SCALDEN FAMILY: The Heart Behind the Stethoscope. 🤍🩺 via @MasterPoll2Bot
📝 Since monotony has overtaken us, could you kindly provide some Q&A, this or that, WTM, and SOD queries for @TheScalden family? This stillness is becoming unbearable. Your assistance would be greatly valued—many thanks, Scaldiest! 👤 anggota kalian ada yang…
Isi dapat dia 👆🏻
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┃ 🧑🏻⚕️🩺 Hearty felicitations from our family to yours on this remarkable and auspicious occasion! On this extraordinary day, we are honored to partake in your jubilation, and we fervently wish it brings forth a wealth of rapture, tranquility, and personal fulfillment, @Mysticats, @TeenBuds, @SheIsMathilde @TheAescendants! May your abode be suffused with affection, exuberance, and the fortitude nurtured by enduring bonds. Moreover, we extend our sincere hopes for continued affluence and unwavering health. May this celebration serve as a resonant reminder of the myriad blessings that adorn your journey, and may it usher in even greater accomplishments and realized ambitions. Here’s to innumerable days of celebration, serenity, and boundless joy as the future unfolds!
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ Yours Faithfully, ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨
ㅤ ㅤThe Doctors Familia, @TheScalden.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ Yours Faithfully, ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨
ㅤ ㅤThe Doctors Familia, @TheScalden.
❤3
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Forwarded from Family of Velthrone; The Conjurer's Ancestry.
Hi Velthis, it’s me! Velthrone’s Sarang and you know what? There’s something truly special about a morning walk with Geldart’s Jay & Ian, Vermillion’s Jeemin, Scalden’s Taesan, Wyrmharrow’s Ian, and Kheraeld’s Myungjae. It feels as if the world is giving us a little pause, a peaceful space where we can laugh and talk without rushing.
Every step filled with laughter reminds me that happiness doesn’t always need grand plans; sometimes it’s as simple as sitting by the roadside breathing in the morning air, or joking around about the little things we see along the way. Because even if the rest of the day will be busy, at least we once shared a morning that was slow, gentle, and filled with stories alongside those who bring joy to our hearts! x3
Every step filled with laughter reminds me that happiness doesn’t always need grand plans; sometimes it’s as simple as sitting by the roadside breathing in the morning air, or joking around about the little things we see along the way. Because even if the rest of the day will be busy, at least we once shared a morning that was slow, gentle, and filled with stories alongside those who bring joy to our hearts! x3
❤8🍓7💘7🔥5🕊2🏆2🐳1
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not every story needs words, sometimes a mirror, soft lights, and quiet smiles are enough to capture the moment.
💘4❤2🐳2🍓2🕊1
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( 🩸 ) like paper dolls left in the rain, colors fading into silence this space turns on quiet bargains & passing hands.
The season bends differently now—what better time to enter the play no curtain can contain? If not you, then who will hold the mask? The strings are tightening, the stage is waiting, and sorrow is already listening.
The chandeliers sway, violins weep without touch, and shadows bow in empty seats. Step nearer, wanderer—@HellowithenFamilia keeps the doors ajar. Cross the threshold, lend your heartbeat to the act, and become part of the sorrow that never ends.
Here, the performance hunts for new voices— 1999–2010 liners, no twins, no mirrored doubles—to inherit the script scrawled in ash. Seventeen or not, the theater accepts all who dare bow to the silence (TAKEN LIST).
The curtain rises, the strings tighten, and the sorrow waits in silence.
The season bends differently now—what better time to enter the play no curtain can contain? If not you, then who will hold the mask? The strings are tightening, the stage is waiting, and sorrow is already listening.
The chandeliers sway, violins weep without touch, and shadows bow in empty seats. Step nearer, wanderer—@HellowithenFamilia keeps the doors ajar. Cross the threshold, lend your heartbeat to the act, and become part of the sorrow that never ends.
Here, the performance hunts for new voices— 1999–2010 liners, no twins, no mirrored doubles—to inherit the script scrawled in ash. Seventeen or not, the theater accepts all who dare bow to the silence (TAKEN LIST).
What entered through the cracked proscenium was not actor nor guest, but sorrow itself *your muse + line and your id* painted in wax and wound in strings. This is The Exhibit of Sorrows, where grief performs endlessly, and applause never fades. (@helloowithenbot)
The curtain rises, the strings tighten, and the sorrow waits in silence.