#send help or don’t
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dakusan · 3 months ago
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because sleep has forsaken me and my body has chosen betrayal, i shall now offer myself at the altar of this man.
feral. foaming. finished.
(FUCK ME.)
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samerpal · 1 year ago
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"First, I would like to thank everyone who supported me.🙏🌹
This is my new platform, friends, after my old platform was deleted for reasons unknown to me.
I ask for your help in sharing my story again to keep hope alive for me and my family, friends.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.♥️
My family and I appreciate your cooperation and hope to reach the desired goal and save us.🙏
Attached are the verification links for the old account from the supporters.
Link vetted by @ibtisams
Link vetted by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi
Link vetted by @sar-soor
My approved number by the families in need and endorsed by the supervisors is 196."
@90-ghost @ibtisams @nabulsi @aces-and-angels @sar-soor @sayruq @fairuzfan @palestinegenocide @vakarians-babe @northgazaupdates @northgazaupdates2
Trapped Family in Gaza Appeals for Help to Survive 🕊️🇵🇸🙏
I Samer Abu Ras, am reaching out to you with a heartfelt humanitarian appeal, after the ongoing war in Gaza has cast its dark shadow over my life and the lives of my family. Our lives were once filled with peace and stability before the onset of this catastrophe, but now, we find ourselves living in a situation described as nothing short of tragic.
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My wife, Shurooq, our three children, and I are now homeless, without a source of income, and without hope for the future. My family and I have lost our businesses and our home due to the war, and we now have nothing left but the cold streets and troubled hearts.
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My children are suffering greatly as a result of these horrific events. They have lost the security and stability they once enjoyed and are now facing new health and psychological challenges that threaten their lives. As a father and husband, I feel powerless in my ability to provide adequate protection and care for them.
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My child, who is a year and a half old, is experiencing hardships far beyond his tender age. Since the war broke out, we had to flee our home and seek refuge in a tent in a displacement camp. My child lives in extremely difficult conditions, deprived of safety and stability. The tent does not provide adequate protection from harsh weather, and food and medicine are scarce. My child suffers from malnutrition and illness, lacking basic healthcare. He cannot play or grow in a healthy and suitable environment. My only dream is to see him grow up in a safe place full of opportunities
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In the face of difficult circumstances, Samer Abu Ras and his family find themselves facing serious challenges in their daily lives. They reside in a modest tent lacking comfort and security, suffering from a shortage of clean water and food, and encountering difficulties in accessing necessary healthcare. Despite these challenges, they continue to express hope and resilience in confronting adversity, holding onto hope for a better tomorrow and a return to a more stable and secure life.
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I appeal to you today, dear friends, to extend to me a helping hand in escaping this hell. Regardless of the size of the donation, every drop of generosity will contribute to alleviating our suffering and rebuilding our lives anew.
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We need your help to secure the funds necessary to travel away from these destructive wars and seek a safe and stable environment where we can build a better future for our children
Let us stand together in these difficult times and let hope triumph over despair by providing support and assistance to those in dire need. Let us be part of the solution and build a better future for ourselves and future generations.
Thank you for listening and for the potential generosity of your giving, and for your generous donations that will change the lives of my family for the better.
With sincere gratitude and appreciation
‏Samer Abu Ras and family.
@heba-20 @soon-palestine @marnota @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @i-am-aprl @nabulsi @sayruq @communistchilchuck @palipunk @palestinecharitycommissionsassoc @faggotfungus @ghost-and-a-half @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness @three-croissants @interfacefox @appsa @akajustmerry @feluka @flower-tea-fairies @90-ghost @victoriawhimsey @ficsforgaza @aria-ashryver @mangocheesecakes @humanvoicebox @plomegranate @queerstudiesnatural @commissions4aid-international @palestinegenocide @ghost-and-a-half @bibyebae @heritageposts @norrriey 🍉����🍉✍️
🌹🍉🇵🇸❤️🌹🍉🇵🇸❤️🌹🍉
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lilislegacy · 9 months ago
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percy, playfully: on a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you love me?
annabeth: right now? maybe a 6
percy: what, why?
annabeth, scoffing and rolling her eyes:
percy: what? i’m confu— oh my gods. this again? for the last time, it is not my fault that the store didn’t have my shampoo that you love! you are just going to have to deal with my hair smelling like sea and surf instead of nautical fresh for a little while!
annabeth: you could get it online!
percy: THEY’RE OUT OF STOCK!
grover: i miss when you two fought about normal things. like possibly fatal quests
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shepscapades · 6 months ago
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Realized I haven’t posted anything other than dbhc angst lately, so here’s a small collection of silly and sweet things as an offering to balance out the angst :]
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borderlinereminders · 8 days ago
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I just had someone reach out in messages to apologize for some anon hate they sent months ago. It was some pretty awful stuff. I don’t say that to make them feel bad if they’re reading this but to emphasize my point.
They told me that they hit rock bottom and began working on their behaviours and realized how wrong it was and how it wasn’t right to take out their frustrations on me.
I really respected that, and them sending me a message from their blog. It wasn’t anon. It wasn’t an empty blog. It was just them taking accountability.
And it made me so damn happy. Because it’s evidence of their progress. I really, really believe that wherever you are in your journey, even if you haven’t started yet that you aren’t irredeemable.
People who believe they’ll never change or even want to change get there. Even a want for things to be different is a good step in the right direction.
And if you’ve ever sent me hate, no matter how awful it was, know that I don’t hold any grudges or bad feelings towards you. The most common emotion I feel about the hate is sadness, and not for me, but for you. I know it’s a dark place to be where you just lash out at others. And I know at a point, you may think you’re so awful and why bother changing.
But you aren’t irredeemable. You aren’t hopeless. I hope that you can feel compassion for yourself, but for what it’s worth, I do feel compassion for you. I truly hope you get better because you deserve to heal. You deserve to come out on the other side of this.
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elodieunderglass · 1 year ago
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I’m seeing an uptick in “begging scam asks” that are profiting from people’s generosity towards evacuees from Gaza. I’m happy to boost vetted/verified fundraisers, but I do not respond to fundraising asks.
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gayregina · 6 months ago
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I AM BANGING MY HEAD AGAINST THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE
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eff-exor · 4 months ago
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nevermind touching grass, you need to come touch ur lips to mine u fucking loser
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fifty555 · 7 months ago
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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ poetry? no, pottery!
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a lil’ love between you and little lando norris 💞 with a twist as you’re a ceramist/potterer!
content warning; none! just enjoy the fluffs! ah, there’s a bit of explicit language (i think?), but nothing drastic! enjoy 😽!
summary; childhood friends reconnect after years apart—he’s a formula 1 driver, and you’re a ceramist.
hey, lover! part two here!
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Lando Norris was used to his friends teasing him. Whether it was his golfing misadventures, his love for Twitch streams, or his occasional emotional outbursts on team radio, there was always something to make him the subject of banter on and off the grid. But the one thing they had yet to figure out—something that he was genuinely proud of—was the pottery.
It started innocuously enough. A vase here, a decorative bowl there. The other drivers had assumed Lando had simply developed a newfound taste for ceramic art after moving to Monaco. Carlos had even joked once, “You’re just trying to look posh, mate.”
But no one had noticed the small etchings at the back of each piece: a simple ‘Lan’ with a heart. Subtle, personal, and not exactly the kind of thing you’d put on items for sale. That mystery had lingered until one fateful evening when everything unravelled in the most chaotic way imaginable.
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It was post-race at Silverstone, and the whole grid had gathered for dinner at a private venue. Spirits were high after a spectacular British Grand Prix, with plenty of laughs and, naturally, plenty of friendly ribbing.
Lando sat beside Oscar, carefully monitoring his phone, knowing full well that at any moment you might call. You were in your apartment in Mexico, finalising details for an art exhibit while simultaneously working on personal pottery commissions. Lando adored how dedicated you were to your craft, even if it often left you so absorbed that you forgot things—like where you’d placed your keys, or, as he was about to find out, something a little more important.
Amid the loud chatter, Lando’s phone buzzed, and your name flashed on the screen. Without thinking, he swiped to answer. “Hey, love,” he greeted, but before he could say anything else, your panicked voice filled the room.
“Lan, I lost my ring! I don’t know where it is!”
Shoot, he forgot about the speaker.
The room fell eerily silent as the unmistakable sound of your frantic cries echoed from the speaker.
Lando froze. His brain short-circuited as he realised his phone was still on speaker. Every single driver at the table—except for Oscar, Alex, and George—was staring at him like he’d just confessed to murder.
“Oh, for fu—” Lando scrambled to turn off the speaker, but not before you continued, “Baby, I don’t know where it is! I can’t even—”
He interrupted, voice strained with embarrassment. “Have you checked the wet clays? That’s usually where you’d lose it.”
The line went quiet for a second as the realisation hit you. “Shit. I’ll go check. Thanks, love. Enjoy your dinner with the boys, bye!” You ended the call abruptly, leaving Lando to deal with the aftermath.
“What the hell was that?” Daniel was the first to break the silence, leaning forward with a grin that practically screamed mischief.
“No, who the fuck was that?” Max followed, his bluntness cutting through the rising chaos like a hot knife through butter.
The room erupted in questions. Pierre was halfway across the table, trying to pry answers from Lando, while Charles was practically yelling over everyone else. Meanwhile, Carlos gave Lando a pointed look. “Mate, don’t tell me you’ve got a secret girlfriend and you’ve been hiding it from me?”
Lando’s cheeks burned as he fumbled to explain. “Look, it’s not a big deal—”
“Not a big deal?!” Charles’ voice reached a pitch that only dogs could hear. “You’ve been holding out on us! Who is she?”
Amidst the chaos, Alex calmly took a sip of his drink and glanced at Charles. “You’ve met her before.”
“I have?” Charles frowned, genuinely confused.
George pulled out his phone, scrolled through his photos, and handed it over. “Here, this’ll jog your memory.”
The photo showed George, Alex, and you at a karting event years ago, laughing over slices of pizza. You were unmistakable, even with the short haircut and boyish charm you used to sport.
And the fact that you used to terrorise Charles on the grid.
Charles’ eyes widened. “You’re telling me that demon is Lando’s—”
“Fiancée,” Lando corrected with a smug grin, cutting him off. “She’s my fiancée.”
If the table had been chaotic before, it was nothing compared to the uproar that followed.
“Fiancée?!” Charles looked moments away from fainting. Pierre had to physically restrain him from climbing over the table.
Max, ever the straight shooter, raised a brow. “How long has this been going on?”
“Since October 2020,” Lando admitted, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms defensively.
“You kept this a secret for three years?” Daniel looked simultaneously impressed and horrified. “And all we got were vases?”
“Wait,” Carlos interjected, pointing a finger at Lando. “The pottery—don’t tell me that’s her doing?”
Lando smirked, finally finding his footing in the conversation. “Actually, most of it’s hers. But I helped with a few pieces.”
“Explains the hearts,” Pierre muttered, earning a round of laughter.
Meanwhile, back in your studio, you’d found the missing engagement ring embedded in a chunk of wet clay. You snapped a quick photo of your clay-covered hands, the ring perched delicately on your finger, and sent it to Lando with the message: Found it. Your forgetfulness is rubbing off on me.
Lando responded with a selfie of his own, a defeated look on his face, and the message: The cat’s out of the bag.
You could only laugh, imagining the absolute carnage he was dealing with at dinner.
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Now, the question is, how did you guys meet?
Well, let’s take a trip down memory lane, yes?
It started at a karting track in Guildford when they were both nine years old. Lando was already making waves on the circuit, a scrappy kid with untamed curls and an infectious grin. You, on the other hand, were a quiet but fiercely competitive racer, constantly being told you’d never make it because you were a girl.
That day, your paths crossed in the most cliché yet heartwarming way. You’d crashed during qualifying and sat on the sidelines, fuming as you inspected the damaged kart. Lando, fresh off his own session, wandered over with a bag of gummy bears and an awkward grin.
“Want one?” he asked, holding the bag out to you.
You glanced up, unimpressed. “Unless it fixes my kart, no thanks.”
“It doesn’t,” he admitted, plopping one into his mouth, “but they’re good for sulking.”
Reluctantly, you took one. That was all it took. From that day forward, you became friends—rivals on the track, co-conspirators off it. The karting world was small, and you often found yourselves travelling the same circuits, sharing snacks, and occasionally teaming up to prank the other kids.
But all good things come to an end, and for Lando, the end came when you abruptly quit karting at twelve. One day you were there, racing alongside him, and the next, you were gone. No explanations, no goodbyes—just a void where his fiercest rival and closest friend had been.
Years passed. Lando threw himself into racing, climbing the ranks to Formula 1, but he never stopped wondering what had happened to you. He’d hear whispers—something about pottery, about you exchanging one love for another—but nothing concrete.
Then, in 2020, he walked into a pop-up art gallery in London and froze. There, amidst a sea of ceramic sculptures, was a name he hadn’t seen in years: yours. And standing by a display of hand-thrown vases, chatting animatedly with a small group of people, was you.
Lando hesitated, heart pounding as he watched you laugh, looking so effortlessly radiant it hurt. He was a world-famous F1 driver now, but at that moment, he felt like the same awkward boy offering gummy bears to his angry rival.
Finally, he worked up the courage to approach you. “Hey,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Nice vases.”
You turned, your eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, as if no time had passed at all, you grinned. “Nice curls.”
The conversation flowed as easily as it always had. Over coffee the next day, you explained why you’d quit karting. Your parents had pulled you out, worried about the pressure and the toxic environment you were facing as a girl in a male-dominated sport. You’d turned to pottery as an outlet and never looked back.
“I missed it, though,” you admitted, stirring your latte. “I missed racing. I missed… you.”
Lando’s heart clenched. “I missed you too.”
The transition from friendship to romance was seamless, almost inevitable. But given Lando’s high-profile career, you both agreed to keep the relationship private. It wasn’t easy. There were stolen weekends in Monaco, secret visits to your studio in between London and Mexico, and countless moments when you had to play it cool in public, even as your heart raced every time you saw him.
The secrecy was worth it, though. For three years, you built a world of your own, filled with laughter, late-night phone calls, and the kind of love that felt steady and enduring.
The proposal came during a quiet evening at your studio. You’d been working on a commission, hands covered in clay, when Lando appeared in the doorway, looking unusually nervous.
“What’s up?” you asked, wiping your hands on a rag.
He hesitated, then held out a small, unassuming box. “I, uh, thought we could make this official.”
You stared at him, heart pounding. “Lando Norris, are you asking me to marry you in the middle of my studio while I’m covered in clay?”
He grinned, the familiar boyish charm shining through. “Well, I figured it’s where you’re happiest.”
You couldn’t argue with that. Laughing, you took the box, opened it, and saw the ring—simple, elegant, and unmistakably you. Tears filled your eyes as you nodded. “Yes.”
For a while, life went on as usual. You returned to your pottery, Lando to his racing, and your engagement remained a secret known only to close family and a few trusted friends. But secrets have a way of slipping out, and yours did during that fateful post-Silverstone dinner.
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By the time Lando returned home to Monaco, the internet was ablaze. He’d soft-launched your engagement on Instagram with a series of photos: your clay-covered hands holding the ring, more of you holding your ring in defeat after possibly losing it, and a final shot of the infamous ‘Lan ♥’ signature on one of your vases.
The caption read: ladies and gents, the chronicles of my fiancée losing her ring. she says that my forgetfulness is rubbing off on her apparently but she sadly chose to say yes to me 😌.
The response was overwhelming. Fans went wild over the reveal, speculating about your relationship timeline and falling in love with the wholesome chaos of it all.
Despite the initial embarrassment, Lando wouldn’t change a thing. Sure, Charles might never let him live it down, and Daniel would probably bring up the ‘wet clay incident’ at every opportunity, but none of it mattered.
As he watched you work on your latest piece, the soft hum of music filling the studio, he felt a sense of peace he rarely found anywhere else. You glanced over your shoulder, catching him staring, and flashed him a smile that made his heart skip a beat.
“Back to work, Mr. Norris,” you teased, pointing at the pottery wheel.
He grinned, sliding into the seat beside you. “Yes, ma’am.”
If this was what forever looked like, Lando was more than ready for it.
Because in the end, every gummy bear, every secret, and every chaotic dinner had been worth it.
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i hope you guys liked it 🥹 tbh, this was originally a gift for my friend to motivate her but now she wants to actually marry him… i take no part in that declaration.
also, this y’all man 🤨☝🏻 damn, he’s okay, i guess.
i’m still very new here, so, there’s some things i absolutely know nothing about… BUT, i’ll get through it ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-!! i love y’all, strangers ‘round the internet 💌 MWAH!
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lovetositinsilence · 9 days ago
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had an idea, give me the strength to finish this
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bipolargreen · 9 months ago
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Can we ignore everything in life for a moment and just talk about how hot he is? Fucking hell.
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yaepyep · 2 years ago
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aqlstar · 4 months ago
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Genocide is possibly the most despicable crime that exists. Understanding what it is and what it isn’t helps to ensure the topic is treated with the seriousness and respect it deserves.
Conversely, misusing and inflating the term prevents victims of genocide from receiving the respect and sympathy they deserve, and erodes societal guardrails and legal protections against future instances of genocide.
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esmesketch · 6 months ago
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/ HONK / if you're still deep inside the Far Cry 5 pit trap in 2025 and can't escape.
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witless-winion1 · 1 month ago
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idea where when Odysseus gets home, alone, Ctimene slaps him and then goes and marches down, red-eyed, to the Underworld to fistfight Hades and get her fuckin husband back.
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darlingsart · 5 months ago
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Late to the party has this been done before for them lmao
Inspired by that one Twitter meme
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