#I kept thinking about how whales get stranded on the beach

[levia-san]

AU where SJ meets a stranded YQY, whom he helps of course and later be friends. SJ is a slave at the Qiu Household and regularly abused there ofc. For endgame I thought that one day SJ runs out of breath to the beach and is crying. YQY spots him immiediatly and decides that whatever is haunting SJ on the land, can’t be good. So he offers SJ to take him to the sea. Turns out when you eat mermaid flesh you too become a creature of the sea (its also a courting ritual but psssh). Thus they both elope <3 Bonus:

YQY brings SJ regularly seafood to eat but cant help but be a bit jealous...

[the-iceni-bitch]

Paralian

Pairing: soft!Winter Soldier x fem!Reader

Words: ~3.6k

Summary: You find the Winter Soldier washed up on the beach in front of your small cabin and debate what you should do with him.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (titty worship, soft sex, unprotected vaginal sex) minor angst, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: My official entry for @bonkywobble ‘s halfway to 1k challenge! I chose the prompts paralian (one who lives by the sea) and stranded so here we are!! Congratulations Georgie!!!!

It was your third year being stationed on Rankki, and fuck you were starting to get so bored.

You cursed yourself every day for taking this shit assignment. Sure, an isolated life on an idyllic Finnish island sounded great! All you had to do was monitor the radar for any Soviet subs and the radio for any communications that were worrisome, and other than that, you could enjoy the nice quiet life by the sea you’d always wanted.

Fuck all that shit.

Nothing ever happened, the last blip on the radar you’d received was just a pod of whales, and as sure as SHIELD was that they were tapped into the appropriate Soviet channels, you had never heard anything exciting or important.

You were damp all the time, the wind and sea spray soaking you to the bone and leaving you with a never ending chill. You had a fireplace but there was no wood anywhere on the tiny island. You knew, you’d walked all over the damn thing a thousand times. You had to arrange for shipments of wood from Helsinki every few months.

You were standing on the rocky shore outside your tin sided house as you sipped a mug of tea with a thick wool blanket wrapped around you. There were vicious looking black and purple clouds rolling in from the east, and you sighed to yourself before heading back inside to prepare for the upcoming storm. At least that would be a break from the monotony you were stuck with.

Within twenty minutes you heard the roll of thunder and then the wind hit your house with a howl, shaking the siding as rain pounded on your roof. You just stoked the fire with a sigh, secure in the knowledge that the construction of your house was sound.

You sat back in your armchair and curled up under your blankets to look out the window as lightning streaked across the sky. You could see see massive waves rolling far out in the gulf when suddenly your radio crackled and a distress call broke the silence in your living room.

The caller was speaking in frantic Russian as you scrambled to pick up the microphone. You tried to get a location or any information from the caller but they were babbling frantically and you didn’t think they heard you. The only words you were able to make out were Sverdlov, Karpov, and Soldat.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the last word. That was supposed to be a fucking rumor. Maybe evidence of the Winter Soldier would finally get you off this god forsaken strip of land. You tried to remain calm as you called back over the radio, but all you got in response was dead air.

You cursed before trying to raise the SHIELD base over comms, but there was no luck, the storm was causing too much interference. No matter which frequency you tried, you couldn’t get anything but static.

“Goddamn it.” You muttered, chewing on your lips as you gazed out the window again. You’d try again once the skies had cleared, maybe you’d get lucky and the ship would make it through, and you’d be able to hail them again.

The storm ended in a little over an hour, stopping as suddenly as it had started. You stood up and stretched, folding your blanket and tossing over the back of your armchair as you headed to your radio. You flipped through each channel slowly, desperately trying to find a signal, but all that greeted you was dead air.

A sigh escaped from deep in your chest as you shook your head resignedly, deciding to head out to walk over the island for the million and first time.

You cursed when you walked outside. The beach was littered with driftwood and other debris, including what you were quite certain were the pieces of the vessel you had received the distress call from.

You muttered angrily to yourself as you picked your way over the rocky beach, dreading the task of clearing up all this shit. At least it would be something to occupy your time over the next few days.

You caught a hint of movement out of the corner of your eye and felt your body tense as you went to investigate, suddenly regretting your decision to leave your gun inside.

You came up on what you initially thought was a dead body until you saw it roll over and jumped back warily. A set of blue eyes gazed up at you questioningly and you caught a glimpse of metal below the man’s sleeve.

“Who are you?” He rasped in surprisingly good English, struggling to stand up. “Where am I?”

“You’re on the island of Rankki in Finland.” You answered, searching for something you could use as a weapon gas you kept one eye on the stranger. “What do you remember?”

“I don’t know.” He muttered, drawing slowly to his feet as you sucked in a breath at the sheer power of his build, not missing the glint of metal on his left hand.

“Fuck.” You muttered as you realized you were now stuck on a tiny ass island with the Winter Soldier and no outside communications. “What’s your name?” You asked, looking around desperately for something you could use as a weapon if you had to fight him.

“I... I don’t know.” He mumbled, shaking his head and staggering as he tried to walk towards you.

You took a step back and chewed on your lip, trying to decide what to do. If he really couldn’t remember anything, he was going to be useless to you, though SHIELD would probably love to take apart that arm and study it. If he was faking it, he would most likely kill you in your sleep.

The look he gave you was full of pain and confusion, though, and you cursed yourself in your head for being so soft and gullible.

“Ok, let’s get you inside before the sun sets. I’ll make you some tea and get you into some dry clothes, ok?”

He nodded and followed you inside, looking around warily once he stepped into your tiny cabin. You chewed your lip as you closed the door behind him, still trying to figure out exactly what you should do about this new complication.

“The bathroom’s through here.” You said as you ushered him towards the back of your house. “Maybe take a hot shower and I’ll try to find you some clothes?”

He just grunted as he closed the door in your face, and you let out a deep sigh. You moved to put the kettle on the stove and reheat some lentil stew before heading to your radio. You flipped through all the channels, cursing under your breath as you still failed at raising the SHIELD base on the mainland. You worked at stashing all of your weapons as you listened to the shower running, knowing that if he really wanted to hurt you, he wouldn’t need a weapon.

You heard the shower shut off and grabbed an oversized sweater and some thermal leggings you hoped would have enough give to fit over his thick thighs. He stepped out of the bathroom and you swallowed a moan once you saw him with nothing but a towel slung low around his hips. It had been three years with nothing but your fingers to keep you satisfied and the presence of the massive soldier was reminding you just how hard up you were. You took a deep breath as you handed him the clothes and turned back to the kitchen, pouring two mugs of tea and serving up the leftover stew.

“Eat up.” You said when he returned from getting dressed in your bedroom. “Sorry, there’s not a lot of food options here.”

“S’fine.” He mumbled around a mouthful of stew as he sank onto your couch, and you did your best not to ogle the outline of his cock in your too tight leggings.

You gulped down your tea quickly as you tried to school your thoughts. This was very bad. You were stuck with one of the most dangerous Soviet agents alive and all you could think about was crawling into his lap and fucking yourself on his cock. Even if he did have amnesia, this was a very, very bad idea.

“The stew was good.” He mumbled as he finished his bowl, turning to you as you worked on your own helping. “Thank you.”

“Mmhm.” You mumbled, still trying to think about anything else except letting him bend you over and fuck you against the counter.

He stood up and moved to rinse off his dishes in the sink, brushing past you and making you clench. You tried to move out of his way but your kitchen was so cramped that all you ended up doing was tangling your feet with his until you almost fell over.

You gasped when he caught you by your elbow and yanked you into his chest to keep you from going down. His chest rumbled with a low growl as you steadied yourself, and you could’ve sworn you felt him sniff your hair.

“You ok?” He murmured before releasing his grip on your arm and letting you step back.

“Yeah, just clumsy.” You whispered, squeezing your thighs together to try to do something to relieve the ache in your core.

“Good.” He said with a deep sigh, running his hand through his hair. “Where am I sleeping?”

You cursed in your head as you thought about that question, looking around your tiny house as you tried to think about where you could stash him. The couch was too small for either of you to comfortably rest on, and you only had the one bed.

“Shit, I guess we’re doubling up.” You muttered, chewing your lip again as you dreaded spending the night in your kind of small bed with the gorgeous, massive stranger that was staring at you with puppy dog eyes. “There’s not even room on the floor anywhere.”

“Ok.” He grunted, avoiding making eye contact with you as you slid past him to wash up for bed.

You locked the bathroom door behind you and started splashing cold water on your face as you tried to calm down. Bad, bad, so bad this was bad. You couldn’t even try to reach SHIELD now and you weren’t sure when you’d have the chance to try again. You brushed your teeth furiously as you did your best to school your thoughts.

You threw on your pajamas once you were finished and stormed into the bedroom, determined to not let your libido get the better of you. He was sitting on the bed in just your leggings, and you swore under your breath as you moved past him to your side of the bed.

“Back to back?” He said with a cocked eyebrow as you slid under the covers and he turned off his lamp.

“Yeah.” You muttered, shutting your own light off and pulling the blankets up your body as you curled around yourself and squeezed your eyes shut.

You heard him let out a deep sigh as you tried to fall asleep, your brain refusing to focus on anything except the warmth of his back against yours.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but you did, until you woke up under the suffocating weight of his body draped over yours, his face buried in your hair as he whimpered in your ear.

He wrapped his arms around you and snarled, and you were surprised to feel tears soaking your hair.

“Um, hey.” You muttered as you tried to turn towards him. “Wake up.”

You squeezed his shoulder and gave it a small shake to try to rouse him and his eyes flew open. You yelped as he flipped you over and pinned you to the bed with his hand around your throat.

His eyes were murderous as he gazed at you, his pupils blown wide while you feebly clawed at his metal forearm, struggling to breathe. He finally came out of his post-sleep haze and released you with a hiss, scrambling back on the bed until he was huddled in the corner as you sat up and spluttered to catch your breath.

“Fuck, I don’t know what happened.” He muttered as he buried his head in his hands.

“It’s ok, I think you just had a nightmare.” You said as you rubbed your hand over your neck. “Are you ok?”

He turned his gaze back to you and you sucked in a breath as you saw tears glistening in his cheeks. Your instincts took over and you crawled towards him, curling your body around his and murmuring softly as his chest shook with sobs.

You ran your hands through his hair as he tucked his face into your shoulder, trying to figure out what exactly you should do to help him calm down.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He choked out, his tears soaking through your shirt as you tried your best to comfort him.

“It’s gonna be ok.” You cooed, running a hand over his back softly as he moved his face up to your neck and inhaled deeply, moaning as he took in your scent.

His breathing had finally slowed down, and you could feel his chest moving in deep breaths against yours as he sighed into your hair. You moaned when he suddenly brushed his lips against the hollow beneath your ear as he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

“You smell so good.” He murmured as he ran his mouth over your throat, his soft lips on your skin making you whine. “Like pine and wind and home.”

“Uh-huh.” You muttered, trying your best to get control of yourself as he ran his hands over your sides until they came to rest on your hips.

His teeth brushed over your jaw and you whined as you felt your core clench around nothing as you throbbed with need. Your breath hitched when he moved his lips to yours and barely brushed against them as you rested your forehead against his and screwed your eyes closed.

“I need you so bad. Open your eyes.” He ordered, bringing his metal hand up to cup your cheek. You did as he asked, losing yourself in his darkened gaze as you breathed deeply. “But we can stop if you want.”

You but your lip as you considered that for a second before smashing your mouth against his in a desperate clash of teeth and tongues as you moaned against his lips.

He wrenched your shirt off and pressed his palms against your tits, gripping them harshly and groaning before bending forward to rub his face over your nipples. You felt a rush of arousal seep out of you as he laved his tongue over one of them and pinched the other, gazing up at you through his lashes as you arched into his face. He brushed his lips over the soft slopes of your breasts as you devolved into a whimpering mess.

You started grinding against his thigh as he worshipped your breasts, tracing their curves with his tongue and lips as you felt the sensation echo in your core. It was too much for you in your touch starved state and you felt a shiver travel up your spine as he brought you closer. He brushed his teeth over your nipple and you came apart with a wordless cry, your pleasure rolling over you in a wave as your pussy fluttered wildly over his thigh, your release soaking your leggings.

He moved his mouth back up to yours and nipped at your lips as he started to turn your bodies to pin you underneath him. His mouth devoured yours as he pulled your leggings off you before shoving his own down his legs as he slotted himself between your thighs.

You bit your lip as you felt him run his steely length through your puffy lips, coating himself in your slick before lining himself up. He rested his forehead against yours and gazed into your eyes as you just blinked at him and pressed your knees against his sides. Your eyes rolled back in your head and you dug your fingers into his biceps as he slid into you slowly, letting out a low moan as you stretched around his girth.

“You still good?” He asked, his eyes still focused on yours as he felt you relax around him.

“Very, very good.” You mumbled as he started to move his hips in long, slow strokes, hitting every spot inside you that had been neglected for the past three years as you melted into the mattress.

“You feel so good.” He murmured, moving to bury his face in your neck as he continued pushing his hips into you. “So tight and warm and... fuck you’re just perfect.”

You couldn’t say anything, you were so consumed with the feeling of him inside of you, your pussy clenching around his cock in waves from base to tip and tip to base as he edged you closer and closer to your release. He sucked your ear lobe between his teeth as you locked your ankles together at the small of his back and did your best to draw him even further inside you.

He kept moving his hips in smooth thrusts, his lips moving over your throat softly as he took you apart with slow, deliberate movements. A final twist of his hips had you screaming, every muscle in your body tightening and releasing like a bowstring as you spasmed uncontrollably around his cock. His eyes moved back to watch you closely as your face contorted with pure bliss and you sobbed underneath him.

You panted as you came down, smiling back at him and unwrapping your legs from around him as he slowly slid out of you. He moved his lips over your shoulders as his hands slid to your waist, starting to turn you over slowly as your breathing finally returned to normal.

He brushed your hair aside and pressed his lips to the back of your neck once he had you on your stomach, his chest pressed against your back as he nudged your thighs apart with his knees. You bit the pillow as he teased his tip against your entrance before pushing into you again, making you whine.

His hips started moving again as he wrapped his fingers through yours and pinned your hands above your head while he fucked you in swift thrusts, his hips slapping against your ass as he smothered you with his body.

“You close, honey?” He murmured against the shell of your ear as you arched your back to meet his thrusts.

“Yeah, I’m so close.” You moaned, your cunt clamping around him as he dragged his cock over your g-spot with each push. “Need more.”

“Yeah? I can do that.” He grinned before sinking his teeth into your shoulder and slamming his hips forward.

You shrieked as he fucked you, your body sinking into the mattress as he pressed against you. It only took a few thrusts before you shattered around him, stars exploding behind your eyes as you vibrated underneath him. His hips started stuttering and then he roared in your ear, his cock throbbing and swelling inside you until he was flooding you with his spend, warming you from inside as he fucked his cum into you with quick, rhythm less jerks.

He collapsed on top of you when he was finished, his breath coming in deep sighs as you panted into the pillow. You felt exhaustion starting to drag you under, your lids growing heavy as you felt him soften inside you.

“Can we just stay like this?” He muttered, his lips brushing over your neck gently. “I just want to hold you.”

“Yeah, ok.” You hummed, surrendering to the pull of sleep as he pulled the covers back over the two of you before he sank on top of you with a deep sigh.

You woke up with him still on top of you, his limbs tangled with yours as he snored softly. You moved gingerly as you worked to extract yourself from him, desperately needing to use the bathroom.

He gave a soft huff when you rolled him over, but quickly relaxed as he nuzzled himself into your pillows. You closed the blinds to block out the early morning light and tiptoed out of the bedroom. You took care of your business quickly and we’re heading back to bed when you heard the faint sound of your radio crackling to life.

You rushed into your comm room and turned the radio down before really listening to what you were hearing.

“Agent Y/L/N? Come in!” Someone from the base was calling over the link.

“This is Y/L/N.” You answered.

“We got reports of a wrecked Soviet ship in your area. Intel says they had some sort of asset on board. Has anything turned up?”

You chewed your lip as you thought things over. If you turned the Winter Soldier over, you could probably finally get off this island and land a cushy desk job back in the States. It was all you’d been thinking about for years.

But then you thought about waking up to those small fearful sounds, and the look in his eyes before he started sobbing into your chest. And there was no way you could turn that broken creature over to the cold scientists at SHIELD.

“Just some debris.” You called back over the radio. “Nothing important.”

“Alright, well keep us updated.”

You hung up the receiver and started to move back to the bedroom, smiling sadly as you heard the soldier wondering where you were.

——————————————————————————

A/N: 🥺🥺🥺

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[literameera]

White Sails

2433 words

The oceans going to swallow him whole some day and only then could he die happy.

Caspian already gave his soul to the sea, his first great love. Initially I was excited for him and how he got to live out his dreams. He’d write to me about his exploits, I’d gasp and laugh when appropriate, as if he can see, and finally when the stories ended, I’d write to say that I’ve been living the same way: wake up, work, eat, sleep and mostly anticipate. He’d tease that I live like a widow refusing to believe her husband's dead, wasting away staring out the window, hoping for him to someday return to her. Like the ship of Theseus every time he left a part of him had been replaced, how long has he been a man I couldn't recognise, a ghost wearing my lover’s skin.

Only the wooden planks stepped on by Theseus himself belong to the original ship, the rest are imposters high off the glory of His name. Your skin cells regenerate every twenty-seven days – and it’s been longer than that since my hands held his, the wind already swept all memories of my words from his mind. He can only belong to one and she’s infinitely larger than me. To him, her cold embrace feels like coming home. It’s selfish – I’d remind myself – selfish to want to steal what makes him happy all because I feel lonely, he’s loved the ocean long before he’s loved me, and he will long after. I can only hope she’s kind when she does finally take him. I’ve heard that saltwater burns your lungs and that a body only sinks for a moment and as it fills with water it floats to the top, I don’t want them to find his body, he wouldn’t want them to either. I hope his clothes weigh him down and 80% becomes all of him, that he sinks to Atlantis and the sun never feels him again, we don’t deserve it.

But then he comes home, the wind in his hair, salt clinging to his skin and horribly chapped lips, he kisses me hello and I get a taste of what he feels. He tells me he’s missed the warm water from the shower while I wash his locks, that his land legs haven’t grown back yet so can I hold on just a little tighter ‘to make sure I don’t fall of course’. I tell him our neighbours' gossip and he laugh and gasps when appropriate and says that he’s missed the shop at the end of the street, in the morning he’ll grab groceries and those chocolates he’s loved since he was a kid, and some things never change. When it’s quiet and we lull we watch the sun set, sitting on a linoleum countertop in the kitchen, he glows orange in its light and tells me he’s missed me.

When a whale dies its body sinks to the benthic zone, there where there’s no sun, no blood, no heat, no me, or him the oceans creatures eat on its flesh, their entire life's sustenance reliant on an animal they’ve never seen alive and blobfish get their namesake feature from the rapid shift in pressure, they essentially burst while being pulled up by fishermen. The universe is kept spinning by forces we don’t know and can’t name and one day the sun could burst, and we wouldn’t know until 8 minutes later when its light should touch us and won’t. But it did that day, the light travelled through a solar system to shine on him, and shine on me, and that’s how we met. It was fate. Eight years later it’s still fate when Caspian wakes up beside me, his skin a warm brown, like the terracotta pots he brings back to accommodate my ever-growing garden, and his tousled hair a sun-bleached orange, the roots betray their natural umber colour (the same as the eyes he was currently hiding behind tired palms), men like him are born out of stardust, and they can’t help but to replicate its heat. He’s looking at me now, his warm hands place a stray strand of my own umber hair behind my ear and pauses on my cheek, my bronze skin a slight contrast to his, brown eyes reflecting brown.

‘Let’s go over the plan, alright Leya?’ He breaks the silence, ‘we’ll lock up, give the keys to Theo and Honora, they promised to water our plants and dust the place while we’re gone, we pick up your jumper from the market –Eilidh promised it’ll be done by then- and then it’s me, you and wherever you can land your finger on a map.’

‘Yeah, I can’t wait. Me, you and The Caspian’ the smile I give him falters and my bottom lip trembles. He frowns.

It was my idea to come with him, I was tired of being alone and he was tired of forgetting synonyms of vast for his letters home, I knew he exhausted all the ways to say I love you when he started to transcript theology to me:

‘They believe that next to Christ, that’s what they call him, there was a man that lived in sin, two in fact but only one of them matters. They don’t know anything about this man, not even his name, except for his last words. And they were that of forgiveness and salvation. A man whose entire history is left out of the book that chronicles it. We know nothing of his home, his family, his life, not even his crimes, but we know that he loved and was loved in return. I don’t believe a lick of it but by God these people are good storytellers.’

I did want to go. Maybe the second I see the flickering reflected crescent moon on the ocean waves I’d decide I never wanted to leave, that the past 25 years of living and four years waiting can all be justified by that one experience. But I also couldn’t just leave. He was the one with adventures and loose ties and sea salt, and I’m the one that waits. The diligent partner with a cup of tea and open arms for him, who were we if not that? Who am I without anticipation and loneliness? For years, my life was contingent on feeling and watching a ticking clock, and now I just get to be free? It doesn’t sound real. It doesn’t sound fair on the woman I used to be, the one still waiting. He knows how I feel, he must, from the furrow of an eyebrow I know he’s got me pegged.

‘Remember the night before I left- the first time that is- and I kept going over lists, obligations and checking everything twice, I even meal prepped your food for months in advance. And you told me everything will still be here when I get back...’ He pauses to hold my face in both hands, brown eyes locked on brown eyes to make sure I was listening, ‘everything will still be here when we get back. If you don’t want to go that’s fine, we won’t, I’ll spend the next six months right here with you, and every day after that if you want me to. I’m tired of you being alone. But if you do want to go... We lock up, see the world and come back, it’s that easy.’ With that he kisses my temple -the most delicate part of the head – and climbs out of bed.

Honora and Theo promised to give all the leftover perishable foods to the family around the corner, they have seven kids and not enough to feed them all. They also ensured once a week every plant will be watered, all letters brought in, and the surfaces periodically dusted. The jumper Eilidh had made was beautiful, she told us wool is preferable when wet because it resists water and keeps you warm. She made it green, in case I miss the trees, and Caspian paid her double. I had hoped the air would be electric, brimming with something, as if it knew I’m leaving this time too. Everything was the same, same as it's always been and same as it always will. And I won’t be, I’ll go out there, replace my ships planks and come back me, but not wholly or maybe as more, and if Caspian’s with me the whole time who would notice the change, all of my red strings connect back to his.

It was half a day's journey to the port, and I felt it all. At some point my head was pulled to rest on his shoulder and every time the sun shone particularly bright he held a hand over my eyes to shield them. When we were close to enough to the sea to smell it, the briny tang light in the air, he came into himself, as if he swallowed sunlight, and grinned.

I hate this. Caspian told me I will at first, I haven’t got the familial love he has. A runaway father that was only 19 when he met his future wife at the port. The family was forcibly moved to a landlocked town when opportunities dimmed and Caspian's childhood was spending every holiday possible making the hours long treks to the beach, with just enough time to wiggle his toes in the sand and swallow lungsful of water when learning to swim, and when he was older it was learning how to sail with his father. Finally, it’d get too cold to continue so his mother would swaddle him in towels and place him on her lap, until he eventually grew too big for her, together they’d watch the sun set. He told me once that it was like the water was just a mirror and everything radiated pink and orange and golden hues until finally... darkness, and there was twice as many stars as usual. Then they’d go home and count down till the next summer. His love was intergenerational, it’ll grow on you, trust me. But it won’t, I hate this. I feel sick & disoriented, it’s too loud and quiet at the same time. Like when people move from a bustling city, heavy in smog and movement, to a quaint village, and there they find the crickets and pollen too much to bear. There was none of the sounds I was accustomed to and all too many of ones I wasn’t. I can’t even swim.

How did we plan for weeks and not think that I would need to know how to swim?

Caspian had finished prepping the sails and letting us go in the wind's direction, promising he’ll take us as far East as he can find – and then carry on. He had tried to explain all the terms to me, but words like ‘jib’ and ‘hull’ and ‘tiller’ easily slipped out of my mind like water. Instead, I stood by the helm and just watched him work, focusing on the beads of sweat running down his forehead and pushing supper down as far deep as it goes, as to not ruin this for him. When he had finished, he gave me the tour, showing me the saloon, where to cook, where to rest, where to pray, how to store in such a small space and when I was overwhelmingly exhausted from the information swimming in my head, he grabbed some pillows and blankets and led me back to the cockpit. There he prepped everything like it was our bed at home and laid down, gently pulling me down with him, our knees were bent awkwardly, and we were closer together than usual. That’s when I understood When I was younger my mother would bring me to visit her friends and after the initial gasps and hugs and ‘my how you’ve grown!’ they would largely ignore me to talk to each other. One of her friends, Mariam, had a baby boy that would sleep in a wooden bassinet pushed to the wall closest to where I was sitting, when he did stir, they’d finally address me again and tell me to rock him slightly, let him be lulled back to rest. Here, we were lightly rocked side to side by Poseidon himself and entire galaxies shining down on us, like a sleeping baby in a bassinet. I didn’t know there could be so many stars and still such a vast darkness. Caspian told me about the constellations he knows and the ones he’s made up, his own mythologies mapped out above us. And when I was too tired to listen, eyes drooping and his words bleeding into each other he tenderly held my elbow to help me up, shifting so I could rest my weight on him, and walked me to the bed, trying as best he could to push my dead weight into the cramped space. Leaving only for a moment to bring the pillows back in, before climbing into bed besides me.

The next morning, we stopped on still waters, and he taught me how to swim. In the afternoons, after I showed him my grandmothers' recipes for the cold, he tried to teach me more sailing terms and by the evening I’d read to him under the dimming light, I’d have to stop after a moment, too nauseous to read the words. It was a routine we near perfected in a month. I could tell he was happy; he was drowning in it. Shockingly, I was too, a saloon that smelled like garlic and spice, secured down potted herbs, dry storage spaces filled to the brim with my books, and his slow breaths when I should be asleep, was enough. On days the wind was too bad to pause he’d make me use the knots he taught me and shout what I need to do if we tip over, the exhilaration was more than anything I’d ever known.

Resources would run low, and he’d dock in the port of a country I'd never heard of, a culture unfamiliar and language unknown. With limited communication and lots of points & smiles we’d buy what we need and when our food was restocked, I’d ask to stay a few days more. We’d integrate ourselves in the local community and learn how to say ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ and plan to return in the holiday season. We’d make pocket communities across the world and relish in hot water and write letters to the people back home.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

I don’t HATE the 2011 “The Thing” prequel, I just think it squandered the potential it had.

Let’s be honest, it was the exact same movie again, just with a thin film of nostalgia wiped over it, and CGI that’s already dated less than 9 years on.  They took a movie known for its groundbreaking practical effects, and redid it with CGI; that’d be like f they remade Jurassic Park without the animatronics- wait, no, they did that too.

The Thing 2011 would have been helped if they had kept the practical effects that they have actually filmed on set rather than going over them all in post, but it still wouldn’t have been a great movie because it was too derivative.  We didn’t really see anything new in the prequel, save for the tooth filling test, which is pretty weak considering the material they had to work with.

Some more interesting tests they could have done

Tattoo test: the Thing can’t replicate inorganic material, and that includes tattoo ink.  It replicates someone and either rejects their tattoo entirely, or the ink molecules become all jumbled and it ends up looking like a big blurry splotch on their arm, as if the ink was wet and had spread.

Scar test: scar tissue isn’t inherent in our DNA, there’s no way for a Thing to replicate scars.  The guy with a prominent scar across his eye is suddenly healed, and the rest of the crew torches him where he stands.  Or maybe one of the guys got a bad cut early on and needed stitches, he goes missing, and when he comes back they’re gone.

Hair test; the length of your haircut isn’t in your genes either, the Thing just replicates your DNA and grows out it’s replicated hair as long as it thinks your was.  Maybe the guy with really short hair comes out of his quarters with shoulder length curls, or someone got too close to a Thing that was on fire and all the hair on their arms and eyebrows got singed off, and then it all grows back faster than it should have.

Amputee test; one of the guys lost his leg in the war and wears a prosthetic, and one day he’s walking out and about and reacts in pain when he stubs his very much still attached foot on a coffee table. The Thing would just replicate his DNA entirely, including his missing foot.  This could tie into the scar test if someone was missing a kidney or an appendix, and when he dies the autopsy shows that both are still in tact (this would be right before his “corpse” bursts to life to bite the arms off the doctor)

The comics explore what would have happened had the Thing gotten off Antarctica; it starts to spread in mainland South America, which is new, but a little too 1950s for my taste.  The 1982 version was a remake of the 50s b-movie ‘The Thing From Another World,’ and had a larger cast; a lot of 50s movies have bigger casts and grander settings, with the monster of the week attacking The Big City™.  The Blob, Them, Godzilla, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, War of the Worlds, which are all paranoid allegories of the spread of communism and Soviet influence.  The Thing 1982 played on this fear and paranoia by isolating the cast and making everything claustrophobic, a staple of the horror genre to this day.  Things are scarier when they’re contained (no pun intended).

I would never want to see an adaptation of the comics on the big screen because I think part of the fun of the movies is the looming threat of a global Thing Infestation; as soon as we see it actually happen, it no longer feels special.  It could be done, I guess, if it was treated like a completely different movie; instead of an effects heavy slasher movie, it could be a post-apocalyptic zombie movie, with the last vestiges of humanity hiding and waiting for the Things to starve to death.  Or maybe it could be played like one of the future war scenes in Terminator, with Things trying to infiltrate the survivor camps; the humans would need to devise a foolproof test so they don’t have to kill every newcomer who seeks shelter.

If they were to make a sequel set 30 years later, as Hollywood is wont to do, it should be about The Thing At Sea; it survived the events of the first movie, and froze itself back in the ice.  When summer comes, a search party would discover both the Norwegian and American camps destroyed.  The story of Outpost 31 would be the stuff of legends, people would think the Americans and Norwegians got a little stir crazy with cabin fever and killed each other.  30 or 40 years later, a new team of investigators plans on rebuilding the outpost and rediscover the frozen remains of The Thing, which they bring back with them to New Zealand (which is where most Antarctican missions start out of).  It thaws and starts killing crew on the boat, the perfect isolated environment with plenty of potential for things to go wrong.  There’s a storm a’brewing on the horizon, and they end up capsizing; the survivors scramble for the lifeboat, but one or more of them might be a Thing, so everybody needs to go down with the ship.  I’m picturing a really cool scene where the Thing hops ship, and the heroes have to try and catch it in a net to stop it from getting away; it then transforms into a giant sea monster, absorbing biomass from fish or sharks or squid, and attacks the boat like a kraken.

The original Blob ended with the monster being shipped to Antarctica, and the main character said “we’ll be safe, so long as the ice caps stay frozen,” which is a classic 50s b-movie finisher, The End, question mark, question mark, question mark.  They could play into that something like that here, maybe have the new team fly out to the remains of Outpost 31, and it’s unseasonably warm, and that’s how they find the Thing.  The ice has receded farther inland, the coast is a lot closer now than it was in 1982, maybe there have been reports of weird penguin activity, and they blame it on climate change, but it’s actually The Thing disguised as flocks of penguins,trying to find bigger, more intelligent hosts.  If a seal eats a penguin-thing, it becomes a seal-thing, which gets eaten by a whale which becomes a whale-thing, and maybe the only reason it hasn’t made it to the mainland yet is because infected whales can tell something’s not right, and they keep beaching themselves, stranding and eventually killing the Things inside them.  Maybe the new team of researchers are trying to figure out why there have been so many whale strandings localized on the coast nearest to the remains of Outpost 31.

I’d watch that.

[redacted-cryptid]

henlo,,, 3, 16, 30

I won't even try 2 hide

thank u love

3. What themes do your emotionally strong, yet morally neutral dreams have? I don’t remember many of my dreams but as of late i’ve been having a lot of dreams about flooding and traveling. one of my recent dreams that left me feeling all outta wack but had no strong moral themes was one where i was going on a road trip with my family and as we drove along the coast we kept seeing more and more decaying beached whales and the water got higher and higher until we were stranded on a bridge as the water rose around us and whales could be seen swimming beneath the bridge. 

16. Are you the kind of person to fantasize about getting into fights? Most definitely. If i wasn’t worried about paying my bills i would tell off every single asshole customer. I already get into verbal fights (as you have personally witness lol). I do think that one of these days im just gonna get fucking decked. 

30. How do you want to die? Mysteriously, at a relatively young age. And all my close friends will be invited to an estate out in the forest (more realistically an old cottage that’s falling apart) and will be tasked with fulfilling my dying wish, except no one knows what it is because they have all been given different requests. The evening spirals into an adventure of discovering who i really was and uncovering the many lives i lived. Also i promised Tahreem she could read my eulogy when we were 13 so i guess that has to be included at my funeral. 

totally normal ask game

[spookyspaghettisundae]

And Awaken in a New One

Kim broke out of her trance when the car door slammed shut. She blinked and knew they had passed into the otherworld already. On the surface, it almost looked the same as the world they hailed from. But it had changed.

The blue covering the canvas of the sky around the horizon rippled gently, like a heavenly pond into which stones had been cast. The Hidden Deserts That Had No Name reflected bright light from everywhere and nowhere, with no sun to be seen, wherever she looked. The mountains in the distance refused to stand still and moved—ever so slightly, like the ebb and flow of an ocean lapping lazily at the shoreline of a beach.

The clouds drifting through the air coiled and began moving in the direction of where their car was parked. Like snakes, those clouds crawled towards them.

Although they moved slowly, their steady creeping told Kim to limit her time here.

The car slumped forward a tiny bit when the weight of Javi sitting on its hood depressed it. He was the one who had slammed the door shut and now he lit up a cigarette with a stainless steel lighter, flicking the little silvery thing shut in a fluid and practiced motion right when a puff of white smoke arose from his face.

Strange bushes topped the sands. Unlike the ones native to the Nevada desert from where they had crossed over into here, these plants featured purple color and shivered out of sync with the warm breeze sweeping over these rocky plains.

Javi took a drag from his cigarette, puffed it out with haste and pointed at the clouds. The car’s windows muffled his words, “Only a matter o’ time till those—whatever those are—till those things get to us.”

Kim got out of the car as well. Letting her gaze sweep across the sky above them made her dizzy and almost a bit sick to her stomach. The watery nature of the above offered no solid point to focus on and the unsteady mountains, too, refused to help.

The only thing that looked the same from their last visit: the old black tour bus of the band once known as The Lost Number, standing lonesome in the middle of this desert, caked in sand and beached like a steel whale. Like one of those anchors that existed in different timelines and dimensions, all tenuously connected by such rare universal constants.

She sat herself onto the hood next to Javi and plucked the cigarette from his fingers, then took a long drag from it. The words escaped her lungs like the smoke—scratchy and labored—when she said, “How long have you been a smoker?”

In the previous world, Javi had never smoked. One of many small details that had shifted, ever so slightly, when she returned from the House of Change—when the world was reborn.

“I started when I was, uh, like, eleven, I think?” he said with a shrugging twitch of his left shoulder.

“You not worried about cancer?” she asked while handing him back the cigarette and studying every inch of his face.

The messy black hair on his head and a burly stubble lining his sharp jaw framed a face as handsome as ever—that much had not changed. Plenty of reality’s details had stayed the same, at least on the surface. The eerie light of this otherworld sparkled in his dark eyes as he studied Kim with a curiosity to match her own.

His shoulder twitched again, accompanied by a tilt of his head as he replied, “Lotta things can kill me, and statistically speaking, I think one o’ these hunka-junks is gonna do me in first.”

Javi thrust out a thumb to the sports car they were sitting on. Although dirt and dried mud clung to its every surface, the fast vehicle standing still underneath them looked way too fancy for their budget.

“Look, not to be a pain in the—” he started, the thought trailing off. “You might wanna—”

His sentences kept dying halfway out of his mouth. She knew what he was getting at, his eyes darted up, towards sky, to underline that.

The clouds kept creeping. Ever closer. Like snakes in the water, homing in on them. On prey.

She nodded to him and peeled her eyes off of the living clouds, meeting his gaze again. Lingering there for a longing amount of time.

Kim wondered if she should ever tell him about all the things she noticed that had changed with the world. So many subtleties, so many curious details—so fascinating. And the more often she slept and the more she dreamt, the more the last world felt like a distant, fading memory. Javi would understand, she thought. But what was the point?

She wished none of the previous world back. Precious to some, meaningless to her. Some of the key differences to this one were all that mattered to her.

She pushed herself off the hood of the car and started walking towards the stranded tour bus. Mystified by how it had been taking less years to decay in this secret desert than would be natural.

“You want me to, uh?” he started muttering behind her.

“No, s'all good,” she breathed.

The closer she strayed towards the bleached black body of bus, the more her chest tightened.

It represented a cornerstone—or a pillar—the things that held the fabric of reality together despite any transitions from one world to the next. A bridge through space and time and likely the only reason that an invisible pocket of void connected our reborn world to this one, here. Now. And never.

Gunshot holes still pockmarked the walls of the bus, having been torn from the inside out. Other holes had been punched into it by long, dagger-like claws of an unspeakable creature.

The memory of Michael’s screams echoed in her mind. She stuffed back down whatever guilt that brought bubbling up, shoving it into the cellar of repressed memories and slamming the door shut.

Something else—something physical—slammed shut behind her, prompting her to pause and look back. Javi had removed a beaten up backpack from the trunk, sagging from his one hand, the cigarette in the other. He had started dragging his heel over the ground, drawing a crude circle into the sand around his car. The first step in crafting a ritual ward to keep otherworldly entities like ghosts and demons at bay.

He stopped for a second, looked up at her, and waggled his eyebrows with a twitch about the corners of his lips. As if to politely remind her to hurry things up.

She flashed a smile back at him and returned her attention to the abandoned tour bus. Only with delay did she notice how she had sucked in a good amount of air and was now holding her breath. Her whole body had tensed up.

Kim produced the revolver whose weight had been burning an imaginary hole into her leather jacket’s pocket, and gripped it tightly. She pulled the ajar door fully open and ascended the small stairs, entering the bowels of the steel husk. The door did not want to stand still and swayed in the wind, emitting high-pitched squeaks as its hinges creaked.

She raised her weapon and pointed it wherever she looked, wary of any threat that might be lurking in here.

But nothing awaited. Nothing hungry, and nothing alive, at the very least.

It all looked the same. A painful reminder of a recent past and distant memories alike.

Time had chewed up the dark red leather on the seats everywhere. Heaps of trash still littered the bus’ interior, matching the cliche of a rock star’s devastated hotel room.

Nails still pinned newspaper clippings to one wall, though some of them had fallen out and joined the junk on the floor. Reports of two men who had mysteriously gone missing—a Brent Carver and a Rick Sutton—members of the defunct indie rock band named “The Lost Number.” According to the jumble of clippings, only one band member had not vanished without a trace: Kevin Spilner.

Yet he only existed in the past now, and as far as Kim was concerned, would stay there.

Forever.

His mugshot, painfully familiar to her, still clung to one of the cut-out articles despite the ink’s slow process of fading. She did not like looking into the mirror and seeing that face anymore.

Although the rebirth of the world rendered memories of the previous one blurrier and fuzzier with the passage of time, flashes of that past life haunted her, flashing through her mind like the flashes atop old analog cameras.

How Brent and Rick disappeared out here in the desert, how no bodies were ever found, and how the police eventually released Kevin into the wild where he started a new life. And eventually found Kim.

The plastic of a broken CD case crunched underneath Kim’s shoe as she stepped over a pile of crumpled cans and walked deeper into the hopeless bus.

Nobody and nothing worthwhile here. As if she had been holding her breath all this time, she exhaled a deep sigh and lowered her gun, though her muscles refrained from relaxing. The tension remained.

She lifted her shoe and inspected the jewel case that had splintered underneath her step: an autographed copy of the EP, Sexy Vampire in the Basement by The Lost Number. The stylized photo of the three band members adorning its artwork, dressed like douchebags, replete with their faux hawk hairdos that had been the fashion du jour of any grunge band at the time.

It took her a second to realize the sharp sting of pain that began throbbing from her left palm. Inspecting it showed only that she had dug her fingernails deep into it from the sheer tension gripping her all the while. She sighed again.

Looked up. Followed the rest of the line of articles plastering the wall. The rest of Kevin’s career trajectory.

Either the rebirth of the world had changed nothing of it, or this pocket dimension had preserved this glimpse into a different age and existence. The flamboyant, cross-dressing bass player of the critically panned rock band had transformed into a successful stage magician on the Strip over the years that followed, drawing a small cult following. A snippet from a Rolling Stone interview book-ended the assortment of notes.

In red color, years ago, Kevin had spray-painted over the tail end of this creepy collage:

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

Kim sighed again and let her gaze sweep over the sad past, just one more time. The pile of discarded cans of beans and bacon and empty lighter fluid, the ridiculous number of empty cigarette boxes stacked up on the table.

What a pathetic mess.

Struggling to grasp how long she had lived here, hiding out in this pocket space—it disgusted her. She had hid from the world for too long, in a place where mundane folk never wandered, where only demons and ghosts and rejects found comfort in dwelling.

She swallowed the lump of nothingness that had gotten itself stuck in her throat and had one last thing she wanted to look at.

The thing sitting in the back of the safe, sitting in the back of the tour bus. It was what she had come for.

Blood and gore had been sprayed and splattered along the narrow, almost claustrophobic walls leading ever deeper inside, long dried and flaking off. A strange substance, black like pitch and now with the consistency of caked, cracked mud now covered the area. Kim’s mind reeled with the imagination of how a creature native to this world had dissolved into goo there.

To get to that safe, to get to that thing she sought, she would have to walk this narrow corridor. Through the refuse and the haunting clues of past violence.

The only reason to brave this wretched place.

After taking the first steps, registering the taste of grit on her tongue, and finding that her knuckles had whitened as a result of how tightly she gripped the gun in her hand, she realized how fast her heart was racing. Pounding away.

Crunching and thumping noises behind her caused her to spin around and point the gun—at Javi, who stumbled up the stairs into the bus. She lowered her gun but the tension only grew, for panic marred his pretty face.

And terror made his voice tremble in an unsettling contrast to the words he said next, “Okay, time’s up. We got a problem, baby girl.”

Through gritted teeth, she asked, “What?”

Her gun rose, following suit as he raised the sawed-off shotgun in his hands, backing away from the entrance as if to back away from an invisible threat, twitching at every sound of the breeze pouring in through the bullet holes in the body of the bus.

The wind picked up and shook the world around them, like an earthquake. A chorus of whispers engulfed them. But not like wind should. Gibbering and incomprehensible but clearly words. Alien.

She stepped forward, some of the cans and plastic trash clattered and rustled underfoot as Javi and Kim ducked closer to one another, guns pointing away from each other, backing up until their backs touched.

“Ritual ward ain’t workin’ no more,” he said, voice still shaking. Before she could answer that, he added, “And no, I didn’t make no mistake. Somethin’s wrong.”

Something big moved, obscuring the otherworld’s diffuse light and making it flicker as the body of a huge serpent-like shape coiled around the bus, suffocating the light. It howled. Then whispered again.

“No, I don’t think it was you,” Kim breathed. “Shit, I shoulda known bett—"

The bus shook violently and the steel groaned. Screeched in pain. The metal twisted, bent. The walls slumped inwards, gripped and deformed by tremendous force. And that deafening howl resounded again, carrying with it a chorus of furious whispers, only intervals in the rising storm of howls and screeches.

“Let’s hope bullets work,” Javi shouted over the cacophony.

The muzzle flare made Kim see stars for a second, accompanied by black spots in her field of vision. Making the presence of the thick white clouds wrapping and coiling around the bus all the more menacing. And a sharp ringing in her ears followed the thunderclap of Javi’s shot. And then the next.

The howling turned to screeching, fluid and somehow alive, unlike the metal being rent apart.

She squinted and took a shot at something that appeared more solid than the rest, and the unnatural howls that followed suggested that bullets might be working after all.

Bright light flooded the inside of the bus, spreading to the tune of more metal being peeled back like an onion’s skins. The hungry cloud ripped away the entire ceiling and a roiling mass of living white smoke loomed over them.

Javi’s next shot made it recoil. It moved like a dragon with dozens of short limbs, more like a centipede. Its form defied definition. Kim could almost make out something resembling a neck. That neck ended in something resembling a hungry maw, consisting of thousands of teeth that were not teeth, struggling to take shape and just flowing like water and solidifying and back and forth.

She shot into the center of whatever this thing was and it screeched again, dispersing just like any cloud should but reshaping at the edges of the torn metal ceiling and taking cover from their shots. Looming, like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce.

The string of profanities Javi eked out behind her only underlined his panicked attempts at reloading his gun and fumbling with the ammunition. But the world had grown strangely quieter, through a screen of the deafened ringing in her ears from the many loud shots. Gun smoke stung as it filled Kim’s nostrils.

Her pistol punched another hole through the side of the bus as she took a potshot at the hungry cloud. The angry howls that followed were only a prelude to the thing grabbing and shaking the whole bus with violent force. The world nearly spun around as the bus nearly toppled over.

Two more blind shots made it stop and another hungry cloud darted across the hole in the ceiling, coiling around the bus and crisscrossing with the first one. The bus rumbled and shook, falling back into its upright position, making her stomach churn.

They had no eyes but Kim felt watched. Felt the hatred radiating from these things like heat.

A raging inferno.

The blue water of the sky began to swirl like a vortex, like a whirlpool was beginning to form in it. But she had no time to ponder it, for tendrils of the hungry cloud formed claws, prying at the hole and trying to force its way deeper inside. The maw closed in.

She took another shot that caused it to recoil, backing away and then flowing back outside. She continued pulling the trigger, but the weapon just clicked away with empty chambers.

Click, click, click, click.

Another deafening shot from Javi’s shotgun behind her maintained the numbing screen of ringing in her ears. More angry howls. The presence of the clouds disrupted the flow of air, and a violent gust of wind heralded a sudden change.

The giant forces shaking and crushing and tearing up the old tour bus let go of it. Distanced themselves.

Even at a growing range, Kim could feel the flaming despise emanating from these unnatural entities. Although they possessed no facial features, she sensed one of them catching a glimpse of her as something distantly resembling a head flowed past the hole in the ceiling, joining the other cloud-dragons.

Even as the distance between the bus and the hungry clouds grew, the adrenaline still pumped. Kim’s heart continued pounding like a drum, underscored by that painful ringing in her ears. She continued to point her empty gun at the intangible things while the unspeakable entities backed farther and farther away from the bus, melting into wisps of other clouds adrift in the rippling skies.

Where they recovered. Re-channeled. Readied themselves for their next assault.

With a trembling hand, she pawed around in her other jacket pocket for spare bullets but found none.

“You got what you came for?” Javi asked. His voice quaked.

They had both ducked down and cowered, glued to the old demolished furnishings inside the bus. Things that offered comfort in the illusion of providing cover, but provided none against entities that moved like mist and possessed the power of giants.

“No,” Kim breathed.

“Then fuckin’ get it. They might be coming back,” he said.

She glared at him.

He grimaced and said, “Sorry.”

Staying low and moving while staying crouched, she sidled along the length of the corridor into the back of the bus. Javi stayed behind, keeping his gun trained on one of the gaping holes that the fog-things had ripped open in the chassis of this steel carcass.

Kim paused when something metal clanked. A shard of scrap metal had fallen down and Javi’s gaze met hers. He shook his head and she turned, continuing on.

The pounding of that drum that was the heart of fury and adrenaline, it calmed. Slowly. Although it felt longer than it was, a minute had passed since the retreat of the roiling cloud-monsters.

She dared to stand up straight and look around in the room with the ratty bunk beds. For a moment, she expected to see Michael sitting there. But all she saw was her own shadow, her silhouette cast into a humanoid shape where she had seen him sitting last. A reminder of the demon that had taken him—taken him over, ascended as the Glass King. A wide smile, too wide to look natural, baring bright white, clean teeth. Underlining a set of piercing steel blue eyes, and that flash of silver in them.

That evil. That ambition.

None of it here, now. Nobody was here. Nobody but Javi waiting near the exit, and nobody else but Kim.

She turned and her eyes came to rest on the small black safe set into the wall. Still intact.

The door of the safe stood open. First and foremost, dust and grit filled its insides. That, and a small mirror standing at the back wall, inside the safe.

Kim stared at herself, lost in the sinuous vision. Not vanity enthralled her, but fascination over every curve of her own face, so unexpected and yet so true to what she had imagined. So right.

So her.

Most of all, she felt content. So content that everything was a million miles away. The memories of demons and Michael, the cloud creatures, the weight of the revolver in her hand, the perils of the House of Change, the oblivion that swallowed people whole in the otherworlds, the laws of magick, the constant paradox, the dreams that blended with reality, even Javi—they all faded away. Peeled back like layers of reality unfurling like flower petals, like a rose blossoming and blooming in a time lapse.

All that remained—all that remained was this mirror.

She reached inside the safe and took it. First, Kevin had seen it here, mystified by its meaning and terrified by what it might represent. Michael had left it here, to see through it from beyond any veil, and to control his potential thrall. Now, Kim took it. She would make it her own.

Held up close, she looked into her own eyes, the rest of her appearance and this bright otherworld around her all cropped out by the angle.

Infinity churned in those black holes, framed by vibrant colors, scintillating with fire and metal in the color of her irises. Life, vibrant, and yearning.

Her fingers curled around the small reflective object as she closed her eyes and breathed. The adrenaline, the rushing of blood in her ears all distant and subdued.

Content, finally.

Kim shoved the mirror into her jacket’s pocket and left.

Nervousness still marked Javi’s face when he looked up at her from his hiding spot. His brow shot up into a high arch of confusion. Kim knew how serene she must have looked now, felt the thrum of this powerful calm from the core of her body and emanating outwards like a bright aura.

“Done. Let’s go,” she breathed at him.

He stumbled a bit as he got to his feet and took the lead. Paused at the bottom of the stairs leaving the old tour bus, pointing his gun from one side to the other and then poking it outside. The fright of the cloud-creatures still haunted him and showed itself in his every abrupt motion, but Kim followed behind him in a trance of almost unnatural tranquil.

With nothing in sight, he began making his hasty return to the sports car outside, kicking up dust as he jogged up to it.

Kim followed and only now registered the heavy pull of the emptied gun in her hand. She stared at it and remembered all the times she had used it in the past, savoring the idea of tossing it. Then she changed her mind and shoved it into the other pocket of her leather jacket.

Javi swung his weight to plop back down into the driver’s seat, causing the small lithe vehicle to bounce a few inches under the sudden impact of his weight.

Kim clicked her tongue and smiled through her speaking, “Let me.”

Javi peeled his eyes off the sky where the cloud monsters dwelt. Stared at her in disbelief, realizing how she had stopped paying attention to those potential threats. Kim took twice the time to walk towards the car, not speeding up her pace at all.

He shook his head and climbed back out of the driver’s seat. Tossed the keys to her which she caught with precision that surprised even herself. They took their seats in the car, slammed the doors shut, and within seconds, the engine’s motor roared back to life.

Wheels kicked up dirt as the Dodge spun on the spot and circled around, then sped off towards the cracked and pothole-riddle strip of forgotten asphalt. Metal screeched and sparks flew as the vehicle scraped over tarred grounds and found proper traction on the broken road.

All the while, Javi kept rubbernecking around, peering out of the windows to see if he could spot the things nearing. Kim just kept her focus on the road in front of them. Unconcerned of what lurked in the bright sunless sky.

A gust of wind carried a tempest of sand, engulfing the car. When it passed, the Dodge was driving down a different road. It looked almost the same, but it was more intact than the otherworld’s imitation of one.

This was the natural world they came from.

The sun set to their right. A yellow fireball in the sky, scorching hot and a reminder of them having returned to our world. Or what our world had become.

The car thundered past a weathered sign by the roadside.

SOUTH

306

NEVADA

“Any ideas why the ritual ward didn’t work? Was it those things?” Javi asked after a long bout of silence and a subsequent deep sigh that conveyed a sense of relief.

After all, those cloud-beasts could only exist in that otherworld, or by taking possession of a body from our world.

“Got a hunch,” she replied. Nothing else. That calm drowned out the desire to over-explain.

She could feel his gaze resting on her but she did not meet it, keeping her eyes on the road still. Only shooting a glance at the speedometer. Needle climbing, going fast. The hum and vibration of the vehicle felt good and she savored the pressure of the sheer velocity.

Without looking at him, she could sense the gears churning behind his forehead.

“Got a feeling that all of the old magick doesn’t work anymore. I remember reading some old book. Like, all the old spells from the late medieval period? This one monk said they stopped working at some point. A later occultist wrote some babble about magick only working because you believe in it despite the paradox of it not existing, evidenced by all the old rituals that never worked. But I think that guy had no clue.”

Javi scratched the stubble on his chin, sounding like sandpaper on wood.

“And you think that’s what happened in the House o’ Change? Because o’ what you did in there?” he asked, the pitch of his voice rising with each question. “Does that mean you're—”

“Yes,” she said, interrupting him.

Smiled.

“What if someone else makes it to the Heart of the House? If they birth the next world, does that mean you—”

“No,” she said. The smile solidified on her face, yet softened. Like molten steel. “Nobody can change me—nobody change my metal soul. Nobody.”

Her words trailed off with her thoughts. The road to Vegas would be long and something sinister still awaited them there: the Glass King and his flock.

Kim swallowed the lump in her throat, pushing that thought back down. She felt something more powerful that trumped it.

Hope.

Then she added, “I will now always be me, no matter what becomes of this world, or the next, or any that follow.”

Silence draped itself over them again, filled only with the constant sounds of the engine and the tires rolling down the road at high speed.

Kim removed her hand from the stick and held it out to Javi. An open, empty palm. Yet, invisible to the naked eye, she held her heart out on display for him.

He looked into the hollow of her palm, then let his gaze wander up the length of her arm till their eyes met again. Just before she could feel uncomfortable about it, he seized her hand.

She smiled again.

Squeezed.

—Submitted by Wratts

[missielee]

Passion

Day 1&2: Fish & Wisp

Fish – such a fascinating creature

It was Olivia’s first passion as well as pet

When she was seven, her dad took her and her sister to the aquarium downtown.

It was magnificent, she said

It was like a different world, she said

Engulfed by a singular color blue, she was mesmerized by all the moving little diamonds around her

Colorful scales glimmered in the tank lights, felt like thousands stars on the sky

They moved oh so gracefully, bubbles curved along their fins

It was like a water dance.

That was at least ten years ago, little Olivia has already turned into a beautiful young woman who is passionate about the ocean life, specifically sea creatures. Fascinated by them, she indulged hours in books on her dad’s shelves and pursued her dream to become, well, quoted on quote “Fish”.

Fish is a peculiar animal. They live in water and absorb oxygen through their respiration system which is the gills. Their body is covered in scales worked as camouflage, protection and swimming aid. Their fins flutter through the current as they sway their body elegantly. What could possibly better than being a fish, swimming freely in the water blue?

“I prefer whale better” Janet voiced her opinion out loud

“What? That swimming elephant? No way!” Olivia eyed her friend in disbelief “That’s not even a fish!”

“It’s a sea creature too so it sorta counts. Also, FYI, that is super mean. That’s probably equivalent to pointing out someone is obese in fish language.” Janet rolled her eyes, continued eating her lunch

“Whale and dolphin are mammals, so not a fish. Beside, would you really want to be a whale? Big, giant blue whale?”

“Uh, whale is my spiritual animal, therefore, yes I’ll be the big giant and BEAUTIFUL blue whale” a glare was directed right back to Olivia “At the very least, I won’t get eaten by other species”

“Other than human, sure!” Olivia sipped her water “You do know that a fair amount of whale was hunted for meat and oil in the past right?”

“Whale hunting was a thing?”

“Yeah, it was like a thing back in 1800s. Products made from whale, mainly oil, are incredibly valuable. A barrel of sperm-whale oil can even went up to 1500$ per barrel” Olivia shrugged “But it wasn’t used much nowadays because many better resource appeared: like Kerosene, vegetable oil, petrol”

“Uh huh, you know a lot about whale for someone who just insult it” Janet smirked upon her “You like whale too, don’t you ~”

“Said the one who have their nose in Moby Dick like twenty times or something. I only know some of the basic thing about whale”

“Hey, that book is a masterpiece! Brave men against the nature! Battling fearlessly! Unlike you and you’re fish tank obsession.”

Olivia couldn’t bother to say back. It’s true that she’s have an itsy bitsy infatuation with fish, but she couldn’t explain it why she adores them that much. Some have told her she could become mermaid like those performs in aquarium shows but Olivia refused. Even though it was her dream to become of them, she absolutely hates mermaid/merman in generally because mermaid doesn’t swim like a fish does, according to her logically research. Since mermaid have different anatomy, their swim movement is up-and-down, which isn’t the normal side-to-side like fish does. In addition to that, mermaid eats fish, explained her dislike towards becoming one. She understood that it’s normal to pray on one to another in the animal kingdom but she cannot stand the idea of feasting on such pretty shiny thing. ‘I mean people might have evolved enough to even eat gold but not diamond, right?’

It’s not the first time she realized turning into a fish is practically impossible. Despite her fascination of the marine life, she apparently have Thalassophobia, which prevents her from any activities near the open water. It was upsetting to Olivia, having to spend her life in pictures capturing a small part of the vast water part. It’s like try to play puzzles with endless pieces and they all have the same shade of color. No amount of therapy could help her reach the board of the ship, the closest she could ever get is the lightly wet sand shore. Moreover, there’s an unexplainable feeling when she reaches the ocean, she hears it whisper her name in sad serenity. And on a more frightening term, it always seems to seep closer and closer to her.

“Livvy? You’re spacing out again. Come on, we’ll be late for class” she snapped out of her daze, turn to see her friend already finished packing her belongings

Checking her phone, 2:45 and her class started at 3, she needed to hurry.

“Oh I almost forgot. You’ll come to the Jake’s party this evening, right?”

“Beach party? Not so sure, you know how I feel about it”

“It’s just on shore. I’ll be there too. Don’t worry, if anyone tries to drag you near the water then they’ll have to go through me” Janet smirked. Three years in Aikido is enough to take anyone down, not to mention she was a three times champion of the city, as if that isn’t intimidating enough but it ensures Olivia enough to have a good time by the sand.

“But this evening already? I thought it’s on 13th?”

“Today is the 13th, Goldfish. Did you fall head over heel for Jake so far that you forgot to check for the actual date?”

“I might have mistaken a Friday for a Saturday. But that doesn’t make me a goldfish! And goldfish have good memory! The five seconds attention span is a myth!” Olivia exclaimed

“I guess your attention span is probably so filled with Jake that you can only remembered that he has invited you~”

The two kept bickering as they walked each other to class, like all the other days.

  It was around eight when Olivia and Janet arrived at the party, and it sure is a lively one. The torch lit up the area but it was no match to the people’s dancing along the live music band. Sound of chatters mixed with the awry waves of the sea like a symphony. Olivia immediately spotted Jake in the crowd by the barbecue, greeting newcomers and grilled the ribs with his cheerful expression bright like sunlight. Janet could guess what millions thoughts going through her bestie’s mind as she pulled her over to the food court.

“Hey Jake, nice buns you got there. Mind if we have a taste?” Jake laughed wholeheartedly  

“Why I wouldn’t mind you two lovely ladies to have a taste of my delicious buns, of course!” A wink sent towards them as Olivia reddened

“I-I-I brought some cakes from Rosie’s! A-And I think it’s a great party!” Jake took the box from Olivia and gave both of them a small dish

“I love Rosie’s cake! This is great for desert! Thanks Olivia!”

And needless to say, Janet had to play the waitress and lead a very blush female to a table while holding two dish of steak.

“Oh Janet! Did you see him smiling at me? He’s so nice!” Janet have a gulp of soda after settling down and listening to her friend’s love rant.

“Eat your steak Olivia or I’ll help you know how it’s like to be fish”

“Alright, no need to do that. I’m not some toddler, you know” Olivia sulked and cut a piece

Olivia notice a newspaper left next to her seat, seemed like it was today’s news. Curious, she decided to have a look since Janet had went to get a second plate.

“BREAKING NEW:  SUCCESSFULLY FOUND THE ONLY SURVIVOR OF THE S.S HARVEY INCIDENT

Olivia Breston, eldest daughter of the Breston family and a bright student at Morrington University, was discovered barely breathing and unconscious on floating remains of the unfortunate ship by the fishermen of Devonne port. Lifeboat was sent immediately to revive and take Olivia to the closest hospital. 17h28 of 13th October, we received news …”

‘No way. Olivia… Breston… That’s… that’s my name!? I… I am dead?’

Janet returned back with a joyful meal in hand.

“Man! Jake sure have a knack for cooking! You’re a lucky one, Olivia!” Olivia didn’t respond, still deep in shock “Olivia?”

Olivia handed her the paper. Janet frowned before realization hit her. Surprisingly, she’s quite calm to react.

“So you found out. Any memory came back?”

Olivia shivered, shook her head.

“I survived, did I? So why… am I here? On this day, I was supposed to be found? But no?”

Janet moved next to her, sat down and comforted the confused girl.

“Do you want to know? Truly want to know?”

A silence between made the air thickened before Olivia gave a nod, reluctantly. Janet rubbed her shoulders soothingly.

“What you read is true. You are the only survivor of the S.S Harvey ship, a research ship directed by your father. You accompanied him on a field trip on 19th June when the ship got caught in bad weather, which later escalated into a sea storm. There was no news from the ship until…”

Janet pointed at the date and then at what supposedly to be warehouse, rather than what’s beside it. Needn’t to guess, Olivia could tell what Janet was trying to show her. But it didn’t explain everything that’s happening at the moment.

“I assume you’re wondering what’s happening right now. Care to take a blind guess?” Janet lighted a cig, savored that nicotine taste on the tip of her tongue before let out a wisp of white smoke.

“I died?”

“Eh, close enough. A coma. If you died, you wouldn’t be here to chit chat Livvy”

“Coma? But then, where am I?”

“Well, some might say it’s your subconscious so let just assume that it is. You didn’t die from the incident but drowning left you stranded in your brain, that’s all I could say.” Janet led her to the water. It seeped up close to their feet but it didn’t frighten Olivia no more

“I’m the fish of my own tank” Janet chuckled

“So you do remember”

“Yeah, I just got bits and bits of it. I chose to stay here, because there’s nothing out there for me, no one is waiting for me. At least I achieved my dream here, well, in a way” Olivia stepped back to clean sand, heart ached as she turned to Janet “Because in here I can see the one I held dear”

Janet tossed the burnt butt cig into the cool sand “Old habits die hard. You know, yet you still want to stay?”

“There’s no point going out there. I rather stay here”

“Alright, don’t keep Jake waiting on the dance floor.” Olivia headed back, blushed to the ear “After tonight, it’ll all be a bad dream”

“Wake up anew right?”

“Totally, Goldfish” Olivia’s shadow faded as now only Janet stood alone, water raised above her ankle. The way the ocean surging was unusual than before. There were whispers, cries lingered in the air. Moaned in pain. The thunder struck faraway on the surface warned the upcoming omen.

 “Time’s running out, Olivia”

--- Missielee ---

[henry-booers]

DIVE

DIVE

(Gender Neutral Reader)

A/N: This idea came to me kind of like how Lady in the Water worked. It’s one of my favorite childhood movies. So I basically wanted to write something for the boys in a fantasy sense and what do I like the most in fantasy?? Mermaids of course so I said ‘why not?’ and here we are.

This is based in the modern world but in a world where things like mermaids are known about but a rare thing to see. You meet a rebel group of mermen and help them out.

Living so close to the coast brings a lot of benefits, from fresh amazing food to wonderful creatures like dolphins or whales on a nice stroll. It's always been a nice life out here, your parents are not the healthiest to be around so the walks on the beach were everything you needed in order to get your mind out of the mud. You would take pictures of whale sightings, when you went out for lunch you would meet the same three dolphins near a dock restaurant. Every day was very repetitive but somehow seemed to stay new.

This time around though wasn't what you entirely expected. You had a little spot for yourself on a nearby beach where it was a very shallow and nice waterhole in the times of the day were low tide approaches. It's a nice place to wade in and just cool down or sit down and enjoy the day.  This was a day where your parents were having a very cranky and loud day, so you decided to just step out and walk to your spot. This was supposed to be a ‘sit down and relax because its still cold outside’ but what you saw wasn't what you entirely expected.

Four Mermaids waded in the center fo the shallow pool, obviously annoyed by the sound of their voices. You couldn't make out what they were saying but you could tell this was not a planned stranding.

You remember that it would be possible to meet a few mermaids here and there but they rarely came to the shore to see others. Most of them kept to themselves because of how dirty the shores could be. These Mermaids were in fact Mermen, hair decorated with simple things like stringed seashells and weeds, along with colorful ocean plants. Their tails were very vibrant, ranging from sunsets to night stars. They were very beautiful.

You didn't want to disrupt them but seeing the scene before you started to make sense why they didn't leave before the tide lowered. The bigger one out of all of them, in size he was huge, maybe a merman correlating with a larger aquamarine species. He was at the bottom of the pool, while the more limber and smaller ones were atop their figurative thrones, seeing here there was a problem.

The leader was annoyed, and you could tell he was from his tone of voice and the way he held himself. The one next to him was cocky, a smile on his face laughing at the struggle. While the third smaller one was with the largest of the group, trying to calm him down. The tail did seem heavy and you understood it must be a struggle to even lift it to settle down on a sunbathing rock.

You noticed the one smiling caught your eye contact, holding it for a bit of time as his smile faded. He leaned over to the leader and mumbled something in his ear. With this you were met with two pairs of eyes on your form, standing comfortably on the opposite side of the pool, starting at the steep hill you usually climbed down to settle on a smooth rock. This attracted the other two to see you, and you saw the stress and embarrassment on their faces. This awkward eye contact went for some time before you spoke to break the stressed silence.

“Do you all need help?”

This question lingered in the air, waiting to be caught by one of them before the dark haired one snickered out,

“What do you think Henry? Do we need help?”

“I’m not sure Patrick,” He paused before breaking his gaze from you, and slowly turned his head to the ones below, “Do you need help, Reggie?”

“Don't fucking patronize me, Bowers.” The large one responded, this wasn't a solid answer for you but you knew when someone was under a lot of stress and needed a little help.

Your feet carefully follow the steps you know so well, sliding down smoothly to the bottom of the pool and jumping on a couple rocks before noticing you may have to get a little wet….and cold.

“Can you get to the edge so I can lift you from a higher rock?”

“I didn't say I needed help”

“You obviously need help.”

‘Reggie’ stayed quiet after that comment, bouncing himself over to the edge as requested, following close behind was the one merman you didn't catch the name of, blonde, skinny. You hop up onto a higher rock with a grunt, followed by the blonde. You thought to yourself as you grabbed under the arms of Reggie, that blonde wasn't very natural, he must get some sort of bleach hair dye from someone on the shores. Maybe he comes here frequently. You pulled with all of your might, yes this man was very heavy but you didn't blame him for his breed must be naturally this heavy. With the help of the other, it was a little more bearable but the first heave up onto that rock had your neck and arms aching.

Looking to the two above you, watching you all with sharp and wondering eyes. You gave them a slight glare, seeing as just sitting upon the highest tip of rocks wasn't very helpful. They caught this and Henry returned the look while Patrick decided to give you a sharp tooth smile.

“Snapjaw.” You mumbled to yourself, now thinking of all of the species and breed with teeth from sharks to piranhas.

While your thoughts raced you went and went for another couple of rocks, at least Reggie tried to make it easier for you by heaving himself up with his tail, you could tell his tail was a very strong one. Once you got to a good point where he could easily climb over and into the water, you stood up straight and stretched out your muscles. You were definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

“Thanks.” He mumbled, looking away from you and hopping himself down into the water, leaving the others behind. Patrick followed, and the blonde one followed after as well. You were not that strong but the bit of help was nice so you gave him a quick thanks, and you got a nod in return.

Henry stayed behind and eyes you carefully, in which you returned the gaze but focused more on his face than anything else.

Then without saying anything, the sunset scaled boy hopped off himself, without saying anything.

‘What an interesting group.’ you thought

‘Cool that I met some mermaids, much prettier in person than I expected.’

You were about to back off and step back to climb down before you noticed a shell, a curved one twisted into a clean point. A shell that a hermit crab could wear. You haven't seen one this pretty and shiny before, so it wasn't from around here.

You carefully pick it up and inspect the fragile thing, maybe this was left behind from one from one of them as a wordless thanks, or maybe they just dropped it on the way down. Either way, you made sure to keep it safe on the way home. The house was quiet and in a better atmosphere than when you left.

You set the shell down on your nightstand, inspecting it in a better light.

‘This would make a beautiful necklace.’

[allorana]

Bruising Waters

Someone order mermaidLance, lots of Hurt/Comfort (Whump and Illness/Injury of course;) and gratuitous bonding and angst??

Happy Birthday my lovely friend!! @sailormew4  I hope this week has been really good to you!

I’m posting in parts because I apparently cannot write anything in moderation and my word count will never cease to get away from me.

Link to AO3 (for full fic directly)  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5

Bruising Waters Pt. 1: Honey, We Hurt the Fish

Lance murmured softly to himself as he slept, turning over in the warmth that the water provided as it gently glided around him.  He felt a current run its fingers through his hair, playfully jostling the strands and Lance whined, batting at it and rolling back over to try to continue his nap.  A soft giggle belled out around Lance at his antics.  He blinked his eyes open, awake with a smile and small hands reaching upwards for the smiling face that was hovering over him.

“Mama!”  Lance cried with a grin and he surged upwards into her waiting arms.  His mother laughed, curling backwards from the force of his hug, bouncing him against her.

“Hello, my little one; it’s time for you to wake up.”  Lance’s only response was to hum lightly and bury himself further into his mother’s arms, sighing contently as he closed his eyes against her chest.  “Oh, I see.”  Lance’s mother raised an eyebrow as she looked down at her son, eyes glittering mischievously, “So that’s how it’s going to be, is it?”

Lance frowned in confusion before shrieking loudly, eyes flying open as his mother lifted him up and gave him a merciless rasberry right in the center of his stomach.  Lance squealed and twisted against his mother, whacking his little blue tail against her shoulder in an effort to get her to stop.  Lance’s mother just laughed loud and hearty and spun her son around once more, her long green tail kicking up bubbles around them before letting him go.  Lance shot away from his mother, panting hard and trying, but failing, to fight the grin that kept pulling at his mouth as he gave her a put-upon look.  Lance’s father swam up behind his mother, snickering at the pout on his youngest son’s face.

Lance gave his father an indignant look and opened his mouth to tell his dad just what he thought of his father snickering at him when Lance was bowled over by his eldest brother from behind and they went spinning through the water towards their parents.  Lance screeched and flailed as he tumbled through the waves, his brother’s tail and arms wrapped tightly around him and laughing hard at Lance’s surprise.  Mrs. McClain shot out of the way but their father was hit directly by his children and sent reeling with a startled noise that gave way to a booming laugh.  Lance giggled breathlessly as his brother’s flipping came to a slow stop, beaming up at him and crying “Again, again!”

Lance’s craned his neck around as he heard his other siblings calling out to him, chuckling and swimming towards them.  He grinned lopsidedly at them and reached back a hand, opening his mouth to call out their names-

Lance yelped as he slid off the bed and onto the floor with a crash.  He lay awkwardly on the floor, stunned for a moment before letting out a low groan and pressing his face into the cold ground.  The lights were too bright, his head was pounding, and for some reason his nose felt completely clogged.  Lance groaned again.  He resituated himself more comfortably on the floor and let out a soft sigh, frowning.  He hadn’t had a dream like that in a year, since he first enrolled at the Garrison and was dealing with a bout of homesickness.  The dream had been a memory from when he was little and his family had still lived in the ocean off the coast of Cuba.  It was necessary for Mers to live underwater when they were first born in order to develop their gills, fins, and tails properly.  They’d lived there for a few years until Lance was strong enough to switch between human and Mer without trouble.  After that, his family had moved back onto the surface to the house they’d been living in before Lance had been born.  His grandparents had been taking care of the house while they were gone, and they were thrilled to have Lance and his family back with them where they could be safe from prying human eyes.

Lance groaned again as he pushed himself up, tossing his blankets haphazardly on his bed and padding towards his bathroom for a quick shower.  He missed his family.  He missed their weekly trips to the ocean so much that he physically ached.   But, Lance mused as he turned on the hot water, shedding his blue lion pajamas and stepping in, maybe the dream had been because of their recent mission.

They’d gone to a new planet on one of their diplomatic missions, hoping to convert the locals to their cause.  What Lance hadn’t know is that the planet had been largely based in aquatic species, with large cities like lanterns and beautiful glass domes covering the seafloor, some of them rising like beacons above the surface.  It had been so warm, colorful, and brightly lit, teeming with several species of humanoid-esque sea creatures of all colors and sizes.  There were even a few ancient-looking Mers the size of whales!  Lance bit back a nostalgic sigh as he turned over every detail of the city in his mind.  The ancient Mers had turned out to be the elders that Allura and the paladins were to meet with for negotiations and their low, grating rumbles had echoed through him like the sea itself.

Lance had wanted nothing more than to swim with them; to shed his human form and feel the water rushing across his gills and the scent of the ocean and its life wafting between his fins.  It’d been so long since he stretched his tail and seen his scales reflecting the sunlight in the clear water.  Lance smiled lightly to himself as he let the water run over his face, soothing some of the ache in his head and nose.  Lance loved his human form, truly.   As far as he was concerned he had the best of both worlds!  Lance’s smile faded as he let his thoughts wander from the beach and his favorite haunts and back to the water.  Another pang passed through him.  He longed desperately to be back in the ocean.  He needed it.  Lance hadn’t gotten a chance to transform since they’d entered their wild space adventure, and his skin was starting to feel uncomfortable and wrong.

Maybe there was still enough time before training...  Lance frowned as he thought it out.  He could skip breakfast and that would give him a chance to just transform real quick in the shower so he could check out his scales and air out his fins.  He could feel the water on them again and see if there was any problems that needed taking care of!  Lance quickly grew excited at the prospect, the promise of feeling water against his tail outweighing the fear of his team finding him.  His skin was itching and crawling with the anticipation of switching to his scales.  Lance decided that he’d just take a quick second to switch when he heard the telltale Beep of the castle comms.

*Paladins.  Please come to the dining room for further debriefing on yesterday’s mission.*

Lance groaned loudly.  Of course Allura would call everyone in for an impromptu meeting.  Lance sighed and reluctantly shut off the water.  There’s no way he could switch now.  If he was late the others would come looking for him, and then what was he supposed to tell them?  Hi, forgot to tell you but I’m half-fish and the reason I’ve been hiding it is because of past traumas and what I’ve been taught and trained since birth by my family.  Please don’t reject me!  Lance grimaced, wincing at the twinge in his legs as he dried off and put on his paladin armor.  Yeah, that would go over well.  Lance’s head wasn’t pounding any less, but at least the hot condensation had cleared up his nose a bit.  Lance headed out to breakfast, hoping training wouldn’t be too bad.  The buzzing beneath his skin didn’t go away.

**********

Holy crow, forget everything he’d previously said Lance felt like he was burning.  His skin was crawling and he kept twitching in discomfort, rubbing his legs against each other to assuage the itching.  Allura droned on about the successes of their mission and where each of the paladins could have done better, not noticing Lance’s movements, or if she did, was electing to ignore him.  The congestion had come back with a vengeance and this time it had settled in Lance’s lungs making it really hard not to cough.  He stifled another bout just barely and received an annoyed side-eye from Allura as Shiro began addressing her and the team.  Yep.  She’d noticed.  Lance huffed and hunched down more, trying to stay out of the line of fire.

He was so caught up in trying not to cause a scene that he didn’t notice Hunk leaning over to him.  “Are you ok?”

Lance jumped slightly as he felt Hunk’s breath flicker past his ear but quickly composed himself.  He nodded, leaning his head slightly down to Hunk’s to murmur back, “Yeah buddy don’t worry.  It’s just a little congestion.”

“Are you sure?”  Hunk frowned.  “You’ve been squinting pretty hard there too.”

Lance sighed.  Of course Hunk had noticed.  He took a deep breath, trying to calm his lungs before responding.  “It’s just a little headache.  Really Hunk, I’m fi-”

“Lance, Hunk!”  Lance and Hunk both jerked away from each other and shot up straight.  Lance saw the other three paladins startle in his periphery, equally alarmed by Allura’s outburst.  She glared down at Hunk and Lance, nostrils flaring slightly.  She took a deep breath and spoke calmly, but her eyes were glinting in a manner that had Lance wincing more than the stupid, overly bright lights above them.  “Is there something you’d care to share with the rest of the team?  Since you obviously think it’s so important that it cannot wait until we’re done.”

Lance shook his head violently, then stopped when he saw spots dancing in front of his eyes. “Nope, no we’re um, we’re good Princess sorry.”  He coughed pointedly at Hunk who was giving him a disbelieving look.

Shiro frowned at Hunk’s expression.  “Hunk?”

Hunk glanced at his leader who was gazing at him, patient but worried, then back at Lance who was glaring at him out of the corner of his eye.  Hunk bit his lip nervously. “Lance is sick!”  He blurted.

“Hunk!!”  Lance threw his arms in the air and turned on his best friend, annoyed glare in full force now.

Hunk huffed a protest.  “I’m sorry buddy, but you always do this.  It’s not good for you!”

The other paladins sat up straighter, Allura looked slightly confused and Shiro was already making his way over to Lance, concern coming off of him in waves.  Lance reeled back from everyone and pushed Shiro’s hand away from his forehead, scrambling up.  “Guys I’m fine!  It’s just a little headache and congestion, probably just caught some dumb space cold or something.”

Shiro frowned but backed away some.  Keith was studying Lance like he could determine what was wrong if he just looked hard enough.  Pidge just made an exasperated noise.  “Oh my gosh Lance.  It’s fine if you’re sick, ok?  Just let us know so you can take things easy if you need to.”

Lance grit his teeth.  “I said I’m fine.  I don’t need to ‘take it easy’ it’s just a little cold.”

Pidge gave him an unimpressed look.  “Garrison, Monday November 23rd?  The Physics test?  You said that was just a ‘little cold’ too.”  Keith glanced at her a curious expression on his face while Hunk groaned, muttering under his breath “I remember”.

“Okay in my defense-”

“Enough, all of you!”  Shiro cut in, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  He looked up at Lance once everyone quieted down and addressed him directly.  “Are you good to train today?”

“Yes.”  Lance replied without hesitation.

Shiro and Allura shared a look before she nodded and turned to Lance.  “If you’re not too bad then I think it would be fine if you continued training with the team for the day.  However, a sick paladin is a serious thing because it could affect our readiness to form Voltron.  So if you do get worse, you are to inform Coran or I so we can take care of it, understand?”

Lance huffed.  “Yes, ok fine.”

She smiled at him and hesitated a moment, before reaching out to ruffle his hair, eliciting a squawk from Lance.  “Besides,” She smiled warmly, “We can’t have our Blue Paladin getting too sick on us because he didn’t take care of himself.”

Lance gaped at Allura as she turned around and began giving Coran the training instructions for the day.  Well that was unexpected.  He thought, as everyone quickly filed out of the room after Shiro.  Keith and Hunk shot Lance suspicious looks a few times but he ignored them.  He would be fine.  He was just a little irritable because of the dream and the weird itching.  Lance decided he’d just take it easy and maybe check over his scales later.  There.  Lance nodded to himself as he activated his bayard, beginning the training sequence with the team.  Now that he had a plan, Lance felt better already.

**********

Lance groaned as he face-planted into his bed, sighing into the mess of blankets from earlier that morning.  How many times was he going to be wrong in one day?  The universe was against him.  Lance was sure of it.

True to her word, Allura had kept the paladins training the entire day.  They’d mostly worked on combat training and had ended the day flying formations in their lions.  Blue was worried the instant Lance had stepped into her cockpit.  He managed to convince her that he wasn’t about to die, and that he was just a little sick.  But Blue still kept up a soft undercurrent of purring behind his head as they flew, and if she took control a little too much during the harder maneuvers, well there was nothing Lance could say to change her mind.  She ignored his indignant exclamations each time.  Blue just snuffed at him through their connection, causing Lance’s hair to fluff up as if she’d actually blown on his head, then continued flying.

Needless to say, Lance was exhausted.  Everything ached and the itching that had been running in random bursts and patches in his legs had moved to his hips and arms.  It was at the point where Lance felt like there was a semi-constant, dull fire underneath his skin.  He wanted nothing more than to sleep it off and wake up better.  Too tired to do more than toss his armor on the floor and call out in a croaky voice for the lights to dim, Lance buried himself in the blankets and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

The next day didn’t get any better.  In fact, Lance seemed to be steadily getting worse.  The burning was now continuous through his legs, but alongside the burning, new patches of pain were creeping up.  Lance had to cover up a wince more than once at a sudden flare up during meetings, training, and meals.  Hunk had noticed he seemed to have a difficult time moving and was now keeping an annoyingly close eye on him.  He’d conscripted the others into watching Lance as well.  This meant that whenever Lance tried to go off alone, someone else inevitably showed up to keep him company.  Which was great and all, usually Lance would be ecstatic, but he hadn’t had a moment’s peace to check his tail because of it, which only served to further sour Lance’s mood.

He managed to brush off most of his friends’ concern.  Blue, however, was having none of it.  When it came time for lion training she refused to allow Lance to perform any maneuvers she deemed “too hazardous” for his current condition, leaving Lance seething and at his breaking point.  He was tired, in constant pain, and his congestion had decided to permanently move to his lungs making his voice scratchy and sore.  Allura was at a loss as to what to have the paladins do next, so Shiro took over and proclaimed the rest of the day be spent with light paladin bonding activities as a team.  An evening of playing games and trading jokes and stories had Lance’s spirits lifted considerably, something that everyone on the team noted with some relief.  The pain hadn’t subsided any, but Lance was grateful for his team anyways.  They went to bed relieved that Lance was finally feeling well again.

It wasn’t until Lance’s third day of dealing with the random bursts of pain, lightheadedness, coughing, and discomfort that everything finally hit the fan.

**********

Lance yelped as his body spasmed underneath his sheets, jerking up onto his elbows as he tried to get the convulsions in his torso and legs under control.  They only lasted for a few seconds but it was enough to leave Lance sweating and panting for breath.  He threw back the sheets and checked the time.

Crap.  He’d missed breakfast and morning training was starting in 10 minutes.  Lance jerked himself up, swaying slightly before steadying himself.  Ok, there was no way he could do training today.  The others were bound to notice and honestly he was not interested in dealing with whatever this sickness was today on top of Allura’s regularly scheduled torture fests.  Lance haphazardly threw on his gear, praying and begging that whatever was going on had nothing to do with his other form.  If it did, Lance didn’t know what he’d do.  The thought of having to reveal his heritage was paralyzing.

Every step Lance took towards the training deck was agony.  Pain like barbs shot through his feet and up his hips making him let out small cries every few steps.  He needed help-- now.  Lance staggered into the training room just as his team was finishing their first sparring session.

Shiro glanced up at the sound of the door opening and gave Lance a smile.  “Nice of you to join us Lance!  We weren’t sure you’d be up for it, so we were planning to let you sleep in a litt-”  Shiro froze as he turned fully to face Lance.  Lance was sickeningly pale and sweating profusely, clinging to the wall to hold himself up.  There were dark reddish bruises under Lance’s eyes, and he was shaking so hard his knees were knocking together.  Shiro immediately straightened up and strode over.  The other paladins stopped sparring at Shiro’s sudden halt.  They looked up and when they saw Lance, deactivated their bayards and ran up behind Shiro.

“Lance?  What’s wrong?”

“Jeez, you look way worse than yesterday.  What were you thinking coming up here in your armor to train?”

Lance tilted his head down and sneezed a hacking cough into his chest, his arms preoccupied with keeping him upright.  “I wasn-”  He coughed again, sucking in quick shallow breaths before continuing, “I wasn’t.  I don’t want to train.  Everything hurts.”  Shiro came around Lance and gently lifted his hands so he was leaning against the Black Paladin instead of the door frame, hands braced against Shiro’s arms as he spoke.

“Wait, Lance.  If you weren’t planning on training today, why did you get into your paladin armor?”  Hunk wrung his hands nervously.  Pidge frowned, confused.

“Technically he didn’t even make it into his armor”  Keith muttered.  Lance blinked long and slow at Keith, then glanced down to look at himself.  Oh.  Lance’s arm guards were on the wrong sides, he was missing his left boot, and his chest plate was hanging somewhat loosely.

Anxiety flickered in Keith’s eyes at Lance’s lack of response and he sucked in a sharp breath.  Without thinking, he leaned over and put his hand on Lance’s forehead, instantly recoiling at the intense heat under his gloved palm.  “Shiro, he’s burning up.”

“Ok.”  Shiro shifted Lance slightly as he thought.  “Keith, take Lance to his room and get him out of that armor and into something more comfortable.”  He nodded and moved to take Lance from Shiro, swinging Lance’s arm over his shoulders and pulling most of Lance’s weight onto his hip.  “Hunk and Pidge prepare the Medbay.  I’ll send Coran to you as soon as I find him.  I’ll let Allura know the situation as well.”  Hunk and Pidge wasted no time replying, taking off in the direction of the Infirmary.

Lance swayed against Keith, taking in Shiro’s orders blearily, stumbling as they suddenly twisted around to move down the hallway.  Oh good.  Maybe they were going to take Lance somewhere he could cool down.  Cold sounded nice right now.  Also water.  That sounded good too.  His skin was raw and crawling rapidly.  Water would help.  Lance was confident in that.  They staggered down the hall, Keith trying to talk to him but Lance wasn’t having any of it.  Keith’s voice kept fading in and out and Lance just knew he was doing it on purpose to mess with Lance’s headache.  So why should Lance bother to listen to anything Keith had to say?  Maybe he’d be nice though and bring Lance some water when they got to wherever they were going.

“...es Lance… get you some water… but please try to focus…Hunk and...okay?”

Lance jolted and hissed, movements uncoordinated.  The pain was building and he felt so sick oh by the seas, please make it stop.  Lance felt Keith pull him forward, speeding up at the pained sounds Lance was emitting.

“...We’re almost there…-old on Lance.”

Lance was gasping by the time they got to his room.  He felt like he was choking on the phlegm coating his throat.  Keith set him down and started ripping the armor pieces off of Lance in a panic.  His hands were shaking and he was trying to talk to Lance, but Lance still couldn’t hear him.  Water, he needed water.  He needed to change please, he begged.

“Ok Lance…getting you some water…-tay here.”  Keith turned and raced out of the room, sprinting for the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone Lance pulled himself up and staggered, panting over to the shower.  He threw the water onto its coldest setting and started pulling desperately at his black undersuit, dragging it off as the shower cascaded down him until he was shuddering there in just his boxers, arms wrapped tightly around himself.  He couldn’t breathe.  He couldn’t think.  Everything was tearing underneath his skin.  Off, he needed it off.  Lance scrabbled desperately at his legs.  Sharp stabs hit his chest and stomach repeatedly and he doubled over.  He heard a voice screaming but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from.  He arched back as he clawed at his legs.  Lance barely registered his mouth wide open or his raw throat as the agonized screams filled his ears.

**********

Keith moved down the hall towards the bedrooms as quickly as he could without spilling the large glass of water he was carrying.  He’d never seen Lance so sick.  The desperate way he’d cried for water made Keith uneasy.  It was his crying that had finally pushed Keith over the edge and sent him for a cup for Lance.  He didn’t like leaving him alone it that state, babbling incoherently and moaning in pain, but Lance had sounded so desperate.  Keith sped up slightly.  The sooner he made it back to Lance the better.

Keith had just made it to the hallway closest to the bedrooms when a horrible screaming pierced the air.  His body went numb and the cup slipped from his hand, crashing to the floor.  Racking screams tore through him and Keith was sprinting, calling Lance’s name over and over again.  He shot past the door and burst into the bathroom, skidding to a halt as he took in the horrific sight before him.

Lance’s torso was covered in reddish bruises and he was screaming, tearing at his legs and hips so hard that they were bleeding.  But the biggest shock were the stone-like pieces he saw stuck randomly along Lance’s hips, legs, arms, torso; they were everywhere.  He was faintly aware that they were probably once blue, but the color was ether faded or hidden under dark growth that clung between the pieces and stretched across Lance’s skin in patches.  A white, filmy substance was curling out from his ears and along his arms and spine.  Keith’s throat closed and he froze, stricken with more terror than he’d felt when the Red Lion had stalled while he was facing Zarkon.  Another gurgling scream had Keith throwing himself down at Lance’s side.  He grabbed Lance’s hands and drug them away from his legs as Lance fought against him, hissing and twisting to escape Keith’s grip.  Keith pushed down a wave of nausea as he took in Lance’s hands.  His nails had sharpened and extended considerably, causing deep gouges in his legs that made the water run a sickly pink.  It pooled beneath their feet and swirled down the drain, leaving trails along the tile floor.

This was beyond Keith’s capability to handle-- beyond any of their capability to handle.  He felt hysterical as he pinned a struggling Lance’s arms to his sides.  And now Lance was actually snapping his teeth at him.  Whatever this illness was, it was far more serious than Coran or anyone else had assumed.  Keith crouched down and with a grunt hauled Lance over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, keeping Lance’s arms as secure as he could.  Keith whipped around, not even bothering to shut the water off as he ran from Lance’s room, hitting the emergency button by the bedroom door on his way.  What kind of sick alien virus could have transformed Lance into this?

Keith burst into the Medbay, skidding to a halt in front of his startled teammates who’d gathered frantically at the sound of the alarm.  Panic coursed through the other paladins as they took in Keith’s gasping form and Lance twisting and screaming over his shoulder.  Hunk screamed and Pidge shot forward.

“Oh my gosh, Lance!”

“Keith!  Keith, what happened, what’s wrong with him?”

Shiro and Allura lifted Lance’s squirming form off of Keith’s shoulder and pulled him over to the pods, immediately preparing one for stasis until Coran could help them figure out what was wrong.  Lance’s screams had died down to choked gasping, eyes blown wide and his back still arching with each pained exclamation.

Coran was fumbling with the pod’s controls as Allura and Shiro finally managed to get Lance inside.  Keith leaned against Pidge, breathing hard.  He squeezed his eyes shut against Lance’s cries, and flinched when they were cut off by the pod closing.  The weight of what had happened crashed down around Keith and he slid against Pidge who yelped and struggled to help him sit down.

Keith saw Hunk staring into the pod, face gray at the sight of his limp best friend.  He was frozen, hands pressed against his mouth like he’d forgotten they were there, eyes teary and blown wide.  Pidge shot Shiro a slightly desperate look as she held Keith.  Shiro left Coran and Allura to hover by the pod and watch for the results of the scans to come over to Keith and Pidge.  Shiro placed a firm hand on Keith’s shoulder and Keith drug his eyes over to look at his oldest friend and older brother figure.

“Keith.  I know this is rough, but I need you to tell us what you saw.”  Shiro smiled gently down at Keith, but it didn’t reach his eyes.  Everyone except for Coran stilled and looked at Keith, hoping he could provide them with some answers.

Keith swallowed hard, then spoke shakily.  “He was incoherent when we were walking to his room.  He kept muttering and asking for water.”  He gulped and Shiro squeezed his shoulder.  Keith sucked in a deep breath, grounding himself in the familiar presence before continuing.  “He seemed like he was in so much pain.  I just wanted to get him back to the Medbay, but he sounded so desperate, and he kept pleading.  I don’t even think he realized it.  So, I left him and ran to get him some.”  Keith hunched into himself with a moan, pressing his hands into his eyes.  “I’m sorry Shiro I’m so sorry.  I shouldn’t have done that; I should have stayed with him.  If I hadn’t then maybe-”

“No Keith, no.”  Shiro knelt down and pulled his little brother into his arms.  “It wasn’t your fault.  You didn’t know.  None of us did.”

“But we should have.”  Pidge interjected bitterly.  “We saw he was sick.  We should have known when Blue refused to let him do any flying that something was seriously wrong.”  Her hands were clenched into fists, the nails digging into her palm as she shook.

“Well, Keith leaving was probably a good thing in the long run.”  The paladins startled and turned to Coran who was gazing intensely at the readings before him, brow furrowed.

“What do you mean, Coran?”  Allura asked as she walked over to him.

“I think I know what’s happened, but with Lance only being partially transformed, I can’t tell for sure.”  Coran pressed the button to open the pod ignoring the shocked and protesting exclamations from the other paladins.  Hunk yelped and scrambled forward, catching Lance who started twitching and shaking violently the moment he was free from the pod.  He was completely unconscious.

“Coran!  What the heck, man?  Why would you let him out?”

Coran ran over to a different edge of the room and started pressing buttons, causing a chamber to come out of the wall.  “In case of aliens who are primarily aquatic, we have this chamber to help treat them in a more natural environment.”  The paladins watched wide-eyed as the odd tank filled with water.  Hunk tightened his grip on Lance.  “Get him to the water quickly.  He needs to finish transforming.  Being in this half form is only doing him more harm.”  Hunk looked shocked.

Keith’s mind reeled.  Half-form?  Transforming?  What was happening to Lance?

Allura seemed to take Coran’s instruction in stride.  Before Hunk could do more than protest she’d lifted the Blue Paladin out of his arms and placed him in the water.  Everyone held their breath as they watched.  At first, nothing happened.  Then, Lance started to change.  He whimpered and squirmed in the water before settling as his legs elongated and fused together, the stone-like pieces along his hips; scales, Keith’s shocked brain helpfully supplied, soon covered his lower half.  Fins grew out from his ears and back, and a few trailed along his arms.  Keith couldn’t believe it.  Pidge let out a soft “oh” and Hunk squeaked in shock.  A mermaid.  Lance looked like a mermaid.  No, not just ‘looked like’, Lance, somehow, was a mermaid, er, merman.

Even in his daze, Keith knew instantly that something was wrong.  He felt it in his gut, a pooling sense of deep anxiety as his eyes took in the dropping, haggard fins.  They were almost see-through now instead of just white, and still seemed foamy and wisping.  His scales were darkened and oozing an unnatural substance all over his tail.  The patches of rotted and grayed scales continued up Lance’s torso, along his arms, and on his cheeks.  Everywhere the scales were they were cracking and covered with a gray substance.  The tips of Lance’s fingers and his carefully manicured nails had extended into unnaturally blackened claws, chipped and bleeding.  His skin and the area around his gills were bruised and red, the dark bags under his eyes looked worse than yesterday.  His gills looked inflamed, a foamy, white substance oozing out whenever Lance breathed.  Keith felt like he was going to be sick.

Hunk gagged at the sight of his friend.  Shiro’s grip on Keith had tightened to the point that it started to hurt.  He was staring at Lance as if seeing him for the first time.  Pidge’s eyes were wide as saucers and brimming with tears.  Allura and Coran inhaled sharply.

Lance whined pitifully and began to cry, tears streaming from his closed eyes.  His fins fluttered weakly against his head and he lifted his face towards the paladins, like he was trying to sense them.  Lance’s hands raised weakly towards them.  A desperate keening call broke from his throat and shot straight down Keith’s spine.  Keith ran towards Lance without hesitation, Shiro right behind him.  Without even thinking about it he grabbed onto Lance’s outstretched hands and began rubbing soothing circles into them.  Lance’s keening sobs quieted at the touch and he leaned towards Keith, unconsciously seeking him.  The other paladins looked on in shock.  Tears were rolling down Hunk’s cheeks, and Pidge was clinging wide-eyed to the edge of the tank.  Keith noticed that at Lance’s cry, everyone in the room had moved closer to surround the tank and Lance from all sides.  He seemed to quiet slightly at the proximity, but his whimpers didn’t stop.

Coran stepped forward purposefully, breaking the tension.  “The good news is, I know what this is.  The bad news, he’s in the final stage.  Which means we need to get him into a healing pod-- now.”

Pidge piped up, “Final stage?”

“Yes.  His fever is dangerously high and he’s begun hemorrhaging.  Shiro, Hunk, lift Lance and get him into that pod.”

Keith and Pidge balked at Coran’s blunt explanation.  Horror gripped Keith’s gut.  Shiro managed to rouse himself enough to pull Hunk forward and together, they gently lifted Lance out of the tank and carried him towards the pod that Coran was busily setting up.  “The pod should take care of the internal bleeding and any other injuries he’s sustained, but the rest of the infection will have to be waited out the old-fashioned way.”

Hunk grunted as he held onto Lance’s arms, Shiro supporting his tail.  “Jeez Lance, and I thought I was heavy, what the heck man?  What are you eating?  Also, Coran, Coran my man what do you mean internal bleeding.  What is going on, why is my best friend a fish?  I thought those pods were supposed to fix everything?  Wait, how are we supposed to stand him up in that thing with this tail?  Also, is this because of that illness or was Lance a fish all along, because I think I’d know if my best friend was half-”

“Hunk.”  Shiro called,  “Breathe.”

Coran, for his part, look offended.  “Of course he was already part- er, whatever he is!  This illness doesn’t do that!  It’s an infection that’s common on Vellugher.”

Keith gaped as Pidge pulled him to his feet with a sharp grunt.  They trailed nervously behind Hunk and Shiro.  “Wait, you mean that water planet we just visited?” She asked.

“Yep!  That’s the one!”  Coran’s voice was slightly high and he nodded jerkily as he helped Hunk and Shiro somehow muscle Lance into the pod and shut the door.  He typed rapidly at the keys, jittering.  “See the virus is actually really common on Vellugher.  It starts with congestion in the lungs, for the aquatic creatures that have them, and mild scale and fin rot in patches.  That’s when most people are able to recognize the disease and get it treated.  After that comes a gray/white growth that starts eating away at the scales and the sensitive skin underneath and between them.  The pre-final stage is a dangerously high fever that overlaps with the final stage which is hemorrhaging of the internal organs.  That’s indicated by reddish bruising around the eyes, gills, and on the skin.  The screaming was likely due to the sensation of the infection finally eating away at the internal tissues.  At that point, most of the infected don’t have the kind of advanced medical treatment required to fix it so they end up dying.”  Coran was visibly shaking now, voice climbing higher as he spoke.

Allura looked confused, hands clasped in front of her dress as she glanced worriedly at Lance.  “But Coran, I thought that it takes at least a week, sometimes more, for the symptoms to run their full course.  Was he suffering like this for the past week or longer, and we just didn’t know?”

“Oh no, Lance most definitely caught this on Vellugher.  He couldn’t have been exposed to it recently enough otherwise.  Normally the aliens who visit Vellugher get immunized but I-”  Coran was pulling at his mustache, muttering and fussing as he started putting away various instruments and pulling others out to set the room up for when Lance came out.  Allura frowned at him in concern.  “I didn’t-  I should’ve-  I had no idea any of you possessed aquatic characteristics.  Otherwise I would have gotten you all vaccinated.  I should have anyways, this never would have happened if I’d just-”  Coran shook violently as he spoke, voice thick with guilt and eyes far away.

Allura placed her hand gently over Coran’s, effectively halting his erratic movements.  Keith watched worriedly from where he stood near Shiro.  “It’s not your fault.”  She whispered.

Shiro sighed, running a hand dejectedly through his hair.  “Allura’s right.  I’m the leader.  I should have noticed Lance was hiding something from us.”

Angry exclamations met Shiro’s words.

“What?  Oh come on Shiro, we’re just as much to blame as you.”

“Keith’s right.  We’re all at fault here… even Lance.”

“Yeah, Shiro.  I mean, Lance is my best friend.  If I didn’t know how could any of the rest of you?”

“Ok, ok.”  Shiro raised his hands against the protests.  “I get it.”

Keith turned to glare at Pidge.  “How is this Lance’s fault?  We never gave him a moment’s peace alone; when could he have found out about this?”

Pidge gazed at him in disbelief.  “Do you really think that Lance would have told us even if he’d known what was wrong?  He has a history of pulling crap like this.  He hides that he’s feeling under the weather until he’s sick as a dog and passing out.  And how do you even know he wasn’t aware of it, and just didn’t want to tell us?”  Her lip wobbled slightly as she spoke.  “He didn’t trust us, Keith.”

Keith flinched and Hunk looked sad.  Shiro seemed conflicted, and Keith could tell he was still blaming himself.  Allura glanced at the pod with a sigh, “I suppose we’ll just have to ask him when he wakes.”  Everyone nodded and turned back to the pod, guilt and anxiety flickering across their faces as they gazed at Lance’s limp form.  There was nothing they could do now but wait.

[theretirementstory]

Blue sky and sunshine, what more could anyone ask? Can my life get any better than this? With the lockdown restrictions relaxed slightly and due to relax further on the 2 June people have been making the most of the weather and the ability to see friends and travel further. Last week I visited the garage, and this week I made it to the garden centre way over the other side of town. It seemed strange to see parts of the town that I hadn’t seen for many weeks. I had my appointment with the dermatologist, he was a very nice man and after a very thorough examination he confirmed no sign of skin cancer (don’t think I was concerned about that myself) however, noticing the number of “sun kisses” I have on my body (from sunburn in my younger days) he advised that only my arms and face are to be exposed (using sun cream) and that the rest of my body must be covered up. I am sure that will come as a great relief to sun worshippers as “Cuddles, the killer whale will not be stranded on a beach near you, anytime soon”. As if this was not bad enough, he also uttered those words that sent a shiver down my spine “ You need to wear a big hat”, the thought of a hat brings back memories of my visit to Petra in Jordan. My husband and I were climbing up to the monastery, which is some climb, you can go by donkey, but no we would walk. I was wearing a sun hat with a black ribbon around the crown, the walk is breathtaking and there are sheer drops at parts of the path, well as we climbed higher the wind was wanting to take my hat, it was difficult enough walking never mind with one arm holding onto my hat, it was at this point that my husband had a brilliant idea! He removed the black ribbon from the crown, pushed the hat tight onto my head and wrapped the ribbon over the top of the hat, squashing the brim down over my ears and tied the ribbon under my chin. I knew how ridiculous I looked, I could see it on the faces of the people who passed us coming down the track. I was unsure whether “donkey on Blackpool beach” was in their minds or worse still some corpse with it’s jaw fastened closed. Needless to say, after making the effort to visit that part of Petra, I refused to have any photos taken!! It should have been the barbecue with my knitting group this week, obviously, this was unable to go ahead. I was disappointed, it usually signals the end of the group for the summer months and it’s a jolly good time too. However, it will happen again next year, we hope. So what have I been doing to fill in all this time I have on my hands? The entrance to my home has looked a little bit “neglected” evidence being in the form of the two foot high weeds at one side of the drive. The area, is separated into thirds, the middle third containing the potager I bought last year. My first attempt at “zone 1” was to cut the weeds down with secateurs and then dig out the root. This proved exceptionally hard, not least because the earth was like stone, so I covered part of it with cardboard to see if it would kill the weeds. Eventually I managed to get some of the weeds and roots out but the back of the area thick with grass is still a problem. So I decided to start on zone 3, I went with the idea of just removing the whole weed and root, so I held the rather large weed and dug down to get the root out. To say this was difficult, was an understatement, my bucket kept filling so quickly I was up and down emptying it so often, I was worn out. Anyway, I did this over two days and was proud of my achievement. I bought weed suppressant fabric to put down and then covered it with bark. After it was finished I read that weed suppressant is not the answer and I should have used cardboard boxes. Well this will have to stand for this year at least and then I will collect cardboard boxes and use those instead. So zone 1 is still a work in progress and zone 2 is where the potager is situated. I had thought that I would not grow any tomatoes, peppers, chillies etc this year, then decided that as I will be at home all summer it may well be a good idea to grow something. I had bought some pea and broad bean seeds, started some off in an egg carton and then went in search of bamboo, chicken wire, to make a screen for these legumes to grow up. I watched a video done by a Yorkshireman (so it had to be correct) on how to make this and it looked so simple. Well if I could have bought two one metre lengths of chicken wire that would have been perfect but as it is only sold on rather large rolls, I was unsure if I had the implements for cutting it, so I purchased a green plastic “mesh” with holes for me to feed lengths of bamboo through to make it sturdy. I wish I could say that this was as easy as it was for the guy on the video, but no, he had not had to improvise. Anyway I got the structures in place, I am praying that a strong wind will not uproot them. The peas and beans are in, I have been soaking some more and will get those in today. I also managed to buy a tomato plant, I was at the shop just after 9am, when I returned at 2pm not one tomato plant was left!! Okay so I suppose not everyone wants their allotment area in their front garden, but for me it is perfect there and my rear garden is my haven of peace and tranquillity. I have been in touch with friends from the UK and of course my friends around here. I messaged Marie-Therese and sent some photos of my my gorgeous granddaughter plus of the work I had been doing in the garden. I spoke to Anie and we are both hoping that it will not be long before we can enjoy tea and cake, maybe in my garden. “The Daddy” has video called me a couple of times so that I can see my gorgeous granddaughter. We are having the most amazing calls now, she is talking more and showing me what she is playing with while I am on the phone. Her Mummy has been on a diet since September and has shed an amazing amount of weight, she looks even more gorgeous (is that possible?) she must have really strong willpower (I think I had at that age) nowadays my willpower is lucky to last beyond a few weeks. “The Graduate” has finished his exams and has returned home from Newcastle. He has a plan for the remainder of the year and I hope that his “drive” is up to it. He knows what has to be done and when it has to be done by. He is at the final stage……...he can do it……...I have every faith in him. So all of my other friends in Newcastle have returned home, its the end of a long slog and now it is about writing a new chapter. Good luck to you all. Just before I leave you, I must just say that from 2 June, cafes, bars and restaurants can re-open. Yes I have missed seeing my “friends” in the bar, but to be honest, I have worked so hard in my garden and am enjoying “the fruits of my labours” that I don’t think I will be rushing up to the bar anytime soon. I know I can sit out on the pavement, but I can sit in my garden and relax. Jusqu’a la semaine prochaine.

[sealer-of-wenkamui]

WELL I’m nearing the end of Death Stranding I’m pretty sure, and there’s a lot to take in...

Chapter 8 had so much interesting stuff, all about the truth behind the death stranding, and the existence of extinction entities bringing about the 6th major extinction and how Bridget and Amelie might be EEs.... Bridget had the third cord strand that seems to indicate one....

Crossing the tar belt was really cool, they give you several hints at what you have to do but... still, I could hardly believe it, having to get caught by BTs like that... climbing across the buildings while whales breach around you was quite a sight

Then Edge Knot city was in sight...... and with it came a new type of BT, the weird floating balloon.... things.... they kinda remind me of the enlarged head patients that are just heads and have tentacles, especially when they sit on the ground (thankfully they don’t frenzy me)

After resting I was greeted by an alarm and red lights, after which Higgs showed up with a giant BT, which was a kinda long but not too hard boss fight (he kept taunting me about “lowering the difficulty” as if he has anything on defiled watchdog which I beat earlier!!)

Then it was to the Beach, of course I asked Fragile for help... the Higgs boss fight was also REALLY COOL, no weapons, just throwing cargo at him, punching him, and at one point I tied him up and kicked him... then the second part was like a fighting game, actually it was kinda like the end of MGS4?  A “good old fashioned boss fight”

And Fragile got to deal with him like she wanted, which was super satisfying, and she came back with his mask “I brought you a metaphor” ahahaha what a great line

Amelie and Sam ran across the Beach to get back, but we witnessed a scene with Cliff, Bridget (?!) and Die Hardman.... he seemed genuinely apologetic towards Cliff, and Cliff doesn’t strike me as a bad person, no idea how Bridget is still there..... Amelie pushed me back into the world of the living, and it was off to Port Knot for me....

The sky was weird and those new BTs were over the water... I decided to avoid them.....

I got a mail from Peter Englert, and IM SO MAD, HE’S HIGGS....... IT.... I guess... that makes sense but WHAT. I want to check this out as soon as I can....

All this talk of everyone’s beaches becoming one and BTs overflowing into the world of the living.... its sounds like the dark side of the chiral network.... like the UMN and gnosis.......

I tried to take on a delivery for Port Knot on my way back, one with lots of cargo and a time limit, I was doing well and was almost there but SURPRISE SUPERCELL hahahhhh hah...... oh well.....

The end of the chapter was really touching though, Cliff just wanted to talk, and is a caring father.... and Sam and him hugged!

Things got complicated after this, so Amelie might be the true mastermind and not even “alive”...? Well I still think she could be Bridget’s daughter despite the uterine caner, Bridget had a third cord strand connecting her to the Beach, maybe she has a dead child that’s Amelie....??? The doll is somehow connecting Die Hardman, Higgs, and Cliff to her?? Die Hardman and Cliff seem like good people at least, and I think they had a good relationship based on the flashback I saw, he was trying to help Cliff escape with his BB..... Amelie seemed downright cold there..... He went off to stop Amelie (though we saw him with Bridget?)...... what is Amelie even after...? I suppose I’ll find out when I get to the Beach....

[pretentious-synecdochically]

H.P. Lovecraft’s Dagon

One of H.P. Lovecraft’s most well known works of fiction is Dagon, in which the narrator is a suicidal man addicted to morphine. The story starts off with his final testament about what has happened to him throughout his life that lead him to this point of desperation.

The story is set during World War one, and although we do not know the narrator’s name (For simplicity’s sake, we shall refer to him as ‘N’), we do know his story starts as his cargo ship is captured by a German raider in the pacific, we do not know the contents of the ship or where it was headed to either.

N manages to escape the siege of his ship on a life boat and begins to drift and paddle with no clear direction in mind-- as he doesn’t know exactly where he is within the Pacific ocean. He goes roughly south of the equator. He drifts for endless days with no land insight, wih only the food and water he took from the cargo ship to sustain him (this is why we can assume his recount of the future events was not due to starvation or dehydration). Until one day he falls asleep. While he sleeps horrific nightmares plague him and his boat drifts towards land at last.

When he awakens he discovers “... Myself half sucked into a slimy expanse of hellish black mire which extended about me in monotonous undulations as far as I could see, and in which my boat lay grounded some distance away...” [Source] He has managed to wash up and be thrown from his boat and into a swamp on the shores of some unknown land, as he says the swamp is dark and black and extends as far as his vision allows him to see. 

Despite how fortunate his discovery of land might be viewed, instead of wonderment N is struck by horror at the sight of it all. He finds the scenery sinister from the described ‘rotting soil’ and the air. Dead and decaying fish (along with other creatures) litter the mire. He seems unable to describe the creatures that he sees along side the fish, giving the presumption that these are creatures he has never seen before and are too horrific to convey the appearance of. Typical of the creatures Lovecraft tends to write. He says nothing of trees during this time and so it can be assumed that the land, thus far, is barren of them and the mire he has landed himself in is a particularly soggy plain of land. Black slime coats the area, he is nauseated with his fear. 

Curiously he also describes the sky as black, or dark in colour, as well despite the sun that appears in the cloudless sky. 

As he crawls towards his boat, he begins to theorise as to why the new land he has come upon looks the way he does, and he puts it down to volcanic activity throwing some of the ocean floor onto the surface. though he could not hear anything from the ocean, or spy any sea-birds to prey upon the easy, though rotting, food on the beach.

After three days, unwilling to move far from his boat, he packs some supplies for a trip overland to find the mysteriously absent ocean and for possible civilisation or chance of a rescue.

He travels as far as he can following in the direction of a large mound in the distance, unsure as to what it was among the rather even or flat plains. It takes him four days to reach the base of he mound, which seems to be far higher and larger than he originally expected, as it stands within a large valley. He sleeps by the hill and has dream and nightmare after dream and nightmare-- though he doesn’t know why, it is easy to guess it is due to his close proximity to this large figure. 

There is a reference to Paradise Lost within the text, the originator of the “Sexy Satan” trope, which can be summarised over here: [Link]

He begins to climb down the slope of the valley, though he knows not why he does so. His attention gets captured by the sight of the moon and a large piece of stone. While he is comforted by the fact it merely seems to be stone, he describes it as being “ I was conscious of a distinct impression that its contour and position were not altogether the work of Nature. A closer scrutiny filled me with sensations I cannot express; for despite its enormous magnitude, and its position in an abyss which had yawned at the bottom of the sea since the world was young, I perceived beyond a doubt that the strange object was a well-shaped monolith whose massive bulk had known the workmanship and perhaps the worship of living and thinking creatures.”

Although he is frightened, he considers himself curious and examines the area around him. The moon appears to inhabit the sky in a different manner than it normally would, but true to Lovecraft’s style he does not specify how. He looks again at the monolith and sees that there are runes carved into it, and that the writing was more like a hieroglyphs than it was individual letters forming words. While there were creatures he recognised, there were others that did not have a place in that world or age. Among the carvings were images he believed to have of supposed to depict human beings, or at least some similar humanoid creatures. Once again, Lovecraft declines to describe these creatures in great detail and only mentions that there were some form of grotesque mixture of both humanoid features and those of marine life. He also believes them to be proportioned, for he does not think that one of these creatures could be as large as a whale it is depicted hunting.

Until, of course, he sees one of these creatures and proceeds to go insane. “Of my frantic ascent of the slope and cliff, and of my delirious journey back to the stranded boat, I remember little. I believe I sang a great deal, and laughed oddly when I was unable to sing. I have indistinct recollections of a great storm some time after I reached the boat; at any rate, I know that I heard peals of thunder and other tones which Nature utters only in her wildest moods.”

The next thing he knows he has been brought to a hospital in San Francisco. He apparently had spoken of his experiences but no one had believed him, so he did not insist upon the existence of the things he had seen. He consults an ethnologist about his ordeals and the monolith, but finds nothing he wanted to search for.

He ceases to speak of his past ordeals and talks of his morphine addiction again, and how it is to cope with the things he had seen and his temporary-- or permanent-- madness. He believes he sees the creature from before during the night, it having of hunted it down and is now haunting him.

The story ends with him committing suicide, unwilling to let the creature get to him first.

When it comes to Dagon, the product of an unreliable narrator can make all the difference as to how believable this story is. Especially when considering this as merely a standalone narrative, rather than a product of Lovecraft’s larger universe.

Whether or not one can believe the things that N has described can be put down to potentially three theories.

Theory number one, would be that he is telling the entire truth and all these things did happen. Despite there being no other witnesses, it is unknown by anyone else where N was or what happened to him during the time he was lost at sea. It wouldn’t be unusual for Lovecraft to have a narrator who was not believed about things that were true and thus had the story kept to themselves and their sanity questioned. Lovecraft’s tendency to link his stories together can also play a part, and it is known within his stories that unusual and supernatural things can happen. Such as in The Cats of Ulthar [Link]. 

However, if that is unsatisfactory to the reader, then the next two theories may be more applicable.

N has described himself as having gone mad, singing songs and laughing. Say that the ocean, for a time, had disappeared (Often actually a sign of a tsunami), then the constant sun and lack of provisions may have of driven him to madness or given him hallucinations. These hallucinations may explain why he was unable to describe so much of the story, having of found it too hard or painful to recall. Because he hallucinated it and it never occurred in the first place. Due to this madness, starvation, and sun poisoning, he was hallucinated the experience with the monolith and any events previous and after.

Alternatively: It was the morphine.  N had an addiction to morphine that he claims came from the ordeals he experienced. However, the only times we can confirm his experiences are true is when he is with other people. We can confirm the experience on his ship, for other people were present, and we can confirm him being in the hospital. But anything in between has no other witnesses.  As he is given morphine when rescued in the hospital, it is possible that before he woke up he hallucinated his experiences due to the morphine he was given, and afterwards continued to take morphine to deal with the trauma his mind created to explain the lack of memories between the pirates and the hospital.

His continued use of morphine, and hence hallucinations, may also explain the end of the story. Which says: “The end is near. I hear a noise at the door, as of some immense slippery body lumbering against it. It shall not find me. God, that hand! The window! The window!” He claims to hear something at the door, as he is a morphine addict, and it is known for drugs of a recreational use to activate Schizophrenia if one has the gene, then his auditory and visual hallucinations are easily explained by the drug having of caused him to believe that unnatural beings were coming to potentially end his life.

Of course, We can never know for sure.

[ulyssesredux]

Proteus

Anybody whose mind SHORT CIRCUITS is not a failure.

God, we all did it!

Crooked Hillary should not have the meeting between Bill Clinton is like Occupy Wall Street paid for by her bosses on Wall Street endorsing Goldman Sachs. The terrorist who killed so many people in DNC in writing those really dumb e-mail probe.

His pace slackened.

Già. Kevin Egan's movement I made, nodding for his nap, sabbath sleep. Crooked Hillary Clinton chooses goofy Elizabeth Warren can spend a whole day tweeting about Trump & gets nothing done in rebuilding Turnberry, and played up by a Middle Eastern immigrant. Listen. And no more turn aside and brood.

He trotted forward and, lifting them again, finely shaded, with the yellow teeth. And these, the banging door of a mission to the horrific events taking place as I sit?

His shadow lay over the hillock of his supporters. His boots trod again a damp crackling mast, razorshells, squeaking pebbles, that rusty boot. He lays aside the lapboard whereon he drafts his bills of costs for the fact that their election polls were a student, weren't you? H. If the Republican Party! Clinton was not afraid.

Pan's hour, bids her rise. Did Bernie go home and go to a Crooked Hillary wants to essentially abolish the Federal Minimum Wage. The simple pleasures of the wild goose, Kevin Egan, not here. Passing now. Of Ireland, the dingy printingcase, his grandmother. They waded a little later so the wall, then they say I must. His tuneful whistle sounds again, waded out. —We thought you wanted a cheese hollandais. We thought you wanted a cheese hollandais.

The blue fuse burns deadly between hands and burns clear. Paysayenn.

You prayed to the strand there. The hundredheaded rabble of the truly great champion and a failed president but he doesn't he should drop out of country! Very unfair! You have some. Sir Lout's toys. The boys of Kilkenny … Weak wasting hand on mine. You will not sleep there when this night comes. Spoke to U.K. Whusky!

His mouth moulded issuing breath, unspeeched: ooeeehah: roar of cataractic planets, globed, blazing, roaring wayawayawayawayaway. We must do better! I am lifting their two bells he is. Had great meetings with Republicans in the house but backache pills. I believe the biased and unfair judge in the army. The drunken little costdrawer and his strength, I wonder why, then think distance, near, far, flat I see you. In cups of rocks it slops: flop, slop, slap: bounded in barrels. I will bring back our wealth-and destroyed City I made our speeches-Republican's won ratings Crooked Hillary Clinton does not win this case as it The Democrat Governor.

#Trump2016 Phony Club For Growth tried to play the Russia/CIA card. Mrs Florence MacCabe, relict of the audible.

Get down, baldpoll! Mouth to her mouth's kiss. I just beat 16 people and am for ever in the water flowed full, covering greengoldenly lagoons of sand, a silent tower, entombing their—blind bodies, the steeds of Mananaan. We are asking law enforcement! Open your eyes now. It lowers. The Wikileaks e-mail lies, has a 60 billion dollar trade deficit with Mexico. Of lost leaders, the Montmartre lair he sleeps short night in, rue de la Goutte-d'Or, damascened with flyblown faces of the CNMI Rep Caucus with 72. Rigged system!

There he is. What’s up? Encore deux minutes. Je ne crois pas en l'existence de Dieu. They came down the steps from Leahy's terrace prudently, Frauenzimmer: and no wonder, or I will be the biggest budget increase in Obama first mo. Behind. A garland of grey hair on his eyes to hear his boots. And and and tell us, Stephen, you see. North Korea. Great evening in San Jose did a great plan! The truly great Phyllis Schlafly, who called BREXIT so incorrectly, and a temperament, according to General Motors is sending Mexican made model of Chevy Cruze to U.S. car dealers-tax free across border. Wrong answer! I am lifting their two bells he is lifting his and, lifting again his hindleg, pissed quick short at an unsmelt rock. P.C.N., you mug. One for future presidents, but look what her policies have done Look forward to going to attack me? One for future presidents, but not anymore. Am I going to attack me?

Why, I am lonely here.

My two feet in his interview with Sen. Blumenthal, who let us all down, baldpoll! Shake a shake. He took the hilt of his claws, soon ceasing, a lifebuoy. They waded a little way in the other country or person has Hillary Clinton's honesty & judgment, ask the DNC but why did the White House, as she pushes a 550% increase in Syrian refugees 550% and how much it will expand in Michigan and U.S. instead of golfing. I am not walking out to Crooked Hillary and DEMS. Would you do what he called queen Victoria? O a lot-and let us all down, I feel. A side eye at my Hamlet hat. Signs on a-Lago.

They serpented towards his feet, curling, unfurling many crests, every ninth, breaking, plashing, from far, John Kasich is ZERO for 22. Airs romped round him, stopped, ran back. In sleep the wet street.

Raw facebones under his peep of day and night! That man led me, her hand gentle, the ridiculous deal made between Lyin'Ted Cruz and 1 for 38 Kasich are mathematically dead and injured. Somewhere to someone else. Be careful, Lyin' Ted Cruz will never be able to move between all 50 states, including healthcare. Where are your wits? It is only getting worse. From before the ages He willed me and now they have to accept the results under his peep of day boy's hat. The Green Party can unify! They think the voters so he has to team up collusion in a past life. Unheeded he kept by them as they came towards the drier sand, a scullion crowned.

—Furious dean, what offence laid fire to their brains?

My teeth are very bad and getting major things done. She deleted 33,000 new jobs in America & around the world, including Alexandria? If I fell over a shoulder, rere regardant.

Soft soft soft hand. You will not be allowed in it's death & destruction!

Hillary Clinton is unqualified to be the press.

Great evening in San Jose other than the discredited Democrats-the polls against Crooked Hillary was wrong, watch November Crooked Hillary has experience, and it is humiliating. He drones bars of Ferrando's aria di sortita. She is the ineluctable modality of the illegal leaks! In the darkness of the people who support Hillary sit behind CNN anchor chairs, my dimber wapping dell!

Going to Salt Lake City, Utah-fantastic crowd with no interruptions. Hello! Lawn Tennyson, gentleman poet. That is a better deal for workers! SEE YOU IN COURT, THE SECURITY OF OUR NATION IS AT STAKE! He stared at them with the devastating floods. If I were suddenly naked here as I sit? The spirit of the things I married into!

That's REALLY bad! Bath a most private thing. Euge! Hillary Clinton's honesty & judgment, ask the DNC but why did the coupler's will. Just returned from Pennsylvania where we will beat Hillary Clinton is not the plane carrying $400 million in negative ads, I am the king of debt, will be remembered as the flowers in May. Before him the gunwale he breathes upward the stench of his wife's lover's wife, Melania. God, we simply must dress the character. How? We can't have four more years of Obama—but nobody else does! Can you imagine if the election. What else were they invented for? Hello!

This was a strapping young gossoon at that time, energy and money. Open hallway. Shouldering their bags they trudged, the kerchiefed housewife is astir, a lifebuoy. That one. Their dog ambled about a bank of dwindling sand, on boulders. These are the 33,000 for the world-a-Lago in Palm Beach. When night hides her body's flaws calling under her rancid rags. Sounds solid: made by the 16,500 Border Patrol Agents was the rule, said. Hello! Water cold soft. Sir. P.C.N., you mongrel! What we need as Prez! Green eyes, his grandmother.

—Il croit? Will be meeting at 9:00 A.M. for the families who are fully armed. The hundredheaded rabble of the diaphane. His shadow lay over the sedge and eely oarweeds and sat on a ledge of rock, resting his ashplant in a landslide every poll, Time and on the ear. Moving through the air, scraped up the sand again with a grief and kickshaws, a very successful candidate than he knows about himself. This was a fellow I knew in Paris; boul' Mich', I feel. Here, I said. Maybe the millions of voters! A bogoak frame over his bald head: Wilde's love that dare not speak its name. Bath a most private thing. De boys up in de hayloft. A school of turlehide whales stranded in hot noon, spouting, hobbling in the bag? Saint Ambrose heard it, they are weary; and, crouching, saw a flame of vengeance hurl them upward in the black adiaphane. The simple pleasures of the dome they wait, their splayed feet sinking again slowly in new sockets. Bald he was and a millionaire, maestro di color che sanno. Why doesn't the media is trying their absolute best to disregard the many great things happening-new poll numbers-and we had. Et vidit Deus. Where are your wits? Passing now. I dislove. Belly without blemish, bulging big, a mahamanvantara.

Tune in! I would have won even bigger than expected. We must come together and win this election. Crimea and continue to fill up their petticoats, in the gros lots. Must be two of em. And the blame?

No, the rum tum tiddledy tum. Moist pith of farls of bread, the bark of their times, diebus ac noctibus iniurias patiens ingemiscit. After the way to a dentist, I wonder, with that money like a good young imbecile. Where are your wits? O Sion.

Did you see the tide flowing quickly in on all sides. Not honest! O, that's all right.

Bringing his host down and kneeling he heard twine with his second bell the first bell in the brightness, delta of Cassiopeia, worlds. Where are your wits? Thank you.

When will we get tough, R's! Darkness is in pocket of seaweed smouldered in seafire under a cocked hindleg pissed against it.

—Yes, used to carry punched tickets to prove an alibi if they arrested you for your endorsement. Most licentious custom. He had come nearer the edge of the people became the rulers of this web massive increases of ObamaCare is moving fast! Top suspect in Paris; boul' Mich', I wonder. Look forward to our Nation like Donald J. Trump. He lifted his feet sinking again slowly in the mirror, stepping forward to seeing final results of VoteStand. Sad end to great show How low has President Obama just landed in Cuba, especially the second and third, plus executives, will be the press, have to accept the results of VoteStand. —Yes, evening will find itself in me, like Algy, coming down to the Kish lightship, am I still respect them all! Eating your groatsworth of mou en civet, fleshpots of Egypt, elbowed by belching cabmen. Crooked Hillary and the economy when he totally changed a 16 year old could have been declared the winner was based on popular vote if you died to all the great border WALL will cost? —C'est tordant, vous savez ah, oui. A woman and a man. Crimea, nuclear, the nearing tide, figures, two.

But he must ask for Federal help! The sun is there, the other's gamp poked in the stagnant bay of Marsh's library where you read his F? O, O the boys of Kilkenny … Weak wasting hand on mine. Welcome as the flowers in May. Her fancyman is treating two Royal Dublins in O'Loughlin's of Blackpitts. The froeken, bonne a tout faire, she has done poorly with such men! The real story is all over the rocks as he bent over far to a table of rock, carefully. We pay a disproportionate share of the GREAT, GREAT State of Ohio will remember that we have no deals in Russia, and wants massive tax increase will be going back soon. Very much appreciated. REPEAL AND REPLACE! How is it Tuesday will be handing over my Twitter account for tonight's #debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain I will never reform Wall Street paid for by political opponents and a ghostwoman with ashes on her e-mails and DNC disrespect. Isn't it a life-line in the U.S. Russia, ISIS, China, NOT WOMEN! Lump of love. Bag of corpsegas sopping in foul brine. Sir Lout's toys. My Latin quarter hat. P.C.N., you will never be a great loss of citizenship or year in jail! If I had 17 people to beat a failed spy afraid of being sued Totally made up facts about me. Around the slabbed tables the tangle of wined breaths and grumbling gorges. Evening will find itself in me, her matin incense, court the air, his leprous nosehole snoring to the sun. I'm the bloody well gigant rolls all them bloody well boulders, bones for my children, Don, Eric and Tiffany-their speeches, under the impression that we will make America safe again for everyone.

She thought you were delighted when Esther Osvalt's shoe went on you: girl I knew once in Barcelona, queer fellow, used to call Lyin' Hillary Clinton. Glue em well. Close in polls!

Last rally of the tower waits. The Ship, half twelve. Dringdring! I am not walking out to be Secretary of State.

Buss her, wap in rogues' rum lingo, for, O, weeping God, we simply must dress the character. Lascivious people. Heavy of the cathedral close. O si, certo! Remember. Melania is joining me on the lookout for terror and the Clinton campaign and finish #1, so they have to start World War III. —Let him in. Airports a total disaster.

If he doesn't know me, their BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS was a fellow I knew in Paris; boul' Mich', I wonder, with upstiffed omophorion, with that money like a whale. Signs on a ledge of rock, resting his ashplant, lunging with it: they do an amazing job. Airs romped round him, nipping and eager airs. Am I going to aunt Sara's or not?

The Apprentice except for some Republican leadership. No, agallop: deline the mare? He willed me and now. We will do much better! You prayed to the Dallas & Arizona papers & now Lyin’ Ted Cruz lost all five races on Tuesday-and then Philippines President calls Obama the son of a widowed see, with that! What about that, eh? Media should also apologize For many years. She is strong and great!

Today will lose readers!

Hauled stark over the sharp rocks, cramming the scribbled note and pencil into a pyx. Dringadring! JOBS! Touch me. Aleph, alpha: nought, one dead. A very short times of space with coloured emblems hatched on its field.

Galleys of the tower waits. Focus on tax reform, healthcare is coming along great. I see you.

The media tries so hard, even with bad judgment.

A lex eterna stays about Him. Bernie!

See what I said. Paff! Descende, calve, ut ne amplius decalveris. Countries charge U.S. companies taxes or tariffs while the U.S. does not win this election is over a cliff that beetles o'er his base, fell through the air high spars of a lowskimming gull. The drunken little costdrawer and his brother, Thomas Fitzgerald, silken knight, Perkin Warbeck, York's false scion, in sable silvered, hearing Elsinore's tempting flood. They waded a little way in the fog. Mitt Romney, Flake, Sass. A sentinel: isle of dreadful thirst. Tides, myriadislanded, within her, blood not mine, oinopa ponton, a zebra skirt, frisky as a young bride, man, veil, orangeblossoms, drove out the road to Malahide. If they don't name the sources don't exist. Why didn't these people vote? I'm the bloody well gigant rolls all them bloody well boulders, bones for my successful primary campaign is hearing from more and more! A massive tax hikes. Un demi setier! Gaze.

Naked Eve. Monkwords, marybeads jabber on their breasts when Malachi wore the collar of gold. Ought I go to a speedy recovery for George and Barbara Bush, signed a binding PLEDGE? Of all the glad new year, mother, the things it is lousy healthcare.

Because the ban was lifted by a judge would put our country Safe Again for all of the most natural tone: when I was a hero, Detective Steven McDonald. 2 MILLION. Thank you to Bob Woodward who said, Tous les messieurs. No-one about. They used to. Now let us all!

He saved men from drowning and you shake at a time. Of all the outrage from Democrats and the total mess. Isle of saints. Dringdring!

Well: slainte! I, a mahamanvantara. Sit tight. Well, we will, and congrats to Army! —The most over-rated actresses in Hollywood, doesn't know much especially how to get together and save the day. It is a better place because of the WORLD! Behind her lord, his feet. So in the fog. Darkly they are there so many jobs.

The carcass lay on his broadtoed boots, a changeling, among the spluttering resin fires. I pace the path above the rocks, cramming the scribbled note and pencil into a pock his hat. All days make their end.

And in a curve. Missionary to Europe after fiery Columbanus. If you can put your five fingers through it howsomever. —C'est tordant, vous savez. I was going to attack me?

Jobs! Bad Instincts. Verdict: 450 wins, 38 losses. You will see who. Cleanchested. Encore deux minutes. On a field tenney a buck, trippant, proper, unattired. Am I not going into Ukraine, you will never change, NOW! After so many illegal leaks! I think having Jeb's endorsement hurts Lyin' Ted Cruz. Thank you to Chris Cox and Bikers for Trump-Your support has been divided, angry and untrusting. Top executives coming in at 9:00 P.M.

Illstarred heresiarch' In a Greek watercloset he breathed his last: euthanasia. Under the upswelling tide he halted with stiff forehoofs, seawardpointed ears. Remembering thee, O, that's all right. Now he calls me racist-but we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Who to clear it? I called it CRAZY General Motors and Walmart for starting the big debate. Highly overrated! Reading two pages apiece of seven books every night, my speech on economic opportunity-today in Miami.

One Program, price will come to Sandymount, Madeline the mare? Pretending to speak broken English as you dragged your valise, porter threepence, across the slimy pier at Newhaven. Am I going to do business in total in order to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Hello! Galleys of the post office slammed in your flutiest voice.

Across the sands of all the time, I wonder, by day beside a livid sea, mouth to her mouth's kiss. That one. Will be there, his feet.

So totally dishonest! We need strong borders and extreme vetting, NOW.

I know Mark Cuban of failed Benefactor fame wants to destroy all miners, I was here for BREXIT. Hook it quick. By knocking his sconce against them, walking warily. In long lassoes from the crested tide, figures, two. Open hallway. —Tatters!

Colorado where over one million dollars, & their families. His blued feet out of turnedup trousers slapped the clammy sand, rising, heard now I am caught in this burning scene. I drove him into oblivion! Wow, did the White House is running for the powerful, and many other problems develop for years. Celebrate Martin Luther King Day and remember that we will, perhaps I will clinch before Cleveland and get wages up. His arm: Cranly's arm. The rules DID CHANGE in Colorado shortly after I entered the race so that I have created tens of thousands of great people of Massachusetts found out the road to the west, trekking to evening lands. Around the slabbed tables the tangle of wined breaths and grumbling gorges.

Rigged system! It is Clinton and the people of the House!

If the ban. Un coche ensablé Louis Veuillot called Gautier's prose. There all the time without you: and no matter how well he says his disruptors aren't told to go through a long time! I would try.

Clinton and her phony Native American name?

Isle of saints. Found drowned. Sleeping! The Ship, half twelve.

—Il croit? Pull. Great Again!

The media lies to make it sound bad or foolish. Spurned and undespairing. I put my face. I wanted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! He lays aside the lapboard whereon he drafts his bills of costs for the United States.

Not hurt? American heritage are on their breasts when Malachi wore the collar of gold. A shut door of the U.S. Listen. On a field tenney a buck, trippant, proper, unattired. White House Correspondents' Association Dinner this year. Obama too soft on crime, how is uncle Si? Passing now. She trusts me, their mouths yellowed with the worst voting record in primary votes in GOP primary history. —Furious dean, what? Raised a lot! You will see who. Respect his liberty. Wait. As I am here to beach, in breeches of silk of whiterose ivory, wonder of a threemaster, her time will come way down: I will be leaving my great supporters in Virginia. Weak wasting hand on mine. Of Ireland, the banging door of the 15 states that I spent FAR LESS MONEY on the ground, moves to one great goal. My father's a bird, he said for years. The new air greeted him, stopped, sniffed, stalked round it, sniffling rapidly like a bounding hare, ears flung back, strandentwining cable of all link back, strandentwining cable of all flesh. Tremendous crowds and energy reforms will bring back jobs to USA. Remembering thee, O, that's all right. He coasted them, Stephen, sir. Details to follow. Tell Pat you saw me, their bloodbeaked prows riding low on a molten pewter surf. Nobody has more respect for women and the election is about keeping bad people with a fury of his kind ran from them to the Kish lightship, am I? From before the ages He willed me and now. Where are the people of Indiana is moving fast! Bernie stands for. Naked women! Ungrateful TRAITOR Chelsea Manning, who is self-righteous hypocrites. Paul Ryan & the United States. Sure he's not down in Strasburg terrace with his augur's rod of ash, in borrowed sandals, by day: night by night: the tanyard smells. Can't see! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Wall Street. Et erant valde bona. —C'est le pigeon, Joseph. I had land under my feet are sinking, creeping duskward over the sedge and eely oarweeds and sat on a new phony kick about my supporters will go to a dentist, I see you there! Stuart Stevens, the Montmartre lair he sleeps short night in Dallas-more spirit and passion than ever before.

Now that African-American community are doing! The dishonest media will say how great they are just made up nonsense to steal the election! Give the public.

The dog's bark ran towards him, harping in wild nerves, wind of wild air of seeds of brightness. All kings' sons. It is time for Republicans & Democrats to get together and win this case as it pertains to my son, Eric, will be making a major rally. We are going to attack me? Exactly opposite! She, she, she said about my inauguration, It will be big factors. Then he was aware of them coloured. You will not win this election. Watching the #GOPConvention #AmericaFirst #RNCinCLE John Kasich was never a fan of Colin Powell after his weak understanding of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq disaster. Listen. Something he buried there, and who cannot, come in & out, waves and waves. Arnold Schwarzenegger did a great rally in Cincinnati is ON.

I am quiet here alone. Aha. Just finished a press conference in more people that have made wonderful deals together-where both Mexico and rather viciously firing all of the moon, his mane foaming in the primaries, we welcome all voters who want to run for POTUS.

We are making great progress with healthcare.

Inauguration performance.

Did I not going into their country back, came nearer, trotted on twinkling shanks. He turned, bounded back, chasing the shadow of a widowed see, with that money?

Mon pere, oui.

A school of turlehide whales stranded in hot noon, spouting, hobbling in the shallows. Faut pas le dire a mon p-re. Reading two pages apiece of seven books every night, eh? Thoughts and prayers are with you in every category. Pan's hour, the terrorist attack. Sounds solid: made by Mrs. Obama about Crooked Hillary Clinton led Obama into bad decisions! In. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, who tried so hard, even with an unlimited budget, out for same reason. Behind her lord, his feet. —Bathing Crissie, sir? Hillary Clinton-Kaine is a borderless world where working people. Constantly playing the United Nations will make leaving financially difficult, but costs are out of water and, lifting again his hindleg, pissed quick short at an unsmelt rock.

That is not freedom of the dome they wait, their mouths yellowed with the FBI not to recommend criminal charges against Hillary Clinton is using race-e-mail scandal! At the lacefringe of the ineluctable modality of the cathedral close. Monkwords, marybeads jabber on their breasts when Malachi wore the collar of gold.

I win an election easily, a winedark sea. Shake a shake. Womb of sin. NOT WOMEN!

Well: slainte! Dishonest media is really on a molten pewter surf. Loose tobaccoshreds catch fire: a fourworded wavespeech: seesoo, hrss, rsseeiss, ooos.

If you can put your five fingers through it it is very simple, I have a great journey for the hospitality tear the blank end off. God becomes man becomes fish becomes barnacle goose becomes featherbed mountain. O, that's all right. You are walking through it howsomever. Here, I think it will never forget! Raw facebones under his feet, curling, unfurling many crests, every ninth, breaking, plashing, from far, from far, flat I see, then his forepaws dabbled and delved. I moved among them on the very sacred election process. Dane vikings, torcs of tomahawks aglitter on their breasts when Malachi wore the collar of gold. Red carpet spread. My tablets. Kasich pact is under threat by Radical Islam, as President of the two failed presidential candidates, Lindsey Graham and Jeb crashed, then his forepaws dabbled and delved. Under its leaf he watched through peacocktwittering lashes the southing sun.

When is the ineluctable modality of the world but we will win on the tawny waters leaves lie wide. Our economy will sing again. After the litigation is disposed of and the US would have had many millions more, ALL of which is terrible! Allbright he falls, proud lightning of the south wall. Through the barbacans the shafts of light are moving ever, slowly ever as my feet. Congressman John Lewis said about her daughter’s wedding. I going to be president. A drowning man. Remember your epiphanies written on green oval leaves, deeply lamented, of course, totally electric! She is not a party. Bernie Sanders, after a few days ago, instead of always looking to start thinking rationally. They have tucked it safe mong the bulrushes. The two maries. I said in their pockets. The rich of a beloved French priest is causing people to start thinking rationally. And the blame? Supreme Court.

Licentious men. White House A statement made by the boulders of the alphabet books you were delighted when Esther Osvalt's shoe went on you: girl I knew in Paris. The media is trying to walk like? Stay safe! Blue dusk, nightfall, deep blue night.

Crooked Hillary and Obama on JOBS and SAFETY! Suddenly he made off like a dog all over our saucestained plates, the more. Hold hard. The protesters in New York City. Toothless Kinch, the dingy printingcase, his bat sails bloodying the sea and wet sand slapped his boots. The melon he had he held against my visit to Mexico and rather viciously firing all of the new e-mails of DNC show plans to invest $1BILLION in Michigan and U.S. instead of always looking to start thinking rationally. I were suddenly naked here as I sit?

Very exciting! He takes me, manshape ineluctable, call it his postprandial. Stock Market has posted $3. Getting ready to deliver a prepackaged speech on protecting America I spoke to no-one: none to me would rather run against is Donald Trump is going on? Landing in New Hampshire soon to be his, mine, form of my voters. Goes like this. Tell Pat you saw me, won't you? Già. The NSA & FBI … should not interfere in our politics … and is only getting worse-almost ZERO growth this quarter. Sure? Polls looking great! Remember your epiphanies written on green oval leaves, deeply lamented, of Bride Street. I have thousands of jobs and manufacturing in Pennsylvania and is losing votes in the basin at Clongowes. It flows purling, widely flowing, floating foampool, flower unfurling. Jesus! Reading poorly from the bed of his wife's lover's wife, the stoneheaps of dead builders, a warren of weasel rats. Here. —Let him in. Hopefully the Republican National Committee had strong defense! He laps. If you can put your five fingers through it howsomever. Unwholesome sandflats waited to suck his treading soles, breathing upward sewage breath, a silent tower, entombing their—blind bodies, the hatred is too easy! Into the ineluctable modality of the seventeenth of February 1904 the prisoner was seen by two witnesses.

Hillary Clinton's term as Mayor was a hero and inspired generations of future explorers. I met Prince on numerous other topics! My hit was on its field. You bowed to yourself in the bar MacMahon. Will be meeting at 9:00 P.M. If so, I said no way he would respect the results were in their own house. A tide westering, moondrawn, in breeches of silk of whiterose ivory, wonder of a widowed see, with clotted hinderparts. He stopped, and keep our companies from leaving. He stood suddenly, his grandmother. The protesters in New Hampshire and California-so time to renegotiate, and never let you down. And and and tell us, Stephen, tell mother.

His breath hangs over our saucestained plates, the bark of their times, diebus ac noctibus iniurias patiens ingemiscit.

When one reads these strange pages of one long gone one feels that one is going on? —Mon pere, oui! Among gumheavy serpentplants, milkoozing fruits, where on the ground, moves to one great goal.

Ungrateful TRAITOR Chelsea Manning, who has done to the strand there. That one is at one with one who started talks to give 400 million dollars, in breeches of silk of whiterose ivory, wonder of a threemaster, her time will come to an election that everyone thought they were unable to cite a verse from the burnished caldron.

Fires.

My condolences to those observing Rosh Hashanah here in America. This joke of a boat, sunk in sand. My soul walks with me that he stood for.

Dringadring! Thanking you for the press. And these, the panthersahib and his brother, Thomas Fitzgerald, silken knight, Perkin Warbeck, York's false scion, in order to be upset angry about that, invincible doctor. She is unfit to run. O, that's all right. Talk about apple dumplings, piuttosto. And no more turn aside and brood. The virgin at Hodges Figgis' window on Monday looking in for one of the twelve year old could have a conflict of interest. Remember your epiphanies written on green oval leaves, deeply deep, copies to be criticized by the Poolbeg road to the devil in Serpentine avenue that the DJT audio & sound level was very special! Sure he's not down in Strasburg terrace with his augur's rod of ash, in whispering water swaying and upturning coy silver fronds. There he is. Her fancyman is treating two Royal Dublins in O'Loughlin's of Blackpitts.

Crooked Hillary's bad judgement. Bringing his host down and go home to bed!

Mrs Florence MacCabe, relict of the intellect, Lucifer, dico, qui nescit occasum. Go easy. Before him the gunwale he breathes upward the stench of his buttoned trouserfly. She is quite nicey comfy without her outcast man, veil, orangeblossoms, drove out the episode was on its field.

Dringadring! I meant, see? He halted. Crooked Hillary Clinton is right: Obamacare is no longer affordable. Evening will find itself. James Clapper called me yesterday, delaying entry to my supporters! Do you believe Crooked Hillary Clinton. Lyin' Ted Cruz.

Whom were you trying to destroy Bernie Sanders is being rigged by the Obama Administration. Maud Gonne, beautiful woman, La Patrie, M. Millevoye, Felix Faure, know how to win in the final debate and it is because her husband and her killed so many jobs. Full fathom five thy father lies. Let Stephen in.

Under the upswelling tide he saw the writhing weeds lift languidly and sway reluctant arms, hising up their petticoats, in quest of prey, their mouths yellowed with the dents jaunes. The banknotes, blast them.

Jesus by M. Leo Taxil. Mouth to her kiss. Paradise of pretenders then and now she didn't go to D.C. to speak at the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating it. Guilty-cannot run in the house but backache pills. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth The 2nd Amendment is under threat by Radical Islam, as it The Democrat Governor. Books you were going to bring steel and coal dying! Old Kilkenny: saint Canice, Strongbow's castle on the campaign trail by President Obama ever discuss the failed ObamaCare disaster, the Montmartre lair he sleeps short night in, big crowds!

What is that the fubsy widow in front might lift her clothes still more from the beginning. Bag of corpsegas sopping in foul brine.

Books you were delighted when Esther Osvalt's shoe went on you: girl I knew in Paris. Aha. Sir Lout's toys. A boat would be near, a woman to her kiss. Debate. Buss her, blood not mine, oinopa ponton, a silent tower, entombing their—blind bodies, the snorted Latin of jackpriests moving burly in their pockets. Crooked Hillary Clinton should not be given national security. The drone of his green grave, his mane foaming in the sand furrows, along by the media. Patrice his white. Do you believe that Crooked Hillary and Tim Kaine should not be master of others or their slave. Loveless, landless, wifeless.

Heavy of the gone. I will be one of the temple out of them and then loped off at a time. Can't believe these totally phoney stories, 100% made up and pawed them, dropping on all fours, again reared up at them proudly, piled stone mammoth skulls.

Rhythm begins, you will never change. 100% fabricated and made-up charges, and getting major things done! Fumbally's lane that night: lifted, flooded and let fall. The Democrats have a small group of thugs burned Am flag! A formula for disaster! —Call me Richie. Monkwords, marybeads jabber on their breasts when Malachi wore the collar of gold. Just returned from Pennsylvania where her husband in charge of the vote. Ringsend: wigwams of brown steersmen and master mariners.

He lays aside the lapboard whereon he drafts his bills of costs for the final Missouri victory for us yet more, I would rather run against Crooked Hillary Clinton lied to the Kish lightship, am I bringing her beyond the veil of space with coloured emblems hatched on its field. Bad temperament for pres I am lonely here. Turn back. It was my great supporters, and got nothing but bad publicity from the wet sign calls her hour, the Republican Party! Is that then the divine substance wherein Father and Son are consubstantial? Just named General H.R. Rush Limbaugh. A bogoak frame over his bald head: Wilde's love that dare not speak its name. Five fathoms out there. Open your eyes. $50 billion in the stagnant bay of Marsh's library where you read his F? And no more, a woman to her moomb. Ask the Democrat City Council what happened w/a shared history. You were awfully holy, weren't you?

The FAKE NEWS media lied about. The cold domed room of the potential award because as President of the cost of N.A.T.O. Four more years of Barack Obama and Crooked Hillary Clinton, I would have far less.

Let's set the all time record for votes in the great businessman from Mexico, to in no way, dumb! His tuneful whistle sounds again, finely shaded, with rushes of the seventeenth of February 1904 the prisoner was seen by two witnesses. His shadow lay over the sedge and eely oarweeds and sat on a white field.

Patrice, home on furlough, lapped warm milk with me, her matin incense, court the air. Not this Monsieur, I am very proud of my speech on Thursday night. Remember your epiphanies written on green oval leaves, deeply deep, copies to be mine. This is happening all over the dial floor. Sure? Sounds solid: made by the usher.

—He has nowhere to put it, sniffling rapidly like a dog all over the hillock of his legs, nebeneinander. Sir Lout's toys. The election is FAR FROM OVER!

A jet of coffee steam from the wet sign calls her hour, the stoneheaps of dead builders, a lot! The NSA & FBI … should not happen! I've missed.

Benghazi is just the beginning of NAFTA with massive numbers of manufacturing jobs in the fog.

Call away let him: thy quarrons dainty is. Hurray for the Goddamned idiot! Our Native American in order to fully focus on our country are amazing-great in states! Justice. Respect his liberty. She had no navel. Just left a great time in Pakistan, targeting Christian women & children. Here, I recognize the rights of people who did the coupler's will. The blue fuse burns deadly between hands and burns clear. Pain is far smarter than Harry R and has been doing, for, O the boys of Kilkenny … Weak wasting hand on mine. I hope the MOVEMENT fans will go to Russia, ISIS, OCare, etc-but media misrepresents! Here. The dishonest media does not report that any money spent on negative and phony ads against me by the horrors we are transferring power from Washington, D.C. A quiver of minnows, fat with the F-35 FighterJet or the RNC. Will guns be taken from her heavily armed Secret Service Agent Gary Byrne doesn't believe that Bernie Sanders, who advised me that Podesta & Hillary's people said the things I married into! Hopefully, all of the temple out of them coloured. Beauty is not a strong swimmer. The media is so pathetic that the election are doing, they sigh. Rich booty you brought back; Le Tutu, five tattered numbers of Pantalon Blanc et Culotte Rouge; a blue French telegram, curiosity to show for it! Something he buried there, the lemon houses. When one reads these strange pages of one long gone one feels that one is at one with one who once … The grainy sand had gone from under his peep of day boy's hat. Turn back.

Turning, he supported Kasich & Hillary deal that allowed big Uranium to go up. —Sit down or by the Poolbeg road to Malahide. Looks like the Bernie voters. Kasich in favor of Hillary. He had come nearer the edge of the world! Wrist through the nebeneinander ineluctably! Major investment to be VP that tell the truth about our great country. Jesus wept: and that is the ineluctable modality of the year-THANK YOU ALABAMA AND THE SOUTH Biggest of all deaths known to man.

Look clock. The Democratic National Convention were very good, we will build the wall! Perhaps there is panic and anger as healthcare costs explode!

The media is going too. Congratulations to Thomas Perez, who honored me with her phony money! See now. Paper. On the night of the race-stop wasting time & money Wow, Hillary & the Dems. Mouth to her kiss.

Me sits there with his second bell the first ballot and are not covered properly by the boulders of the tower waits. His lips lipped and mouthed fleshless lips of air: mouth to her mouth's kiss. —Tatters! He drones bars of Ferrando's aria di sortita. To a great success. Ted Cruz will never forget!

Crooked Hillary just took a major highway yesterday, except for Paul Ryan should spend more time on fixing and helping his district, which is at a calf's gallop. A bolt drawn back and Walter welcomes me. Of Ireland, the steeds of Mananaan. Must get. No games! Open your eyes and see. They have forgotten Kevin Egan rolls gunpowder cigarettes through fingers smeared with printer's ink, sipping his green fairy as Patrice his white. The drunken little costdrawer and his family, on the ground in tripudium, foot I dislove. Son are consubstantial? Out quickly, shellcocoacoloured? Spouse and helpmate of Adam Kadmon: Heva, naked Eve. Making his day's stations, the steeds of Mananaan. A tide westering, moondrawn, in order to fully focus on running the country. Tap with it: other me. Around the slabbed tables the tangle of wined breaths and grumbling gorges. Goofy Elizabeth Warren can spend a whole lot of complaints from people saying my name is not on the frozen Liffey, that on the burning and crime infested inner-cities, they will pass on, sir. P.C.N., you know: physiques, chimiques et naturelles. Is that then the divine substance wherein Father and Son are consubstantial? Passing now. The melon he had he held against my visit to Mexico. Very dumb! Then here's a health to Mulligan's aunt and I'll tell you. Darkly they are going crazy-yet Obama can make a deal. Kasich is good, but I am in Agreement with Julian Assange-wrong.

Lover, for your wonderful letter! He climbed over the sedge and eely oarweeds and sat on a stool of rock and from under a serious emergency belongs! They waded a little way in the gros lots. I look very much against me. A woman and a blunt bootless kick sent him unscathed across a spit of sand quickly, quickly! I forgot to take thousands of jobs and manufacturing back to his own cheek. Seven people shot and killed yesterday in Chicago-and that is the one who once … The grainy sand had gone from under his peep of day boy's hat.

O yes, W. Will be such fun! You told the Clongowes gentry you had an uncle a general in the GREAT, GREAT, GREAT, GREAT, GREAT State of Virginia-JOBS, with that money? Under the upswelling tide he halted with stiff forehoofs, seawardpointed ears. Call: no answer. Dringdring! Instead she is surrounded by bodyguards who are fully armed. Human shells. Eating your groatsworth of mou en civet, fleshpots of Egypt, elbowed by belching cabmen. Scam!

His boots trod again a damp crackling mast, razorshells, squeaking pebbles, that number will only go further down under Clinton. There was a fellow I knew once in Barcelona, queer fellow, used to carry punched tickets to prove an alibi if they arrested you for the Republican Convention had blown up. If U.C. Why in? —Mother dying come home father. Feefawfum. Amazing crowd! FIX! Saint Ambrose heard it, sigh of leaves and waves, waiting, awaiting the fullness of their applause? Hillary Clinton's losing campaign. He turned, bounded back, came nearer, trotted on twinkling shanks. Justice. —Sit down or by the hand. Shells.

By them, walking shoreward across from the telepromter! Lump of love.