#also if there’s any mistakes this REALY was just supposed to be my thoughts so enjoy ndjdjdjdd djdjdj

[rodolfoparras]

Content tags; somnophilia

Cant help but imagine Gaz sprawled out on his bed, out cold after a long mission, laying on his stomach with white thin sheets barely covering him.

You gently creep closer to him, an endeared smile on your face as you take in the sight of your sleeping boyfriend.

He looks absolutely beautiful with the stream of light shining down on his naked ass and back, the peaceful look painted on his face, black lashes resting upon scrunched up cheeks and mouth parted as soft snores leave his lips.

As you go to cover him up properly, you hear small sounds tumble past his lips, face scrunching up as he fidgets around on the sheets.

At first you think he’s having a nightmare, hand gently caressing his cheek to help him relax. However you quickly notice he’s grinding upon the mattress , and nothing on his face resembles a look of fear along with that, the sounds escaping his lips remind you of something else.

You feel your cock stir in your pants as your mind registers that he must be having a wet dream and you quickly make your way over to the other end of the bed, where his feet lay.

The bed creaks as you crawl up the sheets before nestling yourself between his legs.

You calloused hands drag along his thighs, gently kneading the flesh and hearing the way he lets out a contented sigh at your touch.

Your thumbs easily dig into the cleft off his ass and part his cheeks, his puckered hole now on full display as you eagerly drink in the sight of him.

Gaz only lets out a slight sound of confusion before settling back down again.

It doesn’t take long before you’re delving in between his cheeks, his musky scent engulfing your senses as you swipe your tongue along the cleft of his ass, feeling the way he slightly buckles into your mouth.

You deliver another wet stroke to his hole, before slowly circling his rim, easing the ring of muscle before working your tongue inside him.

This time around you hear rustling of the sheets as more small noises tumble past his lips. You continue fucking your tongue into him til you feel his body tremble and til the soft noises turn into full blown moans.

By the time he stirs awake, spit’s dribbling dow his thighs and cheeks, back arching up as he turns to look, wide awake and eager to have you fuck him.

[sailor-manga]

“Caught” Part Three- a Shouta Aizawa fic.

A/N: Ya’ll I’m so sorry, I really thought part three was going to be the final part, but of course my angsty, sad ass had to draw it out. I’m really liking how this is turning out though and I’m hoping you all have enjoyed it too! You can read the first two parts on my Masterlist. I also slipped in some KiriBaku because why the hell not? xD

Warnings: Swearing, Angst.

Word count: 2,520.

You had finally made it to your house, makeup completely down your face. Desperately trying to catch your breath, you would press your back against the door and choke out a loud, and ugly sounding sob. You had absolutely no idea why this was hitting you hard as it was. You knew that there’d always be a chance that Shouta didn’t want anything to do with you in those kinds of terms. You were just a college student, he was a reserved, mature man who also happened to be a pro hero. He didn’t have time for girls like you.

Wiping at your face now, you would cough out and hold your stomach, you felt like you were going to get sick. You stayed like that for quite a few hours, just sitting and letting out the tears, holding back any kind of bile that wanted to come up. After semi calming yourself, you would lift yourself from the floor and quietly shuffle into your room to use a makeup wipe to get all the junk off your face.

Stripping down into PJ’s, you’d crawl into bed and pull the blankets up to your chin, letting out a shaky breath. You contemplated not going to classes for a while, but you were already so behind, you couldn’t risk that.. Tomorrow you’d just have to try your best to avoid the roguish demon.

By the time morning came, you awoke with a migraine, your legs still hurt from running all the way home- It was just a bad day all around. Pushing yourself up, you would grab your phone from the bedside table and check for any notifications. Your heart dropped to see an unread message from Shouta.

Shouta Aizawa: “Please answer me, I need to know you made it home okay”

Staring at the message, you let out a soft scoff and quickly delete it without answering or opening up fully. The reminder of last night slowly flooding into your thoughts and making your eyes start to well with tears. Quickly tossing your phone onto the mattress, you’d wipe at your wet eyes and get up, saunting over to your dresser to get out an outfit for the day. Your attire definitely matched how you were feeling, like last night, you wore a pair of snug black leggings, and a black pullover hoodie with the U.A College logo on it. Very plain, very “Don’t talk to me” vibes. 

Grabbing your red messenger bag, you would sling it around your shoulder and grab your phone before setting out to classes. At this point, you didn’t care if you were late- You kind of wanted to wait until everyone was in, that way you wouldn’t be bothered nor would you see Shouta. 

Once you got onto Campus, you would thankfully make it late to your first class without any sort of interruptions. Yes, you got scolded- But it was worth it. 

As you were sitting through your lecture, your phone would buzz in your hoodie pocket. Slowly pulling it out, you would feel a lump in your throat.. It was him again. 

Shouta Aizawa: “Please Y/N, I didn’t see you at all at the start of classes.. Just say one thing to me so I know you’re alright.” 

Staring at the message, you would open it up to reply, but quickly delete it instead.. You couldn’t handle it, every time you saw his name pop up, you wanted to choke out a sob. It was still fresh and you were valid to feel that way, but you truly didn’t know the stress you were causing the pro hero. 

--

In his class, he was grading papers, his phone right next to him in case it would go off. He found himself picking up the device to check, just in case he missed the noise.. Nothing. Growling out, Shouta would run a hand over his face and set the phone back on the desk. Why were you doing this to him? He said his piece last night, you probably just needed to recover.. But he couldn’t help but feel his pit of guilt and stress not hearing from you. All he wanted to know was that you were okay.

 --

Your first class of the day was over ,and thankfully you didn’t get any more texts either. Quietly getting up, you would filter out of the room with other students. Pulling your hood up, you would sulk to the cafe area, hoping a coffee would maybe pick you up and get rid of the very distracting migraine. As you walked though, you felt a weird pit in your stomach. Pausing for a moment, you would look around with a frown.. What was this feeling? 

Just as you were about to turn around, you would hear someone shout your name. Biting your lip, your eyes would finally fall on Shouta, speed walking towards you with a concerned yet irritated expression. Quickly turning your back towards him, you would jog forward and quickly grab the arm of the first person you passed. 

“Oi, what the fuck do you think you’re doing hanging all over my boyfriend?” a voice growled. Looking up some, you would see Katsuki Bakugo, you remembered him vividly from high school because of the temper. “Ah, now babe.. Chill out, look at her face, it’s very clear she’s trying to avoid someone” another voice rang. Moving your eyes to the left, you would see Eijiro Kirishima, the man you happened to randomly grab. “Don’t worry, cutie! Walk with us” he said cheerfully, which caused Katsuki to huff out in irritation. Eijiro sighed and grabbed his boyfriends hand before slinging his other arm around you “Where you headed?” he asked with a kind smile. 

“My class is the opposite way, but please just.. Walk with me for a moment” you muttered out with a frown, your heart practically beating out of your chest. Eijiro would nod and continue at a slower pace “No problem, cutie! I remember you from high school.. Weren’t we in 1A together?” he’d ask curiously. Nodding softly, you would bite your lip “Yeah, that’s me” you’d say in a hushed tone. Slowly turning around to look back behind you, there was no sign of him stalking after you, maybe he saw you latch yourself onto Eijiro and figured it wouldn’t be good to bug you while you were with friends. 

Soon Eijiro would slow to a stop “This is us, you gonna be okay?” he asked curiously “Come on, shitty hair.. We’re already late because of this dumbass.. She looks fine” Katsuki growled, pulling his boyfriend more towards him and creating a distance between you and the redhead “I-I’m fine, realy.. Thanks again, and sorry” you muttered, the apology more towards Katsuki who very much didn’t appreciate you grabbing onto Eijiro. 

“Well, see you later then, maybe we can catch up sometime!” Eijiro chimed happily as Katsuki dragged him into their class. You were thankful that people were kind like Kirishima.. Even if you did piss off Bakugo a bit,  but honestly, who doesn’t piss him off? Letting out a sigh, you’d watch as the last of the students filtered into rooms. Swallowing hard, you would pull your phone out and frown, you were pretty late now.. 

Deciding against being scolded again, you would grip onto your bag and head towards the library, maybe you could at least get some studying done. 

--

He felt like a fucking teenager, he was still continously checking his phone, when he tried to confront you, you ran off and latched yourself to someone else, causing a weird jealously to well up inside of him. It’s barely been twenty four hours and he was going crazy. The more you ignored him, the more you avoided him.. The more he was starting to feel like he made a grave mistake. 

--

Once you made it to the library, you would take a seat at an empty table and pull the laptop out of your bag. Opening it up, you would let out a sigh and pull out the syllabus from the class you were currently missing. 

As you typed away and got more into your work, Shouta would have made his way into the library, just a hunch that you’d be in there. He would pause at the door and have his eyes fixated on your form.. How, how did you manage to turn him into such a mess? He was trained not to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but here you were, causing him to actively look for you.. Just to see if you were okay, just to see you.. 

You would occasionally check the time, making sure that this time you actually made it to your next class when you were supposed too. 

When that time came around, you would close your laptop and slide it into your bag before getting up and slinging it around your shoulder. Thankfully your next class was close to the library, so if you did have to take a detour, you probably still wouldn’t be late. 

Your last class for the day wasn’t too bad, it was just note taking and thankfully you didn’t get any more text messages from Shouta. Though it did still ring in the back of your mind, classes really did help getting your focus off of it. Now, was the hard part.. Going home and having nothing to distract you from it. 

As you exited the class, Kirishima stood there with a wide smile on his face, Bakugo quietly throwing a fit behind him “Hey there! We just wanted to see if you were doing okay, and if you maybe wanted some buddies to walk home with?” he asked cheerfully, causing Bakugo to huff “Not we, him” he muttered out, crossing his arms. “Ignore him, he’s always grumpy!” he said hooking his arm around yours, pulling you along before you could really even answer him. It was all welcome though, you were actually pretty touched that Eijiro had you in his head as they were leaving. 

As he pulled you along, Shouta would be watching from his own classroom a scowl on his face. He had planned to confront you as you were walking home, but it seemed that Eijiro had saved the day again. He knew that texting you would be useless.. He needed to talk to you, and he would.. He just had to catch you when you were alone, cut you off and surrender his pride just to get a moment of your time. 

The walk home with Kiri and Bakugo was actually really refreshing, even though the blonde did make it his goal to call you a dumbass about fifty times. The fact that he was still there was enough for you. 

“So are you going to tell me who this mystery guy is that’s gotten you all frantic?” Eijiro asked, which immediately made you swallow dryly “I-I can’t.. It’s better if he just goes unnamed” you said softly, which made the spikey haired male nod “Of course, I understand” he said with a smile. Bakugo would quietly huff before finally speaking up “Yeah- Well.. Cheer the fuck up, whoever that guy is, obviously doesn’t see the potential in you, so fuck him” he grunted before letting out a soft “Tch” noise. “I-I only say that because you’re being a pain in my ass” he added, trying to make it clear that he most certainly didn’t care. 

Eijiro would chuckle before squeezing the males shoulder “Though it was put rudely.. I do agree with him, I wouldn’t waste any more thought on that guy” he mused happily before the three of you would stop “This is my place, thanks again.. Both of you” you’d say with a light smile on your face “Yeah, whatever..” Katsuki huffed before looking off. 

Eijiro would roll his eyes at his boyfriend before patting your shoulder “No problem! If you ever need some walking buddies, just hit me up!” he said handing over a slip of paper that had his number scribbled on it “Thanks” you’d add before waving to the two of them and walking into your apartment. 

Letting out a soft sigh, you would smile.. It was kind of unfortunate you never got super close to Eijiro in high school, you two would definitely have to make up for lost time, because he was nice.. It was nice to have someone looking out for you. Plopping down on your sofa, you’d glance at the piece of paper in your hands and quickly pull out your phone to save his number. The only worry you had was that you really didn’t hope Katsuki thought you were trying to zero in on his man, because that wasn’t the case at all. 

Biting onto your lip, you were tempted to text him just to thank him again- But you decided against it, you didn’t want to be that overly annoying friend, not yet at least. 

You were just about to set your phone down again when it started to vibrate. Lifting the screen to your eyes, your heart would drop.. Shouta was calling you. You didn’t even have it in you to hit decline, you just watched as the lit screen continued to notify you before going black. Glancing down, you would let out a soft breath.. Why? Was he still bothering you.. He already hurt you, was he trying to rub salt in the wound? 

What made things worse, your phone would vibrate one last time. You assumed he left a voicemail, which you had every intention to delete without listening- But to your surprise it was a text. 

Shouta Aizawa: “Y/N, you are driving me fucking crazy.. Please talk to me, I will leave you alone if you just grant me this one meet up.”

Opening the message fully, you’d stare at it for a moment.. Why did he want to meet up with you? Why was he even trying to get a hold of you after what he did?! Shaking your head and sucking in breath, you would force the tears back before tossing your phone onto the couch and burying your face into your hands. 

--

Shouta sat in his classroom, doing some last minute work when he texted her. He would stare at the message intently, and when the little ‘read’ icon would pop up, he brought the screen closer to his face “Come on.. Come on..” he growled “What the fuck are you doing to me..” he would sigh, shaking his head some. It was obvious you weren’t going to reply, and that made him feel like he was going fucking mad. Tossing the phone onto the desk he would let out another growl. He needed to talk to you, needed to fix this because he knew for sure now that he had made a big fucking mistake.. He needed you, he wanted you, he had you.. And now he was losing you because of his own actions. 

“Tomorrow.. No more fucking around” he growled.. 

--

[wolfs-hunt1]

Power hungry (03/04)

Summary: When your coven sisters find a way to keep using your powers and keep your life they try anything in the books to get it, even if it means killing someone else in the process. But something happens unexpectedly, he happened so unexpectedly, Chase Collins. Would you be willing to go along with him to have some happiness or will you just do what you are told by your sisters?

Pairings: Chase Collins x reader

This part is a lemon, which means it contains sexual content. If you are under 18 or you don’t like this sort of things then please turn back now. If you do like then enjoy the reading.

————

Masterlist

Part 2

After almost a year without updating this one, here’s the next chapter XD

Not beta-read, so sorry for any mistake you encounter.

Good readings!

obs: gif not mine

————

That night Morgan calls a meeting with all of you. It was raining heavily, the thunder illuminating your room once in a while. Vera was late, but once she got there Morgan tells you all to take a seat.

"It's almost time to see my plan bare fruits. We need to act fast now or we'll lose our chance."

"You still haven't told us your plan, Morgan." Gwen notes, getting a dirty look from Morgan right after.

"I was getting there if you had let me finish."

"We have a chance to get more power and keep using it, without repercussions. All we need to do is get caleb to give up his powers once he ascends, and in time, get all the sons of Ipswich to do the same. We get stronger, and they get out of our lifes for good." once she says that you get a bad feeling… like the power she craves won't come to her that easy.

"Now, me and Caleb share a birthday, which is just perfect. I can just snag his powers then and there, what isn't perfect is that bitch Sarah getting all grubby with him. My plan was for you (Y/N) to seduce Caleb and take him to a remote place, but now that all he has eyes for is her it will be trickier. But I know you can do it." wait what?! You had to seduce Caleb?

"First of all how am I suppose to do that? he hates our guts remember? Second, I thought you had said Sarah wasn't going to be a problem. Maybe if you had told us sooner we could have droven her away form him."

"The sons of Ipswich don't consider you a threat (Y/N), unlike they do the rest of yous, you are just too sweet." she mocks you for your more subdued attitude towards them and the feud. "But dont worry you just need to focus on Caleb. Edith and Gwen will take care of Sarah for you." you can see the twins shake their head and start whispering to each other, already devising up a plan.

"Anf if I fail to seduce him?" you ask softly.

"Sweety, you better not fail. Or we'll have to expel you from our coven." she sais it dripping with false sweetness, making your inside coil. "Oh and one more thing (Y/N). You better not get sidetracked with Collins. Or else." you nod, lowering your head.

How in the world where you suppose to seduce Caleb? Even if Sarah was out of the picture he would still prefer her over you. And Chace. You weren't sure yet if you really did like Chase, but he did manage to make you lightweight whenever he smiled at you. But you definitely felt something for him. And now that you started to finally develop felling for someone, after all this time, she tells you to step back? 'Just my luck…'.

The night is restless, and you can't stop your anxiety for what's to come.

You're headed to the library the next morning when you see Caleb walking on the corridors, 'It's now or never'.

"Caleb!" you run up to him and stop in front of him going silence. you adjust the strap of your bag and gatter the courage to do this. "I needed to talk to in."

"Then talk." he shrugs his shoulders.

"In… a more private place, if it's ok?" he eyes you suspiciously but nods anyways, you two walk outside to the small alcove you and the girls usually hang out in.

"So, what did you wanted to talk about (Y/L/N)?"

"I wanted to… to say that I…" you cheeks started to grow pinker by the second and you didnt know how to make it sound natural. "I wanted to say that I like you." you finally let out. "That I realy like you and that I think its stupid to have been fighting since we were kids for something our great great grandparents did. And I wasn't going to say anything because I don't think I'd ever got a chance but seeing you and Sarah getting closer has just made me realize how much it hurts not telling you I have feelings for you." Caleb just looks at you for a few seconds with a dumbfounded expresion on his face.

"(Y/N) I… I'm sorry but I like Sarah, we're sort of dating now." you sigh and look down. he pats you softly on the arm and goes back inside, leaving you there looking at your shoes.

"That was cold of him, to just leave after a confession like that." you out of your skin hearing this, turning to see Chase leaning on the wall of the building, hidden, from where you were, behind the trees. Fuck, he must have heard everything. "If I had known you had feelings for him I wouldn't have flirted with you so much the other day." he says this with a thange of venom and hurt, kicking off the wall to leave you there too.

"No, Chace, wait, please." you beg him to stay, getting closer to him and fidgeting with your hands for a while. Maybe you shouldn't touch his arm, give him some space while you try to explain things. "It's not what it looks like. I swear."

"Really? Because it seemed like you were confessing your love for him."

"It's not like that. I really like you, but Morgan wants him away from Sarah, so she sent me to do her dirty work… You know what, I've ruined any chances now, and if she evens sees me talking to you I'm done for." you start to turn around, tears forming in your eyes, when he grabs your hand and pulls you against his chest and then against the wall, running his finger on your check clearing away your tears softly contrasting with his actions just secons before.

"Morgan is not here now is she? Care to explain this a bit better?"

You end up telling him Morgan's plan, glossing over some stuff like the fact you all have powers. All the while his face is of concentration and he seems to be thinking about something he doesn't voices. You also tell him of your feelings towards him. At that, a devious smirk plasters itself on his face. But once you tell him Morgan doesn't wonts you seeing him the smirk falls a bit.

"Do you always do what she tells you to?" he inquiries softly on your ear, nudging his nose down the column of your neck breathing in your scent softly. You let out a shuddering breath, getting high on his proximity and the smell of his cologne. "Dont you ever want to be a bad girl?" he nips your neck softly and once you keep quiet for a while he hums to signal you he's still awaiting an answer.

"I guess I've been used my whole life to her telling me what to do, old habits die hard." you moan softly when he kisses your neck and bits down again, your knees getting weeker by the minute.

"Do you want me to get away then? Wouldn't want her to see us, right?" he says it mockingly because he dives down to your collarbone next, no intentions of stopping in his tracks whatsoever. "Do you want me to stop (Y/N)?" he asks, finishes you name on a whisper to your ear, where he licks and nips on the lobe.

"No." you say weakly, grabbing at his uniform jacket more securely as to not lose your balance. You head foggy with the desire coursing through your veins. once the word is out of your mouth he steps back and gives a toothy smile, grabbing at your hand and pulling you with him across campus. Both of you running and giggling like two teenagers, unpreoccupied if someone running into you since they where all suppose to be in class already.

Next thing you notice you are running through the dormitory corridos, and Chase is fumbling with his keys, hastily opening the door and pulling you inside, closing it and loocking it right away. He leans against the door for a second while you turn to him, just in time to see the hungry look he's throwing your way.

"You look good enough to eat (Y/N)." he growls out, licking his lips and kicking off the door to keep your frantic kissing going, making both of you lose your balance in the process and fall on to the creaky bed. You both make hast with each other's clothes, taking off jackets and the polo shirt he's wearing, he grabs at your dress shirt and pulls down, buttons flying everywhere. He takes a moment to admire your lacy bra, and dipping down to kiss from your neck to the tops of your breasts.

"You look so hot in this number." he says, biting on your bra strap and pulling it, just to hear your soft gasp once he let go of it, snapping against your soft skin. He straddles your waist and takes off his own dress shirt, leaving on his tie. He kisses down your navel, hands traveling up your thighs and down your skirts, caressing you softly. You feel his nimble finger hoking up the hem of your panties and slowly pulling them down, kissing down your thighs accompanying that movement.

Every touch of his lips in your made you burn with ecstasy moaning his name softly into the chill air of the dorm room. His hot breath puffed up neer your moist core, making your squirm in delight. His hands grab your thighs, hooking them up on his shoulders for better support. Fingers digging into your supple flesh when his velvety tongue licks up a stripe from bottom to top of your pussy, eyes looking at yours for approval and incentive to continue.

You were choking on your own moans, his tong wiggling around your lips and entering your warm hole, just to retreat and continue its assault on your pink clit. He added in his fingers, making come either gestures and moving his tongue side to side on your sensitive clit. He pushed over the edge of the cliff screaming his name, and helped your ride out every wave of you orgasm, until you had to pull him by his tie to stop him from touching your oversensitive clit. his chin was damp from your juices, and a wolfish grin spread across his face while he crawled over top of you, by the provisory leach you had over him.

You roll the both of you into bed, straddling his lap now. His hard-on painfully straining on his slacks, you unbutton them and pull them down along with his boxers, his cock bouncing up once freed, precome dribbling slowly from his tip. He reaches onto his bedside table in a flash and takes out a small aluminum foiled square, unraveling the condom over his engorged tip and down his shaft. He grabs for your hand, helping you adjust on top of him, and pulling you down to kiss your soft lips.

You rake your nails over his toned chest and start to bounce up and down, watching as his face contorts to one of pleasure and as he bits on his lip. The sexy look on his face making you moan louder and bounce faster, his hard cock felt so nice inside you, reaching all the sweet spots in you from this position. He grabs your hips and helps you bounce for a while until he rols you over again, and spreads your thighs wider to pound into you harder.

"You feel so good around me babe, you make me wanna cum right now." he dives down and takes off your bra, kissing and licking at your nipples and massaging them on his big palms. You moan in response, all coherent thoughts pounded out of you with each dive of his hips into your core. You grab at his biceps for suport, nails scratching every once in a while, just making him moan louder. You come around him, pulsing and trembling, legs shaking and breaths raged until he stiffens up and pumps slower into you, his face contorted into one of pure bliss, until he hides it in your neck, licking and marking you with a hickey.

His arms are shaking, and so he pulls out of you slowly and flops onto his side as not to crush you under his weight. You snugle up to his side, his hearth beating fast. "That was amazing." you say softly, he kissing the top of your head in response and you both drift off to sleep for a while.

You wake up to the feeling of soft kissing being landed on your skin, a huge smile spreading across your face even before you open your eyes to the sight before you. Chase has only in his boxers, hair mused over spiking everywhere, and attentively kissing every inch of your body slowly and sweetly until he noticed you were awake already.

"Afternoon my sleeping beauty."

"Hey." you rasp out, accepting his kiss to your lips.

"You wanna get to class? We missed the entire morning and lunch already." he lays down again in bed and lets you rest your head onto his chest, getting his arm around your arm making slow circles with his thumb.

"I do need to go. The girls will be questioning why I haven't showed up."

"Well, your phone has been going off forever, if we wait longer they might send a search party." he says laughing heartily. "But before you go. About the entire Caleb thing." you grimace up at him and go to apologize again when he shushes you with a kiss to the lips and sais:

"I'll help you." you look incredulously at him for a few seconds until you shake your head to get your thoughts in order.

"You'll help? How?" he pulls you donw to him again for a kiss.

"I don't know just yet, but I'll. That way Morgan gets what she wants, and we get to stay together." You hug him tight and kiss his cheks and nose until you reach his lips again. You both get dresses and get out of the dorm room and head to your next class, taking separate routes to seamless suspicion.

You are giddy throughout the entire of the day, until Morgan gets in your shared room.

"Where the fuck were you all day? You where suppose to be taking care of seducing Caleb, but you dont even show up?" you try to defend yourself but she soon snaps at you again. "You were with Chase where you?! He was also missing today, I told you to stay away from him didn't I?" a thunder cracks loudly in the distance, making you jump slightly.

"You disobeyed, and so now you pay the consequences. You won't leave this room until I let you, or getting expelled from the coven won't be the worse thing i'll do to you."

She grabs your keys from the desk and goes out locking you into the room.

"Morgan, no, dont do this please." you scream into the locked door pounding your fists against it, but to no avail, she had also charmed the door. You where trapped. A couple of hours later you hear the faint noise of the sirens of an ambulance, but no one ever passed in your corridor so you could ask for someone's help. But even if they did, they couldn't exactly help you anyways. You could only sit and wait out for her to return.

Part 4

[tarithenurse]

Stranded - 3 of 3

Pairing: Loki Odinson x fem!reader Content: Insane amounts of fluff and perhaps fluff-related nerves. If your teeth fall out after this, then it’s really not my responsibility! A/N: This realy is the last part. Thanks for wanting it <3

It’s been less than a week since you accepted Loki’s proposal, but it already seems like the entire kingdom knows about it even if the two of you had tried to keep it from everyone else. Strangely, Loki’s parents don’t condemn what could appear like a hasty decision, and Thor…well the man’s so happy you’d think he’s the one getting married.

“– and I’m just saying I didn’t expect Odin to be so chill!” Plopping down on a settee, your fingertips immediately find the new gold band around the finger.

Loki’s lounging on the bed, one long leg stretched while the other is bend to support a rather heavy book (a historical dissertation, he’s explained when you asked). When he glances up from the dusty pages there’s an amused smirk on his face.

“Chill? I presume you mean to say that father is taking the news calmly?” Your assent both makes him chuckle (probably at the Midgardian expression) and frown. “The king can be…abstruse. Complicated.” Loki hesitates, filling the pause by putting the book aside. ”Growing up near the glory of him and Thor it has oftentimes felt as though my father…in spite of his wisdom…was unsure what would become of me. Thor has always been destined to inherit the throne and there have been plenty suitors already trying to appease him and my parents…”

“You can’t expect me to believe you haven’t had your share of interested parties.” The last words are enounced with enough sarcasm even for an Asgardian to understand it – thankfully Loki gets that kind of humour.

“Interested? A few, that is true.” Keen eyes pin you to the seat. “Interesting, however…now that is a different matter entirely.” He’s on his feet and stalking towards you in the blink of an eye. “Perhaps the king and queen have come to the same conclusion as I have…” Loki purrs as he scoops you up like a baby, making you squeal in equal parts delight and terror, “that you, lady [Y/N] of Midgard, are the one to forever hold my interest and heart.”

It’s a personal kind of heaven to kiss him, the thin lips molding softly against yours before his tongue slips in between to tease and draw out a moan – quiet and begging for more without words. The tenderness shies away for the sake of a deep-seated hunger that ignites deep in your belly and guides your hands to his shoulder and to the black hair that feels like silk between your fingers as you tangle the locks in a determined grip. When he groans, you’re the one to swallow the bliss.

“My love,” Loki’s voice breathes raggedly, “never doubt the hold you have on my soul and body.”

…   Time skip   …

A year. The time has passed both slow and quick, often surprising you when something has made you realize how long Valhalla has been your home and finding a purpose as a kind of revolutionary when it comes to the schooling of the young ones – Asgard favours home schooling which has very mixed results. And after having arranged and carried out a few classes focusing on “Midgardian” culture (the aspects you are familiar with), there was more than enough interest in establishing an actual school.

It has been a year full of learning for you too. Leaning about everything Asgardian but also about yourself…including how to deal with situations you would have deemed archaic. An example is how you and Loki aren’t supposed to share a bedroom until the wedding night, and sure, there isn’t an actual chaperone assigned to you, but there might as well be because someone is always conveniently nearby, preventing the peace of mind needed for more than kisses (amazing kisses, admittedly) which adds to a growing sense of frustration.

A year. Neither you nor Loki have had a problem with waiting with the wedding till then. You both know, deep inside your souls, that time is on your side and so there’s been no other rush than what your bodies have made you feel.

Tomorrow the wait will end.

…   Loki   …

Staring at the page, the groom has not been able to take in any of the words although the Midgardian poetry normally fascinates and moves him with ease. Today, however, his mind is full of nervous thoughts and his belly infested with butterflies at the prospect of saying or doing something wrong during any part of the ceremony – especially the vow Loki has chosen for [Y/N]. It must be perfect! In his eyes, the woman deserves everything he can give and much more because he fears how alienated she might feel at times. Today will be no exception, and it is for this reason he has studied the Midgardian traditions with the hope of fusing elements from both worlds into one harmonious event.

A fist connects with Loki’s upper arm. “Where is your mind at, little brother?” Thor has entered the room, unheeded by the occupant.

“It is here now.” Loki closes the book, knowing that he will not get any reading done. “What do you want?”

“Me? I wish to see my brother happy and wed!” The azure eyes nearly disappear due to the size of the smile that splits Thor’s face. “Come, it is time.”

…   Reader   …

Without a family of your own, it’s been a huge comfort to have Sif and The Warriors Three during the past year and you’d been wise enough not to challenge them when they announced they would be representing you during the wedding day. Sif has (although shadowed by Frigga) cast aside any of the normal annoyance with things classically “female” (even here on Asgard it’s rare for women to wear trousers and fight) and ensured to go all in to guide you through the preparations for the big day.

“Now remember,” the doe-eyed woman admonishes, “breathe, keep your head high, do as we have rehearsed.”

You nod, too nervous to voice any of the many concerns swirling in your head. It’s making you dizzy. The anticipation, the multitude of catastrophic mistakes you can make, the giddiness, and of course the fear that...what if I wake up and it’s never been real? But the firm squeeze from Sif’s had has to be proof it really is true. All of it.

“I feel –“ But you never get further as there’s a knock on the door.

“That must be Fandral!”

It’s not. It isn’t Loki either, much like the Nordic cultures the Asgardian groom isn’t meant to see his wife on the day before the ceremony – gods knows it’s been a long day since you parted this morning. No, it’s Frigga who strides through the door, clad in a shimmery gown in the same cut as Sif’s though embellished with golden drops has been sprinkled all over the sky-blue material. Still she’s the one to stop dead in her tracks at the sight of you.

“Oh, what a vision you are, my dear,” the queen breathes, politely ignoring Sif’s smug grin.

“Thank you, your highness.”

“Tsk! Soon the use of titles will only be necessary during official events.” The mother-in-law-to be is tugging away a strand of you hair from the elaborate braid, then smoothing a nonexistent crease on your dress. “You will have a title on your own.”

“It’s strange…all I wanted was to be with Loki, I don’t care about the rest!”

Afraid that you might have gone too far, you start to sputter an apology, but Frigga stops you before sending Sif outside for a moment. When the door closes behind the vermillion-dressed friend, you realize that you’re holding the breath and the palms are clammy from sweat.

Blue eyes, not dissimilar to Thor’s, find yours. Kindness, warmth, happiness overflow. “We know. Loki knows…and he wanted me to pass you this token.” Drawing out an emerald ribbon, she moves behind you to tie it in the hair.

It matches your outfit. Of course it does. The dress you wear is soft and flowy, made out of layer upon layer of the thinnest, translucent silks to create a shimmer of delicate greens only broken by the golden and darker green embroideries at the waist and rising from the base trim to resemble delicate leaves. A flower crown sits lightly on your head with the same colours.

“There, my child,” Frigga smiles, leading you to the mirror that you’ve already frequented more than you care to admit, “our Midgardian princess.”

She’s right: you look…stunning. The last year of wearing luxurious clothes (and increasingly often wearing dresses too) has been hopelessly inadequate to prepare you for looking the part. It’s a stranger staring back from the mirror. A strong woman who actually has gone off, leaving a drab life behind in favour of a life with a purpose together with someone who makes her feel important.

…

Fandral pats your hand gently. Perhaps it’s as reassurance, but it could also be to have you lighten the hold you have of his arm now you stand before the doors to the throne room with shaking knees. He too has assured you of the joy everyone feels – kind words falling on an ear deafened by nerves, but there’s no time to go back even if you wanted to because the doors open to reveal thousand of people standing on either side of a petal-covered isle leading towards the throne and the royal family.

There he is, dressed in the same colours as you. Loki. The moment you see him, calmness wells in your chest and extinguishes the fray of a storm that had raged within you. Negative thoughts and disastrous imagines evaporate, and a boldness returns at the sight of the prince dropping his jaw. Oh yeah, you’re one lucky guy, you grin to yourself, straightening your back and neck.

It’s the longest walk of your life before Fandral finally and step aside, placing your hands in Loki’s for the ceremony to begin.

Odin starts the whole thing of with a long and convoluted speech before finally allowing the siblings Frej and Freja take over. They talk almost as one, a perfectly choreographed sing-song story of the meaning of marriage as a sacred pact to ensure life and happiness, while tying yours and Loki’s joined hands with emerald ribbons adorned with flowers. Once the final knot has been completed, both she and her brother back off to the thunderous applause of all Asgardians…or at least those with their hands free.

“My wife,” Loki begins softly before turning his head to the crowd to address them, “there is a tradition in Midgard where the bride and groom prepare a personal vow to their partner. It is a sweet gesture which I have become inspired by, so hear these words and witness my love for princess [Y/N]!” Now the everchanging eyes are on you again. “[Y/N], my love. You came to me with nothing…yet became my everything. All that I am and all that I have is yours from this day on and it shall be my duty, nay, my honour to guarantee your eternal happiness for as long as you wish. A year ago, you took my heart. Today I give you my body and soul.”

Damnit. You’d promised yourself not to start crying but now the first tear is running down your cheek and even if it would be convenient to say it’s because Frigga and Thor’s tears have gotten to you then that probably wouldn’t be entirely true. People are still aweing and cheering. For a second it seems impossible to be heard, however nothing could be further from the truth as you clear you throat, conjuring a hush that settles over the many on-lookers.

“My husband.” Your voice shakes a little, but Loki looks as though it’s the sweetest sound. “I have no riches to share, but all that I am and will be is yours. Through sickness and in health, through good days and bad, I will stand beside you to support, cherish, and love you, in this life and the next if you will accept me.”

Face tilted slightly up towards Loki, none of you bother keeping the kiss strictly chaste. Through half-closed eyes, you’re dimly aware that the garland tying you together begins to glow until the brightness fills the entire throne room and the ribbon with all of its flowers is gone although you can feel the bond remains.

[merlin-wolfgang-trades-hale]

do you ever wonder if certain "details" about some characters are realy canon or if you just read it in to many fanfics? I can't remember if Rachel's Job was ever mentioned on h5o. I think she worked with/for Stan but it could be just something I read.

All. The. Time! 

Whenever I’m writing something for a fic, more often than not I have to go to H5-0 Wiki to like double-check. I give myself the liberty to choose whether or not I like the canon fact, or just continue to go with the fandom fact. I find it a bit fascinating in some respect. I more so know it for other fandoms...I just woke up from a nap so like the most common thing that came to me is Genim, which was Stiles Stilinski’s fandom name that was popularized before his real name was stated xD but in the same respect, because it was accepted that Claudia was Polish, though I myself can’t remember when that was stated, it was accepted by the fandom and whenever I read a fic and someone used Stiles’s real name, it would either be Genim or a very Polish name that I wouldn’t be able to pronounce without calling my friend xD 

And now that you bring it to my attention I have no idea what Rachel does. Automatically my mind says either realtor or interior designer???? But that’s probably not it. xD 

I’m not totally cruel and if the writers of h5-0 would have a bit more originality and quit with Danny going back to her...I hope she would work with Stan rather than for Stan. It might still be really hella awkward but at least she’s working ya know? For him...if he doesn’t fire her, he kinda should but that’s a HR/PR nightmare cos they were married and involved and with them breaking up, I mean I’ve never been married or divorced but from what I know of TV once you remarry any alimony stops. So Danny’s not contracted by law to give her money except for child support. Grace is about to turn 18 so that might stop. I have no effon clue what their deal with Charlie is s...idk knowing Danny he would be paying child support because once he knew Charlie was his, he wouldn’t want his kid to need or want, but Rachel and Stan were married and Charlie would have been labeled as his dependant on his taxes for a few years, so if they divorced, would Stan also have to pay Charlie child support? And even if he does, that’s for Charlie’s care and needs, wouldn’t really cover much of rent/morgage if she didn’t keep the house, plus there’s car and insurance...and it’s Hawaii, which is kind of an expensive state to live in...so like...mostly for Charlie’s sake and to also not make Danny a charity and make him broke, I would hope she has a job still. 

That...probably went in a different direction than you thought of xD Sorry, but yes. I often mistake ‘fandom facts’ as ‘canon facts’ cos I read more fanfiction than I rewatch stuff xD It’s mostly when I’m writing, after I type it in that I sit there and wonder “...did...did this really happen? I know this is my fanfic and can claim it is but...this is one of the facts that’s supposed to anchor it to canon, damn it!”  and then I spend like an hour or so on the show’s wiki jumping from link to link xD 

[17cafe]

Unfold

↠ Asked: ❝Hello today I found your blog and I realy love it 💕✨ Can I request a scenario with Hoshi? (Y/N) is realy stressed with school, because they have so many exams at the moment and it seems that they fail in math, because they are not so good in math. Boyfriend Hoshi tries to help them with math. Can it be super fluffy please? I love fluffy Hoshi :3❞

↠ Members: Hoshi x reader

↠ Genre: fluff

↠ Word count: 900+

↠ Note: like always, this scenario is gender-neutral although a female gender was included in the request.

You hear a knock on your bedroom door which completely interrupts your train of thought. You were engulfed by the numbers and words in your math textbook, open in front of you, virtually screaming at you. That is, until you hear a real sound in place of it.

“Y/n? Your boyfriend’s here to see you,” your mother bluntly voices. At any other time, this would have lifted up your spirits, but today was much different. The stress from studying and discovering just how much you do not actually know in this certain subject was really getting under your skin. 

“Tell him I’ll just call later, I’m busy.”

For a moment there was silence. Then a new sound emerged. Your bedroom door clicked as the handle was turned, and creaked as it was opened. You sigh, rubbing your hands over your face once. Then you turn around.

“I told you, just go tell him-”

Your mother was only seen walking away, and in her supposed place was Hoshi instead. Seeing him did not bring the feelings it usually did. You found yourself indifferent. But you appreciated him coming to you.

He closed the door behind him and before you had the chance to say anything else, he spoke up.

“I know you’re busy studying, and I know how much stress affects you, but just hear me out?” He speaks in more of a questioning tone than a definite one. As he talks, he drags over an extra chair situated in your room, bringing it next to you. He sits down close. So close that your legs are pressed against each other. You can feel his warmth.

“I also know you like studying on your own, but with math, you like help of others. So that’s why I’m here.” He kisses your cheek and brings an arm around your shoulders.

“I’m not going to tell you to take a break, because we both know you won’t until you’re finished. But until then, I’m here to help you, okay?” 

“Thank you,” is all you manage to say.

He smiles beside you, and you smile along. As he rubs his hand along the skin of your arm, you realize how chilly you’ve gotten. It was nearing winter, and although the heat was on in your room, it wasn’t very effective. Hoshi could tell.

He removes his arm from around you and begins to pull it through his sleeve. 

“You know I have four different hoodies hung on my door, right? Keep yours on,” you say with a giggle as you push your chair back in preparation to go get one of those hoodies. He jumps up and comes behind you, pushing the chair right back in. 

“You stay here and keep studying, no more distractions, okay? I’ll get it for you~” He speaks in a sing-song voice and wanders away, coming back promptly and holding your favourite, warmest hoodie behind you.

“Arms up!” he says, and leaving your pencil on your notebook, you do so. He slides the piece of clothing onto you. After it’s on, he leans down and kisses the top of your head. 

That’s normal. He can’t help but do that nearly every chance he gets. 

“Thank you, Hoshi,” you say and lean your head back to give him a smile. He giggles at your upside-down face, leaning down once more to leave a small kiss on your lips. Afterwards, he sits back down in his chair beside you.

You get back to work. You start mumbling to yourself as you work through questions and ask him for guidance when you get stuck. He was one of the strongest math students in your class, if not the strongest. It’s funny how you met him that way. 

As cliché as it seemed, you two were assigned as study partners. He was the strongest and you were the weakest, so the teacher thought it was only the best pairing. And was the teacher ever right.

“Y/n?” Hoshi whispers after some time you spent focusing. At least half an hour. In your mind, all was silent through that time. You did not notice the hints of scrapes and rustling. But now you know they must have been there.

When you glanced over to him, there were three origami flower in his hands. They were made of the extra lined paper you kept on your desk.

“Will you go out with me?” He asks with a fake sense of shyness. You can’t help but laugh. A real laugh.

“Hoshi, we’ve been dating for almost a year, do you really need to ask that?”

He grins as you take the paper flowers from him and tuck them into the pencil holders on your desk. You take a moment to study them instead and how surprisingly precise the folds were. 

As you look at them, he looks at you. How your eyes were still shining because of the simple thing he did for you. And then the picture changes; he envisions you as you are now, but in a different place. A field with sunshine. And rather than looking at paper flowers, you look at real ones. 

Then you look at him.

“Thank you, Hoshi,” you say the same way as before. 

That caught him off guard; he didn’t respond. 

You look, yet again, at the textbook and papers in front of you. Some of the stress packed itself up and left. You could feel it, and you sincerely were thankful. You were not completely sure if Hoshi knew that. But besides “thank you,” what could you say?

He watches as you work, letting you work from beginning to end on questions before he would point out a mistake. That was how the rest of the night went; he did as he said and stayed there to help until you finished. Each and every confusing question you solved together, until all made sense. 

[tackyink]

A continuation of yesterday’s story… Which I should probably have waited to edit on a PC instead of a phone and avoid inevitable silly mistakes, but oh well.

Forces go to work while we are sleeping If I could attack with a more sensible approach Obviously thats what I’d be doing

Dissociative fugue.

That was the verdict of the doctors after days of extensive testing. Physically speaking, I had a concussion, a first degree sprain in my right wrist, and a few bruises. And somehow, I’d been clinically dead for a minute, but I had come back from the other side when nobody expected me to pull through without any signs of brain or cardiopulmonary damage.

Except, of course, my memory. And that could loosely be attributed to the concussion or the shock of a near-death experience, so the doctors observed me with a lot of curiosity, but not much worry.

They reassured these people – my parents, I still couldn’t wrap my mind around that – that fugue states were transitory, and that it was a matter of time that I’d recover my memories.

I couldn’t do anything but sit there and listen to their theories. Even if I tried to explain what had happened, nobody would believe it. I could hardly believe it myself. And I could not explain myself, because I didn’t have the vocabulary to do so, and with my brother absent I had nobody to translate.

His name was Yu, and after I woke up I didn’t see him again at the hospital, so I communicated with the personnel with a mix of my own mangled Japanese and their sloppy English.

I couldn’t do much those first few days. My dominant hand was immobilized with a plaster splint as soon as I complained that it hurt, and there was always someone in my room keeping an eye on me. My mother, despite how hard she had taken it when I woke up (and really, how else could a mother take her daughter forgetting about her?), had decided that she was going to remind me of everything I had forgotten, even if that meant recounting to me Satori’s life from the moment she was born.

Her determination was contagious.

Once it was evident that normal communication was impossible, she left the room to make a call, came back, and when my father came hours later to the hospital, he was carrying a Japanese-English dictionary that was heavy as a brick. I had to place it on the bed to use it, because I couldn’t hold it in my hands. But once we had that my mom pushed ahead with her plan, and every time I had trouble understanding something she said, or I needed a word I did not know, we had the dictionary to help.

To this moment I don’t know how we didn’t wear out the spine, because we used it constantly.

Those days had two effects on me, though neither were the one my mother had intended.

One, I got the harshest crash course in Japanese ever, and my vocabulary expanded considerably. I still spoke worse than a preschooler, but I knew more difficult words than one. Go ahead and explain to a four year old what a dissociative amnesia is, I dare you.

Two, I learned a lot about Satori and her family life. None of the things my mother told me could jog memories I did not have to start with, but I filed away as much information as my concussed brain allowed me.

Satori was thirteen, in her second year of middle school, and played tennis in a club. Her grades were okay, though they had been better years ago, and she took piano and English lessons after school. My mother was very surprised at how well I managed myself in English, because Satori’s English grades during the last year had been atrocious.

I laughed it off and said that that was odd.

There was more. My mother had been a secretary before becoming a stay at home mom, and my dad was a prosecutor. Her name was Yuko, his was Akio, and judging by the kanji of our names, our whole family was one big wordplay. My mother shared the first character of her name with my brother Yu, as I did with my father.

I stared at the kanji she wrote on a piece of paper. Yu’s name sounded masculine by itself, but used its meaning was ‘kindness’. He had a girl’s name.

I had no clue what Satori’s meant at first glance, but I’d soon learn that it had an obnoxious amount of pronunciations, and most of them were male names.

Some parents just have to make it difficult for their kids.

Our surname was Kaito, written with the characters of ‘sea’ and ‘wisteria’. It made me happy that I was able to read them without help.

Back to my new family, my mother told me that Yu was a very smart kid, which was a delicate way of saying that I had a genius brother, and that he was only ten but could speak English fluently, as well as read Chinese and classical Japanese. He spent a lot of time reading and writing, and didn’t have many friends, which was also another way of saying that he didn’t have any.

I noticed how she skirted around the subject when I asked how we got along.

I thought it was a funny coincidence that his name was Yu Kaito. A coincidence that started to make me uncomfortable as the days passed and I had time to sweat the small details. There was a CRT TV in my room. Nobody used mobile phones. There was a cassette player at the nurse station, and their phone was boxy and looked downright ancient. I had used one of those as a toy when I was little.

On the third day, I asked my mother for a calendar, and she gave me the calendar card with the image of two kittens she was carrying inside her purse.

1984. It was 1984.

I asked my mother – I was little by little getting used to think about her on those terms, if only to avoid any suspicious goof-ups on my part – if the calendar was right. She looked at me a little concerned, said it was, and asked me if I knew which year it was. I told her I did, I just but I had forgotten the date. She pointed to the 21st of September and suggested that I crossed a day off the calendar every day until I got readjusted.

It was one of those times that I didn’t know how I managed to keep my composure. It tried to smile at her, though I’m sure it came out more like a grimace, and she hugged me in a way that reminded me of my own mother. Before I realized, I was sobbing on her shoulder, and she was trying to console me with words I didn’t quite understand. She held me until I stopped crying, and she left me alone for a while with the calendar and my thoughts.

1984.

It was so Orwellian that I would have laughed if not for what it meant.

I was born in 1989. There was no body for me to return to. Wherever I had been transported to, I did not exist in this reality.

Did this mean that, when my time to be born came, another one would take my place? That I wasn’t supposed to be born in this timeline? Maybe the original Satori would switch places with me? But who was to say that my parents existed in this world at all?

I spent the afternoon thinking about possibilities, of people I missed, of getting used to a new family and country and culture all of a sudden, all while slowly crossing out numbers on the calendar. I saw my parents’ birthdays, my friends’, mine. I circled them to not forget, because even if my idea was to find a way back, I couldn’t bring myself to be optimistic about my chances. I didn’t know where to begin.

I’d been called a pessimist for many long years, especially when I was a child and unbridled optimism was what had been expected of me. But I had never been able to let go of my worries like that. Always overthinking, always theorizing what could go wrong and how to fix it before it happened. And it worked in my favor, most of the time. Even when fixing it wasn’t in my hands, I could take consolation in knowing how things worked, that if circumstances were a little different there would be a way, that if I pushed onwards, a possibility could eventually arise.

This time, though, I was utterly lost. Not enough information, no containment plans, no foundation upon which to build any.

The only thing to do was wait. I had to observe, learn, live. An opportunity to understand would surely come up, and when it did, I would be able to build upon that.

And so I crossed day after day with black ink, until I reached September 16th. The day of my accident.

I circled it in red, though I knew I wouldn’t be able to forget.

When I was released that weekend, my routine didn’t change much at first. I couldn’t be sent to school because I was still in recovery, supposedly, so for the first few days I stayed home alone with my mother while my parents scrambled to find a tutor who could come home and help me.

The Kaito family lived in a mansion, that is, something akin to a luxury apartment. It’s bigger, with more solid construction than a regular one; city housing meant for upper-middle class families. I spent the first few days with my mother, though as I got settled in, I decided that if I was stuck in this situation, I was going to adapt to it as fast as possible. I began reading everything that fell into my hands, and that was how I stumbled into the final clue that I needed to realize what was going on.

One afternoon, I was attempting to read one of my hospital forms with the help of a kanji dictionary, and the help of a regular dictionary to understand what the kanji said. Yu’s knack for all things wordy meant that we were excellently stocked on reference books, and I was going to take advantage of them to the fullest of my ability.

I spent a while deciphering the description of my condition, and when I got tired of figuring out technical terms I moved onto the basic part of the form: name, social security name, city of residence…

And that was where I came to a halt. I was able to read the first half of the name of the city.

My hands stilled over the pages of the dictionary.

1984.

Yu Kaito.

And a city whose name began by ‘mushi.’

Hesitantly, I began to pass the pages in search of the second character, giving the form nervous glances, not sure if fearing that I was right about my suspicion or worried that I had read it wrong and I was losing that one hint.

And right I was, I realized, when the dictionary gave the reading of the second character as ‘yori.’

If this was a coincidence, it wasn’t funny.

It wasn’t funny because it gave me context, a way to find people who could help me explain what had happened, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it for years. I could only hold on to hope until then, and if my supposition ended up being a mistake… could I take that?

It had to be a coincidence. Yu Yu Hakusho was not real. Real people didn’t get transported into their favorite anime series like a bad fic trope.

So, until I had hard evidence that my theory was right, I refused to entertain it. I convinced myself that I was looking for whatever trace of familiarity I could hold onto, and I needed to keep paying attention and gather clues that didn’t point to complete baloney.

But while the doubt stayed with me for some days, evidence piled up so high that I was forced to admit my situation was exactly what it looked like.

It became undeniable during one of my many follow-up visits at the hospital.

Doctor Kobayashi, the same that had been in my room when I first woke up, was telling my mother that my motor skills were fine, my brain activity was normal and that the fact that I was steadily regaining my linguistic ability was proof that my recovery was going well. That they would keep an eye on me for some time, but she didn’t need to worry. I was fine, save for the fugue state that didn’t seem to go away, but since I was behaving, they were positive that I’d regain my memory after the shock wore off. A resident sat next to the doctor, listening attentively to the conversation.

While they talked and I tried to figure what was going on, I saw a woman enter the doctor’s office. All would have been well if she hadn’t gone through a closed door. She seemed distraught, wandering without an objective, until she noticed that she was being stared at.

I was frozen on my chair, staring at her, wondering if this was it and I’d gone crazy at last. She seemed to be in her thirties, clad in a formal navy blue dress and a black jacket. Her eyes were sunken, and when they met my own, I felt a shiver go down my spine. It wasn’t because of her face alone. She radiated a chilling cold that seemed to skip clothes, skin and muscle to go straight to the marrow of my bones.

The doctor’s voice brought me back to earth, but I had caught the woman’s attention by then, and something told me that that wasn’t good.

“Satori, are you okay?”

“Yes,” I said, trying not to look scared. “Sorry.”

The doctor smiled kindly. “If you feel anything odd you should tell your parents, all right?”

“Yes,” I repeated, nodding emphatically, and I tried to ignore the ice cold feeling that ran over me when a translucent hand attempted to touch my shoulder and instead sank in it.

“Where’s my body?” Said a voice in my head only I could only hear. “Why does no one else see me?”

The ghostly hand was protruding from the middle of my torso, and I hoped that the others weren’t paying attention to me, because I felt the blood drain from my face as I stared at it. But my lack of reaction made the spirit nervous, and she started to shriek as she tried to touch me to no avail, hands going through my physical body, each touch feeling like ice cubes were being shoved into my organs.

“Where’s my body? Where?! Tell me! I know you can see me, TELL ME!!”

When I thought I wouldn’t be able to bear it anymore, my mother thanked doctors Kobayashi and Kamiya and took my hand.

I looked at the resident as soon as I heard the name. Young, in his early to mid-twenties, with brown hair and glasses and a sharp stare.

He smiled at me. I squeezed my mom’s hand. The ghost shrieking behind me, the potential serial killer sitting there and the inability to do anything about either of them, another confirmation that I had ended up in a fictional world, everything felt too much to bear.

“Let’s go home,” said my mother.

I jumped from my chair quickly and followed along, forcing myself to keep my eyes down until we left the building. Don’t look at the dead, don’t look at the living, just focus on getting out until you are out and safe.

The hallways of the hospital felt eerie and ominous now that I knew what would happen there in a few years. How many of the people I was crossing paths with would die at the hands of the Doctor?

I kept running into Minoru Kamiya almost every time I visited my doctor. He was always there, with a pleasant smile that I was never able to return. Taking notes diligently, sometimes asking questions. His behavior was nothing but professional, and it was perhaps this facade of normalcy what made him scarier. After a few months, doctor Kobayashi asked my parents for permission to write a paper on my case. I was afraid that my secret would be found out upon closer inspection, but it was a baseless fear. Nobody in their right mind could guess that I was occupying a body that wasn’t mine.

The one I didn’t see again, thankfully, was the ghost of the lady, but on subsequent visits, I noticed more odd people near the ER and in the hallways. I made a point not to look at them directly, but they were there, always one or another, easily distinguishable from the living because the light seemed to go through them and cast a slight sheen over them. Some looked brighter. Some looked like shadows, the human behind the darkness barely distinguishable.

I never saw them twice. I supposed they had passed on in between my visits to wherever they had to go.

But once I noticed that one, they became a constant in my life. At parks. In back alleys. At the corner shop. Once, even, sitting on an oar with a woman in a kimono, riding it towards the clouds.

I was incredulous, but not stupid. The time for denial was over. And, conveniently, I seemed to have awakened my spirit awareness. Did that mean I had died in the accident? As I recalled, that was how Yusuke’s power had done the same. Then again, Satori may have been able to do this before I took over her body. I had no way to know.

But now that I knew where I was, hard to believe as it was, I had gained a perspective that let me be more at ease with my situation. At that time, I decided that I’d wait patiently until my brother crossed paths with Yusuke and the others, and I’d tell someone from the Spirit World about my problem. With luck, they’d have a way for me to go back. And in the worst case… well, I supposed that I was already dead. After all, I had no body of my own to go back to.

[anhastingsphilosopher-blog]

Thoughts on Famous in Love

So I just finished binge watching the first ten episodes of Famous in Love and had to put out my thoughts on how they were.I don’t think i would have watched all of this if I wasn’t on my recess week and been just craving an Pll like teen drama and since it is produced by the same woman i thought why not.But do not mistake me and think that this as good as Pll, because I’m sorry to inform,it’s just not.Pll kind of lost their ways after season 5 but even in those days it was better than this and there’s even no comparison to the first ten episodes of Pll with the first ten of Famous in Love.I’m sorry Marlene, but Famous in Love will not be the next Pll.But now on to some actual thoughts.

First let’s talk about the plot.The show is about an college student,Paige, who get’s casted in a blockbuster and then her life get’s turned upside down by becoming famous overnight and it’s basicaly about her dealing with that.It’s not the most mind blowing initial plot, it’s pretty common and it’s not the first time you hear a story about an ordinay pearson becoming famous overnight.But for me the biggest problem with the shows is that they have this realy chiche inicial plot and what do they do?Stick the most predictable and cliche storyline to go with it.The guy whose in love with his best friend  check ,hot famous guy falls instanly for the protagonist check, bitchy female costar check, celebrity with a hidden past check, no one can know about us gay romance check.I could spend the day naming the cliches in the show.This helps the show to gets it most noticible characterist :being awfully dull.You don’t feel even the silightest engagedment with the story.I don’t care that Cassy dosen’t have money for college or that Rainer has just found out that his dad isn’t really his dad.If you add the fact that caracters don’t have much deept,I feel like from the beggining the writers shot themselfs in the foot trying to sell a show like this.

Now on the face of the show.Bella Thorne is the obvious stand out from the cast.When I was younger used to watch her on Shake it up on the disney channel and liked her on it.Cece was a fun character with great comedic timing.But all the time I was watching Famous in Love and there was a Paige scene i felt that Bella Thorne was just recycling the same tipe of humor that she used on disney now with a more serious tone which made it forced and bit rediculous.She constaly does the omg I’m so akward i don’t stop talking trait that the used to do all the time in Shake it up.The only problem with that is where not at disney and this is not  supposed  to be a comedy so it’s just flat.She tries to distant her so much to not be labled as an disney actress and there she goes and acts as she was on a disney show.I don’t get that. Besides from that she does a quite decent job compared to the rest.I belive her as college student who got an acting job doesen’t mean I like her character but it’s a lot more I can say about the rest of the cast.

Speaking of the rest of the cast.I felt like they decited to just hire the most atractive people out there since the show is about famous atractive people.They did a pretty awsome job at,the whole cast is just beautiful but I think they were just to focused on finding atractive people that they forget about acting chopps.They are also very nice and  I watched some of their interviews and feel bad for saying how bad they actualy are. I don’t belive any of that the actors are actualy actors, all of the scenes that they show clips of the movie I keep thinking how these are famous actors in the first place.Jordan played by Keith Powers is by far the least beliveble caracther on the show, I don’t even buy for a second that he is this amazing actor who by the end gets a gloden globe nomination and everyone wants to do movies with.And his whole storyline with his mother is just so boring and is played out as you are supposed to care about him and understand his point of view but in the end you just get annoyed with him.Because like most things in this show is just so predictable.Not having very good actors doesen’t allow this show to grow because every single scene is just very dull or bad and cringy.I guess another thing that they don’t do very well is selling the story to the viewer like i said before.

Now on to the charecters.After finishing the show i kept trying to come with my favorite charecter and it was not an easy task.I think the closest thing I came was Racheal, she was the least annoying and I found that her cliche romance with Alexis was at least at bit interesting even if it ended very confusing.She also was likeble and beliveble which is ver rare in the characaters of this show.But all the characters are just very flat, they don’t have layers, they are not very interesting to watch.I don’t relate any of them or feel for them.This is key for an audience to get envolved and for a show to be good.Why would you watch a show that was a cliche plot with not ver good acting and shalow characters?My point.

Besides from that the show’s biggest dramas are just to over the top while being cliche.They push somethings that there is just not many stuff to explore.They spend so many time trying to set up Jordan and Rainer as this former friends who betrayed eachother, there is just so much drama there for in the next episode them to be best friend’s overnight.There is also the fact that Paige, Jake and Cassy are the best of friends ever however the most they do on the show is get mad at eachother and not talk.See how I say this show doesen’t even try to be beliveble.

This show from my point of view doesen’t have hook and it’s going to struggle so much to get views and do well.The reason it got so much press is cause it features Bella Thorne and is produced by Marlene King and they are trying to market it as the next Pll.It was fun to find the easter eggs about Pll that are hidden in the show like the lady in the laundry reading Ezra’s book from season 6 and Paige spotting Chad Lowe.But that was it, because at least even when Pll is frustrating it makes me feel something other than just utter boredom.There is nothing special about the show.I would recomend this to you with you are craving an overdramatic teen drama but even if you watch it in this mindset you probably won’t even like it that much.And If Pll is ending and you need a new show, and Freeform keeps trying to market this to you, don’t belive them when they say this is the new Pll.It’s not.

[unfathomableexistence]

Amongst the ordinary...

Amongst the generality

I was born at The Rosie Maternity, in Addenbrookes Hospital on the 12th December 1996 in Cambridge, United Kingdom. I was born at twenty-six-weeks, fourteen weeks prior to when I should of been born. Which ultimately contributed towards an abundance of complexities during my prematurity. Many of the doctors that worked tirelessly with me, thought that ‘it would be a miracle’ if I stayed alive not to mention being able to walk and talk… as any other child would (with a normality). Four excruciatingly vague months had passed, with being optimistic amongst the abyss proved arduously typhlosis. Where even the most ingenious surgeons  would easily be contradicted against their most contested professionalism.  I came to a house that was seen as persistently unfamiliar (at first) until I will later acknowledge it as my home.  Many months and years would pass within these four walls slowly began to suffocate my very existence that was described as ‘special’ by my very mother herself. That very word formalised new definitions as I would reluctantly express myself divergently within my exploration of a place that they called the world.   During my exploration of this place that everyone seemed to call ‘The World and life’ as we all know it. I came into connection with a catalogue of convoluted physical and abstract dictators that tried painlessly to crucifix  my individuality and childhood that seemed so innocent that turning people’s eyes into tears was known as a understated easement.  This easement would unfortunately become apart of my personalistic umbrella far into my life, (even today) shall I say. Each of the crucifixion I received during my youthful years, was like being given a commandment for betraying a code I knew so little about: and that was allowing the emotional turmoil to become a normality- that giving it this royalty I would be gifted with nothing but acceptance for everything that was spiralling my presence during of which. Waking up each day in my house, was like waking up in a populated Siberia, where I woke up walking down the stairs onto a dominated coldness that plagued our very floor with the stench of endless alcohol lurking amongst the kitchen top and floor, and where my mother would stand there on the living room floor; with the words- ‘SUICIDE’ written all over her eyes it was like she was crumbling to the very sands that we called reality. Not to mention that there was no whereabouts of my father, neither his safety (which was typical for a drunk). This diminishment of sensation came with a homeward and school-like phycological turmoil. It was like watching two superpowers trying to pull myself from left to right: with the left within the corner with a overpowering sense of confusion and unanswered questions, because of this t confusion came an element of unknown-full brimfulness and uncivilised apatheticness. During a time that was suppose to be known for being my formative years… became a tussle between my likelihood and livelihood. The livelihood in being waking myself up at around 06:30am (each day) to the stench of beer, wine, weed, dampness of impulsive sex and a fear of the unknown and uncertainty that dominated my unsociable and sensitive self. I spent many a year waking up to the same stench, wondering if those squabbling tyrants would ever leave, wondering if my mother was going to be alive the next day, wondering if I had to run to my grandparents for sanction, wondering if I was going to beaten up/or picked on just because I went to a specialist school, wondering if I didn’t wake up to the sound of painful tears gleaming upon my and my mothers innocent face, wondering if my father would ever spend time with me, wondering if I didn’t wake up during the night… to the sound of my mum being manipulated to the rustle of hiding drugs,  wondering if there was a day where I was tossed out of home and on to the darkened confined contents of a mattress that should of been on a bed (full of sheets) and lights awakening this depressive room, wondering how it was I was going to feed myself, or that I should of just dealt with it, like a time full of malnourishment, dizziness and forgetfulness, wondering if I wasn’t sexually abused just because somebody else couldn’t patiently hold it within their pants.I wondered all these questions, I wondered if I was ever going to let them go or would I just let them dominate my gullible mind- to the day it left on the line staring into the desolated abyss, ahead laid an ocean, that looked deservedly worthy of having me drown within it’s depths. I wondered all these questions, this curiosity left when found secondary sanction at my school, that  was nearby to our home, so I would sit on my mother’s bicycle seat whilst my two sisters would walk/run ahead of us until we reached the gates of our school. When the moment came I would become emotionally insecure, and did not want my mother to go to work as I hated the feeling of being isolatedly hesitant. I would some of that time either crying, or screaming for my mother in the purified hope of her taking me to work with her. As soon as I came to the conclusion she was not- I would begin to cry until such time it was seen as petty.  This pettiness would soon shallow back into my soulful wardrobe, as soon as class would start. Looking back at a time where most children would accomplish being able to read and write; this was seen as completely different, as I was unable to do both till very later on in life. I would spend most of my time becoming increasingly frustrated and rather envious of not being able to write. instead writing jagged ineligible letters and speaking with a profound confusion of establishing the most simplistic sentences (saying, “Hello or Good morning”) was proven to be very strenuous for myself, most upsetting for my teachers, my mother and grandparents. Which would later be why I would be referred to my local GP on whether being Autistic was plausible for my ‘somewhat’ considered strange behaviour during my early years. After my assessment I was later being diagnosed as Autistic- which would later manufacture a socialistic barrier in embracing it later in during my teenage years… After this obvious conclusion was made, I was put in a variation of specialist schools where seen (at the time) best of help could be given to my fragile needs. I found integrating in my new school very hard, as I had some friends and teachers that (I thought had a definitive understanding of myself) and saddening as I saw them as a great salvation during those earliest of formative years. Some few months had passed during this acclimatisation, and I had found myself slowly settling into my new school. I had some great friends whilst there:- (George, Robbie, James and Emily) who shared an understanding of myself, knowing they were mostly all Autistic themselves. I mostly spent my time with either Robbie or George, mainly as we were in the same tutor groups at school- but also as they were my most loyal friends who I had known for a long time prior. As well as my social prowess improving fractionally day-by-day, my learning also fractionally improved, as I began reading books that had little context in it, and that speaking to my friends and teachers with determined enthusiasm (I showed throughout my education) would become a very normality within my life at last, and treasuring it was my biggest obstacle yet! This understanding would be later seen as temporary given the paths we were all destined to take in life and later life. That pathway became paved more-so (each day) knowing that a destined intuition would be found amongst through the fogged dust that tried effortlessly to block my way, during of which. Some later years had passed, and I had discovered myself becoming efficiently intuitive; to the extend where I was being consistently challenged when in class. Which in consequence left a withering question under my lightful-generality that begged what it was that set me apart from others?…Throughout this time, I had always found myself contacting my sensation of dissimilarity that ‘academic-tyrants’ would label myself as, and would pigeon hole as consequence to this. What came of this, was a purified notion of emotive arrogance that would rub (wholesomely) on others around me… this arrogance was plagued with an unconquerable sense of injustice that became energetic clairvoyance given to myself and the academic enigma that surrounded me. This feeling of unjustified arrogance would later self-sufficiently adopt itself within my personality. Which in essence would contribute towards me thinking myself better than others, to the point where I demanded an extremely high level of myself academically, and generally as a person, and that if I would receive otherwise (making a mistake) I would use internally punch myself until pinpointed where I went wrong- with the result me coming back 10 times better than did last time. Which ultimately gave me this unique edge as well amongst others, a professionlistic determination more than most traits that described my very personality thus far within my young life. Some more years had passed, and I had found myself studying innumerably hard both within and out of college. I came to Cottenham 6th Form, with a point to prove… where that point was to finally flame my unjustified sense of unordinary. A few months had passed during.  I saw myself making an abundance of friends within quick succession… which hence applaudably made my existence a little more fitter than it already was. When starting lessons there, I saw myself being ‘pegged-back’ and restricted from the chances that I felt deemed to be rewarded with, when away from Castle School. But tried readily to show that I was capable of demonstrating higher standards of Linguistic and Mathematical questions when delivered within my presence. During this time of grieved annoyance, I realised myself falling out with various people that I would state ‘as friends’ back then. But soon came to the conclusion, that they picked on me, one as they were curious of me as an individual, and that partly they (even) found themselves beginning (with clearance) envious of the fact that they could not define what it was that was spiritualistically, but rhetorically slapping them in the face every 5 seconds they saw themselves questioning what it was that making them ever-so jealous. Prior to this, I found this stage of college becoming increasingly difficult attaining, mental capacity when in and outside of the classroom. In compensation I would see myself blanking this with a purified sense of graft. Some of the teachers I did enjoy working with:- (Mr. Daw, Miss. Lancaster, Miss Halliwell and My form tutor) during this time, which I found them becoming a crumbling comfort for the little time I ended up spending there. In comparison  my day at college would end, I would see myself struggling to get home whether that was walking, or getting the bus, or cycling amongst the agriculturally-deformed roads, where getting hit by getting almost hit by a car, or  crashing into another cyclist was a normality for most people using these treacherous roads, that was so obviously deemed an understatement to many. When I did finally arrive home, I would quickly say ‘hello’ to my mother, where she sat there in a endless puddle of smoke that governed her fragilely-coldened face. From which, I would rush into my room, that sat a mattress  in a beleaguered room full of darkness, where the sunlight was evidently blindfolded immeasurably away from the light of hope… amongst this cauldron of sadness bought an atmosphere of melancholic ambience that seemed destined to overhaul that everyone saw as different. As well as this I had a tempestuous relationship with my mother’s boyfriend (Mark) who from the off-set made he’s feelings of me were made very clear that he wanted no recognised role to play within my life. Which in some respects was very understandable acknowledging that he did accommodate me a room, though it was gleamfully depressive it was seen my sanction away from the volcanic depths I found myself within. Within this volcanic regions of eggshells that I found myself walking upon with echoing failure ringing into my shattering ears with endless haemorrhaging… that was thirsty for some food that would comfort my very spiralling mentality. This spiral would first formalise when I had left college- prior to not affording to go into college (I had finished my exams and was awaiting my results)- and that prior to this I had came to the conclusion that I had to leave college, if I was seen fit to live a basic existence. I had no choice but contacted a man who bought endless uncertain sadness amongst myself and my families life… that was my father. That although he was an abusive alcoholic that took ‘somewhat’ satisfaction from beating my mother and us children up, and did nothing but leave a massive void of never really seeing him. I called him, and asked for some work- as I know he wouldn’t consciously help me (prior to the  financial orientation he was engulfed within. He gave me three days work, where equalled £60 was paid for my seemingly endless graft, I stood annoyed by his financial stubbornness, but remained modest as this was the normality I found myself always facing.  From this point onwards I found myself being thrown from one corner of Cambridge, to many others… where some of which was spent with my uncle who was a dying alcoholic (at the time). I would fall asleep most days, to the endless sound of snorts of cocaine, and the rattling sound of beer cans  on the service or table, where countless disrespected-heightened-laughters kept me awake for some of the night. The same very much happened when I woke up in the morning, but awoke to the sight of my uncle downing the strongest beers down his neck, to numb any sensitive insecurities he had left. Away I went with that image, left to go to college, or that I went out into the city with my cousin. After staying with my uncle for some time, I came back to Mark’s place where sinking deeper into the darkened cave became more of a normality for me. From this life of untold sadness conjured a dream to escape, a dream to be happy, a dream to live a new life away from the one that was evidently so apparent within my life thus far. Part of that dream was to explore the world. So I got a job as a kitchen porter at village pub nearby to where I live… I thought if I had worked some 6 months or so, there that I would have enough money to go Scandinavia to see my friend Henry who I had met in a previous holiday in Spain (my father threw money to lick the wounds he had created for us children). I worked tirelessly hard 6 days and 42 hours a week, getting praise for my work ethics and concentrated motivation to work and ‘plod-along’ as most people describe it as… frustratingly I got sacked, as I wanted to change me day off from Wednesday to Sunday just so I can play football with some friends. I again shrugged this off, and began working as a cleaner at Cambridge Train Station, which was in the centre of the city, and that I was placed in the South. Where getting to and from everyday took 2 hours, on top of working 40 hours. I worked with who I describe ‘the-best-person-I ever-worked-with’ that was a man known as Patrick O’Riley who like me endured an endlessly saddened life… so I worked there from November to January, where during that time I had saved enough money to go to my trips to Finland and Denmark, to exploitively explore, and to socialise with purified abundance, whether that was with Henry or others… arrived in Tampere (South West Finland) with an overhauling optimism of adventure. I arrived in Tampere Airport, and there I saw Henry standing there with his girlfriend (Roosa) who came and collected me from the airport so they could take me to there a place (in Jÿvaskÿlä) which was almost two hours away. During the prolonging journey through the Finnish motorway, I and Henry could not help but enthusiastically-reminisce from the time we had met in Spain, and the joyfulness that was swiftly met upon meeting one another. We found that when meeting that there was an abundance of commonalities that were established within quick succession (dark sense of humour, socialistic quirks and curiosity of the countries that we came from), it created a sense of Bolshevistic blissfulness and that consequently made us endlessly laugh with purified happiness during of which. In amongst of our blissful mirthfulness, I could not help but witness a catalogue of wholesome beauty presented to my gleaming eyes… it was like watching a cinematic vector run continuously (without stop) satisfying my very stimulation towards exploration that I had and have… with that I could harbour a bustling amount of confined Msprusi Trees that had aeration of snow upon it, with a seamless notion that greenery would never return upon, as well as this I could witness an innumerable feet of snow that blinded the very road, with obvious desolation. We arrived at Henry’s place, in a quietened-darkness, I placed down my backpack with swift tiredness, but Henry was hardly sympathetic and decided to start drinking… I decided to join in, as I thought the memorabilia would continue… and I did for some time until I woke up in his bathroom surrounded by puddles of my own puke, with recollection destroyed with a bombardment of guilt. I woke up the next day with that very sensation of guilt but remained adamantly shrugging off the regretful emotions I was feeling at that point. I remember Henry slowly crawling out of bed like a caveman waking up to a normalised civilization, that shrugging to define was a rhetorical question. We got ourselves showered and dressed, and then headed out, so he could show me around Jÿvaskyla. During our exploration of the town, we first went to McDondals (normally I would resist) but I remained evidently modest for a close friend that is Henry. We finished our meals, and then Henry took me through the steep hills that were covered in an extrasentential amount of snow, that even the tallest man would struggle to plough through… through the difficult nature we found ourselves in, I could not help but be happily exposed to an affluence of vibrancy amongst that slowly peeked over the hill with persistent… it was like seeing an endless amount of rainbows besieging our very eyes, which ultimately gave me the indication that I found myself in Finland. Some days had passed, and I still found myself tirelessly exploring Jÿvaskyla. Throughout this exploration Henry had shown me the many ski slopes that were usually used for one of the countries national sports, that was skiing (obviously) and that nightlife that was very much gleeful as there I had met Miika who at the time was serving in the Finnish Military, as a compulsion due to the Finnish government (mandatory to do military service in Finland), who consequently told me stories of drunken times, and moments that he spent in Lapland (Northern Finland) whilst in the military. After which we found ourselves drunkenly dancing to the sound of either nothingness or a sporadic sound that dissimilar to my memory. Some more days had passed, and Henry was hosting a Christmas Party in a cabin that was nestled in the heart of Eastern Finland, that there laid Leppravita. Leppravita was little known throughout Finland due to its wholesome isolation, but for those who did know it… knew that it was renowned for its bustling beauty of unconquerable Msprusi trees, that had a purification coat of snow upon, and that the roads were like being on the moon, as it was camouflaged with endless snow.We arrived at our destined cabin that Henry booked for both myself and Roosa, and his friends that would soon arrive shortly after us. When upon arriving there, I could not help but stimulation-of-nature climatically excite for a while longer, as the snow (yes) was endlessly camouflaged, but surrounding us was a myriad of trees… that almost looked like we were being rounded by an endless stream of moons, the purification was durability capable of blinding (more-so) those that were looking straight into The Great Sun itself.  Some moments had passed amongst arriving, and during that time arrived many of Henry’s friends of whom where:-(Jaako, Ossi, Toni, Ardi, Toni, Jukkis and Eetu) all of which served in the Finnish military, but we’re all undertaking various jobs either to pay the undergoing degree or traditionlistcally their bills. But what set them apart from the congregated normality, was that they all had stories of old to tell an abundance of people, most of them all, but especially Toni, Jaako and Ossi who I formalised strong friendships within quick succession of which (around a large table) that was traditionally Finnish (oak).  All Toni, Jaako and Ossi were not seemingly talkative as some others were… but what they replaced that with was an enjoyability that I found when being within in their presence, with this they would become very humorously quirky when talking to one another, they would un-regrettably become drunken without will and that they shared similar aspirations in life (a desire to become successful) which I enjoyed above all else. Some few days had passed, and I found myself regretting my drunken rebelliousness, as I remember sharing laughter amongst a typical Finnish Sauna, where within myself and the others (stated) had to get in all naked, and that after which we would do snowmen in the darkened forest, with popping into the jacuzzi to warm-off, though the regretfulness was soon forgotten as I would treasure those memories forever knowing the explorative happiness it created.  I left Finland, with a new happiness amongst the ordinary I found myself within. I hugged and shook hands with all the people I had met during the cabin party, and that I promise to all meet again soon was imminent. I arrived back in Cambridge for a short period of time, before setting out yet again, to the fringed edge of Scandinavia that was Denmark. I was there for 6 days, during which I would spend within Copenhagen, and that I would be accompanied by Henry yet again, along with some of his friends:-(Ardi, Jaako, Lauri and his girlfriend Roosa) most of which would stay in a hotel nearby to the hostel I was staying in. I arrived in Copenhagen on the cold desolation of darkness, that within peered a gleefulness that there were Henry and Jakko welcoming me with open arms to this socialistic atmospheric atmosphere that seemed to echo deep into my ears, that the only voice I could hear, was my own that was confidently talking to myself. Some hours had passed, and I found myself annoyingly waking up to the sound of silence, that during of which appeared a bruise on my eye… that undefinability was noticeable, as it came out of nowhere. As my confusion remained, I hurried downstairs where I asked the troubleless barman for some ice to rest upon my bruise. During of which, I coincidentally bumped into two guys, one that was named Jacob who was from America and the other Ivan who was from North London, United Kingdom, throughout our swift discussion of friendliness we both striked commonality; to which I asked that I could join them in the bar that they were going to in the city.  arrived in Tampere (South West Finland) with an overhauling optimism of adventure. I arrived in Tampere Airport, and there I saw Henry standing there with his girlfriend (Roosa) who came and collected me from the airport so they could take me to there a place (in Jÿvaskÿlä) which was almost two hours away. During the prolonging journey through the Finnish motorway, I and Henry could not help but enthusiastically-reminisce from the time we had met in Spain, and the joyfulness that was swiftly met upon meeting one another. We found that when meeting that there was an abundance of commonalities that were established within quick succession (dark sense of humour, socialistic quirks and curiosity of the countries that we came from), it created a sense of Bolshevistic blissfulness and that consequently made us endlessly laugh with purified happiness during of which. In amongst of our blissful mirthfulness, I could not help but witness a catalogue of wholesome beauty presented to my gleaming eyes… it was like watching a cinematic vector run continuously (without stop) satisfying my very stimulation towards exploration that I had and have… with that I could harbour a bustling amount of confined Msprusi Trees that had aeration of snow upon it, with a seamless notion that greenery would never return upon, as well as this I could witness an innumerable feet of snow that blinded the very road, with obvious desolation. We arrived at Henry’s place, in a quietened-darkness, I placed down my backpack with swift tiredness, but Henry was hardly sympathetic and decided to start drinking… I decided to join in, as I thought the memorabilia would continue… and I did for some time until I woke up in his bathroom surrounded by puddles of my own puke, with recollection destroyed with a bombardment of guilt. I woke up the next day with that very sensation of guilt but remained adamantly shrugging off the regretful emotions I was feeling at that point. I remember Henry slowly crawling out of bed like a caveman waking up to a normalised civilization, that shrugging to define was a rhetorical question. We got ourselves showered and dressed, and then headed out, so he could show me around Jÿvaskyla. During our exploration of the town, we first went to McDondals (normally I would resist) but I remained evidently modest for a close friend that is Henry. We finished our meals, and then Henry took me through the steep hills that were covered in an extrasentential amount of snow, that even the tallest man would struggle to plough through… through the difficult nature we found ourselves in, I could not help but be happily exposed to an affluence of vibrancy amongst that slowly peeked over the hill with persistent… it was like seeing an endless amount of rainbows besieging our very eyes, which ultimately gave me the indication that I found myself in Finland. Some days had passed, and I still found myself tirelessly exploring Jÿvaskyla. Throughout this exploration Henry had shown me the many ski slopes that were usually used for one of the countries national sports, that was skiing (obviously) and that nightlife that was very much gleeful as there I had met Miika who at the time was serving in the Finnish Military, as a compulsion due to the Finnish government (mandatory to do military service in Finland), who consequently told me stories of drunken times, and moments that he spent in Lapland (Northern Finland) whilst in the military. After which we found ourselves drunkenly dancing to the sound of either nothingness or a sporadic sound that dissimilar to my memory. Some more days had passed, and Henry was hosting a Christmas Party in a cabin that was nestled in the heart of Eastern Finland, that there laid Leppravita. Leppravita was little known throughout Finland due to its wholesome isolation, but for those who did know it… knew that it was renowned for its bustling beauty of unconquerable Msprusi trees, that had a purification coat of snow upon, and that the roads were like being on the moon, as it was camouflaged with endless snow. We arrived at our destined cabin that Henry booked for both myself and Roosa, and his friends that would soon arrive shortly after us. When upon arriving there, I could not help but stimulation-of-nature climatically excite for a while longer, as the snow (yes) was endlessly camouflaged, but surrounding us was a myriad of trees… that almost looked like we were being rounded by an endless stream of moons, the purification was durability capable of blinding (more-so) those that were looking straight into The Great Sun itself.  Some moments had passed amongst arriving, and during that time arrived many of Henry’s friends of whom where:-(Jaako, Ossi, Toni, Ardi, Toni, Jukkis and Eetu) all of which served in the Finnish military, but we’re all undertaking various jobs either to pay the undergoing degree or traditionlistcally their bills. But what set them apart from the congregated normality, was that they all had stories of old to tell an abundance of people, most of them all, but especially Toni, Jaako and Ossi who I formalised strong friendships within quick succession of which (around a large table) that was traditionally Finnish (oak).  All Toni, Jaako and Ossi were not seemingly talkative as some others were… but what they replaced that with was an enjoyability that I found when being within in their presence, with this they would become very humorously quirky when talking to one another, they would un-regrettably become drunken without will and that they shared similar aspirations in life (a desire to become successful) which I enjoyed above all else. Some few days had passed, and I found myself regretting my drunken rebelliousness, as I remember sharing laughter amongst a typical Finnish Sauna, where within myself and the others (stated) had to get in all naked, and that after which we would do snowmen in the darkened forest, with popping into the jacuzzi to warm-off, though the regretfulness was soon forgotten as I would treasure those memories forever knowing the explorative happiness it created.  I left Finland, with a new happiness amongst the ordinary I found myself within. I hugged and shook hands with all the people I had met during the cabin party, and that I promise to all meet again soon was imminent. I arrived back in Cambridge for a short period of time, before setting out yet again, to the fringed edge of Scandinavia that was Denmark. I was there for 6 days, during which I would spend within Copenhagen, and that I would be accompanied by Henry yet again, along with some of his friends:-(Ardi, Jaako, Lauri and his girlfriend Roosa) most of which would stay in a hotel nearby to the hostel I was staying in. I arrived in Copenhagen on the cold desolation of darkness, that within peered a gleefulness that there were Henry and Jakko welcoming me with open arms to this socialistic atmospheric atmosphere that seemed to echo deep into my ears, that the only voice I could hear, was my own that was confidently talking to myself. Some hours had passed, and I found myself annoyingly waking up to the sound of silence, that during of which appeared a bruise on my eye… that undefinability was noticeable, as it came out of nowhere. As my confusion remained, I hurried downstairs where I asked the troubleless barman for some ice to rest upon my bruise. During of which, I coincidentally bumped into two guys, one that was named Jacob who was from America and the other Ivan who was from North London, United Kingdom, throughout our swift discussion of friendliness we both striked commonality; to which I asked that I could join them in the bar that they were going to in the city. They both agreed, and away I went to grab my shirt and passport, and away we all went to Charlie’s Irish Bar that was nearby our hostel. We entered the bar, and quickly noticed a bustling atmosphere, and that no longer of arrivng to the bar we found ourselves outwardly drunk… singing to such songs such as ‘Barbie-girl’ and Danish songs. With our orthodox stance becoming obvious to the congregation around us, Jacob ended up puking on the ground, where which then escaltated into him almost getting into a fight. As our presence was becoming unwantedly fashionable, we decided to leave. To then myself and Ivan mocked our friend Jared (who we met from Wales) where we both hysterically shouted…”Baaaaa…” deep into the awakening sun over Copenhagen.

I woke up the next day with the sensation of a bullet train racing through my head, I failed to let this affect me… so I got myself showered and myself some breakfast, and away I went out for a day full of purified exploration. During my exploration I had found that Denmark seemed rather similar to Finland (in an architectural-sense) every building that my eyes were being presented with, where dominated with a vibrant efficiency of colour that where even The holy festival of Diwali would easily be put to shame. I carried on through this vibrancy to the waters edge of the Scandanivc waters, where I came along a familiar site of vibrancy (that was the Nyhavn Harbour) where witnessing countless rainbows was a sight always to be succeeded in seeing. I carried on walking through the harbour, where I would find countless boats trying rushingly   to set sail throughout the North Sea, it felt rather nomadic it was as if they were pegging themselves back to their ancestors (Vikings)  that once roamed this once unexplored throughout Scandinavia and to the eventual Scotland, Iceland, Faroe Islands, Greenland and The United Kingdom (Ireland included) during the Celtic rage of the Celts.

I arrived back at the hostel, where it was late around 20:00pm at night. I put my bag and camera in my room, where when going downstairs I would meet Tom who was from New Zealand. I spoke to him for a little while, with  enthusiastic interest was soon formalised with the discovery of the travelling he had done (throughout Cambodia, Laos, Thailand and many parts of the Balkan region and Western Europe) I somewhat ‘exploratively-taken’ by the degree of travel he had undertaken thus far. During our insightful conversation I suggested that I bought myself and he a beer, where it would then later escalate to a game of beer bong. During our drunken joyfulness, I had also met Jan and Karl, who where both from Germany, Jordan who was from North Carolina, Laura who was from Spain, Lisa from The Netherlands, and ZiSeng who was from Malaysia. Myself and Tom kept playing beer bong with each other until he would mysteriously disappeared to the sleeping night. During this sleepy atmosphere it was approaching midnight where 2015 was soon upon us… it was at that time, myself Mozes, Jan, Karl, Jordan, Lisa and Ziseng headed to a pub that Mozes used to play gigs at (he played music as well as studying for his masters degree in engineering). We arrived at this musically-refined pub nearby to the hostel, where a humongous cloud of smoke over-shadowered our very existence. We all of which found it very crowded within, so decided to walk the lonely streets of the city… where during of which I got to know the past adventures of all my compatriots surrounded by me (from Jan and Karl’s adventures throughout Europe and The Philippines, Jordan’s countless adventures throughout Europe and Asia and Lisa’s endless thrilling excursions of bungee throughout and the her naval deployment experiences throughout the world and ZiSeng’s undergraduate degree at The University of Copenhagen, and that he do had enrolled in many adventures throughout Europe. We ventured back to the hostel, where we all got forgetfully drunk to the point, where standing was the hardest thing to man. I remember apart from being drunk just Jan and Mozes laughing with the sensation of losing the will to breath… through smoking many joints of weed. At this point this night, became hysterical beyond recognition… where we all found ourselves on the floor creating endless puddle of laughter.

The next day I woke up, with the notion that I want a difference of scenery other than the city. So I packed my bag and got on the metro that went to a nearby beach. When I arrived I could see a small patch of greenery that within stood a little walkway to this small beach… in the distance I saw the famous Øresund Bridge that connected Denmark and Sweden over the North Sea border, which defined indurative brilliance from the engineering world. Amongst this I saw Copenhagen within the distance to the left of me, and Sweden ahead of me… it was at that moment (amongst the gushing wind) that I had realised that I had found a life away from the seamlessly endless cycle that was my life, and there renewed my happiness through my dream of traveling the world becoming gradually true. It was at that point I said to myself, ‘Travelling is my drug of choice; and I will always do this till the day I die.’ It was then, I soon left Denmark with a resonated determination of travelling the world, more so than ever.   I came back to Cambridge with a rekindled resulted happiness that knowing I was finally doing what I had set my heart on doing for the majority of my life. It felt strange at first instance (I thought it wasn’t true) meaning that consequently I found myself in a Sub-Saharan mirage where on the overside of the dune, was myself standing there blistered with an unorthodox refinery covered throughout my body, that in between this mystified blister laid only me pitching myself, to the realisation of what it was, I was finally doing within in my life. My spiritualism left the Sahara, after soon returning back to Mark’s place, where the only realisation met (again) was the purified depths of my burning soul that I discovered blackened within a paganisms cauldron- that sat there within a Siberian-dominated room that stood deep within a landscape, that even the most depressive state of mind such as Vincent Van-Gough (himself) would struggle to point; despite if he cut his ear off. Some little time had passed, and I had found myself going from job to job, as I had struggled in opening up about my Aspergers, which in essence meant holding down a job was difficult task of which… during these times of ‘somewhat’ difficulty I did manage to hold to one job that was being a cleaner (from 06:00am-08:00am) every morning except Saturday and Sunday, which paid me £60 every two weeks, and £25 of that had to on rent, only leaving me £10 a week to eat from which. This basic existence very much ushered my nomadic peacefulness within me, although it was hard from time to time, I did enjoy it’s simplistic philosophy. As time moved on, I found myself getting increasingly frustrated prior to the lack of travel and money that I found myself little without… I felt like that I needed someone to talk to, someone to share the romantic emotiveness and  compassionate companionship with (I didn’t want to talk to my parents) so I felt dating someone would justify these feelings of desire with purified wholesomeness. After sometime of searching I had come across a girl known as Anna, who lived nearby to my hometown of Cambridge. ‘I asked her, do you have anything better to do than talk to me on a Friday night?’  She responded with laughter, and then echoed out an endless spiral of conventional conversation that seemed indestructible through the commonalities that we had established thus far during our ‘virtual-friendship’. Some little time had passed, and I had asked if that she wanted to meet me in Cambridge during early August, she responded with a swift ‘yes’. We both agreed to meet by the Cambridge Corn Exchange, where I was there waiting inside upon her arrival- it was only until she messaged me saying, ‘that she was outside’ that left my heart exploding within my chest… I stepped outside, and there I saw her anxiously smiling, knowing that all that she had seen and heard of me, had been virtually met with compound of reality… it seemed rather scary. My heart was stolen, it was taken to the The Abbey Road Studios where The Beatles were making ‘Sargent Pepper’ (in the name of love)… I asked Sir Paul McCartney if I could have it back, but he said, ‘no…just wait and see what happens boy’o.’ We ploughed on through Cambridge with little idea of what to do, our indecisiveness seemed ripe, and that it wasn’t going to be awoken any time prior. We went to a rustic cafe by the edge of the city, where we spoke about our love for travel. It was at that point I noticed that she was wearing a necklace… I asked what it was, and it was then she showed me that it was a St Christopher necklace (patron protector of travel) which then decisively choose that it was her I wanted to be with (I had the same necklace). Some of few hours had passed, and we found ourselves by King’s College where I had asked to meet again, she said, ‘yes’ with the anxiousness wiped off her face. I rhetorically smiled back.  I came home with a beaming smile upon my face, it was like my punished soul had been resurrected from the depths of the ocean, and swam to the waters edge, where there laid Anna waiting for me, it was bliss and even my mother could see how happy I was at the point. Sometime had gone past, and I saw myself continuously working with the overhauling motivation that ‘Jack-like-Anna’ (someone like me) could potentially be in my life. It came to Saturday, I woke up and I cycled as fast as I could to Cambridge Train Station, where I would meet her just outside her hometown. I arrived at my destination and she came with her mother to pick me up, where we would drive a little distance to her hometown. Her mother dropped us off, and we walked the rest of the way home, where it was we watched animated films with a sense of cliché ringing deep within my ears.   Moments had passed, and I found myself having more intensified feelings for her (mostly as nobody showed a heightened interest within me), my affectioned smile came beaming back with the purified determination that I would soon like to kiss her, but I thought, ‘not yet.’ ‘Be patient don’t derail things if haven not the opportunity!’ So I remained persistently patient, and carried on enjoy my day full of unconquerable comfortability.   Our day had ended, it was time for us to depart the happiness kindled thus far, well until next time at least (I hoped for at that stage).  We met again back in Cambridge, where this time we went to my home that was in the North of the city; in comparison to the centre we had found ourselves in. We entered with both my mother and Mark away on holiday, so just like last time we had watched a couple of films… until time I felt I said, ‘I wanted to do something’ She asked, ‘what do you want to do?’ So I compassionately kissed her without unhesitant reason of stopping, my heart was racing, I didn’t know what to say or do during this climatic moment… so I carried on with the concentrated hope that she was receiving the same climaticness as I. She seemed so, but carried on anxiously smiling, as if confusion was dominating her abstract and physical sub-structure of her face. We left my home, and wondered back to the train station where I had given Anna, my denim jacket given the apparent coldness we found ourselves within an early September breeze. She hugged me with formidability that she didn’t want to let go, but did as her train would shortly be leaving, we smiled at each other and both went our separate ways until next time at least… Some few weeks had passed, and Anna came back to Cambridge where then we exploratviely wandered the city. Through our exploration, we had both sat down in a cafe just off belly of the city, where during of which Anna had expressively opened up about her past relationships and experiences during her life (at that moment)- I was shocked of what she had told me… so I could not help but sympathetically hug her… in the desired return that she would feel better. This betterness had been halted within her mental psych; where escaping this element of confined bitterness was proving to be rather challenging for her. We left the café, where emotion sat there with purification on our stricken faces… this purified emotiveness was becoming a hinderance for tireless consideration for the general public (not to mention especially Anna) so I decided to take her to one of my favourite spots in Cambridge, which was Castle Hill. We ventured to the top of the hill, with the both of just laying there to the resting sun, overshadowing a brightened-brightness throughout the affluent sector of the city. We remained laying there, until the sun had become tired, and laid to rest. So the lustfulness intensified once again, until time had come that it was time to go home. It was getting dark, and Anna’s parents would of soon be wondering where she was, so we hurried back to the station (once again) so that she could consequently get her train home. During our hurrying nature home, I anxiously asked Anna, ‘if that she would go out with me’ she worryingly said, ‘yes’ with the receipted happiness becoming smothered on my lightening face… she did not, but otherwise stood partially happy to the notion that lustful wholesomeness was not discovered as of yet for Anna. Some months had passed, and our honeymoon of refined happiness had swiftly ended. I was sitting at home in bed, amongst an industrialised darkness that looked like a Manchurian work house, that was plagued with nothing but a steepened  sadness and a decaying dream that was like watching a naturalistic land-fall in the heartened depths of the Polynesian Islands (erupting volcano. An incoming phone call from Anna arrived   personifying my descriptions of the Victorianism-Era I had found myself within (with frustrating anguish). I answered the call, to momentary lapse of silence amongst the call, I could hear nothing but echoing cries and quick breathing down the line… this emotive noise harboured a definition I tried so hard to run away from for so long… she said, ‘I don’t want to be with you anymore’ and hung up the call. I dropped the phone, and my very soul fell to it’s knees where even a Roman Cruxifixction wouldn’t even compliment this feeling of utter emptiness. I cried on my pillow, with realising the very acknowledgement that I was alone once again. Alone to live the life I did not want to know, alone to my hopes and fears of life, alone within the darkening sensation that nobody would want to understand nor listen to what it was I had to see during this moment of falling soulfulness, I felt at this moment I was beginning to become lost within a dream of escape, and a navigation of hopeful happiness discovered.  A few days had passed, and she gave me back the jumpers and coats I had given to her, during our moments in and around Cambridge. I found myself tearfully stubborn to the realisation that I was within reality, but behind her eyes, it seemed as so that she was telling me ‘to grow up’ as if careful consideration was not a part of her mindful scaffolding. I took my belongings back into my grasp, and vowed for them not to get a sense of historical belonging to Anna- like there once were. With freedom obvious I took some time of work (I was back at the train station at a Cornish Pasty outlet). During this swift break, I spontaneously booked two flights, one that was to Edinburgh, Scotland and the other to Belfast, Northern Ireland. I left Cambridge and headed to Edinburgh, that only took just over one to hour to arrive. Upon arrival, I could not help but sense a notion of methodicalness amongst the misty skies of the capital, that looked naturally locked amongst the rolling greenery the Edinburgh had found itself blessed within. I took a  short bus ride from the International Airport to the centre. I arrived within the heart of the city, and found myself swiftly wandering the northern confinements of The United Kingdom. Firstly I went to Edinburgh Castle, where there I found myself historically taken by the architectural prowess that was shown from when it was built amongst the Celtic age, I stayed hurrying through this prowess of architecture, until time I felt was that I conquered Arthur’s Seat. I hitched a taxi from Edinburgh Castle to the destination I arrived at Arthur’s seat, where upon arrival I could sense that this really was the mystical capital of the world, as looking above I could see nothing but this eroded greenery; being nothing but blissfully overrated with a mist that seemed so thick that it would even blind the blind. This notion of blind fulness excited my sensuality of adventure, so I decided to take the unorthodox route up the the mini-mountain (it took at least one hour of treading through the mud) to reach the summit. When I finally reached the summit, my blinded nature became apparent within reality. Through this sighted-bleakness, I found a beauty amongst the hills that any idea of mythology could easily be written into a book, it was beautiful. Although I was stood amongst the beauty, I decided to venture to the other side of the the mountain- which meant going down hill. Through this minor-pilgrimage, I found that mystical-bleakness was quickly decaying to my very eyes. I was ‘somewhat’ joyous as I could now with a normality. I made it to the bottom of the hill, where ahead of me where a road linking back towards Edinburgh, and to the left of me stood some wood, where echoing a trickle of water from stream down below. I hurried myself there, where within I found that very trickling stream, and yet endless rock formations scattered all over the river, with golden leaves, and a rustiness overcoating this very atmosphere. After finding this place of rustic tranquility, I found myself in utter aurora of myself, where a naturist philosophical spiritualness came talking to me, where in return swapped my historical sadness, for this inner-happiness within. I left this moment of tranquility behind, and head back into the centre.  Once back within the city, I decided to on one last explorational pilgrimage that was along the famous Victoria Street. When there I could not help but taken back to the countries once colonial repression from the Old British Empire, as I could not  help but see nothing but cobbled limestone walls, that were dominated with a purified paleness…that creativity shocked me as apart from this paled limestone, the buildings looked aristocratic. Where most of them where very tall, hosting a catalogue of windows spread throughout the buildings, giving them all a sense of individuality, with sniff of jurisdiction along the refined population that lived within the city. (amongst the houses) that stood with nothing but with claustrophobia beaming upon their very substructure. It felt almost routinely communistical that every house looked the same- but the only difference was that everyone who lived in them seemed richly different from the next person. As well as this there was an element of Victorianism through the atmospheric air, especially where I found that the buildings were clearly architecturally refined that even Tim Wonnacott (famous British antique expert) would struggle to sell them to even the most intellectual or even financially affluent seller. This final exploration marked the end of my trip to Edinburgh. I headed back to Cambridge from Edinburgh International Airport (via Stansted Airport), with finding genuine happiness throughout for my love for spiritualistic nature and historical fractions of the past.

I arrived back in Cambridge (overnight) until I would be heading out to Belfast, Northern Ireland in early hours of the morning. I flew into Belfast International Airport after a short flight of 1hr and 20 mins, and quickly noticed when landing that there was a historical-eeriness amongst the air, that daren’t to be fought with (politically and religiously) by any tourists, unless you enjoyed getting an Irish clout! I grabbed a bus that took me into the city centre, it was there I get a real-sense of eeriness amongst the atmosphere. Apart from this, this small country was packed with a purified beauty… I could see nothing but   lush greenery from The Moornes that stood surrounded  everywhere to the naked eye I arrived in the centre, and sooner of arriving I went along the infamous Shankhill Road, where the majority of the loyalists within the city, where living I quickly came to the conclusion after walking down there for sometime that as well as eeriness amongst the air, that it was suspiciously un-atmospheric, and bleak (at most). I had earlier learned from watching previous documentaries that there was only ever any prior altercations for when marching season came by, but that wasn’t till mid-July, when the Protestants celebrated beating the Catholics in Batter of the Boyne, which is something they have done since 1690 (as mentioned a few paragraphs earlier). I walked kept walking further down the road, and it was there I began to become rather anxious of something potentially happening… I felt this as because there were many of the local people noticed that I was neither from Ireland, or Northern Ireland for that matter.

I got about half way down the road, where it was then I came upon the notorious Crumlin Road Jail, where the Great Bobby Sands was kept before being in prisoned in HM Maze where many of the members of the IRA were interrogated for their bloody acts against the British during the early 70s and and late 90s were the prison closed, after the 1998 Good Friday Peace Agreement.I walked towards the gates of the prison, and swiftly noticed that the decor of the prison, had seen better days as there were bullet holes and shattered glass of ex-political prisoners that tried escaped during the 70′s and the 90s. if I was to be entirely honest, I was rather blown away by this factor; knowing that I was only on the other-side of the Irish sea.

I walked within the prison, were there was a tour being held for many enthusiastic tourists, such as myself who wanted to find out more about troubles that took places in Northern Ireland. We were directed throughout the main hall way of the prison, it was there I had noticed this prison (most importantly) had a catalogue of spiritualistic hauntings from past prisoners that were stationed here throughout the past. The cells within were small and compact, and had very little inside… with a sheer purification of whiteness and a depressive black paint that was coloured on the railings on the stairs of the prison, it very much gave it a feel of Victorianism amongst the prison.I walked further down the hall way of the prison, where it was there within the cells that as well of the compactness and isolation of the sheer size of the cells, that I had also noticed that there were many manakins that were depicting the horrendous acts made from the British officers that worked there.One of them, was giving the prisoners very little to eat, and when they were given something to eat it was either rational-type soups, or just bread to give it some for of ballade.

The other form of treatments regrettably received by the prisoners was the deajectory 10 commandments made from the officers who worked there, to get any form of information that help these officers work out what these political-activists motives were for motivation for the crimes that they committed throughout Belfast and Northern Ireland.  We left the hall way of the prison behind, and headed outside of the prison towards the wall. It was there where got an explanation of the bullet holes and shattered glass on the wall I had seen earlier. I had already figured out why they were there… but it was truly fascinating to get an in-depth cycle as to why.I was told that the reason for these bullet holes and shattered glass, was because throughout the term that many of these prisoners had served; during of which they had tried escaping this prison time and time again, and that when found trying to escape they would either be shot down, or have they’re hands cut to pieces while trying to escape.

After told, I was also given the insight of the many prisoners that tried escaping, had also died whilst trying to decamp. And that there acts were  depicted respectably by the few graves that were planted across the walls of the prison itself. This gave me the sense of unjustifiable trepidation, that many of the prisoners that were stationed here throughout the 70′s and 90′s were treat like pigs, but in un-parallel universe that was the grim-reapers cauldron.  We carried on roaming the prison with endless interest, and was taken the hang room, where many of the IRA- extremists were hung for their harrowing acts within the IRA. It was there that when these prisoners were hung, on the day of the anticipated execution, that many of the local people in and around Belfast, would come and watch the execution.

It was there they got much pleasure out of the sightings (for some strange reason), this was also the birthplace of the word ‘Hungover’ where many of us cooperate the word ‘hungover’ for when we have drunk way too much the night before, seems rather fitting knowing that it originates from Ireland/Northern Ireland.  I left the Crumlin Road Jail behind, and carried on my quest of exploration of the city, it was there that I came into contact with many of the vibrant murals that portrayed many of the IRA heroes, and nationlistic-identity that was clearly evident throughout the city, and as a consequence swiftly noticed, that many of the people whom lived here were strongly nationalistic (in a opinionated sense); much so that I felt that is sense expression fully through this women who un-reluctantly stopped me in the street… only to question “why I was wearing both a Protestant and Catholic cross on the same necklace!?…”  I momentarily paused for a moment, wondering wether I would make it out of the Falls Road alive… only for the lady to anticlimactically state that if I do not cover my two crosses now, that someone will most likely stab or either punch me down the road!I took this insightful advice from this lady, and buttoned up my top, and ploughed on further down the Falls Road.

After exploring the road furthermore, I upon the docking region of the city, where many infamous ships were build during the 19th & 20th century. Before taking a further look, I decided to sit down in a cafe, that was formatted in heart of the dock, it was rather socially-cordial. I walked inside, and the atmosphere was rather jolly, it was much different from the one frisky-one I encountered further back on The Falls Road.It was unexpectedly moronic, as this gave me the notion of the country being religiously divided, but also at the same time gave me the sensation that the country had progressively moved on from its’ troubled past… so in essence my mind was caught into sub-divisional minds. I decided to take some water, whilst watching the world blissfuly walk along with the ‘generality-of-life’ very much in their subconscious.  Whilst drinking my drink, I could not help but get the perception that there was a rightful belonging for me here within in Northern Ireland.

But for some unapparent reason I couldn’t put a definitive resolution as to why I was thinking this?… after taking the needed time to think about it, I came to the conclusion that it was because I was pleasuring my nomadically-explorational need for escape that was getting away from the impurification that was the Westernised world.I left the Cafe’, and wondered along the dockyards of the city. It was there I came upon the famous Harland and Wolff Cranes that were used during the early 20th century, for making the Titanic that sorrowfully so it’s remarkable down fall in the mid-Atlantic ocean; at the feet of disbursing ice bergs that derived from the depths of the Arctic that was Greenland.Looking at these Harland & Wolff was rather a spectacular sight, thinking the amount of trade that it once bought this city, was a interesting thought for most, yet to think they have now been frustratingly abandoned for many years now; consequently bringing much economic depressions upon many families that were trying to keep afloat from these difficult times.

I arrived back in Cambridge (via Stansted Airport) with the notion of being unconquerable being ripe, knowing that my dream of ‘travelling the world’  was now rekindled of being untestable even by the greatest explorers of Sir Ranulph  Fiennes and the great Marco Polo himself. This notion of unmountable invincibility, was expressively deployed with a outer arrogance that even Gordon Ramsay (himself) would struggle to define at the most refined of marginal fractions. Some few weeks had passed, and I had found myself lustfully spiralling with an inward incompatibility that was evidently made for no more but oceanic waves that where bound to make tireless sadness amongst my life. With that marginal sensation amongst my mindfulness, I remained ‘lovingly-grounded’ until such time indicated otherwise. This indication soon came in mid November’s day, (three weeks prior to ending the relationship) contacted me with the soulful achievement of wanting to get back with me… I agreed to her words, with unthinkable rhetoricalness, but haven the little acknowledgement that it was the very indecisiveness of her mindfulness that dominated this very lustful-like-personality. Some weeks had passed, and we had found ourselves going from each others places, with the happiness slowly turning towards a scenically- intermit route, with this apparent intermediacy also coming with imbalance of that, and atmosphere full of nothing but Gaelic/Scottish instrumentation. This instrumentation echoed out a lustful philosophical spirituality where I thought living a life belonging exclusively to Anna, was rightfully justifiable. This justifiability came with little acknowledgement of what this futuristically-refined-relationship had in store for me. Little time had passed and the futuristic torment had become awake-fully apparent, as the love that was once showed time ago, had fully drowned within the lustful sands of time, which harboured a sense of puppeteering. This puppeteering came with quick-succession, as there became many scenario’s… where I would joyfully say to Anna, ‘I love you’ but with the expectational-response back came nothing, but a brief flicker of a smile, that came beaming back into my spiritualism with utter annoyance.

This annoyance independently adopted itself within my mental-capacity. This also came with the sheer determination of it only wanting to progressively intensify like a cancerous-cell growing on my brain like someone planting a melancholic tree. This melancholiness progressively out-grew my mindful state, where I would analytically expect the worse from Anna, from that point forward. This expectation was sub-divisionally rightful. As the frustrating annoyances arrived ever still… with a brief spell of happiness came, like the very generality we humans lived in- (it could of been ironic sarcasm) but confusingly happy it made me for sometime. This happiness would involve myself Anna, going on scenic walks throughout the agriculture reservoirs that Anna lived nearby. During this agriculture exploration, came with a lustful spirituality that came from both of which of Anna, and the nature that had been plagued to my sight (patiently moving ponds that streamed through the town, with semi-detached trees in abundance) surrounding our very presence, with the flatness of soil, the crunchy Diwali-like (colourful) leaves, with the formatted compound of soil, wheat and barley spanning far into the distance, that was gradually peaking out like a baby bird springing out to hatch.

This temporary formation of happiness, was now seen a part of our commonality for sometime. As from this point we found some many occasions, where we established positiveness just from sitting at home and being in each others romantically-refined presence… with the echoes of Gaelic sounds hoovering all around our soon-to-be crumbling relationship. What came of this was a catalogue of seemingly unwanted necessities that seemed adamant, but yet reluctant to oppositely manufacture me into a person… I saw as wholesomely unfit and that only would unjustifiably define my soulful personality.  As this became evident, there came many moments where I would do or say something within Anna’s presence, that she consequently did not like… and would unconsciously state her annoyance of me doing or saying such (humour, burping and farting)- I know this sounds rather moronic, but surprisingly truthful it was. As time moved swiftly into December, this moronic idioticness progressed into a very normality that Anna would reluctantly portray with the soul ambition of getting the very personality that she dearly wanted. She knew that I was someone who was spontaneously adventures, curious about most/all subjects in life and that I was outwardly sociable, with a ‘fine-line’ of friends that I would spend time with when given any opportunity. With these personalistic traits came an inward notion of envy towards myself… that was attempted to be stubbornly  hidden, by turning my personality inside out (very much inside out).

Christmas had arrived, and a need for happiness had to motivationally be formed, or else  compromising our very differences was now going to be unchallengeable at it’s very best. During this ‘somewhat’ joyful period I testified myself to spend sometime with my father, who throughout my life defined the complete opposite of being one, but I thought berrying the animosity created could be a testament to both our personalistic characteristics. I arrived at his house in a cold winters sun aiming upon my very head, this act gave me the faithful hope  that someone or yet something was spiritualistically behind me, but with the blindness of love, made that acknowledgement difficult to differentiate. I sat in his living room, with little to say to each other, but the football score of our beloved Newcastle United, flickered little and far between. The day wore on, and we sat in front of the fire restfully cracking in front of us, which personally was the only warming comfort taken from that Christmas Eve’s day. Evening swiftly arose, with the sound of passing cars ringing deeply into my ears… it was painfully pathetic, knowing all my socialistic graft of finding lovingly commonality, was forever unapparent and that laid on the summit of Mt. Everest it rested, with the questionable ponderance of ever finding it.

Christmas morning arose with the ponderance defined, as frustrating conversation came ever still. We ate our breakfast and headed out to local reservoir that there stood a mill that  collected water, and spit it straight out. The landscape seemed very similar to the one found in Anna’s sometime, it seemed agriculturally refined, to which there was distancing compound of flatness ahead of the naked eye, with nothing but a naked grass dominating our very presence. Our little conversations progressed into a moment of regretful memorabilia where my father described his moment of going to prison… and that during of which he concluded that, ‘life is about making the right choices’ that doing what I did, was stupid.’ I listened to him with attentive insightfulness… but soon intensified furthermore anguished embarrassment knowing that man, was in need my father. The day wore on, and boredom soon struck, with no gifts (nor received) where given to each other during this day; that was suppose to been seen as ‘jolly’  was seen as a excruciatingly unsociable and and lovingly unfaithful and yet distantly lost forever more.

Boxing day had  arrived, and I came back to Cambridge where I had work for a short while in a quintessentially-British cafe. The day there was obviously quiet, but more so jolly knowing that I was away from my father and his uncharacteristic unorthodox’s. I found myself cleaning the entirety of the kitchen:-(the work surfaces, kitchen filters, cleaning the bins and many of the regions of the kitchen). Which came a sense of reliability when it came to my  graft and motivation just to work to the definitive word itself. As well as this I shared many a jokes with Phil who I worked with during my time there, who I thoroughly enjoyed working with. Phil was very much like myself, he worked hard for the industry he believed in, and that he cared considerately to those around him and that above anything else he was a genuine person to that always socialistically echoed to everyone who met him in his very presence. But what seemed sad, was that many chef’s within the industry placed little trust in Phil-  as at times displayed little confidence… which would project his lack of confidence, which was saddening to see (at times).  My shift there had ended, and my father picked me up where he would take me Anna’s aunties house where her family were having a  gathering for the day’s event, and that her parents had agreed that I could stay over until the next day.

I met Anna along with Sheena (her mother) just outside her aunties house, with ‘socialistic-fear’ conjuring deep within my eyes. They took me into the house, where the majority of her family were there scattered throughout the entire geographical sub-structure. I felt bewilderedly isolated… with the wholesome notion of not knowing anybody within her family (with the only exception of Anna, her siblings and parents), with this brought an element of silent imitation that portrayed deep into my personalistic-mindfulness… where this imitation bought nothing but them only judging me on purified speculation. This speculation become truthfully apparent when were all gathered around the living room, giving presents to all (a family tradition) where throughout a stood few members of the family that persistently stared at me from time to time, that being her Uncle and Grandmother. Perhaps they did this as they were trying to manufacture an understanding of myself… or was it that I beheld traits of what Anna’s ex-boyfriend once was like, I do not know. This silence curiously put me in a state of anxiousness… where any flicker of a sound or stare upon anyone or anything, where equal in me being looked upon in such dampening way!

We gathered for about one hour, to which after a platter of food was served amongst the family. I ate the food with great delight, with the very sensation of nourished was welcomed… not to mention the salmon and chicken and served- was rather nice; which was ironic given the emotion received thus far throughout all corners of the relationship (Anna, her parents, uncle and grandmother). After which I found myself getting tireless nervous of endless stares and voices that were dominating my very mindfulness that was deemed ‘fragile’ upon that very moment of time. So I consequently decided that I wanted to back Anna’s home, where I could find salvation amongst my un-judgemental-self. We arrived home, where tiredness was stricken upon my perplexed face. This notion of perplexity came as I sensed a real orientational-togetherness amongst Anna’s family- where great envy was discovered amongst this… and that, between this sensation of togetherness was met with a real commonality throughout every member within her family… unlike my family tended to feel such.  

I rested my tired podium upon the sofa that seemed to pollute my comfort with nothing but satisfactory. Until when Anna gave me two gifts that were from her family. I gawked moronically into her eye’s- as if this was a joke! She beamed a laugh back at me, and said, ‘they are actually for you.’ I opened them both, and what I found was a jumper that I had wanted to and a tablet (I did not have any use of the internet at home!) I was fluttered, and yet impassion-ate from what I was seeing… so much so that I began to cry. I rested my surprised self upon Anna, where she seemed conflicted whether to hug me, or just indifferently laugh in my face. Some time later found ourselves gradually sleeping to the sound of nothingness. I woke up early the day full of emotion from the day before, and knowing it would be a little while before I next saw Anna.

Andy (Anna’s father) took me back to the train station, where there I would get the train back home to Cambridge. I arrived back in Cambridge, with emotion apparent upon my unenlightened face. I got into work with this notion growing cancerously throughout the atmospheric confinements of the kitchen… when everyone there swiftly noticed that there was something missing from my personalistic individuality. I finished work and wandered home, where there I would crawl back into my ‘realistic’ cave as normality would govern. I laid on my bed, only to find myself lost within myself… I saw no formalised direction, nor soulfulness was diminishing before my very eyes! I carried on working tirelessly until New Years Eve arose with that demising soulfulness swiftly decaying before my very mindful-eyes. I left my home to collect Anna, where she would stand there in a isolated coldness waiting for my arrival. We arrived back at my house where we would swiftly relax and get ourselves vigorously dressed; as I had planned to take Anna out for dinner. We hopped on a local bus, to the restaurant. With a short journey, we found ourselves in short exchange of flickered smiles, and apparent indecisiveness becoming ever-ripened upon her befuddled face. We entered the restaurant, where we took our seats distant from the intermediate congregation (for Anna’s sake) where she would take great pleasure from this act of kindness (myself). We ate our meals, with tireless ‘chit-chat’ where the most pleasurable moment of the evening was the service from the waiter, the  people and cars that passed by our hurrying eyes. With boredom becoming ripe, we left the restaurant where we would wonder back to bus stop, with an Arctic-breeze springing down our very spines… where Anna, hold squeeze my hand, as she knew my hands were not affected from the cold:-(they were more like a furness) that saw no end of hotness.

We came back to my home, where would expeditiously lay ourselves upon my sinking bed. Throughout that time (with candles lit, as there were no lights within my room) we would just spend ourselves starring the abyss, wondering what tomorrow would hold, wondering were would life lead us or if we were ever going to be a couple again after this point onwards. We wandered this idea for some time, until she fell asleep… with little cooperation as it seemed as so that her mind was already made up (in regards to us) and the life that she wanted. I pondered the idea for a little while long- until I blew out the candles and awoke her at 00:00am only to wishfully grant her a ‘New Year’ and that my happiness with her; was all that I wished for. She briefly smiled back at me, whilst kissing me on the lips, and then away she went to sleep again.  

I woke up the next morning, with a sense of purpose both on my mind and throughout my body. I laid in bed for about one hour, before Anna gradually woke up, and that when she did it she blissfuly opened her eyes in front of mine… with a beaming smile stricken upon her bemused face. With this level of bemusement making me feel likewise, she hugged me with intention to imprison herself to me, until she otherwise felt fit to preserve our limited lustfulness of a relationship. The morning wore on, and we got dressed. Anna was in the next room putting some make-up on to the sound of ‘UGH’ from the band The 1975… throughout the lyrics gave me a indication of what she really felt of me; “And you're the only thing that's going on in my mind taking over my life a second time I don't have the capacity for fucking you're meant to be helping me” which pinpointed that she only thought I wanted to be with here for the soul purpose of sex. This notion upset me deeply, as if I was robbed from the very emotions I overwhelmingly portrayed throughout our relationship:-(endless love, tireless consideration of care, a deep interest for anything she was interested in and that she  wanted to talk about, and spoke to her parents and siblings effortlessly) when seen upon.

The day was wearing on, and Anna had to go home as her sister would be finishing work and lift home would be free if she was there to use it. So she jumped at the opportunity, and we raced to the hospital (where she worked) with tears just tipping beneath my eyes… my heart seemed to pound, I was not sure whether it was because of the mindful reality I found myself within about her, or that it would be little time before I would see her again? I did not know, and that I stood fearful in wanting to at that present moment. We met her sister, and with a quick exchange of words they both left to go home. Where I was left standing like a single flame amongst the crashing waves in a oceanic confinement of melancholic patterns that looked set to arise, and dominate my very life in very quick sequence.

Some time had passed before seeing each other once again, with every time we met deemed profoundly difficult for one another… as restriction in wanting to see myself became obvious. Her interested had longingly decayed, and that it seemed like her deepened commitment was with someone else. This idea had came into my mind, as there were countless moments throughout our early stages together that she never said she, ‘loved me’ and that she only said which when I asked her to do the same; as I did her without any thought of doubt. I came to her hometown in Bedfordshire, as usual it had been a while from the last time I saw her. I got in her father’s car, and I can quickly saw that something was potently with her, the atmosphere was desolately eerie within the car, that evidently overtook her very un-expressional face. Anna failed in telling me what was going on, it was if she was getting comfort from hiding something from me. From this point, I was left uncomfortably worrying  that the unthinkable was about to happen yet again. Before all this, (you could say it was irony) but we went for a walk along the nature reservoir. Where she thought this befuddlement she be complimented by a Full English Breakfast. It was from that stag, I knew I was being selfishly backstabbed.

We wondered home after which, and yet finding the sincere trepidation was painted upon her face, to which equalled much shivering panic was justifiable. We arrived home, and the feelings that her heart her told her long before, had come swarming out like a pack of lions, trying to look after their young. I was trying effortlessly hard not to listen to what I was hearing, I felt like I was falling, falling in a deep blue ocean that was surrounded by a pack of sharks that were treating me as their kill for their family.  I found definition for what was happening… but was fearful to be apart of reality at that point, to what was being said. I wanted to runaway, runaway from the seemingly laborious phase I found myself in. Anna just stood there, as if nothing was happening… it was like she didn’t even care, nor share any margin of emotion for the matter (she planned this like Martyr dying for their course). Thankfully her mum had the same idea, and took me to the train station, whilst I was trying (with the little soulfulness I had left) to pick myself up from the my knees, that she left me hanging deep upon, that looked to spend the rest of my life negatively thinking about this very moment. I arrived back at the train station, where I spent the entirety of the journey with people starring at the endless tears streaming down my anticlimactic face, it was tedious and yet so embarrassing during of which. I arrived back in Cambridge, with these tears creating a puddles onto to the ground. I came into the reception that was nearby, only to ring my mother; as I could not bring myself to get on any transportation (again). I rang her, breaking down into tears explaining to her what had happened… so my grandfather agreed to pick me up, where he gave me some words of wisdom, when telling me that Anna, ‘was not worth my time’ and that he said; ‘only worry about people, when they want you to worry about them.’ I listened intently to what he had said to me, and then from there began my pilgrimage to lustful durability (once again).

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I Refuse To Be actually Inclusive Through Michele Winslow.

This week I will just like discuss any one of you who may be in their 30's or 40's as well as have actually certainly never been gotten married to and are actually yearning to settle down as well as acquire wed and also start a household. Bear in mind: everyone needs to have 12 hugs a time, so ensure to give them all the caress they need to have for a fantastic emotion everyday prior to bed time. I recognized precisely just what this took to make me able to regurgitate, and that was actually making on my own so complete to the point where I thought likeI was actually heading to vomit anyway. If you perform that in a means that praises their wish to make you happy, male won't presume you are actually self-indulgent. Even though, that might think weird for time, once you perform it, that does not create you experience therefore. This expression would certainly be the ideal one if you prefer to make your lover think incredibly necessary. He recognizes that if he reveals you he regrets the break up, you may refuse him to obtain revenge or even you will definitely anticipate him to make a devotion. You can easily maintain a day-to-day diary of the excellent or positive traits that happened in your day or even you may match damaging comments you bring in regarding your day or even your own self along with one thing positive. . Many people choose regarding their life as well as work based on what is generally taken into consideration right" as well as excellent." Just what they think they are supposed to do - staying coming from the outside in: allowing others people's requirements conclude your life. In the event you loved this information and you would love to receive much more information concerning yellow pages online residential uk; caferisoetc.com.br, i implore you to visit the web site. Locating answers to these questions as well as putting them in to creating was actually certainly not a very easy duty, however accomplishing this possesses create me better than I have ever before resided in life. And if you were to inquire if they mored than happy at that time, they might discover the scenario absurd even when certainly not 6 months prior to they thought they had actually found the panacea of life when they were carrying on along with an additional woman as well as experiencing the highs of a function. SINCE they have a solid as well as pleased relationship as well as a great sex lifestyle to begin along with, a lot of few who appreciate the swinger way of living perform that. If you are avoiding the marriage partnership, make sure that you have pin pointed the cause responsible for odds and ends you have actually found the solution to this. Make sure that you try the Kamni Capsules for the betterment from your connection if you are actually appearing for the finest option. I was therefore delighted as well as visited him, that was just how our company began living together merrily once again. Be sure That He Isn't Only Hearing Your Slam Him: As a person which has been on the opposite side of this particular chat, I could tell you that when you hear these phrases, this could seem like a strike as well as this may experience as if you need to guard yourself. When you respect how your spouse thinks, he is expecteded to be even more completely satisfied in the marriage, which in turn will produce him happy. This offers some sizzling dishes like Grilled Mahi, Shrimp Jumbo Shrimp Scampi, Spanish Paella, Pan Seared Atlantic Salmon, Cuban Braised Fish, as well as Veal Piccata and so on I assumed that the techniques I carry out will definitely create folks ask yourself as well as it is certainly not so necessary just what I point out. I always try to show people on my blog and also write-ups to be wide as well as certainly not to create any constraint on their own. Delicious chocolate peanut butter no bake biscuits produce excellent grandparents presents, instructor presents, birthday presents, thank you gifts and also even more. After the event has been actually kept, tailored fixed is ideal for thank-you details. Nonetheless if you still adore the individual and also prefer him back you cannot permit him recognize you are angry and injured, yet that does not indicate you cannot create him have the sensation from being rejected and reduction. 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By being positive and paid attention to satisfied thoughts, your beneficial overview usuallies bring in people to you. These could be composed of some terrific books to go through and also bags that she could profit. Allow me to present to you my favorite 10 fantastic Lovely Life quotes and jingle your time up. If you really love creating points, you can easily try contracting as well as create an excellent lifestyle doing just what you like. Considering that it will definitely lead you to redo the very same mistakes as numerous various other men commonly create, don't attempt to carry out factors in the black. All satisfied submitted on this website is the duty from the event posting such material. Dr.Zabaza is the great male that was able to revive my enthusiast within 48hours and since all of them my aficionado has been actually treating me with so much passion and i have actually certainly never been so satisfied as i am now. 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