Irl Story Emojis & Text

⠀ ⠀ (\__/) (•ㅅ•) Don’t talk to ＿ノヽ ノ＼＿ me or my son `/　`/ ⌒Ｙ⌒ Ｙ ヽ ever again. ( 　(三ヽ人　 /　 | |　ﾉ⌒＼ ￣￣ヽ ノ ヽ＿＿＿＞､＿_／ ｜( 王 ﾉ〈 (\__/) /ﾐ`ー―彡\ (•ㅅ•) / ╰ ╯ \ / \>

🗿,☠

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠤⠖⢒⠂⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠖⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠢⣥⣢⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⠀ ⢀⣟⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠿⠷⠶⣄⠀⠀⢠⠾⠟⠛⠛⢷⡀⠀⢀⡼⣿⣇⡇ ⠈⠛⠛⠿⢕⡂⢴⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⠈⠆⠠⣮⣴⢤⡀⣀⣸⣗⣶⡧⠒⠉⠉⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⠴⣺⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠛⡿⣽⣿⣽⠿⠛⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡌⠀⠀⠈⠉⢩⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣒⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⢀⡴⠖⠉⠛⠓⠲⠶⠾⠿⠿⠿⢏⡳⡀⠄⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠞⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣶⣿⣇⢧⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠫⢽⣽⣉⣹⣁⣧⣿⠟⣱⣿⣾⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠩⠤⠭⣶⣋⡟⢸⢁⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠝⡇⣘⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠢⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣷⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠠⠤⠤⠤⠤⠾⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⡐⢂⡒⡌⢆⡱⢂⡑⢢⡑⣌⠒⣌⠒⣌⢢⡑⢢⡑⢢⡑⣌⠒⣌⠒⡤⢃⡜⡰⢌⠒⣌⢢⡑⢢⡑⢢⡑⣌⠒⣌⠒⣌⢢⡑⢢⡑⢢⡑⣌⠒⣌⠒⡤⢃⡜⡰⢌⠒⣌⢢⡑⢢⡑⢢⡑⣌⠒⣌⠒⣌⢢⡑⢢⡑⢢⠜⣠⢃⠦⡑⢢⡑⣌⠒⣌⠒⣌⢢⡑⢢⡑⢢⡑⣌⠒⡌⢆⡱⢌⠂ ⢨⢁⠦⡙⢤⠒⡥⢊⡕⡰⠢⡍⢤⡉⢖⡰⠌⡥⢌⠥⡒⢤⠩⢤⠩⡔⢣⠰⡡⢎⡱⠌⡆⢬⠡⣌⠱⣂⠦⢩⠤⡩⢔⠢⡌⠥⡌⢥⠒⡤⢩⠤⡩⢔⢣⠰⡡⢎⡱⠌⡆⢬⠡⣌⠱⣂⠦⢩⠤⡩⢔⠢⡌⠥⡌⢥⠚⡄⢎⠴⣉⠦⢱⠠⡍⢤⡉⢖⡰⠌⡥⢌⠥⡒⢤⠩⡜⠢⡜⣨⠁ ⢂⠎⣒⢩⢢⡙⢤⠃⡴⢁⠳⣘⠢⠜⡠⢎⡱⣘⠢⠜⡘⢤⢋⠦⡑⢌⢆⢣⡑⢆⠢⢍⡘⢆⠳⡀⢇⢢⡙⢢⡑⠢⡅⠳⢌⡓⢌⠢⢍⠲⡡⢎⠱⣈⢆⢣⡑⢆⢂⡓⡘⢆⠳⡀⢇⢢⡙⢢⡑⠢⡅⡓⣌⠓⣌⠢⡱⡘⣌⠲⡐⠬⣁⠳⡘⢆⠸⡐⣌⠓⣌⠒⢬⠘⡆⡓⠬⡑⢆⡱⠂ ⢈⡒⠌⡆⢦⢉⢆⢣⠒⣍⠲⢡⠓⡬⡑⠦⣑⠢⣅⢋⡜⢢⢃⠖⡩⢌⢎⠢⡍⠦⣉⠦⣉⢎⡱⡘⡌⠦⣑⠣⢜⡡⢎⡱⢊⡜⠢⣍⢊⠥⢓⡌⣒⠡⢎⠢⡍⢆⠣⡜⣑⠪⣅⠓⡌⢦⢑⠣⡜⡡⢜⡡⢜⡸⢠⠣⢅⡓⠬⡑⢬⠱⡌⡱⣉⢆⢣⠱⢌⡚⠤⣋⠴⣉⠒⣍⢒⡩⢢⠱⡁ ⠰⣈⠵⣘⠢⡍⡌⢆⠹⣠⢋⠦⡙⢄⢣⠓⡬⣑⠢⢡⠎⡑⢎⠬⡑⢊⢆⠳⢌⡑⢢⠱⡌⢲⠰⡑⢌⡓⠬⣑⢊⠔⢪⠔⢣⢌⢣⠰⣉⠚⡴⠘⣄⠫⢌⡓⡸⣈⠱⢢⠅⡳⢠⠋⡜⠤⢋⡒⠥⡑⠪⡔⢃⠲⡡⣉⠦⣉⠖⣉⠆⡓⢬⠑⡆⢎⠢⣙⠢⢍⡒⡡⢒⡡⢋⠤⢣⢘⡡⢓⠄ ⢢⢡⠒⡬⢑⡜⠌⡆⢣⠔⣊⠖⣉⠦⡘⡸⡐⠦⣉⠦⣘⠱⣊⠦⡑⣉⠦⣉⠦⣉⠆⡱⢌⢣⠱⢌⠒⡬⠱⣌⢊⠜⣂⢎⡱⢊⠤⢃⠬⠱⢌⡓⢌⠲⣁⢎⡱⢌⡱⢂⡹⣐⠣⢍⢢⢙⠢⣍⢒⠡⡓⢌⢣⠣⡑⠤⣒⢡⠚⡤⢃⡜⠤⣋⠜⡤⠓⢤⡙⢢⠥⡑⢢⢡⢋⡜⠤⢣⠌⣣⠂ ⢐⠢⡑⢆⠣⣌⠓⡌⢦⢙⡰⢊⡔⢢⠱⣡⢃⠳⡐⢦⢡⠓⡔⢢⠱⡌⡒⢥⠚⡄⢎⡱⢊⠦⣙⠢⢍⠲⣑⠢⡍⠲⢌⡒⢬⡑⢪⡑⢎⡱⢊⡜⢂⠳⢌⡒⠌⢦⢡⢃⠖⣡⠚⡤⢃⢎⡱⢢⡉⢖⠩⡜⢂⠧⣉⠖⡡⢎⡱⢂⠧⡘⠦⡑⢎⠴⣉⠲⢌⡃⢖⡉⢆⠣⢎⡰⣉⠖⡘⢤⠃ ⢈⡒⢩⢌⠓⡤⢋⠜⣠⠣⢜⡡⢌⠣⡑⠦⣉⠖⡉⢆⠎⡱⢌⢣⡑⠬⡑⢎⡜⡘⠤⢃⢣⠚⡤⢉⠎⡱⢌⡱⢌⠓⢬⡘⢆⡜⡡⡘⠆⡥⢣⢌⠣⠍⠀⢀⠀⠊⢦⠩⠜⠀⠁⡀⠈⠐⠬⣡⠚⡌⡱⢌⢣⠚⡄⢎⠱⢢⢅⡋⡔⣡⠣⡙⣌⠒⡌⡱⢊⡜⢢⡉⣌⠳⢌⡒⣡⢊⡕⢪⠄ ⢢⠉⠖⡨⢓⡌⢣⠜⣠⢃⠎⡔⠣⣌⠱⡘⢤⢋⠜⡠⢎⡑⠎⡆⠜⡰⣉⠖⢬⢘⠢⢍⢢⡙⡔⢣⡘⠔⡣⠜⢢⡉⢆⡜⢢⠜⡰⢡⢚⡐⢣⢌⡁⢀⡜⡌⢆⠈⠦⠁⠠⣐⠣⢜⡑⠂⡑⢆⡓⡘⡔⣊⠦⣙⠰⢊⠥⣃⠎⡔⠒⣄⢣⠱⡌⢎⠰⣁⠧⢌⠣⠔⢢⡑⠎⡔⢢⠜⣠⢃⠆ ⢠⠙⡌⢱⢦⡜⢡⡎⡔⢪⡜⡌⠓⣤⢣⠙⢢⡎⡜⢡⡎⡜⢱⡌⢣⠑⡆⠚⣤⠃⡞⡌⣦⢱⠘⡆⡜⢡⢣⠙⡆⡜⢢⡜⢡⡎⠑⡆⢣⡜⢡⡎⠀⢰⡌⡜⢢⠘⡄⠀⠓⣬⠁⢠⡎⠀⡜⢢⢱⢡⡜⢰⠊⣴⠉⡆⢳⡄⢫⡌⠓⡌⡆⢳⠘⣬⢱⡌⢲⠉⡎⡍⣦⢱⢩⡜⢡⠚⡄⡎⡄ ⢈⢆⡙⢆⠎⡔⢣⠰⡑⢪⠔⣩⠒⡡⠎⡜⢢⠜⣐⠣⡘⡔⠣⡜⢨⠱⢌⡓⢬⡘⢄⠳⣠⠃⢧⡈⠥⢋⡌⢲⢡⡑⠎⡔⢣⡘⡱⡘⠦⣡⢃⠖⡀⠆⡱⡘⡄⠐⠄⠘⠦⠁⠀⡰⠀⢌⡒⣩⠂⢧⠘⡥⠚⡤⢩⠘⡴⢘⠢⡍⢒⠱⡘⢆⠳⡠⢃⡜⢢⡙⠴⡁⢆⠣⠎⡴⢉⠦⡱⢌⡁ ⢌⠒⡌⠎⡜⣌⢃⠖⡉⢦⡉⢦⡑⢡⠚⣌⠱⣊⠤⢃⡱⢌⡓⠬⣁⠎⠆⣍⠒⠬⢌⠒⣡⠙⡢⢌⡱⠡⢎⡱⠢⠜⡡⢎⡱⠌⣅⢣⡑⠦⣉⠖⡡⠐⢡⠱⠀⠜⡀⠸⡁⠠⠰⠁⢐⢢⡑⢆⡹⢀⠧⣘⠱⡌⠥⠚⢤⡉⢖⡩⢌⢒⡩⠜⣢⠑⢆⡘⢆⠥⡓⠬⡘⣌⠱⢢⠍⣒⠡⢎⠄ ⠠⢍⡰⢩⠔⡌⢎⠴⡉⢖⡸⠰⡌⣃⠞⣠⠓⣌⠲⡡⢎⠒⣌⠓⡤⢊⡕⠢⣍⠚⡤⢋⠴⣉⠖⣡⠒⡍⠦⣑⠣⡙⠔⠃⠆⠙⠀⠂⠁⠁⣀⢀⠤⣀⠆⠦⣄⠢⣀⠱⡀⢅⠃⠐⡌⢦⡑⠎⡴⢉⠦⣡⠓⣌⢣⡙⢢⢍⠲⣐⢃⠎⡴⠩⡔⡩⠆⡍⢎⡒⢍⡒⠥⣌⢣⢃⠞⣠⠓⡌⠆ ⠘⡤⡘⢥⠚⡘⡌⢆⠹⡰⢌⡓⡰⣁⠞⣠⠙⡤⢣⡑⢪⠱⢌⠣⡜⡡⢜⡡⢆⡙⡰⣉⠦⡑⠎⠔⠉⠈⠁⠀⢀⢀⡀⠄⠄⢦⠰⡡⢎⡱⠌⠊⠐⠂⠙⠢⢆⢃⢆⡓⡌⠆⠀⠉⡜⢢⠜⡱⡘⢌⡒⢅⡚⡔⢢⢡⢃⢎⡱⠌⣌⠚⡰⠣⡜⢡⠚⡘⢤⡉⢖⡨⢑⠢⢎⠜⡘⢤⡙⡸⠄ ⠱⡐⣉⠦⡙⠴⡉⢆⡱⢂⠧⣘⢡⠒⡌⢦⢙⡰⢡⢊⠥⣉⢎⡱⢄⠓⠢⠘⠂⠁⠁⠀⡀⢀⢠⢠⡐⠦⣌⠳⠌⡆⢀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠑⢢⢄⡀⠀⡀⣀⠀⢀⠀⢈⡒⢬⡘⡜⢤⠀⠨⣑⢊⡱⡘⠤⢊⠦⠱⡌⠥⠒⣌⠲⢌⡃⢆⡱⢡⠓⣌⠣⣘⠡⢆⡙⢆⢒⡉⢦⡉⢎⡑⢢⠅⢳⡀ ⠰⣁⠒⢦⢙⢢⡙⡔⢢⢍⠲⢌⠦⡩⠜⡂⠃⠈⠁⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠦⢡⠓⣌⠣⢎⠢⡜⡡⢆⢣⡙⢤⠃⢠⡄⠀⠈⠀⠪⡔⠀⢀⡄⠀⠈⠀⠩⢆⢍⠲⡰⣘⠢⣃⠀⢆⢣⢒⡩⠜⡡⢎⡱⢌⢣⡙⢤⠋⡆⣍⠲⠌⡥⢋⠤⡓⠬⡑⢎⡜⢌⠦⣉⠖⡘⢆⡍⠲⢌⠣⠄ ⠰⣈⢍⠲⢌⠦⡑⡌⢲⢈⠇⣎⠒⡥⣙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⠣⢍⢢⠓⣌⠓⡴⢑⡊⢖⡘⠆⡭⠘⠷⠀⠀⡠⢓⠬⣡⠘⡇⠀⠀⢆⡘⢌⢪⡑⠦⢡⠓⡬⠀⢠⢃⠎⡴⣉⠲⢡⠚⡌⠆⡜⢢⡙⡔⢢⠅⣋⠴⡉⢖⡡⢃⢍⠲⢌⠎⡔⢌⡊⡕⣊⠬⡑⢎⡱⠁ ⠑⡌⢢⠍⠲⣌⠱⢌⡒⡌⢚⡄⢫⠔⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡩⠜⡢⢍⢢⡙⢤⠣⢜⢢⣉⢚⡰⣉⠖⣌⢣⡑⡍⠦⡑⢎⠴⢡⢚⡰⡘⣌⠲⢌⡱⢣⡉⢖⡡⠐⢪⠜⡰⢂⠥⠣⡍⡜⡘⢤⢃⠴⣉⠖⠬⡐⢦⢙⢢⠒⣉⠦⣉⠦⣉⢒⠢⡱⡘⠤⢓⡘⠢⣅⠃ ⠘⠤⢃⢎⡱⢌⡚⠴⡘⢬⠡⢎⠥⣊⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢡⢣⡑⢎⢢⡑⠎⡜⡌⢆⡒⠦⣑⢢⠚⢤⢢⠱⢌⡱⢉⠲⣌⠣⢆⡱⡘⢤⠓⡌⠦⡡⢜⢢⡑⠀⢣⠎⡱⣉⠖⡱⡘⠴⣉⠲⢌⠲⡡⢎⠱⣉⠖⡌⢦⡙⡰⡘⢤⠓⡌⢎⡡⢱⡉⢎⡱⢌⠓⡤⠃ ⢨⠑⡎⢢⡑⠎⡔⢣⢘⠢⣙⢢⠣⣌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢃⠦⡑⢎⢢⠱⣉⠖⡘⠦⣑⠣⠜⣢⢙⢢⢃⠞⢤⠣⢍⠲⣄⢋⠦⣑⠩⢆⡹⢨⠱⡘⢆⠣⠜⠀⢡⢎⡑⠆⢎⡡⡙⢆⠥⠚⡌⡱⣑⢊⡱⠐⢎⠜⣂⠖⡡⢉⠦⡙⡌⢆⡡⠣⢜⠢⡱⢈⡓⢬⠁ ⠢⣉⠔⡣⣘⠱⣘⠢⣡⠃⠦⡑⠎⡔⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢌⡒⠭⣘⠢⢓⠬⡘⠥⡓⡌⢎⡱⢢⡉⠖⣌⠚⡤⢋⡌⢣⠔⡩⢆⠥⢋⠦⢡⢃⠧⣉⢆⡹⢌⠀⠲⡌⣌⠓⡤⢃⡕⣊⠆⡓⢬⡑⢤⢃⠦⡙⣌⠚⡔⣊⠴⣉⠲⡑⡜⠢⡔⡩⢆⢣⠱⢡⢊⢆⠃ ⠰⡁⢎⡱⢄⠳⡌⡑⠦⡙⠦⡙⢜⡨⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠢⣍⠲⣡⠙⣌⠲⣉⠖⡱⣘⢢⡑⠦⣉⠞⣠⢋⡔⢣⡘⢥⢊⠵⣈⠖⡡⠎⡅⠎⡔⢢⠎⡔⣊⠀⡓⡌⠦⡙⢤⠣⠜⡤⡙⢸⠰⡘⢆⡍⠦⢱⣈⠓⡜⡰⠢⣅⢣⠱⡌⢓⠬⡑⢎⢢⡙⢢⢃⢎⠂ ⠰⣉⠒⡌⢎⡱⢌⠱⢌⡡⢣⢍⠲⡘⣌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣑⢢⠓⡤⢋⡔⠣⡜⣨⠱⣄⠣⡜⣑⠢⢓⠤⢣⡘⠆⣍⠲⢌⢒⡡⢎⠱⡘⠌⡜⠰⣃⠜⡰⢡⠀⡱⢌⠣⢍⠢⡙⡜⡰⢡⠃⡥⢙⠢⡜⡐⢣⠰⣉⠖⡡⢃⡔⢣⠱⡌⢃⡒⢩⠜⢢⠱⢡⠎⡜⠂ ⠑⠤⢋⡜⠤⣃⠎⡜⣠⢓⡰⢊⡱⠘⡤⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢆⢣⡙⡔⠣⡌⡓⠴⡡⢒⠬⣑⠢⣅⠫⠜⠬⡑⣌⠓⣌⠲⢌⠦⣑⠪⡑⠬⡑⢌⡱⢠⠋⡔⠣⢐⠱⣊⠕⣊⠱⡘⠴⣡⢃⡜⡰⣉⠖⣡⢑⡊⠵⣈⢎⡑⠦⡘⢆⡓⢬⡁⢎⠥⣊⠕⣊⠲⠌⡜⡁ ⢨⠑⢦⡘⠦⡑⢎⠴⠡⢆⡱⢃⡜⡱⢌⢣⠣⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⡌⢦⠱⣈⠳⢌⡱⢃⡱⡉⠖⡬⣑⢢⡙⣌⢣⡑⠦⢩⠔⣩⠒⡌⠀⠁⠉⡒⢍⢢⠒⡥⢩⠜⡡⢈⠲⣡⠚⠤⢣⡙⢆⠥⡒⢌⡱⠢⢍⠆⠣⡜⠱⣌⠲⢌⡱⢉⠖⡘⢆⡩⠜⢢⡑⢎⠴⣉⠚⡴⠁ ⢄⠫⠔⡬⢑⡩⢒⡌⠱⢊⡔⠣⡔⢡⠎⢢⡙⢢⢃⠆⡄⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠠⡐⡜⡰⣉⢆⠳⡌⣃⠎⡔⢣⢆⠹⡘⠴⣈⠖⡰⢌⠢⣌⠱⠃⠚⠀⠁⠀⡄⢂⠆⡍⢎⠦⣙⠰⣃⠚⡄⠠⡓⢤⢋⠬⢡⠜⣌⠲⣁⠎⡰⣉⠎⡜⡡⠜⡡⢆⡍⡒⠤⢋⠬⡑⢎⡰⢉⠆⣍⠲⣈⠦⡙⡰⡁ ⢈⠦⣉⠔⡣⢜⡡⢌⡃⢧⡘⡱⣘⠢⡜⡡⠜⡡⢎⡸⢰⡑⢢⠄⣀⠀⠁⠑⠘⠰⠡⢊⠵⡘⠤⢣⡘⢥⢊⡱⢌⠣⢜⡨⡑⠈⢁⠀⡀⢄⠠⢂⠬⢱⡈⢇⡚⢌⡒⢆⡡⢓⠤⣋⠄⠣⢍⠲⢌⠲⣡⠚⢤⠓⡰⢌⡱⠢⢍⡒⡡⢎⠱⢢⠜⡡⢎⠱⣊⠱⣊⠴⢡⠚⡤⢓⡰⣘⠰⡱⠀ ⢈⡒⢌⢎⠱⢢⡑⡊⢜⡰⢌⡱⢄⠓⡬⡑⣍⠲⢡⠎⢥⡘⠥⠚⢤⡉⠖⡤⢂⠤⣀⠄⣀⢠⠠⠀⢘⠢⣃⠦⣉⠞⣠⠱⣡⢙⠢⠱⠈⠆⠉⠈⠜⡢⡑⢎⡘⠦⣉⠦⠱⣉⠦⠁⠂⡘⣌⠣⢎⡱⢂⡝⢢⡙⠔⣃⠲⣉⠦⠱⡑⡊⡕⣃⢎⠱⡈⠧⢌⡓⢤⢃⠣⣍⠲⣡⢒⢡⢣⡑⠃ ⢢⠘⡬⢌⢃⢇⡒⡉⢆⠜⣢⠑⡎⡘⢤⡑⢢⡙⠤⠚⡤⢙⠬⡙⢤⡘⡜⡰⣉⠦⣡⠚⠤⢣⠍⡄⠀⠑⠦⡑⣌⠲⣁⠇⣆⠣⢎⡰⢄⡂⢦⡉⢖⡡⠍⣆⠹⡄⠣⠜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠢⢙⡰⢨⠱⠌⢦⡉⢖⠨⣑⠢⡍⣓⠰⢡⠜⡰⢊⡱⢌⡑⣊⠜⣂⠎⡱⢠⠓⡤⢣⢘⠢⡜⡁ ⢈⡒⢡⠜⡘⣌⢣⢃⡜⡰⣉⠖⣡⠓⣌⠱⣊⠕⣂⠦⡑⢎⡰⢃⡌⢣⢅⢣⡙⠤⣉⠖⡰⢊⠴⠁⠀⠀⠀⠃⠙⠤⠋⠴⣉⠲⠌⡥⢊⠵⣈⠓⠬⠑⠂⠉⠂⠁⠀⡀⠀⠀⣠⢖⡶⣆⣂⠈⠑⡎⡒⠴⣈⠣⠜⢢⠍⢦⠱⣉⠆⢎⡔⣃⠎⡥⢌⢣⡙⠴⣩⠰⢡⠎⡒⡅⢎⡜⣠⢣⠁ ⠰⣈⠥⣊⠕⣢⠣⢌⢒⡑⠦⣉⠦⠱⣈⠧⡘⡜⢄⠣⡍⠦⣑⠣⢌⠣⡜⢢⠜⡱⠌⡎⣅⠫⠜⠀⢘⡖⡦⣄⠈⠀⠢⠄⠠⠤⢠⠤⡄⢠⠠⣔⣢⠠⠆⠓⠂⠈⣁⡤⣖⢾⡱⣏⠾⣵⢫⣆⠀⠡⡙⢦⢡⢋⡜⢡⠚⡤⢓⠬⡘⠦⡘⢤⢋⡔⢊⠦⣑⠣⢆⡙⢢⠱⡱⡘⠦⡘⡔⢢⠃ ⠰⠌⠦⣑⠪⡔⡱⢊⠤⣉⠖⡡⢎⠱⠰⡌⡱⡘⡌⢆⡱⠱⡌⡚⢄⡓⠬⡑⢎⠴⡉⢖⡨⡑⠀⡶⢈⢾⡱⣎⠿⣱⠖⣦⢤⠤⣄⡤⣠⡄⣤⢄⡤⣤⢲⡴⣺⡝⣧⣻⢼⠋⡗⠉⢻⡜⣯⠞⣥⡀⠘⢆⡑⢎⡰⢃⠍⡴⡉⢦⠑⡬⠑⣎⠢⠜⢢⡑⢌⡚⠤⢃⠥⢃⡱⢌⢓⡘⡌⡱⠂ ⠘⡌⡑⢆⡱⡘⠴⡡⢚⠤⡙⡔⢣⡘⡱⢌⠥⡱⢌⡒⡔⢣⠜⣡⠒⡬⣑⠩⡌⢆⡍⠦⣑⠁⡼⡱⠘⢦⠳⣜⢫⢧⠻⣜⢮⢻⣜⡳⡵⣻⡜⣯⢞⡵⣻⠼⣧⢻⢶⡹⠎⡅⡀⢞⡲⣝⠶⣛⢶⡱⡈⠢⢍⢢⠱⡌⡚⢤⡙⢤⢣⡘⡱⢢⡙⡜⡰⡘⢆⡍⢎⠥⣊⠵⡘⣌⠲⡘⣄⠣⠅ ⠘⠤⣙⠢⢥⢙⢢⡑⢩⢒⡱⢌⠣⠔⡱⢊⠲⡑⡌⢆⡙⢢⠍⣆⠱⠢⣅⠳⡘⢦⠘⢦⠡⢠⢱⡃⠀⣎⠳⣬⢇⣯⡹⣜⣎⡳⢎⡵⢳⣥⢻⢬⡻⣜⢧⡻⣜⠯⣞⡱⣏⠆⢉⠞⣵⢫⡽⣹⢎⠷⣥⠐⢊⢆⡓⠬⡑⠦⣉⠖⡄⢣⠱⣡⢒⡡⠱⡘⢦⡘⣌⠒⣡⢒⡱⢌⠲⡑⠬⡑⠆ ⢌⠱⡂⡝⢰⢊⠆⡬⢡⠒⡌⢎⡑⡊⢥⡉⢖⡱⢈⢆⠩⢆⠭⡄⣃⠣⠔⡣⣉⠦⡙⢢⡁⢘⠂⠃⢹⢞⡝⣧⣛⢶⡹⢶⣩⠗⡯⣜⡳⢎⣏⢾⡱⢏⣮⢳⡝⡾⣱⢻⡜⣆⠈⠘⠧⠛⠘⣑⢯⡝⡶⡀⠥⣊⠔⡣⢉⠖⡡⢎⡘⠤⢓⠤⢣⠌⠥⣑⠢⡜⢤⠩⣐⠢⣑⠪⡑⣌⠣⡙⡄ ⢈⢆⠱⣌⠱⣊⠜⡤⢃⡝⣘⢢⠱⣘⠢⡜⢢⠜⣡⢊⡕⣊⠦⣑⢢⡙⢬⡑⡔⢢⠍⡲⢀⢘⢧⠆⠘⣮⠽⣖⡻⢮⣝⠾⣜⢯⣳⢎⡷⣻⡜⣧⢻⡭⣞⢧⡻⣵⢫⢷⡹⠦⠁⢠⡝⠀⠺⣝⡮⣝⡞⡅⠒⡥⢊⡕⡌⢎⡱⠢⣅⠫⠜⣌⢃⢎⡱⢌⡱⣘⢢⡑⢆⠳⡨⢅⠣⡔⣡⠓⡄ ⢈⠆⡱⢌⠲⣡⠚⡄⢣⠜⠤⣃⢣⢂⠳⢌⡃⢞⠠⠎⡔⢢⠓⣌⠢⠜⡢⠜⣌⢃⢎⡑⢣⠈⢎⣇⠀⠺⡝⢮⡝⣏⠾⣹⢎⡷⡹⣎⢷⢣⡟⣼⢣⢷⡹⣞⣳⣭⢻⣎⠗⠁⢐⡽⢺⡵⣛⢮⣳⡹⢬⠁⡘⣐⠣⡰⡘⠦⣑⢣⠰⡉⢞⡠⢋⡔⢂⢣⢒⡡⢆⠱⢊⠥⢓⡌⡓⢬⠰⡩⠄ ⢌⠸⣁⠎⡱⢂⡓⢌⡡⢎⡱⢌⡒⠌⣆⠣⡜⠬⣑⡘⠬⣡⢋⠤⢃⠥⣃⠍⣆⠪⠤⣙⠢⡅⠈⡜⡂⠀⠙⠢⠙⠔⠫⠖⡭⢲⠹⡜⢪⠳⡜⣥⢛⡬⢳⡍⠶⣌⠳⠜⠂⠸⣼⡹⢧⡻⣭⠳⢦⡙⠄⢠⠰⡡⢎⠱⣨⠑⣆⠣⢒⡉⢦⡘⢥⡘⢌⠢⢎⠴⡉⠦⣉⢆⠣⡜⡰⢌⠣⣑⠂ ⢈⡒⠤⣋⠔⡣⢜⠢⡑⠦⣑⠪⡔⡩⢄⠳⢌⡓⢤⢊⡕⢢⠎⡜⣌⠲⢌⡚⠤⢣⡑⢆⠣⡜⢢⠀⠁⠀⣦⣀⠀⠐⠀⢄⠀⡀⠀⠈⠁⠉⠈⠀⠉⠈⠁⠈⠁⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠡⢛⢧⡛⡴⣋⠖⠁⣀⢣⠣⡑⢎⡒⡡⢍⠴⣉⠦⣉⠖⡘⢦⡘⠬⡑⢎⡒⢍⠲⡐⢎⡱⢰⠱⢌⡒⢥⠂ ⠰⣈⠖⡡⢎⡑⢎⡡⢙⠢⣅⠳⢨⠔⡩⠚⡴⢘⠢⠜⡰⢃⡚⠴⡀⢏⢢⠱⣉⠆⠭⢌⡓⣌⠣⡍⡀⠸⡱⣎⡟⡆⠂⠄⠀⠈⠁⠈⠀⠁⠀⠀⣀⢀⡀⡤⣄⡲⣜⢧⡟⣄⠀⠀⠁⠛⠐⠋⡀⠰⡌⢦⠱⣉⠖⡨⡑⠎⢦⡑⠢⢅⢎⡱⢢⠜⡡⢙⠢⡜⠬⡡⠍⠦⣑⠣⢎⠢⡍⢦⠁ ⠱⡐⡊⡕⢬⡘⠆⡜⢢⡑⠦⣙⠢⢌⡅⠳⢌⢣⡑⢊⡱⢌⡜⢢⢉⠲⢌⡱⢌⠚⡌⢆⡱⢂⡓⠬⡱⠀⢨⢵⣫⡝⡶⠠⠁⡒⠂⠀⠀⡠⢉⣍⣌⣡⣉⢥⣉⡥⣍⢾⡹⢎⣇⠖⠴⣢⠆⢹⠀⡑⡜⣂⠳⠌⣆⠱⢌⡹⠰⢌⢃⢎⡰⢌⡱⢌⢒⡡⢓⡌⡓⠤⣙⠰⣡⠚⠤⢓⠌⣆⠃ ⠰⡁⢖⡡⢒⡌⠳⡘⢤⢃⠳⣄⠫⡔⣌⠳⢌⠲⢌⠣⡜⢢⠜⡡⢎⠱⣊⠴⡉⢖⡡⠎⡴⠡⢎⢅⢣⢃⠨⣳⢧⡻⣝⡳⣖⣤⣈⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⣉⢠⣏⢾⡹⢮⣗⢦⡌⡙⠲⣜⡃⢘⡆⠰⣑⢢⡙⡜⡠⢍⠦⢱⡉⢎⠲⠌⣆⠣⡜⢢⠎⡔⢣⠜⠬⡑⢆⠳⣄⠫⡜⢌⠎⡴⠁ ⠰⡉⢦⡘⠥⣊⠕⡡⠎⣌⠣⡔⢣⠰⢌⠚⡬⣑⢊⠱⢌⡃⢎⡱⢨⢑⠢⣃⠍⡆⢒⡩⢔⡩⢎⠒⣌⠲⠀⢳⣏⢷⣭⡳⣝⢶⣙⢮⣳⠐⠀⣯⣹⢹⣎⠷⣎⡷⣻⡝⣮⡳⣽⡹⣝⢮⠇⠸⡄⠁⣆⠣⣒⢡⡑⢊⡌⢣⠜⣌⠒⡩⠔⢣⠜⡡⢊⠜⡡⢎⡱⢡⠊⠵⣠⢓⠸⣈⠞⡰⡁ ⢑⠸⠄⡎⡱⢌⡚⢄⡓⠤⡓⢬⡑⠌⢦⡙⡰⢌⠢⢍⠢⡜⢢⡑⢆⡊⠵⣈⠞⣈⠖⢤⢃⠲⢌⠣⣌⠣⠅⢸⡼⢯⣶⢻⣝⣮⢏⣷⣫⠇⠃⢱⢯⣳⡞⣯⣳⢽⣣⣟⣵⢻⣖⡯⣝⣯⠃⠸⡄⠃⣌⠓⡌⢦⠘⡡⢜⠢⣍⠢⠍⡴⢉⠦⣙⠰⠡⢎⡱⢌⡒⡡⢎⡱⡐⢎⡱⢐⡊⡕⡀ ⢈⠦⣉⠖⡱⢌⠲⡡⢎⡱⡘⢦⢘⡩⢒⠬⣑⠪⡑⢎⡱⢌⠣⡜⢢⡉⢖⡡⢚⠔⣊⠦⣉⠞⣨⠱⣄⠫⠜⠀⣽⢳⡌⠋⠺⢜⡿⣜⣳⢟⠨⠈⣿⣱⣟⡳⢽⣫⠷⣞⡾⣝⣮⢗⡯⣞⡅⢸⠀⡅⢎⡱⡘⠦⡙⡔⣃⠣⢆⡹⠘⡴⢉⠲⡡⢍⠓⡌⢆⠣⡜⢡⢆⡱⡘⠦⡑⢎⡰⢡⠅ ⣈⠲⢄⠫⢔⡩⢒⠡⠆⣅⠳⢌⡒⠰⡉⢦⢡⢣⠱⡈⠦⣉⠖⡡⢆⡉⠦⡱⣉⠲⣈⠒⢥⠚⡄⢣⠆⡙⡜⡀⢰⢻⡜⣧⢄⢂⣬⡱⢯⣞⡇⠂⢡⡿⣜⣇⠢⡉⠻⣝⡾⣹⢎⡿⣜⡳⠆⢸⠀⡘⠆⡥⢃⠧⡑⡰⢡⡙⢢⢅⠋⡔⢩⢒⡱⢊⠜⡘⡌⡓⢬⡁⠲⡐⣍⠲⡉⠦⡑⢣⠂ ⢠⠃⢎⡑⢪⠔⡩⠆⠭⣄⠳⢌⡜⢡⡑⢎⢢⡑⠦⣑⠱⡌⢎⡑⢢⠜⡑⢦⢡⢣⠰⣉⠦⡙⡌⠆⢎⡱⢌⡱⠈⢮⡝⡾⣭⣛⡶⣛⡷⣺⢵⡈⡈⣵⣛⣮⢗⣌⣣⡄⣯⢳⣏⢾⣱⢟⡄⢸⠀⢌⡓⢜⡈⢖⢡⠒⡥⡘⢥⢊⡜⢨⡑⠎⡔⠣⣌⠱⣌⠱⢢⢡⠣⣑⠢⡱⡘⠴⡉⢦⠁ ⠠⢍⢢⡙⢢⡙⠴⡉⠖⣌⠚⡴⢈⠣⡜⢌⠦⡑⠎⡔⢣⠜⣢⠙⣂⢎⡱⢊⡔⢢⠓⣌⠲⡑⢬⡙⢢⠜⡢⠄⢠⣄⡉⠓⠃⠛⠼⠹⠞⠵⠫⠇⠁⠀⠛⠬⠛⠶⣣⢟⡼⣳⢎⡷⣫⢾⠄⠘⠀⠢⣉⠦⣉⠎⢆⡹⡐⡍⢆⠣⡌⢣⠜⡱⢌⡓⠤⡓⣌⠱⡃⢆⠳⣨⠱⣁⠇⣓⡘⠦⡁ ⠰⢠⠄⡛⣄⠣⢇⡘⢇⡘⠧⣘⢃⠇⡸⡘⢤⠛⠤⠛⡄⢧⡀⠟⡠⢄⢃⢇⡸⢃⠜⡠⢇⠛⡤⢘⠣⠜⡣⠄⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣧⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣿⣇⠸⣧⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡄⣤⢀⢣⠸⣀⠟⡄⣠⠣⢸⡘⢇⡘⡃⡜⢣⡘⣄⠣⢸⢀⢇⡛⢄⠣⢄⢣⡘⠼⣀⠣⢇⠄ ⢡⠃⢎⡱⢠⢋⡒⢌⡒⣌⠲⡡⢎⡘⡔⡩⢆⡹⡈⠵⣘⠰⡌⣓⠰⢊⡌⢦⠑⡎⡘⡔⢊⡱⢌⠣⡑⢎⠥⣋⠄⢹⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢙⠀⣎⠱⢌⠲⣁⠦⡑⢣⠜⢢⡑⠴⣉⠦⣑⠢⣉⠖⣌⠲⡘⡌⢜⠢⡱⣈⢇⡰⢉⠎⡄ ⠠⢍⠒⡔⠣⢎⠜⡢⠜⡤⢣⡑⠦⠱⣌⠱⢢⢅⠣⢓⠬⡱⡘⢤⢋⠲⣘⢢⡙⠴⡑⣌⠣⡜⠬⡑⢭⠘⠒⠈⠊⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠉⠛⠟⠻⢇⢸⡿⠿⣿⠿⠿⢻⠿⠿⠿⢟⡛⠫⠍⠈⠀⢤⢋⢆⠳⡐⠦⣙⢢⡙⢆⡜⢢⡑⢦⢡⠓⡔⢪⠔⢣⠱⡘⠬⡑⢦⠑⢦⡘⣡⠚⡄ ⡘⠤⡋⡜⢱⢊⡜⢄⡓⠬⣡⠚⣌⠱⢠⢋⠖⠬⡑⢊⠦⣑⠩⢆⢊⡑⠦⢱⡘⢢⠑⡌⡱⢌⠣⠍⢀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⢀⠠⠀⡚⣄⠫⣄⢣⠱⡘⠤⢃⡜⢢⡘⢄⠳⣈⠦⢩⡐⢃⠎⡥⢣⢡⠃⡍⠦⡙⢢⠜⡄⢫⠄ ⢘⠰⡑⠬⣑⠪⢔⠊⡴⢑⠢⡍⢤⢃⠣⢎⡜⢱⠨⣅⠲⢌⡓⣌⠒⡬⡘⢥⡘⡅⡚⠤⠓⣌⢣⠁⣖⣿⣿⣿⢿⡟⡟⣿⣷⡄⠹⠀⠀⢆⠘⡐⠐⠈⢀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠄⡀⢂⠄⡑⠬⡑⢆⠣⢎⠰⣉⠖⣌⢣⠘⣌⠲⢡⠎⢥⡘⣌⠚⡔⣃⠦⣉⠖⣡⠙⢦⠘⣌⠱⠂ ⢈⠦⡑⢣⢌⡓⡌⡓⢌⢎⡱⡘⠆⢎⡱⢊⡔⣃⠣⢆⡙⠦⡘⢤⠋⡴⢉⠖⣌⢒⠩⡜⡱⠌⢦⠁⢸⣿⣿⣿⣼⣶⣽⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠌⠄⠠⠁⢠⣴⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣧⣤⠀⠀⠈⠄⠐⡐⠠⠀⠄⢣⡙⣌⠓⡌⡓⢬⡘⡔⣊⠱⠌⣎⡑⢎⡒⠴⣈⠳⡘⡔⢢⡑⢎⠴⣉⠦⡙⢤⢋⡄ ⡈⢆⡙⠆⢎⠴⡑⡌⢊⡔⢢⡙⠜⡰⡈⡕⡒⠬⡑⡌⠜⣢⢙⠢⡱⢈⢣⢚⡐⣊⠱⠰⣡⢋⡒⢆⡀⠉⠛⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠃⢀⣈⠄⠀⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⡣⢤⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠠⠂⠀⠀⠀⢎⡅⡚⢤⠋⡔⡑⢢⠱⡘⢤⠃⠭⡐⡜⢢⠱⢌⢂⠧⠱⡌⠥⡘⢌⠲⣁⠞⡘⠤⢣⠄ ⠘⠤⣡⢋⡌⠦⡱⣈⠥⣊⠥⣘⠱⡰⢑⠬⣘⡑⡒⢌⡓⢤⡉⢖⠡⡍⢆⠎⠴⣁⢎⡱⠄⡎⡔⠣⡜⣠⢀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⠈⡁⣀⠠⣀⠠⣀⠆⠨⣙⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⢋⣠⡤⡴⠁⢀⠞⡰⢌⡱⢊⡜⡰⢉⢆⢣⢙⢢⡉⢖⠱⡌⡱⢊⠴⡉⢆⠳⢌⡱⢘⠬⠱⢌⡒⡩⢌⢣⠂ ⢨⠑⡤⢒⠬⡱⡑⣌⠲⢡⠚⡤⢣⠱⣉⠖⡡⢜⡑⢎⡸⠤⡙⠬⡱⡘⡌⢎⡱⢌⠲⢌⡓⢬⡘⡱⡘⢤⠣⡜⣡⢋⠴⣉⠖⡱⣈⠓⡬⠱⣌⠲⢄⠈⠙⠛⠛⠶⠿⠾⠿⠿⠟⠛⠉⣀⠲⢩⠜⡡⢎⡔⠣⡜⡰⢩⠜⢢⢍⢢⡑⢎⡱⢌⡱⣉⠦⡙⢬⡑⠎⡴⢉⢎⡱⢊⠴⣑⢊⠦⡁ ⠢⠍⠴⠉⠒⠱⠘⠤⠃⠇⠳⠘⠆⠳⠌⠲⠑⠎⠔⠪⠔⠣⠜⠱⠢⠱⠘⠦⠑⠎⠲⠡⠚⠔⠸⠐⠍⠆⠓⠸⠐⠎⠲⠐⠎⠱⠄⠫⠔⠃⠦⠉⠎⠜⠂⠒⠤⠠⠀⠄⠠⠄⠰⠐⠢⠅⠣⠃⠎⠱⠢⠜⠑⠦⠑⠃⠎⠥⠊⠖⠘⠆⠲⠌⠲⠐⠦⠙⠴⠈⠳⠰⠉⠖⠰⠉⠖⠌⠲⡘⠄

💀 ≤))≥ _| \_

ᡣ𐭩.☘︎ ݁˖

any pinterest whisper girlies here?? ₊˚⊹♡

♡ ∩_∩ („• ֊ •„)♡ |￣U U￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣| | Da story of a | | Lil bunny | ￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣ . ⊹ ₊ __ ♡ ⊂⊂ • ) / | ⊂_﹏u "Ooo a heart!" /) /) ପ(˶•-•˶)ଓ ♡ /づ づ *Catches heart* /)/) ( ˶•༝•) ୭( づ♡ "Yay! Oh this looks fragile..." /)/) ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈) c( づ♡ "Dw! I will keep you safe" ᐢ⑅ᐢ (\ (\ ( ˶• ༝ •˶) ( ˶• ༝ •˶) /づ~ ♡ ♡~<\ *fall in luv* /)/) (\(\ ( . .) (. . ) o( づ♡⊂ )o ★ ⁺. ⊹ . ⊹ ★ ⁺. ⊹ ★⁺. (\_(\ /)_/) ( ) ( ) / | | \ ( O | | O ) ♡𝐿𝓊𝓋 𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇♡ (\(\_/) (-( ) *with another girl * (>( ) (\__(\ *𝕘𝕒𝕤𝕡* (o _ o ) (/) (\ ) /) /) ( . . ) ( づ💔 ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ… Pt2 Me Ex (\(\ /)/) (‧ ‧`) ( . .) <(...) (ა૮ )o (ა💌 (\(\ /)/) (‧ ‧`) (‧ ‧ ) (ა૮ )o (ა💌 (\(\ (\(\ (,,0 0)(- -,,) ( ა૮💌૮ )o ____________________ | Im sorry. | | pls pls pls | | forgive me. | |ik what u did, but | |my life is not the same | |without u. | | - Ex...❤️‍🩹 | |___________________| "Hmm" (\_/) 💕 ( •-•)💕 />💌 "My heart! It's fixed!" /)/) ( . .) c( づ♡ "Thank you... i forgive!" ♡ ∩∩ （„• ֊ •„)♡ /)/) (\(\ ( . .) (. . ) ( づ💗⊂ ) 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇♡ ☆ ᕱ⑅ᕱ ପ(„• ༝ •„)ଓ ┏━∪∪━━━━━━━━━━━━ Da end

STORY ABT HOW MY ''BEST-FRIEND'' SINCE BIRTH DESTROYED MY ROOM AND UNALIVED MY BABY (my hamster) So, basically, Luca, my best friend of 19 years (yes, since birth), betrayed me in the most horrible way, and I’m still trying to process it. T his happened about a month ago, and it’s been tough. Let me tell you the whole story. A few weeks ago, I had this huge argument with Luca because I didn’t want to hang out with him. See, my mom had just had a m!_scarriage, and I was planning to spend the day with her to support her through it. I figured, family first, right? But Luca just didn’t care. He kept pushing me, asking why I couldn’t just hang out with him, and I told him I needed to be there for my mom. And he was just… so mad. He kept saying I was making excuses and that I was overreacting. It just felt like he couldn’t understand why I wanted to be there for my family at such a difficult time. Eventually, we made up. But I could tell something felt off. It wasn’t the same, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was brewing beneath the surface. Then, a couple of days later, I came home from work or whatever, and when I opened the door, all the lights were off, except for my room. My heart started racing, and something just didn’t feel right. I walked through the house, and when I opened my bedroom door, I couldn’t believe what I saw. Luca had snuck in and completely ruined my room. My bookshelf was on the floor, books scattered everywhere, some pages even ripped out. It was like he just trashed everything. My clothes and hangers had been thrown out the window, and it was raining. Everything was wet, and I just… I didn’t know what to think. My posters—the ones I had spent years collecting—ripped off the walls. He went through my stuff and stole some of my jewelry, broke my necklaces, and I couldn’t even find my photos. I looked at my pinboard, and all my pictures were ripped up, as if he was trying to erase all the memories we had together. It got worse—my ceiling light was gone. Gone. No idea why. And then, I noticed my blanket and bed sheets were missing, and my pillows were nowhere to be found. My makeup? Completely destroyed. My eyeshadow was cracked beyond repair, and I couldn’t even use it anymore. My lipsticks were useless. My mirror—broken. I just stood there, looking around, completely shattered by what I was seeing. It felt like my whole room, my space, my everything, was just completely violated. And then, I walked over to my hamster’s cage, because he’s my baby, and it was gone. My heart stopped. I started looking around frantically, until I saw him—under my bed, unalive. I couldn’t believe it. I burst into tears, so upset and angry that he the person I had trusted for years—could do this to me. I immediately texted him, asking what happened. He denied it at first. He said it wasn’t him and that I was overreacting. But, deep down, I knew. No one else could’ve done this. And then, after a few hours of silence, he admitted it. He sent a message saying he was sorry, but his words felt empty. He said he was angry, but nothing could justify the destruction he caused. He was just… sorry. At that point, I knew I couldn’t keep him in my life anymore. I cut him off. It hurt, more than anything, because Luca was my best friend for so long. 19 years. And in a single moment, he showed me that he was willing to throw everything away for whatever reason he had. I still don’t understand why. But sometimes, people aren’t who you think they are. And I can’t let someone like that stay in my life. Not anymore... search Priscilla storytimezz for more story times like these

/)/) ( . .) "eatz" /づ 🧁 /)/) (\(\ ( • •)? (• • ) can i pwease eat that too /づ🧁 vv \ (\(\ (\(\ ( • •)No.(• • ) 🧁⊂\ vv \ (\(\ (\(\ ( • •)(• • ) give me that! 🧁⊂\ ⊂ \ /)/) (\(\ ( 0 0) Noo! (. . ) / づ 🧁⊂\ "sad" /)/) (\(\ ( . .)"" (• • ) / vv 🧁⊂\ /)/) (\(\ ( • •)? (. . ) Ok fine, u can have it. / vv 🧁⊂\ /)/) (\(\ ( ᵔ ᵔ)thx! (. . )"" / づ🧁 vv \ btw we can share if u want! /)/) (\(\ ( ᵔ ᵔ) (• • ) huh..? / づ🧁 vv \ /)/) (\(\ ( ᵔ ᵔ) (ᵔ ᵔ ) okay! / づ🧁⊂ \ 🎀🐀

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ boop へ ╱| ૮ - ՛ ) つ(> < 7 / ⁻ ៸ 、˜〵 乀 (ˍ, ل じしˍ,)ノ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ owww へ ╱| ૮ - ՛ ) つ(> < 7 / ⁻ ៸ 、˜〵 乀 (ˍ, ل じしˍ,)ノ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ *crying* へ ╱| ૮ - ՛ ) つ(> < 7 / ⁻ ៸ ^〵 乀 (ˍ, ل じしˍ,)ノ *thinks about what he just did* へ ╱| ૮ ° °) (> < 7 *still crying* / ⁻ ៸ 、^〵 乀 (ˍ, ل じしˍ,)ノ im sorry mimi へ ╱| ૮ - - ) (> < 7 *sniffs* “I-i-its o-ok” / ^ ៸ 、^〵 乀 (ˍ, ل じしˍ,)ノ R we still friends? へ ╱| ૮ •. • ) (• • 7 ofc! / ^ ៸ , ‘〵 乀 (ˍ, ل じしˍ,)ノ The End 💖

story i wrote while in class :p ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘜𝘴 𝘋𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘩 𝘙𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘋𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮, 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘴. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘮 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘤𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥. 𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳—𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢, 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘺, 𝘈𝘭𝘦𝘹—𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺. 𝘡𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘦 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 . 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱 𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘱𝘴, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘴, 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘤𝘢𝘵, 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯. 𝘜𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦, 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘩, 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘱, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘵—𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘶𝘱. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵, 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘯, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥. 𝘈 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦. 𝘉𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘷𝘺. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬—𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘦. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘴. 𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘵. 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭. 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥. “𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥,” 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘖𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴. “𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥,” 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. “𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳?” 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘈 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨. 𝘈 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐’𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯. 𝘈 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦. 𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺, “𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺.” 𝘈 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩. 𝘈 𝘱𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦. 𝘈 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳— “𝘔𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰.” 𝘍𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘋𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸. 𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘵. 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘸𝘯 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘺. 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘵. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴. 𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳, 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘴. “𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬…” 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, “𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶.” 𝘔𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘦. 𝘐 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺. 𝘐 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘺, 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯, 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘐 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬— “𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦.” ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ search ( lovelyangel.) for more storues written by me

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🐉⚔️🛡️

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👋IRL

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🌍🌳

💻➡️🚶

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CR7🇵🇹⚽️

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☀️👑💪

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2️⃣3️⃣🔴⚽️🛡️