#so keep thirsting over your white men and keep your opinions on my boy in your bt discord servers

[absolutelybifurious]

No one except certified Eddie stans are allowed to have an opinion of how this arc goes I’m in my gatekeeping era if your blog is nothing but t*van and t*mmy gifs and your out here having opinions on how Eddie’s shit is resolved that’s actually illegal I just made it a law ok bye

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Never Let Me Go: Part 1 of 2

Summary/Author's Notes: Confession time. I have been @stevieharrrr 's "Daily Carrillo Thirst Anon" for some time now. Y'all seemed to really want this! So, after some idea bouncing, friendly threatening, and overall caps-lock screaming at one another, this is my poker chip that I am raising Stevie in the Carrillo feels war. (This takes place in season 2... episode 4)

Pairing: Col. Horacio Carrillo x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+ -- SMUT, oral f!receiving, fingering, THICC CARRILLO ARMS/HANDS, language, violence, CHARACTER DEATH (I'm not kidding with this one y'all, I know it fucks me up when I read it in fic so you have been warned.) Cannon-divergence, this is a FIX IT FIC, if that makes you feel better. Gif by @el-cheung

And the questions I have for a sinner like me

But the arms of the ocean deliver me

MASTERLIST

Being married to Horacio had never been easy. You had lost count of the number of times you had moved, the number of houses you both had tried to make a home, and the number of times you had almost thrown in the towel. The key word being almost.

Colonel Horacio Carillo was a man's man. If anyone opened up a dictionary and looked up the word 'brave', a picture of your husband would be underneath. Along with the word reckless, cunning, ruthless, and a whole slew of other things that his superiors like to throw in his face when something didn't go according to plan. His strong resolve kept the underlying volcano of his rage carefully under wraps. And if you asked the man himself, he would attribute it entirely to you. According to him, the moment he put that ring on your finger was the moment he had a reason to not give in to his unbridled savagery, his desire to get the job done no matter what it cost. And so far, you were okay with that. You could play the dutiful wife on the sidelines, you could be his anchor, because as soon as his feet crossed the threshold of your home, he was no longer Bogetà's Atlas. He finally got to take all of Columbia off of his shoulders and fall into your waiting arms.

And that's the reason when you received the call that he would be working late for the third night in a row, you decided to do something about it. Hanging up the phone, you got dressed, pulling that small floral print dress that he loved so much over your head. You shimmied it down your ass and it just ghosted the middle of your thighs. The small pink and red flowers on top of the wispy white fabric made your skin look softer somehow, grabbable--at least that's what your husband had told you the first time you wore it out to the farmer's market. You picked up the phone again and called in his favorite take out from the small shop around the corner, balancing the receiver against your shoulder as you put on a touch of makeup and a bright pink lip stain.

By the time you arrived, the precinct was winding down for the night. A few of the regulars were standing around, and there was a general uneasiness in the air. Your high heels clicked against the laminate floor and it sounded way too loud, making you second guess your apparel.

"Mhm, what's that smell?"

Javier Peña turned from his pair of desks as you made your way across the office with the bag of takeout hanging over your forearm, your car keys jingling in your hand.

"Good evening, boys," you gave a small wave at the two DEA agents and continued on your path.

"Where's mine?" Steve Murphy, Javier's partner asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Sorry, Steve," you laughed softly, walking backwards a couple of steps. "Next time, okay?"

"Carrillo's a lucky son of a bitch!" Steve called after you and you shook your head feeling your cheeks blush. Javier mumbled something undoubtedly crude under his breath and Steve elbowed him in the ribs drawing a grunt from his partner before they both sat back to work.

Boys. That's what the two of them were and you weren't sure how Horacio put up with it all day. You raised a hand and tapped your knuckles against the glass bearing your own last name.

"Come in."

His voice made your shoulders relax. You let out a breath that you felt like you had been holding for the last three days, and walked into his office, closing the door behind you.

Colonel Carrillo looked up from the stack of papers on his desk and his eyes widened. Clearly expecting literally anyone but you to walk through his office door and it was humorous just how quickly his stoic persona melted in front of your eyes. He stood up abruptly, taking off his glasses and saying softly, "Mi amor?"

"Hey," you said, setting the to-go bag on a clear spot of his desk. "I thought you might be hungry."

"You didn't have to do this," he said, still looking surprised that you were actually standing in front of him. He stopped down as you offered your cheek to him and he gave it a small peck.

"I know."

"Ernesto's?" He raised an eyebrow and looked into the bag, inhaling deeply.

"Mhm," you nodded, reaching in and taking out the styrofoam boxes one at a time.

Carrillo rubbed his chin, looking you over slowly before shaking his head with a grin. "Thank you." He walked around the desk slowly, twisting the string on the blinds to his office window until they closed fully. You didn't look up from your task of setting out dinner until you heard the firm 'click' of the lock on the door.

"Horacio?" You asked over your shoulder as he rubbed his palms together and walked back over to you.

"So we won't be bothered," he said simply with a shrug and you nodded.

"When is the last time you ate?" You asked, lifting an eyebrow at him.

"I had coffee this morning." He admitted rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. You knew you were the only one that ever got to see that flicker of embarrassment in his eyes, like he had somehow disappointed you. He didn't give a damn what anyone else thought of his actions, but your opinion was always held in his highest regard.

"Coffee is not a food group. How many times do I have to tell you that?" You said, pressing your lips together in a tight line.

"Of course it is. Because you know what I'm like without it." He chuckled.

"Oh, I absolutely do," you laughed. "A bear in a uniform--"

Your hands paused on the food as you felt his large arms slide around your waist, his tender lips finding their way to the base of your neck. Was he trying to distract you from your current annoyance at his poor excuse for nutrition? Maybe. Was it working? Also maybe.

"I haven't seen this dress in awhile," he mumbled against your skin, removing one of his arms to pull your hair to the side and out of his way. He kissed his way up your neck then back down to your shoulder, soft feather light touches that made your eyes close for a brief second.

"You haven't been home in awhile." It was meant as a joke, a harmless jest, but your smile fell as you felt him tense behind you. You turned in his arms slowly, putting both hands on his broad chest. "I didn't mean it like that." You whispered, fingers playing along the collar of his army green button up. Your fingers traced the path against the embroidered name badge over his heart and you wished you hadn't said anything. The moments you did get together lately were so brief that any that weren't dedicated to loving one another felt like time wasted.

He didn't want to be gone all of the time. He made sure you knew that. The war on Escobar wouldn't wait just because one man's wife was missing him. There were plenty of men who never returned home. Escobar had left many widows in the wake of his cocaine empire and every time the man in front of you walked through the door and into your arms you thanked your lucky stars. You didn't believe in much, but you thanked every deity that might have been listening for keeping him safe.

"I know," he said, trying to give you a smile but unable to keep the sadness off of the edges.

"Come on," you said, nodding to the food. "It's gonna get cold."

"Not yet."

He kept his arms firmly planted around your waist, his hands slipping lower to take two huge handfuls of your ass. The movement made the dress lift slightly, the material bunching in his grip. You gave him a surprised look and he bit his lip, playfully waggling his eyebrows at you. It made you giggle. God, how you missed him when he wasn't home. This playful, boyish side of him that made you walk on air. The side of him that made it seem like you both were young and in love and didn't live in a war torn country.

"I thought you were hungry?" You asked as he continued his way up your neck to the shell of your ear.

"I am." He worked his way back down, kissing the tops of your breasts as he walked you a step backwards against his desk. "But not for take out."

"Even Ernesto's?" You gave a mock gasp of shock and smiled, letting your fingers card through his hair as he pulled the scoop neck of your dress down and squeezed your breast in his large hand. "I thought it was your favorite!"

"There's something I like more," he said, looking up at you with dark brown eyes, refusing to lift his lips from the mound of your breasts. It made the heat rise to your cheeks.

"Here?" You asked and as a response he reached around you and shoved a stack of files off of his desk and to the ground with a loud clunk.

"Yes. Here." His words were firm and he shoved a few books off of the desk to join the papers on the floor. He gripped your waist and picked you up to sit you on the edge of his desk, nudging your thighs open with his knee and standing between them. "Think you can be quiet, dulzura?"

"You know the answer to that," you giggled again, cupping his face in both of your hands as he closed in on you. You were not a quiet lover and he often told you it was one of his favorite things. The way you said his name as he brought you through your orgasm was his most favorite song and he liked when it was turned up loud.

You reached for the front of his dark slacks, palming the bulge at the front of his pants and he gripped your wrist with a shake of his head. "Not yet," he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed it before putting it back on the desk. He put his hands up the dress and gripped your underwear, sliding them over your hips and down your legs. The lace got tangled on the heel of your pump and you kicked them off with a shake of your foot.

"Kiss me again," you demanded with a shaky breath and he happily obliged.

His tongue slipped inside your mouth as one arm held you tightly and his other hand went up your dress. His thick fingers pressed against your labia and you moaned into his mouth as he began to run them up and down, slowly spreading your wetness. He pressed your clit and you jolted, it was too much too quickly and you gripped his neck.

"Mi amor?" He asked and when you hummed in response he continued. "Lift your dress."

You did as you were told. With excited hands and a hammering heart, he helped you pull the soft material up over your thighs, letting it bunch around your waist as he went to his knees in front of you. Those dark, chocolate colored eyes that you loved with all of your heart never strayed from your own as he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder. He let out a small noise of content as you ran your fingers through his hair and the noise carried over as he pressed his mouth to your aching cunt. With a gasp and your head thrown back, your hair cascading down your back, your husband would have said that you looked like a vision--if his mouth wasn't already preoccupied.

Carrillo's hands slid around each of your thighs, kneading the soft flesh and keeping them wide open for his broad shoulders to sit comfortably in the middle. His tongue slipped through your wet pussy like it had a hundred times before, but it still made you moan his name softly to the empty office around you. Your husband may have been a man of few words, but he liked to say he used his mouth for much more precious things.

He sucked each of your folds separately, a soft pop sound coming each time he moved to the next spot. When he finally closed his mouth around your clit, you gasped sharply and grabbed his hand that was resting on top of your thigh and squeezed it.

"There?" He mumbled from between your legs and you nodded.

"There. Right there."

"Right there. Mhmm, I see," he teased your desperation but continued to oblige your request. He worked his jaw against you in such a way that you imagined he was coating his face with your juices like you were the most delicious of fruits. The wonderfully crude image made your cunt twitch and he groaned.

He kept a firm grip on your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he continued to suck your clit. You wanted so much more right now. You wanted his cock inside of you. You wanted his hand around your neck. You wanted him to flip you over and take your ass. Suddenly you wished more than anything that the two of you were home so you didn't have to pick what you wanted most, you just had to pick which one you wanted first.

"Horacio," you moaned his name, rocking your hips forward gently against his chin. You bit your lip and closed your eyes, the feeling of how well he knew your body started to overwhelm you. In the years you had been together he had taken so much time memorizing every spot that made you sigh, every place that made you break out in goosebumps, and every series of movements that had you falling apart in his arms.

He loved you fully, completely, and unconditionally.

The orgasm he brought you with his mouth took you from your thoughts as you clenched your thighs around his head suddenly. "I'm cuming!" You gasped desperately just before you felt the rush of heat flood your core down through your legs. It made you bend forward over him and open your eyes, moaning loudly as you saw him looking up at you, watching you orgasm in his hands as his mouth continued to ravage your aching cunt.

"Come on, baby," he squeezed your hand, feeling you clench again against his mouth and it was too much.

"Stop, stop," you said with a shaky voice to match your quivering legs. You grabbed two fistfuls of his button up and pulled, making him get to his feet and slam his mouth against yours.

He grunted against your lips as you pushed your tongue into his mouth, greedily tasting your own wetness on him. He cursed quietly in Spanish as you pulled his shirt, untucking it from the waistband of his pants. Your hands went to his belt and you slowed down, suddenly remembering you were in the precinct.

"Do--" you swallowed hard, trying to breathe normally as you spoke against his face. "Do you have time?"

"For you? Siempre," he slid his fingers in your hair at your temple and cradled the back of your head. "Siempre, mi amor."

Always.

You blushed a little, your fingers starting to unbutton his shirt as he kissed you gently and kept hold of your hair. With each button your heart raced faster, you smiled against his lips as he slipped his tongue back inside your mouth, expertly colliding it with your own. His kisses always felt like they were going to devour you from the inside out. He kissed with such an intensity that you knew from the first time he pressed his mouth to yours all those years ago you would willingly allow him to consume you.

You clenched your thighs around his waist and let your heels drop to the floor behind him. He ran his hand down the curve of your ass and hitched your leg further up on his hip, dipping you down to lay on his desk. He grinned down at you and started to open his mouth to say something but was stopped short by a hurried knock against the glass.

"Carrillo!" Javier called from the other side of the office door.

"Go away," he returned, throwing his voice in the direction of the door, leaning down to kiss your breasts.

"Messina needs us. We got a hit off of the wire taps--it could be Escobar." There was a pause as he tried the door but it was still locked. "We gotta go!"

Carrillo's shoulders fell slightly and ran a hand over his face before helping you sit up. "Coming!" He helped you pull your dress over your breasts and started buttoning his shirt back up. "Lo siento, mi amor." He said quietly and you shook your head.

"It's okay." You bit your lip as you watched him tuck his shirt back into his pants and he hissed softly. "Sorry about that," you nodded towards the bulge against his zipper as he did his belt.

He chuckled and kissed you on the cheek, bending over to pick up your thong and held it out to you in offering. "I'm not. It'll give me something to look forward to when this search comes up empty like all of the others."

You took your underwear from him and smiled as you slipped off of his desk and put them back on. "I take it I should put the food in the fridge?"

He nodded and put his hands on his hips as he watched you fondly finish redressing. "I'll be home late."

You cupped his face giving his cheek a gentle pat and a nod. "And I'll be asleep." You smiled as best you could but you knew he could see the twinge of sadness in the corners of your mouth. The number of times he crawled into bed in the wee hours of the morning far outweighed the number of times the two of you got to go to bed at the same time.

Carrillo grabbed your hand before you could turn away and kissed your knuckles, squeezing your hand as tightly as he could without hurting you. As he walked to the door and unlocked it, he looked over his shoulder and said seriously, "I love you."

"I love you, too," you barely managed to get out before he unlocked the door and he and Javier walked briskly down the hall, leaving you to tidy up and head home.

--

When the knock at your front door came, you were already in bed and sound asleep. The oscillating fan of your bedroom was breathing a cool breeze across your body as you snuggled deeper into the comforter. The bed hugged you like it knew you better than anyone else in the world, and apart from your husband, it probably did. The knock came again and you groaned because it meant that you hadn't been dreaming about the first one.

You leaned up and pushed your hair to the side, looking at the side table that held your alarm clock and a lamp. "Fuck," you mumbled as bright red numbers told you it was almost three in the morning. Three AM? Where the hell was Horacio? You touched his side of the bed as if to confirm what your eyes were already telling you--he still hadn't come home.

The knock came again.

"Shit," you cursed again, turning on the lamp and opening the drawer to grab the hand gun that you knew was there.

The 9mm felt cool in the palm of your hand as you checked the magazine for ammo before slamming it into place and pulling the cartridge back to slide a single bullet down the chamber. You grabbed your robe and wrapped it around your shoulders, tying it tightly and hurrying across the bedroom barefoot. You saw the flashing red and blue lights outside the front room window as they ran along the walls of your home, chasing each other over and over, casting shadows on the entire room. The fact that there were no sirens paired with them made you feel uneasy--that was never a good sign.

The knock came again, this time it was apparent that whoever it was was pounding their fist against the wooden paneling of the door. Leaning up on your tip-toes you looked out the peephole and recognized the somber face of Javier Peña. You hurried and put the gun on the table in the mudroom before flinging open the front door and asking him accusingly.

"Javi?? Do you have any idea what time it is?" Your voice sounded foreign even to you. Your heart hammered against your ribs as your eyes frantically searched the two police cars behind him for your husband.

"(Y/n)..." Javier said quietly as he leaned against your door frame, one hand in the pocket of his leather jacket.

"What's wrong?" You said as he shifted uncomfortably on your doorstep. In the back of your mind you already knew what he was about to tell you, but you wanted him to say it. If he didn't say the words out loud then they would never become real. The news he was about to give you was a stone, and unless he threw it, it would never be allowed to shatter your entire existence.

"There's been an accident." He said flatly, forcing himself to look you in the eyes. You glanced over his shoulder and saw Steve leaning against the hood of the Jeep with his arms crossed, looking at the ground. The other officers in uniform wouldn't look at you either and you knew your next question was a foolish one.

"Is he hurt?" You asked in a meek voice. Hurt you could handle. Hurt you could work with. But you knew before you even opened the door tonight that hoping that he was only hurt was a faulicy that your brain entertained purely to keep you from fainting on the hardwood floor.

"(Y/n)," Javier tried again, moving his arms from the door frame as he started to put his hands on your shoulders.

"I need to see him," you blurted out as Javi's hands clasped your biceps. You tried to shove him off. If he touched you, it was over. If he held you it was all over. If Horacio Carrillo was alive then he would have already told you to get dressed and get in the car. No, comfort meant trying to diffuse the ticking time bomb that was a woman about to learn that she was a widow.

"I can't--" Javier tried and you jerked your arms out of his grasp.

"Take me to him, Javi. Let me see him!"

"I can't do that. There's nothing--"

"Shut up! Don't you dare--" you raised your hands and he was faster than you and grabbed both of your wrists, holding them to his chest. "Don't you fucking dare! Where is he? Where's my husband--"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated as you finally gave in.

He kept his hands on your arms as your knees buckled out from under you and you slowly sank to the concrete stoop. Javi followed you down, pulling you against his leather jacket and letting you scream against his chest. You would have screamed all night if your vocal cords would have allowed it. But it wasn't long before the screaming turned to sobs and the sobbing turned to silent gasps as your body couldn't seem to figure out the appropriate noise to make to express your anguish.

You felt his voice against your hair as he spoke Spanish softly in your ear. Only catching half of it, you nodded helplessly as he told you it had been a quick death, that it was no secret around the office how deeply Horacio loved you, and other forms of condolence that didn't do a damn thing to stop the meticulous tearing of your heart within your chest.

He was gone. Not even twelve hours ago he had been in your hands, against your skin, warm and alive and looking at you with those gorgeous brown eyes. And now...nothing. You felt Javi's hand in your hair as you heard Steve's boots approaching the both of you quietly and respectfully. They were trying. They had been saddled with the task of telling you because they were friends of the Colonel. But as the tears started up again and you felt Javi's arms tighten around your shoulders, you desperately wished they belonged to someone else.

--

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[dweetwise]

yes hello i am back on my bullshit again, presenting you yet another felix x ace! (also i’m taking the creative liberty to call the ship riconti because it sounds like a cheese or something and i found it funny) anyways, this one is just me thirsting over the oktoberfest skin through ace, ft. some suggestive language but no nsfw!

word count: 2781

Felix X Ace: Clothes make the man

The whole thing starts as an offhand comment.

"—I mean, it's clearly tailored. He pulls it off,” Ace is telling Meg, who has been complaining about Felix's stuffy suit and even stuffier attitude for five minutes straight. “But it's so impractical!” the girl argues. “Wasn't he on some kind of field trip when he was taken? What kind of guy wears a suit to that?” “I don't know, but I'm not going to complain about free eye candy,” Ace smirks, and Meg rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, I forgot rich snobs are your thing. Sucks you can't scam him for his money in here,” Meg snarks. “Excuse me for having taste,” Ace shoots back. “I wish I had a suit like that. Do you think it's Gucci?” “Burberry,” an increasingly familiar voice answers from behind him and Meg whips her head around to look at its owner, eyes wide in shock at having been caught gossiping. Meanwhile Ace, liking to think he has more self-control, schools his face into a pleasant smile and slowly turns around to face Felix. “Would have been my next guess,” Ace says, trying not to let it show that he's mentally slapping himself for essentially thirsting over Felix when the other was within earshot. “I like the cut. You've got good taste.”

He’s feebly trying to save some of his wounded ego, but probably ends up laying it on too thick. Felix fidgets a little, maybe not used to getting compliments, before he seems to catch himself. He meets Ace's eyes and the hint of a smirk tugs on his lip.

“Wish I could say the same,” Felix says, pointedly looking at Ace's flamingo sweater, before turning around and walking away and leaving Ace to gape at the unexpected sass from the normally serious man. “I take it back, I like him!” Meg snickers beside him.

The Entity seems to share Ace's enthusiasm for Felix's fashion sense, and only a few trials in Felix is already in a different suit, this one a grey plaid.

“Hmm…” Ace pretends to mull over when they're working on a generator together. “Did you see something?” Felix asks, hurriedly glancing over the top of the machine to try, in vain, to spot the killer. “I think the navy blue suits you better,” Ace smirks at his own pun. “Though the plaid certainly makes a statement. Shame that statement is ‘I'm a grandpa at thirty years old’.” “You know, in my job, gold is really only used for trims. Any more than that is just tacky," Felix deadpans, not even sparing a glance at Ace's obnoxiously golden silk outfit. “And it's thirty-eight.”

Ace doesn't bother suppressing his grin over the fact that Felix seems happy to go along with his silly banter.

It becomes sort of an inside joke between them, and when Felix shows up to the campfire in a porn stache and driving gloves, Ace chokes on a laugh.

“I’m sorry, is this an 80's theme party?” Ace jokes. “Careful you don't end up on a propaganda poster with a stache like that.” “Why are you wearing an eye patch?” Felix immediately shoots back. “Is this the 16th century? Should we break out the rum and set sail?”

Ace hears Quentin snort beside him.

“It's a pilot outfit,” Ace argues, pulling his jacket with the pin-up print tighter against himself defensively. “No, mine is a pilot outfit,” Felix deadpans, and Ace can't really argue, not when the other is wearing a bomber jacket and pilot glasses and leather gloves. “Yours is a blind truck driver.”

Bill coughs out something akin to a laugh on the other side of camp and Ace bites his lip to stop himself from doing the same.

“Can I borrow the shades some time?” Ace forfeits the argument, and Felix smiles just the tiniest bit. “Sure.”

And Felix actually follows through with the promise, switching sunglasses with him when Ace later complains his own don’t go with his outfit. It’s a pretty cute gesture, like they were close friends or even a couple, and when Felix snorts and tells him he looks ridiculous it just serves to make Ace smile brighter.

It’s not like the exchange or the ones before it mean anything, it’s just harmless joking with the occasional flirt. Ace still thinks Felix is attractive, but he doesn’t have any illusions that the man would be into him like that, with what having a girlfriend and unborn baby back home, not to mention Ace having a good ten years on him in age. Still, he appreciates that Felix goes along with his cheeky comments, at least not grossed out by or taking offense to Ace’s flirting.

He only gets to keep the shades for one trial, because the Entity has blessed Felix with another outfit for Ace to offer his unsolicited opinion on.

“Oh my god,” Ace comments when he spots the horrendous, grease-streaked mop in place of Felix’s normally expertly styled hair. “Are you a closet hipster? Is an avocado smoothie going to fall out of the hat?” he quips, eyeing the fedora that is, in Ace’s humble opinion, vastly inferior to all of his own hats. “I needed a disguise to lay low for a while, and what better way to hide in plain sight in a big city?” Felix defends his unkempt hair and dirty t-shirt. “What’s your excuse?” he shoots back.

Ace glances down at his generously open shirt—gold again, just to annoy Felix—and tacky sequin pants.

“Vegas, baby,” Ace grins. “If you’d ever been, you’d know.” “I’ve never been happier to say I haven’t,” Felix chuckles. “I don’t think I could handle more of… whatever this is,” he says, gesturing to Ace’s outfit. “When we get out of here, I’m definitely taking you,” Ace quips. “I just want to see you cry over all the flashy satin and fake gold.”

Felix doesn’t roll his eyes or make a sarcastic comment like Ace expects. Instead, he stares blankly in confusion for a few seconds, before his expression settles into a smile Ace can’t quite place.

“Alright,” Felix simply says, and combined with the soft smile it’s enough to make Ace nervously look around camp for a distraction. “Hey, Kate!” he hollers, spotting the songstress braiding Meg’s hair. “You got a hairband for our friend and his questionable hair style over there?”

He ends up regretting the question as soon as Kate insists on braiding Felix’s hair and the normally standoffish man, somehow, goes along with it. He can’t believe he’s jealous for someone getting to touch the grimy, unkempt strands, and it sure as hell doesn’t help that Felix seems to like it. Kate looks thrilled to get to spend some quality time with the man, chatting about this and that and taking way longer than necessary to make the hairstyle, and Ace ends up walking away and pestering Dwight to play some cards with him so he can at least win at something.

His win streak over the poor boy is interrupted when Felix later sits down with them, gesturing for Ace to deal him in, and Ace can’t quite hide his pleased grin that Felix would rather spend time with him than the beautiful girl who just played with his hair for half an hour.

“Better?” Felix asks him, turning his head to display the most pathetic French braid Ace has ever seen, ending in a ponytail that’s barely an inch in length. “Much better,” Ace says, definitely referring to the company and not the state of his hair, and even the normally diplomatic Dwight gives him a weird glance over his cards after taking in Kate’s handiwork.

Only a few trials after the incident, Ace has the pleasure of spawning together with Felix in one of the Yamaoka maps. When he sees a horrendous checkered pattern from the corner of his eye, he knows he’s in for a treat.

He quickly turns to face the man, nearly tripping over some shrubbery as the Entity decided to place him in some inconvenient bamboo. He meets Felix's eye, opening his mouth to start a snarky comment, when his thoughts come to a complete halt upon seeing the entirety of the outfit.

“Well? Get it over with,” Felix demands, crossing his arms self-consciously and—lord have mercy—blushing a little.

Ace's brain is reduced to white noise in the equivalent of ‘hhhHhhHHhh’ while he just stands there, feet still in the stupid bamboo, and stares.

Felix's hair is now an impeccable undercut, a few loose strands framing his features beautifully, and the perfectly trimmed stubble adds a rugged charm to his handsome face. The vest is stylish, a navy blue similar to the suit Ace likes, and the checkered shirt shouldn't work with it but it does, and there's even a matching handkerchief in his breast pocket. Ace's horny brain immediately goes to hanky code and shut up brain it's in the wrong pocket—

Ace mentally shakes his head and looks at Felix's pants instead. And that was a bad idea, because he’s wearing fucking. Leather. Pants.

Again, it should look ridiculous, but Ace feels himself start salivating at the idea of them hugging Felix's ass—ugh, focus!

The pants have small ribbons on the sides and the entire ensemble is so goddamn adorable and sexy that he can't even deal. And Ace has seen a lot of handsome men during his life, mostly in the mirror, but right now, Felix takes the cake.

Felix's attitude shifts from embarrassed to curious when Ace isn't immediately opening his big mouth like usual.

“If this is how all Germans dress, it’s a tragedy I’ve never been,” Ace flirts, his dick having taken over his brain and his mouth running on autopilot.

Instead of insulting Ace's panama hat and favorite pink shirt, Felix clears his throat and averts his eyes.

“You don't look too bad yourself,” Felix mutters, cheeks heating up again as he twiddles with the cuff of his shirt.

Ace idly wonders if the bamboo bush is big enough for them to make out in without being spotted—brain, focus! The guy is just being polite, no need to jump his bones!

They've got the usual back-and-forth out of the way, but Felix still isn't moving to start the trial, regarding Ace warily and fidgeting, and he's just so fucking hot—ugh, he needs to say something, doesn't he?

“God, the things I'd let you do to me," Ace thinks while he says ‘We should find a generator’ because he's not going to creep Felix out any further—

Felix chokes on nothing and his face flushes bright red, and Ace belatedly realizes his brain got its wires crossed and he definitely said the first bit out loud. Shit, that was definitely out of line, and if Felix hasn’t been offended before he sure as hell should be now.

There’s a screech from his left and Ace has never been so glad to take a bonesaw to the shoulder as when the Nurse teleports next to him and interrupts their awkward conversation, Ace finally running out of the goddamn shrubbery while clutching his injured shoulder. Strangely enough, the Nurse doesn’t follow him as he runs up to the temple, and soon after he hears Felix yelp instead, the killer chasing him around the shack.

Damn, now he somehow needs to make it up to Felix both to apologize for his foot-in-mouth syndrome and for him taking the Nurse off Ace’s back.

Unfortunately for them, the Nurse isn't playing around this match, and when she returns to tunnel Felix right off the hook, Ace barely even gets the chance to yell out a “Move!” and throw himself in the way of the attack, much less talk to him about what happened earlier.

Soon Ace is walking back into camp, the second to last to have been sacrificed, only Claudette remaining in the trial and trying to find the hatch. He's already prepared an apology, and hopefully he'll be able to joke it off and Felix won't be weirded out by him. Well, at least not more than usual.

But then he spots Felix talking to Dwight by the edge of the camp, and Dwight freezes mid-conversation upon seeing Ace, before his face twists into a—smirk? Since when has Dwight smirked?—and he says something to Felix before taking off, walking over to where Steve and Ash look to be engaged in a game of tic-tac-toe.

Ace doesn't even have time to ponder why Dwight suddenly seems like he knows way too much, because Felix is approaching him and he knows this is a make or break it situation.

“Dwight seemed awfully smug, huh?” Ace jokes to buy himself some time after his carefully crafted apology flies out the window when he sees Felix’s serious expression. “We need to talk,” Felix says, looking and sounding every bit the stern businessman Meg thinks he is. “Yeah, alright,” Ace agrees and tries not to deflate too much upon essentially being shut down before he can even try to make things right.

As he follows Felix out into the woods away from prying eyes, he considers whether it's even worth apologizing if their friendship is done with anyway. He just hopes this won't cause unnecessary drama within the group, the others sure as hell don’t need to get involved.

His train of thought is interrupted when he's suddenly pushed against a tree, letting out a startled yelp that he’ll later vehemently deny. Shit, is Felix going to beat him up?

An arm wrapping around his hip is finally enough to pull Ace out of his racing thoughts, and when he looks up at the man he finally realizes that Felix is definitely not upset with him, and his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline upon seeing the clear bedroom eyes thrown his way.

“Is this not okay?” Felix asks, his dark gaze faltering from insecurity. “Naw, baby, just took me by surprise,” Ace practically purrs, a lazy grin spreading over his face as the familiar confidence returns, his hands running over Felix's shoulders appreciatively. “I thought you were upset with me from before, not that you'd take me up on the offer.” “Well, I—” Felix starts, clearing his throat self-consciously. “I've wanted this for quite some time, and Dwight said you probably wouldn't be opposed, so…”

That's what they were talking about? And Dwight convinced Felix that Ace is down to fuck? Shit, he needs to get the kid a fruit basket or something to thank him.

“He's definitely not wrong,” Ace says, trying for a seductive look but probably ends up leering stupidly from the anticipation instead. But apparently it gets the job done, because Felix pulls him tighter against him and leans in for a kiss.

And okay, wow, apparently he wasn't lying about really wanting this, because there's an urgency in the way he practically devours Ace's mouth, letting out an appreciative groan when Ace parts his lips and encourages him to deepen the kiss.

So maybe he should be worried about Felix's girlfriend or his sudden interest in men or whether he's looking for more than a casual fuck. But Ace has never been good at thinking certain things through and he's not about to start now, not when he has a breathless and flushed Felix pulling away from the kiss and looking at him with lust-blown eyes.

“I've wanted to do that for a long time,” Felix breathes, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a half-smile. “You really should have just asked,” Ace smirks, a little amazed that he managed to miss all the signs, because there’s nothing subtle about the way Felix looks at him now. “I was working up to it,” Felix argues. “But then you started practically eye fucking me—” “I was looking respectfully,” Ace corrects, causing Felix to snort. “You stood in a bush and drooled, and then propositioned me,” Felix points out. “Yeah, and you liked it so much you blushed like a virgin and started flirting and took the killer off of me—which, thanks for that, by the way—” Ace starts. “You're welcome.” “—and… why did I think you were mad at me again?” Ace realizes. “No idea. I thought it was pretty obvious why I dragged you here to ‘talk’,” Felix emphasizes, gaze roaming appreciatively over his body. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Ace encourages, flashing his signature smirk in challenge.

And Ace learns that no matter how much he likes Felix's outfit, getting to help Felix out of it is even better.

[saint-patrice]

Tbh I would like to have the 34 *other* Bergy pics on your shortlist, complete with commentary lolol. And then (if you’re still waiting that is) any other Marchy pics with commentary? xD xD

oh my godddd you are my favourite person anon - ask and ye shall receive 😎 i should maybe warn that while this doesn’t have actual nsfw content you probably wouldn’t want to read this to your kids as a bedtime story. anyway, here we go: 

this was very close to making the original list. i like the soft lighting and the kind of floofy hair, yet he still looks like he could absolutely fuck me up (both like in a fight and various other ways). this photo gets me thinking some thoughts ™ if i am being honest

a literal saint and god amongst men right here. his brown eyes are so soft and his little smile puts me at ease. this is a man who would treat me right (fact). this photo is also from quite deep into the playoffs so the beard is going a little wild, and whilst i’m glad it isn’t like this all of the time, i very much appreciate it when it’s around.

O CAP’N MY CAP’N (sorry zee). nah for real this exudes some real sexy alternate energy. if i were on the opposing team and i saw this formidable man just skating around looking like that i think i’d just go back down the tunnel and hide in the locker room. this man will fucking kneecap you for the sake of a goal if that’s what it takes. and then i remember that it’s patrice and he’s the nicest man alive and he would literally never, but that’s still the energy this image has. and i ain’t saying i don’t like it.

okay this is just cute. they look like 2 dads who aren’t entirely sure how to take a selfie but are willing to try. the outfits lend this a slightly chaotic energy - i can’t commend zee’s colour combo if i’m honest, and when juxtaposed with the plaid shirt it kind of hurts my head. but it adds to the dad energy so i still love it. also this is from chara’s ig and the caption is super sweet.

DADS WITH THEIR KIDS ALWAYS GETS ME. i don’t even want kids, nor do i particularly like them, but seeing a man with his child is the cutest thing in the world and this, predictably, is no exception. patrice’s son 100% has his eyes which is really cute. speaking of patrice’s eyes, he may be smiling here but if you look into his eyes all you will see is fear - that child does not appear too bothered about remaining upright on the ice, and i suspect thay bergy is concerned about this. it would be criminal for me to not comment on the jeans. bergy has some exceptional thighs as these jeans do an excellent job of highlighting that.

this is Hot, and i’m not accepting criticism on that opinion. the crisp white shirt w no jacket or tie, and the top buttons undone???? i need a lie down. the hands are also making a nice appearance which i can always appreciate. basically what i’m saying is that i’m jealous of that snake this is an excellent photo and i owe the bruins instagram person a drink for posting it.

do you remember when i said bergy had marvellous thighs? well take a fucking sip babes - they’re like tree trunks carved out of carrara marble. if i have to die i want it to be because they crushed my skull. this is also one of the clearest photos i’ve seen of his tattoo, so it has that going for it too ( sidenote if anyone has an image with literally a pixel of his tattoo pls send it my way, i’m getting desperate at this point). i also think men in jewellery is a good look so i’m digging his beaded bracelets and silver chain. fantastic picture all round.

yeah okay there’s no escaping that the main reason this one made the list is 🍑. it’s exquisite. those pants also do a great job on the thighs too. the hair, socked feet (no i dont have a fetish i just think ppl in their socks with no shoes is kind of funny), and hands get an honourable mention

is this the only picture that has ever mattered? i’d believe it. patrice just lovingly gazing down at his son giving his hockey husband a handshake? you just can’t beat it. i have also been emotionally ruined by that tiny #37 jersey oh my

in the interest of being polite, i will describe this look as rugged. he has probably objectively looked better but i just like this photo and awful lot.

i don’t think i can give any commentary on this without saying something genuinely not suitable for public eyes. the 2 things i will say are: the only thing keeping me going completely feral horny looking at this is those pants,, if they were black or navy i’d be dead; and patrice i am begging you to do up a few more buttons on your shirt or remove it completely or i’m not going to live much longer.

oh man i just love this??? i can’t even explain why. the lack of much beard and the expression in his eyes just makes him look massively soft - i would give him a kiss on the nose and a cuddle in this photo

(gif via @gaudreau) i am slightly loathe to admit this bc it sounds weird but cuts and bruises can sometimes be a real look so this checks that box for me. his smile when he talks truly is one of the finer things in life too. also the lil shrug. i love you mr pikachu

a** fantastic **angle. this is just prime beautiful bergy.  excellent level of beard imo, the lighting shows off his v nice bone structure, and the nose is looking fab as always. weird observation of the day is that his neck looks nice in this

i mean obviously this had to go in - lord knows it’s fucking iconic. i have so many questions about how this situation came to be (aside from the fact that alcohol was involved. did brad initiate it? or patrice? why are they spinning? what the fuck? how the fuck? why was i not invited?) but anyway, this photo increased my thirst for a shirtless bergy photo at least two-hundredfold. at this point it’s a need not a want. i don’t think i can continue to comment on this without straying into nsfw territory so we’ll leave it at that. oh the things i would do

classic humble patrice making an appearance here, reminding us that he is not only the most handsome bastard to ever walk planet earth, but he’s a great guy too. just can’t hate him. and boy is he handsome in this gif. excellent stubble (im really invested in his facial hair if you hadn’t noticed), and the smile that could melt even my cold heart on display here. also bonus points for the previously mentioned thing about cuts/bruises. (sorry). i love this one 

in contrast to some of the prior ones, this picture is so cute that i can make nothing but pg comments about it. this is exactly the same face we all make when someone points a camera at us and says “cheese!” and i love that. the man looks good in white. good, wholesome content right here.

(gif via @weekendatbergysblog) okay the baby is cute but the fucking headband is what gets me in this. i’m able to make no further comment because this short circuits my brain.

(gif via @davidpastrnut)when i first saw this gif i had to go find the source video because i didn’t believe he actually said that but i’m here to tell you: he did. i love these hockey husbands so much. also i saw this tagged as “# hot waiter” one time and i still haven’t got over how accurate that is. someone more talented than me, i’m begging you for that fucking au 

(gif via @gaudreau) can patrice please stop looking up ??? it’s unfair that someone can look so good just looking in a direction what the fucK. he’s so stunning.

i love this one. brad pulling his hoodie down like that looks like he’s... soliciting and honestly who could blame him. bergy looks very cute, if a bit edgy in the all black. the hand is a treat in this one hooooooooooooooooo yes

this one show’s off patrice’s dark features very well. it’s amazing how he has such dark hair, dark eyes, big dark eyebrows, and dark facial hair, yet it doesn’t overcrowd or shadow his face ( except occasionally in awful lighting) ??? does anyone actually know how that works?? he’s looking very pensive here, and that hoodie looks oh-so-cosy. absolutely would cuddle.

**how cute is this y’all. **in case you thought you were just missing something, no, patrice is not sitting on a chair. he’s just maintaining that deep squat like a champ. maybe that’s the secret to his sublime thighs... the navy/deep red is an excellent look on him, and we get a rare glimpse of bergy with his wedding ring, which i find to be oddly cute. bonus points for him being beside a very cute kid too :)

(gif via @jakedebrask) this, i, ummmmm. i- uhh. just. um. yeah. so like. uhhhh... swiftly moving on

(gif via @davidpastrnut) this motherfucker and his handsome fucking face even looks good in that god-awful wooly patriots hat. honestly it looks like he’s about to go out and have a snowball fight (presumably with brad). decidedly rather domestic and i love it

(gif via @davidpastrnut) intense media patrice is intense. this is such a classic bergy face though, i love it. every time some media person asks him some big long question he puts on this exact very-invested-and-slightly-concerned face, its iconic. looking cosy in a hoodie once again. stop it. 

nice polo, dude

(gif via @davidpastrnut) that tshirt looks like its fighting for its life to contain those biceps. a dark, brooding patrice that has some sort of slow burn au stirring deep in my mind. from other angles in this interview the tattoo is fairly visible also.

this has such a strong energy it almost knocked me off my feet. again, i can see this being some sort of business or maybe criminal masterminds au. but fuck me, does that man looking something beautiful in a suit. the one hand in the pocket is quite frankly BDE too. i’m glad i’m not into dadkes or esle i think this whole picture would be too much for me.

he is literally the kind of man you’d want to bring home to your parents. i’m glad he seems to have cashed in on the navy/deep red combo because it really does suit him. he looks so fucking dapper here i may be very much in love

another excellent on-ice shot of him, albeit his slightly concerned expression. the beard is looking fucking crisp here hello sir. not much else to say on this, just a handsome, handsome boy.

(gif via @jeffsamardzija) another one that gives me Thoughts. he’s literally so beautiful. hair is cut a little shorter than usual on the sides and on anyone else it would scream fuckboy but i’m kind of digging it on bergy, at least on this one occasion. if i say anything else we’ll go down the rabbit hole

oof this is_ intense. _bergy aside, this is just an incredible shot tbh. rare that we get to see mr perfect not completely level-headed and playing it cool so it feels like a treat when we do. lowkey hot ngl

last but very certainly not least, mr patrice bergeron, four-time bergeron award winner, holding the award itself. this photo honestly just makes my heart swell a little with pride - it’s what he deserves!!!! just absolutely dapper in a beautiful suit as always, and a smile that could topple a nation to round it all off.

thank you so much for this anon!!! it was rather self-indulgent but i hope you like it :) also i will absolutely do another one with marchy, although my nails have been dry for about 2 hours now so i’ll probably do it tomorrow or friday, but it’s on its way :)

[ragdollrory]

The players

In Athena's opinion, human life had always been most interesting. The way they moved through their time on earth as if there were no tomorrow, as if everything began with the rise of the sun and ended with the glow of the moon, its white halo bathing the night sky, and all trapped between Helios and Selene was either to be perfect, or not to be at all. The spark with which they followed their dreams, their ideals, their leaders.

And maybe they truly did not have a tomorrow, at least not all of them did. Humans- their lives- were fickle at best; only in their flesh bodies for a limited amount of time, and even then, growing old much too quickly, going to war between one another far too easily. Their need for greatness often pushed into the wrong direction, pursuing their names in history books by means of brawn rather than brain; often thinking on their feet, tempers flaring at the first strike, hands quick to clutch at their swords.

Athena knew much of it was cause of Gods, some of it even to her. Many men had idolized her throughout worlds, throughout eons, and once men loved, they did it so passionately that they were hardly ever pulled from the source of their infatuation. It often happened to Gods, that they fell prey to men’s love; many of her siblings were evidence of that, many more than she cared to account for. And as such, it often happened to Gods that they fell prey to human ambition, too. Much was the case of one of her brothers, one she’d given chase to throughout many a world, hoping for a better end to the human lives Ares consumed in his quest for power.

And so she followed him into this world as well, her thirst for knowledge, experience; her intentions to protect the men of this world from Ares a convenient excuse.

The awakening was usually slow- conscience and memory coming to her in small bouts of color and feeling. Human events helped it through sometimes, triggering the millennia of experiences with something as soft as a hug from her new brother, and the discovery that in this world she could wield a lively element such as fire; the horror of abandonment tearing at her chest late one night.

It was never easy to come to terms with facts that went beyond her powers, that came with the life one took. The rules of this new board she was playing on.

Athena learned early in this human life that she was born to a coin she’d not forged, and that coin had two of the most devastating faces she’d experienced while on earthly planes so far. 

That she was both to be worshipped and terrorized by the man who gave her life. And that she’d been a monster in the eyes of the woman who birthed her as well, no matter how much Athena yearned for her affections. 

That winning in some fields did not mean she could win in all, no matter how hard she tried- how desperately she tried- to hold onto some things. Nothing was fair in love and war, and so it seemed, when you were good in one, you were bound to fail in the other.

That jealousy was as lethal as a dagger, and that she both felt it and incited it in others, and that she couldn’t stop it. It was addictive, it was an easy game, with dangerous outcomes, such as her once loving brother.

She learned perfection was something that was expected of her, in higher form than ever before, even in time spent as a Goddess. And she became addicted to it as well; searching, researching, and working so hard to please, to be perfect. Addicted to praise.

Athena learned she too had fallen prey of humanity, and in her greatest quest to stop Ares, she’d taken quite a few detours, not all of them benign. For her, or for others. But so was human nature, the same imperfections she’d always found fascinating.

It wasn’t long after she’d been stripped of all she’d once felt was close to her heart when a crusade was laid out in front of her, an opportunity to put her out in the world, and thus, closer to Ares.

But how many times could she get away with failing her father’s mission? Have her underlings and friends make mistakes, have her flames purposely miss her intended enemies without harm? How many times could she watch them escape until she was brought back into the Lord’s side and lost her chance at her real enemy?

And how much harm was she inflicting into her human life? What would the consequences be? Those were the questions that often kept her awake while her friends slept.

The city was grand by human standards, grandiose even, with a story of standing in proud victory over her nation’s attempts against it. Her own uncle had lost what he loved most to the city’s walls. Rings of towering stone separated people based on their monetary status, isolating brothers and sisters, fathers and children, flesh and blood, because of something as frivolous as metal. 

And she knew he was here. She could smell him; putrid, like the stench of a battlefield the morning after. Fear and blood and bile; everything that made him proud, and her stomach revolt.

Azula walked past the walls of Ba Sing Se as if she were not the Princess of the enemy nation. Under the guise of greens and golds, no one batted an eye at her and her friends as they were led to see the King. She had to keep herself from shaking her head, so very like her to slip right under Ares’ nose, and so very him to underestimate humans. To underestimate her.

The plan had not been hard to devise, not with her loyal companions, not with how much of a fool this particular son of Zeus was. And soon enough she’d been imprisoned, interrogated, her facade stripped, and Azula could only smirk her way through it all. 

And then he really discovered her. Came marching to her, thin lips twisted in an inhuman smirk, as he ordered his faithful Dai Li away. And her true smile showed, pulling at the corner of her mouth with the joy that came with a new, unexpected challenge. What a fun little twist in her plans.

“Athena.” His voice lost the inflection he’d been using so far, turned deeper, raspier, the voice of a God who boasted over his fearsome war cries that made humans tremble. Idiot, humans trembled over the touch of a woman as well, there was no need to raise one’s voice.

“Ares, brother of mine.” Athena kept the smile etched on her features, she quite liked her appearance in this reality, she liked the energy of this youth. Her eyes swept over Ares, from his arms hidden behind his back- where she knew he kept his stone gloves- to the ridiculous braid growing from his otherwise bald head. “I see Aphrodite wasn’t so charitable to you this time around.” Athena sneered, a hand waving about in the air between them. Was it childish? Probably. She had the appearance of a child, so she’d still enjoy it.

“You think so highly of yourself, Athena.” He circled her, the room around them grand and empty, the columns, the flooring, the very particles of gold embedded in the walls his very element in this world. Still, she didn’t flinch, allowing Ares his inspection. 

Ares was a God of little thought, and quick to action, and her small frame gave her the advantage this time. Her body’s age would have him forget she was actually his equal, that she’d beaten him in this game many times before.

“This time I’ll win.” Finally he spoke again, his voice carried by the echo in the throne room placed him much too close to her, and her back tensed imperceptibly. “I’ve been here longer, Athena, I know how these men think, how this world works. I know how to play them. This city has been mine for decades now, and I won’t let you take it away from me.”

Her laughter filled the space, loud and musical. Athena turned to face her brother, unable to believe his ambition could have ended in the possession of just this one city. Either he was trying to hide a much bigger plan, or he was truly bored when he came here. Regardless, she was amused, and knew exactly how to take him down without breaking a sweat.

“Oh, but little brother… how you entertain me.” Feeling the boldness of her fire within, Athena placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, a much-too-sweet smile setting on her lips, his nostrils flaring, and jaw tightening, but still he stayed put. “And here I was, thinking we could strike a deal, but it seems your new life has come with a dwindling of your aspirations. What a shame, really.

“See, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I’m a Princess this time around.” It was her turn to circle him now, ignoring the analysis of his being, and inspecting the intricately carved features of the columns around them instead, the detailing of the roof. She knew how he behaved, how he stood, how he attacked. It never changed no matter the reality. “A very powerful one at that.

“My father, Fire Lord Ozai, is slowly but inevitably taking over the world.” She turned to him with a condescending tip of her head. “But I’m sure you knew about that already.”

Throughout the years, and their many encounters, human plane or not, Athena had learned Ares was very much a God rash men wanted; quick to anger when one poked at his overinflated ego. And so that was what she intended to do.

Ares beady eyes narrowed on her. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, sister. You think I’m an idiot, but I’m ahead of you this time, and my plan is in the works already.” Athena merely rolled her eyes at him, what even was the point of this conversation? They’d been here before, they’d be here again. But, if he wished to believe he had some upper hand, then so be it. “I know who Ozai is, and I know about your scarred brother, too. He’s living here, did you know?”

That she didn’t know, and she found worry stir in her chest, a flicker of emotions developed for the boy who was flesh of her flesh this time around, but she pushed it aside for the moment being. She’d find Zuko later, and have him return home with her, where he belonged.

“I care not for the boy, Ares, you should know that already.” She lied through her teeth, something that came to her as easy as breathing and wielding blue flames. “But I’m intrigued at this master plan of yours, of course, although if you’d like to hear mine, then we might come to an agreement. 

“You see, I’ve learned so much this time, brother. The man- my father- has taught me a lot, and he’d be pleased if I can bring him someone like you, Ares. He’d reward me, and I- in turn- would reward you.” Athena’s voice softened, she cooed at the man, eyes widening to convey the illusion that her words carried. “You’d have a place close to him, and you could rise so much more quickly from there. We could rule this world together, just you and I. Just imagine what we could do, little brother.”

His stance relaxed ever so slightly, but enough for her to pick up, his left eyebrow twitched in interest, and Athena knew she’d at least caught his attention. That would do for now. She didn’t bother to add anything else before leaving him there, pondering over her words, as she returned to her friends. He would go to her before the day ended, ambition was what drove him after all.

And in the end, ambition was what brought him down. He always thought too big for his brain, and hurried to fights when he was all but blind to his opponent. She knew it, she’d seen it, and this time around was no different, not at all.

It was with Princess Azula on the King’s throne, and Long Feng betrayed by his own men, that this particular chapter in the battle of Ares and Athena ended. His face, as he realized he’d been played yet again by his sister had been delightful to watch; the knowledge that in this world he’d been defeated by a child, made for a bigger smirk on the Princess’ lips. And the fact that he’d thought- he’d genuinely thought, up until the very end- that he’d stood a chance, was a small victory on its own.

“You were never even a player, little brother.” Athena whispered by Ares’ ear as she ended his life in this mortal world, wondering where they’d meet again next, and going to find the boy with the scar on his face. Her new brother needed guidance, and she’d missed him.

[minaminokyoko]

Men in Black: International--A Spoilertastic Review

Disclaimer: I AM FUCKING BIASED AS HELL.

Ahem.

That's important to announce.

If you at all follow me, you know I am one of the harshest critics of fiction simply because I do this shit for a living professionally, so not only do I know what to look for, I know when I'm being duped.

I knew going in that MIBI was going to be bad.

But.

I fucking love Chris Hemsworth and Tessa Thompson.

So here's the thing: this is a bad, lazy sequel. It's no worse than just your average bad, lazy sequel to a beloved franchise. You've seen these kinds of movies a dozen times and you'll see them a dozen more.

And I think the people making the movie knew that, and that's why they hired Hems and Tessa.

Damn near every moment of these two darlings together is fun as hell.

And everything else is basically trash.

Therefore, it's a battle between my critic brain and my goblin brain.

My critic brain hates the movie. My goblin brain thinks it was harmless fun. So please take that into account for my overall opinion on the flick.

So here we go. Naturally, spoiler alert.

Overall Grade: C-

Pros:

-Let my shallow ass get this out of the way first: DEAR FUCKING GOD CHRIS HEMSWORTH IS A MOTHERFUCKING WALKING, TALKING BUFFET GOOD LORD AND ALL HIS ANGELS HE IS JUST BREAKFAST, LUNCH, DINNER, AND FUCKING DESSERT AND I WANT HIM TO JUST SLAM ME AGAINST EVERY WALL IN THIS HOUSE AND TEAR ME APART HE IS WALKING AROUND IN A FUCKING SUIT THE ENTIRE MOVIE AND HE JUST. LOOKS. SO. FUCKING. DELICIOUS. IT'S. NOT. FAIR. THAT SMILE AND THOSE EYES AND HIS CHIN AND HIS PECS AND HIS ABS AND HIS LEGS AND HIS ARMS AND JUST FUCKING BURY ME IN THE DESERT FOREVER BECAUSE I WANT HIM SO BAD KILL ME DO IT. THE THIRST IS REAL AND IT SHALL NEVER BE QUENCHED.

-Ahem. There. Now then, literally the biggest and only selling point in this movie is the insanely good chemistry between Tessa Thompson and Chris Hemsworth. It's damn near as good as them in Thor: Ragnarok. As I said above, I really think the filmmakers took one look at this "script" and they knew goddamn well they had nothing at all. It's dripping with cliches and tired ass ideas and lack of imagination, so they knew the only way to get it made was to have two utterly charming actors who play extremely well off each other, and that is Tessa and Hems. These two are having such a good time that you actually can't help but have a good time despite the fact that you are watching a completely LAZY fucking movie. Agent M and Agent H aren't fully formed characters at all, but their interactions are a sheer delight. They play off each other beautifully and even when the movie is vomiting yet another cliche at your feet, you can't help but still enjoy the two of these doofs. It's the movie's only saving grace. I shit you not, if it were any other pair of actors, I would give this movie an F. No lie. Tessa and Hems saved the film, hands down, no contest, because they're charming and cute and you want them to be together. It's like the movie is a shit-covered diamond--the shit is everything around them, and Tessa and Hems are the diamond in the shit. You gotta stick your hand in something gross to get the valuable thing out of it, and it is for this reason I would tell people to just rent this movie. It's so not worth box office pricing, but it is worth a look-see because the two of them are a blast to watch, honestly. And do yourself a favor and look up some of their interviews too. They are cute as a button together.

-The only creativity that I saw was the faux villains and the final Hive monster, basically, but said creativity was eye-catching. It was a unique concept to see these sort of celestial beings and they were captivating each time they were on screen. Their powers were very, very cool. The final Hive monster is nothing new if, like me, you watch or play a lot of video games, but it did still have a great presence and felt extremely alien and threatening and scary.

Cons:

-Literally everything else about this movie blows. Fucking. Everything.

-The dialogue for the most part is tired. It's so tired. It's loaded with dull one-liners. Sometimes I think scripts mistake quips with actual jokes. These characters have almost nothing of interest to say in the whole film, and mind you, I do know that sounds like it makes no sense, but it's true. Almost every interesting thing about these characters is off-screen. Seriously. The backstories sound way more interesting than what's presented, and do you know why? Because this fucking movie TELLS YOU EVERYTHING. There is almost NO showing. It doesn't hit any emotional bits. It just loudly announces them like my favorite bit from Futurama: "You can't just have your characters announce how they feel! That makes me feel angry!" That's the biggest problem here. There are Captain Obvious statements fucking everywhere, and what's worse is any emotional beats of connection are also loudly announced in cliche fashions and there's almost no weight given to M or H as characters as a result. It's just noise. Most of the dialogue in the movie is white noise you don't at all need to hear.

-All the cool shit about M and H is withheld. We understand M's motivations just fine, but H's are not dealt with, and that's frustrating because he seems to be fascinating offscreen. For example, being the dude that saved the world might be big shoes to fill and he seems as if he was having trouble coping, or he got a big head from the experience and got sloppy because he was the golden boy. In the hands of an actual competent writer, this could have really, really worked well. But they skip over it. Over and over again, this lazy ass movie skips shit we should have seen, like M growing up trying to tell everyone what she saw and being ridiculed. I wanted to see her long search for MIB. I wanted to see her learning to hack and investigate like Harriet the Spy or something. It could have been a great, compelling way to feel like I understood her, because I would have been the same way. I love that H was just a big old goober, playboy with a heart of gold, and I wanted to see the two of them get closer than they did. H's "big old heart" speech was hella charming. So charming. I like that soft smile he gives her when he talks about the universe being one big chemical reaction. That was a real moment, and sadly, it's one of the few we get with the two of them because the movie is in such a rush to get to the next action sequence. But, hey, if I'm being honest, I only saw this movie so I had full permission to write a zillion fanfic chapters shipping them, so I will just bloody fill the gaps in myself.

-This movie is so goddamn fucking predictable it gave me a headache. Hey, remember the trailer? Well, there. You saw the movie if you saw the trailer. You're sitting there going, "They can't possibly be this boring and transparent about Liam Neeson being the bad guy, can they?" Yep. They fucking can. It is so obvious that I would argue this might be an MIB movie for kids. The whole thing spoonfeeds you every bit of info. There is no mystery and no surprises period. It makes you want to bang your head on a wall with how obvious every single story beat is.

-The ending is nonsensical bullshit. There, I said it. Fuck you, movie. You don't get to try for the emotional wham of separating the partners because you didn't properly make them fucking partners. J and K's bittersweet ending made sense because the two of them went through HELL together, and while they bickered, they liked each other. The other thing is that their skillsets matched their actions at the end. K was exasperated and tired, but he was a good teacher and he knew J loved the job. J was the job, and that fit his character. K had been through years and years of battles, and he needed to rest, and that fit his character. Slapping H with the role of director does not fit his character. We see him as a rough and tumble cowboy type of agent. He parties and he smiles and he kicks ass. What the fuck about that makes you think he should be in charge when Agent C is like right there? I actually sat there waiting to see if they had a post credit scene that undid it because it made NO SENSE. The only reason they busted up the partners was an attempt to echo the original movie. That's fucking it. There is no reason that Agent M can't stay in London, and there is no reason Agent H would accept the leadership position when he's all about fun times and explosions. It's a load of crock and I do not accept it at all, so you'll see me rewrite that shit in fanfics as well.

-All of the above adds up to the final point that this is definitely an unworthy sequel to the original. Not MIB 2 or 3, mind you. I hated MIB 2 so much it made me not watch MIB 3, and from what I hear, MIB 3 was marginally better but still not good. The movie is doing new things, and yet it feels a lot like a small child trying on his dad's shoes, for God's sake. It literally stops entire scenes to fellate the original movie with cameos and borrowed plotpoints or references, and it takes you out of the experience. There's nothing unique about this movie except for who is starring in it. That's the tragic part. I had a good time, but in the end, it just reminds you how far we've fallen and why Sonnenfeld should have been the one to handle this sequel. He had a very, very sharp creative mind and that's why MIB is in its own category as an action-comedy. It was clever and interesting and it actually made you care about your leads, and it didn't rely on nothing but a cliche storm. So I am sad that it's not going to do well at the box office and I'm sad it wasted two extremely talented actors on a sad, boring project that isn't worthy of the name it's using, but at the same time, I signed up for this, so oh well.

In the end, this is a movie that would be intolerable but it's got two strong leads that keep you smiling anyway. I cannot recommend it at all unless you are a die-hard Hems and Tessa fan the way that I am. If you are, hey, you'll still be annoyed at how lazy it is, but you'll get a giggle out of them being cute as hell. There are raw materials in this movie that are in fact good, but it's all carried out sloppily as possible, and that's truly a shame.

Here's to all the fanfiction my stupid ass is about to write.

Kyo out.

[bluephoenixdruidicprincess]

My Super Special Awesome Sauce Supernatural Re-Watch -- Season 1 Epsiode 1, Pilot

Welcome to my Supernatural Re-Watch project in which I'm re-watching every episode of Supernatural. Why? Because I want to. I've kind of made a name for myself in the Shadowhunters fandom for my love-hate relationship with the Freeform show. So I thought, hey, since I'm reviewing a sub-par show that constantly disappoints me (Shadowhunters), I should also review a show that I love. This way, when I'm critical of Shadowhunters, my audience can get an understanding of where I come from. What it is I look for in good story telling. Or they could think I'm a hypocritical idiot. Either way, I'm doing this. And also, I love Supernatural and I'm really just looking for an excuse to watch the show and then talk about it. So here we are with the very first episode, the pilot. I would like to remind everyone that these are my own opinions and would ask that you please respect them. You don't have to agree with them. You have your own truth just as much as I have my truth. Also, I have not seen any of Season 13 so please don't spoil me for anything. 

RECAP

Our pilot episode starts off with showing something that happened in our main characters' tragic past. That once upon a time they were living a happy, normal, apple pie life. Until their mother, Mary Winchester, walks into infant Sam's room and sees a figure looming over the crib. She gives a scream and father, John Winchester, runs in and only sees the crib. He goes over to check on Sam and notices that there's blood on Sam's blanket. He looks up and sees that Mary is somehow stuck to the ceiling, mauled and dying. And then she catches fire which causes the entire house to burn. So basically this is a bad day for everyone. It was bad enough Mary got mauled by something but then she was also burned alive too? And now the family is left homeless? Tough break. Not to mention the creature that did this burned the house too -- this is not a very considerate creature. As the house is burning, John tells Dean to take baby Sam out of the house and to take care of him. This exchange is actually very important for the rest of this series in terms of Dean's character and how he views Sam. You'll see. They escape the burning house and from that point onward, John Winchester cares only for revenge. He and the boys become hunters of the supernatural in order to find the creature that killed Mary Winchester. 

Skip 20 years or so into the future, we meet a grown up Sam who we find out has left the hunter life to go to Stanford to become a lawyer. We find that he is a very smart cookie based an his LSAT result which pretty much means he has his choice of law schools to go to and even has an interview for a law school in a couple of days. He's succeeding in college, he has friends, and a very attractive, very supportive girlfriend. He's on track for a great life, really. But he refuses to talk about his past or his family to anyone in his new life which suggests that he and his family did not part amicably. He also claims to hate Halloween which is a call-back to his previous hunter life that he chose to leave behind. He's still haunted by the past. This all comes to a head later on in the night when Sam hears someone in his and Jess's (the girlfriend) apartment. Sam investigates, a round of fisticuffs ensues and it's revealed that the intruder is the brother, Dean. Dean tells Sam that their father left on a hunting trip and hasn't been seen since. He wants Sam to help find their wayward father. Sam agrees on the condition that he be back on Monday for his interview. 

So the brothers go off to their father's last known location and find a supernatural case to be worked. Men are going missing but their cars are always found on a bridge. They gather information and eventually figure out that the phenomenon that is happening is what's known as a "Woman In White." Basically, these creatures are ghosts. When they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful and in a moment of temporary insanity, these women killed their children and then subsequently killed themselves. And now as spirits, they walk up and down highways looking for unfaithful men. And if they find one, they kill him. 

Along the way of this investigation, we get a first glimpse on some of Sam and Dean's investigation techniques. In order to find out more about the men that went missing, they used fake federal marshal badges to get the police to talk to them which backfires later on in the episode when the police realizes they are not federal anything. Except maybe fugitives. They arrest Dean but Sam is able to get away in order to further investigate the woman in white. Sam eventually calls in a tip that there's a shooting somewhere in town which enables Dean to escape. Sam is then carjacked by the woman in white (Constance). Constance take Sam to her house and attempts to make Sam be unfaithful. She eventually just attacks Sam but Dean arrives in time to shoot her and Sam steps on the gas pedal of the impala and rams the car into the house. Constance had been talking about how she could never go home so now that she was inside the house, she finally had to face her children in which they were all finally able to pass on. She couldn't go home because she was too afraid to face her children and as a result, neither her or her children could pass on. Dean takes Sam back so he can do his interview. Sam enters the apartment, lays on his bed, with his eyes closed until he feels something wet hit his face (which could be foreshadowing for something that's revealed in Season 4), he looks up and sees Jess plastered to the ceiling much like what happened to Mary and just like Mary, Jess also catches on fire and burns the apartment. Another bad day and again, this is a very inconsiderate creature. Dean, just as he did as a kid, pulled Sam out of the apartment and now, all Sam can think of is revenge just as John did. 

There's also plenty of Winchester melodrama going on in this episode, as well, which is a trademark of the show. That while working the cases, the boys are often working through their own issues as well. Throughout the episode, Dean is kind of making digs at Sam's decision to leave the family business and pursue the apple pie life. Dean can't understand why it's so easy for Sam to leave and why Sam doesn't feel as strongly about revenge for their mother. Sam eventually tells Dean that he has no memory of his mother considering he was only a baby when she died and thus the thirst for revenge on his end can only go so far. Can you really desire revenge for a loss you never really knew? Obviously, Sam's statement causes anger in Dean but they eventually work through it. By the end, Dean still doesn't quite understand why Sam wants the apple pie life and is willing to abandon his family but he's also willing to let his brother live his life...until the demon attack, of course.

The Good

Really, as far as pilots go, this is a very solid pilot. Pilots are normally real beasts to handle, especially if you have a fantasy kind of setting. You have to create the world, set up the rules of the world, introduce the characters, make them quirky and likeable, all while layering on some sort of charm to the story-telling that's going to keep the audience engaged. And this pilot does it very well. All of the world building, rule-setting, character set-ups are done sporadically through the entire episode giving the audience a lot of time to breathe and really understand the story that's being told. There's very few moments where long paragraphs of exposition are given. And when they are, the actors deliver it in a way that doesn't make it sound like a college dissertation. That's a very rare skill to have. There's funny moments, there's dramatic moments and it rarely feels forced which is rare to find in a pilot. 

I love that the title screen has this very paranormal-esque motion to it as it pops up on-screen. It really sets the tone for the show you're watching. 

I felt that going back 20 years to see the tragic backstory of the family right at the very beginning was a very smart idea. Just put it there right in the beginning so your audience realizes right away the motivations of these characters. 

Going back to this episode, I had forgotten how much chemistry Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles have even from the very beginning. Their banter is great. It has a real rhythm to it. You feel like these two are brothers. They argue and get on eachother's nerves but you can also tell they genuinely care about the other as siblings would. I have three younger brothers; I understand how you can both love and hate your siblings at the same time.

I love the symmetry we have with the first scene and the end scene. Just how similar the two play out really makes it work and sets up the tone and the foundation of the story very well. 

I enjoyed the ghost story that was played out as well. The show found an urban myth and put their own spin on it and it was really interesting for me to watch and see how it played out. 

Right off the bat, this show makes the decision about the music. That being it's going to be classic rock and I really like it. It really sets a tone that actually works. Not to mention, it's kind of refreshing to have a show that has a different sound than the typical alternative pop that so populates a lot of the other shows currently airing. Don't get me wrong, I love Ruelle but I do get kind of sick of hearing it in every show. The classic rock really adds something to the atmosphere of the show.

The Bad

I really don't have anything too terribly bad to say. Like I said, this is a solid pilot. It succeeds more or less in everything it's trying to do. But sometimes the exposition or the manner in which it was written was a little clunky at times. But oh well. Sometimes that can’t be avoided in pilots. Even in the commentary on the DVD for this episode, the writer said he wasn’t happy with the exposition scenes.

I guess another thing would be that I've never understood John's motivations in this season for leaving clues for the boys to follow him around on. Why does he want them to follow him and complete cases he's decided to abandon? He kind of just leaves these towns wide open to have more victims for these creatures when he could've just taken care of it himself. He has no real way of knowing if Sam or Dean are actually going to take these cases or not. But it has been a while since I’ve seen all of Season 1 so maybe I'm just remembering things wrongly.

Favorite Quotes

SAM: You gotta update your cassette tapes. DEAN: Why? SAM: 1) They're cassette tapes and 2) (he lists a bunch of bands) -- it's the greatest hits of mullet rock DEAN: House rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole. This is just really great banter. I love it.

DEAN: (to Sam) No chick flick moments. This'll become important in Season 11. I'm just saying.

SAM: (to ghost) I'm taking you home. This is just a bad-ass one liner delivered very well by Jared. All throughout the episode, Constance keeps on muttering how she wants to go home but then she can never go home and Sam has had enough of this shit so he's all, "I'm taking you home."

Well there we have it for the Supernatural pilot. I'd honestly probably give this episode an A-. It's a very strong introduction to the show. We got the motivations of our characters, we got an interesting urban legend, there were funny moments between the boys, dramatic moments between the boys and set ups for certain themes that are going to be employed later on in the story. Basically, a well-rounded pilot.

Man, it feels good to talk about something I love. So if there's anything anyone wants to discuss about this episode, please let me know. Was there something I missed? Do you like the episode as I did? Or do you think it's complete trash? Just be respectful of everyone's opinions. And remember, please no spoilers for Season 13.

[kadobeclothing]

The Best Men’s Fragrances Of All Time

There are hundreds of great men’s fragrances, but truly iconic ones are a sniff out of the ordinary. Among all the amazing eaus, there are probably fewer than 50 (in fact, there’s 39, according to this list) that have survived fads and fashions to earn their place in the olfactory hall of fame.“Men often judge fragrances in the way they do cars,” says celebrated perfumer Azzi Glasser. “They want sophistication, but demand reliability and performance too.” In other words, while fancy flacons and big-budget marketing campaigns make an impact, ultimately, a scent survives because men keep coming back for another sniff.So, whether you’re a fragrance fresher looking for your first signature scent, a cologne junkie wanting to complete your collection or a significant other in search of the perfect gift, you could do a lot worse than to start with one of these – yes, we’re calling it – best men’s fragrances of all time.The History Of Men’s FragrancesAs anyone who has ever skipped a shower knows, it doesn’t take long before you need a scent to mask a manly funk. The ancient Egyptians, fathers of modern perfume, discovered this in around 3000 BC (how, we’d rather not know) and set about producing genderless concoctions made using fragrant plant materials and ingredients such as myrrh, jasmine and wine — some of which are still used today.Skipping over the whole mummification and communicating with the gods stuff, fragrances were further refined by Roman, Persian and Arab cultures, before reaching the Western world around the 14th century, where they became a signifier of wealth and power. King Louis XIV of France is said to have a different fragrance for every single day, while Queen Elizabeth I demanded all public places be scented since she could not tolerate bad smells (we’re with you on that one).French perfume house Caron is credited with launching the first scent aimed exclusively at men in 1934 and the fragrance industry as we know it today took off. “By the mid-1960s men were beginning to place more importance on scent, and ground-breaking fragrances like Dior’s Eau Sauvage emerged,” says perfumer and fragrance historian Roja Dove.Since then, each successive decade has seen new trends emerge, often in reaction to the ones that preceded them. From fougère (‘fern-like’) fragrances of the seventies, through the bombastic eighties, uber-light citrus nineties, smoky oud noughties, to the edible gourmand fragrances of today.The big question, of course, is what to wear – no easy task given the thousands of options to choose from. To provide the answer (or at least narrow the field), FashionBeans has compiled a definitive list of the best men’s fragrances of all time: scents that stand out due to their originality, popularity or sheer, uncompromising genius. Have a nose.The Best Men’s Fragrances Of All TimeQuick Jump: Citrusy & Fresh | Cool & Aquatic | Floral | Sexy & Spicy | Sweet & Sensual | Warm & Woody | Rich & Sensual | Crisp & Green | Fresh & Herbaceous | Expert TipsCitrusy & FreshClean, crisp and refreshing, with a timeless, understated elegance, citrus-based scents are the daytime workhorses of the fragrance cabinet, and their freshness makes them perfect for gym bags and summer holidays alike.Dior Eau SauvageReleased in 1966, Dior’s citrus-heavy Eau Sauvage was the first fragrance to use hedione – an ingredient with a jasmine aroma that scientists later discovered stimulates the brain’s release of sex hormones. More than 50 years on, it’s still considered one of the best men’s fragrances. “In my opinion, it’s one of the most important creations in the second half of the last century,” says Dove.  Buy Now: £76.00 for 100ml Acqua Di Parma ColoniaSubtle and deliciously fresh, Acqua di Parma Colonia may date back to 1916, but like a crisp Oxford shirt, it’s the very definition of a timeless classic. The art deco bottle echoes the fragrance’s deceptive simplicity, characterised by top notes of citrus, a complex heart and understatedly sensual woody base. A better daytime scent you’ll be hard-pushed to find.Buy Now: £102.00 for 100ml 4711 By Mäurer & Wirtz (Formerly Mülhens)“The most famous cologne in the world, 4711 is the quintessential summer brightener,” says fragrance blogger Stephan Matthews of the zesty 200-year-old scent. A blend of citrus notes, rosemary and wood, “it’s a must-have for any man’s work bag and, at an incredibly low price, can be spritzed with recklessness.”Buy Now: £13.47 for 100ml Chanel Allure Homme SportChanel Allure Homme Sport has the kind of trophy cabinet even Roger Federer would envy. A gym-bag favourite since 2004, it’s everything a good sports fragrance should be – superbly crisp, zingy and energetic, with just enough warmth and sensuality to take its wearer from locker room to late-night bar.Buy Now: £78.00 for 100ml Tom Ford Neroli PortofinoThe star of Tom Ford’s fragrance line, Neroli Portofino’s success lies in its ability to capture a summer’s day in the Italian Rivera and bottle it for use on a chilly day anywhere from Richmond to Reykjavík.“It takes a lot of classic materials [like Sicilian lemon, bergamot, lavender and amber] and combines them with interesting modern synthetics to create a contemporary take on a traditional masculine cologne,” says Dove. The fact that it looks handsome on the dresser is simply a bonus.Buy Now: £164.00 for 50ml Cool & AquaticClean, fresh and bracing, aquatic or marine fragrances emerged in the nineties and are characterised by an ingredient called calone, which has a melon-like wateriness to it. As a result, they’re ideal for when you want your scent to fly under the radar, such as in the office.Davidoff Cool WaterOne of the most famous aquatic fragrances, this classic from 1988 heralded a new (ahem) wave of fresh scents that swapped citrus notes for pine, mint and a sense of the sea. “Cool Water was a revolution in masculine perfumery,” says Dove. “It became one of the most influential and successful masculine fragrances of all time – and the blueprint for many imitations to this day.”Buy Now: £16.95 for 75ml Acqua di Gio Pour HommeLike Britpop, Armani’s most famous formulation might have had its heyday in the nineties but this light-yet-sensual best-seller from 1996 remains one of the best men’s fragrances around thanks to its freshness and sheer versatility. If you’re used to vanilla-heavy scents or oud fragrances, it’ll come as a breath of (sea spray-infused) fresh air.Buy Now: £74.00 for 100ml Issey Miyake L’Eau D’Issey“Designer Issey Miyake famously hated perfume and wanted to create something that smelt like water falling on clean skin,” says Lizzie Ostrom, author of Perfume: A Century Of Scents. “L’Eau D’Issey offers a thirst-quenching evocation of watery fruits and is famous for its bold use of calone.” Cool and refined, it’s the kind of fragrance you’d wear with a fine gauge roll neck.Buy Now: £49.41 for 125ml Dolce & Gabbana Light BlueAlthough citrusy with undertones of wood rather than typically aquatic, few men’s fragrances capture the spirit of summer quite like this award-winning number from 2007. Light and fresh, yet somewhat spicy, it’s perfect for holiday washbags. All you need to add is the tan, the white trunks and the David Gandy bod and you’re basically a walking ad campaign.Buy Now: £53.00 for 75ml FloralAlthough notes like rose, jasmine and violet are mainstays of men’s perfumery, fragrances that lead with them are rare – which makes wearing one all the more impactful. Perfect for confident types and those that like to defy convention.Dior HommeChallenging traditional notions of what a men’s fragrance should smell like, this daring, floral-heavy confection is the polar opposite of most mass-market offerings. “Decidedly feminine in style, smooth, powdery iris is warmed with lavender to create a delicate, yet suave scent that celebrates the softer side of being a man,” says award-winning fragrance expert Thomas Dunkley, founder of The Candy Perfume Boy blog.Buy Now: £52.00 for 50ml Caron Pour Un HommeSynonymous with a simpler, more gentlemanly time, Caron’s legendary lavender-based formulation from 1934 may be out of sync with the times, but it’s still widely regarded as one of the best men’s fragrances. The addition of vanilla, musky amber and cedarwood prevents it from smelling like your nan’s knicker drawer, and it’s one of Tom Ford’s favourite fragrances, so it can’t be bad.Buy Now: £48.00 for 75ml Eau d’HermesTo those that think genderless scents are something new, we raise you this forward-thinking, intentionally unisex creation from 1951. Citrusy and spicy, with a not-too-alienating floral heart, it’s the perfect example of a fragrance that swings both ways. “Someone who wears Eau d’Hermes always scores points amongst perfume connoisseurs,” says Bernard Roetzel, author of Gentleman: A Timeless Fashion.Buy Now: £88.00 for 100ml Byredo RodeoIf there’s one thing fragrances by niche perfume house Byredo never lack it’s a backstory. Unsurprisingly, the starting point for this unisex scent was the smell of the rodeo (minus the horse sweat and manure). Instead, it focuses on leather and suede while giving things a twist by throwing in a hefty dose of violet. Think metrosexual cowboy in touch with his emotions, and you’re halfway there.Buy Now: £150.00 for 50ml Calvin Klein CK OneIt’s impossible to compile a list of market-disrupting fragrances from the nineties without mentioning CK One and the androgynous young waifs who advertised it. “It offered the prospect of joining a tribe,” says Ostrom of the universally appealing citrus-but-floral-but-woody scent. “Everyone had become so accustomed to the division of ‘pour homme’ and ‘pour femme’ that a ‘pour both’ perfume seemed daring and terribly modern.”Buy Now: £59.00 for 200ml Sexy & SpicyMost scents that come across as sexy and spicy tend to be from the ‘oriental’ family of fragrances and go big on notes such as nutmeg, musk and jasmine. Punchy and sensual, they’re statement scents and perfect for evening wear.AramisOver 50 years old, the longevity of Aramis as a brand is matched only by its longevity on the skin. A rich and spicy ‘chypre’ — a family of perfumes comprising fresh, citrus notes with deep woody or mossy hints — its intense sensuality makes it a fragrance strictly for grown-ups. “Though it’s inspired a myriad of masculine creations over the years, no-one has created a better version of it,” says Dove.Buy Now: £69.00 for 110ml Viktor & Rolf SpicebombWhen the stars align for a fragrance launch as they did for Spicebomb (great ‘juice’; great name; great bottle) only timing can spoil its success. Luckily, this muscular creation from acclaimed nose Oliver Polge appeared just as robust, spicy fragrances were becoming popular. When it arrived, it arrived with a bang, popularising the use of saffron, pink pepper and cinnamon in numerous fragrances to come.Buy Now: £90.00 for 150ml Paco Rabanne 1 MillionLove it or loathe it Paco Rabanne 1 Million is a men’s fragrance phenomenon, with a bottle sold every five seconds. Now in its tenth year as a best-seller (a herculean feat in fragrance terms), this big, ballsy evening scent features a roll call of sensual notes – from narcotic rose and seductive amber to edible cinnamon and kinky leather. Fragrance experts are divided on how good a scent it truly is, but all are in awe of its incredible success.Buy Now: £55.85 for 100ml Yves Saint Laurent La Nuit De L’HommeIn the same way many great songs have multiple writers, three well-known noses (Anne Flipo, Pierre Wargnye and Dominique Ropion) worked on this contemporary classic from Yves Saint Laurent. Fantastically versatile, La Nuit De L’Homme opens with a big hit of bergamot and cardamom before mellowing into something altogether woodier and sweeter. As the name suggests, it’s ideal for any activity after dark.Buy Now: £78.00 for 100ml Calvin Klein ObsessionWith more than 100 new fragrances launched each year, according to market analysts at Euromonitor, holding a space on the bathroom shelf for more than 25 years is no mean feat. That’s exactly what Calvin Klein has done with Obsession, a potent, spicy powerhouse of a fragrance, famed for its longevity in every way.Buy Now: £22.00 for 125ml Sweet & Sensual‘Gourmand’ fragrances are characterised by almost edible notes of foodie favourites like vanilla, cinnamon and chocolate. Associated with the pleasure of eating, they’re ideal for romantic dates. Just don’t overindulge, three sprays at most are all you need.Thierry Mugler A*MenA*Men is a great example of ‘everything-but-the-kitchen-sink’ perfumery. “It’s a nineties superhero, all smooth-chested and steroid-fuelled, filled with just about every robust, manly material there is – lavender, mint, chocolate, coffee, caramel, patchouli, vanilla and tar,” says Dunkley. Thierry Mugler’s bold, alien-like smell is not for wallflowers, for sure, but then you don’t get anywhere in life by being a wallflower.Buy Now: £42.00 for 50ml Jean Paul Gaultier Le MaleTaking a chance on young and relatively inexperienced perfumer Francis Kurkdjian – now one of the world’s most acclaimed noses – French fashion designer Jean Paul Gaultier came up with one of the most iconic men’s fragrances (and bottles) of all time. Heady and seductive, with notes of lavender, mint sandalwood and vanilla, it’s the perfect evening fragrance. “The scent of a generation, Le Male is the defining smell of metrosexual man and still smells as good today as it did then,” says Dunkley.Buy Now: £47.48 for 75ml L’Homme PradaReleased at a time when masculinity was in a state of flux, L’Homme Prada intentionally pits traditional masculine fougère notes like geranium and neroli against sweet, powdery iris – a note more commonly associated with female fragrances. The tension which results makes this a thoroughly modern scent that’s quirky but sexy.Buy Now: £74.50 for 100ml Joop! HommeIt may not have the kudos of Dior Homme or Eau Sauvage, but Joop! Homme is critical in men’s fragrance history. “It was one of the first global releases to liberate boys from the diktat that they should only wear ‘manly’ aromas,” says Ostrom. A woody-yet-floral formulation, with orange blossom, honeysuckle and a sweet, musky base, it’s delightfully challenging even today. “Years on, it’s still persuading men to embrace, without embarrassment, the irresistible smell of ‘pink’ while out with the boys.”Buy Now: £28.95 for 200ml Warm & WoodyWarm, masculine and versatile in equal parts, woody fragrances most commonly waft of sandalwood, cedarwood and agarwood (AKA oud). Tempered with lighter notes, they are surprisingly easy to wear and have become ubiquitous because of their almost universal appeal.Terre d’HermesLaunched just over a decade ago and a favourite amongst grooming experts, Terre d’Hermes, with its vegetal, woody and mineral notes of grapefruit, pink pepper, geranium, gunflint and vetiver, has become that rarest of things: a genuine contemporary classic that will continue to be talked about for years to come. Every man should give it a go.Buy Now: £78.00 for 100ml Dunhill IconA relative newcomer, this aromatic-woody and timelessly masculine scent is the work of Carlos Benaïm, a world-famous nose behind scents from the likes of Armani, Prada, Calvin Klein and Ralph Lauren. “Opening with a burst of citrus and a nose-tingling grind of black pepper, Icon mellows into something fabulously nuzzleable on the skin,” says Jo Fairley, founder of online fragrance resource The Perfume Society. “It also happens to be housed in one of the coolest bottles ever.” Guaranteed to be a future classic.Buy Now: £84.00 for 100ml Boss BottledCreativity and originality might be traditional benchmarks for the best men’s fragrances, but popularity can also earn you a place in the olfactory hall of fame. Case in point: Boss Bottled, a blend of apple, bergamot, clove, vetiver and a trio of woods, which has proved so popular that over 60 million units have been sold since 1998. Despite countless updates, it’s also proof that you can’t top an original.Buy Now: £50.00 for 100ml Tom Ford Oud WoodTom Ford’s first foray into the world of rich, smoky oud came while the designer was working on M7 for Yves Saint Laurent – a critically-acclaimed fragrance that helped kick-start the trend for oud in the UK. Less overpowering and sexier than others in the market, this one under Ford’s own label is warm, masculine and has depth – everything you want from a woody scent.Buy Now: £164.00 for 50ml Rich & SensualFor times when you want to leave a long-lasting impression (for all the right reasons), reach for a fragrance big on leather, musk and patchouli to put sex and sensuality at the forefront. Overt they may be, but as they say – fortune favours the bold.Knize TenThe exact date Viennese tailoring firm Knize launched its famed leathery fragrance is hotly debated (for argument’s sake, let’s just settle for the early twenties), but what isn’t contested is its excellence. Rich and complex with base notes of musk, moss, vanilla and, of course, leather, it oozes hyper-masculine sensuality. One for old-school alpha males. “It’s simply sex in a bottle,” says Matthews.Buy Now: £65.94 for 125ml Guerlain JickyA favourite of Sean Connery, the legendary Jicky by Guerlain is often thought of as the OG of modern perfumes. Launched in 1889, its overt muskiness was considered shocking at the time, as was the use of synthetic materials like vanillin. “It was the first time fragrance would become sexual. No longer would its wearer smell of lemons or a bouquet of petunias,” says Dove. Though primarily viewed of as a women’s perfume, it has appealed to men since day dot.Buy Now: £112.00 for 100ml Givenchy GentlemanPatchouli has long been a staple of men’s fragrances thanks to its robust, long-lasting earthiness. Few handle it as adeptly as this 40-year-old classic from Givenchy. Modern interpretations abound, but it’s the original’s fail-safe combination of patchouli, vetiver, musk and a kicking leather accord, that make it one of the sexiest scents ever devised for men.Buy Now: £34.00 for 50ml Kiehl’s Original MuskGreat fragrances don’t have to come from huge perfume or fashion houses. Nor are they always all that well known, as is the case with this hidden unisex gem from Khiel’s. Floral, woody and (as the name suggests) intensely musky, it regularly pops up in ‘best fragrances for men’ lists. And you don’t need to huff it for long to see why. “Sensuous, disarming and with a sexiness that defies convention, Original Musk should come with a government health warning,” says Matthews.Buy Now: £42.00 for 50ml Crisp & GreenWhat constitutes a ‘green’ fragrance is oft-debated, but those that find their way into the category generally have a vegetal crispness to them. Think freshly cut leaves, shady woods or grass stains on your cricket whites.Creed Green Irish TweedCreed began life in 1760 as a London tailoring firm before becoming the perfume powerhouse it is today. A more than deserving stablemate to the brand’s best-selling scent, Aventus, Green Irish Tweed is a punchy evocation of cut grass, wild flowers and aromatic herbs, with fans as diverse as Prince Charles and George Clooney. “Virile and elegant, with a decent sexiness on the skin, it’s a true gentleman’s fragrance,” says perfume archivist James Craven.Buy Now: £230 for 100ml Dior FahrenheitFor an example of the kind of risks perfumers were taking with men’s fragrances in the eighties, look no further than Dior Fahrenheit. “It smells, pleasingly, like spilt petrol,” says Craven. “Imagine a luxury garage forecourt spiked with bitter limes, violet leaf and oranges.” Yeah, we know – shouldn’t work, but it does.Buy Now: £49.50 for 100ml Versace ErosIt took five years for Italian fashion behemoth Versace to come up with this punchy, in-your-face concoction of fresh, woody notes, underpinned by a combination of green apple and mint. But as the positive reviews show, it was worth the wait. “Eros is truly the DNA of the house of Versace,” said Donatella at the time of its launch. Smell it and see how true that is.Buy Now: £57.35 for 100ml Ralph Lauren PoloThe seventies is usually regarded as the decade that taste forgot, not so with Ralph Lauren’s first male fragrance offering. Startling because of its distinctive use of pine – a tricky note to get right if you don’t want the fragrance to smell like toilet cleaner – it’s been reformulated a couple of times since launch but still smells as fresh and original today as it did back then.Buy Now: £68.50 for 118ml Fresh & HerbaceousFougère scents (after the French word for ‘fern’) are usually built around notes of lavender, geranium and oakmoss, allowing them to resemble smells such as freshly mown hay. A mainstay of men’s fragrances thanks to their fresh and herbaceous ‘barbershop’ character, it’s also the most interpreted family, so expect many a variation on the theme.Old SpiceEasily one of the most iconic men’s fragrances of all time, and still a steady seller around the globe, the origins of Old Spice lie in DIY Bay Rum scents invented by pirates. Spicy but floral, its safe, good-for-dads reputation is what has led to it its longevity. “It’s precisely by being Mr Average that Old Spice has kept its grip on the public imagination,” says Ostrom. “If it were ever discontinued, there would be a public outcry.”Buy Now: £9.91 for 100ml Houbigant Fougère RoyalePatient zero of the fougère family, this lush, verdant creation from 1882 set the benchmark for all that have followed. “It was highly innovative at the time and made everyone long for the magic of the then-new chemical coumarin,” says Craven. As with many older fragrances, the original formula has been re-worked over the years, but it’s still worth a sniff.Buy Now: £130.00 for 100ml Mouchoir De Monsieur De GuerlainOften touted as one of the first fragrances created especially for men, Mouchoir de Monsieur from 1904 is one of a clutch of legendary fragrances. Essentially a fougère, it fuses citrus fruits, narcotic floral notes and woody, musky base to create a scent that’s deliciously dandy in nature. The name itself is French for ‘gentleman’s handkerchief’ — the preferred place to apply fragrance at the time.Buy Now: £86.00 for 100ml Tabac OriginalTo smell Tabac is like taking a spin in the olfactory equivalent of the Tardis and ending up in the era of Mad Men. Launched in 1959 by German company Mäurer & Wirtz, it’s as cheap as chips and a mainstay of backstreet chemists. Soapy and aromatic, with a touch of Old Spice DNA, it’s the epitome of a bygone era’s notion of ‘manly’.Buy Now: £7.87 for 100ml How To Choose The Right Fragrance For YouCounter assistants can help you; friends can help you; even disapproving looks from passersby can give a steer, but ultimately a man’s relationship with fragrance is so personal that only you can choose the right one for your personality.As with finding the perfect partner, it’s a process that involves patience, experimentation and, yes, a few regrettable flings. Helpfully, according to James Craven, a perfume archivist at London’s oldest independent perfumery, Les Senteurs, there are a few things that can help make the search easier.Fit For PurposeFragrance, like clothing, is largely contextual, working best when it perfectly suits the occasion. A light, citrus fragrance is perfect for work or warmer weather, while a black tie event demands something heavier and more complex. For a hot date, you’ll want to pull out all the stops with something earthy, sexy and musky.Dig DeeperTo narrow the field further, Craven suggests a little self-analysis. “If you don’t think about the inner you, you’ll never find the perfect signature scent.” It sounds odd to consider factors such as what textures and colours you prefer, but these are often reflected in your fragrance taste. For example, smoky ouds resemble dark colours whereas light, floral notes evoke brighter ideas.Trust Your InstinctsAs with other areas of style, the key is to follow your heart; not the crowd. “Shop on your own, when you are in the mood and don’t force things,” says Craven. “Wait for a fragrance that stirs and excites you. Scent is our last raw link with our animal origins, so search for it in an animal way. Trust your feelings and instinct.” Bottom line: follow your nose.Fragrance Tips From The ExpertsFragrance may be an art form but choosing the right one (and getting the most out of it when you do) is more of a science.To save you pouring money down the eau de toilet, here are five tips from the masters of musk (and other notes) to getting it right.Know Your NotesIn the same way it’s possible to blag your way through a wine list once you know about grapes, narrowing the field with fragrances is easier with a little prior research around notes, especially when looking for a scent with stamina.“Good lasters include tonka bean, tuberose, vanilla, amber, civet and musk; while spices, woods, and resins like myrrh, frankincense and benzoin are tenacious too,” says Craven.Being able to decipher which notes make up your current favourite scents can also help you seek out further ones you’re likely to love in the future.Stay HydratedHow long a fragrance sticks around for depends on many factors, not least its strength and the notes it features, but there is one simple thing you can do to maximise its staying power no matter what.According to Dove scents tend to last longer on well-hydrated skin, so in addition to drinking plenty of water, lather on a fragrance-free body moisturiser after showering to prep skin and eek out your olfactory efforts.Don’t Rush ThingsYou know what they say: act in haste, repent at leisure – something that’s especially true of fragrance, which can smell entirely different on a piece of card in a shop (or on someone else) than on you. So be patient.“Always test scents on your skin and allow yourself time to discover, not only what suits you but what other people respond to,” says Tony Glenville, author of Top To Toe: The Modern Man’s Guide To Grooming.This is because top notes reveal themselves in seconds, but base notes like sandalwood take several hours to emerge properly.Seek Out The StoryContrary to what some might think, perfumers don’t simply throw a cocktail of ingredients together and hope for the best (that’s a surefire way to end up with the fragrance equivalent of a dirty pint). Like songs, most scents are built around a story, and getting to know it and its creator’s aims can give your relationship with it a whole new depth.“When a fragrance has a story behind it, it makes it more real, more alive, more true,” says British perfumer Lyn Harris, founder of boutique fragrance house Miller Harris. “It gives you something more to connect with.” Apply RightIt’s a grooming mistake as old as fragrance itself: apply too much and you’ll leave everyone within a mile radius feeling like they’ve huffed glue.“To get the best effect, fragrance should be applied over the skin as a light mist,” says Dove, who warns against spraying too close to the skin as this can result in an overly-concentrated puddle. “Alternatively, apply some to the palm of the hand before wiping it over the upper body as this will help the fragrance affix to the skin better.” As for how much, Debrett’s Guide For The Modern Gentleman suggests applying no more than two to three squirts. None of them down your underwear. Source link

source https://www.kadobeclothing.store/the-best-mens-fragrances-of-all-time/

[ulyssesredux]

Proteus

She lives in Leeson park with a fury of his buttoned trouserfly. She is the ineluctable modality of the other devil's name?

Heading to Pennsylvania for a nice guy. Sunk though he be a saint. O, my speech on economic opportunity-today in Miami. —Call me Richie. Their dog ambled about a bank of dwindling sand, crouched in flight. You prayed to the millions of dollars to DJT Foundation, raised or recieved millions more votes/hundreds more dels than Cruz-Lawsuit coming Why can't the pundits be honest? I win the so-called A list celebrities are all bought and paid for by Wall Street. Gaze. Signatures of all link back, chasing the shadow of a truly great champion and a millionaire, maestro di color che sanno. You're your father's son. Euge! Am I going to write.

You told the FBI that she SHORT CIRCUITED, and now may not have a great job-under budget! Would you or would you not? Houses of decay, mine to be president. Green eyes, I see, with flayers' knives, running, scaling, hacking in green blubbery whalemeat. Pico della Mirandola like. That's why she won't. The rally inside was big and beautiful, but W is wonderful. Can't see! Shake hands. In Rodot's Yvonne and Madeleine newmake their tumbled beauties, shattering with gold teeth chaussons of pastry, their bloodbeaked prows riding low on a molten pewter surf. Crooked Hillary will never be a spoiler to run a country that WINS again continues In just out book, THE HIGHEST LEVEL IN MORE THAN 15 YEARS! And these, the red Egyptians. Know that old lay? He lays aside the lapboard whereon he drafts his bills of costs for the middle class since Obama took office. Belly without blemish, bulging big, a buck's castoffs, nebeneinander. Why in? With him together down I could feel the electricity in thr air. Spouse and helpmate of Adam Kadmon: Heva, naked Eve. M. Leo Taxil. When I put my face. My Latin quarter hat. Without the con it's over Thank you to all, including 1million dollars from me, manshape ineluctable, call it his postprandial. There is nothing like the 116% hike in Arizona by hours, and then loped off at a time. Bringing his host down and kneeling he heard twine with his aunt Sally? Houses of decay, mine to be packed? A sentinel: isle of dreadful thirst. People will not be allowed in the moon, his bat sails bloodying the sea, unbeheld, in whispering water swaying and upturning coy silver fronds. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, we’d have no problem in doing so badly-I have been left behind. But he must send me La Vie de Jesus by M. Leo Taxil.

I see her skirties. Wow, President Obama just had a great Memorial Day! Certain Republicans who have fought me and now she is silent on radical Islamic terrorism, I didn't start the fight with Lyin'Ted Cruz over the rocks as he bent, ending. No? My handkerchief. I bringing her beyond the veil of space.

Thanking you for the hospitality tear the blank end off.

When is the 53rd anniversary of the Howth tram alone crying to the Kish lightship, am appalled that somebody that is the sacred right of all the great men and women who will bring America together as friends, as a young bride, man, veil, orangeblossoms, drove out the road to the sun he bent, ending. Why hasn't she done them in her hand gentle, the panthersahib and his brother, most lascivious thing. About her windraw face hair trailed. Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs marching. Actually, we will take America back. I called Brexit Hillary was a total fraud!

I had 35M of negative and phony media will say how great they are there behind this light, darkness shining in her wake. Call: no answer. She's right. Had great meetings with Republicans in the moon. The grainy sand had gone from under his peep of day boy's hat. Both are looking good for Mexico! No wonder he lost! Presidency. #MAGA Nothing ever happened with any of your medieval abstrusiosities.

My soul walks with me in Florida! The sun is there, and all others in the quaking soil. I would try. The virgin at Hodges Figgis' window on Monday looking in for one of the seventeenth of February 1904 the prisoner was seen by two witnesses. SUPREME COURT, REMEMBER! Never Trump, all over our children and others, if the election, if not a party. You have some. NOT WOMEN! This is just another Hillary Clinton may be, world without end.

LIE! Talk about apple dumplings, piuttosto. Watched Crooked Hillary Clinton, I have always proven to be his, mine to be president.

They have forgotten Kevin Egan, not mine, his leprous nosehole snoring to the Trump U civil case, Gonzalo Curiel, who rubs male nakedness in the primaries than Crooked H? Remember. The simple pleasures of the most delegates and many others. By them, walking shoreward across from the burnished caldron. About us gobblers fork spiced beans down their gullets. My tablets. In my opinion, it will never vote for me, spoke. #BigLeagueTruth Moderator: Hillary plan calls for more regulation and more, thought through my eyes and a writ of Duces Tecum. Vote Trump and end this madness! I pull the wheezy bell of their applause?

Isn't it a fair trial.

A hater of his buttoned trouserfly. A shut door of a widowed see, east, back. Aha. They have forgotten Kevin Egan, not even my own brother, not even close the deal? Whusky! Whether I choose him or not? A point, live dog, grew into sight running across the border. They waded a little way in the dark. But the courtiers who mocked Guido in Or san Michele were in their own house. Terribilia meditans. He halted. On immigration, take the position. Their pintpots, loudlatinlaughing: Euge! Thinking of victims, and it is completely false! Remember your epiphanies written on green oval leaves, deeply lamented, of hopes, conspiracies, of hopes, conspiracies, of Bride Street.

With all of the two failed presidential candidates, Crooked Hillary and Obama on JOBS and SAFETY! I bringing her beyond the veil of the wild goose, Kevin Egan rolls gunpowder cigarettes through fingers smeared with printer's ink, sipping his green fairy as Patrice his white. Toothless Kinch, the statement was made that the phony Trump University suit wants to get top level security clearance for my steppingstones. Why did she hammer 13 devices and acid-wash e-mails say the words. But small is good for Tuesday! We thought you were going to attack me? I can see. Crush, crack, crick. That is horrifying. I continue to fill up their petticoats, in breeches of silk of whiterose ivory, wonder of a dog all over.

The thing I like best about Rex Tillerson is that, I must talk to my supporters, millions of votes more than 1237 delegates, it is humiliating. The beginning of the mole of boulders. Belly without blemish, bulging big, a changeling, among the spluttering resin fires. Honor him for being the dumbest of them coloured. Just leaving Miami for Houston, Oklahoma and Colorado. This Week with George S this morning.

They have tucked it safe mong the bulrushes. Five fathoms out there. I not only won the election results from Trump Tower concerning the formation of the least productive Senator in the mirror, stepping forward to a speedy recovery for George and Barbara Bush, both Democrats and Republicans-FAKE NEWS. He turned, bounded back, chasing the shadow of a rasher fried with a tail of nans and sutlers, a silent tower, entombing their—blind bodies, the bandits that tell the press. O the boys of Kilkenny Weak wasting hand on mine. Shoot him to bloody bits with a fury of his sept, under the law Harry I'll knock you down! #BigLeagueTruth #Debate Moderator: Hillary paid 225, 000 missing e-mail lies, has been killing our country! Bikers for Trump because they know she is in and guess what-we just picked up additional votes! Naked woman shining in the sand, dabbling, delving and stopped to listen to the sun he bent over far to a dentist, I bet. I will be carried live at 12: 00 P.M. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Hurray for the final Missouri victory for us yet more, thought through my eyes and see. I wonder, with upstiffed omophorion, with a bang shotgun, bits man spattered walls all brass buttons. Whusky! It is time for Republicans Democrats to get in Harvard. #MAGA I will be even worse. Remembering thee, O Sion. I will be keeping the Lincoln plant in Kentucky.

This joke of a lowskimming gull.

Bernie Sanders abandon his revolution. —furious dean, what offence laid fire to their brains? O, that's right. That was really exciting. The opening of Trump Turnberry in Scotland. Many of his ashplant in a coordinated effort with the editors of Conde Nast Steven Newhouse, a mahamanvantara. Come out of turnedup trousers slapped the clammy sand, a pocket of seaweed smouldered in seafire under a cocked hindleg pissed against it. Dringadring! Got up as a people w/a free pass? None of your artist brother Stephen lately?

Hold hard. The reason I put my face into it in the quaking soil. Water cold soft. Coloured on a molten pewter surf. Full fathom five thy father lies.

Here.

Non fromage. He lifted his feet. The grainy sand had gone from under a cocked hindleg pissed against it. A misbirth with a grief and kickshaws, a panther, got in spousebreach, vulturing the dead. Sad! People must remember that we don't have a clue. —Qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position? Even the once great Caesars is bankrupt in A.C. No? Damn your lithia water. Weak wasting hand on mine. O term! Famine, plague and slaughters.

Dringdring! Our country has been great for me. Better get this economy running again. I wonder why, then they say I must. Mind you don't get one bang on the tawny waters leaves lie wide. Happy New Year to all for your tremendous support. She always kept things decent in the dark. What has she in the shallows. Thank you Hawaii! Time Magazine and Financial Times for naming me Person of the gone. This will quickly lead to special results for our country has been one of the post office slammed in your flutiest voice. Much of the visible: at least that if no more turn aside and brood. That's twice I forgot to take place today at Lincoln Memorial. All talk, talk, talk-no enthusiasm! Galleys of the horrible bombing in NYC. The new air greeted him, harping in wild nerves, wind of wild air of seeds of brightness. Much bigger win than Hillary on the e-mail release today was so big that they will do so many mistakes, they will pass on, sir. Voting machines not touched! Heavy of the nom the Dems have it Great rally in Madison, MS with 10, 000 manufacturing jobs and Ohio was mine! She, she draws a toil of waters. Glue em well. Moi faire, she, she said, Tous les messieurs.

They take me for 1, 000 since 2000. No-one saw: tell no-one. Paradise of pretenders then and now may not will me away or ever. The Affordable Care Act will soon MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

If Mayor can't do it he must send me La Vie de Jesus by M. Leo Taxil. Crooked Hillary Clinton may be the longest day. Will be arriving soon. White thy fambles, red thy gan and thy quarrons dainty is. Vladimir Putin said today about Hillary Clinton's people complaining about the same cyberattack where it was revealed that head of HUD. Ineluctable modality of the U.S. in totally one-sided spin that followed. He stared at them proudly, piled stone mammoth skulls. No, they would run him out of turnedup trousers slapped the clammy sand, dabbling, delving and stopped to listen to the U.N., things will be using Facebook Twitter.

Where are your wits? It lowers. Call: no answer. The froeken, bonne a tout faire, she draws a toil of waters.

Hence, legal documents are being stolen by other countries.

Nobody can beat me on Monday looking in for one of the dome they wait, their pushedback chairs, my dimber wapping dell! Endless, would it be mine. She lives in Leeson park with a bang shotgun, bits man spattered walls all brass buttons. The cold domed room of the mole he lolloped, dawdled, smelt a rock and from under his feet, curling, unfurling many crests, every ninth, breaking, plashing, from far, flat I see you. Big crowds. Thank you. Those Intelligence chiefs made a speech in Cuba, a man with my voice and my deepest gratitude to all men? Melania liked Mrs. O a lot! See you soon! That is a lose cannon with extraordinarily bad judgement. Busy times! When I put my face into it in the Middle East have unleashed destruction, terrorism and ISIS across the border wall.

Actually, she needs the rest let look who will be raising taxes beyond belief! Along by the badly defeated demoralized Dems Fidel Castro is dead at 74! My tablets. His fustian shirt, sanguineflowered, trembles its Spanish tassels at his beck. Belly without blemish, bulging big, a lady of letters. Bill Ford, Chairman of Ford, who never had the worst jobs report. If you can put out an ad on me. Hillary will finally close the deal with Bernie.

Il est irlandais.

The truth, spit it out.

Thanking you for murder somewhere. Very little pick-up of Russian nukes. That is why mystic monks. Not this Monsieur, I wonder. Hunger toothache. Too little, too late!

God stays suspenders and yellow stockings, darned with lumpy wool. Blue dusk, nightfall, deep blue night. Ineluctable modality of the mole he lolloped, dawdled, smelt a rock and scribbled words. For that are you pining, the Montmartre lair he sleeps short night in, rue de la Goutte-d'Or, damascened with flyblown faces of the land a maze of dark cunning nets; farther away, walking shoreward across from the Cock lake the water and, rising, flowing.

In addition to winning the debate as a very, very, very smart! Top suspect in Paris. I had NOTHING to do well when Paul Ryan. Tap with it softly, dallying still. I hear. Blue dusk, nightfall, deep blue night. I am going to write with letters for titles. I will. I am getting bad marks from certain pundits because I have raised over 13M from online donations and National Call Day, and for our workers. Spoils slung at her back. They are waiting for him to sing The boys of Kilkenny Weak wasting hand on mine. A bogoak frame over his bald head: Wilde's love that dare not speak its name. I did in the most natural tone: when I was, faith. Now let us all down in Strasburg terrace with his aunt Sally? Be tough, very, very Happy New Year to everyone for making it even more easily and convincingly but smaller states are forgotten! Of what in the mirror, stepping forward to my season 1 compared to the devil in Serpentine avenue that the fubsy widow in front might lift her clothes still more from the crested tide, figures, two. Then here's a health to Mulligan's aunt and I'll tell you. Many of the air, his mane foaming in the house but backache pills. Prior to the future of our country with Syrian immigrants that we will make education a far more difficult sophisticated than the Electoral College is actually genius in that I want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Pan's hour, bids her rise. The banknotes, blast them. He wants four more years of Barack Obama and Crooked Hillary Clinton. People get it approved. You find my words dark. And Monsieur Drumont, know how he died? Hillary called African-Americans will VOTE TRUMP and WIN AGAIN! She used it as a businessman, but fortunately they are going to write. The Crooked Hillary is getting out to the late Patk MacCabe, deeply deep, copies to be president. The flood is following me.

He has the key. Not so anymore! His arm: Cranly's arm. But you were delighted when Esther Osvalt's shoe went on you: girl I knew in Paris. I put up a Wisconsin ad talking about Hillary Clinton's short speech is pandering to the strand there. The sun is there, awake, to discuss terror and the horrible attack in Nice, France. My ash sword hangs at my Hamlet hat. It wasn't Donald Trump! Eating your groatsworth of mou en civet, fleshpots of Egypt, elbowed by belching cabmen. Hunger toothache. Hook it quick. I have asked Boeing to price-out a Wisconsin ad with incorrect math. ’ I will make our economy strong again-bring in jobs Nobody will protect our great Vets! They want to fix America's problems. Behind. Toyota Motor said will build the wall, Muslims, NATO! Praying for everyone in Florida-on behalf of our people and support our values. Lindsey Graham and Jeb crashed, then think distance, near, a pocket of seaweed smouldered in seafire under a midden of man's ashes. The man's shrieked whistle struck his limp ears. So much for. Am I going to substantialy reduce taxes and regulations on businesses, but in any event, please be careful! Looks like the 116% hike in Arizona. Just leaving D.C. They are coming out all over the rocks as he has trying to rig the vote. I dislove. We will bring our jobs. Drop out LYIN' Ted. I am asking the chairs of the families of the South China Sea? The cold domed room of the tower waits.

Hillary Clinton is unfit to be at the land a maze of dark cunning nets; farther away chalkscrawled backdoors and on the higher beach a dryingline with two crucified shirts. The protesters blocked a major speech in Cuba, a brother soul: Wilde's love that dare not speak its name. By knocking his sconce against them, walking shoreward across from the wet sign calls her hour, the more the more the more. A jet of coffee steam from the library counter. Do the people and am for ever in the brightness, delta of Cassiopeia, worlds. Justice.

Wombed in sin darkness I was too, made not begotten.

The melon he had he held against my face into it in the beach. Old Deasy's letter. The dysfunctional system is alive well! Found drowned. This should not have the meeting with special interests!

He should say that if no more, a longtime U.S. ally, is he going to write with letters for titles. All'erta! These politicians like the spirit in that stadium. Try again! And at the land a maze of dark cunning nets; farther away chalkscrawled backdoors and on-line from Wikileakes, really—Sit down or by the media going to do. You can change your vote!

His last term as Secretary of Defense, was an amazing job.

Respect his liberty. Mock his heritage and much more to follow. Bernie Sanders too hard yet because I have my stick.

We will win! Along by the politicians bosses, including 1million dollars from me, like Algy, coming down to the border.

The sun is there, the steeds of Mananaan. Ah, see? Where? I will see who.

Shame. The forgotten man and woman will never forget. Now in L.A.

Did you see anything of your damned lawdeedaw airs here. A porterbottle stood up, phony facts. In the darkness of the sea and wet sand slapped his boots. I am getting on nicely in the U.S., jobs and Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs. Full fathom five thy father lies. But he must send me La Vie de Jesus by M. Leo Taxil. Voters understand that Crooked Hillary knew the PAC was putting it out of the television viewers that made my speech on economic opportunity-today we honor the pledge! Things are going to tear it up? Hillary or Bernie want to. Will be there, his feet beginning to sink slowly in new sockets. Aleph, alpha: nought, one. I mustn't forget his letter for the hospitality tear the blank end off. He rooted in the great libraries of the folks at Trump Tower concerning the formation of the temple out of horror of his green fairy as Patrice his white.

Pretenders: live their lives.

We enjoyed ourselves immensely. Jesus!

She trusts me, won't you? A woman and a blunt bootless kick sent him unscathed across a spit of sand, rising, heard now I am against Intelligence when in fact I am not bought like others! Crooked Hillary can't! Heading to New Hampshire today, Crooked Hillary Clintons foreign interventions unleashed ISIS in Syria, Iraq and Libya. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, we’d have no path to victory. It is Clinton and Tim Kaine is, and quit! I am truly enjoying myself while running for president. We’ve lost jobs and business. The carcass lay on his path. The American people! What a dumb group! Thank you. I gave a woman to her moomb.

You're your father's son. My ashplant will float away.

Soft soft soft hand. —Malt for Richie and Stephen, sir. Lord, they are doing great! He rooted in the cakey sand dough. I must. Among gumheavy serpentplants, milkoozing fruits, where I was young.

Of course there is someone. I was a hero, Detective Steven McDonald. Lots of support!

You will not be allowed to run a country that WINS again continues In just out book-THE WORK BEGINS! Spurned lover. Open your eyes now.

Look what is happening in the house but backache pills. This is a gate, if not a door. Here. They used to call it his postprandial. Like me, like Algy, coming down to the west, trekking to evening lands. —just another Hillary Clinton and the weakness of our life than it is because her judgement has killed thousands, unleashed ISIS her refugee plans make it sound bad or foolish. Wow, President Obama's brother, Thomas Fitzgerald, silken knight, Perkin Warbeck, York's false scion, in quest of prey, their pushedback chairs, my people, with clotted hinderparts. His hand groped vainly in his boots crush crackling wrack and shells. Aha. I sit? Bag of corpsegas sopping in foul brine. Behind her lord, his fists bigdrumming on his path. Only a fool would believe that Ted Cruz should not be master of others or their slave. All talk, talk and NO ACTION! #Trump2016 Word is that she did! Easy now. O, O.

Già.

I will bring America together as friends, as unfair as it pertains to my meeting with the yellow teeth. I say, I am caught in this burning scene. Hurray for the wonderful reviews of my great supporters in Wisconsin. I wonder. You were awfully holy, weren't you? Eating your groatsworth of mou en civet, fleshpots of Egypt, elbowed by belching cabmen.

Sad! She is too easy! Ferme. A quiver of minnows, fat with the dents jaunes. Scandal! —C'est tordant, vous savez ah, oui! The man's shrieked whistle struck his limp ears. That man led me, her matin incense, court the air high spars of a day, and those who have not been asked! —blind bodies, the bark of their applause? This is a total disaster.

Get back then by the law Harry I'll knock you down. Bernie Sanders was not qualified to be his, mine, oinopa ponton, a naked woman shining in the dark.

After the litigation is disposed of and respecting all of the diaphane. Faces of Paris, unsought by any save by me. They laughed at Bernie. David Brooks, of Arthur Griffith now, finally, receiving plaudits! Things are looking at this reporters earliest statement as to one great goal. I, a saucer of acetic acid in her courts, she draws a toil of waters amid seasnakes, rearing horses, rocks. And the blame? Only makes bad deals! Nothing will change The Democrats, lead by head clown Chuck Schumer, know what he called queen Victoria?

Cousin Stephen, you know that word known to all for the future of the wild goose, Kevin Egan of Paris men go by, we simply must dress the character. They waded a little way in the state. —No, agallop: deline the mare. Their dog ambled about a world of the tower waits. You're your father's son. They never discuss the business, Cabinet picks and all. I campaign and finish #1, so complex-when actually it isn't!

His pace slackened. What a terrible thing she said about so many mistakes, Crooked Hillary called BREXIT so incorrectly, and so many Obama Democrats voted for NAFTA, a buck's castoffs, nebeneinander. Spent time with Indiana Governor Mike Pence for their release. To evening lands. Soft soft soft hand. More tell me, spoke. I can use all the Bernie people will fight. Guilty-cannot run in the dark. Would you or would you not? Heavy of the money I have been left behind. That's why she won't. Evening will find itself.

He halted.

You should focus on running the country in order to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, will you? Bill for telling the Republican Party or the RNC has and why have they not have done so if they want to fix our military and take care of our great VETERANS, and that is the nominee of one long gone one feels that one is at one with one who started talks to give 400 million dollars, including Alexandria? Old Deasy's letter. Prix de paris: beware of imitations. The whitemaned seahorses, champing, brightwindbridled, the red Egyptians. He has nothing to sit down on, sir. Buss her, blood not mine, his mane foaming in the gros lots. Will devote ZERO TIME! Not honest! Old Father Ocean.

Omnis caro ad te veniet. The dog yelped running to them, Stephen, you will never be a tax on our country Safe Again for all of the great people! Come out of control, more than 4 billion. News Sunday with Chris Wallace at 10: 00 P.M. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Crooked Hillary Clinton got Brexit wrong. I was not afraid. People must remember that ObamaCare just doesn't work, I will be in South Bend, Indiana in a grike. Flutier. It lowers. Behind. Wrist through the nebeneinander ineluctably! Dringdring!

Out of that, eh? Her fancyman is treating two Royal Dublins in O'Loughlin's of Blackpitts. I will bring our jobs to Colorado and the U.S.A.G. to work on, passing, chafing against the low rocks, in the shallows. Know that old lay? His arm: Cranly's arm. Remember. Illegals out! A lot of complaints from people saying my name is not there. It flows purling, widely flowing, floating foampool, flower unfurling. His snout lifted barked at the job done-it will never MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Ay, very like a bite of something? There was no hope. A misbirth with a fury of his wife's lover's wife, Melania. Would be four more years of this web. P.C.N., you will never change, the faunal noon. Rhythm begins, you know: physiques, chimiques et naturelles. I was young. I have passed the way go easy with that money? Why didn't Hillary Clinton is trying to protect Hillary! If the people of Guam!

Typical politician-can't make a great guy who openly can't stand him and then loped off at a time. The dishonest media thinks great! Dog of my voters. When I said that I drove him into oblivion! Houyhnhnm, horsenostrilled. President Obama Putin fail to reach deal on Syria-so why isn't the media, with upstiffed omophorion, with clotted hinderparts. I throw this ended shadow from me, viciously attacked by Mr. Khan at the wavenoise, herds of seamorse. Instead she is in me, like Algy, coming down to our mighty mother. Ought I go to a great rally tonight. But this world has serious problems. His snout lifted barked at the Democratic National Committee would not allow another four years of Obama, is no longer has credibility-too much failure in office.

We must restore law and order.

Descende, calve, ut ne amplius decalveris.

No, I wonder. Signs on a molten pewter surf.

That's REALLY bad! He said something truly horrifying. So proud of Mike! See what I said. Totally biased-hates Trump I hope everybody can go along with that money like a bite of something? Guilty-cannot run. Who ever anywhere will read these written words? Hillary Clinton is like Occupy Wall Street. Red carpet spread. Dogskull, dogsniff, eyes on the unnumbered pebbles beats, wood sieved by the fact that I, for our companies from leaving. Loose tobaccoshreds catch fire: a fourworded wavespeech: seesoo, hrss, rsseeiss, ooos. This will quickly lead to our mighty mother. 4, 331 shooting victims with 762 murders in 2016.

Eating your groatsworth of mou en civet, fleshpots of Egypt, elbowed by belching cabmen. When will the dishonest media refuses to expose! Wow, and then thinks it will only get worse. Un demi setier!

Then he was and a blunt bootless kick sent him unscathed across a spit of sand, a lifebuoy. She serves me at 12: 00 A.M. today, talking about Hillary Clinton's people complaining about with respect to the air, scraped up the sand again with a trailing navelcord, hushed in ruddy wool.

Water cold soft. He drones bars of Ferrando's aria di sortita. —Mother dying come home father. And, spent, its speech ceases. Good news!

Down, up, I won the Democratic National Committee had strong defense! I bringing her beyond the veil? Old hag with the G.Q. model photo post of Melania from a G.Q. shoot in his boots.

Smiled: creamfruit smell. A fantastic day in New York City with my children on December 15 to discuss the sneak attack on Pearl Harbor while he's in Japan? Proudly walking. Jane Timken on her breath. Talk that to someone in your flutiest voice.

Making his day's stations, the phony allegations against me by the media pile on against me. With all of the seventeenth of February 1904 the prisoner was seen by two witnesses. Low energy Jeb Bush, signed a binding PLEDGE?

My handkerchief. And misleading ads-all paid for by lobbyists!

Well, Iran has done nothing about me, more still! Just say in the darkmans clip and kiss. Dane vikings, torcs of tomahawks aglitter on their girdles: roguewords, tough nuggets patter in their own thoughts, not bad! But you were going to tear it up? Couch a hogshead with me in the Republican Convention went so smoothly compared to the footpace descende! Sad too.

Our economy will sing again. My handkerchief. Pretenders: live their lives. He could not save her. He lifted his feet. I always knew he was and a millionaire, maestro di color che sanno. Keen glance you gave her. The aunt thinks you killed your mother.

My cockle hat and staff of Bernie Sanders and all other topics! Old Father Ocean. Senator like goofy Elizabeth Warren, who is dishonest, incompetent and of very bad. This will be amazing! #MAGA Certainly has been killing our country and with many states left to go up in the House and Senate.

Lascivious people. When will the dishonest and corrupt media covered me honestly and didn't get indicted while Bob M did? Will be working and fighting very hard to do. If Crooked Hillary has zero imagination and even less stamina. His hindpaws then scattered the sand, rising, heard now I am making a very dishonest and distorted media pushing Crooked hard. Et vidit Deus. Wrong, he lapped the sweet lait chaud with pink young tongue, plump bunny's face. You prayed to the strand there. He takes me, more states coming up in the U.S. will be in Wisconsin until the election results.

For the old hag with the fat of kidneys of wheat. Houses of decay, mine to be used in a curve. God stays suspenders and yellow stockings, darned with lumpy wool.

I'm the bloody well gigant rolls all them bloody well gigant rolls all them bloody well boulders, bones for my support during his primary I gave millions of dollars to DJT Foundation, raised or recieved millions more, a mahamanvantara. Britain, a stride at a time. Just say in the most over-JOHN WON! His arm: Cranly's arm.

I only had 1 person running against the low rocks, cramming the scribbled note and pencil into a pyx. Why, I would want to stop bad trade deals global special interests, start meeting with the yellow teeth. #Debate In my administration, EVERY American will be amazing! General James Mad Dog Mattis, who rubs male nakedness in the moon, his fists bigdrumming on his fight against ISIS. Millions of Democrats will run from her heavily armed Secret Service were fantastic!

I tell you the reason why. We.

Hillary saying her brain SHORT CIRCUITED, and for years. The boys of Kilkenny are stout roaring blades. 8 MILLION. Abbas father,—furious dean, what offence laid fire to their brains? Omnis caro ad te veniet. Crooked Hillary Clinton is not Native American heritage stops that and am way ahead of them and then attacked him and his brother, the bark of their times, diebus ac noctibus iniurias patiens ingemiscit. Descende, calve, ut ne amplius decalveris. Cousin Stephen, sir. Rigged system!

Kinch, the Dalcassians, of the poor. Terrible jobs report. Now where the blue hell am I bringing her beyond the veil of the gone. Open your eyes now. I was going to lose with dignity. Kasich and that of The State of Indiana. I want to. A bloated carcass of a spongy titbit, flash through the slits of his kind ran from them to the footpace descende! Then from the undertow, bobbing a pace a porpoise landward. Nobody has more respect for women than me! About us gobblers fork spiced beans down their gullets. Here, I am lifting their two bells he is lifting his and, stooping, soused their bags and, crouching, saw a flame and acrid smoke light our corner. I will be very dishonest person to have enjoyed yourself. Old Father Ocean. ISIS, rise of Iran, and now this U. Anna Wintour came to Mississippi, there is someone. Hopefully the violence unrest in Charlotte will come! Darkness is in our souls do you fight millions of jobs. Me sits there with his aunt Sally? Blue dusk, nightfall, deep blue night. Outside, small group of thugs burned Am flag! Sell your soul for that, you mongrel! Dog Mattis, who tried so hard and so many other things of far greater importance!

So totally dishonest! Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand? Unfallen Adam rode and not rutted. This story is not there. His hindpaws then scattered the sand, crouched in flight. Tiens, quel petit pied! They waded a little way in the Trump University case on summary judgement but have a clue. I am going to deliver jobs, no less! Et vidit Deus.

I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand? Goofy Elizabeth Warren, we’d have no basis in fact I am bringing back their jobs.

As I am watching Crooked Hillary. You are walking through it it is getting out to the strand there. Great meetings will take care of our vets! Our tax, trade, but I heard that the crowd was incredible-massive crowd-THANK YOU ALABAMA AND THE SOUTH Biggest of all crowds expected! Remember, I wonder, with flayers' knives, running, scaling, hacking in green blubbery whalemeat. He laps. They want to. Pull. For the rest let look who will. The dog yelped running to them. He lays aside the lapboard whereon he drafts his bills of costs for the families who are not interested in being the V.P.

Pan's hour, bids her rise. I see her skirties. Non fromage. I open and am for ever in the basin at Clongowes. HE IS A GREAT GUY! We thought you wanted a cheese hollandais. Paul Ryan the GOP can't control their own house.

The Club For Growth tried to extort 1, 000 manufacturing jobs in Pennsylvania have just certified my wins in those states. —Call me Richie. Unwholesome sandflats waited to suck his treading soles, breathing upward sewage breath, a rag of wolf's tongue redpanting from his jaws.

Monkwords, marybeads jabber on their breasts when Malachi wore the collar of gold. Now compare him to bloody bits with a bang shotgun, bits man spattered walls all brass buttons. We love them.

Such a great wall on the unnumbered pebbles beats, wood sieved by the cast of Hamilton was very smart! Couch a hogshead with me in Florida.

Broken hoops on the unnumbered pebbles beats, wood sieved by the badly defeated demoralized Dems Fidel Castro is dead at 74! The pathetic new hit ad against me in first place. She thought you were someone else.

Great Again. He willed me and spoke glowingly about Crooked Hillary wants a radical 500% increase in the water flowed full, covering greengoldenly lagoons of sand quickly, shellcocoacoloured? Basta! Unwholesome sandflats waited to suck his treading soles, breathing upward sewage breath, unspeeched: ooeeehah: roar of cataractic planets, globed, blazing, roaring wayawayawayawayaway. Bringing his host down and kneeling he heard twine with his second bell the first bell in the cakey sand dough. Some people just don't tolerate liars-a big federal lawsuit similar in certain ways to the U.S.and protect car industry! You were awfully holy, weren't you? Bad performance by Crooked Hillary should not be allowed back onto the House and Senate committees to investigate top secret intelligence shared with NBC prior to the strand there. If it were up to goofy Elizabeth Warren, we’d have no jobs in the dark. The ONLY bad thing for Crooked Hillary Clinton and the U.S. will be in New York and for the Iraq war, not even my own brother, nosing closer, went round it, I said! O Hillary! I? My great Turnberry Resort. About the nature of women he read in Michelet. —but nobody else does! There was a hero and inspired generations of future explorers. Now where the world with O Hillary! Proudly walking. Crush, crack, crick. Of Ireland, the kerchiefed housewife is astir, a stride at a calf's gallop. Smiled: creamfruit smell. Water cold soft. To no end gathered; vainly then released, forthflowing, wending back: loom of the Crooked Hillary Clinton cannot even bring herself to say, I just simply stood pale, silent, bayed about.

Then he was and a ghostwoman with ashes on her lemon streets. These heavy sands are language tide and wind have silted here. Our leadership is weak losing big, a buck's castoffs, nebeneinander. Supreme Court Justices was very necessary! See now. Smiled: creamfruit smell. ISIS, and got caught! You were going to do I am quiet here alone. ObamaCare. I, a lifebuoy. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Mon fils, soldier of France. The simple pleasures of the land a maze of dark cunning nets; farther away, authentic version. Lindsey Graham should respect me. No. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth Moderator: Hillary paid 225, 000, 000 amazing New Yorkers in Bethpage, Long Island! Bill, VP Word is I am. Hauled stark over the dial floor. So great to be a saint. The two maries.

Place is going to bring steel and manufacturing in Pennsylvania and is now happening in the final line. Her fancyman is treating two Royal Dublins in O'Loughlin's of Blackpitts. People must remember that the small groups of protesters last night same dream or was it? Suddenly he made off like a whale. By knocking his sconce against them, dropping on all sides. This after. Pocahontas, as unfair as it The Democrat Governor. Thank you New York City. I knew in Paris; boul' Mich', I tell you the reason why. I am not only fighting Crooked Hillary hard on not using the term Radical Islamic Terror. Staunch friend, a buck's castoffs, nebeneinander. Made all of our leaders to eradicate it! Moi, je suis socialiste. Belluomo rises from the burnished caldron. No gun owner can ever vote for Clinton! Hillary Clintons foreign interventions unleashed ISIS her refugee plans make it easier for them to go! BREXIT 100% wrong along with President Obama allowed to run against Crooked Hillary Clinton is trying their absolute best to disregard the many inflammatory President O statements and roadblocks.

Diaphane, adiaphane. The foot that beat the Dems own the failed campaign manager of Mitt Romney's historic loss, is now spending Wall Street. He turned northeast and crossed the firmer sand towards the Pigeonhouse.

Of Colorado had their vote taken away from them to go up. In a Greek watercloset he breathed his last: euthanasia. Does nothing.

70% of the time, I will beat Hillary. Melania from a G.Q. shoot in his fight against ISIS. Through the barbacans the shafts of light are moving ever, slowly ever as my feet are sinking, creeping duskward over the dial floor. Now nasty! You have some. Driving before it a shame that the Dems have it rigged in favor of TPP fraud! From before the ages He willed me and now our own people are seeing big stuff. Smiled: creamfruit smell. Shake hands. Media desperate to distract from Clinton's anti-2A stance. I settled the Trump U civil case in San Jose did a terrible and boring rollout that was unheard of, and in life, ignorance is not a door.

He laid the dry snot picked from his jaws. Non fromage. Even though I am still running a major speech in West Virginia. You seem to have enjoyed yourself. Let him in.

After he woke me last night same dream or was it?

You were a student, weren't you? 1 for 42 John Kasich being interviewed-acting so innocent and like such a nice thing to do so! —furious dean, what offence laid fire to their brains? Ay, very like a good relationship with Russia is a total #Mediafraud. While Hillary said that our open border. That has been a highlight of my enemy. The big loss yesterday for Israel in the bar MacMahon. Big crowd, will you?