What Color Couch Should I Buy

"blonde" rhymes with "valley of tears

I go to School with Barbie .
Not in the sense that I carry a doll in your backpack. What I did not even five years.
rolls I have the good fortune to meet (too) often a barbie in the flesh, bones and squeaky voice. The only way to escape Blonde, is to pretend to cough because he has a phobia of the cold. Today I have borne for three hours! Three. The longest of my life.
I could even stand the fact that it is very tall, beautiful, skinny, blond and absolutely perfect! Good for her. But that voice has
* * sweet as a terrible blow on the head of the pan!
talked about it constantly, very fast. More talks faster than the tone becomes shrill. The more I go crazy and my mood is transformed into caustic artery!
Now, if I may, I carry the iPod and when it comes to tapping the sign that they feel. Too bad that then starts to scream to override music. Obviously he feels all the rest of the room. -_____-
Today I share with you his latest pearl of wisdom.
I intercepts in the bar, stand fifteen minutes of various chatter and then asks me to combine an appointment, a friend of mine who has glimpsed a few times. Apart from that I do NOT greedy (although you would have shot an arrow willingly rolls) but the friend wanted to know who is gay, leaving you see a mile away, this friend called Brian (Mari , remember?)!
That is ... a bit 'fancy, Brian called my goodness! As one of the Backstreet Boys! As the character of QAF! It will be no indication (XD)?
When I say it to him, I do not believe. Indeed! I quote.
B: "But noooo! Brian is not too good to be straight. "
S:" Funny, this is bullshit. Gays would be bad? However, it is gay, trust me, I've known him three years! "
B:" Nooooo Bait is safe! Of course! "
S:" You're really convinced?? "
B:" Sure! Are you kidding? I am infallible! In fact, DO NOT ever! "
..........
....
..
.
Morta.
I swear every time that I no longer shocked, not after it claimed that the tuba is a stringed instrument and the question where the strings would have responded with platitudes: "inside the tube is not it?" . Not
I amaze me more, not after that time he heard the word "trans" and she turned in disgust squealing "Yuck!" I am ashamed to even bring it back, its explanation in front of our faces perplexed.
Here, I should not amaze me.
But each time seems to surpass. Really, he's a genius.

Reminder: If your location is a madhouse Faculty, do not go there to study!


PS No, I do not know because if I write a post, I reduced more between midnight and one o'clock.
-___-

Baby Moccasins Pattern

CHAPTER 89 CHAPTER 88 CHAPTER 87

88
Jude and Dylan - When the tide falls

Maybe at the hands of Raven also had the skin tissue as vibrato - but Dylan could not know for sure.
and could not know if his fingers would be pushed into the flesh with the same movements that used to press the grass in the paper - the slow slide of long waves on the coast. Balance intact.
Jude seemed to gain a clear picture, however, and seemed to know the light that enveloped his actions with that warm glow. With the density of sleep and smoky shadows.
was strange, being in their midst.
Strange as it may be entering a dream, not yours, get used to the different flow of time and space in the expanding horizons of earth and sky. Diving for the first time in the sea.
Then there was the flame.
The flame that was smoking on the wrists of Raven, and it was honey on the skin. The turn on Language sudden silver and hatching out the lips of Jude, just to the right.
reddened eyes.
Dylan has not yet managed to explain how it is that everything becomes more fluid so , when Raven is in the neighborhood, why not just the time to distill in a more fluid, but also the spaces seem to adhere to the body in a different. As the distances underwater
touch you - the sounds are amplified.
And the heart beats more slowly, without stagnation in ways that electricity constant. A languor alert.
She wanted to, basically.
He felt like that too during the afternoon, when the light of day made it clear Jude's hair and was fun to play to weave between your fingers - keep his reflexes as he slipped and pulled out the CD on the stereo to listen to songs that told him it was a crime not to know.
Raven had not yet arrived, and yet his presence felt from the air as the warm shadows of the evening. Or like a guitar solo when the lights go out.
And then there was the dinner - always amazing feeling to share with both a way of life began some time: to move in a more adult everyday life, finding themselves engulfed in a completely natural. And be carried away by the flow of life, simply. Dissolve the nerves.
want more has always been inevitable - Raven and Jude work as a drug.
"I like to smoke," said Dylan had then, and none had objected.
Because in the end the natural evolution of the evening was planned from the beginning that we would sit in a circle on that rug - Jude with his back pressed against the couch, one knee bent. Raven
cross-legged, bare feet. The jeans fell on the flanks, as always.
And let him there in front of stunned by the silence as if they were waves breathe - as if it were to go adrift everything has always needed. What I want most.
Yet Ash is there, every time.
Each time a clearer - a gem set in the finger or the slight rubbing of the shirt on his back. The instinct to turn around to meet his eyes - because he can see how Raven's lips let slip away like smoke or Jude abandons his head against the armrest of the sofa. As the light melts into air - those with warm colors. That softness.
Stretching his arms, Dylan pressed his cheek on his shoulder.
There is nostalgia, and it is strange, but there is not even afraid. No sense of loss and no distance. Ash
memory is present - the essence that has shaped the body and nourishment of life that moves. The
I see that. What is left to look.
fragile and green eyes, the intoxicating sense of breathing in the lungs. A perfect circle.
"Dee?"
The heart stops even more now, when Jude calls him that way.
Dylan just let slip his eyes from the lips of Raven his neck - then the shoulder, lingering on the white shirt and black hair gathered in a rubber band. Ribbons of smoke in the air.
And then the baggy jeans of Jude - the sleeves rolled up on his forearms. The subtle interweaving of veins on the wrist, and the cylinder of embers that is holding out. The
his mouth.
slowly stretches his arm, brushing her fingers.
It is as if there were in that room - and yet at the same time has never been so conscious of every eye that washes off. Space occupied by your body and what it expands beyond borders no longer perceptible. Than hidden.
It's crazy.
Raven opens his hand on the cushion shape and Dylan felt her fingers spread in the middle of the back - just Jude bend the knee and he felt pressed against his side.
not have turned on the stereo, and maybe it all depends on the silence.
From the depths of which seems to load every breath and the fact that the movements become a continuous rubbing of fabric on fabric.
soft wool and the roughness of denim almost exciting.
There is a tranquility unbroken gestures of Raven - something that makes you almost believe his magic of shaman and that leaves you impressed the strange feeling that his own thought, to shape reality. As if enough want to - imagine.
But it can not be just that.
Raven is not enough, because that sensuality is more like a network - nodes in twisted plots that without the close of Jude would return to dissolve incomplete drawings. Different geometries.
And it's all in smoke, after all.
The smiles that are exchanged without the need both to look the other dozens of times that must have woven the same atmosphere. And the faces of all the guys who have breathed before him - the calm nervousness Raven to support the faint of Jude. The desire to fill any gap between their bodies.
Idly, Dylan is raised on his elbows.
The cylinder of spinel seems to carry the imprint of their fingers and he looks at the blackened paper around the sizzle of the grill before lifting his eyes, firmly. Before sinking into the eyes of Jude, and suck the smoke. Squint eyebrows.
can hear it clearly, the strength.
It's like magnetism - something terrible and mysterious that prevents Jude to break contact and he let it go.
is that Raven is watching them in silence, perhaps. The decision of his black irises.
But Dylan would never have believed it would be so exciting, let ourselves be moved by desires of others. Become a channel between them, the car looks and intentions.
And still find there, present in an essential way. The center of the engine vibration of every action - a mandatory course. The point of arrival, at the same time.
not imagine that it would be possible. How
not think I can get to be so shameless - keep your eyes fixed on those of Jude and exhale the smoke, in the meantime. Wet your lips, tilt the head back. How to offer your throat.
Yet he knew that would happen sooner or later.
She knew even if the afternoons with Jude dissolved into laughter and chatter, even though the kiss they had exchanged no one had ever spoken, and no longer seemed to be no danger zone between them.
At the end of each day came in the evening, though. Raven came.
And it was when his dark-colored shadows that changed everything: the senses are alert, the body becomes aware of every movement.
Prospects tilt angles in the most secret - stolen images.
long silence.
and came sliding a low voltage, just below the surface. A tension filled the air even when the gestures drew everyday scenarios and there seemed to be nothing erotic interactions. Nothing too different from a familiar innocent.
a glance.
Or a word spoken softly, brushing against the shoulder distracted. The embarrassment and fear and excitement, soon after.
crazy like a carousel.
Now it seems that Dylan somehow had unexpectedly accurate, the image he had made at the beginning: it is true that Raven has always been to move the rudder of the boat, it is also clear that the tide was at it sail toward some destination.
And the tide if he feels like something that mounts inside, it grows. A relentless press of blood in the veins - the excitement. In the temples.
not have a specific plan in mind when instead of passing the spinel Raven decides to take another breath, and hold the smoke in the lungs.
He bent his legs to his chest, in the meantime - he tilted his head forward. He's watching.
It's slanted eyes seem set in their black, still does not know what Dylan are doing - they seem to call actions and render the mind as a light wind. Blown away.
It is as if the air became thinner, while the distance is reduced. The right knee pressing on
carpet, and then a hand.
The other knee.
For some unknown reason always thought that walking on all fours was terribly erotic, Dylan. But the idea is to trap the body between the legs of Raven that forced him to wet her lips again - the perception of his jeans rubbing hips. His steadfast gaze.
And the eyes of Jude - the edge of the field. Pulse crazy flying in your ears.
not even need to tilt her head when she finally puts her hands on the chest of Raven. He was waiting for him, and his lips already parted. The tail hair already slipped on the shoulder. He knew everything. Even
what Dylan is still not dared to think - that the heart suddenly stops and then push it in a blink slower. Dilute breath. From
so close his eyes are almost hypnotic, and are perfectly distinguishable muscles of the chest under the palms of your hands. The relief of the nipples.
Exhale the smoke from his lips as you close your eyes, after - hold a share as part of a game. Or the most exciting secrets.
But Jude is there.
Just to the right - even a meter away or unconsciousness. Just a quick move of the knees on the carpet, the black outline in green. Green gray.
And it is much easier with him. Leaning to blow
smoke between his lips and caress the edge of his tongue - breathe his breath. Wait.
And everything is different, too. Why
Jude has turned a blind eye, meanwhile, and his breathing is accelerated. Her cheeks flushed.
And Raven is not the look of the edges and is not fire - it looks pretty slow to overflow of a force that pushes you and touch you. Anything too physical just to slip on the surface of the skin without going deeper. And dissolve in it.
Dylan shudders, fitting a knee between the legs of Jude. Looking
swallow.
is he starting kissing, gently biting the chin of the other to go back immediately to spingervisi in with his mouth and slowly sinking. Pats measured.
still must be the flu Raven, to slow down everything, because the sensations of hunger is a force that presses on the nerves but softens and melts as soon as the pulse takes the form of gestures. And it is almost unbearable - a wreck calm.
float in the air. The right hand goes
unhurriedly along the leg while Jude and Dylan felt her muscles quivering think it is even fun to remember how everything has started: the misunderstanding with Raven, during that first pizzeria in the evening - the embarrassment and disappointment .
The inability to imagine himself into the dynamics of gender.
Now it seems that every track has become a universe suddenly incomplete, however, as if to regain its image necessarily serve multiple mirrors. As if it were a physical need to feel cornered - losing each coordinate note to find out different.
Stretch the other arm.
Raven is already close and sink her fingers into her hair engaging the elastic between them. Pulling away.
for a moment and contrast that to push your heart in your throat - the softness of the black waves in one hand and the importance of hard sex Jude.
Sea and rock.
But it is only a breath, then water floods everything. Why just tilt
the head of a mouth and nothing takes control of Raven - Raven, with the balance of fluid movements. With the slow sinking of the hypnotic and mysterious power to grant its rhythms also the flow of blood.
Dylan feels fade.
is almost certain that he clung to his shirt, he had abandoned his back on his chest. It is quite certain that it was the touch of her hair to thicken the chills on my neck and recognizes the pleasure of Jude by the slow rubbing his erection under his palm.
But could not say to whom they belong to describe these circles sinuous fingers, the neck, and can no longer distinguish the language from that of the Raven. It has no clear even which side of the room is the couch. Where the ceiling.
is stunned.
For this reason conscience struggling to find herself, later, when suddenly appear to be alone at the hands of the wool carpet. Around the body just yet.
Dylan remains motionless, without understanding.
He vaguely registered the movement of lips to the jaw, the low whisper of Raven Jude's ear. The press something on his chest, too.
Maybe.
blinked.
Jude stood up, however, and the carpet the other is staring in disbelief.
"What the fuck," Raven is saying, his hair still caught between his lips. The neck of his shirt half unbuttoned - the palm pointed at the ground.
is almost frightening, the feeling of detachment.
Dylan seems only able to process this thought while moving his eyes from Raven Jude - as he sees it press the fingers on his temples and muttering something that feels like a "Sorry ..." - something confused. Just a breath, perhaps.
back to look down.
"What's the matter?"
Raven has sharp eyes - he feels the anxiety in the stomach rise even without knowing exactly what to attribute it. But Jude repeated again - even more softly, "I'm sorry. I can not ... "
And at that moment that connects the mind at once - like waking with a start in the middle of the night. A sudden dizziness, a dense acute.
The heart stops.
And the memories are crowded in the mind in a chaotic stampede, after - the taste of marijuana on the body language and the robustness against the back of Raven, the rubbing of the lips.

him that now he almost can not believe I really did - that feels blush to the roots of hair and is quick to plant his eyes down, still on the table. Sink your teeth into the lip. Would
evaporate.
Or maybe just go back to lock in his room, never to be released. Burrow under the covers as he did as a child and never see anyone in the world. Hide. Yet there still remains
Raven even while standing up, while Jude is quick to disappear in the next room and the other accelerates the pace to find stuck by a locked door. Even when the silence is absolute, even painful embarrassment.
And the sensation is like being completely naked in the middle of the room. With all the world's eyes focused on him.
holds his breath.
knows that something terrible will happen now - something like the sound of flying footsteps on the floor, for example, or the body that bends Raven next door. His voice slips in the ears, very close.
The feel of his breath on her hair.
"Hey. Are you okay? "
He nods quickly, straightening his back.
"I go home," he announces.
It really is not at all certain that the entry and exit is not sure either really wanted to leave: for a moment, the foolish hope is that Raven grabbed his arm and an assurance that all is well - it embraces, and ask to stay.
holding it with him all night.
"I'll walk," however, is the answer, and he did not even have the courage to protest.
It just quickly gather his things, though - putting on his jacket. Throwing a last glance at the door behind which Jude has disappeared and then hid the room - furniture, books, and the warm light of the lamp. And all the prints on the walls, later, trying to memorize them one by one. As if they never had them more.
not clear what happened - the embarrassment hard to fade even when they take to the streets and the fresh air of the night the body finally free from any trace of excitement.
perhaps even dares to climb the winding staircase of the possibilities if there was a sense of emptiness to push in the throat - that hint of loss that is not subsiding.
And recalling the nostalgia of his brother never died down, too. That wakes the silence.
Sitting in the seat next to Raven, Dylan keeps his eyes carefully anchored out of your car to not be forced to watch his hands tight on the steering wheel, or absorbed the profile of his lips. Or the nerve of the jaw tends under the skin - the most deadly. That you will not forget too easily, later.
They did not say a word, since I got into the car.
And it's hard not to wonder what thoughts affollino his mind - perhaps hard to avoid the only plausible answer and discover all of a sudden entirely unrelated to balance that always belong to them only two. Jude and Raven.
Believe to be part of their universe was ridiculous naive - to believe as we had believed him, hear him. Into the blood.
for some reason always returns the image of Chris, in such moments.
Perhaps because it is a life that any error carries his comments ironic, or perhaps because they were invariably then caresses. The evenings curled up on his couch - his hands through his hair. The thought of retirement is a return to the abyss instead.
Those shadows el'accostarsi wheel of the step platform.
The engine turns off.
Silence.
"Sorry," Raven murmured at last, and Dylan finds startling against his will. The force was trying to tell him something, or to be able to sketch at least a greeting. Goodnight or just see you .
feel his hand through his hair instead.
shudders.
"I do not know what got Jude - I have no idea. It's a bit 'of days which is strange, but I did not think ... I thought he was just nervous. It is not very good at managing change ..."
is a fortune at the bottom , which runs out so that touch: moving away from a lock eyes to discover the face - leaving just a little 'more helpless. Nothing that can not be remedied by lowering the gaze, after all.
Taking a long, long breath.
"Do not worry. I'm fine, "assures, forcing a smile. Instinctively his fingers tightening on the handle of the door.
"Sure?"
Dylan crashes.
is a feeling of siege, that car - the last time I sat in there Raven was kissing him, the world was melting. And no one had beaten in the face by having to manage changes Jude - Raven did not have to worry about the mood of kids idiots instead of taking care of one person who would be entitled. The only person I would want to be right now - definitely. Without the weight of other problems on him.
"Yes, I'm sure," he says then, imposing itself to raise its head. Looking at him straight in the eye, firmly.
"Really, Raven, nothing happened. Do not worry, "he repeats, and feels that if you stay inside that car one more minute could burst into tears. Or do something equally stupid.
hastens to open the door, then - slips out.
"Go slow. Okay? "She says later, smiling, leaning in through the open window.
Raven has just furrowed his eyebrows - very dark eyes. The
are watching. And Dylan
biting the inside lip because he wanted to say goodnight . Tell him I'll see . The only
say goodbye , however, and there are no words that can not melt in your voice. Even if all that is left. How
silence when the tide falls.






The feeling is to breathe vacuum. Inside the bathroom mirror
plunged into the dark and the air was cold, just from the rippling current of the open window - but as the noises from outside penetrated through a filter. Muffled.
In the other room the voices of Raven and Dylan sounded low, confused, impossible to understand what they were saying. Jude had studied the creases on the forehead of his own reflection, while waiting for the return blood to flow at a rate rational - had looked at the confusion of the hair and it was like seeing you scroll through the hands of Dylan, still. Raven's hands.
Then came the sound of the door, closed with a thud dry, and he had seen the eyes of the flare just crumble. The heart beats increase, frightened, and relief under the skin as melt from the nerves conduct electricity. A contrast that was a thrill, and the clear perception that nothing of what was happening could find some sense. Not even looking for him.
When he was returned to the room, the lamp spreading light still the same warm and welcoming which he had painted the night and seemed more absurd than the particular. Inconsistent and cruel, too, a detached cruelty. Impartial. Jude had
off without thinking too much, agreeing with a deep sense of defeat the advancing darkness.
When the eyes had become accustomed to the night just enough to recognize the outlines of the room, had to walk slowly through the carpet on which he had almost succumbed to the temptation of not feeling good and went to open the window.
The smell of smoke still permeated the air and it was a satisfaction to feel distracted fade moment by moment. Gradually. Taking away even the memory of Dylan too distinct lips, lips Raven, and dissolving any remaining cold with excitement. After
was not nothing left.
not the usual distance from wall to wall - not the proportions of every day, all night, spending years to cover the walls of faces and eyes - not even the certainty of having done the right thing. Or the wrong one.
Only the static sense of expectation.
And the knowledge that should be no confusion, back then, but that the chaos has a way of life intolerable to fill the void.
Sitting in the center of the chair of all time, with the knees extended up to press against the arms and neck sunk in the pillow, Jude keeps his eyes fixed on the clock on the wall and waits.
Think about Raven and Dylan closed car, maybe the words are flowing between them. The residual stress of his abrupt exit and the resulting confusion - the concern, maybe. The sense of guilt and irritation.
would like to escape to this land primed for a future that calm, serene. Forget having to live before I am about to follow up and close our eyes not to look at the pictures. Raven is impossible to avoid when his face stares from every angle - Jude had never noticed before because it was overwhelming, his presence. Than it was constant, continuous and precious.
The fact that there is even a picture of Dylan is almost a joke, from that point of view. As if the surface of his life had not yet had time to record it, when in fact the deepest core has already been subverted by his presence. Since his arrival.
And something inside it is already suffering the farewell.
running his hands over his face, Jude closes tight fists - they pressed against his eyes. Each tick of the clock is the mark of a hypnotic slow and could not say what he is trying to achieve - whether it will require a meditation at some point during the evening, or if you just take your breath and speak. Let flow the words that are stuck in the throat for too long - from the afternoon of that kiss, maybe. Or perhaps before.
Maybe ten years looking for a way to give them a voice and it was just silly to pretend that something would work - Raven knew that slow down the pace to let him meet them, who stopped long enough to focus and shoot. Or just longer.
to get some 'breathing.
Out on the road, the traffic is calm.
cars come and go sporadically - rumble of engines that fade away and leave ample room for silence and darkness.
half-closed eyelids can see the light of the moon cut out spaces on the floor and thinks that at another time would perhaps have liked to photograph them. Now, even seems to look hard. Too
difficult.
He never thought to be particularly tuned to the realities of the people - it tends to work with their shadows, to see what they say and feel rather than on the faces in his voice. To distinguish the essence of its form in the air from the space they occupy.
For Raven has always been that way at the bottom. His body is the essential means of transmission.
wonder why now warn the skin, his presence, just beyond the boundaries of the room.
did not hear the car to get there - he has not heard it stop. Nothing close to doors or footsteps on the stairs - even the sound of breathing. But
can almost see him, mate, nascosto dal legno pesante della porta: una mano ferma sulla maniglia, l'altro pugno stretto intorno alle chiavi. La mascella serrata per contenere la tensione e gli occhi chiusi come per concentrarsi.

L'alzarsi e l’abbassarsi del petto, sotto la stoffa della camicia.

Il corpo rigido. Contratto. Vibrante di energia trattenuta a stento.

È un nuovo brivido – sollievo e panico – quando infine lo scattare della serratura annuncia il suo ingresso.

Bagnandosi le labbra, Jude si impone di restare fermo – non voltarsi, non piegarsi in avanti, come se qualunque movimento potesse sbilanciare l'equilibrio troppo precario che ha tenuto in piedi quella serata fino ad adesso.

Ascoltando i suoi steps on the floor - clink of metal against metal and dull thud of metal on wood when laying the keys on the table - try to imagine his expression. Is waiting to see if a move, or whether only an internal battle that has still not allowed to say a word.
When the silence continues, however, and his companion remained motionless by the table, left with no other choice but to start him in conversation.
"Have you brought home?" demand for dry throat feeling as if they were not talking days.
"What did you want me to do?" is the answer, abrupt. "Dylan has enough trouble these days. It is not necessary to add nervous breakdown Free. "
Prosecutors vibrate in his voice, and it is impossible to misunderstand - Jude thinks that maybe he should resent the hostility evident, but when they are only ever takes a breath and panic relief to invade the lungs. Tighten and relax the nerves. Why
remembers all too well the words of Dylan when he pushed back - her face flushed and her lips were moist and bright black pupils dilated. Excitement had given way to confusion and then fear, when he was pulled up in a hurry.
probably is a sign of what is abstracted from the present moment, the fact that I can not even feel guilty. Not really.
Throwing back his head to leave go a sigh.
You press your fingers on his temples, trying to regain control.
"You okay?" asks the meantime, while on the floor in the footsteps of Raven begin to mark a rhythm, slow, and her body closer. "You told him that it was not for him?"
"I told him that was not his fault. And I had no idea what the fuck you got it."
Jude nods without looking back and move your hands so your palms rub your eyes.
Now that the time has come all the words to over the past days - the explanations and excuses, and pleas for help - they seem to evaporate in the tension of silence.
Raven is a presence property a few feet away - the same lump of contracted energy - and he feels upon his disapproval as a weight was impossible to sustain. She feels her eyes and sees the taut line of his lips - the impassive expression when it wants to control anger - and find a way to start.
Explain.
It is to let go a laugh shaking instead. A drop her hands on her arms, muttering helplessly: "I do not even know me."
"Shit." In a moment
Raven has abandoned its impassive stillness to cover the distance that still separated them and sit on the edge of the sofa - the back bent forward, his elbows on his knees down. Staring into her from below - a mixture of concern and impatience. Frustration.
"You can not uscirtene with bullshit like that, Jude. Not now. Not after that ..." He shakes his head incredulously. "You ran away . Have you in the lurch without a reason, without which nothing had happened, and ..."
"I was scared," she interrupted him. "I would have to implement it soon, but I did not think, and when I realized it was too late to draw back slowly. Smartly."
"Elegantly? What the fuck got to do elegance, Jude, and what the fuck does 'afraid'? I was eighteen, when did you stop to use that excuse!"
"It is not a excuse. "
Look away, Jude stands up.
has never been easier to talk to Raven about certain things - the words become entangled and it is like trying to explain the wind: you can not say that sometimes even just walking to the his side gives the same effect as running and that is embarrassing looking back at him to find his breath just a bit 'speeded up. Studying the living expression of his eye - the location of one drop of sweat from his forehead to the neck - and know that enthusiasm is just what moves it, when exhaustion is behind your actions. Need to keep up and nothing else.
At seventeen he tried to make him understand. But every concern Raven was confused with another, and merely shook her shoulders to reassure him - let him back, to go and drag away some other friends.
When Jude has finally given up waiting for his return only decided to follow him, though - to imitate him - he did not believe, however, that would be succeeded. And when there is successful, then he forgot the rest.
It took ten years, and Dylan, to give him the uncomfortable feeling of star running out of time.
"Listen," he says, bypassing the chair nervously. "I do not ... I mean, what did you think would happen tonight? Sex, all three together? And then tomorrow morning what, breakfast?"
"It would not be the first time. "Annoyed, Raven squints." Christ, Jude, but you've got? Just you have problems with this now? "
" It is not the same thing, "he replies, exasperated." We've never done anything like this. Never. Dylan is ... Are you already half in love, Raven. And he is of you. "
" And you, "is pointing this out." And you with him. And I really can not see the problem in all this. "
" The problem is that in reality these things do not work. Do not last. ... We would not only casino, and Dylan already has a pretty messed up his life, and you're already more than enough to complicate the lives of anyone come into your orbit without adding too ... "
" So what, you've decided to complicate it all before you even start was the best way to simplify it? "Raven interrupts him, spreading his arms - but he knows him too well not to tell a change of tone in his voice.
beginning, there was irritation, concern and confusion to something difficult to understand.
Now the irritation is becoming annoying - the trouble Raven always flaunts his lowest against any weakness - and the concern is following the usual trend in anger.
would be almost funny, to recognize a reaction mirrored in their nerves - for that is since you know, he and Raven, that all disputes arise from nowhere and feed on their own arrows. It would be funny were not so clear size too real of that discussion. The feeling that, left to itself, that fire could spread to all. Devour them as well.
Taking a deep breath, look at Jude himself a quiet corner of refuge to regain control. Let go of the air, murmuring: "Raven ..."
The other is already fired up, though, and is already advancing towards him.
"Then what the fuck would mean that I am already more than good enough to complicate things for me, eh? Dylan should be protected?" asks, irritated, and he finds himself with a challenge to look at him, every good intention already filed.
"Why do you think it's a walk to be with you? Start to own, I mean, not only end up in your bed every now and then."
Raven does not respond, merely to support his eye - and that is what Jude has always hated more, his ability to carry on a discussion remaining impassive. They are the only time really stands still - bright eyes, black stone, and sharpened in the rock face - to give the impression of being able to withstand anything. Not to hear anything.
The temptation is to succeed every time to crumble. Tap on the surface to turn it into an earthquake.
"You think it's easy to follow?" continues, moving a step forward. "How simple it was in these years? Do you think that our history being in the least stable? I mean, it's a life that we carry out this fast and loose and we have not yet decided to make a commitment!"
front of him, Raven just raises her chin and blows air out in a sarcastic snort.
"is a plural of politeness, what, why not say clearly that I was the one not taken, the effort, as is clearly there that want to get there?"
"Why is not your fault," admits Jude, looking away. "I I never asked to do so, anyway. Or we would have had this discussion long ago. "
And for a moment you take the time to imagine such things could have been if he had addressed the issue when for the first time he has felt the need. When everything was still confused , any law to write and test, or immediately after, when some had already begun to take stock. When there were few that were broken and rebuilt - after the death of Mark, in the long months passed without Raven is not even deign to call . O on his return, when he had too much need to feel him close to bring up past issues - ask for some explanation.
would not be here now, that's for sure. There would be Dylan - or in one form or another - and probably there would not even them. It is almost a certainty.
but has not yet finished that thought to metabolize the hands of Raven pressing on his shoulders, pushing it back until it hit the couch with his back.
is not a violent act - this is not an attack - and probably if Jude had been focused on what the company was doing would have been able to avoid it, but for a moment the surprise is so strong that she can hardly read the expression on his face.
"Do you know the thing that makes me most angry about all this talk, Jude?" feels murmur, too close. "Not so much because you're pulling out some bullshit because as usual you do under the idea of being able to go a few steps from your path. Nor is the fact that you decided that you can not work or that you are dealing the thing as if the problem were my fucking instead of this. No. " Shaking his head, increases the pressure on his shoulders - looks at him incredulously. "What really seems to me crazy is that we are here. Now. To do the Albert and Mike's situation, when I thought that this was the only thing ever that we were both quite keen to avoid."
eyes fixed on her, Jude swallows.
"Al and Mike have nothing to do in all this, Raven. "
" They do not go? "The other laughed, letting go." Jude, spent ten years to tell bales to cling to something that stood only for the wrong reasons! And you come and tell me now that I have not ever made no commitment but the fault is yours because you never asked to do so? What the hell has happened to the policy of 'bring out the problems before they become too big'? When did we started to tell us crap, too? Pretend nothing happened? Mind? "
And he thinks it could indicate certain occasions when thousands of small differences seemed too stupid to make a national case - which could speak to Keith, for example, or of all persons who have income and expenditure of their lives, leaving behind only a framed photograph. It could be said of Mark. Of absolute helplessness and emptiness.
says only: "I've never lied" instead. It is hardly surprising really when the other, still laughing, he leaves a step saying: "Jude. It was just the other night that I asked you if there was any problem and you said no, everything was fine." Why
right, for that matter, and Jude knew even then, as he shook his head, pressing her cheek into the pillow. As if he knew that Raven had been able to read what was inside, the detail that would hurt - not the kiss exchanged with Dylan nor the desire to touch it. Even the confused feelings that it gave him with Raven or imagine that it happened to accommodate - not even the fear of groped. The terror that will work, or may fail. But what
.
Swallow the words as if the trust were not enough to ensure a solution. Taking advantage of the usual discretion - the emphasis with which Raven has always supported freedom of choice - to hide something that would be his right to know from the outset.
can not even use their confusion as an excuse, because that is the more fundamental problem: that at some point in their path, a few corners that he did not noted, Raven has ceased to be a support to get complicated. It stopped being someone who can help unravel the threads to become the one who weaves the threads. It confuses them. It tears them without warning. It is a betrayal
deeper than a simple adventure, this, and it is also difficult to understand which of them has been, to defect first. Why the Raven left alone, perhaps, pulling straight on his way without looking back, but he never yelled for him to know that it was following. It is the fault of both, basically, and a conclusion is almost harmonic taking into account the fact that since we all know is acting. But do not make it any less hard hit.
The knowledge that the damage was done.
"Raven ..." Jude began, uncertain, but the other interrupts him with a nervous gesture.
"The funny thing is that you speak as if you were the poster of the exclusive relationship, then just when you look someone in the eye to make you forget all the good intentions. I mean, at least if I do not think it is appropriate to do something with someone I can not do it . "
The look she throws at that point, it has the tinge of bitter amusement that Jude recalled from their adolescent days, when it seemed that his friend was also an experience to feel bad experience.
"Really, you're just like Albert that forced Mike to become an adulterer because he was convinced it was the best way to live a healthy relationship when he is at first sex that's hard. "
And there is much to focus, to understand why continue to beat up the key: Albert and Mike have always been a model for them, the paradigm of something to avoid. They measured the strength of their bond on the grid created by the report immediately, and was browsing those balances that have learned to stay afloat. A talk.
Jude remembers all too well the frustration of Mike, in those days: the force with which his hands touched him seemed to respond to those mechanisms - other than being an expression of discomfort, opportunity to vent. It was strange.
And Raven looked at them with eyes in disbelief of those who can not understand how some stories can get stuck in such misunderstandings - is a still image fixed in the memory of his back pressed against the wall, and Mike in the house screaming for something that did not represent the real problem and Albert pretended to listen when in fact he did not understand. There was the light that fell from above, filtering through the clouds as if it were a miracle, and he smoked with short puffs - cigarette consumed quickly, between nervous fingers. In certain circumstances
Jude never knew if they were stronger concern or desire, while measuring the distance between their bodies and minutes that were missing before you rush out Mike. But when Raven had overthrown his head against the wall, wailing "will never learn to speak ?" had been unable to restrain himself and had filed to kiss his mouth, laughing, fingers closed around his wrist to catch the cigarette.
"It's not so easy," he murmured, taking his mouth. Raven nodded, wearily.
And from that day had begun to face things head-on with each other.
"Albert has made up his mind to Mike a lot of crap," is to say, now, slowly, knowing full well that this is not the issue. "I've never had to do a shit instead."
Raven's face, the smile is sharp and provocative.
"No, of course. I'm the one who gives orders, either."
"God, Raven!" protest him, exasperated. "Do not put words in my mouth that I did not say."
"Tell me one thing: if neither of them has ever made any commitment, it would have held together all this time, do you?" replies the other. "It's not a matter of convenience because you said the same: to bring forward this story is a struggle. What then? Any contract that had escaped me? We must do together tot photos and then everyone on his way, both the responsibility we have nothing to do or is it just the sex that works particularly well? A set of two things, perhaps? "
" We do not try to shift the blame only on me! "exclaims Jude, advancing a step.
once seemed funny that even during the worst quarrel he and Raven were not able to stay off the 'each other. At eighteen we often reflected, after every fight ended in bed, pressing her cheek on the shoulder of Raven and closed his eyes under his languid caresses, thinking it would be a sign that too. As a law regulating the physical attraction.
Now the excitement of the battle is soon tempered by the perception of the beauty of the other: Can not stop to contemplate when you're running at his side, faster than I would give my breath.
"I never said that our history does not make sense, but you did not even have thought the opposite," he continues, looking into his eyes. The other
snorts in disbelief.
"I thought that some things are more important than usual promises."
"Some things, what? Type actions, the facts?" He lifts his head, unconvinced. "Why are talking about facts, I remember feeling very honored when instead of coming to ask me a hand you disappeared off the face of the earth without even a greeting."
And maybe if Raven was a little 'less close - if the air was a bit' less tense, the light a bit 'warmer - Jude would notice him immediately crumble of his eyes.
perceive the frost, and take breath, and being immediately aware of what the land is desecrated. But the blood in his temples beating faster than usual, more than in love, and eyes are too bright. The distorted perspective.
"You let go six months without even bothering to let me know you were alive!" continues, his voice even higher. "Six months, Raven ... And then we talk about trust?"
Silence, then, turn around words like gauze resting on a scratch.
front of him, Raven is still, but the fixity of the face is different from that which usually accepts its challenges.
Softer, maybe. Or maybe just more tired.
A mask worn anything else because it costs too much effort.
"Sorry," murmured Jude. And the other looks away.
moves a step backwards.
For a moment, the succession of bewilderment and complicity that was the story of that night appears to stabilize a sense of community in Acute Comrade Jude looks around - mechanical gestures - and knows even before approaching the door, which stands for leave.
Escape at that moment as if it could be used to escape.
What paralyzes him, however, is entirely new awareness of his own helplessness: Since you know, Jude did not Raven never had any doubt that, even in the worst moments, it still remained to listen. Could urlarsi him but if one changed the tone of voice the other is targeted accordingly, spontaneously.
Now Raven is not sure how to react if he reached out to stop its release - not sure which would be enough to mention. Ask him to stop for a moment. Do not go.
not sure even that would stop him best.
"Raven ..." he murmurs, taking a step forward by instinct, but the other did not even once while he paints a peremptory gesture.
"Forget it, better that we close the discussion," he says.
"I did not pull out that story."
"Dormiamoci above, will you?" Raven continues, without listening.
has already opened the door, moved a step beyond the threshold. And even if the voice is the same as always - just as harsh, perhaps, less hot water - has not stopped him away. It keeps your back straight - too tight - and gestures than usual.
All enclosed in that distance can escape his attention.
"Okay," says Jude, however, because there is more to say.
only push the hands towards the bottom of the pockets, as the door closes on an output that seems too final to silence any concerns. Just take a breath and close my eyes, not see photos that look from the walls.
And then give back to the door, in turn - to turn your back to the keys that Raven has left on the table, the ashtray that Dylan had leaned on the couch. Back to the other side of the room where the light of the moon has now almost reached the chair. And let yourself go on the pillows, like every other night.
light a cigarette.
And eat the night, slowly. Mouthful after mouthful.

ROSA DEI VENTI is licensed under a CCA NC-ND 2.5 Italy . Permissions beyond the scope of this license May be available at: http://rosaventi.altervista.org/copyrigth.html .

Bronte Versus Stinger Emu Boot Difference

Rain rain rain

rains.
September has never been so rainy. Grey.
This town has turned into a novella Lloro. If someone is unaware of the geographical location, can be found in Colombia.
One of the rainiest cities in the world. How can we not worship? rolls
In fact, my interest in this city - more than forecast - is linguistic.
Why English llorar is a verb and means to cry, is often used as a metaphor for the rain. So
llora mean it rained. The beauty is that it is a case.
Lloro was a native chief and the town is named after him. It 's a coincidence that the name recalls the rain and the city is the wettest in the world. I find it a nice thing. Although I'm really pretty strange things.
And it is stupid, do a post just to say that it is raining and that there are coincidences, I realize. You can always ignore me. I still find him adorable, though.
certainly find less agreeable thunder, if only for Lilli crying and needs to Starmie in arm strength until he stops. Weighs 13 pounds!
In fact, when it rains I feel sad. But that melancholy is beautiful. Soft .
What makes you get under the blanket with a book of poetry and music in the background. Or just stare at the ceiling and to self-inflict a little happy thoughts.
Thoughts that - at the time - all have the face of the failure.
Then mom calls me just to tell me that it's raining. I say it to him that I know that both have nothing laid out. He asks me if I
I'm scared for the thunder. I say that only Fe and Cla I and I can not go running, because the last time I rode in the rain, I almost broke her leg and arm.
This, means that they are still sadder than usual.
But she says that back soon and bring me coffee caramel, even if I drink bitter. Drinking is not healthy for her love and disgusting things, but does not text ... she always stretches with milk. That's not really coffee.
What an ugly non-sense. -__-
Neruda I leave and return to Ireland to study and ten thousand schemes that make the fairy tale. * Loves *
I am a bit 'tired. Maybe a little' connect msn-prehistoric.
Kiss

madly love this song.

PS My neighbor has decided that September is the * ideal * time to start practicing for the test of harmonic Christmas!
Then one wonders why I'm wrong. I have to put White Christmas already now!
Tips to make him stop?

39 Weeks Pregnant Sharp Pains

* w * When it's all Said and Done.

I am pleased to announce that
Schmetterlingseffekt ended.

SE 25. Where do we go from here

(: Thank you all:)

Side Effects Of Stopping Yaz

[Raised by Wolves] The calm before the storm

Title: The calm before the storm.
Author: Tabata
Rating: PG
Pairing: Pete / Striker (outline)
Genre: Introspective
Warnings: slash
Notes: Contains somehow spoiler for the second book the saga, "Matelots . It applies to HMS Maouropia Treasure Hunt of fanfic_italia
Disclaimers: Pete, Striker, Will, Gaston, Sarah and all the other characters, settings, ships, and the plots mentioned do not belong to me, but they are part of the series "Raised by Wolves" ; created by Hoffmann WA, which holds all the rights of the case and with which I have no link. For more information, please visit his website ( here) and maybe buy a book.
In a nutshell, I do not know, she does not know me, these characters are not mine and I do not take a euro.
Summary: "The nightmare always begins with the clouds on the horizon."

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

The nightmare always begins with the clouds on the horizon.
Heavy gray clouds like smoke, heavy rain and ready to download on them hell at the first opportunity. The ship on which he was not was the Lilly but another much smaller and faster. The wooden bulkhead was still good, the whole sail and the boards creaked under his feet as they would if the ship had been at sea a few months.
Pete had no idea why he was there or were following that route. He watched the horizon and saw nothing but sea, so far from the coast there was nothing they could take as a reference point for orientation.
the ship appears deserted and he did not know if there was really somebody, somewhere. He felt even some distant voice. Even the waves, but did not care. The only thing that seemed to attract his attention, in fact, was the fact of being there and not knowing why. He had never been so drunk on board a nava at random. Not without Striker, at least.
At that point in the dream, the distant rumble of thunder heralded the arrival of another ship. At first it had heard, of course, but now every time waiting for that sound, whenever pointed to look far to anticipate.
At first it was not a shadow vague and then went defining itself more and more, to become the heavy figure of a ship without a flag. Night after night Pete had tried to distinguish the figures that were walking on the bridge but however hard he tried, he had not dug anything.
was like when he tried to read. The letters were there, very clear on paper, but continued to move without giving him time to figure out what they wanted to say.
Now, however, there was something different. He put his hands on the edge and leaned out into the water.
The ship looked more closely. Not much, but enough to realize that if he was on Lilly was because that was there before him and was looking for more than a month, still unknown in those waters. Now even the men on deck had something familiar, were Will and Gaston, saw even the nuances of French red hair fool. She wanted to scream but a shadow stretched beside him and grabbed his attention more than anything else. He did not need to turn to recognize Striker in the back straight and elongated shape of the face. His shadow was so much smaller and less slender than his.
"You know the choice is yours, Pete. It always has been. "
When he turned, however, Striker was not there.
And there was even a shadow.
He awoke suddenly, surging to the point where the hammock began to sway. Striker
mumbled something unintelligible and turned away, regardless of agitation of the strings under his body, reached out to him and squeeze him. Pete had done nothing away all day, coming to crush when he was needed, but there was nowhere else to sleep on the boat was overcrowded and had adapt. Let him do, however, because it seemed to him that he still has the air breeze of dreams and hoped that this would be a good way to get rid of.
thought of the boat away from him without the shadow of the striker's body at his side. He thought back to the desire of Striker that had made them fight and that would make them fight even if he had not sold. Only it did not. It was not fair. He sighed, deciding that the night did not lead the board as Will said.
The night was not wearing nothing but the sunrise and the arrival of Sarah.
But that, unfortunately, still he did not know.


Note: I am afraid that
notes will be longer than the story itself, this time. Is there anyone who has read this series of books over to me and to two (2) persons who have at least the second Anobii first book? I hope not, because otherwise I will martyr as I pulled at random for the size of the various boats and description of Striker that, I admit, I do not remember how it is done if that is lower than Pete. Or at least I think. What I am certain is that Pete is very tall and slender and is as beautiful as a greek God. Now, I admit that I wanted to talk about the Golden One , but I did not know how to make the speech and I preferred to think that just one thing that the author does not allow us to read because the books are written from the perspective of Will. I dare say that this is the first fanfiction Italian on this series around? Can I? Although a little 'I'm ashamed, really. I could do better: (
I am aware that this is a very little attempt successful foray into this saga. The idea was to do it justice with a totally different thing, but then I had no time and this is what it came out. Take it for what it is, maybe in the future I can do better. Baci.

How To Use Susten 200

87
David - Revival

City of shit.
avenues that converge towards the usual cross, a skyline too quickly smothered by mountains and the stupid road map which is divided into zones so as to be clearly defined in its simplicity, even nauseating, he studies the dislocation.
Rosenfield. Whole
km infested by green areas whose only use seems to be to piss dogs and a lake with paved years before would have been avoided, for example, to force the district courts to set against that of art galleries. Avoiding that the sacred and the profane meet, perhaps, and could trigger the apocalypse.
would be a good idea.
City of shit. David
Sometimes you find yourself thinking that no one else would be able, in an area so small, with impunity to carve out something closer to a double life more than honorable. No one devoid of his cunning, however, or his nerve. His innate talent for survival.
Rosenfield is able to be terribly selective - a kind of organic farming in which each cluster of cells must necessarily evolve their facilities if not will risk succumbing to boredom.
Yet as his genius is indisputable - as years of field experience have taught him to slip between neighborhoods evading all the trouble lurking - a city of shit is still a city of shit. Nothing to do.
And no wonder so much a fool as Allen has done for trespassing in the district where a bloody ridiculous pile of bricks that someone masquerading as art has attracted the attention of his ass taking his steps in a gallery fucking jerk.
Magan was there, of course - always the theory that a city the fuck is this in particular because the space needed to avoid trouble is colonized by certain little lake with ducks. O dull meadow of daisies.
And when the most of your idiot members met your wife you can be sure that you are preparing for big trouble - trouble historians. Just what you need on the eve of a trial.
Shit.
David has now lost count of all the times he chewed between the teeth, that word, since returning home he found the girl asleep in her bedroom. He did not even
had to wonder what he was doing in bed at seven - it is simply moved in the room. He poured whiskey in silence. He looked at Megan.
And maybe that sentence was to melt in your mouth all the bitter poison more subtle - perhaps the icy composure with which he articulated his wife, property: "I did not think would have gotten that far."
But it did not swim until exhausted, after, or push the turbo Jaguar along the strip of asphalt of the highway. It is not sip white wine served in that space or anonymous note that girl with the cheeky insistence of the game more intriguing.
If Megan had so far maintained his usual silence ice, with respect to the Holmes case, congratulations to Allen who welcomed them - with as much determination that he told her her husband had struggled to get it, that office, and about how much he had wanted to - which obviously could not detonate a tension already exasperated at the start.
David knew that a showdown was inevitable - he had never deceived to be able to get away.
What I had not brought to account, however, was the fact that the disgust of his wife would have stuck him with that stubborn - that that phrase would come back again and again like an echo. Echo insistent.
I did not think would ever come to that.
"Shit," repeated, gloomily. But even that seems to serve.
Because she had spoken again, forcing him face to face with what could not afford to look - his daughter, who grew up just enough that it would be enough to imagine him with his hands of Holmes, the faces of the girls that they would have had to ignore the scars in court, and those just young boys who should have been nailed to the wall. The faces of their parents - of the brothers.
of their fathers.
And what self-control to force the nerve to stand firm continues to break something like a chipped disk that always stops on the same note - a dissonant scratch.
Cigarettes sandpaper. David threw
still burning cigarette butt on the sidewalk - without looking around you is made off of the passers. He sank right into his jacket pocket, prompted the locks of the Jaguar.
Nothing.
simply can not afford any of this - think now - bear responsibility for any crap in the world can not be his business and what they have done if Holmes can perhaps relate to the private conscience of every common citizen in question is quite out of place that touches her, especially as long as it committed to playing a role that just happens to be a guarantee of balance in any adversarial democratic world. Who happens to also represent his job - nothing personal and no position subjective.
None of this, absolutely.
But damn it, will also be entitled to practice his profession without that this is because every time mutinies family of hypocrites - not that he is forced to feel like a monster or a ruthless social climber if his career will necessarily depend on the fate of his client. Just because the system works so fucked.
is hard enough.
Maintain control of the nerves, and having to make a religion of security. Posting of a dress to wear every morning, like a goddamn black gown. As the absolute determination of all eyes - the perfect setting of the voice.
is not a trivial matter.
And he wanted to look his wife in the eye - say that there are times when he is tired. Tired so deeply that not enough sleep, and not just smoke. Not enough to silence inflicted Samuel and not enough girls in clubs - not just the Jaguar and even his daughter, who took his first steps on the carpet.
Sometimes you can almost not be able to bear it, the night - or day that is prepared in the dark. The streets too notes a city that has thee like a sticky slime or as a dark hungry animal - a pillow down over his face.
mouth. Why David
now rotate the key under the dash - probably push the accelerator until the bit rate not tighten the jaws with the required strength. And maybe even be able to take off from the mind the image of Herrera and his fuckin twenty years - suicide unconsciousness with which he approached his father and the loss of Samuel North, April or innocence intact. Megan's disgust. But it would still
that phrase, be sure to find it in the classroom. Certain of finding just the silence becomes more dense, and the sky darker. The speed slowed down.
I did not think would ever come to that.
"Shit!" hisses again - because that night it looks really unable to say the least.
Why the lights come on command, and the Jaguar shows no signs of life. The engine will not start.
And he can not quite believe that the battery has decided to plant it in the lurch right now. Just a night like that, without prior notice. Even without apparent reason.
bending down to press his forehead on the steering wheel, floor closes his eyes.
You can not - think, and laugh. He is to rush out and kicked in the body - to punch the windows.
opens the door with his usual attention, though - leaning to the left side of the phone to his ear. And look at the people on the sidewalk in front of - the insignia of a greenish local kids. The bend in neon letters.
averts look.
He can not even say why it decided to wait for the mechanic sitting on the floor of a door step after - it must be since he was fifteen years since I camped on the sidewalks and of course he is not never crossed my mind to do it since then. Samuel
probably would be the only one able to recognize in that scenario - none of his colleagues to seriously consider the fact that it is really him and maybe Megan would pull out without seeing it. Maybe even his own daughter. Keith
Yet it is setting, on the other side of the avenue. The
is staring from whole minutes, confused between the children who linger at the entrance of the pub with the green insignia. Protected by distance - from the crowd. Viewing
him.
It is not so much a surprise to find him on his way so soon either discover the wonders of the mind has its presence almost with relief, like something you've been waiting without knowing it. Nor is the desire to seek a contact - David is not going to try again. The decision was taken that night of the show, I decided it seriously. Issue closed.
But his gaze.
must feel safe, the boy - probably does not suspect that he is aware of his presence and has no reason to raise your defenses, so. Or hide.
And it's a different face, one that frowns on the side across the street - is the spontaneity of looks that David still did not know the seriousness of an expression that makes it seem more adult features and the eyes firmer. Balancing plans abruptly.
is almost unbelievable.
It is curious how the senses are allertino although there seems to be no reaction in the erotic act - strange that the desire to know the guy come back so strong right now that there is no intention nor perhaps energy to sew on any role. Now that every game is over.
But when the mechanic found a problem comes to the power supply system of the Jaguar - the car is brought to the workshop with the tow truck. He wants a car you can rent, he begins to make phone calls. Minutes pass, quickly.
And the eyes of Keith loses - the fatigue of a night that seems not to have to go on forever. In the package of cigarettes smoked at the foot of that step, while the road is empty and the music gradually becomes more distant. And his eyelids heavy.
One - David notes, glancing at the clock.
Instinctively, the focus returns to move the green insignia of the premises and the sidewalk is empty, the entry empty.
He throws his cigarette butt on the asphalt, dragging his feet.
"Is there a problem?"
Neither is surprised that much, when that voice slips to his shoulders. Whatever concerns
Keith is wrapped in an inexplicable calm this evening - reminds him a bit 'some old film in black and white or the famous Samuel fatalism.
There would probably be concerned if they had the energy. He turns slowly, however.
"The Jaguar," he says, and the surprise comes at the very moment when it sinks into her eyes - when he realizes that he is really there before and found the strength to come by myself this time. Without any pressure and it is not obligated to do so. After the embarrassment of the previous evening ...
"They had to bring in the workshop, seems to have a fault in the electrical system," she said, absently. "Nothing serious." Meanwhile
gaze penetrates her in a strangely fluid - David is not forcing the contact and he is not doing resistance. The notes
push hands in his pockets, though - shift weight from foot to foot.
"Yes, I saw the tow truck," finally comes to his voice - yet. "So I thought I'd come to see if everything was OK. Or if you needed something, well ..."
"I rented a car from Kenney, fortunately, is also open at night."
"Kenney? What other side of town?"
"I'll call a taxi."
Silence.
"If you want I can take you I would not be a problem," Keith ventured, moving unconsciously stepped back. Clearing his voice. "So I was going home, it would be a way ..." And David
inhale slowly. Inhale and feel the air going into the chest, penetrating into the lungs. Fill them.
"Shit," is repeated again. And then again, automatically: "Shit. Shit."
Why is not the evening suits, that - because he is not sure she could do it.
Why the fucking kid you colonize the brain for months and that gave you the sack as soon as you tried to kiss it can not slip back into your life as well, with an offer like that.
offer made by that candor, then, as if it were unthinkable load of other meanings - Completely out of place. Or as if the brain was fuck her favorite pastime. As if born for that.
Shit.
For a moment it is just about to ask him if he realizes - send him to hell or laughing in his face. Discovered in the first dark corner and put an end once and for all.
Chapter closed.
"All right. Thank you," replied the other hand, and evidently thinks there is something wrong. Something serious.
has this strange talent, Keith set off bombs at strategic points in your life unaware that as a child playing with fire. When it explodes some scares him, but instead you jump in the air. There is no way to avoid it.
And David estimates that are at least twenty years that is not sitting in the car on the passenger side with someone else driving. That are at least twenty years that happens to avoid deliberately look for something that resembles a embarrassment at an alarming rate, especially that are nearly twenty-five years does not feel that fear him inconceivable to kiss someone.
He must be the night of the revival, that one.
Or something in the universe must have subverted every logical law - the simultaneous explosion of all bombs Keith, perhaps. Perhaps only the image of his fist on the gear lever to decide the rhythm of the engine. Decide every thrust.
looks away quickly, wetting his lips.
"You think it might rain, tomorrow? "he murmurs, and immediately began mechanically to count how long since he happens to ask a question just as useless. The same idiot.
The other seems to take the issue seriously enough to stick his head toward the window, though. And respond with the utmost seriousness, "Perhaps there is some clouds ... in fact ..."
Wisely, he decides to drop the subject.
Keith has lived a rather small car - covered with cloth seats and a car crumpled more in tape embedded in the dashboard.
The most urgent goal of David at the moment is to persuade himself that the sense of constant discomfort comes from there: disabitudine by certain things in certain scenes. It fell from the absurdity of his image in such a context - he who only a few minutes before he sat on the sidewalk as a little boy any. Or like a beggar.
Perhaps you should seek a more convincing theory - assume.
not, you let it slide on the seat.
"Put the arrow. Turn right," he announces.
Amazed, the other's glances. "Right?"
"is not often in this neighborhood, I bet."
"Not often, no."
"I grew up there," he confesses. And the heart is blocked, the next moment, because he had not planned to say nothing of the sort. Why not make sense to say something about it at that kid and he has also always had to face serious difficulties with anyone who places of his childhood. Remember where you do not like - no one has ever done even with Samuel. Not even himself.
"Yes?" You were born here? " question, however, Keith and ensure that it becomes impossible to answer without running the risk of worsening the situation further. Without that silence becomes more eloquent than any word and a boy whatever may be said to have seen David Hamilton in distress.
"In one of the houses near the forest, to be exact," then said, hurrying to try cigarettes. "Then it was almost the whole campaign here. "
Silence.
" You can almost say that I have come to the world in a kind of stable. Like God, this? "
" An illustrious precedent ... "
" Yeah. "And suddenly
almost bursts out laughing, David. So, no reason.
" had thirty goats, my, and forty rabbits. I seem to recall even a milk cow for a certain period. Oh, and of course the chickens. I convinced my friend that one of them was the golden eggs every morning so that he could make the collection for me. "
" I had a vocation as a lawyer of the peasant, so ... "
" I leave it to you. My friend still believes now, that shit ... "
" It's still collecting the eggs? "
" Not exactly. "A smile." With age, has gotten worse, "he chuckles, and the nerves relax gradually. While the fatigue comes back to bite, and her eyes burned, and relaxes her head back against the seat of the car.
Slowly.
"In fact, everything happened so quickly that I did not have nearly the time of realize, and I fear many are still outstanding questions, "he murmurs." Important questions, you know? "
" With your friend? "
" Mh? Ah, no. No. "Another laugh." He is too linear in his madness. I'm talking about matters more complicated, more insidious. Perhaps the perspective of someone used to looking at the world from galaxies could untie the knot, who knows ... "he says.
And when Keith blushed slightly, asking:" What is it? ", The words come out almost alone, without he can intervene in any way to silence them. Or they would be safe.
It is even scary, if only we think.
If the mind is only local and wonders why it is doing - because that night, and why with that kid. Because in that way - as a call for help. An act of weakness.
"Shit," is repeated.
He continues ripeterselo even as a light cigarette, while lowering the window. As he speaks, exhaling smoke.
"Imagine yourself in twenty years," he murmured, looking straight ahead of him. "Imagine having spent his entire life ... I know. Physics? Imagine Enrico Fermi. And you are holding the secret of nuclear fission - the discovery of the century. Success and fame and immortality. It is a fundamental step to the evolution of science - the science you gave all of yourself. Do you follow me? " application.
"More or less ... I think so."
"Well," he says. "Now imagine that you know well the devastating impact that could have an atomic bomb - you are nothing meno che Fermi, del resto. Se non li conosci tu… E immagina di sapere anche che gli scienziati di Hitler stanno lavorando alla stessa ricerca, e che se anche tu riuscissi a tenere segrete le tue scoperte otterresti solo che qualcun altro giunga ai tuoi stessi risultati al posto tuo, magari… Senza che questo serva comunque a salvare una sola vita."

Keith gli lancia uno sguardo.

"Cioè, la mia scoperta sarebbe la bomba atomica? E io, sapendolo, dovrei decidere se andare avanti o lasciare che lo facciano i miei nemici?"

"Qualcosa del genere, sì," sbuffa David.

E pensa che a questo punto dovrebbe forse attendere una risposta - contare meccanicamente gli istanti di silenzio e lasciare ai pensieri the boy's time to articulate. Leave in the hands of their lives, all the past years. The years to come.
"It was an example of the shit," exclaims the other hand, because there must be a limit to the surreal. There must be something left to save from the catastrophe of that night - something of himself. A body that you can find in the morning, in the clothes she wears.
"Do not mind, I do not know that I take" short cuts, pointing out. "You can pull over here, we have arrived." And Megan
review of the road in the dark when it sticks to open the door. Revises April eyelashes resting on her cheek, her teddy bear. Feel the cigar out of his stepfather, in the air.
Needs whiskey.
It needs to come to feel the wind in your hair - close the fists on the rim of a wheel and tearing it from the lips of that boy, the force is lacking.
take back the kiss.
Instead it is the burning desire to caress your hands - the lightness. The temptation to push the mouth on the neck and really listen to his voice, the answer can not afford to hear. The end of everything. He has a fear
fucking might as well admit it.
Perhaps because it blocks the movement, now - so slowly turns and looks straight at me Keith. Black in black, with firmness.
As it always has.
"As regards the other night," begins, tightening close the door handle. "I do not think I have you still said I was sorry. I'm sorry I picked the wrong time, I mean, because at this point it is clear that I should wait."
Silence.
"Up until now," he adds, and the boy looks away as if you had touched a nerve. As if that statement had suddenly opened the door to a forbidden room. Dangerous territory.
But there seems no limit tonight, David - especially now that he saw his real face. Now that honesty has become a choice rather than an accident, and perhaps for the first time in years the possibility of discovering truly has become a almost physical need. Want to be known and to know and stay away from any form. Any
defense.
"Look at me," and then scans in a low voice, after watching him a long time.
and would prefer that he did not find the courage to obey him, in fact - that unwittingly dragged him away from the brink there closing it once and for all, that madness.
Yet when Keith looked up only to stop him over his shoulder is found to order them again, even more firmly: "Look at me."
and finds himself waiting for his eyes with a very clear awareness that this moment will remain etched forever in his life, however, is completed. That horizons will be different in each case - in any case terrible. And for once can concederselo too, to be afraid.
Taste the taste on your tongue and feel the emptiness in my stomach down. Feel it grow.
It is as if your feet slide down into nothing, when his eyes finally meet.
"Okay," she whispered - his voice just a little 'hoarse. A strange tone, not his.
Thins eyelids.
"What's wrong?"
Silence.
"Everything, in practice," then the boy answered, laughing nervously. "Why do not you do not want, is that ... is that they are capable."
takes a deep breath after. Search continue.
"Vivian has no problem living things as they come," makes clear. "I did. And I could not even get started, one night with you. Even leaving aside the next morning."
"Yeah. The next morning a lot of worries me too ..." he smiles, but no trace of irony in his voice and the other seems to have decided to continue his speech to the end.
"probably quite rightly, the other night," he continues, moving back to gaze out the window. "When you said you are not the type. ... Why are not the type, in fact." A sigh. "I'm not the type that can be driven by the attraction and that's it, that you let go. Or that living things instinctively, lightly. "
" lightly, "he repeats. Keith blushes.
" Yes. That is, "resumed." Vivian know he was a child - I know how to address certain things. How did you meet, I mean. I've never been able to. And I'm not saying that promises of fidelity or more before ... I mean, even that would not make sense. But ... David, the first time you bring it to you in bed did not even know his name. And if you've found it was just a month after the event, Vivian and I'm not, anyway. "Pause." There was not even that speech, "says the boy.
But David did not already listen more, lost in wonder at look into his eyes and wonder how it is possible that rationality plays a role as primary in the behavior patterns of a boy. If it is just a defensive strategy particularly well or if you lack any real attention to the base instead. If another would be different.
straightening his back, nods slowly.
not lucid enough to give accurate answers now - and yet can not ignore the fact that she feels empty. Exhausted.
And that has opened a wound, in a very deep part of himself. Keith who has been digging. That he allowed him to do so.
"Okay," he concludes. He wants to hurt him.
He wants to hurt him and gently kissed her forehead, in the meantime. Make him well.
clutching the fingers on his temple, pushing the hair away from her face.
"City of shit," he murmurs, because someone has to be blamed if that kid was able to massacre them a second time. It would be enough to distribute the nightlife in an area just a little 'wider - extending the boundaries of the district. And here we return to the question of the parks. Dell'Amenano
pond ... He shakes his head, opening the door.
"Can you go back to the center, from here?" Keith asks, then adds, laughing - even without waiting for the answer: "Yes. There is no danger that someone might get lost in Rosenfield, I bet ..."
And for a moment it seems the contact point is very close, actually - the boy smiles would really like any other his age: in a somewhat 'curious and a bit' nervous. Sincere.
"Yes, I would do it without problems ..." he says, with that tone of voice that only children are able to modulate. That forces you to forgive them anything. I just wanted to.
But David does not want to watch tonight - do not want to see anything.
not want to hear.
"With the transition, Keith," scans, and already the night air sharpens the eye and the perception of the earth under your feet makes it more solid balance. While the flame of the lighter lights up his hands, with its light hot. The shape of the fingers.
"Oh, here ..." he chuckles, before leaning into the passenger compartment. "It seems that I know your name, He must be what brings bad luck ..." Yet
extends his arm, after, and without another word the knuckles rubbing his cheek with a delicacy that do not even think of owning. That destabilizes him first.
Then he pulls back. He slams the door.
and faceless - inhaling the smoke - walks away.

ROSA DEI VENTI is licensed under a CCA NC-ND 2.5 Italy License . Permissions Beyond the scope of this license May Be available at: http://rosaventi.altervista.org/copyrigth.html .

Steel Seal Vs Thermagasket

[German Rap] Cross myself for good [PG 15]

Title: Cross myself for good
Author: Tabata
Rating: PG 15
Pairing: Bill / Bushido
Genre: Humor
Alerts:
slash Note: Applies to the HMS Maouropia Treasure Hunt of fanfic_italia
Summary: "Nobody knows where he is, but everyone knows it's there, somewhere"


CROSS FOR ME GOOD

One day he arrived Bushido and put them all sitting around a table, so that they are worried and they put on the face of a gangster, what is usually done only on the covers of glossy magazines in which someone wants to appear for some reason, marketing. Bushido is also very serious, indeed it seems broken and, if Fler must make an objective assessment, then it looks well aged ten years, which makes him a thirty year old beaten but rather a slap-forties, if you really need to be picky. Bushido
looked at them and says: "Guys, we have a problem" and they are now imagined that the last album did not sell enough, they have finished buying all the profits the mega-screen on which they saw the world and is now at risk of starvation, or if their is more gray than expected, which Bushido was put back in trouble rigando some judge's car, crushing or kids becoming locked up in jail in Austria, which would force Chakuza to go on ahead with his people and see who pulls air. Chakuza And he does not want at all.
But the problem seems to be anything, because Bushido reached into his pocket and unrolled on the table this piece of paper and they all went to see what it is. Above is a drawn figure is provided, between the legs of internationally recognized symbol to indicate the male reproductive system, which tells them two things: one, that figure is a male. Two, that Bushido can not draw.
"This is Bill," he says seriously and all tilt your head left and right, but just can not see the princess in that design. And so are committed to paying no attention to vedercela Bushido he snorts and quickly draw a crest on his head the little man. "Better that way?"
not seem very convinced, but the king decides to go ahead anyway because he has no time to waste on those who do not have enough imagination.
"And then?" Fler asks, why not actually understand what they're there to do in front of a stylized drawing of the equipment of her boyfriend.
"I do not find," says Bushido.
Among the children running around the table look puzzled, hallucinated and sometimes even vaguely concerned about the man who should lead them and that instead it is here to draw obscenity.
"What you find, exactly?" Ask Chakuza.
"Her G-spot," he says Bushido. "And now you help me find it."
not which may rise, however, because Bushido can not stand two things: the Italians and insubordination, and because it is already bearing Chakuza Camora friend who is Italian, the triggers of psychotic crisis not indifferent, perhaps it is better to listen to him.
Bushido is a weapon of red marker and starts drawing a series of X along the drawn figure. "It is not here," says scoring his neck, "neither here," the inner thigh, "neither here," the side. "And of course the places are to be excluded obvious as this, "he says, hiding the view of others, the purity of the princess. Although fake. Then remains motionless staring at the pattern, absently scratching his chin with the pen.
"It's not that ... maybe" dare Chakuza "... is, like, inside? "Bushido
shakes his head, without turning around and continuing to look at the map of the body of Bill as if it were the board of the Risk and did not know how to eliminate the last of the tanks are infringed by the stupid stupid Kamchatka and declare himself emperor of the world as well. "Negative," he says. "I have already tried every angle humanly possible. "
Among those attending run a thrill that borders on horror, but all try not to show it, hiding his disgust after coughing, blowing nose, improbable research contact lenses never brought .
"In recent weeks I have focused my research in these two areas," he went on Bushido, as if the situation was normal, they were normal and some of the most famous rapper Germans had been reduced to playing "Find Wally "on the naked body of a figure drawn. With the red marker, the king tries his chest and groin. "Nothing."
The others look at him with an eyebrow raised and he is quick to correct themselves. "Obviously, nothing-nothing but not what I'm looking for."
"Maybe it's feet," Fler test. "A lot of people like."
"or behind the knees," suggests Chakuza. "You could try."
Other Rotary Bushido try other options and the marks one by one with a small green rods as a reminder. "Once my girl had a crush on a point just behind his back," said Eko, writhing like an eel in an attempt to indicate what he is saying.
"Many say that the inside of the elbow is very sensitive," joins Saad, Bushido arousing the curiosity of trying to push it, just to see.
When Bill enters the room, what you see is a twist of men touching each other in parts absurd. Chakuza, say, Fler and is standing behind him is desperately trying to figure out what exact part of the knee are talking about.
'A little farther on, "says the Austrian. "Right, Fler! Right! You have taught kindergarten. "
Saad is perplexed but not at all shocked by the fingers of Bushido that pressing the skin, because it does not appear to be any effect. "Are you sure this is the point?" Ask the Tunisian.
"It's not that I remember one very well."
They are all so busy that no one cares about Bill, who has time to approach and study well the map of himself with a smile. "This is what you were doing while I was waiting in the room!" Exclaims, raising his caricatures covered with crosses as a cemetery.
The men caught red-handed feel very embarrassed if they were not actually doing anything wrong and stop there as they are, with one knee on the other hands, or arms folded, watching their strange princess who looks on and smiles well aware that you have all the papers in to tease. Oddly, though, Bill does not and prefers it to Bushido scrambling, looking for a sensible justification for that scene. Bushido
course, is not one that is justified is one that pulls two fists into the backs of those around him, requiring him to compose himself and then clears his throat, trying to appear so attractive and irresistible that his princess decided not to take action ..
Bill puts his open hand on the sheet and the time one hundred and eighty degrees, so it can be better observed. "What you're looking for, exactly?" Bill asks, repeating the question without knowing the Chakuza.
"Your G-spot," he says without shame Bushido. And besides, even having the decency to, what else could he look on the bare outline of Bill, unless you make him believe that he was having a map in memory?
Bill smiles. "Let's do this," he says, shaking fingers and curling the ball into a drawing. He takes the pen from the man's fingers and smiles. "I sign on me with an X and you come with me to look beyond, what do you say? "
Bushido is already in the bedroom even before he finished the sentence.
Bill does not just have to uncork the marker and greet the other hand, before closing the door and start the treasure hunt.



Notes:
There was a time when I wrote things make sense ... but not anymore! Now you have these micro-fic completely out of the grace of God those good old times when it was still possible to read something of mine and believe there was some logical reason behind every word. * Sighs thinking about the good old days *
And for those about to open my mouth and tell me, but the G-spot I did not have only women? The answer is who cares. And then, perhaps I have never given me the impression that Bill was male? I do not understand oo

Lola Luftnagle Clothes

words not his

"Death devagar"

slowly quem não Morre exchange of ideas, no exchange of speech, avoids its own contradictions.
Dies slowly he who becomes the slave of habit, repeating every day the same path and the same grocery shopping. Who would not change a brand, do not risk to wear a new color, you can not talk to strangers.
Dies slowly he who makes televisãoo your guru and your partner everyday. Many can not buy a book or a movie ticket, but many can, and yet alienate himself before an image tube that carries information and entertainment, but it should not, even with only 14 inches, taking up so much space in a lifetime.
Dies slowly he who avoids a passion, who prefers black on white and the record straight in an untamed whirlwind of emotions, just those that recover shining eyes, smiles and sobs, hearts from the stumbling and feelings.
Dies slowly he who does not overthrow the table when is unhappy at work, who does not risk the certain for the uncertain after a dream, who is not allowed, since the life, to flee from sensate advises.
Dies slowly he who does not travel, not read, does not listen to music, who does not see the joke himself.
Dies slowly he who destroys her self-esteem. It may be depression, which is serious illness and requires professional help. Then dies every day who do not let themselves be helped.
Dies slowly he who does not work and who do not study, and in most cases this is not opçãoe, yes, destination: a government so silent you can slowly kill a good portion of the population.
Dies slowly he who passes his days complaining of bad luck or the incessant rain, giving up one project before starting it, not asking about a subject that knows and does not respond when asked what he knows . Many people die slowly, and this is the most ungrateful and treacherous death, because when it gets closer to reality, there are already too untrained to go through the little time remaining. That tomorrow, so take too long to be our day. Already we can not avoid a sudden end, which at least avoid death in small payments, always remembering that being alive requires an effort far greater than simply breathing.

Martha Medeiros

Io Consiglio di leggere l'originale, si capisce Abbastanza. Pare anche che sia più inglese spagnolo. Pero
(con so Sofferenza) metta la versione Italian:

"Slowly muore"

He or she who becomes a slave of habit, repeating every day the same itineraries, who does not change the brand, who does not risk and change the color of the clothes, does not talk to those who do not know.
He or she who shuns passion, who prefers black on white and dot the "i" rather than a set of emotions, the kind that make your eyes glimmer, that turn a yawn into a smile, that make the heart beat in front of mistakes and feelings.
He or she who does not overthrow the table when is unhappy at work, who does not risk certainty for uncertainty, to chase a dream, who would not allow, at least once in their lives to run away from sensible advice.
Slowly dies who does not travel, does not read, does not listen to music, who does not find grace in himself. Dies slowly he who destroys
self-love, who does not accept help, who spends his days complaining of his bad luck or the incessant rain.
Dies slowly he who abandons a project before starting it, who does not ask questions on subjects he does not know, who does not answer when asked about something he knows.
Let's avoid death in small doses, reminding oneself that being alive requires an effort far greater than the simple fact of
breathe.
Only a burning patience will lead to attainment of a splendid happiness.

My love Neruda is known. This
the poem is often wrongly attributed.
I do not know, I am * obvious * that is not his. Did not his voice. I really do not understand what is born from this allocation and the consequent general belief.
The famous poem by Martha Medeiros. A Brazilian journalist and writer of 61 '.
The Italian version, does not do justice. Lose what has good to give in to the rhetoric and the public.
At times, very trivial. But effective. True.
It 's a poem to read, make a list of everything that concerns us and start again in a year. Check what we have to change. How much less
are dying. If you have a quality
than the way we're doing, at least.
Because in real life, there are too many moments we breathe, that's all. It is not enough. Not enough.
The sand flows and there is no way to pull up the grains from the hourglass.
Leaving aside the various platitudes and trite like, live each day as if it were your last.
But I do not know how many there really think. I tried to imagine what I'd do, I do not know. I'm not sure.
But definitely do a lot of things I would do fewer problems. Debride feelings.
would all be more intense, maybe.
Then I wonder if, on a day which is not the last, there's a reason why I do not. Just one. And of course there
.

This poem, I read for the first time five years ago. At the time, I had much effect.
And it's funny now, find my crumpled list in a book of high school. Smiling because I'm dying a lot less, apparently!

winds will be nearer and nearer, the last days of apathy and boredom. Or perhaps just the inability to find something this time without letting me breathe a bit 'down. Laughing thoughts facts at the time of as I had read. In a way completely different from now.
Although, certain things, I came across just when you need it.
After all, it is sometimes still not enough to remind me that breathe.