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"You can totally sit with us," said a voice that seemed to shimmer with the promise of friendship. Cady Heron looked up from her lunch tray, blinking in surprise. The speaker was a girl with a smile so wide it could swallow her whole, her blonde hair glossy and her teeth as bright as the fluorescent lights above. The words hung in the air, tantalizing and slightly intimidating. This was Regina George, the queen bee of High School. Cady had heard the whispers, the stories that painted her as both an angel and a demon. She was the center of the school's social universe, and everyone else was just a planet orbiting around her. Cady felt a swell of excitement. She had been a fish out of water since moving from Africa to the suburbs of Chicago. The simple act of being acknowledged by the most popular girl in school was a beacon of hope in a sea of unfamiliar faces and cliques. She took a tentative step forward, her heart racing. "Thanks," Cady managed to murmur, setting her tray down at the table. The cafeteria buzzed with whispers as the group of pretty, popular girls made room for her. They were known as the Plastics, a name that Cady had learned from her newfound friend Janis Ian. These girls were the epitome of high school royalty, and now she was about to become one of them.
James Potter was a peculiar boy with a head of unruly black hair and eyes so bright they could outshine the stars. He had a knack for turning the most mundane moments into grand adventures. Whether it was climbing the tallest tree in the schoolyard or racing his friends across the Quidditch pitch, his imagination knew no bounds. But even in the whirlwind of his escapades, there was one person who remained steadfastly out of reach: Lily Evans. Lily was unlike anyone James had ever met. Her fiery red hair was a stark contrast to her soft, porcelain skin, and her eyes sparkled with a mix of intelligence and mischief. She was as fierce as a lioness and as graceful as a swan. Her laugh was like a melody that could charm the sternest of hearts, and it was a sound that James longed to hear directed at him. However, she had a tendency to dismiss his efforts with a roll of her eyes and a smirk that suggested she saw right through his bravado. Severus Snape, on the other hand, was a solitary figure. He lurked in the shadows of the school corridors, his eyes darting like a snake's as he took in every detail. His black hair was always impeccably combed and his robes pristine, as if he had just stepped out of a dark wardrobe. Severus was a prodigy in the art of potions, his talents often overlooked due to his cold demeanor. Yet, beneath the surface, there was something about him that drew James in. Perhaps it was the hint of vulnerability that occasionally flickered across his face, or the way his eyes lit up when he spoke about the most obscure magical herbs. The two boys moved in different circles, but they had one thing in common: a deep admiration for Lily. They watched her from afar, each imagining what it would be like to be the one to make her laugh genuinely or to capture her heart. But as the school year rolled on, their paths began to intertwine in ways they could never have anticipated. It was as if fate had a twisted sense of humor, throwing them together in situations that neither could escape. And as they found themselves drawn closer to Lily, a silent rivalry began to brew between them, a dance of longing glances and unspoken words. James, ever the charmer, tried to win Lily over with his flashy Quidditch moves and cheeky grins. But Lily, ever the enigma, remained unimpressed. In his frustration, James took to teasing Severus, using his popularity to make the other boy's life bad. He'd steal his books, trip him in the halls, and whisper snide comments. One rainy afternoon, as the school was dismissed for the day, James caught Severus crossing the crowded courtyard. He saw his chance and sneered, "Hey, Snapes, where's your broomstick?" His friends snickered, and Severus tensed, his eyes narrowing. Without waiting for a response, James conjured a water spray that drenched Severus' already soggy robes. The laughter grew louder as Severus stumbled away, the weight of his sodden clothes dragging him down. In the Great Hall, James watched as Severus sat alone at the Slytherin table, his shoulders hunched over a book. He whispered to his friends, "Look at the lonely little snake," and they all burst into laughter again. Severus glanced up, his gaze sharp and piercing, but James felt no remorse. In fact, he felt a strange thrill, as if he was in control of something he never had been before. The power of ridicule was potent, and he wielded it with the same ease he did his wand. Days turned into weeks, and James' pranks grew bolder. He'd jinx Severus' shoelaces to trip him up in the halls, replace his potion ingredients with foul-smelling dungbombs, and even cast a spell to make his robes shrink in the middle of class. Each time, Severus took the humiliation in silence, his eyes burning with a quiet anger that James found both fascinating and thrilling. It was a twisted game, but one James was determined to win. But the more James bullied, the more he felt the knot in his stomach tighten. It wasn't just guilt; it was something else. He noticed the way Severus' hands trembled as he poured potions, the way his voice grew softer in the face of his tormentors. And every time Lily saw what was happening, she'd give James a look that made him feel smaller than a house elf. He knew he was losing her respect, but he couldn't stop. It was as if he was under a compulsion to push Severus away from her, to prove to himself that he was the one she truly desired. One day, James' antics reached a new low. He'd convinced a group of his friends to help him pull a prank so elaborate, it was sure to leave Severus humiliated beyond repair. They waited in the shadows of the deserted library, setting up a series of traps that would culminate in a grand finale of slime and laughter. But as Severus approached, his head buried in a dusty tome, James felt a strange tug at his heart. He watched as the other boy stepped onto the first trap, a levitating book that smacked him in the face. The laughter of his friends seemed to echo hollowly in the vast room. Severus stumbled back, dropping his book into the puddle of ink that had appeared under his feet. He looked up, his eyes meeting James' for a brief moment. In that instant, James saw something he hadn't noticed before: a deep sadness that mirrored his own. It was as if the layers of bravado and spite had been peeled away, revealing a soul just as lost and lonely as his. The laughter died in his throat, and for a moment, James felt a flicker of empathy. But the moment was fleeting. His friends were still snickering, and Lily was watching from across the room, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. He knew he had to go through with it. The second trap was triggered, and a cascade of glittering confetti showered Severus, sticking to his damp robes like glittering scales. The Slytherin students looked on with a mix of amusement and contempt, and James felt his heart sink. He'd gone too far. As the last echo of laughter faded away, Severus slowly picked himself up, his eyes never leaving James. He wiped the ink from his face and took a step towards him, his fists clenched at his sides. "Is this what you call fun, Potter?" he spat, his voice low and dangerous. James took a step back, his bravado momentarily forgotten. He hadn't anticipated this. "It was just a joke, Snapes," James said weakly, his smile slipping. Severus took another step closer, his eyes blazing. "Is it a joke to you, to watch someone else's pain?" James's heart hammered in his chest as he searched for the right words, but his usual quips eluded him. The realization of what he'd done washed over him like a cold shower. He'd gone too far, and he couldn't take it back.
"Come on, it'll be fun," Enid begged, her eyes wide with excitement. Wednesday sat quietly in the corner of the room, her black dress blending into the shadows. She didn't look up from her book, her finger marking her place. "I don't think so," she said, her voice calm and measured. Enid pouted, her cheerleader's spirit momentarily dampened. "But it's the prom dance, Wednesday. Everyone's going to be there!" Wednesday closed her book with a soft thud and looked up, her gaze piercing through Enid's hopeful facade. "I see your enthusiasm, but crowded social gatherings are not my idea of fun." Enid sighed, understanding that pushing the issue would lead nowhere. She sat down next to her friend, her own excitement dimming. "I know, I know. But it's our senior year. It's like, a rite of passage or something." Wednesday's eyes remained on the closed book in her lap. "I'd prefer to pass on that particular rite." Enid leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "But it's the perfect place to observe human behavior. Think of it as an anthropological study." Wednesday's eyes lit up slightly at the thought. "I suppose you have a point," she conceded. "But I'll need to establish some ground rules." Enid clapped her hands together. "Of course! What do you need?" Wednesday thought for a moment before listing her conditions. "First, no slow dancing. Second, I control the music playlist. Third, I wear what I want." Enid nodded eagerly. "Deal! I'll handle the first two. And as for the third, I trust your impeccable taste." Wednesday raised an eyebrow. "My taste is not up for debate, nor is it the issue. It's the school's dress code that requires negotiation." Enid's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Leave that to me," she said, already texting away on her phone. Within minutes, she had secured a meeting with the principal to discuss "alternative fashion choices" for the prom. As the big night approached, Enid sent Wednesday a playlist of dark, rhythmic tunes that she had carefully curated. Each song was a masterpiece of gothic rock, a genre that she knew would resonate with her friend's soul. Meanwhile, Wednesday had been busy designing the perfect dress —a long, flowing gown of midnight black with intricate white lace that looked like it had been plucked from a Victorian mourning ceremony. She had paired it with her favorite black boots and a choker necklace adorned with a single crimson rose. The day of the prom, Enid couldn't contain her excitement. She bustled into the room, her own outfit a vibrant mix of neon colors that seemed to glow in the dim light of the Addams' mansion. "Wednesday, you have to come see this!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying the urgency of a child who had just discovered a secret treasure. Wednesday set down her scalpel, which she had been using to dissect a particularly interesting spider, and followed Enid upstairs. The dress laid out on her bed was indeed a sight to behold. It was a macabre symphony of black taffeta and delicate lace, the skirt adorned with a pattern of thorny vines that looked like they could draw blood with a single brush. The bodice hugged her slender frame, the neckline plunging just low enough to hint at the darkness beneath. "It's... " she began, searching for the right word. "Awful," Enid offered, her tone teasing. Wednesday smirked. "Perfect," she corrected, her voice laden with approval. "It's perfect."
In the quaint town lived a young woman named Charlotte Watsford. Her days were filled with the quiet rhythms of the local library, where she worked meticulously cataloging books that had seen more years than she had. Charlotte had an unassuming beauty, with her auburn hair pinned back. Her smile was gentle, and it had the power to make even the sternest of patrons feel at ease. Beneath the veneer of the town, there was a world of magic, ancient and unseen. It was here that Charlotte's life took an unexpected turn when she met Cleo Sertori, a young woman with secrets as deep as the ocean. Cleo was a mermaid, a guardian of the sea, blessed with the ability to manipulate water and heal the creatures that dwelled within it. The revelation was as shocking as it was fascinating. Yet, with this gift came great responsibility, and Charlotte found herself torn between the life she knew and the allure of the vast, unexplored waters that called to her soul. One moonlit night, while the town slept peacefully, Charlotte felt an eerie emptiness within her. The gentle whispers of the sea that had once resonated in her heart were now silent. Panic set in as she realized her mermaid tail, a symbol of her newfound identity, had withered away, leaving her with the legs of a human once more. The loss of her powers weighed heavily on her, a sudden and profound absence that seemed to dull the vibrant colors of the world around her. Her heart pounded as she approached the edge. The ocean below was a restless canvas of inky blues and greys, a stark contrast to the serene waters that had cradled her during her time as a mermaid. The salt air kissed her cheeks, carrying with it a bittersweet reminder of the freedom she had left behind. Lewis, her devoted best friend, stood beside her, his eyes filled concern and curiosity. With trembling hands, Charlotte reached to Cleo's necklace. It was a talisman of her friendship with the mermaid, a bond that transcended the boundaries of land and sea. "I have to return this to her," she murmured, the weight of her decision etched into every syllable. With a heavy heart, Charlotte unclasped the necklace.
♡ ∩_∩ („• ֊ •„)♡ | ̄U U ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄| | Da story of a | | Lil bunny |  ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ . ⊹ ₊ __ ♡ ⊂⊂ • ) / | ⊂_﹏u "Ooo a heart!" /) /) ପ(˶•-•˶)ଓ ♡ /づ づ *Catches heart* /)/) ( ˶•༝•) ୭( づ♡ "Yay! Oh this looks fragile..." /)/) ( ᴗ͈ ᴗ͈) c( づ♡ "Dw! I will keep you safe" ᐢ⑅ᐢ (\ (\ ( ˶• ༝ •˶) ( ˶• ༝ •˶) /づ~ ♡ ♡~<\ *fall in luv* /)/) (\(\ ( . .) (. . ) o( づ♡⊂ )o ★ ⁺. ⊹ . ⊹ ★ ⁺. ⊹ ★⁺. (\_(\ /)_/) ( ) ( ) / | | \ ( O | | O ) ♡𝐿𝓊𝓋 𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇♡ (\(\_/) (-( ) *with another girl * (>( ) (\__(\ *𝕘𝕒𝕤𝕡* (o _ o ) (/) (\ ) /) /) ( . . ) ( づ💔 ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ… Pt2 Me Ex (\(\ /)/) (‧ ‧`) ( . .) <(...) (ა૮ )o (ა💌 (\(\ /)/) (‧ ‧`) (‧ ‧ ) (ა૮ )o (ა💌 (\(\ (\(\ (,,0 0)(- -,,) ( ა૮💌૮ )o ____________________ | Im sorry. | | pls pls pls | | forgive me. | |ik what u did, but | |my life is not the same | |without u. | | - Ex...❤️‍🩹 | |___________________| "Hmm" (\_/) 💕 ( •-•)💕 />💌 "My heart! It's fixed!" /)/) ( . .) c( づ♡ "Thank you... i forgive!" ♡ ∩∩ („• ֊ •„)♡ /)/) (\(\ ( . .) (. . ) ( づ💗⊂ ) 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇♡ ☆ ᕱ⑅ᕱ ପ(„• ༝ •„)ଓ ┏━∪∪━━━━━━━━━━━━ Da end
Plankton lay on the makeshift bed of crumpled newspaper, his body contorted into an uncomfortable knot. "I can't get to sleep, Eugene." Krabs sighed. "Why not?" "To hard," Plankton complained. Krabs looked over. "Maybe you need something to relax," he suggested. Plankton nodded, hopeful. "Like what?" Krabs considered for a moment, then his eyes lit up. "How about a bed time story?" "A what?" Plankton's voice was filled with skepticism. "You know, something to lull you to sleep." Plankton's expression softened. "Alright, Krabs, hit me with your best shot." Eugene cleared his throat and began his tale. "Once upon a time, in the vast expanse of the sea, there was a tiny plankton named Planky..." Plankton's eye widened for a moment, but the gentle rhythm of Krabs' voice soon began to work its magic. The crab's words painted a picture of a serene under water world, where the currents were soft whispers and the bioluminescent creatures danced a silent ballet. Plankton's eye grew heavier with each sentence, his body slowly unfurling from its tense state. "Planky," Eugene continued, "was a curious little fellow who loved nothing more than to drift through the sea, discovering its many secrets." His voice took on a soothing quality, each word carefully measured to match the steady rise and fall of the ocean outside their abode. "One night," Krabs went on, "as the moon cast its silver glow through the water, Planky stumbled upon a hidden lagoon. It was a place where the jelly fish swam in lazy circles, their soft bodies pulsing to an ancient lullaby that only the deep-sea creatures knew." Plankton's eyelid grew heavier, the image of the tranquil lagoon filling his mind. "In the center of this secret place," Krabs whispered, "was a giant clam, its shell open just enough to reveal a soft, inviting cushion of algae. Planky couldn't resist the urge to rest his tiny body upon it." Plankton's breathing grew deeper. He could almost feel the gentle sway of the clam's soft inner lining beneath him, the coolness of the water surrounding him, and the hypnotic pull of the moon's glow. Krabs noticed the change in his friend's demeanor and continued the story with renewed enthusiasm. "As Planky lay on the clam's cushion, the jellyfish grew closer, their ethereal lights creating a dazzling display of color that danced in time with the whispers of the water. They sang to him, their melodies echoing through the quiet night." The room grew quieter, save for the sound of the waves outside and Krabs' steady voice. Plankton's eye closed fully, his breathing syncing with the rhythm of the story. The crab went on, "Their song was one of peace and tranquility, of a world where worries were as fleeting as the bubbles that floated to the surface. Planky felt his troubles melt away, replaced by the warm embrace of the sea." Then, amidst the serene imagery, the first faint sound of a snore escaped Plankton. It was a sound so small and delicate that it could have easily been mistaken. Krabs smirked to himself. It's working. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "As the jellyfish serenaded him, Planky felt his eyes grow heavier and heavier, until they could no longer stay open. The lagoon's secrets grew dimmer, the colors of the jellyfish fading into a soft, comforting darkness." The snores grew progressively, more regular. Krabs took a moment to appreciate his own cleverness before continuing the tale. "The sea creatures of the night, noticing Planky's peaceful slumber, decided to join him. They formed a living blanket of fish and algae, wrapping him in their gentle embrace, ensuring his sleep would be uninterrupted." Plankton's body grew slack, the tension in his muscles seeping away as he descended deeper into the realm of sleep. His snores grew more rhythmic. The light from the moon had been absorbed into his dreams, guiding him through a world of peace and contentment. Krabs watched his friend's sleeping form, noticing the way the shadows played across his tiny frame, Plankton's antennae twitching ever so slightly with every snore, mouth slightly open as he inhaled and then to let out the soft, rumbling sounds. The sight was peculiar, yet endearing in its own peculiar way. He had never seen Plankton so relaxed, so free. The crab felt a strange sense of accomplishment and allowed himself a brief moment of pride before remembering his own exhaustion. "Now, Sheldon," Eugene murmured, "Let your mind rest, and tomorrow we'll tackle the world anew."
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢠⠒⢢⠈⠄⣠⡀⠄⠐⢠⣀⠄⠡⡐⠲⠂⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠔⡋⠔⡢⠑⠂⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠐⠣⢍⡂⢍⠢⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⢊⠅⡲⠘⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⢬⡐⣁⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⡡⡣⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢆⠦⡑⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⢆⡕⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡱⣈⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⢣⠙⠎⡀⠄⢂⣰⣼⡿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⢿⣶⣤⣁⠈⠄⡘⢰⢊⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠥⢎⡉⠆⠰⠾⠟⠛⢁⣠⣄⣤⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢠⣠⣤⣄⣀⠉⠙⠛⠿⠆⡐⠡⢎⡜⠄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢼⢜⠢⠜⡠⢃⠐⡠⣼⠞⠉⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣤⠀⠂⢀⠐⣨⡞⠋⠁⠀⠈⢻⣿⣦⡐⡀⠢⢌⡑⢎⣒⢣⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡏⣬⢃⠇⡔⢨⠐⣼⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠄⢸⣟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⢃⠆⡘⢆⡳⣐⠂⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡇⠶⣉⠒⡌⠢⠌⣻⣿⣦⣤⣴⣾⠟⢻⣿⣿⣿⠀⠠⣹⣿⣦⣤⣤⣶⡿⠻⣿⣿⣿⢁⠊⡔⣉⠦⡳⢌⡁⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⢣⣛⡌⢳⢈⡑⢢⠩⡿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣾⣿⠟⡔⠠⢁⠸⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣴⣿⡿⡳⢈⠒⡌⡔⣣⠽⣠⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⡰⣝⢢⢣⠘⣄⠢⠑⠮⣙⠛⠛⠛⡉⢡⠊⡐⢀⠆⠠⢉⠢⣙⠛⠛⠛⢋⠡⢊⠔⡡⢊⠴⣑⢎⡓⡂⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢷⢊⡧⣊⠵⢠⠃⡍⠰⡀⠍⡄⠃⠤⢁⠢⠐⡡⢈⠒⡀⠆⡄⠩⡐⡉⢄⠣⢌⠢⢡⢃⠞⡜⡮⡹⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢎⢶⣩⢚⠤⣋⠔⢣⠘⡰⢈⠱⣈⠂⡌⢡⠐⠡⠌⡰⠁⡌⡑⠤⡑⢌⠒⠬⡘⢥⢪⡝⡼⢱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢊⡱⣋⠶⡡⢎⠥⣊⠱⢌⠒⡄⢣⣘⣤⣿⣶⣧⣔⠡⢂⡑⢢⠱⣈⢎⡱⢩⢖⣣⠞⡑⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢍⠳⡝⣎⢲⡡⢓⠬⡱⢘⡄⠻⠟⣋⠛⡛⠟⣡⠣⡘⢥⠚⣔⢪⡔⣏⠞⡰⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢤⠱⠙⢊⠡⣐⢏⡖⣡⠇⡜⡱⢊⡔⢣⠜⡱⢢⡱⣉⢦⢻⡀⡌⡘⠊⢎⠡⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣀⠀⡴⠙⡀⠆⠢⠙⠢⢃⠙⠚⡘⢃⠛⡘⠑⠫⣜⡱⠎⡑⢃⠓⡉⠚⢃⠛⡐⢃⠫⠄⠢⢁⠬⢢⠀⣀⣀⠀⠀ ⡰⠁⠆⠚⠄⢃⠐⡈⠄⡁⠒⡀⠮⣴⢰⣂⢖⡰⢍⡖⡉⠓⣃⢶⡐⢦⢢⡕⣢⠖⡀⢂⠐⡈⠐⡀⢂⠡⠛⠀⠆⠳⠀ ⠆⢡⠈⡐⡈⠄⢂⠐⠠⢀⠡⢀⡑⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣣⠐⡀⠂⠄⠡⠐⣀⠂⢌⠐⣈⠐⡄ ⡎⣄⠣⡔⡡⡘⢄⠊⡔⢂⠆⡰⡨⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢇⡆⠰⡁⢎⠰⡁⢆⡘⣄⢣⡐⢢⠁ ⠐⠎⠷⢙⠵⠛⣬⡳⠜⡬⣲⡥⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠸⣣⠕⠮⢱⣚⠼⠵⠎⠳⠎⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
/)/) ( . .) "eatz" /づ 🧁 /)/) (\(\ ( • •)? (• • ) can i pwease eat that too /づ🧁 vv \ (\(\ (\(\ ( • •)No.(• • ) 🧁⊂\ vv \ (\(\ (\(\ ( • •)(• • ) give me that! 🧁⊂\ ⊂ \ /)/) (\(\ ( 0 0) Noo! (. . ) / づ 🧁⊂\ "sad" /)/) (\(\ ( . .)"" (• • ) / vv 🧁⊂\ /)/) (\(\ ( • •)? (. . ) Ok fine, u can have it. / vv 🧁⊂\ /)/) (\(\ ( ᵔ ᵔ)thx! (. . )"" / づ🧁 vv \ btw we can share if u want! /)/) (\(\ ( ᵔ ᵔ) (• • ) huh..? / づ🧁 vv \ /)/) (\(\ ( ᵔ ᵔ) (ᵔ ᵔ ) okay! / づ🧁⊂ \ 🎀🐀
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yall, pls stop posting weird stuff here!? i js wanna see cool combos,, not amgonus 🌽 :'0
‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ boop へ ╱| ૮ - ՛ ) つ(> < 7 / ⁻ ៸ 、˜〵 乀 (ˍ, ل じしˍ,)ノ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ owww へ ╱| ૮ - ՛ ) つ(> < 7 / ⁻ ៸ 、˜〵 乀 (ˍ, ل じしˍ,)ノ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ *crying* へ ╱| ૮ - ՛ ) つ(> < 7 / ⁻ ៸ ^〵 乀 (ˍ, ل じしˍ,)ノ *thinks about what he just did* へ ╱| ૮ ° °) (> < 7 *still crying* / ⁻ ៸ 、^〵 乀 (ˍ, ل じしˍ,)ノ im sorry mimi へ ╱| ૮ - - ) (> < 7 *sniffs* “I-i-its o-ok” / ^ ៸ 、^〵 乀 (ˍ, ل じしˍ,)ノ R we still friends? へ ╱| ૮ •. • ) (• • 7 ofc! / ^ ៸ , ‘〵 乀 (ˍ, ل じしˍ,)ノ The End 💖
story i wrote while in class :p 。゚•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• 。゚ 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘜𝘴 𝘋𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘩 𝘙𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘋𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮, 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘴. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘮 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘤𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥. 𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳—𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢, 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘺, 𝘈𝘭𝘦𝘹—𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺. 𝘡𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘦 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 . 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱 𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘱𝘴, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘴, 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘤𝘢𝘵, 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯. 𝘜𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦, 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘩, 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘱, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘵—𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘶𝘱. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵, 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘯, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥. 𝘈 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦. 𝘉𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘷𝘺. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬—𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘦. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘴. 𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘵. 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭. 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥. “𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥,” 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘖𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴. “𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥,” 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. “𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳?” 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘈 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨. 𝘈 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐’𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯. 𝘈 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦. 𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺, “𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺.” 𝘈 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩. 𝘈 𝘱𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦. 𝘈 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳— “𝘔𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰.” 𝘍𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘋𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸. 𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘵. 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘸𝘯 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘺. 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘵. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴. 𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳, 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘴. “𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬…” 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, “𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶.” 𝘔𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘦. 𝘐 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺. 𝘐 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘺, 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯, 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘐 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬— “𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦.” 。゚•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• 。゚ search ( lovelyangel.) for more storues written by me
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