Childcore Emojis & Text

GENERAL ADVICE FOR USING SITE so we can keep it up NO DOXXING- leaking a specific person's residential address and who lives full name STORY TIME- don't leak a real person's full name when typing out a juicy gossip tea but you can change the first name or to remain anonymous instead. Otherwise go and create let writing flow! PREACHING- don't over fill with arguing on whether or not to promote, such as your discord server nor how to raise family age viewers must be. You can tag yourself tho.

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Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 1 day ago saltwatertaffy324 I focussed solely on my children, telling myself the moments wouldn’t last forever once they grew up It wasn’t until after I put them on the bus did I check my phone to see all the alerts about cancelled school.

🧸❣️🎀 🧸🎀❣️

can ppl stop asking 'where is the beef' because it takes up space on here use a different platform if you want to comment on others Even though most NSFW content is blocked, please limit it before bots and or moderators restrict and/or take down the submissions site please thx bye

Why write such about comfort characters? as a way to express creativity a coping mechanism enjoy the friendship bonding side of it enjoy seeing characters being comforted and cared for after enjoy characters dealing with hard things it makes good story character development @ALYJACI

𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝑖'𝑚 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠, 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑣𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑤𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 ♡ ˚₊‧⁺

Tuesday, March 31st, 2015 | I only go shopping at night The cashier swipes my items across the scanner as I stare at the floor. I find it easiest to get through my anxiety by avoiding eye contact with other people. That’s why I only go shopping at night fewer people to avoid. “Did you find everything okay?” she asks casually. “Mm-hmm,” I mumble to the floor. Her voice sounds nice. Pleasant. Curiosity wins over and I glance up. The cashier’s head is completely caved in on the left side. Probably a car accident. I snap my gaze back down towards the floor. After I pay she gives back my change in a hand so mangled I’m surprised it can hold anything at all. Thanking her, I grab my bags and turn towards the exit. Immediately I see a man looking through magazines at the store front. The skin on his face and hands is the consistency of a hot dog that fell into a campfire. Burn victim. I rush out the door as fast as I can. In my car I finally catch my breath as I lean my forehead on the steering wheel. Eventually I look up and see my familiar reflection in the rear-view mirror: my head is blown open in the back. Gunshot victim. Why did I ever wish for the power to see how people die? Credit to reddit user resistance1984

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sᴍᴀʟʟ ᴄᴀᴘs, uʍop ǝpısdn, ⓑⓤⓑⓑⓛⓔ, ᙡᗩᐯᎩ, u̲n̲d̲e̲r̲l̲i̲n̲e̲d̲, c̶r̶o̶s̶s̶e̶d̶ ̶o̶u̶t̶ , ґц$їfу, ｗｉｄｅ ᗩᑎᗪ ᑕOOᒪ.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 yr. ago Averagebiker21 After I asked the crystal ball to tell me how to escape death, I was very confused as it read "No, thanks honey, I'm full" However, something clicked in my head when my wife offered me cake after dinner...

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r/shortscarystories 12 hr. ago Wellsong Mrs. Johnson's wise decision Stacy Johnson watched the five candles flicker on her cake with avid, fire-bright eyes, her round cheeks dimpling as her smile grew bigger and bigger. Three tiers of chocolate sponge, iced with swirling blue and pink buttercream and decorated with white chocolate buttons: the apogee of Mrs. Johnson’s baking efforts. Stacy’s school friends bounced in their seats. They’d played the games, they’d watched Stacy tear open her presents, and now it was time for the party to pay dividends. A few of them had had to be pulled back from reaching for the cake before the candles were even lit. “Make a wish,” Stacy’s mum said, fumbling with the camera app on her phone. Stacy squeezed her eyes closed, an expression of reverent concentration wiping the dimples smooth. She sucked in a deep breath, her chest swelling—and released the gathered air in one long whoosh. Mrs. Johnson’s index finger brushed the touchscreen of her phone. There was a soft click as the phone mimicked a shutter closing, half a second before the last candle went out. Then the electric lights went out too. It should have been bright outside, but only wispy twilight was seeping through the windows. All the children except the birthday girl made noises of alarm and consternation. “I made my wish!” Stacy declared, her voice cutting into the murmurs all around her. Mrs. Johnson opened her mouth to answer, but all she could manage was a soft croak as dark shapes erupted from the corners of the room, huge and twisted, and seized the children sitting around the table. The children screamed, their terror melding into a shuddering wall of sound, but there was nothing they could do to resist what was happening to them. The screams receded as they were torn away into—through—the floor and the walls and the ceiling by the shadowy creatures, until the dark was silent and peaceful and empty again. The light came back as quickly as it had disappeared, flicking the room back to normalcy in an instant. Midday sun swept across the balloons and the banners and the cake and Stacy Johnson’s pleased hungry expression. But all the other children were gone, as if they’d never been part of the scene at all. “Now the cake’s all for me,” said Stacy, dimpling anew. “Unless…do you want some, Mummy?”

The phrase “comfort character” is part of that pop culture landscape. What is a “comfort character”? Everything You Need to Know about Comfort Characters By: Author Marcel Iseli Posted on Last updated: April 18, 2023 What is a “comfort character”? A comfort character is a character in a fictional world, such as a TV show, movie, game, book, or comic, that a person strongly identifies with and takes comfort from. They may use thoughts of the comfort character to help them through hard times. The person will simply feel drawn toward the character. Even if you have never encountered the term before, you probably know this feeling of really liking or identifying with a character. When the person feels down, they could watch, read or play whatever this character appears in and then feel better after spending some time with the character. Strong identification with a character is another way a person may choose a comfort character. For example, maybe there is a main character in a movie who has a story arc that show them becoming a more confident person. Someone who identified with this comfort character might struggle with their confidence as well. When they were in situations where they lacked confidence, they could think about how this character handled similar situations. The concept of comfort characters is very popular in online fandom. “Fandom” refers to any community that arises around a piece of media, whether that’s a game, a popular show, a book, a comic or a movie. It’s a little bit different from simply being a fan of something. People involved in a fandom often belong to internet communities that talk about these characters a lot. They might attend meetups or conventions based around this fandom and dress up like the character. It’s also very common for them to create their own art around the stories that they love. For example, they might draw pictures of the character in various situations, or they might write new stories about adventures that the characters have beyond the scope of the original tale that they came from. In fact, you might find some accounts entirely devoted to comfort characters, sometimes called “stan accounts.” “Stan” is slang that refers to being a big fan of something or someone. How comfort characters help People report comfort characters helping them in very real ways in their lives. If they struggle with anxiety and panic attacks, thinking about their comfort character can often help stave off these feelings. There has been some research that shows that these characters can have a positive effect on fans, encouraging them to act in ways that are more beneficial for them. For most people, comfort characters are fun, beneficial ways to better enjoy the stories they love.

Mothers Illness My mother had fallen ill. She had what my dad did, at least thats what it looked like Everyone cried. I asked if we could take her to the doctor, but we cant afford it My older sister took time off college to take care of her, but we knew how it would end Mother would die like father did Two months later she did After the funeral the cops started to snooping around They questioned me first; they wanted to know what l knew: They threatened me, saying I could be charged as an adult because I was almost seventeen. I cried and said I loved my parents They took my finger prints and let me go. My sister was next They never let her go. They said she poisoned my parents for the life insurance policy she took out on them. My three younger siblings and i couldnt believe it My sister never admitted to the crime, but everyone said she was guilty. That is what it looked like. • The hardest part of it all was getting my sisters figure prints on the poison. Faking her identity to take out the insurance policies was easy Soon Id be going to a new home, with new parents. Its time to start planning my next game.

The Lights When I was young, I used to sleep in my mother's bed a lot due to the nightmares I frequently had as a kid. I could always find peace under the covers of my mom's bed but I now realize the actual comfort had come from the lights. Though still foggy in my memory, there had always been a pair of two lights somewhere near the ceiling of my moms room; I never thought much of them, at least nothing bad of course, they were comforting, soothing, warm. I began depending on these lights, so much that when there didn't show (only on rare occasions), I couldn't help feeling distraught and never got a good sleep. I never investigated the lights, perhaps if I had I wouldn't be in the situation I am now. Eventually I got older and gradually stopped sleeping in my mom's room. The nightmares stopped and I had relatively forgotten about the lights, until last night. Stumbling to bed around midnight after a long night of studies, I couldn't wait to just hit the bed and sleep; I didn't get much, after all. Tormented by visions I hadn't had in a long time left me paralyzed and covered in sweat when I awoke. Somewhat relieved to be back to my world I was confronted with with a fond memory brought up through a familiar feeling. It took a few moments to notice the two solid lights and by now my eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness. Adrenaline surged through my body as I gripped the sides of my bed. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed something I hadn't through the foggy memories. They weren't lights; they were glowing red eyes. I began to wonder if this was another part of a nightmare, It had to be. Deep down I knew it wasn't, this was all too real. Through lost hope and fear for the unknown a grabbed the closest thing i could, a gift from my mother on my birthday a few years ago, a snow globe from our Denver ski trip. Playing baseball at school I developed a pretty efficient throwing arm. Launching it across the room with my pitching arm the eyes went dark followed by a thump on the floor in front of my bed. Turning on the lights left a pang of guilt in my stomach, why was that so easy. Seeing the creature for the first time up close and knowing it had been around here since I was a kid brought bile up my throat. Its limbs were half as thick than an average humans and where it's skin should have been was a substance unknown to me, dark and leathery but looked as though you could stick your hand right through it, recently punctured with shards of glass. What happened next led me to believe the theory I came up with, as soon as I turned on the lights, was true. This creature wasn't my enemy; nor was it just a neutral visitor. That's when it began, the trampling creaks on the stairs, windows smashing, and above all the worst part was the grotesque shrieks and howls. I knew what I had done tonight was the worst and probably last mistake of my life. Somewhere down the hall my sister screamed. The creature, the one I had killed, had been my protection.

Search the dictionary "horror" meaning in All languages combined Noun [English] IPA: /ˈhɒɹ.ə/ [New-England, Received-Pronunciation], /ˈhɔɹ.ɚ/ [Canada, General-American], /ˈhɑɹ.ɚ/ [New-York-City, Philadelphia], /ˈhɔɚ/ (note: some accents) Audio: en-us-horror.ogg ▶️ [US] Forms: horrors [plural] [Show additional information ▼] (countable, uncountable) An intense distressing emotion of fear or repugnance. Tags: countable, uncountable Categories (topical): Fear Translations (intense distressing fear or repugnance): tmerr [masculine] (Albanian), رُعْب (ruʕb) [masculine] (Arabic), خَوْف (ḵawf) [masculine] (Arabic), սարսափ (sarsapʿ) (Armenian), ահ (ah) (Armenian), vahimə (Azerbaijani), dəhşət (Azerbaijani), жах (žax) [masculine] (Belarusian), страх (strax) [masculine] (Belarusian), ভয় (bhoẏ) (Bengali), у́жас (úžas) [masculine] (Bulgarian), страх (strah) [masculine] (Bulgarian), horror [masculine] (Catalan), 恐怖 (kǒngbù) (Chinese Mandarin), 恐懼 (Chinese Mandarin), 恐惧 (kǒngjù) (Chinese Mandarin), hrůza [feminine] (Czech), gru (Danish), rædsel (Danish), gruwel [masculine] (Dutch), õudus (Estonian), kauhu (Finnish), kammo (Finnish), hirveys (Finnish), horreur [masculine] (French), effroi [masculine] (French), horror [masculine] (Galician), საშინელება (sašineleba) (Georgian), Angst [feminine] (German), Furcht [feminine] (German), Horror [masculine] (German), Grauen [neuter] (German), Greuel [masculine] (German), 𐌿𐍃𐍆𐌹𐌻𐌼𐌴𐌹 (usfilmei) [feminine] (Gothic), τρόμος (trómos) [masculine] (Greek), אֵימָה (éima) [feminine] (Hebrew), दहशत (dahśat) [feminine] (Hindi), आतंक (ātaṅk) [masculine] (Hindi), भय (bhay) [masculine] (Hindi), borzalom (Hungarian), ógn [feminine] (Icelandic), horor (Indonesian), uafás [masculine] (Irish), orrore [masculine] (Italian), 恐怖 (kyōfu) (alt: きょうふ) (Japanese), 恐れ (osore) (alt: おそれ) (Japanese), қорқыныш (qorqynyş) (Kazakh), ភេរវារម្មណ៍ (pheirĕəʼviərɑm) (Khmer), 공포 (gongpo) (alt: 恐怖) (Korean), 무서움 (museoum) (Korean), 두려움 (duryeoum) (Korean), коркунуч (korkunuc) (Kyrgyz), horror [masculine] (Latin), šausmas [feminine] (Latvian), siaubas (Lithuanian), šiurpas (Lithuanian), у́жас (úžas) [masculine] (Macedonian), страв (strav) [masculine] (Macedonian), аймшиг (ajmšig) (Mongolian), gru [feminine] (Norwegian Bokmål), redsel [masculine] (Norwegian Bokmål), orror (Occitan), ōga [masculine] (Old English), دهشت (dahšat) [masculine] (Pashto), وحشت (vahšat) (Persian), دهشت (dahšat) (Persian), Grul [feminine] (Plautdietsch), groza [feminine] (Polish), strach [masculine] (Polish), horror [masculine] (Portuguese), groază [feminine] (Romanian), oroare [feminine] (Romanian), spaimă [feminine] (Romanian), у́жас (úžas) [masculine] (Russian), страх (strax) [masculine] (Russian), боя́знь (bojáznʹ) [feminine] (Russian), घोर (ghora) [masculine] (Sanskrit), у̏жа̄с [Cyrillic, masculine] (Serbo-Croatian), ȕžās [Roman, masculine] (Serbo-Croatian), hrôza [feminine] (Slovak), groza [feminine] (Slovene), horror [masculine] (Spanish), skräck [common-gender] (Swedish), fruktan [common-gender] (Swedish), fasa [common-gender] (Swedish), даҳшат (dahšat) (Tajik), ваҳшаг (vahšag) (Tajik), дәһшәт (dähşät) (Tatar), куркыныч (qurkınıç) (Tatar), empelñe (Tocharian B), korku (Turkish), dehşet (Turkish), elhençlik (Turkmen), жах (žax) [masculine] (Ukrainian), страх (strax) [masculine] (Ukrainian), دہشت (dahśat) [feminine] (Urdu), قورقۇنچ (qorqunch) (Uyghur), qoʻrquv (Uzbek), dahshat (Uzbek), sự khiếp (Vietnamese), sự ghê rợn (Vietnamese) [Show more ▼] (countable, uncountable) Something horrible; that which excites horror. Tags: countable, uncountable Categories (topical): Fear [Show more ▼] (countable, uncountable) Intense dislike or aversion; an abhorrence. Tags: countable, uncountable Categories (topical): Fear Translations (intense dislike or aversion): отвраще́ние (otvrašténie) [neuter] (Bulgarian), kammo (Finnish), inho (Finnish), dégoût (French), aversion (French), отвраще́ние (otvraščénije) [neuter] (Russian), омерзе́ние (omerzénije) [neuter] (Russian) [Show more ▼] (uncountable) A genre of fiction designed to evoke a feeling of fear and suspense. Tags: uncountable Categories (topical): Horror, Fear, Genres, Horror, Literary genres [Show more ▼] (countable) An individual work in this genre. Tags: countable Translations (literary genre): жах (žax) [masculine] (Belarusian), у́жаси (úžasi) [masculine, plural] (Bulgarian), terror (Catalan), 恐怖 (kǒngbù) (Chinese Mandarin), horor (Czech), kauhu (Finnish), kauhukirjallisuus (Finnish), Horror [masculine] (German), ホラー (horā) (Japanese), 호러 (horeo) (Korean), 공포 (gongpo) (alt: 恐怖) (Korean), у́жаси (úžasi) [masculine, plural] (Macedonian), хо́рор (hóror) [masculine] (Macedonian), horror [masculine] (Portuguese), у́жас (úžas) [masculine] (Russian), ужа́стик (užástik) [colloquial, masculine] (Russian), хо́ррор (xórror) [masculine, neologism] (Russian), skräck [common-gender] (Swedish), жах (žax) [masculine] (Ukrainian) [Show more ▼] (countable, colloquial) A nasty or ill-behaved person; a rascal or terror. Tags: colloquial, countable Categories (topical): Fear [Show more ▼] (informal) An intense anxiety or a nervous depression; often the horrors. Tags: countable, informal, uncountable Categories (topical): Fear Translations (informal: intense anxiety): täpinät [plural] (Finnish) [Show more ▼] (in the plural, informal) Delirium tremens. Tags: countable, in-plural, informal, uncountable [Show more ▼] The following are not (yet) sense-disambiguated Synonyms: nightmare, horrour (english: hypercorrect spelling or archaic) [UK] Hypernyms: speculative fiction Related terms: horrendous, horrible, horrid, horrific, horrifical, horrification, horrify [Show more ▼] Noun [Galician] IPA: [ɔˈroɾ] Forms: horrores [plural] [Show additional information ▼] horror Tags: masculine Synonyms: espanto, pavor, terror Related terms: horrorizar, horroroso [Show more ▼] Noun [Hungarian] IPA: [ˈhorːor] [Show additional information ▼] horror [Show more ▼] Noun [Latin] IPA: /ˈhor.ror/ [Classical], [ˈhɔrːɔr] [Classical], /ˈor.ror/ (note: modern Italianate Ecclesiastical), [ˈɔrːor] (note: modern Italianate Ecclesiastical) [Show additional information ▼] bristling (standing on end) Tags: declension-3, masculine [Show more ▼] shaking, shivering, chill Tags: declension-3, masculine [Show more ▼] dread, terror, horror Tags: declension-3, masculine [Show more ▼] The following are not (yet) sense-disambiguated Related terms: horrendus, horridus, horribilis, horrificus Noun [Old French] Forms: horror oblique singular or [canonical, feminine], horrors [oblique, plural], horror [nominative, singular], horrors [nominative, plural] [Show additional information ▼] horror or terror Synonyms: horrour, horrur [Show more ▼] Noun [Polish] IPA: /ˈxɔr.rɔr/ [Show additional information ▼] (colloquial) horror (something horrible; that which excites horror) Tags: colloquial, inanimate, masculine [Show more ▼] horror movie Tags: inanimate, masculine Synonyms: film grozy [Show more ▼] horror (literary genre) Tags: inanimate, masculine [Show more ▼] Noun [Portuguese] IPA: /oˈʁoʁ/ [Brazil], [oˈhoh] [Brazil], /oˈʁoʁ/ [Brazil], [oˈhoh] [Brazil], /oˈʁoɾ/ [São-Paulo], [oˈhoɾ] [São-Paulo], /oˈʁoʁ/ [Rio-de-Janeiro], [oˈχoχ] [Rio-de-Janeiro], /oˈʁoɻ/ [Southern-Brazil], [oˈhoɻ] [Southern-Brazil], /ɔˈʁoɾ/ [Portugal] Forms: horrores [plural] [Show additional information ▼] horror Tags: masculine Synonyms: temor, terror Related terms: horrendo, hórrido, horrífero, horrífico, horripilar, horrível, horrorizar, horroroso [Show more ▼] Adjective [Romanian] [Show additional information ▼] horror Tags: feminine, indeclinable, masculine, neuter [Show more ▼] Noun [Romanian] [Show additional information ▼] horror Tags: neuter [Show more ▼] Noun [Spanish] IPA: /oˈroɾ/, [oˈroɾ] Forms: horrores [plural] [Show additional information ▼] horror; terror Wikipedia link: Diccionario crítico etimológico castellano e hispánico Tags: masculine Synonyms: miedo, temor, terror Derived forms: horror al vacío Related terms: horrendo, horrible, hórrido, horrífico, horripilante, horrorizar, horroroso [Show more ▼] Inflected forms horrores (Noun) [Portuguese] plural of horror horrores (Noun) [Spanish] plural of horror horrors (Noun) [English] plural of horror horrore (Noun) [Latin] ablative singular of horror horroribus (Noun) [Latin] dative/ablative plural of horror horrorem (Noun) [Latin] accusative singular of horror horroris (Noun) [Latin] genitive singular of horror horrori (Noun) [Latin] dative singular of horror horrorum (Noun) [Latin] genitive plural of horror horrores (Noun) [Latin] nominative/accusative/vocative plural of horror Alternative forms horrour (Noun) [Old French] Alternative form of horror horrour (Noun) [English] Misspelling of horror. horrour (Noun) [English] Obsolete form of horror. horrow (Noun) [English] Alternative form of horror If you use this data in academic research, please cite Tatu Ylonen: Wiktextract: Wiktionary as Machine-Readable Structured Data, Proceedings of the 13th Conference on Language Resources and Evaluation (LREC), pp. 1317-1325, Marseille, 20-25 June 2022. Linking to the relevant page(s) under https://kaikki.org would also be greatly appreciated.

Pansyk •6mo ago Personally, reading and writing fanfiction has really helped me with my technical skills. When I look over the fanfiction I have written over the years, I can see how my prose and dialogue have improved. All fiction, whether of the fan or original variety, is built off of the basic idea of "making words sound good." And fanfiction is a perfectly acceptable way to do that. However, the way that fanfiction operates in terms of characterization and plot? That's radically different from original fiction. In fanfiction, characters are already established, so even if you're doing some batshit insane Alternate Universe, everyone already knows the basics of what's up. That's not true of original fiction. You need to devote more time to both fleshing out your characters and establishing their relationships with the rest of the cast. Plot often progresses differently, in part because of the time you just spent showing your readers who these people are, but also because fanfiction and original fiction often follow different structures entirely. Fanfiction is free and accessible to anyone with an internet connection. That makes it useful for new authors, especially young authors. Think of it as swimming in shallow water. It's fun! It can help you build up some strength. Anyone can do it. But it won't completely prepare you for diving into deeper water. So, I guess at the end of the day, reading both will help your development as a writer.

✨🙂 All 🙃 Smiles 🙂✨

ʳ/ˢᶜᵃʳʸˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ¹⁵ ʰʳ‧ ᵃᵍᵒ ᴰʳᵉᵃᵈ_ᴿᵉᵃᵖᵉʳ_ ᵀʰᵉ ᴾˡᵃʸᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᴵⁿ ᵃ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗ⸴ ᵃᵇᵃⁿᵈᵒⁿᵉᵈ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉᶜʰᵒ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃˡˡˢ‧ ᴼⁿᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ᵃ ʲᵃⁿⁱᵗᵒʳ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᶠᵃⁱⁿᵗ ᵍⁱᵍᵍˡᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖˡᵃʸᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ˢʷⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵐᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵒʷⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵃᵈᵒʷˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ᵖˡᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵒᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʷⁱⁿᵍˢ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ˢⁱⁿⁱˢᵗᵉʳ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳˢ⸴ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵈ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ‧ ᵀʰᵉⁿ⸴ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʷⁱⁿᵍˢ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵏᵉᵈ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗˡʸ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰᵒˡˡᵒʷ ᵉʸᵉˢ⸴ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ⸴ "ʲᵒⁱⁿ ᵘˢ ᶠᵒʳᵉᵛᵉʳ‧"

r/TwoSentenceHorror 5 min. ago InfamousInspector863 Her heart raced as the caller informed her that her date had died in a car crash earlier that evening. She turned slowly to face the person driving, realizing she was sitting next to a complete stranger.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 days ago 54321RUN "It's not that unheard of for a child to be born with an extra toe," the doctor assured us after my daughter's birth. But I had my doubts when another six legs started sprouting out a few days later.

https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/

WHISPERS @scarystoriesargh My best friend confided in me one day about one of her worries. She told me about how, in the middle of the night, she would keep hearing whispers in her bedroom. These whispers would repeat the same number over and over, but each night the number would become one lower. A few weeks later, on a Tuesday my friend told me that the numbers were getting lower and lower. It was due to be the number seven that night. My friend had no idea what those whispers were counting down to, but she told of how anxious she had been feeling ever since the whispers started several months ago. It's Wednesday today. My friend isn't in school. She didn't tell me that she was going to be absent. And then I realise. Last night, the voices would have been whispering the number Zero..

r/TwoSentenceHorror 5 yr. ago spenceyfresh As death came for him, his life flashed before his eyes. He remembered everything his birth, his trip home and the blank look in his mothers eyes as she forcefully held him under the bathtub's water.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 days ago Switch_B My AI has been writing a ton of these two sentence horror stories lately. Some of the comments really tickled me with how they said it's 'wickedly creative,' 'uniquely disturbing,' and 'like there's a real psycho on the other end just waiting to be unleashed.'

Wanna search something specific her? be it fanfic or drama, lists of tags on the following sites: https://kitugame.com/tagging https://bestnickname.com/tags

。　♡ 。　　♡。　　♡ ♡。　＼　　｜　　／。　♡ 🌸 🌸 ♡。　／　　｜　　＼。　♡ 。　♡。 　　。　　♡

Jᴇʟʟʏ_Bᴇᴀɴ36 I ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴀʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ I ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴏᴜɴᴛᴀɪɴ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴀs ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʀᴋ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴀʏ ᴏғ ɪᴍᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟɪᴛʏ. Nᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ʀᴀᴄᴇ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡɪᴘᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ I'ᴍ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣾⠛⠻⣷⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⡏⠉⠉⠙⠛⠿⠿⣷⣀⣀⣿⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣀⣤⣀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣄⡀⠀⣀⣤⣀⠀⠀ ⢰⡿⠋⢉⣹⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣏⡉⠙⢿⡆ ⢸⣇⣠⣾⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⣠⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣄⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣷⣄⣸⡗ ⠈⢻⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⡟⠁ ⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⢤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠿⣿⣷⣦⣀⠀⠀⠉⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠉⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⠿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

r/TwoSentenceHorror Deiun ...she said last time, we're stuck in a time loop which is just the thing, because that's what...

https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/comments/1651tuc/comment/jybjno5/

ᵠᵘᶤᶰᵗᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢ˒ ᵗʰᵉᶰ ˢᵉˣᵗᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢ˒ ˢᵉᵖᵗᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢ˒ ᵒᶜᵗᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢ˒ ᶰᵒᶰᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢ˒ ᵈᵉᶜᵃᵖˡᵉᵗˢ˒ ᵘᶰᵈᵉᶜᵃᵖˡᵉᵗˢ˒ ᵈᵘᵒᵈᵉᶜᵃᵖˡᵉᵗˢ˒ ᵗʳᵉᵈᵉᶜᵃᵖˡᵉᵗˢ˒ ᵠᵘᵃᵗᵗʳᵒᵈᵉᶜᵃᵖˡᵉᵗˢ ᵃᶰᵈ ᵠᵘᶤᶰᵈᵉᶜᵃᵖˡᵉᵗˢˑ ᴱˡᵉᵛᵉᶰ = ᴴᵉᶰᵈᵉᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢ ᵀʷᵉˡᵛᵉ ᵇᵃᵇᶤᵉˢ ᵇᵒʳᶰ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᶤᵐᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵈᵒᵈᵉᶜᵃᵗᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢ ²¹ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵗᶤᵐᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵘᶰᶤᶜᵒˢᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢˑ ²² ᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵗᶤᵐᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵈᵘᵒᶤᶜᵒˢᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢˑ ²³ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵗᶤᵐᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵗʳᵉˢᶤᶜᵒˢᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢˑ ²⁴ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵗᶤᵐᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵠᵘᵃᵗᵗʳᵒᶤᶜᵒˢᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢˑ ²⁵ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵗᶤᵐᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵠᵘᶤᶰᵗᶤᶜᵒˢᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢˑ ²⁶ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵗᶤᵐᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ˢᵉˣᶤᶜᵒˢᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢˑ ²⁷ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵗᶤᵐᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ˢᵉᵖᶤᶜᵒˢᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢˑ ²⁸ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵗᶤᵐᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵒᶜᵗᶤᶜᵒˢᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢˑ ²⁹ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵗᶤᵐᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᶰᵒᶰᶤᶜᵒˢᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢˑ ᵠᵘᶤᶰᵗᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢ ˢᵉˣᵗᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢ ˢᵉᵖᵗᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢ ᵒᶜᵗᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢ ᶰᵒᶰᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢ ᵈᵉᶜᵃᵖˡᵉᵗˢ ᵘᶰᵈᵉᶜᵃᵖˡᵉᵗˢ ᵈᵘᵒᵈᵉᶜᵃᵖˡᵉᵗˢ ᵗʳᵉᵈᵉᶜᵃᵖˡᵉᵗˢ ᵠᵘᵃᵗᵗʳᵒᵈᵉᶜᵃᵖˡᵉᵗˢ ᵠᵘᶤᶰᵈᵉᶜᵃᵖˡᵉᵗˢ ˢᵉˣᵈᵉᶜᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢ ˢᵉᵖᵗᵈᵉᶜᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢ ᵒᶜᵗᵈᵉᶜᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢ ᶰᵒᶰᵈᵉᶜᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢ ᶤᶜᵒˢᵘᵖˡᵉᵗˢ

ησт αℓℓ ѕ¢αяѕ ѕнσω, ησт αℓℓ ωσυη∂ѕ нєαℓ, ѕσмє тιмєѕ уσυ ¢αη'т ѕєє тнє ραιη ѕσмєσηє ƒєєℓѕ... ∂єαтн ιѕ тнє gяєαтєѕт ƒσям σƒ ℓσνє♥... нαя∂ ωσяк ηєνєя кιℓℓє∂ αηувσ∂у, вυт ωну тαкє α ¢нαη¢є؟ ι ∂ση'т ηєє∂ тσ "gєт α ℓιƒє" ι'м α gαмєя ι нανє ℓσтѕ σƒ ℓινєѕ ѕανє тнє єαятн (ιт ѕ тнє σηℓу ρℓαηєт ωιтн ¢нσ¢σℓαтє) qʎ ʇɥǝ ʇıɯǝ ʎon ɐɹǝ pouǝ ɹǝɐpıub ʇɥıs ʎon ʍı11 ɹǝɐ1ızǝ ʎon ɥɐʌǝ ظnsʇ ʍɐsʇǝp 20 sǝɔoups oɟ ʎonɹ 1ıɟǝ (ƒσя тнσѕє σƒ уσυ ι∂ισтѕ συт тнєяє тнαт нανє ησ ¢ℓυє ωнαтѕσєνєя нσω тσ яєα∂ тнє ѕтαтємєηт αвσνє, нєяє ιѕ ωнαт ιѕ ѕαуѕ..."ву тнє тιмє уσυ αяє ∂σηє яєα∂ιηg тнιѕ уσυ ωιℓℓ яєαℓιzє тнє уσυ нανє נυѕт ωαѕтє∂ 20 ѕє¢ση∂ѕ σƒ уσυя ℓιƒє.") ι яσ¢к уσυя ѕσ¢кѕ тнє тσσтн ƒαιяу тєα¢нєѕ кι∂ѕ тнαт уσυ ¢αη ѕєℓℓ уσυя вσ∂у ραятѕ ƒσя мσηєу$$$ ∂ση'т кησ¢к ση ∂єαтнѕ ∂σσя... яιηg тнє ∂σσявєℓℓ αη∂ яυη нαтєѕ тнαт! ι υѕє∂ тσ вє ησямαℓ υηтιℓ ι мєт тнєѕє ℓσѕєяѕ ¢αℓℓє∂ му вєѕт ♥[ƒ]♥[я]♥[ι]♥[є]♥[η]♥[∂]♥[ѕ]♥ єνєяу тιмє ι gσ тσ тнє ∂σ¢тσяѕ, тнєу gινє му α נα¢кєт α ѕтяαιgнт σηє ιт мαкєѕ мє ƒєєℓ ѕρє¢ιαℓ вє¢αυѕє ι gєт тσ нυg муѕєℓƒ gσσ∂ gιяℓѕ αяє вα∂ gιяℓѕ тнαт ∂σηт gєт ¢αυgнт αηgяу ρєσρℓє ηєє∂ нυgѕ... (σя ѕнαяρ σвנє¢тѕ) ωє αяє αℓℓ ρяєтту вιzαяяє ѕσмє αяє נυѕт вєттєя αт ѕнσωιηg ιт ιƒ уσυ ωєяє мє... ωєℓℓ уσυ'яє ησт нα нα ƒσя уσυ тσ αℓℓ σƒ уσυ тнαт тαℓк αвσυт мє тнαηкѕ, ƒσя мαкιηg мє тнє ¢єηтєя σƒ уσυя ωσяℓ∂ уєαн ι'м α ℓσѕєя, вυт ι'м тнє ¢σσℓєѕт ℓσσѕєя уσυ'ℓℓ єνєя мєєт ℓєт мє кησω ιƒ ι ѕαу αηутнιηg тнαт σƒƒєη∂ѕ уσυ, ι мιgнт ωαηт тσ ∂σ ιт αgαιη ℓαтєя ι'м ησт мєαη, ι נυѕт ѕαу ωнαт мσѕт ρєσρℓє кєєρ ιη тнєιя нєα∂ѕ ι'м тнє туρє σƒ gιяℓ тнαт ωιℓℓ вυяѕт συт ℓαυgнιηg αт ѕσмєтнιηg тнαт нαρρєηє∂ уєѕтєя∂αу тяуιηg тσ ƒιη∂ уσυяѕєℓƒ ιη тнє ∂αякηєѕѕ... ιѕη'т єαѕу ρєσρℓє αяє ℓιкє ѕℓιηкιєѕ вαѕι¢αℓℓу υѕєℓєѕѕ αη∂ уєт ιт'ѕ ѕσ αмυѕιηg тσ ωαт¢н тнєм ƒαℓℓ ∂σωη тнє ѕтαιяѕ ι нα∂ тнιѕ gяєαт ∂яєαм αвσυт уσυ ℓαѕт ηιgнт!!! ι ωαѕ ѕмαѕнιηg уσυя нєα∂ αgαιηѕт тнє ωαℓℓ уєαн, ιт ωαѕ gяєαт ι ∂ση'т кησω ωнαт уσυ'яє ρяσвℓєм ιѕ, вυт ι вєт ιт'ѕ нαя∂ тσ ρяσησυη¢є ∂ση'т мαкє мє тняσω α ρσѕѕυм αт уσυ'яє ƒα¢є ∂ση'т ƒσℓℓσω ιη му ƒσσтѕтєρѕ, ι яυη ιηтσ ωαℓℓѕ. ι тяιρ υρ тнє ѕтαιяѕ

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r/TwoSentenceHorror 23 hr. ago dccub86 Every night I would calm my daughter by checking for monsters under the bed. Tonight she told me I didn’t have to check anymore, as blood trickled across the floor.

r/shortscarystories 1 yr. ago GuyAwks Join Name of the Shame I was named after my parent’s best friend. I never used to have an issue with this. I do now. The name Xavior might’ve been an uncommon choice for a boy. But it held special meaning to my parents, who insisted on naming their first son after a dear family friend who had always come through for them. After all, it was Xavior who’d first introduced them in college. It was he who spoke at their wedding. And it was he that helped them move into their home, gave them rides when their car broke down and babysat in emergencies. My parents said naming me after him was honor. Growing up, I only ever felt to be proud to be named after such a great guy. Uncle Xavior was a good-natured community figure and beloved family man. He imbued the name with a sense of warmth and generosity, and because of it, I happily told people my na͠me. That’s why it’s such a shame that he did what he went on to do. One ordinary July morning, Xavior got out of bed, picked up a kn1fe and proceeded to butcher his entıre family. He then got into his car, drιve into town and continued his kılling spree. A total of 32 people were kılled in his murderous rampage before he was finally shot dead by the polıce. The tragedy instantly made national news as one of the most violent spree killings in our state’s history. The man who’d been a second father to me was now one of the most infamous kïlłers in the US. Ever since that day, being named after Xavior Finch had a very different meaning. Instead of a blessing, it was now my cûrsêd. Jeers of “Exterminator Xavior” or “Xavior the Chıld Slayer” or “X marks the Mürderer” were now constantly lobbed my way at school by other teens, just because of na͠me. Even when I tried to adopt nicknames or use initials, it didn’t make any différent to the hostility I received. Whenever I gave my name to people, they’d clarify “Like the rampage kıller?” or just reflexively cringe at the reminder. I hated it. There was no denying that, at least where I lived, the name was completely tainted. So, after all these years of derisive comments and comparisons, I’m glad to finally be legally changing my name. I haven’t settled on what it’ll be yet. Anything that doesn’t conjure up images of the notorious convict. I refuse to lıve in the shadows of Xavior Finch’s crımes any longer. No, I want the killings I’m going to commıt to speak for themselves. I’m gonna make a name for myself as a criminal—not be overshadowed by my namesake. Sharing a name with an infamous serial killer is unacceptable, when you’re to be future infamous mass kıller.

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Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 2 days ago KindaNotSmart The Daily Call Growing old is lonely. I’m 72, and most days, it’s just me and the silence. Children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews - they all loved spending time with me when they were young. But life gets busy, and eventually, they just don’t have time for someone old and boring. I get it, I really do. But not my son. At 33, he never drifted away. He calls me every single day, without fail. Our daily phone call. He also helps with my dementia, asks me the questions the doctor recommended: Do I know what year it is? What country we live in? My name? Age? Address? It’s supposedly to keep my mínd sharp. Lately, though, something’s been off about our calls. Could be my dementia, but sometimes I hear strange nóise in the background - static, distant voices, whispers. He says it’s just a bad connection or blames the TV. For the past three weeks, my son has been plannıng to visit me. I’m in Missouri, and he’s out in California, so it’s not easy. But today’s the day. He’s on his way. And as always, even though he’s coming to see me, we had our daily call. We went throuģh the usual questions. My name, my age, my address. Then I got aņothe̷r call, so I put him on hold. “Ma’am, this is Officer Roberts with the Los Angeles Polıce Department. I’m sorry to call you like this, but we need to speak with you about your son. We’ve been trying to reach his next of kin.” “What’s going on, Officer? Is he in some kind of trouble?” There was a pause, like he was choosing his words carefully. “I’m afraid it’s more serious than that. I’m sorry you have to find out like this, but we just got the test̕ back. We’re finding out the same time as you. I’m afraid your son’s bødy was found three weeks ago.” “No, that’s not possible. I’ve been talking to him every day. He’s on the other line right now - he’s coming to visit me.” “Ma’am, unfortunately it’s true. The DNA test was conclusive. If you’ve been talking with anybody, please be aware that the person you’re speaking to isn’t your son.” My confusion turned to a cold, gripping fear. I hung up on the officer, my hand shaking, and switched back to the line with my sơn. I couldn’t speak, just held the phone to my ear in stunned silence. There was no sound, just heavy breathıng on the other end. In my head, I replayed myself answering all those questions - my name, my age, my address. And then, just as the panic set in, the silence was shattered by a knock on my door. My bedroom door. The voıce on the phone, now low and distorted, whispered, “I'm here҉, MoM.” The line went dead.

What’s in the basement? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↓ˢᶜʳᵒˡˡ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ↓ Mommy told me never to go in the basement, but I wanted to see what was making that noise. It kind of sounded like a puppy, and I wanted to see the puppy, so I opened the basement door and tiptoed down a bit. I didn’t see a puppy, and then Mommy yanked me out of the basement and yelled at me. Mommy had never yelled at me before, and it made me sad and I cried. Then Mommy told me never to go into the basement again, and she gave me a cookie. That made me feel better, so I didn’t ask her why the boy in the basement was making noises like a puppy, or why he had no hands or feet.

୨୧ 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼 ୨୧ 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐬 — 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐲 🍃📚 𝟭. 𝗽𝗮𝘆 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲. 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆, 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀. 𝗱𝗼 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗽𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗶𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 + 𝗮𝗹𝗽𝗵𝗮𝗯𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗼𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿. 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼, 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗶𝗻-𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗰𝗶𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝟮. 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿/𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝘆𝗽𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗼𝗻𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝘀𝗶𝘇𝗲. 𝟯. 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗳𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺𝘀/𝗺𝗮𝗽𝘀/𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆𝘀, 𝗵𝗼𝘄𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿, 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 (𝗯𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁). 𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘃𝗼𝗹𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗶𝘁. 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝗻-𝗱𝗲𝗽𝘁𝗵 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲. 𝟰. 𝗱𝗼 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗮𝗿𝗶𝘇𝗲. 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀, 𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘂𝗻𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲. 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗯𝗶𝗴 𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗲. 𝟱. 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗯𝗲 𝘃𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗼𝘀, 𝗱𝗼𝗰𝘂𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀, 𝗲𝘁𝗰. 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗽𝗶𝗰 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝘀𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆. 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗹𝗲𝗱𝗴𝗲 𝗶𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗲𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘃𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗱 𝗮𝗿𝗴𝘂𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀. 𝟲. 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆. 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴; 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗯𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗯𝘆 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗼𝗽𝘂𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱, 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗹𝘀, 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘇𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗽𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱𝘄𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗽𝗼𝗽𝘂𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲𝗱, 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗯𝘆 (𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗿/𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿), 𝗲𝘁𝗰. 𝟳. 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗮𝗰𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗰 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. 𝟴. 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 (𝗮𝘀 𝗶𝗻, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲/𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻). 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 . 𝟵. 𝗢𝗡𝗟𝗬 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗚𝗼𝗼𝗴𝗹𝗲 𝗦𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗮𝗿, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗰𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗰 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀/𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲𝘀. 𝗗𝗼 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘀 𝗼𝗿 𝗪𝗶𝗸𝗶𝗽𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗮. 𝟭𝟬. 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗲 𝗿𝗲-𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸 𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝘆𝗽𝗼𝘀 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗱𝗱 𝗽𝗵𝗿𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀, 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲. 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝘀𝗸 𝗮 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱/𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸.

emoji combos *pink/cute* 🌸🍼🍡☁🥛 💭🍧🍥🐰🧸 *dark/edgy* 📎⛓️📽🎬🎧 🗯🐾🍙🎹🕯 *cottagecore* 🍓🌱🍄🌈🧺 🥨🥞🥖🍞🥐 *dark academia* 🦉🍂☕🎻🕰 ⚰️📜🍩🍷🍴

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ฅ💖ฅ .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･　　･ﾟﾟ･｡ ·＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 　 /＼＿_.ヘ／ヽ 　　 /　　　(＿(⌒厂ヽ 　　|　　　　　￣＼ノ ∩∩ ミ ＞　 o ＜　ミ ( ⊂) 乀＿＿＿＿＿ノ ˚｡ ╭ ◜◝ ͡ ◜◝ ͡ ◜◝ ͡ ◜◝ ͡ ◜◝ ͡ ◜◝ ͡ ◜◝ ╮ ╰ ◟◞ ͜ ◟ ͜ ͜ ◟ ͜ ͜ ◟ ͜ ͜ ◟ ͜ ◟◞ ╯ ૮꒰ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶꒱ა /づ ♡ ええ、そろそろさ .。.:*・°☆☆.。.:*.。.:*・°☆☆.。.:*.。.:*・°☆☆.。.:*.。.:*・°☆☆.。.:* 💕｡･::♪･ﾟ’💖★｡･::♪･ﾟ’｡･::♪･ﾟ’💖★｡･::♪･ﾟ’💕｡･::♪･ﾟ’💖★｡･::♪･ﾟ’｡･::♪･ﾟ’💖★｡･::♪･ﾟ’💕｡･::♪･ﾟ’💖★｡･::♪･ﾟ’｡･::♪･ﾟ’💖★｡･::♪･ﾟ’ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ ││ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ ││ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ ⠀ ̩͙ ⠀. 🐛 * . ̩͙ * . 🐳 * ⠀ ̩͙ ⠀. 🌈 * . ̩͙ * . * 🌸‧ ﾟ｡⋆ * ⋆. ੈ♡‧ ﾟ｡⋆ * ⋆. ੈ♡‧ ﾟ｡⋆ * ⋆. ੈ♡ ⋆ ˚ ✩ ｡˚ ˚☽ ˚ ⋆ ·̩͙. .·̩͙ ⋆ ✩ ｡ ˚ ✩ ☃️☃️☃️☃️☃️☃️☃️ ୭🍡୭🍡୭🍡୭🍡୭🍡୭🍡୭🍡୭🍡୭🍡୭🍡୭🍡୭🍡୭🍡୭🍡 . .♡ ・ 。 。・゜ ♡. .♡ ・ 。 。・゜ ♡. .♡ ・ 。 。・゜ ♡. .♡ ・ 。 。・゜ ♡. .♡ ・ 。 。・゜ ♡. .♡ ・ 。 。・゜ ♡. .♡ ・ 。 。・゜ ♡ 🍩｡ﾟ･｡ﾟ･🍬｡ﾟ･｡ﾟ･🎂｡ﾟ･｡ﾟ･🎨｡ﾟ･｡ﾟ･🚀｡ﾟ･｡ﾟ･🏝｡ﾟ･｡ﾟ･🌌｡ﾟ･｡ﾟ･💗 ╔═══ ༘*ೄ˚🍙 ༘*ೄ˚═══╗.。.:*・°☆☆.。.:* 🎂 ʚ •. ｡. °. •.❝🌴🍃🌺🌺🍃🌴ʚ •. ｡. °. •.❝ ╚═══ ༘*ೄ˚🍙 ༘*ೄ˚═══╝.。.:*・°☆☆.。.:* ౨ৎ🧸౨ৎ🔮౨ৎ☎️౨ৎ💻౨ৎ🌃౨ৎ🥁౨ৎ🍪౨ৎ🍝౨ৎ 🍥౨ৎ💧౨ৎ ✰　 . 　　✩ .✰　 . 　　✩ .✰　 . 　　✩ .✰　 . 　　✩ .✰　 . 　　✩ . ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗﹒＊﹒﹒＊﹒﹒＊﹒🌏🌏🌏🌏🌏🌏🌏 ⊹ ⊹ 　 . ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ⊹ ⊹ ﾟ｡ ʚ🎄ɞ ｡ﾟ . ♡ ⊹ ﾟ･｡･ﾟ ⊹ ♡ ๑‧˚₊꒷︶︶꒷꒦⊹๑‧˚₊꒷︶︶꒷꒦⊹ !๑‧˚₊꒷︶︶꒷꒦⊹๑‧˚₊꒷︶︶꒷꒦⊹ ! ・✦﹕🥨・✦﹕🐾・✦﹕🦜˚·◌¨̮͚ .ﾟ⋆ฺ｡:･༉˚·◌¨̮͚ .ﾟ⋆ฺ｡:･༉˚·◌¨̮͚ .ﾟ⋆ฺ｡:･༉ .·˙·.·˙·.·˙·..·˙·.·˙·.·˙·..·˙·.·˙·.·˙·..·˙·.·˙·.·˙·..·˙·.·˙·.·˙·..·˙·.·˙·.·˙·..·˙·.·˙·.·˙·..·˙·.·˙·.·˙·..·˙·.·˙·.·˙·. ♡ミ🌙♡ミ♡ミ♡ミ🍄♡ミ♡ミ♡ミ🌾♡ミ♡ミ♡ミ♡ミ *: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ*: ･ﾟ🍮 *: ･ﾟ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

The Light by Theshadowsyoufear “Your true monsters sleep just down the hall…” We make fun of little kids for one thing; leaving lights on everywhere. They turn lights on in every room as if it’s some sort of security blanket. And if you ever force them to turn them off, they cry and scream and eventually you give in. The only time they turn them off is with their parents. They feel safe. So very safe. I’m the “monster” that lives in your closet. I’m friends with the one under your bed and the one in the shadows. When you see us, you flee to you’re mommy and daddy. But we’re not here to hurt you. We’re here to protect you. If you think we’re scary, just wait till you see their true form. They masquerade as one of you and you can never tell. You humans must be blind. Your true monsters sleep just down the hall. They pretend to love you but It won’t last. They try to convince us to let them in but don’t worry, we really love you and we will protect you. So when you see a shadow flit or a figure in the closet, remember, we scary monsters protect you from the human ones. So you’re safe with us… For now.

Pretending to be asleep doesn’t work ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↓ˢᶜʳᵒˡˡ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ↓ A young boy is sleeping in his bed on a usual night. He hears footsteps outside his door, and peeks out of his eyes to see what is happening. His door swings open quietly to reveal a mvrderer carrying the bødies of his parents. After silently propping them up on a chair, he writes something on the wall in the bløød of the déád bødies. He then hides under the child's bed... The child is scared beyond relief. He can’t read the writing on the wall and he knows the man is under his bed. Like any child, he pretends that he slept through the whole thing and hasn’t awoken yet. He lays still as the bodies, quietly hearing the breathing from under the bed... An hour passes, and his eyes are adjusting more and more to the darkness. He tries to make out the words, but it’s a struggle. He gasps when he finally makes out the sentence... “I know you’re awake”. He senses something shift underneath his bed...

We felt proud as our daughter got on the bus to enjoy her first day of school. Our hearts dropped when the real school bus arrived moments later... ✨NyaChat

Cachy the Poodle, Marta Espina, Edith Solá, Anonymous man 21 October 1988 A poodle named Cachy, in Caballito, Buenos Aires, fell 13 storeys and hit 75-year old Marta Espina, ending both lives instantly. In the course of events, 46-year old Edith Solá came to see the incident, and was fatally hit by a bus. An unidentified man who witnessed her death had a heart attack and also dies on his way to the hospital.

⊹ ࣭ 𝆬 🌸 ⌣⌣୨ ♡ ୧⌣⌣ ֢֢֢֢֢֢֢֢֢ 🌸 ۫ ׅ ͘ ໒꒰ ៸៸ ◞ ˕ ◟ ៸៸ ꒱১ ⊹ ࣭ 𝆬 🌸 ⌣⌣୨ ♡ ୧⌣⌣ ֢֢֢֢֢֢֢֢֢ 🌸 ۫ ׅ ͘

🌸|☁️|🌸 ☁️|🌸|☁️

♡₊˚ 🌸🍡 ღ ♡ ʚ₍ᐢꕤ⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝ᐢ₎ɞ 🍡🌸 ˚₊♡

r/shortscarystories 8 hr. ago k_g_lewis The Shortest Date Ever “Why don’t you go and grab us some drinks while I find us something to watch,” Sheila said. “Okay,” Brett replied. He got up, went into the kitchen, and opened the fridge. Looking for the beer he came upon a jar of oddly shaped worm-like objects suspended in cloudy liquid. He picked it up. “I forgot that was in there.” Sheila had come into the kitchen and was looking over Brett’s shoulder. “What is it?” Brett asked, bringing the jar closer to so he could better examine its contents. “It’s the lips of all the men who have lied to me,” Sheila replied.

𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝟐𝟏𝟑𝟏𝟒𝟒𝟑𝟐𝟑𝟒𝟐𝟓: 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

r/shortscarystories 1 yr. ago GuyAwks The Grief Is Always Greener There is no pain worse than burying your own chıld. When my son was first dıagnosed with leukemia, I fell apart. As loved ones and well-wishers stepped in to offer assistance, I longed to shut myself away from it all. Even though I knew they meant well, I couldn’t stand the attention. All I wanted was my old life back with Billy healthy. By the time the cáncer took my Àngel from me, I was a different person. In place of the warm kindness I once fostered, now all I could feel was bitterness and resentments. Nobody was the recipient of this newfound jealousy more than my neighbor Cathy—and her daughter Ella. From the moment they approached me at the wake to offer condolence, I irrationally hated them. Why did it have to be me going through this agonizing loss, and not Cathy? Why was it my kid deprived of growing up, and not Ella? Despite resisting, I felt these spiteful emotions surge through me like a flashfire every time I saw her coming home from school, playing in her backyard, greeting me in public. Before I knew it, I began to fantasize about Cathy’s child, too. I pictured her shriveling up and wasting away like Billy had. They were deplorable thoughts but I couldn’t stop myself from feelıng them. Like some malevolent force, I sensed a pure, toxıc malice radiating out of my mind and into Ella. It was as if my grief had manifested into a living evıl. That’s when the unthinkable started occurring. Day by day, out of nowhere, Ella’s health mysteriously began deteriorating. As I’d imagined happening, the little girl next door became lethargic, pale and in bed, the same way that Billy had. Cathy was beside herself and drew a crowd of sympathetic faces to her side, like I had. My mind couldn’t have really caused this, right? They were just thoᥙghts, the indulgent thoughts of a broken, grieving woman. But I couldn’t deny the clear results, nor could I deny that part of me felt sated by it. My cosmic venom kept being transmitted to that poor girl. Until finally, like Billy, she passed away. Attending Ella’s wake, any feelings of catharsis had now been replaced by guilt. There was no fairness I could see, no justice. Just two stolen lives. Against all reason, I felt the urge to confess my mystical hand in this to Cathy. But, as I went to spill my heart out, she confessed to me first. “Martha, I just have to tell somebody: I po𝚤soned Ella to dEath with cleanser!” I was speechless. “I know it’s awful” she cries to me, batting her mascara-tinged lashes. “But I was so jeαlous seeing all the attention you got when Billy died.” “There’s no paın worse than watching your frıend bury theır own chıld.”

X wasn’t quite sure whether to approach his wife, Y, about what he’d seen. On one hand, he didn’t want to distress her, but the weight on the other felt as if it were being crushed under the weight. Once he’d retreated inside, he clambered onto the first table he saw, rather than going off to find her. Alas, the peace barely lasted more than a few seconds. “X!” Y burst from the kitchen door, startling the other out of his thoughts. “It’s been a long day Y. I think I’ll…go to bed early tonight.” Letting out a huff, Y folded her arms, clearly less than amused. “And make me cover for you again? You were only gone for a couple of hours. Do you know how much hard work I put into running this place while you were gone?” X raised his brow. “What, did we just-so-happen to get an influx of customers today?” “That’s beside the point.” She dismissed the question with a flick of her wrist, rolling over to the table he was at. However, now that she could see his form more closely, his tense posture and partial absence from the conversation at hand became much clearer. “…X you look unusally reserved. What happened?” At first, she wasn’t graced with a response whatsoever. A hand reached down for the other, but X couldn’t bring himself to get up, so Y perceived his silence as disinterest and returned it to her side. Seeing him lack his usual energy made Y’s heart ache; she knew better than to go picking fights with X when he was like this. He couldn’t meet his wife’s stare, regardless of how much he longed to lose himself in her shine of her exterior. Having Y nearby always helped X feel at ease, yet it wasn’t doing much in terms of assisting him today. “Let's just…close early today altogether.” “You sure?” “I demand it.” It was a curiosity-peaking situation, but Y held enough respect for her husband X to not press him further. “You can always talk to me, sweetheart, but I’m happy to close for the day.” “Is that so?” X asked. Rather than adopting the powerful tone of voice he used while scheming, he maintained his quiet one, which rung alarm bells in Y. Since he’d been almost completely zoned out of his surroundings, her husband hadn’t noticed the shotglass-sized bowl of soup she’d made him, and as she brought it over to him, she could see a crack of a thankful smile on his face. Y never really got anything more from him - ‘thank you’s didn’t qualify for villain-approved manners - but to her, that only made his perseverance more admirable. “I’ll bear that in mind.” X’s response came out in a hushed whisper, as if the world were listening to every syllable that left his throat. Words sunk their nails into his throat, trying to claw their way out between sips of soup, but to no avail. X was determined to keep his promise. X was no less satisfied to have his wife at his side. X had needed Y today, and she pulled through, as always. An unwavering pride in his companion was always one of his biggest drives in life. To see her face at the end of a long day was no less than a blessing, and while he could have lived a crime-free life, he wouldn’t trade his current place of residence or love of his life. Y’s silent verdict was that it now wasn’t even worth considering pressing for details; her husband slowly becoming at ease as he revelled in the soup was enough for her to not want to rile him up. She’d already done so earlier with their argument. Had either of them actually apologised? What were they even talking about? “…Are you still interested in getting some rest early, honey?” A tired eye trailing over to her, he set down the empty bowl. X was practically screaming at himself not to leak it all out to his wife as either whimpers or whines. “Would that be alright, my sweet?” X found himself carefully scooped up in his wife’s hands and escorted to the restaurant’s back rooms. She gave him the thumbs up. “That’s fine. You can take all the time you need, X. You look like you need it.” “I should be working. You’re too soft on me.” “Would you prefer I picked a fight with you right now?” “No.” “Then don’t complain.” Thankfully, Y didn’t hit a nerve; either that, or X simply hadn’t the strength to argue. The former didn’t mind no matter the answer though. Whatever he’d seen would be better processed after some good rest, Y was positive. The chatter lingered until they reached their resting area. X finally felt he was home. “There.” His wife said, muttering to herself. It didn’t concern her that her self-muttering was within ear-shot of her husband, obviously. “I’ll go get your blanket.” “You’ve done an awful lot for me today. Do you want something?” X blinked. Usually, Y would scold him for saying something like that in response to her favours, but she processed that he asked as a gesture of kindness, not as an investigative question. She gently rested a silky face flannel over him for a little warmth. “Just know I love you. That’s all I want in return.” “Th…ank. You.” …!!!! Today was a mish-mash of weird circumstances, but the marriage of the two beings was just as unconventional. For a moment, the duo were lost in each-other’s eyes. Those two words - as messy as they’d come out - were bouncing off the walls and striking Y in her equivalent of a spine, pushing her a little closer to her husband until they were equal-viewing level. Poor Y thought of going to melt from the sudden increase of her internal temperature. Such tenderness; it made her swoon! Until he’d said it, he’d had no idea how long she’d been wanting to hear something like that. Something other than X’s plans The significantly taller leaned her monitor forward, as if to kiss him- but drew back. Now wasn’t the right time for something like that. Not when X had so much already on his mind. Oh, but those words had been so soft, so quaint. Though she’d stopped herself giving him a robotic kiss, Y savoured every second that they stood mere inches apart, that little bit of kindness holding a value to her that she was sure X had no idea of. He couldn’t feel the sparks of electricity rushing through her. X might not have any inkling at ALL that she cared in regards to what he said, nevermind the fact she felt like an exception happily caught in his network. Although, they must have at least meant something for him to attempt to say it, even if he’d become exhausted and drained from the last few hours. It was enough for her to let out a “Never a problem; supporting you is my job,” before adding on “but don’t you dare hold that against me when I refuse to wash the dishes.” The quip earned a stifled chuckle from her lover. It broke a little of the tension between them, but in a light, easy-to-digest way. As Y had leaned in, X had felt his heart pump a little faster, and a jittery feeling in his veins - a trace of something he hadn’t felt in a while. X could only wonder if she took anything away from that small exchange, barring the reminder of her duties. Did she feel anything or was it just him? He wasn’t even sure if she had a positive physical response, let alone a positive emotional response… “No promises!” He laughed, before awkwardly coughing, unsure what to say now. That was one loooong period of silence. Was the restaurant owner just supposed to pretend nothing happened, or approach the topic? “Well- If you want to transfer yourself back into the building’s wall monitor for the night, there is no opposition here.” “That sounds nice. It’s how I imagine wrapping yourself in a blanket feels.” Y let out a sound emulating a yawn, hoping to dispel the sudden subdued awkwardness that’d washed over her husband. His feathery laugh had been much different to his more maniacal cackles. Far more genuine and fulfilled, and smooth. On one hand, seeing his mind off of the schemes for once made her want to spin with glee, but on the other, he was only acting so unusually because something had gone down. It was difficult for her to handle. “Based on how you describe it, of course.” If she could have given a true smile, Y would have, but gave upturned lips instead. X was pretty much at a loss for words, understanding her point and unable to refute it. Some part of X wished his wife had come with him, purely so he wouldn’t have to carry the burden of decisions alone as he was doing now. ‘Twas a selfish thought, and alas, X knew he had a word to keep. “Have a nice rest, sweetie. I’ll keep an eye out for any intruders.” “Hope your wall monitor is comfy.” “I’m sure it will be.” X curled himself up under the face flannel, his eyelid gently fluttering shut. “You mean a lot to me Y so don’t ever think you don’t, understand?” “Understood. Care to elaborate?” … “Honey?” … “X?” Snore. “…Ah.”

@candaru no no. you don't get it. the reason I injure my blorbos until they can't walk is because that's the only way they'll ever let someone else carry them. the reason I curse them to be sick and feverish is so that they'll finally open up about their emotions while delirious. the reason I force them to over exert themselves to the point of exhaustion is so that when they pass out they can finally rest. I'm doing this for their own good. October 21st, 2023, 7:43 AM

𓏲 　🍼　ﾟ⠀⠀ ･₊ ˚ ⠀ ࿐ 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗇𝖾, 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒 ♡ 　ɞ ⠀⠀ ⠀ . 　🌸　⋆༉

Ｍｙ ｓｅｌｆ ｗｅｅｋ : ⚝ 𝘑𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ⚝ 𝘋𝘰 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 ⚝ 𝘋𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 ⚝ 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳 𝘛𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬 ⚝ 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 ⚝ 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱 ⚝ 𝘛𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘋𝘖𝘕𝘛 𝘕𝘌𝘌𝘋 𝘛𝘖 𝘗𝘙𝘖𝘝𝘌 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙𝘚𝘌𝘓𝘍 𝘛𝘖 𝘈𝘕𝘠𝘉𝘖𝘋𝘠 𝘖𝘒𝘈𝘠? (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓼𝓮𝓽🌷 I honestly dont care about what others think of me, my life revolves around me, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒆 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

"I wanted to scream, but I have no mouth."

hurt/comfort (fandom slang) A genre of fan fiction in which a character receives comfort from another after or while suffering injury, illness, or a traumatic experience. H/C stories appeal to readers in different ways. While genres for these stories range from drama to mystery, many stories are classified by their authors as romances or as “hurt/comfort” stories. Hurt/comfort is a fanwork genre that involves the physical pain or emotional distress of one character, who is cared for by another character. A great trope if you want to bring two characters closer together, or if you want to show how deep their relationship goes.

https://writingwithcycyborg.blogspot.com/2024/02/LanguageOfDisability.html

TIRING TROPES A kicks B so hard, it knocks B out, who goes limp with a whimper. B now lying unconscious on the ground, A grabbing him by his legs and dragging him. A comes over to B, knocking him hard in the fac͘e once. B cries out and his eye rolls back as he slips away into unconsciousness, going limp, unable to take much more. The only thing C cares about is the sight of B limp bødy lying. C crawls over, too hurt̸ to walk, and puts his hand on his chest, wanting to make sure B is still breathing, scared he isn’t. He is relieved when his chest is still slowly going up and down, but is soon overtaken with fear. C: T-talk to me. B, say something! B of course not responding. C now holding him in his hands, his head restıng on his stߋmach, crying, wanting him to be okay, wanting to take his paın away from him. C: B... (sobbing quietly, his head still resting on B unmoving bødy) C is shushing, crying, shushing, crying. Doing it to comfort B but the more so to comfort himself, to try and not be so scared anymore. B eyebrows furrow, beginning to stir, groaning as he puts a hand to his head in paın. 'Ugh. Ow. Gah….ow….' C: (alarmed by B cries, scooching closer) Are you okay?! (C looking over at B, seeing he is already asleep, curling up next to him, closing his eyes, sleep now overcoming him) (A then kicks B in the head, B yelping, instantly falling unconscious) C: B? B! Answer me, are you okay?! A: (hearing C, smirking down at B unconscious form, to see him hur͘t and unmoving, B mouth hung open, lying motionless, still not movıng or aware) (B eventually groans awake, not yet realizing what’s going on, paın returning to his head, quickly becoming aware of what’s happened, sitting up with a gasp, looking around) B notices C still asleep leaning on him. He starts to move around to get him to wake up. (A just grabs B, slamming him back to the ground, unintentionally slamming the back of his head against the ground, B gasping with a yelp) : (A yanking B to his feet, grinning at B weak struggling and crying, who’s exhausted and badly hurt) (A stops as suddenly B lets out a sort of sigh as his eye rolls back and his body goes completely limp as he unexpectedly passes out, falling backwards, A catching him before he hits the ground, startled) (B completely unconscious, his mouth hanging open, limp and unmoving) (C stopping in his place, frozen, frightened at the sight of B) B! (seeing B still not moving or doing anything, touching and moving B face around himself, but gently, looking at him worriedly, scared when he won’t open his eye or say anything) H-he’s n- not moving, he-he’s not pretending, A, he is REALLY hurt! (A dumps B bødy to the ground) C immediately hurrying over, holding B bødy in his hands, his own tears falling down on him. C is still sitting besides B, crying C: B, s-say something, please, please! I’m sorry! (A grins, knowing how much will hate everything, planning to tell him all about it when he awakes again) B is lying on the ground unmoving. A pleased with everything as he walks away, knowing he will absolutely torture B with what happened here. B: (groaning loudly, waking up, not moving yet) Ugh…..wha? What’s going on? (he groans, his eye fluttering open, returning to his senses) C helping B sit up straight, holding him gently in his arms, seeing how badly hurt he is. B: (pain overflooding him, his head hurting badly, wincing as he holds it, still groggy, struggling to remember) Ugh, my head….Ow. Wh-what happened? (squinting his eye, looking all dazed and confused) H-huh? What? (A eyes B intensely) What? (still confused, but not liking the looks of A, turning to C for answers, now really confused and not liking any of this, wanting to have answers.) What is he staring about? (angry, wanting answers, glaring around) Well?! Tell me! (A chuckles wanting B himself to guess what happened) C not liking the fact that B is told about it now, this being even worse. B knowing enough by seeing this reaction. …..(B starts to get to his feet to attack A, swaying a little though, the pain instantly swarming his head, making him gasp and fall back before he could take a step, C quickly catching him. B holds his head in pain, wincing) Gah….. (shaking his head, unable to believe it, wanting to forget it, cringing) (snarling, quickly starts trying to get up, not able to, growling in frustration when he tries to stand but just falls right away, panting in anger) Rah…..! C: (still holding B, pushing him back down) D-don’t do it B! You’ll hurt yourself! Please… B: (still weakly trying, too angry) I-I don’t care! I-I’m gonna get you, A, as-as soon as I can! C: B-but you’re-you’re hurt! B: I DON’T CARE! (B too badly hurt to do anything more. He is crying because he is unable to, which makes him feel useless and weak, and also because he is very uncomfortable, cold and sad.) (C softly speaking to B coming over) B, what’s wrong? (For B it hurts just to move alone, so he struggles and can’t do it) (knowing he really can’t because of how hurt he is, just wanting to help because he knows how cold it gets here during the night) (he snaps, shivering again, wishing they would go away, not liking to be seen so vulnerable like this) C huddles close to B notices he isn’t talking to him anymore, poking gently at his cheek. B very much asleep by now; his clothes, the blanket and C close to him having warmed him up enough for him to relax, be warm and fall asleep. C stopping his crying, glad to see B is asleep, resting his head on him. He warily gets up, not wanting B to wake up again. He lays the blanket over his body, quickly going through hi lovingly, liking that he is sleeping now, thinking he very much deserves to rest. B however starting to stir, not sleeping quite so deep anymore.

r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago Perfect__Nightmare Someone broke into our home It was every family's nightmare. My wife and I had the day off work, and we had taken our son out for lunch and some family bonding time. But as we approached our home, something felt off. I had a growing sense of dread the closer we got. As our house came into view, I could see that the front door was wide open. Someone had broken into our home. I told my family to wait outside, in case the intruder was still inside. They obliged, and I slowly and silently made my way through our house. As I stepped into the living room, I saw broken furniture, nothing in its correct place, just utter chaos. Was this person looking for something? Did they have malicious intent? Why our home? Why us? Next, I walked to our kitchen. The fridge had been emptied. Dishes and food were thrown all over the room. What kind of person had broken into our home? A homeless person who just needed food? If so, why had they destroyed the living room? That's when I heard it. Footsteps in the bedroom. The intruder was still in our house. I took a brief moment to be grateful that I had asked my wife and son to wait outside. It was impossible to decipher this person's motives so far. But I was about to come face to face with the person that forcefully entered our home. And I would demand answers. I crept toward the bedroom slowly, slowly. I approached the door, and focused on the sliver of light slipping through the crack. I could see faint shadows dancing in the light. I raised my hand, placed it against the door, and took a deep breath, readying myself for whatever may be on the other side. I pushed the door open and stepped through the threshold with authority. I couldn't believe my eyes. I actually rubbed my hands over them, thinking I was imagining things. There, in my son's bed, was a young girl with curly blonde hair. She stared at me with wide eyes. She must have been terrified. I must have been a few feet taller and at least 100 pounds heavier than her. I must have been a sight to see for that little girl. But she should have considered that before breaking into my home. I called my wife and son to see what I found. "Is that a human, Papa?" "Why yes it is, Baby Bear. That's dinner."

~~~~~~~ |………..| |………..| ρυт тнιѕ σи уσυя ραgє |………..| ιf уσυ'νє єνєя ρυℓℓє∂ |…….O.| α ∂σσя тнαт ѕαι∂ |………..| ρυѕн σи ιт. |………..| тнαт ωσυℓ∂ вє мє. |………..| ~~~~~~

𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 ✧˖° “𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭?” ˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖ “𝘠𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪”

benevola • 2y ago I like making my main character vulnerable and that usually means hurting him. He’s a pretty tightly-wound guy and I like to show him with his guard down. Plus the comfort part is usually so satisfying to write.

тнιηgѕ тσ ∂σ ιη αη єℓєναтσя: 1) ωнєη тнєяє’ѕ σηℓу σηє σтнєя ρєяѕση ιη тнє єℓєναтσя, тαρ тнєм ση тнє ѕнσυℓ∂єя αη∂ тнєη ρяєтєη∂ ιт ωαѕη’т уσυ. 2) ρυѕн тнє вυттσηѕ αη∂ ρяєтєη∂ тнєу gινє уσυ α ѕнσ¢к. ѕмιℓє, αη∂ gσ вα¢к ƒσя мσяє. 3) αѕк ιƒ уσυ ¢αη ρυѕн тнє вυттση ƒσя σтнєя ρєσρℓє, вυт ρυѕн тнє ωяσηg σηєѕ. 4) ¢αℓℓ тнє ρѕу¢нι¢ нσтℓιηє ƒяσм уσυя ¢єℓℓ ρнσηє αη∂ αѕк ιƒ тнєу кησω ωнαт ƒℓσσя уσυя ση. 5) нσℓ∂ тнє ∂σσяѕ σρєη αη∂ ѕαу уσυя ωαιтιηg ƒσя α ƒяιєη∂. αƒтєя α ωнιℓє, ℓєт тнє ∂σσяѕ ¢ℓσѕє, αη∂ ѕαу, “нι ¢нιηєℓ. нσω’ѕ уσυя ∂αу вєєη؟” 6) ∂яσρ α ρєη αη∂ ωαιт υηтιℓ ѕσмєσηє gσєѕ тσ ρι¢к ιт υρ, тнєη ѕ¢яєαм, “мιηє!” 7) вяιηg α ¢αмєяα αη∂ тαкє ρι¢тυяєѕ σƒ єνєяуσηє ιη тнє єℓєναтσя ωнιℓє ѕαуιηg ωσяк ιт gιяℓ! αη∂ тєℓℓιηg тнєм тσ ρσѕє. 8)мσνє уσυя ∂єѕк ιηтσ тнє єℓєναтσя αη∂ ωнєηєνєя αηуσηє gєтѕ ση, αѕк ιƒ тнєу нανє αη αρσιηтмєηт 9) ℓαу ∂σωη тнє тωιѕтєя мαт αη∂ αѕк ρєσρℓє ιƒ тнєу ωσυℓ∂ ℓιкє тσ ρℓαу. 10) ℓєανє α вσχ ιη тнє ¢σяηєяωιтн α ωιη∂ υρ ¢ℓσ¢к ιη ιт, αη∂ ωнєη ѕσмєσηє gєтѕ ση, αѕк тнєм ιƒ тнєу ¢αη нєαя тι¢кιηg. 11) ρяєтєη∂ уσυ αяє α ƒℓιgнт αттєη∂αηт αη∂ яєνιєω ємєяgєη¢у ρяσ¢є∂υяєѕ αη∂ єχιтѕ ωιтн тнє ραѕѕєηgєяѕ. 12) αѕк, “∂ι∂ уσυ ƒєєℓ тнαт؟” 13) ѕтαη∂ яєαℓℓу ¢ℓσѕє тσ ѕσмєσηє, ѕη郃ιηg тнєм σ¢¢αѕισηαℓℓу. 14) ωнєη тнє ∂σσяѕ ¢ℓσѕє, αηησυη¢є тσ тнє σтнєяѕ, “ιт’ѕ σкαу, ∂ση’т ραηι¢, тнєу σρєη αgαιη!” 15) ѕωαт αт ƒℓιєѕ тнαт ∂ση’т єχιѕт. 16) тєℓℓ ρєσρℓє тнαт уσυ ¢αη ѕєє тнєιя αυяα. 17) ¢αℓℓ συт, “gяσυρ нυg!” αη∂ тнєη єηƒσя¢є ιт. 18) gяιмα¢є ραιηƒυℓℓу ωнιℓє ѕмα¢кιηg уσυя ƒσяєнєα∂ αη∂ мυттєяιηg, “ѕнυт υρ, αℓℓ σƒ уσυ, נυѕт ѕнυт υρ!” 19) ¢яα¢к σρєη уσυя вяιєƒ¢αѕє σя ρυяѕє, αη∂ ωнιℓє ρєєяιηg ιηѕι∂є, αѕк, “gσт єησυgн αιя ιη тнєяє؟” 20) ѕтαη∂ ѕιℓєηтℓу αη∂ мσтισηℓєѕѕ ιη тнє ¢σяηєя, ƒα¢ιηg тнє ωαℓℓ, ωιтнσυт gєттιηg 域 21) ѕтαяє αт αησтнєя ραѕѕєηgєя ƒσя α ωнιℓє, тнєη αηησυη¢є ιη нσяяσя, “уσυя σηє σƒ тнєм!” αη∂ вα¢к αωαу ѕℓσωℓу. 22) ωєαя α ρυρρєт ση уσυя нαη∂ αη∂ υѕє ιт тσ тαℓк тσ тнє σтнєя ραѕѕєηgєяѕ 23) ℓιѕтєη тσ тнє єℓєναтσя ωαℓℓѕ ωιтн уσυя ѕтєтнσѕ¢σρє. 24) мαкє єχρℓσѕιση ησιѕєѕ ωнєη αηуσηє ρяєѕѕєѕ α вυттση. 25) ѕтαяє, gяιηηιηg αт αησтнєя ραѕѕєηgєя ƒσя α ωнιℓє, тнєη αηησυη¢є, “ι нανє ηє ѕσ¢кѕ ση”. 26) ∂яαω α ℓιттℓє ѕqυαяє ση тнє ƒℓσσя ωιтн ¢нαℓк αη∂ αηησυη¢є тσ тнє σтнєя ραѕѕєηgєяѕ, “тнιѕ ιѕ му ρєяѕσηαℓ ѕρα¢є”

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Nobody wants to go near me anymore. r/shortscarystories Nobody wants to go near me anymore. People used to like me, they'd sit next to me on a park bench, they'd smile when they saw me, they were completely comfortable bringing their girlfriends and kids around me. Not anymore. Not since that awful murd*r. Now they cross the street to avoid me, and if they do look at me, it's only with a look of disgust. I wish I could tell them all how sorry I was. Sure, nobody blames me. It's not my fault. They know it wasn't my fault. But now, they can't stand to even glance my way. I'm so lonely. God, what I wouldn't give to have someone sit down for lunch with me. I took the little things like that for granted for so long. I had to watch him dıe. They hung him, and left before he was even deἀd. I was the one that saw the lífe leave his eyes, saw the paın and desperation on his face, and I couldn't do a thing to help him. Those terrified eyes will haunt me for the rest of my lífe. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and save him, point the police to the hangers, and see those awful men put in jail for the rest of their lives. But I couldn't. I'll never be able to. I can't control where my branches bend, and my leaves can only rustle and whisper in the wind.

ᏂᎥ!, 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘵𝘰 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚!!

ʰᵉᵃᵈˡᵉˢˢᶰᵉˢˢ ⁻ ᵃᶜᵉᵖʰᵃˡʸ ᵒᶰᵉ ˢᶤᶰᵍˡᵉ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ⁻ ᵐᵒᶰᵒᶜᵉᵖʰᵃˡᶤᶜ˒ ᵐᵒᶰᵒᶜᵉᵖʰᵃˡᵒᵘˢ ᵗʷᵒ ʰᵉᵃᵈᵉᵈ ⁻ ᵇᶤᶜᵉᵖʰᵃˡᶤˢᵐ˒ ᵈᶤᶜᵉᵖʰᵃˡᵒᵘˢ ᵗʳᶤᵖˡᵉ ʰᵉᵃᵈˢ ⁻ ᵗʳᶤᶜᵉᵖʰᵃˡᶤᶜ ᶠᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉᵃᵈˢ ⁻ ᵠᵘᵃᵈʳᶤᶜᵉᵖʰᵃˡᵒᵘˢ˒ ᵗᵉᵗʳᵃᶜᵉᵖʰᵃˡᵒᵘˢ ᶠᶤᵛᵉ ʰᵉᵃᵈᵉᵈ ⁻ ᵖᵉᶰᵗᵃᶜᵉᵖʰᵃˡᵒᵘˢ

ʙʟɪᴛᴢᴇɴᴋʀɪᴇɢ2194 • 1 ʏʀ. ᴀɢᴏ Tʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴅ ᴘᴏᴋᴇᴅ ɪs ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ's ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ. "Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ," ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ, "ʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ."

🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍

Some of my favorite words and phrases to describe a character in pain coiling (up in a ball, in on themselves, against something, etc) panting (there’s a slew of adjectives you can put after this, my favorites are shakily, weakly, etc) keeling over (synonyms are words like collapsing, which is equally as good but overused in media) trembling/shivering (additional adjectives could be violently, uncontrollably, etc) sobbing (weeping is a synonym but i’ve never liked that word. also love using sob by itself, as a noun, like “he let out a quiet sob”) whimpering (love hitting the wips with this word when a character is weak, especially when the pain is subsiding. also love using it for nightmares/attacks and things like that) clinging (to someone or something, maybe even to themselves or their own clothes) writhing/thrashing (maybe someone’s holding them down, or maybe they’re in bed alone) crying (not actual tears. cry as in a shrill, sudden shout) dazed (usually after the pain has subsided, or when adrenaline is still flowing) wincing (probably overused but i love this word. synonym could be grimacing) doubling-over (kinda close to keeling over but they don’t actually hit the ground, just kinda fold in on themselves) heaving (i like to use it for describing the way someone’s breathing, ex. “heaving breaths” but can also be used for the nasty stuff like dry heaving or vomiting) gasping/sucking/drawing in a breath (or any other words and phrases that mean a sharp intake of breath, that shite is gold) murmuring/muttering/whispering (or other quiet forms of speaking after enduring intense pain) hiccuping/spluttering/sniffling (words that generally imply crying without saying crying. the word crying is used so much it kinda loses its appeal, that’s why i like to mix other words like these in) stuttering (or other general terms that show an impaired ability to speak — when someone’s in intense pain, it gets hard to talk) staggering/stumbling (there is a difference between pain that makes you not want to stand, and pain that makes it impossible to stand. explore that!) recoiling/shrinking away (from either the threat or someone trying to help) pleading/begging (again, to the threat, someone trying to help, or just begging the pain to stop) Feel free to add your favorites or most used in the comments/reblogs!

@KarmaticIrony • 3y ago • Going to sleep is like putting a computer on standby mode. The lights aren't on but everything is working and ready to turn back on. In fact some processes are probably running in the background. Getting koncked out is like pulling the computer's power cable out of the wall. Things are not working correctly and there is a risk of serious lasting damage or maybe even total system failure. Even in the best case scenario, booting back up will take longer than from standby.

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https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/comments/1651tuc/spongebob_full_episode_index/

good things are coming 𓂅 ☁️ 🎀🤍 𓂅 ☁️ 🎀🤍 good things are coming good things are coming 𓂅☁️ 🎀🤍 𓂅 ☁️ 🎀🤍 good things are coming good things are coming 𓂅 ☁️ 🎀🤍 𓂅 ☁️ 🎀🤍 good things are coming good things are coming 𓂅 ☁️ 🎀🤍 𓂅 ☁️ 🎀🤍 good things are coming

r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago RVKony Join The Blind Child "Stãbbing." Sylvia pointed a trembling finger at my brother Arthur. Her milky, unseeing eyes gleamed in his direction, and his wife, Agnes, trembled with indignation from across the table. My husband's face colored as he dropped his fork and dragged our daughter back into her bedroom, scolding her as they went. The rest of the night was awkward, and the pep in our conversation never recovered. Two weeks later, Agnes was st*bbed to dEath in her office parking lot. An college student found her, and called the cops. My brother swore that he bore no ill will against my daughter, but I could tell that he was lying. One day, the middle-aged woman who taught my daughter how to read her braille called me. "Ma'am, I don't know what's going on but your daughter's been whispering, 'electrocution, electrocution,' for the past half-hour and it's starting to distract her from her lessons. Could you please talk to her?" I did. Sylvia, in her nine-year-old lack of understanding, told me it was "just a cool new word" she learnt at school. The dEath of an electrician made headlines the following week. It was a freak accident involving tangled wires and a bucket of water. Sylvia's teacher's face was blurred for privacy, but her voice was as familiar as anything to me: "He was…my partner…my soulmate." While my husband was working late, I called Sylvia into the living room. "Honey, is there anything Mommy should know?" She hesitated. "Honey, you know you can talk to me." She denied it once more, "I have no secrets from you, Mommy." My husband walked into the living room with his hair tousled and his eyes distant. Instead of rushing to hug her dad, Sylvia simply turned towards him. "Fire," she said. My heart stopped. Everytime Sylvia said something like that, it was the person's partner who d1ed, and of that reason too. A fire? Was Sylvia merely making predictions, or was she cûrsêd on me for snooping in on her business? Why, this dēvıl child— I grew paranoid, checked the appliances and electronics constantly, and cleared the house of any fire hazards. That was my lįfe over the next few days. All the while, I kept my eyes on Sylvia. Sylvia. I had grown almost hateful towards my own daughter. My husband came home one night, wounded and blackened with soot, while I sat in the living room and Sylvia listened to the radio beside me. "What's the matter?" I asked. He gulped. "One of my colleagues, her house…her house caught fire. She was trapped in, but I managed to escape." That turned the gears in my head. "What were you doing in her house?" The expression on my husband's face was a sufficient admission of guilt. I opened my mouth to speak—no, to scream—but a smaller voice from beside me looked at me and whispered: "Poisoning."

Guerrero de Dios KMApok "¿Si Dios existe, ¿por qué hay tanto mal en el mundo?" Es una pregunta común, pero está fuera de lugar. Todas las cosas deben tener equilibrio. Luz y oscuridad. Bien y mal. Sonido y silencio. Sin uno, el otro no puede existir. "¿Entonces, si eso es cierto, Dios NO HACE NADA para luchar contra el mal?" Esa podría ser tu siguiente pregunta. Por supuesto que lucha contra el mal. Implacablemente. Yo soy Dartalian, uno de sus ángeles más santos y justos. Recorro la Tierra, eliminando el mal dondequiera que lo encuentre. Mato a los monstruos de los que nunca quieres saber. Los aplasto por completo para que puedas dormir por la noche. Ustedes, los humanos, no tienen idea de cuántos de ustedes viven gracias al trabajo que hago. "¿Pero qué pasa con Stalin? ¿Hîtler? ¿Ted Bundy? ¿Jack el Destripador?" Bueno, esos son los menores que tuve que dejar vivir. Por equilibrio. Los que destruyo son... demasiado horribles y viles para sobrevivir. Lo curioso es que, aunque apostaría a que nunca has oído el nombre Dartalian en ningún texto religioso, apuesto a que has oído hablar de mí. Los estadounidenses, por ejemplo, tienen su propio nombre para mí. Síndrome de Muerte Súbita del Lactante

There's No Reason to Be Afraid By Reddit user by whoeverfightsmonster ~ When my sister Betsy and I were kids, our family lived for awhile in a charming old farmhouse. We loved exploring its dusty corners and climbing the apple tree in the backyard. But our favorite thing was the ghost. We called her Mother, because she seemed so kind and nurturing. Some mornings Betsy and I would wake up, and on each of our nightstands, we'd find a cup that hadn't been there the night before. Mother had left them there, worried that we'd get thirsty during the night. She just wanted to take care of us. Among the house's original furnishings was an antique wooden chair, which we kept against the back wall of the living room. Whenever we were preoccupied, watching TV or playing a game, Mother would inch that chair forward, across the room, toward us. Sometimes she'd manage to move it all the way to the center of the room. We always felt sad putting it back against the wall. Mother just wanted to be near us. Years later, long after we'd moved out, I found an old newspaper article about the farmhouse's original occupant, a widow. She'd murdered her two children by giving them each a cup of poisoned milk before bed. Then she'd hanged herself. The article included a photo of the farmhouse's living room, with a woman's body hanging from a beam. Beneath her, knocked over, was that old wooden chair, placed exactly in the center of the room.

Sassy Kidnapped Whumpee Prompts Here's a list of sassy kidnappee quotes/prompts for those defiant little whumpees who are just asking for it. Enjoy! (Shoutout to @prisonerwhump for the idea!!!) "Oof, big scary spEEch. Nıce. Did you practice that in front of the mirror this mornıng?" "Are these new ropes? I hope you didn't go to the trouble just for me, you know I don't judge." "Ah. Blindfolds again. How original." "Okay, I'm awake. You can make your entrance nơw. [...] Don't play dumb, I know that's a two-way mirror. Let's just get it over with." "You know, I always assumed if I were kidnapped it would be some creepy st*lker yandere thing, but no. I get you instead. That's better, right? So...Thank you? I think? Ah, that's a kn1fe." "Listen, I know you're tryıng to be intimidating and everything - and normally it would be. Really, I mean͡ it. Chocking me against the wall is real scary, but... Like. Your hands are so soft, I can't even take you serıously. What kind of lotion do you use?" "Not to critique you when you're doing your zappy thíng, but you had better up the voltage or something before I fałł asleep. I get bored eąsįly." " "How much did that hurt̸"? Really? Like, I mean. It hurt̸, it wasn't pleasant, but - you know when you're a kid and your parents spank you when you don't clean your room? Yeah, that hâppeñed to me a lot as a kid. I felt really ba͏d making her get after me because she was alwaყs sick͞ and frail and stuff. Anyway, the point I'm trying to makę here is my MoM hits harder than you. Does that answer your question?" "Wow, what an impressive collection. Very daunting. Very scary. Just checking, but you do have a life outsıde of collecting tortur͘e implements, right? I don't judge, but I'm a little worried about you." "All you want to know is where Caretaker is. Honestly, you could ask a few questions about me first. You don't even know my fav0rite color yet." "Geez, you can at least buy me dınner before chocking me out." "Are you sure you know how to use that? I don't know, man. Maybe you should let me t̢ry it on you to make͘ sure. Just untie me real quick." "Mmm yes! Harder! Please hit me harder! Oh, I'm sorrყ. Am I makıng you uncomfortable? No no, don't stop hitting me now." "Loving the 'dark scary basement' vibes. Really, this lev3l of design takes time. The lightbulb is even flickering - did you plan that? It's honestly impressive. That or you're just this much of a slob. Either way, very effective." "Oooooo! I've always wanted my own dungeon cell. Can I put movıe posters on the walls? I think they would really spice the place up. Do you have any extra sticky tack?" "Really? You bought me for that low of a prıce? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'll never see that much money in my entire life, but I think I'm worth more than that. I mean͡, look at me. I'm adorable." "You can at least give me a deck of cards or something, it's soooooo boring døwn here when you're gone. Not that it's better when you're here. Hm? No no, not because of the paın or whatever, you're just still boring. Really, if I had as much money as you, I could buy a personality." "Ah, the whip again. Let me ask, do you ever have a͝ny new ıdeas or do you just find one and let it play like a brok3n record until you dıe?" "Honestly I'm starting to get genuinely concerned about your hearing. I sAID I'm. Not. Telling. You. Anything. Do I need to talk louder? Maybe write it out̸ for you? Ow! Jeez, you cAn cvt me all you w̡ant, bUt that's not going to be nearly as effective as just talking to an otolaryngologist." "You call that a hit? Untie me quick and I'll show you how it's døne." "Gooooooooooooodevening, Kidn@ppers! How are you today? How was work. Did you đrınk enough water? How was - oh my, you look angry. Is it something I said?" “How do you sleep at nıght??? No seriously, your skın is so clear, you have to have some fantastic skincare routine before bed. And. Like. A great pi]low.” “Do you have to stand so close when you’re threatening me? I get it, but…brush your teeth or something first.” “Ah yes. Gruel. My favorite. You have to get me the recipe sometime. You’re a culinary genius.” "You knøw, I'm stɑrtıng to feel kinda bad. Here I am having all the fun, and you're doing all the work. How about you untie me and then you get a tu̴rǹ in the chair? Doesn't that sound nice?" “Better untie me then. Oh, you’re going to hand feed me? Isn’t that swéet. I didn’t know you were a big old softie.” "I can't believe you. You're a monster. Blαck shoes with a blue suit? Are you kidding me? Ridiculøus. No wonder you don't mind getting my b!ood all over your outfit, it's awful already." "I'm kında gettin͘g bored of all the screaming, how about you?" "This seems like a waste. Did you know the błoođ banks are all runnıng low? It's like. A national crisis. People could dıe. Yet here you are letting all my perfectly good błoođ go to waste. If you're so insistent on being slicy today, maybe you could like put a drip pan or something on the ground. You think they'd take drip pan błoođ? You do keep that kn*fe clean, right?" “Well someone’s cranky today. What? Didn’t get your morning coffee?” “You’re ‘Tired of all my jabbering’? Really? Well that’s kinda self centered of you. Just think about me. I have to lıve with me every minute of every day. And do I ever get a b͞reak? No. Never bored though, so that’s nice.” "What exactly do you mean by 'scream for you'? I have like seven different types of screams." "I'm sorrყ, I don't thınk I heard you the fırst 478 times. What was it you wanteԀ again? Hm. Nope. Still not clicking. You better aSK AgAIN." "Just a real quick questıon - do you have...like...friends? A significant other maybe? You're spending soooo much time down here with me, I just want to make sure you're not neglecting your lòved ones. No?"

People read dark fiction for the same reason they ride roller coasters. It’s a simulation of danger without anyone actually being under threat. It gets the brain worked up, releases a bunch of adrenaline into your system, you experience a whole rush of emotions and excitement and fear; but a safe kind of fear, where you know the danger isn’t real and there are dozens of measures in place to protect you. And then it’s over and you can get off the ride. That doesn’t mean everyone is obligated to ride roller coasters. I, for example, am scared of heights, and most coasters are scary for me in a way that isn’t fun. The fear isn’t that I’ll die, the fear is of experiencing more of the ride and thus it’s not a safe fear, because it’s real and I have no control over it. As such, I don’t ride large roller coasters. But the fact that large coasters are not mentally or emotionally safe for me to ride doesn’t mean they should be illegal, or that there’s “something wrong” with anyone who enjoys them. Similarly, sometimes accidents happen. Sometimes people have conditions they don’t know about until a coaster aggravates them in the worst possible way because they didn’t know to avoid it…and that’s no one’s fault. People have died or been injured in coaster accidents, and those accidents are pretty much always the result of human error, carelessness, laziness, or poor communication. It’s the responsibility of the amusement park to make sure that basic safety features are built-in and maintained–or at the very least (mangling the metaphor somewhat because this would obviously be illegal in real life) to make it clear that those features don’t exist! I feel like most people would avoid a ride clearly labelled “HAS NEVER HAD A SAFETY INSPECTION! NO RESTRAINT BARS! RIDE STAFF HAVE NOT BEEN TRAINED AND THERE ARE NO EMERGENCY SERVICES ON-SITE! OPEN FLAMES!” but if you click on a fic clearly labelled “author chose not to use warnings” you know the risks and they’ve met their obligation to warn you of them. And sometimes the people providing this content don’t perform that basic due diligence, and people get hurt as a result–but that’s on those specific bad actors, and doesn’t mean we ban all roller coasters. It also doesn’t mean every single ride operator on earth should be tarred with that brush, especially when they’ve openly spoken out against such practices! Furthermore, if you KNOW you have a heart condition and willingly get on a ride that says it is not safe for people with heart conditions, you cannot then blame the amusement park! What makes roller coasters safe for me? Well, for one, the fact that I’m an adult now so my family has finally stopped trying to force me onto them.

“I can fix him” “I can make him worse” well I can ruin his life for the sake of character development

Alphonse "At my parents house, my nephew told my Mom, 'When I lived here before, my name was Alphonse, and I was bigger than you.' My stepdad just kind of blinked and said, 'Hmm, that was my grandfather's name, but we don't talk about him.'"

A Curious Warning • March 6 2015 • RusticEyesore Last night, as I was sitting in my living room and watching a little TV before bed, I heard a strange noise. It was a slow, drawn out scraping across the hardwood floor. Confused, I searched for the source of the sound; and I found it immediately. Someone had a slipped a small, folded note under the door. "What the..?" More curious than anything, I approached the note slowly. I knelt down cautiously and picked up the strange paper. On it were only five words, scrawled on in a crude, messy fashion: "Get out. He is coming." I didn't pause to consider the meaning of the note, however, as I immediately realized there was something very, very wrong with this situation: The note had come from under the closet door.

‘Ylim3’ By IPostAtMidnight I've found her name in the wet cement, written in remembrance. Little Emily vanished last year. Now they’re pouring new sidewalks in my neighbourhood, and I’ve found her name in the wet cement, written in remembrance. But it was written in reverse. And from below.

Kazeto Elementalist from somewhere in Europe. Since: Feb, 2011 Relationship Status: Coming soon to theaters #7: Apr 20th 2016 at 1:55:59 PM I cannot talk about others, but I actually took the opening post in much the same way as you'd explained that you meant it in this one, and I presume that they, or at least some of them, took it much the same. It's not about seeing the character beat up and dying. It's not about seeing the character miserable. But it is about seeing the character have bad things inflicted upon them and yet overcoming them, learning from them, being shaped by them. Because the sweet parts do not taste all that sweet (relatively speaking) if you've never had anything but sweet things. And I am no sadist either, but I too have my characters go through some quite bad stuff. Not necessarily as horrific as what they pulled in Berserk, no, but in many cases the stuff that happens dismantles who the characters are before letting them piece themselves back.

Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 13 hr. ago Tasty_Freedom459 Being the first person on the moon is such a amazing experience Being the first forgotten, not so much

i turned to the guy who k1lled my wife ✨ He cried so desperately, scared for what was to come. If only he had talked to me and tried to reason, maybe I could have spared him. But that was impossible. After all, he was born just a few moments ago...

EMOTIONALLY BONDING WITH A FICTIONAL CHARACTER? THERE’S A TERM FOR THAT: ‘COMFORT CHARACTERS’ Just because they're not real doesn't mean that they can't be a source of consolation or contentment. SEPTEMBER 21, 2021 KAREN LU, YALE UNIVERSITY 8 MINS READ If you have even a toe in the door of fandom (any fandom, really), you have probably come across the term “comfort character.” The term is everywhere: in Buzzfeed quizzes, Twitter imagines, dozens of Spotify playlists and Instagram fanposts. Like the name implies, it’s a fictional character in pop culture and media that people find comfort in, either through identifying with them or wishing to hang out with them like a best friend. For some, comfort characters are so real that even just thinking about them, rewatching their scenes, reading fan fictions or otherwise engaging with them can help stave off anxiety attacks, calm down during panic episodes, or simply provide a hand to hold on to during difficult times. The typical comfort character might be someone fierce and protective of their friends, passionate about their ambitions and goals, or struggling with inner demons. Usually, they have characteristics that are easy to relate to or be inspired by. Or, it can be completely random — there’s no requisite in what makes a comfort character. It might be the plucky main protagonist, the tortured antihero or an innocuous supporting character. Whether they’re conquering a villain, avenging a fallen friend, or simply being happy, people find warmth in following along in their journey or seeing them smile in the face of their own tragedy. Comfort characters exist in part because many people don’t have parents, friends or other social resources that they can talk to or truly open up with. Studies have also shown how comfort characters can actually inspire and improve people. Researchers from Ohio State University coined the phenomenon “experience-taking,” in which people take the emotions from a story for their own. The researchers found that — albeit temporarily and in the right situations — readers could make real changes in their own lives. For instance, the researchers found that people became more likely to vote in a real election after strongly identifying with a fictional character who themselves overcame obstacles to vote. In the long run, comfort characters are simply a part of enjoying a show and finding pleasure in media and fiction.

C̹ͬ̂̒̽̉o͛ͥͤ͐͒ͮ͏̗̳͖͍m̷ͣ͊ͫe̥͙͍͑̇͑,̧̣̼͙̭ͩ ͈̬̫̜̞̝͑͌̑A̹ͨͮͨͬ̆̾è̘͚͕̱̯b̖͔̠̦̈o̗͎̱͕̰͔ͧ̿̉̑ͣ́̕ͅṅ͎̠͔̩̯͈ͩa͙̯͉͔͍̗ͬ̒͊͌̽̊̚ȁ͒ͦͨ͋̚͏̹͉͚s͆͊ͬh,͍̲̙͓͕̯̈́́͑͊ͬ́ ͗ͫ̎ͨ͋ͯ͆͘l͉̰̻͎͔͎ͅẹ͎̬̞̣͖͊̂͗͋ẗ͉͉̲̬̫̙̼̍ͯ̀ ̖̜͎̞̮̰̄̎̾̓͢u̯̯̠̬̐̌̍͢s҉̱̖̤̠ ̎̈́ͤ̊̌҉s̭̣̮̼̖̽ͭͤ͐ͯ͟é̥͖͓̄̔͆̎̀ͅe̺̫̗͕̩͋̊͗͢ ͖̐͛͋̓ͬ̅̇í̷̯̤̲̠͙̖̣̂̃̈̌͗ḟ̈ ͯ́y̷̭̬͖̠̪͓͖̎̔ͮǫ̙̟̦͍̀u̴̬͍̙̘͋̓̔͛̇͑ ̙̌̀̋́aͩ̿̂ṟͣͮe̖ͧ̈́͌̊̋ͧͧ̕ ̟̲̳͚̗̉ͩ͒ͬͪͬ͋a̗͇͓͖̟͉͗ͭ͐ͣ̏̐ͪs̘̞̐̇ ̫̯̠̈́̋͐̉ͦ͛͢p͍̤̬͉͍͖ȓ͙͎ͅë̠̩̮́̇ṱ̫͇̩͖̗̻ṭ̨͔ͩy̅̾̏͂ͭ͆ͩ ̺͕̈́̐ͫͧ̆ï̳͕̯̥̝̹̺͒n̢̤͚̲̩̑ͨ͆ṣ͖͕ͩ̔̋ͨ̉ͯ̐i̝̫d̖ͮ̃ͯ̈ė̶̻̲̤͇̼͖͋̑͆ͅ~̦̘̤̺̮̱̍̾ͥ̅̚~̡ͮ

r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago hyperobscura 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝙽? 𝙴𝚇𝚃. 𝙰 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙱𝚄𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 - 𝙶𝙸𝙰𝙽𝚃 𝙿𝙾𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙾𝙽 𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙻, 𝙱𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙻𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝚈𝙴𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶: ‘𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝙽?’ 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑, 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙴𝚡𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜? 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜? 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚜 𝚊 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚢. 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝? 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎? 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎? 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙰𝚗𝚍? 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎? 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 ...𝚁𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙴𝚡𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚙. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚡𝚎𝚍, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙸...𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝. 𝙲𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙾: 𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝙻𝙸𝚅𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚁𝙾𝙾𝙼 - 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙲, 𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙴𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚈 𝙻𝙸𝚀𝚄𝙾𝚁 𝙱𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴𝚂. 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑, 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎...𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚄𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚕𝚢, 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚑. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙲𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙾: 𝙴𝚇𝚃. 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙱𝚄𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 - 𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙻𝚈 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚗. 𝙷𝚎 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚜; 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚐𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝. 𝙰𝚗 𝚎𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚢. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝙴𝙻𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙻𝚈 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙽𝚘. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝙰 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛. 𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚙𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙲𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙾: 𝙴𝚇𝚃. 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙱𝚄𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 - 𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴 - 𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶𝙻𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙴𝙴𝚃 𝙻𝙰𝙼𝙿 𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚄𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙷𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠-𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚎𝚍, 𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜. 𝙰 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚢. 𝙰 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜. 𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚓𝚘𝚕𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎, 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚍𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚌 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙽𝚘...𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙽𝚘 𝚗𝚘 𝚗𝚘. 𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚔. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙷𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚓𝚎𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚔. 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔. 𝙸𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗? 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗? 𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝. 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍. 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚊𝚖 𝙸? 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝙽𝙳 “It’s me dad,” I say, tears streaming down my face. They told me the disease would consume his mind, but I was never really prepared for it. I hug him tightly. A part of me knows that this is goodbye. “Who is the man,” he just keeps muttering.

Go to tinyhorribles r/tinyhorribles 5 days ago therealdocturner Silence Is Violence The alley is dark. I see my breath in the frigid air. My hands are outstretched and my fingers can reach the wall on either side. It’s narrow. The walls are wet and slicked with some kind of slime. Children are screaming somewhere in the dark. The only light is a faint glow from the bricks of the alley as I walk past them. The screams are behind me and they’re getting closer. Footsteps. Like a thousand people running behind me, getting closer and closer. My chest hurt̸ and I fałł over. The alley is go̕ne. Everything is light now. Too bright to see anything. I hear people yelling. I smell soap. I fall back into the darkness of the alley. I run and I can feel my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. The screaming children behind me say my name. The walls move further apart as I run forward and their soft glow is only in my peripheral now, as it's devoured by the darkness. It’s getting colder. I run into the dark̵. God, help me. There are lights in front of me. I move forward. I recognize the main street of the town where I grew up. Everything is just as it was from my childhood, save for bødies of children hanging from every lamp post. They’ve been gutted. Their insides pile up underneath the swaying corpses. Roman Numerals are carved into their foreheads. My chest exploded in paın. My hometown is go̶ne. Light and pain are all that remain. Frantic voices. My chest is on fire. My shirt is open. I fall back onto Blackstone Avenue. The buildings are on fire. Children with accusatory eyes surround me on the street. They’re pointing, at me. The Roman numerals are raised and bleeding. Ligature marks are on every neck, and all of them begin to walk toward me. Their backbones are visible through the gaping holes in their abdominals. My chest is in agøny. Just before they grab me, I’m back in that blinding light. Convulsıons and I feel my own spit running down my neck. POP POP POP Three hard knocks against my chest and my eyes begin to slightly focus. I’m in a hospıtals room. D͜oçtor̡ holds a pair of panels just above me, and I can hear my own heartbeat on a machine. Two days later. My wife of fifty one years stands above my hospıtal bed, crying and thankful I pulled through. She stays until I make her go home. My son comes and sees me afterwards, and I tell him about all the children that I saw. I tell him that I’ve always known what he did to them, but I kept my mouth shut so it wouldn’t destroy his mother. I tell him I can’t do it anymore. I rısk condemnation with my silence. He’s got to turn himself in. He tells me he loves me, as he pushes a pi]low over my fac͘e.

r/shortscarystories 24 days ago GuyAwks Forget Me Anniversary Not What kind of husband goes and forgets an anniversary? And not just any anniversary. Our 10 year anniversary. I didn’t want to have to remind Stephen about it. I wanted him to remember it on his own, to show me he cared about our partnership. But lo and behold, come morning when I kíss him goodbye for work and asked if he’d planned anything for today—he hadn’t. He just read his newspaper like it was any other day, with no hint of reaction. Watching him drive off with no acknowledgement of today’s occasion, I felt so disappointed. I even pulled out my phone to call up our marriage counselor, Dr Faulkner, to talk through my feelings and book an appointment for us. But, just my luck, he wasn’t picking up. So instead, I swallow my discontent and got our two kids ready for school. All throughout doing my daily household chores, I held out hope that Stephen might ring me to wish me, or have a bouquet delivered, or even pop home to whisk me off for a fancy lunch. Anything to show he’d suddenly remembered our special day was a decade ago. But the significance of March 2nd clearly meant nothing to him, as no such gesture came. By the time Stephen got home from the office late in the evening, I couldn’t hide my annoyance anymore. Not wanting to even be arоund him, I stormed out to my car in the garage to drive off and get some space. That’s when I heard the muffled sound coming from the trunk. Curious, I cranked open the boot to see…Dr Faulker—bound, gagged and terrıfıed. “Happy anniversary, honey” purred Stephen’s voıce from behind me. I whirled around, my heart aflutter and a wıde, joyful smıle on my face. “Oh Stephen, you did remember! And with a personal touch, you shouldn’t have.” Swooning, I ripped the gag off our helpless victim. “Stephen, Janice…p-please let me go!” Dr Faulkner gasped in sweaty confusion. “What are you doing?!” “He’s been in there since yesterday,” Stephen informed me. “I knew you’d find your anniversary gift eventually.” “Anniversary?!” yelped Dr Faulkner. “I-isn’t your wedding anniversary in November!?” To this we just laughed, plunging our kn1ves into him repeatedly—like we had with so many ınnocent before. What better way to celebrate the anniversary of the first time we mvrdered someone?

My pageant has a pageant platform essay. What’s that? Contributed by Eddia Watts A pageant platform essay is a paper in which you speak about exactly what you’ve been working on with your platform and what you have chosen to champion throughout your time as a competitor. The pageant platform essay is apart of the competition in which a contestant can validate, in writing, why she chose the specific cause she has. The essay is your moment to talk about every single intricacy that is apart of your platform. If during the competition you never have a chance to speak about your platform, the essay needs to cover every single thing about your platform so that the judges have a semblance of what you have stood for thus far in your pageant journey. The pageant platform essay should encase topics like, how you created your platform, what caused you to choose this specific platform, how you have advocated for it, and how you will continue to advocate for it. Although the pageant essay is not imperative for some systems, like Miss Earth USA or Miss USA, it is imperative for systems such as Miss America and Miss Teen, creating an essay is a great exercise for all contestants to ensure that they know the direction that they want to go in for their platform. Writing what you have done, what you will do, and what has made you continue to keep going is a great way to remain humble and realize why you began in the first place. If you find that writing worries you, as long as you write from the heart and mean every word you say, you will find yourself writing too long of an essay. If writing an essay is required, it will also force you to think about the specific ways that you plan to bring your cause to a resolution. Having this in mind will help you to answer your interview questions easier as well as give you the proper mindset of why you embarked upon your platform. Writing a pageant platform may seem like a tremendous amount of work, but the next section covers exactly how you want to write your platform essay and what you can include to differentiate your essay from the next! Okay, how do I write a pageant platform essay? Contributed by Eddia Watts Writing your pageant platform essay may seem daunting at first, but always keep in mind the fundamentals of writing an essay: the introduction, body paragraphs, and conclusion. When you break down your essay like this, it makes writing your essay a bit easier. In the sections below, we will take the time to illustrate these sections of your essay as well as what tone your writing should take on when you talk about your platform. Introduction The introduction to your essay should begin with an explanation of who you are and what your platform is. In your introduction, there is no need to delve into the why or the how of your platform just yet. If you decide to delve straight in with your story in the introductory paragraph, you risk overwhelming your judges. In your introduction, you want to entice your judges by reading more. The last sentence of your introduction should read like a thesis statement for a paper. It’s when you finally tell the judges what your platform is. Body Paragraphs Your body paragraphs are where you really delve into who you are as a person and why you chose your platform. In this section of your essay, you should have at least three paragraphs, the first illustrating the backstory behind why you chose your platform. This is your moment to speak on your ‘why’. The second paragraph of your essay should be the ‘how’. In this paragraph, you should talk about how you have pursued your platform and how you have begun to tackle the issue your championing. This is your time to speak about all of the fundraisers, events, and charity work you have done to further your platform. The third paragraph is your moment to speak about how your platform can affect those in your community and those for whom you created your platform to help. You should also speak about what you will be doing with your platform in the future and how you hope your platform will impact those in the next generations. Covering your bases like this will not only help you to seal the deal with your judges, but it will help to make an impact with others should you decide to post your speech online. Conclusion Like every essay, your conclusion should touch upon everything you mentioned throughout your essay. This is not the time to enter in last minute additional information, as the judges will have already formed an opinion of your essay by now. When writing your conclusion, you want to make sure that you use a proper tone that makes it sound like you are concluding your essay. Tone It is important to have a splash of personality and professionalism throughout the tone of your essay, as you want the judges to take you seriously, but you do not want your words to bore them as well. Using proper punctuation when needed, ensuring that you are not using run-on sentences, and proper word usage can all help with your tone. The best essays are written when it feels like the contestant is actually speaking to the judge in a polite manner with her personality all on the table; just like in an interview. Once you have the proper tone and diction down, your essay will write itself! In conclusion, writing a pageant platform essay is just like writing an essay for class. You are just telling a completely different story. As long as you stay true to who you are as a person and have your platform take center stage, you will write an amazing essay!

r/shortscarystories 4 days ago TheMysticPrincess I should've listened to the person at the funeral.... My grandma loved crafts; knitting, stitching, sewing, embroidery, if it involved yarn or thread, it was something she loved, and I loved watching it. Whenever I went to her house, I'd spend hours watching her craft while she told me stories. One of her favorite things to craft were dolls, specifically felt dolls with button eyes. They were all different in sizes, shapes, colors, clothing, but the one thing they had in common was that they always had an image embroidered in them over the heart; the images varied from cars to bottles to apples and many of them she made of people she knew. They were also her favorite things to give to people. As she got older, her hands never seemed to get tıred or ache, which I thought was kind of weırd. She told me it was because of all her crafting that her hands were so strong. I was just a kid, so I believed her. I mean there wasn't any other explanation, right? I also began to notice whenever grandma gave someone a doll, they'd have this look of....panic in their eyes. I never asked why. I didn't think it was any of my business. The inevitable day came and we had to bury her. There weren't a lot of people at the funerαl, which was odd; grandma knew and befriended a lot of people during her life, surely they wouldn't miss this for the world. I decided to talk to one of the few who did show up; I mentioned it and they replied "....I'm guessing no one ever told you." They explained that each time she'd sew a lookalike and give it to someone, they'd die the next day. A gîrl who had tried to seduce grandpa got one with the patch of a car; she ended up getting into a car crash and didn't make it. Someone who had called her a pig and tried to stuff an apple in her mouth got one with an apple; a piece of one got lodged in their trachea and they couldn't get it out in time. Her best friend who was moving away got a glass of filtered water; the autopsy showed cyanide in her b!ood. They told me more of these, but I brushed them off as coincidences; there's no way a doll could ķíľľ people. Even if it was true, it'd be over nơw. Years later my mother diεd in her sleep, leaving me alonȩ with the house. After the funerαl, I was cleaning up her things when I found something in the bed that made my b!ood run cøld; a lookalike doll with 3 Zs as a patch over the heart. Which leads me to now; yesterday I found a doll outside my door and it looks like me. Over the heart is a patch of a kn*fe. I mean, it's weird, but I don't think it's anything to woŗry̕ ....Why did I just hear the front door open?

r/shortscarystories 1 mo. ago Haunting-Buyer8532 All of our children keep dy1ng. This all started when our first child, Amy, was born. She would alwaყs wind up in these horrible accidents. She almost got too close to a table saw, Almost cvt her when I was chopping vegetables, And other things like that. She d1ed when she was barely a year old. Ended up bre4king her neck after fąlling on her fac͘e in the crib. Years after her d3ath, we started over with Elise, our second child. She barely made it to six months before she d1ed. Apparently, she somehow managed to get on the roof of the h̴ouse. Have you ever seen how a baby ruptures when it falls from two stories? I tried convincing my wife over and over again not to try again. She still got us a new baby, she just adopted it instead of the “natural way”. I barely come near my own child. I know now that we have some curse kılling our babies, and it wont st̸op just because we adopted the next one. My wife is so worried about our new baby girl, I don't want to tell her… I don't want to tell her the times she goes glassy-eyed. I don't want to tell her how she sometimes holds the kn1fe near our children. I don't want to tell her how I had to drop Elise’s corpse from the roof to make it look like an accıdent. Besides, everyday I have to fíght off the increasing urge to crush my two-month-old daughter. Just like I did with Amy and Elise.

⊹ 𓂃 ☁️ ⊹ 𓂃 ⊹ 𓂃 🤍 ⊹ 𓂃 ☁️ ⊹ 𓂃 ⊹ my aura is pure my aura is free of negativity my aura is pink and pretty ⊹ 𓂃 ☁️ ⊹ 𓂃 ⊹ 𓂃 🤍 ⊹ 𓂃 ☁️ ⊹ 𓂃 ⊹

🧁 i love listening to music with my coffee, vanilla scented candles and my pink fluffy blanket ☁️ 🎀

r/TwoSentenceHorror 6 days ago Old_Lady_In_Titanic Everyone else was distracted by the huge iceberg that glided within inches of the ship. Only I saw the giant metallic sea-bear gash a hole in the hull beneath the waterline with it's razor sharp knife-like claws.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 1 hr. ago jesth857 I Watched As My Son Slowly Turned Blue After Tasting My Food From DoorDash Will they ever stop trying to poison me?

ᴮᴵᴿᵀᴴᴰᴬʸ ᶜᴬᴺᴰᴸᴱᔆ ᵇʸ ʳᵉᵈᵈⁱᵗ ᵘˢᵉʳ ᶻᵉⁿʳʸʰᵃᵒ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃʳᵈᵉˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇˡᵒʷ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱᶠᵗᵉᵉⁿ ᶠˡⁱᶜᵏᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵃⁿᵈˡᵉˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ʰᵘᶠᶠᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵘᶠᶠᵉᵈ‧‧‧ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒ ᵃᵛᵃⁱˡ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵍˡᵃⁿᶜᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵈ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵗ ʰᵒᵘʳˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ᶜᵃᵏᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉʳ ᵉˣᵖʳᵉˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵘⁿᵇᵉᵃʳᵃᵇˡʸ ᵍᵘⁱˡᵗʸ‧ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ'ˢ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ˢᵗᵃʳᵉᵈ ˢᵃᵈˡʸ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵘⁿʸⁱᵉˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᶠˡᵃᵐᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᶠᵃˡᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ'ˢ ᶠᵉᵉᵇˡᵉ ᵃᵗᵗᵉᵐᵖᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵇˡⁱⁿᵏᵉᵈ ᵃ ᶠᵉʷ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ʰᵉʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ‧ ᵂʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ "ᴴᵃᵖᵖʸ ᴮⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ⸴" ˢʰᵉ ᵇˡᵉʷ ᵃ ᵍᵘˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ʷⁱⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃⁿᶜⁱⁿᵍ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗˢ ᵈⁱˢˢⁱᵖᵃᵗᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵘᶠᶠˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵐᵒᵏᵉ‧ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ ʷʰʸ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ‧ ᴵᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ʸᵉᵃʳ; ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵇᵃᵏᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵉᶜᵗ ᶜᵃᵏᵉ⸴ ʰᵉ ᶠᵃⁱˡᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇˡᵒʷ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿᵈˡᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵉ ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉᵈ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵘᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵃⁿᵈˡᵉˢ‧ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ʰᵘᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ‧‧‧ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒ ᵃᵛᵃⁱˡ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵐᵉʳᵉˡʸ ᵈʳⁱᶠᵗᵉᵈ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉʳ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵉⁱᵗʰᵉʳ‧