#c: dario

[devirtute]

"For someone that isn't mentioning it out in the open, why do I get the feeling that you're thinking about it a lot? Even though we just met." There was a feigned innocent smile plastered across the worker's face. He acted all innocent even though those same thoughts were running through his own mind. "You definitely can." He nodded, actually enjoying the physical touch aspect of their communication. "For however long you want."

"Not necessarily," Dario pointed looking in his direction and smirking, "but why mention something that's better to call in the moment to tell you how pretty you look with it dripping out?" He winked, "or with your chest stained with it for that matter. Or your back because you have to lay on it to continue. Many contexts" he added raising his hands in a shrug as he landed a hand on his knee, "can I?"" He asked, about keeping it there rather than about moving it elsewhere.

[devirtute]

@courtesons asked: 3 M/M/M either [dario/your choice/peter parker] or [peter hale/derek hale/your choice]

MEME: 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃𝚃𝚈 𝙶𝙸𝙵 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂 STATUS: accepting

tony liked showing off his inventions, almost as much as he liked showing off his boys. when the opportunity to show a local witch just how good enough peter was with things in his mouth, he jumped at the idea. he let the man go first, watching the younger one suck him off. "that's my boy." iron man started stroking himself, licking his lips as he walked closer to them. dario rested one of his hands behind peter's head, grinding his hips to help him out. "you are right, he's eager to please."

[angwlita]

“The Monastery of Qozhaya is the principal house of the Order of Saint Anthony. From the height of the Monastery, one can enjoy the view of the valley which is well cultivated with wheat, vines, olive trees and, above all, mulberry trees. They bring prosperity and beauty to the mountainsides. The monks divide their time between praying and the cultivation of the land. In the past, this valley was not in its present state of prosperity; it was arid. Its fertility is due to the tireless labor of the monks.” 

 "Qozhaya" is of Syriac origin and means "the treasure of Life". 

via

[jemmaxlawson]

closed starter for @acevedohadid location: fright fest

It was a complete contradiction -- as much as Jemma was easily scared, she also loved the Annual Fright Fest coming to Wilmington. This year it felt different, though. There was more police roaming the grounds, making sure everyone felt safe, yet she simply couldn't shake the tension, thinking how easy it would be for someone to mix in with the crowd, if they chose to. Walking out of one of the haunted houses, her heart still racing and her cheeks flushed with the rush of adrenaline, Jemma looked at Rio. "So, what's next? Do we get something to eat or do another round?"

[tsopranowrites]

✨ --tag dump--  ✨

more to come! 

[jemmaxlawson]

Sadness shadowed her features, following his question. Jemma tried to hide it by looking away for a moment but she knew better than to think Rio wouldn't notice the sudden change. It was the single side effect of being on the road with someone for a long period of time — you become an expert at figuring out each other's thoughts. It only takes a single glance to know something's wrong. "It was my grandmother's." It didn't feel so weird calling Rosemary her grandmother back then as it did now, in Wilmington, where people knew her as the lovely lady who owned the cosy tea shop in Midtown and was always eager to teach her craft to young people. "I learnt that she'd passed away upon coming back. She'd left her house and her shop to me." Jemma explained, feeling a strange sense of ease after being able to be completely honest with someone about the whole situation. "Yeah, it's in Masonboro, so feel welcome to stop by at any time. We can even have a little sleepover and I'm sure Olaf would love the camping outside part. Chick, too." She smiled at the golden pup, giving it a gentle pat on the head. If she had to be honest, she'd love it, too. Just the thought of it alone brought back memories that made her smile. Memories she'd gladly relive.

Rio tilted his head to the side at her words, clearly interested in what she was saying. Six years made a difference on both them, somehow, despite how long ago they had been close, opening up was easy and he was grateful for that. He and Jemma were always opposites; despite not disagreeing on things often, their lives were different. He could see how shiny her eyes were when she talked about her business though, how content she was. "Did you just buy it on a whim after arriving to town?" Rio asked with a small smile, but also wondering since that didn't seem like something that she would do. He nodded, biting down on his bottom lip at her choice of words. It made no sense, how easy it was to fall back on old habits just at the sight of her. Suddenly, there he was, hopeful. Probably too hopeful. "You and Olaf have an entire place to yourselves? That's amazing. And near the woods? I'd love that. You know how I am about starting my fires and camping often."

[peapeapeapa]

My Seven Friends redesigns c:

This is how they look in my AU/headcanons

Their clothes are inspired by what culture I think they're from based on their names.

Gabo - Spaniard (since Rosa is set somewhere in Spain, I gave him a nicer Spanish tunic. He works in the Castle Kitchens so he shouldn't be able to afford it, but Bazeema made it for him for his birthday)

Hal - North African. (Nothing against her pants, but I gave her a dress because she's look really pretty in one)

Safi - Arabian (I didn't really change his clothes to match his culture. He just wears the coziest clothes he can find as long as they don't trigger his allergies. Bazeema is his sister in my hc, and she made his clothes for him to help with his easily irritable skin)

Dahlia - Taiwanese (I didn't change her clothes much, I liked her design. I gave her a bandanna because she placed her hands on top of her head while thinking and doesn't want to get flour in her hair)

Bazeema - Arabian (Bazeema and Safi are siblings, and Bazeema likes to reflect her culture more in her clothing than Safi does. She's a seamstress and works at her mother's shop, and made Safi's clothes for him to help with his allergies and irritable skin)

Simon O'Donohue - Irish (Simon is a Hebrew name, but O'Donohue is derived from an Irish name, and because that's his last name I'm going with that one. Because this is his Knight outfit, its just the one from the movie without any Irish influences)

Dario - German (Dario is an Italian name, but his mother named him that after already arriving at Rosas and seeing others with the name, liking it)

[devirtute]

@sinfulnesxx asked: 𝙿𝙾𝙻𝚈 𝙶𝙸𝙵 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂 20MMM Dario Montoya and Victor Suarez from any young muse of mine.

MEME: 𝙿𝙾𝙻𝚈 𝙶𝙸𝙵 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂 STATUS: accepting

Being stuck in the station was boring for the handyman and the con artist. At some point, Dario started to plan his escape without the cops knowing that they had left. Yet, when someone else came in for questioning, he decided to wait a bit. After some flirting and convincing the detectives to take their lunch early, the two men had Guzman sprawled out on the table, legs in the air. Dario was holding him up by his ass, spitting on his hole and running his tongue along it. Victor was working on his shaft, his own one going down the man's throat too. One hand held the base of his length while the other held his thigh. Then he started to swirl his tongue around the head before taking it more and more into his mouth. Both of the older men started to moan, no longer caring about who found them.

[tuttalamiavitarb]

Parenti serpenti

#Suocera, ha organizzato a casa mia, una rimpatriata di parenti loro.

Mi raccomando, Maurizio non mangia i formaggi e nemmeno Dario , e neppure la anto.

Irene è celiaca( è ipocondriaca NDA), la zia manu c ha la colite, e in generale a nessuno piacciono i sapori troppo forti.

Le bambine (hanno 19e 22 anni nda) mangiano poca carne.

Fai qualcosa che accontenti tutti.

Ho fatto

Bruschette all aglio

Bruschette al tartufo

Zuppone di cipolle(rosse) con lo zucchero di canna perché troppo acide, e la gouda del Lidl+ pancetta a cubetti.

Gnocchi di castagne alla zucca , lenticchie e ceci. (E con 3 agli)+ Pancetta croccante. Sopra.

Salsicce piccanti

Salsicce al finocchio

Salsicce al tartufo

Cheese cake alle pere (niente pancetta)

Spero di fare bella figura🤗😋🙈

[murdercide626]

"ENEMIES OF GAIA"

aka "Defilers of the Earth!"

aka "Awesome Possum's Hit List"

Hexxus (FernGully: The Last Rainforest)

Dr. Ivo "Eggman" Robotnik (Sonic the Hedgehog)

Dario Agger/"The Minotaur" (Marvel Comics)

Dr. Barbara Blight (Captain Planet)

King K. Rool (Donkey Kong Country)

Dr. Neo Cortex (Crash Bandicoot)

Montana Max (Tiny Toon Adventures)

Cyril Sneer (The Raccoons)

Capital B (Yooka-Laylee)

Rebecca Madison (Phantom 2040)

Hedorah (Godzilla)

Duke Nukem (Captain Planet)

Megatox (Sonic the Comic)

Diesel Weasel (Rick and Morty)

Fire Lord Ozai (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Dr. Killemoff (Toxic Crusaders)

C. Montgomery Burns (The Simpsons)

Rufus Shinra (Final Fantasy VII)

Hoggish Greedly (Captain Planet)

Gruntilda Winkybunion (Banjo-Kazooie)

Porky Minch (Mother 3)

Fenton Sludge (Goof Troop)

Lawrence Limburger (Biker Mice from Mars)

Dr. Machino (Awesome Possum... Kicks Dr. Machino's Butt)

[anhelconhmuda]

anhel: el que no se haga un hijo mio es porque ya se hizo a su partera o porque es un sarnoso cobarde

tambien anhel: pero no podemos hacer eso en una busqueda

de nuevo anhel: ok, pues ponle esto:

SI QUIERES ESTAR A LA MODA CREANDOTE UN PJ JOVENCITO POR QUE NO LE HACES UN FAVOR A TODOS Y ME DAS UN HIJO

vas a ver como le dara mas sentido a tu vida crearte

a) una sacerdotisa de elanthe bestie de la recien parida mas trastornada del momento (al menos en el imperio, porque eider siempre robando foco al modo mentirateamo) con estudios, techo y todo ya cubiertos (excelente ambiente laboral, muy amiguis todos)

b) un semidios muy cool y bonito gemelo nieto de varoth listo para robarse calzones y corazones

c) una hija de dressen como la mas bonita, lista y fabulosa de amarus gratia coleccionando envidias y notas top

BONUS: tendras a Dario de tio/amiguis, que mejor privilegio que ese? de partida seras consentide solo por respirar, no se por que no te suena a lo mejor del puto mundo ?????

Y ESO ES SOLO EMPEZANDO, PORQUE NO MENCIONO A

eider la recien colada que tuvo un hijo de ciro, pero ciro estaba con aurelie y ya habia tenido dos hijas, pero ahora casana la llama protegida y dario le dedica ojos coquetos cada que piensa que nadie los ve que es NUNCA pero al parecer todos nos estamos haciendo los idiotas ???

aurelie la que solia ser muy amada pero despues que aventaron a casana de un segundo piso por secuestrar a eider, parece que fue por culpa de aurelie y ahora ya no la pueden ver porque se fue a casar con un pirata y vive en las islas bruma con sus dos hijas asi que ya no esta invitada a las cenas familiares ???

casana la abuela mas brutal que estrena un baston de poca madre con el mango de una cabeza de serpiente de oro enseñando los colmillos igual que ella cada que te encorvas cerca suyo

ciro que acaban de matar despues de nadjul y desde entonces empezo todo este mierdero pero si dices su nombre alguien llora o maldice o ambos a la vez, pero igual ya nadie sabia que onda con el desde dos años antes porque andaba de vividor en catalia, pero ya medio se sabia que traia una amante pero todos actuaron # sorprendidos cuando dicha amante aparecio despues de su funeral y aparte # panzona

PERO BUENO te vas a tomar una busqueda o no? aqui esta mi vision board para que te inspires a corregirme o a seguirme el delulu

estara muy dificil convencerme de otro pb para idalia que no sea holliday grainger porque OMG NO VES QUE YA TIENE GIFSETS CON LA ABUELA CASANA???

pero bueno TAL VEZ Y SOLO TAL VEZ podria acceder a hera hilmar, porque tambien da muchos vibes de idalia (principalmente en sus apariciones en da vinci's demons, pero en general aparece en period dramas y me gusta mucho)

de los gemelos estoy mas abierta PERO al enfermo que se le ocurra llegar con cesare borgia... perdon, me gusta como piensas, solo esta dificil que me convenzas que ese señor tendrá veinte años asi que

castings de series como medici the magnificent, da vinci's demons, etc, pueden funcionar, con ejemplos de bradley james haciendo de giuliano de’ medici pero tambien de arthur pendragon

Y UN LARGO ETCETERA, EL PUNTO ES QUE LLAMA YA Y APARTA TU BATTAGLIA DE PREFERENCIA SI NO ESTAS TOMANDO A MI SACERDOTISA DE ELANTHE

[chrisbuckleydiaz]

Nest ao3

They get the call two hours before the shift is over.

Buck isn’t working, Dario from C-shift asked if someone could switch so he could go to a baseball-game and Buck offered.

Eddie is glad he isn’t there, doesn’t have to see it. It’s a boy. Maybe fourteen, fifteen. Skateboard vs. SUV. Tale as old as cars. He was probably on his way to school. His backpack lies five feet away, burst open. Eddie and Dario are busy with recovering the driver - but not busy enough. 

The ride back is quiet. Eddie’s stomach churns at the thought of the boy - his parents, his dreams, his future. Their shift is over, so there’s no need - except survival - to store those thoughts away. 

Maybe he had been into Guardians Of The Galaxy the same way Chris is right now - playing the game night after night. Maybe his parents had been at their wits end on how to coax him away from it.

Maybe he had spent every afternoon at the skatepark and came home on time and did his chores without having to be asked twice.

Maybe he’d wanted to become a pilot or a vet or a kindergarten teacher. Maybe he’d wanted to hike the Appalachian trail after graduation. 

Eddie takes a shaky breath, steadying himself by grabbing his own thighs. 

There’s a figure leaning against the glass wall of the locker room when they pull up at the station. Eddie feels Cap’s hand squeezing his shoulder in passing.

“Bobby texted me,” Tommy takes a step forward, forehead creased in worry.

“Oh.”

Eddie comes to a halt one, two feet apart from him.

“Evan is dropping off Christopher at school and has therapy after,” his voice is soft and measured.

Maybe Eddie almost flinched at the mention of his son. 

He knows Buck’s schedule - all of their schedules actually, they have a shared calendar, so he’s not sure why Tommy mentions it, but he doesn’t really care either. He nods.

“Yeah.”

“You want to grab breakfast?”

“Not sure I have an appetite,” Tommy nods, eyes warm with understanding, “But I could do with coffee.”

“I’ll wait for you outside.”

Tommy wraps him in his arms as soon as Eddie approaches the car and Eddie lets himself fall into the older one’s arms. 

“I’ve got you.”

Eddie inhales the familiar scent of Tommy and stays still for a moment, while Tommy rubs circles over his shoulder blades. Eventually Tommy pulls back, kissing his temple.

“You feel like driving?” 

He shakes his head and doesn’t let himself worry about the logistics of letting his car behind in the 118’s parking lot. Instead he climbs into the SUV. There’s soft rock music quietly playing and Eddie remembers with a sense of gratitude that Tommy rarely listens to the radio but has a number of curated playlists on his phone.

“Feel free to change that to whatever you feel like.”

“No, it’s - It’s good.”

Tommy rubs his thumb over Eddie’s hand while backing out of the parking space. 

“La Rosa ok?”

La Rosa is a tiny café in Ocean Park that has an elaborate coffee and breakfast menu and its own mascot in the form of Cupcake, the owner’s dog. Christopher, naturally, absolutely adores the dog.

Eddie nods and a short while later they find seats on the backyard patio that is equipped with seats in all different forms and colors. 

“Talk to me. Tell me something. A story. Whatever.” Eddie doesn’t let go of Tommy’s hand even for a second, not when they walked here and not now, after they ordered.

Tommy hums, thinking for a moment, then he smiles and Eddie feels better already.

“I used to spend a lot of my holidays at my aunt’s house. When I was eight or nine, my cousin became really obsessed with Back To The Future . We would watch the first and the sequel - the third one wasn’t released yet - like every other day. He could recite half of the script. And I guess I had something like a crush on Marty, but that’s not the point of the story,” Tommy winks and Eddie squeezes his hand, “The town my aunt lived in had - no joke - the same kind of clock as in the movie on the town hall. I think in the movie it wasn’t town hall. Anyway. One evening, there was a thunderstorm raging outside and my cousin begged his mom to let us go outside. Not sure what he wanted to do, since we didn’t have an actual time machine, but he begged for like half an hour. My aunt obviously refused to let us go and my cousin got so mad he didn’t speak to her the rest of the evening.”

While Tommy told his story, the waiter brought their order: Café con leche for Eddie and a mocha and strawberry muffin for Tommy.

“Did you like spending time at your aunt’s?”

“Yeah. She was a really kind woman that also took no shit. I mean, she had to be, growing up with my dad, I guess. She was really into quilts”, he frowns, “I should have a quilt of hers somewhere, now that I think about it.”

Eddie smiles at the thought of a keepsake like that when he feels something nudge his knee. It’s Cupcake, who’s looking expectantly at him.

“Hey, bud,” he greets him, instantly starting to scratch his ears, “It’s good to see you!”

He lets himself get carried away and baby-talks to the dog for a while. So long, that when he looks up again, Buck is standing behind Tommy, hands on his shoulders. Both of them are smiling fondly at him.

“Did you sneak up on us?”

“A buffalo herd could have trampled through here and you wouldn’t have noticed,” Buck teases, rounding the table and sitting down next to Eddie. He leans forward, his hand cupping Eddie’s face. “Hey, baby. Chris says hi.”

Eddie swallows a whine when Buck withdraws his hand to grab the menu.

“I’m starving! I hope they still serve the three-cheese omelet.”

“Any thoughts on how to spend the rest of the day? My on-call doesn’t start until noon.”

Eddie shrugs, stirring his café slowly. Buck musters him.

“Your eyes are teeny-tiny, Eds.”

He smirks. “Maybe I’m a teeny-tiny bit tired.”

Tommy smiles. “I could do with a nap.”

“Same.”

“So that’s decided then?” Tommy raises an eyebrow. 

“Looks like it,” Buck nods and grabs a fork to dig into the omelett.

When Eddie wakes up two hours later, Buck is propped up against the headboard, scrolling on his phone.

“Did Tommy have to leave already?” Eddie pats the empty side of the mattress.

“Hey sleepyhead. No. He’s looking for something in the garage. Didn’t want to tell me what,” Buck shrugs. 

Eddie hums, positioning himself in Buck’s lap. Buck immediately starts scratching his head and Eddie sighs. For a while, they’re quiet.

“You want to talk about it?” Buck eventually asks.

Does he? 

“I assume you have the context?”

“I texted Bobby.”

Eddie clicks his tongue, looking for words.

“I know that we have to suppress the fact that this planet is a really fucked up, unsafe place because otherwise…,” he shakes his head, “But it just hit me. Full force. Life isn’t safe and I won’t be able to protect him.”

Buck’s still caressing his hair.

“You think…,” he clears his throat, “A pedestrian hit by a car - that - You think that brought up something else as well?”

Eddie looks at him, looks at his face that’s so full of love and care and gentleness, and blinks.

It’s not like they don’t respond to that kind of call at least once a week. But the combination of a fourteen year old teenage boy and - his stomach clenches painfully.

His breath stutters, resentment rising in him. But Buck beats him to it.

“Grief is incredibly messy, Eds. There’s no endpoint to it.”

“I know,” he rubs his face, “But I have this,” he gestures towards the room, “I have you, and Tommy, and Chris is thriving … Then why -”

“Because you love her. Emotions don’t ask for reasons.”

Eddie huffs out a breath, still frustrated. 

“It’s not going to get any easier if you’re trying to will the feelings away.”

He glances at Buck, a retort about therapy speech on his tongue when he hears rummaging in the living room.

“I guess he’s done,” Eddie claps his hand and pushes himself up, calling out, “Tommy, you wanna shoot some hoops?” 

“Eddie,” Buck sighs, but his expression is so incredibly soft that it makes Eddie’s heart skip a beat.

He halts and bends down to give Buck a kiss. “I love you.”

It’s half past eleven, so they have at least half an hour until Tommy’s phone might go off and Eddie feels the stress bleed away from his body ten minutes in. He’s okay. Chris is okay. Tommy is okay. Buck is okay. They’re okay.

It takes Eddie all the self-control he has to not to hug Chris when he’s picking him up from school. Hugs in front of his friends are uncool. At least hugs in private are tolerated, yet.

Chris climbs in and sits down in the passenger seat (it took Eddie two weeks to adjust to that. He isn’t sure if Buck has adjusted yet.) and promptly connects his phone to the car radio. 

“Learned anything exciting today, mijo?”

His son starts talking about the three types of sedimentary rocks and Eddie doesn’t get half of it, and surely isn’t as excited about it as Buck would be, but just hearing Christopher talk, and be excited, is enough to make him fill with warmth.

“I was thinking, if you’re done with your homework before dinner, we could watch a movie after.”

Christopher glances at him.

“It’s Tuesday.”

“Smart kid.”

“And Tommy is on call.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “That sounds a lot like a no, champ. Are you ill?”

Christopher scoffs. “I’m just confused. I mean, yeah, of course. As long as it’s nothing boring.”

“Just want to do something nice. And the aquarium really doesn’t fit into a weekday-schedule.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

By some kind of miracle Tommy is still at home when they have dinner and has the brilliant idea of making popcorn. 

Buck and Eddie get settled on the couch, while Chris throws his legs over the armrest of the armchair. 

“One second,” Tommy sets down the second bowl with popcorn and disappears for a moment. Eddie frowns but Buck shrugs cluelessly. They select the movie and Tommy comes back, holding a quilt in his hand. 

“I found it,” he beams at Eddie and sits down next to him, so Eddie is squished in the middle (they really have to get a bigger couch). WIthout hesitation he spreads the quilt over them and Eddie marvels at the colors. It’s obviously a coincidence, probably some gendered bs, but Eddie’s heart fills with warmth when he sees the squares in different shades of blue and turquoise. 

“Tommy, that’s … It’s really beautiful.”

“My aunt made it for me when I was ten,” he explains to Chris and Buck, “I found it in the garage this morning.”

Eddie rests his head on Tommy’s shoulder while caressing Buck’s hand with his thumb, while the opening credits of Back To The Future start playing.

The world might be a fucked-up place, but he has his own little corner inside of it. And that’s everything.

[onedivinemisfit]

Reminiscing 💔

My first time participating in the Obiyuki AU Bingo in years~ the prompt was “video game” so ofc I had to do something Rimworld-related <w< the now-baroness and baron Shirayuki and Obi having a tender moment outside of their settlement, mourning the loss of two of their sons, Dario and Fukuro. They lost their lives to a flu outbreak. As head medic, Shirayuki took their deaths particularly hard.

AnS (c) Akizuki Sorata

Art: Me

[wordsdvrkerthantheirwings]

HAPPINESS AND SERENITY no tienen happiness ni serenity desde hace una vida entera do u see the problem

[TEXT ID: What is home to you? / A person, / a memory, / Happiness and serenity. END ID]

– Written by "writingatmidnightt" on Instagram

[sippinggossip]

I’m waiting for Vic and co’s IG posts, proof that L & T supposedly broke up, and more content from D & D’s Portugal/Italy trip. And of course, signs of life from E. I wonder how things are with him and C (and Dario).

[waltfrasescazadordepalabras]

LA NIÑA DEL CEMENTERIO.

Autor. Alvin Dario Mezneg

Siendo niño viviendo en un pueblo rivereño, tenía la costumbre de jugar en un cementerio, aquellas grandes bóvedas, los mausoleos de la gente adinerada y las pobres tumbas humildes sin nombre servían de escondite o refugio cuando jugábamos en él.

Cierto día, empezamos a notar ruidos, y una risa infantil, nos tiraban piedrecillas; al principio creíamos que era uno de nosotros con alguna broma, pero nos dimos cuenta un día que estábamos todos reunimos que los ruidos seguían.

Una tarde; entrando la noche mientras me escondía de mis amigos simplemente me dormí; cuando abrí los ojos vi una niña de mi edad, me miraba con el ceño fruncido- que no podía entrar a su hogar- me dijo, que guardara silencio que a su madre no le gustaba que hablara con nadie que estuviera en el cementerio.

La vi perderse entre las decenas de tumbas y los oscuros callejones de aquel lugar.

Pasado algunos segundos de aquel callejón el celador hizo presencia- niño esta no es hora, para estar molestando a los muertos- y rápidamente más por el miedo a un regaño que a los fantasmas; Salí despavorido por aquellos mismos callejones.

Sin embargo la curiosidad roía mi ser, aquella niña ¿Quién era; y a que se refería con que ese era su hogar? ¿Sería un fantasma? Y si era un fantasma era la más linda; tanto así que emociones desconocidas hasta ahora aceleraban mi corazón y me hacían pensar en ella: en clase, mientras jugaba o ayudaba a mi papá en el trabajo.

Con el pasar de los días empezaron rumores, de que algo pasaba en aquel lugar, en las noches titilaban o se apagaban las luces de las farolas, decían los que vivían cerca que en los claro oscuro se veía la siluetas de personas; en la noche se podía ver una extraña niebla, y ver una negra figura de ojos brillantes como tizones merodear por la zona, tal vez en busca de almas para devorar; de manera que solo se acercaban aquel campo santo, aquellos que llevaban flores, o visitaban a sus parientes fallecidos; desde un árbol, podía ver como las señoras les pedían permisos a los espíritus, que según el vigilante estaban furiosos por la falta de respeto de algunos.

Cierto día fui regañado por mi padre por una travesura, así que a fuerzas me escondí en el cementerio; no creía en tales cosas de fantasmas; jamás había visto uno, y siendo joven y más a esa edad me creía invencibles, temerario por desconocer los peligros de la vida.

Ahí arrinconado en una tumba, vi aquella niña, me miro, me pregunto qué hacía ahí; no le respondí; se sentó a mi lado durante un largo tiempo; era una linda niña, de ojos expresivos y de sonrisa sin igual, simplemente le dije tímidamente- eres una niña muy bonita- ella me quedo mirando con aquellos hermosos ojos cafés solo para decir- y tú eres feo como un sapo gordo- guarde silencio y escondí mi mirada, sin embargo antes de irse me dio un beso en la mejilla mientras me decía-pero también eres bonito y me gusta tu sonrisa; me quito la gorra y salió corriendo entre los callejones, intente seguirle, pero si el vigilante me atrapaba sería más grave el regaño;

En la noche las luces empezaron a titilar; en los claro oscuro vi aquella figura adulta que cargaba a un niño y se dirigía en dirección a la capilla, empezó a llover, titiritaba del frio, a lo lejos vi como una manta negra se acercaba a mí, sin embargo era aquella niña que me traía un gran plástico negro para que me protegiera del embate de la lluvia.

Pasada algunas horas sentí escalofríos, titiritaba, la lluvia había arreciado simplemente me deje llevar por el sueño y el cansancio. Cuando desperté estaba en el hospital mi madre y padre me miraba preocupado por mi estado de salud tenía fiebre cerca de los 39°C.

Al parecer el regaño fue cosas del pasado mi padre me preguntaba como estaba, pues el doctor le había dicho que gracias al impermeable y al vigilante que me había encontrado, la cosa no paso a mayores, que la fiebre estaba bajando y me hacía delirar por preguntar una y otra vez por la niña del cementerio; explique que la niña del cementerio me lo había dado, le hable que era muy linda de hermosos ojos, y sonrisa sin igual y que me había dado un beso.

mi padre pregunto al viejo vigilante si con el vivía una niña, sin embargo hizo claridad en que solo los muertos le hacian compañía...

Fue ahí donde todo se complicó, mi abuela lloraba, mi madre lloraba; según ellos había besado a la muerte y ahora ella quería que pasara al otro mundo; aquella historia del niño que beso a una niña muerta rápidamente se esparció por el pueblo, las madres no dejaban salir a los niños a jugar, mi padre busco a la vieja bruja del pueblo la cual me hizo tomar cuanto brebaje, los cuales me causaron indigestion y fue para complicar aún mas la situación, pues nuevamente estaba en el hospital donde me hacían un lavado estomacal.

Ahora todos decían que la muerte me perseguía y no me daba tregua por el simple hecho que la había besado y por ende estaba condenado. Y que era señal que a su debido tiempo regresaría por mí para estar juntos, según aquella bruja senil era un beso premonitorio de mi futuro para con ella.

Con el pasar de los días aquel cementerio se llenó de curiosos, algunos decían que la veían levitando, otros que era un esqueleto y un sinfín de tonterías e idioteces, que afirmaba aquel viejo vigilante; lo que si fue cierto fue que encontraron mi gorra, la que se había llevado aquella niña, la encontraron dentro de la capilla, cerca de varias tumbas pequeñas sin nombre.

Aquel vigilante según comentan la tomo con la mano izquierda y se deshizo de ella; Eso fue la cereza del pastel, no había duda, aquella niña según muchos era un alma en pena, pues a esas pequeñas tumbas sin nombre jamás le habían puesto flores o realizado algún mantenimiento por lo antigua, así que la paranoia escalo a nivele inimaginables; mi padre decidió enviarme a la ciudad con mis primos temiendo lo peor, antes de hacer aquel viaje, visite varias veces aquel cementerio; tumba por tumba, callejón por callejón; sin embargo ni rastro de ella; como si simplemente de la misma manera que la conocí así había desaparecido.

Durante esa búsqueda en aquel laberinto blanco, me tope varias veces con aquel vigilante intenté huir como otra veces sin embargo me dejó seguir no sin antes decirme.

-tambien de niño sentí aquel sentimiento, y más que la razón quien te obliga a buscarla, a andar como alma en pena por estos lugares es tu corazón, no la buscas para ver si es de carne y hueso o simplemente fue tu imaginacion, la buscas por qué quieres saber si lo que sientes es real, pero no es el tiempo mi niño, el señor, la vida, el destino obran de manera misteriosa. No es una niña muerta, es un Ángel. Y cuando dos almas están destinada hasta la muerte misma hace de cupido.

Siguió su camino y lo perdí de vista al doblar en uno de aquellos callejones.

De manera que con la duda en el alma, partí hacia aquella ciudad, pasaron los años, no conté a nadie aquella historia, no quería que me vieran como un loco, empecé mis estudios y a la edad de 22 años regrese al pueblo, en mi cabeza aún estaba aquel bello rostro sin ser diluido en mi memoria por el paso del tiempo, algo en mi decía que debía retornar, tal vez la nostalgia de regresar a mi querido pueblo o solo era que la misma muerte me llamaba en la lejanía para tal cometido de estar juntos, aún así llegué feliz al pueblo, nadie hablaba de lo acontecido, eran mis vacaciones, en un viejo bar donde departía con amigos, aquel senil vigilante me regalo una cerveza, le reconocí; el me miraba con una mirada y una sonrisa afable, él se dio cuenta del terror en mi mirar; se acercó diciéndome que no le tuviera miedo que si quería saber sobre la niña del cementerio que le llevara una botella de ron cualquier día; que la niña del cementerio había regresado y también preguntaba por mí; me aterro lo que dijo, supuse que lo que habían dicho era cierto, que la muerte vendría por mí, tenía que parar esa tontería, jamás fui de creer en cosas paranormales, aunque una parte de mi estaba aterrada, sin embargo le seguí aquella conversación con un temple de hierro.

Entando la media noche me emborrache como si no hubiera un mañana, tenía que armarme de valor, para ir al cementerio, al crecer deje de ser aquel niño temerario, y de alguna manera empecé a temerle por todas las películas de terror que vi de adolescente, comente el hecho a mis amigos y estos me retaron a ir al cementerio a esa hora y sin dilapidar tiempo acepte, desde el instante en que salí de aquel bar sentí una presencia acompañándome a lo lejos, vi una sombra por su silueta y caminar era una mujer.

hice retrospectiva de aquel dia, no sentí es frio que suelen decir que se siente cuando un muerto o la muerte misma hace presencia, recuerdo la calidez de aquel beso que acelero mi joven e inesperto corazón-¡tal vez era un Ángel, y por esa razón me salvo ese dia de aquella lluvia- sonreí para mi mismo por la suerte que tuve.

Seguí caminando sin preocupación de que aquella mujer tuviera que ver en mi osada apuesta, sin embargo note que al parecer también se dirigía al cementerio, sin querer tropecé y cuando quise darme cuenta de lo sucedido ahí la vi; los mismos ojos, la misma sonrisa, aquella silueta que me seguía era ella, sin embargo bajo los efectos del alcohol no podía procesar la información, ahí sin pesarlo el recuerdo de mi niñez se hizo presente y sin voluntad alguna solo guiado por mi sentimiento que volvió aflorar, viendo reflejado mi pasado en sus ojos y escuchándolo en su sonrisa, simplemente sonrió y me guio al cementerio.

Tenles miedo a los vivos, no a los muertos...- me dijo entre las sombras aquel viejo vigilante.

-no le tengas miedo- le escuche decir; es mi sobrina Angela; todo este tiempo ha estado viva, te contare; pues lleva años diciéndome que te quiere devolver esta vieja gorra, y Vi en su rostro aquel brillo y tristeza que tenían tus ojos el día que nos encontramos, quiere devolverte la gorra que logre rescatar por petición de ella, no nos engañemos yo también conoci ese bonito sentimiento a esa edad

Me comento, que tomaron aquella capilla como hogar, pues su padre era perseguido por contrabandear cigarrillos por el rio; necesitaban un lugar para esconderse, mientras el huía, así que les presto la vieja capilla que le pareció un lugar seguro, todo ese tiempo estaba pendiente que nadie entrara sin embargo mis juegos y continuas irrupciones le hicieron temer por la seguridad de su sobrina, le pregunte por qué las luces y demás situaciones que hacían ver el cementerio como si algo espectral viviera, sonrió a carcajada- conozco todos los circuitos eléctricos, solo movía los cables cuando sospechaba que alguien había entrado; pregunte por la niebla que solía haber y que muchos decían que veían; nuevamente empezó a reír- solo era hielo seco que conseguía de los barcos que trasportaban el pescado y la carne, solo era de mezclar ½ litro de agua caliente con 1 libra hielo seco dentro de una botella y se generaba esa niebla, los llantos de niños eran mis gatos en celo, y los ojos brillantes que veían, era solo yo con dos cigarrillos, cubierto por el plástico negro que mi sobrina te presto esa noche en que casi mueres; por fortuna me aviso y pude sacarte de esa tumba en la que te metiste y llevarte al hospital. hice todo por ellas, hasta que lograron trasladarse de forma segura a otro pueblo donde se reencontraron con mi hermano; el pobre bajo su propio riesgo venía en las noches a ver a su esposa y a su hija, era un suplicio para mi él despedirse de ellas todas las noches.

cuando dejaron este lugar deje de hacer todo aquello y volvió la normalidad; perdóname por todo lo que te hicimos pasar, pero la vida de mi familia estaba en peligro si lograban asociar a la niña con la familia que buscaban.

Y así fue como nació un sentimiento donde otros lo entierran, hoy llevo muchos años de matrimonio con mi Ángel, la niña muerta que hizo germinar mi primer amor con un beso que a los ojos de otro me condenarían, aunque hay algo de cierto en los rumores del pasado o la visión de aquella bruja charlatana, solo era un beso premonitorio de que ella y yo estaríamos juntos por siempre.