HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RYO BAKURA ~!
Anonymously message me (3) things you want to know about me.
The story of Beth Thomas is a shocking one. Horribly abused by her biological father until 19 months of age, by the time social services came and rescued her, she had already been incredibly scarred and severely detached. Beth started developing disturbing behaviors, especially towards her adoptive parents and younger brother, Jonathan. Her mom Julie caught Beth masturbating several times a day until she made her own vagina bleed and had to be hospitalized. Beth poked pins into her brother and into her parents’ pets. As she got older, on a particularly violent occasion she smashed her brother’s head into the cement floor of their basement until he needed stitches to close a gash in his forehead. Beth’s intention was not merely to harm her brother but to kill him. She often voiced her desire to kill her entire family including her parents. Yet the most disturbing aspect of Beth’s behavior was her complete lack of remorse and concern for her actions. She was well aware that her actions were wrong and hurtful but this did not matter to her. Not long after these incidents her parents brought her to a therapist named Connell Watkins, who diagnosed Beth with a severe case of Reactive Attachment Disorder. HBO aired a documentary on Beth titled Child of Rage. After many years of therapy, Beth has grown up normal and is now a pediatric nurse.
Watch the full documentary.
I was on the subway. It was me alone and there were 3 people sitting across from me. It was perfectly fine, until I noticed that the women in the middle kept staring at me. She wouldn’t stop. Her eyes were wide open and she never stopped to look the other way.
Midway throughout my ride a man came on the train. He sat down next to me and whispered into my ear “If you know what’s good for you, you’d leave with me on the next stop.”
I did as told, and when we got off he told me “I’m a doctor. I could tell the women in the middle was dead. The two people next to her were propping her up.”
but just imagine a ghost that no one can see that catches an item thats flying towards someone right before it hits their face but no one can see the ghost so people start to thin k that person can make stuff float around and the ghoST IS SO ADORABLY AWKWARD IT JUST SORTA FOLLOWS THAT PERSON AROUND AND WHENEVER SOMEONE IS LIKE “duDE MAKE THAT PENCIL FLOAT” THE GHOST JUST SIGHS AND PICKS IT UP
WRITE A BOOK
I kinda ship the ghost and the person
So at an airport, the flight attendant notices a couple enter the plane with a baby. The couple seems a little bit off to her. During the flight she notices that the baby doesn’t cry or make any noises. The couple doesn’t feed the baby either.
When the plane lands, she lets the security know and they stop to investigate. What they found was that the baby was did. It’s was cut open and sewed back up again. The organs were all missing, replaced with drugs instead.
I was on a trip to an antique shop. I didn’t see much around except a flashlight. When I clicked it the flashlight it let out a swirl of colors like a kaleidoscope.
"How much for this ?"
"Oh I have no use for it, please take it but be careful with it."
I was feeling very happy because I got it for free. The shopkeeper gave me the instruction manual, which I shoved in my pocket not bothering to read.
When I got home, I relaxed and lay down in my couch. My house is an old, strange house. I’ve never felt comfortable in it at all. I always felt like something was there. I heard a loud thump coming from upstairs.
I ran up to investigate. But ofcourse nothing was there. I sighed and jumped on my bed. Maybe it was my imagination. I stared to play around with my flashlight. I turned it on and scanned my room. That was when my heart stopped.
At the foot of my bed was a tall, emaciated man staring at me with wide eyes. He was smiling and staring endlessly. I turned off the flashlight and he disappeared.
I turned it on again and he appeared. Suddenly I remembered the instruction manuel. It said.
THIS FLASHLIGHT LETS YOUR EYES SEE WHAT’S ALREADY THERE
by reddit user zenryhao
Timmy tried his hardest to blow out the fifteen flickering candles. He huffed and puffed…but to no avail. He glanced at his mother who had spent hours slaving away to bake the beautiful cake, and her expression made him feel unbearably guilty.
Timmy’s mother stared sadly at the unyielding flames that barely faltered in the face of Timmy’s feeble attempts to snuff them out. She blinked a few times and the first tears started falling down her face. Whispering “Happy Birthday, Timmy,” she summoned a gust of wind and the dancing lights dissipated into puffs of smoke.
Timmy didn’t understand why he couldn’t do that. It happened every year: his mother baked a perfect cake, he failed to blow out the candles, and she cried. The only thing that changed was the number of candles. Timmy went to go hug his mother…but to no avail. He merely drifted through her, and he didn’t understand that either.
"Look at all these presents Santa left last night," the little girl cried in excitement. "I hope I can work for him one day."
"Where’s your brother?", her mom asks. "He needs to open his presents too."
"He went with Santa last night," the daughter answered. "Santa said he only needs little boys.
OMFG THIS STORY SCARED ME SO BAD
When I was a child, sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night and find my mother sitting on the edge of my bed. I would begin to say something, but she would put her finger to her lips to shush me.
Every time I would start to cry and when she would hear my father coming down the hall, she would slip silently off the bed onto all fours and crawl back into the closet.
Shit he’s asking me a question.
“Nothing… really. “ And that was the truth of the matter, this was just Tomoko trying her hand at some social interaction to be meet her quota for the day. And if that person happened to be some white haired dude, then she would try her best.
"Uh-huh…" He blinked at her. By the look of almost sheer panic on her face, he had the feeling she wasn’t a very social person. So instead, he just offered her a small smile before turning his attention elsewhere. He hadn’t been looking at anything specific to begin with, so now he felt a little at a loss, knowing he had company. Was it rude to ignore her?
give me a character and i’ll give you a sample of how i’d rp them
The quiet tap of fingers on a keyboard bounced around the room. The room itself could be considered a hacker’s paradise, with screens, keyboards, phones, computers, and wires covering every surface possible. And he could always be found in the middle of it all, either on a chair or lounging on the floor.
But this time, he wasn’t just looking up information on where Usui could be found, oh no. Today was not just a usual business day. Today he was looking information on some of the best Rhyme gamers that had existed.
Nobody had posed much of a threat to him.
Forcing people into a match had become a habit to fill in time and for other reasons. In Rhyme, he could feel pain, and finally understand if only a small percentage of what people felt outside of a match. It was the thrill, the adrenaline that pumped through his system that caused him to do it again and again. It was almost addictive.
The German had gone through almost all the supposedly ‘undefeated’ gamers until he reached one name, blinking in confusion. How could he have passed this? It was almost…. They were the third name on the list. He was sure he’d gone through them all and never seen this before. Regardless, he clicked on the name, muttering under his breath.
There wasn’t much information he could get his hands on. Sly Blue was an undefeated Rhyme player that had retired from the game after only a few years for unknown reasons. The AllMate he’d used seemed to be an old model, one that the blond could easily beat with Usagimodoki. Noiz doubted there would be much of a fight.
Nevertheless, he opened up one of the cubes that hung from his trousers and hooked them up to a screen, quickly tapping into the mechanics. If he was about to force himself into a game, he wanted to make sure his AllMate was virus free and as healthy as possible.
“̞͎͚̟̪̮͎͡T̵̨̹͓̖̩̣̞̕h̛̖i̸͖̥͘͡ś͞҉̹ ͜҉̯̯̘̮̭̭t̞̼͘i̭̠̪͜͞͡m̢͖̖̮̣e͍͙̺͝͞,̮̮͇͚̹͓̮̝̕ ̭̙͇̝̫̤͍̗ị̖̠͔̕t͔̰ ̷͘҉͙ͅi̴̜̪̞̭̻s҉͈̻̟̕ ̸̜̺̭̺̙̙̥̖̀s̗̮u̷̯͍̩̫͇͇̕͢c͔͉͓̺̦̬͎͖͘ḩ͖̮͉̭͔͎̪̜͢ ҉̴̼̺͉a̝̭̳̜͍͠ń̪̟̦̹̺͟ ̨̖̤̞͎̼͚̻͠h̝͙̤͙̼̲̞̣ơ̶̬͙̜̟̞̪n͎̯͈͖̥͍͟o̵͍͓͇͖̮̲̥u̠̰̻̺r͘͢҉̝̺̦̭̺͚͙̰.͍̺̮͇̬̗͟͠”̗̤͓̮̭̟ͅ
give me a character and i’ll give you a sample of how i’d rp them
He wasn’t sure if this was a good idea. He wasn’t sure that was going to stop him. Pale fingers brushed over the wooden board, tracing the letters inked in black and mouthing each one hesitantly as he traced them. Ophie had found it earlier, pulling at books from his bookshelf as children do and when he had gone to stop his son he saw the box pulled out along with the books. He had stored it there so many years ago, almost forgotten he had it at all and now he was overly aware of it’s presence in his home again.
He set it up after putting Ophie to bed. Lit a few candles and turned out all the lights to add to the effect. He felt like a stupid teenager again, messing with the unknown and seeking the thrill of the occult. His hand stroked over the ouija board, biting his lower lip in a mixture of excitement and worry. This was probably a bad idea. There was a warning on the box after all. He should probably put it back and just go to bed. But he had everything set up already… No harm in trying it right? He had his experiences with spirits, he could take whatever the board threw at him right? He picked up the planchette and set it properly on the board, his hand resting on it without any force. What should he ask? Well, maybe just with the typical sort of questions to a start with.
"Are there any spirits here?" He asked the empty room, his gaze stuck on the heart shaped piece of wood under his hand. He waited a while but got no response or movement so he asked again. Silence was his only reply until very slowly he felt the planchette shift under his palm towards the ‘Yes’ on the board. Was he moving it? He didn’t think he was but maybe it was one of those sub concious things where a person’s body moved on it’s own. Either way he got his first answer. Taking a deep breath he exhaled slowly before speaking again.
"Are you friendly spirits?" A pause of quiet, the flames of the candles flickering slightly in the dark room. The planchette shifted again, nudging away from the ‘Yes’ and then back towards it again. His heat started beating faster, almost smiling in excitement, still not sure if it was him or something supernatural at work here. He moved closer, keeping his hand on the wooden piece at all times and licked his lips considering his next question .
"I… I have a question.. can you give me the answer?" The response was much quicker this time, the planchette moving up to the letters on the board.
He took a deep breath, holding it a moment as the candle flames flickered on their wicks. Strange considering there was no breeze in the room.
"There.. is a spirit. An evil spirit I need to get rid of. He’s attached to a pendant but no matter how many times I throw it away he keeps coming back. I… I need him gone. Please tell me how I can make him go away?"
He watched his hand, waiting in suspense as the seconds ticked by without movement on the board. His breathing had become shallow and almost hesitant, as though breathing would keep the spirits from answering him. Then the planchette began to move again.
Y.O.U. C.A.N. N.O.T.
He blinked at the answer, shaking his head and hoping he had just phrased the question badly.
"Please, there must be a way to make him leave me and my son alone, how can I get rid of him?"
The planchette moved.
Y.O.U C.A.N. N.O.T.
He was about to protest but the planchette continued moving before he could.
Y.O.U. W.I.L.L. N.E.V.E.R.
B.E. R.I.D. O.F. M.E.
Ryou’s eyes widened, pulling his arm back but unable to lift his hand from the planchette. Something was holding his palm down on it. Something was moving it and jerking his arm with it as the wooden piece scraped across the board.
I. W.I.L.L. A.L.W.A.Y.S
R.E.T.U.R.N. Y.O.U. C.A.N.
N.O.T. S.T.O.P. M.E.
W.E. W.I.L.L. B.E.
T.O.G.E.T.H.E.R. F.O.R.E.V.E.R. F.O.R.E.V.E.R.
He cried out as he finally ripped his hand free of whatever held him down, a burning sensation like claws scratched over the back of his hand remaining but no wound visible on the skin. Panting he stared at the wooden ouija, the planchette still and the board itself covered in deep scratches.
Tomorrow he’d show Ophie how to roast marshmallows over a small bonfire.
My character has been committed to an asylum. Send me ☤ for their reaction to yours visiting them.
The amber eyes stared at him mockingly from the corner of the room. He was almost perfectly certain it was his mind playing tricks on him. It had to be, because he had ended the thing — the demon — all those years ago, that he couldn’t be here now. He refused to believe it.
He stayed on his bed, curled up and hugging his knees to his chest. He refused to touch the floor, almost certain the shadows that breathed and lived in that corner would reach out and wrap around his ankles, dragging him into them only to torture him physically, making up for all those years where words and nightmares were their only weapons.
So many times he had been forced off the bed by nurses, yanking him by his arms or even his hair. He never went willingly, and many occasions he’d soiled the sheets out of the pure fear of getting off the bed to even use his bathroom.
He knew they laughed at him. He knew he was an inside joke to all of them, but he didn’t care. Nobody knew what it was like to live with the devil himself, so none of the would understand. None of them had even heard him speak. He would scream silently, mouth words but never utter a single sound.
And that was how his life was like, now. Just as it was before; quiet, alone, in fear. Wishing for it to end quickly and swiftly by some other means because he was too scared and didn’t want to commit suicide. He loved living, breathing, that satisfied feeling of having something in his stomach…
Those eyes glowed darker at night and taunted him, as if telling him the nightmare wasn’t over, but just beginning.