What To Get Someone Who Just Had A Baby

But but but thinking

I think I have a problem with myself.
not used to being alone, do not have a male figure to think about.
I'm trying to fill my life with new projects and people just can not think. I drive. I want something a bit overbearing and I act like an idiot to get it. Then when I start to think about because, well, then I will stop them.
Some things I like because they have not yet had, in fact my stupid greed.
I like you. But then not much to tell the truth. But I want you. But I never put it to you. I love just because I like and why I resist.
And then I realize that my life is nothing more than that. a chasing after the things that fascinate me, to particular persons.

I want to get drunk. Of course poetry. Find the art in people, I want to see their soul. Inhale all their beauty, feel the irregularity of the breath, observe the way in which the arch lips when they smile.
Observe and listen to understand.

I am an artist a little perverse, nothing more.

Can Gonorrhea Be Dormant

Today, February 20, will be officially established the International Day Nardone.
The first and main cause of this event is What happened to me last night. Going merrily in a very quiet disco, rock-metal style, I noticed that the average age of the place had deteriorated considerably.
was a year since I set foot there, but there were so many mica marcmocchi before. Having understood to be one of the few adults in there, I started with my friends, dancing and joke about this topic. I suffered a second trauma when I saw a child trying clearly to me. Well, of course, love has no age, and we should not judge a person child or 'too little for you' only by the age, but ... Bha is something I He left really strange. It 'just that generations change, you always begin to wake up a little before, but so .. Probably the thing that ruined me was not to find a satisfactory amount of fauna male approachable.
Then this afternoon I finally saw 'life is beautiful' Benigni. Yes, I had never seen before, I am an old girl.
And then of course I am an old girl because I started ballet at age 19. But it is never too late to do what we like, we should not be conditioned by his age, because that dictates the right age for each What are just stupid social conventions.
It's never too late to speak, to apologize or to start something new.

attractive, and SATISFIED.

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plassony @ 2011-02-13T13: 41:00

Ok it's time to vent brutally.
Dear girl I look upon fine but sometimes I find highly unbearable.
the moive that I shall now lead me to have a hysterical when they are in your presence.

1 - You are HEAVY.
Yes, because you do not want to be independent, someone who always expect scarrozza around. You have to support other people's lives easier by giving them a thousand headaches. And then let's also support you physically. cabbage I believe it is not tired? But not that you are I cling heavily to you, I'm straight and bear it, like any normal person.

2-You are selfish.
I can never see situzaione from the point of view. There is only you and your problems. Do not you care of others. Knowing full well you speak out of turn to cause discomfort in others. Do you have a narrow view of life to you.

3-OVER-Six. This in many
try to explain it. If you dress like a slut, talks like a bocchinara and you act like someone who would give half the world from a really bad image of you. Honestly, to me a little matter, because you know when you start with those attitudes 'are super figa' the idea from you tirartela a lot and you stick up for Marple blennies. Who sucks.

There is also the fact that you're quite childish at times, that cries for nothing and useless questions to get you down while I try to find the positive side of everything.
This means that when you expose these things you will do me a grudge run pe month or so. I know that things are a bit heavy to say, but when six exaggerate unbearable.

I need an oxygen tank. The only two people who turn next is you two. Fresh air.

Scrapbook Birthday Invites

...

Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
FUCK!

Plant Pigments Chromatography Lab Report

Fireworks (Airplanes #3)

"Ragazzi dov'è il lardo?"

"Eccolo lì!"

"Vaffanculo."

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag,
drifting through the wind
wanting to start again?
Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin
like a house of cards,
one blow from caving in?

Do you ever feel already buried deep?
6 feet under screams but no one seems to hear a thing

Yes, I do.

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now
Wish right now
Wish right now
Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now
Wish right now
Wish right now

Where?





You don't have to feel like a waste of space
You're original, cannot be replaced

Yes, I can.
 

"Smile and nod. Present yourself well. Suck in that fat stomach, dammit! God, you are such a fat cow!!!! No piece of anything . . . if you eat, all the control will be broken . . . do you WANT that?? To revert back to the fat COW you once were?? Those perfect-skinned, white-teethed, waifish models of perfection staring out at you from those glossy pages. You will always be fat and never will you be as beautiful as they are. When you look in the mirror, I will show you obesity and hideousness. I will show you a sumo wrestler that you ARE. "

Back at work.

Nice Things To Write In A Wedding Guest Book

so idiot-jumps-

... Oh shit.
But how many geological eras do not write on this thing?
Santa.
I wanted to vent and open the LJ with Nightwish background I think is the best way.
Here.
Today she is gone. Lei
I think I spent the three happiest days in recent months, but obviously I'll tell him why certain things are like in Norway. Cold
.
Very cool.
However, strangely, I did not shed no tears. Dunno, maybe because I was too happy, or perhaps because she does not deserve my tears. Possible
latter case.
Anyway.
Tomorrow I leave.
I go again in the mess of the place.
I really can not stand it. The worst thing is that, with seven Roleplayer account, if I do not have connection will be a cosmic drama.
I do not want to go.
not even snows, WHY 'I should bother?
Not to mention that I have to go to dinner by friends of dad ... god, vomiting at the thought-sblergh. That's exactly
.
Four hours of travel, such that I can hear all the songs the mp3 at least twice, which is worrying abbestia. And then that hole.
...
I will die first.
But because I chose to stay here, why? Ah
here. Otherwise we took the
.
MIII THAT MEEEERDA. It
bine.
flew away, trying to finish with the role malavedodifficileassai Netherlands.
and shit. Tomorrow I can not
role with his wife.
Vaffa-MA-
DenNor lost and crying on roll-off

How Can I Apply At Vans Shoes

Desperate hours.

Title of chapter: Desperate hours.
Characters: Gilbert Beilschmidt Prussia} {
Rating: Orange
FOOTNOTES Introspective / Angst / Flash-fic
Disclaimer: characters, places and habits are the property of Sensei Himaruya, the writing and situations are my property.

. Desperate hours.

A good smell, that of blood. Iron, heat that emanates from the ground become too soaked in the red liquid of life to keep other, disgust. Silent drops that hit dead bodies slumped on rocks crumbled hatred and clash of arms that face; bitter sounds of agony that pierce the eardrums and reach the brain, eating it with terrible jaws and sharp as pikes crossing unsuspecting breasts.
Corpses.
and crows. A continuous crackle, hiss and dirty with black wings of death, feather cloaks that hide the meager performance of a swollen body and bitter to give, then only the white bones picked clean. Too many crows, so many corpses. Eyes to a world upside down that is not here, hands wrapped around cold air and acid, blocked in languages form words that never see the faint light of the winter sun.
Desolation. Support
in its midst a uniform is soiled with God's own blood, land, and pain. The sword drips black liquid forming a pool, seething with hatred, of rage and glory. But that glory can be, even for God, to observe a landscape that has nothing glorious than the fact you can still see the rising sun?
white hair shining, full of splendor, the only spot of purity in that death-bed sick, smelly miasma and echoes of screaming and moaning against the wind.
boots sunk in the mud, his face old and beautiful and selfish overlooking a sick smile, a smile of someone who has seen too many times the close brush with death with hooked fingers and skeletal afraid. Immortal, an albino with red eyes scrutinizes the desolation alert, with bright red eyes like the flames of Hell that they have rejected on the ground with no hope of appeal. There is place for him.
in some places.
A beast.
A beast thirsting for battle, a beast strategist, cunning, and fatally beautiful, a spider, weaving the fabric and makes you fall into the most beautiful butterflies. A

God is a God of War, that has nothing better to do but turn around Europe, which change the boundaries of cities and towns, which expand the offshoots of an empire of one language and one culture, combine them all under one banner striking.
black eagle, which spreads its mighty wings on small birds chirping in the desperate hope of saving.
mad, mad!
No one can escape.
From the dance of God and a skeleton can be born only a beautiful death.
Let yourself, it will be painless. A Magnificent become
be your king. Your Emperor, your God, your future and past and present.
You see? Enlarge the tired arms, the precious cloth rustles the muscles under tension.
welcomes you. Thrown
.
Or you will be devoured.

. Finish.

Preston And Steve Sound Clips

.___.

The saddest thing is that you think you scare me.
thinks that his words may strike me in some way. It 's so ... ridiculous.
that I absolutely do not think of his views I do not give anything, nor have any idea than I am more complex than her.
And it is sad.
Why, after making me yet another lecture on the PC, I see the fun for two consecutive hours as a forum for moms.
I think that people are not normal.
Not at all.

What Do Purple And Yellow Bands Mean

Owo

But how long before not on LJ?
Mammamia D:
Santa, write some bullshit and then we go to ruoleggiare-and it was found that none was available, FUCK-
I do not know, lately seems that everything is going well.
school, family, friends ... a bit 'less health, but one can not be perfect. Figuriamosi, I also decided to take in no more cosplay passively = w = /
For the rest nothing. I hope that the inspiration to write back soon, since I decided to be clever-stupid-to participate in two contests and I have to guarantee me at least fourth place, after the last experience = w =
Nothing new under the sun, inzomma .
Ah, yes.
not want to do the exam, hahahahahahaha.

How Much Is A Charriol Bracelet

crisis

You know that strange feeling that comes when you think you are the only sane people left on earth? Well I hope for you is not.

It 's like if people had rimbecillia in one minute. I feel more and talk with others more I become aware of their hypocrisy, their stupidity. We are all the puppets controlled by the mass media, advertising, fashion, from multinational related to our bosses in a thick wire made of tears and dirty oil money and blood.
society and its rules us even if we change any habit is not aware of it.
And then there is the thing that makes me more furious than any other, the audience! Yes, because it is he who creates money, it is he who makes us all victims of the tv. just look at how a family tragedy has made my throat at every Italian network, transforming it into a pathetic joke and devoid of any morality. There is talk of blasphemy when you do not take with respect to religion, but now that not even death and suffering are met, now that every tragedy is an opportunity to grab as much money as possible, not dovrenmo now speak blasphemy?

buy our souls with fake art, trying to make us all the same with fashion and plastic surgery, they want to alienate and suck every ounce of humanity left to be able to manage. Petrushka, that's what we are. Useless puppets used to attract people and excite people equally exploited. Making our life and our pathetic suffering distressing. Remember
Petrushka has a heart.

Watch Shelly Martinez Notorious

: D Well well

Tomorrow begins the university!
nice that nice!
start with three hours to shoot the history of China Bam!
and then last hour Chinese language * _ *

if I had to wake up at 6 every morning I would say that the university is perfect: D

too excited I'm going to buy a cm squared EXERCISE cones for Cangi or whatever they call those Cosini!

\u0026lt;3

Walgreens X Box Live Cards

I miss U. So much.

~ Ok, ok.
I know that I can look like a victim after this post, but ...
I'm wrong.
I feel bad because they do not allow me to see her, I feel bad because the day after they started school and I will have to console her perfume. I feel bad because I miss him too.
I know that I can see, I know that before we can be together Romics alone but ...
I miss, I miss her so much ...
Shit ...

Sell Blood In Chicago

. __.


It 's a period a bit' strange, this. Son
lot of things happened, first of all that I be trusted again by anyone in the field ... as they say, sentimental. It 'was a step suffered enough, even though the spot did not appear at all.
Then the mood ... mah. I am tired, actually.
Tired of all these problems, tired of the summer for me has meant little or nothing and, indeed , has done nothing but get closer to what I consider a major stumbling block.
stress for the fair is the highest level, I do not really know how to stay alive without me to take from such disorders and hysterical robina similar.
The pc obviously does not help. Just yesterday I wanted to break it, I was taking a tremendous crisis.
Well, yes. A period
of shit.

Best T-mobile Commercials

I hate fucking.

It is not humanly possible.
jalopy This worked for a month in the hole of the village, showed no sign of slowing down or anything, and now here, with our connection, it continues to restart.
is not possible, this dude is too old for anything other than work evil.
I want a new computer NOW.
or explode, I swear I explode.

Gray Suit For Ring Bearer

Happyness

As the title suggests, I'm happy.
Despite being in a shitty little town, although there must remain until 22, I'm happy.
I made one of the most important things, I even cried. And I owe it all to a certain Roleplayer.
Damn woman, you made me the greatest gift I could imagine.
Kiitos, Su-san. \u0026lt;3

Age Of Empire 2.0a No Cd

Airplanes #2

Ho parlato con Sascha, e tutti i dubbi, le lacrime e le frustrazioni che avevo riversato su Sugar, quella notte alla Village, sembrano andate via.
Aspetto il fine settimana per vedere cosa accadrà, e dopo il fine settimana, il giorno in cui I'll talk about the truly open-heart surgery.
It 's like if you do not even render account of what he says, how he treats me. He is no exaggeration to point
I do not care if it is with others, I will, expect, to be treated differently. If not where he is struggling to feed all that love in words?

I hate people who get angry and yell. They remind me of my father in his endless quarrels with my mother, the constant punishment when I did something wrong. Or when I said something wrong.
I am convinced that my sensitivity is also from this. As soon as I hear someone screaming I can not do just close your eyes, cover my ears, begin to cry. Because I do not want to hear those people screaming, swearing that you vomit on him.
Where is written that we can not educate without screaming and beating? Monkey

are shocked when I say it's a right way to educate and we educate his children without problems. In those moments my heart was crying, I gotta catch heavily to not cry at first. I would do anything not to give life to someone else what it was hell for me, from what I have always wanted to run away and then when I ran away.
If he really did it, with its I mean children, I shall become the aunt who comforts that make you laugh, which rendered in different ways.

's why I find myself screaming hurt by Sascha. Because his exaggerations scare me. I can not waste time ... If in future we married and he treated in this way my children, I escaped. Not be approached again. All

describe me as pretty . Not because I am very pretty, absolutely, but the calm and grace with which I speak. With the low tone that distinguishes a conversation with an adult Ineco than cheerful and happy that I use with those who know me always, and my friends. How much time I wasted
to learn that the grace and calm ... that "do not get anything from scratch", that tone that challenges the caller to say what he wants, because I'll always be a considered response and class.
Days and days locked in my solitude, to reason with myself, learning to observe everything, to find out the minimal differences everywhere.

With a smile as I remember: Alessio. That day at school, fourth year, few people in class, probably because of a strike, which came out in the discourse parents.
In her comment that made me raise my head, "After the fifth I leave the house, that my father ... "
I looked, he was sitting at my desk, the faces were 20 cm away, and do not know why everything I knew to say was" You too ... ?. He smiled, with his beautiful face and nodded. Then he lifted his shirt and showed me the sign on the side of "The handle of the broom," he said. "He joked," I replied, because in my comparison was a complaint by girl "No, but it is not always the case, only went there heavy." You would have believed him? I saw sincerity in his eyes. I saw the love that forgives all. "He never did, it's just happened, did not even want." I kept looking at him and then I snapped. We were in class five more prof. Ferrara, all have heard me because I started screaming, that was one of my crisis. Then the professor got up, took my hands, looked at me, hugged me and said "Claire, Claire, we love you, calm down."
This scene does not remember any of this. I only remember what the prof and Alessio. Maybe Michael next to me, that day. Alex's eyes, his hand on his shoulder.
E 'was born there, the respect we have for one another, pictures from time to time, the exchange of the issues, the discussions "hear you because I respect you but I will never share, glances every morning, every now and then kiss.
But it's always been enough to know that was there, someone who understood all along the line what I meant.


I never told anyone why? and what? on Alessio. Now everything is easier. Can we pretend

Cost Of Espadrilles In Barcelona

Even the sheets carried the smell of gunpowder [Pirate! Arthur centric]

Title of chapter: And also sheets carried the smell of gunpowder.
Characters: Arthur Kirkland
Rating: Orange
FOOTNOTES Introspective / Angst
Disclaimer: characters, places and habits are the property of Sensei Himaruya, the writing and situations are my property.

. And even the sheets carried the smell of gunpowder.

No, could not classify it as a stink. Because there was nothing unpleasant, at least on his part, was a strong and persistent smell, which could make him feel happy and proud. The only problem is that, over time, was penetrated in the plots of clothes, the wood of the ship, even in the paper nautical charts.
A smell of salt air, blood and gunpowder, who accompanied Captain Arthur Kirkland and his crew every second of their lives. You might say worrying, but Arthur did. Inegrante made him feel part of the sea, its life, its people. The ears were instead
pervarse by the roar of cannons, from the pop guns and dry by the sound of swords drawn against enemies attacking the ship returned to her mind as frames, each moment of glory was imprinted in his heart as a brand to focus on of a slave. Everything so
imposing, impressive on the ship that seemed to want to conquer the seas, preventing thanks to men like no other that Spain take dominion over the world, all so brittle . Ages that pass, interests and changing clothes should be rotting in a closet or, worse, to be complicit in an attic of memory and the fading glory of an era that had no place in the world.
entered the cabin full of tools, charts and may lead to the end of the world , clothes, swords and trophies of the battles where he was always the first to jump on the deck of the ship. He smiled, letting his hat decorated with feathers softly ended on a trunk, slipped his jacket on the floor with a rustle, raising a little dust, the sword rang just after Arthur stuck in the globe, like the worst hardened captains and pirates. The body of English
dropped on soft sheets, the thoughts were absorbed by the weave of the fabric and the eyes were closed all'arrivare sleep.
Dream, Arthur.
The wood under your feet, the sparks of clashing swords, the sound of the shell destroyed the power of the guns, the shouts to his men, the smell of blood that is imprinted on your skin! The glory that wraps like a cloak, knowledge of be useful to the queen and your country, the love of your own men! The
glory that never come back again. Aseptic guns, a corrosive climate of hatred and frightening.
No more rolling of ships, no more salt, no more blood on the wood.
risk death because of the edge of a sword is perhaps less noble than the risk in a dark and earthy trench? Without
kiss from the sun again, Captain Arthur Kirkland. Leaves an imprint on this earth, let this period be remembered as the golden era from the harness! Let the memories will not disappear from the men killed for honor, men whose bodies were never at home!
And then, when the sword is rusty, let it fall.
Tling.

. Finish.

I am very proud of this history, it will be because I was fomented ° _ °
However, it is dedicated to my senpai Edward, with love. \u0026lt;3

Yellow Unitard For Sale

chastes Most que il est de nous tous profanons-AyanamixLabrador-

Title: The est de Most chastes profanons que nous tous.
Rating: Orange
Genre: Introspective /
Angst Warnings: Yaoi / One-shot
Characters / Pairing: Labrador Ayanami, Castor / Ayanami x Labrador Castor + Labrador
FOOTNOTES The title is loosely taken from a poem of Charles Baudelaire's youth, the translation would be: We all profane word caste.

. Il est de Most chastes profanons que nous tous.

The hours before dawn are surely the more smoky the whole night. The world goes down a curtain of cold silence, the sun shyly begins to shed its rays are cut off from the sky is still covered by the cloak of night.
are cold, those hours, people who sleep in the beds is curled up between the sheets in search of warmth that those hours of death seem to suck. The right time to allow evil to enter into what is pure, in what at the moment can not defend themselves because frozen in its beauty obscene.

Labrador had a nasty tendency to sleep a little during the night. Perhaps because he was too busy looking forward , too lost in thought for even one second to look after sleep, in vain, tried to woo her with flattery. Most likely those sweet hours of solitude were necessary-except then be scolded by Castor to sleep as soon as they pecked-out; usually all ended with her falling asleep, finally, just when the sun rose.
And that night they were taking different characters from the previous ones, will soon be dropped in the garden, he would fall asleep under the tree, it would have been scolded by Castor and business as usual. A sigh, he was snatched in front of quell'abitudinarietà so cruel, he could not but be pleased at the bottom of something else would mean war, but the fact remained that it was boring at times.
A gust of wind stronger than the others lifted him from the meditations. He had seen something move in the room, furtive and silent as a shadow as the wind itself. But there was nothing to the window, only the huge white curtains fluttering in the wind chill.
semblance of calm that was broken by a sigh that shattered against the ear of the prophet as the waves on the rocks infragono. I immediately recognized the scent he carried with him: the scent of cemeteries, chrysanthemums stained with blood.
A shudder ran through the back, as if he had something under the skin was a sickening feeling as the fingers began to play with her hair.
"At last we meet again, Profe."
Ayanami. It was like playing with a snake, having to do with him. In every moment always the possibility to rebel and attack you from anywhere he wants, then inject poison to make you submissive. Or kill you.
and Labrador felt for a moment, all those feelings. His breath, his fingers, the warmth of his body. Everything about him recalled something treacherous, almost immortal, and awesome. He had a violent jerk forward, so that the chair was overturned on the ground with a crash. He did not bother to wake the others, indeed, if it occurred Castor might have been better.
His eyes, while staring at the tall figure and cruel, had lost all traces of the mask he was wearing usually good-natured, were harsh, stern, old. The muscles tense, ready for any effort just to save his life. Yet his gaze abruptly changed: a closer look there was nobody in front of him, only the darkness that enveloped the dark corners of the room. He swallowed, relaxes the muscles of the arms, that it was just a feeling? Or worse ... a premonition?
He was able to confirm this very soon, yes, because those hands that had previously only imagined clung to his life as strongly as tongs and cold as well. The long, cruel fingers left no way out, the body of Labrador was brought against her without having the possibility to rebel. He was all happening too fast, had made the mistake of relaxation. He was the sin of pride, he thought it was just a play of his imagination.
The anxiety and terror in its most insidious, slowly took possession of his body and his mind. He had to defend himself, yes, but my muscles would not obey his command. The vocal cords were not moving, did not want to give that cry that perhaps would have saved. He could not call anyone, could not call Castor. It was simply trouble. They stayed
both properties for several seconds, during which Ayanami did nothing more than breath against his ear. He did it on purpose, most likely, and with each breath followed by a shiver Lab
finally found the courage to speak, if only to distract him from whatever it was he doing there.
"Verloren ... What did you do? "His voice, though weak, was firm and full of a considerable threat. He knew he was not able to kill him alone, but at least wanted to give the illusion can do it. Paid no attention to the trickle of sweat ran fast on the back, was not the time to show fear.
The only answer that was given was a cruel laugh, and the feeling of a face pressed against her hair. He heard the man behind him their breath odor, felt her hands move so as to make it run, so he could be one hundred percent sure that it was just Ayanami. His eyes, in those hours, he was sharp as a handful of pins, seemed to probe the soul and tear it to shreds shred. She gave him sick. A grin
cut her face, like a wound procured by a sharp sword, the words that came from those lips were thin, perhaps, the worst that Labrador had ever heard.
"I came to taste, Profe."
There was only one thing that, according to Labrador, Ayanami could want from him. He began to think possible ways to escape, to which weapon to use at least reduce it to impotence, but something prevented him from doing anything else. Those cruel lips were laid on his neck, had discovered that the teeth were embedded in the meat tender and white. Like a snake, he was savoring the prey before the meal, he could feel the tongue dart on the skin, could suppress the wave of disgust that's mounted inside. But what he was trying to do? Play?
He tried to push him away with one hand, and he succeeded; Ayanami took along a trickle of blood from his chin dirty quell'antipasto terrible. It was pretty gruesome image, like a horror book focuses on vampires.
pity that usually being bitten was a beautiful virgin, and not a Ghost.
The blood flowed in ever smaller, the bite, but the pain still remained. It was not a pleasant feeling, but what followed was even worse. He could not feel the movement, Labrador, the only thing I could understand was found lying on his bed, immersed in the sheets that were almost untouched, with the man straight to his face.
Their eyes were too close, the danger itself was too close.
meant something, any kind of thing that would be able to send away and it disappears. He tried to drive his own power, but a rapid movement she stopped him; Ayanami had narrow wrists, so hard to break.
'... Verloren, stop it. "
words clearly unnecessary, the of Ayanami mouth opened wide, or better, the cold, cruel lips came to rest on those with too much vehemence of Labrador, making it sound like the kiss a bit. It was an unacceptable situation, that gesture was not to happen, especially between the two of them. But how?
Labrador felt, little by little, more and more dirty. Every second that passed under his body and under the pressure of the lips and equivalent to a thousand more years under the auspices of Hell, the destruction of his soul a hundred times. An experience that I would not want anyone, an experience that was scoring more than necessary.
Then, the overwhelming presence was replaced in the fresh evening air. Like it was a mistake on a drawing, wiped away by a rubber ... glasses?!
"Labrador, all right?"
Oh, that voice would be recognized as one of the dozens and dozens, even that touch, those arms, those lips that you took away every bit of darkness that until then had tried to overcome it and make it their own.
was in the arms of Castor, was to save him.
A little 'like a fairy tale, too bad that the fine words of the book had been desecrated and polluted a bit' too much. Almost to obscure part of the story.

. Finish.

This story has cost me BLOOD. . _.

Kates Playground Freee Mobile

Because each one of us has a part in his own heart of darkness.

do not know if the title suggests, I sincerely sbattoH, but I'm thinking of one thing.
And if ... go back to writing about D.Gray-Man?
Well, it fixed a stupid, taken this afternoon from a video by passatomi senpai.
I realized how much you love him, to what I hold to this manga. In fact I need to disconnect, it was becoming an obsession. Maybe
was the fault of the Lavi's face. I've seen, this was enough to give me a kind of kick in the ass and shout at me: Mitsu, you're crazy?!
I want to write about Lavi, and my Tyki Mikk.
At that time not enough er mature as a writer to understand how these two were complex.
Now I understand.
Now I want to return.


Without losing sight of my new loves. No, I could never. \u0026lt;3

Incubation Period For Impetigo

Hymne à la beauté - MikagexTeito -

Category: Ghost 07
Rating: 16 +
Characters: Mikage, Teito Klein
Genre: Angst, Drama, Introspective
Notes: Flashfiction, Shonen-ai

. Hymne à la beauté.

was a very light, very strong. Almost blinding, and all made from pure white; happened to be the signal? Case had to go away from that world?
not that sorry, just that doing so could save the people around him. Ayanami would stop hurting them using his body as a means, to hurt a. ..

"Mikage! Mikage! "

That voice would have been able to recognize among a thousand others. It was the voice of his Teito! He was glad to hear it again, despite was soiled with a desperation that Mikage was sure, would not have abandoned for a long, long time.
Although his eyes were dazzled by the light so strong, Mikage also saw his friend running in his direction. His eyes were so intense at that moment, the opposite of when he had just met, the opposite of when they were together at the academy.
He opened his arms embracing the little body that he loved so much against his own. Was fading, dying, he felt. But it was sad, he carried in his heart just one big regret. But not to the family, or to the army to Teito same. Why
was unable to say aloud the two words that weighed on my heart for years, because he was not able to be a real man until the end. It had been written on the wall of the church, on the floors of the hallway, and he hoped that those bishops took him so good to read. He was not sure of being able to reincarnate, he was not sure I can remain physically close to Teito. He had to know, by golly!

Forgive Teito, for not being able, either then or now to confess my love.

~

"Mikageeee! Come on, leave me alone, I sleep, "
No way, another reached the nose of cushion Teito that practically dominated the heat, he lay on his bed in the vain hope of getting to sleep at four in the afternoon. Too bad we can not succeed, given the disturbing presence of Mikage, to avoid boredom had come to take a pillow.
"Teito Come on, if you sleep now and then I'm bored!"
And as he always did, recently, he climbed on the bed with the pillow of his hand. It was almost dangerous that view, but having your legs locked Teito could not help but suffer.
Or maybe not.
"Mikage!"
A low growl, and here's hands leapt to Teito Mikage, seized the bust-and-pillow-maybe that was launched from across the room almost immediately. " Gasped with the effort, he gasped directly against the lips of Mikage.
"Here. Now let me sleep. "Mikage
remained motionless in that position, the ears gradually tending toward magenta. The heart seemed to love him break out, those two words seemed to love him out by force from his lips. They were
months, now that he realized Teito to love. He loved his every gesture, every word, loved his eyes, he loved more than anything else her smile.
But he never found the courage to confess, probably the one to break Teito a friendship that was able to save his life. He
a smile, kissed his lips and went down to die faster than they had risen.
No, there never would have done.

~

That memory, occurred so unexpected, left him dumbfounded and shocked, almost. He had forgotten about that episode, what was near to tell him everything.
He wanted to do it now, but there was no time. They were calling him, had waited too long. It was time to go.
shook one last time the body of his Teito, which continued to call it desperate.

"Mikage! Mikageeee! "

Mikage And smiled, breathing in his scent one last time and impress upon her voice. A really nice last memory, without a doubt.

I love you, Teito.

And everything fell into the light.

. Finish.

O * O * My first fic on Mikage, chebbelllo ç / / ç \u0026lt;3
Since the post is free, I'll say what I want, right? To me this is a
Mikage IC. For me, eh.
Then do what you like, but any offensive comments will not relate to the story deleted and will not answer.