Prise Stories

A mystery ninja who wants to be known As powerful one and to have that wish she has to defeat the black ninja and won the prize.

Prise De Vue Aérienne Par Drone: Piloter un drone de photographie aérienne est le seul moyen de capturer des levers de soleil à couper le souffle, des couchers de soleil et des animaux sauvages. Notre entreprise française est spécialiste de la prise de vue aérienne par drone. https://matthieu-raffier.com/portfolio-references-videos-entreprise-film-hotel-2.html

Rosalie Parker..a young and clever Italian girl.Full of surprises and a hint of mischief.A peace maker you could say.The type of girl that loves morning walks with a fresh coffee to-go tucked away in her hand..the type of girl that would gladly spend a whole day in the library,a book worm I suppose.She prefers quiet places over clubs or parties,comfy clothes over elegant ones.The epitome of a good girl.With a goal in mind and determination evident in her chocolate eyes,she sets off to America to make her dream of becoming a architect come true.(19) . . . . Dominic Night..a cold and arrogant CEO .the reincarnation of the devil himself some say.Ruthless,demanding..a perfectionist to the core..feared by all ,he spoke with authority and pride .He prefers whiskey to rum,suits over sweatpants,guns over discussions.Being a bachelor of the year it makes women easy targets ,having sworn not to fall in love,stomps over them all.(23) . BUT what will happen when he sees the beautiful angel in the library ?..will they fall in love or will their opposite world's tear them apart?...who knows? . .(WARNING this book contains graphic scenes,harsh language and is not suitable for readers under the age of 13)

Salut , je suis Lucas , j'ai 17 ans , je suis un lycéen banal , des notes moyenne , un courage à toute épreuve ... Hmpff enfin , il est en carton mon courage . Bref je suis coincé dans une vie banal et chiante depuis quelques année . Mais tout changea cxe jour fatidique ...

«Mon sort était entre tes mains... Caroline...» Une larme met du temps pour couler sur la joue. Une larme sucré, comme le sang, il existe plusieurs types de larmes. Les larmes sincères, venant de personnes sincères. Les larmes de plaisir, intermédiaire des larmes de joie. Les larmes de joie, quand la vie nous sourit, que l'on retrouve quelqu'un de chère à nos yeux par exemple. Les larmes de souffrance physique, lorsque quelqu'un nous fais du mal de l'extérieur. Les larmes intérieur, souvent de celui ou celle qui se voile la face en disant que tout va bien. Les larmes de la peur de perdre. Mais les pires de toutes, celle qui sont du à une souffrance physique, moral et mental, celle que l'on doit cacher, les nuits entières, recroquevillé sur notre lit, une main sur la bouche pour ne pas faire de bruit, le sanglots qui nous étouffe. Sont celles les plus insupportable, les plus secrète et celle qui nous force à nous enfermé dans une prison de glace ; à l'intérieur même de notre âme, cœur, et esprit. Celles que nous n'arrivons pas à battre seul. Mais qui nous empêche d'aller voir quelqu'un pour nous aider. Ces larmes là détruisent l'humanité, l'estime de soi. Notre vie.

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This is a tale in prose and rhymes about whatever I see fit. Definitely gay. Definitely trashy. This might switch from english to french to italian, only tine and willpower will tell.

When young phil lester, a simple, bullied kid, meets bad boy dan howell, how will he react? A story of love; compassion; and friendship.

A deeply intimate, soul-aching memoir of a connection that was everything - except spoken aloud. Set against the backdrop of workplace halls, late-night smoke sessions, and unspoken glances, this story follows a Libra man who meets an Aquarius man - both tethered by circumstances, but drawn together by gravity. He was engaged. A father. A man living two lives - one he chose, and one he was terrified to admit he wanted. What begins as casual friendship slowly becomes an emotional slow burn - filled with flirtation, tension, unexplainable jealousy, playful fights, secret moments, and quiet comfort. He never said the words. But his actions whispered them loud enough to keep hope alive. It was like standing at the edge of a ride I never agreed to board - watching the highs, the drops, the loops from the safety of the gate, but feeling every twist in my chest anyway. I never buckled in, never gave a ticket, never said, "Let's go." But somehow, I lived every turn like I had. The thrill, the ache, the confusion - it all hit me just the same. And by the time it stopped, I was dizzy from a journey I never even took. Every moment - from hiding backpacks and locking freezer doors, to conversations in the dark and watching movies under the guise of platonic affection - paints the portrait of a connection so real, it almost feels imagined. This is not a typical love story. There is no happy ending tied in a bow. No grand declarations. No closure, really. But there is growth. It's a story of almosts. Of learning how to let go of something that never quite began - but somehow changed everything. It's about the ache of being "the one who knew," and the bravery of loving someone without needing to be chosen back. A hauntingly beautiful portrait of emotional intimacy, queer longing, and the invisible bonds that shape us. This is a love letter to everyone who's ever had to grieve a relationship that didn't officially exist - but felt more real than anything else.

Salut, moi c'est Zoé, je vais vous raconter mon histoire... Je vous parlerais de ma meilleure amie, et de ce beau garçon qui m'aidera à traverser bien des épreuves comme l'anorexie, comment je suis tombée amoureuse d'un garçon alors que je penserais que jamais cela mari verrais, comment faire face quand une personne de ta famille te manque, quand les histoires de copine se complique bref tout ça...