Lonelycore Emojis & Text

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*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*(*❦ω❦)*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ .。*゚+.*.。(❁´◡`❁)。.。:+* *:..。o○(´;д;`)○o。..:* 。°。°。(*´→ܫ←`*)。°。° ‿︵‿︵(ಥ﹏ಥ)‿︵‿︵ ♥♡♥(ꈍᴗꈍ)ε`*)♥♡♥ ☆♬○♩●♪✧♩((ヽ( ᐛ )ノ))♩✧♪●♩○♬☆ ✼  ҉  ✼ (ꃋิꎴꃋิ) ✼  ҉  ✼  ✧・゚:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:・゚✧* △▼△▼n̶ ̶e̶ ̶v̶ ̶e̶ ̶r̶ ̶( ͜。 ͡ʖ ͜。) ̶m̶ ̶i̶ ̶n̶ ̶d̶ △▼△▼ -ˏˋ⋆ ̥   ̣̮ ̥   ͙ʰ͙ᵉ͙ˡ͙ˡ͙ᵒ͙   ̥   ̣̮ ̥ ⋆ˊˎ- °✧° 𝔉𝔢𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔢 °♡°(ꂧ ꁞ ꂧ)°♡° 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔶 °✧° ┉┉┉-ˋˏ尺口卂尺ヾ(ꉺ ̱言 ꉺ )ノ 尺口卂尺ˎˊ-┉┉┉ ✩•̩̩͙*ೃ˚.˚ଘo(∗ ❛ั ᵕ ❛ั )੭່˙ᴵˈ ˡˡ ᵖʳᵒᵗᵉᶜᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˚.*ೃ »——┬┴┬┴┤ᴘʟs ʀᴇsᴘᴏɴᴅ(ˊo̶̶̷̤ ‸o̴̶├┬┴┬┴——« ヽ`、☁ヽ`𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 ☂˚。 ლ(ಥ益ಥლ、ヽ`☽ヽ` ࿔࿔࿔꣸(⁍̴̆◡⁍̴̆ )⊃✫⌒*・゚ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑏𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛’⛧` ⚜。꘏꘏ ♡ (⚗ ˘ ⚗) . ꘏꘏。⚜
✨ 🌠 ✨ 🌠 🌙 🌠 ✨ 🌠 ✨
🌔✨… ♠️BedTime♠️ …✨🌖
~ ✨(◕▿◕✿) ✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ .・゜゜・  ・゜゜・. 。・゚゚・  ・゚゚・。 ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶ ✧༺♥༻∞  ∞༺♥༻✧ **✿❀ ❀✿** ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ 。o°✥✤✣    ✣✤✥°o。 ♬♩♪♩  ♩♪♩♬ *:..。o○  ○o。..:* ゚+*:ꔫ:*﹤  ﹥*:ꔫ:*+゚ *+:。.。  。.。:+* ♥*♡∞:。.。  。.。:∞♡*♥ ‧̍̊˙˚˙ᵕ꒳ᵕ˙˚˙  ˙˚˙ᵕ꒳ᵕ˙˚˙‧̍̊ *°:⋆ₓₒ  ₓₒ⋆:°* ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹▫◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒𐐚 ° ˚ ₒ ∞ 。ₓ ू ₒ ु ˚ ू ₒ ु ₓ。 ☆♬○♩●♪✧♩  ♩✧♪●♩○♬☆ ⭑・゚゚・*:༅。.。༅:*゚:*:✼✿  ✿✼:*゚:༅。.。༅:*・゚゚・⭑。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆   。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆ .・゜-: ✧ :-  -: ✧ :-゜・. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇  ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ⭒❃.✮:▹  ◃:✮.❃⭒ ‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾  ☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙ .。*゚+.*.。   ゚+..。*゚+ ☆.。.:*  .。.:*☆ ☆○o。  。o○☆ ・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・ 。☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆。 ★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★ 【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】 »»——⍟——«« .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.~ ヾ๑ˊᵕˋ๑◞♡ .⋆。⋆☂˚。⋆。˚☽˚。⋆. ⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫。˚۰˚☽˚⁀➷。˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄ ع˖⁺ ☁⋆ ୭ 🕊.⋆。⋆༶⋆˙⊹ ˏ 𓏧 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓋒 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏲 𓏧 ˎ ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° 。˚𓆛˚。 °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ 。゚❁ུ۪ °ₒ 𓂂 ˚ 𓂂 ₒ ° ₒ 𓂂 ˚˖⋆ ⋆┈┈。゚❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ゚。┈┈⋆ .。❅*⋆⍋*∞*。*∞*⍋⋆*❅。. ▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ **•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚  ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*   ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙   .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .   *̩̩̥͙ -•̩̩͙-ˏˋ⋆   ⋆ˊˎ-•̩̩͙- *̩̩̥͙   ·̩̩̥͙**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚  ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*·̩̩̥͙   ༝̩̩̥͙ ༓༝̩̩̥͙ ⊹     ⊹༝̩̩̥͙ ༓༝̩̩̥͙   ⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙     ⁂̩̩͙͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁎̩͙   -ˏˋ♥̩͙♥̩̩̥͙♥̩̥̩ ⑅ ⑅ ♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙ˊˎ   ﹥ˏˋ♡̩͙♡̩̩̥͙♡̩̥̩ ⋆ ♡̩̥̩♡̩̩̥͙♡̩͙ˊˎ﹤   ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ   ┉ˏ͛ ༝̩̩̥͙ ⑅͚˚   ҉  ⑅͚˚ ͛༝̩̩̥͙ ˎ┉   -ˏ͛⑅ ‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙ ⑅ˏ͛-˱ 𓈒 𓈊 ┈ 𓈒 ┈ 𓈉 ┈ 𓈒 ┈ 𓈊 𓈒 ˲ ✺✳ ┅ ⑅ ┅ ⑅ ┅ ⑅ ┅ ⑅ ┅ ⑅ ┅ ✳✺ ✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧ তততততততততততত ✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲ ⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑ ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ ⋆⛧*┈┈┈┈﹤୨♡୧﹥ ┈┈┈┈*⛧⋆ ✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧ ✼  ҉  ✼  ҉  ✼  ҉  ✼  ҉  ✼  ҉  ✼ ✼  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉  ҉ ✼ ♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ °。°。°。°。°。°。°。゜。°。°。°。 。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。° ⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒ ꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎ 🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · 🙦 · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵  ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ »»————-  ————-«« ̶̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶       ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶  \/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘♡𐡘 𐡘 ֎ 𐡘 𐡘♡𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙ ■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■ ●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼ ●~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~ ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ■━■━■━■━■━■━■━■ ⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒ ៚ ⋯⋯⋯ ˁᱸᲲᱸˀ ⋯⋯⋯⋯ ༄ ◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇
──┅┅┄┄*ೃ:.✧✲゚*。⋆─── ⋆✩⋆ ──────── *ೃ ୨ text. ୧ ┊✧*。 ✯┊☪⋆✧*。 ┊ ────────────♡⋆.ೃ࿔*──── ︶︶︶︶︶︶︶ ₊̣̇ෆ˟̑̑˚̑̑˟̑ෆ₊̣̇ෆ˟̑̑˚̑̑˟̑ෆ₊̣̇ෆ˟̑̑˚̑̑˟̑ෆ₊̣̇ෆ˟̑̑˚̑̑˟̑ෆ₊̣̇ ・。・゜✭・・✫・゜・。 ✿————✦————✿ ⊹₊꒷︶꒷꒦‧₊˚⊹︰꒷ ๑‿︵‿୨ ₊̣̇ෆ˟̑̑˚̑̑˟̑ෆ₊̣̇ෆ˟̑̑˚̑̑˟̑ෆ₊̣̇ෆ˟̑̑˚̑̑˟̑ෆ₊̣̇ෆ˟̑̑˚̑̑˟̑ෆ₊̣̇ ︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ✦ . ⁺ . ⁺ ⁺ ˚ ⁺ ˚ ✦ . ⁺ . ⁺ ˚ ⁺ ✦ . ⁺ . ୨୧┄┈┈┈୨୧‧⁺̣⋆̩·̩̩·̩̩⋆̩⁺̣‧୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧ ╬╬═════════════╬╬
☻⋆˚✩Ꮹ∞ძ ოǫɾлілϧ ༘*ೄ˚☻
🦇♡🦇♡🦇 🦇♡🧛‍♀️♡🦇 🦇♡🦇♡🦇
🐈‍⬛ 🐑 🐈‍⬛ | 🐈‍⬛ 🐑 🐈‍⬛ | 🐈‍⬛ 🐑 🐈‍⬛
˗ˏˋᗰદ૨૨ʏ ᘓમ૨ıડτന੨ડˎˊ˗
ʕ͙••̫͑͡•ʔͦʕͮ••̫ͤ͡•ʔ͙
. . ) . . . * . . . . . . .' . '. * . . ' .' . . __ . .' ______ __ | o' | | | | | | | | | | | |___| |_ __|_______________________|__. . - - ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ - - . /|\ / \ / | \ / \ \|/ / | \ / \ / | \
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶ ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
💉 🩹 💉 🩹 💉 🩹 💉 🩹
🌳 👁️ 🌳 👁️ 🌳 👁️ 🌳 👁️
🥀🌹🎭Beneath the mask, Who are you? 🌹🥀🎭
🏥 🚑 🏥 🚑 ⚕️ 🚑 🏥 🚑 🏥
👑 • 👛 • 💗 💗 • 👛 • 👑 👑 • 👛 • 💗
~∧,_,∧ (。•ω•。)つ━☆・*。 ⊂  ノ    ・゜+. しーJ    °。+ *´¨)          .· ´¸.·*´¨
⎛⎝(•̀ ‿•)⎠⎞ ⎛⎝(•ⱅ•)⎠⎞ ⎛⎝(ʘ ⱅ ʘ)⎠⎞ ⎛⎝(⌒ⱅ⌒ )⎠⎞ ⎛⎝(᠐ ᢍ ᠐)⎠⎞ ⎛⎝( ` ᢍ ´ )⎠⎞ᵐᵘʰᵃʰᵃ (㇏(•̀ ᢍ •́ )ノ) (㇏(♡ ᢍ ♡)ノ)𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡… (㇏(⋆ ゚  ຶ ゚⋆)ノ) /\ ^𝅒_𝅒^ /\ /\ ^.ˍ.^ /\ /\ ^.╴ˍ.^ /\ ◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤Ξ◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤ ☆ ҉ ◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤Ξ◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤ ҉ ★
✨ 💫 ✨ 💫 🌟 💫 ✨ 💫 ✨
🕷🕸❣️❣️🕸🕷
🍬 🍫 🍬 🍫 🍭 🍫 🍬 🍫 🍬
・:*。text here・:*三 +.*☆ text here ☆*.+ ˗ˋˏ°• text here •°ˎˊ˗ ✩‧₊*:・text here ・:*₊‧✩ « text here » ‹ text here › ꒰ text here ꒱ ↷ text here ↶ ◣ text here ◥ ʚ text here ɞ ❝ text here ❞ ˗ˏˋ text here ˎˊ˗ 【 text here 】 〖 text here 〗 「 text here 」 『 text here 』 〘 text here 〙 〔 text here 〕 ⟦ text here ⟧ ⦃ text here ⦄ ⦅ text here ⦆ ⦇ text here ⦈ ⦉ text here ⦊
r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 days ago chacde3 Halfway into our trip, the GPS arrival time switched from “Midnight” to “Never.” I was so distracted trying to figure out what it meant, I did not notice the truck veering into my lane.
Horror Short Story: The Accident In this horror short story, a man tries to cope with what he has done. Written by: Reddit user Minnboy Halverson sat in his dark living room. He hadn’t moved for over an hour. The accident earlier that evening kept playing over and over in his mind. The light turned red, but he was in a hurry and accelerated. An orange blur came from his right and in a split second there was a violent jolt, then the bicyclist rolled across his hood and fell out of sight on the pavement. Horns blared angrily and he panicked, stepping on the gas and screeching away from the chaos into the darkness, shaken and keeping an eye on his rearview mirror until he got home. Why did you run, you fool? He’d never committed a crime before this and punished himself by imagining years in jail, his career gone, his family gone, his future gone. Why not just go to the police right now? Then someone tapped on the front door and his world suddenly crumbled away beneath him. They found me. There was nothing he could do but answer it. Running would only make matters worse. Trembling, he got up, went to the door and opened it. A police officer stood under the porch light. “Mr. Halverson?” asked the grim officer. He let out a defeated sigh. “Yes. Let me —”I am terribly sorry, but I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your son’s bike was struck by a hit and run driver this evening. He died at the scene. I’m very sorry for your loss.
The Vanishing Hitch-Hiker Author: Jan Harold Brunvand This next eerie story is about a man driving home late in the night when he spots a girl asking for a hitchhike. The pretty girl is dressed in a beautiful white dress. The man offers her a ride and they strike up an interesting conversation. He drops the girl at her home. Next day, while driving for work he notices that the girl by accident has forgotten her sweater in his car. He drives towards her home to hand over the sweater. An old lady opens the door when he rings the bell. He narrates the incident which occurred last night and gives the sweater to the lady. The lady refuses to accept it, saying he is mistaken. The man is surprised and questions the lady again. He is dumbstruck and left in an unsettling situation when the lady says her daughter died in a car accident a couple of years ago.
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.

“I woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. As I stood in- front of the mirror, there was no one staring back at me.” -Lucas Smelser
🕷🩸𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔰𝔲𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔯🕷🩸
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