|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Can I Put Your Eyeliner On For You?WARNING:YAOI.HATE IT,DON'T READ IT.OOC-NESS.I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK OR KENNY AND RAVEN (STAN) OR ANY OTHER CHARCTERS IN SOUTH PARK.THAT ALL BELONGS TO MATT STONE AND TREY PARKER.
Kenny fluttered his eyes open,and he yawned,flexing his fingers and toes.He tossed over to see dark blue eyes with smudged black underneath staring at him.
The goth teen chuckled and sweetly kissed his boyfriend's lips."Morning,Ken..."
The blonde smiled as the male pulled away."Last night was..so..great,Raven..."He sighed as he snuggled up closer to the taller male.
Raven smiled and ran his hands up and down the blonde's pale skin."I know,Ken...I know...We should take a shower...We smell like sex..."He laughed as the blonde rolled his eyes.
"Yeah..Let's go!"He jumped off the cozy bed and ran to the bathroom.
The goth male chuckled and ran his hand through his hair,soon following the shorter teen.
Kenny's cheeks turned a rosy red as the goth male softly sucked his
Is That Better?WARNING:YAOI.DON'T LIKE,DON'T READ.I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK,KENNY,OR STAN;THAT ALL BELONGS TO MATT STONE AND TREY PARKER.FLUFFY,OOC-NESS.
"Come on,Stan!"The five-year-old blonde tugged on the taller boy's hand,practically dragging the almost six-year-old ravenette.
"Slow down,Kenny!You're gonna get yourself hurt!..or me!"
The blonde stuck out his small,pink tongue,making a "NYAHH!" sound,and ran faster.
"Why are we wunning anyways?It's only my house we're going to..."
The child shrugged."I dunno,Stan..I wike going to your house..It's a lot more fun than my house!"He giggled."...and I wike being with you..I feel a whole lot better when you're awound.."He slightly blushed and gripped his small fingers tighter around Stan's hand.The taller boy smiled but gasped as he saw a good-sized rock right in the blonde's path.
But it was too late;the small blonde tripped over the rock and fell on the ground.
"OW!"He raised his knee and discovered it had a large scrape that was ooz
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
Keep in Touch!