Blue Wallpaper Ipad

..., and panels adapt to your wallpaper That last is best exemplified ... display, with shifting tones like blue, purple, and pink. I like ... into folders directly on the iPad without needing a Mac. The ... issues that have limited the iPad as a primary computer still ..., iPadOS 26 finally makes the iPad feel like the computer it ... a dedicated space for writing iPad handles more daily tasks as ...

Jual iPad Gen 11, 128gb, dark blue, aktivasi 1 oktober 2025 + apple pencil usb c + case + keyboard mills (sudah terpasang tempered glass), jarang banget dipake (lifetime kurang dari (30 charge cycle kayanya). box lengkap, apple pencil juga masih ada boxnya. jual 7jt nego tipis take all. barang super mulus. prefer COD Central Park mall jakarta barat. submitted by /u/WalterWisnu to r/jualbeliindonesia [link] [comments]

submitted by /u/GearlessJoooe to r/iphonewallpapers [link] [comments]

My daughter Cleo turned 12 not too long ago. She has lived in this house her entire life, and now we’re moving out. It’s not anything dramatic; we’re just moving into a bigger place. She’s growing up and deserves a better space, and Molly and I are in a position where we can afford it. But as we’re packing up our things and looking to the future, I want to acknowledge something that happened in this house when we first moved in. Cleo was closing in on her first birthday. Molly and I were working around the clock juggling a child, two full-time jobs, and a remote part-time job on the weekends. It was rough, but that’s to be expected. We had planned for this family, and we were ready to pay the price. Doesn’t mean we weren’t acknowledging the hardships. We’d just moved to this house on the northern edge of Tornado Alley. While it did get the occasional storm, the place itself was safe enough that the house had never needed any serious repairs. Not from the weather, at least. We got the place a little cheaper than expected. It was an 80’s style brick-and-mortar kind of building with a solid concrete storm cellar. One floor, separate garage. Solid outer walls; cheap interior. You can feel the heat from the kitchen while standing in the hallway, all the way through the paper-thin faux wooden wall panels. That first month, as we moved in, we ran into our first problem. The storm cellar was having some trouble with cracks in the northernmost wall. Nothing serious, but just enough for there to be a sort of bulge. We had a guy check it out, and he acknowledged that it needed to be reinforced if we wanted to utilize the space safely. Luckily, we caught it early. The neighborhood was great though. We lived at the end of the street near five other houses. Identical style, different colors. Ours was the green one. While fixing up our storm cellar, we had our first reminder of just how close to Tornado Alley we were. While those across the state line to the south were bunkering down for a possible tornado, we only had to prep for a nasty storm. Perfect start to the summer. On the day of the storm, we had a neighbor come by. Clyde. Salt-of-the-earth kinda guy, had lived there his entire life. Just a couple of years short of retirement, Clyde had the proportions of a walking meatball sporting a baseball cap. And yet, he always seemed to be out and about, mucking around in the garden and carrying things in and out of his garage. Clyde stopped by our place and handed me a walkie-talkie. “Everyone on the street has one,” he explained. “Just so we can stay in touch if things get bad.” “You guys thought of everything,” I smiled. “Stay prepared, you don’t gotta get prepared.” “Boy scouts?” “YouTube.” He winked, gave me a pat on the shoulder, and lumbered away. Now I had a fancy new walkie-talkie. Nothing expensive, and the channel was a preset, but it carried a bit of weight. Solid stuff. Molly called out when she noticed the first drops of water on the kitchen window. I was already downstairs, doing my best to prepare us for a long night ahead. There were three rooms; one of which we were later going to turn into a laundry room. That’d have to wait until we fixed the wall though. For now, I had to make sure Cleo would be comfortable, and that we had all the supplies we needed. I tested the walkie-talkie a couple of times and got a response not just from Clyde, but a couple of other neighbors too. An older woman jokingly telling us she’d come by with a casserole once the storm was over, and a grumpy middle-aged man that firmly reminded us that the channel was for emergency use only. Once everything was prepped I waited upstairs. Cleo was having the mid-day fussies. Molly was firmly fixated on the kitchen window, looking out. She had this cat-like feature, like she was seeing something I wasn’t. I half-expected her to tap at the window. “You alright there?” I asked. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “I just don’t like how it looks.” The dark clouds were closing in. We were at the birth of the storm, but that didn’t mean we’d have a walk in the park. Things could get bad, and we couldn’t take any chances. Not with Cleo. The wind picked up. I changed Cleo and got her things all packed up. I pulled Molly away from the window as we hurried out back. The storm cellar had this thick tilted metal door. We hurried downstairs, and I locked the door from the inside. Not that there was a reason to; it’s just what you do. Cleo settled down. I’d brought down an air mattress, and there was a cooler with a couple of drinks, baby food, and snacks to keep us going. We were gonna fix the place up later, but this would have to do for now. Cleo had a cozy little cot in the corner; a plastic thing that we usually brought when we traveled. Not that we had a lot of time for that kind of thing. I did a double-check on all the lights and our chargers. There was this large locker in the far-off room with the bulging wall. I presumed that locker held the fuse box. The thing was old as hell, and the warning stickers had long since faded, so I didn’t want to touch anything. Still, I figured it was good to know where to go if the power cut out. We didn’t get very good reception down there, but Molly had a couple of shows preloaded on her iPad so we could watch some reruns later in the night. The wind kept going. I could hear it cut along the corner of the house, rattling the gutters. The raindrops had gone from tapping on the door to passing us by, as the rain turned sideways. Staying down there was just a precaution, but by the way things were going, we had the right idea. It got pretty bad, pretty fast. People started talking over the walkie-talkie. Even the grumpy middle-aged guy. “Looks like the tree in the yard is going down,” someone said. “Fence is shaking something awful,” another one said. Clyde, on the other hand, just kept checking in with people. We had an hourly roll call, and when he noticed one of us weren’t responding, he decided to go do something about it. There was this older man living down the street that hadn’t picked up, and Clyde was getting worried. “Old guy lives on his own, surrounded by floppy disks and TV dinners. I’ll head over to check on him in a bit.” A couple of people protested, but Clyde wasn’t having it. Apparently, he used to be an army medic. Molly was sitting in the other room, rocking Cleo back and forth. She had this song about a blue sunflower that her parents taught her, and it always put Cleo to sleep. A couple of tunes from that lullaby was all it took. It was like a magic trick, or an off switch. I sat down next to them as the wind raged outside. Molly turned her attention to me. “Did they say anything?” she whispered. “About what?” “About what’s going on up there.” “It’s pretty rough,” I admitted. “Clyde is heading out to check on someone.” “Did something happen?” “Not sure. Maybe. They’re not responding.” Molly nodded, looking up, as if staring out an invisible window. “I dunno,” she whispered. “I got this bad feeling. Like today is special.” As if responding, the electronics locker in the other room made an uncomfortable noise. A stark reminder that this was just the beginning. The sun was setting, but the storm raged on. It wasn’t speeding up or slowing down, but there was this constant pressure on the side of our house. You could hear the way it was blowing, pulling at the roof tiles. Every now and then you’d hear something heavy fell over or scrape against the façade. Molly was taking a well-deserved nap with Cleo while I was sitting in the other room waiting by the walkie-talkie. I wasn’t exactly expecting anything, but someone had to stay prepared if something happened. So far, we were doing pretty good. There were a couple of alarming sounds coming from the locker, but I chalked that up as protests of an old house, or cheap wiring. As long as the light stayed on, I wasn’t touching it. Breaker boxes and I don’t get along. The others were chatting a little back and forth, checking in on each other and waiting for Clyde to return. When he finally did, I could tell something was wrong. He was winded. “Someone broke in,” he wheezed. “Front door’s busted, the whole place has been turned upside down.” “Holy shit, you sure?” The middle-aged grumpy guy quickly changed his tone. “There’s blood on the floor, but there’s no one there. I don’t know what’s going on. I called the police, but they can’t do anything until the storm passes.” The old woman chimed in. “Everyone make sure your doors and windows are locked tight!” As we reassured one another, I could hear one voice disappear into the background. I wasn’t sure about who they were, but I could tell I’d heard them a couple of times prior. They were a neighbor, but I couldn’t pinpoint their house. “Someone’s knocking,” they said, trying to speak over the buzz of voices. “Someone’s knocking on my door.” “Don’t open,” Clyde said. “You stay right where you are. Storm’s getting bad, I barely made it back. Ain’t no way no sane person is running around out there at this hour.” “You sure it’s someone knocking?” the older woman asked. “It’s not just a branch?” “I’m sure,” the man repeated. “They did the tap taptaptap-tap thing.“ “Just making sure you heard me,” Clyde repeated. “You don’t open that door.” “I hear you.” A storm can easily play tricks on you. If you listen long enough, you can start hearing things. It’s like watching static on a TV; after a while, you start imagining one side gaining strength, or conscious movement. The same goes for a storm. It can almost seem alive. Cleo woke up for a little while. I made sure she was fed and cared for, giving Molly some well-earned rest. Baby in hand, I wandered back and forth, listening. There were these little creaks and cracks everywhere. The bulge in the wall. The metal door. The roof tiles. Anything could be a knock, or hide a careful step. What had happened to the old man down the street? Had Clyde really walked in on the aftermath of a murder? Cleo wasn’t happy about being carried, so I turned to get her back to her mother. As I walked past the stairs leading up to the cellar door, I stopped. Looking up, I perked my ears. Was that a knock? Strange things were being talked about on the walkie-talkie. Someone else had heard a knock. The old woman wasn’t sure, she might have heard one too. And most recently; one of them stopped responding entirely. They tried to discuss the disappearance rationally, but Clyde wasn’t having it. “There ain’t nothing wrong with my walkies,” he stated. “If someone ain’t responding, something’s wrong. He’s been here all day, I can’t see why he’d go away now.” “Didn’t he say he heard a knock too?” the old woman added. “That don’t mean anything,” the middle-aged man sighed. “Be prepared.” “I’m calling the police again,” Clyde said. “Soon as the weather clears, I want cars lining the street.” I didn’t know what to think. It could be nothing. There could be a hundred reasons why you stop responding. The button could be broken, or the battery ran out. Maybe he fell asleep, or left it in the other room. But then again, why would he? It was a tense situation, and we all knew it. No one was taking this lightly. As I checked in on Molly, I noticed her mumbling in her sleep. Nothing big, but it was unusual for her. She was a heavy sleeper. As I backed away to give her some space, I noticed the pattern of what she was saying. She wasn’t just mumbling nonsense. She was talking. “Come in,” she mumbled. “Come in.” As the hours passed there were less voices on the walkie-talkie. A couple might have fallen asleep, but I got the feeling that there was something more to it. Clyde was having the same idea, but couldn’t bring himself to go back out. It’s one thing to be out in the storm, but another thing entirely to be out in the dark. “I’m telling you, there’s something out there,” Clyde said. “There were tears in the wallpaper. The kitchen door was pulled straight off the hinges. Someone went berserk in there.” I’d been quiet for some time. I didn’t want to wake Cleo, but she was out cold. “You sure it wasn’t the storm?” I asked. “Yeah, yeah,” Clyde responded. “A storm don’t break down the front door and leave the living room, you know.” I was about to respond when I heard something. I turned my head and took my thumb off the receiver. That was definitely a knock on the cellar door. Tap taptaptap-tap. I sat there, listening. After a couple of seconds, the knock came back. Twice, this time. Harder. Then I noticed something in the other room; Molly was getting up. She held Cleo tight and walked towards the stairs. She must have heard the knocking. There was no way she’d miss it. “Honey? What are you doing?” I asked. It took me a moment to realize she had her eyes closed. She was heading for the door, still mumbling to herself. “…come in.” I put my hand on her shoulder and saw the white in her eyes light up. She turned my way, blinking away the sleep. “What are you doing?” I asked again. “What?” She looked around, just as confused as I was. Once she realized she was on her feet, she turned back towards the mattress without a word. “Were you going upstairs?” I asked. “It felt like the right thing to do.” “What are you talking about?” “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I’m tired. Don’t listen to me.” The moment she sat down, the knock came back. Louder this time. Insistent. I walked up the stairs and made sure the door was locked. I could hear the wind outside, threatening to grab hold of the door and break it open. But there was another sound, too. Something just on the other side. I’m not sure if it was some kind of breathing, but it was something heavy. Something that didn’t have the same rhythm as the storm. Then again, I could just have been listening for too long. It’s like when you say a word too many times and it starts to sound like a noise. Going back down, I peeked in on Molly. She was out like a light. “Clyde, you there?” I said, whispering into the walkie-talkie. “Yeah, what’s up?” “There’s someone out there,” I said. “There was a knock.” “Who the hell is outside in this weather?” “I don’t know, but I don’t like it. I don’t know what to do.” “I’d come over, but it’s too risky.” “What do I do?” Clyde came up with a couple ideas. He suggested I make sure I knew where the flashlights were in case the power cut out. I wasn’t too worried about that, seeing as I had the locker with the electric stuff in the other room (presumably). He also suggested keeping a low profile, but only up until the point where someone is clearly trying to break in. If it was a burglar, making your presence known would probably scare them off. I didn’t tell him about Molly, and her unusual behavior. I didn’t know what to make of it, and just talking about it out loud would make me sound paranoid. Maybe storms make people behave strangely. They say crime goes up during full moons, who’s to say sleepwalking doesn’t go up during storms? “If it’s you they’re after, and not your things, be prepared,” Clyde said. “They’ll try to trick you. They’ll probably pull the power, or do something to grab your attention. Don’t fall for it.” “Grab my attention? Like what?” The moment I said it, a new noise cut through the wind; my car alarm. I asked Clyde if he could see it from his house. Turns out, he could. My car was in the driveway, flipped over. No other car on our street had flipped over. I could hear the wind scraping against the walkie-talkie as he called back to me. “It’s on the side!” he gasped. “Driver’s side!” The storm wasn’t strong enough to do that. But then again, neither was a person. “You see anyone? Anyone at all?” “It’s hard to tell. There’s just this big clothesline.” “Clothesline?” “Yeah, there are these gray metal poles sticking out, I think it’s-“ There was a short pause. We didn’t have a clothesline. That’s what our upcoming laundry room was for. Clyde’s voice came back. “Nevermind, must’ve been debris. It’s gone. I can’t see shit.” Over the next hour, things started getting weird. I heard glass shatter upstairs, and what sounded like someone climbing in through a window. There were footsteps, and the sound of furniture falling over. Someone slammed a door. Molly and Cleo slept through the whole thing. I wanted to wake her, just to make sure she was prepared, but something didn’t seem right. She wasn’t herself. None of this was normal. I was trying to hear Clyde, but I could barely make out what he was saying. I had to hold the walkie-talkie up to my ear as the noises grew louder. He was telling me to keep quiet, to listen, and to wait. If they were ransacking the house, they most probably wouldn’t be looking for me or my family. Hopefully, it was just some opportunist trying to make a quick buck. Then the power cut out. “Molly?” I whispered. She didn’t answer. I fumbled for my flashlight as I held down the button on the walkie-talkie. “Power outage,” I said. “Is it just me, or did you-“ “No, it’s just you,” Clyde interrupted. “You know where the breaker is?” “Yeah, it’s right here. I’m in the cellar.” There was a pause. I turned my flashlight to the big locker. “No it ain’t,” Clyde said. “It’s near the back door.” “You sure?” “Our houses are built the same. The breaker is by the back door.” I would have to go upstairs if I wanted to turn the power back on. That made sense. I’d mixed up the breaker box with some kind of storage locker. I’d imagined hearing all kinds of weird electrical noise coming from it, but that’s just the kind of tricks the storm plays on you. I figured I might check it anyway just to be sure. I placed my hand on the locker. As I did; another knock. Tap taptaptap-tap. An echo from the cellar door, right upstairs. The wind suddenly intensified as a gust rushed down the stairs. Hurrying out to see what was going on, I realized the cellar door was wide open. Sweeping the rooms with my flashlight, I couldn’t see Molly. I called out to her and Cleo, but there was no response. I checked every corner to make sure, but there was no doubt about it; she was gone. My mouth went dry as I ran up the stairs. Poking my head out into the storm, I noticed a small silhouette walking away in the distance. It was holding something. It had to be Molly. I called out to her again, but still, no response. I followed her into the storm, feeling the water rush through my shoes. The wind almost overwhelmed me, but I managed to keep my balance by leaning into it. There was no way she could hear me. I could barely hear my own breathing. I tried to hold on to that phantom image of Molly and Cleo, but they were getting further and further away. Now, I didn’t know the area that well, but I knew there was a wheat field straight ahead. There was also a storage shed. I couldn’t imagine what compelled her to head that way, but it was the only structure out there. In the moments where I lost sight of her, I headed for the shed. That would get me a glimpse of her again and again, making me think that’s where she’s headed. My feet were going numb from the cold, and my teeth kept chattering. I didn’t know if it was just the cold, or the stress. I couldn’t think straight. There was no world where my Molly would take our daughter into a raging storm. The walkie-talkie crackled and complained. I crossed a knee-high fence swaying in the wind, raindrops peltering the left side of my face, as I saw the shed further down a trail. And right next to it; Molly. I hurried up to the shed, dashing through the wheat, letting it soak straight through me. I got to the door, slammed it open, and hurried inside. Molly was right there, curled up on the floor right next to boxes of farming equipment and old iron tools. She was sleeping soundly, and Cleo was too. They were both soaked right through, but neither seemed bothered. I got down on my knees and wrapped them up in a hug, trying to whisper through my panting breaths. “What were you thinking?!” Molly didn’t wake up. She just adjusted herself, sound asleep, muttering. “Mothers know.” The door swung wide open; I must not have closed it enough. Something snagged on it and the wind grabbed hold. I looked back at Molly, but she didn’t seem bothered. Turning around, I could’ve sworn I heard something through the rush of the wind. The windows were shaking in their frames, and the wheat swayed back and forth, but there was something else. Something rhythmic. Footsteps? There was movement in the corner of my eye. Someone outside the window. I got up, grabbed a spade from one of the shelves, and readied myself. My blood ran cold as my teeth kept chattering. The adrenaline was getting to me. My fingers cramped around the handle of the spade. Another thump. Something was on top of the shed. I saw a hand. A big, gray, hand. It reached down from the roof, down the front of the shed. I could see it in the open door. The arm was impossibly long, and single-jointed. Thin, like a broom handle. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Slowly but surely, it grabbed a hold of the door and gently closed it with a firm click. Seconds later, it climbed down. As it did, I heard Molly stir. She mumbled again. “…thank you.” A noise in response. A knock. Tap taptaptap-tap. I sat next to Molly and Cleo for hours as the storm died down. We spent the entire night in that shed. It wasn’t a bad idea to take shelter there; this thing had been built to last. If something can survive 40 to 50 years of bad weather without toppling over, it has to be doing something right. Clyde’s voice came through somewhere around 4 am. The police were coming; they just had to clear the roads. Apparently, there’d been other people calling about disturbances. Home invasions. No one seemed to be hurt though, they were all counted for. The middle-aged grumpy guy and old lady included. When Molly finally woke up, she seemed just as confused as I was. As the wind died down, she looked up at me with half-closed eyes. “I had the strangest dream,” she yawned. “Where are we?” Going back to the house, I got a clear view of the damage. Something had torn through our back door and ransacked our house, just like Clyde described. Molly didn’t want to go inside, thinking it probably wasn’t safe for Cleo to be around a bunch of broken furniture and glass, so she decided to wait in the car. Turns out she hadn’t heard the part about it being flipped on the side. She settled on waiting at Clyde’s place for the time being. Meanwhile, I went into the storm cellar to check the extent of the damage, and to get Cleo’s things. But just a couple of steps down the stairs, I noticed something. Blood. Turning on my flashlight, I went downstairs, being careful not to touch the red trail. At the bottom of the stairs, it took a sharp turn to the right. It lead straight to the storage locker. The one I thought had been the breaker box. There was a dead man in it. When I say dead man, I don’t know for certain. The body was completely destroyed. A couple of limbs lay strewn across the floor, and most of the skin around the face had been peeled back like a ripe orange. And there, by what I guess had once been his feet, was a gun. A loaded handgun. I could barely see it for all the viscera. I ran out of there as fast as I could. When I saw the squad cars, I pointed and screamed. When I got to Molly, I held her close and stroked her hair; more so to calm myself than anything else. She was safe. Cleo was safe. That’s all I cared about. As I held her close and watched the flashing lights descend on our house, she whispered to me. “I dreamt there was someone coming to warn us,” she said. “Someone who lived with an old man, and was terribly, terribly, sad.” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to tell her what I’d seen. Not yet. There’d be plenty of time to look into it later, but for now, I just held her. The future could wait a little longer. In the days that followed, a lot of details emerged. The old man Clyde went to check on had been found shot. It seemed to be a failed home invasion. The perpetrator had fled, as if chased by something. He had hidden in our basement. He must have slipped in while I was going up and down, moving Cleo’s things. Bad timing, I suppose. He probably just saw an open door and rushed inside. He must’ve been desperate. He’d hidden in the storage locker, waiting for the night to pass. He’d been a couple of feet away all night, with a loaded weapon, ready to take me down if I so much as touched the handle on that locker. He probably would’ve done it, too. He had plenty of ammo to spare, and he was known to be a decent shot. But there was something else. Something I can’t quite explain. There had been something out in the storm. Something he was fleeing from. Something that had come to warn us, knocking on that door, trying to find a way to get to us. It had been looking for him all down the street, tearing through every house to find him. Even flipping a car, like he was checking under a carpet. Not to hurt us. Not to tear us apart, but to stop him. And for one reason or another, Molly heard that warning. I suppose, in some ways, mothers just know. The strangest detail is his death though. Despite all that gore, the man in our storm cellar didn’t die from having his arms torn off. He died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Now that Cleo has turned 12, we’ve decided to leave that house. The storm cellar looks very different today than it did all those years ago. The storage locker is gone, and the laundry room is all set up. The wall is fixed; haven’t had a problem with it for a long time. Whoever buys the place will have a very different first impression of it. Clyde is still around. Our old neighborhood is pretty close-knit, and I’m sad to leave them all behind, but sometimes you have to trust your gut. Even when it tells you to move. Or more importantly, when it tells you to walk into the storm. Cleo is almost a teenager now. It’s impossible that she would ever remember something from that night, but I still get the impression that it left something with her. Whenever she knocks on a door, she uses that same pattern. Tap taptaptap-tap. And sometimes, in her sleep, I hear her mumbling like her mother did that night. Just little things. “I’m okay.” “Sleep tight.” “See you tomorrow.” Looking back, there are so many things that scare me about that night. The thought of losing my family. An armed man waiting for an opportunity. A long gray arm, opening a door. …and what it did to a man it despised. submitted by /u/Saturdead to r/nosleep [link] [comments]

submitted by /u/GearlessJoooe to r/iphonewallpapers [link] [comments]

Hey folks, made another gradient wallpaper set for iPhone and iPad in red orange purple and blue. Cheers submitted by /u/GearlessJoooe to r/iphonewallpapers [link] [comments]

Hi everyone, I’m trying to confirm a display behavior I’m seeing on my iPad Pro M4 (tandem OLED). When the iPad is fully asleep (screen off) and I wake it via touch or power button, there is a very brief blue-tinted flash for a single frame right as the screen turns on. It happens every time, but only at cold wake from sleep. Important details: • It does not appear in apps or during normal use • It does not appear on photo lock screens (they still use a fade-in) • It is most visible on Live / Astronomy lock screens, especially Mars • It looks like a transient color initialization frame before the final color profile is applied I’ve tested: • Different iPadOS versions • True Tone / Night Shift on & off • Different wallpapers Behavior is identical regardless of settings. From what I can tell, this seems related to OLED initialization at wake, possibly a known “within spec” behavior on the M4 tandem OLED, but I wanted to check: 👉 Do other iPad Pro M4 owners see the same thing, especially on the Astronomy (Mars) lock screen? Thanks! submitted by /u/fakez0rn to r/ipad [link] [comments]