#and he has a great debt in that regard that he must claw back

[isaacathom]

on naielle odelia, florian de kasimir, and the idea of sacrifice

naielle is a celestial warlock. she's a backliner, a combination support and damage.

florian is a man at arms, a soldier, armed with sword and shield. a front liner, a tank, a consistent damage dealer.

being in the front lines means risk is always present. and florian considers it his duty, his obligation, to remain. he considers the idea of fleeing first to be a violation of his job.

he is deeply afraid. he always is. but he has to be the first and final line of defence.

when he was killed, time froze, and he saw the state of his friends, battered and near death. he saw the monster that stood before them.

he had once taken great umbrage with a man who had made an ill-thought out deal with the devil.

and when push came to shove, and the devil held out his hand, florian took it. because if he didnt, his friends would die. it wouldve been a waste.

naielle's devil hangs over her head, a sword of damocles. you are a healer, aren't you? the front line will fall without you. you must run in, and you must help them.

her devil is not her patron. her devil is herself.

florian is constantly aware of the danger he is in, and considers himself illsuited to all of it, and simultaneously suited to nothing else. all he can be is a sharp object pointed at a villain. when mauled near death, watching the party's witcher fall, he ordered the retreat, and unable to stand still tried to protect the party doctor's spirit.

naielle forgets her own risk. she sees the threat posed to someone else, the blood that issues forth, and she sees the solution held in her hands. she would be a failure not to administer it. withholding the cure from the dying would go against everything she tries to believe and hold herself to. she does not balance it with the idea that her premature death might leave things worse. its the now, now, now.

she'll defend the man defending her, even if he says she shouldnt.

when the mission came down to it, and the devil's plans laid bare, florian considered it his moral duty to lay down his life. he could not stomach to kill the woman who had brought him here, to betray her so utterly. but for the party priest, he paused. because to give up himself, to act as Emelia's final defence, he would doom the priest. The two would either die at the traitors hands, or by a devil collecting on unkept promises.

he couldnt sacrifice himself to doom another, to doom a man in service to a woman he hadn't met and owed no alleigance too. florian could not demand that of him, and thus could not give of it himself, much as he wanted to.

he was forced to live, and to see her die, and to know he'd failed.

naielle hasn't reached that crux yet. the mountains peak lies high above, and many descending tracks offer solutions from this vantage, though they may lead simply to deep ravines.

for her to give herself to her patron, to play the numbers game, she would save many. she would damn herself, damn her sister, damn her twin brother, her wife, her mother, her father. all the people she's met and known, ill and well, would be hurt. depending on the relationship, on the timing, she might even kill them.

but naielle would play the numbers game. its an easy game at that scale - a world, or an elf? she'd like both. but maybe her goal, to do good, necessitates giving up the opportunity to see that good done, and only to know it was.

after his betrayal, he heads north. he has loose ends to attend to. peoples lives to try and fix. a war to join. he expected to die in that war, as he expected to die in that manor, as he did in that forest, as he thought the griffin might, like the previous war had thought to.

he doesnt die. the war spits him out, like it had before.

and he stands on a rural farm, holding out tools for the farmer reparing the fence, and he wonders:

why did he always try to throw it away?

[jaydicksummerexchange]

JAYDICK EXCHANGE: SEPTEMBER 3

[ ❤ Works posted so far! ❤ ]

SECOND TO LAST DAY OF THE JAYDICK EXCHANGE!

Why the second to last instead of the last? That’s because we’ve reached 114 Exchange works for 2020! The more treats get added, the more we time we add to our juicy cabooses and keep the exchange train rolling. Until Saturday that is. Tomorrow is the final posting date, and we’ll reveal the wonderful participants on September 5 no matter what. 

Here are today’s releases!

Claws by anonymous for solomonara [ART, Not Rated, No Archive Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd] 

Additional Tags: FanartHurt/Comfort, Injured Jason, Secret Identity, dick's teams don't know the red hood's identity, dick's harem of morally ambiguous older men, dick: he's not older, dick: wait i mean he's not my villain boyfriend, dick: damn it

Summary: Dick takes the Red Hood to a Titan safehouse after an injury. Explanations are expected.

Learning To Love The Fall by anonymous for 3isme [ART, Teen, No Warnings Apply, JayDick] 

Additional Tags: Fanart, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Mechanic Jason Todd, Plane Pilot Dick Grayson

Summary:  It's the early 1900s and the country of Gotham is recovering from a long war.

Trying to get a better life, Jason Todd has been moonlighting as an underground plane mechanic for illegal aeroplane racers, getting a cut of whatever the pilot wins. After one particular competition, he's accused of sabotage and, despite his protests, forced into deeper debt. At the end of his rope, he runs into Dick Grayson, ex-ace of the Gotham Air Force and supposed dead man. The war hero was supposed to have been shot down near the end of the war. Regardless, this pilot is the best chance Jason has to grab hold of that better life, and he's not going to let it go.

The Still and Quiet Surface by anonymous for TheWayneManner [FIC, General Audiences, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd] 

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Gift Fic, Ficlet

Summary: Dick leaves the sea behind and never looks back.

Scents & Sensibility by anonymous for Nitrojen [FIC, Explicit, No Warnings, JayDick] 

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Regency, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fae, References to Jane Austen, although the writer has a pretty dark secret concerning our dear friend jane, Getting to Know Each Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: Prompt - Something along the lines of the Princess and the Pea. It can be A/B/O, modern, fantasy, or even something that takes place in canon where there's some kind of curse. Have fun with it! 

Give It A Shot (of espresso) by anonymous for morimaiter [FIC, Teen, No Warnings, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd] 

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Hurt/Comfort, Barista Jason Todd, Flirting, Awkward Flirting, Sexual Tension, JayDick Summer Exchange, very minor injury, art included

Summary: Dick was one of their regulars. And yes, that was his real name. The first time he’d asked Jason to write it on his cup Jason had given him a death glare until the man had whipped out a driver’s license to prove it. ‘Richard John Grayson’, printed right there. It hadn’t been an innuendo after all, just an unfortunate choice of nickname. He came into Gotham Grinders (and hell if Jason hadn’t heard enough innuendos about that name to make up for any lack of innuendo in Dick’s own) every Tuesday and Friday, which happened to always be Jason’s shifts. Every time he asks for some new over-the-top order, and every time without fail he also asks for Jason’s digits. Jason replies every time with:

“I’m sorry sir, we can’t give out personal information to customers. Will that complete your order?” 

(Fic + Art)

Lazy Days by anonymous for BehindTheRobinsMask [ART, Teen, No Warnings, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd] 

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Married Life, Married Couple, Established Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Literal Sleeping Together, Lazy Mornings, Domestic Fluff, Fanart

Summary:  It's the weekend! Jason and Dick sleep in after a long night on the streets.

Taken in the Butt by the Gay Vigilante Acro-Bird by anonymous for solomonara [ART, Teen, No Warnings,  JayDick] 

Additional Tags: Romance Novel, Cover Art, Jason Todd is an Author, Partial Nudity, Birds, Vintage Gay Pulp Novels, Chuck Tingle-Adjacent, Please Forgive me, FanartDigital Art, JayDick Summer Exchange

Summary: The Red Hood has a secret: he's a part-time romance novelist.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Between The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea by anonymous for stribird (timidGoddess) [FIC, Mature, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Heavy Angst, Self-Doubt, Lazarus Pit, Panic Attacks, Established Relationship, Bad Decisions, Romantic Fluff, Amnesia, Broken Promises, Road Trips, On the Run

Summary: Jason couldn’t do that. He could never forget what Dick meant to him. Which is why he had to bring his Bluebird back. Which is why he had to remind Dick of everything that he had lost.

Even if that meant forcing him into the Lazarus Pit. Even if it meant cursing him in the process.

tell your boyfriend, if he says he's got beef, that i'm a vegetarian (and i ain't fucking scared of him) by anonymous for prompt_fills [Mature, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Fluff and Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Protective Damian Wayne, POV Damian Wayne, Batman: Reborn, Jason Todd has a Heart, Damian Wayne Has a Heart, Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne’s Parent, Dick Grayson is Batman, Mutual Pining, enemies to idiots to lovers, Misunderstandings, Damian Wayne Plays Therapist, Jason Todd is Bad at Feelings, Dick Grayson is Bad at Feelings, My Continued Mocking of Tim Drake (it's loving i swear), Donna Troy is a goddess and no one deserves her, My love for Donna Troy is so strong that I projected it onto Damian and I am not sorry, Unbetaed we die like Jason Todd refuses to, Past Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Jealous Jason Todd, Pining Dick Grayson, BAMF Donna Troy AND MORE

Summary: It had taken a few weeks for Damian’s ill-fated hopes for the more platonic explanation of Grayson’s unseemly conduct regarding Todd to expire because Damian (unlike Drake) is not an idiot (and Brown had prattled on about every instance of very clearly not platonically fueled tension, slowly crushing Damian’s remaining hopes for Richard’s taste in romantic partners). Denial, heavenly as he has now known it to be, can only take one so far. And as a pragmatist and the grandson of the great Ra’s al Ghul and son of the great Bruce Wayne, he assesses the situation from a logical perspective, free of any emotions clouding his impeccable judgment, and comes up with a solution that benefits both himself and Grayson.

Jason Todd must die.

Or the story of how Damian Wayne became the number one shipper of JayDick and is not at all happy about it.

Si solo fueras tú by anonymous for fallogory [ART, Gen, Creator Chose No Warnings, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Fanart, Kid Dick Grayson, Adult Dick Grayson, Kid Jason Todd, Adult Jason Todd, King Bruce Wayne, Prince Damian Wayne, Prince Dick Grayson, Poor Jason Todd, Hurt Dick Grayson, Jealous Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug

Summary: Blue came first

Then Green arrives

Then Blue meet Red

And Green hate that

Or where Dick was Bruce's bastard child who was forced to lived like a prince until Damian's born and meet someone who make his world be upside down.

the smell of cold stone by anonymous for abcission [FIC, Mature, No Warnings Apply, Dick Grayson/ Jason Todd]

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Dick Grayson, Autumn, American Football, College Football, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Getting to Know Each Other, Getting Together, referenced Jason/Kyle, Past Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Past Dick Grayson/Roy Harper, past dick grayson/wally west - Freeform, implied Roy/Kory, implied Roy/Wally, implied Donna/Kyle, future besties Jason and Roy, Roy's eternal crush on Donna, frat boy Dick, Fluff

Summary: Their eyes meet on the quad one day; he’ll probably never see the frat boy again, but he’ll be nice fodder for Jason’s dreams at least.

[fremedon]

Brickclub 2.5.10, “How Javert Came to Find the Bird Had Flown”

Here we meet Javert at the beginning of his corruption.

I am now firmly sold on the idea that Javert broke his geas when he killed Fantine. In taking a life the law had no claim on, he has lost his ability to act as an empty vessel for the law.

He has none of the self-awareness about his corruption that he will have started, barely, to develop by the barricade. He doesn’t seem to realize or acknowledge any culpability in Fantine’s death:

The name of Fantine was well known to him. He remembered that Jean Valjean had made him burst out laughing by asking for three days’ grace to go fetch that creature’s child. He recalled that Jean Valjean had been arrested in Paris as he was getting into the coach for Montfermeil. Some indications even then had led to speculation that it was the second time he was taking that coach, and that he had already made a previous trip the day before to somewhere on the outskirts of that village, for he had not been seen in the village itself. Why was he going to that place, Montfermeil? No one could work it out. Javert now understood. Fantine’s daughter was there. Jean Valjean was going to fetch her.

But he must be starting to realize that his instincts and his self-gaslighting are more openly at war with each other than they used to be. In Arras, months after recognizing Valjean and making a meticulous case against him, he immediately throws it all out when presented with an officially-identified Jean Valjean, makes a positive identification of Champmathieu, and is certain enough about it to recount the whole story to Valjean’s face.

But here, officialdom (and the newspaper) says that Valjean is dead; Javert’s instincts say Valjean is alive (and, given free rein, lead him straight to the Pont d’Austerlitz); and Javert...doubts. He hesitates, waits for verification he doesn’t need, wastes time going for backup.

But at the same time, Javert is also enjoying his job on a personal level. From being an empty vessel, Javert has become “an artist,” and in this context that is not a good thing.

And then there’s that pinch of snuff once he thinks he has Valjean cornered. I always think that this passage cannot possibly be as horny as I remember it being, and it is always even hornier:

Then he began to have fun. He experienced a moment of fiendish delight, letting his man go on ahead, knowing he had him in his grasp but wanting to delay to the utmost the moment of arrest, taking pleasure in being aware that the man was caught; and seeing him free, gloating over him with that relish the spider takes in the flitting of the fly and the cat takes in the scurrying of the mouse. Claws and talons enjoy a monstrous thrill: that is, the unseen movements of the creature imprisoned in their grip. How delicious is this snuffing-out! Javert was in ecstasy. His net was firmly staked. All he had to do now was tighten his grip. With the backup he had, the very idea of resistance was absurd, no matter how energetic, strong, and desperate Jean Valjean might be. Javert advanced slowly, delving into every nook on his way down the street, as into the pockets of a thief. When he reached the center of his web he found the fly was gone. You can imagine his fury.

We kind of don’t need to, Victor. You’ve spelled things out very clearly.

I remember mentioning when we met Javert that he was the only major character whose introduction did not immediately situate him with regard to Napoleon. And we do get a Napoleon reference at the end of this chapter: “Certainly, Napoleon made mistakes during the war in Russia,” at the start of the long litany of colossal mistakes made by great men. It is telling that Javert only gets the Great Man comparisons here, at the start of his corruption and in the moment of his failure.

But even though the Napoleon reference is to the Russian campaign and not to Waterloo, I think it is supposed to prime us to think about Waterloo, because the long dissection of Javert’s failures brings us to this:

Great strategists have their weaknesses.

The greatest follies, like the stoutest ropes, are often composed of a multitude of strands. Take the cable thread by thread, take separately each petty determining motive, and you can snap them one by one and say, ‘There’s no more to it than that!’ Braid them and twist them together, and what you have is momentous: Atilla wavering between Marican in the east and Valentinian in the west, Hannibal lingering at Capua, Danton going to sleep at Arcis-sur-Aube.

We’re back to watching fatalité at work in history--accident, carelessness, oversight, the accumulation of small debts, the guide who points the wrong direction. Javert is getting the Great Man treatment, Doylistically, because Valjean already has, and he needs to be well-matched as a threat. But we’ve already seen that great men can be--and should be, must be--brought down by small things. A single failure isn’t a judgement Javert’s skills or potential, or the new level of personhood he’s starting to develop--but we should be asking what those skills, and that potential, are in service of.

Other stray observations:

The old verger, “muttering prayers and spying through his prayerfulness,” does not inspire confidence in the convent as a refuge. 

“In this world there are two beings that shudder to their core: the mother finding her child and the tiger finding his prey. Javert felt this profound thrill.” FUCK YOU JAVERT, that should have been Fantine’s feeling and you stole it from her.

Besides the by-this-point usual tiger images for Javert, Valjean is both a stag hunted by hounds, and a lion.

Javert has learned the streets of Paris extremely thoroughly in less than a year on the job.

[tsuncoon]

Can a Skeksis cry pt 2

I went off the rails and wrote way too fucking much ahah enjoy

--

SkekGra kept running , the further he got the more it pained him to be apart from urGoh. It felt like an elastic band was stretching thin, pulling him back to his other, his better half.

He just needed to get away from the whispers and the looks. His breathing rasped, it was like he was swimming against the tides. He could not remember the last time he had been so far from Urgoh, probably while he was still the Conqueror.

If the Conqueror could see what he had become, it was funny to think just how strongly he would oppose the path taken, how he would likely stop ar nothing to ensure this future would not be his. Yet here he was. Suffering the fate the other Skeksis refuse to endure.

He let out a loud and frustrated wail as he tugged on his fluffy mane, he hoped Thra was proud of itself for giving him the vision and making him suffer so, it was a just punishment for his crimes.

SkekGra’s fur bristled as he heard a twig snap near by, over the years he had let his senses dull while he was isolated with only himself. He hadn’t realized by smell or sound that anyone else was in the immediate area.

“Hmmmm old friend? Is that you?”

SkekGra recognized the curious humming

“Chamberlain” he breathed in surprise, the last time he saw another Skeksis he ended up with a knife through his hand. He was not sure if the Chamberlain came as a friend or foe. SkekGra certain did not want to fight another Skeksis, but if he must then he would without hesitation.

“Call Skeksil, we were once friends yes?”

SkekGra was once loyal to all of his kind, there was a strong sense of skeksishood, an unspoken bond tethered together by loyalty and a desire to not be alone, he could feel that bond even now. He recognized that no one could understand him the way another Skeksis could, not even UrGoh as much as he tried, they were opposites while he and the Skeksis were the same.

He felt great longing as he recalled his time in the castle, but those fleeting happy moments in the days of early Skeksis rule would always be soured by his fall to Heretic.

Distinctly he remembered the Chamberlain murmuring into the ears of their companions, and their emporor. These mutterings made expressions towards SkekGra grew colder and more suspicious By the day. He wondered what lies SkekSil had told them to make them distrust him so, or maybe he did not need to lie at all.

“No, I don’t think you were ever my friend" SkekGra admitted somberly, it saddened him to say it out loud, he was a fool to have thought otherwise back then.

The Chamberlain hummed “Could be friends now, I could help Heretic earn place black in palace. Be Conqueror again, in need of your talents times of war" Chamberlains hands were at his sides, very calm and open.

“No" he declined without an ounce of hesitation “I would never--"

“Conqueror once would never betray own kind” SkekSil interrupted “your loyalty is wavering! Cannot be trusted by Gelfling”

SkekGra’s expression must have revealed just how much that hurt him, since the Chamberlain smiled and continued on that line of discussion. “how long hmmm till selfish heretic betray gelfling for own desires like betrayed Skeksis?” his words were full of judgment and malice.

“Maybe you’re right…” SkekGra said quietly “I am a Skeksis after all.”

The agreement made the Chamberlin confused, he hadn’t expected the other to agree with him so easily.

He walked closer to SkekSil “If anyone stands in my way, be it a Skeksis or a gelfling, I will run them through with my talons" he was looming over him, standing close. His eyes dared SkekSil to pull that blade he had hidden on him.

SkekSil watched the fiery anger in the Heretics eyes, recognizing them as the Conquerors. He could see now that while his name changed his intensity still burned as strong as ever, unfortunately that fire which was once used as a weapon for the Skeksis empire now threatened to burn down the Skeksis throne.

“You are fool!” SkekSil hissed “When Urskek whole Urskek will try to purify self again! SkekGra wont come back as Skeksis, Urskek will destroy SkekGra to become a pure self!”

“I will not make that mistake again” SkekGra stated confidently, he and Urgoh made that mistake once, he was certain they would not repeat it.

“Heretic may think so, but Urskek cannot go home with Skeksis half, too impure!” SkekSil had a point and SkekGra knew it, even when combined they would still be stuck here, forever outcastes from their kind because of him…

“I would rather spend the rest of my days together as one than separated and alone"

SkekSil pressed his beak together into a hard angry line. An annoyed groaning echoed from his throat.

“aahh" Skekgra hissed, grabbing his wrist to see dull teeth marks appearing on the back of his hand.

“Urgoh..” he looked to the Chamberlin suspiciously, if he was here.. that means the Grathim…

SkekGra glared towards Chamberlain, he should kill the other… he hated the Skeksis almost as much as he hated himself. Still, he could not blame them, he understood their motivations, he once thought the same way they did. They were just as incomplete and hopeless to control their instincts ass he was.

“If I see you again, SkekSil, I will kill you quickly to spare UrSol any suffering" he promised. Although it pained him to kill a being as hopeless as a Skeksis he couldn’t be weak, sacrifices would have to be mmade.

SkekGra didn’t look back, he took the fasted form of travel, through the trees, lunging through the branches. Running towards Urgoh he suddenly moved much more quickly as the strain between them lessened.

UrGoh had followed SkekGra from the gelfling building, but he was too slow to keep up once his half ran into the trees. To make chase was a lost cause.

UrGoh frowned as he watched him go. He should not have left SkekGra alone knowing how negative his thoughts could get when his mind was not stimulated and distracted.

The Skeksis got an unenviable amount of emotion in the split, as only half of one being it was to much for SkekGra to bear at times.

Urgoh sat on a large mossy log, content to wait there for his other half until he was ready to return; Urgoh was after all very patient. He closed his eyes and began to meditate barely having time to find tranquility before a curious voice called for him.

“A mystic.. so the rumors were true” the gelfling sounded by intrigued by its discovery. “you are from off world right?”

UrGoh slowly opened his eyes and his mouth “….yes"

“What is it like outthere?” I’ve never met someone from a different planet before, till now I’ve never known they existed!”

“o…ne.. p…re…s…pe…ct..ive… do…es.. not…”

The gelfling looking on awkwardly, he had expected a long answer, but not like this.

“….p….a..int… a..n… a..cc…ur…ate…. Pi…c..t..u..re"

The gelflings ears fell in disappointment, such a long wait for a non answer.

“Well, what’s the picture you paint?”

“…..” UrGoh breathed out deeply in contemplation of the question. He was not sure he could even say. His memories were foggy and incomplete, they had been split with SkekGra, and without the other here to help put the missing parts together, his memories were a nonsensical mess.

“…h…o…me… wa…s.. n…ic…e" he didn’t know what else he could say to ease the little gelflings curiosity. Homeworld was like nothing a gelfling could understand, every bit of it was different in every regard, down to its cells and atoms. They were made up of different things, from galaxies unlike anything comprehensible.

Urgoh’s eyebrows lowered sadly, he could feel SkekGra had gone quite a distance.

“Maybe I’ll ask Augrah…” the gelfling entwined their fingers nervously, the Mystic seemed lost in his own world, staring ahead at the trees. Urgoh didn’t even notice the little gelfling run off when a commotion began to erupt around them.

A few of the gelfling that had gone ahead of the group to scout were running back with their voices high in alarm. “The Garthim! They’ve arrived!”

“What!?” Breas voice was heard near by, along with the shattering of pottery, it would seem these monsters were faster than they appeared, and had caught up with them so quickly.

“They are closing in fast! We have to get out of here and meet up with the oth-AUGH!!” a large claw wrapped around the gelfling before flinging it through the air with all its force.

UrGoh lifted his hand to his mouth, he bit down strongly into his flesh. He did not bleed but there was a noticeable teeth pattern imprint.

The mystic stood up from his log to surprise Brea when he was suddenly behind her “qu…I…ck..ly.. w..e mu..st.. get… to.. saf…ety" he urged

“I have to warn everyone first!” She had to take charge of the panic and usher everyone to safety, it is what her mother would have done. “Our injured will need help leaving!” She ran towards the old tree that acted as a shelter for those previously injured by the Skeksis and their monsters.

She ran past Rian holding back one of the beasts, its claws were powerful enough to snap a sward in two, its hide impenetrable. All he could do was avoid its attacks, and pray to Thra it would not land one.

“RIAN! Hold on a little longer!” she hoped her words would keep him going. She ran against the crowd, arriving at the medical tent where the healthy gelfling were attempting to hurry the injured to safety, but it was a slow process as many could not be moved so roughly.

Brea was quick to help up a gelfling who had lost his leg. “Come on now, time to go" she tried to sound her least frightened.

“princess.. you are too important to lose.. please.. leave me. I am no longer helpful to the rebellion"

“Nonsense!” she spoke in anger “no one will be left behind! Your life has worth, I owe you this debt for fighting alongside us" she assured, putting his hand around her shoulder, her other hand held his hip as they slowly waddled to the door.

The tree they were inside shook, debris falling from the ceiling. She was quick to cover the poor man, coughing as they both inhaled the dirt.

Outside she suddenly heard… silence

It had been a while since SkekGr ahad climbed and leaped through the foliage of Thra, it was much easier to grip than the stones that made up his home at the circle of the sun and the caves of Grot.

When SkekGra arrived he could see Garthim closing in on a small group of gelfling soldiers attempting to hold it back while others flee.

SkekGra pushed himself off a branch, launching at the horrific beetle monster with the dead purple gaze.

The gelfling shrieked “The Skeksis are here!!” they felt now that they were truly doomed.

One lone gelfling was trapped in the creatures claws, screaming and refusing to accept his imminent death. Just as the monster intended to snap the gelfling in two SkekGra intercepted, grabbing the attackers claw and forcing it open, the unharmed gelfling dropped to the ground, surprised but thankful.

The Garthims other claw stabbed into SkekGras side, but his years sustaining injury helped him fight through the pain. Even as felt warm ooze dripping down his side. From this he gathered that the Garthim were not smart enough to go for vital parts of the body, they relied on brute force to end the fight. But against a Skeksis hoping to win with brute force was not a good strategy.

SkekGra’s talons dug deep, piercing the hard shell of the monsters claw before swinging his arms enough to throw the beast over his shoulder and smashing the beetle into the dirt floor.

The gelfling who once trembled watched, astonished by the display of power, most of them had heard of Skeksis might, but had never witnessed it for themselves.

There was a reason so few Skeksis managed to control so many gelfling and creatures of Thra, their power was other worldly.

The monster struggled on it’s back until SkekGra stomped on its head until the purple light in its eyes drained.

The surrounding gelfling looked down to the felled beast. Due to the damage it had sustained the abomination began to unravel and fall apart.

SkekGra had left before the gelfling had a chance to speak. He put pressure to his wound as he ran against the crowd, he would never admit it to anyone but it was a challenge to avoid stepping on the little gelflings when they scurried around like this.

He spotting Rian dancing with one of the Garthim, he watched curiously, knowing better than to steal a kill.

“Where is UrGoh?” he inquired very loudly

“Little busy here!” Rian grunted, throwing himself to the floor to avoid being struck, only now he found himself in a vulnerable position, laying in the dirt.

SkekGra moved between Rian and the Garthim, he did not like to ruin another’s fun but felt it was appropriate to step in. Grabbing the dark creations clawed arm he ripped the appendage out of its socket, a trench of bile opened, splattering on those who got too close. As the bloody fluid emptied the reanimated being became nothing but a husk like the last one.

SkekGra put out his hand to help the little gelfling rise. Rian breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have been saved in the nik of time. “I am afraid I don’t know where UrGoh is. Aren’t you always with him?”

“We don’t always have to be together. It’s a choice" he rebutted, feeling a little insulted at Rians assumption that he was so dependent, maybe he was just defensive because it was true.

“We will find him. You’re alive so he must be fine” Rian reasoned. He had spotted another beetle monster scurrying towards a hollowed out tree that acted as a safe haven for gelfling to hide.

“Help me to push these guys back enough so the others can escape"

“Push them back? Gelfling with talk like that you will never beat the Skeksis. Were going to kill them" SkekGra said, rather aggressively stealing a sward from a trembling gelfling soilder.

Weak, he would never had allowed such a gelfling in his ranks before, but now days he didn’t have the luxury of choosing who fought. Everyone who could had to stand against the Skeksis.

Rian was a little hesitant to get chose to SkekGra, it was like a switch went off and the Skeksis was a totally different being. He seemed so.. combative. He was clearly looking for a fight.

With a large smile SkekGra bounded towards the fight shirking loudly like a war cry. He ran head first into one of the Garthim, pushing it far back, away from the rest so they’re attacks out be out of sync. He knew better than to take on too many at once, he needed to separate them first.

It had been so long since he last gripped a sward, this one was so light it felt like wielding a feather but he was energized none the less, lashing and cutting the blade through the east with his great power. The sward was left with dent after dent, too flimsy to withstand the impact of blade against the Garthim shell.

With his hands he tore the Garthims legs from its body, then proceeded with the other limbs until it was lifeless like the rest. Still SkekGra took out some pent up frustrations on the beast, thinking it was probably the only thing as monstrous as he was.

He flinched when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder then turned to see UrGoh standing there next to him.

“I..t….I….s .. D…o…ne…” UrGoh urged his Skeksis counterpart away from the bloody pulp that was the monsters body.

He noticed his better half had very bloody knuckles, immediately he grew concerned that he had been attacked before realizing it was his own over zealous attacking that had damaged both their bodies.

SkekGra clenched his blood covered fists “..I hurt us again" he whispered very shamefully, getting a sympathetic look from the mystic “I…d..I..dn..t… e..v…en.. f…ee..l.. I…t.” UrGoh gave him an understanding pat on the shoulder and smiled.

As the adrenaline left his body SkekGra noticed the gelfling that had surrounded them, drawn in by the commotion.

SkekGra suddenly felt very exposed. He imagined he must look even more terrifying then he had before, covered in blood and allowing them to see a suppressed violent side to him.

“Heretic that was amazing! I didn’t know you had it in you!” Rian said excitedly and out of breath. He and a small army of gelfling were able to handle the other Grathim.

“What is going on here?” Brea walked towards her Skeksis friend, handing the injured soilder to a vapran herbal master to aid him.

“The Heretic took out two Grathim all on your own!”

“Three!” a Drenchen gelfling from earlier shouted, the very one SkekGra has pried from the beast at first arrival. “I had my doubts about you Heretic, but I am glad to have you on our side"

SkekGra was surprised by the warm reception he was getting.

“you know what this means?!” an unnamed gelfling shouted from the crowd “Were saved!” the chatter was rising along with excitement levels.

“He can be our secret weapon against the Garthim!”

“He can take the Skeksis head on!”

“I am glad he is on our side!”

“SkekGra the good!” the gelflings cheered and chanted. SkekGras eyes were wide, they weren’t afraid. They liked him.. despite being a Skeksis and all the pain he and his kind had caused.

He knew his nature, knew he was capable of horrible things. He would use his strength to help the gelfling he once conquered and with their help become closer to one day being whole.

[keywestlou]

IMPOSSIBLE TO CONQUER AFGHANISTAN

The United States, the most powerful nation on Earth, finds it difficult to extract it own people and friends from Afghanistan. Not surprising.

Other nations have failed in confrontations with Afghanistan. As far back as Alexander the Great. Great Britain and Russia, also. So why would it be surprising the U.S. failed?

Leaving in defeat unquestionably an embarrassment. If a great nations such as the U.S. has spent 20 years in a country as small as Afghanistan and not defeated the “enemy,” something is wrong. There is a message here.

We beat the big guys in World War II. Germany and Japan. What war have we won since? North Korea never capitulated. Even to this day. Whatever may have been signed or agreed to is not “adhered to” by the enemy. Kim Jung Un continues to do what he wants when he wants.

Vietnam was the worst. A war against a smaller country, a war that went on too long also. The Vietnamese whipped our ass.

The U.S. departure from Saigon an embarrassment. I thought nothing could be more embarrassing that Americans and supporters en mass on the roof of the Saigon Embassy clawing their way to get the next U.S. helicopter out. While the enemy was below shooting up at them.

I was wrong regarding emergency removals. Afghanistan in recent days worse than the rooftop scene in Saigon. Here the American planes are huge. On the tarmac in Kabul. Taking off with hundreds of people holding onto whatever they could grab on the side of the plane or running along while the plane is taking off in hopes of getting on somehow.

I blame no one and yet blame everyone. Each President during the Vietnam and Afghanistan wars. Their military and other advisers in both wars.

We never got it right.

Eisenhower’s philosophy was you go in with a superior force. As he did on D-Day. No pussy footing around. Use more military than needed. Use all sorts of weaponry short of nuclear.

There is a key to insure against defeat by a minor nation. Don’t get involved in a war with one!

Big day today. On this day in 1969, the Woodstock Music Festival ended. After three days of peace, love, and rock ‘n roll.

Key West’s Larry Smith and Christine Cordone were there. Had to be college age at the time. It was 52 years ago.

Both are still performing strong and enjoying their life’s work.

Grace has abandoned the U.S. Decided not to engage us in her path. Her path is now taking her south of Cuba and into the Gulf.

Where is Henri? Significant reporting re Henri yesterday. Today, I came across none. Henri is the new kid on the block. Still gaining strength.

There is a saying let sleeping dogs lie. I would also throw in what goes around comes around.

Cuomo announced his resignation as Governor last week. An ultimate type punishment.

The Speaker of the New York Assembly is the second most powerful person in New York following the Governor. Speaker Heastie announced friday that the Assewmbly’s investigation of Cuomo would close. There would be no further move to impeach Cuomo.

Cuomo would go quietly into the night. He had no friends on either side of the aisle. Nor anywhere for that mater.

The announcement by the Speaker was friday. Over the weekend, bipartisan outrage exploded. Everyone unhappy. Cuomo needed further punishment. Everything short of burning him at the stake like Joan of Arc.

Speaker Heastie apparently is lacking in brass testicles. He is the boss. He is the second most powerful man in the State. Yet he capitulated to the mob. He advised yesterday he was reversing his position. The investigation would go on and a report released.

Strange! The purpose of the investigation and report could only be used to impeach Governor Cuomo. I ask, how do you impeach a governor who is no longer governor?

The U.S. national debt is now $21 trillion. China has been the U.S.’ #1 creditor in previous years. No more. China has been replaced by Japan. China is now #2.

The dollars owed each minuscule in comparison to the total national debt of $28 trillion. Japan is owed a mere $1.2 trillion and China $1.06 trillion.

Coronavirus numbers for Key West and the Keys continue to trend upward.

The surge is causing concern. Should Key West for example continue planning major events or cancel them now. A meeting to discuss the issue will take place at 5 pm today in City Hall. On the table are Fantasy Fest, the offshore power boat races, and the December holiday parade.

Keys data reflects 504 new COVID-19 cases last week. Yesterday alone, 69 new cases.

All Keys’ numbers by week or day contain 13 children who have become infected.

Not every country has reacted to government intervention to control the virus as people in the U.S. have. Many have. Sluggishly. However there are others in varying degrees who have not.

New Zealand has a Prime Minister and people who have their heads on straight.

New Zealand’s Prime Minister is Jacinda Ardern. Her country’s population is 5 million. Since the pandemic began, New Zealand has had less than 3,000 cases, with only 26 of that number dying.

The country did lockdowns and took other measures. The population with few exceptions did what was necessary to protect themselves.

New Zealand has been clean since February. No new cases till this weekend. One. The Prime Minister immediately announced the country would be in lockdown for 3 days. Note again, for only one infection since Ffebruary.

The Prime Minister suspects the one infection of the Delta variant.

The one infected person is a 58 year old New Zealander who went unvaccinated. His business required him to travel around New Zealand.

Lockdown in New Zealand means everyone must stay home. Busineses will be closed also except for essential services such as groceries and pharmaceuticals.

Today is tuesday. Means my blog talk radio show tonight. Tuesday Talk with Key West Lou. Join me at 9 pm for my observations re local, national and world events. Observations delivered with a kick!

Guaranteed you will enjoy. www.blogtalkradio.com/key-west-lou.

Enjoy your day!

  IMPOSSIBLE TO CONQUER AFGHANISTAN was originally published on Key West Lou

[fictrashheap]

Dancing with the Devil : Interlude

So apparently people are still into this fic. Since I’ve forgotten my ff.net account password, I decided to post here instead. I haven’t seen all of season 5 yet but it looks amazing.

Um, yeah.

This is a quick blurb after the last chapter left off. I edited it for my own sanity as the writing is ten years old. (Holy crap) It’s a little spicy but nothing explicitly nsfw.

Okay yeah so ,without further ado, have some sad Jack/Aku

"Why do you resist, samurai?" 

Jack opened his eyes to gaze at Aku who still sat comfortably in his arms, mere inches from the floor,. The warrior lowered his gaze to stare at his foe's loosely tied jacket and inhaled the scents of fresh timber, smoke, and soap from their recently washed sheets. For a moment he found the day and all its revelations and consequences suddenly and agonizingly unbearable. A despairing sense of failure bore down on him as he gazed at the buttons on Aku's vest. He didn't want to decide, he didn't want to think.

The quality of silence changed. Jack drew the wizard up to a standing position and retreated to the other side of the room, face to the wall.

"Because it is the right thing to do," he said.

Aku laughed derisively and walked unsteadily to the fireplace. His shadow leapt onto the side of the wall and danced with the fire's light. It wasn’t a man’s shadow.

Jack caught the display out of the corner of his eye and swallowed thickly. The raw weakness unnerved him. He chanced a glimpse over his shoulder as the wizard suddenly collapsed into the chair again, legs stretched limply in parallel to the fireplace. He turned back to the wall and concentrated on its texture, its coldness, its color and design. But the pull to look was irresistible.

"I want this to stop right now, Aku."

No movement, no sound.

The samurai turned around. "Did you hear me, demon? No more. This is an insult to everything either of us stand for. Do you not see? It is..."

"Stop, samurai." 

Aku raised his hand and made a cutting gesture. The silhouette of his arm looked as thin and feeble as a branch. Jack opened his mouth to refuse, but he couldn’t find the words.

“Come here where I can see you.”

The peculiar mix of authority and resignation drew Jack from his tirade and he gazed warily at the demon's black silhouette. There was something awful about tonight, a terrible sense of destiny, of irrevocable choice, and suddenly Jack was terrified of himself. Of Aku. Of their weaknesses.

Only when the sudden flare of firelight stung Jack's eyes did he realize he had walked towards the chair. Angry with himself, the samurai glared down at Aku. The demon sat listless in his seat as if there was not a single bone in his body. Light and shadow shifted on the wizard's face and contrasted the eerie stillness of his eyes. Eyes that gazed at Jack now, unreadable and appraising.

"Why do you meddle?" The samurai asked, genuinely puzzled. "You are repulsed by this yet you must meddle. Why?"

Aku favored him a faint smile, then stared into the fire. "It is the way of my kind."

"The way of your kind is the source of all our problems," Jack retorted. "Perhaps it is time to put those ways to rest." 

Aku dig his fingers into the furniture. It made him look strangely vulnerable. His mouth twitched but he refrained from replying. Instead he forced himself out of his chair and withdrew into the dim recesses of the room where their beds sat dark and empty. The crumple of sheets announced the demon sprawling on the mattress.

Jack exhaled heavily. "Do not pout now that I have breached the truth."

Aku released a hiss. "I do not pout, samurai. I have hidden nothing from you that must be breached at this very moment."

"Why did you come to me?" Jack moved back towards the two beds. He gripped his sword as a precaution, uncertain what greeting he would receive. The demon merely spared him a venomous glance.

"You are so certain about my nature, do you not think the opposite is true?"

The samurai sat on his own bed. "You knew I would try to save you."

"Yes." The wizard lay limply on his bed, eyes nearly lost to the darkness. "Your greatest weakness is your feelings for others. It is how I will conquer you in the end."

"You have not conquered me yet."

"I still need you."

Jack stiffened but instead of leaping to the challenge, he mirrored his nemesis. "What if you need me later?"

Aku's lips twitched like he suppressed a smile. "Then, samurai, I suppose it would be too late for either of us, hmm?" His eyes swiveled back to stare at Jack. "Tell me," his voice regained some of his demonic resonance, "is this desirable to you? Am I?"

Jack blanched. That was answer enough.

The wizard laughed and revealed a mouth full of bone white teeth. "Ha haah! Oh samurai, you do amuse me." He rolled onto his side so they faced each other. "Why is it that you seek out Aku when you could have countless others?" It sounded too humble, so the demon added, "Not that they can compare."

"There is no honor in such a thing. I would not wish my life on anyone."

"Honor, yesss." Aku’s mouth slowly stretched into a grin. "I saved your life in Brii. You owe me a debt."

"That is a terrible thing to ask of me."

"Since when has Aku been anything but terrible?"

"Do not toy with me, demon." Jack stiffened and turned away to avoid the suggestion between them. "I will not let you use my honor this way."

"It is a little late for false indignation now, samurai."

"I am not the one who walks in a false body," Jack returned curtly.

"Ah?" The demon perked at that and he leaned forward. "What is that supposed to mean, samurai? Do…" his eyes positively gleamed, "do you wish to see my true form?"

"No!" Jack shut his eyes and clenched his fists. "I want..." He opened his eyes again, stalled when he and Aku were suddenly very close. "I want none of this." He finished softly, belatedly aware that their conversation might be overheard. "You would only betray me."

"I would and I will," Aku replied. He smiled unabashed and withdrew from Jack's personal space. "You would die for Ikra."

"Ikra was an illusion," the samurai retorted, all benevolence gone. "She was just a lie."

"How is this lie different?" Aku cocked his head as he sat down on his mattress. They stared at each other across the gulf between their beds.

"I will not serve a lie."

"You will not love a lie." The demon smiled his crocodile grin. "Does that mean you will serve the truth?"

Jack's angry expression deepened. "I should have let you die."

"But you did not."                

"No," Jack admitted and released a great sigh. "And I live with the consequences every day."

"Bah! A mortal's life is defined by weakness, why must you despair over yours so completely? It is pathetic. Are all heroes like you?" The demon looked at Jack square in the eye. "Was your father?"

"Do not speak ill of my family." Jack rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Of all the insults I will tolerate, that is not one of them."

"So you will simply wander this world praying that your useless father will provide meaning to a life lead so hopelessly out of context?" Aku didn't smile. He didn't have to. "That is a pitiful existence, samurai. You live off the charity of the dead."

"You wish to speak of the dead?" Jack was on his feet, furious and deafening. “My family suffered and died because of you. Their blood is on your hands."

"And I feel nothing," the demon said. "You envy that more than anything." He did grin and cocked his head to give the samurai a sly glance out of the corner of his eye. "It is the one thing you will never be able to learn."

Darkness steadily devoured the details of the room. Jack looked to the fire and saw it had burned low and glowed beneath the ashes. He crossed the room and prodded the ashes with the poker provided. When it was sufficiently roused, he took another few logs from the bundle he had purchased and threw them in. Aku approached from behind but he ignored his nemesis. He wasn’t ready. The faces of his mother and father still burned in his mind. His skin felt hot. His entire body was alight with shame.

"Leave me be," he commanded.

Aku stepped into his personal space. Hands crept onto his shoulders.

"I said leave me be!" Jack spun around to shake off Aku's grip, poker firmly in hand. "I will not be your toy."

"And what are you going to do with that, samurai?" The wizard gestured to the poker. "Your parents would..."

With a speed that astonished them both, Jack's free hand clutched Aku's throat and brought them close. "Do not even say it," he snarled quietly. "Do not dare."

Had Aku been human, he surely would have choked. Instead the demon met the ultimatum with a terrifying smile. "What will you do, samurai?"

They regarded each other in that stance for several weighty minutes. Jack opened his mouth to say something but the words lodged in his throat. He had no other recourse. Everything and everyone he had known and loved was gone. There was only one constant left. And even Aku was slipping from his grip.

That frightened him. His entire life had been defined by separation. By accident of birth, by fate, by necessity.  He didn’t want to be alone in a future without his people or the creature that destroyed them. It would destroy him.

“Hate you,” he said eventually. He gazed at the ceiling and the demon saw firelight reflect off of unshed tears. “What other choice am I left with?”

“You do not hate me. Not for this.” Aku laughed low in his throat and it reverberated through the walls. "I have been what I have always been. You are the one who has changed."

Jack didn't respond.

Aku reached up and coaxed the fingers around his throat to ease. There was no resistance. He smiled knowingly and closed the gap between them. "Just a few months ago, you would have never allowed me to come so close." He ran his fingers up Jack's shoulders, allowed the ghostly suggestion of claws to make the samurai squirm in discomfort. Both knew those hands had slain greater creatures. "You should be flattered. It is not often an unworthy human creature catches Aku's attention."

"You were defeated by such an unworthy human creature," Jack parried.

Aku snarled and pressed his hands against the samurai's shoulders. Neither of them flinched when blood began to slither down Jack's skin.

"Such impudence." Aku smiled reluctantly, pride stung. He released Jack's shoulders but allowed himself to be pulled close. They stood face to face, breathing each other's breath.

Jack sets his jaw. "One day I will destroy you."

"We will see, samurai."

Jack moved first, quick and commanding. His lips sealed over Aku's before he could add a snide remark. It was a disconcerting jumble of pleasure, revulsion, and uncertainty. Jack had some experience in such things but he felt young and unsure again. Aku seemed to share his bewilderment. The demon possessed an almost limitless knowledge in harming the human body and nearly none in pleasuring it.

As always the sensation of something inhuman lurked just beneath Jack's fingertips. The cutting knowledge what he touched was only a mask for something else.

It was awkward. Neither of them were submissive personalities but unexpected differences defied reason or previous experience, and they had only each other to turn for guidance. Only urgency pushed things forward. Jack closed his eyes and ran his hands down the demon's body. Every texture, every curve was too perfect, so perfect he felt repulsed. But beneath that, something rippled under his fingertips. Something strange and alive and unbelievably real answered his touch, and demanded a response. The same hands that made him bleed clutched his back and kept him close. The same tongue that foretold his ruin licked his neck.

Jack forced Aku's head back. His nemesis smiled wickedly at his own conquest and arched his back until they were but one creature. Questing hands discovered latches to the demon's armor and without a guiding eye, began to unbuckle the first of many layers. The wizard tried to speak, but Jack kissed him again. As punishment, inhuman fingers tore his hair down around his shoulders. Jack pulled away and stared into Aku's eyes just as mail fell to the floor.


"These things are illusions, samurai."

"I know," Jack reached for Aku's leather vest. "But do not tell me you want to keep them on."

The demon's dark smile was answer enough. He never broke eye contact as the samurai's rough fingers slipped beneath his clothing and gently pushed them off his shoulders. Neither flinched when Aku tore the white belt around Jack's waist and all the final barriers fluttered around his ankles.

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Something extraordinary was going on. Jack looked down. Once that line was crossed there would be no redrawing it. He stared at his nemesis draped in his human illusion. Green eyes looked back. Such cold, curious green eyes.

Had Aku asked anything of him at that moment, he could not have refused. 

Then Aku reached out to him. And he did not refuse.

It was like dying. The same uncompromising surrender to power. Jack closed his eyes, but the myriad of sensations penetrated flesh and thought. Jack could feel primal flickers beneath his fingertips. He could feel an inhuman presence lap up his thoughts, permeate them; caught within the same rhythm, but too vast to be completely consumed.

Flashes of truth. Talons beneath his fingertips, deadly strength beneath submission, deadlier amusement. Aku, was not of the natural world. He felt no love, he felt no compassion, but if Jack closed his eyes, he could ignore the absolute sight of it. He could imagine supple flesh was just that and turn away from dark intellect working underneath him. Wanting him. Because wanting was destroying.  

Yet he wanted to see that darkness, too. Wanted to understand it. Know it. And some day, transform it.   

[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.