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“Man, I don't even know what to say about this story. It's completely perfect, one of MôXCê's best fics. It is incredibly well-crafted, the author portrayed very well the feelings of the character Mônica, who discovered herself completely in love with her Best Friend. In this fic she cries she has fun. There is no way to describe the emotion that the story gave me. Just reading it. Read it, you won't regret it nKisses Daih”
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Mônica e Cebola eram conhecidos por uma coisa: as constantes discussões entre os dois. Parecia que nunca conseguiam concordar em nada, mas enfim eles s conseguiram reatar o namoro e construir uma vida juntos. Depois de terem se casado, finalmente tinham encontrado a paz que tanto procuravam. Claro, ainda havia algumas discussões aqui e ali afinal, continuavam a ser eles. Mas tinham aprendido a compreender-se e a enfrentar os problemas lado a lado. Tinham construído uma vida juntos e sentiam que, acontecesse o que acontecesse, conseguiriam enfrentar tudo. Estavam preparados para qualquer desafio que a vida lhes pudesse trazer. Qualquer coisa... menos cuidar de uma criança.
Cebolinha pega o ônibus e se mete numa fria. Notas: Desculpe: Não tenho certeza se é uma criação minha. Acho que li algo parecido em algum lugar e acabei adaptando para o Cebolinho.
Te amavi, from the Latin "I loved you" uses a verb tense. But what is time? Time is a comfort for us to situate ourselves and give meaning to our lives and is nothing more than a vain attempt to hold in our hands all the memories we live. How long does it fit within the dimension of a memory we have? What is the ideal time for each event to occur in the life of a human being? Contra wasn't sure, but suddenly felt the need to find out.
When one of the most committed curses in the world hits three friends, will they be able to get on with their lives as normal? Or... Onion, Do Contra and Mônica need to share a single bed in a very strange accommodation. [Dcebonic]
The years inevitably passed for the gang... And the beginning of adult life brings with it countless existential crises. Denise, now studying Journalism, seeks to rewrite and understand her own narrative. Maybe she doesn't want to remain just a secondary character. Perhaps, she is no longer so willing to accept this label. And that's how she rebelled. And this is her story.
Tears were streaming down his face, his heart was breaking and it hurt, God, it hurt. She'd rather have a thousand red-hot knives slashing through her body than just one slashing through her heart. The tightness in her chest and stomach was so strong she didn't think she could take it. Upon reaching home, she threw herself down the stairs until she reached her bedroom and finally to the bathroom, where she laid everything out, when she was finally finished, her stomach was empty. But the emptiness matched her heart, which was heavy in her chest, at the same time so empty and so full and with a suffocating pain, it felt like someone was holding her heart in their hands, squeezing, crushing, suffocating... and she he almost wished it was really that, because at least then that hopeless feeling would disappear. She rinsed her mouth with the tap water, the strange sensation on her tongue and looked up at the mirror. Just at that moment, facing the devastated figure that was staring back at her, Monica realized that she was crying, finally becoming aware of the hot tears streaming down her face. Her eyes looked like those of a torn animal or someone who had lost what she loved most on the face of the earth, which in a way was true, except that she hadn't lost it, had chosen to let it. — It's over, Onion! It's over... The memories and the words echoed in her mind, and the pain that came with them was so great it made her fall to her knees on the wooden floor, sobs escaping her throat and finally a scream, a painful cry that still couldn't express all the pain he felt at that moment.