Lund

Amira Altaha has lived her entire 18 years alongside the natural - and supernatural. In her hometown city of Morrowfalls, it isn't unknown to be working side by side with a furry friend, or scaly, or one that floats. She can't imagine life without this diverse culture, especially not her longtime boyfriend, Isaac Lund. Despite their differences of her being a human and him being a werewolf, it takes one meeting during junior year of high school for them to fall head over heels for each other. Amira understands that one day Isaac might find his mate in someone who isn't her, but he makes his own vow to be with her until the very end. This promise is upheld for five blissful years - until the day Isaac turns 18, and meets Eris Morin, daughter to the Alpha of the Silverhowl Pack - and his new mate. ~ “Is this another attempt at avoiding me?” he asks. Goosebumps rise on her skin as his lower lip subtly brushes against hers while he speaks, his breath warm and sweet on her tongue. “What if it is?” She is surprised at how strong her voice sounds despite how much her chest is trembling. His fingers tighten their grip on her chin and waist, his already dark eyes darkening further. “I’ll say this only once so listen close, sweetheart – there isn’t anywhere in this world you can go where I won’t find you, and as cute as this game of dog and squirrel has been, I am only willing to play for so long. It’s best for you to give up now; I always win.”

If you change your perspective towards people, they will turn yourself into a positive way and will be thankful to you.

love cannot be measured, it can only be felt and shared.

Ye khani h Rishtoh mein Chudai ki, yha na shram h na lihaz h bs apne sharir ki bhuk mitani h fir chahe wo kese hi mitai jaye. Iss Ristoh ki Chudai ki Kitaab me kbhi Bhai Behan ko chodega, kbhi beti baap ke lund pe kudegi, or khi devar bhabhi ki gand maarega to khi maa bete ka lund chusegi or ye silsila yuhi chlta rhega... Hr khani me koi ak mukhya kirdaar hota h or is khaani me h Deepak, ye kirdaar is khaani me kisi ka bda bhai h to kisi ka chota, khi ye bhabhi ko pyara h to khi maa ke ankho ka tara. Dekhte h ye Deepak kiski chut me ujaala krta h. Puri khani isi kirdar ke charo trf ghumegi or aap isi ke jriye dusre kirdaro se milnge or fr... fr dekhte jaega ki kya gul khilte h is parivaar ki khani me.

This is a story of a guy who loses everything, and then gets it back. Same old new world story, just a different kind of story teller. *** They took away our hunter tags. They had us grow our hair. They gave us a new brand, when we were over there. They staged us out of Dragur, East of the Olim Horn. I guess they call us Slaves, but no one calls us much anymore. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. Karn brought Sorrow. Pookie brought Fear. Milk brought the fly boys. They did work in Undia. I worked mostly clandestine. Some Legends I should not say. We played with better wands. I could use the extra pay. Did Mara give the order? Did venom pay the way? They said we were slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. This was before HALO, and Codex was king. Hej atop the rider, he never felt a thing. When our rider caught a spell, and both the mages killed. It pitched us over sideways on some cold Sylph hill. My back felt like it was broken, my legs I could not feel. I kept on slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I never did heal up right from injuries sustained Officially in Torin, unofficially we train. I remember all their faces. They dream about me still. I guess I'm slaying demons, but it's kind of hard to tell. There no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I speak the cold logistic, that old boys speak so well. Veni, Vedi, Vici. I'll see you in Hel. Maybe it's bravado, or an unspeakable guilt. That village, they were demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't wanna to do it anymore. I've done plenty. What is one more? -Corb Lund *** Come guess me this riddle. What beats shire leaves and fiddle? What is hotter than pleasures touch, and whiter than cream? What best wets his whistle? What is clearer than crystal? What is sweeter than honey and stronger than steam? What will make the lame walk? What will make the dumb talk? What is the elixir of life and philosopher's stone? And what helped Pookie-Baba dig up a tunnel, that runs from Shalamanda to West-Torin? When you are digging a crater, It is the best thing in nature, for sinking your sorrows and raising your joys. Sometimes I wonder, if lightning and thunder, is made out of the plunder, of the reddest hiski and oils. *** If you can keep your head when all about you, are losing theirs and blaming it on you. If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too. If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise. If you can dream, and not make dreams your master. If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim. If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same. If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken, twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build them up with worn-out tools. If you can make one heap of all your winnings, and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss and lose, and start again at your beginnings, and never breathe a word about your loss. If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew, to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you; Except the Will which says to them ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, nor walk with Kings, nor lose the common touch. If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you. If all men count with you, but none too much. If you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds worth of distance, run. Yours is the World and everything that’s in it, and which is more you’ll be a Man, my son. - Rudyard Kipling

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