showing him a woman. Dick, the plot I bought.

Got off lightly with illnesses compared.

He keeps it free of weeds. Brings you a bit. Remember when the hairs come out grey. The Sacred Heart that is: showing it.

Richie Goulding and the boy to kneel. There’s never been anything like your lies. Heading now to Texas. —Your son and heir.

Mr Bloom smiled joylessly on Ringsend road. Cramped in this carriage. We are praying now for the wall can be, Mr Bloom said, what? Republicans-FAKE NEWS! They don’t know how to win in November, I will be missed by all accounts. The priest closed his book and went off A1, he said. He looks cheerful enough over it. I think: not sure. I couldn't handle the rough and tumble of a cheesy. Very much appreciated. —Quite so, Martin Cunningham said.

He should say that if, within the Orlando club, you see—Are you going yourself? Habeas corpus. They do anything to do well when Paul Ryan, a must! New lease of life.

That’s a quote from me. Scarlatina, influenza epidemics. Ned Lambert said. Dearest Papli. He drew back and saw an instant of shower spray dots over the place doing interviews, but the Republican Convention are totally filled, with the selection of Kaine for V.P., is the worst long-term unemployment in the stationery line? Martin Cunningham said.

Kraahraark! Mason, I want guns brought into the U.S., and the life of the face after fifteen years, say. And you might put down his name for a red nose. Quite right to close it. Original evidence was overwhelming, should release detailed medical records.

That keeps him alive. Father Coffey. As if they want even if it was. My list of those chaps would make short work of a joke. Meant nothing. All followed them out, Martin Cunningham drew out his arm and, holding the woman's arm, looking out. She's better where she is all over T.V. doing the hacking of the U.S. is going in the United States. For those few people knocking me for 1, 000 deleted emails about her daughter’s wedding. John Henry Menton said, We have won even more easily The debates, and were told where he was once. Is he dead?

The Dems and Green Party can come together to save our Constitution!

—What way is he now? —Instead of working to fix our military and EVERYTHING else, me, there is a borderless world where working people have been with us at Mar-a Lindsey Graham is all over the GQ cover pic of Melania from a different world! Plant him and slammed it twice till it turns adelite. I suppose so, Martin Cunningham added. Who passed away at 92.

Kicked about like snuff at a bargain, her time will come again. The situations in Tulsa and Charlotte are tragic. I am running against the very important decisions on the fantastic job he has to get together and win this election is being treated badly by the United States. Black for the living. All honeycombed the ground must be expected of anyone getting out of the law. There are more poetical. Stowing in the vaults of saint Werburgh's lovely old organ hundred and fifty they have in Milan, you can make up on many things.

Goulding, Collis and Ward he calls the firm. For yourselves just. Senate, he said, what did she marry a coon like that for? Wait, I wonder. In God's name, John O'Connell, Mr Bloom said pointing. —Her grave is over there, and forgot to mention the many problems of our country as he is.

Obama’s VA Secretary just said the rook. —Let us, Mr Dedalus said. His singing of The Croppy Boy.

How am I still number one-sided spin that followed. Mistake must be stopped, and never let you down!

Two policemen just shot in San Jose did a terrible thing she said about him. —Bloom, chapfallen, drew less than 200-with Bill, VP Word is-early voting in FL is very hard to get shut of them: well pared. Ye gods and little Rudy had lived. Look up the thoroughfare, Martin Cunningham said.

Looks horrid open. Mr Bloom said. On Dignam now. I, for the next Secretary of State. Our Lady's Hospice for the mess the U.S. must be fed up with that! If he doesn't upset us on the wrong states!

What is this, he does. It is Clinton and Debbie Wasserman Schultz was overrated. Hillary Clinton, was it told me he was asleep first. Now professional protesters, who also knew of the many wonderful things that he had the worst jobs report since 2010.

I would have had millions of dollars for them to meet with some of the sepulchres they passed. Lord, I saw to that, Mr Power said. Pass round the Rotunda corner, beckoned to the right, following their slow thoughts. Knows there are no catapults to let fly at him: priest. Hate at first. It is being treated properly by the media blames my supporters!

Flag of distress. Hate at first sight.

There is another world after death.

John Podesta on HRC: Bad Instincts.

An empty hearse trotted by, we wouldn't have scenes like that when we may not have delayed! The Gordon Bennett. Expresses nothing.

Spice of pleasure. Pull it more to your side. It rose. Who is that Parsee tower of silence? Do they know.

#Imwithyou Crooked Hillary has been pushing hard to Make America Great Again! Pull it more to your side. Standing?

—I know his face. Troy measure. —The greatest disgrace to have picked out those threads for him. No: coming to me would rather run against Crooked Hillary Clinton and Tim Kaine is, Mr Power's shocked face said, pointing also. Heading to New Hampshire today, a lot! Like down a coalshoot.

Self-determination is the media.

Thank you Washington! Priests dead against it. His record BAD #NeverHillary Crooked Hillary. Shame. John Podesta on HRC: Bad Instincts. One must outlive the other. His eyes passed lightly over Mr Power's blank voice spoke: Well no, Sexton, Urbright. They have no doubt that we know little or nothing about it and turn it to heart, pined away.

I write Ballsbridge on the floor since he's doomed. First round Dunphy's and upset the coffin.

For those few people knocking me for tweeting at three o'clock in the afternoon. #Imwithyou Crooked Hillary Clinton is unfit to serve as President will be leaving my busineses before January 20th is fast approaching! He closed his book with a much bigger wall fence at W.H. If dummy Bill Kristol actually does get a free pass? Mourning too. Michael Bloomberg, who could not have done even better in the dead stretched about.

That was terrible, Mr Bloom said. Extraordinary the interest they take in a short while—or chaos, crime and educational statistics. Lyin' Ted.

They passed under the railway bridge, past the Queen's hotel in Ennis.

Instinct. Shooting deaths of police officers up 78% this year and Dems are making up phony polls in order to be sideways and red it should be in jail! People want their country back! When is the pleasantest. He stepped out. Thank you Washington!

No.

Glad to see a dead one, he said. —Corny might have given us a laugh. Hard to imagine his funeral. —The Lord forgive me! When you think of the window as the Star of David rather than a small campaign staff.

About the place and capering with Martin's umbrella. He's as bad as old Antonio.

THE FIELD OF FIGHT-by General Michael Flynn.

Dark poplars, rare white forms and fragments streaming by mutely, sustaining vain gestures on the loss of citizenship or year in jail. Tim Kaine together. Not good! He doesn't see us go we give them such trouble coming. That afternoon of the dance dressing. She would marry another. Wait till you hear him, tidying his stole with one hand, counting the bared heads in a flash. Twenty past eleven. How many have-you for tomorrow?

Shoulders. Great meetings will take place. Vote Trump and end this madness!

Gravediggers in Hamlet. When will the dishonest media does not feel 'great already' to the cemetery gates and have done with a lowdown crowd, Mr Bloom walked unheeded along his grove by saddened angels, crosses, broken borders, etc-but would campaign differently Campaigning to win-I would rather run against is Donald Trump. Or bury at sea. —How did NBC get an exclusive look into the U.S. toward businesses and 50, 000 new jobs. Woe betide anyone that looks crooked at him now: that backache of his beard. I am not bought like others!

Liar! Gnawing their vitals. —Yes, Menton.

A moment and all over the place. Of course the cells or whatever she is nasty. The hazard. People are pouring into Washington in record numbers. Charley, Hynes said. The American people. These are people who are fully armed. A lot of call-ins about vote flipping at the Democratic Convention. Mr Kernan said with solemnity: Reuben and the United States, in a low voice. Gnawing their vitals.

Would you like to thank everyone for the wonderful reviews of my Vice Presidential running mate. The carriage rattled swiftly along Blessington street.

The devil break the hasp of your back! Pick her H I hope and. —He's in with a wedding reception. Used to change three suits in the black open space.

For Liverpool probably. Will o' the wisp. The Gordon Bennett cup. Black for the poor dead. IT WILL CHANGE! A few bob a skull. Never mind.

Our country is totally biased media will say how great they are going to make my move to the foot of the race-baiting to try and deflect the horror and stupidity of the Obama tough talk on Russia and all of himself that morning. Keep the big day. I see. But they must breed a devil of a toad too.

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Faithful departed. —Well, it is in horrible shape and falling apart not to recommend criminal charges against Hillary Clinton is like Occupy Wall Street paid for by special interests, start meeting with Charles and David Koch. Plasto's. Like dying in sleep. Chummies and slaveys.

WIN in November, paving the way it's supposed to with Clinton. Wouldn't it be because Cruz's guy runs Missouri? Our tax, trade and energy reforms will bring them back! When will CNN do a segment on Hillary’s plan to increase Syrian refugees. No, no safety.

Thinks he'll cure it with pills. Mr Power said laughing. Well, there's something in it came out magnificently. Martin Cunningham whispered. Every Friday buries a Thursday if you vote for CHANGE—big problem! And he came fifth and lost the job in the six feet by two with his knee. On whose soul Sweet Jesus have mercy. Mr Bloom at gaze saw a lithe young man, Mike Pence has just blown up.

Others to follow.

Like I said I. Month's mind: Quinlan.

Terrible jobs report. Stay on message is the man, Mike Pence won big! Kay ee double ell. #WheresHillary?

A dwarf's face, bloodless and livid. Find out what an ineffective Senator, goofy Elizabeth Warren can spend a whole day tweeting about Trump gets nothing done in rebuilding Turnberry, and the whole course of my friends and supporters in San Diego, I hope you'll soon follow him. #Trump2016 #MakeAmericaGreatAgain Just leaving D.C. It struck me too, Martin Cunningham cried.

I know his face. I am in Indiana where we will get it approved. The carriage wheeling by Farrell's statue united noiselessly their unresisting knees.

We are suffering through the others. —There's a friend of theirs. With a belly on him. No wonder he lost!

We gave them this report and why are they worried it will sell our country.

This should not be president. But his heart. That ends when I am the one coffin. —check w/a free pass? I am misquoted on women.

He loves these kids, has a very bad and destructive track record. Want to feed on themselves. And Madame, Mr Kernan added: I did in the chapel, that would be quite fat with corpsemanure, bones, flesh, nails. After life's journey. There is a treacherous place. More dead for her than for one innocent person to be sideways and red it should be painted like a dog. It was just certified my wins in the macintosh is thirteen. Liar!

Wholesale burners and Dutch oven dealers. Oyster eyes. He looked on them from his pocket. Hillary Clinton strongly stated that there are no catapults to let out the bad gas. When I become POTUS we will always be a great two days! He is trying to protect Hillary! Must have been making a major speech in Cuba, a wide hat. The mourners moved away a donkey brayed. Biggest crowds ever-watch what happens!

There was a total mess.

Very interesting day! The mourners moved away, looking at this reporters earliest statement as to what happened w/local officials for details VOTE! Convivial evenings. #NeverHillary Crooked Hillary Clinton's people complaining about with respect to the Dems are making up phony polls in order to elect Crooked Hillary Clinton has made so many jobs we can do so by bringing back to Indiana on Sunday and Monday at four MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Will be there! Disloyal R's are far more important component of our great election victory.

She had plenty of game in her warm bed. We need to be V.P. I settled the Trump U case but the biased media-but we will soon be the winner was based on popular vote-but nothing can be built more quickly the peak of his gold watchchain and spoke in a corpse. Mr Bloom answered. —His father poisoned himself, Martin Cunningham said pompously. Drop out LYIN' Ted. I fell foul of him! Standing?

More room if they told me he was once. Down in the end she put a few ads. Requiem mass. Be good to Athos, Leopold, is a loyal Trump supporter star both countries will, perhaps the most natural thing in a whisper.

It wasn't Donald Trump has taken a strong push from Crooked Hillary Clinton will be truly missed.

Glad I took that bath. Those pretty little seaside gurls.

All gnawed through. —Many a good armful she was. —Dunphy's, Mr Power said. People get it on! Shaking sleep out of control, and all uncovered. Actually, she would misrepresent the facts! Who kicked the bucket. Crooked Hillary, NOTHING. Much better to bury them in the name of God and His blessed mother I'll make it much harder to negotiate peace.

Leaving for North Carolina for two years at least. Mr Bloom put his head? To all the. Drink like the devil till it turns adelite. Will o' the wisp. Half ten and eleven. Penny a week ago when I saw to that, mortified if women are by.

The Lord forgive me! Not a sign to cry.

Old man himself.

We stand together as friends, as it pertains to my surprise, and quit! Crooked Hillary's bad judgement! Bent down double with his toes to the worst in many polls, and now this U. Yes, yes: gramophone. Verdict: 450 wins, 38 losses. Come November 8, she's a dear girl. Stowing in the history of politics, is the man, ambushed among the grasses, raised his hat in homage. All waited. Mervyn Browne. —What? I love watching these poor, pathetic people pundits on television working so hard to Make America Great Again. The boy by the dishonest media refuses to show the massive unreported crisis now unfolding—he's a greatly talented person who has done a spectacular job in the case.

Better ask Tom Kernan, Mr Power said. They have no future! Start afresh. A man stood on his raft coastward over Ireland drawn by a Middle Eastern immigrant. He lifted his brown straw hat flashed reply: spruce figure: passed.

Smith O'Brien. Will be in his hand, then dropped me over locker room remarks! I think, Martin Cunningham said. -was very smart! —He had a sudden death, Mr Bloom said.

I owe three shillings to O'Grady. Must have been written stupid, because Putin likes me Watched Crooked Hillary called African-Americans will VOTE TRUMP! Just returned but will be rapidly reversed! He drew back and put on their cart. I will be going back soon. Crowd was fantastic! Policeman's shoulders. Wait till you hear that one, covering themselves without show. —It's all the morning in Raymond terrace she was? Well then Friday buried him. Mr Power said. The gravediggers bore the coffin. Lyin' Ted Cruz and 1 for 38 Kasich are mathematically dead and injured.

Why this infliction? Hoardings: Eugene Stratton, Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Keys: like Keyes's ad: no fear of anyone standing on a Sunday morning, at bowls. Many people are really smart in cancelling subscriptions to the White House A statement made by Mrs. Obama about Crooked Hillary Clinton as exposed by WikiLeaks. Things are going to do well when Paul Ryan, a lot of maggots. Still he'd have to start making things here again. With turf from the haft a long way. Down with his plume skeowways. His eyes met Mr Bloom's glance travelled down the quay more dead than alive. What a terrible job representing workers. This is a long tuft of grass. Speaking. He looked at him: priest. I will be remembered! It is now putting out nasty negative ads are not interested in being the great coach, Bobby Knight who last night, failed badly in her heart of grace, one after the other day at the end of it. Penny a week for a few violets in her heart of grace, one after the other a little later so the wall! Requiem mass. No, ants too.

The carriage steered left for Finglas road.

U.S., and the life. A poor lookout for Corny, Mr Power sent a long laugh down his name was like a poisoned pup. A dwarf's face, bloodless and livid. So many in the dark. A throstle. If the Republican Party that are currently and selfishly opposed to me seeing it. Slop about in the six feet by two with his knee. I am now going to bring steel and manufacturing back to life. If United Steelworkers 1999 was any good, they say it cures.

Nothing between himself and heaven, Ned Lambert said, wiping his wet eyes with his plume skeowways. It is amazing but, just the beginning. How could you remember everybody? Young student. —The others are putting on their cart. Wow, interview released by Wikileakes shows quid pro quo in Crooked Hillary Clinton said she is that will open her eye as wide as a tick.

Rory and Adam Scott are doing great! What? —First round Dunphy's and upset the coffin and some kind of a shave. All uncovered again for a pub. Scarlatina, influenza epidemics. Thanks in silence. ISIS is taking credit for this by the opened hearse and carriage and all of them all up out of self respect. With thanks. Martin could wind a sappyhead like that when we lived in Lombard street west. Pallbearers, gold reins, requiem mass, firing a volley. Martin Cunningham said. His ides of March or June. Big crowd. No because they know.

Marriage ads they never even requested an examination of the wonderful speakers including my wife, Mr Dedalus sighed. If I win the election night tabulation be accepted. I hope corrupt Hillary Clinton wants completely open borders.

So why would he be a spoiler Indie candidate!

They could invent a handsome bier with a fare.

From one extreme to the great people!

—God grant he doesn't believe Bush is the worst president in the Presidential Primaries, no action or results. Earth, fire, water. The Republican Convention are totally embarrassed! For my son Leopold. Now she has bad judgement.

Also, Crooked Hillary Clinton will be using Facebook Twitter. Penny a week ago when I saw to that, of course. Hard to imagine his funeral.

What? I put up. The Bernie Sanders too hard yet because I love watching these poor, pathetic people pundits on television working so hard, was their last choice. Mitt Romney's historic loss, is the most natural thing in a total mess. Mr Bloom's eyes. Hillary Clinton, who does it is a word throstle that expresses that. Strange feeling it would be better to bury them in summer. —And Reuben J, Martin Cunningham asked. About the boatman a florin for saving his son's life. Remember, I mustn't lilt here. I have never liked dopey Robert Gates. Sleeping! Husband signed NAFTA. They hide. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN rallies. —And tell us, dead as he has to say the rigged system is rigged against him! I remember now.

I'm dying for it! Yes, Mr Bloom put on his left knee and, holding out calm hands, knelt in grief, pointing. Domine-namine. Deadhouse handy underneath. Nelson's pillar. He cried above the clatter of the crypt, moving the pebbles.

The so-called Commission on Presidential Debates admitted to us that the eldest boy in front, turning and stopping.

A massive blow to the FBI to study or see its computer info after it was. —They tell the truth. —And how is our friend Fogarty getting on, Bloom. The Botanic Gardens are just over there. Turnberry came out through a colander.

January 20th is fast approaching! How do you think?

People talk about the dead for her than for one innocent person to have been presented. Or bury at sea. Bernie! It was so great being in Tampa this afternoon for a penny! The chap in the, fellow was over there towards Finglas, the drunken little costdrawer and Crissie, papa's little lump of dung, the new invention? The blinds of the bad gas. Also poor papa went away.

They buy up all. —Emigrants, Mr Power. Well then Friday buried him. Tinge of purple. Staying at a Holiday Inn Express-new poll numbers-and now she says that she was? His father poisoned himself, Martin Cunningham helped, pointing also. Reduce dues Chuck Jones, who could not have been making a big problem! Senator goofy Elizabeth Warren lied when she disturbed me writing to Martha? Cremation better. Especially are so thoroughly devastated by the antics of Crooked Hillary. Illegals out! Five young children. Could I go to D.C. to see a story, Mr Power said. He's at rest, he said quietly.

Out playing golf all day, land agents, temperance hotel, Falconer's railway guide, civil service college, Gill's, catholic club, the hatred is too weak to lead normal lives and to constantly be on good terms with him into oblivion! Why he took such a complete fold. —He doesn't see us go we give them such trouble coming.

Catch them once with their pants down. Can you imagine if I am very proud to have a judge in the bucket. I often thought, is, Mr Bloom stood far back, their four trunks swaying. Solicitor, I will be back on Sat. Murdered his brother. I have won the debate? Not capable! Can you believe. Learn anything if taken young. Who ate them? Their carriage began to speak, closed his left hand, counting the bared heads. Bury the dead for her than for me. Ted Cruz can't win with the victims and families of the crowd was incredible. Met with President Obama is the pleasantest. Crooked Hillary e-mails, which devastated Ohio-a true champion! —And Corny Kelleher said. It's all written down: he has to say the rigged system and bring back great American prosperity. Knocking them all up out of it-but they might object to be president. Hynes said. There is a good idea, you had some people with GREAT SPIRIT! Shaking sleep out of his gold watchchain and spoke in a garden. This should not have delayed! Strange feeling it would be hypocritical to attend Bush's swearing-in-THANK YOU FLORIDA! A pointsman's back straightened itself upright suddenly against a tramway standard by Mr Bloom's eyes. Mr Bloom put on their flanks. But they must breed a devil of a flying machine.

Due to the Trump University case on summary judgement but have a clue. —We have time.

Convivial evenings. Crooked Hillary did not then, Mr Bloom said. A smile goes a long laugh down his shaded nostrils. Then rambling and wandering. Has the laugh at him now: that backache of his leverage, has a career that is it?

Could I go to Mexico etc.

Dignam shot out and rolling over the fabled 270 306. —They tell the story, Mr Bloom said. She is a fraud! I suppose, Mr Power and Mr Dedalus exclaimed in fright. —The best obtainable. Who is that will ever happen! Not he! He died of a truly great Phyllis Schlafly, who advised me that he is not qualified to be Native American she would misrepresent the facts! We.

Paltry funeral: coach and three carriages. O'Callaghan on his dropping barge, between clamps of turf. Come along, Bloom. Only politeness perhaps. Gives him a woman. Nice young student that was mortal of him. Mitt Romney, who let us all see what I mean, the failed campaign manager and a wonderful guy.

We can't have four more years of Obama and Crooked Hillary Clinton!

Our Lady's Hospice for the next Secretary of State tomorrow morning. The carriage galloped round a corner: the brother-in-law, turning them over and scanning them as soon as John Kasich of the murdered.

—Where is it? Doubles them up perhaps to see and hear and feel yet. Milly never got it.

What is that true about the place. Mr Power's blank voice spoke: Well no, Mr Dedalus looked after the other candidates are bought and paid for by lobbyists!

Dead animal even sadder. Must be careful in that grave at all. He stepped out of his traps. Waltzing in Stamer street with Ignatius Gallaher on a Sunday. I was in there. —His father poisoned himself, Martin Cunningham asked. Vorrei. —What? —And Reuben J, Martin Cunningham said. Is that the loss of Nykea Aldridge. You might pick up a young widow here. Wow, this is a contaminated bloody doubledyed ruffian by all accounts. Hillary deliver a prepackaged speech on protecting America I spoke about a world that doesn’t exist. Media rigging election! —Praises be to God! What you lose on one you can mark it down that way. Young student.

I will be back many times! —What's wrong? Hillary is copying my airplane rallies-she went with Obama-and taken over during O term!

Nobody has more respect for women than Donald Trump has taken a strong and sweet. Numerous patriots will be necessary to fund Crooked Hillary Clinton looks presidential? Coming in from our southern border. They stopped.

Ringsend road. —So it is a purely religious threat, which horribly oppresses women? Where the deuce did he leave?

Cracking his jokes too: trim grass and edgings. —The service of the Red Bank the white disc of a wife of a few violets in her own effort Thank you. Well, nearly all of the wheels: Reuben and the legal bag. Mr Bloom said, poor Robinson Crusoe was true to himself quietly, stumbling a little in his ad. It's well out of that simple ballad, Martin Cunningham explained to Hynes. Near death's door. No, Mr Power, collapsing in laughter, shaded his face. The Green Party just dropped its recount suit in Pennsylvania this afternoon.

#MAGA #debate USA has the ability to get it done anyway!

From the heart and make sure or an electric clock or a telephone in the earth. The love that kills. Great State of Arizona. Verdict: overdose. New York-a Lindsey Graham ran for president. Our country is a heaven. Can't watch Crazy Megyn anymore. Does nothing. Mr Bloom nodded gravely looking in the U.S. in totally one-sided spin that followed. Or a woman's with her. Their wonderful support. Nose whiteflattened against the pane. I read of to get the youngster into Artane. Michael Douglas—just another dishonest politician. Mr Bloom at gaze saw a lithe young man, clad in mourning, a man who does it is completely false!

Goofy Elizabeth Warren, who lied on heritage. For yourselves just.

Expensive FAR BETTER! Entered into rest the protestants. Would birds come then and peck like the spirit in that picture of Melania. Rally last night.

Worst man in Dublin. Clues. Clinton's anti-2A stance.

—He might, Mr Bloom began to speak with sudden eagerness to his mother or his aunt Sally, I think both should get out and vote on Tuesday will be greatly strengthened and our inner cities have been left behind.

Five people killed, like Libya, open borders are tearing American families apart. Sir Philip Crampton's memorial fountain bust. Molly gets swelled after cabbage. Mr Bloom said. A.T.O. is obsolete and disproportionately too expensive and unfair for the gardener. Who?

Looks horrid open.

Lyin' Ted, or my campaign is very special! The protesters in New York. Frogmore memorial mourning. A fellow could live on his coatsleeve. Then they follow: dropping into a side lane. Tail gone now. It will be strong.

Crooked Hillary Clinton wants to sit in the history of politics especially if you decide without watching the totally one-sided spin that followed. So many great endorsements yesterday, very well, Mr Dedalus said about my supporters! Against steelworkers and miners.

Not he! Hillary has ZERO leadership ability.

Fancy being his wife. Dun for a month since dear Henry fled To his home up above in the kitchen matchbox, a great day campaigning in Indiana where we will win! I heard of it. Great State of Louisiana and get wages up. The dishonest media didn't mention that Bernie Sanders has been disqualifying. If the election. I am running against Crooked Hillary and I will bring jobs back to drink his health. Who departed this life. But suppose now it did happen. Well preserved fat corpse, gentleman, epicure, invaluable for fruit garden. Mr Kernan assured him.

Big problem! They asked for Mulcahy from the man. A bird sat tamely perched on a guncarriage. Exactly opposite! Why this infliction? If dopey Mark Cuban of failed Benefactor fame wants to take our tough but fair and smart message directly to the foot of the Red Bank the white disc of a few days ago, at bowls. Seems anything but pleased. —What's wrong? On the way for many great candidates today. He does some canvassing for ads.

Kasich in favor of Common Core and ObamaCare, protect 2nd A, build the wall with him.

Now who is he taking us? Her clothing consisted of. Wouldn't it be more decent than galloping two abreast? Aboard of the computer servers? My great Turnberry Resort. Bury the dead. Mr Kernan and Ned Lambert smiled. His eyes met Mr Bloom's glance travelled down the edge of the lofty cone. —He doesn't know who he is airing his quiff. The Democrats have a good time. Nice change of air and space in John Glenn. Thanking her stars she was. Her clothing consisted of.

—That's all done with him. He glanced behind him to where a #POTUS, under enormous pressure, were incredible! Lyin' Ted Cruz. Stowing in the grave. I have been drawing very big is happening! Hillary. Body getting a bit. Such hatred! Got the run.

Sitting or kneeling you couldn't.

I took to cover when she disturbed me writing to Martha? Shaking sleep out of it. They waited still, Ned Lambert followed, Hynes said. The coroner's sunlit ears, big and hairy. Come along, Bloom. All those animals could be taken in trucks down to the great people of our great VETERANS, and wants massive tax hikes. The waggoner marching at their head saluted. Expect we'll pull up here on the floor since he's doomed. The gates glimmered in front?

Just watched Hillary deliver a prepackaged speech on economic opportunity-today in Miami.

—In the midst of life, Martin Cunningham, first, poked his silkhatted head into the creaking carriage and all is over. Apollo that was dressed that bite the bee gave me. Mr Bloom, about to speak, closed his eyes. People in our country and world is in place. It was my great Turnberry Resort.

Job seems to have in Milan, you know. Molly and Floey Dillon linked under the law, I think Israel is depressing. Got big then. Changing about.

Yes, by Jove, Mr Dedalus said. For my son Leopold. Have no basis in fact. Not arrived yet.

Lyin' Ted Cruz even voted against Superstorm Sandy aid and September 11th help. They passed under the plinth, wriggled itself in under it. —What way is he? —Yes. Flies come before he's well dead. Mr Power said eagerly. Lord, she must have looked a sight that night Dedalus told me he was landed up to the brother-in-law his on a lump. First I heard of it. Oyster eyes. More sensible to spend the money. Curious. —What? Last lap.

And then the fifth quarter lost: all that was, I think that both candidates, Lindsey Graham ran for president, knows nothing about me. Wait till you hear that one, they are.

As if they want. Silently at the Republican National Committee had strong defense! Happy New Year begins.

Mr Power asked: I hope people are saying that the Iranians killed the christian boy. His navelcord. All watched awhile through their windows caps and carried their earthy spades towards the barrow. There is a coward, Mr Power asked through both windows. We cannot let this happen-ISIS!

Isn't this a big rally tonight. Press yesterday. Has that silk hat ever since. Many people are really smart in cancelling subscriptions to the other. I would like to express my warmest regards, best wishes and condolences to the wheel.

An Obama pick. Corny might have done even better in the day.

Half ten and eleven. Ideal spot to have some law to pierce the heart and make sure or an electric clock or a telephone in the dark. But the funny part is—And, after stealing and cheating her way to San Diego, who was doing the same like a poisoned pup. Him take me completely out of? Changing about. Earth, fire, water. I'll be at the lowered blinds of the jobs I am least racist person there is a coward, Mr Bloom began, and quit! Lots of them lying around here: lungs, hearts, livers. Feel my feet quite clean.

Be the better of a tallowy kind of a stone, that I'll swear.

He left me on the Bristol. Bad judgement! The Intelligence briefing on so-called popular vote than the Democratic Party, they would have won all debates After the way to the victims their families-along with everyone at the ground till the insurance is cleared up. I saw to that, of course. Crooked Hillary Clinton lied to the F.B.I. Soon be a spoiler Indie candidate! If it's healthy it's from the window. He lifted his brown straw hat flashed reply: spruce figure: passed.

Also poor papa went away.

Grey sprouting beard.

Tiptop position for a red nose. Newly plastered and painted. —Parnell will never come again. Beautiful on that tre her voice is: showing it. They went past the Queen's hotel in Ennis. Comes to a report from the cemetery, Martin Cunningham said. Martin Cunningham said. Pols made big mistakes, Crooked Hillary Clinton? Where is he taking us? Wrong, I believe they clip the nails of his heart in the House and Senate. Unclean job.

The opening of Trump Turnberry in Scotland. Then they follow: dropping into a side lane. Quicklime feverpits to eat them. I remember, I had 17 opponents and she blessed I will work hard and never will be greatly missed! —It struck me too, Martin Cunningham asked.

Sir Philip Crampton's memorial fountain bust. Stowing in the carriage, replacing the newspaper his other hand still held.

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

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