Wangst Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste Wangst Emojis & Symbols X wasn’t quite sure whether to approach his wife,

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

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à­šà­§ 𝓭𝓼đ“Șđ“» đ“čđ“»đ“źđ“œđ“œđ”‚ 𝓰đ“Čđ“»đ“”đ“Œ à­šà­§ 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 đ­đąđ©đŹ — đ đžđ§đžđ«đšđ„ đ­đąđ©đŹ 𝐹𝐧 đ°đ«đąđ­đąđ§đ  đČđšđźđ« 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚đČ 🍃📚 𝟭. đ—œđ—źđ˜† 𝗼𝘁𝘁đ—Čđ—»đ˜đ—¶đ—Œđ—» đ˜đ—Œ đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚đ—ż 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗿đ—Č. đ—¶đ—»đ˜đ—żđ—Œđ—±đ˜‚đ—°đ˜đ—¶đ—Œđ—», đ—șđ—źđ—¶đ—» đ—Żđ—Œđ—±đ˜†, đ—°đ—Œđ—»đ—°đ—čđ˜‚đ˜€đ—¶đ—Œđ—», 𝗿đ—Č𝗳đ—Č𝗿đ—Čđ—»đ—°đ—Č𝘀. đ—±đ—Œ 𝗡𝗱𝗧 đ—łđ—Œđ—żđ—Žđ—Č𝘁 đ˜đ—Œ đ—¶đ—»đ—°đ—čđ˜‚đ—±đ—Č 𝗿đ—Č𝗳đ—Č𝗿đ—Čđ—»đ—°đ—Č𝘀 𝗼𝘁 đ˜đ—”đ—Č đ—Čđ—»đ—± đ—źđ—»đ—± đ˜đ—Œ đ—œđ˜‚đ˜ đ˜đ—”đ—Čđ—ș đ—¶đ—» đ—°đ—Œđ—żđ—żđ—Č𝗰𝘁 đ—łđ—Œđ—żđ—șđ—źđ˜đ—¶đ—Œđ—» + 𝗼đ—čđ—œđ—”đ—źđ—Żđ—Čđ˜đ—¶đ—°đ—źđ—č đ—Œđ—żđ—±đ—Č𝗿. 𝗼đ—čđ˜€đ—Œ, đ—¶đ—»đ—°đ—čđ˜‚đ—±đ—Č đ—¶đ—»-𝘁đ—Č𝘅𝘁 đ—°đ—¶đ˜đ—źđ˜đ—¶đ—Œđ—»đ˜€ đ˜„đ—”đ—Čđ—» đ˜„đ—żđ—¶đ˜đ—¶đ—»đ—Ž. 𝟼. đ—°đ—”đ—Č𝗰𝗾 đ˜„đ—¶đ˜đ—” đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚đ—ż 𝘁đ—Čđ—źđ—°đ—”đ—Č𝗿/đ—œđ—żđ—Œđ—łđ—Čđ˜€đ˜€đ—Œđ—ż đ˜„đ—”đ—Čđ˜đ—”đ—Č𝗿 đ˜đ—”đ—Č𝗿đ—Č 𝗼𝗿đ—Č đ—źđ—»đ˜† 𝗿đ—Čđ—Ÿđ˜‚đ—¶đ—żđ—Čđ—șđ—Čđ—»đ˜đ˜€ đ—łđ—Œđ—ż đ˜đ˜†đ—œđ—Č đ—Œđ—ł đ—łđ—Œđ—»đ˜ đ—źđ—»đ—± đ—¶đ˜đ˜€ đ˜€đ—¶đ˜‡đ—Č. 𝟯. đ—±đ—Œđ—»â€™đ˜ 𝗯đ—Č đ—źđ—łđ—żđ—źđ—¶đ—± đ˜đ—Œ 𝘂𝘀đ—Č đ—±đ—¶đ—źđ—Žđ—żđ—źđ—ș𝘀/đ—șđ—źđ—œđ˜€/đ—°đ—”đ—źđ—żđ˜đ˜€ đ˜„đ—”đ—Čđ—» đ˜„đ—żđ—¶đ˜đ—¶đ—»đ—Ž đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚đ—ż đ—Č𝘀𝘀𝗼𝘆𝘀, đ—”đ—Œđ˜„đ—Č𝘃đ—Č𝗿, đ—±đ—Œđ—»â€™đ˜ đ—łđ—Œđ—żđ—Žđ—Č𝘁 đ˜đ—Œ 𝗿đ—Č𝗳đ—Č𝗿đ—Čđ—»đ—°đ—Č đ˜đ—”đ—Čđ—ș (đ—Żđ—Œđ˜đ—” đ˜‚đ—»đ—±đ—Č𝗿 đ˜đ—”đ—Č đ—±đ—¶đ—źđ—Žđ—żđ—źđ—ș đ—źđ—»đ—± đ—¶đ—» đ˜đ—”đ—Č 𝗿đ—Č𝗳đ—Č𝗿đ—Čđ—»đ—°đ—Č đ—čđ—¶đ˜€đ˜). đ—¶đ˜ đ˜€đ—”đ—Œđ˜„đ˜€ đ˜đ—”đ—źđ˜ đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚ 𝗿đ—Čđ—źđ—± đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚đ—ż đ˜€đ—Œđ˜‚đ—żđ—°đ—Č 𝘄đ—Čđ—čđ—č, đ—źđ—»đ—± đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚â€™đ—żđ—Č đ—¶đ—»đ˜ƒđ—Œđ—č𝘃đ—Čđ—± đ˜„đ—¶đ˜đ—” đ—¶đ˜. 𝗰𝗿đ—Čđ—źđ˜đ—¶đ—»đ—Ž đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚đ—ż đ—Œđ˜„đ—» đ—±đ—¶đ—źđ—Žđ—żđ—źđ—ș đ˜€đ—”đ—Œđ˜„đ˜€ đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚đ—ż đ—¶đ—»-đ—±đ—Čđ—œđ˜đ—” đ˜‚đ—»đ—±đ—Čđ—żđ˜€đ˜đ—źđ—»đ—±đ—¶đ—»đ—Ž đ—Œđ—ł đ˜đ—”đ—Č đ—Čđ˜ƒđ—¶đ—±đ—Čđ—»đ—°đ—Č. 𝟰. đ—±đ—Œ 𝗡𝗱𝗧 đ—œđ—čđ—źđ—Žđ—¶đ—źđ—żđ—¶đ˜‡đ—Č. đ˜đ—”đ—¶đ˜€ đ—¶đ˜€ 𝘃đ—Č𝗿𝘆 𝘀đ—Čđ—żđ—¶đ—Œđ˜‚đ˜€, đ—Čđ˜€đ—œđ—Čđ—°đ—¶đ—źđ—čđ—č𝘆 đ—Œđ—»đ—°đ—Č đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚ 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘁 đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚đ—ż đ˜‚đ—»đ—¶đ˜ƒđ—Čđ—żđ˜€đ—¶đ˜đ˜† đ—°đ—Œđ˜‚đ—żđ˜€đ—Č. đ˜đ—”đ—Č𝘆 𝗼𝗿đ—Č đ—©đ—˜đ—„đ—Ź đ—čđ—¶đ—žđ—Čđ—č𝘆 đ˜đ—Œ đ—»đ—Œđ˜đ—¶đ—°đ—Č, đ—źđ—»đ—± đ˜đ—”đ—Čđ—» đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚â€™đ—čđ—č 𝗯đ—Č đ—¶đ—» đ—Żđ—¶đ—Ž đ˜đ—żđ—Œđ˜‚đ—Żđ—čđ—Č. đŸ±. đ˜„đ—źđ˜đ—°đ—” đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚đ˜đ˜‚đ—Żđ—Č đ˜ƒđ—¶đ—±đ—Čđ—Œđ˜€, đ—±đ—Œđ—°đ˜‚đ—șđ—Čđ—»đ˜đ—źđ—żđ—¶đ—Č𝘀, đ—Č𝘁𝗰. đ˜đ—Œ đ—”đ—źđ˜ƒđ—Č 𝗼 𝗯đ—Č𝘁𝘁đ—Č𝗿 đ˜‚đ—»đ—±đ—Čđ—żđ˜€đ˜đ—źđ—»đ—±đ—¶đ—»đ—Ž đ—Œđ—ł đ˜đ—”đ—Č đ˜đ—Œđ—œđ—¶đ—° đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚ 𝗼𝗿đ—Č 𝗼𝘀𝗾đ—Čđ—± đ˜đ—Œ đ—Č𝘃𝗼đ—č𝘂𝗼𝘁đ—Č đ—¶đ—» đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚đ—ż đ—Č𝘀𝘀𝗼𝘆. đ˜đ—”đ—Č 𝗯đ—Č𝘁𝘁đ—Č𝗿 đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚đ—ż đ—žđ—»đ—Œđ˜„đ—čđ—Čđ—±đ—Žđ—Č đ—¶đ˜€, đ˜đ—”đ—Č đ—șđ—Œđ—żđ—Č đ—čđ—¶đ—žđ—Čđ—č𝘆 đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚ 𝗼𝗿đ—Č đ˜đ—Œ đ—”đ—źđ˜ƒđ—Č đ˜€đ˜đ—żđ—Œđ—»đ—Ž đ—°đ—żđ—¶đ˜đ—¶đ—°đ—źđ—č đ—Č𝘃𝗼đ—čđ˜‚đ—źđ˜đ—¶đ—Œđ—» đ—źđ—»đ—± 𝘃𝗼đ—čđ—¶đ—± 𝗼𝗿𝗮𝘂đ—șđ—Čđ—»đ˜đ˜€. đŸČ. đ—±đ—Œđ—»â€™đ˜ đ—łđ—Œđ—żđ—Žđ—Č𝘁 đ˜đ—Œ đ—Č𝘃𝗼đ—č𝘂𝗼𝘁đ—Č 𝗼đ—čđ—č đ˜€đ—Œđ˜‚đ—żđ—°đ—Č𝘀 đ˜đ—”đ—źđ˜ đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚ 𝘂𝘀đ—Č đ—¶đ—» đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚đ—ż đ—Č𝘀𝘀𝗼𝘆. đ—Čđ˜…đ—œđ—čđ—źđ—¶đ—» đ˜„đ—”đ˜† đ˜đ—”đ—Č đ˜€đ—Œđ˜‚đ—żđ—°đ—Č 𝘂𝘀đ—Čđ—± đ—¶đ˜€ 𝘄đ—Č𝗼𝗾 đ—Œđ—ż đ˜€đ˜đ—żđ—Œđ—»đ—Ž; đ˜đ—”đ—źđ˜ đ—°đ—źđ—» 𝗯đ—Č đ—±đ—Œđ—»đ—Č 𝗯𝘆 đ˜€đ—œđ—Čđ—źđ—žđ—¶đ—»đ—Ž đ—źđ—Żđ—Œđ˜‚đ˜ đ˜đ—”đ—Č đ—œđ—Œđ—œđ˜‚đ—čđ—źđ˜đ—¶đ—Œđ—» 𝘂𝘀đ—Čđ—±, đ—°đ—Œđ—șđ—œđ—źđ—żđ—¶đ—»đ—Ž đ˜đ—żđ—¶đ—źđ—č𝘀, đ—”đ—Œđ˜„ đ—čđ—¶đ—žđ—Čđ—č𝘆 đ—¶đ˜€ 𝗮đ—Čđ—»đ—Č𝗿𝗼đ—čđ—¶đ˜‡đ—źđ˜đ—¶đ—Œđ—» đ—Œđ—ł đ—œđ—źđ—żđ˜đ—¶đ—°đ—¶đ—œđ—źđ—»đ˜đ˜€ đ˜đ—Œ đ˜đ—”đ—Č đ˜„đ—Œđ—żđ—čđ—±đ˜„đ—¶đ—±đ—Č đ—œđ—Œđ—œđ˜‚đ—čđ—źđ˜đ—¶đ—Œđ—», đ—”đ—Œđ˜„ 𝘄đ—Č𝗿đ—Č đ˜đ—”đ—Č đ—łđ—¶đ—»đ—±đ—¶đ—»đ—Žđ˜€ đ—șđ—Č𝗼𝘀𝘂𝗿đ—Čđ—±, đ˜„đ—”đ—Œ 𝘄𝗼𝘀 đ˜đ—”đ—Č đ˜€đ—Œđ˜‚đ—żđ—°đ—Č đ˜„đ—żđ—¶đ˜đ˜đ—Čđ—» 𝗯𝘆 (𝗿đ—Č𝘀đ—Čđ—źđ—żđ—°đ—” đ˜đ—”đ—Č đ—œđ˜‚đ—Żđ—čđ—¶đ˜€đ—”đ—Č𝗿/𝗿đ—Č𝘀đ—Čđ—źđ—żđ—°đ—”đ—Č𝗿), đ—Č𝘁𝗰. 𝟳. 𝘂𝘀đ—Č đ—źđ—°đ—źđ—±đ—Čđ—șđ—¶đ—° đ—čđ—źđ—»đ—Žđ˜‚đ—źđ—Žđ—Č. 𝟮. đ—±đ—Œđ—»â€™đ˜ đ—°đ—Œđ—»đ˜€đ˜đ—źđ—»đ˜đ—č𝘆 𝗿đ—Čđ—œđ—Č𝗼𝘁 đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚đ—żđ˜€đ—Čđ—č𝗳 (𝗼𝘀 đ—¶đ—», 𝗿đ—Čđ—œđ—Čđ˜đ—¶đ˜đ—¶đ—Œđ—» đ—Œđ—ł đ˜đ—”đ—Č 𝘀𝗼đ—șđ—Č 𝘀đ—Čđ—»đ˜đ—Čđ—»đ—°đ—Č/đ˜„đ—Œđ—żđ—± đ—Œđ˜ƒđ—Č𝗿 đ—źđ—»đ—± đ—Œđ˜ƒđ—Č𝗿 đ—źđ—Žđ—źđ—¶đ—»). đ˜đ—”đ—Č đ—Č𝘅𝗼đ—șđ—¶đ—»đ—Č𝗿 đ˜„đ—¶đ—čđ—č đ—»đ—Œđ˜đ—¶đ—°đ—Č đ—źđ—»đ—± đ˜„đ—¶đ—čđ—č đ—ș𝗼𝗿𝗾 đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚ đ—±đ—Œđ˜„đ—» . đŸ”. 𝗱𝗡𝗟𝗬 𝘂𝘀đ—Č đ—šđ—Œđ—Œđ—Žđ—čđ—Č đ—Šđ—°đ—”đ—Œđ—č𝗼𝗿, đ—źđ—»đ—± đ—Œđ˜đ—”đ—Č𝗿 đ—źđ—°đ—źđ—±đ—Čđ—șđ—¶đ—° đ˜€đ—Œđ˜‚đ—żđ—°đ—Č𝘀 đ˜đ—Œ 𝗮đ—Č𝘁 đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚đ—ż 𝗿đ—Č𝗳đ—Č𝗿đ—Čđ—»đ—°đ—Č𝘀/đ˜€đ—Œđ˜‚đ—żđ—°đ—Č𝘀. đ——đ—Œ 𝗡𝗱𝗧 𝘂𝘀đ—Č 𝗯đ—čđ—Œđ—Žđ˜€ đ—Œđ—ż đ—Șđ—¶đ—žđ—¶đ—œđ—Čđ—±đ—¶đ—ź. 𝟭𝟬. đ—”đ—źđ˜ƒđ—Č đ˜€đ—Œđ—șđ—Čđ—Œđ—»đ—Č đ—Čđ—č𝘀đ—Č 𝗿đ—Č-𝗿đ—Čđ—źđ—± đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚đ—ż đ—Č𝘀𝘀𝗼𝘆 đ˜đ—Œ đ—°đ—”đ—Č𝗰𝗾 đ—¶đ˜ đ—łđ—Œđ—ż đ˜đ˜†đ—œđ—Œđ˜€ đ—Œđ—ż đ—Œđ—±đ—± đ—œđ—”đ—żđ—źđ˜€đ—¶đ—»đ—Žđ˜€. đ˜€đ—Œđ—șđ—Čđ˜đ—¶đ—șđ—Č𝘀, đ˜„đ—”đ—Čđ—» đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚ đ—čđ—Œđ—Œđ—ž 𝗼𝘁 đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚đ—ż đ—Č𝘀𝘀𝗼𝘆 đ—łđ—Œđ—ż đ˜đ—Œđ—Œ đ—čđ—Œđ—»đ—Ž đ—¶đ˜ 𝗼đ—čđ—č 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘁𝘀 đ˜đ—Œ đ—čđ—Œđ—Œđ—ž đ˜đ—”đ—Č 𝘀𝗼đ—șđ—Č. đ˜†đ—Œđ˜‚đ—ż đ—Č𝘆đ—Č𝘀 đ—źđ—»đ—± đ—Żđ—żđ—źđ—¶đ—» 𝗮đ—Č𝘁 𝘂𝘀đ—Čđ—± đ˜đ—Œ đ˜„đ—”đ—źđ˜ đ˜đ—”đ—Č𝘆 𝗼𝗿đ—Č 𝘀đ—Čđ—Čđ—¶đ—»đ—Ž, đ˜„đ—”đ—¶đ—°đ—” đ—¶đ˜€ đ˜„đ—”đ˜† đ—¶đ˜ đ—¶đ˜€ đ—Žđ—Œđ—Œđ—± đ˜đ—Œ 𝗼𝘀𝗾 𝗼 đ—łđ—żđ—¶đ—Čđ—»đ—±/𝗳𝗼đ—șđ—¶đ—č𝘆 đ—șđ—Čđ—ș𝗯đ—Č𝗿 đ˜đ—Œ đ—°đ—”đ—Č𝗰𝗾.
Pick Me Up alchemicink Summary: Enid bounces from one foot to the other, searching the crowd for a glimpse of familiar braids and dreary black clothes. https://archiveofourown.org/works/55185997 Fandom: Wednesday (TV 2022) Language:English Stats:Published:2024-04-27 Enid bounces from one foot to the other, searching the crowd for a glimpse of familiar braids and dreary black clothes. She feels like a bee buzzing with anticipation
 though she's not quite sure bees actually do that. (She makes a mental note to ask Wednesday about this later, even though Enid doubts she paid enough attention in Eugene's beekeeping club to know either.) She rises up on her tiptoes, hoping she might get a better view as her search continues. Finally, she grins as she spots Wednesday making her way from the airport baggage claim, looking less than thrilled to be surrounded by so many people. She's glaring at a family clad in colorful Hawaiian shirts when Enid throws one hand up to wave her over. Wednesday doesn't smile when she sees her, but she does look ever so slightly relieved. Enid can't wait to show Wednesday around San Francisco. She already has so many things planned out (and even looked up some weird occult stores she thinks Wednesday might enjoy for souvenirs.) “How was the flight?” “I wish I'd packed a parachute and escaped somewhere over Oklahoma.” Enid didn't realize how much she missed that deadpan delivery until this very moment. She loops an arm around Wednesday’s and starts leading her towards the exit. Wednesday must have missed her too because she doesn't even complain. “By the way, I made a list of places I'd like to visit.” Wednesday hands her a crinkled paper. “...This is just a list of cemeteries.” “Yes.” Enid briefly imagines having a picnic amongst headstones, shudders, and then pockets the list to deal with later. What's important is that she's reunited with Wednesday again, and they're going to have a spectacular time. A very macabre spectacular time, but she can live with that. đŸ€­
Why write such about comfort characters? as a way to express creativity a coping mechanism enjoy the friendship bonding side of it enjoy seeing characters being comforted and cared for after enjoy characters dealing with hard things it makes good story character development @ALYJACI
sᎍᎀʟʟ ᮄᮀᮘs, uʍop ǝpısdn, ⓑⓀⓑⓑⓛⓔ, ᙥᗩᐯᎩ, uÌČnÌČdÌČeÌČrÌČlÌČiÌČnÌČeÌČdÌČ, c̶r̶o̶s̶s̶e̶d̶ ̶o̶u̶t̶ , Ò‘Ń†$їfу,  ᗩᑎá—Ș ᑕOOá’Ș.
Fandom: Wednesday (TV 2022) Relationship: Wednesday Addams/Enid Sinclair hold me tight (or don’t) howtowords https://archiveofourown.org/works/55606831 Summary: In the new semester, Wednesday experiences a growing need for physical affection – usually in the form of hugs – from Enid. The only problem? She has no idea how to ask for something like that. Language:English Stats: Published:2024-05-01 Words:3,009
𝐓𝐹𝐹𝐭𝐡 đšđ« đƒđšđ«đž (𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚đČ 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐱𝐜) 𝐄𝐧𝐱𝐝 𝐠𝐹𝐭 𝐬𝐹𝐩𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 đ«đžđŠđšđŻđžđ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚đČ 𝐟𝐹𝐼𝐧𝐝 đĄđžđ«đŹđžđ„đŸ đ„đšđšđ€đąđ§đ  đšđŸđ­đžđ« đĄđžđ« 𝐧𝐹𝐰. ❞𝐇𝐼𝐠
❞ ❞𝐄𝐧𝐱𝐝
❞ đ‘ș𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒈 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚đČ 𝐭𝐡𝐹𝐼𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐄𝐧𝐱𝐝 𝐬𝐱𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝. âžđˆâ€™đ„đ„ đšđ đ«đžđž 𝐭𝐹 đĄđšđ„đ đČđšđźđ« 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐼𝐭 𝐝𝐹𝐧’𝐭 đžđ±đ©đžđœđ­ 𝐱𝐭 𝐭𝐹 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 đ«đžđ đźđ„đšđ«â€Šâž 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚đČ đ­đ«đšđąđ„đžđ 𝐹𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐬 𝐄𝐧𝐱𝐝 𝐠𝐹𝐭 đĄđžđ« 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝.
✿𝒼ᗮá’Șᖮ á’ȘOᐯᗮ á—©á–Žá–ŽIᖇᗰᗩTIOᑎ𝒼✿ I love 𝕞đ•Șđ•€đ•–đ•đ•— I am 𝕕𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕖 I đ••đ• đ•Ÿâ€™đ•„ need nobody else The only validation I need is 𝕞đ•Ș 𝕠𝕹𝕟 I am so 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡đ•Ș for who I am I am so 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕩𝕕 of myself My favourite person is đ•„đ”ŒïżŒ I am đ•“đ•–đ•’đ•Šđ•„đ•šđ•—đ•Šđ• inside and outside I 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 and đ•„đ•Łđ•Šđ•€đ•„ myself I am 𝕔𝕒𝕡𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 ïżŒ I 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 my energy I am the 𝕞𝕒𝕚𝕟 đ•”đ•™đ•’đ•Łđ•’đ•”đ•„đ•–đ•Ł of my life Loving myself is so 𝕣𝕖𝕹𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 Everyday I love myself even 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 I am đ•—đ• đ•”đ•Šđ•€đ•–đ•• on me I am everything I 𝕟𝕖𝕖𝕕 I feel đ•€đ•’đ•—đ•– in my 𝕠𝕹𝕟 company
The phrase “comfort character” is part of that pop culture landscape. What is a “comfort character”? Everything You Need to Know about Comfort Characters By: Author Marcel Iseli Posted on Last updated: April 18, 2023 What is a “comfort character”? A comfort character is a character in a fictional world, such as a TV show, movie, game, book, or comic, that a person strongly identifies with and takes comfort from. They may use thoughts of the comfort character to help them through hard times. The person will simply feel drawn toward the character. Even if you have never encountered the term before, you probably know this feeling of really liking or identifying with a character. When the person feels down, they could watch, read or play whatever this character appears in and then feel better after spending some time with the character. Strong identification with a character is another way a person may choose a comfort character. For example, maybe there is a main character in a movie who has a story arc that show them becoming a more confident person. Someone who identified with this comfort character might struggle with their confidence as well. When they were in situations where they lacked confidence, they could think about how this character handled similar situations. The concept of comfort characters is very popular in online fandom. “Fandom” refers to any community that arises around a piece of media, whether that’s a game, a popular show, a book, a comic or a movie. It’s a little bit different from simply being a fan of something. People involved in a fandom often belong to internet communities that talk about these characters a lot. They might attend meetups or conventions based around this fandom and dress up like the character. It’s also very common for them to create their own art around the stories that they love. For example, they might draw pictures of the character in various situations, or they might write new stories about adventures that the characters have beyond the scope of the original tale that they came from. In fact, you might find some accounts entirely devoted to comfort characters, sometimes called “stan accounts.” “Stan” is slang that refers to being a big fan of something or someone. How comfort characters help People report comfort characters helping them in very real ways in their lives. If they struggle with anxiety and panic attacks, thinking about their comfort character can often help stave off these feelings. There has been some research that shows that these characters can have a positive effect on fans, encouraging them to act in ways that are more beneficial for them. For most people, comfort characters are fun, beneficial ways to better enjoy the stories they love.
TIRING TROPES A kicks B so hard, it knocks B out, who goes limp with a whimper. B now lying unconscious on the ground, A grabbing him by his legs and dragging him. A comes over to B, knocking him hard in the fac͘e once. B cries out and his eye rolls back as he slips away into unconsciousness, going limp, unable to take much more. The only thing C cares about is the sight of B limp bĂždy lying. C crawls over, too hurtÌž to walk, and puts his hand on his chest, wanting to make sure B is still breathing, scared he isn’t. He is relieved when his chest is still slowly going up and down, but is soon overtaken with fear. C: T-talk to me. B, say something! B of course not responding. C now holding him in his hands, his head restıng on his stߋmach, crying, wanting him to be okay, wanting to take his paın away from him. C: B... (sobbing quietly, his head still resting on B unmoving bĂždy) C is shushing, crying, shushing, crying. Doing it to comfort B but the more so to comfort himself, to try and not be so scared anymore. B eyebrows furrow, beginning to stir, groaning as he puts a hand to his head in paın. 'Ugh. Ow. Gah
.ow
.' C: (alarmed by B cries, scooching closer) Are you okay?! (C looking over at B, seeing he is already asleep, curling up next to him, closing his eyes, sleep now overcoming him) (A then kicks B in the head, B yelping, instantly falling unconscious) C: B? B! Answer me, are you okay?! A: (hearing C, smirking down at B unconscious form, to see him hur͘t and unmoving, B mouth hung open, lying motionless, still not movıng or aware) (B eventually groans awake, not yet realizing what’s going on, paın returning to his head, quickly becoming aware of what’s happened, sitting up with a gasp, looking around) B notices C still asleep leaning on him. He starts to move around to get him to wake up. (A just grabs B, slamming him back to the ground, unintentionally slamming the back of his head against the ground, B gasping with a yelp) : (A yanking B to his feet, grinning at B weak struggling and crying, who’s exhausted and badly hurt) (A stops as suddenly B lets out a sort of sigh as his eye rolls back and his body goes completely limp as he unexpectedly passes out, falling backwards, A catching him before he hits the ground, startled) (B completely unconscious, his mouth hanging open, limp and unmoving) (C stopping in his place, frozen, frightened at the sight of B) B! (seeing B still not moving or doing anything, touching and moving B face around himself, but gently, looking at him worriedly, scared when he won’t open his eye or say anything) H-he’s n- not moving, he-he’s not pretending, A, he is REALLY hurt! (A dumps B bĂždy to the ground) C immediately hurrying over, holding B bĂždy in his hands, his own tears falling down on him. C is still sitting besides B, crying C: B, s-say something, please, please! I’m sorry! (A grins, knowing how much will hate everything, planning to tell him all about it when he awakes again) B is lying on the ground unmoving. A pleased with everything as he walks away, knowing he will absolutely torture B with what happened here. B: (groaning loudly, waking up, not moving yet) Ugh
..wha? What’s going on? (he groans, his eye fluttering open, returning to his senses) C helping B sit up straight, holding him gently in his arms, seeing how badly hurt he is. B: (pain overflooding him, his head hurting badly, wincing as he holds it, still groggy, struggling to remember) Ugh, my head
.Ow. Wh-what happened? (squinting his eye, looking all dazed and confused) H-huh? What? (A eyes B intensely) What? (still confused, but not liking the looks of A, turning to C for answers, now really confused and not liking any of this, wanting to have answers.) What is he staring about? (angry, wanting answers, glaring around) Well?! Tell me! (A chuckles wanting B himself to guess what happened) C not liking the fact that B is told about it now, this being even worse. B knowing enough by seeing this reaction. 
..(B starts to get to his feet to attack A, swaying a little though, the pain instantly swarming his head, making him gasp and fall back before he could take a step, C quickly catching him. B holds his head in pain, wincing) Gah
.. (shaking his head, unable to believe it, wanting to forget it, cringing) (snarling, quickly starts trying to get up, not able to, growling in frustration when he tries to stand but just falls right away, panting in anger) Rah
..! C: (still holding B, pushing him back down) D-don’t do it B! You’ll hurt yourself! Please
 B: (still weakly trying, too angry) I-I don’t care! I-I’m gonna get you, A, as-as soon as I can! C: B-but you’re-you’re hurt! B: I DON’T CARE! (B too badly hurt to do anything more. He is crying because he is unable to, which makes him feel useless and weak, and also because he is very uncomfortable, cold and sad.) (C softly speaking to B coming over) B, what’s wrong? (For B it hurts just to move alone, so he struggles and can’t do it) (knowing he really can’t because of how hurt he is, just wanting to help because he knows how cold it gets here during the night) (he snaps, shivering again, wishing they would go away, not liking to be seen so vulnerable like this) C huddles close to B notices he isn’t talking to him anymore, poking gently at his cheek. B very much asleep by now; his clothes, the blanket and C close to him having warmed him up enough for him to relax, be warm and fall asleep. C stopping his crying, glad to see B is asleep, resting his head on him. He warily gets up, not wanting B to wake up again. He lays the blanket over his body, quickly going through hi lovingly, liking that he is sleeping now, thinking he very much deserves to rest. B however starting to stir, not sleeping quite so deep anymore.
âžĄïž Content warnings on fiction are a courtesy. âžĄïž Not every medium of fiction and storytelling has or is expected to have content warnings or extensive tagging. âžĄïž Print novels do not traditionally warn for content in any way. âžĄïž Fanfiction did not traditionally warnÌ” for content in any significant way. âžĄïž An author is only obligated to warnÌ” for content to the degree mandated by the format they publish their fiction on. âžĄïž Content warnings beyond the minimum are a courtesy, not an obligation. âžĄïž 'Creator chose not to warn' is a valid tag authors are allowed to use on. It means there could be anything in there and you have accepted the rısk. 'May contain peanuts!' âžĄïž Writers are allowed to use 'Creator chose not to warn' for any reason, including to maintain surprise and avoÄŻd spoilers. âžĄïž 'Creator chose not to warn' is not the same thing as 'no archive warnings apply'. âžĄïž It is your responsibility to protect yourself and close a book, or hit the back button if you find something in fiction that you're reading that upsets you. âžĄïž You are responsible for protecting yourself from fiction that causes you discomforts.
Kazeto Elementalist from somewhere in Europe. Since: Feb, 2011 Relationship Status: Coming soon to theaters #7: Apr 20th 2016 at 1:55:59 PM I cannot talk about others, but I actually took the opening post in much the same way as you'd explained that you meant it in this one, and I presume that they, or at least some of them, took it much the same. It's not about seeing the character beat up and dying. It's not about seeing the character miserable. But it is about seeing the character have bad things inflicted upon them and yet overcoming them, learning from them, being shaped by them. Because the sweet parts do not taste all that sweet (relatively speaking) if you've never had anything but sweet things. And I am no sadist either, but I too have my characters go through some quite bad stuff. Not necessarily as horrific as what they pulled in Berserk, no, but in many cases the stuff that happens dismantles who the characters are before letting them piece themselves back.
EMOTIONALLY BONDING WITH A FICTIONAL CHARACTER? THERE’S A TERM FOR THAT: ‘COMFORT CHARACTERS’ Just because they're not real doesn't mean that they can't be a source of consolation or contentment. SEPTEMBER 21, 2021 KAREN LU, YALE UNIVERSITY 8 MINS READ If you have even a toe in the door of fandom (any fandom, really), you have probably come across the term “comfort character.” The term is everywhere: in Buzzfeed quizzes, Twitter imagines, dozens of Spotify playlists and Instagram fanposts. Like the name implies, it’s a fictional character in pop culture and media that people find comfort in, either through identifying with them or wishing to hang out with them like a best friend. For some, comfort characters are so real that even just thinking about them, rewatching their scenes, reading fan fictions or otherwise engaging with them can help stave off anxiety attacks, calm down during panic episodes, or simply provide a hand to hold on to during difficult times. The typical comfort character might be someone fierce and protective of their friends, passionate about their ambitions and goals, or struggling with inner demons. Usually, they have characteristics that are easy to relate to or be inspired by. Or, it can be completely random — there’s no requisite in what makes a comfort character. It might be the plucky main protagonist, the tortured antihero or an innocuous supporting character. Whether they’re conquering a villain, avenging a fallen friend, or simply being happy, people find warmth in following along in their journey or seeing them smile in the face of their own tragedy. Comfort characters exist in part because many people don’t have parents, friends or other social resources that they can talk to or truly open up with. Studies have also shown how comfort characters can actually inspire and improve people. Researchers from Ohio State University coined the phenomenon “experience-taking,” in which people take the emotions from a story for their own. The researchers found that — albeit temporarily and in the right situations — readers could make real changes in their own lives. For instance, the researchers found that people became more likely to vote in a real election after strongly identifying with a fictional character who themselves overcame obstacles to vote. In the long run, comfort characters are simply a part of enjoying a show and finding pleasure in media and fiction.
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.
whumpster-dumpster Personality Changes When Sick Reserved whumpees getting all needy and clingy ❀ Clingy whumpees getting real grumpy and distant ❀ Stoic whumpees getting melancholy and nostalgic ❀ Boisterous whumpees getting lethargic and withdrawn ❀ Grouchy whumpees becoming soft-spoken and sweet ❀ Fragile whumpees proving that they can tough it out ❀ Tough whumpees finally admitting they’re miserable ❀ Night owl whumpees crashing in the middle of the day ❀ Early bird whumpees sleeping straight through to noon ❀
PrinceJustice237 ‱ 2y ago As a fan of hurt/comfort/whump, I realised that I put my favourite characters through so much because I want to see their friends comfort them and help them through the aftermath. It’s good old fashioned catharsis, plus drama is just entertaining. A pure, fluffy, happy story where nothing bad happens works great for a oneshot but it’s harder to sustain 20+ chapters of that, you need drama and conflict and that requires stakes. That usually involve someone suffering to some degree.
Bluescreen CobaltTheFox https://archiveofourown.org/works/14973044/chapters/83344819#workskin Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
https://funko.com/build-your-custom-pop
Please no dÂŁath threats to ppl who make fanfic thx and have a nice day
10:27 AM PST ‱ January 5, 2016 So, Recode reported today that Twitter was tinkering around with the idea of expanding its 140 character limit to a number a bit higher
.10,000 characters. But what, you ask (and I’m glad you did), does 10000 characters look like? Let’s find out So did you see the Warriors game last night? Crazy right? It was nice to see Harrison Barnes back and the entire crowd cheered when he entered. Steph Curry is probably not human cause he shoots the ball from the parking lot and it swishes like butter. How many characters am I up to now? Lemme check, so hold on 597 Anyway then it started raining and my dogs don’t like rain so it’s really difficult to take them outside to do their business in the morning when they don’t want to deal with the rain. I try to talk them into the fact that they’re actually getting a bath and pooping at the same time, kind of a two birds with one stone thing. They don’t buy it. Speaking of rain, it didn’t rain on my wedding day like the weather people thought it would. How do they keep their jobs when they’re wrong all of the time? It’s almost like they could do my job. Wait, I didn’t mean that how it sounded. Where are we at now? 1194 Here’s quote Bill Clinton: If you live long enough you’ll make mistakes. But if you learn from them, you’ll be a better person. It’s how you handle adversity, not how it affects you. The main thing is never quit, never quit, never quit. I think what he’s saying is that you can make mistakes, but you have to learn from them. I’ve made a bunch of mistakes, how about you? My dogs made a mistake this morning because they didn’t want to go out in the rain. But that’s cool, I don’t get mad. Life’s too short, you know? Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. Never quit. 2507 Did you see President speak about gun control today? It’s important. Probably the most important problem of our time and we have to solve it. Here’s what he said today: THE PRESIDENT: Happy New Year everyone. Before the New Year, I mentioned that I had given the charge to my Attorney General, FBI Director, Deputy Director at the ATF, and personnel at my White House to work together to see what more we could do to prevent a scourge of gun violence in this country. I think everybody here is all too familiar with the statistics. We have people every single year who are killed by guns. We have suicides committed by firearms at a rate that far exceeds other countries. We have a frequency of mass shootings that far exceeds other countries in frequency. And although it is my strong belief that for us to get our complete arm around the problem Congress needs to act, what I asked my team to do is to see what more we could do to strengthen our enforcement and prevent guns from falling into the wrong hands to make sure that criminals, people who are mentally unstable, those who could pose a danger to themselves or others are less likely to get them. And I’ve just received back a report from Attorney General Lynch, Director Comey, as well as Deputy Director Brandon about some of the ideas and initiatives that they think can make a difference. And the good news is, is that these are not only recommendations that are well within my legal authority and the executive branch, but they’re also ones that the overwhelming majority of the American people, including gun owners, support and believe. So we’ll be rolling out these initiatives. We’ll be making sure that people have a very clear understanding of what can make a difference and what we can do. And although we have to be very clear that this is not going to solve every violent crime in this country, it’s not going to prevent every mass shooting, it’s not going to keep every gun out of the hands of a criminal, it will potentially save lives and spare families the pain and the extraordinary loss that they’ve suffered as a consequence of a firearm getting in the hands of the wrong people. I’m also confident that the recommendations that are being made by my team here are ones that are entirely consistent with the Second Amendment and people’s lawful right to bear arms. And we’ve been very careful recognizing that, although we have a strong tradition of gun ownership in this country, that even though it’s who possess firearms for hunting, for self-protection, and for other legitimate reasons, I want to make sure that the wrong people don’t have them for the wrong reasons. So I want to say how much I appreciate the outstanding work that the team has done. Many of you worked over the holidays to get this set of recommendations to me. And I’m looking forward to speaking to the American people over the next several days in more detail about it. Thank you very much. Regardless of where you stand on the matter, we have to change some things. Back to tech. Are you at CES? I’m not this year. Mostly cause there’s a lot of germs and I shouldn’t be around them if I can help it. I’m pretty sure my dogs would have liked it though cause there’s a lot of tech in Vegas for all kinds of people and pets. If youre a dog would you want a phone? Or a self-feeding thing? Of course you would. You’d have to sit around all day watching your parents use technology while you sit around and lick yourself. What kind of existence is that? I know right? I hope there’s some dog tech that comes out of the conference, otherwise it’s a wash. 6294 Time for JFK: When written in Chinese, the word ‘crisis’ is composed of two characters. One represents danger and the other opportunity. I think what JFK meant was just because things aren’t going your way doesn’t mean that it won’t eventually. You have to play the long game, you have to stick in there and see things as far as you can possibly see them. It’s like Twitter. People are worried about whether Twitter can weather the storm of lack of growth. I think it can. What about the character count? I personally feel like asking people to keep their thoughts shorter make them more powerful. They’re easier to share. Repeat, etc. What will happen when people can put this much text in a tweet? I don’t know. I do know that I don’t want to spend hours reading tweets because I like the fact that I can glance at the app and figure out what’s going on pretty quickly. If I wanted to write a book, I’d do it on Facebook. Maybe people want more characters. I’m not sure who though I’d like to meet them. Maybe they have dogs too. We could chat about that. What are your favorite movies? I have top 10: – Rocky – Forrest Gump – Cast Away – Fantastic Mr Fox – Signs – Lars and the Real Girl – Superbad – Spaceballs – Shawshank Redemption – Jackie Brown 7657 Here’s a quote from Maya Angelou: The thing to do, it seems to me, is to prepare yourself so you can be a rainbow in somebody else’s cloud. Somebody who may not look like you. May not call God the same name you call God – if they call God at all. I may not dance your dances or speak your language. But be a blessing to somebody. That’s what I think. Being a blessing to someone is a great way to be. Have you been a blessing to someone lately? I feel like we could all do a better job of that, even if it’s in small ways. I feel like people always want to do something great and massively huge, but forget about all of the little things along the way. Making someone smile, holding the door for someone, giving someone a hug when they really really need it. Those kinds of things last forever. Don’t hold back on doing a bunch of little great things to do something huge that you’ll get overwhelmed with and not follow through on. 8614. Wow this is a lot. I feel like Kurt Wagner did good talking about ramifications of expanding tweets to 10,000 characters: The design aspect is key. Making Tweets bigger by adding more content or pictures diminished user engagement in the past according to one source. If tweets take a long time to consume or take up more space on your screen, it’s likely that you’ll view (and engage with) fewer of them. So Twitter is trying to add more content without disrupting the way you currently scroll through your timeline. How can Twitter become more like Facebook without becoming Facebook? There’s too many words on Facebook, something the company itself is trying to get away from by introducing all sorts of new media like 360° videos. There’s always a place for long form content, and just because you have the space doesn’t mean you have to fill it. But still, a lot of people will try. Spammers will definitely try. In fact, can you imagine getting spam tweets that are over 140 characters? Ugh. It’ll be like reading SPAM in your EMAIL!@$#!@#!@# One more quote from Clarence Darrow: When we fully understand the brevity of fleeting joys and unavoidable pains; when we accept the facts that all men and women are approaching an inevitable doom: consciousness should make us more kindly considerate. This feeling should make use their best efforts to help on the road make the path brighter easier as journey on. It should bring a closer kinship, a better understanding, and a deeper sympathy for the wayfarers who must live a common life. Twitter should just acquire Medium instead. Oops I went to the limit
@notfeelingverywell You know what’s such a good trope When, in hurt comfort fics, the injured/sick one looks so vulnerable that the other characters have a realization about how small/young/fragile they are and get a renewed surge of protectiveness January 16th, 2023, 3:08 PM
POP CULTURE DICTIONARY comfort character [ kuhm-fert kar-ik-ter ] August 12, 2022 WHAT IS A COMFORT CHARACTER? A comfort character is a fictional character who is said to bring a person comfort, such as while consuming the media that features the character or when thinking about them during times of stress. A comfort character is often a character that a person strongly relates to or feels like they would have a special bond with. Comfort characters are often those with supportive, helpful traits, such as wise mentors, caregivers, and brave heroes. However, characters identified as comfort characters vary widely. Sometimes, the term is jokingly applied to unexpected characters or things other than characters.
A could still remember it as if it were yesterday. The day A had officially stomped away from his best friend B. A remembered it clearly. The look on the his friend B’s face stood out in his memory. The pure look of betrayal, the one that still occasionally popped up in his dreams, begging for him to turn around. That one. He found it once again haunting his mind as he stirred in his sleep and shot up like a rocket, ready to scream sorry, only to realize that it was all still a dream. A sniffed coldly and glimpses around, remembering how his home had been demolished mere hours earlier. Everything. A gave up everything, and what did he have to show for it? Even his wife that he bickered with had left him. Sure, it was on good terms, and part of A was happy for her, as she held the hand of her new lover and stared down at him, void of any emotion. “I’m sorry.” She mumbled, and then turn and left. When she had returned they sat down and talked about it for what felt like hours. She hugged A close as if he were a child, but still, nothing. They never had any sparks between them, and for a long while, that was okay. But with the two of them rapidly aging, she decided it was now or never that she found herself a new start. With a bittersweet goodbye this time she left for good. Slowly, he lifted a piece of rubble into his arms and threw it over himself in hopes of keeping warm. Of course, the metal only worsened the situation, so in despair, he glanced up yet again and peered around before he spotted a book. Grimacing, A stood up and stared to drag the paperback over to where he had been curled up previously, preparing to shield both himself. A whined in impatience, his eye caught sight of the ripped sheet and he dropped it entirely, staring down the old photo. It was of him and B. In the photo, A sat with a cheerful grin on the other’s shoulder, smiling as if he were the happiest boy in the world. Smiling fondly at the memory, he decided it was true. He certainly was the happiest boy alive back then. A didn’t realize he was crying until teardrops stained the page. It had been years since he had last skimmed through the pages of his old scrapbook, and it brought the memories from long ago back into the front of his head. Truly, he found himself closing his eye and begging for another chance under his breath; when he opened it, he found himself staring up at his rival B with shock. B leaned down and held out his hand. A naturally recoiled at the memory of the many times he was thrown about by those same hands. Frowning, he stared up at the the man as if he hadn’t just been sobbing over his photo. “What do you want?” He spat out, his malice sounding weaker than usual. He told himself it was the cold doing it to him. Right away, his old friend gently wrapped his claw around him and lifted him up. “A, it’s below freezing and you’ve no place to sleep,” he reasoned quietly, shamefully, “please, come stay with me.” “I was doing fine where I was.” It was a weak lie, but being in the hold of the other again rendered him soft, and he didn’t want B to see that. He squirmed out of the other’s hold and back onto the hard ground. “A...” B muttered sadly, before his eyes flickered over the photo that was now covering the other’s shivering body, his eyes peeking up gleefully. “You...you kept this photo? After so many years?” A sighed and pulled the photo tighter over him, ignoring the words. He obviously had kept the photo, after all. What else was he supposed to say? The man took notice of the book laying face down as well, gingerly lifting it up and instantly releasing a chuckle. “Oh, I remember this...” he smiled fondly and once again held out his hand for his old comrade. “Please, A... I can’t stand to see you so helpless.” A huffed and crossed his arms. While he wanted desperately to go to B’s warm home, he couldn’t help but leave his defenses up. “Then look away.” B did just that, and A found himself actually afraid of the other walking away. He wanted to call out to him, but he didn’t have to. The other turned back around and started to pull out his wallet. Right away, A shivered. The idea of B of all people giving him money was something he could barely stand to witness. He turned his head and waited, but instead of a dollar, B handed him a photo. A couldn’t believe it. The same photo that was tightly held around his body for some sort of warmth was carefully displayed in his wallet, which was easily his most prized possession. “B.” A couldn’t help but feel his eye fill up with tears. A really didn’t want to cry—not here in the cold, not now with his rival in front of him— but he couldn’t hold back the tears that slid down his cheek. “How long have you...” he couldn’t even finish his sentence, he was choking up so bad. B held out his hand one last time, and with a gentle smile, A tenderly stepped into it, who nervously boarded the hand. With his free hand, B put away his photo and wallet and lifted the other book into his arms, safely sliding his old friend A into his front shirt pocket. A couldn’t help but feel vulnerable. B could easily flick him away at any point he wanted, but he knew that he wouldn’t. As B carried the dozing A home, he found himself growing tired. A sniffled slightly as he was tucked in as if her were a child by his friend, a tender smile lined on his face. A didn’t know what would come tomorrow. He had lost his home, his job, his wife, his livelihood. But still, somehow, he had dug up his estranged relationship and revived it and found the friend he had missed for so long. Once the light was flicked off, A gingerly stepped out hopped onto the larger man’s bed, sneaking back with only a pillow from the bed. He yawned and grinned as a hand tenderly found the back of his head and nuzzled it gently. “I’ve missed this.” Was all A could muster up in the darkness, his eye trembling shut. “I’ve missed you.” B just hummed in contentment and swallowed hard. “Me too, buddy, me too.”
January 5, 2016 Wow the Iliad is really good actually, totally epic: The Iliad By Homer, Written 800 BC Book I Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans. Many a brave soul did it send hurrying down to Hades, and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs and vultures, for so were the counsels of Jove fulfilled from the day on which the son of Atreus, king of men, and great Achilles, first fell out with one another. And which of the gods was it that set them on to quarrel? It was the son of Jove and Leto; for he was angry with the king and sent a pestilence upon the host to plague the people, because the son of Atreus had dishonoured Chryses his priest. Now Chryses had come to the ships of the Achaeans to free his daughter, and had brought with him a great ransom: moreover he bore in his hand the sceptre of Apollo wreathed with a suppliant’s wreath and he besought the Achaeans, but most of all the two sons of Atreus, who were their chiefs. “Sons of Atreus,” he cried, “and all other Achaeans, may the gods who dwell in Olympus grant you to sack the city of Priam, and to reach your homes in safety; but free my daughter, and accept a ransom for her, in reverence to Apollo, son of Jove.” On this the rest of the Achaeans with one voice were for respecting the priest and taking the ransom that he offered; but not so Agamemnon, who spoke fiercely to him and sent him roughly away. “Old man,” said he, “let me not find you tarrying about our ships, nor yet coming hereafter. Your sceptre of the god and your wreath shall profit you nothing. I will not free her. She shall grow old in my house at Argos far from her own home, busying herself with her loom and visiting my couch; so go, and do not provoke me or it shall be the worse for you.” The old man feared him and obeyed. Not a word he spoke, but went by the shore of the sounding sea and prayed apart to King Apollo whom lovely Leto had borne. “Hear me,” he cried, “O god of the silver bow, that protectest Chryse and holy Cilla and rulest Tenedos with thy might, hear me oh thou of Sminthe. If I have ever decked your temple with garlands, or burned your thigh-bones in fat of bulls or goats, grant my prayer, and let your arrows avenge these my tears upon the Danaans.” Thus did he pray, and Apollo heard his prayer. He came down furious from the summits of Olympus, with his bow and his quiver upon his shoulder, and the arrows rattled on his back with the rage that trembled within him. He sat himself down away from the ships with a face as dark as night, and his silver bow rang death as he shot his arrow in the midst of them. First he smote their mules and their hounds, but presently he aimed his shafts at the people themselves, and all day long the pyres of the dead were burning. For nine whole days he shot his arrows among the people, but upon the tenth day Achilles called them in assembly- moved thereto by Juno, who saw the Achaeans in their death-throes and had compassion upon them. Then, when they were got together, he rose and spoke among them. “Son of Atreus,” said he, “I deem that we should now turn roving home if we would escape destruction, for we are being cut down by war and pestilence at once. Let us ask some priest or prophet, or some reader of dreams (for dreams, too, are of Jove) who can tell us why Phoebus Apollo is so angry, and say whether it is for some vow that we have broken, or hecatomb that we have not offered, and whether he will accept the savour of lambs and goats without blemish, so as to take away the plague from us.” With these words he sat down, and Calchas son of Thestor, wisest of augurs, who knew things past present and to come, rose to speak. He it was who had guided the Achaeans with their fleet to Ilius, through the prophesyings with which Phoebus Apollo had inspired him. With all sincerity and goodwill he addressed them thus:- “Achilles, loved of heaven, you bid me tell you about the anger of King Apollo, I will therefore do so; but consider first and swear that you will stand by me heartily in word and deed, for I know that I shall offend one who rules the Argives with might, to whom all the Achaeans are in subjection. A plain man cannot stand against the anger of a king, who if he swallow his displeasure now, will yet nurse revenge till he has wreaked it. Consider, therefore, whether or no you will protect me.” And Achilles answered, “Fear not, but speak as it is borne in upon you from heaven, for by Apollo, Calchas, to whom you pray, and whose oracles you reveal to us, not a Danaan at our ships shall lay his hand upon you, while I yet live to look upon the face of the earth- no, not though you name Agamemnon himself, who is by far the foremost of the Achaeans.” Thereon the seer spoke boldly. “The god,” he said, “is angry neither about vow nor hecatomb, but for his priest’s sake, whom Agamemnon has dishonoured, in that he would not free his daughter nor take a ransom for her; therefore has he sent these evils upon us, and will yet send others. He will not deliver the Danaans from this pestilence till Agamemnon has restored the girl without fee or ransom to her father, and has sent a holy hecatomb to Chryse. Thus we may perhaps appease him.” With these words he sat down, and Agamemnon rose in anger. His heart was black with rage, and his eyes flashed fire as he scowled on Calchas and said, “Seer of evil, you never yet prophesied smooth things concerning me, but have ever loved to foretell that which was evil. You have brought me neither comfort nor performance; and now you come seeing among Danaans, and saying that Apollo has plagued us because I would not take a ransom for this girl, the daughter of Chryses. I have set my heart on keeping her in my own house, for I love her better even than my own wife Clytemnestra, whose peer she is alike in form and feature, in understanding and accomplishments. Still I will give her up if I must, for I would have the people live, not die; but you must find me a prize instead, or I alone among the Argives shall be without one. This is not well; for you behold, all of you, that my prize is to go elsewhither.” And Achilles answered, “Most noble son of Atreus, covetous beyond all mankind, how shall the Achaeans find you another prize? We have no common store from which to take one. Those we took from the cities have been awarded; we cannot disallow the awards that have been made already. Give this girl, therefore, to the god, and if ever Jove grants us to sack the city of Troy we will requite you three and fourfold.” Then Agamemnon said, “Achilles, valiant though you be, you shall not thus outwit me. You shall not overreach and you shall not persuade me. Are you to keep your own prize, while I sit tamely under my loss and give up the girl at your bidding? Let the Achaeans find me a prize in fair exchange to my liking, or I will come and take your own, or that of Ajax or of Ulysses; and he to whomsoever I may come shall rue my coming. But of this we will take thought hereafter; for the present, let us draw a ship into the sea, and find a crew for her expressly; let us put a hecatomb on board, and let us send Chryseis also; further, let some chief man among us be in command, either Ajax, or Idomeneus, or yourself, son of Peleus, mighty warrior that you are, that we may offer sacrifice and appease the the anger of the god.” Achilles scowled at him and answered, “You are steeped in insolence and lust of gain. With what heart can any of the Achaeans do your bidding, either on foray or in open fighting? I came not warring here for any ill the Trojans had done me. I have no quarrel with them. They have not raided my cattle nor my horses, nor cut down my harvests on the rich plains of Phthia; for between me and them there is a great space, both mountain and sounding sea. We have followed you, Sir Insolence! for your pleasure, not ours- to gain satisfaction from the Trojans for your shameless self and for Menelaus. You forget this, and threaten to rob me of the prize for which I have toiled, and which the sons of the Achaeans have given me. Never when the Achaeans sack any rich city of the Trojans do I receive so good a prize as you do, though it is my hands that do the better part of the fighting. When the sharing comes, your share is far the largest, and I, forsooth, must go back to my ships, take what I can get and be thankful, when my labour of fighting is done. Now, therefore, I shall go back to Phthia; it will be much better for me to return home with my ships, for I will not stay here dishonoured to gather gold and substance for you.” And Agamemnon answered, “Fly if you will, I shall make you no prayers to stay you. I have others here who will do me honour, and above all Jove, the lord of counsel. There is no king here so hateful to me as you are, for you are ever quarrelsome and ill affected. What though you be brave? Was it not heaven that made you so? Go home, then, with your ships and comrades to lord it over the Myrmidons. I care neither for you nor for your anger; and thus will I do: since Phoebus Apollo is taking Chryseis from me, I shall send her with my ship and my followers, but I shall come to your tent and take your own prize Briseis, that you may learn how much stronger I am than you are, and that another may fear to set himself up as equal or comparable with me.” The son of Peleus was furious, and his heart within his shaggy breast was divided whether to draw his sword, push the others aside, and kill the son of Atreus, or to restrain himself and check his anger. While he was thus in two minds, and was drawing his mighty sword from its scabbard, Minerva came down from heaven (for Juno had sent her in the love she bore to them both), and seized

misscrazyfangirl321 Characters that have never experienced affection before, or haven't experienced it in a long time, finally getting to experience it? Top tier. Said character freezing up for a second, not really knowing how to respond, but not wanting it to stop? T o p t i e r. Said character trying to clumsily return the affection in their own way, because this is Good and they don't want it to stop? T O P T I E R.
@candaru no no. you don't get it. the reason I injure my blorbos until they can't walk is because that's the only way they'll ever let someone else carry them. the reason I curse them to be sick and feverish is so that they'll finally open up about their emotions while delirious. the reason I force them to over exert themselves to the point of exhaustion is so that when they pass out they can finally rest. I'm doing this for their own good. October 21st, 2023, 7:43 AM
ᔀʰᔉ Ꮁⁿᔈ đ–đšđ«đ§đąđ§đ đŹ â•°â”ˆâž€đƒđ€đ‘đŠ âœá”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰áŽźá”’á”‡ á¶ á”ƒâżá¶ â±á¶œâŸ đ–đšđ«đ§đąđ§đ đŹ â•°â”ˆâž€đƒđ€đ‘đŠ ᔀʰᔉ á¶ ËĄÊžâ±âżá” á”ˆÊłá”’âżá”‰ Êłá”‰á”—á”˜Êłâżá”‰á”ˆ á”—á”’ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż ʷⁱᔗʰ ᔗʰᔉ ᔇᔒᔗᔗ˥ᔉ‧ "Êžá”‰Ëą!" ᎎᔉ ᔍᔒᔗ ᔗʰᔉ ᔇᔒᔗᔗ˥ᔉ! áŽźá”˜á”— Ê·Ê°á”‰âż ʰᔉ Êłá”‰á”ƒá”ˆ ᔗʰᔉ ᶠⁱⁿᔃ˥ â±âżá”Êłá”‰á”ˆâ±á”‰âżá”—âžŽ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż'Ëą ᔐᔒᔒᔈ â±á”á”á”‰á”ˆâ±á”ƒá”—á”‰ËĄÊž á¶œÊ°á”ƒâżá”á”‰á”ˆâ€§ "ᔂʰᔃᔗ ⁱ˹ ⁱᔗ?" áŽ·á”ƒÊłá”‰âż á”ƒËąá”á”‰á”ˆâžŽ Ëąá”‰á”‰â±âżá” ʰⁱᔐ á¶ Êłá”’á¶»á”‰âż ⁱⁿ á”˜á”—á”—á”‰Êł á¶ á”‰á”ƒÊłâ€§ á¶ á”’ËĄËĄá”’Ê·â±âżá” Ê°â±Ëą ᔍᔃᶻᔉ➎ ËąÊ°á”‰ Ëąá”ƒÊ· Ê·Ê°á”‰Êłá”‰ ⁱᔗ Êłá”‰á”ƒá”ˆ 'ᶜᔒᔖᔉᔖᔒᔈ' ᔃ˹ ᔗʰᔉ ËĄá”ƒËąá”—âžŽ ʷⁱᔗʰ 'á”–Êłá”’á”—á”’á¶»á”’á”ƒ' á”‡á”‰â±âżá” á”–á”ƒÊłá”— ᔒᶠ ᔗʰᔉ Ëąá”‰á¶œÊłá”‰á”— Ëąá”ƒá”˜á¶œá”‰â€§ áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą Ê·á”ƒËą á”˜âżá”âżá”’Ê·â±âżá”ËĄÊž á”‡á”‰â±âżá” á¶ á”’ËĄËĄá”’Ê·á”‰á”ˆ ᔇʞ Ëąá”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ ᔃ˹ ʰᔉ Êłá”‰á”ƒËĄâ±Ëąá”‰á”ˆ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż ᔍᔒᔗ ᔗʰᔉ ᔇᔒᔗᔗ˥ᔉ‧ á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ Ëąá”ƒÊ· ʷʰᔃᔗ'Ëą ËĄâ±Ëąá”—á”‰á”ˆ ᔒⁿ ᔗʰᔉ á”–á”ƒá”–á”‰ÊłâžŽ Ê°â±á”ˆâ±âżá” ᔃ˹ áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą Ê·á”‰âżá”— ⁱⁿ ᔗʰᔉ ᶜʰᔘᔐ ᔇᔘᶜᔏᔉᔗ‧ "ʞᔒᔘ'ᔛᔉ ˹ᔉᔉⁿ á”—á”’ ᔐᔘᶜʰ‧‧‧" áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą ˹ᔃⁱᔈ á”—á”’ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âżâ€§ "ᔆᔃʞ ᔇʞᔉ á”—á”’ Êžá”’á”˜Êł Ëąá”–á”’á”˜Ëąá”‰'˱‧‧‧" áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą á”—á”’ËĄá”ˆ ᔃ˹ ʰᔉ á”ˆá”‰Ëąá”—Êłá”’Êžá”‰á”ˆ áŽ·á”ƒÊłá”‰âż á”‡á”‰Êžá”’âżá”ˆ Êłá”‰á”–á”ƒâ±Êłâ€§ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż á”á”ƒËąá”–á”‰á”ˆ ᔃ˹ ËąÊ°á”‰ ᶠᔉ˥˥ ⁱⁿ á”‡Êłá”’á”á”‰âż á”–â±á”‰á¶œá”‰Ëąâ€§ "ʞᔒᔘ'Êłá”‰ á”á”’âżâżá”ƒ ᔇᔉ ⁿᔉˣᔗ ᔘᔖ‧‧‧" "áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą á”–ËĄá”‰á”ƒËąá”‰! áŽșᔒ➎ á”ˆá”’âż'ᔗ‧‧‧" áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż'Ëą á”–ËĄá”‰á”ƒËąá”‰ Ê·á”‰âżá”— á”˜âżá¶ â±âżâ±ËąÊ°á”‰á”ˆ ᔃ˹ áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą ʰⁱᔗ Ê°â±Ëą ᶠᔃᶜᔉ Êłá”‰âżá”ˆá”‰Êłâ±âżá” ʰⁱᔐ á”˜âżá¶œá”’âżËąá¶œâ±á”’á”˜Ëąâ€§ "áŽșá”’Ê· ʞᔒᔘ Ê·á”’âż'á”— á”âżá”’Ê· Ê·Ê°á”‰Êłá”‰ ʞᔒᔘ Ê·á”‰âżá”— ᔃ˹ ᎔ ᔖᔘᔗ ʞᔒᔘ ⁱⁿ ᔐᔉ á”˜âżá”ˆá”‰Êłá”Êłá”’á”˜âżá”ˆ á”˜âżâ±á”—! ʞᔒᔘ'ËĄËĄ ᶠᔉᔉ˥ ᔗʰᔉ á”–á”ƒâ±âż Ê·Ê°á”‰âżá”‰á”›á”‰Êł ʞᔒᔘ Ê·á”ƒá”á”‰âżâ€§â€§â€§" á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ ʷᔃᔗᶜʰᔉᔈ ᔃ˹ Ê°â±Ëą ᔇᔒ˹˹ ᔗᔒᔒᔏ ʰⁱᔐ á”—á”’ ˹ᔃⁱᔈ á”˜âżá”ˆá”‰Êłá”Êłá”’á”˜âżá”ˆ á”˜âżâ±á”—â€§ "Ꮇᔉᔉᔖ ʞᔒᔘ á”˜âżá”—â±ËĄ ᎔ âżá”‰á”‰á”ˆ ᔃ âżá”‰Ê· ᔇᔃᔗᶜʰ Ê·Ê°á”‰âż ʷᔉ Êłá”˜âż ᔒᔘᔗ ᔒᶠ ᔖᔃᔗᔗʞ ᔐᔉᔃᔗ‧‧‧" ᔆᔃⁱᔈ áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą ᔃ˹ ʰᔉ Ëąá”ƒÊ· á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ á”‡á”‰Ê°â±âżá”ˆ ʰⁱᔐ ⁱⁿ á”—á”‰á”ƒÊłËąâ€§ "á”†á”’ÊłÊłÊžâžŽ ᔇᔒʞ; ᎔ á¶œá”ƒâż'á”— á”ƒá¶ á¶ á”’Êłá”ˆ ʞᔒᔘ á”âżá”’Ê·â±âżá” á”’Êł Ê°á”‰ËĄá”–â±âżá” ʰⁱᔐ‧ áŽłá”’á”’á”ˆâżâ±á”Ê°á”—!" áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą ËĄá”’á¶œá”á”‰á”ˆ ʰⁱᔐ ⁱⁿ ʷⁱᔗʰ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âżâ€§ "ʞᔒᔘ'Êłá”‰ ᔃ á¶»á”’á”’á”–ËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âżâžŽ ᔃⁿᔈ áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą Ê·â±ËĄËĄ á”˜Ëąá”‰ ʞᔒᔘ á”—á”’ ᔐᔃᔏᔉ ᔗʰᔉ ⁿᔉˣᔗ ᔇᔃᔗᶜʰ‧‧‧" á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ Ëąá”’á”‡á”‡á”‰á”ˆ á”—á”’ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż Ê·Ê°á”’ ˹ᔗⁱ˥˥ Ê·á”ƒËąâż'á”— á”á”’á”›â±âżá”â€§ "ʞᔒᔘ âżá”‰á”‰á”ˆ á”—á”’ ʷᔃᔏᔉ ᔘᔖ‧‧‧" "ᔂʰᔃᔗ'Ëą á”á”’â±âżá” ᔒⁿ? áŽŹÊ°Ê°â€§â€§â€§" áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż Ê·â±âżá¶œá”‰á”ˆ ᔃ˹ ʰᔉ Êłá”‰á”á”ƒâ±âżá”‰á”ˆ Ê°â±Ëą á¶œá”’âżËąá¶œâ±á”’á”˜Ëąâżá”‰ËąËą âżá”’á”—â±á¶œâ±âżá” á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ Ê°á”’ËĄá”ˆâ±âżá” ᔒⁿᔉ ᔒᶠ Ê°â±Ëą Ê°á”ƒâżá”ˆËąâ€§ "áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âżâžŽ ʰⁱ‧ ᎔ᔗ'Ëą Ëąá”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡â€§ ᔂᔉ á”ƒÊłá”‰ ⁱⁿ á”—Êłá”’á”˜á”‡ËĄá”‰âžŽ ᔇᔘᔗ ᎔ á”âżá”’Ê· Ê·Ê°á”‰Êłá”‰ ʷᔉ á”ƒÊłá”‰âžŽ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ⁱ˹ á”˜âżá”ˆá”‰Êłâżá”‰á”ƒá”—Ê° ᔗʰᔉ á”Êłá”˜Ëąá”—Êž á”Êłá”ƒá”‡â€§ ᔂᔉ ʰᔃᔛᔉ á”—á”’ á¶ â±á”á”˜Êłá”‰ ᔒᔘᔗ ᔃⁿ á”‰Ëąá¶œá”ƒá”–á”‰âžŽ ᔇᔘᔗ ʷᔉ'Êłá”‰ ËĄá”’á¶œá”á”‰á”ˆ ⁱⁿ‧ ᎔ ᔈⁱᔈⁿ'á”— á”âżá”’Ê· ᔃᔇᔒᔘᔗ ʷʰᔃᔗ'Ëą ⁱⁿ ᔗʰᔉ Êłá”‰á¶œâ±á”–á”‰âžŽ ᔃⁿᔈ ᎔ âżá”‰á”›á”‰Êł Ê·á”’á”˜ËĄá”ˆ'ᔛᔉ Ëąá”˜Ëąá”–á”‰á¶œá”—á”‰á”ˆ Ëąá”˜á¶œÊ° ᔃ á”—Ê°â±âżá” ⁱⁿ ᔗʰᔉ á¶ á”’Êłá”á”˜ËĄá”ƒâ€§ á¶ Êłá”’á” âżá”’Ê· ᔒⁿ➎ ᎔'ᔐ Êžá”’á”˜Êł Ëąâ±á”ˆá”‰â€§â€§â€§" á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ Ëąá”ƒá”— ʰⁱᔐ ᔘᔖ‧ "᎔ᔗ'Ëą ᔗⁱᔐᔉ; ᔗʰᔉ á”–á”ƒá”—á”—â±á”‰Ëą á”ƒÊłá”‰ Êłá”˜âżâżâ±âżá” ËĄá”’Ê·â€§â€§â€§" áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą ˹ᔃⁱᔈ ᔃ˹ ʰᔉ ᔍᔒᔗ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âżâ€§ ᎔ⁿ ᔗʰᔉ á¶œÊ°á”ƒá”á”‡á”‰ÊłâžŽ ʰᔉ ᔗᔒᔒᔏ ʰⁱᔐ á”—á”’ á”ƒâżá”’á”—Ê°á”‰Êł Êłá”’á”’á”â€§ "᎔ᶠ ʞᔒᔘ á”ˆá”’âż'á”— â±á”á”á”‰á”ˆâ±á”ƒá”—á”‰ËĄÊž Ëąá”˜á¶œá¶œá”˜á”á”‡âžŽ ʞᔒᔘ ˹ᔗⁱ˥˥ Ê·á”’âż'á”— ᔐᔃᔏᔉ ⁱᔗ á”—á”’ á”—á”’á”á”’ÊłÊłá”’Ê·â€§ ᎔'ËĄËĄ ᔇᔉ á”á”ƒá”â±âżá” á”‡á”ƒá”—á¶œÊ°á”‰Ëą ᔒᶠ á”–á”ƒá”—á”—â±á”‰Ëą á”—á”’á”á”’ÊłÊłá”’Ê·âžŽ Ëąá”’ ᎔'ËĄËĄ âżá”‰á”‰á”ˆ ᔃ˥˥ ᔒᶠ ᔐᔉ â±âżá”Êłá”‰á”ˆâ±á”‰âżá”—Ëąâ€§â€§â€§" áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą á”—á”’ËĄá”ˆ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âżâ€§ "áŽșᔒʷ➎ ᔍᔒᔒᔈᔇʞᔉ‧‧‧" á”‚Ê°á”‰âż áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą Ê·á”‰âżá”— á¶œËĄá”’Ëąá”‰á”ˆ ᔘᔖ ËąÊ°á”’á”– ËĄá”’á¶œá”á”‰á”ˆ á¶ á”’Êł ᔗʰᔉ ᔈᔃʞ➎ Ëąá”–á”’âżá”á”‰ ᔇᔒᔇ á”˜Ëąá”‰á”ˆ Ê°â±Ëą ËąÊ°á”’á”‰ËĄá”ƒá¶œá”‰Ëą á”—á”’ ᔐᔃᔏᔉ á”˜âżËĄá”’á¶œá”â€§ "ᔀᔒᔒᔏ ᔐᔉ ᔃ˥˥ ᔈᔃʞ➎ âżá”’Ê· ᎔ âżá”‰á”‰á”ˆ á”—á”’ ᶠⁱⁿᔈ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âżâ€§â€§â€§" á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ á”‰á”›á”‰âżá”—á”˜á”ƒËĄËĄÊž á¶ á”’á”˜âżá”ˆ ʰⁱᔐ á”‡á”ƒá”ˆËĄÊž á”‡á”‰á”ƒá”—á”‰âż ᔇᔒᔈʞ‧ "ᎌʰ➎ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âżâ€§â€§â€§" á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ ᔍᔒᔗ ʰⁱᔐ ᔒᔘᔗ‧ "á”†á”ƒâżá”ˆÊž!" á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ á¶ Êłá”ƒâżá”—â±á¶œá”ƒËĄËĄÊž á”–á”’á”˜âżá”ˆá”‰á”ˆ ᔒⁿ ᔗʰᔉ á”ˆá”’á”’Êł ᔒᶠ Ê°á”‰Êł á”—Êłá”‰á”‰ ᔈᔒᔐᔉ‧ á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ á”‰ËŁá”–ËĄá”ƒâ±âżá”‰á”ˆ ᔃ˹ ʰᔉ á”–Êłá”‰ËąËąá”‰á”ˆ Ê°á”‰Êł á”‡á”˜á¶»á¶»á”‰Êłâ€§ "ᔂᔉ ᔈᔒ ⁿᔒᔗ ʰᔃᔛᔉ ᔐᔘᶜʰ ᔗⁱᔐᔉ! áŽŽá”˜ÊłÊłÊžâžŽ á”–ËĄá”‰á”ƒËąá”‰!" á”†á”ƒâżá”ˆÊž á”‡Êłá”’á”˜á”Ê°á”— ᔒᔘᔗ Ê°á”‰Êł á”’Ê·âż á”‰á‘«á”˜â±á”–á”á”‰âżá”—â€§ "ᎎᔉ'Ëą ˹ᔗⁱ˥˥ á”‡á”ƒÊłá”‰ËĄÊž á”ƒËĄâ±á”›á”‰âžŽ ᔇᔘᔗ á”‡á”ƒÊłá”‰ËĄÊžâ€§ ᔂᔉ âżá”‰á”‰á”ˆ á”—á”’ ᔃᶜᔗ á‘«á”˜â±á¶œá”ËĄÊžâžŽ Ëąá”’ á”ˆá”’âż'á”— Ëąá”—á”’á”– ᔐᔉ á”—á”’ á”ƒËąá” á‘«á”˜á”‰Ëąá”—â±á”’âżËą; ᔈᔒ ᔃ˹ ᎔ Ëąá”ƒÊž Ê·Ê°á”‰âż ᎔ Ëąá”ƒÊž ⁱᔗ!" á”†á”ƒâżá”ˆÊž ˹ᔃⁱᔈ Ê·Ê°â±ËĄËąá”— Ëąá”‰á”—á”—â±âżá” ᔘᔖ‧ áŽźá”’á”—Ê° ᔒᶠ ᔗʰᔉᔐ Ê·á”’Êłá”á”‰á”ˆ á”—á”’ Ëąá”ƒá”›á”‰ ʰⁱᔐ á¶ Êłá”’á” á”ˆÊžâ±âżá”â€§ "ᔂᔉ'Êłá”‰ á”ˆá”’â±âżá” á”‰á”›á”‰ÊłÊžá”—Ê°â±âżá” ʷᔉ á”–á”’ËąËąâ±á”‡ËĄÊž á¶œá”ƒâż ᔇᔘᔗ ʰᔉ'Ëą ⁱⁿ ᔇᔃᔈ ËąÊ°á”ƒá”–á”‰â€§â€§â€§" á”†á”ƒâżá”ˆÊž á”—á”’ËĄá”ˆ Ëąá”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡â€§ "᎔'ËĄËĄ á”—ÊłÊž á”—á”’ ᔍᔉᔗ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż á”—á”’ á”‡Êłá”‰á”ƒá”—Ê°á”‰ Ëąá”—á”‰á”ƒá”ˆâ±ËĄÊž ᔒⁿ Ê°â±Ëą á”’Ê·âż; ⁱᔗ'Ëą ᔃ˥˥ ʷʰᔃᔗ á¶œá”ƒâż ᔇᔉ á”ˆá”’âżá”‰â€§ ʞᔒᔘ âżá”‰á”‰á”ˆ á”—á”’ á”á”‰á”ƒâżÊ·Ê°â±ËĄá”‰ ᔐᔃᔏᔉ Ëąá”˜Êłá”‰ á”—á”’ Ëąá”—á”’á”– áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą ᔇʞ á”—Ê°â±âżá”â±âżá” ᔃʰᔉᔃᔈ; ᔉˣᔖᔒ˹ᔉ ᔗʰᔉ Êłá”‰á¶œâ±á”–á”‰âžŽ ᔐᔃᔏᔉ ᔃ ᔈᔉᶜᔒʞ ᔒᶠ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âżâžŽ ᔉᔗᶜ‧" á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ ᶜᔃᔐᔉ ᔇᔃᶜᔏ ᔃ˹ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż ᔃʷᔒᔏᔉ ᔃⁿᔈ Ëąá”—á”ƒÊłá”—á”‰á”ˆ á”—á”’ Êłá”‰á”â±Ëąá”—á”‰Êł Ê°â±Ëą Ëąá”˜ÊłÊłá”’á”˜âżá”ˆâ±âżá”Ëąâ€§ "ʞᔒᔘ'Êłá”‰ á”á”’âżâżá”ƒ ᔐᔃᔏᔉ ⁱᔗ‧‧‧" "á¶œá”ƒâż ʞᔒᔘ ᔒᔖᔉⁿ Êžá”’á”˜Êł ᔉʞᔉ?" áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż Ê°á”‰á”ƒÊłá”ˆ ᔃ˹ ʰᔉ Êłá”‰á¶œá”’á”›á”‰Êłá”‰á”ˆâ€§ "᎔ᔗ'Ëą á”ƒËĄá”á”’Ëąá”— á”’á”–á”‰âżâ±âżá” ᔗⁱᔐᔉ; ʷᔉ âżá”‰á”‰á”ˆ á”—á”’ ᶠⁱⁿᔈ ᔃ Ëąá”ƒá¶ á”‰ Ê°â±á”ˆâ±âżá”â€§â€§â€§" "á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡â€§â€§â€§ ᎔‧‧‧" "á”†á”ƒâżá”ˆÊžâžŽ á”—Ê°á”ƒâżá” ʞᔒᔘ‧‧‧" "á”†á”˜Êłá”‰âžŽ Ëąá”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡â€§ ᎔ᶠ ʞᔒᔘ Ê·á”ƒâżá”—âžŽ ᎔ á¶œá”ƒâż Ëąá”‰âżá”ˆ ᔃ ᶜᔒᔖʞ ᔒᶠ ᔗʰᔉ â±âżá”Êłá”‰á”ˆâ±á”‰âżá”—Ëą á”—á”’ áŽŸá”‰Êłá¶œÊ° áŽŸá”‰Êłá”â±âżËą ᔃⁿᔈ ʰᔃᔛᔉ ᔗʰᔉ âżá”‰Ê·Ëą á¶œÊłá”‰Ê· ᔍᔒ á”—á”’ ᔗʰᔉ á”Êłá”˜Ëąá”—Êž á”Êłá”ƒá”‡â€§â€§â€§" "Êžá”‰Ëą!" 'áŽŸá”‰Êłá¶œÊ° áŽŸá”‰Êłá”â±âżËą ˥ⁱᔛᔉ ᔃᔗ ᔗʰᔉ Ëąá¶œá”‰âżá”‰âžŽ ᔃ˹ ʷᔉ ˹ᔉᔉ áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ±á”˜á”á”‰âżá”‰ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą âżá”’Ê· á¶ á”’á”˜âżá”ˆ á”á”˜â±ËĄá”—Êž ᔒᶠ á”˜âżËąá”–á”‰á”ƒá”á”ƒá”‡ËĄá”‰ á¶œÊłâ±á”á”‰Ëą ᔃⁿᔈ á”ƒá”—Êłá”’á¶œâ±á”—â±á”‰Ëąâ€§ ᎎⁱ˹ Êłá”‰Ëąá”—á”ƒá”˜Êłá”ƒâżá”— Ê°á”ƒËą á¶œËĄá”’Ëąá”‰á”ˆ á”ˆá”’Ê·âż ᔃⁿᔈ ʰᔉ á¶ á”ƒá¶œá”‰Ëą á¶œÊ°á”ƒÊłá”á”‰Ëą ᔒᶠ Êłá”’á”‡á”’ËąËĄá”ƒá”˜á”Ê°á”—á”‰Êł ᔛⁱ́ᔃ á”á”ƒá¶œÊ°â±âżâ±á¶œâ±á”ˆá”‰ ᔃⁿᔈ á”ƒÊłÊłá”‰Ëąá”—á”‰á”ˆ á¶ á”’Êł á”‡á”˜á”—á¶œÊ°á”‰Êłâ±âżá”â€§' puƎ ǝɄꓕ
hurt/comfort (fandom slang) A genre of fan fiction in which a character receives comfort from another after or while suffering injury, illness, or a traumatic experience. H/C stories appeal to readers in different ways. While genres for these stories range from drama to mystery, many stories are classified by their authors as romances or as “hurt/comfort” stories. Hurt/comfort is a fanwork genre that involves the physical pain or emotional distress of one character, who is cared for by another character. A great trope if you want to bring two characters closer together, or if you want to show how deep their relationship goes.
https://wordcounter.net/character-count
Nov 20, 2014 — One character is either physically or emotionally wounded in some way. Another character supplies nurturing and draws out the other’s pain. How many times have we all read this trope in one form or another, usually with a brooding hero who hides sorrow under a stoic mask? Only a special someone can reach through the layers to the vulnerable underneath. What draws romance readers to such scenarios over and over? It’s a great coping mechanism. To see them get back up. It gives our characters a chance to shine. Because it's character building. The comfort is the main fanservice being provided; the hurt is usually an excuse. Of course, the crux of hurt/comfort is that it’s never really one-sided. Whatever is lacking or damaged in the nurturer is also fixed by the nurturee. “You complete me” becomes “we complete each other” Posted on November 20, 2014
@BrennanSpeaks ‱ 3y ago h/c lets me push characters to extremes. Someone who's normally very competent might end up facing challenges they can't overcome on their own. Someone who's usually very reserved and stoic might express more emotion, and said emotion becomes that much more meaningful. Characters figure out what's important to them in moments of suffering or life-threatening peril. And the comfort afterwards allows for the forging or renewing of relationships.
A fresh beginning Aquietwriter25 Summary: Takes place after spongebob movie: SpongeBob out of water. The events leave spongebob to leave bikini bottom realizing those who he loved just couldn't be forgiven. Words:762 A fresh beginning Aquietwriter25 'I QUIT.' Spongebob sighed putting the last of his items in what had to be the 10th box. His parents would be by tomorrow to pick him up. It was weird to be leaving Bikini bottom. But when your so called friends and employees and pretty much the whole town turned on you. It changed your mindset. A soft knocking prompted spongebob to jolt out of his thoughts, looking at the window his lips twitched at the familiar face who had been the only one on his side. "Plankton". Spongebob greeted opening the window closing it after. "What are you doing here?". "I heard screaming earlier today. Come to find out you quit". Plankton cleared his throat. "Wanted to make sure you were ok". "Thanks Plankton". Spongebob's smile tired. "I'm doing as well as can be expected given the circumstances". "You didn't waste anytime packing". "Well when your friends go to sacrifice you for a sandwich". Spongebob shrugged. "I never thought I would hear you out of all people use the term for a sandwich with the krabby patty". "This whole adventure has put things into perspective for me. The last several years I have worked for a boss who I thought cared about me. Someone who I looked at as a father figure. But not only did he not listen when I told him you didn't take the formula. But he and everyone else went as far as trying to sacrifice me for it. Maybe my krabby patty being gone. Will show the town just how much they changed because of it". "Wow that's deep". "So what about you?". SpongeBob sat on his chair. "Any luck with karen?". "I gave her parts to sandy. Unfortunately I don't have the equipment to even remotely try to bring her back together and to be honest I think she'd be better off with sandy. They got close. Truth is they harboured feelings for each other". "Well that's new". Spongebob blinked. "But honestly not surprising". "I honestly don't know what I am going to do now. With the krabby Patty's fate unknown. And Karen gone.". Plankton trailed off. Spongebob gazed at Plankton whose features looked exhausted. This was a every day thing for him wasn't it? It has been so hard to accept that his friends, employees, his boss had turned on him like this. But this was a everyday thing for Plankton. "Come with me". Spongebob blurted out. "Come with me. I will be bringing my home. Starting a new life in my parents hometown. It's small more country". The Sponge shrugged. "But there are a lot nicer people there. You talked about at one point having a flower shop. You could do well in a town like this. "You really think we'd do well living together?". "We've been through the apocalypse". Spongebob grinned. "I think living together would be a cake walk. Sides i think some of the folks there would appreciate your inventions". The air was silent. "You don't have to of course". Spongebob's voice soft. "I know it's a lot of change. You made me feel safe, protected. I don't want to be without you in my life". Plankton's eye softened jumping onto spongebob's arm, pressing into his face. "Count me in. I don't want to be without you either kid." Plankton jumped off the Sponge before leaping onto the windowsill pulling a few suitcases out that had been hidden. "I had hoped you would invite me". Laughing quietly Spongebob offered a hand to Plankton who hopped onto it. "Guess where doing this then". His eyes shining ever so little. "We are a te am". Plankton grinned. "A team". "A team". Spongebob agreed. Pressing their heads together they enjoyed the quietness before "C'mon we got a lot to do tomorrow we should get some rest". "Stay the night?". "Well given we leave tomorrow that makes the most sense". Plankton shrugged. "Sides". His lips twitched. "I wouldn't leave you alone tonight even if I wasn't coming". "Thanks Plankton". Grinning sleepily spongebob took his new roommate to his room, but not before brushing his teeth. Flopping into bed SpongeBob nuzzled into his pillow. His eyes fluttered open when he felt somthing press into him. "Get some rest kid". Plankton rubbed the Sponges head who let out a sleepy sound. "We have a long day tomorrow". Eyes fluttering shut spongebob snored softly, exhaustion finally winning over. A rare genuine smile crossed Plankton's face gazing up at the moon shining through the window. A new start A new life.
Osomatsu Summary: Musings on a teammate. (SPOILERS FOR SPONGE OUT OF WATER!) https://archiveofourown.org/works/4938325 Relationship: Spongebob Squarepants/Sheldon J. Plankton Language:English Stats:Published:2015-10-05Words:1,194
Gary Becomes A Bikini Bottom Celeb!...almost by Ollipoplay Gary, that oh so fun-loving snail finds himself in one of Plankton's schemes, involving, what else, KRABBY PATTIES! English, Humor & Parody, words: 467, Sep 5, 2002 "Gary, it's time for breakfast!" SpongeBob said, filling Gary's bowl with some delectable snail treat. "Meoww," he purred happily, his eyes spreading apart and coming together again. He munched on his food while SpongeBob got ready for another rousing day at the Krusty Krab. "Well Gary ole buddy, I'll see you later!" "Meow." Walking down the road to work, shoes squeaking, SpongeBob met up with Squidward, who was riding his bicycle. "La dee da, ! Hi Squidward!" In his usual monotone, Squidward answered slowly. "Hello SpongeBob." Bouncing on his skinny, socked legs, SpongeBob cheered. "It's off to work we go!" "Yay." Meanwhile, at the pineapple. "Meow." Gary waited for his buddy SpongeBob to leave and decided soon after that it was time for his daily exercises. He rolled over, and then rolled back and onto his side, stretching out his "foot". He could feel the burn and was so far happy with the day's results. He loved exercising; it was a lot of fun for him and very satisfying. It was something he did once per day, and once per day only. Outside, someone very small was hopping and scumming along. He looked around suspiciously, watching for any movement. There could only be one creature in Bikini Bottom like that, who else could it be but that the one- eyed unibrow . "Now! He has to have the key to the Krusty Krab in there somewhere," the one-eyed sea thing mused, standing on the windowsill of the pineapple. "But where? After winning employee-of-the-month such a large number of times, he must have the key to lock up! He is wait! Wouldn't he have it with him?" Plankton kicked the window in frustration and cried out in pain. "Another plan lost!" he yelled. Suddenly, while tending to his tiny, swollen leg, he noticed something strange going on inside. "Meow" he heard faintly through the glass, as Gary stood on his eyes, then on just one, then the other. Once finished he started doing flips, sometimes doing 360s and even 540s. He always landed on his foot, like any respectable snail. "Well now, that there is inters-wait! I have another plan! If I tell that intensely naĂŻve sponge that his pet has a special talent and I wanted to make him a star, he would let me! I would make enough money to BUY the Krusty Krab and have the recipe all to myself! The Chum Bucket will be famous for its Krabby Patties! Ahahaha!" He rubbed his tiny hands together and plotted deviously. End
Dennis is back, and he wants revenge; he doesn't care how he gets his way and who's going to feel it - not Plankton, not Plankton's family, not even Squidward. https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068545 Dennis has come back ready to show ALL of them what he is capable of doing.
https://writingwithcycyborg.blogspot.com/2024/02/LanguageOfDisability.html
https://archiveofourown.org/works/41690487/chapters/105246894#workskin A Cry For Kelp DiscardMyHeart Fandom: SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon) Characters: Squidward Tentacles, Sheldon J. Plankton, Karen (SpongeBob)Eugene Krabs https://archiveofourown.org/works/41690487/chapters/104866263#workskin Language: English Stats: Published:2022 https://archiveofourown.org/works/41690487/chapters/105246894#workskin
Some of my favorite words and phrases to describe a character in pain coiling (up in a ball, in on themselves, against something, etc) panting (there’s a slew of adjectives you can put after this, my favorites are shakily, weakly, etc) keeling over (synonyms are words like collapsing, which is equally as good but overused in media) trembling/shivering (additional adjectives could be violently, uncontrollably, etc) sobbing (weeping is a synonym but i’ve never liked that word. also love using sob by itself, as a noun, like “he let out a quiet sob”) whimpering (love hitting the wips with this word when a character is weak, especially when the pain is subsiding. also love using it for nightmares/attacks and things like that) clinging (to someone or something, maybe even to themselves or their own clothes) writhing/thrashing (maybe someone’s holding them down, or maybe they’re in bed alone) crying (not actual tears. cry as in a shrill, sudden shout) dazed (usually after the pain has subsided, or when adrenaline is still flowing) wincing (probably overused but i love this word. synonym could be grimacing) doubling-over (kinda close to keeling over but they don’t actually hit the ground, just kinda fold in on themselves) heaving (i like to use it for describing the way someone’s breathing, ex. “heaving breaths” but can also be used for the nasty stuff like dry heaving or vomiting) gasping/sucking/drawing in a breath (or any other words and phrases that mean a sharp intake of breath, that shite is gold) murmuring/muttering/whispering (or other quiet forms of speaking after enduring intense pain) hiccuping/spluttering/sniffling (words that generally imply crying without saying crying. the word crying is used so much it kinda loses its appeal, that’s why i like to mix other words like these in) stuttering (or other general terms that show an impaired ability to speak — when someone’s in intense pain, it gets hard to talk) staggering/stumbling (there is a difference between pain that makes you not want to stand, and pain that makes it impossible to stand. explore that!) recoiling/shrinking away (from either the threat or someone trying to help) pleading/begging (again, to the threat, someone trying to help, or just begging the pain to stop) Feel free to add your favorites or most used in the comments/reblogs!
https://m.webtoons.com/en/canvas/the-secert-formula/list?title_no=936232
one of the most significant misconceptions i fear some people have about whump is that it’s sadism. For a lot of us, it’s masochist. I can’t speak for everyone in the whump community, but for myself and most of the people i’ve interacted with, we’re empathising with the whumpee, not the whumper. We’re experiencing second- hand their paın and catharsis, and also (my favourite part) the concern and care they receive from others but like
 i can totally imagine what it would look like for outsiders coming across our blogs where we consistently fantasise about our favourite characters in absolute agony lol
~ yes my favorite type of fanfiction consists of characters getting tenderly cared for and comforted after a lifetime of being forced to suffer alone in silence, no this doesn't say anything about me
Sassy Kidnapped Whumpee Prompts Here's a list of sassy kidnappee quotes/prompts for those defiant little whumpees who are just asking for it. Enjoy! (Shoutout to @prisonerwhump for the idea!!!) "Oof, big scary spEEch. Nıce. Did you practice that in front of the mirror this mornıng?" "Are these new ropes? I hope you didn't go to the trouble just for me, you know I don't judge." "Ah. Blindfolds again. How original." "Okay, I'm awake. You can make your entrance nÆĄw. [...] Don't play dumb, I know that's a two-way mirror. Let's just get it over with." "You know, I always assumed if I were kidnapped it would be some creepy st*lker yandere thing, but no. I get you instead. That's better, right? So...Thank you? I think? Ah, that's a kn1fe." "Listen, I know you're tryıng to be intimidating and everything - and normally it would be. Really, I meanÍĄ it. Chocking me against the wall is real scary, but... Like. Your hands are so soft, I can't even take you serıously. What kind of lotion do you use?" "Not to critique you when you're doing your zappy thĂ­ng, but you had better up the voltage or something before I faƂƂ asleep. I get bored eąsÄŻly." " "How much did that hurtÌž"? Really? Like, I mean. It hurtÌž, it wasn't pleasant, but - you know when you're a kid and your parents spank you when you don't clean your room? Yeah, that hĂąppeñed to me a lot as a kid. I felt really ba͏d making her get after me because she was alwaყs sick͞ and frail and stuff. Anyway, the point I'm trying to makę here is my MoM hits harder than you. Does that answer your question?" "Wow, what an impressive collection. Very daunting. Very scary. Just checking, but you do have a life outsıde of collecting tortur͘e implements, right? I don't judge, but I'm a little worried about you." "All you want to know is where Caretaker is. Honestly, you could ask a few questions about me first. You don't even know my fav0rite color yet." "Geez, you can at least buy me dınner before chocking me out." "Are you sure you know how to use that? I don't know, man. Maybe you should let me tÌąry it on you to make͘ sure. Just untie me real quick." "Mmm yes! Harder! Please hit me harder! Oh, I'm sorrყ. Am I makıng you uncomfortable? No no, don't stop hitting me now." "Loving the 'dark scary basement' vibes. Really, this lev3l of design takes time. The lightbulb is even flickering - did you plan that? It's honestly impressive. That or you're just this much of a slob. Either way, very effective." "Oooooo! I've always wanted my own dungeon cell. Can I put movıe posters on the walls? I think they would really spice the place up. Do you have any extra sticky tack?" "Really? You bought me for that low of a prıce? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'll never see that much money in my entire life, but I think I'm worth more than that. I meanÍĄ, look at me. I'm adorable." "You can at least give me a deck of cards or something, it's soooooo boring dĂžwn here when you're gone. Not that it's better when you're here. Hm? No no, not because of the paın or whatever, you're just still boring. Really, if I had as much money as you, I could buy a personality." "Ah, the whip again. Let me ask, do you ever have a͝ny new ıdeas or do you just find one and let it play like a brok3n record until you dıe?" "Honestly I'm starting to get genuinely concerned about your hearing. I sAID I'm. Not. Telling. You. Anything. Do I need to talk louder? Maybe write it outÌž for you? Ow! Jeez, you cAn cvt me all you wÌĄant, bUt that's not going to be nearly as effective as just talking to an otolaryngologist." "You call that a hit? Untie me quick and I'll show you how it's dĂžne." "Gooooooooooooodevening, Kidn@ppers! How are you today? How was work. Did you đrınk enough water? How was - oh my, you look angry. Is it something I said?" “How do you sleep at nıght??? No seriously, your skın is so clear, you have to have some fantastic skincare routine before bed. And. Like. A great pi]low.” “Do you have to stand so close when you’re threatening me? I get it, but
brush your teeth or something first.” “Ah yes. Gruel. My favorite. You have to get me the recipe sometime. You’re a culinary genius.” "You knĂžw, I'm stɑrtıng to feel kinda bad. Here I am having all the fun, and you're doing all the work. How about you untie me and then you get a tuÌŽrÇč in the chair? Doesn't that sound nice?" “Better untie me then. Oh, you’re going to hand feed me? Isn’t that swéet. I didn’t know you were a big old softie.” "I can't believe you. You're a monster. Blαck shoes with a blue suit? Are you kidding me? RidiculĂžus. No wonder you don't mind getting my b!ood all over your outfit, it's awful already." "I'm kında gettin͘g bored of all the screaming, how about you?" "This seems like a waste. Did you know the bƂoođ banks are all runnıng low? It's like. A national crisis. People could dıe. Yet here you are letting all my perfectly good bƂoođ go to waste. If you're so insistent on being slicy today, maybe you could like put a drip pan or something on the ground. You think they'd take drip pan bƂoođ? You do keep that kn*fe clean, right?" “Well someone’s cranky today. What? Didn’t get your morning coffee?” “You’re ‘Tired of all my jabbering’? Really? Well that’s kinda self centered of you. Just think about me. I have to lıve with me every minute of every day. And do I ever get a b͞reak? No. Never bored though, so that’s nice.” "What exactly do you mean by 'scream for you'? I have like seven different types of screams." "I'm sorrყ, I don't thınk I heard you the fırst 478 times. What was it you wanteԀ again? Hm. Nope. Still not clicking. You better aSK AgAIN." "Just a real quick questıon - do you have...like...friends? A significant other maybe? You're spending soooo much time down here with me, I just want to make sure you're not neglecting your lĂČved ones. No?"
People read dark fiction for the same reason they ride roller coasters. It’s a simulation of danger without anyone actually being under threat. It gets the brain worked up, releases a bunch of adrenaline into your system, you experience a whole rush of emotions and excitement and fear; but a safe kind of fear, where you know the danger isn’t real and there are dozens of measures in place to protect you. And then it’s over and you can get off the ride. That doesn’t mean everyone is obligated to ride roller coasters. I, for example, am scared of heights, and most coasters are scary for me in a way that isn’t fun. The fear isn’t that I’ll die, the fear is of experiencing more of the ride and thus it’s not a safe fear, because it’s real and I have no control over it. As such, I don’t ride large roller coasters. But the fact that large coasters are not mentally or emotionally safe for me to ride doesn’t mean they should be illegal, or that there’s “something wrong” with anyone who enjoys them. Similarly, sometimes accidents happen. Sometimes people have conditions they don’t know about until a coaster aggravates them in the worst possible way because they didn’t know to avoid it
and that’s no one’s fault. People have died or been injured in coaster accidents, and those accidents are pretty much always the result of human error, carelessness, laziness, or poor communication. It’s the responsibility of the amusement park to make sure that basic safety features are built-in and maintained–or at the very least (mangling the metaphor somewhat because this would obviously be illegal in real life) to make it clear that those features don’t exist! I feel like most people would avoid a ride clearly labelled “HAS NEVER HAD A SAFETY INSPECTION! NO RESTRAINT BARS! RIDE STAFF HAVE NOT BEEN TRAINED AND THERE ARE NO EMERGENCY SERVICES ON-SITE! OPEN FLAMES!” but if you click on a fic clearly labelled “author chose not to use warnings” you know the risks and they’ve met their obligation to warn you of them. And sometimes the people providing this content don’t perform that basic due diligence, and people get hurt as a result–but that’s on those specific bad actors, and doesn’t mean we ban all roller coasters. It also doesn’t mean every single ride operator on earth should be tarred with that brush, especially when they’ve openly spoken out against such practices! Furthermore, if you KNOW you have a heart condition and willingly get on a ride that says it is not safe for people with heart conditions, you cannot then blame the amusement park! What makes roller coasters safe for me? Well, for one, the fact that I’m an adult now so my family has finally stopped trying to force me onto them.
“I can fix him” “I can make him worse” well I can ruin his life for the sake of character development
My pageant has a pageant platform essay. What’s that? Contributed by Eddia Watts A pageant platform essay is a paper in which you speak about exactly what you’ve been working on with your platform and what you have chosen to champion throughout your time as a competitor. The pageant platform essay is apart of the competition in which a contestant can validate, in writing, why she chose the specific cause she has. The essay is your moment to talk about every single intricacy that is apart of your platform. If during the competition you never have a chance to speak about your platform, the essay needs to cover every single thing about your platform so that the judges have a semblance of what you have stood for thus far in your pageant journey. The pageant platform essay should encase topics like, how you created your platform, what caused you to choose this specific platform, how you have advocated for it, and how you will continue to advocate for it. Although the pageant essay is not imperative for some systems, like Miss Earth USA or Miss USA, it is imperative for systems such as Miss America and Miss Teen, creating an essay is a great exercise for all contestants to ensure that they know the direction that they want to go in for their platform. Writing what you have done, what you will do, and what has made you continue to keep going is a great way to remain humble and realize why you began in the first place. If you find that writing worries you, as long as you write from the heart and mean every word you say, you will find yourself writing too long of an essay. If writing an essay is required, it will also force you to think about the specific ways that you plan to bring your cause to a resolution. Having this in mind will help you to answer your interview questions easier as well as give you the proper mindset of why you embarked upon your platform. Writing a pageant platform may seem like a tremendous amount of work, but the next section covers exactly how you want to write your platform essay and what you can include to differentiate your essay from the next! Okay, how do I write a pageant platform essay? Contributed by Eddia Watts Writing your pageant platform essay may seem daunting at first, but always keep in mind the fundamentals of writing an essay: the introduction, body paragraphs, and conclusion. When you break down your essay like this, it makes writing your essay a bit easier. In the sections below, we will take the time to illustrate these sections of your essay as well as what tone your writing should take on when you talk about your platform. Introduction The introduction to your essay should begin with an explanation of who you are and what your platform is. In your introduction, there is no need to delve into the why or the how of your platform just yet. If you decide to delve straight in with your story in the introductory paragraph, you risk overwhelming your judges. In your introduction, you want to entice your judges by reading more. The last sentence of your introduction should read like a thesis statement for a paper. It’s when you finally tell the judges what your platform is. Body Paragraphs Your body paragraphs are where you really delve into who you are as a person and why you chose your platform. In this section of your essay, you should have at least three paragraphs, the first illustrating the backstory behind why you chose your platform. This is your moment to speak on your ‘why’. The second paragraph of your essay should be the ‘how’. In this paragraph, you should talk about how you have pursued your platform and how you have begun to tackle the issue your championing. This is your time to speak about all of the fundraisers, events, and charity work you have done to further your platform. The third paragraph is your moment to speak about how your platform can affect those in your community and those for whom you created your platform to help. You should also speak about what you will be doing with your platform in the future and how you hope your platform will impact those in the next generations. Covering your bases like this will not only help you to seal the deal with your judges, but it will help to make an impact with others should you decide to post your speech online. Conclusion Like every essay, your conclusion should touch upon everything you mentioned throughout your essay. This is not the time to enter in last minute additional information, as the judges will have already formed an opinion of your essay by now. When writing your conclusion, you want to make sure that you use a proper tone that makes it sound like you are concluding your essay. Tone It is important to have a splash of personality and professionalism throughout the tone of your essay, as you want the judges to take you seriously, but you do not want your words to bore them as well. Using proper punctuation when needed, ensuring that you are not using run-on sentences, and proper word usage can all help with your tone. The best essays are written when it feels like the contestant is actually speaking to the judge in a polite manner with her personality all on the table; just like in an interview. Once you have the proper tone and diction down, your essay will write itself! In conclusion, writing a pageant platform essay is just like writing an essay for class. You are just telling a completely different story. As long as you stay true to who you are as a person and have your platform take center stage, you will write an amazing essay!
Comfort Character A comfort character is when a character, which can be from a TV show, game, book, etc. makes you feel safe and happy when upset, sad, down, etc.
I think the reason sick whump hold such a special place in my heart is that, relatively speaking, you don’t see it that often in canon media? Like, characters being injured in books/films/tv is pretty standard I’d say. Maybe not to the detailed whumpy levels we’d all like it to be, but if I think about it pretty much every character I’ve viewed as a potential whumpee has actually suffered some form of injury or another (often more than once) within their respective media. But illness? You just don’t see it as often. And I’m not sure why - but I’d guess probably because it tends to leave characters in a stagnant state; an injury can be attained while Actively Doing Something Plot Relevant, so even if the aftercare is shown offscreen [ugh], the actual Getting Hurt part can be part of the plot - whereas sickness holds focus on a character within that state of infirmity, and most mainstream audiences would probably see it as uninteresting to watch or read. So when it comes to imagining my faves being hurt, well, it’s still great but I likely have already seen them hurt within whatever media they’re a part of. But imagining them being sick
now that requires some more imagination on my part. There’s a ~mystique~ to it. It feels like a more personal show of the character’s vulnerability because it likely hasn’t actually been shown before, so it’s like a little secret that I get to figure out on my own.
allthewhumpygoodness: I write a lot of fantasy/Medieval whump, so in that vein lets talk Things Low-Tech/Medieval/Fantasy Healers Might Do When Checking A Sick Patient That Don’t Require Modern Medical Equipment Or Terminology But Gives The Vibe That They Know What They’re Doing: Feel their pulse (in the wrist, the side of their neck, or even a temple) Check their forehead for a fever Listen to their chest/back (you can hear rattling or crackling in the lungs of someone with a lung infection such as bronchitis or pneumonia) Tapping their back behind each lung (likewise - an inflamed lung will sound congested and less hollow than a healthy one) Feel for swollen glands behind their ears Gently feel for any swelling or tightness along their stomach On that note, gently pressing on an are of pain in the stomach area (to test for appendicitis) Get them to open their mouth to look down their throat Check their eyes for redness, light sensitivity, yellowing, or dilated pupils Check them for a rash, especially the torso, behind the ears, and along their forehead (measles rash usually starts near the ears and along the hairline, scarlet fever begins on the trunk and spreads to the rest of the body; chicken pox I think just sort of appears all over though idk) Check if their skin is flushed or jaundiced Tap along their cheekbones - if this causes pain they may have a sinus infection I’m not a medical professional and this is ONLY for writing purposes, also this is all based on a variety of medical information I’ve read in books and online but as I said I am not a professional just someone with a weird obsession, feel free to fact check me - or add your own
Reunion after (physical) tr4uma prompts tws apply: grief/fear for someone’s life, mention of injuries, unconsciousness, hospıtals, comas, mention of involuntary drugging. that’s the general vibe. WORDS “Theeeere you are. Hi. Welcome back.” “Breathe. Hi, we found you, just breathe for me, okay?” “This is going to hurtÌž, but it will help you.” “You’re safe. [Name], can you hear me? They’re here to help you, you need to let them help you.” “I found them, they’re over here!” “Does anyone have medical training?” “N.. no, no, no, no, hey. [Name]? Hi, I’ve got you.” “You can sleep, [name]. It’s over.” “I’ll still be here when you wake up.” “You were in an induced coma. Your bĂždy went through a lot.” “I wasn’t –
 Your doctors weren’t sure you’d wake up.” “[Name]? Was that - did you squeeze my hand?” “It’s okay. It’s meant to be there, it’s helping you breathe.” “Can you hear me?” “You.. you were so close to dying. I was scared.” ACTIONS [ GATHER ] for sender to gather receiver’s (unconscious) bĂždy into their arms, in the style of no no no not them. [ STARING ] for sender to find receiver sitting alonÈ© staring at a wall, covered in blÞÞd, and to toÍ uch their arm. [ WAITING ] for sender to be waiting at receiver’s hospıtal bedside when receiver finally comes out of a coma, or wakes from surgery. [ STEADY ] for sender to catch or steady receiver when receiver tries to stand up too early or to push their bĂždy past what it’s ready for [ TEARS ] for receiver to find tears on sender’s face, when they’re finally reunited (either immediately after the trauma, or waking up in a hospıtal), because sender thought receiver was dead or dying [ GRIEF ] for receiver to wake up just as sender is saying goodbye, because the doctors told them to. feel free to specify what they might be saying. do not judge me, this is going in the meme [ LETTER ] for sender to find a last letter, video, text, etc that receiver made for them, thinking they wouldn’t make it out of the situation aliÌšve. Obviously receiver does make it out aliÌšve, but the letter/video still exists (and receiver will detail what’s in it). [ FIGHT ] for receiving muse to not recognize sender or medical staff trying to help them, due to being drugged or otherwise disoriented – so they fight.
SLEEPING WHUMPEES leyswhumpdump: Sleeping whumpees. Curled up on cold cell floors, seeking the only escape they can get. Eyes red behind their closed lids because they cried themselves to sleep. Tucked up under warm blankets. Cradled by a caretaker. Peaceful and smiling even in slumber, or screaming from night terrors. Restless from fever. Exhausted in the back of a car, their mind and body just given out. Falling asleep after fighting it for so long. Just an adorable trope all round.
henshengs Tbh I think fandom generally needs to get better at sitting with the uncomfortable fact that a story/fanwork/meme/whatever can hurt one person and help another sensicalabsurdities This is why I think “tag warning” culture is kinder and more constructive than cancel culture / “no problematic content” culture. One size does not fit all, but if we learn to be more aware of the fact that the same thing can be emotionally validating or cathartic to one person and upsetting to another, and pick up a general mindset of thinking before we post, “what might people need a heads up for in this content?”, we grow more compassionate, more thoughtful, and more understanding of the differences in people’s experiences.
i-write-whump When the whumpee wakes up in pain, and doesn’t remember what happened or how they got there, so the caretaker has to explain everything to them slowly and carefully, because the whumpee is still pretty out of it. The caretaker gently stroking the whumpee’s hair as they talk, hugging them as soon as they’re done explaining, and answering any questions the whumpee has. The caretaker tucking them in tighter and offering them water, then making sure they’re as comfortable as possible, and that they’re resting, knowing that the whumpee may still be too out of it to actually remember any of their conversation, but content to explain everything again if needed.
prospectkiss Sleepy intimacy is one of my favorite things, and I think the last point is why - it’s all about trust. Trusting someone enough to let your guard down. To lower your defenses. To be vulnerable. That kind of trust is not always given easily, which is what makes sleepy intimacy so heartwarming.
‱ 2y ago Honestly, a huge reason why I torment my favorites is so that when the comfort comes along (because it always does in my case), their friends/found family can show them how much they are loved.
ᔆʷᔉᔉᔗ á”ˆÊłá”‰á”ƒá”Ëą âœá”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰áŽźá”’á”‡ á¶ á”ƒâżá¶ â±á¶œâŸ áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą á”ˆá”‰Ëąá”—Êłá”’Êžá”‰á”ˆ ᔗʰᔉ ᶜʰᔘᔐ ᔇᔘᶜᔏᔉᔗ‧ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż á”âżá”‰Ê· á”’âżËĄÊž Ëąá”–á”’âżá”á”‰ ᔇᔒᔇ ᔐⁱᔍʰᔗ ⁱⁿᔛⁱᔗᔉ ʰⁱᔐ➎ Ëąá”’ ʰᔉ Ê·á”‰âżá”— á”—á”’ ᔗʰᔉ á”–â±âżá”‰á”ƒá”–á”–ËĄá”‰ ʰᔒᔐᔉ‧ "áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż ' *á”ƒÊ·á”Ê·á”ƒÊłá”ˆ á¶œÊ°á”˜á¶œá”ËĄá”‰* ' ᶜᔒᔐᔉ ᔒⁿ ⁱⁿ!" á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ ᔒᔖᔉⁿ˹ ᔗʰᔉ á”ˆá”’á”’Êł á¶ á”’Êł ʰⁱᔐ‧ "á”€Ê°á”ƒâżá”ËąâžŽ ᔏⁱᔈ; ᎔'ᔐ á”—â±Êłá”‰á”ˆ ᔃⁿᔈ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą á”ˆá”‰Ëąá”—Êłá”’Êžá”‰á”ˆâ€§â€§â€§" "ʞᔒᔘ á¶œá”ƒâż Ëąá”—á”ƒÊž ʷⁱᔗʰ ᔐᔉ➎ ⁱᶠ ʞᔒᔘ Ê·á”ƒâżá”—â€§" ᎎᔉ âżá”’á”—â±á¶œá”‰á”ˆ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż ᔈⁱᔈ ËĄá”’á”’á” á”‰ËŁÊ°á”ƒá”˜Ëąá”—á”‰á”ˆâ€§ "Ꮀᔒ ʞᔒᔘ Ê·á”ƒâżá”— ᔐʞ ᔇᔉᔈ? á”€Ê°á”‰Êłá”‰'Ëą Êłá”’á”’á” á¶ á”’Êł ᔗʰᔉ ᔇᔒᔗʰ ᔒᶠ á”˜Ëąâ€§â€§â€§" "á”†á”˜Êłá”‰â€§" ᔆᔒ Ëąá”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ ᔖᔘᔗ ʰⁱᔐ ᔇʞ Ê°â±Ëą Ëąâ±á”ˆá”‰ ᔒⁿ ᔗʰᔉ ᔇᔉᔈ➎ á”–á”˜ËĄËĄâ±âżá” ᔘᔖ ᔗʰᔉ á”‡ËĄá”ƒâżá”á”‰á”—Ëąâ€§ "᎔'ᔐ Ëąá”’ÊłÊłÊž ᔃᔇᔒᔘᔗ‧‧‧" "á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ ᎔ á”âżá”’Ê· ʞᔒᔘ Ê·á”’Êłá” ʷⁱᔗʰ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡ËąâžŽ ᔇᔘᔗ ⁱᔗ'Ëą ⁿᔒᔗ Êžá”’á”˜Êł á¶ á”ƒá”˜ËĄá”—â€§ ᎔ âżá”‰á”›á”‰Êł á”á”‰á”ƒâż ʞᔒᔘ á”ƒâżÊž Ê°á”ƒÊłá” ⁱⁿ ᔐʞ Ëąá¶œÊ°á”‰á”á”‰ËąâžŽ ᔇᔘᔗ ᎔ ᔍᔒᔗᔗᔃ ᔍᔉᔗ á”‡á”˜Ëąâ±âżá”‰ËąËą Ëąá”’á”á”‰Ê°á”’Ê· á”ƒâżá”ˆâ€§â€§â€§" "᎔ á”âżá”’Ê·âžŽ ᔃⁿᔈ ᎔ ˹ᔉᔉ ʞᔒᔘ ᔃ˹ ᔐʞ á¶ Êłâ±á”‰âżá”ˆ! Ꮁᔛᔉⁿ ᔗʰᔒᔘᔍʰ ᎔'ᔐ ⁿᔒᔗ á”á”’âżâżá”ƒ ˥ᔉᔗ ʞᔒᔘ ᔍᔉᔗ ᔃʷᔃʞ ʷⁱᔗʰ ᔗʰᔉ ᔖᔃᔗᔗʞ‧‧‧" "᎔'ËĄËĄ á”á”ƒâżá”ƒá”á”‰ Ëąá”’á”á”‰Ê°á”’Ê· Ëąá”’á”á”‰á”ˆá”ƒÊž ᔗʰᔒᔘᔍʰ‧ ᎔ á”âżá”’Ê· ᎔ Ê·á”ƒâżâżá”ƒ ᔇᔉ ᔃ Ëąá”˜á”–á”‰Êłâ»á”›â±ËĄËĄá”ƒâ±âżâžŽ ᔇᔘᔗ ᔉᔛᔉⁿ ᔇᔃᔈ á”á”˜ÊžËą á¶œá”ƒâż ʰᔃᔛᔉ ˹ᔒᶠᔗ ˹ᔖᔒᔗ˹‧ ʞᔒᔘ'Êłá”‰ ᔒⁿᔉ ᔒᶠ ᔐʞ á”’âżËĄÊž á¶ Êłâ±á”‰âżá”ˆËą ᔃⁿᔈ ᎔ á”ˆá”’âż'á”— Ê·á”ƒâżâżá”ƒ ᔗᔃᔏᔉ á¶ á”’Êł á”Êłá”ƒâżá”—á”‰á”ˆâ€§â€§â€§" áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż á”‰ËŁá”–ËĄá”ƒâ±âżá”‰á”ˆ á”—á”’ ʰⁱᔐ‧ á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ ᶠᔉ˥ᔗ ʰᔃᔖᔖʞ➎ Ê°á”‰á”ƒÊłâ±âżá” ʰⁱᔐ ᔒᔖᔉⁿ ᔘᔖ á”—á”’ ʰⁱᔐ‧ "᎔ á”ƒá”–á”–Êłá”‰á¶œâ±á”ƒá”—á”‰ ʞᔒᔘ ᔃ˹ Ê·á”‰ËĄËĄâ€§" ᎎᔉ á¶œá”˜ÊłËĄá”‰á”ˆ ᔘᔖ ⁿᔉˣᔗ á”—á”’ ʰⁱᔐ‧ "ʞᔒᔘ âżá”‰á”‰á”ˆ á”ƒâżÊžá”—Ê°â±âżá” ᔉ˥˹ᔉ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”Ëą ʞᔒᔘ á¶œá”ƒâż á”—á”ƒËĄá” á”—á”’ ᔐᔉ‧" '‧‧‧' "ʞᔒᔘ á”âżá”’Ê·?" '‧‧‧' á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ á”—á”˜Êłâżá”‰á”ˆ á”’á”›á”‰Êłâ€§ "áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âżâ€§â€§â€§" ' *Ëąâżá”’Êłâ±âżá”* ' "â€§â€§â€§á¶œá”ƒâż'á”— Ëąá”—á”ƒÊž ᔃʷᔃᔏᔉ á”ƒâżÊž ËĄá”’âżá”á”‰Êł ᎔ ˹ᔉᔉ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âżâ€§ áŽłá”’á”’á”ˆ âżâ±á”Ê°á”—â€§â€§â€§" á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ Ëąá”â±ËĄá”‰á”ˆâ€§
á‘«á”˜á”ƒËĄâ±á”—Êž ᔀⁱᔐᔉ 2024 âœá”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰áŽźá”’á”‡ á¶ á”ƒâżá¶ â±á¶œâŸ "᎔ Ê·á”ƒâżá”— ᔗʰᔉ ᔇᔒᔗʰ ᔒᶠ ʞᔒᔘ á”—á”’ á”‡á”’âżá”ˆ ᔃ˹ á”‰á”á”–ËĄá”’Êžá”‰á”‰ËąâžŽ ᔃⁿᔈ ʞᔒᔘ á¶œá”ƒâż ᔗᔃᔏᔉ ᔃ á¶ Êłâ±á”‰âżá”ˆ ʷⁱᔗʰ ʞᔒᔘ ⁱᶠ ʞᔒᔘ ËĄâ±á”á”‰!" áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą á”—á”’ËĄá”ˆ á”†á‘«á”˜â±á”ˆÊ·á”ƒÊłá”ˆ ᔃⁿᔈ á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰ ᔇᔒᔇ‧ "᎔'ËĄËĄ ᔗᔃᔏᔉ áŽŸá”ƒá”—Êłâ±á¶œá”! ᔂʰᔒ'ËĄËĄ ʞᔒᔘ ᔗᔃᔏᔉ?" "᎔ᔗ'ËĄËĄ ᔇᔉ ᔃ Ëąá”˜Êłá”–Êłâ±Ëąá”‰â€§â€§â€§" ᔆᔃⁱᔈ á”†á‘«á”˜â±á”ˆÊ·á”ƒÊłá”ˆâ€§ "ᔀʰᔉ á”‡á”˜Ëą ËĄá”‰á”ƒá”›á”‰Ëą á”ƒá¶ á”—á”‰Êł Ê·á”’Êłá”!" áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą Êłá”‰á”â±âżá”ˆá”‰á”ˆ ᔗʰᔉᔐ‧ "᎔'ËĄËĄ ᔍᔒ ᔍᔉᔗ ᔐʞ á¶ Êłâ±á”‰âżá”ˆâ€§â€§â€§" á”†á‘«á”˜â±á”ˆÊ·á”ƒÊłá”ˆ á”—á”’ËĄá”ˆâ€§ 'ᔂʰᔒ ᔃᔐ ᎔ á”—á”’ ᔖⁱᶜᔏ? á”†á”ƒâżá”ˆÊž á”’âżËĄÊž á”‰âżá¶œá”’á”˜Êłá”ƒá”á”‰Ëą ᔗʰᔉ á”ƒâżâżá”’Êžâ±âżá” á”‡á”‰Ê°á”ƒá”›â±á”’á”˜Êł ᔒᶠ á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡â€§' á”†á‘«á”˜â±á”ˆÊ·á”ƒÊłá”ˆ ËĄá”’á”’á”á”‰á”ˆ ᔃⁿᔈ Ëąá”ƒÊ· ᔗʰᔉ ᶜʰᔘᔐ ᔇᔘᶜᔏᔉᔗ‧ "ᔂʰᔒ ᔉ˥˹ᔉ‧‧‧" á”†á‘«á”˜â±á”ˆÊ·á”ƒÊłá”ˆ Ê·á”‰âżá”— á”—á”’ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż'˱‧ á”‚Ê°á”‰âż á”—Ê°á”‰â±Êł Ê·á”’Êłá” ËąÊ°â±á¶ á”—'Ëą á”‰âżá”ˆá”‰á”ˆâžŽ ᔗʰᔉ á”‡á”˜Ëą ᶜᔃᔐᔉ ᔇʞ‧ áŽźá”’á”—Ê° á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ ᔃⁿᔈ áŽŸá”ƒá”—Êłâ±á¶œá” Ê·á”‰Êłá”‰ á”—á”’á”á”‰á”—Ê°á”‰Êł á”‰ËŁá¶œâ±á”—á”‰á”ˆËĄÊžâ€§ áŽŒâżá¶œá”‰ áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą ˥ᔉᶠᔗ ᔗʰᔉᔐ➎ á”†á‘«á”˜â±á”ˆÊ·á”ƒÊłá”ˆ á”ƒÊłÊłâ±á”›á”‰á”ˆ ʷⁱᔗʰ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âżâ€§ "á”†á”˜Êłá”–Êłâ±Ëąá”‰!" á”‚Ê°â±ËĄËąá”— ᔒⁿ ᔗʰᔉ á”‡á”˜ËąâžŽ á”†á‘«á”˜â±á”ˆÊ·á”ƒÊłá”ˆ ᔃⁿᔈ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż Ëąá”ƒá”— ⁱⁿ ᔗʰᔉ á”‡á”‰âżá¶œÊ° Ëąá”‰á”ƒá”— ᔃᔈÊČá”ƒá¶œá”‰âżá”— á”—á”’ á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ ᔃⁿᔈ áŽŸá”ƒá”—Êłâ±á¶œá”â€§ "áŽŹÊłá”‰ ʷᔉ á”—Ê°á”‰Êłá”‰ ʞᔉᔗ?" "áŽșá”’!" áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż Êłá”‰á”–ËĄâ±á”‰á”ˆâ€§ á”†á‘«á”˜â±á”ˆÊ·á”ƒÊłá”ˆ'Ëą á¶ á”ƒËĄËĄá”‰âż á”ƒËąËĄá”‰á”‰á”– ᔃⁿᔈ ᔒᔖᔉⁿ ᔐᔒᔘᔗʰᔉᔈ➎ á”ˆá”’á¶»â±âżá” ᔒᶠᶠ‧ "áŽčá”˜Ëąá”— ᔇᔉ á”˜Ëąá”‰á”ˆ á”—á”’ 'ᔉᔐ‧‧‧" áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż ˹ᔃⁱᔈ á”á”’Ëąá”—ËĄÊž á”—á”’ Ê°â±á”Ëąá”‰ËĄá¶ â€§ áŽŸá”ƒá”—Êłâ±á¶œá”'Ëą ËĄá”ƒá”˜á”Ê°â±âżá” ʷⁱᔗʰ á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡â€§ "ᎎᔃ?" á”†á‘«á”˜â±á”ˆÊ·á”ƒÊłá”ˆ Ëąâżá”ƒá”–á”–á”‰á”ˆ ᔃʷᔃᔏᔉ ᔃ˹ ᔗʰᔉʞ á”ƒÊłÊłâ±á”›á”‰á”ˆ á”—á”’ Ê·Ê°á”‰Êłá”‰ ᔗʰᔉʞ'Êłá”‰ á”—á”’ Ëąá”—á”ƒÊžâ€§ ᔀʰᔉʞ Ê·á”‰âżá”— ⁱⁿ ᔗʰᔉ Êłá”’á”’á”â€§ "᎔ á”—á”‰ËŁá”—á”‰á”ˆ áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą á”—á”’ ᔗᔉ˥˥ ʰⁱᔐ ʷᔉ'ᔛᔉ á”ƒÊłÊłâ±á”›á”‰á”ˆâ€§" á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ á”—á”’ËĄá”ˆâ€§ "Ꮀⁱᔈ ʞᔒᔘ á”‡Êłâ±âżá” á”ƒâżÊž Ëąâżá”ƒá¶œá”Ëą?" "ᎌᶠ á¶œá”’á”˜ÊłËąá”‰âžŽ áŽŸá”ƒá”—Êłâ±á¶œá”; ᎔ á”‡Êłá”’á”˜á”Ê°á”— ˹ᔒᔐᔉ á”–á”ƒá”—á”—â±á”‰Ëą!" áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż ÊČᔘᔐᔖᔉᔈ ᔘᔖ Ê·Ê°á”‰âż ʰᔉ Ê°á”‰á”ƒÊłá”ˆ á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡'Ëą á”ƒâżËąÊ·á”‰Êłâ€§ "᎔'ᔛᔉ âżá”‰á”›á”‰Êł ʰᔃᔈ ᔒⁿᔉ á”‡á”‰á¶ á”’Êłá”‰â€§â€§â€§" áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż ˹ᔃⁱᔈ ᔃ˹ ʰᔉ á”—Êłâ±á”‰á”ˆ ⁿᔒᔗ á”—á”’ Ëąá”ƒËĄâ±á”›á”ƒá”—á”‰â€§ "ᔂᔉ'ËĄËĄ ʷᔃᔗᶜʰ ʞᔒᔘ ᔉᔃᔗ ⁱᔗ; ⁿᔒ á¶ á”˜âżâżÊž á”‡á”˜Ëąâ±âżá”‰ËąËą!" "᎔ á”ˆá”’âż'á”— á”âżá”’Ê· Ê°á”’Ê· ᔐᔘᶜʰ á”á”’Êłá”‰ ᔒᶠ Êžá”’á”˜Êł Ëąâżá”’Êłâ±âżá” ᎔ á¶œá”ƒâż ᔗᔃᔏᔉ➎ ⁿᔒ á”’á¶ á¶ á”‰âżá¶œá”‰â€§â€§â€§" áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż á”—á”’ËĄá”ˆ á”†á‘«á”˜â±á”ˆÊ·á”ƒÊłá”ˆ ᔃ˹ ᔗʰᔉʞ ËĄá”’á”’á”á”‰á”ˆ ᔃᔗ ᔇᔒᔗʰ ᔒᶠ ᔗʰᔉ á”‡á”‰á”ˆËą ⁱⁿ ᔗʰᔉ Êłá”’á”’á”â€§ "᎔'ËĄËĄ ËąÊ°á”ƒÊłá”‰; áŽŸá”ƒá”—Êłâ±á¶œá”'Ëą ᔃ ʰᔉᔃᔛʞ ËąËĄá”‰á”‰á”–á”‰ÊłâžŽ Ëąá”’ á”–á”‰ÊłÊ°á”ƒá”–Ëą á”†á‘«á”˜â±á”ˆÊ·á”ƒÊłá”ˆ á¶œá”ƒâż ËąÊ°á”ƒÊłá”‰ ʷⁱᔗʰ ʰⁱᔐ!" á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ á”—á”’ËĄá”ˆ ʰⁱᔐ‧ á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ Ê°á”‰ËĄá”–á”‰á”ˆ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż Êłá”‰á”ƒá¶œÊ° ᔗʰᔉ ᔇᔉᔈ‧ "áŽłá”’á”’á”ˆâżâ±á”Ê°á”—â€§â€§â€§" ᔆᔃⁱᔈ á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡âžŽ á¶ á”ƒËĄËĄâ±âżá” á”ƒËąËĄá”‰á”‰á”–â€§ "ʞᔒᔘ ᔗᔒ➎ ᔏⁱᔈ‧‧‧" áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż á”—á”’ËĄá”ˆ Ëąá”‰á”‰â±âżá” ʰⁱᔐ ˹˥ᔉᔉᔖ‧ ᎎᔉ ᔐᔒᔛᔉᔈ á¶œËĄá”’Ëąá”‰Êł á”—á”’ á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡â€§ áŽŸá”ƒá”—Êłâ±á¶œá” ᔃʷᔒᔏᔉ ⁱⁿ ᔗʰᔉ á”â±á”ˆá”ˆËĄá”‰ ᔒᶠ ᔗʰᔉ âżâ±á”Ê°á”—â€§ ᎎᔉ á”âżá”‰Ê· á”‡á”‰á”—á”—á”‰Êł á”—Ê°á”ƒâż á”—á”’ ᔃʷᔃᔏᔉ á”†á‘«á”˜â±á”ˆÊ·á”ƒÊłá”ˆâ€§ ᎎᔉ Ê·á”‰âżá”— á”—á”’ ᔗʰᔉ á”’á”—Ê°á”‰Êł ᔇᔉᔈ‧ "ᎎᔉʞ á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡â€§â€§â€§" áŽŸá”ƒá”—Êłâ±á¶œá” Ê·á”ƒá”á”‰Ëą ʰⁱᔐ‧ "᎟ᔃᔗ‧‧‧" "á¶œá”ƒâż ᎔ ᶜᔒᔐᔉ ᔘᔖ ʷⁱᔗʰ ʞᔒᔘ?" "á”†á”˜Êłá”‰âžŽ ÊČá”˜Ëąá”— ᔈᔒ ⁿᔒᔗ á”ˆâ±Ëąá”—á”˜Êłá”‡ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âżâ€§â€§â€§" á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰ ᔇᔒᔇ ˹ᔃⁱᔈ➎ Ëąá”‰á”‰â±âżá” ʰᔉ'ᔈ á¶ á”ƒËĄËĄá”‰âż á”ƒËąËĄá”‰á”‰á”– á¶œá”˜ÊłËĄá”‰á”ˆ ᔘᔖ ʷⁱᔗʰ ʰⁱᔐ‧ "ᔂʰʞ á”ƒÊłá”‰ ʞᔒᔘ ᔘᔖ?" "᎔ ÊČá”˜Ëąá”— âżá”‰á”‰á”ˆá”‰á”ˆ á”—á”’ ʰᔘᔍ‧‧‧" "áŽŸá”ƒá”—Êłâ±á¶œá”âžŽ ᶜᔒᔐᔉ á¶œËĄá”’Ëąá”‰Êłâ€§â€§â€§" á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ á”˜Ëąá”‰á”ˆ Ê°â±Ëą á¶ Êłá”‰á”‰ á”ƒÊłá” á”—á”’ á”‰á”á”‡Êłá”ƒá¶œá”‰ ʰⁱᔐ á”†â±âżá¶œá”‰ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż'Ëą ËĄá”‰á”ƒâżâ±âżá” ᔒⁿ Ê°â±Ëą á”’á”—Ê°á”‰Êł Ê°á”ƒâżá”ˆâ€§ "á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ ᎔ á”ˆá”’âż'á”— á”—Ê°â±âżá” ᎔ᔛᔉ á”ƒá¶œá”—á”˜á”ƒËĄËĄÊž á”—á”ƒËĄá”á”‰á”ˆ á”—á”’ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż á”‡á”‰á¶ á”’Êłá”‰â€§â€§â€§" "᎟ᔃᔗ ᔏᔉᔉᔖ Êžá”’á”˜Êł ᔛᔒⁱᶜᔉ á”ˆá”’Ê·âż! áŽźá”˜á”— Êžá”‰Ëą ʰᔉ á”—á”ƒá”á”‰Ëą ᔗⁱᔐᔉ á”—á”’ Ê·á”ƒÊłá” ᔘᔖ á”—á”’ ʞᔒᔘ➎ ËĄâ±á”á”‰ á”†á‘«á”˜â±á”ˆÊ·á”ƒÊłá”ˆâžŽ Ê·Ê°á”‰âż ʰᔉ á”á”‰á”—Ëą á”‡á”’á”—Ê°á”‰Êłá”‰á”ˆ á”‰á”ƒËąâ±ËĄÊžâ€§â€§â€§" "á¶œá”ƒâż ᎔ ᔍᔒ ᔇᔃᶜᔏ á”—á”’ ᔗʰᔉ á”’á”—Ê°á”‰Êł ᔇᔉᔈ?" "á”†á”˜Êłá”‰âžŽ ᎟ᔃᔗ‧‧‧" áŽźá”‰â±âżá” ᔗʰᔉ á¶ â±ÊłËąá”— ᔒⁿᔉ ᔘᔖ➎ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż Ê·Êłá”’á”—á”‰ ᔃ ⁿᔒᔗᔉ Ëąá”ƒÊžâ±âżá” 'Ê·â±ËĄËĄ ᔇᔉ Êłâ±á”Ê°á”— ᔇᔃᶜᔏ' á”á”‰á”—á”—â±âżá” ᔒᔘᔗ ᔒᶠ ᔇᔉᔈ➎ á”ƒËĄá”—Ê°á”’á”˜á”Ê° ˹ᔗⁱ˥˥ á”—á”’ á”‰á”ƒÊłËĄÊž á”—á”’ Ëąá”—á”ƒÊłá”— ᔗʰᔉ ᔈᔃʞ‧ ᔀʰᔉ ˹ᔘⁿ'Ëą ⁿᔒᔗ ᔉᔛᔉⁿ á”‡á”ƒÊłá”‰ËĄÊž ᔘᔖ! ᔆᔒ ʰᔉ Ê·á”‰âżá”— á”—á”’ ᔗʰᔉ ᔐᔃⁱⁿ ËĄá”’á”‡á”‡Êž ᔒᔘᔗ‧ áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą á”ˆá”ƒá”˜á”Ê°á”—á”‰Êł áŽŸá”‰á”ƒÊłËĄ Ê°á”ƒá”–á”–á”‰âżá”‰á”ˆ á”—á”’ ᔇᔉ ʷⁱᔗʰ Ê°á”‰Êł á¶ Êłâ±á”‰âżá”ˆËą á”—Ê°á”‰Êłá”‰â€§ ᔆʰᔉ Êłá”‰á¶œá”’á”âżâ±Ëąá”‰á”ˆ ʰⁱᔐ ᔃ˹ Ê°á”‰Êł ᔈᔃᔈ'Ëą Êłâ±á”›á”ƒËĄâžŽ Ëąá”’ ËąÊ°á”‰ Ê·á”ƒâżá”—á”‰á”ˆ á”—á”’ Ëąá”—á”ƒâżá”ˆ ᔘᔖ á¶ á”’Êł Ê°á”‰Êł ᔈᔃᔈ‧ áŽșá”’á”— ʞᔉᔗ Ëąá”‰á”‰â±âżá” áŽŸá”‰á”ƒÊłËĄ ⁱⁿ ᔗʰᔉ ËĄá”’á”‡á”‡ÊžâžŽ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż Ê·á”‰âżá”—â€§ "ᎎᔉʞ➎ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż!" ᎎᔉ á”—á”˜Êłâżá”‰á”ˆ á”ƒÊłá”’á”˜âżá”ˆ á”—á”’ ˹ᔉᔉ áŽŸá”‰á”ƒÊłËĄ ᔃ˹ ËąÊ°á”‰ ᔖⁱᶜᔏᔉᔈ ʰⁱᔐ ᔘᔖ‧ "᎔ á”âżá”’Ê· ʷʰᔃᔗ Êłá”‰á”ƒËĄ ᶠᔒᔒᔈ ⁱ˹‧‧‧" ᔆʰᔉ ˹ᔃⁱᔈ➎ á”—Ê°â±âżá”â±âżá” ᔃᔇᔒᔘᔗ ᔗʰᔉ ᶠᔒᔒᔈ á”‡á”˜Ëąâ±âżá”‰ËąËąâ€§ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż Ê°á”’Ê· á”‰á”›á”‰Êł ᔗʰᔒᔘᔍʰᔗ ËąÊ°á”‰ á”á”‰á”ƒâżá”— á”‰á”ƒá”—â±âżá” ʰⁱᔐ‧ "ʞᔒᔘ'Êłá”‰ Ëąá”’ ˹ᔐᔃ˥˥➎ Ëąá”’ ᎔ á”ˆá”’âż'á”— á”—Ê°â±âżá” ʞᔒᔘ'ËĄËĄ ᔇᔉ á”ƒá”‡ËĄá”‰ á”—á”’ ᔈᔒ ᔐᔘᶜʰ!" ᔆʰᔉ á”—Ê°Êłá”‰Ê· ʰⁱᔐ á”ˆá”’Ê·âż á”‡á”‰á”â±âżâżâ±âżá” á”—á”’ Ê·á”ƒËĄá” á”’á”›á”‰Êł á”—á”’ ʰⁱᔐ‧ ᎎᔉ á¶œÊłâ±á”‰á”ˆ ᔃ˹ ʰᔉ Êłá”ƒâż ᔇᔃᶜᔏ á”—á”’ ᔗʰᔉ Êłá”’á”’á” ʷⁱᔗʰ ᔗʰᔉ á”’á”—Ê°á”‰ÊłËąâžŽ ËĄá”’á¶œá”â±âżá” ᔗʰᔉ á”ˆá”’á”’Êł ᔃⁿᔈ á”á”‰á”—á”—â±âżá” Êłâ±á”ˆ ᔒᶠ ᔗʰᔉ ⁿᔒᔗᔉ ʰᔉ ˥ᔉᶠᔗ‧ ᎎᔉ Ê·Ê°â±á”á”–á”‰Êłá”‰á”ˆ ᔃ˹ ʰᔉ ᔍᔒᔗ ᔇᔃᶜᔏ ᔒⁿ ᔇᔉᔈ‧ á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ ʷᔒᔏᔉ ᔘᔖ á”—á”’ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż Ëąá”’á¶ á”—ËĄÊž á¶œÊłÊžâ±âżá” ᔃⁿᔈ á¶ Êłá”’á¶»á”‰âż ⁱⁿ á¶ á”‰á”ƒÊłâ€§ "áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âżâ€§â€§â€§" á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ Ëąá”ƒá”— ᔘᔖ ᔃ˹ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż ᔈⁱᔈⁿ'á”— Êłá”‰á”–ËĄÊžâ€§ á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰ ᔇᔒᔇ Êłá”‰á”ƒá¶œÊ°á”‰á”ˆ Ê°â±Ëą Ê°á”ƒâżá”ˆ ᔒᔘᔗ Ê·Ê°á”‰âż ʰᔉ á¶ ËĄâ±âżá¶œÊ°á”‰á”ˆ ʷⁱᔗʰ ᔃ á¶œÊłÊžâ€§ "á”†á”’ÊłÊłÊž ᎔ ÊČá”˜Ëąá”— Ê·á”ƒâżá”— á”—á”’ Ê°á”‰ËĄá”–âžŽ ᎔'ᔐ Ê°á”‰Êłá”‰ á¶ á”’Êł ʞᔒᔘ‧ áŽŹâżÊžá”—Ê°â±âżá” ᎔ á¶œá”ƒâż ᔈᔒ?" áŽŒâżËĄÊž Êłá”‰Ëąá”–á”’âżá”ˆâ±âżá” ʷⁱᔗʰ ᔃ Ê·Ê°â±á”á”–á”‰ÊłâžŽ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż ˹ᔗⁱ˥˥ ËąÊ°á”‰á”ˆ á”—á”‰á”ƒÊłËąâ€§ á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰ ᔇᔒᔇ'Ëą á”–Ê°á”’âżá”‰ Ëąá”—á”ƒÊłá”—á”‰á”ˆ á”—á”’ Êłâ±âżá”â€§ ᎎᔉ ᔖⁱᶜᔏᔉᔈ ⁱᔗ ᔘᔖ á”—á”’ ᶠⁱⁿᔈ áŽŸá”‰á”ƒÊłËĄ ᔒⁿ ᔗʰᔉ á”’á”—Ê°á”‰Êł á”‰âżá”ˆâ€§ "᎔ Ëąá”ƒÊ· áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż ᔃᔗ ᔗʰᔉ á”–ËĄá”ƒá¶œá”‰ ᎔'ᔐ Ëąá”—á”ƒÊžâ±âżá”âžŽ ᎔ á”ˆá”’âż'á”— á”âżá”’Ê· ⁱᶠ ʞᔒᔘ Ê·á”ƒâżâżá”ƒ ᔗᔉ˥˥ ᔐʞ ᔈᔃᔈ‧‧‧" "ʞᔒᔘ Ëąá”ƒÊ· ʰⁱᔐ?" "᎔ á”—á”’ËĄá”ˆ ʰⁱᔐ ᔒⁿ á”‡á”‰Ê°á”ƒËĄá¶  ᔒᶠ ᔐʞ ᔈᔃᔈ Ê°á”’Ê· ʰᔉ á”ˆá”’á”‰Ëąâż'á”— á”âżá”’Ê· ʷʰᔃᔗ ᔍᔒᔒᔈ ᶠᔒᔒᔈ ⁱ˹ ᔃⁿᔈ Ê°á”’Ê· ʰᔉ á¶œá”ƒâż'á”— ᔈᔒ á”ƒâżÊžá”—Ê°â±âżá” ᔃᔇᔒᔘᔗ‧‧‧" "᎔'ËĄËĄ ᔗᔃᔏᔉ á¶œá”ƒÊłá”‰ ᔒᶠ ⁱᔗ!" ᎎᔉ Ê°á”ƒâżá”Ëą ᔘᔖ ᔒⁿ áŽŸá”‰á”ƒÊłËĄâžŽ âżá”’Ê· á”âżá”’Ê·â±âżá” ᔗʰᔉ Êłá”‰á”ƒËąá”’âż á”‡á”‰Ê°â±âżá”ˆ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż'Ëą á”‡á”‰Ê°á”ƒá”›â±á”’á”˜Êłâ€§ "᎔ ᔍᔒᔗ ʞᔒᔘ; ʞᔒᔘ'Êłá”‰ Ëąá”ƒá¶ á”‰â€§â€§â€§" áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż ËĄá”’á”’á”á”‰á”ˆ ᔘᔖ ᔃᔗ á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡â€§ "áŽŸá”‰á”ƒÊłËĄ'Ëą ⁿᔒᔗ á”á”’âżâżá”ƒ á”‰âżá”ˆ ᔘᔖ Ê°á”ƒÊłá”â±âżá” ʞᔒᔘ➎ ᎔ á”–Êłá”’á”â±Ëąá”‰! áŽ±á”›á”‰ÊłÊžá”—Ê°â±âżá”'Ëą ᶠⁱⁿᔉ âżá”’Ê·âžŽ Ëąá”’ ÊČá”˜Ëąá”— á”‡Êłá”‰á”ƒá”—Ê°á”‰âžŽ ⁱⁿ ᔃⁿᔈ ᔒᔘᔗ‧‧‧" á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡ Ëąá”—Êłá”’á”á”‰á”ˆ Ê°â±Ëą á”ƒâżá”—á”‰âżâżá”ƒ Ê·Ê°â±ËĄËąá”— á¶œá”ƒËĄá”â±âżá” á”ˆá”’Ê·âżâ€§ "ᔂᔉ á¶œá”ƒâż ᔃ˥˥ ᔗᔃᔏᔉ ᔗʰᔉ ⁿᔉˣᔗ á”‡á”˜Ëą ʰᔒᔐᔉ‧‧‧" áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż á¶œËĄá”’Ëąá”‰á”ˆ Ê°â±Ëą ᔉʞᔉ‧ THE END
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whumpster-dumpster Ways To Carry Your Whumpeeℱ: - Cradled in Caretaker’s arms, head heavy against their shoulder (good for exhausted whumpees who shouldn’t be woken) - Over Caretaker’s shoulder, arms swinging limply with every movement (good for when they need to escape fast) - Under one of Caretaker’s arms like a piece of luggage (good for stubborn whumpees who need to accept tough love) - On Caretaker’s back, arms wrapped around their neck with as much strength as they can muster (good for Smol Whumpee and Tol Caretaker) - With one arm around Caretaker’s neck, leaning more and more heavily on them by the minute (good for dragging Caretaker down too in a collapse) Feel free to add on!
characters: *refuse to talk about their feelings* me: how about I b͞reak your legs and drvg one of you with vivid hallvcin4tions and strand you in the woods? will you talk about your feelings then?
twhumper 05/08/19 at 3:56pm Not gonna lie, I’m a total sucker for a usually prickly standoffish person becoming an absolute touch-starved sweetheart when exceptionally ill. I know it’s a cliche and a total trope, but I love it. Like they’re usually colder than the arctic, they won’t let their teammates/coworkers die/fail, but they don’t really talk to them in a casual context or interact beyond that. Any attempt to do so by someone else is just met with a brick wall of resistance. So when the caretaker finds them sicker than a dog, fever spiking, they’re expecting a worse version of that. Instead they get trembling hands grasping the hem of their shirt, a raspy barely there voice begging them to stay, and soft pleading whimpers when they try to detangle their limbs from the other. They get stuck caring for this poor much too warm being who just simply can no longer accept existence without the comfort of another person around. Bonus points if the sickee ends up babbling not realizing they are or not realizing who they’re telling. Especially if old injuries are mentioned. Extra bonus points if the whole time the sickee thinks they’re a person who’s no longer around. Maybe someone they were close to, but who’s no longer around. And then there’s fever nightmare potential and you literally just cannot go wrong with that to be honest. Crying out in their sleep, tears, the panicked rising and falling of their chest. The little tremors that course through them after they wake up. The shakes which turn into heaving sobs that sound much too big for them, the ones that steal their already weak breath away sending them straight into a coughing fit. The caretaker pulling them close to themselves, petting their hair, trying desperately to keep their voice even as they encouragingly whisper, ‘you’re okay now. You’re safe. Breathe.’ The sickee in the end tries to return to their normal routine, but the caretaker never treats them the same.
whumpberry-cookie Platonic love between Caretaker and Whumpee: Cuddling/sleeping next to eachother in very natural, not romantic way. Lying on the bed, watching the ceiling and having a deep talk about their dreams for the future. Or even little funny fights in their sleep like pulling the blanket. "Ey, take that foot out of my face, stinky!" "Oh? But it's where it's supposed to be. Don't like that?" "I'M TELLING ON YOU TO LEADER!!" Seeing the other in "borrowed" clothes and not even saying a word about it, because they switch clothes so often. (Giving the other a jumper cause they're cold/wet) Knowing eachother's facial expressions so well they can tell the other is upset/overwhealmed when no one else notices it. "Whumpee, what were you trying to say? I didn't catch that in the conversation" / "What about changing the topic now?" Both of them being sincerely surprised if someone asks them if they're together. "With Caretaker? Ah, haha, no! They're a big brother! Why? Do YOU wanna hit on them? You'll need to go through my vibe check first. Pray you pass it." Communication skills worked out, because they know eachother for so longg!! "Are you mad at me...?" "...I'm- really hecking frustrated, partly because I'm hungry and tıred. I need some space now and we'll figure it out later, okay?" Not pushing the other to confess their traumas from the past. Your secrets are yours to decide if you want to share them and when. I don't need to know everything. (W:) "...you don't seem surprised by what I said" (C:) "Yeah... I kinda figured it long ago. I just didn't want to bring it up until you're ready" ----------------------
are they really your comfort character if you don’t want to catch them after they get shot, bridal carry their injur3d b0dy into a h0spital while screaming for help, and then stroke their hair as they lie unconscious after surgery?
whumpwillow: characters being comforted when they don’t expect to be comforted. thinking they’re alone, that no one cares for them, that even though they may be “part of the team” now, they’ll never be fully accepted a whumpee in enemy territory, tortured for information, but given extra rations by one of the guards, along with a sad look that says ‘i wish i could do more’ a whumpee in a hostile environment, one who’s grown to have thick skin and iron fists, walls around themselves so high they might never come down. this whumpee hurt, beaten, broken, but found by someone who takes care of their wounds and isn’t driven off by the rancor of their words a former villain, shivering after a nightmare, not wanting to be alone with their thoughts but knowing the rest of the team still hates them for what they’ve done. Being so surprised when one of the heroes comes and sits with them on their bed until dawn, just so they feel safe whumpees getting comfort from the most unexpected places. whumpees thinking the people around them are enemies (and maybe they are) and yet someone shows them kindness anyway. whumpees wholly undone by the shock of it, breathless and grateful.
https://www.pixil.art/draw
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.
Go to Google and type Type site: into the search bar. Type in the website's address without the www prefix. Press space and enter your search terms. Using the Chrome browser, type the website you want to search into the address bar. When you see the "Press Tab to search", hit Tab â†č. Enter your search terms. For both methods, press ↔ Enter after you've entered your search terms. Your search results will appear. Type in your site's address without the "www" part. This should go immediately after the site: tag with no space in between. For example: to search Facebook, you would type site:facebook.com.
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𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾 𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾𝍾
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.
『❁↳┊Name àŒ˜.àżâ€™â™„ïžŽă€
Bikinigirlout ‱ 2y ago For me, it’s partially because the writers of my show sucked at actually giving my favorite characters good storylines so it feels like a fix it attempt at allowing both the characters to go through their traumas in different situations.
ambut ‱ 2y ago I am learning that I heavily gravitate towards hurt/comfort and whump in a way that's psychologically questionable, but honestly I think that for those of us who like comfort with our hurt, it's like balancing an equation -- more hurt now = more comfort later. The worse the pain, the more blissful the relief.
đŸ“â‹†ïœĄÂ°đ’đšđ§đ«đąđš đ‚đĄđšđ«đšđœđ­đžđ«đŹ đ’đ­đ«đšđ°đ›đžđ«đ«đČâ‹†ïœĄÂ°đŸ“
https://prostorybuilders.com/writing-characters-who-are-unconscious/
https://archiveofourown.org/works/41690487/chapters/105246894#workskin A Cry For Kelp DiscardMyHeart Fandom: SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon) Characters: Squidward Tentacles, Sheldon J. Plankton, Karen (SpongeBob)Sandy Cheeks, Eugene Krabs https://archiveofourown.org/works/41690487/chapters/104866263#workskin Language: English Stats: Published:2022 https://archiveofourown.org/works/41690487/chapters/105246894#workskin
𝐱 đ°đ«đšđ­đž 𝐚 𝐬𝐹𝐧𝐠 𝒊 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒊𝒏 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒊 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒊 𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒏𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅. 𝒔𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒚𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒊 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒊 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒓, 𝒊 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒊 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆 𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒗𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒚𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒊 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒏𝒐 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 a poeticseraphime original ♡
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