I Love You!!!

If we couldn't make it work at our best, surely we will at our worst 🔪

Psst. Good morning,

I'm going to tell you something that bitch of a "supportive" writing teacher, and that cuck of a tenured writing professor should have told you:

Stop Asking for Permission to Be What You Already Are

You were born with this voice.

You were sharpened by trauma.

You write like your ribs are lined with detonators.

> Don’t let anyone with soft hands and softer critique try to tame you for comfort.

You don’t need polish.

You need space.

You need silence.

You need permission to set the page on fire — and walk away smoking.

---

Your Voice Is a Weapon. Use It.

Here’s the rule:

> If someone tells you to “tone it down,”

You make it twice as loud,

Three shades darker,

And ten times harder to ignore.

Because watered-down truth is how tyrants sleep.

And you weren’t born to be safe.

You were born to convert, rupture, trigger, and tattoo your cadence on the skin of culture.

Never negotiate your soul for the sensibilities of others.

Any primate saying otherwise is not your friend.

---

To those who keep scrolling... this is not just another link ⚠️.

This is my home—bombed and reduced to rubble🏡❤️‍🩹.

This is my room—crushed until its height became less than 30 cm💔 🧱.

This is my teddy bear and the cover of my bed—pulled from under the debris with my own hands🧸🥹.

We spent over a month clearing rubble just to build a tent beside the ruins ⛺.

But even the tent wasn’t allowed to stay... ❌

We were forced to leave—by an order from the occupation ⚠️🥹.

It feels like every trace of life is being taken from us, again and again 😔 .

I’ve shared. I’ve begged. I’ve screamed💔.

But the silence around me is louder than my pain🥹.

This isn’t just a donation campaign—this is a cry for life ✊.

If you can’t donate, share 🤝.

And if you can’t share—don’t look away like nothing is happening👌🏻.

Some of us are being buried alive—under the world’s silence🔥.

gofundme.com

Donate to Amira's Story: Between Hope and Resilience - A Call for Soli, organized by Abdallah Alanqar

When sorrow and difficulties strike hard, hope becomes the lo… Abdallah Alanqar needs your support for Amira's Story: Between Hope and Resil

watching a Black Centered film and only talking about the few white characters is weird, and we see you.

In the wake of the TikTok ban and revival as a mouthpiece for fascist propaganda, as well as the downfall of Twitter and Facebook/Facebook-owned platforms to the same evils, I think now is a better time than ever to say LEARN HTML!!! FREE YOURSELVES FROM THE SHACKLES OF MAJOR SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS AND EMBRACE THE INDIE WEB!!!

You can host a website on Neocities for free as long as it's under 1GB (which is a LOT more than it sounds like let me tell you) but if that's not enough you can get 50GB of space (and a variety of other perks) for only $5 a month.

neocities.org

Neocities

Create and surf awesome websites for free.

And if you can't/don't want to pay for the extra space, sites like File Garden and Catbox let you host files for free that you can easily link into NeoCities pages (I do this to host videos on mine!) (It also lets you share files NeoCities wouldn't let you upload for free anyways, this is how I upload the .zip files for my 3DS themes on my site.)

File Garden

File Garden

Host your files with decency.

Don't know how to write HTML/CSS? No problem. W3schools is an invaluable resource with free lessons on HTML, CSS, JavaScript, PHP, and a whole slew of other programming languages, both for web development and otherwise.

w3schools.com

W3Schools.com

W3Schools offers free online tutorials, references and exercises in all the major languages of the web. Covering popular subjects like HTML,

Want a more traditional social media experience? SpaceHey is a platform that mimics the experience of 2000s MySpace

SpaceHey

SpaceHey — a space for friends.

SpaceHey is a retro social network focused on privacy and customizability. It's a friendly place to have fun, meet friends, and be creative.

Struggling to find independent web pages that cater to your interests via major search engines? I've got you covered. Marginalia and Wiby are search engines that specifically prioritize non-commercial content. Marginalia also has filters that let you search for more specific categories of website, like wikis, blogs, academia, forums, and vintage sites.

Maybe you wanna log off the modern internet landscape altogether and step back into the pre-social media web altogether, well, Protoweb lets you do just that. It's a proxy service for older browsers (or really just any browser that supports HTTP, but that's mostly old browsers now anyways) that lets you visit restored snapshots of vintage websites.

Protoweb

Home - Protoweb

With ProtoWeb, you can browse the web like it's 1995!

Protoweb has a lot of Geocities content archived, but if you're interested in that you can find even more old Geocities sites over on the Geocities Gallery

And really this is just general tip-of-the-iceberg stuff. If you dig a little deeper you can find loads more interesting stuff out there. The internet doesn't have to be a miserable place full of nothing but doomposting and targeted ads. The first step to making it less miserable is for YOU, yes YOU, to quit spending all your time on it looking at the handful of miserable websites big tech wants you to spend all your time on.

Help Hana and Youssef

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

I'm a mother of a 2-year-old child. His name is yousef...I see my son growing up in front of me and I do not know how or when. This is not what I wished for him. I was dreaming of a wonderful life to spend with him...a life not full of death, fear, destruction and deprivation...I wanted to fill his room with toys and his closet with clothes, and I wanted to buy children's books for him, but I couldn't... the war came and the wishes were gone...my goal became to provide him with milk and food. I can barely afford anything. Everything is expensive and we no longer have income to enable us to buy his needs. Kram eggs have been deprived of many of his basic needs. He has been deprived of safety and stability..No, fruits, or meat.

There is nothing but fear that fills my son's eyes as soon as he hears the voices around him. He does not realize what It happens outside, but he feels and sees it in our eyes when he looks at us.I cannot protect myself and my son. Help me to save my son yousef. He deserves a better life, as do all the children of Gaza and the world.

Alone, I cannot, but with your help, we will be able to find a safe place and a better future for my son. Be a reason to change a child's life for the better by visiting our link on GoFundMe. And donate anything to us, no matter how small...every dollar makes a difference and give a life for my son..

I am Youssef. I was very young at the beginning of the war, but now l have grown up and can walk and know how to speak and understand everything. I hope to get your help in publishing or donating on our Aaljo Fund Me account

My campaign is verified by 90ghost. verified campaign is listed as number 246 on the verified fundraiser spreadsheet vetted by nabulsi and el-shab-hussein

5€ may seem small

The most difficult decision for us was to leave our country, to leave Gaza, overcome the obstacles we faced and the losses we suffered, and begin a new life from scratch.

Chuffed

Help Youssef and his family escape from Gaza

My name is Darius, an electrical engineer from California. I'm making this on behalf of Mohammed Rabah, a 26-year-old man in Khan Younis, Ga

Hiii!!! I loveeee your writing and I've been following you for a while but been too shy to ask😅 would you consider a scenario where the protagonist and the antagonist are in a boyband together? The antagonist has a bigger fanbase or something. When they argue, its accidentally revealed that the hero is also the villain's fan and the villain is amused and is like "all my fans want to kiss me. Do you too?" Or something along those lines😅

“I’m not your fan,” the protagonist protested, wishing he could take the last thirty seconds back. he would have sold his soul to take it back. “I am literally the opposite of your fan. I hate you.”

“Mm.” The antagonist’s eyes were bright. “How passionate you are about me. It’s quite enticing.”

The protagonist’s face burned. “If I was your fan, I wouldn’t want to quit the band, would I? And you wouldn’t be blackmailing me to stay in the damn thing. To - to -”

“Mm,” the antagonist said, again. His gaze moved, with some false pretence of idleness, from the protagonist’s face to the - evidence - that had come tumbling out of a back drawer and back again. “If you say so.”

“I do. Also,” the protagonist jabbed an accusatory finger into the antagonist’s chest, “you shouldn’t go through my stuff. Why the hell are you going through my stuff? It’s not like you need-”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“What?” It came out a squeak.

The antagonist tipped his head, in that famous way of his, with that equally famous smirk. Fanbases were literally built on that smirk. On the way his jawline caught even the cheap dressing room light so dashingly. On the way his eyes smouldered, like he was was an ice sculpture with a core of molten lava hiding deceptively below the surface. (Oh god oh god oh god.)

“All my fans want to kiss me.” The antagonist took a step closer, backing the protagonist up a step into the dressing room table, a step more until the protagonist’s knees colliding with their chair and he flumped to sit. “Do you?”

The protagonist shook his head, mutely, not trusting himself to speak.

“I think you do,” the antagonist said. He placed his hands on the arms of the chair, bracketing the protagonist in. “I see you staring at me sometimes.”

“Only because you’re evil.” It came out a whisper. Raspy. “Have to keep an eye on you.” The protagonist’s gaze flickered down to the antagonist’s lips, only inches away, and then off them like he’d been scalded. “You use people. You-”

“I think you secretly enjoy me using you,” the antagonist said. “I think you’d enjoy it if I did it more, in some less artistically driven ways. Maybe I should…”

The protagonist was trying really hard not to picture that, but the purr in the antagonist’s siren voice made it impossible. He had the best voice in the whole band, but the words…the sweet and painful words full of longing, the words of the many love songs that had made them so successful…those words had always been the protagonist’s. He was the lyricist. Together they were magic. Everyone said so.

The protagonist twitched in the chair, but there was nowhere he could go, and -

Then there was that devastatingly lovely voice, softly singing some of those lyrics in the protagonist’s ear.

You’ve signed your autograph, on my heart

Your name on my lips

With your kiss

Forever mine.

Lyrics, songs, that the protagonist had once (stupidly, stupidly, stupidly) written thinking only of him.

The antagonist laughed softly at the helpless hitch in the protagonist’s breath. His finger rose, tracing his initials on the protagonist’s chest.

The protagonist closed his eyes.

There was clearly no denying it. Because the protagonist had been a fan. When they had started working together, first, he’d admired the antagonist so keenly that it almost hurt. Creatively, of course, but…not just in that way. And yes, of course, of course, learning what a monster the antagonist was should have made all that admiration, all those feelings, go away.

It didn’t.

It hadn’t.

“Get out,” the protagonist said. It wasn’t, after all, like the antagonist liked him. It was all a wicked game to him. Everything was. And this…

“Admit it,” the antagonist said. “Tell me.”

“Will you get out if I do?”

There were other things, probably, that the protagonist should have bartered for, but the antagonist was so close that he felt dizzy. He couldn’t think straight. All he could focus on was the antagonist’s hand not quite touching bare skin, the slight tickle of his breath, the closeness.

What if someone walked in, and saw them?

“For now.”

The protagonist swallowed. It was just words, after all. He said words, he bloody duetted the songs every night on tour, even if it killed him a bit every night. What did it matter now? The antagonist was already smug and unbearable, so it wasn’t like he could make it worse. Right?

“Yes,” he said.

“Yes…what?”

“Yes,” the protagonist gritted his teeth. “I’m a fan. You’re very talented. You know this. We have the grammy’s to prove it. Would you like me to stroke your ego some more, you narcissistic-”

The antagonist caught his chin and squeezed.

The protagonist’s eyes flew open. Their gazes locked.

“Admit,” the antagonist said. “That you want to kiss me.”

Oh, hell. Hell might have had more mercy.

The look of pleading that must have crossed his face only seemed to please the antagonist more. His eyes were doing that impossible smouldering thing, like the protagonist was the only thing that mattered in the world, like everything except the two of them could burn.

The protagonist tried to look away, but couldn’t. He felt hot all over. It should have been - it was awful, of course it was, but - the antagonist’s free hand dropped, cupping the protagonist over too tight jeans. Bastard.

“Yes,” the protagonist said, “I want you to kiss me.”

He really didn’t expect it when the antagonist did. The antagonist kissed him like everything he’d ever hoped for, everything he’d imagined in song, until the protagonist had no air. No words left. No nothing. Only more and please and his name.

“For inspiration,” the antagonist bit their lip, hard enough that the gossip commentators would no doubt have opinions on the matter. “For the next hit you’re going to write me.”

The protagonist’s chest cleaved.

The antagonist looked like a conquering hero, some victor in the field of battle, wild-eyed and powerful and triumphant.

“Because you know,” the antagonist said. “I’m a big fan of yours, too. Which is why, you are never, ever, leaving this band.”

And then, he was gone. Just as promised.

And all the treacherous parts of the protagonist’s heart wanted was for him to come back and finish what he started.

Vatted by association

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🚨Urgent humanitarian appeal 🚨

Please don't ignore🙏🙏🇵🇸

Despite the temporary cessation of fire, I am still living in the tent because I found my house a pile of rubble 💔💔 You can imagine spending your whole life in a tent that does not protect from the cold of winter or the heat of summer

I am now about to give birth to my third child in the tent in the extreme cold and I fear he will die. Please help me 🙏🙏 Yesterday my tent was severely damaged by the wind and rain. Please help me rebuild my house and remove the rubble

Also, my husband still needs a lot of treatment and medicines that I cannot buy due to their high price💔. He also needs to travel to get an eye transplant and treat the nerves in his left hand😭. Please, I need your help and donation urgently Conditions are still very difficult in Gaza and there are no signs of a safe, warm life💔

Please donate what you can

Be hope and support us Please 🙏🙏

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Maryam’s family to rebuild their lives, organized by Kristina Turner Brown

My name is Kristina, I have gotten to know Maryam and her family … Kristina Turner Brown needs your support for Help Maryam’s family to r