Weird Vibes Quotes

Vishous came up onto the dais, his eyes down. He accepted the silver glove from Z and slipped it over the black leather he already wore on his hand. Then he scored himself with a quick flash of the black blade and stared at the skull as his blood dripped down into the basin, joining the others'. "My flesh," he whispered. He seemed to hesitate before turning to Butch. Then he pivoted and their eyes met. As candlelight flickered over V's hard face and got caught in his diamond irises, Butch felt his breath get tight: At that moment, his roommate looked as powerful as a god...and maybe even as beautiful. Vishous stepped in close and slid his hand from Butch's shoulder to the back of his neck. "Your flesh," V breathed. Then he paused, as if asking for something. Without thinking, Butch titled his chin up, aware that he was offering himself, aware the he...oh, fuck. He stopped his thoughts, completely weirded out by the vibe that had sprung up from God only knew where. In slow motion Vishous's dark head dropped down and there was a silken brush as his goatee moved against Butch's throat. With delicious precision, V's fangs pressed against the vein that ran up from Butch's heart, then slowly, inexorably, punched through skin. Their chests merged. Butch closed his eyes and absorbed the feel of it all, the warmth of their bodies so close, the way V's hair felt soft on his jaw, the slide of a powerful male arm as it slipped around his waist. On their own accord, Butch's hands left the pegs and came to rest on V's hips, squeezing that hard flesh, bringing them together from head to foot. A tremor went through one of them. Or maybe...shit, it was more likely they both shuddered.

This place had a seriously weird vibe about it. It was kind of like one of those bad sexual harassment training videos, where the characters are all stereotypes of sleazy work mates, yet because the actors were totally hot, you ended it feeling strangely conflicted about the message.

You know that woman you mentioned who recently got the book deal—the one you describe as among your best friends? She knows you’re not truly happy for her. She knows it even if she’s convinced herself that she doesn’t know it; even if she’s tried to explain away whatever weird vibe you emitted when you pretended to be happy for her about her good news. She knows because you can’t fake love and generosity of spirit. It’s either there or it isn’t.

She knows you’re not truly happy for her. She knows it even if she’s convinced herself that she doesn’t know it; even if she’s tried to explain away whatever weird vibe you emitted when you pretended to be happy for her about her good news. She knows because you can’t fake love and generosity of spirit. It’s either there or it isn’t. The fact that when someone you profess to care deeply about shared with you something excellent that happened to her you had to fake your joy sucks way more than the fact that you haven’t yet gotten the five- or six-figure book deal you’re so convinced you deserve. And if you want to have a real, true, deep, authentic, satisfying, kickass, righteous life, I advise you to get that shit straightened out first.

They will call you quiet because you’re perfectly happy in silence. They will call you weak because you avoid conflict and drama. They will call you obsessed for being passionate about the things you love. They will call you rude for not engaging in social pleasantries. They will call you arrogant for having self-respect. They will call you boring for not being extrovert. They will call you wrong for having different beliefs. They will call you shy when you choose not to interact in small talk. They will call you weird because you choose not to conform to societal trends. They will call you fake for trying your best to remain positive. They will call you a loner because you’re comfortable being on your own. They will call you lost for not following the same route as others. They will call you a geek for being a knowledge-seeker. They will call you ugly for not looking like celebrities. They will call you dumb for not being an academic. They will call you crazy for thinking differently from others. They will call you cheap for knowing value for money. They will call you disloyal for distancing yourself from negative people.

Date: 27th of Feb, 2021 What is Love ? Is it something you feel, vibe or exhibit ? Or is it in caring, sharing or sacrifices L.O.V.E Love is in small details, everywhere around, the sun loves the sky amidst it colours, the sky loves the clouds inspite of its darkness, the darkness loves the light inspite of its own capabilities to lighten, Love is not something that can be talked or explained, but then what am i trying to do so?? Weird. Despite the running thoughts right now i have to share what i feel before that thought would never strike again (Ps: You are a constant thought that runs in my mind) For me what love really is ! For me, love is a gift, that feeling is magical, being in that feeling is lucky, Love is not something you fall for, how can u fall in love, when you feel embraced and butterflies, in your stomach you are actually lifted in love, you are actually strong when you love. You admire the person with all its possibilities to be with her and its goodness and makeup your mind about the righteous of the person and imagine and day dreaming of being with them. That's the first sip. Love is true, when you demand no change and when u accept her the way she is with all her negativity and positivity, with her moods and habits, accepting and going with her choices, supporting her beyond the support you expect from her, pushing yourself to make efforts to see her smile, taking her stand in public, respecting her thoughts despite having different opinions. love is not about being right every time about everything, its about making her feel right about things that are not, its about sacrificing your thoughts to hear hers, its about sacrificing your last bite to look her smile, its about starring into your partner eyes and talk without a word, holding hands until you go home, hold her mood until she's back, and being insecured about her safety until she's home This is the only feeling that makes me feel special, its the only feeling that helps me finds happiness in sacrificing too, That's the only feeling that lifts my mood by seeing her or motivating her when i m having a bad day, its tough though sometimes, love can make you think for possibilities and impossibilities that may never occur and give you a hard time, sometimes you push yourself and them away. But cannot really stay away, then why do we do that, Sharing of emotions will be the best part of the journey of love You don't shy accepting, being in love, coz not everybody is lucky to have it, You embrace it, You love being in Love ❤️ but then why do they not talk about love Its a complex simple feeling. 05:19 AM (the moon was still so pretty)

When expectations, theory, and reality diverge, that’s when the vibes get really weird. Economic theory is the perfect example of this. There is a gap between what textbooks say is going to happen and what companies actually end up doing. Economics is known as the dismal science, but it really should be known as the dismal art. Most stock valuation models are an educated guess about the future; most economic theory is measurable, but on the basis of loose facts. As the English author Hilary Mantel wrote in a 2017 Guardian piece on facts, history, and truth, “Evidence is always partial. Facts are not truth, though they are part of it—information is not knowledge. And history is not the past—it is the method we have evolved of organising our ignorance of the past. It’s the record of what’s left on the record.

What does this mean? Is Jason2 generally preparing in case I possibly return, or is he actually expecting me? “Did you sell me a gun?” I ask. “No, you didn’t have a FOID card. You said you needed to get cash. I don’t think you even had a driver’s license.” Now a prickling sensation trails down my spine. My knees go weak. She says, “And it wasn’t just two days ago. I got a weird vibe from you, so yesterday, I asked Gary, who also works the gun counter, if he’d ever seen you in here before. He had. Three other times in the last week. And now, here you are again.

It’s not fair. He’s got all the smarts, and that weird surfer vampire vibe, and a kinky ribbed cock. How’s a guy supposed to compete with a surfing, sun-kissed Edward Cullen?

Jihun’s blink was almost audible in the silence. “Okay, weird vibe. Strange script. Needs a rewrite.

If someone let you go, go. Love is a weird kind of wonderful. It is the reason for our stay here on earth. Love and life, with all their glory and all their thorns, proves to be a powerful teacher. Holding on when it’s time to move on, is not the way. If the road seems blocked, unblock yourself. Listen to yourself, breathe and get in sync with the wisdom of your soul. If the way remains blocked, find a different way. That way is not your way.

New Hampshire was so often overlooked, overshadowed by the lush rolling hills and earnestly cool vibe of Vermont to its left and the breathtaking beauty of Maine on the right. It was the middle child of New England states; kind of weird, occasionally out of step, often forgotten. And yes, they did not require motorcyclists to wear helmets because of the whole live-free-or-die ethos, which was deeply rooted in every nook and cranny of the place. But to me it was magical; New Hampshire had an old soul. It was simple and complex, stoic and serene, and I felt utterly like myself when I was here.

Her mother bought her a burgundy pair of VANS summer shoes in Italy, and they took a picture of her laughing happily while holding them in her hand in an exaggerated scene, as if they had been teasing him to take a picture of her for her boyfriend in a park somewhere in Italy. Shortly after, she started wearing them in Barcelona and cut off the tiny VANS logo with a scissor. When I asked her why, she tried to avoid answering at first until she said something like she didn't like it, or that they looked better without the tiny black VANS logos. It was suspicious that someone must have told her the urban legend in Barcelona soon after her Italian vacation, that VANS stands for „Vans Are Nazi Shoes.” It became more and more obvious in Barcelona that my life was in danger, as an awful vibe surrounded us due to the construction. It was mostly caused by rich tourists who I had never seen do much work in life, too high to take on a task as simple as changing a password on a bank account on an iPhone app – a crime organisation, quite international already and increasingly so, with a growing number of participants and secrets becoming more and more dangerous, I thought, and I wasn’t wrong, I just couldn’t see the whole picture yet as I was blindfolded. As if her nickname, Stupid Bunny which she had printed out at Ample Store with Adam, was a cute, nice thing, a reassurance after the day before she had been crying for some unknown reason and printing out the phrase, “You never loved me, you just broke my heart.” That couldn't have been further from the truth. She would fidget around and draw at home, and I didn't realise she was bored of being with me when she had so many other options in her mind because of what others had fed her, as if I was a monogamist who wouldn’t forgive her for cheating or making a mistake. Even if I had seen her, when she showed up at home she seemed in love with herself, watching herself in the mirror in her new tight, short shorts. It was weird. I had noticed something strange in Martina for a while now and I couldn’t put my finger on it. I thought it was only the drugs she was secretly doing behind my back, but I was far away from having all the answers.

He’s rich. His wife’s a supermodel. They could go anywhere. Hell, they could probably buy their own private island. Yet they always chose here, the backwoods of Vermont, where it’s quiet and he’s less likely to be disturbed. Then there’s the fact that I always got a weird vibe from him. He seems so . . .

-I don't look weird. Shit. Do I look weird? I'm dressed in my practice gear...which basically means I look like the Michelin Man. Fuck my life. She looks like a little winter fairy. I look like the damn Michelin Man. Being a goalie is killing my vibe. Oh, well. At least I'm a goddamn artist in a net. -You look like you're constipated.

people stuck halfway between the five- and six-sensory worlds have the urge to share their intuitive insights, but they hesitate because they often don’t know how to explain their experiences. They might say, “I had a weird feeling,” “Something bizarre happened,” or “I have this odd sensation.” They use negative terms that water down their vibes or even give them an ominous spin. I give them an A for effort; however, if you want to comfortably use your vibes, you’ll have to do better than that. Your intuition is gold, so it should be gathered with appreciation, then described positively and shared enthusiastically rather than with negative qualifiers. For example, try saying, “I just had a terrific inspiration,” “I just had an incredible feeling that . . . ,” or “My inner genius tells me . . . ,” and see what response you get back from others and from your spirit. In my experience, the more I positively express my intuition, the more it rewards me with even more wisdom, so I get a double bonus.

Put a positive spin when sharing your intuitive feelings, such as saying, “I have a great idea” instead of “This feels weird.” If you think of vibes as “pearls of wisdom” instead of “strange feelings,” then it’s easier to share those pearls with grace, humor, and style.

But, Lindsey analyses the emotional traumas last year as a sort of cleansing. “If Stevie and I, and John and Chris had remained as couples, the stability of the band would not have been very good. It was like that was a necessary thing to go through to eliminate all those weird vibes. And, we respect each other a lot more now.

I don’t know what to think,” he interrupted. “What happened in the forest, when I yelled at that guy…I thought I’d hit him without realizing it. I was mad enough, seeing him pointing that gun at you. But when it happened again on the helicopter, with the pilot, I knew I’d done something. I just didn’t know what.” After a few more steps, I opened my mouth, but again he got there first. “I think…I think Sam might be onto something. Everything she says is true. Even about the pilot. I had a bad feeling, when we got on the helicopter, but only a slight one, and with everything that happened, I figured I was just stressing out. I don’t believe the parts about demons and all that, but I can see maybe having some power to sense bad vibes in people. I mean, it’s not like she’s saying I’m a vampire or a werewolf. That would be crazy. This is just a little weird.” Not, it wasn’t like she’d said he was a werewolf. It wasn’t like she’d said he could change into an animal. That would be crazy. I shut my mouth and carried on in silence.

I don’t believe the parts about demons and all that, but I can see maybe having some power to sense bad vibes in people. I mean, it’s not like she’s saying I’m a vampire or a werewolf. That would be crazy. This is just a little weird.” Not, it wasn’t like she’d said he was a werewolf. It wasn’t like she’d said he could change into an animal. That would be crazy. I shut my mouth and carried on in silence.

I was just there visiting—nothing weird. I don’t get weird vibes in haunted places, never have. Was picking up (resident name omitted by request) for the first day of our carpool and her roommate walked by without a word my way. Said something to her later because I thought it was rude. I wouldn’t room with him, I told her.
 She looked at me like I was nuts. Wouldn’t you know she didn’t have a roommate?

ruby and topaz and pink against the dark green backdrops. Manta came over to greet them, smiling and tipping her wings down to avoid the string of hanging lanterns. “You look lovely, Indigo,” she said without batting an eyelash at the borrowed pearls. “And you, as always, are the picture of majestic splendor,” she added to Pearl. There was always a weird vibe between Pearl and Manta, which Fathom couldn’t entirely figure out. Indigo said it was because the only way Pearl could become queen was if Manta first challenged Lagoon and won, and then Pearl would have to challenge her own mother. Fathom wasn’t quite sure that was right — because Lagoon had a daughter, Splash, who had no dragonets of her own. If she became queen, couldn’t Pearl challenge her? Indigo said no, because Pearl was technically Splash’s first cousin once removed, not her niece, and then Fathom had to yell “LA LA LA” and stick his claws in his ears because complicated family trees and succession laws were not only boring and impossible, but frankly irrelevant to his life anyway. “Is there coconut rice tonight?” he asked his mother. “And tuna rolls? And that mango-lime drink from last time?

there was an eighteen-year-old young man attending the youth group who gave off a distinctly predatory vibe. However, even after some of the girls expressed their fear of this young man to the youth leader and gave their reasons for why they found him dangerous, the youth leader simply chastised the girls for being judgmental. Instead of being concerned about safety, the leader told the girls to prioritize the boy’s opinion of Jesus. The girls were told to “accept” him even though he was “weird.” (The girls had no problem with “weird.” It was “dangerous” they were concerned with.)

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There exists a culture shared even by those who are dissatisfied with mass culture, and it is among the most dangerous precisely because it is dazzling—deceptive. It is a culture that belongs to those who are "dissatisfied with the world as it is." This manifests in the following ways: They still carry a certain belief and hope in humanity. If they suffer, they might dream that their suffering will one day “be heard by everyone.” Through their works, they may fantasize about becoming popular. They might romanticize the psychiatric term "trauma." They might aim to "fix and recover" things or people. They might set their minds on leaving a "meaningful impact" and become activists. They might frequently “discuss” on philosophy forums. They might be aiming at “dark vibes.” They might cling to mottos like “forever alone.” They might refer to themselves as "just a random book lover.” They might have interests in “just some random weird stuff.” They might still be screaming into the void. They might try to “prove their depth” publicly. They might refer to themselves as "lost souls" to the point of weariness, even internalizing this very term—coined by the system to reduce by classifying them—implying a form of domesticated rebellion. And so on. These supposed outsiders are actually on the inside, worshipping at the altar of visibility, validation, and vague worldly hope. Their beliefs—“art-as-cure,” “literature-as-refuge,” “activism-as-purpose”—are not radical to the point of exile but packaged and predictable. They don't reject the system; they only ask to be understood within its boundaries. They weep, but with an eye to applause. They write, but always with a publisher in mind. They compose, but just to make money. They mourn, but only to be noticed. They claim detachment, but still speak as if begging to be liked and heard. They imagine themselves as “wild,” but only within the categories that subcultures and language allow. After all, there are two ends to the ruins: on one end, these kinds of “loners” who are still tied to conventional wisdom; and on the other, the utterly unknown, mystic, cosmic, and free spirits who have transcended everything human.

A while back, I jumped into a global property deal, saying folks like me could cash in on hot foreign housing scenes. Real estate - sure, everyone knows it prints money, a big-time industry worldwide. It looked solid at first - they showed me online walkthroughs of places I partly owned, got me pumped. Still, there was this weird vibe nagging me, hard to explain, just wouldn’t quit bugging me inside. I ignored it though, brushed it off, kept going anyway. One thing I’d say now? Listen to that inner voice - every single time. I kept picturing the steady cash coming in, which blurred how clearly I saw things. At first, they paid me consistent returns, making it feel legit. Over time, though, I poured more money into it. Before long, I tried pulling out bigger amounts - but then the payouts just vanished. The reasons they gave shifted every week, and not long after, they began asking for added charges to fix the withdrawal issues. Still, I’d spent every dollar - put everything I owned into it, thinking it’d be okay. When things went south, I panicked, then remembered a name: {DIGITAL LIGHT SOLUTION}. Found them through some random post while scrolling late at night. Honestly? Didn’t believe they’d help, but they jumped on it fast, scanning stuff I didn't even know existed. Right away, knew these folks weren’t messing around. Used hidden clues online, tracked down where the cash got moved, then fought to pull it all back into my hands. I'm happy the hard work brought results - my full investment was back in just 72 hours thanks to the team handling my issue. I reached {DIGITAL LIGHT SOLUTION} through T e l e g r a m -- d i g i t a l l i g h t s o l u t i o n And E m a i l.d i g i t a l l i g h t s o l u t i o n (@) q u a l i t y s e r v i c e.c o m