How To Make A Golden Retriever Cake

+ god, B. God is so

Ok.
I give the public what is officially out of this. But I do not know, we use the noun thing.
I hope someone likes (although, of course, I do own CAGR).
I should point out, moreover, that this is the full version of the story. A
verision is a little soft on EFP - just look in chiododaBara Skins fandom, it takes? But EFP me the fucking shit, tonight fuck. I'll be back to look
Soulmates Never Die - Placebo Live in Paris 2003 .
And in Bavarian.

Title: So fuckin'drunk ;
Author: S. (~ Changingroom chiododaBara)
Readers: red dot ~ WARNING;
Chapters: 1 ;
Characters: ~ Skins Maxxie, Tony and po'tutti;
Pairing: slash ~ Tony / Maxxie ( hints of Tony / Effy)
Features: one-shot;
Plot: fuck, my world's division into four categories is worthy of the school of magic of Harry Potter - if I had committed more than a child , other than ballet and useless Faculty of History and then go for the worker with my father! I would Rowling, or even more blonde than anything, and I would have good money. I could buy all the cocks big and swollen that I want.
WARNING! The level of alcohol rises.
It is a delight, right?

You are making fun of me. And, yes, the subject of the preceding sentence can not be reality. In my head
crumble the facts, things become soft and gives my spine. I see things that do not exist.
ales Damned, damned summer evenings. Damn me, my head bursting. Everything else.
I say fuck. I say again: fuck. If Tony did not laugh I'd say it again, but I do not want to risk still see his bloody lips curl in a fucking smile. Tony also
Cursed, cursed. Thrice cursed.
You and your sister.
Remember why you wanted it would not happen? Remember, Max, huh?
I remember. I remember everything in its most obscene recesses.
I said to myself that would have ruined us both - but most likely, I thought, would ruin me first. On this, yes, I was wrong.
But then Tony is back. And now does nothing but look who was kidnapped - and his eyes are bright iridescent flame that set fire to my stomach.
I always thought as a child: the soul, if any, can be in four parts of the body of a human being, depending on the subject. In
courageous people, sensitive, artistic is located in the center of gravity of the body: the stomach, because their only talent is their perception of the world - this group includes people like Chris and me, too, but differently;
particularly in the persons of genius, the clever, clever is located in the brain, including synapses and synapses, because their talent is in their nervous system, polished and fully functional - and this group is part of Michelle, before anyone else, and now after Sid and Jal, but with no guile: only un'intelletto excited, tense up in agony;
some crazy people in the soul is in the foot, because it is confined in a place that will always be difficult to approach and will therefore always used with a certain parsimony - and I see perfectly into this description and Anwar Kenneth, too: they are a brush
and last is the quellle category which includes people who have blood in the genitals, the ones that relate to the world and not taking as sempe meter sex - Tony, of course, belongs to this category. And I myself belong there, but not quite.
My soul, which is between my stomach and my cock burning in the eyes of Tony.
Noto, not without a certain note of regret for not having included Cassie in any of these categories. She does
part of a batch-bonus - nearly a premium level of a video game, one of those to which you have access only after collecting a certain number of points, or after beating a certain amount of enemies - which is accessed only after put together a disproportionate amount of suffering.
has the soul that leaves the image in people's eyes as it moves away - because no one really knows what it is, but that is exactly what everyone sees.
And Tony asks me, sipping from my mug with his damn mouth, what happened to my manic.
laugh, turning away from the thoughts that I want to lick those lips dick, and I think about my damn maniac. Sketch. I would like to see her dead those treacherously cocksucker.
And that purpose may have ever made, I would ask Tone, what kind of order could ever make a Princess ridiculous like her, she and her bad clothes, she and her soul into her pussy to confirm that it is a full-blown manic capable of going to bed with that moron of my best friend just to ruin my fucking life?
is well, better than you and me, I should say.
Who is better than one who believes he has done a great thing pretending to be my type girl with a skinny brown and I want to beat?
E'pazza, I say to Tone: do not stop the crazies. They disappear and then reappear for some time, most Scirocco before and ready to send whore in your life in just a second.
Shit, I repeat. Fuck. Fuck. Get
Chris and Jal, I would say. The world should write fanfiction about them.
Together they are something exceptional, perfect. No pair, no really can work, if they do not work. If a god exists - which I think has some kind of touch with reality, but let me ask you - has reached the pinnacle of perfection of his work in bringing together these two fucking morons.
She is the person with the soul in the brain more efficient and a perfectionist in this lousy world, but he knows how to act in any context, you know get out of any trouble and when he wants, knows how to be irresistible;
him, without reservation, is the ultimate package. It is an imposter. It is not the drug addict who pretends to be, not the fucking shit that makes sure to become every day: it is one person who needs someone to tidy up my life.
are meant to be together, period. They are perfect.
The one found on the shoulder of the other precisely when she wanted to cry. And Chris, meanwhile, has found a perfect pussy which put his delusions by homeless drug addict to finally become the person you want to be.
world, God! Girls from every part of this land shaped ass: write fanfiction about these two! Their friend, then that would be me, can assure as fucking, like, like I do not know: animals in heat! You can take out any obscenities about them, damn, I'm a glimmer of perfection in this imperfect world disgustingly! Write, damn, you write!
And what I would say to Tony, now, while you delight with your fingers around the zipper of my sweatshirt and the music took to beat faster and with more enthusiasm in my head, that is a goddamn maniac with that accent unbearable can not claim that I am interested in his pathetic tits - that is, come on, let's face it: it is nonsense even hypothesise a crap like that.
The only thing that can complete me as a complete over-Chris Jal Jal complete rationality and the most disgusting lack of decency Chris is a nice hard cock - that's the truth.
But damn, it takes time to understand it, Tony?
No, eh? You explain it a flea that useless, then. The
I stole the camera, and tell me I pour another beer from the guy behind the counter. Tony has stopped playing with the zipper and continues to look as if to eat.
Shit, my division of the world into four categories is worthy of the school of magic of Harry Potter - if I had committed more than a child, other than ballet and useless Faculty of History and then go for the worker with my father! I would Rowling, or even more blonde than anything, and I would have good money. I could buy all the cocks big and swollen that I want.
And now the bitch is sitting in his beautiful house in the USA with my money.
Damn, Tony. You are beautiful.
Perhaps you should go with Michelle, stop fucking your sister and give a rule that does not necessarily mean to be resurrected some of the lifestyle revolution.
You're so beautiful you do a picture.
Thanks, Sketch, for this small, delightful gift: take a picture of Tony in the mouth, while my back becomes whipped cream (semen?) Droplet and decency on the black floor of the room.
Everything is falling, becomes a violent red, in the exact moment I realize: oh.
And then I take a picture with my finger in the mouth of Tony.
And I'm going to faint.

Oh, Slytherin, Slytherin eyes of flame, faster
unbuttoning my pants cream.
Ok, I'll stop. There is not even rhyme, let us be honest, but fuck. Tony, hurry up. Assonance, I think: I think it's called assonance.
But I can not even put three words together to form a meaningful sentence: too much beer, Tony's hands under my clothes and everywhere - my perception of the world depresses me: now it is all concentrated in my cock from the base end. I have the soul Horny.
I'd like to know what the fuck I'm thinking.
fuck with their backs to the wall, as always. I want to take it tonight, and I want Tony to do me harm. What an obscene expression
: take .
A photo will celebrate in my duty discovered a fucking maniac, almost like my Sketch.
you die, eh, damn microbe, if I knew now what I want Tony's mouth?
Look at me, bitch, look at me. The'm fucking your mouth with your tongue and I will do even with my cock.
Look at me, bitch, look at me. E'a him that I am giving, masculine bitch without scruples. To him and not you.
Sometimes we think of you, you know? Think about your
obsessions, what could get you to do. The fact that
minds to others makes you lie to yourself, true, small, useless freak?
Not even you know who you are. You are the one who smiles when
without meeting the specific reasons your eyes or that you put your fingers into her pussy in my bed?
you what my friend try to be discreet or psychopath who thinks seriously about having a relationship with me?
Who the fuck are you, Sketch? And what do you want from a man who wants nothing more than to hear Tony's cock Stonem even into the womb?
Take a picture after another to his hands that button after button release my soul from costrinzione pants. What god are poetic, Slytherin My Slytherin.
Shit, I think. And I say this because he will be just the midpoint of the next picture to be triggered.
by the lens of the camera that addicted to the tip of my soul, Tony makes me want to boil. It is a crescendo of strange feelings that immortal finger on the button of this device, changing from time to time the objective function to give tone to the images I create - but already I think when I'm alone, and again his mouth wide open Tony and ready to accommodate my cock in her hot and deep cavities.
But god, it sucks.
I will not have money and are nothing but a hideous cross between a cock and a Slytherin brave Gryffindor but, hey! Sucks, Tony.
want to fuck your sister. And I tell you to see your face while I suck your cock and you learn that, oh, god knows Maxxie.
And how could I not know this, come on!
fore the grounding that you're back: I got to do that? I just suck my dick.
You are your fucking world.
you take a picture to tell you how beautiful you are, Serpevrde from the mouth of God, Slytherin vanilla and chocolate.
Slytherin himself anxious to return, hard cock and no fear, huh, baby? Sucks, Prince Charming, and across the goal from which my uncontrollable desire to be who you want. Be
lady and slave Be brave knight and helpless child: be a victim, my fair tormentor.
will take a picture with your mouth full of my seed, because there is nothing more satisfying.
Swallow, Slytherin, swallow my health and yours.
And that of Jal and Chris and that of Anwar and the Visionary to Cass, which is reflected in the eyes of all.
With my seed in a cup I want you to toast the happiness of the bitch now trumpet that race is no point of Sydney, to which we all want good for the soul, God, what pain that makes us.
And god, it sucks.
sucks to health and happiness of Sketch. About Us
people never write fanfiction, my smart brother from the mouth of blood and semen. We are not perfect, we.
But as long as there is time we toast the photos while you lick scatter for the last time my soul prostrate before your mouth.
And then the photos shot at your sister's smile and expression that has a moment before biting her lips and the fact that, shit, I'm drunk.

Ben10 Alien Force Ep 43

Hi, are
Asmesia. As this LJ I have, maybe you should start to use it.
Just to learn to put the LJ cut and those little things of interest there. So
test post. How
avatar, Naruto and Sasuke from Naruto. NaruSasu I need at this time of horrible filler.

Craigslist Polaris Tunnel

Title: Question mark ;
Author: S. (~ Changingroom chiododaBara)
Readers: orange sticker ~ ATTENTION TO VARIOUS PAIRING!;
Chapters: 1 ;
Characters: Skins ~ Tony, Effy, Maxxie, Michelle, and others;
Pairing: incest ~ Tony / Effy, first, with references to barbarians Tony / Maxxie, Maxxie / dog, Tony / Michelle, Maxxie / Michelle;
Features: one-shot divided into little paragraph completely useless (but put there for Hungry Eyes that patients Dirty Dancing as I know very well) (er, in 2008 there are still fanatical about that movie, right? "XD but me, I mean) ;
Plot: soon after the accident, things had become complicated.


brief introduction to the story without any particular demands.
S. (Read) writes:
I start to write to the laptop.
S. (Read) writes:
More incest; __;
Jinny writes:
dog / Maxie??
S. (Read) writes:
I said "incest", not "bestial" o_O
S. (Read) writes:
But if we want to shove the dog. At best, "XD
Jinny writes: ok I will settle

S. (read) writes:
And you know what I do? I put this conversation between the premise of the story: to learn to do so improbable and / or obscene requests unhealthy .
Jinny writes:
TZ.
S. (Read) writes:
Love you \u0026lt;3

Be ', if someone had asked him: that's the inspiration in S. Chores
totally amazing, right?


I've Been Meaning to Tell You:
I've got this feelin 'that will not subside.
I look at you and I fantasize.

reflected on this thing for a quarter of an hour, like. And now the fact of having had even one quarter of an hour to think about it clearly indicated that something was wrong - it was not, therefore, one of his usual fantasies unfounded. was true.
never happened and Maxxie had believed until then that would never happen in the future, but Tony remained motionless in her bed and no sign of leaving.
was an incredible thing.
At another time he collected his things, not without a certain haste and would run away with - things were going well: they were always gone well. Maxxie, frankly, did not see why should have to change.
- Got a cigarette?
And now spoke to him, even. Concern.
- You know I do not smoke.
- not tobacco, if nothing else.
No, absolutely not: there was something underneath, something serious.

You are mine tonight.

've had for some time, Maxxie went to bed with a woman.
A disgusting thing, if nothing else: it is necessary.
It began as a trifle, it was a kiss on stage to set the tone. Nothing but a game between small children pretending to be something they are not. A need
theater. It was enough for a moment, though, just an indication: they knew immediately what to do both, how to resolve the situation.
Both, in an instant, they felt that the only way to achieve it was to make it credible. And so they were put to imagine kissing Tony. Both. Everything had
a sense, seen from that perspective.
supplementing a deficiency with the presence of the other: the fact that Maxxie was clearly the result went against nature in the background, of course. Michelle
needed someone who would make her feel once again the smell of Tony - and Maxxie was a different matter. He had never invested
particular feelings in her relationship with Tony.

Now I've got you in my sights.

Before the accident, was exceptional.
- You - Tony always said, when the phone after a few hours, commenting laughing at what they were doing in bed (or elsewhere) - I fuck fucking same as that your dog smelly.
Maxxie would laugh, of course, and let him continue.
- Imagine rockin Lessie.
- Taz.
- How do you think: imagine rockin 'Taz.
Here.
Maxxie was some time thinking about how it would have done if someone had asked him to describe Tony.
First of all, he said to himself, he would set a bad company. And the foundations of this conception of Tony were going to plant them precisely in the matter of the dog.
Why, indeed, Maxxie imagined him seriously. A single command of Tony and suddenly everything became possible - and could easily imagine anything. A moment later the
His brain was putting the dog in the ass fucking her father, festive, bark rubbing its tail on the belly discovery. From
vomiting.
contndo Especially the fact that, on the other hand, Tony could not stop laughing.
- Vienigli between hair, blondie wrong.
- Please, Tone, is revolting.
- Please, Max, for you, even women are disgusting!
resting the phone on his shoulder and could see it without Tony, Maxxie he used to caress the head of Taz, promising him with eyes that would never have taken advantage of his loyalty.
or his ass.

Now I've got you in my sights With These hungry
eyes.

And it was what happened.
soon after the accident, things had become complicated.
Tony could not or did not want to take rather.
Let him remember the warmth of his body, the desire they had and all those things that had made sure that their relationship worked up to that time had become an issue too complex and Maxxie was not convinced it was worth it.
After all, it had been nothing more than a game - Maxxie and, maybe, just a mistake.
Then Michelle had arrived with his guilt.
and Maxx had sex like it did with his dog, because those feelings of guilt does not become a po'anche her.
And, after all, fuck a woman was not so bad - particularly through the fact that there were no tails wagging involved.

One look at you and I can not disguise.

Maybe it was his fault.
Perhaps she would never have allowed it to happen. Because if
between the two there was someone who loved Tony, that was no doubt Michelle.
Without a doubt.
And he had ruined everything.
Without Russia, without all that nonsense, their relationship would go ahead peacefully. Michelle would have been happy.
Tony would continue to go to bed with objects, animals, people at will without drag ball, completely excluding it from his sinister tricks of power, without which it seemed he could not live.
Without his appearance within the mechanism for the handling of her, things would remain exactly as they were.
And Tony would have remained what it was - insensitive, evil bitch. The worst
. Or better, rather.

I feel the magic Between You and I.

But, pull the money, not even cared to Maxxie.
Eventually Tony had come back - if nothing else: for him.
And in a way totally unexpected.
Sid and Michelle had chosen that would have surprised anyone. Not Maxxie - he knew that Michelle would have done anything to get back behind Tony.
If he had surrendered, had to be because he had tried everything without success.
And now Tony was in his bed and no sign of leaving.
And all those things in the mind of Maxxie looked out, all that was, it would have been if things had gone differently
- It's the first time that remains - he said, getting up on one elbow.
- Rest?
- I do not know. Ruins?
- No.
If anyone - anyone - had asked to describe a picture of Tony - the one who more than any other frame that Tony might actually is - anyone who would be quick to defer to the mind the moment when Tony goes on.
When it plays slowly, casually, throwing a few glances at the window and go away. Anyone would have said
and confirmed himself that there is nothing more perfect than a farewell.

I want to hold you I know, hear me out.
I want to show you what love's all about.

The door closed and Taz came into the room and found it lying diagonally to collect mental images in an album of the last hours spent with Tony.
He thought of those strange nights spent on the phone, when would be fucked up control of anything.
So he got up and looked in the mirror.
was his fault. Solo--his guilt.
Not a moment passed and he was already going down the stairs, hurriedly, had to reach.
Va'da Michelle, had to say: run to her, she is not from me.
She loves you, not that of Sid toucan, he added.
But when he came down the street, what he saw told him he would be a much more serious error.

I need you to see:
This Love Was Meant to Be .

Tony's mouth to drown in the mouth of Effy Maxxie remained suspended in the head as a question mark at the end of his every thought.

Difference Between Sk And Sc Words

Dogs Incest will save us all, I promise

And, finally, we've è_é done!
After several hours of incubation and a sleepless night, I was able to churn out an incest as it should - all because of happy-boiled 206 Skins, including (plenty) here. The rest
: random uselessness.

Title: The worst of starts to the ;
Beta reader: my beloved maxxers ;
Author: S. (~ Changingroom chiododaBara)
Readers: red dot ~ incest WARNING!;
Chapters: 1 ;
Characters: Skins Series 2 ~ Tony, Effy;
Pairing: incest, yeah! ~ Tony / Effy,
Features: divided into several one-shot flash-back;
Plot: blood, moreover, was the same.



The worst of all the starts.
And then there was music filling their ears, and those heady lights clouded their vision.
Alcohol, along with everything else, had confused their minds - they were doing their odors so that you encounter: the skin to call the skin, the hands that had been furiously searching the lips, the polis, the packages, the loins. The
people on him and all those things that perhaps made sense - but maybe not.
All that desire.

E'entrato in your room by showing a strange smile that you know well - that smile that you would like to rip your teeth one by one, sometimes. That smile hateful, beautiful, foolish.
It is lying on your bed and smiled even opened the cupboard in front of your indecision. Has formed a strong cushion, I have looked through the mirror laughing.
- What is it? - You asked. It did not answer.
You grabbed the loose clothing, have them lie at his feet and have sought his approval, which was not long in coming: it is bite his lower lip with teeth, still smiling in that absurd manner.
- so that was not seen you so - you have admitted, by removing what you wear. Since the incident, would like to add. But it is to him that would hurt.
Your breasts are small and round, her nipples, fierce, are pink and small. They look in the mirror and you are enchanted by her eyes as directed in the same place.
Do not rush to cover them, but his smile is gone.
Have you watched as he left the room without another word.
You thought without hesitation that it is cured.

He had seen her in a crowd.
His eyes were colored the room, silenced all, the moon had risen. A moon
different: they had caressed her cheeks and had approved their subsequent movements, those for which they would be condemned.
was not to blame, unfounded.
Tony wanted to be saved - and salvation could not have different taste.

- Come with me - you said. And I led her into the bathroom, pulling off her clothes.
You saw immediately what he wanted to show you and staggered in surprise. Surprised.
you approached and have cherished - you wanted it, wanted it all yourself. When you're resting his fingertips on the skin marked by red, you felt the tremor of the limbs and you shook Tony yourself.
- What? - You asked, placing his mouth on her shoulder and smiling at those dazzling colors.
- A bit of you - respond. In a whisper.
E'tornato , you're thinking. It puts you the chills.
But nothing makes sense, as long as your hands remain immobile until they cling to his back and kiss him to get close to that mark yet unknown and incomprehensible that you a little inside.
Nothing makes sense if you can not help but smile, when all that passion, that desire, that necessity is transmuted into your shake.
In his leave.

And then there were only their mouths. Quanta
unconscious, those flavors in the precise names, as we want, how much pain. All the awareness and pride and fear.
And people would see them, of course, but why should he care? All that mattered at that moment was skin and bones and mouths.
And all the anxiety that could rachciudere two bodies so close as to seem one.
Blood, moreover, was the same.

If you think Tony is in his mind the smell.
And a strange night when he was on the phone with Michelle and began to kiss her neck.
Its smell is the first thing which you think when you're with a guy, when he kisses one, when you talk to him brushing up the skin.
Nobody will ever smell Tone, you think. Why Tony is like the smell of drugs. Exhilarating, rewarding, incredible.
warn you like when you fall asleep in his bed, leave him alone because it makes you uneasy, because his nightmares could come back: you might need, yet. Always.
And then I stretch out beside her and support her lips to her skin for taste, smell. Why
odor remains on your neck - leave Michelle.

It was not a mistake.
mouths are never a mistake.
are groans and words - the most rewarding of all groan, deeper any word.
It was not a mistake.
no hands, no hips. There was no error or any sin in their sought and now - that everything became clear in their movements slow and exhausting, in the boldness of that sweet desire foolish and ill - even now seemed to them an error. In
must fulfill a need.

You know you do not put away. Why
know the tone that his voice takes when he wants you to stay.
He said something and you have not heard. You insanely focused on the line of her neck, the point at which it becomes his shoulder and gently curved.
It is drying your face and look through the mirror. Her naked body looks like a boy: her gaze is no innocence to reveal his identity, his most obscene secret.
But you can not think of anything but his shoulder. Looking for a way to have quell'esattezza, all that beauty, you do not think of anything other than the bite.
- Let me bite you - you tell him. You answered, laughing - and you know who is on his way to say yes.
And then you can collect more meat between your teeth, but gently, as if to kiss her. And the sign that let you smell of him.
One.

nothing else to do but catch one's eyes.
Understanding.
There were a thousand ways to escape: they would not have taken any.
There were a thousand ways to avoid anything that would take place immediately following would be enough to move away, disappear into the crowd, smiling would be enough, think again. Flee elsewhere. Forget
.
But Tony wanted to be saved - and salvation could not have different taste from the mouth of Effy.
And if he had a form different from that of his body, was not the salvation it needed.
And if he had deferred his smell the scent of Effy, without a shadow of doubt would not be the his salvation.
Because nothing made sense - nothing. His life itself
- And all you would recover in time, not without effort, slowly - it was nothing without her.
Why were their bodies to speak - and everything they said in a whisper, was yes. And then

- With the body - she said, her mouth on his shoulder.
And the rest was useless - no possibility of appeal.

With fingers touched her skin and love the red one marked by violence, almost.
His hands on you will read, but do not betray the anxiety of having you - uncontrollable anxiety, which spans the years and all those things that have kept them away until then: the exact moment in which everything hatch finally moving in the accuracy of the pre-existing even the desire itself.
And everything that you always have estimated it will become true in the end nothing more than a trivial illusion, when her skin tremble with desire to contact you, when his fingers on your skin will draw the same brand name, imprinted on the fire you, but exhausting sweetness.
And then those fingers will stop touching each other: for you will become the flame that set fire to, or rather the straw that constantly feeds the raging river that is your pleasure.
Tony's skin, your skin - you hide, and then? We hide forever. The one in the eyes of others.
identical.
And your lips will celebrate your tastes fondling each other - when they bite relentlessly squeezing her red lips between her legs you'll know for sure that his blood has the same taste of yours.
And not just wash away your scent, to forget.
may tighten the arms any man, any woman will be your thighs, the ones that unfold smiling, kiss your lips and other baciandone while others will not want to caress your breasts if you do not.
E'sbagliato, then? So what?
Knowing that the only person who manages to be desired from then on will be his sister - a mistake, obscenity, barbarism?
O the most beautiful ever lived? Because when
will be within you - only then - make sure they are returned to you, for you only.
Why would I want to fill you to overflowing, it becomes huge so there is no more space to be filled in you.
Cause your hands are not property: they cling to his shoulders to get close to him and kiss that sign yet unknown and incomprehensible that you a little inside.
Why all this passion, that desire, that need to finally make sense.
And you can not escape, Effy.

Comments, of course.

I Want Booths Ringtone From Bones

Somethin '+ # 3

So.
Before anything else, go take a look at what maxxers has done for me * _ * / - love this woman even too simple really! A set of icons on Effy \u0026lt;3
Mariachiara kill me "
XD Anyway, I'm writing a Tone / Effy, of course, because after the episode 2x06 could not be otherwise - and for this I must thank two of my threeM. . And now we move on to serious matters.


Chapter # 3 - Eva Doyle when he kisses you drool - entering Mello says. Then sniffles and looks in the direction of where it should be Near, but can not find it and then looks around the room.
He planted his eyes in the glass of the window, absorbed nell'attorcigliarsi a hedgehog around the index and clear to touch with a bare foot a train lying on the floor, casually.
- I'd know if I kissed her, but do not know because he has never kissed Eva Doyle.
- Never before this afternoon, in fact, when Super Mello has saved from the cruel fate of an old maid making her a very good kisser.
- The world thanks you, Super Mello - Near laughs and looks at him smiling.
Mello smiled in turn.
But their smiles are two different, diametrically opposites.
- You dovresi be drowned in the billions of passwords that you lack access to archives of the CIA in the damn vain: what are you doing at the window? You take a break?
Near opened his eyes and stands up. E'alto at least half of Mello, despite having just fifteen months apart. He can only look into his eyes, raising a little the head - one hundred degrees, he speculated.
- I managed at least an hour ago while you were nowhere to necking with that chick.
- I was in the garden - Mello grins and sits on the floor at the foot of Near - you should get out of this damn room, down the stairs, face facie fifty humans, opening the door, exit in the garden. It would be also nice, after all. I'd found leaning against a tree. Eva Doyle with his hands in his pants. Pleasant. Near
looks away and sits at his computer. In the bluish light of the monitor its vaguely grayish white hair that becomes even clearer.
- There are reports demeaning. Tomorrow L.
- Again? Shit, here was something like four times this week. Near
laughs and leans slightly to look better on the monitor.
- Yes, it seems that the question of the successors to the extreme in the latter period. Mello ran a hand through his hair, then approaches to monitor and look at the page too, visibly exasperated.
- Easy to him to move along once and for all. Finally.
- Do not be an asshole, Mello. The world needs him.
- No one needs him and that you're not trying to ingratiate himself. As if you do not already know all that you choose.
Near opened his eyes and looks at Mello. Everything you want in this moment would have never heard the last words uttered by Mello.
- He will choose you - say, in the end - and that's because you're the best, Mello.
- Do not say crap. But anyway, what is the incredible excuse that use to come tomorrow?
Mello leaves, approaching the window. Look out and imagines what would have their lives if they had not been designated since birth as the successors of L., if they had grown up together, if they had never met. Takes off his clothes slowly, smiling. Near
looks at him, but I can not smile. He knows how it would go: they themselves were, however, in some way. But the hubs were a part of themselves: each other.
Obviously not in the Platonic sense, of course.
no one claimed to be the continuation of the other, nor to make their lives with only each other or even completely different. Simply
aspettavno to be something together. Something extraordinary and wonderful.
and eternal.
- No excuses. Dice Watari on the phone that should see us.
- There? It's the first time someone uses this formula: they are moved. Near
gets up and goes up to him without looking.
Every time you kiss, for some strange reason neither of them can understand, wobbly.
They are not afraid of what they do, certainly not.
But something is first and foremost in their minds and their bodies immediately after putting into circulation a series of strange desire that causes them to make Moviement of which are completely foreign to both.
do things which can not give names.
Mello know the titles of all the poems that make up Les Fleures du Mal Near and calls each by name polygon never been designed by a human being, but what happens at the slightest touch of their bodies do not know how to explain it.
Seplicemente, they claim.
Their movements are so precise, so perfect as to be undeniably necessary.
- You have to kiss a girl, Near - Mello said with a sigh, wriggling with difficulty by the kiss.
- Mai.
Nobody knows. Everybody knows that.
does not really matter to anyone. What matters is that
L. pick one of only two.
And what will the other will follow him everywhere, everyday.
Until the end.

The rest, of course: it's boring. But
I want feedback, definitely. Here

Shocks On A Jeep Liberty

There OT3 air!

my BDM.
Now, read what I'm combining it with me-.

Title: Yep Seems To Be The Hardest Word ;
Author: S. (~ Changingroom chiododaBara)
Readers: yellow dot ~ WARNING;
Chapters: 1 /?;
Characters: Death Note ~ L, Mello, Near, Matt;
Pairing: OT3 and slash explicitly! ~ Near / Mello / Matt;
Features: # 001 ~ Top;
Plot: what everyone is asking - and unanimously - Who was the last two L. would choose. And that would make the other end, especially.

L. Mello choose without any hesitation.
not having some kind of inhuman abilities.
simply knows her and knows it well.
E'bello, first of all - and L. worship of Beauty, as everyone knows.
Mello has golden hair, bright and liscissimi. When he goes to bed he collected them in a black elastic, making it more visible, his face white, the bright red of his thin lips usually partially hidden by the perfection of light blonde fringe.
Its body is lean and bony like a little girl and her movements are sinuous, charming.
And then, secondly, a dowry is certainly not common in kids his age: it is persuasive.
He always knows what she wants and how to get it.
has the makings of a leader: he knows how to make people listen.
Talk to everyone, and in a hypnotic, appearing always perfectly convinced of what he says.
It is a very good liar, then.
manages to come up and pouring out to people of any race menogna without arousing his audience in the slightest suspicion.
This, according to some, is what L. look in his successor.
As for him, L., finds it deeply disturbing.
Bello, of course. Elegant says. stubborn, undeniably. \u0026lt;But at least
unbearable adds. And to justify: that eating chocolate does. E'insano, adds, amassing specks of dust on his desk as if it were the most difficult operation ever undertaken.
Whenever I speak, miraculously L. able to divert the discussion on the matter unpleasant chocolate.
Some say - and rightly so - that L. especially do not like her character precisely because, whenever it is this matter, the ideas always Mello.
- make you fat.
valid argument for some.
- Do you gain weight.
- You must give me her blond. Here
L. wrinkled her nose, smiling.
- Because she is old.
At thirteen, of course, to fact they are all old. Another person gliel'avrebbe date for good, taking away the opportunity. Of course, not L.
- No.
- You do not deserve to give you of you just because you're fat.
L. hates the new generations of kids wonder.



L. Watari had asked that all predisponesse to grow together.
Thus, from the very first diaper, Mihael and Nate had been brought up in parallel: two sides of same coin, two scenes of the same film, two concurrent phases of the same plan.
slept in the same room and twin neighbors sat at the table next to one another, and always studied the same subjects spent their free time together.
But they were very different.
soon became Mello Mihael - and it was Nate, of course, to make him the precious gift of a nickname, giving him directly what he knew he would have liked, because it was late and filled his mouth.
knew all the children of the Institute and excelled in literary subjects. He loved philosophy, first of all. And recite from memory his favorite poems. Read any script before an audience without the slightest embarrassment, and he talked to anyone in an appropriate manner and interesting topics. It was an exhibitionist. He had a keen taste in clothes and knew how to use his body. Kissing girls, but he hated to talk to them, found them empty, and servile, often useless. He had the eyes of a madman.
L. said has the eyes of one who thinks so many things that I could not get them all in his head alone.
Nate, meanwhile, turned in Near - Mello looked at him and he invented this nickname. Immediately place everyone thought that it suited him, in fact.
He spoke little, preferring his company to the other. He slept a lot and do not ever dreamed of. Mathematics was his only talent and he preferred a good chemistry book in any other pastime. He managed to assemble a puzzle of five pieces in fifteen minutes without looking at the starting image and through the monitor of a computer could do anything and without any effort. He hated being watched. He often talked with the girls, kiss or touch him but very little interest. He had some nervous movements, always restless.
L. said has the gestures of one who could would do so many things to lose everything into account.
They were always together. Always.
Every gesture, every movement was an obvious and immediate knowledge of the other.
is provided and everyone knew each other precisely and everything in a precise way, algebraically exact.
But there were differences that were more and more closely with their growing up in worry Watari, who continued to care for them at a distance, as if it were nothing more than an external spectator. Near
slept curled up with the sheets pulled up right on the mouth, with a huge bright blue pajamas depressing, and Mello discovered completamnete slept in his underwear, put in the center of the bed as the crucified, with his mouth wide open.
Mello spoke again: he was talkative, Near was able to articulate a meaningful sentence a month and all the time remaining, preferring short answers. Obviously, the words uttered most often were: Mello and no. Near
spent his days sitting in a way convoluted and difficult to describe in front of a monitor; Mello spoke to the people sprawled on the floor.
Mello were under the bed of packing boxes filled to the brim with chocolate milk under the bed of Near packing boxes were filled to the brim with toys.
Near's voice was thin, iudibile; Mello spoke in a tone full and piercing, an orator.
Mello was always in a sea of troubles, Near was always ready to tirarcelo out at the cost of exposing himself in person.
What bound them was their determination.
and affection in a few insanely absurd manner that bound them together. Inextricably.
What everyone is asking - And unanimously - which one was finally L. would choose.
And that would make the other end, especially.

Ikea Sultan Round Bed

matter of minutes + You Gave Me Something That I Did not Have, But Had No use.

Sometimes David is.
The cousins of her friends watch Skins and inspire me in terms of semi-obscene fanfiction. Consider a flash-FICT
this as a thing well done is illegal?

Title: A matter of minutes ;
Author: S. (~ Changingroom chiododaBara)
Readers: red dot ~ NC17;
Chapters: 1;
Words: 205 (?)
Characters: Skins ~ Tony, Maxxie,
Pairing: Tony / Maxxie, but Maxxie / Tony;
Features: Slash;
Quote: Maxxie does not understand, or maybe yes. Maybe not. Meanwhile, people dancing, fuck, take drugs. Mind, breathes, dies.



matter of minutes.

- And so it does not work.
Tony has a po'socchiuse lips and looks at the floor as there was nothing else to note, in the crowd. All those fucking people.
- Yeah.
- Absurd - Maxxie smiled, sitting beside her - I'm so sorry.
Watch the floor because looking up, soak in the crowd is painful. The tattered soul.
It does not know how to do, I do not know: and it must do so. Confess.
- I.
- Tell me.
- I it's all a matter of preference, here. Immerse
eyes in those of Maxxie, however, is another matter. How to feel at home.
Maxxie does not understand, or maybe yes. Maybe not. Meanwhile, people dancing, fuck, take drugs. Mind, breathes, dies.
Tony shakes - and it's fun. It seems life at last.
- Would you? - And do not know what to do, Maxxie, if not smile - I want to give it a try?
It does not respond to smile, Tony - Maxxie's hand and takes only gesture that shows what to do - and all that shit people can even sit and watch, if you really want, and dance and fuck and take drugs. Then lie, breathe and die.
- To me it seems to work perfectly - smiles Maxxie. And Tony does not know what to say.

Title: You Gave Me Something That I Did not Have, But Had No use ;
Author: S. (~ Changingroom chiododaBara)
Readers: red dot ~ NC17;
Chapters: 1;
Words: (?)
Characters: Skins ~ Tony, Maxxie,
Pairing: Tony / Maxxie, but Maxxie / Tony;
Features : Slash;
Quote: tired is a puppet in his hands read - the kisses know desperately for revenge, revenge bites: tastes wonderful.

You Gave Me Something That I Did not Have, But Had No use.
The
bites her lip, Maxxie, let a shiver runs down your back, fast.
It is a tired puppet in his hands read - the kisses know desperately for revenge, revenge bites: tastes wonderful.
Shakes his hand around the cock and is just a moment, what separates it from the mouth of the ear to hear her say oh, God , in the moment slipping back to its end, without stopping a moment to think all the time who had waited looking for, wanting. Tony's skin smells of bloody victory.
And I'm drunk and tired feet and smiling with Maxxie and Tony's fingers to linger between the buttons of his trousers - Because the coma made him clumsy. And beautiful, Maxxie can not not think about it.
contact with his cold hands makes him nervous and awkward: he knows for a fact that will not stand still for long, because his breath on her neck and her doll's body to twist to what is happening between her legs, they will go crazy. If it takes so now, will die.
Tone , groans.
And again, Tony, in a second.
He turns his back, pushing the pelvis against him and everything shakes, shakes. It is a ten-thousand-volt input, electricity and adrenaline. The skin burns, the clothes are out of the way or end up charred. Must put your hands on her hips and premerselo him, he must. When opened
hands down along the line of the thighs, buttocks since then, feels that Tony is fuming, his forehead leaning against the wall does not touch that, slowly, breathing deeply and fully-open mouth, filling up groan groan. When Maxxie
fingers creep within him leaps and moves faster than his hand, panting. And when that hand is full of his own seed, I want to tell Michelle, Maxxie groans, without conscience, that works fine .
Tony smiles - and Maxxie thinks that nothing is more beautiful.
And then let slip a finger after the other in the thin ring of muscle just crossed his narrow little hole - and Maxxie thinks it is calling, the ring, who wants him and him alone.
And every time his fingers cry out from the slit thin and hot, feel the body of Tony melt, want to flex.
die And if you do not take immediately.
And then clings to his shoulders, his mouth to cover the ears and nose in his hair blacks, to feel a smell wonderful, amazing.
It 's like the body of Tone schiudesse between his fingers - and it includes the moment when Maxxie can not help but take a rightful place in the void of muscle trembling, quivering. Feel so long and so deep that Tony haunting smell of deep throat. For
then slid back and forth and again, then again, with that slim body and a white wrap and master it and make it crazy. And give
ecstasy.
Still, Tony smiles. And his kisses know of promise.

You Gave Me Something That I Did not Have, But Had No use, besides being a beautiful line from a song by the Foo Fighters is dedicated to Magda \u0026lt;3, which changed its nickname on messenger in my honor, agitated.
Tonight I was in the mood, it seems.

Play Number Munchers Online For Free

Big Damn Table - oh, yeah, I did it! Why Tom

And, thanks to fanfic100_ita , here's to you my Big Damn Table, yeah!

001.	Start. here.	002.	Intermezzo.	003.	Finish.	004.	interiority.	005.	appearance.
006.	hours.	007.	Days.	008.	Weeks.	009.	months.	010.	Years.
011.	Red.	012.	Orange.	013.	Yellow.	014.	Verde.	015.	Blue
016.	Porpora.	017.	Brown.	018.	Black	019.	White.	020.	Without colors.
021.	friends.	022.	Enemies.	023.	Lovers. here.	024.	Family.	025.	Strangers.
026.	Teammates.	027.	Parents.	028.	Sons.	029.	Birth.	030.	Death.
031.	Alba.	032.	Sunset.	033.	too.	034.	too little.	035.	Sixth Sense.
036.	Smell.	037.	Hearing.	038.	Touch.	039.	Taste.	040.	Vista.
041.	forms.	042.	Triangle.	043.	Diamond.	044.	Circle.	045.	Moon.
046.	Stars.	047.	Hearts.	048.	Quadri.	049.	Flowers.	050.	Spades.
051.	Water.	052.	Fire.	053.	Earth.	054.	Air.	055.	Spirit.
056.	Breakfast.	057.	Lunch.	058.	Supper.	059.	Food.	060.	drinks.
061.	Winter.	062.	Spring.	063.	Estate.	064.	Fall.	065.	seasons.
066.	Rain.	067.	Snow.	068.	Lightning.	069.	Thunder.	070.	Storm.
071.	Rotto.	072.	Fixed.	073.	Light.	074.	Darkness.	075.	Shadow.
076.	Who?	077.	What?	078.	Where?	079.	When?	080.	Why?
081.	How?	082. If	.	083.	E.	084.	him	085.	Lei.
086.	Scelte.	087.	Vita. Qui	088.	Scuola.	089.	Lavoro.	090.	Casa.
091.	Compleanno.	092.	Natale.	093.	Ringraziamento.	094.	Indipendenza.	095.	Capodanno.
096.	Scelta libera.	097.	Scelta libera.	098.	Choice.	099.	Choice.	100.	Choice.

What Goduria * _ * - enough is enough, however, the gastritis is back and I have to drink a thousand liters of water.
Oh, Mello / Near.
Incidentally who are already enmeshed in well three stories - which probably will never end, but it ° _ ° Be '.
I sleep.

Jewelry Party Wording

/ Johnny is a canon pairing. Untitled # 1

I said this for years. I always said, since the days of bloody Edward . And tonight, as David is, properly speaking, a dildo in a lather, I had the damned and now confirmed, as is fitting, are practically ecstatic contemplation. The imagination must be set aside when the reality is actually better than any fucking invention.
As the title suggests, I can testify. And you can believe me when I say - and rightly - that this pig
Tim Burton (hi, sir. I'm Santa and I'm fifteen and you can really believe me If I told you that I'm in love with you. Would you marry me, sir?)
(yes, yes, occhei, I'll stop XDD)
complete moron and that Johnny Depp fucking . I challenge humanity to contradict me, fuck.
That is, since 1994. And
Sweeney Todd now.


brief but intense review by S. about a film that would have been better to watch alone (no offense to all those people who was with me in the hall) (can also take offense David) .
There was once a gray world with red stains of blood, cannibals, sweet-ovens, Severus Snape (Alan Rickman to the century, here ), Peter Pettigrew (Timothy Spall for his friends, here) and all sex that Tim Burton is able to put in a movie where 99.99% of the shots is a close up of a lot like Johnny Depp Edward , but with the tuft Malgioglio (the remaining 0.01% is London in a black, white and red and the nose of Severus, as well as the divine tits Helena Bonham Carter - Bellatrix is, among other things - photographic evidence here.
(Tim, beloved, are you sure you do not want to direct the next Harry Potter ? It Could Be nice, think about it). However
. Once upon a time in London, beautiful flowers and a little man named Benjamin Barker (Johnny, of course) who lives in a world in technicolor with his wife Lucy and baby / infant / asexual out to be a child and that haunt us with a tear-jerking love story for the duration of the film.
We zoom in on this story in the form of meringue, so after we have all the white canvas to the cannibals and tits Helena. In practice, a sailor blonde, young, cute and the tune is walking and making his cock for a road, when you realize some diaphanous girl at the window and falls in love madly . But of course, for that matter. The girl - who is in a totally obvious to the birds singing together about their common condition (read: cage) - and he realizes, as we all expected from the start, he falls in love in turn. Unfortunately, the diaphanous
fancuilla is none other than the protected area of the old fox that Snape's - ah-ah! - Not only do not let it leave the house except to go to church, but also wants to marry her to reduce the final boiling spirits that she should have but did not.
The young sailor, therefore, asks an old woman ( keep an eye on the little old lady! ) Who is this girl and, well: it is Johanna.
course will eventually be the only ones to escape and lived happily ever after, fuck off. move to serious things.
Benjamin Barker, as I said before being interrupted by random romance, is the barber and is so happy to arouse the envy of Severus Snape for the occasion calls himself Judge Turpin. Codest Judge is, as it should be, infatuated with the beautiful young wife of Benjamin, and what will you do to achieve it, against our barber / eye socket?
Obviously, he does jail. Goodbye, Johnny.
Judge Snape, then, let the woman find the time (in the sense that palliate disappear and show his face only in the very last two minutes of the entire film) and kidnaps the girl who is also the female lead of the meringue.
Meanwhile, the barber / eye socket is released from prison and became Mr. T. - Drum roll and eye here. He was born Sweeney Todd.
After years of captivity, his London is no longer in technicolor, but is gray and tastes like shit. It is a horrible London in which all deserve to die: in this case, who killed his wife and held captive her child.
E'a this point in the story of Helena peeps that genius which, of course, is my favorite character. We analyze the matter for good.
I. E'lei the genius who called the barber / eye socket Mr. T. and is a name that is so damn good that I sganasciare laughter.
II. At one point the film makes a colorful dream in which she and Mr. T. wearing clothes that now I want desperately not to be missed.
III. E'l'unico character that makes a beautiful death . No, I'm not kidding. Ends in a blast furnace, which was launched by his eternal love Mr. T. and death is the only original, because all others are trivially killed those blessed with razors.
IV. It is the when his business partner, taken from misanthropy more entrenched, they decide to kill each other all the cooking.
There are many other reasons, but now I do not date we recall the TV on.
However, Helena becomes Robin of our Bat / eye socket. It is the person who goaded him into going, which gives him the chair on which to cut the throats and that will also provide a murderess, and then an epilogue.
died when, after he cut his throat, Mr. T. recognizes the old woman who had urged him to keep an eye on his wife because she believed she was dead, Helena, had they reported. Throws in the high-oven and here comes his lovely original death. But who pays
breaks, says the paper, and Mr. T. pay with his own razor, brutally killed by the hub of Helena, God rest his soul.
Now that we have revealed the essential features of the plot, we can finally go to the beloved criticism. Let's start by saying that
is one of those movies in my Tim going to sneak in the same vein of Nightmare and not that of Big Fish .
There are symbols, scenes, characters. There are colors, even.
fundamental, of course, is to vary the size of this gray and the colorful dreams and memories - and differentiation follows, then, that varies between different shades of gray: those tending to black, and red first, then.
recognize without any difficulty the size of sets and costumes, makeup, hair.
My first thought, just noticing the scenery, it was: God, I want the video game inspired by this film. The second: God, do not you never would end.
The costumes, of course, with Victorian capital V. for Vendetta. Stuff to put the willies - especially if you touch the clothes of Helena, which, moreover, are the perfect type.
and makeup and hair, well, 'just look here.
The best scene? The daydream of Helena.
The worst scene? All the scenes with those tabloid fuss about the couple of the year.
The best odds? last my arm is complete - Mr T.
The adjective that starts and finishes in my mouth talking about Sweeney Todd is, without doubt, predictable.
's not a bad thing. Quite the contrary. But David anticipate every move of every character and this is wrong. May be due to the genius of David (also no) or the proximity of the plot of the film to the entire production Nightmariana Tim Burton.
But correct me when I remember to mind that Sweeney Todd is a musical.
The plot, moreover, would not change if Johnny Depp does not sing, but nobody in the world would miss the singing prowess of genius.
And nobody in the world, no one would know to live without the music and texts, the divine interpretations of the characters (in this case Helena and Snape, but of course everyone else, how could it be otherwise?) And last but not Last of the masterpieces of the genius that is Tim Burton visonario.
That, no doubt, fuck with her protagonist. Oh-oh, yes.

But I want to break an orange (I know it is not like the saying XD) in favor of David's cock. Early
really every single scene.
But then, what can we do it is clear that Sweeney Todd is born and dies on the skin of Johnny Depp: It was written for his strings from his love \u0026lt;3
How to enjoy being right.

Commercial Building Warranties

Brief introduction: Untitled # 1 Untitled # 1
born this summer - has been in the pipeline for a long time, after all: it has a maturation period of abundant and perhaps complete.
The truth is that one of the things that I find most difficult in the world is to get things done. It is not a question of bad habits or irresponsibility: simply, I'm bored.
An object, a person, a written, if we spend too much time in close contact becomes quite hateful to me. It is a ruin of those matters that I, I know.
And I know that I decided to write it because David is a mentally ill person and a brief review of CaskaLangley did the rest.
So here I am.
Take this for what it is written, not for what would have been .
For myself I find it condescending, a tantinello redundant and obnoxious - but I, however, are a critical exceptionally controversial.
fun.


Title: Untitled # 1 ;
Author: S. (~ Changingroom chiododaBara)
Readers: yellow dot ~ WARNING;
Chapters: 1 ;
Words: 988 ;
Characters: Kingdom Hearts ~ Sora, Riku, Kairi,
Pairing: OT3 explicitly! ~ RiSoKai;
Features: one-shot ~ # 002 Intermezzo;
Plot: be heroes, after all, what was the point? What was the fight, resist, not to die, if not for them?


Untitled # 1

Every step he took the reported to mind those days.
The sand, the sun. The hands, all those smiles.
Perhaps they were children, when tight-lipped
he said, "This is not my place" and Sora looked at him as if frightened because he knew he really believed it.
They were just children, remember. Would not stop a moment to think about it.
Now everything was different.
Impugrare the Keyblade, lift. Talk to people, to deceive. They were nothing but small gestures that brought him back to their most stupid and wonderful meaning, why did what he did. And every gesture that makes every single gesture was for them.
was for them that suffering for them that little, tiny, nagging feeling of emptiness, anxiety for them, that desire to go home, to put things right. And all those things he could not explain.
be heroes, after all, what was the point? What was the fight, resist, not to die, if not for them?
to clear skin of him, betrayed. For the narrow face of her forgiveness.

Every step he took him brings to mind those days.
The night full of beautiful colors and wood. The mouths, all those sighs.
Nothing had changed. He was the same and so will his tireless, alive to be there forever, with them.
He lived every moment with all hoping himself that each step he took was a step that led to them - this only this made sense. Not the battles, no doors, no keys, no enemies. Not the words that were spoken, not the promises not kept. If he was still alive, still breathing, if it was only because their presence felt strong.
Because when night fell, when it was cold when it was, Riku and Kairi were eager light of dawn, her skin scalded by the sun, millions and millions of words.
The only clear picture of their smiles and beautiful enough to keep him alive.

Every moment he spent every single moment, being trapped in the net of his thoughts and remained motionless, dangling before his eyes lost in the void.
His heart was pounding, without restraint.
Nothing could keep him from continuing to fight until he had had life until his last breath, would bring home from Riku Kairi. Nothing else mattered.
Nothing heroic, nothing great, there would be nothing to tell who had requested them, without being able to understand what they would have responded
"What happened to you during these years?". Nothing that was not
"We have searched for. We tovati. We're back. We will not go away anymore. "
No one would understand, but smiles and secrets in their hands would narrow the each other.
was all that life had taught him: he was born to them, them.
And every single breath was meant to be with them again .

she wanted back Riku.
Some of its expressions, especially. Some of her smiles indescribable. Those things that people found him undeniably unpleasant because unexplained.
He laughed, he smiled when he said Sora "I've tried. I found you. "
"I have permission to look for. I made sure that I was "
would have answered him, still smiling that smile of unfriendly and moving. Like a whisper.
was all that wanted. GIVEN its voice heard those exact words.
Every moment spent holding the Keyblade that he needed to keep in mind that the place was not Riku's island in the sea.
But their hearts - and that of his Kairi.

would have been absurd, then. Inexplicable.
would have their mouths to speak - but a new language, made up of gestures.
Their hands would have danced in a tangle of skin and smells, light, distances vanish and become nothing more than skin to fill the empty two-year absence dug relentlessly, and their basins, mad, they would reassess the contours of their reality with a violence so as to be crystalline sweet, almost, their hands have stitched up the wound with bleeding strokes that were those years of absence, lack
It was the name of Sora felt that feeling in the stomach at night, when he thought the mouths of Kairi and Riku together.
He kissed their bodies into every inch of their surface, feeding on their size as a result of a delicious and rare as a precious stone, he stroked their hair and they would have enjoyed a coiled around his finger, smiling just as if nothing had changed, as if that lack had not irreparably destroyed so as to make their games a need.
Need.
would survive only thanks to the lack . That urge, vital was the only thing that kept him miraculously alive.
be for them, to them, with them. In
them. It would
cibato their flesh so that never again invaded the absence. Never again.
To touch them again and again and again - and why they do the same and for ever. And for the first time consciously. Why did not escape.
Why was everything he wanted, everything he could think of, because it wanted nothing more in the world. Why that need it devastated.
because he was born for this.
He had to save them - this . His only way. The only thing that really mattered. To feel once again that single, tumultuous heart.
Their hearts - those of both. Riku and Kairi.

Kairi she wanted back.
Some words, mostly. His whims unnecessary. Those things that people find to keep because she undeniably naive. It would
touched her when he said Sora smiling
"We're back. We will not go away anymore "
" I know you do not. "
And then 'I love you, "he added, without stop crying like that light and calm. Like a scream.
was all he wanted. Feel his voice say those exact words.
Every moment spent away from the island that he needed to keep in mind that Kairi was waiting in a place where no one in the world I would never have met.
in their hearts - yours and that of Riku.

who spent every moment, every single moment, emanated from the power of his thoughts and fled away, farther and farther away from him, in a vacuum.
His heart stopped beating suddenly.
Nothing could keep him from continuing to fight until he had had life until his last breath, would bring home from Riku Kairi. Nothing else mattered.
Nothing heroic, nothing great.
Why, after all, there is nothing great in meeting their own needs.
"What happened to you during these years?". Nothing that was not
"We have searched for. We tovati. We're back. We will not go away anymore. " Nobody would have guessed
, but they would be secretly performed.
was all that life had taught him: he was born to them, them.
And every single breath was meant to be with them again . In
them.

Every step he took him brings to mind those days.
The rough sea after the rain, the sand. The smells, all that desire.
The journey had taught him things and things still wanted to learn. They were her encyclopedia.
Everything you need to know about the world, on any world, was in the salty taste of their saliva, in the perfect curve of their backs wet from sea water, in their words full of funny smiles in their voices drunk laughter and kisses. In the exact moment they went on.
could learn any scientific idea with his fingers caressing the mouth of Kairi. Every word that he wanted to know the taste of the skin of violent Riku.
There was no calculation error or syntax in his love for them. There was only one
lack . And it was something that did not allow unknowns.

Every step he took the reported to mind those days.
challenges and races, sunset. The skin burned, all that sea.
It was never a hero - he was a role that was tight, wore not as it should. Maybe because they think a hero is nothing more than a character: and any label, no doubt, Sora preferred to be a person. He wanted to retain his humanity. Whenever he thought about challenging the Keyblade to Kairi when she said, as the breeze
"I do not want to leave me alone," and he felt himself a hero.
Because if there was one thing he knew for sure never would have happened had they left Kairi alone.
But Sora was not a hero and not even matter: everything to could think they were.
defeated dragons, pirates, wizards, monsters. He struggled against the things that he did not know and say silly things she did not understand - because his mind echoed echoing in his chest to the heart, ceaselessly called their names as imploring, moaning, to have them back.
was all he wanted. The
skinned him, betrayed. The narrow face of her forgiveness.

comments, please \u0026lt;3

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The place we used to call home

Title: The place we used to call home ;
Author: S. (~ Changingroom chiododaBara)
Readers: green dot ~ for all;
Chapters: 1 ;
Words: 100;
Characters: Kingdom Hearts ~ Sora, Riku, Kairi,
Pairing: OT3 , but without explicit references ~ RiSoKai;
Features: Drabble (100 words exactly , yeah!) ~ # 078 Where?;
Plot: To Sora house has two meanings, precise, exact.

WARNING! ~ (as I like to be so damn blatant U_U). Though it seems, this is a Riku / Sora / Kairi. One of those chores perfectly veiled befitting a drabble. You can not expect that much from a story that matters exactly 100 words, come on.
But! XD A well-trained eye will see in these little words what the author (me, for that matter) wanted revealed.
The characters do not belong to me and blah blah, but since I am an avid fandom for a year and a half, I will also be some damn privilege granted, no? No.


The place we used to call home.
# 078 ~ Where?



The scent of strawberries and raspberries in her hair once again invaded his nostrils in the sun to clear the beach, those eyes filled to the brim with sky laughed again, as if his skin burned sun smelled of salt and boredom.
skin clear of him returning to shine in the blinding sun of their race to see who comes first, who swims farther out to sea, returning to caress her lips with delight the world, sampling in each of its intimate folds, full one of them ecstatic, perverse curiosity.
returning home.


Of course, comments \u0026lt;3