#i love him when hes balding i love him through his mental turmoil

[ukegenius]

FIDDLEFORD IN HIS AVIATOR FRAMESSSS 😭😭😭😭😭 FIDDLEFORDDD HADRON MCGUCCKEEETTTTTT FIDDDLLLEEFOORRDD IF U CAN HEAR ME PLEASEE GET SOME AVIATOR FRAMES AGAINNNNN HADROOONNN HADDIE FIDDS F MCGUCK PLEASEEEEE THEY MAKE U LOOK SO CUTEEEE UUGGFHHHH

PLLEASSEEE GET SOME AVIATOR FRAMES PLEASEEEEE

ugghhh old man mcgucket in some aviator frames that ford bought for him cuz he couldnt find any small circle frames uggghhhh give thag man HIS AVIATORS BACK FIDDLEFORRDDDDDD FIDDDLLLEFORRRDDDD PLLEASSEEE

[kuuderekweenfics]

Canción de Cuna

Two in one week? I’m on a roll! (Actually, I was just late to post my last fic, so I thought I’d hit ya with a double whammy.)

Well, if you wanted an emotional roller coaster, you’re in for a real treat.

Because the turmoil is strong in this one. This is a follow up to my previous Dabi fic, although you don’t necessarily have to read that one to enjoy this piece of work. 

Now that I’m three fics in, I want to start opening up the polls to you lovely readers. I don’t necessarily have to stay on the MHA/BNHA train. I’m free to venture into other territories.

I’ve been thinking about maybe a Levi from AoT/SnK fic. But we’ll see. :)

Anywaayyyssssss, back to the point of the matter:

Dabi x Female Reader

Explicit Warning: non-con, and angst sex, as well as psychological abuse and trauma. A lot of adult themes here, people. You’ve been warned. (18+)

Manga Spoilers! Not anything that hasn’t already been put out there, but if you are only watching the show, beware!

El que no sabe de amores, llorona,

no sabe lo que es martirio.

(He who does not know love, weeping woman,

does not know martyrdom.)

Tápame con tu reboso, llorona,

por que me muero de frío.

(Cover me with your shawl, weeping woman,

Because I’ll die of cold.)

He has red hair.

Your child has red hair and you’re not entirely sure you’re seeing this right because, boy, is it red. 

Like brick red. 

Like fire-truck red. 

You blink, rub your eyes, then blink again.

Not a trick of the light. It’s still very red.

Well, at least he’s no longer bald.

You lay him down in his crib, a melodic, yet cracked, lullaby stringing its way from your lips as sleep attempts to overtake you. You run a finger against his puffy cheek, and watch him breath silently. 

Up, down. Up down. 

Sometimes, you stare at his chest for several minutes at a time to make sure he’s still breathing. To make sure he’s still there. He’s a miracle; a glowing ember in the dark void from which he was borne. 

For weeks after your discovered pregnancy, you contemplated aborting. He was a product made not from love but fear. No one would blame you. But the day you heard the whirred sound of a quick and steady heartbeat, your love became boundless. And thus, you gave birth to your baby boy. 

His red hair must come from his paternal genes.

You learned a lot about his father recently. Although, you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter since he hijacked the entire broadcasting network to air out his family’s dirty laundry. If he hadn’t broken you over a year ago, you’d probably feel bad about what he went through. It sure explains a lot of those inner demons he has. 

A small part of you almost wishes that his child inherits some of that apparent intelligence he has before deciding against it altogether. You want him to be nothing like that monster. He will be a good boy. The thought of the great man he will surely become etches a smile on your face. 

You scan any signs of distress before heading back to bed. If you can manage to get in an hour of undisturbed sleep, you think you’ll be able to keep the patisserie running for a whole day tomorrow. While money isn’t necessarily tight, being a single, new mother in a bustling metropolis can be expensive. Not long after your eyes close are you alerted by a high pitched coo. He’s not crying. But he’s awake. And being awake equates to needing attention. 

You don’t register the shadow standing in the corner of his room as you make your way in, your eyes closed and only your deeply ingrained memory of the layout of the nursery to guide you to his crib. It is when your fingers meet an empty bed, growing cold from the lack of a body, do your eyes finally fly open. 

Another coo raises the hair on the back of your neck. This one is deeper, much calmer. You crank your head. Nausea creeps up, pinching every nerve in your stomach with a ferocity that leaves you quaking.

You shouldn’t be surprised to find Dabi there. Part of you had always known that he may come back. Out of sheer curiosity or some bitter resentment, perhaps. But you desperately locked the thought into the depths of your mind, hoping that he might possibly be arrested, or eradicated before then. 

He holds your child, his child, gently, a whisper of a smile almost odd against his otherwise rough demeanor. He is slightly illuminated by the blue hues coming from a small night light. Cerulean eyes flicker at you before settling back down at the small human who sleeps soundly in his arms. 

Your breathing is forced and shallow. Have you blinked? The stinging pulse at the corner of your eyes is a good indicator that maybe you should. But you don’t dare to. Not when he’s around.

“I’m surprised you kept him,” he starts, his low voice rumbling through your core. “It didn’t take long for my hounds to find you. I thought you’d at least put in a bit more effort to hide.”

The silence rings in your ears. You’re not sure if he wants a response or if this is just another villainous monologue to add to his collection. But as the seconds crawl, slow but steady, your confidence grows. You clear your throat. Did your tongue always feel this dry and heavy? You grip the crib with white knuckles. An anchor for the fury you’re about to unleash.

“You changed your hair.” 

It comes out small and tired. Of all the things you could have said, all the icy venom you could have spat at him, you decided to comment on his white hair. His. Hair. You mentally plead for a do-over, as if the earth would spin backward to take the last minute and give you another opportunity to rain hellfire. 

He smirks at you, reading your inner turmoil, but decides to drop the matter. “What have you named the twerp?”

You tell him. He nods a bit, and you wonder if it’s a mark of approval as he walks toward the crib. He leans forward to gingerly place the baby back in and you feel the tension in your body cave, your rigid muscles releasing almost sorely.

Another pregnant silence.

“Sometimes, his eyes scare me,” you admit finally, chipping away at the stifling quiet. “Not because I believe he’s capable of ever doing what you did; what you do...but because they look just like yours. And then I see you.”

He doesn’t turn to you. Doesn’t react. He keeps his attention on his child, and, for a moment, you’re not sure if he’s heard you at all. 

“Do you regret it?”

Do you regret being there that day? Do you regret not calling for backup? Do you regret keeping your child? His question can apply to so many things, but the answer to all of them remains the same. 

You look down at the sleeping boy and finally answer, “Never.”

You hadn’t noticed he closed the distance until his hand was pressed against your lower back and your lips met. 

Oh no. No, no, no. Not again. Your heart thunders in your throat as you push him away. But his other hand wrenches your arm down and he pulls you in, deepening the kiss.

A sob escapes your trembling lips. You use your free hand to grab hold of his jaw, the skin thick and scarred, and shove him from you. You reach for the baby, your alarm blaring for you to get out, to create any distance you can from the danger before you, but his arms wrap around your waist before you can attempt your escape. 

“Don’t do this,” you plead, hoping the fragment of kindness he had shown toward his son would extend to you. 

He rests his forehead in the crook of you neck and holds you tighter. You can feel him shake behind you. Is he crying? Is he remorseful?

The blood drains from you as you hear it: laughing. Softly at first, a quiet, tired chuckle cutting into the dark, turning into loud cackle which startles your son into a tearful wail. 

You reach out in a feeble endeavor to comfort him. Your hand is pushed back down by your captor. 

“He’ll be fine. I think we should focus our efforts on giving the little tyke a playmate, what do you think?” He growls into your ear. “Maybe we can try for a girl this time. She’d be pretty, like her mom.”

You swallow the hot bile back down. It’s so unfair; him speaking to you as if he’s ever the doting father, as if he was around during the most crucial moments of your pregnancy, or in the months thereafter. He threw away his opportunity of being a family man long before he met you. Not that you wanted him there at all. Another child wouldn’t change him, wouldn’t change the fact that you didn’t, had never wanted, a family with him.

You don’t know what made him decide on you. What made him believe you were the perfect candidate to bear his children? You failed at having a useful quirk for power-breeding.  You were a shell among the rest of them. How long had he wandered along the shore, surpassing all others before reaching down into the sand and picking you? 

He breathes you in, the mere scent of you encouraging his cock to harden and rub into your ass. How did you get to this point? What could you have said differently? It goes without saying that you have no means to fight. He trails wet, open-mouthed kisses along your neck and bites down on your shoulder. You hate that he elicits a shiver in response. 

You lean forward on your own, letting him rut against you as you take a pacifier and place it into your son’s mouth. 

You hum a lullaby as your shorts and panties are pulled down and fall in a heap on the floor. 

You stroke his cheek as Dabi stroke his length against you, the precum coating your folds and the tip just barely grazing your clit.

You choke down the sob as he claims you, for the second time, just as the boy slowly submerges into another warm embrace of sleep.

He grips your shoulder and drills into you, and despite not having any form of stimulation, your arousal awakens hot and electric with each pulse. You close your eyes in a vain attempt to shield your son from seeing you this way: broken and needy. 

But he’s fallen back asleep. No, what you’re really shielding yourself from is the shame enveloping you as your legs squeeze together and your back arches. Because you want Dabi to hit that spot; you want him to pound into that button that shoots a wave of pleasure up your spine and into your skull. And as his thick cock finally strikes home one, two, three times, and your pussy becomes a soppy mess, you’ve realized he’s found it. 

You let out a raspy moan. This only invites him to reach over and rub your clit.

How embarrassing. How unbelievably mental you are. You bite down on your bottom lip, hard enough to taste a metallic tanginess. You just hope he decides against his previous notions and pulls out at the last moment. 

But It’s different from before. He holds you close, bending down and grabbing the crib’s railing with one hand and tucking the strands of your hair behind your ear with the other before bringing it back down again to play with your bundle of nerves as he whispers obvious fantasies against your cheek. 

Teaching his son how to control his quirk.

Learning how to braid his daughter’s hair.

The tears fall freely from you now. Because each dream sounds so perfect. So delightful. But that’s all it will ever be. A dream, wrapped nicely with a polka-dot bow. Because Dabi cannot be the man of your dreams. Not when he’s stolen so much from you already. Not when he is devoid of any basic human decency. He licks your tears and fears away and plants a sloppy kiss against your clammy forehead as he pounds almost endearingly into your tight, obedient cunt. 

And maybe that alternate reality is how you let yourself fall deeper into the abyss of want. You mask moans with whimpers to deny the immense pleasure you feel. Each squelch, squelch, penetrating the night’s stillness in sequence with your bodies. Cruelly tethered to one another until death. 

He growls, signaling his close release. His hand latches onto your hip as his thrusts become erratic. His balls, heavy and begging for release, slap up against you. You let out an open-mouthed gasp, closing your eyes as you hone in on that feeling that sends you deep, so very deep, into oblivion. 

Unlike the first time, you both cum together, your groans a harmony in the night.

You don’t remember what came next. Either from lack of sleep, mental exhaustion, or both, you fall into a deep slumber. You could have also fainted. But trying to figure it out now was simply futile.

Only, you’re not sure how you made it into bed, or how you opened the blinds to let the sun shine brightly through the window. And you’re not quite sure how long you’ve slept either. But you snap back to reality and run to the baby’s room, only to see not one, but two sleeping figures swaying back and forth on the rocking chair.

You can almost hear the crack, crack, cracking as you surrender, the fracture in your mind severe and unmendable.

You walk quietly, reaching for Dabi’s shoulder. His eyes flutter open, and immediately close as your lips meet, tender and sweet.

And you allow yourself hope, just for a bit longer, that maybe, just maybe, it may not be so bad after all. 

[eenefangirlanalysis]

Returning to the Eds we see that they have been busy with a project.

Eddy refuses to break tradition, sitting lazily against a rock under a gigantic leaf.

Major props to Edd for making tools out of sticks! He is on a roll today!

I swear I noticed this big leaf before, but it never fully registered to me until now. Where did he get it? They use a few big leaves for their project. I wonder if Eddy did help some. Eddy’s laziness is another reason why the Eds, or Edd and Eddy’s, friendship deteriorated.

His laziness has to be from Bro. I can see Bro sitting back watching and probably laughing at Eddy as he tried to set up his own scams. That could be another reason why Eddy may sit out. He’s afraid his friends will laugh at him. He fears doing something wrong.

Eddy’s first scam was his ‘bottomwess Ed’ scam as shown in Every Which Way But Ed. It actually earned him two quarters. Even though Eddy has won on countless occasions it has never been enough for him. His brother always made him feel like a loser. He doesn’t want money. He wants people to accept and understand his being. 

His brother tore apart his soul. Bro made fun of Eddy’s talents and must have told him that he was too soft. Underneath that mask is a struggling human being. Eddy believed he could have friends and get around in the world by acting like Bro, a vicious psychopath. That affected Eddy and how he examines the world. He doesn’t trust anybody due to the life he had with Bro.

Another reason why he is on this journey to find Bro. It’s been years since they last saw one another. Surely, he must have changed in some way. Eddy wants to show his brother how hard he has worked to be just like him. 

If Eddy grew up differently, what kind of person would he be?

Ed rather roughly grabs Eddy by the ankle to show him he and Edd’s creation.

Due to the amounts of time Eddy has played ‘Uncle’ with Bro I suspect that he has a limp on one leg. It’s the main reason for his ‘Happy Leg’.

I’m glad Edd is concerned instead of waving it off. That was more during season 5 where he’d ignore is friends to show off to the faculty and his parents. Edd will always be concerned for Eddy. He’s changed his life for the better. And soon he will realize that.

Poor, Eddy. He gets tossed around so much.

Eddy’s canon eye color is blue according to Smile For the Ed. I like how the other is green for a moment. The artists should have colored their eyes more often. Well, maybe not. It may have looked off.

Ed and Edd have constructed a duck boat. Wow, that’s pretty good. What did they use for the actual boat part? Is it wood? It look like it’s a tad wet. 

Peach Creek must be known for having big leaves.

Does everyone remember the bridge from Boo Haw Haw during their meeting with Rolf? What if Ed found it, broke it apart, and brought it back to his friends. They’re close by to the cul-de-sac all alone. 

My biggest question; Where and what is the paint made out of?

Edd cutely explains to Eddy that this duck shaped boat mimics the common mallard in order to offer minimal disruption to the local fauna.

Fauna -  All of the animal life of any particular region or time.

Edd admires nature. He studies every part of it closely. He studies how they communicate, how they move, and behave. He holds high respect for wildlife. Maybe Edd can relate himself to nature. Every being and animal has unique way of thinking. Edd wants to understand the way he acts. 

I can see Edd studying plants, animals and anything that has to do with nature. He wants to travel the world as he proclaims in Take This Ed and Shove It. He has been sheltered for most of his life. There is a big world out there. Although he scared throughout this journey he learns about his true inner self. Edd learns to open up. Nature brings the feeling of freedom. 

Eddy misinterprets ‘fauna’ as ‘sauna’.

Ed excitedly bursts up making an unwelcome visit in Edd’s hat.

Even Eddy jumps at this.

“Sauna’s make me sweat. More.” Great callback from earlier.

13 Year Old Me When I First Watched BPS: IS THIS THE MOMENT? DANNY SAID HE WAS GOING TO SHOW US WHAT WAS UNDER EDD’S HAT! THIS IS EXCITING! WE’RE GOING TO FIND OUT AFTER TEN YEARS!

The hat snaps off Edd making the boy plummet to the ground.

The shot is so quick that we don’t see Edd’s head. His eyes stay in place. 

Eddy looks so concerned for a moment getting his [third or fourth?] view of what Edd is hiding under his hat. 

You have to be quick to spot the moment where the real Eddy shines through.

“MY EYES! THEY’RE BURNING!”

Edd walks forward only for his head to be censored. 

“You stop that!” Edd yells at Eddy courageously walking forward.

Obviously whatever is on Edd’s head is not that eye vomiting as Eddy is smiling.

Eddy is really smiling at the scar, not Edd. He wants to know how he got it. It never registers to him that it has quite a backstory.

“Does it hurt, Double Dee?”

Edd refuses to answer anymore questions as he cleans his hat with air freshener. Once again his head is censored. 

Does Edd have the same length of hair as Eddy? I cannot imagine Edd without his hat.  

Ed pulls his hand through his jacket to scratch the back of his head. 

Whatever is on Edd’s head makes Ed uncomfortable, yet it still intrigues him.

Edd steps back onto the screen wishing to get back to business.

Ed looks pretty shocked. Probably because this is the longest amount of time Edd has walked around being hatless. He was annoyed but it wasn’t like the other times where he’d pull it on in a second or pull out any object to cover his head.

Danny Antonucci told fans in a video that they were going to show what was under Edd’s hat. That was not this scene. It was to be a scene much later on when the Eds were resting in that spot they stopped in for the night.

Fans have been riled up ever since. I was disappointed as well. 

Then again, maybe it’s best that Danny never revealed what was under Edd’s hat. It’s just like the scam at the beginning of the movie. It’s not important. And it would have taken away from people’s imaginations. 

Instead Danny revealed Eddy’s Brother. His impact in the last five minutes of the movie created quite a buzz around the fan base. His appearance turned around the whole series.

There are countless theories and seeing the actual secret would have ruined the series.

It’s practically canon through a deleted scene that Edd has a scar on his head from a dodgeball incident.

Other theories have included Edd is hiding brown hair, he is bald, he has a large bump, or has imprints from many band aids which were used as punishment from his parents. Remember that from My Fair Ed? 

The confession scene would have revealed a lot about the Eds inner turmoils. They would have connected more as friends understanding who they are. 

Eddy would have finally understood Edd realizing they had more in common then they thought. They each have a scar. Eddy more mentally as Bro scarred Eddy’s being.

Danny still has many fans angry with him. Still, he gets to sit back and read all the fan theories about his show. That’s what creators live for. They want to see how fans react to their work. We have all been having countless discussion on the characters and the world of eene. 

I’m more happy making up fanfiction about what could be under Edd’s hat then having it revealed. It’s hard for me to admit that seeing how I would have loved to see that confession scene. You can’t get everything you want. 

That’s why fandoms, fanfiction and fanart exist. We can add on.

[yogatipsyzcy795-blog]

bigg boss is winner

Jade Goody is a 27-year-old ex-dental nurse who came to fame through an appearance on Big Brother in 2002, and then again in Celebrity Big Brother in 2007 when she seized the publicity opportunity handed to her by Shilpa Shetty.

She came from an under-privileged background. Her father was of mixed race - a drug addict and criminal who died of a drugs overdose at the age of 42. Her bisexual mother was incapable of showing her any love or affection throughout her entire life, being a demented, evil little woman filled with hatred for just about everything and everyone.

In spite of this, Jade put her laughing eyes and quick, intelligent agile mind and body to work for herself. She was determined not to grow old gracefully and impoverished, and started on a journey that would take her to places she knew only in her mind.

Her big opportunity came in 2002 through Big Brother, where she exposed the vulnerability of others to drag herself into the limelight. By the end of summer 2002, she was described as 'a nasty slapper, Public Enemy Number One, the most hated woman in Britain and a monster'.

This was her springboard to celebrity status and all that goes with it - and she knew it. She took hold of life in both hands always delivering what people wanted from her: turmoil, sex, raw passion and the chance to vent their anger.

She was Jade, Unadulterated Jade - Warts and All; the adult version of an unprotected little girl who was handed a joint to smoke by her mother at the age of 5; the same little girl who was subject to her mother's beatings and mental torture for as far back as she cares to remember.

As a result of the chance to appear on Big Brother, she is now estimated to be worth £3.3 million through her appearances on reality TV, her perfume Shh..Jade Goody, backstabbing, tearful multiple apologies on radio and television, continuous cancer scares, 54,000 complaints from viewers to Ofcom and Channel 4 and many death threats, Christmas Dinner with Jade Goody (a book and DVD featuring her two sons), a brief appearance on Bigg Boss (the Indian version of Big Brother), her autobiography Jade: Catch a Falling Star, a weekly column in Now Magazine, the Wicked Queen in the pantomime Snow White, Living With Jade Goody TV documentary, beauty salons called Homme Fatal catering exclusively for men, relationships with Jeff Brazier, the father of her two sons, and footballer Ryan Amoo, who she lived with for about six months, her rows and breakups with Jack Tweed who she married courtesy of OK Magazine and Living TV - and many, many other personal appearances in magazines, and on radio and TV.

Jade has also made a lot of money from setting up shoots with paparazzi photographers who split the sales with her.

She owns three houses and a £60,000 turbo-charged Range Rover, and may still have the Bentley Continental GTC sports car worth £130,000. Her perfume is the fifth biggest seller in the UK with sales going up daily, as Max Clifford and his team ceaselessly parade her bald, dying body in our faces hour after hour.

Jade Goody has sold around 120,000 copies of her autobiography, and numerous copies of her third fitness DVD. She is getting around £700,000 for the exclusive wedding pictures from OK Magazine - and there are rumours of even bigger fish on Max Clifford's line waiting to be hauled in if she is up to it.

Jade is reported not to have spoken to her two boys, Bobby (5) and Freddy (4), about the cancer that has spread to her liver, bowel and groin. If this fact is true, she certainly has her own agenda for it. But Jade does have to face her final curtain soon, and this will take all the courage she can muster in the face of diminishing strength and utter dependency on others.

To help herself come to terms with her impending demise, Jade is working with a faith healer to clear her bad energy, and life coach, Sue Stone, who says Jade has started reading the Bible. Jade has also brought in specialist grief counsellors to assist her to be able to explain to her children what is going to happen.

In order to earn even more money for the boys she cherishes, Jade is keeping a secret, personal diary of her illness which will be published after her death.

But before the last flower in her funeral cortège dies, Jade will have faced the ultimate test of her courage - and Max Clifford's office will have drained the last glass of celebration champagne in her honour. There is no question that Max Clifford and Jade Goody will have made a good deal of money from the publicity that his company has generated for her.

But that aside, Max Clifford is the perfect person to be there to comfort Jade in the privacy of her hospital bedroom, when the light starts to dim and she cannot find the strength to cuddle her two boys close to her any longer; for he was also born into a poor family, the youngest of four children. Max's father was a gambler and alcoholic who was frequently unemployed.

Max left school at fifteen with no qualifications and within four months of starting, was sacked from his first job in Elys Department Store in Wimbledon. After working in newspapers for several years, he too, got a lucky break working for EMI in the press office. As he was the only trained journalist there, he was given the job of promoting an unknown - and apparently unwanted - pop group called 'The Beatles', who were touring the US at that time.

From there Max eventually found himself with Chris Hutchins' PR agency, where through association with Harold Davidson, the impressario, he rubbed shoulders with stars of stage and screen - including Frank Sinatra and Judy Garland.

When the head of Chris Hutchins' agency, Syd Gillingham, decided to retire in 1970, Max Clifford opened his own agency, He was then just 27 - which was considered pretty young to move in top circles as a publicist in those days.

His popularity grew, and in 1986 he masterminded a publicity stunt for Freddie Starr. The Sun newspaper carried the now famous headline: 'FREDDIE STARR ATE MY HAMSTER'. This outrageous story catapulted Max Clifford to fame.

Big names seeking publicity started to knock loudly on his door - including a brothel 'madam' who was to bring him wealth through a prostitute named Pamella Bordes. The headline that did it this time was: 'CALL GIRL WORKS IN COMMONS'. It involved Conservative Sports Minister Colin Moynihan, billionaire arms dealer Adnan Khashoggi, Andrew Neil and Donald Trelford - and it's alleged that Max Clifford leaked information to The News of the World to serve his own ends.

Max soon found himself in a world of sleaze, protecting gay footballers from press intrusion, and exposing stories to get the Labour Party into power. Jeffrey Archer has no reason to befriend him either, as Max exposed Archer's perjury in 1980 which sent him to goal.

But he was instrumental in getting Tracey Temple more than £100,000 from the Mail on Sunday for telling all about her affair with John Prescott. Fearless as ever, in 2006 Max announced he was going to expose politicians who failed to abide by the standards expected of them in public office. He himself received death threats over the Stephen Lawrence affair, and when he got involved with the O.J. Simpson trial.

Max Clifford makes no bones about his animosity towards rival publicist Simon Fuller - or his belief that appearing on a reality TV show, flaunting your body or being abysmal on a talent show, is a sure way to fame and fortune. These thoughts may have emanated from the discreet weekly adult sex parties he ran for his friends and clients in South London during the late 1970's and early 1980's.

At the age of 46, Max developed epilepsy as a result of early life brain scarring and was banned from driving for eighteen months.

Maybe it was these similarities between their lives that drew Jade Goody and Max Clifford together, and cemented the close platonic bond that exists between them. Of course, the sad death of Max Clifford's wife, Elizabeth, from lung cancer in 2003 - and the fact that Max himself was found to have prostrate cancer in 2008 - strengthens this bond considerably.

It's easy to see that Jade Goody has a quicksilver mind, easily grasping new ideas with great dexterity. Max Clifford is also agile, highly motivated and fearless. Jade is hungrily seeking the ideal life for herself, but her upbringing and character prevent her from finding it.

Now she is running out of the resources to continue her journey, she'll need Max Clifford's steadfastness and gallantry to counteract her own short temper, restlessness and aggressiveness - which is nothing but a reaction to boredom.

Whatever else has come out of The Jade Goody / Max Clifford Affair is left to each one of us to decide. Small business owners may relate her life to the words of Theo Paphitis who, when commenting on the credit crunch, said: "When this crisis started, they (the Government) didn't know what to do. They never thought it would be as deep as it is at the moment. And they are making it up as they go along. But nobody is prepared to say 'We don't have a blueprint. We're trying to react to everything we are discovering as we go along.' "

I think when Jade Goody was accused of making racist remarks to Shilpa Shetty, her personal 'crisis' started, and she didn't know where it would take her because she simply didn't have a blueprint for it.

The Jade Goody / Max Clifford Affair demonstrates clearly the difference between marketing and Referral Marketing. Max Clifford has done a Referral Marketing operation by building credibility and using tactics that are designed to attract new customers. Whereas Jade Goody has marketed her product poorly, and deliberately blinded herself to the long game being powerless to change the cruel hand Fate has dealt her.

Inevitably, her business empire will crumble when she no longer occupies the 'Big Chair'. Jade Goody knows it - and that explains why she is so intent on making all the money she can whilst she is still on this earth.

In today's times, it http://tappakilon.com/u0gcnci575/post-the-best-advice-131050.html is mandatory for you and your future spouse to go for an HIV Screening Test. You cannot afford to take risks with your life. In reality shows like Big Brother or Bigg Boss, participants are asked to take HIV tests to make sure that they are not HIV positive. The chances of participants having sex in the famous game show are minimal but this is life and you are definitely not 'playing' with it.

So it is better to get yourself screened for HIV. But then most of us are not really forthcoming about it even though it is very important. In many societies, we do not even know our partners till our parents and elders bring us together. Even in cases of love marriages, we cannot trust anyone so easily.

How do I convince my future husband to go for an HIV test? You can tell your husband to be that this test is very important for both of you. You can tell him that it has nothing to do with him; it is just to allay your fears. It is important to make him understand that you are not accusing him. You can also offer to be tested for HIV yourself; this will make him clear of your intentions. Ask him to go for a test along with you-make it a date thing in a way. There are many couples who are increasing taking the AIDS test before marriage. You are doing the right thing-after all, it is important for your future. It is a lot nicer to be safe than sorry.

[inkognito97]

What if Obiwan thinks everyone forgot his birthday? Quigon has something special planned but first...

Obi-Wanawoke at seven o'clock, like every normal day. He had his usual morning routineand his usual chores. It could have been like any other day, hadn’t it been forone small detail. Today was his birthday. He didn’t expect much, he was a Jedi intraining after all, just perhaps a little gathering with his closest friendsand perhaps a few hours off. At least this is how it had been for the lastbirthdays since he had become a Padawan. So, without too many expectations, didhe enter the kitchen, where Qui-Gon Jinn was already sitting, sipping his tea.

“Goodmorning Master,” greeted the Padawan, while he grabbed himself an apple and a knifefrom the counter.

“Goodmorning Obi-Wan, I trust you slept well?”

“As usual,you?”

“I can’tcomplain.” That was the usual morning exchange in the Jinn/Kenobi quarters, butthis morning, Obi-Wan had expected a small ‘Happy Birthday’ from the oldermale. It never came, instead Qui-Gon turned back to the datapad he had beenreading.

The Padawanshrugged mentally, perhaps Qui-Gon was not as awake as he looked. Withoutsaying another word, he sat down at the table and began eating. Little did heknow that Qui-Gon Jinn was already in the middle of planning and scheming.

The day didNOT proceed as Obi-Wan had expected. After breakfast, Qui-Gon and he hadmeditated before Obi-Wan had gone to his lessons. The older male had not saidanything about his birthday, his EIGHTEENTH birthday at that.

The Padawanhad quickly pushed those thoughts aside however, when he spotted his friends,already waiting in the classroom. At least they should know that he was comingof age today, but they too did not say anything. Obi-Wan began to harbor doubts.Perhaps it had been HIM, who made a mistake. Perhaps he had misread the datesomehow, but a quick look on the calendar on his datapad destroyed that hope.It WAS his birthday and it looked like he was the only one who remembered it.

The rest ofthe day, nobody came to him and congratulated him. Not even Master Windu orMaster Yoda, who usually ALWAYS congratulated when one of their fellow Jedi hadbirthday.

If he washonest with himself, then Obi-Wan was greatly disappointed. Perhaps he was notas important to his friends and Master as he had thought. Or perhaps they allthought that his birthday was not a significant event. It didn’t help toimprove his bad mood, not at all. Actually those thoughts just made it muchworse and it showed. Obi-Wan was sure that he had never before been so bad inlightsaber training, never before in his whole life. Qui-Gon – Force bless hissoul – had waved it away as just a bad day, something he had too. At least thatis what the Jedi Master had said. It did not make Obi-Wan feel better though.If his Master truly had bad days, he had not seen one yet.

Trainingcontinued and Obi-Wan was eventually able to push down his negative feelingsenough, to actually make some progress. Not as much as usual, but at leastsomewhat. In the end, Qui-Gon had been satisfied with his effort as well and hewas excused to spend the rest of the evening, however he wanted. Obi-Wan chosethe solitude of the temple garden, after a warm and relaxing shower.

The templegarden was peaceful and empty as usual. The sun was still shining through the bigglass ceiling, warming up the whole atmosphere. It was beautiful and Obi-Wanwas glad that he had decides to come here. He felt a lot better since enteringthe garden, less sad and disappointed, not in his friends but in himself. Hewas a Jedi, he should not be bothered by simple matters just like a forgottenbirthday. It could happen, HE had forgotten some too, back when he had beenlittle.

The gingerhaired Padawan took a deep breath and seated himself close to one of the pondsin the middle of the garden. The sound of water was distracting him from histhoughts and the plants around the water hole were pulsing with life. He feltcontent, not only with himself, but with the Force. And eventually, he driftedinto a deep meditation.

Qui-Gon toohad entered the garden, but at a much later time than his Padawan. He hadtracked down their bond and followed his young Padawan to the temple’s mostloved place. It didn’t surprise the Jedi Master that his charge had went here,not when he had been in such an emotional turmoil during training. The Masterwas however surprised when he found the Padawan sitting near one of the ponds,deep in meditation. Obi-Wan usually sunk deep into the Force while he wasmeditating, but rare were the times when he truly went THIS deep, into a stateQui-Gon could not reach, no matter how much he wanted to. He was simply nottalented enough in the Unifying Force to achieve such a deep connection duringan ordinary meditation.

Withoutsilencing his steps – Obi-Wan would not notice anyway – he walked forward,until he was right behind the teenager. He kneeled down and wrapped his armsaround the ginger haired boy and he laid his hands over the other’s closedeyes. Only then did he tug relatively hard on their bond, to rouse his Padawanfrom his deep meditation.

Obi-Wangrumbled when he was roused from his meditative state. Sometimes he thoughtthat his Master had a talent from disturbing him during the most inappropriatemoments. Only when he was fully back in his own body, did he realize somethingelse. There was an all too familiar presence behind him and when he opened hiseyes, he found himself being blinded by what could only be two large andcalloused hands.

“Guesswho,” a deep baritone voice whispered into the Padawan’s ear, it soundedamused.

“Master,”Obi-Wan sighed dramatically, but also amused. When had been the last time histall teacher had acted so childish?

Qui-Gonchuckled and pulled the young male tightly against his chest, “How is myfavorite Padawan?”

“You onlyhave one,” Obi-Wan grumbled, but he leaned more into the man behind him. “I amfine.”

The JediMaster hummed in thought. He probed the Force and really, Obi-Wan seemed contentand happy. He had not expected this, especially not after the quite badtraining session.

“Is thatso?” his eyebrow was raised, even though Obi-Wan could not see it. “I guess wehave to change that then.”

The gingerhaired Padawan looked up at him, confusion written all over his features.“Master?” his voice too, was unsure.

“Merely ‘fine’and on such a day,” he shook his head and tightened the hold on the teenager,before pulling back and getting back to his feet, “definitely something we haveto change.”

“I don’tunderstand,” the teenager replied, but he followed his Master’s examplenevertheless. From the way the older Jedi held himself and from that particularsmirk that was only partly hidden in his beard, Obi-Wan knew that Qui-Gon wasplanning something. But for the love of the Force, he could not guess what itwas that he was scheming.

“Trust me,young one, you will.” With that Qui-Gon turned around and walked out of thegarden, his Padawan two steps behind him and one to the left. The Master wouldhave none of it – not today – and motioned for his charge to walk right next tohim. Obi-Wan complied.

“Where arewe going?” the Padawan asked after a while, when Qui-Gon lead him right out ofthe temple.

“Patienceis a virtue, young one.”“Sharing too, you know.”

Qui-Gonlaughed at the cheeky reply. “Right you are, my insolent Padawan, butunfortunately for you, I am still the Master.”

“Oh yes,how could I have forgotten?” he smirked up at his mentor.

“Brat,”there was only amusement in his voice.

“I HAVE tokeep you entertained after all,” the Padawan laughed.

“Ah, sothis is your secret mission that Master Yoda has given you. I knew the trollwas out to get me, but that he would sink so low to use my own Padawan againstme,” he shook his head in mock disgust and disbelief.

“Oh no,THIS mission was given to Master Windu, I am merely here to amuse you.” Obi-Wanshrugged and he briefly glanced up at the other’s face.

“I knewit,” Qui-Gon suddenly exclaimed, “that damn bald son of a bantha. And here I trustedhim.”

The twoJedi had stopped walking and midnight blue eyes were locked with blue-greenones. A moment neither of them said anything, but then both of them juststarted laughing, not minding the other people that were sending themincredulous looks. When the two had calmed down again, Obi-Wan was brushingtears from his eyes – he himself did not know why he had found that so funny –and Qui-Gon was giving his Padawan a loving smile. He reached out and ruffledthe short ginger hair of his charge.

“Let’s getgoing, we don’t want to be late, do we?”

“LateMaster? Late for what?” he asked, but the taller man just smirked mysteriouslyand shrugged, before starting to walk again, leaving Obi-Wan to silently cursestubborn and secretive Jedi Masters.

It was notmuch longer until Obi-Wan recognized where they were and even though Qui-Gonhad previously used another way, he now knew where they were heading.

“Dex DinerMaster, really?”

“I am notgoing to say anything,” Qui-Gon just replied, but he didn’t need to say more.

And truly,soon after their brief exchange, came the flashing red light of Dex Diner’ssign in sight. What bothered the Padawan however, was that the shutters wereall shut and nobody entered or left the diner. Qui-Gon seemed not to be overlybothered and with a hand on his student’s back, he steered the young male on.

To Obi-Wan’ssurprise, the door to the dark diner was not closed. Instead Qui-Gon casuallypushed it opened and with a – hard, but lovingly meant – push, did he send hisPadawan tumbling into the dark room. The door chime sounded a second time andfor a moment, nothing happened. Then all the lights were turned on, Obi-Wan hadto squint against it until he could make out a lot of people, who were allyelling, “Happy Birthday!”

The Padawanwas overwhelmed for a moment, his eyes wide and mouth gasping in surprise. Gatheredhere, in the small and slightly dirty restaurant, were not only his friends,but a lot of people he knew and a few other Jedi, like Master Windu and MasterYoda.

He questioninglyturned to his Master, who chuckled at his student’s obvious shock and surprise,before enveloping the teen into a tight hug. “Happy Birthday, Padawan.” For amoment, he tightened the embrace and Obi-Wan had just enough time to notice thelarge blue balloon-eighteen that hung in the air, before he was pulled intomore embraces.

His friends,both from the Jedi Order, but also from the missions he had shared with hisMaster, were congratulating him. Some of his Master’s friends were also thereand of course, Dex wasn’t missing either. All in all, Obi-Wan could not quitebelieve what his Master had done, just for him.

Obi-Wan wasglad and perhaps a little bit tired, when he entered the rooms he shared withQui-Gon, the latter right behind his Padawan. It was deep in the night, perhapseven morning again.

Qui-Gonwatched the teenager – he shook his head and reminded himself that Obi-Wan wasnow officially an adult – fondly. The party had been a successful surprise andhe knew that Obi-Wan had enjoyed it. The tall Jedi had to admit though, that itwouldn’t have been half as great, had not so many people helped with theproject. It was truly incredible how many different beings his Padawan had befriendedduring his short life.

“Master,”the familiar accented voice brought Qui-Gon back to the here and now.

“Yes?”

Instead ofan answer, the tall Jedi Master found himself with an armful of an eighteenyear old, who was burying his face in his Master’s neck. “Thank you so much.”Blue-green eyes were suspiciously glistening in the light.

Qui-Gonshook his head, causing the brown strands of his hair that had escaped hisbraid, to fall into his face. “Don’t thank me yet, not when you have not evenreceived my present.”

The otherpresents were still in the diner, but Dex would make sure that they would laterbe delivered to their quarters in the Jedi temple.

“Anotherrock perhaps?” the Padawan guessed, but without any judgment in his voice. Upuntil now, Obi-Wan had always gotten a rock to his birthday, ever since he hadbecome Qui-Gon’s Padawan. Every single rock held a special place in the learner’sheart, because every stone had a story to tell. Like the Force sensitive stone,which was the first present he had ever been given by his Master, or like theordinary looking grey stone, which was actually from Qui-Gon’s home planet andhad been in the Master’s possession since his early years in the crèche. Everystone had a story and every stone was special in its own way. Obi-Wan treasuredthem all.

“Somethinglike that,” Qui-Gon pulled back and walked into his bedroom. He had motionedhis Padawan to follow, which the younger male immediately did. From his drawerdid the brown haired Jedi pull out a little black box and he handed this box tohis student.

Obi-Wanlooked at the small object in his hand with interest. Qui-Gon had never wrappeda rock up, so this must be something quite special. He briefly looked at theother male in the room, who stood straight and with his hands hidden in thesleeves of his robe, before he sat down on the bed to open his present. A gaspescaped Obi-Wan, when he finally saw what was inside.

“Master,you haven’t…”

“Oh, but Ithink I did,” the older male chuckled and he discarded his robe – he carelesslythrew it on a nearby chair – before he joined his student on his bed.

Withshaking fingers did the young male take the small blue object out of the box.The crystal was even more beautiful, more pure, out in the light of themoonlight that shown through the curtains.

Lightsabercrystals were rare and even rarer, were the gifted to another person. Obi-Wanrealized that his Master must love him dearly to give him such a beautifulgift.

“This was thevery first crystal that I found on Illum. Over the time, I grew and mylightsaber had to grow as well. Sadly this crystal did not fit anymore and Ihad to search for a new one…” there was a brief pause, “I hope it will serveyou as well as it served me. I hope it will protect you, especially then, whenthe time has come for you to follow your own path, without me guiding yourevery step.”

Obi-Wangently put the blue crystal back into the cushioned box and he set it onQui-Gon’s drawer. “I don’t know what to say to this,” he admitted.

“The politeresponse would be ‘thank you’,” Qui-Gon offered and there was a sparkle in hiseyes, when he put his arm around the smaller male’s shoulder.

The Padawanimmediately leaned into the contact. “Thank you Qui-Gon, for everything.” Andhe meant so much more than the surprise party and the crystal.

His secondarm wrapped around the ginger haired adult as well. “Not for that.”