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SurreptitionAfter the locksmith had been and gone, Giovanni woke up and demanded food. He looked flushed and bizarrely annoyed, ever after Saffron had promised to prepare a meal. "You could just go home," she said, sending me a careful Look. I pretended not to notice it, especially since I had almost no idea what it was for. Giovanni's mouth drooped in an offended pout. He walked around and stood behind me, then draped himself over my shoulders so heavily that I had to grab his arms to keep myself from falling down.
"Pundit needs me," he said, not quite whining, but close. "What if he collapses again?"
I failed to push him off. "I'm not going to collapse. Stop being so dramatic." He just kissed my head and stayed where and as he was.
For a second, I forgot about everything but my immediate discomfort. My head ached, my body was thoroughly sore and weak in a cold, dampish way, my stomach an
Vesi Vanhin Voitehista 11Curls brushed his ear, he could feel the tickling curve to his captor's hair. "Who"
"Oh, come on, ducks. I expected you to be clever." The arm loosened slightly and the voice dropped in pitch. "Don't disappoint me now."
The arms dropped away from him, leaving him free to jump to his feet and generally give in to alarm. There, lounging on the fitting room bench, was Benjamin Barrett, just as casually wicked as he had initially appeared, presenting a happily enigmatic image. "Well done. There is hope for you after all."
Taivuttaa reached for the lock switch, but a gust of warm air knocked his hand back. "What do you want?" he asked, keeping a wary peripheral eye on Benjamin, an easy task in the intimately enclosed space. "You keep talking like you've known about me for ages, but I have no idea who you are. All I know is that you make Novi nervous and you have a
Contra-Bandy ch20It wasn't the same anymore. Nothing ever was, that was just how time worked, but it felt unfair just then. I stared out at the duck pond and pretended I couldn't hear the crunch and squeak of grass submitting to rubber-soled shoes. It was always colder near water, even when it shouldn't have been. I remembered my first trip to California with my mother, one of the things that she had kept out of writing. She'd told me she had, when I was older, and I remembered the actual moment when I had asked her why not.
"Some things are so important that you need to hold them close," she'd said. For some reason, she'd been holding a rubber duck. This was odd because my memory was quite firmly certain that we had been washing dishes together. "You should only share them with your voice, sweetie."
I shivered and rubbed my arms. "They didn't tell me until she went to the hospital," I said. Sh
If the Poetry is SufficientIt was amazing how fast Giovanni fell asleep after saying something like that. I was sure I would never sleep again, and it certainly didn't help that he was clinging to me like ink on a letter. After he'd gone still, and his breathing was well beyond the realm of faking sleep, I lifted his arms off of me and wriggled out of the bed. He actually grumbled in his sleep, which didn't improve the tremors skating on my nerves, but I managed to stand up.
My hands felt like they were vibrating, and my legs were worse. A thick chill wrapped itself around my bones and freckled into my skin like shrapnel, wrestling a sneeze from me immediately after I'd taken a step away from the bed. I made a face, trying not to look at my hand. Tissue.
There was a box of them on the nightstand. They were a little dusty, but in my current state, I only cared that they were dry. Ugh, there was no way to avoid looking at it.
mechanici want to kiss every aching wound you have,
bandage your heart every time it bleeds,
and patch up your mind over and over
because not a single tear deserves to fall
from your brandy-drenched eyes
but this dripping heart of mine can only feel
and the healing honey words it flames get caught
in the back of my throat and on the roof of my mouth
so i only have these passionate guttural cries
to tell you that i care all too much
and in order to fix you up again,
i would need to tear myself to tatters
and trade all of my working parts
for your leftover, fading pieces
but i just haven’t figured out how.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More