#Louis gara

[crookedvultures]

ROBERT DE NIRO as LOUIS GARA in JACKIE BROWN (1997)

[san-hun-po]

6 fanarts Bobby ver.

(A Twitter moot requested Jon Rubin instead of Louis but I couldn’t get his likeness right + he keeps looking like a perverted Travis bickle…so I had him changed to Mr. lady boner)

[mannytoodope]

[divulgatoriseriali]

Parigi-Roubaix: viaggio nell'inferno del nord

La Parigi-Roubaix è una gara in linea di ciclismo su strada che ogni anno viene disputata la seconda domenica d’aprile. Nota come la “regina delle classiche” per la sua importanza, la corsa di Pasqua, meglio nota come “Pascale” o l’inferno del Nord per le avversità a cui sono sottoposti i corridori. La prima edizione risale al 1896 ed è tutt’ora una delle più longeve classiche in attività.…

[killersfool]

You Might Get What You Want | ROBERT KEATING

PAIRING: robert keating x original f!character

GENRE: childhood frenemies to lovers

SUMMARY: lucia (luz), nieve ella’s keyboardist, has an estranged history with inhaler—especially with the band’s bassist, bobby. their fiery hatred for eachother rapidly blossoms into something sweet, especially when she learns that he wrote a song about her.

WORDS: 5.8k

WARNINGS: kissing, swearing, alcohol use, mild sexual content

Being Nieve Ella's keyboardist has completely altered the course of my life. Only eight months ago, I was doing my second year of uni, trying to get through a Music course and completely regretting all of my life choices. My favourite part of the day would be getting home and sitting at my piano, writing songs and posting them on Tiktok. Views racked up, followers kept coming in and I think I realised how well everything was going when Laufey commented on my cover of 'Like The Movies'. Then about two weeks later, an email shot through my phone—literally like a bullet to skin. I dropped the rectangular device to the ground mid-lecture, hand on my mouth, teeth in my lip. 

Nieve Ella had asked me to join her on tour. With Inhaler.

At first I was laughing, then I was bawling with endless tears of happiness and now I'm on my final show still feeling woozy and adrenaline is banging through my brain. The whole band have become my best friends. And, quite shockingly, me and Inhaler have a weird shared history. I've known them since I was really young. I used to watch their first gigs at tiny venues where they'd run around in the crowd and hardly anyone knew the lyrics. I went to the same school as Bobby, Eli and Ryan who were a bunch of madmen. They'd let me hang out with them backstage or at practice and jam before they finally found a 'proper' keyboardist (Louis). To be honest, I'd always been slightly salty that I never got into the band. But I guess we were never close enough and I could be quite horrible to Bobby — but honestly, he deserved it. He was a whiny, teenage nightmare. Still is. Except he's not a teenager anymore.

Thankfully, Nieve Ella and the band take a train separate to Inhaler. I don't have to hear Bobby's jests 24/7.  Today we're heading to Dublin. The final stop of the Cuts and Bruises tour. It's been a long ride but it's all been worth it. I've had the best time ever. I'm listening to the Strokes, a song Bobby recommended to me a few weeks ago. It's been on my mind ever since and I can't stop hearing the same chords and riffs over and over. Even when my headphones leave my ears. The song is 12:51 and funnily enough Bobby has a tattoo right on his bicep with those exact numbers. The lads gave us a rather enjoyable tattoo tour with reasons for each of their inked designs. 

I lay back my head against the cushioned seat.  I like this, I prefer it to what I was doing before. The constant stress, the exams,  the structure. I like the freedom of doing shows and seeing new people and travelling to new places. Never sure what you're in for. Crowd after crowd with all different energies and enthusiasm. The adrenaline rush is the best part of the day but when you wake up the following morning, it's like the life has been sucked out of you. You feel like nothing. Human. A person with legs and arms. Flailing around with no thoughts in your head. A billion times worse than a hangover. Post concert depression.  The lull after such a powerful high. It's nice to go through that hell with a group of friends who all feel the same way. Becomes a strange group therapy.

For the past hour, I've been begging Josh to tell me what is on the set list. I'm praying they'll add some different songs. Older ones. Seeing as it's the last show of the tour. Something to surprise the fans. Maybe 'Falling In' or 'There's No Other Place' or even my favourite 'You Might Get What You Want'. That was one that was written when Rob was the lead singer of the band. When I'd bang the keys in that garage. When we'd sing the lyrics together and sound like an awful church choir. I never got the chance to listen to it live, performed properly by the band. I'm still heartbroken they didn't leave it on the track list for the album. I have to resort to listening to illegal Spotify versions. 

I feel like crying everytime I remember this is the last show I might ever do with Inhaler. The last time I might see the lot of them. They'll surely disappear off into the shadows once tour is over, making their next album, cutting off all contact to focus solely on their music. After spending so much time with a group of people, then completely losing them from your life, you just feel so very empty. Like a swimming pool with no water. Or a mug of tea left hollow after spilling it all by accident. Last night — I would never dare to admit this to anyone — I cried for two hours straight into the pillow of my hotel room. Tour is a glorious thing. Fun, exciting, terrifying all at the same time. But the thought of finality is what split me into pieces, broke me up and squeezed tear after tear from my eyes.

Fran keeps looking at me with raised eyebrows like she's about to ask a question. She's scribbling on her set list, making sure she knows exactly what's happening and when. Her earrings twinkle as she tilts her head, her eyeliner sharp and perfect. Her mouth parts the slightest bit to reveal white teeth, a small smile. "You alright there, Luz?"

God, anytime someone asks me that, it makes me want to cry ten times more. I look down the train compartment, stare at the bathroom and decide whether to make my move. Do I run and hide in there for the duration of the trip, two hours of crying into mouldy train toilet paper? Or do I try to brave it and tell her how I feel? Or just lie through gritted teeth? She's good at reading me. She'll know that I'm not telling the truth.

"Don't tell Nieve this but I feel like absolute shite." There it is. I said it. Fire sinks into my skin, blood rushes up to my head. I squeeze my cheek to make sure I am actually sitting here and that I'm not hallucinating. Lack of sleep had made me seem some weird shit. I need caffeine. Quick.

"We all do." Fran puts her hand on top of mine. "Look, one more show, then we can sleep for as long as we want."

"That's the thing. I don't want this to end."

Fran gets up from her seat and swivels around the table. She sits down beside me, arms opening up and embraces me until I think I see stars. No one has ever hugged me so tightly. My bones seem to audibly shift. 

"Nieve's doing a few shows in February, remember? And I'm sure next time Inhaler tours, they'll be on their hands and knees begging for us to come back." She strokes my hair. "Although, Bobby might be telling us to bugger off instead. You two need to sort out this drama. It's driving us all mad."

"He started it." I sound like a three-year-old irritated at my brother. 

Fran laughs to herself. "Fucking hell. I bet he did." 

—

Arguing. It's happened again. Our last day together has gone to a great start.

First stop of the day—a random restaurant that Ryan dragged us to. Hugs were shared, kind words uttered, teeth glowing under dim lights. I sit down on a wooden chair, peel my jacket from my body and place it on the back. The cool wind is slamming against the windows. I'd forgotten how cold Dublin was. Especially in November. Some Christmas lights adorn the streets and pubs are lively with masses of people. We were stopped a only once on the way there by a group of fans—even our attempt at scuttling through empty alleyways didn't work when five friends with Inhaler-themed cowboy-hats impeded our trail. They were lovely. Photos taken and compliments exchanged. Sadly, Bobby was in a bad mood. When I say a bad mood, I mean a 'I want to kill everyone on this planet and throw myself on a train track' kind of bad mood. He hid away from the fans, behind me and Nieve. His height wasn't particularly helpful in that instant. The blonde, 'Amelie', had said in her thick French accent, "Is that Bobby? I was wondering where he was."

Caught. Found. He thought staying there for a while longer would make them think he wasn't there at all. Amelie was persistent, however, and said softly, "Please could I take a picture with you?" 

Her friends all started whispering. Eli was tapping his friend on the shoulder to get him to move. He was frozen. Eli frowned and shook his head. 

"Sorry but Rob's being a bit weird today," Josh explained. "I don't think he wants any photos."

Amelie nodded, but the sadness in her eyes was apparent. "That's okay."

I felt bad for the girl. I turned around, looked at Bobby. He was on his phone. Scrolling through Tiktok still crouched down. A quick look at his phone screen showed me that he was watching edits — edits of himself. I had to take a double take to actually believe what I'd just seen. He was staring at clips of himself, smiling, and wouldn't even stand for five seconds next to a girl who'd paid to see his band. He continued to swipe his thumb against the screen, blue eyes lit up by his bright phone.

Then his eyes caught mine and he closed the Tiktok tab. "You didn't see that, did you?" He worriedly spoke so unbelievably quickly, I had to scramble my brain to decipher the words. His smile flipped upside down. Shock written all over him. Blush rising right up to the tips of his ears. 

"The hell is wrong with you?" I muttered. Nieve heard. She stepped away. She did not want to be involved in whatever the two of us were plotting. 

"What's wrong with me?" He breathed. It's like he was asking himself the question but there was an unyielding harshness to his voice, raspy and agitated. I was sure that this argument was going to be just as bad as the Sid Vicious incident, or worse. Halloween Bobby was on a different wavelength — bordering on depravity.

"You're watching fucking Tiktok edits of yourself. Didn't think you could be that self-centered—"

"Can we not do this now? Please?" Bobby tried to get me to calm down. Amelie and her friends were still only metres away, asking Josh about the tour, about the next album. Fran was listening in. She was smiling to herself. Part of her definitely enjoyed the beef between us. 

"Show me your Tiktok."

"No."

"Now."

He sighed. I grabbed his phone, opened Tiktok straight away. His whole 'For You' page was edits of himself. The account he was on was a fake user account. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"What the hell..." Was all I could manage to say.

"I can explain."

"Can you? Go on then."

He didn't say anything. Took his phone back and kicked the brick wall beside him. He shook his phone around like he was going to throw it as well. That wouldn't change anything. I'd seen the worst of it — at least I hoped I'd seen the worst of it.

"Take that photo with those girls and I'll shut up about this." I gave him an option. A way to let him get out of the hole he'd dug for himself. 

He was so tall. Sometimes I forgot that. But there, back straight, no longer slouched and his neck craned to meet my eyes. I couldn't hold eye contact. His clenched jaw was making me nervous. 

"Fine." He finally concluded the argument with a single word. His index finger then pointed towards me, just beneath my neck. "But you don't tell anyone about this."

I grinned. "I promise." 

Stepping over towards Amelie, he smiled widely, put an arm over her shoulder and allowed Fran to take the picture of the group. Moments later he was complaining about his shoes. How they were too small. If Robert Keating had a chance to complain about anything, he'd take it and wouldn't shut up about it. I just knew at that point that we'd be hearing about his shoes for the rest of the day.  

Tension is thick in the restaurant. I can almost taste it in my mouth. Rob sits beside me. I don't want to look at him, don't want to hear him talk, don't want to have anything to do with him. He's only the only person I won't miss once this tour is over.

Before anyone can get a word out, Eli taps his fork against his glass. All eyes fall to him. Grace is next to him, she's appeared out of nowhere. 

"I just want to say thank you to Nieve, Fran, Lucia, Finn and Matt for being such great openers on our tour. We're so grateful for all of you. This wouldn't have been the same without you."

"Aw, Eli, I might cry a bit, please stop." Nieve shakes her head, holding her napkin to her eyes. "This has been such a dream. We should be thanking you for giving us this opportunity."

"We need to do this again sometime." Ryan pitches in. "Next time we tour, you're coming with us."

"Yeah. That would be grand," Josh exclaims, pulling up his pint of Guinness and crashing it against everyone else's.

Bobby, after all his hours of complaining, has gone back to silent, angry mode. Playing around with his fork, he stares blankly at the menu, fingers tracing the lettering. I watch him as the others melt into conversation. I just want to know what is going through his head. Why is he acting like this? Last week, he was fun to be around and we had a good time. Especially when he's drunk, he loosens up a bit and stops with the facade. He even kissed me once. As a joke. I think.

It was a mess of alcohol. A 'midnight tour bus party'. We were in London and instead of going to the hotel, we ended up spending the night in the lovely green tour bus. We all got so drunk we could hardly speak. I can't remember all that we got up to but when we were sobering up, Bobby dragged me outside of the bus. He gave me his jacket, placed it over my shoulders. We sat down on a random doorstep, hugging each other to keep warm. Two penguins. Two people who usually hated eachothers guts, finding comfort in the warmth that emanated from our bodies. I'd never thought his hair was nice until that moment. How it grazed over my neck. How the curls twisted perfectly and his overgrown mullet framed his face. Or how pretty his eyes were as they shone under streetlights. Dreamy, long eyelashes, sea-like waves. He'd kissed me. His long fingers over my cheeks. His pink lips slotting between mine. I pulled away, shocked. Electricity had sparked between us, my heart was pounding, my body was a torch. Then I ran away from him. I couldn't understand what If just felt. I had never seen him in that way. We never mentioned it again.

Maybe that's what has made him colder. I still haven't acknowledged what happened that night. I keep thinking that he was too drunk to even remember it, but maybe he does. I'm not going to bring it up. Especially now. Especially in this restaurant with everyone sat with us.

"I'm sorry, Lucia."

My heart drops. Bobby is looking at me. Downcast. Entire state is disjointed. His mouth just said that, his brain just formulated those words. 

"What?" I must've heard him wrong. Imagining it. This time I must be hallucinating.

"I'm sorry about that night."

Mindreader. He knew what I was thinking about. What my mind has been lingering on. The weather reminds me, his scent reminds me, his hands remind me, his jacket reminds me. That night. London. The night after Troxy. The wind — cut-throat, sharp, steely — the rain, and my tear-stained bedsheets. The taste of his mouth and the dejction locked into his eyes as I left him. Like I'd made a terrible mistake. Like running into my hotel room, alone, was the worst possible option I could've chosen. 

I'm wearing the same earrings as I did that night — these ribbon ones that a fan made for me. Bobby had pointed them out — which he shifted between his fingertips and said they suited me. He's eyeing them now, hands curving, resisting any urge to touch them again, to drag us back to that moment. 

The waiter takes my order. Bobby's words properly forage the depths of my mind, the veins and the arteries circling around my body, the aching crevices of my heart. I ask for the first thing I see on the menu and a Fanta. I want to stay sober. I want to savour all that will happen beyond this second. Bobby also doesn't get alcohol. Shockingly. The Bobby I know would never turn down a pint of Guinness. But he gets a 7up instead and takes a long, hard gulp of it when the waiter comes back. I'm counting the cracks on the table, how squeaky the chair is, the coffee stain on the ceiling — trying to guess how they managed to get up there. Musicians like to occupy their brains. They don't like to think too much - just do. 

"I'm sorry..." I whisper. Finally giving him a reponse after a long pause for thought. 

He had been waiting for an answer. He catches it. Twists uneasily in his seat. Wood creaks. Rain patters.

"...It was wrong of me to leave you." The image of his despair still rings through my bones. I swear when my cells divide they keep trying to recreate that look on his face.

"I shouldn't have..." his voice lowers, heat pf his mouth glides by my ear "...kissed you."

I'm trying to drink my Fanta with no reaction. Sugary greatness. Cold, slightly wet fingers. Orangey flavouring. But his voice is so low, trickling, burning, goosebump-inducing. I can't look at him. He's too close to me. It's too hot in the restaurant. Soundcheck is in 20 minutes. I want to run away again. I always want to run away. 

Down my Fanta, smooth my skirt, breathe in deeply. 

"I liked it." I similarly glide my lips over his ear when he's least expecting it, returning the favour.

He coughs. Chokes a bit on his drink. Then he eats his Pesto pasta with the pinkest neck I've ever seen on a person. Jacket off to reveal long, tattoo-covered arms, and the muscles that have progressively been getting bigger over the months. I join Ryan and Matt's drummer conversation to stop staring. It's weird. Being attracted to him feels wrong. Teenage Lucia would be ashamed. She’d slap some sense into me.

Dinner ends quickly. We're thrusted back into Dublin air before we can even adjust to the complete switch in environment. Running to the venue, through alleyways, shooting splashes of water all over the place, we realise how late we are. I feel better than I did in the morning. That dreaded train ride. Bobbys giving me the silent treatment again. I hate it. I hate it more than when he's being downright horrible to me. 

-

Our set was unbelievable. The best show I've ever done. The crowd was unreal, the size of the place was absurd. We had never sounded so great. Everything went according to plan. We're crying now that we're offstage. We need something to uplift us. Nieve's idea is to party in the back. Which is one of the best parts of the night.

We find a spot just before Inhaler goes on. Screams bleed through the room, adoration written in teenage faces, phones held up to capture the moment. The five lads on stage. One final time. I scream like I'm sixteen all over again, dancing as the first song 'These Are The Days' begins to play. Shouting along, throwing my hands in the air. I don't think I've ever been so happy and fulfilled before.

The setlist is the usual. I didn't expect them to change it. Eli gives a little 'thank you' speech, mentioning us at the end. Then suddenly encore starts and I'm met by a mildly unfamiliar song. The crowd seems just as confused as I am. Bobby is wearing that stupid black vest and I swear his bass has been lowered all the more. The next time they perform, it'll surely be grazing the floor. 

Bobby doesn't normally speak to the crowd at shows. It's always Eli. But as they play the intro, he begins to speak, "Hi everyone. Hope you're all having a good time." Commotion, screams, chanting 'Bobby' as if it's a cult gathering, not a concert. His eyes are searching through the crowd. The party in the back turned into moshpits and luckily I got pushed near to the front. His eyes land on mine. I can tell he's looking at when he plays with his earring — like it's a code between us. He keeps playing the same few notes on the bass lazily as he grabs the mic stand. Everyone is silent and listening as he says, "This is 'You Might Get What You Want'.

I recognise it now. I'm sent back to high school. 6 years ago. Practice room at school. Instrument cases strewn all over tha place, broken drumsticks leant against the wall. I'm sat at the piano as Bobby announces, "This is a new song I wrote." He passes me the chords starts singing. My thoughts are quiet. The external world is too loud for me to think. I'm lost in the music. The song is beautiful — lyrics, chords, arrangement, Bobby's voice. That was the day when I wanted to ask to join the band. Then Bobby was horrible to me so I changed my mind. I even asked him what the song was about. He looked at the Jim Morrison poster on the door, hand against his buzzed head as he thought up a response. "A girl," was his final conclusion. I thanked him for his specificity. He told me, quite frustratedly, it was 'none of my business'. Then he was riled up and told me to leave because I was 'playing it all wrong'. One of the last times I ever played with the band. So when I hear the song again — I'm back, sitting at the piano with my school uniform, waiting for cues to play the next chord.

The crowd goes wild at the fact that Bobby is singing alone. This is unusual. The majority of the crowd don't know the song. Reminds me of their first gigs in tiny venues. I sing along, staring at Bobby as he stares back. I wonder which girl the song was actually about. At seventeen, he hung out with every girl in sight - parties, random town meetups, gigs. The way he is looking at me is shattering me down to my core — eyes painted with affection and how he keeps moving his earring. For some reason, I wish the song is about me. Then he sings, 'You Might Get What You Want' whilst pointing right at me. Has anyone else noticed his staring? Nieve and Fran seem clueless. It could all be in my head. His face appears on the screen. I stare. Not ashamed. Appreciating his beauty for as long as we have left. Only tonight. Then nothing. Only the possibility of seeing eachother once again. It won't be set in stone.

I'm a sweaty mess by the end of the show. Last goodbyes, last waves, last shocked stares at the extent of the crowd. I always forget how boiling it gets in the standing area. I'm almost at the point of suffocating. We leave with the crowd, taking a few selfies with fans along the way. I stand in the merch queue. I need something to remember this. Something I can keep and wear and just be brought back to this venue, to this atmosphere. I buy a black tour shirt with the bubbly lettering, slipping it over my tank top. I just know the change in temperature will murder me. The more layers I have on, the better.

We slip through the crowd. Thankfully, it's quieter after my long time in the merch queue. I'd never seen such a long amalgamation of people. 

Back at the hotel, I crash straight down onto my bed. Don't even turn on the lights or take off my clothes. I just close my eyes and stretch out my body like a cat. It all happened too quickly. I left the band early to head back, although I heard the rest of them were going to the tour bus to get drunk. I've already had so much fun. I just need to relax. Alone time. Silence. Comfort.

A knock on the door.

I jump up. Still in my Inhaler shirt and lacy white skirt, I feel like taking a shower. But whoever just knocked has impeded any plans. I could just pretend I didn't hear them. I could fall asleep and they'll just walk away. 

Another knock. I jolt up this time. It's louder.

This time I reach the door. Sliding the keyhole open, I see him. Of course it's him. Of course. Of all the people that could be here right now. His hair is wet, mussed up. He's holding his jacket under his arm as it's completely drenched. Looking from side to side, he seems to contemplate giving up and leaving me solitary.

I open the door. Let my guard down. I want to talk. Rant. Let out all the garble mixing up and stuffing my skull. He'd listen to me. 

"What are you doing here?" I ask. I don't say it rudely. Make sure to keep my tone quiet and curious. The rise of his head to meet my eyes is almost film-like, tracing along my skin, photographic.

"I need to talk to you."

"Come in then." 

Close the door behind him. He drops his jacket onto the floor. Slides off those shoes with a groan. They really are too small on him. He can hardly untie the laces without sucking in a quick breath. He looks at himself in the dodgy mirror, trying to fix any flying pieces of hair. His beard is growing a little — little moustache fading in above his mouth.

He sits down on a chair by the table.  His lengthy legs reach up to the end of the bed where I'm sat. He picks up a tea bag, sniffs it then puts it back. I'm worried about what he's about to say. He looks like he's gone through hell and back to get here. I've never seen him so dishevelled. 

"You were amazing today." I hate the silence. I fill it up. "You all get better every time."

He's been so serious since he came in but the ghost of a smile haunts his lips. They twitch then fall. "So do you."

“Is this about your weird For You page because I’m pretty fucking worried.” I’m trying to forget I saw any of those edits. 

“It’s not that.” He shakes his head. He's hugging his chest, arms shivering. My eyes narrow. Each hair on his arm is stood to attention.

"Do you want a blanket?" I'm about to look for something to warm him up when his hand clasps around my wrist. He's stood up. I'm sat down, looking up at him. His thumb traces the inside of my wrist, over a bracelet I have. One that he gave me when I was sixteen. A friendship bracelet he'd brought to one of the rehearsal sessions. I wore it just to get a reaction out of him. This is the first time he’s noticed it. 

I want to ask him what he's doing. But then he's sat next to me with his arms around my body and I forget what I was going to say. 

"Robert..." I don't normally say his full name. It's the only word that's coming to mind. His wet hair is dripping all over my skirt, his head is against my chest, he won't look up at me.

When I pick up his face, stretch my hands over his cheeks, I find his crystal eyes glossed over. Tears. He's crying. I don't know how to react. He buries his head back into the crook of my neck like he's embarrassed. Then he's breathing heavily. Heaving. Sniffling.

"What is it?" I whisper. I stroke every inch of his hair, the nape of his neck, the thin material of his vest. I trace the tattoos on his arm. Finally landing on the music notation inked into his wrist.

"I don't want you to leave." He holds onto my waist, under my shirt, cold skin. "Stay here. With me. Please."

I wipe the tears from his face. I must look like a beetroot. I'm boiling. 

"Really?" I think I'm crying as well. I can't help it. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him so unguarded, so helpless.

"I only sang that song so you'd hear it." He looks up at the ceiling, cogs turning in his brain. "It's not just about a girl. It's about you."

"You're kidding." I have to laugh. 

"I'm not. I wrote it during the summer holidays before high school. I had some weird thought that you were going to call me and ask me out. I was always a prick to you so I don't know where that idea was coming from exactly. It's just when you want something so badly—I guess your brain manifests it into reality. Like every time I turned around a corner, I thought you'd magically appear. I thought you'd say that you liked me. But then you went off to Uni, the band got big. And now this. You're in fucking Nieve Ella's band. I thought I was going to throw up when I saw you get out of the train. Everything just came back. I didn't put the song on the album because every time I hear it, I just remember what an idiot I am for not treating you well and for not telling you how I feel. Singing it brought me back to the practice room, to that shitty piano with pedals falling off the hinges. How you made such a disgusting piano sound divine. I don't want to make the same mistake. If I let you go now, I'll be regretting it for the rest of my life."

"So you were looking at me? When you were singing?" I tilt my head, thumb below his eye. 

"I might have been." He's not crying anymore. His voice is less rough. He sounds like normal Bobby again.

"I'll stay with you. As long as you want."

"Forever?"

"Bit too long. I can only deal with you for about three hours at a time."

"Then we should make good use of the—" He looks down at his watch. "—Two hours and 43 minutes we have left."

"What do you have planned?" I'm getting closer to him. His nose bumps against mine.

"What do you want to do, Luz?" He's challenging me. Thumb swirling over my lips. 

"This." I kiss him. Lips to lips. Two notes in perfect harmony. Everything we've been through culminating into one simple kiss. It's a peck. A tease. I pull away as I feel him yank me closer. 

His hands find my ears and it's like that night again. His mouth tastes the same. Sweet. Lukewarm. He still grazes my bottom lip with his teeth when he feels me shift back. 

"You're an angel," he says.

At that, I'm kissing him again. This time with more passion. Exploding fireworks. Jumping into the ocean, water floating around you. The ringing in your eyes after an explosion. An earthquake. A tidal wave. So many feelings at once. He's trying to take my shirt off. I let him. Pulled it over my head so quickly I thought he might get my neck off as well. He throws it onto the nearby chair, looking at me, with those glimmering eyes and perfect eyebrows. Beauty spots and smooth skin. I attempt to take off his shirt too, although it's pretty much stuck to his chest. He helps me out, laughing at my stress. 

"It's not that hard." He smirks, tugging at the top as I manage to unstick the bottom. 

"Fuck off." I roll my eyes. 

He pushes me down onto the bedsheets, helping me up until my head is on the pillow. I look over his frame. Long torso, large biceps, chain around his neck. It's too much to deal with. Hooded eyes, smirk on his lips, happy trail leading down to his belt. He knows how he's making me dizzy. He leans down, curling over me, scent hanging, cool skin against mine. I throw my head back. I've never been touched like this. So precise. So gentle. Like I'm his favourite bass guitar. I'd never noticed how long his fingers were until they were splayed over my bra, until the other hand was sliding up my thigh.

He kisses my neck, my shoulders, my collarbones, the valley between my breasts, tongue flat, teeth sharp. I hold onto his hair, then onto his toned shoulders. This morning, I would never have expected that this would happen. That the boy I loathed was admiring me and tasting me with unrelenting adoration. Now, the thought of leaving him makes me sick to my stomach. I pull him a little closer, kiss him a little harder and remember just how red teenage Bobby's face was after he'd sang that song to me. How defensive he was when I asked him about it. Now it all makes sense.

I won't ever leave him again.

[frances73]

Louis gara

old travis…

[dilfgaming]

life is so hard as the single only louis gara fan on earth

[personal-reporter]

Gli altri sport: Didier Pironi

 Il pilota che pur di continuare a correre trovò una seconda strada nel mondo della motonautica… Didier Joseph-Louis Pironi nacque  il 26 marzo 1952 a Villecresnes, cominciò a studiare come ingegnere, ma poi dopo si iscrisse alla scuola di guida al Paul Ricard ricevendo la borsa di studio di sponsorizzazione della compagnia petrolifera francese Elf nel 1972. Il giovane pilota partecipò alla Formula Renault francese nel 1973 e l’anno successivo con il team Elf Martini conquistò il titolo con sette vittorie e fu  sempre con il team Elf Martini nel 1975 nella Formula Renault Europea ottenendo tre vittorie a Monaco, Paul Ricard e Hockenheim e l’anno successivo conquistò il titolo con dodici vittorie. Passato nella Formula 2 con lo stesso team, Pironi ebbe una sola vittoria a Estoril e il terzo posto finale e nello stesso anno corse la gara di Formula 3 a Monaco vincendola. L’anno successivo con la Renault-Alpine Didier vinse la 24 ore di Le Mans in coppia con Jean-Pierre Jaussaud e debuttò in Formula 1 con la Tyrell, riuscendo a conquistare punti in cinque gare del campionato e concludendo la stagione al quindicesimo posto con sette punti. La seconda stagione con la nuova vettura della Tyrell 009 per il pilore fu migliore rispetto a quella della passata stagione, con due terzi posti in Belgio e negli Stati Uniti e punti iridati in Brasile, Spagna e Canada, terminandola undicesimo con quattordici punti. Nel 1980 Pironì passò alla Ligier e conquistò la prima vittoria nel Gran Premio del Belgio, conquistando diversi podi e punti iridati, finendo il campionato quinto con trentedue punti. L’anno successivo passò alla scuderia Ferrari dove si trovò come compagno di scuderia Gilles Villeneuve, che divenne sua grande amico, ma la Ferrari 126CK non era competitiva e Pironi riuscì  ad avere punti solo a San Marino, Montecarlo, Francia e Italia concludendo la stagione tredicesimo con nove punti. La stagione 1982 della Ferrari, con la più competitiva 126C2, vide il pilota,  dopo il diciottesimo posto nel Gran Premio del Sud Africa, i punti conquistati in Brasile con il sesto posto e il ritiro nel Gran premio degli Stati Uniti Ovest, ottenere la seconda vittoria della sua carriere nel Gran Premio d���Imola. Quest’episodio rese difficili  i rapporti tra lui e Villeneuve, poichè il francese aveva superato il canadese nelle ultime fasi della gara, quando c’erano ordini precisi di scuderia di tenere la posizione conquistata. L’8 maggio 1982 nelle prove a Zolder del Gran Premio del Belgio Villeneuve, pur di migliorare il suo tempo, ritorna in pista,  tampona la vettura di Jochen Mass,  sbalzato fuori dalla vettura  muore in ospedale, la Ferrari per rispetto non partecipò alla gara. Dopo due podi conquistati a Montecarlo e Usa e il nono posto in Canada, Didier ebbe la sua terza ed ultima vittoria in Olanda e ottenne altri due podi nei due successivi Gran Premi. Sabato 7 agosto 1982, durante le prove del sabato mattina del Gran Premio di Germania sulla pista bagnata Pironi,  che stava tornando ai box dopo aver ottenuto la pole position, tamponò la Renault di Prost  decollando, quando atterrò la Ferrari si spezza in due insieme alle gambe del pilota, mettendo fine alla sua carriera in Formula 1. Fu superato nella classifica finale da Keke Rosberg che conquistò la sua unica vittoria nel Gran Premio di Svizzera. Dopo varie operazioni Pironì tentò di nuovo di rientrare in Formula 1, non riuscendo,  prima con la scuderia AGS e poi con una Ligier. Alla fine il pilota si concentrò sulla motonautica, con uno scafo da lui ideato detto Colibrì,  che lo portò a vincere diverse gare, ma il 23 agosto 1987 non potè sfuggire ancora una volta al suo destino, morì, insieme a Bernard Giroux e Jean-Claude Guenard,  nel Needles Trophy Race al largo delle coste dell'isola di Wight. Read the full article

[willtarica]

Analytical Application 2: Structuralism and Semiotics

Catch Me If You Can (2002)

Definition: According to Christian Metz, a French film theorist, connotations convey style, genre, symbol and poetic atmosphere in film. Film semiotics emphasize signs and its relationship with signifiers and signified to reveal connotations that communicate the elements of style, genre, symbol and poetic atmosphere. Connotations are important to signifiers as it reveals the complexities of a film and how the viewer might interpret it.

Analysis: “Catch Me If You Can” embodies Christian Metz's concept of connotation through its poster and its symbolism. Metz hypothesized that connotation in film is the hidden meanings conveyed outside of literal material. The poster of “Catch Me If You Can” plays an important part in showcasing the themes and plot of the story. Both main characters are visible on the poster, Carl Hanratty, played by Tom Hanks, chasing Frank Abagnale Jr., played by Leonardo DiCaprio. Hanks chasing Dicaprio is just like the cat-and-mouse chase theme exhibited in the film. Even Metz would write about the significance of their positioning and how it connotes the power struggle and psychological tension between the two characters. Also, the background of the poster is white while blue arrows further prove colors the posters connotations, evoking a sense of urgency for the characters in this true story that's as thrilling as it is adventurous. Metz would note these visual elements in the cover art as signifiers, adding layers to the plot of deception while on the run. On top of this, the title is placed within the blue arrows to contribute to the narrative of a chase, the central conflict of the film. Metz would defend this as a deliberate choice of typography in an attempt to heighten the tension and anticipation of the audience. Certainly, the poster of "Catch Me If You Can" is effective as it purposely uses visuals to convey Christian Metz’s theory of connotations that further prove the themes of the film and the audience's interpretation of the story itself.

Metz, Christian. “Some Points in the Semiotics of the Cinema.” Essay. In Film Theory and Criticism: Introductory Readings, 65–77. New York, NY: Oxford Press, 2009. 

Jackie Brown (1997)

Definition: The term "diegesis" is as Roland Barthes described it, the world that a story unfolds in. In film, diegesis refers to the narrative space created by the storyteller, like the Marvel Cinematic Universe for example. The story, the characters, and the actions of the characters take place in this world. Diegesis is the entire fictional universe that the narrative takes place in.

Analysis: Quentin Tarrantino’s film “Jackie Brown'' and Roland Barthes' concept of diegesis, the narrative world or story space created within a film, are aligned. Barthes claims that diegesis not only displays the events on screen, but beyond that, the cultural and ideological contexts within. In the “Jackie Brown” poster, the characters of the film are at the focus with Jackie Brown, played by Pam Grier, positioned in front. She stands confidently with an assertive manner, with a gun in one hand pointed at the viewer of the image. With Grier front and center, we can easily assume she is the protagonist of the film. Next to Grier are the other characters, Ordell Robbie played by Samuel L. Jackson, and Louis Gara played by Robert De Niro, as well as an open suitcase full of cash at the bottom to hint at the main plot point in the story. Both the characters and the bag contribute to the diegetic world of the film by giving the audience a glimpse into the characters lives and motives. Also, the poster is black and white with bright and bold yellow and red typography in the poster even though the film itself is shot in color. The title "Jackie Brown" commands attention due to its bold design creating an exemplification of the movie's intensity while the black and white color palette showcases the atmosphere as a classic poster of the crime genre. Barthes would agree that the poster represents the diegetic universe that the characters of "Jackie Brown" live and breathe in.

Barthes Roland. 1972. Mythologies. London: J. Cape.

Poltergeist (1982)

Definition: Roland Barthes wrote how filmic narratives are constructed and conveyed through film. ​Barthes writes how filmic narratives create meaning within stories by emphasizing visual elements, symbolism, and storytelling techniques. His work was extremely important to the greater understanding of images and its relationship with narrative in cinema by giving insight to how filmmakers create themes and intricate details in their work to convey a deeper meaning. 

Analysis: “Poltergeist” is an iconic horror film with a poster that exemplifies Roland Barthes' idea of filmic narratives, that examines visual and textual elements by creating meaning within the film and broadening its context. Barthes writes how filmic narratives suggest not only the significance of the linear progression of the story in a film, but also its symbols, motifs, and textual cues that help the viewer further understand the plot and themes of the story. In the poster for “Poltergeist,” the only image is of a young girl staring at a bright television while her hands are pressed against the screen; we can’t see her face. This famous image establishes the movie's supernatural horror elements as it hints at the film's paranormal focus in the plot. The poster is also dark and black and white with the only light coming from the television screen. The glow of the screen surrounds the girl whose doll is on the ground beside her. Below the image of the girl is the title bolded, “Poltergeist.” The title is the focal point of the poster since its block font emphasizes the supernatural aspect of the film. Beyond this, the tagline “They're here” showcases dread and suspense, setting the tone of the thrill the audience is about to experience. Barthes would view the poster to be a visual narrative that utilizes intense imagery and captions with a bolded title to convey the themes and tone of the film. The poster's composition is necessary for the audience to expect the supernatural horror elements of the narrative.

Barthes Roland. 1972. Mythologies. London: J. Cape.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)

Definition: Roland Barthes wrote that the meaning of myth is a form of speech and communication, outlining that it bends the truth instead of hiding it. ​Barthes emphasized that myth is how history converts itself into nature by naturalizing a value and/or belief explored in the myth itself. He examined how myths function in society and its impact on the world.

Analysis: “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” poster is so famous and it can be analyzed as a myth according to Roland Barthes, incorporating a transformation of historical and cultural values using symbolism that reinforce the ideology of the movie. “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” is a cult classic and the poster perfectly exemplifies myths in contemporary society. The main and only image in the poster is a mouth with bright red lipstick biting the bottom lip. This represents the main character Dr. Frank-N-Furter played by Tim Curry, symbolizing a subversion of 1970s social norms with gender fluidity and sexual liberation. Dr. Frank-N-Furter is far more than just a character as he represents a rebellious figure pushing the boundaries of culture back then since society was far more traditional. Above the image of the mouth is the title in bold red letters, dripping like blood droplets. The tagline of the film “A different set of jaws” is also below the image. The significance of the lettering and font further prove the myth at hand by referencing the horror aspects of the film while balancing comedic elements as well. Barthes would have viewed this poster as the definition of myth since Dr. Frank-N-Furter is a layered symbol of the progressive culture of the time that experimenting and bending the rules. There's a reason why the film is still watched t this day and a major factor is how the poster utilizes visual cues to subvert the audience with myth creating a timeless piece of entertainment and art that is “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

Barthes Roland. 1972. Mythologies. London: J. Cape.

Rush Hour (1998)

Definition: Swiss linguist, Ferdinand de Saussure, made his contributions to semiotics and structuralism by defining the term "sign" as signified, a concept, and signifier, a sound image. The signified and signifier are intertwined as they have a significant influence on language, semiotics and structuralism by creating meaning and further helping an understanding of signs and the importance of its context.

Analysis: The poster for the film “Rush Hour” is the fundamental definition of Ferdinand de Saussure's writing on signs, how signifiers, the form of a sign, and the signified, its concept, create a package to evoke meaning for the understanding of the viewer. Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker, the two main characters are pictured front and center on the poster. Chris Tucker has his hand up like he's about to fight while Chan’s arms are crossed. Both are smiling at the camera to display the comedic aspects of the film while they stand firm evoking the action filled adventure of the plot. Their facial expressions, poses, clothes etc. all are signifiers that display information about the characters, their motives, and the story itself. On top of the characters being in the forefront of the cover art are the visual elements of a city skyline and yellow police tape with the title on it to show how the film is full of action. The utilization of signifiers gives the viewer important context about the setting and how it's a story involving police. The text itself it black outlines in white, standing out in a poster that is primarily yellow and red. The tagline on the poster reads “The Fastest Hands in the East Meet the Biggest Mouth in the West” giving the audience important information about the two characters' vastly different backgrounds. Certainly, Saussure would view this poster to have many signs that use visual and textual signifiers to enforce the themes of the film.

Course in General Linguistics. 1966 First McGraw-Hill paperback ed. New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company.

[rainsmediaradio]

Gdzilla - Idan Lyrics

Gdzilla - Idan Lyrics Idan Idan I be the king of the vibe I know what to do I no need una advice Presidential I no need una vice See me doing my thing e dey be like na jazz 'Cause I no dey calm If na for business don’t call me a clown This one na gbedu olorun na jam Yeah this one na jam na jam oh See the way I dey mental oh Africa fu mi je ni instrumental (Africa) Where you dey carry me go e too far Awon ota mo so fu won back to sender Ahn ahn ahn why dem looking us And we no go fall cause we get jesus We go spray you some money so don’t pity us Drip on drip pelu aso Louis Vuitton Yeah-yeah-yeah Ayugu yugu ya Ayaga yaga yuguyi Ayugu yugu ya Ayaga yaga yuguyi Ayugu yugu ya Ayaga yaga yuguyi Ayugu yugu ya Ayaga yaga yuguyi See me killing it since day one As I throw my dice fun won ni double six gan I have got the power work with confidence The strength in me you no fit comprehend oh Emi eleniyan E pe se fun ijalo eni behavior Tori na only jah be my own savior E de ley gara siwa pelu christian dior Won lor wo mirror shior See the way I dey mental oh Afriica fu mi je ni instrumental Where you dey carry me go e too far Awon ota mo so fu won back to sender Ahn ahn ahn why dem looking us And we no go fall cause we get jesus We go spray you some money so don’t pity us Drip on drip pelu aso louis vuitton Yeh yeh yeh Ayugu yugu ya Ayaga yaga yuguyi Ayugu yugu ya Ayaga yaga yuguyi Ayugu yugu ya Ayaga yaga yuguyi Ayugu yugu ya Ayaga yaga yuguyi Ayugu yugu ya Ayaga yaga yuguyi Ayugu yugu ya Ayaga yaga yuguyi Ayugu yugu ya Ayaga yaga yuguyi Ayugu yugu ya Ayaga yaga yuguyi Read the full article

[giancarlonicoli]

29 nov 2023 13:33

TRA APPALTO E REALTÀ – È VERO CHE CYBEREALM, LA SOCIETÀ DI CUI MAURIZIO GASPARRI È PRESIDENTE ALL’INSAPUTA DEL SENATO, NON HA STIPULATO CONTRATTI O COMMESSE CON IL PUBBLICO. MA È ANCHE VERO CHE LA STESSA AZIENDA È SOCIA DELLA “ATLANTICA CYBER SECURITY SRL”, DI CUI FA PARTE ANCHE LA “ATLANTICA DIGITAL SPA”, CHE DI GARE PUBBLICHE NE VINCE ECCOME (SIA PRIMA CHE DOPO L’INGAGGIO DEL FORZISTA COME PRESIDENTE) -

Estratto dell’articolo di Valeria Pacelli per “il Fatto quotidiano”

Cyberealm, la società di cui il senatore Maurizio Gasparri è presidente all’insaputa del Senato, “non ha stipulato contratti con nessuno in Italia o altrove, né ha commesse di alcun genere”.

Lo ha ribadito in una nota l’ex vicepresidente del Senato. Ed è vero. Però Gasparri non dice altro: ossia che Cyberealm è socia della Atlantica Cyber security Srl, di cui però fa parte anche la Atlantica Digital Spa che di gare pubbliche ne vince eccome (ovviamente tutte in modo lecito).

Consip, Rai, Arma sono amministrazioni con le quali la Atlantica Digital Spa ha lavorato in questi anni. Anche prima che Gasparri diventasse presidente della Cyberealm. Per capire bene la rete societaria […] bisogna partire da una data: il 17 giugno 2021.

Quel giorno, Gasparri viene nominato presidente della Cyberealm […]. […] La Cyberealm detiene il 24 percento delle quote della Atlantica Cyber Security Srl, società che si occupa di “consulenza nel settore delle tecnologie dell’informativa”, e nella quale partecipano anche altre aziende, come la Atlantica Digital Spa con una quota del 26 per cento.

Ed è proprio quest’ultima che […] ha vinto appalti con società pubbliche. La Atlantica Cyber security Srl e la Atlantica Digital Spa hanno in comune anche l’amministratore delegato, Pierre Louis Levy. Inoltre la Atlantica Digital Spa è di proprietà della Sm4 Italy Acquisition-i, Srl che a sua volta detiene il 25 per certo della Atlantica Cyber security Srl. E chi è l’amministratore di Sm4? Carlo Torino, il finanziere indagato e poi archiviato (su richiesta dei pm) in un’inchiesta di Firenze su una conferenza di Renzi a Dubai.

[…] Atlantica Digital Spa […] ha vinto appalti con Consip, la centrale acquisti della Pubblica amministrazione. Lo ha fatto prima che Gasparri diventasse presidente della Cyberealm (giugno 2021) e anche dopo.

Il 21 maggio 2021 si è aggiudicata un lotto di una gara indetta da Consip in Rti (raggruppamento temporaneo di imprese) con Fastweb Spa e Consorzio Stabile Three For Tech Group Scarl per la “fornitura dei servizi di manutenzione hardware su apparati Multibrand” per Sogei Spa.

Dunque, Consip indice la gara e sceglie i vincitori e poi il contratto viene stipulato con Sogei, controllata al 100 per cento dal Mef. Totale dell’appalto aggiudicato per tutte e tre le società: 2,3 milioni di euro. Ancora. Il 1º luglio 2022 la Spa vince una gara per “il rinnovo dei servizi di manutenzione della piattaforma Micro Focus” sempre per Sogei. Importo 6,8 milioni di euro.

9 marzo 2023: Atlantica Digital Spa si aggiudica un appalto da 526 mila euro per “l’acquisizione di sottoscrizioni software Checkmarx” ancora per Sogei. E infine 31 luglio 2023: Atlantica Digital Spa partecipa in Rti al bando per un “accordo quadro” per la “fornitura di prodotti cloud”. Valore 60 milioni di euro che […] verranno divisi tra le otto società in base a quelle che saranno le decisioni dell’amministrazione.

[…]  “Gasparri mai è venuto in Consip e mai ha sponsorizzato la Atlantica Digital Spa”, assicurano dalla stazione appaltante. Atlantica Digital Spa poi ha vinto anche altri appalti con amministrazioni pubbliche, come uno da 161 mila euro con l’arma dei carabinieri aggiudicato a luglio 2023 tramite una procedura di gara Consip-mepa; o anche in Rai si era aggiudicata a maggio 2020 con altre due aziende un contratto per “la manutenzione dei sistemi informatici” per 401 mila euro.

Insomma, Atlantica Digital Spa è una stimata azienda, tra le più importanti nel proprio settore e – ribadiamo – ha vinto le gare tutte in modo lecito. Il problema di opportunità sarebbe solo di Gasparri. Abbiamo chiesto al senatore se sapesse degli appalti pubblici vinti da Atlantica Digital Spa. “Non sono cose di cui mi occupo, deve chiedere all’amministratore”. Chiediamo anche se venga pagato per il suo ruolo di presidente di Cyberealm: “No, prendo solo un rimborso spese”.

[rallytimeofficial]

WRC, al Rally del Cile il navigatore dimentica le note in albergo

🔴 🔴 WRC, al Rally del Cile il navigatore dimentica le note in albergo

Immagina di fare il tuo debutto su una Rally1, ma il tuo copilota si dimentica di portare con sé le note per le tappe della mattina… Non è sufficiente l’eventuale tensione dovuta al debutto, Gregoire Munster e il suo navigatore Louis Louka hanno anche dovuto affrontare un notevole imbarazzo durante la loro gara al Rally del Cile. Il primo giorno del Rally del Cile è stato di grande importanza…

[localizee]

UNITED Garage Door Repair is the leading authority on garage door repair and installation.

[psychicllamacookieranch]

Can Metallica Master Actual Puppets!?

..yeah,.,.rock on!!!

metalica!!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0XYQHB5Oy20

hastang buanga :)

..very funny:)

ps: motuo ba mo..dili lang ko mosulti wat year and a month..

basta b4///

kuhaon ko...apil daw ko sa iyang movies..

kuhaon ko..extra lang///

or side kick ikaduhang bida na...

nya usa ko maka kwan..iapil usa ko sa iyang advertisement...

para pag promote nako pud daw mailhan ko..din wala ko nisugot man,.,.,.dili ko tuo pud..

din i choose kani na life..

madatu ko atu..or manaa koy kwarta jud..dili lang ko tell././dri ba na..sa pinas//or sa gawas..ug asa pud na//offer nako lang..din ni balibad ko..man..

:)

unblieveable but that is true..99999percent true..

no-no ako dyan..bati mana na world,,.nya lain akong life pud..mao wala pud ko!!

\

motoo ba sad mo??

kani akong account..

daghan jud mosubay-bay ug basa...nya nisekreto lang sila pud..kunohay wala kahibalo:)

..sikat pud ko sa mga scol..ang nipakalat.,.,usa na kana na fraternity:)\

salamat kaayo..di jud ko mamising ninyo oi:) salamat jud kaayo ..

maunay ra mo sa tari..watchout akong drawing:) kung gahi jud ulox:)

but anyway..sila ra ba jud kuno ang modaog:) magkatawa man sad ta,,,:) sure mo anang drawinga???nya sa na mo kaha ana eghuman ana??diha ra?/:)

,,pag-ka-charr:) run 4ever..wer?? kahibalo ko asa ka??sa karon palang:)

ha-hay:)

yes patay gud ko..i said..even if i die im winning99999percent true..

semi immortal man..lisud pa ba nmu tuohan..na im better than you..

pero pang ari monding pa ko won:)

...motuo mo..naa mobasa ani..akong account daghan././apil mga celibrity..here or gawas..ambot aza kaha:)

politiko//pulis...

kaliwat:)

basta daghan//.friends..

silingan:) best-ha-ha:) ai wala se-gow-row:)

peace:)

..2 :)

peace sign:)

mahal ko kayo:)

you know who u are:)

kinsa mo:)

peace:)

yeah:)

pagbinuotan mo segi.:).suko zuper buddee:)

nya kung bata kapa dili mag uyab-uyab..yaw haff??:)

yaw:) stop dat,.,.,labina kaliwat..yaw .,yaw haff!!

good!!

i know dat,.,.

im amazing kasi..kaya kahibalo ko sa mga gipanghide sa uban-uban mga taw..ekept ko nalang:)

lisudpagkwan gud..unsaon pagkwan,,

ma-boom man jud,,

kabayo nalang..taas-taas kasi.nya sendikato..nya pugson man noon ka..mao may moisog ug mogarra,,

say the magic word na kabayong bundat.. i know ur mouth na hambogera na botboton..na wala goy ika buga.,,.

..hadloka pa sila:) sure:)

nya ikaw asa kaha??:)

hadloka pa sila na ikaw juy modaog..hambogi sila ba//

na bluff ra na...something like that..kahibalo naka ana oi..kaw pa i trust in yo:)

kaw mo down sa  imong gropo..ug tanan nimung mga sala epublish na sa public,,naa videos uban uban naka sulat lang..

ai basta nalang..bukhang mga mata:)

gapiyong pa ba:) hasta nyo kauban ni balki nang uban..motestigo..kay pareha ra man gong pataya///.asa man siya magpakamatay?? sa kabayo??

or sa iyang pamilya nalang nya mangayo sorry or sa mga taw naa pay patung..

sa politiko inyo nahibaw an..pagawsa pud..diba achievements pud ninyox:)

..say na,.,talk that trash bundat na mailhan bisag piyoingan na siuya kay talinis simod:)

kabayong bundat..manyakiss gutom ug uhaw/./.inodoro worshiper..:)very louy:) tila pa more:)

palagota na si walis-tin-tin:)

naa ninyo duha mag end sa story..kung dili na mahitabo..segi pa ta ani..mas nindot..maglagyo unta ug dili na..wala pa dugo mo banaw,,,

na undang na..dili mag gara=gara pa..nya gilad sa diay ta..makahibalo man ko..

mura gansiyang kasi..,the mouth..best ha-ha:)

ps:) iloveyou christmas..

youve got me babe!!!

chingaw-chingaw!!!

show me wat youve got

//show me wat youve got means??:)

[mannytoodope]

Louis: Who's that?

Ordell: That's Beaumont.

Louis: Who's Beaumont?

Ordell: An employee I had to let go.

Louis: What'd he do?

Ordell : He put himself in a position where he was going to have to do ten years in prison, that's what he did. And if you know Beaumont, you know ain't no good way he can do ten years. And if you know that, then you know Beaumont's gonna do anything Beaumont can to keep from doing them ten years, including telling the federal government any and every little thing about my black self. Now that my friend is a clear cut case of him or me. And you best believe it ain't gonna be me.

[schlock-luster-video]

Today in crime movie / exploitation film history: on December 8, 1997 Jackie Brown premiered at the Ziegfeld Theatre.

Here's a portrait of Robert De Niro as Louis Gara!