Kidwave Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste Kidwave Emojis & Symbols 🖤🧽 𝔅𝔬𝔟 🧽🖤

EmojiCombos.com The only site I know of where you can anonymously post without any signups, pay etc. I do not want it to be restricted or get cancelled over you people arguing abt how to raise kids and encouraging explicit content. Although it's mainly for (as the name suggests) emoji's or copy text art, it can also be for typing fonts to repost (kinda like whisper app I guess) but please stop the arguing. Im only typing about it because I do not want the website to be taken down or anything.
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?”

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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.
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
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...
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

Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

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.
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.
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/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.”
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.
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
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‧"
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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/
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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.
"I wanted to scream, but I have no mouth."
https://www.reddit.com/r/spongebob_piracy/new/
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."
Music, Arts, Crafts, Recipes and Fashion blogging from a Gothic/Dark Romantic perspective. Saturday 11 August 2012 Fashion Advice for New Goths and Babybats I was discussing the topic of Babybats, and it inspired me to write some advice for people starting out in the subculture on assembling a Goth wardrobe. The first thing I will say is "Do not panic!" You do not have to immediately look like a Gothic model in gorgeous Romantic finery or a really intricately layered Deathrock-type ensemble (yes, I am aware that Deathrock is not the same as Goth, a case of parallel evolution in America that later cross-polinated with Goth, etc.) and that it does not make you 'less Goth' if you don't have fancy clothes. You cannot judge how Goth someone is by their clothes. You certainly cannot judge how good or interesting or fun a person is by their clothes! Do not forget that a lot of models are being paid to wear a certain brand or designer's clothes - those are not necessarily the clothes they actually wear every day! Also, those who do have vast wardrobes of finery have probably acquired them over a very long time, often a decade or more. If you have a passion for the music (Goth started out as a music-based subculture, and music is still its beating heart), the mindset, and taste for things dark, the reasonable amongst us will understand that you are new and may not know a huge amount about the music, the literature etc. Fashion is really a superficial concern, although I know how much looking the part can help a new person feel like they will fit in more with other Goths and how important it can be to those establishing this newly discovered facet of their identity. People who are mean to you for being new are unreasonable and silly; don't let them put you off the subculture when there is so much you might miss out on enjoying! The second most important thing I can say is that creativity is more valued in the subculture than your ability to afford expensive things. If all you can afford are charity shop clothes and craft supplies, but you spent hours carefully painting and sewing patches or adding lace trim, you will earn a lot more respect than if you have bought the latest offerings from Lip Service or Retroscope Fashions or whatever, because you will have shown creativity, individuality, a desire to make things for yourself and to customise and make something your own, and you will have put in the effort. Do not be daunted by the prospect of DIY, even if you are not hugely crafty - a lot of things are a lot easier than they look, and with a little practice even the least dextrous person can turn a plain garment into something interesting and aesthetically pleasing. There are a huge amount of tutorials and step-by-step craft projects on the internet; browse through them and pick out things you really like and think you can manage and then work your way up to more complicated projects. As to what to actually wear? Start with looking at the musicians, going back to the early '80s and late '70s, and then look at the models, and other goths. Then look at lots of other things - clothes, costumes, even interior design and artwork. Consume visually, create for yourself a scrapbook and digest all that visual information, analyse how the shapes work, how the textures work, look for why clothes look good together (here is where a physical scrap-book where you can write and draw has an advantage, but I like scrap-bookign and am therefore a bit biased), and then aim for what inspires you, what you think looks nice, and what suits you. When shopping, try to aim for a few items that look good with each other, rather than just going for the things you think are prettiest first. If you must buy something that you don't have other things to make an outfit with, because it's one-off bargain or something, it is not the end of the world that you can't wear it out right away because nothing you own goes with it, and it is better to wait until you have gathered enough to incorporate it into an outfit where it will look really good than to try an combine it with garments that just do not look right together - it won't show off your new find to its best, anyway. Your new find will not vanish, and unless your weight and shape fluctuate greatly, it you will still be able to wear it a few months later or so. Also, to begin with, buy things where you can try them on first, instead of ordering off the internet, so you get a feel for what does and does not suit you before you've actually spent any money. The most important, biggest piece of advice I can say is "Be Yourself" - wear what you think is beautiful, wear what you feel beautiful wearing. Goth isn't something you should have to try to become, it should be a natural extension of your own tastes. It is more important to be yourself than to adhere to any subculture, although if you do land between subcultures, try to describe yourself accurately - it is perfectly reasonable to say "I am a metalhead that likes Goth fashion" or "I like Goth music, but I like a Gothic take on Lolita and Aristocrat fashion" or "I like lots of things, a bit of Goth, a bit of Punk, a dash of Hippie" or whatever, but trying to say, for example, that Sweet Lolita is somehow Goth generally does not go down well. Also note that Cybergoth is not a subsection of Goth, it is a hybrid of Goth, Rave, Industrial and a few other things. Anyone can be a Goth, it doesn't matter if you're disabled, or dark skinned, or larger, shorter, blonder, ruddier, manlier, more girly or any other deviation from the stereotype. There already are Goths-of-colour, Muslim Goths, Goths in wheelchairs, Latin American Goths, Asian Goths, really short Goths, blonde Goths, freckly Goths, skinny Goths, large Goths. All sorts of people are Goths. And I've met at least one of all the above. Have fun, be beautiful! The HouseCat at 08:00
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.
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.
emoji combos *pink/cute* 🌸🍼🍡☁🥛 💭🍧🍥🐰🧸 *dark/edgy* 📎⛓️📽🎬🎧 🗯🐾🍙🎹🕯 *cottagecore* 🍓🌱🍄🌈🧺 🥨🥞🥖🍞🥐 *dark academia* 🦉🍂☕🎻🕰 ⚰️📜🍩🍷🍴
/ *₊˚ʚ 🦇 ₊˚✧ ゚.
。 ♡ 。  ♡。  ♡ ♡。 \  |  /。 ♡ 🌸 🌸 ♡。 /  |  \。 ♡ 。 ♡。   。  ♡
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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.
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."
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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。⋆
⊹ 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 ⊹
⠁⠀⠂⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠂⠀⠁⡀⠐⠈⠀⠐⠈⠀⠐⠀⠐⠀⡀⠂⠀⠐⠀⠠⠐⠀⠀⠄⠀⠠⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⢸⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠁⠈⢀⠀⠄⠈⠀⠁⠈⠀⠁⠈⠀⠄⠀⢀⠈⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⣄⣠⣤⣤⠴⠶⢶⡶⠶⠬⠿⢤⣀⣀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀ ⠄⠈⢀⠀⠠⠀⠂⠁⢀⠈⠀⠄⠁⢀⠠⠀⠀⡀⠐⠀⢀⠈⢀⣤⠶⠛⠉⠁⣠⠀⠀⡠⠀⣤⢋⠁⠐⠠⡀⢈⠙⠒⢤⣀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀ ⠐⠀⡀⠠⠀⠠⠐⠀⠀⡀⠂⠀⠠⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⡀⠄⣠⣴⡿⠋⠀⢀⣴⠞⠁⢀⠜⣠⠞⢡⠃⠀⢠⠀⠑⡄⠑⢄⠀⠈⠓⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡁⠀⠄⠀⠐⠀⡀⠄⠁⠀⡀⠄⠁⠀⠐⠀⡀⠁⣠⣾⡿⠟⠀⠀⣰⡿⠃⠀⠠⢁⡴⠁⢀⡇⢠⠃⢸⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⢣⠈⠠⡀⠑⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀ ⡀⠂⢀⠈⠀⠄⠀⠀⠄⠂⠀⢀⠠⠈⠀⡀⢀⡼⣿⠏⡁⣠⠃⣼⠟⡀⠀⠀⣿⡾⡅⠀⣼⠀⡼⠀⠈⡇⠀⢸⢣⠀⠀⠃⢠⠑⢤⡈⠳⡀⠀⠀⠁⣀⣠⣤⠤⠄⠒⠒ ⠄⠀⡀⠀⠂⢀⠈⠀⡀⠄⠂⠀⢀⠠⠀⢠⡿⣽⢫⠖⢰⠃⣸⣏⡞⠀⢀⣾⣿⠇⠀⡄⡇⢸⡇⠀⠀⢳⠀⢸⡼⡄⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠱⡀⢳⣀⡴⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠄⠐⠀⠀⠂⠀⠠⠀⢀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⣴⡿⣻⠃⡞⢀⠃⢀⣏⡞⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣀⢰⠃⣇⠀⢧⠀⡃⠈⣇⢸⣷⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⢱⣀⢻⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠂⠁⢀⠈⠀⠠⠀⠀⠂⠀⢁⣾⣿⣱⠏⢸⠇⠀⡤⢾⣿⠓⠛⢻⣿⠋⣟⠀⣸⠃⣷⠀⠘⢦⡇⠀⠸⣟⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠘⡆⠀⠀⣿⣳⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠁⠀⠄⠂⠀⠐⠀⠀⠁⡀⢨⣾⣿⢃⡿⢀⣹⡤⢁⠀⣿⣟⠀⠀⣿⡿⠀⣯⠀⣿⣷⠸⣇⢤⡈⢷⡀⠀⢸⢿⣷⠦⣀⠀⢈⡇⠀⠀⠸⡇⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠐⠈⠀⠀⠐⠀⠈⠀⠄⢠⣿⢣⡏⣼⣏⠀⢿⣷⠀⢢⣿⣯⡀⢸⢿⣇⠀⢹⡆⣿⣿⣤⡻⣦⣿⣦⣽⣶⣾⣈⣻⣤⠈⠙⢺⡇⠰⠀⠀⣷⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠂⠁⠀⢀⣿⠇⣾⡐⣿⣿⠈⢾⣿⡆⣹⣇⣹⣷⣾⣬⣿⡀⠈⣿⣯⢻⣿⣧⠉⢻⡟⣷⡄⢹⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⢹⠈⡟⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠠⠈⢸⡿⢸⣷⡚⣿⣿⡡⢘⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠈⠎⠢⢽⣿⣷⣄⡇⠈⣿⣿⣄⣀⣿⠀⢠⣿⠃⠀⡀⠀⣽⠀⣷⣿⡄⢠⠀⡄⡀⠆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⡧⣿⣿⡔⣿⣿⣇⠄⣿⡇⠈⢧⠈⢿⣿⣾⡶⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠙⠻⣷⣾⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣿⡿⠠⠀⡄⢠⣿⠀⣿⣽⡇⠢⠑⠈⡜⢦ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠘⣿⣿⣿⢧⣿⣿⣿⣖⡸⣷⠀⠀⠑⠤⠭⠏⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣯⡍⠸⣿⣿⣧⠀⢨⣇⣾⣿⠀⣟⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⡜⠸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠘⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣻⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡤⠒⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⣛⣛⣋⠀⠈⢁⣿⠇⡀⣾⣽⢿⡁⢠⡟⣼⡇⠀⢀⠒⡌⠱ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⢨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⠳⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⢀⡠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⡟⡰⣰⣿⡟⣾⢠⣾⣧⣿⠀⢀⠌⡓⣌⢣ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⡴⠶⢶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠙⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⢿⣟⣵⣿⡟⢧⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⡌⢎⡱⢌⡖ ⠀⢀⣴⠟⠉⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⠿⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣤⠤⠤⠄⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⢞⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⣀⠣⡜⢢⡙⢮⡜ ⢠⡟⠁⣠⢞⠿⣩⣾⡽⠋⣠⡷⠻⠀⠀⠙⣿⢻⡀⠀⠉⠛⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⠒⠠⠤⠞⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠰⣀⠳⡌⢧⡹⢣⢞ ⢸⢀⡞⡵⠋⣴⡿⢋⠀⣰⠟⠠⢁⠂⠄⠀⢹⡆⢹⡀⠀⠀⠈⢳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⡿⣤⣇⣌⠳⣜⣣⠽⣍⢾ ⢀⡟⡞⢀⣾⠟⡵⠃⣰⠏⠀⠀⣼⠀⡙⣂⡏⢹⣀⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⡶⠋⠁⠀⣼⣯⢿⡟⣻⠇⢨⡉⢤⡀⠙⢶⣍⠻⣟⠶⣭⢞⣭⠏ ⢸⢹⠁⡼⢥⡾⠁⣰⠏⠀⠀⣰⡟⠀⣇⣼⠁⣸⣸⠇⠈⠀⠤⠀⣿⣿⣿⡿⣷⣤⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⠿⡇⠀⠀⢠⣿⣣⡟⠡⡿⢠⠀⢿⠀⠘⢳⡈⢿⣳⣌⠳⣬⣻⡎⠀ ⠸⣿⣰⠏⣾⠃⢀⡿⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⢨⡼⠃⢠⣯⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣋⢿⣽⣳⢯⣞⣼⡿⠋⠈⠘⡇⠀⠀⣾⢳⣿⠁⣸⡇⢸⠀⢸⢀⠀⠸⣷⡄⢻⡽⡆⢿⠟⢟⠂ ⠀⠙⣿⣼⡏⣄⣸⡇⠀⠀⡞⠁⠄⣾⠃⢀⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠐⣈⠹⠷⣫⣾⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⠀⡼⡇⢸⠀⠘⡌⣆⠀⠘⣧⡌⢿⡇⣸⠀⠈⢳ ⠀⣼⣯⣿⣸⡇⣿⠀⠀⣸⠇⠀⣼⠁⣀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡯⠰⡏⠁⠀⠜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⢠⣏⢿⣿⣿⡀⣇⣧⣾⡀⠀⠀⣿⢠⡀⢹⣷⠘⡷⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⣸⠿⣿⡟⣼⡇⣿⠀⠀⣿⣰⢽⡇⠀⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⢴⣿⠄⠁⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠀⠀⠀⢘⡿⢧⣾⣿⣿⣷⣿⠈⣿⣇⠀⠀⣻⢸⡇⠰⣿⣇⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡏⠀⣿⡿⣼⡇⣿⡡⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⢀⠘⣄⣀⣠⠤⠒⠍⠂⠘⢿⡀⠂⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⣰⡏⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠈⠙⠻⢿⣿⣇⣿⣿⣆⡀⢹⢾⣇⠰⡏⢹⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⣿⢲⣷⣿⣽⣇⡿⠟⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠒⠶⢬⣝⣒⣦⣄⣸⣇⠀⢀⣃⠀⠀⢠⠋⢁⣀⣀⣠⡿⠤⠞⠒⠒⠃⠀⠀⠀⠈⠄⠁⠉⠉⠛⠻⢌⡇⢸⡀⡇⠀⠀⡰ ⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⣻⣾⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⢻⡏⠉⠉⠑⠀⠘⠋⠁⠀⠀⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢾⣱⠇⠀⠈⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢙⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡆⠀⠀⠀ ⢧⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢳⣀⢸⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣦⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠙⢿⢂⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⣦⣤⣼⣏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢸⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣯⣭⣯⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⡷⣈⠐⠀⠀⠀⢀⠐⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡾⣿⢿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⡱⢊⠐⡀⠂⠌⣠⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣇⣀⣀⣀⣸⣿⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠢⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⡴⢻⣕⠣⠄⡡⢁⢲⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⠟⢄⠁ ⠀⢰⣿⠟⢩⣯⠓⡌⠐⣠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣖⣦⡀⠀⠀⢹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠈⣧ ⠀⣿⡃⠀⣼⣹⡗⡌⠡⢼⠃⠀⠀⠀⡼⣿⣿⡗⢠⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡌⣿⣾⡇⡷⠀⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⡿⠁⢠⡟ ⠀⠹⠷⠦⢹⣟⡷⣌⠡⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠬⠽⠽⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠦⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⡷⢤⡿⠞ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⣿⠰⢦⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡍⡆⢸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣋⢿⡔⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⣯⠄⠻⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⠋⠙⢯⣟⡶⣆⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡗⡼⡎⡑⢌⠻⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣶⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⢸⠀⠈⠙⠻⢽⣷⢦⣄⣀⡀⢀⠀⢀⠀⣀⣠⣴⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢰⢻⡔⣈⠒⣿⢩⢛⣟⠾⣳⣛⣾⡿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠉⠁⣼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡪⡕⣣⠤⣉⣿⠀⢊⠈⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠒⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠳⢆⡱⠠⢿⠀⠂⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣇⡻⢜⡰⡉⢾⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠠⠐⠀⠀⠀⡀⠌⢸⠄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣷⢩⠖⣡⠇⣹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣄⠩⠄⢂⠁⡰⠈⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡎⢽⢠⢋⠴⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⢿⣆⡘⠤⢂⡱⢈⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣟⡜⢢⠉⠆⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡐⠠⢉⠻⢶⠡⢆⢃⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡘⠤⡉⠆⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠸⣇⠑⣈⠒⠤⢋⠴⣩⡇⠀⠀⠀⢀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⢂⠱⢨⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠁⠀⢻⣄⠂⢍⣸⣡⣾⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡟⡦⢑⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡞⣎⡷⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢱⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡿⡱⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣟ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡞⢥⠃⡌⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣞ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢏⡼⠁⠐⢀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣄⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⣜ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣫⠞⡀⢡⠂⠀⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⢰⡟⣼ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡷⢋⡐⢈⠄⢂⠁⠄⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀⠀⣸⣽⡳ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠟⡡⢂⠔⢂⠈⠄⠂⠌⠠⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⡀⣿⡞⣽ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢏⠦⡑⢌⡐⠢⡈⠤⠁⠌⡐⢀⠂⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⣯⢿⡼ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⣈⠖⡈⠆⡌⠱⡐⢢⢁⠂⡐⠀⠆⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⢧⣟ ⠀⠀⠀⣸⡓⠴⡈⠴⠡⢌⠱⡈⠆⡌⡐⠠⠁⠂⠌⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣟⡾ ⠀⠀⢀⡟⡬⢱⠘⡄⢃⠎⡰⢁⠎⡐⠀⠑⣆⠁⢂⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣟⣳ ⠀⠀⢸⢏⡔⡃⢎⠰⡁⠎⡐⠂⠄⠠⠀⠀⠈⢶⡀⠂⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠁⠀⢀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⡵ ⠀⠀⣾⢡⠚⣌⠢⡑⠄⡃⠄⠁⡘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣄⠂⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⠐⢠⢈⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣻ ⠀⠀⣟⡌⢳⠠⣃⠌⠒⡀⠂⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⠉⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⣀⡾⢀⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⡷ ⠀⠀⡯⡜⣡⠒⡡⠘⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢆⡴⠏⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⡿ ⠀⠈⡷⣑⠢⡱⠡⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠟⡁⠂⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿ ⠀⠀⡷⢡⢓⡰⢁⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠣⡘⠠⢡⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣷ ⠀⠀⢽⡡⢆⡱⠈⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣷⣄⣹⣯⣀⣀⣤⣿⠡⠆⡁⢂⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡷ ⠀⠀⣾⢰⢃⠦⡉⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡟⠋⠹⠟⢻⡿⣡⠃⠜⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⡽ ⠀⠀⢽⡎⡜⢢⠑⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡦⠀⠀⣾⡱⡂⠥⠈⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡽ ⠀⠀⢸⡧⡙⢆⠣⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⠔⢸⢧⡓⣁⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⢻ ⠀⠀⠸⣗⠭⣊⠕⡨⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⠀⣿⢎⡱⠠⢈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣯⣟ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⡜⢢⢍⠰⡁⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⡁⣯⢛⠴⡁⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣿⣳⢾ ⠀⠀⠀⢹⣎⠇⣎⠒⡄⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⡇⣏⢎⡒⠄⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⣽⣻ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⣯⢚⠤⡃⠔⠡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⡃⣏⠖⡨⠄⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⣿⢾⣽ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣍⠖⣩⠘⡄⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣼⣟⡯⠜⡰⠠⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⢻⣟⣾ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣯⢚⠤⡃⠤⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢹⣿⡧⢋⠤⠁⡌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠐⠸⣿⣽ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢻⡍⡖⢱⡈⠂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢀⢻⣿⡧⢩⢀⠃⠄⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠁⢀⠀⢿⣿ ⠀⠀⢈⣄⣠⠸⣏⡼⠡⡌⡑⢈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢌⢺⣿⣇⠃⠆⡘⠠⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⣰⣲⠤⠘⣿ ⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⡀⢿⡜⡱⢂⡑⠂⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢌⢺⣿⡧⢉⠰⢀⠃⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠀⠀⢀⡀⠄⢹

Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

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@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.
https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/comments/1651tuc/spongebob_full_episode_index/
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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."
You know you ve grown up when a nap no longer feels like a punishment but a reward December 29, 2014
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
C̹ͬ̂̒̽̉o͛ͥͤ͐͒ͮ͏̗̳͖͍m̷ͣ͊ͫe̥͙͍͑̇͑,̧̣̼͙̭ͩ ͈̬̫̜̞̝͑͌̑A̹ͨͮͨͬ̆̾è̘͚͕̱̯b̖͔̠̦̈o̗͎̱͕̰͔ͧ̿̉̑ͣ́̕ͅṅ͎̠͔̩̯͈ͩa͙̯͉͔͍̗ͬ̒͊͌̽̊̚ȁ͒ͦͨ͋̚͏̹͉͚s͆͊ͬh,͍̲̙͓͕̯̈́́͑͊ͬ́ ͗ͫ̎ͨ͋ͯ͆͘l͉̰̻͎͔͎ͅẹ͎̬̞̣͖͊̂͗͋ẗ͉͉̲̬̫̙̼̍ͯ̀ ̖̜͎̞̮̰̄̎̾̓͢u̯̯̠̬̐̌̍͢s҉̱̖̤̠ ̎̈́ͤ̊̌҉s̭̣̮̼̖̽ͭͤ͐ͯ͟é̥͖͓̄̔͆̎̀ͅe̺̫̗͕̩͋̊͗͢ ͖̐͛͋̓ͬ̅̇í̷̯̤̲̠͙̖̣̂̃̈̌͗ḟ̈ ͯ́y̷̭̬͖̠̪͓͖̎̔ͮǫ̙̟̦͍̀u̴̬͍̙̘͋̓̔͛̇͑ ̙̌̀̋́aͩ̿̂ṟͣͮe̖ͧ̈́͌̊̋ͧͧ̕ ̟̲̳͚̗̉ͩ͒ͬͪͬ͋a̗͇͓͖̟͉͗ͭ͐ͣ̏̐ͪs̘̞̐̇ ̫̯̠̈́̋͐̉ͦ͛͢p͍̤̬͉͍͖ȓ͙͎ͅë̠̩̮́̇ṱ̫͇̩͖̗̻ṭ̨͔ͩy̅̾̏͂ͭ͆ͩ ̺͕̈́̐ͫͧ̆ï̳͕̯̥̝̹̺͒n̢̤͚̲̩̑ͨ͆ṣ͖͕ͩ̔̋ͨ̉ͯ̐i̝̫d̖ͮ̃ͯ̈ė̶̻̲̤͇̼͖͋̑͆ͅ~̦̘̤̺̮̱̍̾ͥ̅̚~̡ͮ
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.
Thursday 5 July 2012 Makeup Tutorial: Foliate Swirls Music, Arts, Crafts, Recipes and Fashion blogging from a Gothic/Dark Romantic perspective. You will need: ✥Primer and foundation to match your skin tone ✥Matt white eyeshadow ✥Black soft kohl pencil ✥Felt-tipped eyeliner pen ✥Silver liquid eyeliner ✥Metallic silver eyeshadow ✥Metallic pewter eyeshadow ✥Black eyeshadow. ✥Brush-tipped liquid liner. The first step is to prime and apply foundation. As this design itself is quite heavy, I have applied primer and a very sparing amount of foundation under my eyes to act as concealer, and a tad of actual concealer over the worst of the bags under my eyes. Too much foundation and heavy looks can appear caked. I'm relatively pale naturally, and am using tinted primer and foundation that approximately match my skin tone. Don't forget to set the nose and the rest of the face with powder, but don't set the foundation around the eyes. The next step is to add some strong matt white eye-shadow under the brow line, and then to dust some lightly across the cheeks and above the brow line, forming a 'C' shape around the outside of the eye on the bony parts of the face. This is basically for the purpose of highlighting the contours and to contrast better against the black that will be added later in this look. I use a matt white at this point because a shimmer or pearlescent white would have the wrong lustre for the highlights. The third stage is creating a shadowy effect under the eye. Firstly line below the lashes with a soft, smudgy kohl pencil, then with either a cotton-bud (q-tip) or the edge of your little finger, smudge the kohl outwards and downwards. Try to get it to fade out smoothly. Be careful at the point where you meet with the upper lid not to get black on the outward continuation of the crease of the upper lid. Afterwards, take a felt-tipped black eyeliner pen (NOT a felt-tip pen!) and go over the kohl right up against the lashes. Emphasises the extension of the upper lid's crease by drawing in the downward curve with the same liner. You want to be drawing in the crease, below the upper lid. The idea is to give the illusion of a longer upper lid and therefore longer eye. This stage is most fun! First of all cover the upper lid up to the crease formed by the curvature of the eyeball with liquid silver eyeliner. You want to pick a really metallic shade. I have gone over this with Rimmel metallic silver eyeshadow and then metallic pewter eyeshadow in the corner in order to set the liquid eyeshadow. Draw in the crease with the kohl pencil, and dab over it with black eyeshadow to set. Apply the pewter eyeshadow between the white from earlier and the black. Using a narrow but fluffy-ish brush, blend the outwards to the brow from the black. Begin pencilling in the eyebrow. The next step is fun when you get the hang of it, but requires practice. Take a liquid eyeliner with a brush tip and line the upper lid narrowly over the silver and draw in your swirls. Practice drawing swirls before going out with this. If you use a a brush-tipped liner you can get a variation in width of line when you change the angle. End a few of the lines with tapering ends, or with curls that form dots, practice drawing stylised leaves. I tend to have the swirls emerge from the lower lid line and the extension of the corner, and then have one emerging at the end of the crease following the curve of the lower lid. These swirls are going to have silver on them in the next step so I have included a few broad sections that look a little odd at this stage. You can stop at this stage if you want a sharper, more minimal set of swirls (my personal preference), or go onto the next for an extra level of fanciness. The last stage is adding the silver highlights on the black swirls in silver liner. If it bleeds out onto the black, then just line around it again carefully in more black. Just add small sections of silver on the broadest parts of the black swirls. I also added some dots in black liquid liner below the brow and tidied up the drawing in of the brow. I then applied white eyeliner to my lower waterline and applied mascara to both lower and upper lashes. Then you're done! Swirls with silver and snazzy metallic eyeshadow.
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.
🧁 i love listening to music with my coffee, vanilla scented candles and my pink fluffy blanket ☁️ 🎀
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░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓█▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▓██▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░██▒▒▒▒████▓▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒█▓▒▒▒▓█▓█▓▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓█▓▒▓▓██▓▒▓▓█▓▒▓▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███▓▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░
𝒹𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒾𝒹𝑒𝒶 🧸ྀི: let’s both wear cute pyjamas, bake heart- shaped cookies together and then fall asleep with a pink fluffy blanket on us
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‧
Tʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-Tʀᴇᴀᴛ /sʜᴏʀᴛsᴄᴀʀʏsᴛᴏʀɪᴇs GᴜʏAᴡᴋs Tʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-Tʀᴇᴀᴛ “Is ᴛʜɪs ʏᴏᴜʀ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ, Jᴀɴᴇᴛ? Yᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴏɴ Eᴅᴅʏ ᴀʀᴇ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ!” Mʏ ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏᴜʀ Yᴠᴇᴛᴛᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴍs ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴀᴅᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪɴɪsʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʙᴡᴇʙs ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴍɪɴɪᴠᴀɴ’s ᴅɪsᴘʟᴀʏ. Aʟʟ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴛ ɪs ᴀ sᴇᴀ ᴏғ sɪᴍɪʟᴀʀ Hᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴅᴇᴄᴏʀ ɪɴ ᴄᴀʀ ʙᴏᴏᴛs, ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴀs ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟᴇᴅ ᴀs ʜᴇʀs. “Yᴇs” I ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ, ᴀᴅᴊᴜsᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʜᴏsᴛ ᴅɪsᴘʟᴀʏ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄᴀʀ ᴛʀᴜɴᴋ. “Mʏ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄɪᴛʏ.” “Oʜ ɪᴛ’s sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇɴɪᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʀɪᴄᴋ-ᴏʀ-ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ. Iɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴋɪᴅs ᴅᴏᴏʀ-ᴛᴏ-ᴅᴏᴏʀ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ, ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴀʀs ɪɴ ᴀ ʟᴏᴄᴀʟ ᴄʜᴜʀᴄʜ ᴘᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛʀᴜɴᴋs. Lɪғᴇ’s ᴀʟʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀᴅᴀᴘᴛɪɴɢ.” Eᴅᴅʏ ʙᴏʙs ɪɴ ᴇxᴄɪᴛᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴏsᴛᴜᴍᴇ. Eᴀɢᴇʀ, ʜᴇ sᴇᴛs ᴏғғ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅs ᴛʜᴇ sᴘᴏᴏᴋɪʟʏ ᴅᴇᴄᴏʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍɪɴɪᴠᴀɴs ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪᴅs ʟɪɴɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ғᴏʀ ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ. “Tʜɪs ᴅᴏᴇs sᴇᴇᴍ ғᴜɴ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪᴅs, Yᴠᴇᴛᴛᴇ” I ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍʏ ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏᴜʀ ᴡʜɪʟsᴛ sʜᴇ ᴘᴀssᴇs ᴏᴜᴛ ᴄʜᴏᴄᴏʟᴀᴛᴇs. “Bᴜᴛ ʜᴏᴡ sᴀғᴇ ɪs ᴛʜɪs? Wɪᴛʜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀs’ ᴄᴀʀs…” “Hᴏɴᴇʏ, ᴛʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ɪs ᴍᴜᴄʜ sᴀғᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʀɪᴄᴋ-ᴏʀ- ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ!” sʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀssᴜʀᴇs ᴍᴇ. Sᴜᴅᴅᴇɴʟʏ, I ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴇ sᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴀ ᴄᴀʀ ʙᴏᴏᴛ sʟᴀᴍᴍɪɴɢ sʜᴜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴ ᴇɴɢɪɴᴇ ʀᴏᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʟɪғᴇ. Tʜᴇ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ SUV ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴛ ɪᴍᴍᴇᴅɪᴀᴛᴇʟʏ ʙᴇɢɪɴs ʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʏ. Eᴅᴅʏ ɪs ɴᴏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sᴇᴇɴ. “Hᴇʏ!” I sᴄʀᴇᴀᴍ. Eᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ sᴘɪɴs ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ I’ᴍ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ SUV ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛɪɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪɴᴅᴏᴡs ᴇʀʀᴀᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ. Wɪᴛʜ ᴀ sᴄʀᴇᴇᴄʜ ɪᴛ ɢᴏᴇs ᴛᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴜs. Aᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ, ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛs ʙᴇɢɪɴ sʜᴏᴜᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɢɪᴠɪɴɢ ᴄʜᴀsᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍʏsᴛᴇʀɪᴏᴜs ᴠᴀɴ ᴀs ɪᴛ ғʟᴇᴇs, ᴀʟʟ ᴡʜɪʟsᴛ ғʀᴀɴᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ ᴀʀᴇ sᴀғᴇ. “Is ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴍɪssɪɴɢ?!” Aᴍɪᴅsᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɴɪᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴄʜᴀᴏs, I ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ Eᴅᴅʏ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. I ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ɪɴ ʀᴇʟɪᴇғ ᴀɴᴅ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴀ ʙɪɢ ʜᴜɢ. “Aʟʟ ᴅᴏɴᴇ—ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴛʜɪɴɢ” ʜᴇ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ғɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜʟʏ. I sᴍɪʟᴇ ᴀ ғɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜ sᴍɪʟᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ. Tʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴠᴀɴ, ᴅʀɪᴠᴇɴ ʙʏ ᴍʏ ʜᴜsʙᴀɴᴅ, ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ ᴅɪsᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. Iᴛ ʟᴇғᴛ ᴍʏ sᴏɴ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴀᴡʟ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʀs ᴘᴀʀᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙʀᴀᴋᴇ ʟɪɴᴇs. Tᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ʜᴇʟᴘʟᴇss ғᴀᴍɪʟɪᴇs ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʟʟ ғɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍsᴇʟᴠᴇs sᴍᴀsʜɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʀᴇᴇs ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ᴅɪɢɢɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ sᴡᴇᴇᴛs.
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
     🌸>  フ      |  _  _ l      /` ミ_xノ      /      |     /  ヽ   ノ     │  | | |  / ̄|   | | |  | ( ̄ヽ__ヽ_)__)  \二つ
✩。:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:。✩ ♡ "𝑈𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑤𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡." ♡. ✩。:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:。✩
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣴⣾⡿⠟⠛⠋⠉⠛⠛⠛⠿⢿⣶⣾⡿⢛⣿⣷⣶⣿⠿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣾⡿⠁⣀⣠⣤⢤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣷⠙⠃⢰⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢼⣿⣱⣿⣿⠟⢡⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⡇⣶⣶⡿⠟⣫⣿⣿⡄⠀⢸⣿⣶⣶⣶⣦⣀⣴⣶⣶⣦⣄⣤⣶⡶⣶⣄⠀⣀⣤⣶⣿⡿⣶⣤⣄⣠⣤⣀⠀ ⠀⠙⣿⣿⠃⢀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠸⣿⣿⣀⡀⠀⢸⡿⣛⠁⠈⢻⣿⢟⠁⠀⢙⣿⣿⡋⠀⠈⣻⣿⡿⠟⠋⣅⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⠛⢹⣇ ⠀⢰⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⠀⠀⢨⣾⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠂⠀⢹⣶⡾⠟ ⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⡇⠀⢠⣿⡇⣿⡇⢀⣤⣤⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⡏⠀⠀ ⠀⠸⣿⣆⠀⠀⠹⣿⠃⣠⣿⣿⡇⣿⣧⣾⡿⣹⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢻⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⣿⣿⡇⣿⠟⠉⣰⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⡄⠀⠸⣿⢟⣃⠀⠀⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠻⣿⢟⡁⠀⢸⣧⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⡿⠋⣿⣧⣄⢀⣴⣿⣿⠇⠀⣼⡿⣿⣷⡀⣠⣼⣿⣿⣄⢀⣴⣿⣿⣷⣄⢀⣴⣿⣧⡀⠀⢻⣷⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣩⣤⣤⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣋⣴⣾⣟⡁⠘⠻⠿⠟⢋⣈⣿⠿⠿⢋⣼⣿⡿⠁⠛⠛⠛⠛⠷⠄⢀⣽⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⡟⠋⠉⠉⠙⠛⠟⣫⡿⠛⣯⣿⣿⣾⡿⠟⣿⡿⠿⢿⡄⢀⣤⣾⡿⠿⠿⢿⣦⢸⣿⣯⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⣠⣴⡿⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣴⣿⣶⣶⣶⠋⣸⡟⠀⠀⣿⡏⠉⠀⠀⢸⣿⢇⣴⣿⠟⣿⡟⠉⠀⣤⣀⣼⣿⠀⠉⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠀⢸⣿⠃⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⢿⣿⣧⣴⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡁⣀⣤⣾⡿⢿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⢸⣿⡁⠀⠈⣿⣿⣤⡄⠀⠀⣤⣤⣿⣿⡿⠛⢩⡀⠀⠙⢿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣤⣄⠀⠀⢹⡇⠀⢀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠘⣿⠁⠀⠀⣿⡏⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⡟⠉⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣦⡀⣠⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣟⡛⠃⠀⣾⡇⠀⣼⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⣿⡇⠀⠰⣟⣵⣾⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⡆⢠⡿⢁⣼⣿⣷⣦⣄⣀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣧⢀⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⡟⣁⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⡿⢠⠟⠒⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠻⠿⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠛⠿⢟⣿⠇⠀⠀⠻⠿⠿⣛⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡿⣋⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣄⡀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣷⣄⣠⣾⡿⠿⣿⣶⣤⣀⣴⣿⢿⣶⣦⣄⣀⣴⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠻⠿⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⠿⠿⠟⠁⠈⠛⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
💢🎀💝name: 🐾🍥pr0no🌈uns: 🍮🌸💕stylez:💤
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┊┊┊┊ ♡┊┊┊ ┊♡┊ ₊ ⊹♡︎ ♡₊ ⊹ i am so full of love and i have so much to give
Heart Symbols Emoji/Symbols Meaning ❤ Red Heart ♡ White Heart Suit ♥ Black Heart Suit ❥ Rotated Heavy Black Heart Bullet ❣ Heavy Heart Exclamation Mark Ornament ꨄ︎ Circled Italic Latin Capital Letter S ❦ Floral Heart ❧ Rotated Floral Heart Bullet დ Georgian Letter Can ღ Georgian Letter Ghani ও Bengali Letter O ۵ Eastern Arabic-Indic Five ❤️‍🔥 Heart on Fire ❤️️ Red Heart (variation) ❣️ Heart Exclamation 💙 Blue Heart 💚 Green Heart 💛 Yellow Heart 🧡 Orange Heart 💜 Purple Heart 💗 Growing Heart 💘 Heart with Arrow 🖤 Black Heart 🤎 Brown Heart 🤍 White Heart ❤️‍🩹 Mending Heart 🫀 Anatomical Heart 💓 Beating Heart 💔 Broken Heart 💟 Heart Decoration 💕 Two Hearts 💖 Sparkling Heart 💝 Heart with Ribbon 💞 Revolving Hearts 💌 Love Letter 💒 Wedding 🏩 Love Hotel 💑 Couple with Heart 💋 Kiss Mark 👄 Mouth 💍 Ring 💏 Kiss 🌷 Tulip 🌹 Rose 💐 Bouquet 😚 Kissing Face with Closed Eyes 😍 Smiling Face with Heart-Eyes 😘 Face Blowing a Kiss 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 Combining Triple Underdot 🗝️ Old Key 𓀐 Egyptian Hieroglyph A001A
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠈⠉⠛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠐⠄⠘⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣶⣶⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡂⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠊⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣥⡄⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠟⢉⣭⡁⠁⠈⠉⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠘⢁⣾⡿⠛⠉⢉⠁⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠒⠿⢿⣦⡌⠓⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣁⠀⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣆⣴⣄⣀⣄⡀⠹⣏⠀⠴⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣧⡆⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢻⡆⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡀⢀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⢛⣀⠈⠉⣈⠙⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠚⠃⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠁⣾⡀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣦⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⢀⡄⡄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠹⠋⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⢼⡗⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⢠⡄⠀⠰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣙⣁⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣌⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢈⡁⢡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡆⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣍⠉⠉⠉⠉⢉⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣈⣥⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢻⠅⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠉⠻⡍⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠁⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠁⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣾⣿⣷⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣀⠀⠈⠻⠿⠟⣁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠁⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⣀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣩⣶⡀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⢠⣷⣬⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢋⡠⠊⣹⣿⣷⣄⠀⠈⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⢀⣠⣾⣿⡉⠻⣦⣍⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⡡⠞⢁⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢋⣠⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡙⠻⣶⣬⡛⠻⢿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⠟⢛⠡⠒⢁⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣀⣈⣛⣛⣛⣛⣛⣉⣩⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡙⠻⣿⣦⣍⡙ ⡯⠔⠞⢁⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⡉⠻⠃ ⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣴ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⢻ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⣤⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⡄⠀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⡄⠀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⢠⣾⡿⠋⠉⠛⠛⠁⠀⣿⣿⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⣽⣷⣄⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⠉⠉⠛⢿⣷⡀⠀⠀⢸ ⣗⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣷⣶⣶⡶⠀⠀⣾⣿⠀⠀⠀⣶⣶⡆⠀⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⠆⠀⠀⣿⡇⠙⣷⣄⠘⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⢸ ⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣄⡀⠀⣀⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠈⠻⢿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⠃⠀⠀⢸ ⡿⠀⠀⠀⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠃⠐⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⠿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠇⠀⠿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠇⠀⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸
……………………………………………………………… 。゚゚・。・゚゚。 ゚。𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓻𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓮  ゚・。・ ………………………………………………………………
˚     . ✧   ˚     .     ˚     .   ˚     Self Affirmations ୭ৎ 𓍯𓂃 ⭒ 𓍯𓂃 ⭒ 𓍯𓂃 ⭒ 𓍯𓂃 ⭒ 𓍯𓂃 ᰔ i am so pretty and i love myself so much ᰔ i love my body and all it does for me ᰔ i feel confident and at peace with myself ᰔ i am so full of love because i am love ᰔ i will not stress over things i cannot control ᰔ i am a cutie living in my own silly world ᰔ i radiate confidence and positive energy ᰔ i attract so so many good things ᰔ i have kind and positive people in my life ᰔ my aura is pure, sweet and so pretty     ˚ . ✧   ˚
✨🍋 ᒪEᗰOᑎ 🍋✨
☆*: .。.🎀🦴💉.。.:*☆
┏ ┐ └ ┛ ╔ ╗ ╚ ╝ ╭─〔❨✧✧❩〕─╮ ╰─〔❨✧✧❩〕─╯ ╔══《✧》══╗ ╚══《✧》══╝ ╭ ─┉─ • ─┉─ ╮ ╰ ─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─ ╯ ┏━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┓ ┗━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━┛ ╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮ ╰━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╯ ┌─────━┿──┿━─────┐ └─────━┿──┿━─────┘ -ˋˏ [] ˎˊ ✧*̥˚ type *̥˚✧ ┌──────┐ └──────┘ ╔══════╗ ╚══════╝ ╒══════╕ ╘══════╛ ╭─────╮ ╰─────╯ ┏━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━┓ ┗━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━┛ ┏━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━┓ ┗━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━┛ ┏ •◦இ•◦ ┓ ┗ •◦இ•◦ ┛ ┍━☽【❖】☾━┑ ┕━☽【❖】☾━┙ ╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗ ╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝ ┌── •✧• ──┐ └── •✧• ──┘ ╔═.✾. ════╗ ╚════.✾. ═╝ ┏━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┓ ┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛ ╭── ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ──╮ ╰── ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ──╯ ┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐ └───❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚┘ ╭┈┈┈┈╮ ╰┈┈┈┈╯ •---------• •---------• 《--¤--¤--》 ╔══•●•══╗ ╚══•●•══╝ ..••°°°°••.. °°••....••°° ┌──═━┈━═──┐ └──═━┈━═──┘ •╔════◄░░░░░░►════╗• •╚════◄░░░░░░►════╝• ❀° ┄───╮ ╰───┄ °❀ ╔═✬✩══╡˚✧✬✧˚╞══✩✬══╗ ╚═✬✩══╡˚✧✬✧˚╞══✩✬══╝ ┌────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┐ └────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┘ ╔══•●•══╗ ╚══•●•══╝ ┌─────═━┈┈━═─────┐ └─────═━┈┈━═─────┘ ╔═ ✰ ═ ✮ :star: ✮ ═ ✰ ═╗ ╚═ ✰ ═ ✮ :star: ✮ ═ ✰ ═╝ ╭──〔❨✧✧❩〕──╮ ╰──〔❨✧✧❩〕──╯ ╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮ ╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯ ┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐ └─── °∘❉∘° ───┘ ┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐ └── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘ ╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗ ╚══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╝ ╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗ ╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝ ╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗ ╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝ ┏━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━┓ ┗━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━┛ ┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓ ┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛
🌸 you are pretty 🌸 you are smart 🫧 you are kind 🫧 you are worthy 🌸 you are powerful 🌸 you are magical 🫧 you are protected 🫧 you are vibrant 🌸 you are intelligent 🌸 you are fearless 🫧 you are enough 🫧 you are whole
.✧・゚: ✧・゚: ✧・゚: ✧・゚: ✧・゚✧. ♡    ✩ ✧ ✩    ♡ ♡   ・*・ ∧_∧ ⊹ ∧_∧・*・  ♡ ♡  '. (。・ω・)(・ω・。) ' ♡ ♡  '・| つ♡と |・'   ♡ ♡  ゚'・。°。・゚'    ♡
https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/new/
𓂃⟡ 𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡. 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑡𝑦🧘🏻‍♀️💓
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡁⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠔⠂⡉⠠⢄⠀⡀⠐⢁⠀⠀⡀⠀⠁⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠁⢁⡀⠐⠀⡈⡀⠀⡀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠇⠌⠀⠀⠌⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⡀⠉⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢑⠠⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠁⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠂⡀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢁⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠁⠨⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⡀⠀⠀⠡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠄⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠐⠔⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠂⢀⠁⠀⠈⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠬⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡆⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠠⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡐⠀⠀⡀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠅⠀⠠⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠂⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⡁⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠁⡀⠁⠁⠀⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
The End From Redditor u/MrCookieCutter: For the first time in recorded history, no humans died today. Granted, that's because the last one died yesterday.
─────░░▒▒▒─────░░▒▒░ ───░░░░░▒▓██▒░░░░░▒▓██▓ ──░░░░░▒▒▓▓▒▒░░░░▒▒▓████ ──▒░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓██████▒ ─░▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▒░▒▒▓█▒─────░░▒▒▒ ──██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒────░▒██▒░─────░▓██▒ ──▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒───░░▒▒▒▒░────░░▒▓███▓ ───▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░▓▓▓▓▓▒▒░░░▒▓▓▓▓████░ ────▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓████░ ─────▒███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████ ───────▓███▓▓▓██████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓████▒ ────────░████████▒███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████▒ ──────────▒████▓░─░████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████▒ ────────────▓▓░─────▓████▓▓▓▓██████░ ─────────────────────▒████▓██████▒ ───────────────────────▓███████▓░ ────────────────────────░█████▒ ──────────────────────────░▓▒ ──────────────────────────── ▓▓▓▓█──.▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓█────▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓█ ─▓▓██──▓▓█──▓▓█ ▓▓█──▓▓█─▓▓█ ─▓▓█───▓▓█──▓▓█─▓▓█─▓▓█─▓▓▓▓▓█ ─▓▓█───▓▓█──▓▓█──▓▓.▓▓█──▓▓█ ─▓▓▓▓▓█─▓▓▓▓▓▓█── ▓▓▓▓█──▓▓▓▓▓█
r/TwoSentenceHorror 5 yr. ago LifeIsContrast I ̼ͨͪj̱͉umpé̞d̊̐ fro̞̜m̲̐ the ed̰ͫ̀ġͪe̩͐ and̝͍ͭ ͉̾̈́pl͖͓̂u͇ͩ̋n̏̔g̯ed͓͎ͦ͂ t̹̅̀o̹͇w̆ards thͤe d͎͛ͤe̬̰p͔̂t̻h̟̓ͫs̘̩͊̑.͓̰.̰ͭ͐.̑.̭ p͔̻̥̮̒͒l̗͙̦̩̪̪͙̯͐̂̚ĕ̻̝̳̣͈͖̞̎̿̊͊͋̈́͒̑a͚̣̹ͮ̌͆̇̾s̠̘̰͙̰̐͑̋e͇̰̳͓̥̊̂͌͐̍͑̂,͚̘̜̉ͯ̒ͤͬ ̖̭̲̟̥͍̹͎ͧ͒ͯ͒ͨ͗̉F̭͎̌̇͑ͣḬ̑̃ͥͥͧN̗̰̎̓͗D͓̠͎̂̿ͨ́̉͐ ̘̤̤̠̘̺̼͖̩̓̆͒̔ͭ̆ͯ̚M̲̫̙͙̏ͦ̀̑E̺̗͈̣̹ͯ́̚ ̬̤͎̪͔̤̤̯ͧ͌ͭ̌̿ͩA͎̗͉͕̯̲̤͓͒̌ͪN̫̥͎ͯ̈̎͌͊͒D̠̬̮͆ ̬͇̫̠ͩ͒K̞͕̙̮̫͇͎͉ͤ̈́̿͒ͧ̽̐ͤͅI͉̒͗ͥL͍̤͚͖͚̆ͯ̎̽̑L͓̣͎̗̾ͯ̈́̚ ̣͎̱̪̝͉̈́ͣ̂̓̆̂̋ͤͫM̙̙̼ͩ͗͋ͣͫE̮̔̌͑̊!̳̖͉̺̾ͅͅ
11:11 make a wish ゜・。。・゜☆゜・。。・゜♡
εїз ₊˚ 💛🌸 & 💛🌸˚ ₊εїз
♡ ♥ ♡ ι ℓσνє уσυ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♡ ♥ ♡ ι αℓωαуѕ нανє ♡ ♥ ♡ ♡ ♥ ♡ ι αℓωαуѕ ωιℓℓ ♡ ♥ ♡
https://www.reddit.com/r/BabyNameLab/comments/vvdp14/my_partner_is_pregnant_on_our_first_child_and_we/
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https://getwhiteboard.com/ Whiteboard: just draw together by James Schultz A clean whiteboard and several basic colors Features: * Draw anything you want with the colors of the rainbow. * Draw together with friends and family using the Messages app. Just send a drawing to a friend and they can open it and draw on it too and then send it back. * 6 convenient preconfigured marker sizes * Undo, Redo, and Clear drawing actions * Special "Rainbow" marker lets you draw with a rainbow!!! you gotta try it! * Change the background color by long pressing on one of the colors * Remembers your last used marker color and size and your canvas color. * Import photos to trace, annotate, and have fun with * Shake to erase * Save your drawings to your Photos library * Print your drawings to AirPrint enabled printers * Share your drawings with Messages, Mail, and many more * Tip Jar allows you to provide financial support to further development of Whiteboard. Whiteboard Labs Features (early stage features you can opt-in to try) * Draw with Knobs - draw pictures using knobs the old school way! * Screen Recording - record the screen and audio as you draw, save or send the recording to friends and family. * Infinite Canvas - add more pages to your canvas as you draw * Draw with Motion - tilt your device to draw a picture Category: Business Licence: Free What is Whiteboard? Whiteboard is a simple and easy-to-use drawing app that allows users to draw anything they want with the colors of the rainbow. It features six preconfigured marker sizes, undo, redo, and clear drawing actions, a special "Rainbow" marker, the ability to change the background color, import photos to trace and annotate, and the option to save and print drawings. Users can also draw together with friends and family using the Messages app. Whiteboard Labs features include drawing with knobs, screen recording, infinite canvas, and drawing with motion. The app is designed to be a fun and immersive drawing experience for kids, and the developer encourages users to leave tips, rate the app, share it with others, and provide feedback. Pros: - Simple to use - Ability to change background color - Eraser and marker with adjustable sizes - Six different colors to choose from - Ability to move objects - Fun rainbow marker Softonic review Whiteboard is a Fun Drawing App for Kids and Adults Whiteboard is a fun drawing app, with a clean, easy-to-use interface, and a simple color palette. This handy app lets kids and adults simply write or draw on a blank white background, and it's FREE! Drawing with Whiteboard is super easy. Just start with a blank white canvas, write or draw on the screen, and you'll be inspired to create! It's that fun! You can zoom, rotate, and flip your page to get a completely different look.
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September 2nd, 2010, 12:59 PM I went to Africa to help build an Orphan school when I saw a kid sitting on his own. I walked up and gave him half of my sandwich, and he ran away. Secretly following him around the corner, I saw him break it into small pieces and share it with his whole class of 20. Sharing the little he had GMH.
SUNDAY, APRIL 11, 2010 10 steps for Elder Goth Living~~~ 1. TAKE THE GUILT OUT OF PLEASURE. SOMETIMES THE THING YOU WANT MOST IS JUST WHAT YOU NEED. 2. YOU CAN’T FORCE FLEXIBILITY. IT’S ALL ABOUT RELEASING AND OPENING GRADUALLY. 3. INVEST IN EXPERIENCES, NOT JUST OBJECTS 4. DON’T OVER THINK; SOME HAPPY MOMENTS ARE BEST LEFT UNANALYZED. 5. REAL INTIMACY IS EXPRESSED NOT WITH MORE WORDS BUT WITH MEANINGFUL ONES. 6. TRY A LITTLE LESS HOUSEWORK AND A LITTLE MORE SLEEP. 7. TO FIND YOUR STRENGTH, PUSH PAST YOUR COMFORT ZONE. 8. RATHER THAN JUST BEAUTIFYING YOUR SKIN, NOURISH IT. 9. FINDING ANSWERS TO YOUR HEALTH ISSUES WON’T COME FROM FEEDING YOUR FEARS. 10. SOMETIMES GETTING LOST IS THE ONLY WAY TO FIGURE OUT WHERE YOU REALLY ARE POSTED BY VAMPIRE ROSE AT 10:45 AM
Music, Arts, Crafts, Recipes and Fashion blogging from a Gothic/Dark Romantic perspective. Thursday 30 August 2012 Goth, Definitions and Inclusivity vs. Elitism Today I ended up in a rather involved and passionate debate over what it takes to be a Goth. The term Goth, or any other label, exists to summarise interests in terms of describing an aesthetic, a musical genre, and participation of a subculture. In terms of the word 'Goth' describing a level of participation in the subculture, to me there is a sort of Goth 'triumvirate' of aspects (I know that the word triumvirate refers usually to three leading people) - a Goth is someone that is interested in Goth music, admires the Goth aesthetic (including fashion) and has the broader mindset and lifestyle. A Goth is someone who is involved in all three aspects. Some believe that the term Goth can apply to someone who is involved in only two of the three. I know that what does and does not constitute the music, lifestyle or aesthetic is up for enough debate, let alone the level of involvement it takes to call oneself a Goth, and that each Goth probably has their own standards, but that is the definition I use. What I actually want to talk about is not so much where to draw the line, but how that line is used in the subculture. It seems that in attempts to be very inclusive of people with a variety of interests, all sorts of things that are not actually Goth, and sometimes not even alternative or dark, get lumped under the term, as do other subcultures such as Steampunk and Lolita. I have no problem with being accepting of people with interests in Goth and other subcultures, people who have hybrid subcultural affiliation, and other forms of subcultural and cultural cross-polination, but for the term Goth to remain a useful description, it needs to have some sort of definition. One does not need to say, for example "oh, Gothic Lolita is Goth" or some such in order to socially accept Gothic Lolitas. All that does is muddy the waters and make it more difficult for people to communicate their actual interest - the proliferation of terms has coincided with the proliferation of hybrid subcultures, new subcultures and , with the rise of the internet, a globally connected alternative scene where people want to communicate with and connect to people with similar interests. If the term 'Goth' becomes too broad, it stops signifying a reasonable amount of potential interests and becomes vague. The biggest issue, though, is the imaginary correlation between Goth-ness and acceptance, and a concept that how Goth someone is equates to how cool, or how pretty, or how interesting, or how nice they are as a person or a whole load of other equally unrelated assumptions and non-existent relationships between terms. If you accept or reject people purely on how close they stick to a label, then you are probably a very shallow person indeed - people are a lot more than the sum of their music collection, clothes and interests. There is nothing wrong with being a metalhead that likes Goth fashion, or a Gothic Lolita that likes Goth music, and just using terms like those to describe it should not mean a lack of acceptance by the groups involved, but sadly it seems that some people feel that unless they are 'true Goths' they can't have acceptance, and equally, there are people who would have Goth as an isolated subculture exclusively for participation in by those who are, to them, 'true Goths'. Surely we should be open-minded and accepting enough for it not to matter how Goth someone is? There seems to be a confusion between the exclusivity inherent in a term that describe something - as for a term to be a valid description a word does have to exclude certain things, for example the word purple does not mean pink, red or blue, it only means purple; pink and, red and blue not being purple doesn't make those other colours any less colourful, it just makes them not purple - and a sense of exclusivity in terms of a closed club for only certain people. People should be able to freely participate in the subculture at any level they choose, from an interest in only certain aspects of it, to living as a Goth for all 24 hours of every day, all seven days of every week and all 365 (or 366) days of every year, and do so without judgement. It is far more important for people to be true to themselves than it is for them to adhere to a label. Goth is not an exclusive club or a clique; it is a descriptive term; there is no value judgement to it. It is open to participation by anybody interested, and people can participate at a variety of different levels and contribute in a variety of ways. Acceptance of non-Goths with an interest in the subculture should not be a case of "You're not goth enough, but I still like you" as if whether or not liking someone has ANY RELEVANCE to how much they participate in the subculture, on what level, and in what manner. Those things ARE NOT RELATED, or at least should not be. It is creating some kind of relationship between acceptance and aesthetic/musical preference/lifestyle that I see as the problem. You can like someone who does not have all the exact same interests as you do, and you can despise someone who does - there are certainly people who share a huge amount of common interests with, but whom I cannot stand (and sometimes wish I could hit over the head with a sturdy cane...). If it was not for the term 'Goth' being used for the purposes of creating social boundaries, we'd be discussing what musical techniques define the sound in musical terms, or what artistic movements have contributed and how the visual aesthetic can be described, or some such instead of discussing elitism and exclusivity. To me, Goth is something akin to Romanticism; a creative movement, something defined by a musical and visual aesthetic and way of looking at the world, and therefore, ultimately something like Romanticism or Impressionism. Nobody argues over whether the definitions of either are elitist (or at least not anywhere I come across) because as historical movements of times past, the terms mean little in terms of social inclusion or acceptance in the present day (says someone who calls herself a latter-day Romantic) and thus people feel much freer to define them by specific aesthetic, musical, literary and philosophical styles and differences. It is time that elitism within Goth dissipates, and that people feel free to clear about their interests, and to admit their extra-subcultural interests, or a desire not partake in certain aspects, without people judging them as somehow lesser for not being Goth enough. Such shallowness breeds a feeling that it is somehow not right to explore or other paths, or to admit that for example, one likes the fashion but not the music. There is nothing inherently wrong in liking Goth fashion but preferring say, folk music. It might not be Goth music, but if the person is happy listening to it, then there is no issue. There is far more of an issue when people force themselves to adhere to a certain subculture against their own preferences in order to feel accepted. The HouseCat at 11:49
~ EmojiCombos.com ~ The only site I know of where you can anonymously post without any signups, pay etc. I do not want it to be restricted or get cancelled over you people arguing abt how to raise kids and encouraging explicit content. Although it's mainly for (as the name suggests) emoji's or copy text art, it can also be for typing fonts to repost (kinda like whisper app I guess) but please stop the arguing. I'm only typing about it because I do not want the website to be taken down or anything.
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worldgothic Ano: 2009 Tipo: V.A. Genero: Darkwave, Neoclassical, Neofolk, Ethereal, New age, Medieval, Dark Ambient, Heavenly Voices, Gothic My Dark Compilation Tracks: 01 – Bizmark – Cult of Nox Noctis 02 – Ulver – Hallways of Always 03 – Foundation Hope – Redemption Reversed 04 – Helium Vola – Les Habitants du Soleil (Reprise) 05 – Caprice – The Court of Faerie 06 – Faun – Satyros (Live with Sieben and In Gowan Ring) 07 – Golgatha And Dawn & Dusk Entwined – Crusade 08 – Lord Wind – Song Like Wind 09 – Charitona – Wolfskiller 10 – Gustaf Hildebrand – Omega Continuum 11 – Aeons – The crying orc (Burzum cover) 12 – The Joy Of Nature – O Ciclico Retorno de Lobos e Ferreiros 13 – Somnam – Masquerade 14 – Lacrimosa – A.U.S. (Edit) 15 – Midnight Syndicate – Welcome 16 – Rosa Crux – Vil 17 – Sopor Aeternus & The Ensemble of Shadows – Holy Water Moonlight (Demo) 18 – Bizmark – Umbral of Doom February 3, 2011
Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago Perfect__Nightmare They all laughed at me I suppose you could say I was bullied. It would start with some simple na͠me calling. The second they started in on me I could feel b!ood rushing to my fac͘e. It made them more relentless. I tried to avoid them, but they always found me. They pitch me, kick me, bug me. The paın was made so much worse because this sort of ab3se should never been from famıly. And my parents did nothing. They all hate. I did me too. I wasn't as sm͢art, or as talented as my siblings. I had nothıng to offer my famıly. I wanted to earn their lòvè, but all of my attempts just drove them further away. I had almost given up h̴ope. And then the day came. I had just encountered my nightly bearing. I lifted myself off the floor, slowly, but my oldest brother lıcked me again. I hit the floor once more. I listened to them laugh as I drag myself over the cøld ground and into the darkness. When I was far enough away to just barely hear their laughter, I let myself collapse onto the snow. I cried for a very long time. All wanted now to dıe. I awoke some time later to my father's voice. "Son, wake up. I need your help." My father needed me. This was my chance to make him proud. Before I knew it, it was time. My father told me exactly what to do. I wasn't sure I could do it, but he reassured me. "I believe in you." No one had ever said that to me before. My face grew hot again, but I did as my father said. This time no one laughed. But it didn't matter. I heard the laughing in my head. I felt the attacks‎ all over again. I remembered the bloodƴ těars, the paın caused by my siblings. I remembered my father doing nothıng. My despair turned to anger, and my anger turned to hate. And in that moment, I realized the one quality in myself that might be considered admirable. I was brave. I whispered it to myself over and over. I said it until I started to make myself believe it. And then, I looked toward the ground beneath me. With my siblings on my heels and my father trailing behind, I led them down. My face grew hot, hotter than ever. "Rudolph, what are you doing?!" I could feel my father pulling on the reins, but I was determined. I was brave. I kept going down until I met the concrete. My eight siblings followed. And then my father. Here's the thing about magic... It wasn't enough to save us that night. But it tried. It made their dEAth slow and agonizing. But me? I smiled and I felt my face grow hotter and hotter. I knew my nose was shining brighter than ever before. And no one was laughing.
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