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Just Another Day OffIt was a day off for the pair of investigators and they were spending it in companionable silence. Hanna idly folded paper cranes while his partner read.
"Hey Saladin?" Hanna was stretched across the mattress, arms crossed under his
head and eyes on the ceiling, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Yes?" Saladin, for the moment at least, looked up and focused his gaze on Hanna.
He leaned sideways slightly to get a better look at the smaller man from his position next to the mattress.
Hanna propped himself up on his elbows and placed a chaste kiss on his lips and grinned. "Love you."
He couldn't help but smile back. "I love you too, Hanna."
They settled back and spent the rest of the day like that. Nothing else needed to be said.
LeatherHow did I end up here?
That's the million dollar question. Connie has never felt very comfortable with sex. Penises always weirded her out, really badly too. And just men, in general seemed... unclean? Sweaty? And God forbid she think about the female anatomy in that way. Even in art school, when experimentation was probably a required course, she stayed away from parties and "study" groups.
And now, here Connie was, standing in a fetish shop, looking at leather wear. She wants to die. Stupid Worth and her stupid fetishes. Connie desperately wants to kick something. She vaguely wonders if Worth likes handcuffs. Then shakes her head. No, Connie is not going to give into Worth's demands! Except a little part of Connie's brain is actually getting a little turned on. But she is going to give that part of her brain a very stern talking to when she gets home. Hell, she's start giving that part of her brain a talking to right now.
It doesn't go as planned. Connie walk
Advice"Hey Connie!" Conrad looks up and rolls his eyes as Hanna bounds over to him. The red head slips into the seat across from Conrad. "Man, this place makes great hot chocolate!" Hanna takes a slurp from the cup and grins at Conrad.
"Where's your, uh," Conrad gestures vaguely to the place above Hanna's right shoulder where the boy's zombie companion usually is.
"Oh, Dominic? He had to go food shopping. He told me not to wait for him," Hanna says, wiping the steam off his glasses.
"He went food shopping at nine in the evening?" Conrad raises an eyebrow. Hanna just nods eagerly. A silence settles over the two men, Conrad working on his laptop and Hanna sipping his hot chocolate. The silence isn't uncomfortable, much to Conrad's surprise. The vampire finds himself very comfortable with the red head sitting across from him. Suffice to say, Conrad feels a lot more comfortable around Hanna than he does around Veser. The red head is so uncharacteristically quiet, that Conrad forgets that
Conrad, you were such jailbaitConrad can remember his first kiss. It was at summer art classes, between tenth and eleventh grade. His first kiss was his art instructor. An older man, in his late twenties, early thirties. Conrad hadn't thought much of the man, but when the teacher spoke, it was like everything stopped and listened and Conrad became enamored. He stayed late everyday and worked with more zeal on his projects almost like he wanted to show the teacher that he was capable of greatness or that he was dedicated as an artist. Once, the teacher had glanced at the clock and offered to take Conrad for dinner, and Conrad had accepted. He forced himself to eat the meal that he ordered for himself (though the neurotic nag in his brain was screeching the likelihood of e.coli at him) and focused on answering the teacher's questions.
He remembers the last day of classes. Everyone had gone home, but Conrad naturally lingered. The teacher walked over to him. "Listen, Conrad, I know how you feel about me," Conrad's hea
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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