who is this diva

have you seen the tiktok

wait is this staged

omg i saw the tiktok about youuu

In an instant, the world turned upside down. The air, thick with the acrid scent of smoke and fear, trembled with the distant roar of engines. The ground beneath my feet seemed to quake in protest as the sky above shattered into a nightmare. Bombs fell like malevolent stars, their fiery descent painting the horizon in hues of destruction.
          
          Time fragmented into chaotic shards as screams melded with sirens, a cacophony of terror that pierced through the fabric of reality. Each explosion was a cruel punctuation mark in the symphony of chaos, ripping through homes and lives with merciless precision.
          
          In the midst of it all, I stood frozen, a witness to the unraveling of everything familiar. The world I knew crumbled with each detonation, leaving behind a landscape scarred by violence and loss. Fear clutched at my throat, choking back words that could not describe the horror unfolding before my eyes.
          
          And as the dust settled, a numbness settled over me—a survivor amidst ruins, haunted by the echoes of bombs that forever altered the course of existence.
          this is my story about the bombs in ukrain.

answer meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

In the serene calm of my kitchen, where the morning light gentthe countertops, tragedy struck in a way only the mune can. My fingers, wrapped around the handle of my beloved mug, traced familiar grooves worn smooth by countless mornings. Its warmth, a comforting embrace as reliable as the sunrise, cradled my hands like an old friend.
          
          But fate, in its capricious dance, chose this moment to intervene. A stray elbow, a fateful nudge, and suddenly it slipped from my grasp. Time slowed to a surreal crawl as the mug, adorned with delicate floral patterns that mirrored my morning tranquility, met the unforgiving linoleum floor with a resounding crash.
          
          The sound echoed through the stillness, a symphony of heartbreak in the silence. I watched in disbelief as the shards scattered, catching the sunlight in a dazzling display of broken promises. Tears welled unbidden as I knelt beside the wreckage, not just mourning a mere cup, but grieving the loss of a cherished ritual. Each fragment, once a part of my daily ritual, now lay scattered like the shattered fragments of my morning routine, irreparably broken.

your such an alpha

Here is a story i wrote for inspiration. 
          In a town Edgar, an known for predicting rain, lost his beloved pet goldfish, Sir Reginald III. Rumored to grant wishes, Sir Reginald III vanished one stormy night, triggering Edgar's desperate search through surreal alleys.
          
          Encountering odd characters like the riddle-speaking librarian and the physicist obsessed with parallel universes, Edgar's sanity wavered. His obsession grew, neglecting his job and isolating himself from friends. Eventually, he found an ancient well in a forgotten cemetery, where he wished for Sir Reginald III's return.
          
          To his dismay, the fish reappeared changed, shimmering with an eerie glow and ancient wisdom. Edgar realized too late that his wish bound him to something beyond comprehension. Haunted by visions and ostracized by townspeople, Edgar became a cautionary tale of the dangers in chasing desires.
          
          Alone and tormented, he wandered the misty town, a shadow of his former self, forever marked by the price of a wish gone awry.

im so petite too

can i help you take children