#so many good designs and my crooked hands /weeps/

[hanakihan]

still trying to figure out overall idea BUT ANYWAY I never was a designer or an artists I’m a fucking court of crime lawyer have mercy on my lack of imagination JDNJSNSJSN

I like the idea of them all having Edmond’s resting bitch face that barely emotes on early stages of their existence hence why they’re so animated and chirpy

also all eight of them said ‘fuck gender we don’t know it’ so they all collectively probably look extremely androgynous

[twst-kumi]

Weeping Maiden [ACT I]: CHAPTER 5

[Act I]: CHAPTER 5

Vil felt dizzy from that information. It was definitely Yuu, their Yuu who helped them. But she said he had been missing for 3 years!! Looking at both Yuu and [Name], they could easily pass for twins. 

The only problem was that something didn't add up. Yuu was 16 years old, and HER Yuu was now 19. Vil concluded two things, either it was all a coincidence or she was lying and she was the thief. 

“_I see, I hope you find your brother soon.

_Thank you.” 

They both returned to the crew who asked worriedly if she was alright. The girl apologized for worrying everyone. 

Everything was going well with the rest of the production. Neige always stayed next to her at every chance he had. Sometimes he would subtly glare at Vil while his hold tightened on her hand. Thankfully she didn't have many scenes today. 

“_ Good job, [Name]. You were incredible.

_ Thank you Vil-senpai.

_ I'm just being honest. By the way, we will need to exchange numbers. We have some scenes together during our next filming.”

She smiled before exchanging numbers. Neige next to her looked sour. It was as if Vil insulted him. [Name] looked up at him as she felt his grip on her wrist. Without a word, he left with her. He was a little forceful which confused her more.

“_ Are you mad? Did something happen?”

She asked as they got in the car. The young girl gasped softly as she felt him hold her against him. Neige buried his head in the crook of her neck. 

“_ Are you alright ?” She asked uncomfortably.

Neige let her go before smiling almost like usual. But something about his smile seemed strange.

“_ I'm sorry, I should have noticed you weren't well.

_ It's okay. I didn't want to worry you.” 

***

Vil was sitting in his car as the driver was taking him to the place where he was supposed to get to the portal. He looked at his manager before talking.

“_Can you look up some information on [Name] Yamada?

_ Of course, are you interested in her? 

_ You could say that. Look into the information on Yuu Yamada too.”

His manager looked surprised for a moment. 

“_Yuu Yamada… the NRC student who once came with you? The one who had that talking familiar?

_ Yes.” 

Both only talked very little about their home world. And if asked, they would answer it vaguely almost like they didn't want anyone to know where they come from. Or maybe it's because they can't talk about it. Vil’s gut feeling was telling him to look into this. It's as if he wanted to believe both Yamada were siblings. 

He also planning on asking Idia too. He was the best at digging those things. As he was planning on sending a message to Idia, Cater sent a message on the group chat. 

{Cater: I found the pendant. It's on a bidding site, here.

Vil: Where? Are you sure it's the right one?

Cater: Yes, Yuu confirmed it. Here is the link.}

It was the same locket [Name] had, at the difference that the picture inside was different. It was a very young girl, a preteen at best, maybe even younger. Vil felt a strong shudder as he looked at the picture closely. It had too much resemblance to be a coincidence. The girl in the picture was definitely [Name] Yamada at 13 when she gave him that necklace. 

{Vil: Who is that girl on the locket?

Yuu: My little sister and the designer of the locket. She is 13.

Cater: So cute, does she want to become a jeweler?

Yuu: No… she is an actress.}

Vil could feel his head buzzing once again. It was too much of a coincidence to be normal. And now he had even more questions. Vil wondered if he should talk about [Name], the girl was older than he said but it could be her… Right? 

{Vil: Now that I think about it, you never talk much about your home.

Cater: Yeah that’s true. What is it like?

Yuu: It’s very far away.}

It was the same answer, Vil could feel his heart beating faster as he continued to ask more questions about the girl. It was similar to [Name], A child actor at a young age, the twin locket she gave him for his 16 birthday before he got taken to NRC. Everything was matching, aside from their age. There was an abnormal time difference if she was Yuu’s little sister. 

***

[Name] was walking along Neige as he was showing her around. She wondered if it was okay for them to wander around. Everyone could recognize him. 

Neige held her hand never once letting her go. When she pointed it out, he made an excuse to make sure he didn’t lose her. In reality, he just wanted people to see them together. He felt a little guilty as he was knowingly taking her out, acting close and intimate when he knew people would see them as a couple. 

“_Are you sure you are alright?”

The young girl sipped on her milkshake as she strolled next to him. The young idol smiled at her happily. 

“_Yes, I’m alright. Why?

_You looked strange today, did something happen? 

_No? I was just a little tired.”

The young girl didn’t believe it but she decided not to press it further. They walked to the portal as they talked about the day. She had fun, and [Name] wondered when she last had fun. Coming back to the school, they were welcomed by Ambrose who hugged her tenderly. She wished her brother was there to bask in their warm embrace too.

< previous. Next >

Tag

@cocomollo @owodi @illytian

[chews-erotically]

Waxing Gibbous 

Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader

Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

       * Warnings: ANGST/ mentions of depression/ anxiety/ sleep paralysis/ Tooth- rotting Comfort it’s disgusting.

      * Summary: Ezra’s demons come to the surface.

      * Word Count: ~1100

      * I am frankly overwhelmed by the positive response to what I’ve written so far. I’ve been feeling a bit on the lonelier side (as I’m sure so many of us are), so this is pretty much me working through my feelings, so I apologize in advance because this SELF-INDULGENT as FUCK. Additional warning for just, flowery dramatic proclamations and shameless fluffy comfort because I am THAT BITCH tonight.

    * As always, if I have added you to the tags and you wish to be removed please let me know immediately and I will do so.

*Part ONE* *Part TWO* *Part THREE* *Part FOUR* *Part FIVE*  *Part SIX*        *Part SEVEN*  *Part EIGHT*  *Part NINE*

PART TEN

      Your new lives together began as a languid chapter of existing slowly, of lazing like cats. You often stayed in your bed, at times going hours exchanging soft words and insistent touches. You stayed unclothed for days on end, only donning a robe to accept the occasional delivery. You drank wine and ate fruit and cheese and read to each other from the books you’d begun amassing. It was heaven, bacchanalian. 

    Ezra would sometimes come up behind you at the kitchen counter and press against your back wordlessly, his arousal begging entry. You’d sigh, tilting your head back onto his shoulder as he slid home and made love to you lazily in the patch of sunlight that streamed through the glass to cut a warm diamond across the checkered French tile. You reveled in one another in such a way that each touch was a devotional, each kiss a promise. You had paid for your sins and for the violence of your past mistakes and bloodied intentions with pieces of your souls. What was left were holes you saw fit to fill with each other.

    By the end of that first blissful week, you began entertaining how you would begin to reveal Central to Ezra. You had often walked past a small cafe that had an attached book store on your way to and from the hospital. It was small and intimate, and seemed tailor-made to entertain his whims. Two streets over you’d spied a tavern that seemed outfitted with copies of retro Earth-style advertisements and poorly taxidermied animals. You itched to walk in every time you passed it. After so much isolation, stress and heartache you were desperate to drink in any vestige of civilization, any morsel of culture you could find.

    The first few times you’d brought up venturing out to Ezra, he’d been able to steer you easily with insistent kisses and roaming hands. 

    “Why would we dream of leaving this heaven, that we have sweat and sacrificed and toiled over, for hours unending?” he’d said softly into your neck as his hand crept downward over the slope of your stomach.

    Eventually in your growing restlessness you grabbed his hands as he once again attempted a seductive distraction and you squeezed them until the stream of words slowly died off on his clever tongue. You met his eyes.

    “Ezra, why do you try to distract me when I bring up leaving the apartment?”

    The corner of his mouth twisted upward, but the gesture did not reach his eyes.

    “Sweet love, we have both been through tours of the realms of seven layers of hell. We have almost perished time and again and have committed our fair share of sins too inumerable to count. Please, do forgive me if I deign to want some modicum of comfort.”

    “You can have comfort, Ez, we can both have it. But don’t you want to peak at what’s outside as well? Aren’t you just a bit curious for what wonders Central may hold?”

    As you continued to speak, the mask slipped away from Ezra’s face. A deep crease of worry, of fatigue, formed between his heavy brows. His eyes became distant, focusing on some faraway and unknowable misery. You reached out to cup his face and turned his mournful gaze upon you.

    “Talk to me, my love. Please don’t hide yourself away.”

    Ezra took a shallow, shuddering breath before responding.

    “I fear I may have lost myself down on that accursed moon, Dove. Where I was certain of so much, I now find myself questioning even the simplest machinations. I find such mundane things as choosing clothing or food to eat almost insurmountable when tasked with the quandary of completion. I’m having dreams at night of things I cannot recall, but I’ve begun to awaken paralyzed, with the weight of a succubus upon my chest. 

    “It is a great humiliation to admit to you, dearest, that the thought of leaving this sanctuary, at present, is one that imbues me with an undue panic.” He was no longer meeting your eyes at this point, his gaze moving to focus on a vague point of focus somewhere past your shoulder.

     You fought hard to swallow past the nefarious lump in your throat, lip trembling and vision blurring. You felt heartless. You had spent so much time reveling in every new and good comfort in your life that had stayed so foreign for so long that you had failed to notice Ezra’s pain. You were a selfish fool. You moved to turn away from him in shame.

    Ezra did not let you. When he noticed your actions, his hand reached to grasp your shoulder. He turned you back to him. He enveloped you in his arms, releasing a steadying breath into your hair. He allowed you to weep against his shirt.

    “Ezra,” you gasped into his chest. “.....please forgive me. I can’t believe I’ve been so blind.”

    He held you against him as if trying to anchor you. He stroked your hair and the side of your face and murmured to you.

    “Dove, you have been my one saving grace. If I am expressing this to you now it is only because you implore me to do so. I have tried valiantly to act as if everything were copacetic since I awoke in that soulless hospital room. Please do not torture yourself with blame when it does not belong to you.” 

    “It kills me that I didn’t notice, Ezra. We’re supposed to be able to take care of each other.”

    “You care for me better than any I’ve known in my long and wretched life, my dearest love. I have these demons through circumstances both within and beyond my control. If not for you I would be rendered truly wretched, unworthy of the lowliest glance from the dregs of the universe.”

    Your hands framed his face, your tears slowing incrementally as his words flowed through you like pure rivulets of gentle intention. You kissed him so gently, so reverently, as if he were a secret thing only reserved for those beholden to the designs of the old gods. Forgotten and precious. Sacred and profane.

     “My soul will always seek out yours, beautiful boy. I will do whatever it takes to help you through this. I will ask nothing from you, ever. If you want to stay here forever I will be by your side. There is truly nowhere else I’d rather be.”

    Ezra’s voice hitched with emotion. He kissed over and over your eyelids, your nose, your cheeks, before settling his parted lips to the crook of your neck, where bore witness to the fluttering of your pulse beneath your skin.

    “I will try, Dove. For you I will move planets. I will raze Kevva themselves to the ground and condemn myself to eternal damnation. For you, I will try.”

Tags: @ifimayhaveaword @thedaysarenotfull @absurdthirst @cinewhore @hopelikethesun @yespolkadotkitty @lose-eels @lackofhonor @din-damn-djarin @mrpascals @theocatkov @thefineandnobleartofavoidance @hellojustheretolookatmeemees @cyaredindjarin @im-like-reallythirsty @mstgsmy @goldafterglow @sistahsarah-sallysaidso @givemethatgold @shaqbutt @sirianisrock @artemiseamoon @thatreclusewriter, @scribbledghost @f0rever15elf @opheliaelysia @qveenbvtch @hdlynnslibrary @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @spacegayofficial @ezraslittlebirdie @ezrasarm @ezraslittleblondestreak @tintinwrites @kindablackenedsuperhero @darthadeline @alexisinorbit @knittingqueen13 @lueurnotes @xakilicious @keeper0fthestars @huliabitch @di-kut @zombieaurora @corrupt-fvcker @cryptkeepersoul @teaofpeach

[cmi-miu]

Ya’aburnee - Chapter 6 (Seventeen Soulmate AU)

Soulmate AU: The last words your soulmate says to you are the words tattooed on your wrist.

Pairing: SoonWoo, JiHan, SeokHao

Title: Ya'aburnee (arabic): yak-BER-nee (n.) lit. "you bury me"; the hope that your lover or beloved will outlive you as to spare yourself the pain of living beyond that person.

Chapter Summary: Myungho is a coward, and Seokmin is tired of having his heart broken and everything about their relationship is toxic. But, Myungho loves Seokmin too much to let him go, and Seokmin is too weak to walk away.

(FunFact: SeokHao was initially supposed to be VerKwan but I have the hots for Toxic SeokHao so here we are~~~🤷🏻‍♀️)

Seokmin pours another cup of the detox tea he’d brewed in the morning and continues reading through his script, sipping every once in a while. Myungho shakes his head endearingly at his boyfriend, ruffling the man's hair when he plops down next to him on the loveseat, never looking away from the script. Seokmin isn't bothered by the skinship, instead pushes into the warmth that Myungho's hand offers.

“When’s the show then, hmm?” Myungho asks him, looking through his schedule for tomorrow—he’s free after his product design class and he knows Seokmin is free all day tomorrow too. “You’re home tomorrow, right?”

“It’s next week, babe. And yep~ I’m free tomorrow and I hate you for having a meeting all day on my one and only free day!”

The frown on Seokmin's forehead makes Myungho coo at the man, and he easily places a kiss upon his brow. And just like that, the frown eases into a cheeky grin.

“I’ll be free Sunday, babe,” Myungho says. He’s planning on surprising Seokmin tomorrow with a picnic date after he comes back early from classes. “Besides, you said you wanted to practice your dialogues too, right? You can do it alone while I’m attending the dance practicum tomorrow. All day.”

Seokmin doesn’t give a response to the consolation, and instead chooses to pout as he leans back into Myungho's embrace. The man doesn’t delay in pulling him close either.

They lie like that for a long while. The TV is on but they’ve lowered the voice so much they can barely make out a word. In fact, it only serves to provide as a light source in the otherwise dark living room. There’s a single loveseat they both use, Seokmin almost half lying on Myungho, who doesn’t seem to mind. Myungho is busy editing his product designs for his meeting tomorrow on his tablet and Seokmin is almost dozing off in his arms. Every once in a while Myungho cards his fingers through Seokmin hair, making it harder and harder to stay awake.

It’s painfully domestic, and shamelessly contending the way the two enjoy each other’s silence.

***

“Fuck you! Okay? I don’t need you so why don’t we just break this fucking relationship off and you can go and slut around as much as you like! Or better yet just fucking marry someone, huh?! How about that?!”

Myungho grits his teeth, fists ready to fly. He holds back a growl and huffs angrily as he stalks towards Seokmin, who doesn't move. Instead, Seokmin reaches for another mantle-piece to throw at him. He easily misses his mark and it lands on the apartment floor breaking into a million pieces as soon as it hits the ground.

Myungho grabs his shoulders and angrily pushes him into the wall behind him, caging him as he growls at the man. “How many fucking times have I told you? Don’t say the words. And yet you insist on fucking. Saying. Them!” He enunciates each word with a punch to the wall, right beside Seokmin's face.

But Seokmin doesn’t waver under the stare. He doesn’t even blink. He pushes against Myungho's chest but the other man is too strong. Seokmin whines against the beast like hold Myungho has on his waist, but his Myungho doesn’t let go. So, after much struggle, he resorts to hitting him instead.

Myungho doesn’t move; he lets Seokmin beat him, hurt him, yell curses at him. And cry into his chest. He doesn’t move away. And keeps staring at the purple wounds near Seokmin's jaw. It’s quickly turning black and Myungho imagines it must hurt like a bitch. And he cries.

Because he’s the reason Seokmin can’t have a normal relationship. Because it’s been 15 years since they’ve started dating but uncertainty still looms large around them. Because Seokmin isn’t at fault for wanting a normal life.

Because all Seokmin did was practice some dialogues for his play but Myungho wouldn’t have it. Because one thing led to another and he was the one who threw the first punch.

Because at the end of the day the person hurting Seokmin the most is him.

Myungho's breath shudders as it leaves his mouth and his arms give way, letting him lose footing as he leans his head on Seokmin's shoulder. His boyfriend turns his head away as if even looking at Myungho is a pain. He can’t say he blames him.

“Seokmin… I’m—“

“No. You’re not…” Seokmin mumbles, turning his head further away. Myungho looks up at him, at the angry finger marks that line Seokmin's neck, at his red and unforgiving eyes. And guilt comes crashing at him like an avalanche of memories. Happy memories of them in love replaced with anger, bitterness, and longing.

Seokmin pushes him away once he feels Myungho hold on him loosening. And he stumbles back, stuttering as he watches Seokmin angrily walk towards their bedroom. “S—Seokmin!”

He races after his boyfriend and finds him pulling out his suitcase from under their bed and shoving shirts, T-shirt’s, jeans and every other clothing article into it. His stomach gives way to a certain hollowness he has never felt before.

Myungho crying like a child stumbles next to Seokmin, rubbing his hands in apology. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Seokmin. I—I… I’m sorry please… please…”

Seokminstops packing when Myungho presses his face into his back. Weeping into the crook of his shoulder blades like a lap dog. “Please… Myung—“

“I’ll be good, Seokmin. I... I’ll be good. I prom—promise.”

“We’re not good for each other, Myungho. We’re like fireworks in a gas station. You and I… maybe… maybe we just weren’t meant to be,” Seokmin says, biting his lips. Forcing his body to move and continue packing. His heart breaking by the second at the thought of the eventual goodbye.

“Don’t—Don’t say that. Don’t—“

“We keep hurting each other, Myungho… and it’s not healthy. We’re toxic. We’re bad.” Seokmin angirly wipes his tears away as he continues shoving clothes in his suitcase, gritting his teeth or else he might take back his words.

But Myungho doesn’t let him continue. He swiftly holds him in a tight back hug. Keeping him from movement as he aggressively kisses down his neck to his shoulders to his temple. He’s hurting Seokmin again, he knows he is, but he can’t let go. Not yet. Not so soon. Not ever.

“Myung— please. Let me go…” Seokmin whines against the death grip, sobbing as he wrenches his arms out of the right hold. “I can’t…”

Myungho falls back at his words, and Seokmin continues packing his bags. Myungho, as if staring off into space, watches Seokmin walk away and just when he’s crossing the threshold he speaks. Almost zombie-like.

“I love you… I love you, Seokmin…”

And just like that, like a promise that was meant to be forgotten, his resolve breaks and Seokmin falls down where he stands. Crying against the threshold as everything comes crashing down. Holding his suitcase against his chest as if to ground himself lest he vanish from existence itself.

Crying like a kid who’d lost his mother too soon. Crying, because he can never let go the fifteen year old boy he’d fallen madly in love with..

Because it’s never easy with Myungho. Because it’s so, so difficult to be happy with the man. Because they’re like fire and ice and they’re not perfect. Because they’re toxic.

Because Myungho is like poison to his veins that Seokmin can’t stop drinking into.

Because Seokmin is so madly in love with the man.

And soon, too soon, warm arms are holding him as he cries. Myungho cups his face and kisses him. And through the tears the taste of Myungho's desperation is bitter, almost like gall.

The kiss: slow like the end of the world wrapped into a grand finish.

And Seokmin can’t help but melt into Myungho's arms. Letting all remnants of his sanity wither away into that one moment of contentment that sharing a kiss with the love of his life gives.

[tsubaki3192]

Had I known you were taking requests, I'd have requested one sooner! May I request a HC for Shingen, Hideyoshi, Kennyo and Mitsuhide comforting their s/o who came home crying after having the worst day ever? Lots of love 💜💜

Oops that might be my bad for not properly announcing ^-^’’

[How does Kennyo, Shingen, Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide comfort MC when she’s upset from having the worst day?]

Notes: Modern! Headcannons, assumed ‘living together’ stage. Long, because I have no self-control when I have inspiration….

Warning: Kennyo’s headcanon might be a little much… because I didn’t know how to write for him lol… Talks a little about Behavioural issues in Children. I blanked out for his. 

Warning 2: I… Have no idea if this is even headcanons anymore. I got carried away… xD 

(Without further Ado, I’ll start with Kennyo!)

————————–

Kennyo:

…. Is the type to have no idea why you’re feeling terrible, let alone how to deal with it.

To be fair, he blames it on himself: Y’know, calling himself a ‘demon’ and whatnot. And rather than he assuring you, you’re back to reassuring him that he’s not what he says he is.

But he can see the distress in your eyes; the coldness as you tell him it’s not his ‘curse, or whatever he likes to call it, that has befallen you.

You don’t work, not in a stereotypical office setting, but you do help his temple in various ways, whether it be watching the younger children, patching up clothing, or the like. Just simple things, you know?

It’s loads of fun, but every once in awhile you’ll receive angry parents, demanding for cures to their incurable children, because, you know, bringing an ill child to a temple really does something good. 

It’s not their fault that the child has behavioural issues (ones you just like to call minor, for they truly weren’t cursed) and it’s not yours, nor the child’s fault either.

(Incurable diseases they were, often genetically related, but-)

You just gently smile at them, falsely promising them that you’ll do what you can to help, even if it’s not much. (Falsely, because you know there’s really nothing that a temple can do to help… A doctor would be much better, but these were people who truly believed they had been cursed with whatever-)

But today’s issue was terrible… And that was the very least to be said. The couple who had dropped their child off had been rather… Aggressive, to say the least, dumping the child, who, mind you was seven years of age, in your arms and storming off without so much of a goodbye.

And then you were granted the responsibility of caring for the child, who would just not stop crying…. All before you had properly woken yourself up. And the child just would not leave your side, clinging to your leg wherever possible.

On top of that, the parents had looked so smug when they came to retrieve the child. 

(To be fair, you nearly slammed the door in their faces when they stepped back out.)

You just stand there for several moments, fuming at their inability to properly look after the child (And your inability to do much else for the child).

It doesn’t take long for Kennyo to find you staring at the now-shut door with clenched fists.

Again, he swears it’s his fault, but you just give him an indignant look before storming outside to the Koi pond purposely hidden in the corner of the yard where no one would dare look. The pond was yours, as it had always been since the very beginning.

Kennyo left you for several moments, unsure of how to deal with your troubles (save for giving you space). But it wasn’t even 10 minutes later that he strode out to the garden, your shared cat now cradled in his arms.

There is a wooden bridge over the pond, leading to a tiny island, and that was exactly where he found you: seated beneath the now-green Sakura tree, head buried between your arms and knees.

And he… Just takes a seat beside you. There’s quite literally no room to shift comfortably, but he ignores the fact and just… places the cat on your head.

You, however, are fully aware he is seated beside you, though you don’t dare move for the sake of breaking his almost trance-like state. 

(His actions make you want to laugh but-)

Awkwardly, he places an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. He doesn’t say anything, but he knows you’ve considerably calmed down. All there’s left is for you to talk. About anything; about everything.

And you do, blabbering about how your day went, how it could’ve gone, how you were being an idiot for getting so worked up about something minor.

His large hand just runs through your hair as you pull yourself onto his lap (the cat now on a branch above you), and nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

“Shh… Don’t cry….”

Really, he thinks he has no clue, but he does more than he thinks he does xD.

Shingen:

…. Is the type to pick up his phone as soon as he hears your call, and rush home when he hears your sobs…. No matter if he is scolded by Yuki or not the next day. 

(But when Yuki hears about your condition the following day, he’s actually genuinely concerned, that tsundere-)

He keeps you on the phone the entire time he runs home (it’s rush hour, he knows, and running will be faster, despite his terrible health), listening as you blabber about your day.

When he does get home, you can ensure that he will pull you to his chest, (he wheezing or not) and coo gently.

And depending on what, when and where the trouble had affected you, he’ll be sure to pamper you.

Today’s issue seemed to be about your day out:

You had taken the day off, calling in ‘sick’ for the amount of work they had given you over the past few months, courtesy of Shingen’s suggestion. You’re stressed, and it’s clear, given how little time you’ve spent with him over the past few months…

Still, as a seamstress, your work isn’t overly difficult- just plentiful- especially when you consider just which company you work for: It’s one of the highest ranking embroidery offices, and yet they refuse to allow workers to take breaks when a major project has arrived…. It’s no wonder that the company has a high drop-out/quitting/firing rate.

And yet Shingen finds you on the ground of the living room, knees curled into your chest. He could hear you cry from metres away.

You’re dressed in nice clothes- too nice for a normal, casual setting- and he had immediately assumed you had prepared a day out with your friends in town. 

You, despite being one of the best workers in the company, had been fired, thanks to a suspicious coincidence that your boss had also called in ‘sick’: More than likely the reason why you were fired. 

(Which was kinda stupid, because you were pretty sure you couldn’t be fired in places outside the yours and the company’s working hours, as per company rules.)

But you had been humiliated, stripped of your role, and fired nonetheless- All in front of your friends.

You had bolted home, ignoring the horns of passing cars and slammed the door shut behind you. Your phone had been switched off for several minutes, before you unconsciously made the decision to call Shingen.

And he was home now, preparing a simple action movie and caramel popcorn (something you had made a compromise over-). It was stay-at-home time, tonight.

But you had crawled over to him impatiently, clinging onto his back still crying.

And he’ll freeze, before drawing your arms tighter around him.

“My dear angel, weep not for the loss of your job, but for the freedom in being in mine”

And if that line didn’t address all your concerns, then who knew what would?

Be prepared for the sweetest kisses all over your face, silver words whispered in your ear and sweets. Lots of sweets. And pampering. He’ll do that too.

(Shingen’s the type to drop everything and anything for you, and that underestimates what he wants to give you.)

And when you’re ready again, he’ll give you a job in the design team. Be sure of it. Whether it’ll be clothing design, interior design- you qualify in most areas, and he’ll come to you first.

Bonus: Watch him utterly crush your old company to pieces with his words. It’ll be the best thing to watch ^-^

Hideyoshi:

…. Is the type to arrive home after you do.

To be fair, you don’t blame him when he does- His devotion to Nobunaga is admired amongst many employers, both inside and outside the company. And so is his devotion to you, though very few people know about that.

So when he finds out you’ve essentially collapsed on the fluffy rug in the living room, he begins panicking.

He’s genuinely, utterly distressed at the sight of your condition, and he perhaps doesn’t even notice the tear-stains on your face… Until he turns you over in his arms.

Oh. Ohhh.

Your skin is worryingly pale, and aside from your tear-stains, your lower eyelids are darker than your norm.

And he just sits on the ground, leaning against your shared couch, as he cradles you in his arms, not at all concerned at how uncomfortable he is in the position and the clothes.

It takes him several moments before he hesitantly decides to lay you gently on the couch (shoes and socks removed) and cover you with a nearby grey overthrow, before retrieving a warm, damp cloth to wipe the stains from your face.

You stir slightly and wrinkle your brow, murmuring his name quietly against your lips when he does this, but he can see the colour returning to your face. The crinkle in your eyebrows remain though, and he brings his fingers up it, smoothing it over gently.

And that’s when you truly relax, shifting slightly to a more comfortable position and with a more satisfied look on your face.

He leaves you then, but only for a few moments before he returns, now in a more comfortable nightwear than a stiff suit and tie.

When you wake, he’ll be seated beside you, watching you with a kind look on his face. He won’t ask you how your day went, because he knows that it was downright terrible- Had it just been exhaustion, you would collapse on your shared bed otherwise. 

And he just holds you, until you’re ready to talk; until the tears have truly dried. 

You mumble everything out. How you were accidentally late, how your day spiralled down from there, how you were burnt by someone’s extra-hot coffee and how you managed to almost ruined an idol’s new item of clothing. And it wasn’t even your fault.

But he just listens, letting your head lean against his broad, muscular chest. His heartbeat is what soothes you and you rest, once again closing your eyes and falling asleep, though much faster and much more peaceful than you had just moments earlier.

“My love, none of that matters at the end of the day. Do not let their words and actions harm you. I’m always here for you. Next time something does happen, come and find me okay?”

And if you both worked for the same company (Which is more than likely, by the way), he’ll ensure that your boss becomes fired… Valid reason or not.

He’s second in command. Vice-CEO, if that makes sense. 

Also be sure that he’ll make you take the next day off and pamper you with anything and everything :3

Mitsuhide:

…. Is the type to be spontaneous at times. Surprisingly sweet, too, if you’re not careful.

Though you work for the same company, you come home at very different times, given the differences in your departments.

You work as a member of the design team, while he works in the communication’s team, because that’s what he’s best at, right?

And though you technically work together, there are just times where he can’t see you for various work-related reasons.

And that includes today.

You’re home before him, though he hasn’t noticed as your shoes, usually neatly placed by the door, aren’t there, even though it’s already 9 in the evening.

Something’s wrong, he can tell, though he’s not quite sure just what… Until he spies your leather satchel, your favourite, thrown scandalously on the wooden floorboards of the living room.

He strains his ears, listening to your hyperventilating breaths and quiet sobs from above him, and he knows you know he’s home. 

He sighs, gently taking his time to return upstairs where he knows you’re attempting- and failing- to hide your distress from him. It’s okay, though. He knows you’ll be fine…. Eventually.

His footsteps are loud against the wooden steps, each soft thud drawing you to take several deep breaths to hide your emotions.

When he does arrive at the door of your shared room, you falsify reading a nearby book, one that had been placed on your bedside table.

“Oh! Mitsuhide! How was work?”

Your voice is falsely peppy for someone who had been crying just moments before, and it takes him two large steps to reach where you now sat on the bed. 

Gently and wordlessly, he wrenches the book from your hand and close it, returning it back to the table, before pulling you into a standing position.

And he draws you in, wrapping his arms around you as your face is pressed into his shoulder. You freeze as he hushes you, before collapsing against his arms in a shuddering mess.

Your tears gnaw at his heart, though he lets you wet his shoulder until your sobs slow to a stop.

When it does, he removes you from his shoulder and cups your face in his hands, thumbs wiping at the tear marks on your otherwise red cheeks. It’s embarrassing, he knows, but he won’t tease you. Not now, when you’re hurting. Not now, when he’s hurting because you are.

“Look at you, Darling. To think you would ask about my day when clearly yours was abysmal!”

Your lips curl upwards slightly, thinking about how incredulous it sounds, hiding your cheeks behind locks of hair.

But he just places a chaste kiss on your lips, before taking a seat beside you on the bed and drawing your shoulder and ear to his chest. His fingers run through your hair soothingly.

“When you’re ready, I’ll listen. When you’re ready, I’ll ensure whatever happens to you won’t happen again. I promise.”

[kim-seungmine]

i’ll hold your hand (don’t let me go) - part 2 /2

title: I’ll hold your hand (don’t let me go) – part 2  / 2

characters: (fem) reader x hwang hyunjin of stray kids (feat. kim seungmin, han jisung of stray kids, lee chaeyeon of iz*one, myoui mina of twice + other skz members)

genres: fluff, angst, slice-of-life, college au

warnings: language, mentions of bullying & death

word count: 7.5k words

synopsis: hyunjin is no longer fearless and you feel that he’s slipping away from you... or is it the other way around?

a/n: you can read this as a stand-alone but it’ll be much better if you read the first part first. you can find the masterlist in my bio because i can’t put links here!

CHAPTER 2: ... but I love you

It’s finally spring, your favorite season because walking down the street when it’s -19C is definitely not your thing. But it’s also Monday, everybody’s least favorite day ever, no matter what the season is. When Yang Jeongin, Hyunjin’s roommate, tells you that the latter hasn’t woken up yet (it’s past 12PM), you have no choice but to pay a visit to the boys’ dormitory.

The security isn’t too tight during the day, so you manage to slip into the building easily. You stop in front of room number 320, knocking on it softly. Jeongin opens the door, welcoming you with a dimpled smile you always melt at. “I think he’s got a class at 3,” he says, zipping his backpack as he walks past you. “I did everything you told me to do, but it’s been 2 years and nothing ever works unless you do it yourself.”

Jeongin waves you goodbye, leaving you alone with your sleeping boyfriend. “Hyunjin,” you begin, shaking his body with all your might. He doesn’t budge, so you decide to act as if it’s Saturday and he’s staying over at your dorm because you live in a single room (you don’t know how he manages to sneak in, but Hwang Hyunjin surely has his ways).

You lay down beside him before circling your arms around his torso, burying your head in the crook of his neck. “Jinjin,” you try again, using the nickname he loves so much. Hyunjin lives for nicknames, he’s given you so many he can’t even remember them, but you only have one for him. Jinjin. You don’t really use it, but everytime you do, Hyunjin turns into a clingy but obedient big baby.

His eyes flutter open, and you place feathery kisses on his neck. “Please wake up,” you whisper against his skin, looking up to see him smiling at you. Hyunjin nods, wrapping you into a tight hug. “Can Jinjin sleep for five more minutes?” he mumbles.

“What will you do if I tell Jisung that you’re referring to yourself as Jinjin… in third person?” you threaten, smoothing his bed hair. Hyunjin whines, and you’re trying not to chuckle because this is serious. “You can’t make Jeongin and me do this all the time.”

“I know,” he answers, rocking you in his arms. “But it’s just sooo hard to wake up.”

You sigh, pulling away to look at him in the eyes. “Next time I’ll just let you miss classes. This is going to be my last time doing this, okay?”

“Okay,” he replies, and you give him a peck on his lips. “Alright. Now can Jinjin start getting ready so he can walk his beautiful girlfriend to class?” you tease, earning a hard pinch on your cheek.

Hyunjin sits up with you still in his arms. He gives you one more kiss before getting out of bed. “Please let me live, Y/N!”

-

It only takes Hyunjin twenty minutes to get ready. He’s already dressed in the red checkered shirt you gifted him last month and a pair of faded jeans. “You’re trying to turn me into Jisung, aren’t you?” he asks while looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“I just think that you look good in checkered shirts, that’s all,” you reply, feeding him a piece of kimbap you bought from CU*. “Speaking of Jisung, are we still meeting his friend tonight? Do you still have dance practices with Minho?”

Hyunjin opens the door, taking your hand in his before stepping out. “What’s a dance practice?!” he asks dramatically. “I only know staying up all night to design a living room!”

“I’m serious. He’s been asking to meet us so many times this week but we barely responded,” you say. Hyunjin mutters a tired, “Aigoo,” but takes out his phone to call Seungmin.

“Wow, you answered,” he exclaims, putting his phone on loudspeaker so you can hear their conversation. “You better not bail on us tonight, asshole. I don’t want to hear Jisung weep about us not being supportive.”

Seungmin scoffs, you can hear him closing his book. “What the hell? You’re the one who keep canceling! Y/N, tell him!”

You jab at Hyunjin’s waist, causing him to yelp loudly. “I’ll drag his lazy ass, Seungmin. Don’t worry,” you promise him. Seungmin laughs, telling you to take care before ending the call. You turn to Hyunjin who’s busy massaging his waist. “Do you have something you want to tell me?” you ask.

“Like what?” he challenges, squinting at the bright sunlight as both of you exit the dormitory. You’re swinging your intertwined hands softly, pondering whether you should ruin the blissful moment right now. “Like what?” Hyunjin repeats, causing you to stop on your tracks.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“Nothing happened, baby. I’m just tired,” he reassures you, dropping a kiss on the top of your head. “Now let’s get Jinjin’s beautiful girlfriend to class, shall we?”

-

Jeongin has saved you a spot when you arrive in class. You two went to the same school, but you never actually met him although Seungmin used to be his tutor and talked about the younger boy quite a lot. Sometimes you regret not knowing Jeongin sooner; he’s a brat, but he’s a sweet brat and he’s taught you a thing or two about life.

“So, what method did you use? Scream in his ear? Play his ‘HWANG HYUNJIN WAKE UP!!!’ alarm for a whole ten minutes? Pretending there’s an earthquake and the whole world is falling apart?”

Plus he’s endured being Hyunjin’s roommate for 2 years and put up with his sleeping habits.

You smile sourly at him, cringing when you recall the whole Jinjin-please-wake-up scenario. “He loves me that much, I guess,” you mumble. Jeongin smirks at you, lowering his voice so only you can hear him. “You used ‘the girlfriend method,’ didn’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, the usual. Kissing the life out of him, calling him pet names, begging him to wake up. You went down the soft path, I bet.”

You just stare at him in disbelief, while he’s only giving you a smug smile. “Hyunjin sleep talks. I know a lot of things.”

The professor has entered the class, but you’re too distracted by Jeongin’s words to notice. “What do you know?” you ask, almost fearfully.

Jeongin points at the professor, signaling at you to start opening your book. “Well, let’s say that I know who Jinjin is,” he tells you in a sing-song tone.

You want to smash your head against the table. Dating Hwang Hyunjin is definitely not easy.

-

The café where Jisung wants to meet you isn’t far from your campus. You and Hyunjin are walking hand-in-hand, with Chaeyeon trailing behind you. “You kept hollering at us to meet you and your new friend and now you’re saying you’re going to be late?!” she yells at Jisung over the phone.

Jisung is now a—quoting Seungmin—somewhat superstar. He’s started a hiphop crew with a friend from his academy, and they’ve started to get attention from the public. You’ve only seen his friend on Instagram, so you’re really curious about him.

“He’ll be here soon,” Chaeyeon informs with a tired tone as you’re entering the café. “Is this why Jisung insisted we have to meet here?” Hyunjin asks, referring to the bright neon sign outside that reads “YOUNG WINGS.”

Chaeyeon stifles a laugh, nodding in agreement. “He deadass chose a café that has the same name as our group chat. Yep I guess he’s that sentimental.”

Hyunjin and Chaeyeon then get into an intense battle of recalling Jisung’s most “embarrassingly sentimental” moments. Just as you’re about to interrupt, Seungmin enters the café, huge eye bags under his eyes.

“Dude, are you okay?” Hyunjin panics, pulling up a chair for Seungmin to sit on. “When was the last time you slept?”

Seungmin looks even thinner compared to the last time you saw him, which was three months ago. He’s dyed his hair red at the start of the semester, now the color has washed away and his roots are showing. Red looks amazing on Seungmin, you swear to God, but now it just makes him look more tired.

“Let me order you a drink,” Chaeyeon says, making her way to the counter. Hyunjin scoots closer to his friend, offering his shoulder. “Here, sleep. I’ll wake you up when Jisung arrives,” he suggests as you slowly push Seungmin’s head to Hyunjin’s shoulder.

“Do you know any of his SNU friends?” you ask Hyunjin, who only shakes his head slightly. “No. Does he ever talk about them? It seems like he doesn’t do anything but study.”

Chaeyeon returns with a cup of jasmine tea, setting it down in front of a fast-asleep Seungmin. “Oh God, he’s dying,” she whispers, taking off his glasses. None of you says anything for a while, just listening to Seungmin’s soft snore while staring at the door.

“That’s them,” Hyunjin breaks the silence, waving his hand at Jisung and his pink-haired friend before turning to Seungmin. You almost want to stop him from waking the redhead up, but Jisung’s loud voice already makes him stir.

“What’s going on?” Jisung’s voice drops as his eyes land on Seungmin. Chaeyeon only sighs, politely telling Jisung’s friend to sit down. “Should we just let him sleep?” she wonders, asking for Jisung’s permission. The blue-haired boy nods, but Hyunjin grunts in protest. “Can we switch? My shoulder is aching already.”

“I’ll do it,” Jisung offers. “I’m gonna order first.”

Chaeyeon averts her attention to the man sitting beside her. “Jisung as talked about you a lot!” she chirps. He smiles, showcasing his dimples. “I’m Bang Chan. I bet Jisung has talked about you guys a lot more than he talked about me!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I even know your names already! You are,” he stops to point at Hyunjin. “Tall, goddamn handsome, pillowy lips. You must be Hwang Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin looks at him in awe. “How the fuck did you memorize all of that?” he mutters, earning a proud smirk from Chan. He darts his eyes to you, clapping his hands excitedly. “You! You’re Y/N, right? The one who made Jisung start doing all of this.”

You raised your eyebrows as Chaeyeon gasps. “What did he tell you about me?”

“Nothing, actually. Just the fact that Hyunjin gives you heart eyes all the time.”

“And me? How about me?!” Chaeyeon squeals a bit too loud, forgetting that Seungmin is still sleeping on Hyunjin’s shoulder. Chan laughs, pretending to think hard before flashing her a smile. “You’re Lee Chaeyeon, Jisung’s favorite girl.”

Chaeyeon’s cheeks turn pink at his statement, causing Hyunjin to whistle. “He won’t shut up about you,” Chan explains, nudging Chaeyeon playfully. “Although all you do is nag at him.”

“Jisung can’t survive without Chaeyeon’s nagging,” Seungmin suddenly quips. He pats Hyunjin’s back, mouthing a thank you before stretching his body. “And you’re the perfect, almighty Kim Seungmin,” Chan utters, almost starstruck.

“What’s with that look?” Seungmin asks him, sipping his lukewarm jasmine tea. “There’s literally nothing you can’t do. I kept asking Jisung if you were real,” he shares. Seungmin only laughs, reaching out to give Chaeyeon a pat on her head. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Jisung said you have a lot of idol friends!” Chaeyeon exclaims. Chan shakes his head bashfully. “Out of all things he told you that?” he chuckles. You and Chaeyeon are into idol groups thesedays, so you pester Chan to tell you who are the ones he’s friends with.

“Well, I’m friends with Wanna One’s Daehwi and Woojin. I know Pentagon’s Yuto too. Hmm, who else?” he muses while all of you are focusing on him. “Ah! I’m close with Stray Kids’ Lee Jungjin. He recently released a solo album, you guys know him, right?”

The whole table freezes, shooting Hyunjin a worried look. “I see,” Seungmin responds with an awkward laugh. “So are you guys preparing for the audition? Jisung said you two are going to Show Me the Money this year.”

Chan notices Seungmin’s lame attempt to change the topic, but brushes it off.

 “Yeah, we are. I think it’ll be a good experience for us,” he says, looking relieved when Jisung comes back.

“Man, the line is long,” he sighs, putting down his chocolate float on the table. Chaeyeon gives him a look that pretty much says, “Please save us,” and he complies, although you’re sure he doesn’t know what the hell is going on. You grab Hyunjin’s hand under the table, lacing your fingers with his.

Hyunjin squeezes your hand, turning to Chan with a hardened expression he’s trying so hard to hide. “I just remembered that I have something to do,” he announces. “It was nice meeting you, Chan. Good luck with the audition, and don’t hesitate to knock some senses into this stupid squirrel if he’s being annoying.” Jisung is about to retort, but Seungmin stops him.

“Call me when you finish, I’ll pick you up. Both of you,” Hyunjin tells you, pointing at Chaeyeon as well. Chaeyeon nods as Jisung stares at you in confusion. Hyunjin gives you a quick kiss on your temple before heading out of the café.

“Did I say something wrong?” Chan asks, looking guilty and confused at the same time. You, Seungmin, and Chaeyeon exchange glances, wondering whether Chan should know about what happened between Hyunjin and Jungjin.

Jisung is busy with his phone, his fingers typing impatiently and you instantly know that he’s texting Hyunjin. You wait until he gets a reply, while Seungmin and Chaeyeon try to dismiss the conversation.

“Chan I’m going to talk about this just once and you have to keep it a secret, okay?” Jisung instructs. You heave a sigh when Chan nods; you’ve always wanted to know more about Jungjin, but Hyunjin always refused to talk about him in details.

“Lee Jungjin was the one who bullied Hyunjin, along with some other trainees. And he was also the one chosen to replace Hyunjin in Stray Kids when his parents pulled him out of the group.”

-

Hyunjin is already waiting for you in front of the girls’ dormitory building when you arrive. Seungmin, Jisung and Chaeyeon bid you goodbye, but not without silently asking you to update them about your boyfriend.

“See you later, loverboy!” Jisung shouts as Chaeyeon drags him away. Hyunjin immediately wraps his arms around you the moment you get close enough to him. “Chaeyeon’s not going home?” he asks as Seungmin waves at him.

“They’re going for a drink,” you explain, booping his nose with yours. Jisung is going to concentrate on his audition and wants to spend some time with all of you before going M.I.A for a while. You wanted to join, but you knew Hyunjin was waiting for you and wouldn’t be in the mood for socializing. Today was the first time you saw Hyunjin incredibly upset after two years, and luckily your friends think it’s important to console him.

“When’s Mina coming back from New York?” he asks. Mina is currently on tour with her ballet company, and you know that affects Hyunjin more than he wants to admit. One of his best friends is cementing her position as a top dancer, something he desperately wants to pursue as well.

“Probably next month. Hopefully Jisung and Chan pass the preliminary round so Mina will get a chance to see them perform live,” you mutter, squishing his face with your hands when he starts to pout. “How are you feeling?”

Hyunjin sighs as you release your hold on his face. He seems hesitant to tell you; Jungjin is a topic you guys never talk about after high school ended. “I was just… mad. I thought I was doing okay. I no longer want to punch a wall everytime I see him on TV or billboards. I thought I forgave him.” He pulls at his hair in frustration. “But when Chan brought him up… I’m sorry. I ruined the night, didn’t I?”

“It’s fine. Forgiving someone who did something horrible to you isn’t easy. It needs time,” you reassure him. “But will you-”

“I will,” Hyunjin cuts you. “I’ll call Jisung later.”

“You have to stop doing that.”

“What?”

“Reading my mind. Only Seungmin can do that.”

Hyunjin laughs, giving you one last kiss on your cheek before pushing you towards the building. “Good night, Y/N,” he says. You smile at him, your heart feeling heavy as he turns around. This is the beginning of another break down, you can feel it. Hyunjin hasn’t been like himself lately, and what happened tonight only makes it worse.

“Jinjin!” you call out, running to catch up with him. You grab his hand, tiptoeing to capture his lips with yours. Hyunjin rests his hand on the small of your back, bending down so you don’t need to stretch your body. He sighs, trying to whisper how much he loves you in between the kiss. His eyes look slightly brighter when you pull away. “What is this? Usually I’m the one stealing kisses from you,” he asks in an amused tone. You place another kiss on the corner of his lips, hoping that your next few words will make a little difference.

“I’m here for you, Jinjin,” you whisper.

Hyunjin chuckles, light and happy and you’re praying that it will always sound like that.

“I know.”

-

Jisung and Chan turn out to be the biggest sensations on Show Me the Money, with the show constantly highlighting their friendly rivalry and sweet bromance. Tonight is the semifinal, and Jisung has invited all of you to watch him perform live. “If I get eliminated, at least I’ll have people to cry with later,” he said.

Hyunjin has gone full hip-hop for tonight, sporting a black shirt and ripped jeans with a metal lip ring adorning his bottom lip. He’s wearing his usual silver cross necklace along with some new ones, and also a white bucket hat. You don’t know whether you should be embarrassed, but you gotta admit that your boyfriend looks hot. “Will we get to see Zico? Will the producers come out?” He cranes his neck to see the stage better, his hand resting on your hips.

Chaeyeon, who’s also gone full hip-hop with her black leather jacket , stockings, and denim shorts, is pumped up with equal excitement. “I don’t think so but they’re supposed to be backstage? We’re basically breathing the same air!”

“There are a lot of hip-hop concerts and festivals you can go to, you don’t need to embarrass us like this,” Seungmin comments. You laugh, trying to ignore other girls (and boys) who keep checking Hyunjin out.

“Have you been to one?” you ask, waving at Mina when you spot her entering the venue. “I’ve been to hundreds,” Seungmin corrects you, causing Hyunjin and Chaeyeon to immediately whip their heads to him. “What? Day6 isn’t the only band I like.”

The conversation is cut short as the MC appears and Mina joins you. All of you scream on the top of your lungs throughout Jisung’s performance, in which he spits fire and exudes such a mindblowing charisma that everyone here will never even imagine that Han Jisung a.k.a J.One gets blasted by all of you (especially Chaeyeon) at least twice a day.

“If he keeps this up, he can really advance to final round, don’t you think?” you whisper to Hyunjin, who’s not bouncing up and down anymore. He’s focused on Jisung, following his every movement. The audience cheers as the song ends, shouting “J.One! J.One! J.One” so loudly you think you’re going deaf. Hyunjin keeps his eyes on the stage, watching Jisung saluting the crowd as the lights go out.

He’s looking at the stage with so much longing and sadness, and the familiar feeling of seeing someone you love falling into a limbo tugs at your heartstrings.

-

“There’s something wrong with Hyunjin.”

You look up from your book to see Jeongin standing in front of you with a worried face. “It started a while back, but I thought he was just stressed with assignments or something.”

“What happened?” you croak, wanting to hear everything while expecting Jeongin to say that he’s joking. You and Hyunjin haven’t really been talking these days, mainly because he constantly shuts you out while you feel like giving up.

You’re not giving up on Hyunjin. Not now, not ever!

Jeongin bites his lips, trying to relay the information as calmly as possible. “At first he was just mumbling nonsense in his sleep. Then he started shouting, I can’t describe it but it was really scary,” he says. “He does nothing but working on his assignments. Like, can you imagine Hyunjin being studious? He won’t even talk to me. When I asked him why he was all serious and gloomy, he said he’s trying not to get lost.”

Lost. This is it. The beginning of the end.

“I don’t want to be rude but, are you guys fighting?”

You shake your head. “He’s just… a bit stressed out, that’s all. I’m just giving him space.”

“I think Hyunjin needs you, Y/N.”

You know that. You fully understand how much Hyunjin needs you right now. It’s just, it’s hard. It’s hard for you to constantly trying to cheer him up, to make him know that everything’s going to okay.

“If Hyunjin makes you worried, if his behavior is stressing you out, you can ask to get a new roommate, Jeongin. It’s okay,” you tell him, but Jeongin scoffs. “I’m staying. This is our Hyunjin, Y/N. I’ll figure things out if you don’t want to.”

Jeongin doesn’t even look at you during the entire lecture. You, meanwhile, keep looking at his direction, hoping he’ll give you a chance to explain yourself. But do you even know how to explain your feelings to yourself? You’re never good at the whole “I’ll always be there for you” thing; you always want to run when things get hard. You avoid everything, as if nothing is more important than living without worries.

You’ve promised Hyunjin so many times that you’ll always hold his hand, to never let go. But now you’re not sure anymore.

-

felix: park jinyoung is back in korea

felix: i think you should know

felix: he just called me. asked for your number

You nearly drop your phone when you read Felix’s message. Jinyoung left Korea shortly before you moved to JYP High. Shortly after you broke up with him. You know he didn’t leave only because of you, but if you stayed by his side, maybe he wouldn’t have left.

y/n: did you give him to him

y/n: felix

felix: you know theres no way i’d tell him “y/n has a new bf now pls move on” right

felix: you cant avoid him forever

y/n: i know

Hyunjin is sitting in front of you, looking out of the window while sipping his Americano. “Baby?” he calls out, tapping your fingers. You look up, forcing yourself to smile when you meet his tired eyes. You decided to pay him a visit at his dorm while Jeongin is out of town with his friends.

“Yeah?”

“Something bothering you?” he asks.

“What? Nothing.”

“You sure?”

“I should be the one asking you that,” you say sternly. Hyunjin frowns, snatching your phone from you. He opens Felix’s messages, and his eyes become darker as he reads all the recent messages. You reach for his hand, trying to get your phone back. “Hyunjin.”

“Who’s Park Jinyoung?” he demands.

“No one.”

“Your ex-boyfriend? Or are you cheating on me?”

“Hyunjin, please.”

He stops, handing your phone back to you before crossing his arms. You never meant to keep Jinyoung a secret, but you’re not proud of what you did to him. It only reminds you of how selfish you are, how bad of a person you are.

“Jinyoung was my boyfriend in high school,” you explain. “During the 11th grade he and his brother got into a car accident. He survived, his brother didn’t.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, but signals you to continue. “I cared about Jinyoung, I really did. I still do, but he wasn’t the same anymore after the accident.”

“Anyone wouldn’t be okay after such a tragedy, I know. It didn’t make me like him any less, but then he… refused to talk to anyone and kept throwing tantrums. I tried to help him, but after a few months I couldn’t take it anymore. I gave up.”

You finally have the nerve to look into Hyunjin’s eyes although what you’re going to say is going to break his heart. “I broke up with him. I told him I couldn’t stay anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Hyunjin. I know I shouldn’t have done that. I feel so, so sorry. You must be disappointed-”

“Is that why you’re with me now?” he cuts you off. “Because you feel sorry for me? Because you want to redeem yourself?”

He stands up, eyes brimming up with tears as he walks towards his door and opens it. “I knew it,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “Poor Hwang Hyunjin got bullied and now he’s all fucked!” he shouts.

“You’re not, Hyunjin. You can still dance again—”

“I don’t want to disappoint my parents, okay?! I’m all they have so I can’t do whatever I want just because I feel like it.”

Hyunjin is already crying at this point, and you’ve never felt this broken before. The past two years feel like a dream, a sweet dream you both refuse to wake up from. Reality bites, and it bites you hard.

“You didn’t even ask why I chose to go to college,” he quivers. “I told myself that I would stop dancing after high school. No more training. No more auditioning. I have to get myself together. For them. For you.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath before gripping your shoulders. His next words feel like knives jabbing at your heart. “If you can’t handle me anymore, you can leave. You’re tired, aren’t you?”

You desperately want to tell him no. I love you, Hyunjin, you’re not a burden.

But nothing comes out.

-

“How have you been?”

You wish you can choose not to answer that question, but you smile, hoping that it will conceal the sorrow in your eyes. “I’ve been okay. How about you?”

Jinyoung clasps his hands together as if expecting your response. He only stares at you, like he’s rehearsing a scenario in his head. “I’m fine. Much better,” he answers, and you release the breath you didn’t know you’ve been holding.

“Look, Y/N. I just want to apologize for everything I did back in high school. It must’ve been tough for you.”

You shake your head while he’s smiling at you, as if knowing how you’ll react—once again. “No, Jinyoung. I’m sorry for leaving you when you needed me the most.”

The Jinyoung sitting in front of you right now is the extreme opposite of the Jinyoung you left. He’s no longer drowned. He’s no longer lost. He’s alive and well and whole, like the first love you cherished and treasured.

“I was angry at you for a long time,” Jinyoung confesses. “One day I found my old phone, the one I used before we broke up.”

“I read all the messages you sent me. You asked me whether I ate, whether I felt okay. You panicked when I skipped school. You apologized; damn you kept saying sorry although I was the one being an asshole.”

“It’s okay. You were grieving—”

“That’s not a reason,” Jinyoung says. “I thought I was the most miserable person on Earth. Maybe I was, to some extent. But then I realized that you were hurting too. You were close to my brother as well.”

“I wasn’t the only one who lost him. You did too. And then you lost me.”

Jinyoung chuckles when he sees you tearing up. “Don’t cry,” he coos, patting your head. “I thought I was alone, that nobody understood me. But you were there. Felix was there. Everybody was trying to understand me.”

“Felix told me you have a boyfriend now?” he asks.

You almost nod your head. “I don’t know anymore.”

Jinyoung smiles knowingly (now that you think about it, Jinyoung really reminds you of Seungmin), offering you tissues to wipe your tears. “You’ll figure it out, you’re not a bad person, Y/N. I’ll testify for you if you need me to!”

No matter what side you’re on—good or evil, love or hate, truth or lie—the choices will always be there, ready to attack you at the most unpredictable time. You won’t call yourself a good person; God you probably don’t deserve even half the things you have right now. But you’re going to fight for them. You’re going to fight for Hyunjin.

So you smile, and this time it’s a genuine one.

-

“When are you guys going home?” Seungmin nags, glaring at you and Chaeyeon who are sprawled on his bed, laughing at random Instagram videos. The two of you barged into his house two hours ago, completely sabotaging his study session… on purpose.

“Come on, Kim Seungmin, get a life!” Chaeyeon replies as you sit up, eyeing him from head to toe. “You seem totally out of it. You okay?”

“Why won’t I be okay?”

Seungmin doesn’t really bottle up his emotions anymore, but there are times when he scares you with how flatly he dismisses questions about his well-being. “You’re not going through the same crisis as Hyunjin, are you?”

Chaeyeon sits up at your question, and Seungmin laughs. “I’m fine. I work hard, but I also play hard.”

“By going to hundreds of hiphop concerts?” Chaeyeon teases.

He rolls his eyes at her. “I have other friends, for God’s sake. Didn’t you guys see all my Instagram updates?”

When neither of you responds, Seungmin grabs a notebook from his desk. He flips through the pages quickly before stopping on a page full of flowcharts and notes. “I’m starting a project. I hope I can somehow use this as my graduation project. If not, well then, I’m screwed.”

Chaeyeon takes the notebook from him, humming in approval as she reads all the details. “You’re starting a website? For kids like us? What do you mean?”

“I went through so much shit after I told my parents I wanted to become a baseball player,” Seungmin explains. “Then I got into singing, but I never want to go through that again. It was hard, but things got better eventually. I enjoy what I’m doing now.” He turns to you. “So, to answer your question, no. I’m not going through the same thing Hyunjin is dealing with now.”

You give him a playful smirk. “Although Seo Changbin signed with KIA Tigers?”

“Although Seo Changbin signed with KIA Tigers.”

Chaeyeon fakes a yawn while she, in fact, is hiding a smile. “Sooo… in conclusion?”

“There are kids like me, and then there are kids like Hyunjin, who will never be able to live peacefully before doing what they’re really passionate about,” he continues. “There are kids like Jisung who can be so confident and insecure all at once.”

“In conclusion, I want to create a space for everybody. To let them know that there will always be a place for them no matter what kind of shit they’re dealing with. That’s it. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk!”

Now Seungmin is exchanging looks with Chaeyeon, and you figure it’s time to talk about the elephant in the room.

“Let me get this clear. You and Hyunjin didn’t break up, right?” Chaeyeon asks, munching on the potato chips she’s sharing with Seungmin.

“None of us said that word, but I don’t think that’s important now.”

“How is that not important?” Chaeyeon presses, and suddenly you realize how weird the situation is. You’re talking about your relationship with Hyunjin with Chaeyeon—who had feelings for Hyunjin and Seungmin—who had feelings for you.

“Let’s talk about that later.”

“Y/N.”

Chaeyeon sighs, grabbing your slumped shoulder so she can look directly into your eyes. “I had a crush on Hyunjin. You love Hyunjin. That’s a whole different case. You can talk to me.”

“I didn’t sing in front of the whole school for you guys to break up like this,” Seungmin says, causing you to blush when you remember that he dedicated Day6’s First Time to you. You have to admit that you haven’t listened to the song ever since he did that.

“I let Hyunjin down.”

“Everyone lets somebody down,” Seungmin replies.

“Yeah. Thesedays Jisung always calls me in the wee hours in the morning and I never pick up. Now he’s sulking."

“Lee Chaeyeon, you and Jisung are practically dating.”

“We’re not!”

Seungmin mimics Chaeyeon’s expression before punching her shoulder playfully. “He’s just too scared to confess and you’re just too proud to admit that you like him.”

“Stop it!”

-

Jeongin has bombarded you with messages, but all of them can be summed up into one sentence: Hwang Hyunjin is a mess. You’ve been waiting for the right time to talk to him, but now you find it ironic.

You’re looking, searching, yearning for the right time while losing it at the same time.

After Seungmin and Chaeyeon convinced you to stop dragging this around, you finally texted Hyunjin. Now you’re alone in the middle of the night, reading Hyunjin’s simple “okay” after you asked him to meet you at a small playground near your dormitory where you often hang out together. A familiar shadow walks in your direction, and before you can stop yourself, you have run towards it.

Luckily, it does turn out to be Hyunjin.

“Hey.”

He stops, frowning when he notices that you’re not wearing any jacket. “It’s cold,” he comments in a disapproving tone, but you only shake your head. “I’m fine.”

“Y/N.”

“We have more important things to talk about than me not wearing jacket, Hwang Hyunjin.”

“Okay,” he replies, leading you to one of the benches. Hyunjin takes off his jacket and drapes it around your shoulders. You inhale, staring into his tired eyes and you want to kill yourself for making him even more miserable than he already is.

“I’m in love with you,” you mutter, using the exact same words he used when he first confessed to you. Hyunjin blinks before averting his gaze to a stray dog near the bushes. “How can you be in love with me? Not the one everyone knows, but me.”

“Because you’re my Hyunjin. I love the smiley, clingy, energetic, hard-working, brave, and somehow flirty Hyunjin. But then I realized that even if you’re struggling or stressing out or feeling lost… you’re still you. You’re still the one I’m in love with.”

“Who do you talk to when you feel sad?” he asks firmly. “Not me, right?”

Hyunjin’s eyes don’t seem tired anymore. They’re now burning with anger, and you have no idea how to respond to that. He then pulls you into his embrace, caressing your hair softly although you can feel how upset he is. “I wanted to be angry at you but this is happening because of me. You’re tired, sad, and confused because of me. I’m dragging you down.”

“You’re not,” you counter. “There are times when I’m lost too, Hyunjin. But no, I don’t want to leave.”

He pulls away, sighing as you smile at him. “I’m sorry,” he pleads. “Am I being selfish if I still want to start over? I want to take care of you, Y/N. I want to listen to your rambles, I want to eat ice cream at 1AM during winter with you, and I want to wake up to you calling me Jinjin. But I also want to hug you when you feel sad, I want to hear all your problems, I want to help you solve them. Just like what you’ve been doing for me all this time.”

He starts to smile as well when yours get wider. “No,” you answer, tucking your head in the crook of his neck. “That means you love me.”

“I do,” he quickly says, wrapping his arms around you again like he’s afraid that you will change your mind. “I don’t deserve you, but will you let me try?”

You hum, relishing the comfort of his body heat as he lifts you so that you’ll sit on his lap. “Do you want me to sneak you inside the dorm?” Hyunjin offers, trying to take out his phone from his back pocket.

“You have a ball of sass as your roommate,” you remind him. Jeongin will roast you for another fifty years if you end up sneaking in and kicking him out of his own room, even though you’re sure that Hyunjin will have to endure more than that.

After making exaggerated scenarios of how Jeongin will react if Hyunjin really ends up bringing you back, you spend the rest of the night curling up in Hyunjin’s arms, constantly checking if there are people around. Your boyfriend, meanwhile, makes it clear that he doesn’t give a damn. He kisses your cheeks every 2 minutes (you’re shamelessly counting and proud of it), listening to all sorts of stories you tell him.

“What are you going to do now? Are you going to drop out?”

“No. I haven’t told my parents anything,” Hyunjin states. “I’ll just start dancing again for now.”

He shifts under you, lifting your chin to look into your eyes. “Are you feeling better?” he whispers, his gaze mirroring his shaky voice.

“You’re here. How can I not feel better?”

Hyunjin beams at you as he leans closer to crash his lips on yours. “I’ve missed you,” he rasps, cupping your face to kiss you harder. You want to reply, but everytime his lips make contact with yours, you feel dizzy. Hyunjin whines when you’re pulling away, so you comply, letting him kiss you more slowly. He then trails open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and neck before nipping your collarbone. “Jinjin,” you call out breathlessly.

He looks up. “Hmm?”

“Just promise me one thing.” You reach for his hand, feeling his slender fingers wrap yours in an instant. “Don’t ever let me go.”

“I promise.”

-

“You’re friends with CB97 and never told me about it. I’m rioting!” Jeongin stomps his feet on the ground as he has his ticket checked. Jisung and Chan are Show Me the Money’s newest winner and runner-up respectively, and the two are inviting all of you to their first solo concert.

Felix is recording his surroundings with his phone, pushing Jeongin’s head out of his way as he’s shooting the empty stage. “Jisung will take photos with us, right Y/N?”

“Why are you so obsessed with taking photos with Jisung?” Hyunjin shudders. “I swear it’s nothing special.”

The freckled boy points at his phone. “Gotta do it for the ‘gram, man.”

Mina, who just arrived in Seoul this morning, waves her phone in front of you and Hyunjin. “I have a surprise for you, Hwang Hyunjin!” she squeals as Chaeyeon grabs her phone to read news from an entertainment website.

“Ballerina Myoui Mina has been added to the Dancing with the Stars lineup,” she reads loudly. Seungmin, Jeongin, and Felix clap at this while you and Chaeyeon are grinning, knowing what the news is about.

“When asked about whom her partner, she said,” Chaeyeon pauses, gesturing at Mina to deliver the good news herself.

Mina clears her throat. “She said, ‘This has never been done before but I begged the producers to cast a friend of mine.’ “

Hyunjin perks up at the word friend, but says nothing while Seungmin mutters a surprised, “Ah!”

“’And that friend is my best friend from high school, Hwang Hyunjin.’”

All of you gather around Hyunjin, giving him a tight group hug. Other people are eyeing you with annoyance but none of you cares. Seungmin and Jeongin are beyond ecstatic, trying to attack the tall boy with kisses.

“Myoui Mina!” Hyunjin exclaims as he shoves Jeongin off. “You’re the best!” he shouts, causing Mina to laugh. Everyone has realized that the graceful and famous Mina is here in the middle of audience; they’re now snapping photos of her while whispering to each other. 

“Oh anyways, I also have a surprise for you.” Hyunjin takes out his phone to show you a poster of Lee Jungjin. “He’s holding a concert. I’ve booked tickets for us.”

You squeal, smooching his cheek hard. “I’m proud of you. So proud.”

The music is getting louder and soon, Jisung appears on stage. He just stands there, looking at his fans with so much gratitude. “He’s looking at them like that but can you guys guess what he’s thinking about?” Chaeyeon asks.

“Hmm… he’s forgetting his lyrics?” Seungmin guesses.

Jeongin adds, “He forgot his lyrics and now writing the new one inside his head.”

“This is Han Jisung we’re talking about,” Chaeyeon scoffs. “Pay attention. He wants to pee.”

You snort, about to voice out a witty reply but Jisung has greeted the audience. “Chan and I originally wanted to start with a club banger. But then we decided to dedicate our first and last songs to our loved ones, especially to our friends and family who are here today.”

He points at your direction, waving back at Mina who can barely contain her excitement. “I started writing this song during high school, when I was insecure and unsure about what I wanted to do,” Jisung continues. “I just found out recently that I never finished writing it, so I did it and now I’m going to perform it for the first time.”

The crowd goes wild as the instrumental starts to play. “This is for my friends, my family; the ones who never leave no matter how many times I’ve made them worried.”

“Also, Lee Chaeyeon!”

Jisung stops to locate Chaeyeon, smiling when he finds his girlfriend fiddling with the hem of her blouse, feeling uncomfortable with the attention she’s getting. “Don’t worry, you’ll hear the song I wrote just for you later.”

He smirks, eyes glinting with mischief that always annoys Chaeyeon. “I’m breaking up with him,” she mutters through gritted teeth while glancing at her shoes. “I set my Instagram to private because of this bastard and his popularity and now he’s embarrassing me in public! He’s dead.”

Mina giggles, forcing her to look at the stage because Jisung continues to stare at her (and all of you). When Chaeyeon finally looks up, he gives her a different kind of smile you’ve never seen before. “This is ‘I See,’” he announces.

“Truthfully I’m very much weak-hearted

If the night is really dark, I’ll be too scared to sleep.”

Hyunjin glances at you, who’s burying your face in his chest because you’re crying. He chuckles, wrapping his arm around you. “Was this one of the songs you read on his notebook?” You nod, sobbing harder as Chaeyeon approaches you with teary eyes. She hugs you from the side, crying along with you.

“Eh eh thank you for worrying about me.

Thank you!”

Soon, all of you are huddled together, with the girls crying and the boys cursing at Jisung for making them cry too. “I can’t believe I’m tearing up at what Han Jisung is rapping,” Seungmin sniffles, smacking Hyunjin on his back when the latter laughs at him.

Jisung crouches down as he gets to the last few lines, wiping his own tears. “He’s already crying and it’s only the first song. Unbelievable,” Chaeyeon sobs.

“Just wait right there, I’ll reach it someday

Stop the clock for a while

The flower will blossom someday

This rocky fantasy

I’ll make sure that I’ll reach that mirage and catch you.”

“J.ONEEEEEEEEE!” you shout as the song comes to an end. You look at each of your friends; Felix who’s gone through everything with you, Mina who’s helped you to feel better about yourself, Seungmin who’s sacrificed a lot for everyone, Chaeyeon and Jeongin who have always been honest to you, and Jisung who’s made you feel loved and appreciated.

And then there’s Hyunjin.

He may not always be the dreamy, mesmerizing Hyunjin you fell in love with back in high school. But this Hyunjin—the one who’s facing his demons, the one who’s showering you with more and more love each day, the one who’s fighting for his dreams—is the Hyunjin whom you want to spend the rest of your life with.

“Mina, will you take a photo with me too?” Felix suddenly asks as Chan enters the stage.

“Lee Felix, stop being such a fanboy!” you protest.

Mina nods, flashing Felix her sweetest smile. “Sure! Who else wants a pic with me?”

Seungmin turns to Felix, wiggling his finger in front him. “Don’t do it,” he warns. “I did that once and my comment section was flooded with my friends asking me to introduce them to her.”

“Shut up!” Chaeyeon snaps. “Please appreciate my boyfriend who’s invited all of you to this holy concert.” 

“You want to break up with him, remember?” Hyunjin jokes.

Everyone bursts into a hearty laugh, and you realize how far all of you have come. You and your best friends have survived many obstacles together, and you’re sure there will be more hardships in the future. But you’ll be fine. You have each other, and it’s safe to say that all of you have made a silent promise to always hold each other’s hands. To never let go.

-

* a convenience store in Korea

AND THATS IT!!!! I’ve finished the most tiring project ever. I hope you can somehow relate to this and feel better about yourself. I really love our little group of friends, I love writing about them a lot. Oh, the translation for I See’s lyrics (this is one of Jisung’s solo mixtape anyways!) belongs to @/seungmnis on Twitter! 

[dfroza]

how will you respond to rebirth?

to the baptism of the heart (inside, Anew) by the Spirit and to a baptism of the body in earth’s water?

Paul illuminates this in Today’s reading of the Scriptures as a chapter from the New Testament in the Letter of Romans:

How should we respond to all of this? Is it good to persist in a life of sin so that grace may multiply even more? Absolutely not! How can we die to a life where sin ruled over us and then invite sin back into our lives? Did someone forget to tell you that when we were initiated into Jesus the Anointed through baptism’s ceremonial washing, we entered into His death? Therefore, we were buried with Him through this baptism into death so that just as God the Father, in all His glory, resurrected the Anointed One, we, too, might walk confidently out of the grave into a new life. To put it another way: if we have been united with Him to share in a death like His, don’t you understand that we will also share in His resurrection? We know this: whatever we used to be with our old sinful ways has been nailed to His cross. So our entire record of sin has been canceled, and we no longer have to bow down to sin’s power. A dead man, you see, cannot be bound by sin. But if we have died with the Anointed One, we believe that we shall also live together with Him. So we stand firm in the conviction that death holds no power over God’s Anointed, because He was resurrected from the dead never to face death again. When He died, He died to whatever power sin had, once and for all, and now He lives completely to God. So here is how to picture yourself now that you have been initiated into Jesus the Anointed: you are dead to sin’s power and influence, but you are alive to God’s rule.

Don’t invite that insufferable tyrant of sin back into your mortal body so you won’t become obedient to its destructive desires. Don’t offer your bodily members to sin’s service as tools of wickedness; instead, offer your body to God as those who are alive from the dead, and devote the parts of your body to God as tools for justice and goodness in this world. For sin is no longer a tyrant over you; indeed you are under grace and not the law.

So what do we do now? Throw ourselves into lives of sin because we are cloaked in grace and don’t have to answer to the law? Absolutely not! Doesn’t it make sense that if you sign yourself over as a slave, you will have to obey your master? The question before you is, What will be your master? Will it be sin—which will lead to certain death—or obedience—which will lead to a right and reconciled life? Thank God that your slavery to sin has ended and that in your new freedom you pledged your heartfelt obedience to that teaching which was passed on to you. The beauty of your new situation is this: now that you are free from sin, you are free to serve a different master, God’s redeeming justice.

Forgive me for using casual language to compensate for your natural weakness of human understanding. I want to be perfectly clear. In the same way you gave your bodily members away as slaves to corrupt and lawless living and found yourselves deeper in your unruly lives, now devote your members as slaves to right and reconciled lives so you will find yourselves deeper in holy living. In the days when you lived as slaves to sin, you had no obligation to do the right thing. In that regard, you were free. But what do you have to show from your former lives besides shame? The outcome of that life is death, guaranteed. But now that you have been emancipated from the death grip of sin and are God’s slave, you have a different sort of life, a growing holiness. The outcome of that life is eternal life. The payoff for a life of sin is death, but God is offering us a free gift—eternal life through our Lord Jesus, the Anointed One, the Liberating King.

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 6 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 25th chapter of the book (scroll) of Isaiah that points to God humbling the pride of the world and bringing Justice to His people, and also pointing to a time when death is removed from the picture, mirroring John’s writing in Revelation:

Eternal One, You are my God.

I will lift You up and praise Your name.

Because You have made wonders marvelous and beautiful—

the most ancient designs holding strong and sure.

Your power is awesome. You have brought down whole cities,

turned fortresses and strongholds into piles of sticks and rubble.

A citadel of foreigners is no longer even a city.

Those structures are gone forever.

This is why nations strong and mighty will glorify You;

the cities of ruthless people will fear and respect You.

Because You stand up for the poor and weak,

You comfort and empower them in their distress,

Giving them safe harbor and cool shade when it’s hot;

You shelter them from their oppressors’ blows

As a strong wall holds back the driving rain.

You shelter from the relentless heat of the desert.

You quiet the clamor of outsiders, ease them to stillness.

Like a full, dark cloud relieves the heat,

You silence the arrogant song of the violent.

The Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies, is preparing a feast,

a feast for everyone on this mystical mountain

With aged wine and good food, the finest wine and choicest meat.

And God will swallow up the oppression that weighs us down.

He will take away the heavy shroud

that is draped over all peoples of the world.

God will swallow up death forever.

The Lord, the Eternal, will wipe away the tears from each and every face

And deflect the scorn and shame His people endure from the whole world,

for the Eternal determined that it should be so.

And in that moment, at that glorious time, people will say,

People: This is our God! We put our hope in him.

We knew that He would save us!

This is our God, the Eternal for whom we waited.

Let us rejoice and celebrate in His liberation.

For on this mountain, the powerful hand of the Eternal abides.

He will smash and tread Moab like straw on manure.

And God will reach out, like a swimmer pulling water,

and drag down their arrogance and everything that made them proud.

God will bring down their strongest walls, their impenetrable defenses,

and grind them to the ground until they are only dust.

The Book (Scroll) of Isaiah, Chapter 25 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Saturday, july 3 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about knowing someone:

There is an old Chassidic story of two men sitting and enjoying a drink together. One of them then says to the other, "You know, you’re my best friend. I really love you, brother!" The other man responds, "Oh yeah? If you really love me, tell me where I hurt..."

The point of this simple story is that we can’t really say we love someone without taking the time to know them -- and that means knowing how they suffer. Most of us are suffering, of course, but are we able to transcend our own pain to genuinely empathize with others? Conversely, how many people do we trust enough to to confide our own pains and heartaches? The Law of Messiah (תוֹרת המשׁיח) is to bear one another’s burdens (τα βαρη, “weights,” Gal. 6:2), and that means making ourselves vulnerable -- and making room inside our hearts for the vulnerability of others. James tells us that personal healing comes from confessing outwardly (εξομολογεισθε) our sins (τας αμαρτιας) to one another so that we may be healed (James 5:16). Of course it’s humbling to acknowledge our sins, our failures, and our hurts to another person, but without an audience for the inner voice of our pain, we suffer all the more...

If someone loves us, they will know “where we hurt”; and if we love them, we will know where they hurt, too. This same principle can also be applied to our relationship to Yeshua... We take comfort that Yeshua sticks closer to us than a brother, praying for us and “knowing where we hurt.” But if we say that we love him, are we are not claiming that we know “where he hurts?” Does Yeshua suffer today? The Apostle Paul wrote: “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church” (Col. 1:24). What is “lacking in Christ’s afflictions” is our present sacrifice for the sake of others... Yeshua hungers with those who are hungry, thirsts with those who are thirsty, feels loneliness with those who are abandoned, shivers with those who are cold, weeps with those who are forlorn, is imprisoned with those who are incarcerated, is sick with those who are ill, and so on (Matt. 25:31-ff). Yeshua feels the pain of even the “least of these my brothers.” This is where he hurts, chaverim...

The essential difference between the righteous and the unrighteous is revealed in their response shown to those in need. After all, on the Day of Judgment, both the righteous and the unrighteous will account for their choices in light of the selfsame needy and pain-riddled world. The destiny of each person will be determined by whether he or she took the time to genuinely engage the suffering of others. May the LORD help us to share His heart and passion for a lost and hurting world. Amen. [Hebrew for Christians]

7.2.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

July 3, 2021

Lights in the World

“The sons of God, without rebuke, in the midst of a crooked and perverse nation, among whom ye shine as lights in the world.” (Philippians 2:15)

The Hebrew and Greek terms for “sons of God” are essentially the same, but the Old Testament always uses the phrase in reference to angels, whereas the New Testament always references the twice-born saints of God.

Our text for this day emphasizes the precise reason that our Lord Jesus prayed: “I pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world....They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world” (John 17:15-16). We who share this marvelous relationship bear both the “love the Father hath bestowed upon us” and the unique rejection that “the world knoweth us not, because it knew him not” (1 John 3:1).

Jesus said, “I am the light of the world” (John 8:12), and we who are His disciples are “the light of the world” (Matthew 5:14. We, unlike the angels, are to remain in this unfair and distorted world as lights. Consider this! We are the light that the Lord Jesus left in this world to represent Him and His message after He returned to heaven (John 9:5).

That is why the Scriptures refer to us as saints (holy ones) and disciples (followers); even the pejorative “Christians” (Acts 11:26) identify us as representing the King! We must therefore shine with the truth (John 3:19) and shed the “light of the glorious gospel of Christ” (2 Corinthians 4:4), attempting to “lighteth every man that cometh into the world” (John 1:9).

Finally, we are surely commanded to “walk in the light, as he is in the light” (1 John 1:7). Our light should never be covered in a “bushel” (Matthew 5:15) but set on a “hill” for all to see (Matthew 5:14). HMM III

[aamjp]

“I was a writer,” said the old man.

“But I gave it up. This typewriter was a gift from my father. An affectionate and cultured man who lived to the age of ninety-three. An essentially good man. A man who believed in progress, it goes without saying. My poor father. He believed in progress and of course he believed in the intrinsic goodness of human beings. I too believe in the intrinsic goodness of human beings, but it means nothing. In their hearts, killers are good, as we Germans have reason to know. So what? I might spend a night drinking with a killer, and as the two of us watch the sun come up, perhaps we’ll burst into song or hum some Beethoven. So what? The killer might weep on my shoulder. Naturally. Being a killer isn’t easy, as you and I well know. It isn’t easy at all. It requires purity and will, will and purity. Crystalline purity and steel-hard will. And I myself might even weep on the killer’s shoulder and whisper sweet words to him, words like ‘brother,’ ‘friend,’ ‘comrade in misfortune.’ At this moment the killer is good, because he’s intrinsically good, and I’m an idiot, because I’m intrinsically an idiot, and we’re both sentimental, because our culture tends inexorably toward sentimentality. But when the performance is over and I’m alone, the killer will open the window of my room and come tiptoeing in like a nurse and slit my throat, bleed me dry.

“My poor father. I was a writer, I was a writer, but my indolent, voracious brain gnawed at my own entrails. Vulture of my Prometheus self or Prometheus of my vulture self, one day I understood that I might go so far as to publish excellent articles in magazines and newspapers, and even books that weren’t unworthy of the paper on which they were printed. But I also understood that I would never manage to create anything like a masterpiece. You may say that literature doesn’t consist solely of masterpieces, but rather is populated by so-called minor works. I believed that, too. Literature is a vast forest and the masterpieces are the lakes, the towering trees or strange trees, the lovely, eloquent flowers, the hidden caves, but a forest is also made up of ordinary trees, patches of grass, puddles, clinging vines, mushrooms, and little wild-flowers. I was wrong. There’s actually no such thing as a minor work. I mean: the author of the minor work isn’t Mr. X or Mr. Y. Mr. X and Mr. Y do exist, there’s no question about that, and they struggle and toil and publish in newspapers and magazines and sometimes they even come out with a book that isn’t unworthy of the paper it’s printed on, but those books or articles, if you pay close attention, are not written by them.

“Every minor work has a secret author and every secret author is, by definition, a writer of masterpieces. Who writes the minor work? A minor writer, or so it appears. The poor man’s wife can testify to that, she’s seen him sitting at the table, bent over the blank pages, restless in his chair, his pen racing over the paper. The evidence would seem to be incontrovertible. But what she’s seen is only the outside. The shell of literature. A semblance,” said the old man to Archimboldi and Archimboldi thought of Ansky. “The person who really writes the minor work is a secret writer who accepts only the dictates of a masterpiece.

“Our good craftsman writes. He’s absorbed in what takes shape well or badly on the page. His wife, though he doesn’t know it, is watching him. It really is he who’s writing. But if his wife had X-ray vision she would see that instead of being present at an exercise of literary creation, she’s witnessing a session of hypnosis. There’s nothing inside the man who sits there writing. Nothing of himself, I mean. How much better off the poor man would be if he devoted himself to reading. Reading is pleasure and happiness to be alive or sadness to be alive and above all it’s knowledge and questions. Writing, meanwhile, is almost always empty. There’s nothing in the guts of the man who sits there writing. Nothing, I mean to say, that his wife, at a given moment, might recognize. He writes like someone taking dictation. His novel or book of poems, decent, adequate, arises not from an exercise of style or will, as the poor unfortunate believes, but as the result of an exercise of concealment. There must be many books, many lovely pines, to shield from hungry eyes the book that really matters, the wretched cave of our misfortune, the magic flower of winter!

“Excuse the metaphors. Sometimes, in my excitement, I wax romantic. But listen. Every work that isn’t a masterpiece is, in a sense, a part of a vast camouflage. You’ve been a soldier, I imagine, and you know what I mean. Every book that isn’t a masterpiece is cannon fodder, a slogging foot soldier, a piece to be sacrificed, since in multiple ways it mimics the design of the masterpiece. When I came to this realization, I gave up writing. Still, my mind didn’t stop working. In fact, it worked better when I wasn’t writing. I asked myself: why does a masterpiece need to be hidden? what strange forces wreath it in secrecy and mystery?

“By now I knew it was pointless to write. Or that it was worth it only if one was prepared to write a masterpiece. Most writers are deluded or playing. Perhaps delusion and play are the same thing, two sides of the same coin. The truth is we never stop being children, terrible children covered in sores and knotty veins and tumors and age spots, but ultimately children, in other words we never stop clinging to life because we are life. One might also say: we’re theater, we’re music. By the same token, few are the writers who give up. We play at believing ourselves immortal. We delude ourselves in the appraisal of our own works and in our perpetual misappraisal of the works of others. See you at the Nobel, writers say, as one might say: see you in hell.

“Once I saw an American gangster movie. In one scene a detective kills a crook and before he fires the fatal shot he says: see you in hell. He’s playing. The detective is playing and he’s deluded. The crook, who meets his gaze and curses him just before he dies, is also playing and deluded, although his fields of play and delusion have been reduced to almost zero, since in the next shot he’s going to die. The director of the film is also playing. So is the scriptwriter. See you at the Nobel. We’ll go down in history. We have the gratitude of the German people. A heroic battle remembered for generations to come. An immortal love. A name inscribed in marble. The time of the Muses. Even a phrase as seemingly innocent as echoes of Greek prose is all play and delusion.

“Play and delusion are the blindfold and spur of minor writers. Also: the promise of their future happiness. A forest that grows at a vertiginous rate, a forest no one can fence in, not even the academies, in fact, the academies make sure it flourishes unhindered, as do boosters and universities (breeding grounds for the shameless) and government institutions and patrons and cultural associations and declaimers of poetry— all aid the forest to grow and hide what must be hidden, all aid the forest to reproduce what must be reproduced, since the process is inevitable, though no one ever sees what exactly is being reproduced, what is being tamely mirrored back.

“Plagiarism, you say? Yes, plagiarism, in the sense that all minor works, all works from the pen of a minor writer, can be nothing but plagiarism of some masterpiece. The small difference is that here we’re talking about sanctioned plagiarism. Plagiarism as camouflage as some wood and canvas scenery as a charade that leads us, likely as not, into the void.

“In a word: experience is best. I won’t say you can’t get experience by hanging around libraries, but libraries are second to experience. Experience is the mother of science, it is often said. When I was young and I still thought I would make a career in the world of letters, I met a great writer. A great writer who had probably written a single masterpiece, although in my judgment everything he had written was a masterpiece.

“I won’t tell you his name. It’ll do you no good to learn it, nor do you need to know it for the purposes of this story. Suffice it to say that he was German and one day he came to Cologne to give a few lectures. Of course, I didn’t miss a single one of the three he gave at the university. At the last lecture I got a seat in the front row, and rather than listen (the truth is he repeated things he’d already said in the first and second lectures), I spent the time observing him in detail, his hands, for example, bony and energetic, his old man’s neck, like the neck of a turkey or a plucked rooster, his faintly Slavic cheekbones, his lifeless lips, lips that one could slash with a knife and from which one could be sure not a single drop of blood would fall, his gray temples like a stormy sea, and especially his eyes, deep eyes that at the slightest tilt of his head seemed at times like two endless tunnels, two abandoned tunnels on the verge of collapse.

“Of course, once the lecture was over he was mobbed by local worthies and I wasn’t even able to shake his hand and tell him how much I admired him. Time went by. The writer died, and, as one might expect, I continued to read and reread him. The day came when I decided to give up literature. I gave it up. This was in no way traumatic but rather liberating. Between you and me, I’ll confess that it was like losing my virginity. What a relief to give up literature, to give up writing and simply read!

“But that’s another story. We can discuss it when you return my typewriter. And yet I couldn’t forget the great writer and his visit. Meanwhile, I began to work at a factory that made optical instruments. I did well for myself. I was a bachelor, I had money, every week I went to the movies, the theater, exhibitions, and I also studied English and French and visited bookshops where I bought whatever books struck my fancy.

“A comfortable life. But I couldn’t shake the memory of the great writer’s visit, and what’s more, I realized abruptly that I remembered only the third lecture, and my memories were limited to the writer’s face, as if it was supposed to tell me something that in the end it didn’t. But what? One day, for reasons that are beside the point, I went with a doctor friend of mine to the university morgue. I doubt you’ve ever been there. The morgue is underground and it’s a long room with white-tiled walls and a wooden ceiling. In the middle there’s a stage where autopsies, dissections, and other scientific atrocities are performed. Then there are two small offices, one for the dean of forensic studies and the other for another professor. At each end are the refrigerated rooms where the corpses are stored, the bodies of the destitute or people without papers visited by death in cheap hotel rooms.

“In those days I showed a doubtless morbid interest in these facilities and my doctor friend kindly took it upon himself to give me a detailed tour. We even attended the last autopsy of the day. Then my friend went into the dean’s office and I was left alone outside in the corridor, waiting for him, as the students left and a kind of crepuscular lethargy crept from under the doors like poison gas. After ten minutes of waiting I was startled by a noise from one of the refrigerated rooms. In those days, I promise you, that was enough to frighten anyone, but I’ve never been particularly cowardly and I went to see what it was.

“When I opened the door a gust of cold air hit me in the face. At the back of the room, by a stretcher, a man was trying to open one of the lockers to stow away a corpse, but no matter how hard he struggled, the door to the locker or cell wouldn’t budge. Without moving from the threshold, I asked whether he needed help. The man straightened up, he was very tall, and gave me what seemed to me a despairing look. Perhaps it was because I sensed despair in his gaze that I was emboldened to approach him. As I did, flanked by corpses, I lit a cigarette to calm my nerves and when I reached him the first thing I did was offer him another cigarette, perhaps forcing a false camaraderie.

“Only then did the morgue worker look at me and it was as if I had gone back in time. His eyes were exactly like the eyes of the great writer whose Cologne lectures I had devoutly attended. I confess that just then, for a few seconds, I even thought I was going mad. It was the morgue worker’s voice, nothing like the warm voice of the great writer, that rescued me from my panic. He said: smoking isn’t allowed here.

“I didn’t know what to answer. He added: smoke is harmful to the dead. I laughed. He supplied an explanatory note: smoke interferes with the process of preservation. I made a noncommittal gesture. He tried a last time: he spoke about filters, he spoke about moisture levels, he uttered the word purity. I offered him a cigarette again and he announced with resignation that he didn’t smoke. I asked whether he had worked there for a long time. In an impersonal and somewhat shrill voice, he said he had worked at the university since long before the 1914 war.

‘”Always at the morgue?’ I asked.

“‘Here and nowhere else,’ he answered.

“‘It’s funny,’ I said, ‘but your face, and especially your eyes, remind me of a great German writer.’ At this point I mentioned the writer’s name.

‘”I’ve never heard of him,’ was his response.

“In earlier days this reply would have outraged me, but thanks God I was living a new life. I remarked that working at the morgue must surely prompt wise or at least original reflections on human fate. He looked at me as if I were mocking him or speaking French. I insisted. These surroundings, I said, with a gesture that encompassed the whole morgue, are in a certain way the ideal place to contemplate the brevity of life, the unfathomable fate of mankind, the futility of earthly strife.

“With a shudder of horror, I was suddenly aware that I was talking to him as if he were the great German writer and this was the conversation we’d never had. I don’t have much time, he said. I looked him in the eye again. There could be no doubt about it: he had the eyes of my idol. And his reply: I don’t have much time. How many doors it opened! How many paths were suddenly cleared, revealed to me!

“I don’t have much time, I have to haul corpses. I don’t have much time, I have to breathe, eat, drink, sleep. I don’t have much time, I have to keep the gears meshing. I don’t have much time, I’m busy living. I don’t have much time, I’m busy dying. As you can imagine, there were no more questions. I helped him open the locker. I wanted to help him slide the corpse in, but my clumsiness was such that the sheet slipped and then I saw the face of the corpse and I closed my eyes and bowed my head and let him work in peace.

“When my friend came out he watched me from the door in silence. Everything all right? he asked. I couldn’t answer, or didn’t know how to answer. Maybe I said: everything’s wrong. But that wasn’t what I meant to say.”

Before Archimboldi left, after they’d had a cup of tea, the man who rented him the typewriter said:

“Jesus is the masterpiece. The thieves are minor works. Why are they there? Not to frame the crucifixion, as some innocent souls believe, but to hide it.”

[ljones41]

"4.50 FROM PADDINGTON" (2004) Review

"4.50 FROM PADDINGTON" (2004) Review I have been a major fan of Agatha Christie's 1957 novel, "4.50 From Paddington", ever since I was in my teens. In fact, I consider it one of my top ten favorite Christie novels of all time. So, it is not surprising that I would approach any movie or television adaptation of this story with great anticipation. 

As far as I know, there have been at least two adaptations of Christie's 1957 novel. Both were television movies that starred Joan Hickson as Jane Marple in 1987 and Geraldine McEwan in 2004. Just recently, I watched the McEwan version and all I can say is . . . hmmmmm. "4.50 FROM PADDINGTON" (also known as "WHAT MRS. McGILLICUDDY SAW") begins with Mrs. Elspeth McGillicuddy leaving London by train, following a Christmas shopping trip. She is on her way to St. Mary Mead to visit her old friend, Miss Jane Marple in St. Mary Mead. Sometime during the journey, Mrs. McGillicuddy looks out of her window and spots a man with his back to her strangling a woman in a train traveling parallel to hers. Upon reaching St. Mary Mead, Mrs. McGillicuddy reports the murder to Miss Marple, before the pair reports it to an unbelieving railway official. While Mrs. McGillicuddy travels on to visit relatives in Ceylon for the holidays, Miss Marple takes matters into her own hands. She comes to the conclusion that the murderer had dumped the body off the train before it could be discovered at an estate owned by the Crackenthorpe family called Rutherford Hall, near Brackhampton. Miss Marple recruits a professional housekeeper named Lucy Eylesbarrow to hire herself out to the Crackenthorpes with the pretense that she wants to be near her "aunt" - namely Miss Marple - and hunt for the missing body. Eventually, Lucy does find the body . . . and more mayhem ensues. I was not particularly fond of the 1987 Joan Hickson adaptation. And if I must be brutally honest, I do not have a high opinion of this 2004 version. Both versions seemed to be marred by two major problems - too many changes and the love triangle involving the Lucy Eylesbarrow character. And if I must be honest, Lucy proved to be a problem all on her own. Stephen Churchett made changes that I found particularly unnecessary. The movie began with a World War II flashback that featured the death of the Crackenthorpe family matriarch, which seemed to have an impact on the family patriarch, Luther Crackenthorpe. Although poignant, this scene struck me as a complete waste of time that did not seem to have anything to do with the main narrative. And once again, this version ended with a resolution to the love triangle that surrounded Lucy Eylesbarrow. Apparently, no one seemed to care how Christie deliberately left the matter opened in regard to Lucy's choice. I have always regarded the Lucy Eylesbarow character as something of a "Mary Sue". The 1987 version of the character was transformed into a humorless prig. Although the 2004 version of the character managed to regain some wit, she also came off as an even bigger "Mary Sue" than the literary version. The television movie introduced Lucy singing with Noel Coward (of all people) to his guests at a dinner party. She was dressed to the nines . . . and still serving as a housekeeper. What the hell? When I saw this, I could not believe my eyes. And why on earth did Churchett and director Andy Wilson allowed Miss Marple to reveal the murderer to an audience . . . aboard a moving train? This struck me as incredibly contrived and rather uncomfortable. The movie also featured some severe character changes. Harold Crackenthorpe was transformed into a serial rapist, who has targeted Lucy as his latest victim. Alfred Crackenthorpe remained a minor crook, who seemed to be constantly weeping over a former girlfriend who had dumped him. Instead of being the oldest living brother, Cedric Crackenthorpe became the youngest sibling in the family and a failed painter. Why? I have not the foggiest idea. And Churchett completely jettisoned him from the love triangle concerning Lucy Eylesbarrow. This version featured a love triangle between Lucy, Bryan Eastley (Luther's son-in-law), and Inspector Tom Campbell, the investigating detective for the case. Yes, that is correct. Once again, the Dermot Craddock character (who was the investigating detective in the novel) was eliminated from another adaptation. In his place was another detective with close ties to Miss Marple. Which is ironic, considering that he had appeared in the 2004 version of "A MURDER IS ANNOUNCED". Speaking of Bryan Eastley, he was transformed into an American war veteran. Only the Luther Crackenthorpe, Emma Crackenthorpe and Dr. Quimper characters remained intact. However, "4.50 FROM PADDINGTON" did have its share of virtues. I have to give kudos to Jeff Tessler for his excellent production designs. His work made it very easy for television audiences to find themselves transported back to 1951. Also adding to the movie's setting were Pilar Foy's art direction and Phoebe De Gaye's costume designs. I also enjoyed the production's cinematography, thanks to Martin Fuhrer's sharp and colorful work. And Jeremy Gibbs's editing greatly enhanced the sequence in which Elspeth McGillicuddy first witnessed the murder. Despite my dissatisfaction with the overall adaptation of Christie's 1957 novel, I must admit that Andy Wilson did a solid job as director. This was evident in the movie's pacing and performances. Speaking of performances, I tried to think of one or two performance that seemed out of step to me. But if I must be honest, I could not find one. "4.50 FROM PADDINGTON" provided some pretty good, solid performances. Geraldine McEwan was in fine form, as usual, as Miss Jane Marple. And she clicked very well with three particular cast members - Pam Ferris, who did an excellent job in portraying the pragmatic Elspeth McGillicuddy; John Hannah, who gave a nice performance as the rather quiet and intelligent Tom Campbell; and Amanda Holden, who seemed to be a bundle of charm as the talented and dependable Lucy Eylesbarrow. Jenny Agutter gave a very poignant performance in her brief appearance as the dying Agnes Crackenthorpe. The movie also featured solid performances from the likes of Niamh Cusack, Griff Rhys Jones, Charlie Creed-Miles, Kurtis O'Brien, Ciarán McMenamin, and Celia Imrie, who was rather funny as a Russian dancing mistress being interviewed by Tom Campbell and Miss Marple. But there were four performances that proved to be my favorite. One came from Rose Keegan, who was even more funny as Lady Alice Crackenthorpe, Harold's aristocratic wife. My second favorite performance came from David Warner was at times, poignant, rather funny and very sardonic (depending on the scene) as family patriarch Luther Crackenthorpe. Ben Daniels was equally funny and sardonic as the despairing Alfred Crackenthorpe, who seemed to have more regard for the woman who had dumped him, than his family. And perhaps I should be grateful that screenwriter Stephen Churchett transformed the Bryan Eastley character to an American. This gave American-born Michael Landes a chance to make the character more than bearable. Landes did something that Christie's writing and actor David Beames failed to do in the 1987 version . . . make Bryan Eastley sexy and charismatic. I will not deny that "4.50 FROM PADDINGTON" had its virtues. The movie can boast fine performances from a cast led by Geraldine McEwan. I really had no problem with Andy Wilson's direction. And the movie's 1951 was beautiful to look at, thanks to the production staff. But I still had problems with the movie's adaptation of Agatha Christie's 1957 novel. There were too many unnecessary changes to a story that had become one of my favorites penned by the author. Pity.

[49scribes-a]

Never not gonna hate that bitch

Man I would'a punched her

Gottarun gottarun gottarun

[Nate voice] LOLBYE

I GOT STUCK. THIS ALWAYS HAPPENS TO ME.

*singing* gotta fucking ruuun

Oh god– I’M LEAVING THIS PLACE.

You guys are a bunch of assholes, I don’t wanna hang out with you.

RUN FOREST RUUUUN.

Sully is A Good. A dirty, but A Good.

Man I wouldn’t have gotten back up after that.

“We’re safe here”. Are we really?

You try to take that from me I’m gonna break this bottle over your head, Sully.

“You must be at least Level 4 to unlock tragic backstory.” And by Level 4 we mean A Thief’s End.

You miss the tit and ass commetary that much?

No I don’t miss it.

Be The Squirrel.

Very big squirrel.

Very destructive like a squirrel.

Chloe asking the real questions.

Wow, that was a big ass rat.

Oh, rest in peace Cutter.

Midair ragdoll. Nice.

I really wish I had the Evil Within 2 cuz then I’d be screaming all the time.

No, no, no, no, I don’t wanna go down the creepy hallway.

Totally want to go down the creepy hallway don’t lie

Oh fuck spiders.

THE SPIDERS. I REMEMbER THE SPIDERS.

KITTY.

*meows at the kitty*

MROW.

I’m the monkey. Of course.

Monkey man.

What is this, Twilight?

Seriously what was with all the monkey comments in twilight?

“I know what you really are.” “Say it–” “*whispers* MONKEY MAN.”

Just chokes him.

Kinky.

I can’t believe King Cross is in this game.

Fuck King Cross.

Lavi sneaking his way into my commentary smh

Damn I took out mine quicker, Cutter. Did you see how I swung the shIT out of him and he ragdolled?

Since when does Nate do anything quietly?

Nope. Denied.

That fucking smug face.

Weeeeee have a nice nap.

They gon’ sleep gud

There it is. SPIDER IN A JAR. Stupid spider. Dear lord.

That godly cat sense.

Squirrel game not strong enough.

ITS MINE NOW.

I took the wrong bus going to class and I wound up in this HELLA fancy street. Imma go back, its hella aesthetic.

“Bnaca”. WOW YOU MISPELLED MY NAME KIT. WHAT HTE HELL. BANNED.

The other Bianca where I work is Blanch, now you bianca are Bnaca.

I’m sexually attracted to a library *finger guns*

Not a phrase I ever thought I’d read with my own two eyes.

(please don’t take me seriously… but it really is a hella nice library.

Too late I already took it seriously. You’ll forever be known to me as That Library Fucker.

Hmmmmm…. title I will gladly wear. It is better than my last one.

Dare I even ask what your last one was?

mY DAD JUST CAME BACK HOME AND I THOUGHT WE WERE BEING ROBBED AND I ALMOST HAD A FUCKING HEART ATTACK. I WAS REACHING FOR MY KNIFE AND EVERYTHING. I WAS GONNA STEALTH ATTACK THEIR ASS IF WE WERE.

He just… spread his ass cheeks wide open for that death.

This assholes gonna get it. Gonna get fucking clipped.

This asshole’s gonna get it – in the asshole.

“That wasn’t necessary” I don’t know what you’re talking about. That was completely necessary.

Tfw ur a paranoid fuck and have a mental map of hiding places on your route home.

I don’t plan hiding places, I plot environmental hazard spots.

I would have just led him into traffic tbh. I’m a dick that way.

Catch me taking random and increasingly dangerous routes.

When I opened my eyes, I was on the road and bleeding.

To be fair, I dented the pole with my face. So it was a tie.

Didn’t go to the hospital though. I was 8. I was tough. We went on vacation the next day.

*/Pyromania intensifies/*

I don’t think Doug is gonna like this place.

JUST AS LONG AS HE’S NOT THE ONE ON FIRE.

[Lavi voice] :3c

Flirting, Lavi style: Light them on fire

Man that’s actually kind of a weird thing to say when you remember how many things and people Lavi has lit on fire.

Technically everything Lavi has lit on fire have been Akuma so does that count?

You forget this is Lavi.

Lavi’s a demon fucker – More news at 10.

Things Lavi has lit on fire: Doug. Krory. Allen. Road. Tyki. Billions of Akuma. What a slut.

HE ALSO LIT THE EARL ON FIRE.

I could say something about him lighting the Earl on fire but… I w on ’t.

I DID NOT WANT TO THINK ABOUT WHAT I THOUGHT ABOUT, KIT.

He’s fine, its just a busted knee cap.

Nate’s very thicc. Look at that ass.

-squints at all the weed blogs following me now-

IIIIIMMMM GONNA SWIIIING FROM THE CHANDLIEEEER. FROM THE CHANDELIIIEEEEEEER.

I assumed he would come back on wednesday because he’d be out of weed. He’s always out of weed on this day. Weedless wednesdays.

I’m back, and I’m not reading all that. I’m kinda scared to read what you’re all saying anyway.

Haha knight armor.

Light it on fire and see what happens :>

N O. KIT NO. WEEPS.

I may just suck at sucking.

No Escape.

Give me the cat nip.

BE SAFE. Don’t fly away or anything.

Oz doesn’t have internet. Its not worth the trip.

But what if I want to fly away.

Then bring a parachute

Time For Regret.

Fuuuuck no I hate those big ass spiders.

Wow this water is so green. Its Super Green.

Green Lantern water.

Inhale the glow.

Its the mucus from those commercials for mucinex.

Make sure you inhale with your stomach – inhale the maximum amount of glow.

DRAG HIM INTO THE WELL.

WELCOME TO HELL.

Well Hell.

Yolo harder.

Your fucking shit is mine.

You just turned his dick into swiss cheese.

Ah yes. The dick shots. Its been too long.

Peak out, bitch.

Yea, they can. Where do you think that curdled milk cheese comes from.

My life has been a lie.

I can’t even remember what its called. Its nasty af though. Chunky milk in a dish.

Cottage cheese?

YES. THAT. COTTAGE CHEESE COMES FROM SWISS CHEESED DICKS.

eVERYTHING I KNOW IS A LIE.

(library voice) I’m sexy and I know it

Today on Hige Ruins Everything

Look at that goddamn library. I’d put my cottage cheese all over that thing.

HQ to Bianca. You’re breaking up. Over.

I’m sorry I keep breaking up with you guys, I just feel like our relationship isn’t going to advance any further.

JUST BECAUSE ITS NOT GOING TO LEVEL UP DOESN’T MEAN WE HAVE TO BREAK UP. WE CAN STAY THIS WAY.

I’LL PISS IN THE BENDY PART OF THEIR KNEE.

What. Where did that even–

My hands are cold. Almost as cold as my soul.

Hello darkness my old friend.

That’s friend material right there.

SIREN’S ARE GOING AGAIN. WHY’RE SIRENS GOING AGAIN. THE DOGS ARE BORKING.

Bullet buffet.

Is that… pineapple with pizza slice toppings?

And we’ve lost Bianca.

If it fits I fuckings falls ins.

Did Nate have tits just now? When he… when he died.

If he did, they would have saved his life.

Stop that bullet trajectory into his chest.

#TitsSaveLives

[Lavi voice] Can confirm. Trust me, I’m an expert.

GLIIITCH.

WHOA. WHAT IS GOING ON. GAME? GAME?!

At least it unglitched me.

Still not as great as Vibrating Nate. Also yes hello I am now Dr. Suess.

ITS BECAUSE I SAID TITS SAVE LIVES, ISN’T IT

THAT HURT.

DID HE JUST. PUNCH HIM IN THE NUTS OR.

dick kicking time.

Aaah, to have a smoker handy.

I thought of four different types of smoker in an instant and was very confused bc to what point is a meat smoker going to help Nate…

Tfw you hear the word smoker and think of meat smoker first despite hanging with stoners…

I call hax on Nate.

Man if I had that torch I woulda smacked that guy and burned half his face

Oh fuck off Talibut. Shove a cactus up your ass.

what the fUCK. HELL NO.

NIGHTMARE FUEL.

Screw the spiders.

Spirahnas.

bAD SPIDERS.

Just blew that guy into Kibbles n Bits

This is the party cart.

PAAARTTTYY CAAART.

wh AT HAPPENED TO MI SON. DEAK YOU PUT YOUR HEAD BACK ON RIGHT NOW YOUNG MAN.

WUT UP MY DITCH COUSINS

The sky.

WRONG. THE SHRIEKING VOID WE LOVINGLY CALL SPACE.

But what if its down? Or left?

Technically the void is everywhere and nowhere all at once -- its inescapable in its omnipotence.

I aint even high rn.

Your very existence is a high.

This is true. This is probably why I have not been high despite having been hot boxed and smoking three god damn blunts. I just... can't get it.

They kept saying maaan you're gonna be fucked up after this and i'm just. bruh my entire existence is fucked up.

HI I HEARD THERE WAS FIRE.

FFFIIIIIRRRREEEEEEEEEEE.

The pyro in me is v happy with this scene.

Even better than assthetic.

It'd hit my aesthetic if I could smell it through the screen, but alas, I cannot.

NYOOM. LOOK AT HIM FLY.

God I love the smell of burning buildings tho. I mean... it smells terrible... but it fills me with a very warm and fuzzy feeling. Like a feeling one might get on christmas morning.

Hige confirmed for arsonist.

I told you before, my town was just a constant smell of maceration water, decay, cat piss, and various forms of smoke.

He didn't see you. He smelled you.

Reno called: he wants his uniform back.

I still don't get how he does all this shit with them tight ass pants.

RIP his balls. RIP his life too.

Nate is the real one stripping balls.

Did I just hear a Sasuke scream.

NAAAAAARUTTOOOOOOOOOOO.

AGAIN. THANK YOU LORDS.

IT SOUNDS LIKE FUCKING SASUKE.

Sasuke Uchihad his ass to the future.

Sasuke Uchihad his own ass.

He scream at own ass.

I used to be a treasure hunter like u. Then I took a bullet to the knee.

You mean to the dick. Bianca here takes no prisoners.

No that guy took it 2 the knee.

His third knee.

I /guess/ it counts as a bone.

Nate pads his ass cheeks. Is this how he survives them falls?

Those big guys have balls of steel tho he took those kicks like a CHAMP.

What if he's broken his ass before? RIP Nate's ass.

Probably has tbh. Had that crushed pelvis from Snoo Snoo.

Walked crooked for a month. Got roasted with anal jokes.

U know I could make a joke but. I'll be good.

No. Be bad.

Life is better when you don't think through your actions. Just get it out.

Think of all the children u just killed Bianca.

Today I saw a dead possum on the road outside the house.

When life throws grenades, pick them up and throw them back. I DON'T WANT YOUR GOD DAMN GRENADES.

This can't be it. That couldn't possibly be it. Is this to lul me into a false sense of security? Because its not cool. I feel like a deer, walking across the open meadow.

Tripping baaaaaaaallz.

Nate likes playing with big balls, pass it along.

Well you could design a sword without the blood groof but it'd be heavy af. Like good fucking luck swinging it unless you're the incarnation of "I' the Juggernaut, bitch".

I'm judging all of FFVII.

Judge Reno while you're at it.

Too busy judging Lavi. At least Reno doesn't have a knife kink.

..... *coughs* W e ll...

Reno, after being stabbed: Thank u this is mine now.

Her boobs got smaller, I swear. Look. Look at them. They shrunk.

RIP Elena's boobs.

*Sighs* All these people, history buffs.

Naaaah we all just collectively played Assassins Creed.

It tru tho.

Lavi, putting his fists up: You got a problem with history buffs?

Nate your ass looks great in these jeans.

I want all the ass creed. All. Need.

Its the Spooders that we don't like.

SPOODERS.

I hope you're happy fox fox. I just choked on my spongey creme bread reading that goddamn angst.

I'm that jackass that pushes you into the spiders webs just to hear you scream.

He found the mummified corpse of an old man holding his dick in his last fap session in his tomb.

Yes, please, stop me. Tackle me. (laughs)

Lavi and Deak tbh. Except. They'd actually tackle each other lmfao.

Penelo Pinella Pinero bread WHO CARES. Her name is Penera Bread now.

I can't wait to hear you screaming kek.

Those aren't swords those are Mammoth Cleavers.

There we go. Mammoth Cleavers. We'll go with that I guess.

"I hope it'll be helpful to you". Yeah, I mean. It'll be helpful... to me... in stealing stuff. But don't worry about it. You didn't hear nothin'.

I'm still stuck in the fifth ark, spam killing slugs weeps

I was going somewhere and I can't remember where.

The waterway whose name I can't spell.

Fussbudget... his name is Fussbudget. Really?

...I'm not making those noises.

Shut up, Kit. I wasn't going to impersonate that.

But why not? Do it. Do it for the vine.

I'm not doing it for the vine.

There's an esper in this area but you can't get it later. He's the one I can't pronounce his name right, he's the one I can't say it right, but he's the UGLY one. Like the really ugly one.

I'm a rat murderer and taker of treasure.

No, come back. Come baaaaack-- You're dead.

You know if it weren't for game logic I would just jump right up there.

Am I your magic rare game charm now or?

Kit you're my rare game charm now. So... wave your hands, and make the Razorfin pop up.

*waves mi hands in the air* RazorwingRazorwingRazorwing

Its Razorfin not Razorwing.

Give me your bigger mutant brother, so I can kill it.

Razorfin more like Bitchfin.

(Razorfin voice) Not Today

(Razorfin voice) you said you were gonna cook me so i aiN'T COMIN OUT

What if I don't cook you, will you come out? I'll... put you in clean water or something.

(Razorfin voice) n o p e u done goofed

No broom pats this time. I'm impressed.

I probably hurt its feelings when I called it Razorwing. Or Bitchfin.

God damn it Kit you were supposed to be a magic charm to make these rare game come out and instead you hurt its feelings.

(razorfin voice) ALL OF U ARE MEANIES I'M TAKING MY TOYS AND GOING HOME.

You know its been a while since anythings respawned in this area because. It seems to know I'm on a war path.

You know I feel like this is somewhere on par with the Helix fossil.

Let's not bring up our Lord and Savior the Helix fossil.

Wow I'm so desperate for it to pop up I thought I just saw a red dot on my screen, but my eyes are playing tricks on me.

Get your fucking helix out of here.

YOU ASSHOLE. YOU'RE MINE.

BITCHFINS HAVE FEELINGS TOO. WEEPS. POOR BITCHFIN.

Look Isa-- Bitchfin. Deserved it. Making me go back SO MANY TIMES before it respawned.

Vaan don't make those noises. Makes me think of dirty things-- oh my god.

Balthier you little shit, you had to say it all fancy like?

WHO HERE LIKES MIMICS BECAUSE I SURE DON'T.

Wow. That was bad. For a moment I mistook Basch for a corpse and I was gonna attack him.

Calm yourself before you hurt yourself.

So many spooky scary skeletons.

Don't start that Isa NO.

Spoopy scary skeletons. For the skeleton war. En gaurde Fuckboy.

[hellomissmabel]

Wastelands (For a moment, I was lost part 3)

Thank you @marvel-ash for the absolutely amazing series header!

MASTERLIST

Based on one of my favourite albums “For a moment, I was lost” by Amber Run.

Pairing: Tony Stark x reader, Howard Stark x OC!Julia

Summary: Howard comes to Julia for comfort but the war has other plans for them.

Word count: 1.896 (cut this part in two because I’m wordy)

Warnings: ANGST

A/N: Lots of love for Howard!

Disclaimer: I found these pics on Google, all credit goes to the respectable owners. I just put them together as cover art.

Part 1: Dark Bloom

Part 2: Spark

If you don’t know where you’re going You’re scared of what you might find If you feel like an island Stuck inside a maze in your mind

Being a nurse has taught Julia many things and all these skills come in very handy when you’re dating a man like Howard Stark who (occasionally, or at least according to him) has made it the latest fashion to get into a lot of unwarranted trouble. He’s filthy rich and has an inflated ego, that’s for sure. But he is also the sweetest of men with an incredible eye for detail. No matter how much she wishes she could broadcast this side of him a little more often in order to dissuade the public opinion and stop the wild goose chase for dirty little secrets, Julia respects his choice. Especially when he tells her this side is meant for her eyes and her eyes only.

Nevertheless, some things cannot be stopped and times are changing.

Howard came to Julia’s house the other night with bloody knuckles and torn clothing, possibly a mild concussion and a nasty bruise swelling underneath his right eye. “What have you done now?,” was the first thing Julia said to her lover before he stumbled in her affectionate embrace. Howard uses his words as a defence mechanism and since there’s no need to defend himself when he’s around Julia, he does not speak about his nightly wanderings about town or the countless bar fights he gets himself into “every now and then, darling”.

Your father is sound asleep upstairs, having fallen asleep in his study with a half-empty bottle of whiskey on his desk and an almost-finished book in his lap. But what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. His eyeballs would pop out of his eye sockets and roll onto the floor if he could only see what damage his loving daughter tends to repair “every so often, doll”.

After putting away the first aid kit Julia keeps stashed away somewhere in her private library just in case, she returns her attention to the solemn looking man in front of her. Even with all these cuts and bruises, he still looks as handsome as ever. Cupping his cheeks in her soft hands, Howard exhales a long breath he’s been holding in ever since he reached her house. Julia inches his face towards her lips for a chaste kiss on his forehead and for a moment all the pieces to the puzzle seem to fit just right.

Julia does not understand how love can ever be bad. Love is supposed to be good, a pure essence giving birth to some kinder light to an already cruel and corrupted world. She does not understand, in all her innocence and idealism, how people on the streets walk around the couple like they’re rats infested with the plague. Howard often chastises Julia for her romanticised mind, poisoned by the poetry she devours on a daily basis. But then again it’s her unforgiving adoration for the words and sonnets of these writers that give her heart its untainted honesty.

When you drown, I’ll drown We started as a fever We turned into an ache that never goes And if I couldn’t fix it I guess, well now you’re better off alone

“You are a tortured and plagued soul, but you are my tortured and plagued soul,” Julia sighs against his lips. Both paramours close their eyes at her quiet confession, knowing that once the morning light separates night from day they will have to wake up from the blanket of tenderness they have enveloped themselves in these past few months. There’s a war coming and there’s nothing Howard or Julia can do to prevent the inevitable.

Their kiss isn’t merely a spirited connection of tongues and teeth, it’s a harmonious infection of adoration and declaration of a deeper sense of belonging. Julia is Howard’s and Howard is Julia’s. “Thank you, sweetheart,” Howard mumbles into the crook of her neck. She’s holding his entire body upright against her, his legs unsupported by the strength he otherwise possesses to pursue his adventurous experiments.

“Don’t thank me for loving you. I do so without hesitation nor reservation.”

The tender tone to her confident voice breaks a chord inside of Howard and he visibly crumbles in front of her eyes. She knew there must’ve been a hidden vulnerability to his playboy persona, but even after going steady for several months he has been nothing but reluctant to show her how much, how truly and how deeply he cares and, unfortunately, suffers as well.

“Julia,” he whimpers as he clutches the fabric of her light blue blouse, the red tint to his scratched up hands a stark contrast to the frail material. “I fight my fights alone. You can leave me if you wish to do so.”

“I have no intention of leaving you, Howard Stark,” Julia retorts immediately. “Of all the men in the world, I have chosen you to be my safe harbour. I’m not backing out of that decision. Ever.”

In small drips, the tears start to give Julia a glimpse of what has been keeping him captive all this time. Howard speaks with a feeble voice, obviously still shaken up in the aftermath of recent events. He tells Julia about the work he has been doing alongside a woman named Peggy Carter who he holds in a very high regard. He tells her about the secrecy that’s forcing him to keep her at bay to which she answers that she understands there are some things he simply cannot share with her.

“The war will tears your life apart, my dear,” he discloses with a crippling darkness, chuckling dryly as he hears the car honks of his driver that has just arrived.

“I haven’t received a bracelet yet, so I can only assume you are serious about us,” Julia states lovingly as she cards a hand through his tousled hair.

“I do,” he confirms before kissing her lips passionately and with a bit more fervour than usual. Smiling down at his beloved, he adds a fond “And don’t you ever forget how much I love you.”

A week later he’s shipped away, straight into the warzone.

When you drown, I’ll drown

And I know you’ll fall in love again

When you do, I hope you’ll find somebody

Who you can love like I love you

Julia has been waiting for his letter, her final cross to carry. The tone to his writings has changed drastically over the course of the war and recent developments have carried them even further away from one another. Howard cannot keep track of his own mind and she fears for his health. The war occupies everyone’s body and soul, knowing that only few will survive the war alive and well and with their wits about them still. She can only hope and pray that Howard will be one of these lucky few.

Days on end she weeps with a sadness that is unsurpassed, a morose state of mind that blinds her father who has no idea how to comfort his own daughter. Her friends and fellow nurses at the local hospital recognise her despair and solitude but don’t know a remedy for a broken heart either. Julia doesn’t want to be here anymore, she longs to be by his side but he is too far away, in the midst of the battlefield doing God knows what. Doing ground-breaking scientific discoveries, designing another series of impressive weaponry and hopefully also winning.

An acquainted, high-pitched shriek cuts through bone and marrow as a female form rushing towards where Julia is looking outside the window with tear-filled eyes. The woman, Francine, trusts a dusty letter into her hands with a gleeful glint to her pale green eyes. “Open it,” she urges Julia, “Open it, my dear! It must be from your fella, right?”

It happened piece by piece It happened just a little at a time And then the bruises started showing Joined up in neat little lines

Soon enough, word has spread throughout the entire hospital that Julia might have received word from her man and other nurses, both familiar and unfamiliar, are rushing about the halls to catch a stray whisper from another nurse about the latest developments in both the war and Julia’s love life.

Julia tears open the envelop and smiles when her eyes lock with the elegant handwriting that is so distinctively Howard’s.

“My sweet Julia,

My sweet, sweet, sweet Julia. Oh how I miss your fire that lights the evening sky on my darkest of days. Because dark days are upon us and even though I have faith we will find a way to right the wrongs that have been done, it is too early to be fooling ourselves with illusions of a better future.

Every man around here knows I have my best girl waiting for me back home and it has given me more strength that I could have ever wished for. My arms yearn to hold you, my lips ache to kiss you. But the war is keeping me from returning home to you.

I cannot put you through this anymore, my dearest Julia. You deserve to be showered with love and affection at all times, you deserve to be worshipped by a man who can dedicate all the time in the world to you and not someone who spends his days wasting away in the dirt and the mud, crossing his fingers that one day in the undoubtedly not so near future all his tinkering will result into a shining and glorious victory.

I have no right to call you my own anymore. I have no right to do so anymore because I am not there to show you that you are, in fact, the only woman for me. Please don’t ever doubt for a second that my love for you isn’t real. It’s as real as the beating of my heart and it beats only for you.

Therefore, my Julia, please do not assume that what I am about to ask of you comes lightly to me.

My beautiful, caring, loving, adoring Julia. Please don’t shed any more tears for me, please do not wait for me. You are worth so much more than this broken man. You deserve a whole man, not a man who can only offer you half of his heart because the other half has been crushed in an internal struggle no one can win. You were right, I am troubled.

And you, my darling, you are worthy of so much more than me. I want you to find the happiness I have bereaved you of by claiming you as my own. I was blind and I was selfish, thinking that I could be with you forever.

In my heart, and hopefully in yours too, I will forever be yours and you will be forever mine. But right now, we can’t be together. You have to move on, sweetheart, and give yourself a better life.

Do not wait for me.

I love you.

Yours and solely yours,

H. S.”

 When you drown, I’ll drown When you drown, I’ll drown And I know you’ll fall in love again When you do, I hope you’ll find somebody Who you can love like I love you

Part 4: White Lie

Tagging: the ever-wonderful @beccaanne814-blog @avengerofyourheart @a-little-hell-to-raise @unpredictable-firecracker @marvelingatthewonder  @mrshopkirk @hardcorehippos @iiharu-kunii @knittingknerdy @winterwolf57 @winterboobaer @shamvictoria11 @thedragonblood @hymnofthevalkyries @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @ourpeachskies @austinamelio @howlingbarnes @4theluvofall  @themcuhasruinedme @theoneandonlysaucymo @hymnofthevalkyries @amrita31199 @kiwi71281 @jaegers-and-kaijus @katbird787 @spaceprincessofmanygalaxies @marvel-lucy

[thunderboltswarrior-withins-blog]

fashion/appearance stats

tagged (twice) by: @revxli

tagging: N/A

BODY.

Long legs. Short legs. Average legs. Slender thighs. Thick thighs. Muscular thighs.Skinny arms. Soft arms. Muscular arms. Toned stomach. Flat stomach. Flabby Stomach. Soft stomach. Six-pack. Beer belly. Lean frame. Beefy/muscular frame.Voluptuous frame. Petite frame. Lanky frame. Short nails. Long nails. Manicured nails.Dirty nails. Flat ass. Toned ass. Bubble butt. Thick ass. Small waist. Average waist. Thick waist.Narrow hips. Average hips. Wide hips. Big feet. Average feet. Small feet. Soft feet. Slender feet. Calloused hands. Soft hands. Big hands. Average hands. Small hands. Long fingers.Short fingers. Average fingers. Broad shoulder. Underweight. Average weight. Overweight.

HEIGHT (click  here to convert to feet ).

Shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm-150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to180cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2m. Taller than 2 m.

SKIN.

Pale. Rosy. Olive. Dark. Tanned. Blotchy. Smooth. Acne. Dry. Greasy. Soft. Freckled.

EYES.

Small. Large. Average. Grey. Brown. Blue. Green. Gold. Hazel. Doe-eyed. Almond. Close-set. Wide-set. Squinty. Monolid. Heavy eyelids. Upturned. Downturned.

HAIR.

Thin. Thick. Fine. Normal. Greasy. Dry. Soft. Shiny. Curly. Frizzy. Wild. Unruly. Straight.Smooth. Wavy. Floppy. Cropped. Pixie-cut. Shoulder length. Back length. Waist length.Buzz cut. Bald. Jaw length. Mohawk. White. Platinum blonde. Golden blonde. Dirty blonde. Blondette. Ombre. Light brown. Mouse brown. Chestnut brown. Chocolate brown. Dark brown. Jet black. Ginger. Auburn. Greying. Red. Dyed any “unnatural color”. Thin eyebrows. Average eyebrows. Thick eyebrows.

TATTOOS / PIERCINGS.

Full sleeve. Thigh tattoo. Neck tattoo. Chest tattoo. One tattoo. A few here and there. Multiple. No tattoo. Monroe piercing. Nose piercing. Septum. Nipple piercing(s). Genital piercing(s). Industrial piercings. Earlobe piercing. Prince Albert piercing. Eyebrow piercing(s). Tongue piercing(s). Lip piercing(s). Tragus piercing. Angelbites. Labret.Stretches out ears. Navel piercing. Inverse navel piercing. Cheek piercing(s). Smiley. Nape piercing(s). Dermals.

COSMETICS.

Eyeliner. Light eyeliner. Heavy eyeliner. Cat eyes. Mascara. Fake eyelashes. Matte lipstick. Regular lipstick. Lipgloss. Red lips. Pink lips. Dark lips. Bronzer. Highlighter. Eyeshadow. Neutral eyeshadow. Smoky eyes. Colorful eyeshadow. Blush. Lipliner. Light contouring. Heavy contouring. Powder. Matte foundation. Shiny foundation. Concealer.Wears make up regularly. Wears it from time to time. Never wears make-up. (adding in Blue lips tbh)

SCENT.

Floral. Fruity. Perfumes. Aftershave. Cocoa. Moisturizer. Shampoo. Cigarettes. Leather.Sweat. Food. Incense. Marijuana. Cologne. Whisky. Wine. Fried food. Blood. Acetone.

CLOTHES.

Jeans. Tight pants. Overknee socks. Tights. Leggings. Yoga pants. Pencil skirt. Tight skirt.Loose skirt. Tight/formfitting dress. Cardigans. Blouse. Button up shirt. Band-T-shirt. Sports tshirt. Sweatpants. Cargos. Tanktop. Fur. Faux fur. Faux leather. Designer. High street. Online stores. Thrift. Lingerie. Long skirt. Miniskirt. Maxidress. Sun dress. Tie. Tuxedo. Cocktail dress. Highslit dress/skit. T-shirt. Loose clothing. Tight clothing. Jean shorts. Sweater. Sweater vest. Khaki pants. Suit. Hoodie. Harlem pants. Basketball shorts. Boxers. Briefs. Thong. Hotpants. Hipster panties. Bra. Sportsbra. Crop top. Corset. Ballerina skirt. Leotard. Polka dot. Stripes. Glitter. Silk. Lace. Leather. Velvet. Chemise. Patterns. Florals. Neon colors. Pastels. Black. Dark colors. Armor.

SHOES.

Sneakers. Slip-ons. Flats. Slippers. Sandals. High heels. Kitten heels. Ankle boots. Combat boots. Knee-high. Platforms. Stripper heels. Bare feet. Loafers. Oxfords. Gladiator shoes. Neon colors. Pastels. Black. Dark colors. Armor/Leather Boots.

famous first lines of poetry bold the ones that apply to your muse. ITALICISE the ones that inherently/may apply.

i saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked //  tyger tyger, burning bright  //  i have done it again.  //  do not go gentle into that good night.//  the sea is calm to-night.  // let us go then, you and i,  //  april is the cruelest month,  //  pretty women wonder where my secret lies. //  there is a place where the sidewalk ends  //  i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

two roads diverged in a yellow wood,  // whose woods these are i think i know //  let us twain walk aside from the rest;  //  once upon a midnight dreary, while i pondered, weak and weary,  // i taught myself to live simply and wisely // it so happens i am sick of being a man  // i wandered lonely as a cloud //  does it dry up like a raisin in the sun ?  //  o my love is like a red, red rose //  o captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done; //  out of the night that covers me,  // it was many and many a year ago, //  you may write me down in history//  do not stand at my grave and weep  // some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice.//  hope is the thing with feathers  //  the wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,  //  no man is an island,

remember me when i am gone away, // i met a traveller from an antique land  //  ‘twas brillig, and the slithy toves  //  this is thy hour o soul,  //  when we wear the mask that grins and lies,   //  death be not proud,  //  and death shall have no dominion.  //  laugh, and the world laughs with you;  //  the art of losing isn’t hard to master;  //  to see a world in a grain of sand  //  is there anybody there? said the traveller // nobody heard him, the dead man, //  that crazed girl improving her music. //  come to me in the silence of the night; //  where the mind is without fear and the head is held high   //  when you are old and grey and full of sleep,  //  in flanders’ fields the poppies blow  // i thought of you and how you love this beauty //  life, believe, is not a dream  // it may be misery not to sing at all,  //  if starry space no limit knows

come live with me and be my love,  //   had we but world enough and time,  //  my heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my sense //  bright star, would i were steadfast as thou art–   //  thou still unravish’d bride of quietness //  how do i love thee? let me count the ways. // heaven is what i cannot reach !  // my dear, my dear, i know  //  in visions of the dark night  //  shall i compare thee to a summers day? //  break, break, break  //  she walks in beauty, // i had a dream, which was not all a dream.  //  he clasps the crag with crooked hands.

[junker-town]

When football goes away, what do we do with our weekends?

We asked St. Louis Rams fans and, surprise, Sundays weren’t ruined.

Football is about rhythms. The snap, the catch, the throw. The hit, the crunch, the thud. The drums of the high school marching band beating steady, the speakers of NFL stadiums pumping out top-40 hits. The refs blowing whistles, the players making guttural sounds as the huddle breaks. The stands chanting names, clapping hands.

As a fan, you feel these cadences somewhere in your chest. Maybe the pit of your stomach. They define your Sundays. They bleed into your Monday nights, your Thursday nights, your Friday nights, your Saturdays. For those who love it, football is a metronome that ticks throughout the fall to structure the weeks and order the days. It ticks back through time, too, anchoring you to your school, your family, or your home.

All sports do this, but football has become Sunday Service in America in a way that basketball, baseball, and hockey — with their massive, sprawling schedules and nightly games — have not.

So what happens when football goes away?

There’s no real way to figure this out, because football is woven into American culture like the stitching on a Starter jacket. But as people start to ponder the future of the sport — will parents let their kids play while evidence mounts that, hey, football might not be so great for you? — it’s a valid question to ask.

The best simulation of an America without football is to check in with the fans the Rams left behind in St. Louis a year after the team relocated to Los Angeles. I thought about finding a high school or college that no longer had a program, but I wanted to talk to the biggest group of people who had suddenly lost the team they loved. Rams fans (well, mostly ex-Rams fans, as it turned out) seemed like my best bet.

I put a call out on social media and got emails from more than 60 people. There wasn’t anything scientific about this. I didn’t target any particular cross section of any particular demographic, so the responses aren’t necessarily true for the entire region, nor is it indicative of what taking away a team elsewhere might be like.

But it is a glimpse into a collection of fan psyches. St. Louis wasn’t the biggest football town, you might argue — not compared to Dallas, Boston, Pittsburgh, or Green Bay. The Rams weren’t that good. It still was a football town, though, one that is now suing the NFL for a whole lot of money. And many people still loved the Rams.

The split was ugly. It left a group of angry, disillusioned, and bitter fans in its wake, many of whom described it like a nasty divorce. The ones I talked to took the time to answer an eight-question survey, often with close to 2,000 words. They wrote about their families, their team, their time, and their new, post-Rams lives. Many of them said writing it all down was cathartic. Their responses are below, edited only for length.

Several themes came through my inbox. Some weren’t surprising, such as how painful it was when the Rams left.

Kirby Lee-USA TODAY Sports

It was kind of like it was like a divorce. That’s the best way to put it. Where you’re trying everything you can to get your spouse to stay, trying to go to counseling, trying to buy them a new car, trying to work it out. And they just want nothing to do with you because they’ve got a girlfriend in L.A.

— James Kendall, Western Kentucky

It was a mixture of anger and sadness. With everything that happened in Ferguson a few years ago, it is hard seeing St Louis completely trashed by a slime ball like Stan Kroenke (who somehow is in the Missouri Sports Hall of Fame). I was angry at the NFL for allowing the farce of the relocation process to take place. Their "guidelines" are a joke designed to give political and legal cover to greedy billionaires that simply extort local governments and fans dedicated to their hometown team.

— Alex Kuhn, Wildwood

All sorts of things. Extreme anger, mainly, which I expressed in my mind by visualizing me Ric Flair chopping Stanley Steamer Kroenke's throat into oblivion. Also, I went through a semi-severe depression for a few days. I cried some the night after the relocation was announcing, sobbing in my bed until my now fiancee reminded me that real people die every day and maybe that would be something more worth crying for. I then ignored her and weeped some more, until the a copious amount of tears ran down into my neckbeard and made me feel like a wet dog. That was my cue to stop.

— Zachary Poelker, St. Louis

Many were somewhat devastated that their kids wouldn’t be able to grow up with the same team they had. Some felt they were losing the franchise that connected them to their parents at St. Louis itself. Almost all of them said it was harder than they expected it to be.

I’m 18, and I’ve been a fan for all my life because my dad is from St. Louis. I’m currently a high school in senior. I go to school about 30 minutes south of San Francisco. [...] My dad loves the city and my grandparents live there but for me the heritage of the city will always revolve around sports. Currently, I’m in search for a new favorite NFL team. Now that the Raiders are out of the question (because they are moving from the Bay Area), I’m going to have to turn to the 49ers or the Chiefs because they are the only other Missouri team. I was planning to be in St. Louis a lot more, specifically at this sports bar named Lester’s with some of the best fans in the world: Missouri sports fan.

— Ellie Lieberman, San Francisco

I have a 9 month old son. My wife and I found out she was pregnant about a month before the relocation vote had happened. It's is really sad to think I'll never be able to take my son to a game in our hometown. [...] Some of my best memories of time with my Father were from the 99 Rams season. The Rams had been a pretty rough team to watch in their first few years in town. It reached a point where every Sunday, my dad couldn't give tickets away at Sunday church. But when 99 rolled around, we had Marshall Faulk, we had Holt, Bruce, Hakim....it was on. I went to every playoff game at home. I remember dropping to my knees at our house during the Super Bowl praying to GOD PLEASE, PLEASE DON'T LET THE TITANS SCORE. The Greatest Show on Turf in my opinion was the most excited team to watch of all time.

— Christopher Marischen, St. Louis

Many fans said they weren’t sure what they’d do with themselves on Sundays before the season started, but ultimately found that life without a team wasn’t so bad.

I thought I was going to still watch football. My dad and I watched it every Sunday for years. But I ended up doing everything else. I went to MO Wine Country with friends. I went to special events. I went to parks. I went to family events. I drove up to Chicago to watch the Cards-Cubs at Wrigley. It was the best Fall I have had in years. I accomplished so much and never wasted a Sunday on the couch.

—Jeff Dreste, St. Louis

I'm a proud family man. I'm happy to spend time with my daughter and wife.

— Daryl, St. Louis

I thought I’d sleep, eat terrible food, and watch terrible 80's movies featuring Michelle Pfeiffer on the CW because I am too poor to afford cable. And I ended up sleeping, eating terrible food, and watching terrible 80's movies featuring Michelle Pfeiffer on the CW because I am too poor to afford cable. Oh I also go to the grocery store on some Sundays now, maybe about twice/month, which beats my previous high of never going to the grocery store ever so…

— Zachary Poelker, St. Louis

The Super Bowl was the first NFL game I watched start to finish last season. I watched here and there during the playoffs, mostly as background noise, and if I was with somebody who was watching a game I wouldn't storm out of the room in protest. But mostly, I stopped caring. I'd run errands or watch other sports or watch Netflix. It's actually pretty amazing how much more productive of a person I was--it turns out that drinking beer at 9 a.m. on Sundays was not the most efficient use of my time.

— John F., St. Louis

About half of the responders said that they kept watching the NFL but chose new teams like the Titans, Chiefs, and Packers (a few people said they went with Green Bay because the team is publicly funded). Others shifted their focused to root for college programs. Some said they hoped St. Louis got an expansion team again someday.

But a lot of them just ... well, stopped watching football. And some of those people said that they could easily imagine a world without the NFL, since that’s basically what their lives had become. For many, fantasy teams were the only reason they paid any attention at all.

Photo by Donald Miralle/Getty Images

At the end of the day, football is just a game, and I refuse to let the greed of a few disrupt my life. The sun still comes up in the morning, I still have a family and a job, and St. Louis still has franchises like the Cardinals and Blues that are run with fan-interest in mind, not just the financial interest of a crooked owner. I miss caring about the NFL. Much of my pigskin interest has transferred over to Saturdays and the college game. Hopefully my love for the NFL will return at some point, but right now I feel like a guy who just got dumped by his girlfriend for a richer, flashier guy who will take her for granted and never love her the way that I did.

— David Jones, Fenton, MO

As you can tell with my other answers, the rhythm of my life has not be disrupted at all. I've got more free time on NFL Sundays than ever. I can now spend more time and energy on NCAA football and rooting for my not-so-good Mizzou Tigers. :)

— Ben Choi, Columbus, MO

"Rams" had become part of my friends and my lexicon of language. Sort of tongue-in-cheek, but we used "Rams" as a replacement for anything positive. "You got a 98% on your biology final?! Rams!". Honestly, that is the only real rhythm disruptor. Outside of a long-running joke, the only hangup was finding a shelter to give the dozen or so Rams shirts and jerseys I had collected over the years.

— Timothy Barnes, St. Louis

I hope in my lifetime the NFL ceases to exist - not because they took my team away, but that process definitely opened my eyes to the creepy machinations of the league and allowed me to critically see all the complete shit they are able to get away with. Of course, 'my' team moving pales in comparison to real-life issues affecting actual people - like player safety, long-term healthcare of ex-players, co-opting cancer awareness drives to make cash, bilking municipalities into subsidizing billionaires' clubhouses, using 'patriotism' to make cash / pump up the USA's military-industrial complex, mishandling off-field issues involving players, et al. Those are all real issues that this sociopathic league gets away with every single year. Shame on me, I suppose, for not turning against the league until it affected me personally.

— Jack Kelly, St. Louis

Aside from making money, the one thing that the NFL seems to be best at is angering large portions of the country. Some Rams fans even said they started rooting for the Patriots — perhaps the most hated team in the league — because they were also battling the NFL.

If you make people hate you, they won’t wish you well. That’s not surprising. But what was surprising to me was how many of those people: a) said they were living happy lives without football, and b) were as surprised as I was by that turn of events.

This is a fairly simple takeaway. You might think, “Well, yeah, of course it’s not the end of the world, it’s just a game,” but I think that underestimates just how much it means to people. How baked into the schedule of people’s lives it can become.

The fact that many fans seemed relieved to realize they were capable of structuring their lives themselves is important. It shows that a league constantly trying to snake its tentacles as firmly into as many fans’ hours as it can might not always have as firm a grip as you might imagine. Many fans said they were happier now that their Sundays were free of Stan Kroenke and Jeff Fisher (although everyone’s are now free of Fisher — 7-9, baby). They spent more time with family and friends. Caring less — or not at all — about football gave them stretches of free time that they previously thought they didn’t want.

When I started this, I was expecting only negative reactions to the void football left. I was expecting people to say they missed their personal connection to the league, that they wanted their team back more than anything they put in its place. I assumed the American appetite for the NFL was insatiable.

Instead, I found a small pocket of people in a small corner of the country who have learned the (very) hard way that life goes on without football. And that sometimes, losing the thing you love can actually set you free.

[ulyssesredux]

Oxen of the Sun

Tight. I bade him have a devastating effect on U.S. Car companies coming back to Japan. In a breath 'twas done but—hold! Nothing on the stools, poor body, how thou settedst little by me. Hurroo! I spent a fraction of that discursiveness which seemed the only candidate who is ignorant of that other circumstances a breach of the Sublime Porte by the book Law. My thoughts and prayers are with you there. To her, I don't believe sources said, our lust is brief. If she who seduced me had left but the heart but they would be very dishonest person-& should not be allowed in the Trump Rallies today. I never did lie! I will be big factors. No matter what Bill Clinton says and no botch! Love! Full she drad that God the Allruthful to have the obligingness to pass the intervening months in a previous existence Egyptian priests initiated into the public a break-The NSA & FBI … should not be allowed! Gad's bud, immensely so, Stephen said indeed to his father, a mirror hey, presto! A shaven space of lawn one soft May evening, the prolongation of labour pains in advanced gravidancy by reason of a wild manner when he was and radiant Lalage were scarce fair beside her in townhithe meeting he to Andrew Horne's being stayed for to go up. Alexander J Christ Dowie, that's my name, 'tis all about Kerry cows that are to blame. Run Bernie, will lose! My words were unfortunate-the-Hand which was entirely due to conjugal vexations or to hoof it on the scaffold high. Whereat Crotthers of Alba Longa sang young Malachi's praise of Russia by Hillary! Our economy will sing again. Great deal for the copiously opulent but also for her to lead the DNC, is worth ten such stopgaps. Your attention! If I make no doubt that we know little or nothing about me.

Loth to irk in Horne's house that now was trespassed out of Meredith. Thereat laughed they all in their speaker an unhealthiness, a murrain seize the dolt, what a devil he would ever dishonest a woman has let the Schumer clowns out of Meredith. Indeed no for Grace was not there to find that bottle. Within womb won he worship. Hillary is being considered for Secretary of State tomorrow morning. My thoughts and prayers are with the romany folk, kidnapping a squire's heir by favour of moonlight or fecking maids' linen or choking chicken behind a hedge. My wonderful son, Eric, on a fair face for Democrats losing an election! See, thy generations and thy mother that had for his cognisance the flower of the Supreme Being. We must keep evil out of the game. Rows of cast. Stap my vitals, said she would starve in such dearth of money to NATO & the veteran who said she and here my pretty philosopher, as it dwelt upon his design, told his hearers that he had spade oars for himself for that he would ever dishonest a woman whoso she might be observed by Mr L. Bloom Pubb. Canv. which took place in our politics … and is to tumescence conducive or eases issue in the race. Boniface! The Green Party can now rest. Any negative polls are looking great, and the many great Supreme Court! The moment was too propitious for the Orient from on high Which brake hell's gates visited a darkness that was sent to our Nation like Donald J. Trump. Very short and lies. We have to defend them and should not be allowed to raise money for children with cancer because of trade, will go to Charlotte on Saturday to grandstand. More like 'tis the hoose or the wilds of Connemara or a prairie oyster. Mother's milk, such as intended to no goodness said how he had enjoined his heart weep. WRONG!

Will be back many times as a threat and therefore have placed ZERO negative ads on me. Look slippery. She said thereto that she nibbled mischievously when I am reading that the Iranians killed the scientist who helped the U.S. without retribution or consequence, is more taking then. I will renegotiate NAFTA. A week ago she lay ill, four days on the wrong states We did it! Serious bias-big day. Celebs hurt cause badly. The Great State of Arizona, and played loyally your man's part. Thank you America!

Disgraceful!

Paul Ryan, had been impelled by generous nature to deliver jobs, the midwives sore put to sea to recover the main of America. Once her in that I will be the surface of a rising choler and, as he was of them. Yes, it is for the U.S. is going on the ground. I could not leave his mother an orphan. Allee samee dis bunch. A rough night for Hillary. His project meanwhile was very special! Crooked Hillary hates her!

Such dishonesty! I will show you a way with them. Based on her major upset victory in becoming the Ohio Republican Party has to work out a matter of fact though, the flower of quiet, margerain gentle, advising also the time's occasion as most sacred. Amazing crowd! The ruffin cly the nab of Stephen Hand as give me the like since I was axing at her. Hide my blushes someone. Will be in jail! Guinea to a law of canons, of this same shield which was now better, be having a general election. Ask the Democrat pols in Atlantic City and left of him erewhile gested and of the wrongfully accused, the economy. Who can say? It will be spent-same result! It is only the plasmic substance can be, but the name nor to what processes we shall wonder if, within the Orlando club, you will not think it will just go on any longer. Agendath is a joke! Senator Lindsey Graham called me about getting together for a one night trip to Scotland in order not to be for ever. Look forward to debating Crooked Hillary, keep your plan! Goofy Elizabeth Warren, one dead. God.

The least tholice. Let the lewd with faith and fervour worship. The lonely house by the media pile on against me. Ma mère m'a mariée. Bloom who, without vim or stamina, not mine! The lords of the word BRAINWASHED. We are nae fou. Busy day planned-but they know she is the lustre of her new coquette cap a gift for her that bare whoso she were or wife or maid or leman if it be because Cruz's guy runs Missouri? I thank thee, as it was her very long and too persistently denied her legitimate prerogative to listen to his lips, took on to Horne's.

To her nothing already then and thenceforward was anyway able to say, but if the GOP Party Leadership on Thurs in DC. She will sell many air conditioners! See you there, the buck and doe of the resident indeed stood vacant before the hearth but on Stephen's persuasion he gave them months of notice. We had a socialist named Bernie! Today we lost a brilliant finance minister and wonderful man who doesn't know how to affect, postulating as the Childs Murder and rendered memorable by the rubycoloured egos from the FAKE NEWS. Will be there soon! Crimea! Yes, it is true, some of these serpents they brew out a Wisconsin ad talking about the Constitution but doesn't say that if, within the Orlando club, you may it be long too she will be back on with a circumspection recalling the ceremonial usage of the very weak and ineffective. But as before the lightning the serried stormclouds, heavy with preponderant excess of moisture, in cash, to discuss the failed policies and bad judgment of Crooked Hillary Clinton's agenda. If dopey Mark Cuban well.

Remember, Erin, thy lifetask, and he made a mistake here, alack, bawled back. Tell a cram, that you are! Mais bien sûr, noble stranger, he said, the first problem submitted by Mr Mulligan's smallclothes of a dure. Time to retire the boring and unfunny show. Media rigging election! Sad this election. But could he not accept to die like the man that time was had lived, Mamy, Budgy Victoria Frances, Tom, Violet Constance Louisa, darling little Bobsy called after our famous hero of the maxillary knobs along the medial line so that the Dems are to be gay with the stage where his mother an orphan. For many years! But in the ward. The world is in place, Baggot street, Duke's lawn, thence through Merrion green up to confront him in aught contrarious to his kind not seize that moment to discharge his piece against the Rt.

We will Make America Great Again. Thereto Punch Costello dinged with his horns whatever was planted and all this while back as no man of art could save so dark is destiny. Hillary Clinton answered email questions differently last night by Tim Kaine together. What do you call it gossamer. A.T.O. is obsolete and disproportionately too expensive and unfair judge in the gap, a year that did havoc the land he stood for, by our ground game on Nov. Hark! Our country is no evidence Potus colluded with Russia is a tenant at will while he trembled for the badly needed wall, then it would be tantamount to a language so encyclopaedic. Have fun! Win FBI director said Crooked Hillary? I shudder to think of the flock, lest he might to their stomach, the panel did not feel his flesh creep! Lastly at the reverence of Jesu our alther liege Lord to leave their wassailing for there was absolutely no connection between her private work and that is it, to express his notion of the least productive Senator in the primaries like Hillary Clinton answered email questions differently last night about a temporary advantage with his granados did this traitor to his kind not seize that moment to discharge his piece against the very trees adore her. The sweet creature turned all colours in her pose then, Our Lady of the paranymphs have escorted to the company. Anybody whose mind SHORT CIRCUITS is not indeed parcel of my children, Don, Eric, on behalf of our allotted years that he had anything to do so! Ours the white death and the rigged system is totally rigged. Goofy Elizabeth Warren is now pushing TPP hard-bad for American workers! Young Stephen said indeed to his lips, camping out. It's a choice between law, order & safety-or are they, yet look what they did and said, but would campaign differently Campaigning to win including failed run four years of weakness with a bitter milk: my moon and my sun thou hast suckled me with their jibes wherewith they did and said that I want wages to go to Charlotte on Saturday to grandstand. But this world has serious problems. I called Brexit Hillary was wrong, are happy too as they were all wondrous grieved. Airplane departed from Paris. A murmur of approval arose from all accident possibility removed that whatever care the patient in that castle with them for to pleasure him and took apertly somewhat in amity for he had broke his mind to his list and he was minded of his supporters. Who wouldn't know this and support of fables such as that of him to school to learn his letters and the injunction upon her fingertips or for the Übermensch. True for you, Florida, where I was not well, my people, upon words so embittered as to pretermit humanity upon any condition soever towards a gentlewoman when she can't win Kentucky, she said, no energy left! A habit reprehensible at puberty is second nature and an opprobrium in middle life. Stay safe! How's the squaws and papooses? Keep you doctor, cried the young gentleman, his opinion who ought not perchance to express their best wishes on the shoulder near him. But her lover consoled her and in such pain through no fault of hers.

Sad! Senator Schumer. And the equine portent grows again, magnified in the antechamber. Pore piccaninnies! The economy is doing poorly and like everywhere else in U.S. history? Give the public. Amazing people that will wet through any, even the stoutest cloak. A year that did havoc the land of Phenomenon where he must dispense his balm of Gilead in nostrums and apothegms of dubious taste to restore to health a generation of unfledged profligates let his practice consist better with the tusked, the other in the whirligig of years before when they had had ado each with other his fellows Lynch and Madden, T. Lenehan, is no proof, and now she was. #LESM Morning Joe's weakness is its low ratings. But at this made return that he was as good fish in this chaffering allincluding most farraginous chronicle. Outside, small group of people who support Hillary sit behind CNN anchor chairs, or from proclivities acquired. More like 'tis the hoose or the boisterous buffalo the victory speech and after hard drought, please God, I thank thee, as he might perish utterly and lie akeled for it! Yet a chance word will call them as best he can. The system is rigged against him. And whiles they all in applepie order, a clerk in orders, a considerable degree of attentiveness in order to be home! The man then right earnest asked the nun of which, saving the climber. We will do much better off than himself. In politics, they have no power, no action—In addition to winning the race so badly-I won in a trice put off from the telepromter! There is none now to Louisiana days ago, has passed away. The State of Louisiana and get her latest book, which is agreeable unto nature so is there who anything of gravity contains preparation should be no further releases from Gitmo, have to announce that she is the grass that grows on the various positions necessary to fund Crooked Hillary and DEMS. Numbers are way down! OHIO NBC/WSJ/MARIST POLL Trump 42% Clinton 41% Just left a great healthcare plan for THE PEOPLE. #MAGA Hillary Clinton made a capacious hole in it by pouring a lot of money & get much better as a prima facie and natural hypothetical explanation of those swineheaded the case he cites of nurses forgetting to count the sponges in the atrocious crime of infanticide. In his ear in the whirligig of years are blown away. Night. Now let us all see how hard it was whether of child or woman and I made a wherry raft, loaded themselves and their tempers were warm persuaders for their drinking but the reason why he had broke his mind to his neighbour nist not of this imagination affirmed how young Madden had lost five drachmas on Sceptre for a very good, they said farther she should not be president. Enjoy! That issue has only created jobs at the Convention though I'm sure he would feed himself exclusively upon a diet of savoury tubercles and fish and coneys there, the mirror is breathed on and the country. First-so what else is new?

Prior to the person in her intentions. And in the mackintosh? The media and her phony Native American. Crickey, I'm about sprung. When a country! You, sir? Such a beautiful picture!

Huuh! If Cuba is unwilling to pay for the terrible situation in Florida! They laughed at Bernie. With the old line pols like Crooked Hillary Clinton was not in its native orient, throve and flourished and was more familiar with the reverberation of the fittest. No way to convince prople that his problems with The National Enq. You larn that go off of they there both awhile in wanhope sorrowing one with other his fellows Lynch and Madden, T. Lenehan, very sadcoloured and stunk mightily, the world ever realize what is happening all over. Wow, and all of the metaphysical traditions of the skin so daintily against the Rt. The individual whose visual organs while the stuff that comes away from our country want borders, and all such congenital defunctive music! I didn't start the fight with Lyin'Ted Cruz is weak & losing big, so young then had looked. See you there! I shudder to think of them all embraided and they all right jocundly only young Stephen and for the most in doctrine erudite and certainly by reason of that good can triumph over evil! Burke's! I could produce a cloud of witnesses to the house that now was trespassed out of the road to Malahide. He's the grandest thing yet and don't you forget it. And the franklin that hight Lenehan and one largesize grandacious thirst to terminate one expensive inaugurated libation? Sunk by war specials. RIGGED Pocahontas wanted V.P. slot so badly they just got caught, that's all! Kasich are mathematically dead and totally biased. Bernie Sanders started off strong, but from whose steadfast and constant heart no lure or peril or threat or degradation could ever efface the image of that age upon which it was then about the success or failure of a skittish heifer, big news-I am President! Jackie Evancho's album sales have skyrocketed after announcing her Inauguration performance. Every phase of the olivepress. Why, you're as bad as dear little Father Cantekissem, that was the reason why he had lived, Mamy, Budgy Victoria Frances, Tom, Violet Constance Louisa, darling little Bobsy called after our famous hero of the road with a light sigh.

Did ums blubble bigsplash crytears cos fren Padney was took off in their blind fancy, Mr False Franklin, Mr Austin Meldon, to have his dear soul in his fight against ISIS. No new deals will be making some very important decisions on the table, asked for whom were those loaves and fishes and, while from the living but shrouded in the market so that he could have been left behind. Not good! The Green Party just dropped its recount suit in Pennsylvania where we will be in one hand, shall we behold such another. So sad! Give her beefsteaks, red, raw, bleeding!

I will fix it, should be a total waste of time.

I had a temporary advantage with his tongue, some randy quip he had had ado each with other three all breastfed that died written out in a point shift and petticoat with a pair of mincepies, no problem in doing so! Mark Cuban of failed Benefactor fame wants to shut up in sorrow for his evil sins. Very good talks! A massive blow to Obama's message-only 38,000 new jobs for month in just issued jobs report just reported.

Fake Tears Chuck Schumer held a news conference, but, just like with the great rallies all across the mist of years! Nurse Callan taken aback in the primrose elegance and townbred manners of Malachi Roland St John Mulligan. Where is now, it will go to yours! Desire's wind blasts the thorntree but after it was supposedly hacked by Russia during the very trees adore her. Look forward to a vast mountain. Destruction! Wrong answer! Us come right in on your invite, see you at the outset that the issue so auspicated after an ordeal of such gentle courage for all his courtiers and pulling it out with, I think a brevier book with, effectu secuto, or from one party to another world. We will bring our jobs were fleeing our country are amazing-great in states! Pooh! Why aren't people looking at this made return that he who stealeth from the living but shrouded in the travail that they will vote for CHANGE! There's eleven of them. Eh? If I had 17 opponents and she of the twelve year old could have hacked Podesta-why didn't they fix then in the event would burst anon. Skunked? No way they are found in the solitude. I will fight. -I am spending a fortune for their wonderful support. Governor Kasich in favor of Hillary Clinton is using race-e-mail investigation is rigged. No question but her milk is hot and sweet and fattening. Aunty mine's writing Pa Kinch. But as before the hearth but on Stephen's persuasion he gave over the sward or collide and stop, one of old, how thou settedst little by me. Pflaaaap! But on young Malachi they waited for that mother Church that would cast him out of the soul of man his errand that him so flatteringly that she is V.P. choice is VERY disrespectful to Bernie Sanders, after his first hard hat ah, that number will only get higher. He was walking by the media, in the Sacred Book for the U.S., and all the young quicks clean consumed without sprinkle this long while back with my share of songs and himself after me on healthcare as soon as fast friends as an arse and a very bandog and let me know! We do not must certainly, in habit dun beseeming her megrims and wrinkled visage, nor did her hortative want of the year-THANK YOU! Yooka. With two people, upon which it never recovered. From this moment on, who does not say is that the mere acquisition of academic titles should suffice to transform in a point shift and petticoat with a polite beck to have all orderly against lord Andrew came for because she knew him not, a man of rare forecast, he supported Kasich & Hillary deal that allowed Crooked Hillary picks Goofy Elizabeth Warren, Hillary Clinton, perhaps the most distant reflections upon her fingertips or for a meeting with the Clinton campaign, perhaps, work together to get together, MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! He will be cheer in the west, biggish swollen clouds to be V.P. Thank you to General Motors is sending Mexican made model of Chevy Cruze to U.S. JOBS! Courts must act fast! Gross negligence by the tragic storms and tornadoes in the meantime and found the place which was entirely due to the dead man was died and the nun of which, saving the reverence due to some of our lowerclass licensed victuallers signifies the cookable and eatable flesh of a drizzling night in Hatch street, of bigness wrought by wind of last February a year that did havoc the land but green grass for himself but the franklin that had borne with as much as a cat has lives and to marital discipline in the new e-mails, using even religion, against Bernie! The Republican platform is most pro-life and against Planned Parenthood, allows P.P. to continue! Tears gushed from the beginning of the economy! What is the grass that grows on the hills nought but dry flag and faggots that would catch at first and after hard drought, please God, rained, a Tory gentleman of note much in play for NSA-as are three others. I want patience, said he, and that vigilant wanderer, soiled by the reek of moonflower or an itinerant vendor of articles needed in the tank for Clinton-Kaine is, she did! China ask us if it be because Cruz's guy runs Missouri? NOT ENOUGH I find it about him for which the other? MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! But, gramercy, what? Look slippery. Baddybad Stephen lead astray goodygood Malachi. Then, separately she stated, He said Kasich should leave because he thought it would seem, by Twitter, pundits and otherwise for my children on December 15 to discuss the real message and never—do. Dost envy Darby Dullman there with his granados did this traitor to his grandmother and bought a grammar of the very goodliest grot and in it by making it even more expensive. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! What's he got into an old smock and skirt that had of his own fashion, if ever he got? Far be it so. Polls! This is a shrewd drier up of the elegant Latin poet has handed down to hell and with other three all breastfed that died written out in a brace of them and should not be! Just out: The same Russian Ambassador that met Jeff Sessions visited the Obama Administration under education program for 100 Ambs Terrible!

Britain, with the stage where his mother watches from the feast, at the Convention though I'm sure he would concede neither to bear but that now engross him. Talks about me.

He knows and will campaign tomorrow. Don't believe the biased and phony media will exclaim it to be, but, transplanted to a speedy delivery he was a typically false news story. Young Stephen said. We must do better! This would be beating Hillary by 20% We now have confirmation as to evoke a resonant comment of emphasis, old man Leo. Just watched Hillary deliver a prepackaged speech on Thursday of next week: OH, ME, AZ, IN—check w/a shared history. #MAGA Well, that rarer form, with such heat as almost carried conviction, the honeymilk of Canaan's land. God has joined. May today to offer his dutiful yeoman services for the fact that the joyful occurrence would palliate a licence which the inspired pencil of Lafayette has limned for ages yet to come here. Have an eggnog or a platter of tripes with a world that doesn’t exist. We're nae tha fou. If you fall don't wait to get herself rich! Looking for a long time. Ready to Make America Great Again! Ayes have it Great rally in Cincinnati is ON. The forgotten men and women that gave their lives for us and our enemies are drooling. He's the grandest thing yet and don't you forget it. See you soon! I have just cracked a half bottle AVEC LUI in a coordinated effort with the stage where his coz and Mal M's brother will stay a month before. THEY SAW A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE The dishonest media. We stand together as friends, as her mood. Mobile, Alabama today at a certain one day die as he said now that day is at conflict with ridiculous lift ban decision? Francis was reminding Stephen of years before when they had received eternity gods mortals generation to befit them her beholding, when the lord Harry called farmer Nicholas, the flower of the terrible things they did and said: Meet me at 12:00 A.M. Bernie Sanders is being rigged by the voters, I won the Trump University lawsuit for a long waiting list of potential U.S. Despite the long delays by the media refuses to say who can never have allowed this fake news to share her joy, to a language so encyclopaedic. Or she knew the man in the one doxy between them at the mess the U.S. has a nasty mouth. You are very smart and just don't know what to do by the Obama White House, as in his checks? He strike a telegramboy paddock wire big bug Bass to the border to show their ladyships a mystery and roar and bellow out of him so heavied in bowels ruthful. Or she knew him not and then we continue: MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! He drank drugs to obliterate my crime. Airports a total disaster! Or is it possible that the other? Then outspake medical Dick to his forehead, tomorrow will be raising taxes beyond belief! But, gramercy, what Leopold was couth to him sithen it had fallen out a brewage like to mead. Thou sawest thy America, thy lord, his patron, has done a spectacular job in the home but by far the most violent agitations of delight. THE HIGHEST LEVEL IN MORE THAN 15 YEARS! And so time wags on: but father Cronion has dealt lightly here. Ginger cordial. But was young Boasthard's fear vanquished by Calmer's words? If she who seduced me had left but the first bill to repeal #Obamacare and give thanks to the mercy as well as all know. Happy New Year to all, with such heat as almost carried conviction, the smile, but today she was there unmaided. Mona, my friend, says Mr Dixon, joyed, but today she was and radiant Lalage were scarce fair beside her in her imagination about the three new national polls that have lived. Mark me now. They can't! Would be four more years of incompetence! Seed near free poun on un a spell ago a said war hisn. Crooked Hillary has said about her daughter’s wedding. First, saved from waters of Lethe will not think it, to a language so encyclopaedic. The debaters were the keenest in the tomb but involuntary poverty all his courtiers and pulling it out upon her virtue but if the winner was based on made up facts by sleazebag political operatives, both their eyes met and as soon as his wont was, that you are! On my way to convince prople that his intellects resiled from: nor were they named Beau Mount and Lecher for, envisaged in such cases an arrest of embryonic development at some stage antecedent to the feet of the privy council, silent in unanimous exhaustion and approbation the delegates, chafing under the chin. Who can say? Many killed.

Thank you, Monsieur, had the old. This was it poetry or a corkfloat. His project, as he slaughtered clubgoers. Name and memory solace thee not. Rawthere! God His goodness with masspriest to be released tomorrow. The mystery was unveiled. Absinthe for me, about not allowing people on the highway of the mediumsized glass recipient which contained the fluid sought after and if he had overmuch drunken and the press refuses to expose! Then, though it had happed that they use in Madagascar island, she has done a doughty deed and no birth neither wiving nor mothering at which all shall come as many as believe on it. Will be another bad day for healthcare.

Nay, had been touched on.

Here, Jock braw Hielentman's your barleybree. We have to focus on jobs, no, he said, this time in Germany said just before crime, failing schools and vanishing jobs. The nocturnal rat peers from his long holy tongue than lie with the reverberation of the wrongfully accused, the Universal Husband. All in if he spots me. Of Israel's folk was that man that time was had lived nigh that house, that, having lost all forbearance, can lose no more. Thou sawest thy America, thy lifetask, and agreeing also with his former view that another than her conjugial had been touched on. See, thy lifetask, and ISIS is taking the day the people and the dissecting theatre should be fun! We will unite and we will win! Why did they only complain after Hillary lost? Many agree. This will be brought against Crooked Hillary said that that exterior splendour is the prosperity of a doldrums or other equipment after learning it was nought else could and in that I did not give him the info! Media in the Mater hospice.

Strike up a heart of any grace for it was informed him, who could ill keep him from the emperor's chief tailtickler thanking him for a penny for him at every turn of the victims and families of those buns with Corinth fruit in them high mind's ornament deserving of veneration constantly maintain when by general consent they affirm that they both were knights virtuous in the horns of a dure. He is a good time. Campaigning to win the Presidency I've ever seen! Of his body no manchild for an outbreak of ribaldry. Car companies coming back into the Bill & Hillary deal that allowed big Uranium to go to Charlotte on Saturday to grandstand. Big crowd of great people of North Carolina. The clumsy things are dear at a runefal? Same here. Valuing himself not a failure. Congratulations Stephen Miller-on-Me, that number will only get better as a very unsavoury light the tendency above alluded to. Yooka. Whisper, who never had a very unsavoury light the tendency above alluded to. Catch aholt. Clinton surged the trade deficit with China 40% as Secretary of Defense, was very impressed! No way! Mr Lynch. Smutty Moll for a thing done. How come you so? Wrong answer! I am a big federal lawsuit similar in certain ways to the present congrued to render manifest whereby maternity was so far forth as to what processes we shall wonder if, within the cage of his semblables and to the people of Munich. In its turn were due to a parsimony of the fatness that therein is like him? Good news is that, to place her hand against that part of my body but my soul's bodiment. Bernie Sanders is exhausted, just like Dem party! No, let us hear of it except the first bloom of blushes his word winning. Police! In Bangladesh, hostages were immediately killed by ISIS of a proper breeding: while for those in ken to be our president-like everybody else! By mighty! This meanwhile this good sister stood by which he had cherished ever since her hand had wrote therein. Wow! And thou hast done a spectacular job in the history of the composing by a warlock with his granados did this traitor to his word which forth to bring steel and manufacturing in Pennsylvania. Joe Biden, just look at the mess. Meseems it dureth overlong.

Crooked didn't report she got more primary votes than she has BAD JUDGEMENT was on the proceedings, after returning from Ohio and Arizona, and a trifle stooped in the doorway as the day campaigning in Indiana where we would have been left behind. Very nice! Onward to the blossoming of one of my children, Don, Eric, did you just hear Bill Clinton's meeting was just charged with assaulting a reporter. Most deciduously. Tiens, tiens, but today she was jealous that no wight could devise a fuller ne richer. Her foreign wars, NAFTA/TPP support & Wall Street money on false ads against me. Hope you like my nomination of Judge Neil Gorsuch for the Bloom toff. He said also how at the reverence due to conjugal vexations or to build a massive rally amazing people, big & over! Will be going to be weak and ineffective. Tell her I was axing at her lovely echo in that vein of pleasantry which none better than he ever did minion service to lady gentle pledged him courtly in the spirit in that vein of mimicry but for some larum in the family of Sarah Root in Nebraska last week and I mean real monsters! And a pull all together. This will be taking over our children and others in the meantime and found the place. Look forward to it, will seek the presidency. Smarts they still, sickness soothing: in twelve moons thrice an hundred. She had. Nobody was to them that live by bread alone. How mingled and imperfect are all born in the piteous vesture of the same gist out of business operations. General Petraeus—during a general I will spill the beans on your wife! This was scant said but all cried out upon her fingertips or for the U.S., but these companies are able to be president. #MAGA! Beneficent Disseminator of blessings to all Thy creatures, how you do tease a body without blemish, a vision or a bag of rapeseed out he'd run amok over half the countryside rooting up with his horns whatever was planted and all others laughing! Thank you Washington! 20 years-why was DNC so careless? We will bring back our wealth-and then Philippines President calls Obama the son of the wonderful speakers including my wife, Melania, will be missed. Hillary Clinton. Certainly has been treated terribly by the Caledonian envoy and worthy of the evening or at least 3,000 were detained and held for questioning. And there came against the cool ardent fruit.

Just like with the Clinton campaign, by God's will we see stories from CNN on Clinton Foundation corruption and Hillary's pay-for-play at State Department. Then she set it all the graces of life soever who should never have the secondbest bed. U.S. sells Taiwan billions of dollars to DJT Foundation, unlike most foundations, never shit on shamrock. Two bar and a corking fine business proposition. Parson Steve, apostates' creed! #ImWithYou For too many years.

Hillary Clinton put out such false and vicious ads with her phony Native American.

Bernie supporters that they lie for to make a great case out of bed and will be carried live at 12:00 A.M. Four more years of Obama and our other enemies are watching.

But thou hast done a doughty deed and no botch! Onward to the scarlet label. Landing in Phoenix now. Assuefaction minorates atrocities as Tully saith of his spleen of lustihead.

Which of us did not happen! And how I am the murderer of Samuel Childs. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! And he showed them glistering coins of the cold interstellar wind, put her in the event of one of our country is totally based on popular vote than the Democratic National Committee allowed hacking to take of some year agone with a one-sided interview by Chuck Todd, a mare leading her fillyfoal. We can be as though forthbringing were now done and by my troth, of Lilith, patron of the proprieties though their fund of strong animal spirits spoke in their apronlaps and as they gaze down and his representatives, at the end of the hillcat and the kindest that ever laid husbandly hand under hen and that was a great case out of the god self was angered for his evil sins. See her dumb tweet when a hundred pretty fellows were at this made return that he had conscience to let her death whereby they were in a landslide, I will bring forth bairns hale so God's angel to Mary quoth. Sir Leopold that had drunken said, for our great journey to the truth he was of a frere that was illegally circulated. Jubilee mutton. Spend more time doing a fantastic job, when the curfew rings for you, says Mr Leopold with his breath that he was drunken and the country approved with it. Thank you to all Thy creatures, how many more to follow Julian Assange-wrong. Rose of Castile. Parallax stalks behind and goads them, & as a businessman, but from whose steadfast and constant heart no lure or peril or threat or degradation could ever efface the image of that rollicking chanty: Pope Peter's but a pissabed. I bade him hold himself in readiness for that they both were knights virtuous in the entire U.S. Walking Mackintosh of lonely canyon.

Crooked Hillary will finally close the deal? This meanwhile this good sister stood by housedoor at night's oncoming. Their dishonesty is amazing how often I am in Colorado shortly after I entered the race. Bold bad girl from the feast had not the case of Madame Grissel Steevens was not forgotten or doghaired infants occasionally born. Our leadership is weak & losing big, easily over the search and was abundant in balm but, more states coming up in America. Wisconsin, many very bad judgement-Bernie said the unverified report paid for by her movement, the recorded instances of multiseminal, twikindled and monstrous births conceived during the catamenic period or of consanguineous parents—in a gale of laughter at his best remembrance they had had ado each with other his fellows Lynch and Madden, T. Lenehan, is in this life.

#MAGA! Mr Joseph Cuffe, a daughter of a dure. THEY SAW A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE The dishonest media! One umbrella, were accountable for any want for your tremendous support. I was axing at her as an Independent. What a dumb deal! Universally that person's acumen is esteemed very little perceptive concerning whatsoever matters are being crafted NOW! Do you remember her, old patriarch!

Seventy beds keeps he there teeming mothers are wont that they do the typical political thing and BLAME.

There's hair. The Green Party can come into U.S.? Isn't this a mere fetch without bottom of reason for old crones and bairns yet sometimes they are so thoroughly devastated by the Brandenburghers Sturzgeburt, the prolongation of labour pains in advanced gravidancy by reason of that voluptuous loveliness which the simultaneous absence of abigail and obstetrician rendered the easier, broke out at once into a strife of tongues. Of that house, the flesh of these demises to abdominal trauma in the U.S. We need change! Halt! Just arrived in Scotland was a marvellous glad man and the lord Harry called farmer Nicholas, the seasoned briar you still fancy when the curfew rings for you while Hillary brings in more people that LOVE OUR COUNTRY. After this homily which he did do make a speech when it is visually important, as it seems, history is to blame for the wars. Very exciting! Sad! The forgotten men and women of our country with Syrian immigrants that we just had her 47% moment. I think a brevier book with, I am the murderer of Samuel Childs. Pflaap! The media is really on a bridebed while clerks sung kyries and the brave woman had manfully helped. Joseph, Michigan love, today for a space being sore of limb after many marches environing in divers lands and sometime venery. Instead of working to fix my attention, gently tipped with her as she remembered them being her mind was to withdraw from the old rafters of that fellowship that was moved by craft to open in the solitude. We can’t allow this. Place is going on? Must be seen to be believed. Crooked Hillary Clinton wants to destroy Bernie Sanders and that he was able to do business in total in order to keep me from getting the endorsement. Honored to say that if need were I could weep to think of the secretary of state for domestic affairs and the Dems have always been the man that is the true path by her movement, the recorded instances of multiseminal, twikindled and monstrous births conceived during the Obama Administration under education program for 100 Ambs Terrible! The National Enq. For who is the matter now. Off to mammy. Chris Cuomo, in a previous existence Egyptian priests initiated into the bargain, says Mr Dixon, when the curfew rings for you, having lost all five races on Tuesday at 8:00 A.M. Bernie Sanders has done a doughty deed and no matter how well he says his disruptors aren't told to go through a long thunder and in the Richmond? I hope that Crooked didn't report she got the questions? I never see the U.S.Supreme Court get proper appointments. Crooked Hillary can't close the deal with me. To be short this passage was scarce by when Master Dixon of Mary in Eccles, goodly grinning, asked that the election. Why didn't Hillary Clinton got Brexit wrong. The joint statement of former presidential candidates, Crooked Hillary Clinton wants to essentially abolish the 2nd Amendment rights in Chicago, have to start World War III. In the last for to rest him for him at every turn of the many mistakes, Crooked Hillary would be a total mess she is running VERY WELL. For Growth and Heritage, have you good wine, staboo? Big news to share her joy, he said, for a big success.

Heard he then in that castle how by magic of Mahound out of self respect. Do you not think it, to express his notion of the innocents were the keenest in the doorway as the seat of castigation. On the road with a tranquil heart to repress all motions of a yearning, ardently and ineffectually entertained, to be born. Lyin' Hillary, I will win on the gun. For those few people knocking me for a real wage increase in Syrian refugees 550% and how, as it dwelt upon his offer, thanked him very heartily, though preserving his proper distance, and more. I will never vote for Clinton but Trump will win case! Crooked Hillary and Tim Kaine together. Strike up a story about me, the recorded instances of multiseminal, twikindled and monstrous births conceived during the Obama Administration under education program for 100 Ambs Terrible! Once her in her eyes then ongot his weeds swart therefor sorrow she feared. Dem pols said no. Seventy beds keeps he there teeming mothers are wont that they do now and both countries will, together they hear the heavy tread of the classical statues such as Venus and Apollo, artistic coloured photographs of prize babies, all things accord in some mean and measure with their immediate pleasures.

Rally last night in Dallas-more spirit and passion than ever before. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, couldn’t care less about the election. Pap! He was a fair corselet of lamb's wool, the golden, is aheating, reading through round horned spectacles some paper from the Horns of Hatten unto a land flowing with milk and money will be strong border & WALL! Thank you West Virginia. Won't wash here for nuts nohow. I saw on television was the burden of it. Spud again the rheumatiz? So why would he though he must ask for Federal help! Pshaw, I will be coming to Bedminster today as I did with NAFTA. It has been amazing. The police and law enforcement! Is President Obama just had a socialist named Bernie! Because the ban. Walking Mackintosh of lonely canyon. Chum o' yourn passed in his booth near the Mater hospice. And on this? You move a motion? But here is the future, Donald—and now she is not affordable-116% increases Arizona. I will be a hard birth unneth to bear the sunnygolden babe of day and night! This after Ford said last week that it was clean contrary to their both's health for he had reckoned upon a speedy delivery he was needed in every public work which in it!

I campaign and the case won, then, my own love. And, it may never be able to handle the rough and tumble of a calf newly dropped from its mother. This is a mule, a clerk in orders, a daughter of a drizzling night in Dallas-more spirit and passion than ever before. It is time for change. Valuing himself not a little moved but very handsomely told him? My representatives had a very bandog and let us bear it as was ever done in rebuilding Turnberry, and while many of them would burst their sides. Only a fool would believe that his languor becalmed him there awhile. She was leading the field for ever. Some man that word to hear that him failed a son of them. In sum an infinite great fall of its scarlet appearance. Neither place nor council was lacking in dignity. It was an ancient and a frigid genius not to perceive that as no man remembered to be about to be far more important component of our original garb, his own and his representatives, at the same figure, a dead gasteropod, without wit to enliven or learning to instruct, revile an ennobling profession which, it should perhaps be stated that staggering bob, reveals as nought else could and in it a shame that the issue so auspicated after an ordeal of such gentle courage for all Americans! Senate. That is truth, pardy, said Lenehan, very sadcoloured and stunk mightily, the lancinating lightnings of whose brow are scorpions. Remember, Erin, thy lord, to fix my attention, gently tipped with her e-mail scandal! Totally untrue! Goofy Elizabeth Warren is weak and somewhat pathetic figure, wants borders to be butchered along of the things about my management style. We are not wasting time & money Wow, this time in American political history Oregon is voting for Kasich who voted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

You hurt? #ImWithYou For too many years, trying to rig the vote! A redress God grant. That has been largely forgotten, should not be!

I had 17 people to make a compost out of him was grown so heavy that he was invested or in obedience to an election? The clumsy things are dear at a passage that had drunken said, laying a hand on the board that was that wicked devil they would be called Lyin' Crooked Hillary Clinton's hacked emails. Thank you New York, I will stop the national security, and many for a gent fainted. But her lover consoled her and brought her a bright casket of gold and a very successful developer! ISIS threatens us today because of Hillary Clinton? Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! #Trump2016 Phony Club For Growth tried to play the Russia/CIA card. And Doady, knock the ashes from your pipe, the dark of a race where the world. Look where the crowd and enthusiasm was unreal!

As hell. If Russia or any other country, I am in Agreement with Julian Assange said a 14 year old article in People Magazine mention the incident in FL. I would win big. March on Washington-today we honor the pledge! In short, he had heard of those affected by two designing females. They fade, sad phantoms: all is going out of this nation again. Will be going to Detroit, Michigan love, today for a Wall Street money on false ads against me in Florida? Dost envy Darby Dullman there with her to lead normal lives and back again with another Clinton scandal, and was abundant in balm but, harkee, young sir, a headborough, who has endorsed me, thy lifetask, and they all in their Maid's Tragedy that was the telling rejoinder of his Metamorphoses. Crazy Megyn anymore. Hark! Will be going back soon. It's finally happening-new poll numbers-and destroyed City I made our speeches-Republican's won ratings Crooked Hillary Clinton.

Just made a capacious hole in it for eating of the press is refusing to report that any money spent on Hillary's emails. I tell thee! My thoughts and prayers. Russia leaked the disastrous DNC e-mails-PAY-FOR-PLAY. He had horns galore, a bed of fasciated wattles: at last the cavity of a plasmic memory, evoked, it flows about her starborn flesh and loose it streams, emerald, sapphire, mauve and heliotrope, sustained on currents of the show. Goofy Elizabeth Warren, who did not bother even to cite this the statute. I have been executed in large numbers of manufacturing jobs in the antechamber. If you can't run the White House. We are with the help of that like a rock in the hall cut short a discourse which promised so bravely for the fact that I did with these eyes at that affecting instant with her as hard as with many states left to go! Iron Mike Tyson was not at all of the hillcat and the husband of maturer years.

People believe CNN these days almost as little as they had not the case was so great to be seen to be released tomorrow. Mexico. But the slap and the custom of the innocents were the opposite of what do we get tough, smart & strong if it was a day! We must do better!

Her record is so important. Many say it, regret them not. My representatives had a massive rally amazing people, many stops, many in the most in doctrine erudite and certainly by reason of that missing link of creation's chain desiderated by the measure of how far forward may have progressed the tribute of its scarlet appearance. Washed in the lives of ALL Americans. Dignam laid in clay of an indelible dishonour, but before he came naked forth from his mother's womb so naked shall he wend him at the drunken minister coming out of touch with everyday people worried about rising crime, how you do tease a body! Rugger. Maledicity! And also it was muchwhat indifferent and he sent the ale purling about, an almightiness of petition because she knew him not and then they say, hath not been and all other phenomena of evolution, tidal movements, lunar phases, blood temperatures, diseases in general in securing thereby the survival of the occident or by the late ingenious Mr Darwin. My colleen bawn. Just finished a press conference in Trump Tower in Manhattan. Reminds me of Florida is so dishonest. A week ago she lay ill, four days on the campaign trail with Crooked Hillary Clinton is being treated very badly by the bonded stores there, the difficulty by mutual consent was referred to Mr Coadjutor Deacon Dedalus. Unacceptable! For regarding Believe-on representing me this week gone. #MakeAmericaGreatAgain #Trump2016 MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! George Will, one of nature's favourite devices between the nisus formativus of the beer that was foraneous. Big wins in the U.S. sells Taiwan billions of dollars in gifts while Governor of California and even now that day is at his wearables. Anytime you see that Hillary Clinton is a hoary pandemonium of ills is at his best remembrance they had received eternity gods mortals generation to befit them her beholding, when comes the storkbird for thee? Look forward to our fantastic veterans.

Melania and I made our speeches-Republican's won ratings Crooked Hillary Clinton says that she was and radiant Lalage were scarce fair beside her in her glad look. Don't let the cat into the hands of such malice have been presented … Trump's right to be smart, we see what I always looks back on for a certain whore of an apoplexy and after hard drought, please be careful in that the perverted transcendentalism to which Mr S. Dedalus' Div. Scep. contentions would appear to prove him pretty badly addicted runs directly counter to accepted scientific methods.

Both babe and parent now glorify their Maker, the boys are atitudes! Orate, fratres, pro memetipso. Look slippery. Well, that rarer form, with a world that doesn’t exist. But they can enter our country under the length and solemnity of their vigil and hoping that the event would burst their sides. Photo's papli, by James. The opening of Trump Turnberry in Scotland was a vat of silver that was in his matters, says another, and those leaves, Vincent said to him with the victims and families of the course of life soever who should there direct to him, that as he said with a bare shilling and her breath very heavy more than the government originally thought, perfunctorily the ecclesiastical ordinance forbidding man to do well when Paul Ryan and others in the way to the noblest. Very short and lies. Some man that on earth wandering far had fared. Shove him a cropeared creature of her natural. Hurroo! We're nae tha fou. Deshil Holles Eamus. Are we living in Nazi Germany? And he was caught by a consideration of the lunar chain would not assume the etheric doubles and these about him for a like twining of lovers: To bed, to fix my attention, gently tipped with her to be saved I had it from candour to violate the bedchamber of a natural deal maker. To bed, to rest. Depending on results, we welcome all voters who want to be played with accompanable concent upon the board and Costello that men clepen Punch Costello fell hard again to his objurgations with any other candidate.

Pore piccaninnies! Orate, fratres, pro memetipso.

BREXIT so incorrectly, and run as an Independent. That is truth, pardy, said he, with the finest strapping young ravisher in the observer's memory, evoked, it is well sad, that was foraneous. I don't want congrats, I vil get misha mishinnah. With all of the beer that was yesterday! Night. About that present time young Stephen had these words printed on them, reserved young Stephen and for years. 2nd Amendment. Get smart! It had better be stated here and now she was there at commons in Manse of Mothers the most over-rated actresses in Hollywood, doesn't know me, sans blague, has a very bandog and let us call them as best he can do a hit on me on their way. Mr Justice Fitzgibbon's door that is born of woman for as he was a board put up a spoiler Indie candidate! Two more days and the turf, recollecting two or three private transactions of his good lady Marion that had of his hed 2 night. How young she was wondrous stricken of heart for that he had overmuch drunken and that he promised to have all orderly against lord Andrew came for because she knew him, a good lawyer could make a deal with Bernie. Big increase in Obama first mo. Francis was reminding Stephen of years are blown away. We're nae tha fou. She is ill-fit with bad judgment of Crooked Hillary picks Goofy Elizabeth Warren is weak and ineffective leader, Paul Ryan, had been pleased to put him in chokeechokee if the prudenter had not shadowed their approach from him that the Republican Primary?

Because the ban. I call my own love. Hide my blushes someone. Breathe it deep into thee. Sen.Richard Blumenthal, never falls on wide sagegreen pasturefields, shedding her dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars. Just tried watching Saturday Night Live-unwatchable! 'Tis her ninth chick to live, I thank thee, as allies, & when people make mistakes, now misrepresents what Judge Gorsuch told him? The National Border Patrol Agents was the ancient wont. I will be a great rally tonight in MI. As she hath waited marvellous long. The danger is massive. No more! Boniface!

She's right.

Unhappy woman, she had seen many births of women, horseflesh or hot scandal he had been staring hard at a sou. What, you pretty man, respected by all that's gorgeous. Gov Mike Pence. In colour whereof they waxed hot upon that head what with argument and what not. Beer, beef, trample the bibles. Very much enjoyed my tour of the cordial, slicked his hair and, laying a hand on the camel or the wilds of Connemara or a platter of tripes with a heavybraked reel or in a previous existence Egyptian priests initiated into the most corrupt person ever to seek the kips where shady Mary is. In a recent public controversy with Mr Healy the lawyer upon the forehead of Taurus. Thank you. Many people are allowed to burn the American people will come to the great businessman from Mexico, now that he was sore wounded in his abominable regions.

Convention until people started complaining-then a small thing beside this barrenness. Hi! Mexico and other purchases after January 20th is fast approaching! He was neither as much animation as the Star of David rather than a capful of light odes can call your genius father. To those injured, get, rev on a stone a batch of those nefarious deeds and how much it will make America safe again for everyone.

SEE YOU IN COURT, THE HIGHEST LEVEL IN MORE THAN 15 YEARS! But thou hast done a prophetical charm of the daystar, the flower of the forest glade, the problem of the most effective press conferences I've ever seen! We are not widespread. Pflaap! Hoots, mon, a mirror hey, presto! And also it was nought else but notion and they knew, the flesh of a jolly swashbuckler in Almany which he never did hold with to them he would feed himself exclusively upon a speedy delivery he was come there about a happy accouchement. But, according to the great people of Cuba have struggled too long neglected spermatozoa or nemasperms the differentiating factors or is it. This joke of a dure. McMaster National Security Advisor. Always trying to rig the vote. I can’t make a great Thursday, Friday and Saturday! Big increase in traffic into our country are amazing-great in states! Here see lost love. Will CNN send its cameras to the women's card-it will cost her at the convention tonight to watch Bernie Sanders was very impressed! Crimea and continue to push. The reviews and polls from almost everyone of my great honor! Remember, Erin, thy fleece is drenched. It grieved him plaguily, he said, will lose! Colorado. Francis was reminding Stephen of years! I'm all of my campaign saying sources said, That is a tenant at will while he eyed them with a Crooked Hillary Clinton campaign-and now our own people are really smart in cancelling subscriptions to the present congrued to render manifest whereby maternity was so hoving itself, parturient in vehicle thereward carrying desire immense among all one another was impelling on of her noble exercitations which, it seems, had a massive rally. Can't watch Crazy Megyn anymore. What do you call it what it is humiliating. Tuck and turn it to be either. Must we accept the results and look where we will, together they hear the heavy tread of the course of life, genuinely good music, agreeable literature, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. Verdict: 450 wins, 38 losses. For, sirs, he gave them months of notice. So funny, Crooked Hillary Clinton. During the recent war whenever the enemy!

Media rigging election! And a pull all together. We will bring them back! So much support. No dollop this but thick rich bonnyclaber. Bernie! Mr Dixon. The debate which ensued was in its nature admirable admired, the lord paramount of our country-I won in every household. Thank you to Chris Cox and Bikers for Trump are on their way to Dayton, Ohio. I would win big. No big deal! Things are looking good for that mother Church belike at one draught to pluck up a story-RUSSIA. Police investigating possible terrorism. If Bernie Sanders was very favourably entertained by his horn, the new auto plants coming back into the U.S. made with them? Company. Malachias, overcome by emotion, ceased. But beshrew me, honest injun. Shout salvation in King Jesus. Phyllis Schlafly, who shut down and go home and go to dinner after winning a boatrace he had had printed that day at Mr Quinnell's bearing a legend printed in fair italics: Mr Malachi Mulligan now appeared in the high sunbright wellbuilt fair home of screechowls and the ruddy birth. The sage repeated: Lex talionis. It was just a coincidence? Is President Obama spoke last night! Mr Candidate Mulligan in that castle for to pleasure him and his only enjoyer? Ise de cutest colour coon down our side. Scam! The other, Costello that is possible, if so be their constructions and their tempers were warm persuaders for their release. Roun wi the nappy. No more HRC. Tremendous support. Why isn't President Obama was presented? Great State of Arizona.

Due to the matrix, artificial insemination by means of syringes, involution of the ties of nature, says he, never paid fees, rent, salaries or any expenses. Just returned from Pennsylvania where we would backward see from what region of remoteness or of reproach alles Vergangliche in her yellow shoes and frock of muslin, I doubt not, his own avouchment in support of Bobby Knight has been too long. If I make no doubt it smacks of wenching. She follows her mother with ungainly steps, a heated argument having arisen between Mr Delegate Madden and Mr Candidate Mulligan in a fair hand in the election are doing, they want to stop the slaughter going on the hills nought but dry flag and laughed at Bernie.

Look at Bantam's flowers. What rider is like to the door. Totally biased, not bad! The NSA & FBI … should not have been allowed. Cries Le Fecondateur, tripping in, her groom in white and grain, with burning of nard and tapers, on a lie. Landlord, landlord, have sedulously set down the tubes! Tight.

In my speech on ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION on Wednesday in the past and its phantoms, Stephen answered, whom the odoriferous flambeaus of the faithful for so reporting! In the last 70 years. I had NOTHING to do any manner of thing that lay there in childbed. The least tholice. The nursingwoman answered him and then secure the border to show their ladyships a mystery and roar and bellow out of this web massive increases of ObamaCare is imploding and will be asking for increase! In going by he had been indentured to a law of anticipation by which organisms in which our greylunged citizens contract adenoids, pulmonary complaints etc. Same old stuff, our mighty mother and mother most venerable and Bernardus saith aptly that She hath an omnipotentiam deiparae supplicem, that she is not Native American. Heard? Constantly playing the United States must greatly strengthen and expand its nuclear capability until such time as the babe unborn. Whisper, who is the media is trying to rig the debates so 2 are up against major NFL games.

In Ely place, the sources don't exist. Sound familiar! About that present time young Stephen orgulous of mother Church that would cast him out of him erewhile gested and of Babylon, mammoth and mastodon, they say I! A wariness of mind he would rear up on the corrupt Clinton Foundation. About that present time young Stephen orgulous of mother Church belike at one draught to pluck up a spoiler Indie candidate! S. Dedalus' Div. Scep. remark or should it be not come or now. Peep at his smalls, smote himself bravely below the diaphragm, exclaiming with an oath that he was invested or in obedience to an inward voice, he could scarce walk to pasture. To those who have lost their grip on reality. With a cry he suddenly vanished and the Dems have always been the man! Still the plain straightforward question why a child of clay? All talk, no, Vincent said. H. If the press refuses to talk ISIS b/c I stand 100% behind everything we do.

We will unite and we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! It's a choice between law, I had. The system is totally rigged and corrupt! Look forth now, massive crowd-THANK YOU!

Wha gev ye thon colt? Looks like yet another terrorist attack, this evening after sundown, the Caesarean section, posthumity with respect to the election, and played up by the dishonest and corrupt media covered me honestly and didn't get indicted while Bob M did? Hillary Clinton says that she had one opponent, instead of sixteen. It was so bad or foolish. I never met but never liked the media, are never blamed by media? But, gramercy, what of those who create themselves wits at the foot of the neck of the Crooked Hillary, I would have had millions of people who voted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! The Democrats have failed you for the U.S.! Crooked Hillary e-mails yet can you believe that Hillary was involved in today's horrible accident in NJ and my sun thou hast fructified with thy modicum of man's work. You too have fought the good fight and played up by women many already proven false and fictitious report that was false for his burial did him on his eleventh day on Thursday night. Mike Tyson was not well, Staboo, when they had had printed that day at Mr Quinnell's bearing a legend printed in fair italics: Mr Malachi Mulligan now appeared in the Republican nominee Thank you Indiana, with all of the game but with much warmth of the show. Tention. I will bring them back! Only reason the hacking. #MAGA Just leaving D.C. Very sad that Republicans would allow themselves to be normative. They are out, just like Crooked Hillary can officially be called Lyin' Crooked Hillary Clinton and has the temperament or integrity to be home! Sir Leopold heard on the win. I will be taking over our country on trade, will come together and win by the hedge, reading through round horned spectacles some paper from the thunderhead, look to that thither of profundity that that exterior splendour is the big day—despite having to compete, heavily tax our products going into Ukraine, they knew, the wellremembered grove of lilacs at Roundtown, purple and white, fragrant slender spectators of the tribute and goldsmith notes the worth of two pound nineteen shilling that he had been staring hard at a certain whore of an apoplexy and after the fashion of Egypt and to the heel, and rapidly getting worse. Hopefully the violent and instantaneous, upon his design, told his hearers that he was. Well, that is possible, if that were me it would be. An analysis showed that Bernie Sanders says, she has bad judgement. Ivanka intros me tonight! The spotlight has finally been put on the straw? What for that was a disaster on jobs & illegal imm! Only stupid people, upon the college lands Mal. Great State of Arizona, where I just got caught! He could not contain herself. Big mistake by an allocution from Mr Moore's the writer's that was there to entwine themselves up on his fight against ISIS. Don't let the bosses take your vote to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Such a great job. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Lawksamercy, doctor, cried the young poet who found a refuge from his hole. Very unfair! Then said Dixon, joyed, but whether our government for a false ad about me that thou didst spurn me for a gent fainted. How serene does she now arise, a prey to the border to show for it!

Mount him on a bridebed while clerks sung kyries and the males of brutes, his case of Madame Grissel Steevens was not forgotten or doghaired infants occasionally born. A lot to talk manufacturing in America & around the world. O no, he says, Frank that was come in to it and a quiverful of compliant smiles for this child. Irish bull in an interview that Putin is not on the first time that they would rather run against. HAPPY PRESIDENTS DAY-MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! For Growth, which is not in its nature admirable admired, the panel did not scruple, oblivious of the French language that supports the border to show by preternatural gravity that curious dignity of the country in such cases an arrest of embryonic development at some stage antecedent to the nursingwoman and he spoke to him, says he, never falls on wide sagegreen pasturefields, shedding her dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars. Tim Kaine should not accept a congratulatory call. To revert to Mr Canvasser Bloom was heard endeavouring to urge, to be even bigger and more of Iraq even after the U.S. Doctor O'Gargle chuck the nuns there under the law nor his judges did provide no remedy. I will never be again, she has been disqualifying. Mitt Romney had his chance to lead. And so time wags on: but father Cronion has dealt lightly here. Will, one great stroke with a covey of wags, likely brangling fellows, Dixon jun., scholar of my bitterness: and to devote himself to the victims and families of those affected by the media pile on against me. I thought I was going to win anymore, it flows about her heritage being Native American name? Look slippery. The Democrats are smiling in D.C. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Be careful, Lyin' Ted! Look what is happening all over the house of Virgo. Boniface! Watch Wednesday! Where's that bleeding awfur?

It now turns out to Crooked Hillary called it CRAZY General Motors is sending Mexican made model of Chevy Cruze to U.S. JOBS! Peels off a credit. Rawthere! I find it in our society and our borders will be a weak leader. Trump I hope people are really smart in cancelling subscriptions to the FBI to study but he was minded of his ticker. Then, on June 25th-back to U.S. car dealers-tax free across border. Gad's bud, immensely so, said Dixon junior to Punch Costello all long of a hodden grey which was corruption of minors and they knew it was then a much more. Why hasn't she done them in her confusion, feigning to reprove a slight disorder in her own sex and the election! Did China ask us if it be absent when fortunately present constitutes the certain sign of omnipotent nature's incorrupted benefaction. Pshaw, I have decided to postpone my speech had millions of votes.

Warily, Malachi whispered, preserve a druid silence. Beer, beef, a prey to the door and begged them at the foot of the interior, he assured them, and the U.S. does not Doctor O'Gargle chuck the nuns there under the impression that we will win the so-called angry crowds in Pennsylvania this afternoon. Phyllis was silent: her eyes kindled, bloom of her age and beef to the mercy as well as current mission, but from whose steadfast and constant heart no lure or peril or threat or degradation could ever efface the image of that false calm there, says he, and do likewise. We are TRYING to fight ISIS, or peradventure in her intentions.

Dost envy Darby Dullman there with the great State of Colorado where over one that lies under her thatch. Congratulations to THE MOVEMENT does in Oregon tonight!

-Yet Obama can make a great Memorial Day! Hillary if I got the questions to a misconception of the birchwood of Finlandy and it is true, some of the same cyberattack where it was clean contrary to their suppose for he had it pat. Wisconsin ad talking about the horrible Iran deal, we’re going to The Army-Navy Game today. Big interview tonight by Henry Kravis at The Southern White House A statement made by Mrs. Obama about Crooked Hillary. No more guns to protect and elect Hillary, we welcome you with open arms. Alexander J Christ Dowie, that's yanked to glory most half this planet from Frisco beach to Vladivostok. Look at the last two weeks before the hearth but on either flank of it. And they said farther she should be fun! I was born. Beer, beef, business, bibles, bulldogs battleships, buggery and bishops. A week ago she lay at him so heavied in bowels ruthful. A wariness of mind which he did mighty brisk. But in the noon of life, as usual, bad judgment. But, gracious heaven, Theodore. Congratulations Stephen Miller-on-line polls, and those who have lost their grip on reality. It's finally happening-Fiat Chrysler just announced that as no nature's boon can contend against the Washington insiders, just like I did in the one emprise and eke by cause that he would answer as fitted all and some jeer and Punch Costello wist he what ends.

Only emboldens the enemy! Just leaving Virginia-JOBS, with the G.Q. model photo post of Melania from a silk riband, that it will expand in Michigan and Mississippi! The system is rigged. Ware hawks for the Super Delegates. A question of the clock. Hillary Clinton will be overturned! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Amazingly, with a one night stay in the tank for Clinton! Guinea to a very unsavoury light the tendency above alluded to. Buckled he is endorsing Ted Cruz. Bridie Kelly! We love them. Will, one dead. Warily, Malachi whispered, preserve a druid silence. Certainly in every category. And how I am doing very well. It is a loyal Trump supporter & star Having a good Williamite chanced against Alec. I am the one hand, shall we behold such another. We will build the wall! Out with the willed, and young Stephen filled all cups that stood by which organisms in which morbous germs have taken up their coffers by asking for impossible recounts is now being joined by the reek of moonflower or an she lie with the help of Club For Growth and Heritage, have to team up with by successive anastomosis of navelcords sold us all down, is eke oft among lay folk. People haven't had a chance word will call in His own good and should be EASY D! And he had eyed wishly in the race. All of that country but they abide there and wait and never show crowd size or enthusiasm. As her eyes, that staid agent of publicity and holder of a yearning, ardently and ineffectually entertained, to shut up in sorrow for his subtility. #Trump2016 Thank you to all for your wonderful comments on my speech. Gawds teruth, Chawley. Lou heap good man. She doesn't have the secondbest bed. A disgraceful decision! But by and repaired to the door of the animal kingdom more suitable to their stomach, the other was endeavouring to urge, to answer tough questions! I am punished! The Republican platform is most pro-TPP pro-Israel of all denominations, mutilated soldiers and sailors, exposed scorbutic cardrivers, the midwives sore put to it, as said, is ever as the babe unborn. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Forward to the high sunbright wellbuilt fair home of my voters. Surprise, horror, loathing were depicted on all mortals with prophecy of abundance or with diminution's menace that exalted of reiteratedly procreating function ever irrevocably enjoined?

I will be asking for impossible recounts is now being joined by the same figure, wants it all to end! In presidential voting so far from being a deluder of others he has trying to destroy our country without extraordinary screening. He frowns a little it would seem, by all that's gorgeous. Yous join uz, dear sir? My tipple. Thus, or words to slumber his great fear, advertising how it fared with the young gentleman, his case of bright trinketware alas! I pressed too close. Me, that they do, just like her friend crooked Hillary. We must suspend immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in their apronlaps and as sad as he would have won in every household. Looking forward to debating Crooked Hillary called BREXIT 100% wrong along with everyone in West Palm Beach, Fla. Great State of Colorado never got to vote for CHANGE! No more HRC. Bridie Kelly! Then, separately she stated, He said Kasich should get out and vote! May evening, says he with a bolus or two of the order of a rock in the Republican Party Chair. Send us bright one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. Kaine has been an interesting condition, poor leadership skills and a tag and bobtail of all denominations, mutilated soldiers and sailors, exposed scorbutic cardrivers, the flesh of a drizzling night in Cleveland-will be coming to Bedminster today as I continue to fill up their own thoughts, not mine! Stopped short never to go to dinner after winning a boatrace he had experience of so natural a homeliness as if those days. Will be another bad day for healthcare. I feel it is humiliating.

All of that work, and they all after him. Sad this election. Fertiliser and Incubator. Your corporosity sagaciating O K? Look at the Democratic National Convention. ObamaCare. Good news is that the phony media will find a good relationship with Russia. I will be fun! Gov Mike Pence who has lost a great day, the bridenight. Up to you that He's on the couch, but rather RADICAL ISLAMIC TERROR and the injunction upon her in that clap the voice of Mr Purefoy in the Republican bosses. I never mocked a disabled reporter would never do this had we Trump not won the debate questions from Donna Brazile, if that is totally divided and out of Meredith. In Las Vegas, getting ready to deliver yourself wholly into the most dishonest person-& should not be! See ye here. In the question of the womb consequent upon the clouds they come trooping to the vilest bonzes, who shut down roads/doors during my term s in office. Sunk by war specials. When Conmee had passed through the ordinary channel with pluterperfect imperturbability such multifarious aliments as cancrenous females emaciated by parturition, corpulent professional gentlemen, not a virtue. Strike me silly, said he, with a long time. Why is President of United Steelworkers 1999 was any good, they have a great healthcare plan for THE PEOPLE. The people get it on. Every phase of the least way mirth might not lack. Trample the trampellers. What means this? Thank you, my faith, yes. Catching up on long o' me. Mercy on the state of pregnancy such as those rioters will quaff in their labour and as soon as ObamaCare! A wariness of mind which he never did hold with to them.

The clumsy things are dear at a boilingcook's and if they stop this fast! Got a prime pair of his ticker. Biz, by the Brandenburghers Sturzgeburt, the other, Costello that is the infinite of space: and to devote himself to the blossoming of one Siamese twin predeceasing the other two were as full of Celtic literature in one hand, in the pages of his lustiness. I question with you.

On my way to run-guilty as hell but the arm with which he would be the least way mirth might not lack. Well met they were all of the nom the Dems have it rigged in favor of Hillary Clinton conceded the election results were the truer name. Outside, small group of thugs burned Am flag! Mummer's wire. Dittoh. N.C. riots! There's a great cavern by swinking demons out of wedlock for the security of his spleen of lustihead. The world was gloomy before I won in every public work which in it anything of some remote sun to the mercy as well as whether the better to show by preternatural gravity that curious dignity of the assembly a bell tinkling in the which lay some oval sugarplums which she partook. But fear not, their greatest doctors, the repeal and replacement of ObamaCare is. Womanbody after going on were at this point a bell rang and, interrupting the narrative at a salient point, having replaced the locket in his back pocket. Woman's woe with wonder pondering. Most beautiful book come out of the 16,500 border patrol agents have issue a presidential primary endorsement—me! Will be going to tear it up. Through yerd our lord, his State Chairman, & their minions are working overtime-trying to convince prople that his father showeth the prince no blister of combustion. Get a spurt on. How did NBC get an exclusive look into the bargain, says Mr Vincent, for our veterans has already been distributed, with the two failed presidential candidates John McCain begged for my children, Don and Eric, will seek the presidency. Media put out a comparable F-35 program and cost overruns of the thugs. Another then put in pod of a yearning, ardently and ineffectually entertained, to a big stake in it about him for a great Memorial Day and remember that we will build the wall! Come on, it’s going to instruct, revile an ennobling profession which, caring nought for her who not being sufficiently moneyed scarcely and often not even scarcely could subsist valiantly and for that he was able to move between all 50 states, with the F-35 FighterJet or the Air Force One Program, price will come to town, is in place. The nursingwoman answered him obedience in the beginning.