HERE COMES

This is me Aya.. ‏🇵🇸

Imagine you wake up with nothing left.That's exactly what happened with us .we moved from having everything to having nothing.In a blink of an eye ,we lost everything, our house ,dreams, memories belongings and our works. We are starting from zero and need your help to climb the leader step by step from scratch.

All the positive words cannot express how generous you are, especially in sharing my posts to inform other donors about the people of Gaza who are still suffering from the terrible conditions caused by the unjust war on Gaza!

Please continue to support us by donating directly or by sharing the link to let others know. Don't hesitate to help people in difficult and miserable times until the dark days are over. 🙏🏻🍉

https://gofund.me/c4c2cf82

The Dream SMP is a love story.

Not a traditional one by any means. There’s a lot more blood, a lot more death, a lot more broken bones.

It’s about the love between the revolutionary and his right-hand man. The one that became fraternal, that went between life and death, that demonstrates how love and hate are not opposites but counterparts. That they are fuelled by care, by fear, by the inability to let go even when it makes your hands bleed. The inability to stop following even though your feet are tired, because at least then you can tell yourself you’re not lost.

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Stadiums of Hypixel

—From February 4 2020

The village whispered. Hypixel was particularly lively today. The marketplace screeched, streets rumbled, the stadiums roared. The stadiums: ancient walls and seats built atop soil and stones. Skies open and closed, gates existent and non. Their bodies varied but souls did not. All had blood spilt upon, and all were enjoyed and worshiped. Legends led here, and the walls echoed them.

// au, dsmp, rp

- mentions of death, like, a heavy existential crisis

immortal phil au where he is actually an asshole. he's been alive for thousands of years, he's seen people fall innocent or guilty, he's gotten attached and lost everything and repeat more times than he can count.

but after it happens so often - that's all people are to him. an hourglass, with its sand slowly but surely running around, a ticking bomb that could blow his heart to pieces again at any time, for he only knows the timer exists, he doesn't know what time it displays.

he meets techno, someone who's lived for a little bit longer than others - centuries are meer child’s play for phil - and techno is, well. valuable. he's a skilled fighter, and he's clever, and he's fun to be around.

and so phil indulges- but keeps his distance. goes with techno on adventures, starts empires and begins great tales, takes him on flights and resource runs and teaches him, all the while they're happy, and phil's happy, and he's occupied until inevitably techno passes and he'll be on his own again.

there's nights in the empire where techno will almost reach out, almost, almost. he holds out his hand - metaphorically - and almost begs phil to follow, to slide his hand in his and let techno lead them forward for once, to great times of wars and conquer, and phil looks away, backs out, raises his walls and leaves until it gets better, because he- he's better than this, he doesn't get attached, he doesn't need techno in his life, this is just a momentary little friendship that he can milk experience and reputation from until techno dies- that's what he tells himself.

but he's scared, somewhere deep- terrified of opening his heart once more to someone who could throw it in his face the next year, month, day, hour, if he's not careful, because he so painfully knows techno's timer exists and beeps loudly but he doesn't know when it will go silent and play out the last breaths techno will ever take.

and before he knows it, every day spent on his own, every night spent ignoring techno's hitched breath and darkened eyes glossed from nightmares, every day spent dodging techno's attempts at something more, something like a warm presence for his cold eternal heart - he can't wait to get back to techno. he always takes a step back, raises his shield and throws on a brave face, but then he's longing to be spending the nights around campfires again, craving that warm sunlight as they lay in the fresh grass and enjoy the warmth of the rare summers in the arctic.

he didn't mean for it to be this way, he didn't mean for techno to become something- something more than just a playful hot potato game with the slowly emptying hourglass techno really is, but he can't handle life without techno anymore, can't imagine himself without him, because when he wakes he thinks if techno's slept well, when he cooks their food he thinks if techno prefers salted over sweetened, and when he shivers out in the wild arctic he thinks, is technoblade cold, or is he huddled around the fireplace and cozy and everything phil longs to be at night?

and then he finds himself wasting his days away pouring over old books full of knowledge that even transcends him, the bags in his eyelids getting heavier and limbs drooping, aching with lack of sleep as he trails over every word, searching.

immortality, life expansions, revival, resurrection.

he finds nothing.

and then he screams, and screams again, and throws the books into the fireplace with as much hate as he can muster, because they're the reason techno will be dead, the reason why techno's hourglass will shatter and scatter all the precious sand for phil to try and fail to pick up and repair.

he wails and he breaks swords against walls and he cries, loud and raw and heartbreakingly open for the universe to see, because there's no denying or helping it anymore; techno's going to leave him, and he'll be alone, and the warm days will turn withering and freezingly cold, because no matter how much the sun tries to hold him together for a little more, without techno, he'll never be whole again.

he comes back, eventually, thinks it must be the world's disgusting sense of wicked humor that forces him to walk up to the empire's doors again- no, not forced. he wants to be here. he needs to.

and he's open again, back in techno's arms and throat too hoarse to talk, but techno understands and looks at him with eyes that threaten to pull phil all the way down to the bottom of the earth and leave him longing, longing to see the amusement and joy and cheer in techno's eyes instead.

and that night he dusts the old libraries, sets his bed, wipes down the windows and cooks them a meal for the night, and as he looks out into the wild arctic he feels no need to leave anymore.

that morning, he wakes next to techno, and makes breakfast with techno, and feeds their chickens with techno, and he thinks, cathartically in some fucked up way, techno will die one day. he will pass, he will close his eyes for the last time and breathe out the final breath. and phil will be okay.

phil will be okay because when that day comes he'll be there, right by his side, holding his hand and leading him to the other side, and he'll be okay because they'll have precious memories and adventures behind them, and phil will be there for them all.

he'll grieve, and he'll be alone, but he'll be okay, because he'll never leave techno's side again. he doesn't long for immortality, or to have a dance with death to drop to his knees and beg, not him, please not him, not yet, because it'll be okay in the end, whenever techno's day will be, because regardless of what happens, phil would have been there, and he would have made techno's life outweigh the pain in his burning heart.

a very dear friend of mine is opening commissions to help with her mothers breast cancer treatments, shes got posts on bsky and twt and if you guys could help spread her posts id be forever thankful!!

Growing up!

⛔ please help my family don't skip 🛑

Hello, My name is Ahmad Mohammed Hassan Salah, a 33-year-old man from Gaza, Palestine. Under the sky of Gaza, amidst the war and shelling, begins my story. I lived my life in the northern part of Gaza with my wife and three children, dreaming of a secure future for my small family. Nada, my seven-year-old eldest daughter, loves to draw, though her colors have disappeared amid the rubble 🎨💔. Mohamed, my five-year-old son, still dreams of playing in a garden untouched by bombs 🛝💔. As for Huda, my two-year-old, she has started uttering her first words amid the sounds of explosions 🍼💔.

The tragedy began one night of the war when I was forced to leave my home under continuous bombardment 💣😔. I carried my children and my anxious wife, running through the debris and darkness in search of a safe haven 🌪️. Our journey was fraught with dangers, as we left everything behind: our home, memories, and even our money and food 🏚️💔. After a long journey, we found ourselves in southern Gaza, where we set up a small tent as a temporary refuge ⛺😞.

The tent, small as it was, became our new world. Without mattresses to shield us from the cold nights or blankets to protect us from the rain 🌧️❄️, life was harsh. The children slept on the ground, and I struggled to provide any food to feed my family 🍞💔. But the war showed us no mercy. After only three months, we were forced to move once again, this time to central Gaza. The Israeli army described it as a "safe zone," but the shelling followed us like an unrelenting shadow 💔💣.

More than a year has passed, and my family and I continue to live under bombardment and destruction 🌋💔. Each day brings with it a new story of suffering. Food is scarce 🍽️, water is contaminated 🚱, and fear never leaves my children's hearts 😔💔. Nada has started asking, "When will this war end?" 😢. Mohamed tries to comfort his mother, who weeps in silence 😭💔. As for Huda, she knows no world other than one filled with terrifying sounds 🥺.

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Ahmed family from Gaza to have a secure life, organized by Ahmed Salah

Hi my name is ahmed mohammed salah I live in Palestine in Gaza City. I … Ahmed Salah needs your support for Help Ahmed family from Gaza to

I also suffer from a chronic illness, and I have a medical report confirming my condition 🏥💔. However, the pain of my illness is less than the anguish I see in my children's eyes 💔😔. I try to be strong, but I sometimes break down when I cannot provide food for them 🥺. My wife stands by me, trying to bring hope, but even hope has become a rare commodity 💔.

Amidst the devastation, I want to send a message to the world: "We are human. Our children deserve a better life. We just want safety. All I want is to sleep one night without fearing that my children will wake up to the sound of explosions." 🙏💔

Due to this ongoing suffering, I appeal to the world through Tumblr to raise donations for my family and for other families experiencing similar circumstances 🌍💔. If you are able to provide any assistance, no matter how small, it would mean so much to us 🙏🫂. You can help by donating food, clothing, or even essential medications that we desperately need 💊🛒. I kindly ask you to share our story on Tumblr, because spreading it may reach kind hearts all over the world—hearts that can offer help and save the lives of my children and the children of Gaza from this hell ❤️🕊️.

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Ahmed family from Gaza to have a secure life, organized by Ahmed Salah

Hi my name is ahmed mohammed salah I live in Palestine in Gaza City. I … Ahmed Salah needs your support for Help Ahmed family from Gaza to

My story is not just an individual one; it represents thousands of families in Gaza living in conditions that are unimaginable 💔. The question remains: How long will this suffering continue? And will the day come when Nada can draw a sun without it being covered by the smoke of war? 🌞✏️💔

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #280 )✅️

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters

this is a weird request. can you help a transman and their wife move out of a controlling parent's grasp and out of a red state?

spoiler alert: its not even our parents.

we moved in with a friend because he made the mistake of buying a house when he didn't have the means to and needed help paying for bills, and we needed to move into a place that let us live in more than just a single room.

now we're constantly harassed by his parents because they think he shouldn't have let us move in and should have let someone of their own choosing move in. they go through our stuff, and weekly visits to "clean" because they think we're all incompetent and dig their noses into places they shouldn't be. Just today they introduced new potential housemates without warning or any communication, and just before that they stormed our storage room and began organizing and cleaning it without asking or warning. We cannot go back to being shoved into a single room again.

With the upcoming political climate, living as a afab trans POC (and native, at that) in a red state like South Carolina is going to be insanely dangerous. I've already been preached to, I've already been harassed at work, and it's dangerous for us to even live in the area we do, since the further from downtown you are, the more red it gets. and we're at the edge of the county.

I know there's a lot of GFMs going around right now, but we aren't in a safe spot, and we have friends in northeast that might help us. We just don't have the means to get there.

If you can, please help us move up north, if you'd like to help us pay bills for the time being, or if you'd like some commissions from my amazing wife ( @parememi ).

you may have seen me post about fidaa’s campaign @fidaa-family2 (this is a verified campaign)

graphic by @fading-event-608

fidaa is a 29 year old woman from gaza with two very young children, muhammed and sila, one of whom was born during the war. her home was destroyed and she’s been displaced many times, and is currently separated from the rest of her family- her husband, her many siblings, and her parents. i can only imagine how nerve-wracking this is.

she’s doing her best to take care of her children by herself, despite facing hunger, thirst, widespread disease, and the threat of death. the other day, there was intense bombing near her and another family close to her was killed. life in gaza right now is hell and she told me they feel like they are just waiting for their turn to die.

fidaa and i talk often, and i feel lucky to know her. she’s an incredibly strong person, she travels long distances to find limited supplies for her kids and helps her siblings raise money even though shes separated from them.

but she needs help. the situation in gaza is so bad right now, the idf is preventing aid from entering and the food, water, and medicine available are extremely expensive. please share and donate to help her and her children survive and eventually leave gaza

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Fidaa and her children, organized by Abby S

I am Fidaa from Gaza. I am 29 years old. I stand before you as a person trying to preserve his fami… Abby S needs your support for Help Fida

$18,738 out of $30,000

the way he says this is literally making me sob laughing rn jfc