wait this is so good

Stop what you're doing and look at this drawing that I made

Okay continue your day

My girl dinner with a mint Luna Bar. OREO BROWNIEE, Watermelon Starburst, and a SmartWater

girl dinner 🥰

TRUE

Esther coleman

Orphan

Happy spooky season ♡👻🎃

esther's outfits killed it in this movie (literally)

Dark but good

OK SO

I'm writing a story/book thing idk guys. I finished the first chapter and I wanted to have someone read it over and help me make it better if that's okay??? like specifically looking for criticism please and thank you

Monday, June 15, 1942

It was not supposed to be like this. We were supposed to have eternity together. Tato said we would have forever. That they would never find us. Tato promised me. Tato lied to me.

And I watched in horror as my wonderful father, my Tato, was shot three times in the chest. Three bullets. That is three too many. The soldier grabs my Matka's beautiful hair and pulls her to her knees on the hard pavement. A crowd has gathered to watch. They think we're animals. They find it entertaining. Funny, even. Matka screams and cries, but no one cares. The soldier raises his gun to her temple and fires. Just like that, so easily. In a split second, less than the time it would have taken me to blink, I'm an orphan.

Janek looks over at me. He is not crying. I am not going to cry in front of all these people. I will not cry in front of this Nazi. I will not cry. I will not cry.

I can't breathe. Everything is spinning around me. I can't breathe. Something is lodged in my chest. This time it is not the cold, callous metal of a bullet. It's a burning heat so intense that it blisters my lungs and I can't breathe. It's Zosia. My best friend. I see her in the crowd. Her cold blue eyes stare back at me. She is not crying. I will not cry. She looks away. I refuse. I stare at her until she's forced to look back. And it's evident in her eyes. I know what she's done. She's betrayed me. She's left me to die for what? A salute? A 'prize' of maybe 50 groszy, a reichsmark? A "congratulations, you rattted out the only Jewish family left in Różanka"? I feel as though it's been hours since Matka's limp body hit the ground, spilling her blood onto the sidewalks. Onto the hands of everyone staring, doing nothing.

The soldier grabs my shoulder, jerking me around to face him. I look into his eyes, and behind them, I don't see a human. I see a monster, staring back at me. I puff my chest out and spit at his feet. The crowd hollers and jeers. The soldier is not as amused. He yanks my wrist forward, and I cry out at the pain traveling up my arm, across my shoulder. I stumble towards his pristine military vehicle, not yet caked with the dirt and grime and blood of fallen soldiers like the ones that rolled past my window long ago. I feel like it's been long ago. Two summers. Almost three years. That seems like centuries. I've been stuck in the attic, jammed in between the walls. The walls in the Kaczmarek's house have empty spaces in them, like someone was meant to hide there. So we did. Tato, Matka, Janek, me, Katia. We hid in the walls because we couldn't go back to our house. Everyone knows we used to live there. Everyone knows we're Jewish. Everyone knows we live at the Kaczmarek's, in the walls, so quietly that guests could never tell which wall we were in. No one told on us when the Nazis came round, going door to door and asking people if there were Jews in the area. „Nie.” they'd say. „Nein. Everyone knows there are no Jews in Różanka.”

But there were. They were Jews in Różanka. The Rosenbergs were rich. Pan Rosenberg could afford cyanide. They lived peacefully and they died peacefully. The Shulmans were not so lucky. Pan Chlebek hated Pan Shulman because he was having an affair with Pani Chlebek. He was petty and jealous and he hated the Shulmans. He did a terrible thing that night. He didn't think about it. He didn't sleep on it. He went down to the Gestapo and told them where the Shulmans lived. I will never see the Shulmans again. No one will ever see the Shulmans again. Pan Chlebek killed himself a week later. Matka said that guilt does that to people. It lives in your vein, and every time your heart beats, you feel it flowing through your body. It kills you slowly. Maybe she's right. Or maybe Pan Czajkowski is just a fucking coward. I don't know. I never know.

The solider shoves me into the back of the truck and I hit the floor underneath, my hand breaking my fall. Katia falls in after me, whimpering and crying, snot running down her little face. I bring myself closer to her, dragging myself across the cold metal and wrapping my arms around her. She is too young to know this much suffering and pain. I stroke her hair and hum quietly. Her chest heaves with sobs as she howls in pain. Janek drops to his knees in front of us. He reaches out an unsteady hand and I take it. I see the door slam shut, hear the engine start up, feel us begin to move. And I realise that it is just us. Just us in the back of this truck. Just us all alone in this world. The three Czajka siblings, all alone again. Janek. Anastazja. Katia. The truck rattles down the barely paved road. I almost let myself wonder where we'll go. If the Shulmans will be there. I almost let myself fall into that black abyss of wondering and never knowing. I hold onto Katia's small frame and Janek's gentle hand and let everything else melt away. The soldier screams something in German, but I don't speak German, and it fades into the background, like a bird chirping. A robin, maybe. Or a bluejay. No, no. A lapwing. A beautiful lapwing, looking down at me from the top of the apple tree on the hill. It takes me a moment to notice we've stopped moving. There's a loud slam, and the peaceful bubble I'd put myself in popped, bringing me back into the harsh light of the cruelties of this life. The door to the truck has been opened, the soldier standing behind it.

There are people moving all around. Jews with yellow stars pinned to their shirts. A baby cries, and a little boy thrashes around in the dirt, and a woman stands still in the throng, screaming up to G-d. An officer tells her to 'shut the fuck up' in heavily accented Polish. She turns around and screams the prayer into his face. I remain frozen in my seat as I watch him grab her by her jaw and pull it downwards. She screeches in pain as her jaw disconnects from the rest of her face. I cover Katia's deep green eyes with my hand as the soldier grabs Janek by the collar of his shirt and pulls him out of the vehicle. He motions for us to climb out, so I gently pick Katia up and climb out gingerly, swaying on my feet. I look up to the sky and see a giant sign hanging above us. There is only one word written on it, and though I have never heard it before, I shiver and clutch Katia for dear life. Janek grabs my hand and squeezes. „Sobibór”.

Wow I guess

OK SO

I'm writing a story/book thing idk guys. I finished the first chapter and I wanted to have someone read it over and help me make it better if that's okay??? like specifically looking for criticism please and thank you

Monday, June 15, 1942

It was not supposed to be like this. We were supposed to have eternity together. Tato said we would have forever. That they would never find us. Tato promised me. Tato lied to me.

And I watched in horror as my wonderful father, my Tato, was shot three times in the chest. Three bullets. That is three too many. The soldier grabs my Matka's beautiful hair and pulls her to her knees on the hard pavement. A crowd has gathered to watch. They think we're animals. They find it entertaining. Funny, even. Matka screams and cries, but no one cares. The soldier raises his gun to her temple and fires. Just like that, so easily. In a split second, less than the time it would have taken me to blink, I'm an orphan.

Janek looks over at me. He is not crying. I am not going to cry in front of all these people. I will not cry in front of this Nazi. I will not cry. I will not cry.

I can't breathe. Everything is spinning around me. I can't breathe. Something is lodged in my chest. This time it is not the cold, callous metal of a bullet. It's a burning heat so intense that it blisters my lungs and I can't breathe. It's Zosia. My best friend. I see her in the crowd. Her cold blue eyes stare back at me. She is not crying. I will not cry. She looks away. I refuse. I stare at her until she's forced to look back. And it's evident in her eyes. I know what she's done. She's betrayed me. She's left me to die for what? A salute? A 'prize' of maybe 50 groszy, a reichsmark? A "congratulations, you rattted out the only Jewish family left in Różanka"? I feel as though it's been hours since Matka's limp body hit the ground, spilling her blood onto the sidewalks. Onto the hands of everyone staring, doing nothing.

The soldier grabs my shoulder, jerking me around to face him. I look into his eyes, and behind them, I don't see a human. I see a monster, staring back at me. I puff my chest out and spit at his feet. The crowd hollers and jeers. The soldier is not as amused. He yanks my wrist forward, and I cry out at the pain traveling up my arm, across my shoulder. I stumble towards his pristine military vehicle, not yet caked with the dirt and grime and blood of fallen soldiers like the ones that rolled past my window long ago. I feel like it's been long ago. Two summers. Almost three years. That seems like centuries. I've been stuck in the attic, jammed in between the walls. The walls in the Kaczmarek's house have empty spaces in them, like someone was meant to hide there. So we did. Tato, Matka, Janek, me, Katia. We hid in the walls because we couldn't go back to our house. Everyone knows we used to live there. Everyone knows we're Jewish. Everyone knows we live at the Kaczmarek's, in the walls, so quietly that guests could never tell which wall we were in. No one told on us when the Nazis came round, going door to door and asking people if there were Jews in the area. „Nie.” they'd say. „Nein. Everyone knows there are no Jews in Różanka.”

But there were. They were Jews in Różanka. The Rosenbergs were rich. Pan Rosenberg could afford cyanide. They lived peacefully and they died peacefully. The Shulmans were not so lucky. Pan Chlebek hated Pan Shulman because he was having an affair with Pani Chlebek. He was petty and jealous and he hated the Shulmans. He did a terrible thing that night. He didn't think about it. He didn't sleep on it. He went down to the Gestapo and told them where the Shulmans lived. I will never see the Shulmans again. No one will ever see the Shulmans again. Pan Chlebek killed himself a week later. Matka said that guilt does that to people. It lives in your vein, and every time your heart beats, you feel it flowing through your body. It kills you slowly. Maybe she's right. Or maybe Pan Czajkowski is just a fucking coward. I don't know. I never know.

The solider shoves me into the back of the truck and I hit the floor underneath, my hand breaking my fall. Katia falls in after me, whimpering and crying, snot running down her little face. I bring myself closer to her, dragging myself across the cold metal and wrapping my arms around her. She is too young to know this much suffering and pain. I stroke her hair and hum quietly. Her chest heaves with sobs as she howls in pain. Janek drops to his knees in front of us. He reaches out an unsteady hand and I take it. I see the door slam shut, hear the engine start up, feel us begin to move. And I realise that it is just us. Just us in the back of this truck. Just us all alone in this world. The three Czajka siblings, all alone again. Janek. Anastazja. Katia. The truck rattles down the barely paved road. I almost let myself wonder where we'll go. If the Shulmans will be there. I almost let myself fall into that black abyss of wondering and never knowing. I hold onto Katia's small frame and Janek's gentle hand and let everything else melt away. The soldier screams something in German, but I don't speak German, and it fades into the background, like a bird chirping. A robin, maybe. Or a bluejay. No, no. A lapwing. A beautiful lapwing, looking down at me from the top of the apple tree on the hill. It takes me a moment to notice we've stopped moving. There's a loud slam, and the peaceful bubble I'd put myself in popped, bringing me back into the harsh light of the cruelties of this life. The door to the truck has been opened, the soldier standing behind it.

There are people moving all around. Jews with yellow stars pinned to their shirts. A baby cries, and a little boy thrashes around in the dirt, and a woman stands still in the throng, screaming up to G-d. An officer tells her to 'shut the fuck up' in heavily accented Polish. She turns around and screams the prayer into his face. I remain frozen in my seat as I watch him grab her by her jaw and pull it downwards. She screeches in pain as her jaw disconnects from the rest of her face. I cover Katia's deep green eyes with my hand as the soldier grabs Janek by the collar of his shirt and pulls him out of the vehicle. He motions for us to climb out, so I gently pick Katia up and climb out gingerly, swaying on my feet. I look up to the sky and see a giant sign hanging above us. There is only one word written on it, and though I have never heard it before, I shiver and clutch Katia for dear life. Janek grabs my hand and squeezes. „Sobibór”.

Bro. That's a sick necklace

i'm remaking my norice bracelets because they kind of sucked but i did make this sick necklace

I know I'm late, but it say Canada

Time for another round of Hetalia Idol.

This time we have another love ballad with Canada, Austria and Italy singing Céline Dion's "It's All Coming Back To Me" each of them putting their own spin on it. Listen to all 3 before you make a decision. (Backing vocals removed so you can hear their voices clearly)

Hetalia But it's also Encanto

I got a BUNCH of requests for this song and some sort of variations. This is the one time I will do it. Normally a song with this many over lapping vocals would be impossible but the individual voice clips of the characters singing are on youtube and and it just left me to sync up and piece them together like a puzzle. Now if this specific song had not had its vocals clips leaked onto YouTube I wouldn't have been able to do this at all. That being said this is fully the Hetalia cast there is not other singing (Other than the back ground chorus). As always all voices featured are made by me.

Here is the Cast List: Maribel- America Dolores- Canada Pepa- Spain Felix- Germany Camilo- Romano Isabella- Italy Luisa- Russia Abuela- China Towns person 1- Denmark Towns Person 2- Finland Towns Person 3- Iceland

making fun of americans is pretty much always ok if youre not doing it in an edgelord “you guys have so many school shootings” way or acting like we’re the only country that has racism. but like posts about americans and hamburger get me every time

This is beautiful in such a weird way

Who designed this?

Found on "You Should've Hired an Architect" FB page.

OMG!! I love you too! This makes me so happy you don't even know. I love my fans! Thank you for the support, I appreciate it!!!

lots of love to @idontknowhowthisappworks Charli is so amazing i love her so much and she gets so much hate :)))))) stay beautiful queen

♥♡∞:｡.｡ 　Positivity for @idontknowhowthisappworks ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Thanks sis ❤️

Reductress kinda went off with this one not gonna lie

Who would you be in a fantasy society

im just here for a good time but i feel so attacked rn

✨️hetalia sketch page ✨️

Ancient Greece, Romano, baby Belgium, and baby Iceland

redraw of that one doodle