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I’m going to write these monthly journals for now. I know since the last time I wrote the little thing about my….. watcher, I don’t have a good name for her yet but I’ve felt better getting it off my chest. For the few people who choose to believe me, I know it sounded crazy regardless of who I told, some told me to change up things to see if I’m just imagining it. So I did. I’ll keep the changes short since it was just two things.

First one was the dogs, the BIG thing people told me to change. I put them in a different room, the white dog doesn’t appreciate that change but it was just going to be a week thing. I went as far as closing my door to make sure I don’t hear any outside noise coming from the roommate as well, typical things like distant TV noise. The other thing was shutting the fan off, reasons possibly you have already figured out. I… I want to be sure I know what I’m hearing from this thing, even if it’s supposed to be a lullaby to relax me to sleep.

On the first few nights after getting the advice I couldn’t sleep, I was afraid to fall asleep and hear something way different then what I was hoping to hear. On night one there was nothing going on, the thought of maybe it was all in my head circled around and at a moment I was almost convinced that’s what it was. Night two was easier, I got bored so I looked up scary stories to listen to on my tablet. My alternate way of thinking was if I heard anything I might get a better look at my watcher with the light.

Night three on the other hand made me feel uneasy. It was around one in the morning and the video had just ended. As I started to drift into a slumber I heard something very faint from the far corner of my room. A deep voice that just continued as I fell asleep so I made nothing of it, but when I woke up an hour later I heard the voice again, it was louder and without the white noise I heard it.

“Tick-tock….. Tick-tock.”

It was a man’s voice for sure and I stayed awake for as long as possible. Eventually it went silent and all I could hear was the house settling. By the morning I checked where I thought I heard the voice come from and saw only clutter of boxes and a chair block the path so I shrugged my shoulders and put my mind to rest. It wasn’t even the voice I was listening for and thought it off as just a mind game on myself. Though it did get me to think about getting a recorder or camera ready for the next night. What luck I had pay day in one more day. However I wish I had the money and camera sooner.

Going through with my new ritual I chose to change it up and watch something light hearted and hear the best of “Whose Line is it Anyway” on Youtube, thinking the deep voice was created through the scary stories I heard. Fair enough to think that right? I found a video that lasted over an hour and I was sure to try again falling asleep around the same time just to confirm a few things, most importantly to see if whatever talks to me as I fall asleep is a timed event. I didn’t even last that long, last thing I remember was one of the members of the cast dreading the ho down song and I passed out. By the time I woke up the room was pitch black, silent like a morgue, closing my eyes I shook my head and started to write off the voices as imaginary. Then I heard it in the far part of my room.

“Tick-tock….. Tick-tock.”

Unlike the first voice though I was curious, a curiosity that woke me further to wonder why is it making a ticking song like a clock, but I was starting to fear this new voice at the same time. To play it safe I started to pretend I was falling asleep, I kept my eyes closed and started heavy breathing like I was relaxed. In the time it took me to relax again a new sound of a footstep towards me squeaked, followed by the voice getting louder again.

“Tick-tock….Tick-tock”


The voice was very low, like a growl almost waiting to attack. I inhaled from my nose to try and stay calm, my mouth started to twitch and my head itched making it almost impossible for me to act asleep. Another breath to calm down caused my right leg twitched at the calf tossing the blanket up a few inches before slowly settling down on my body again. Another footstep was heard as the voice got louder.

“Tick-tock…. Tick-tock….”


It seemed like it took a big step for at that moment I started to hear heavy breathing, not from me from whatever the hell that thing was, slow but loud drawn out breaths through the mouth started to sink more fear into my psyche. My own breathing started to shake as it was closer, the fear made me sweat badly that my body got so hot. I shot my left arm out to cool off, the arm closet to the voice. It was a risk I was willing to make and for a brief second it worked as my breathing relaxed. A thought popped and I focused on that, it’s all in your head. The idea started to repeat trying to sooth me into a secure moment but it was dashed away as I felt this icy grip on my left arm.

“Tick-tock…Tick-tock…”


The idea was wiped away quick as I felt the cold grip of long bony fingers wrapped around my wrist. It was so cold that my arm went numb within a matter of seconds. In a weird twist of fate I hadn’t felt the left side of my body that cold since the accident last month. I could feel my arm get raised and examined as a finger drew its way from my wrist to my shoulder. With each brief moment it slide one finger over my veins it flicked at fork and continued, for what reason I don’t know. All I could do was hope it would go away.

“Tick-tock….Tick-…”


I felt the mattress shifted as the person crouched over my body, I felt pinned against it. The deep breaths were now venting on my face to the point where I felt a light misting rain down onto me. I swallowed some saliva as quietly as possible now on the verge of tears thinking this was it, this is how I leave this world and what it said made me want to do something drastic.

“You’re still here….. You still hear me…. You should be gone from this world…. Your time should have ended that night…”


His voice was inches away from my ear. With each word my chest shuttered and feeling of being trapped under him made me whimper silently, I felt like death was ready to take me away and I wasn’t ready to accept it, not like I was that night. My own body betrayed my acting as moans of sadness escaped my lips, my eyes, god I wish this didn’t happen, opened up to see a pair of artic blue eyes stare back into mine, the malic it had made my lips quiver and led me to cry quietly. It was all I could do. No words, no pleads, no hope could help me convince the eyes otherwise. The haunting color made me want to call out for someone or beg that this was a nightmare.

“Shhhhhhhh, it’s alright.”

Tears blurred my vision as the female voice chimed through the silent wails. I tried to look at her but couldn’t look away from his eyes, all I could do was clamp my own eyes shut. Slowly the breathing backed away and the footsteps were heard going away. No ticking sound from the person, just creaks back to his starting position. I opened my eyes so the tears could stream to my ears for a clearing my vision to see her hand reach down and press a warm finger over my lips.

“It’s alright young one, it’s not your time.”

Her soothing voice relaxed my body while her finger raised up and wiped away the tears. My voice squealed to make words but before I could say anything I blacked out. When morning came around I sat up in a panic and looked around my room, my eyes scanned to see if anything was different, if it was possible someone was waiting for me to lie down and attack. Nothing to signify anyone was in my room late last night.

I’m am now in a state of fear with whatever the hell that person was. But I’m convinced that I was destined to die that night I even went as far as to see if what had happened that night would repeat itself. Nothing came nor did I want to know if it did. I’m submitting this now before I go to see a psychiatrist and get my camera. If I do have any parting words, if this is the only other entrée I make let it be known that my watcher is more of a protector. I’m just wondering now how she drove him away.
The Idle Reaper
A continuation of the Watcher, I'm glad that it made people like it a lot that for a month I was thinking up of a sequel to continue. The title is a work in progress and I'm considering submitting it to the creepypasta sites. Thanks for reading

Side note this story is one of those not perfect and small changes are made. 
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I….. I don’t know how to explain this. It seems no matter what I do I feel as if I’m being watched late at night. These “dreams” have been going on for years. No matter where I’m at there’s this eerie feeling that something just watches over my sleeping body.

I’ve read the stories, these “creatures” that come out of the closet or under the bed. My story seems far different from that. I can tell you right off the bat that all the Boogeyman theories on how the monster hides is different for me. The bed frame I have broke and collapses in on me so I moved the mattress to the ground, as for the closet, well there is none. It’s just a big room, nothing for anything to hide behind or beneath.

It’s also worth mentioning I do have dogs with me so naturally it would be easy to say they wake up and stare at me or shuffle me around every now and then, and on occasion that does happen. My white dog sleeps next to me on the bed where my ex normally was to comfort me when I’m resting, while my black dog will either sleep next to the mattress or on a special carpet I’ve had since I was a teen. The two dogs don’t move around as much as you’d think though, especially the white dog who’s next to me for the most part.

Now that I got those out of the way let me tell you about what I see late at night. It’ll happen either before I fall asleep or when I just wake up. There’s this tall dark figure that just hovers above me, it seems almost harmless, it just watches me. Between the white noise of a fan I hear these whispers. I can barely make out what it says but it sounds like this:

“It’s alright young one, it’s not your time.”

The reason why I’m writing this down now instead of having a journal is because I finally was able to open my eyes to get a better glimpse in the moonlight. This thing, whatever it is, is almost in a ghostly robe. The face is under a hood but strings of hair poke out over the cloth. I think it’s feminine, at least at this moment I hope. The body was tall, no legs, it just glides over me.

Last night when I heard the murmuring, god I hope it isn’t saying what I think it is, I peeked with my left eye seeing this shadow. The moment I opened the right eye the shadow moved towards a darker part of my room. The fear kept my head from leaning up, instead I squinted my eyes, just to see if I could sneak a better look at this thing.

I waited for a long while and before I started to drift into a sleep the shadow hovered above me again and reached down with its pale hand. By the time I woke up it was morning and nothing happened.

Sounds like a figment of my imagination, and since I was in the car crash weeks ago, a rollover accident that I should have died from, I’ve seen this figure more and more. It’s like it wants to protect me from something else. My concern is if this thing is watching over me saying it’s not my time, what am I being protected from?
Shadow Watcher
SO let me clear something up, when you read the end (last paragraph) yes what happened there actually did happen. Turn disaster into art right? I hope you enjoyed folks send me your thoughts!
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People are no different from one another.
We choose our fates, it all ends the same.
How we live life is unpredictable.
But there is always a constant.


We wear the mask,
don't be ashamed.
I see that you wear one too.
We hide our true natures,
"protecting" each others feelings.


I feel different from you,
the mask doesn't control life.
I only mask my pain when you walk by,
the fear of regret is my only curse.


My mask is the face of comedy,
I make others smile while I cry.
This fate has become my death,
like the Pharaoh's of the past.


But unlike most it's rarely on,
the fate that is destined won't bind.
You see my smile for what it is,
no person can bring me down.


Fate hasn't chosen my mask,
I've grown quite fond of it.
So I put it on my head,
just realize when it's on.

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I cleared my throat, with the rage replaced with fear again. “Ok… We’ll start with your statement. How are you no murderer?”

The man leaned forward and bobbed his head up and down before answering. “I never kill. These pieces of art always off themselves.” I scribbled down a quick note, delusional? “By that I mean I just talk with them get them to see my side of the cold surface of this world.”

The pen continued to peck at the question mark “Uh huh.”

“Let me tell you what happened to Yin.” He stood up and walked over to her body and brushed the back of his hand across the skin. “She ran away from her ‘family’ here. She came across my little home and made herself comfortable.

“A week past and she started to regret leaving her home country. The carvings outside in the hallway were not anything of fright, I assure you. By the time I noticed there was another soul she started drinking a solution I used to keep Jessica’s skin intact. I fed her and kept my distance saying that she was going to die if she didn’t stop.” He closed his eyes and frowned. “Do you want to know what she said to me? ‘I would rather be shackled to my phone then accept help from a deranged man like yourself.’ I felt hurt.”

I wrote down what he said quickly and flipped the page for a blank new canvas. “Did you talk to her beforehand?”

“Of course, much like how we are now.” The maniac nodded. “I told her why I’m on this Earth. I showed her that this world isn’t right anymore, if she believed me or not is none of my concern. I get the feeling she committed suicide because she didn’t want to fall in line with the rest of the sheep.”

“How do you explain what you did to her body then?” I asked in a sharp tone.

“Ah, seriousness.” The man smiled. “If you must know she told me how she had an ingrown tumor on her brain. Doctors discovered it when they realized it was the radiation emitting from her cellphone. It wasn’t operable and she was asked to stop being around that. So in the end she took the quick way out. I told her not to, but when she saw what I see there wasn’t more of a passion to live.” He opened his eyes, the dark pupils looked apologetic. “Her final words were ‘I want the world to see how tragic this one thing could be.’ After that she went into shock and died moments later.”

I paused on my notes. “And you think that gave you the right to turn her into that?”

“I gave her what most people don’t. A last wish.” The man said as he twiddled his fingers again. He glanced away upset with me. “I showed that I’m humane and chose to honor her wish.”

My pad and pen dropped to the ground with a thud as I paced enraged. “What about her family? Don’t you think they would want to send her off properly rather then…. Then…” My pacing led up to Yin’s body. “THIS?!”

“I assure you Mr. Journalist my intentions were pure.” The man continued. “The same way how I was pure with Jessica.”

My mouth twitched into a scowl. “Don’t go changing the subject. Yin was a person who has a family concerned for her whereabouts.” I paused and thought about Jessica, I remembered how she was during the interview. “As for Jessica I know she was hard to be around, but that doesn’t give you the right to slaughter her!”

The maniac looked straight ahead to the empty chair. “I never touched her before she died either. A shame really.” He cupped his hands over his mouth. “Stubborn woman who decided not to listen to anyone. In the end she got what she deserved.”

“What are you talking about?” I snapped going back to the hole and seeing the corpse statue. “Her body is ripped open, you even said yourself that it was hard for you to get her body positioned the way it was. She doesn’t even resemble the woman I interviewed two months ago.”

“Like I said, it’s a shame.” He repeated. “She too was stricken with an illness, but nothing curable. You can’t cure greed, one of the seven deadly sins.”

“Oh so what you’re a poet now?”

“On the contrary Mr. Journalist. I merely speak from knowledge. I’ve seen it happen too much. New people latching on to the rich, the rich demanding to be richer.” He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “Do you know how frustrating it is for new blood to work to the bone and be rewarded by staying in a low tier class? How about the rich who do nothing for a living but order around others like slaves, something this country says we’ve abolished.

“You see Jessica was that kind of person, and yes you should agree with me that she wasn’t there when you talked to her. If you payed attention to her eyes you’d have noticed she wasn’t there. You weren’t her personal slave nor a paycheck so right away your interesting questions probably didn’t register.” His eyes shifted down to glance at me. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
My mind paced back to the interview again, small flashes of her brushing off everything I asked like it was nothing, one moment stuck out the most that I had to tell its tale. “Yea, she was throwing what I had to say to the side, but she marched up to one person, I remember him, short man, looked exhausted from working hard, his uniform was nicely pressed though even if his body was stained with sweat and bits of blood.”
“My friend you are an artist with words.” The maniac praised.

“I don’t remember his name even though Ms. Gennis roared his name several times. He obeyed like you’d expect but she was never happy and it looked like she was enjoying the torment. Her threats of firing him, dumping coffee all over his head, hell he begged her with a few paychecks to keep his job so he wouldn’t be a failure. In all the midst of it I saw how greedy she was, that’s how I came up with that phrase you liked so much. She was corrupt mentally.”

The man lowered his head, his face made a shocking revelation as he nodded. “So you saw what I saw. Greed. You started with your verbal art to create what you see out there, I just added in the lifelike being you see before you.”

My mind didn’t care for the article anymore as I stepped back to the chair. “What happened to her?”

The maniac started to shake his head. “Her greed got the best of her. I only came back with a newspaper to see if you made another masterpiece. She broke into the house and raced up to the attic. Before long I heard thumps above me and then a loud crash in the room next door. You must have noticed it, the hole where she crashed through.” He closed his eyes. “She broke her neck yet she didn’t die, she told me that if I brought her to the hospital that she’d reward me handsomely.

“I almost went through with it, when I started to carry her she demanded that I get my filthy hands off of her and go get help. She also treated me as a servant, going from pleads to demands, that I would have to bathe her first before she enters such a low class hospital before being transferred to a upper class clinic. She loathed everyone and everything. She left me no choice.

“Heh, on the last day I tried again to tend to her and take her to the hospital.” The man pointed to his neck. “She bit me as hard as she could and said filth shouldn’t carry the rich. So I dropped her to the ground and walked away. She couldn’t walk or move her arms for that matter. All she could do was talk. Her demands changed again into pleads and then after a day it was silent.”

I sat down and scratched the back of my head. “So after she died you chose to turn her into the statue?” My hands reached down for the pen and paper to write it down, they stopped as the man softly chuckled.
“That was Connor’s idea.” He said silently. “He came by shortly after Jessica went missing. Comical the one time she heard his voice he froze and stared at me.”

“Connor was with her?” I glanced up surprised.

“No, Connor was sent to find her by her boss.” The man said “Poor guy had been hunting for what seemed like years. When he heard her he was triggered to run to her, but he only took steps away from her voice.”
I looked down again and sighed. “So daddy was worried about his daughter after all, and here I thought he was inhumane.”

“That’s just it.” The maniac said. “Connor was threatened with his job if his daughter couldn’t be found. He told me all about his escapades of doing grunt work for the Gennis’. How they forced him to work on his families funerals. You call me a monster, sir what that family did to that man is cruel. Regardless Connor told me about his life, we both waited for Jessica to die. As much as I told him it was best to let her get medical attention he found power.

“For once in his life he wasn’t the doormat. He had a choice to make and he let death grasp his employer without second thought. After she died he kept telling me he did a horrible thing and wanted to be reprimanded for his actions. He begged me to kill him, he knew what the world was like and how he would be seen… It was tragic to see him grovel like that.” He stood up and trailed to the door. “That man you remember, the one whose you can’t remember, that was Connor.”


To be continued
The Artist: Artwork stories
A little continuation from the last moment. Please let me know what you think!
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“Mr. Journalist I mmmmm-MMMMMMust ask you a question.” The maniac said as he paced across the pale white room. “Did you notice anything… different? D-did you see the ch-ch-channnn-GES?!”

I stayed firmly in my seat, only to tilt my head to the left and glance around the room. It dawned on me, this abandoned house only had dead leaves from the fall composting around the edges. Before long my eyes darted back to the maniac, his body shambled around, arms flailing around his chest, his own eyes tweak around, possibly something to catch his attention.

I finally propped myself upright and shake my head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”

“YES YOU DO!!! Did you see theeeeemmmm?” The man turned away to maintain his excitement and his words. His neck jerked left and pointed to the body of the teenage girl. “Did you see my art work like her?”

“That’s not art, that’s murder.” I reassured. A cold chill shot down my spine as all the attention turned to the teenager’s body. It was horrible to see the cellphone explode like it did, but her organs were still intact. Glaring at the floor the only thing heard was my own breathing. “She was a person.”

“She is art now!” The maniac exclaimed. His voice, without a stutter, changed. “Do you know her name?”

“Yin Tsuna, transfer student, age 19, she was coming to America to go to a university.” I listed closing my eyes. “She went missing three weeks ago.”

“You’re wondering why I cut her head in half, showed her brain, still intact. Showing the sadness that has become her chains by the small rectangle, chains you call technology.” The man tone sounded serious.
“It… crossed my mind.” I weakly said, my head swiveled to find something different to focus on.

“Did you happen to come across Jessica?” He asked to change the subject.

“Wait… Jessica.” The name struck a chord in my memory.

“Yes, you did an article on her before she went missing.” The man said as he glanced out the open hole behind me. “You know the one, “Jessica Gennis: the truth behind her riches.” He tapped his lips with his finger. “Quite the article too, so rich that her insides should be made of money. Remember that quote? Ahh,” his knees quivered as he found pleasure reminiscing, “It spoke to me on so many levels.”

“What does this have to do with Mrs. Gennis?” I demanded. “Did you know about her disappearance?”

“Ah good sir she went for a walk. She just happened to come across my place and we had a... aaahhh, talk.” The maniac pointed out the hole. “There that statue there, do you see what’s left of her?” My head spun around and stared at the statue. “You walked by without a care. Angel of paper, I wanted to name it that, follow your poetry. It took a while to get the body positioned right, that and find a way to keep the ribcage in one piece. Damn ravens.”

My mouth slowly opened in horror. The red statue was once a human being. I tried to say anything but only weak squeaks of shock came out as the maniac nodded. He patted my shoulder as he took more of a confident stride to the other side of the room before taking his own little victory lap.

“Jessica Gennis, age 36, but she’d never admit it.” He chuckled as he started talking about her like he knew her more about her then anyone else. “Favorite color, not green. I know shocked me too, but she loved crimson red. Very religious, but would swindle away someone’s life savings if it made her richer than before. Whatever ants there were she’d stomp on them to have the better life, but you knew that already didn’t you Mr. Journalist?”

“She… went missing…. a month ago…” I choked out. “How, why what did you do?!”

“How about Connor?” the man asked as he sat down across from me. “Did you happen to see him?”

My eye darted back in shock. Another murder, another person missing. The maniac shrugged as he licked his lips over and over and only stopped when he ripped skin off his lower lip and nodded. His eyes were begging me to ask what he was talking about, my only response was a slow shake of my head. The man jumped out of his chair and walked behind it, as he knelt down he grabbed the back bars and glanced through the open space.

“You don’t know about Connor? Connor Malkonsin…” He stood up and shook his head in disappointment. “Mr. Journalist I would have thought better of you….” His voice got cold, his personality had completely changed. I felt uneasy as he continued. “Connor Malkonsin, age 29, middle class, hard worker, everyone’s punching bag.” He looked up as his right hand spun to keep his train of thought going. “Ahh, poor Connor, you were but a footnote for the successful and a doormat for the oblivious.” The man cackled and started to lean forward with a psychotic laugh. The fear I had before couldn’t compare to what the maniac brought to my attention.
“You were right Connor! HAHAHAHA!!” He continued. “EVEN AS A DOORMAT YOU WERE’T NOTICED! AAAAHAHAHAHA!!!!” His body arched back with the loud howl of laughter. “YOU- YOU STEPPED RIGHT ON HIM AS YOU ENTERED HERE!”

My body shuttered in disgust and caused me to start heaving as the laughs started to die down. “I stepped on him? Oh my god.” I coughed up small chunks of bile realizing the horror.

“Ok…. Now that I’m in control again I’ll answer your questions.” The maniac said calmly as he sat down again. “And before we start I want to make a statement. I’m no murderer.”

“BULLSHIT!” I yelled as I shot out of my chair. “YOU MURDERED THESE PEOPLE AND TURNED THEM INTO YOUR OWN TWISTED HALLOWEEN DECORATIONS!!”

The man sat peacefully with a smirk on his face. His eyes closed, he started to hum and twiddle his thumbs together. After a minute he opened his eyes and leaned his head forward, wanting me to sit down and calm down. His tongue snaked out to wet his lips again and stopped by biting another chunk of skin off of his lower lip until he bled. I sat down quietly and took out my notepad and pen.
I cleared my throat, with the rage replaced with fear again. “Ok… We’ll start with your statement. How are you no murderer?”


-To be continued-
The Artist
So this is my first take at the horrors that is my version of a creepypasta. I would like to give a taste and get feedback for the Artist. Thanks for reading
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Alright I've made a choice. Gokai Silver is my official choice for Sakura-Con 2015!
I am still going to work on my Pokemon Trainer outfit, which means I need to do some training myself for both roles, this excites me a lot, and will conflict my schedule, quite a bit I might add.

See this fall I'm attending my first classes of college life and in that meantime I'm also helping my mom out, and toss some work into that and call me a ghost cause you won't hear from me ( kinda like this entire summer already). I got already one prop, japanese morpher, and now I'm pondering if I should sign up for the cosplay chess match. This year I plan on going all out while studying japanese to make it the proper Gokaiger Japan created. Sorry America version you really made me hate Power Rangers with what you chose to do.

So look out guys I'm going to make another big splash at con. I hope to see all the friends I made over the years there again!
To the next con!

~Ben

P.S.
So I discovered Creepypastas last year and thought I might have a go at a Pokemon Creepypasta. So stay tuned when, and if, I figure to manage the time to post it up on here.

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Ben
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Big cosplayer, only convention attended for the past 4 years is Sakura-Con, looking to meet fellow cosplayers from there and feedback on my outfit. Rock on to Sakura-Con 2014!
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Saphiroko Featured By Owner May 31, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the fave on my Raven cosplay!
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thanks for the watch :)
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Not a problem
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Thank you for the favorite on my last minute perlers. :3
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thank you for the watch ^__^
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thank you for the :+fav: on attack on titan photo
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Thanks so much for faving!


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