vorticity

Fate l’amore fino a perdere il respiro, con il cuore che vi batte tra i denti. Fate l’amore, unite i corpi e legate le anime, fatele vibrare insieme come corde di una chitarra, fatevi trasportare da questa musica in un infinito vortice di libertà. Non sono volgari i corpi che si amano, volgari sono i pregiudizi dell’invidia, le voci mortali dominate da una morale illogica. Quindi fate l’amore, con l’anima, il corpo, gli occhi, amatevi fin che la carne non si consuma, fin che ha un senso, e anche oltre.
—  Fate l’amore

Those propellor vortices, though!

A brand spanking new MC-130J Commando II on it’s way to be delivered to Air Force Special Operations Command’s 353rd Special Operations Group at Kadena Air Base, Japan. Photo by Lockheed Martin.

L’uomo senza Se e senza Ma e l’uomo Dipende.

Venite a raccogliervi attorno a me, genti, ovunque vi troviate ché l’acqua sta salendo ed è meglio mi ascoltiate.

C’erano una volta, e una volta non c’erano, L’uomo senza Se e senza Ma e l’uomo Dipende.

Il primo era una persona molto famosa e di successo, mai un tentennamento nei suoi pensieri e tutti i suoi interlocutori, amici e avversari, erano concordi nel dire che quando parlavi con l’uomo senza Se e senza Ma potevi avere solo due reazioni: o lo amavi o lo odiavi. Riusciva a parlare di politica economica del Kirghizistan e di carbonara vegana trascinando tutti nel vortice del suo pensiero chiaro e netto. Le sue parole erano una ghigliottina per gli stolti e gli impavidi pensatori.

Poi c’era l’uomo Dipende, una persona tranquilla e pacata che metteva tutti a disagio perché non si capiva mai quale fosse il suo punto di vista e, si sa, le persone sono spiazzate quando non hanno un pensiero forte e semplice da amare o da odiare.

Un giorno d’autunno l’uomo Dipende stava bevendo un cappuccino al tavolino in ferro di un piccolo bar affacciato su un parco, struggendosi per l’aria di abbandono che le fogli gialle e vorticanti gli trasmettevano, quando L’uomo senza Se e senza Ma gli si fece incontro. Buongiorno! – tuonò con voce sicura e roboante e l’altro, alzando la testa dal cappuccino – Che cosa intendi? Auguri un buon giorno a me o vuoi dire che questo giorno deve essere per forza buono che mi sia gradito oppure no? O forse vuoi dire che tu sei buono in questo particolare giorno e io devo apprezzarlo? Oppure sei sicuro che in questo giorno buono tutti saranno buoni?
L’uomo senza Se e senza Ma rimase un attimo interdetto (non era così che si era immaginata la risposta) e proseguì – Volevo chiederti se avevi avuto occasione di leggere il mio ultimo libro ‘O Tempora o mores!’ sull’attuale situazione socio-politico-economica di costume e cultura e se ti era piaciuto. L’ometto bevve un sorso del suo cappuccino e si ripulì con calma il naso da un baffo di schiuma – Dipende – rispose infine.

Dipende da cosa?! – quasi urlò l’uomo senza Se e senza Ma – non si tratta di decidere chi abbia torto o ragione, quello è chiaro fin dall’inizio, qua si tratta di decidere se vuoi sederti dalla parte dei giusti contro ogni ingiustizia o dalla parte di chi abita nell’abisso pieno di mostri della ragione addormentata!

L’uomo Dipende raccolse col cucchiaino la schiuma zuccherata dal fondo della tazza, quasi stesse cesellando una gemma, e poi chiese – Tu da che parte ti sei seduto? – all’altro quasi scoppiò una vena sulla tempia – DALLA PARTE DELLA RAGIONE PERCHÉ SO DI ESSERE NEL GIUSTO! – si ricompose un attimo e continuò a voce più bassa ma non con meno astio – Sono le persone come te, sempre indecise e tolleranti, che permettono il perpetrare delle ingiustizie nel mondo. Tu stai a guardare, IO FACCIO!

Dipende – disse l’uomo che portava lo stesso nome, oramai da anni – io preferisco guardare le foglie che cadono e riuscire a trarne una lezione di vita. Passo le mie giornate qua, seduto al tavolino o su una panchina del parco, e aspetto che qualche persona si sieda accanto a me. All’inizio io non dico mai nulla e visto che niente più del silenzio spaventa le persone, loro devono subito riempirlo della loro storia, leggera o pesante che sia. Mi parlano del cane, del tempo, della figlia che non vuole andare a scuola, del lavoro ripetitivo, della loro solitudine e della loro tristezza che non hanno fine. E quando hanno terminato di parlare io gli dico 'Dipende’. Gli chiedo se della loro anima vogliono contare i fori misurandoli da quello che rimane attorno oppure considerare i vuoti come parte della loro essenza e smettere di reputarsi un vaso da riempire a ogni costo con qualsiasi cosa abbiano a disposizione. Insegno loro a fare un passo indietro per rimirare qualcosa più grande o un passo di lato quando questo qualcosa lo è troppo e rischia di travolgerli. Perché il passo avanti, verso la Cosa Giusta, non è un atto di volontà ma una conseguenza della danza che muoviamo attorno alla nostra esistenza. Sia pure un valzer o uno sgraziato sbattere di piedi ma mai una carica a testa bassa verso la Verità Vera perché altrimenti si rischia di battere forte la testa contro tutti i se e tutti ma che ci siamo rifiutati di vedere e dirimere.

L’uomo senza Se e senza Ma si alzò in silenzio, la prima volta in vita sua, e si allontanò turbato. 

Da quel giorno in poi il suo nome divenne l’uomo Ma Se.

The Canary Islands from space.

NASA astronaut Karen Nyberg shot this amazing picture of these volcanic islands, along with Von Karman vortices in the clouds flowing around them. These form as masses of air split around protruding objects such as islands sticking out of the sea. Only four of the seven main islands are visible.

Loz

Image credit: K. Nyberg.

Jealous - Fred Weasley

Masterlist
Summary: can you write angry Fred Weasley smut?
A/N: DAAAAAAMN
Warnings: smut smut smut smuuuut

‘’(Y/N)! Concentrate!’’ George yelled from the other side of the field. You muttered an apology eventhough he couldn’t hear it. He threw you the Quaffle and you flew off, trying to get past Harry who tried to block you. You looked up at the sky, the clouds that had been wispy and white this morning were now darker and more dense. You succeeded on getting past Harry once again and threw the Quaffle through one of the hoops. ‘’Well done!’’ Harry cheered.

The three of you decided to quit this training session, and you all flew back to the ground. You quickened your pace when you looked at the sky again, this was not the day to be caught in a downpaur. But it was too late. The rain fell in crazy chaotic drops, the gusting wind carrying them in wild vortices one moment and in diagonal sheets the next. It runs down your face as a thin layer, not as cold as it will be when November comes, but without the warmth of summer showers.

‘’You guys are soaked! Quick, come on in!’’ Molly said when she saw Harry, George and you walking to the front door of the Burrow. ‘’Dinner’s ready too,’’ she said, she gave you all some towels and you joined the rest of the inhabitants of the Burrow for dinner.

‘’It’s delicious Molly, as always,’’ you said, complimenting her. She smiled at you, the woman adored you. Everyone was talking, until George changed the subject of the conversation to Quidditch. ‘’She’s defenitly going to make the team!’’ he said and threw his arm around your shoulder. ‘’And if Harry is captain again this year, you don’t even need to try that hard,’’ he said, jokingly. ‘’Yes Harry, listen to him. He speaks wise words,’’ you said, laughing, leaning into George’s side.
‘’Aren’t you happy for your girlfriend, Fred?’’ Bill asked, noticing he hasn’t said a word yet. ‘’Ofcourse I am,’’ he snapped back.

Ofcourse he has happy for her. When he first heard she wanted some help with Quidditch, he was more than happy to help his girlfriend out. That was until she seemed to care more about the opinion of his twin brother than his. And maybe he was overreacting, but honestly, he didn’t care. He felt like you would rather spend time with George than him.

There fell an uncomfortable silence at the table for mere minutes. ‘’Hermione, Ginny, are you going to help me with the dishes?’’ Molly asked them, trying to ease the tension everyone felt. You took this opportunity to talk to Fred. ‘’What’s wrong?’’ you whispered, bending closer to his face. ‘’Nothing,’’ he hissed back.

After dinner you saw Fred trying to sneak away to his room. Oh no mister, that’s not about to happen, you thought. You quickly walked over to him and grabbed his wrist, ‘’We need to talk,’’ you said, barely louder than a whisper. Without another word he turned around and walked up the stairs. You followed him to his room and took a seat on George’s bed, facing him.

‘’What is wrong?’’ you asked him again. ‘’Nothing, I told you,’’ ‘’Don’t give me that bullshit,’’ Why wouldn’t he just tell you? ‘’Really (Y/N), just leave it,’’ he said, standing up. He drew his hands over his face in frustration. ‘’No, there’s obviously something bothering you,’’ ‘’I can’t stand it, okay?’’ he whispered. ‘’What?’’ you said, you genuinely hadn’t heard him. ‘’I cant stand it anymore!’’ he shouted at you. ‘’What?!’’ you said, standing up yourself. ‘’Oh you know,’’ he said bitterly. ‘’No I don’t,’’ You wondered what it was that bothered him so much. ‘’Why don’t you go ask George?’’ his voice had never sounded so cold. ‘’George?’’ you asked confused. ‘’What does he have to do with this?’’ ‘’Everything! God, (Y/N), why don’t you go and just snog him already?’’ ‘’This is really about George?’’ you asked, bewildered. ‘’God Fred, why don’t you just spit it out already because I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about!’’ He sighed deep, ‘’Never mind, forget about it,’’ he said softly. ‘’No! For fuck’s sake Fred, you’re my boyfriend, I care about you!’’ you began to feel rather irritated. Was it that hard to just spit it out?!  ‘’Oh so you remember me? You remember that you have a fucking boyfriend,’’ Fred said, sounding frustrated again.

‘’Fred, you can tell me whatever is crossing your mind,’’ you said, all irritation and frustration leaving your voice. ‘’How about I show you,’’ he said with a clenched jaw. He grabbed you by your waist and pinned you against the wall. ‘’Fred what the fuck?’’ you said. Your eyes widened when he rolled his hips into yours and pressed his erection against your lower belly. ‘’Fred, no, now is not th-‘’ he crashed his lips into yours, silencing you. Before you knew it he had unbuttoned your pants, slid them halfway down your legs and pushed his hand into your panties. He smirked at your growing wetness.

‘’I’m going to fuck you hard, against this wall,’’ he growled. He pushed your panties to the side and pulled his zipper down, freeing his throbbing erection. You took his erection in your hand and placed it at your entrance, sinking down on it. A strangled moan left Fred’s mouth, he picked up your leg and placed it at his waist, reaching deeper inside you.

He pulled out of you and immediatley slammed back in. A whimper left your mouth, god he was hitting all the right places.

‘’Who fuck’s you this good?’’ he said throatily. You didn’t answer, so he pushed deeper and harder. ‘’Oh god,’’ you moaned. ‘’You Fred, you!’’ ‘’That’s right,’’ He grabbed you more tightly against his chest and thrusted even harder. Whimpers left your mouth, you couldn’t hold back anymore. ‘’Yes, let them know who fuck’s you this good,’’ he whispered in her ear. ‘’Mine, fucking mine,’’

Fred felt your walls starting to clench around him and placed you back against the wall. He buried his face in your neck and planted sloppy kisses there whilest his thrust began to slow down. He brought his hand down to your clit and started to rub circles, helping you get to your high. Your mouth had the shape of an ‘o’ and you threw your head back against the wall. He too came with a loud moan in your ear, which got you hot and bothered all over again.

‘’Fuck, I’m so sorry,’’ he whispered, his face still buried in your neck.