Spongebob Squarepants Imagination

On the surface, Connor Shaw appears to be the coolheaded, celibate follower of the Fyerian faith who lives like a monk. All of Jewelton knows that about him. Behind closed doors, however, he suffers from a severe case of compulsive sexual disorder. According to the traditions of the merpeople, a mermaid like Sylvie Waverly will have to marry the first human she meets and perform the ultimate act of intimacy 999 times. Masquerading as a lovesick doormat, Sylvie does everything she can to marry Connor. However, the only one in Connor's heart is Anna Larson, his first love. Everyone assumes Sylvie will get jealous, but all she wants is to complete her mission as soon as possible and return to her own world. Once Connor has bedded her 999 times, Sylvie leaves him without a second thought. By the time Connor realizes Sylvie is the mermaid who saved him all those years ago and that she alone can cure him of his compulsive sexual disorder, it is all too late.

"You know, don't you?" I took a deep breath. His gaze was still on me. "What do you mean—" "Don't play dumb," he cut me off, and I swallowed. "I..." I paused and stared at the ground. "I don't know much... I don't know yet." "Do you know who I am?" I shook my head. "I know you're not normal." I looked up. "But I don't know why." His eyes flashed silver as I tried to read his expression, but came up empty. "I know your eyes change color because of your emotions. But I don't know what it means." As the room fell silent, he averted his gaze. ******* On her first day on campus, Rayline Hale, an average girl just starting college, never thought her world would change. That's when she meets Cole Spencer, a handsome young man who seems to be every girl's walking nightmare. With his cold stare and mysterious aura, Cole is a young man unlike any other. But behind his frightening appearance, Cole hides a secret that Rayline cannot understand. He is no ordinary man. This is the beginning of an adventure that will change Rayline's entire life. He opens the door to a world far beyond her imagination, where supernatural creatures roam and ancient secrets shroud human reality. The deeper Rayline digs for clues, the clearer the hidden truth becomes. But the closer she gets to Cole, the stronger her feelings for him become. The love that grows between them seems magical, though Rayline is terrified. How can she love someone who is not human?

"Like what you see?" he asked, his voice low and seductive. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're lying," he commented, his voice husky. "I can smell your desire, Gracie. You want me, just as much as I want you." ~~~~~ "You have no right to judge me or my actions! How dare you?!" He spat at her. Gracie swallowed hard, feeling a wave of fear wash over her, as he called out to his guards. "Strip her of all her clothings, and put her where she belongs!" he barked, pointing towards her. __________ In a far-away land, there lived a powerful Lycan King who was dreaded by all, for his cruelty and mercilessness was way beyond the imagination of all under his reign, and far away from him. Alpha Jerri was no match to anyone, and even his closest pals feared for their lives. All the young girls around went into hiding all because of his cruelty, yet, getting any of his choice to satisfy his lust, took him nothing to achieve. Gracie, a young girl who was at the mercy of her father, was frustrated with her life, but only a glimmer of hope kept her going… A story of pain, trauma, lust and insane satisfaction… leading to a cloudy world of the unknown.. Gracie must stay strong to hang on, or be at the mercy of her oppressors!

I wasn’t even pregnant, yet I ended up popping abortion pills like they were candy. It was all because in my past life, the moment my widowed sister-in-law got pregnant, every single side effect of her pregnancy became mine. She strutted around happily with her big belly, consuming spicy tamales, while I was rushed to the hospital for violent nausea and stomach pain; she showed off her flawless skin in crop tops every day, while my stomach broke out in hideous stretch marks. When I told my husband what was happening, he just shoved me away impatiently. “Enough with the jealousy! My brother’s dead, and she’s carrying his only child. Of course, I should look out for her. Do you really have to put on such an act?” After that, my sister-in-law went even further. She kept testing her limits during pregnancy and even ate a mango she was allergic to. And me? I went into anaphylactic shock, landed in the hospital, and nearly died. Doctors couldn’t explain it. They just brushed it off, saying I was overly jealous and it was all psychological. Later, my sister-in-law tried to brand herself as a “hot single mom”. She went live, belly and all, to show off her weight-loss workouts. She jumped around for three straight hours. And me? My uterus literally gave out, and I hemorrhaged to death. When I opened my eyes again, it was the exact day she first announced her pregnancy.

This story is not a story at all ; it is rather a journal that documents events which shapes this author's life. Walk the journey with me ; is it what you going through to? If so , hopefully this journal will help you feel as if you are not alone in this world. This book will contain good times , as well as bad times. The events that occurs are not made up in my imagination ; these events were lived out and documented as soon as possible. Let us conquer these problems together!

When I woke up that morning and happened to glance at the mirror, a scream tore from my throat before I could stop it. Because on the face I had always taken such pride in, there was now a jagged, horrifying scar. As terror gripped me, a cool, detached female voice cut through the air beside me. "What are you shrieking about so early in the morning? Scared by your own ugly face?" I looked up in shock and realized the voice belonged to my girlfriend, Alicia. Only—she wasn't the same girl from yesterday. Gone was the youthful innocence I remembered. In its place, every movement, every glance radiated the allure of a mature woman. The words slipped out before I could hold them back. "Babe… you're gorgeous…" But Alicia's brows knit together, her gaze colder than ice. "Kurt, drop the act!" Act? I was at a loss. Why would she accuse me of pretending? "Don't call me the way you used to five years ago. It's disgusting." Five years ago? But… I'm still twenty-three… am I not?

In my last life, the System let my parents swap my SAT scores with my twin's. I was always top of my class—until I magically bombed with a 640. Amelia Everton? Scored a perfect 1520, like she'd earned it. The internet went nuts. Everyone called me a fraud. My parents played innocent on TV, said I'd been cheating for years. Every college ghosted me. Then they kicked me out. I froze to death alone. Not this time. I'm taking it all back—every last thing they stole.

I was reborn on the day my sister, Tilda Wright, and I had to pick our husbands. That was when I realized I could hear people’s thoughts. I heard Tilda say, [This time, I’m gonna make sure I grab the best husband first.] Then, just like that, she rushed over and took the sweet guy I had married in my last life, while I ended up with the abusive man who used to beat her every day. I laughed to myself. Did she really think the guy I married before was some perfect gentleman?

Midnight. I heard a faint meowing through the window. I was about to have a look when floating words appeared in front of me. [Don't open the window! There isn't a cat outside! It's a serial killer!] [I'm done. How could the side character be so dumb? I can already imagine how tragic her death will be.] [Go and find the villain! He loves you so much! He will surely protect you!] I quickly retracted my hand on the window latch…

Tunnels deconstructs the individual’s Romantic fascination with ‘love’ or the grammaticality of beauty. Ideally, the ‘tunnels’ in the collection are subterranean love poems from the suburban imaginary. These seemingly syntactic tunnels travel through one’s literary imagination or heterotopic dreamscapes, and while αγάπη (Greek for ‘love’) inspires these rhizomic tunnels to navigate the abysmal ‘meta-spectacle’ of gesture, language or moment of poemness, the mind like the many-colored jeepneys of Manila, where driving past roast goose restaurants in Shek Kip Mei or spotting stilt houses in Kampong Kleang, attempt to explore the transgeneric textualities of the everyday, alongside the unstructurality of time and space, the littoral and the liminal.