Bild: http://31.media.tumblr.com/f62cf42c9876f4ec347ad1d1503a9053/tumblr_n1vq4skoLN1s1vn29o1_500.gif

http://www.storiesforyourscreen.com/annie96-is-typing/
Det är inte en screamer, jag lovar. Det är en chatt mellan två tonåringar.

Tyckte den var rätt meh, faktiskt.

stigtomta Kille, 35 år

2 321 forumsinlägg

Skrivet:
10 april 2014 kl. 09:23

stigtomta Kille, 35 år

Citat från molidae:

http://www.storiesforyourscreen.com/annie96-is-typing/
Det är inte en screamer, jag lovar. Det är en chatt mellan två tonåringar.[/i]

Hoppas alltid på att det ska vara nått man tycker är creepy men det
är verkligen inte mödan värt att klicka igenom hela konversationen för det där slutet.

molidae Tjej, 30 år

1 200 forumsinlägg

Skrivet:
10 april 2014 kl. 17:04

molidae Tjej, 30 år

lol okej jag försökte i alla fall

Peppar Kille, 32 år

12 407 forumsinlägg

Skrivet:
10 april 2014 kl. 17:06

Peppar Kille, 32 år

BubblegumBitch Tjej, 28 år

1 981 forumsinlägg

Skrivet:
10 april 2014 kl. 23:34

BubblegumBitch Tjej, 28 år

Ah fuck, min farsa hittade en artikel med modern konst i "Beautiful Decay" som var så sjukt creepy och disturbing.
Hela artikeln: http://beautifuldecay.com/2014/04/04/disturbingly-erotic-paintings-capture-growing-innocence-lost/
Exempel:

BubblegumBitch Tjej, 28 år

1 981 forumsinlägg

Skrivet:
10 april 2014 kl. 23:37

BubblegumBitch Tjej, 28 år

Hittade sen denna på Daily Dot... Wtf?

Shulk 34 år

13 436 forumsinlägg

Skrivet:
11 april 2014 kl. 01:16

Shulk 34 år

Hade varit bra photoshoppat om
A: hon pratade mer samtidigt som hon drog av sig den
B: Håret var kvar på masken

Pansartax Kille, 32 år

12 548 forumsinlägg

Skrivet:
13 april 2014 kl. 13:20

Pansartax Kille, 32 år

John Bell was a farmer who lived on a modest two-story homestead in Adams, TN with his wife and children. One afternoon, walking the perimeter of his land with a varmint rifle, he spotted a creature in his cornfield, some hellish chimeric beast with the body of a dog, the head of a rabbit, and the face of a man. He fired several times, but it evaded him, and escaped into the woods.

From that point on the Bells knew no peace. Their dinners would be halted by incessant battering on the walls of their home. John and his eldest son would leave to investigate, and find nothing.

The children complained of nightmares, sounds in the floorboards, then at the foot of their beds. Then their covers would disappear in the night, and be found in the fields outside, or stuffed into cupboards or closets too high for them to reach.

Soon the whispers began.

The voice of a woman, calling out the family by name. Beckoning them to the cave, just behind the wood line of the forested corner of the Bell estate, but none dared go. Who would sing to the Bell children ghastly atonal renditions of hymns, mock and threaten the life of John, and singled out his daughter, Betsy Bell, for the most virulent of first verbal, then physical torment. Betsy would awaken with fingernail-like scratches on her body, as if she'd been clawed at in the night. Over time the whispers grew to accusatory shouts. Then, screams.

As the events continued, John Bell's physical health declined. The color drained from his face and hair, he took ill for months at a time, never fully recovering. He would complain of a weight on his chest, labored breathing, and always the whispering voice of the witch was with him.

It lasted three years.

In his final days he was bedridden, gripped by an unquenchable fever. Surrounded by his grieving family, he passed painfully from this world. And no sooner than his dying breath had left him, that the room erupted with the cold, sourceless laughter of the Bell Witch, who, after that day, was never heard again.