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My nervous contributions to the Tumblr Outlast fandom…you can tell I have a favorite.

Debating if my other Outlast art is worth posting…

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My Journey to Escape the War in Gaza

My name is Abdelmajed. I never imagined I’d be sharing my story like this, but life in Gaza has become unbearable. I am a survivor of the war here, and in the blink of an eye, everything I once knew—my home, my safety, my community—was ripped away from me.

The war has transformed Gaza into a graveyard of broken dreams. The buildings that once stood as symbols of life and resilience are now piles of rubble. Every corner is filled with the echoes of explosions. Every moment is shrouded in uncertainty. There is no security. There is no stability. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.

Basic needs have become luxuries. Food is scarce. Clean water is even scarcer. Hospitals are overwhelmed and under-resourced, and there is almost no medical care to be found. Every night, families go to bed hungry, praying they’ll wake up to see another day. The cost of basic necessities has skyrocketed, and it’s become a daily battle just to survive.

I’ve seen things I never thought possible—standing in long lines for a piece of bread, rationing every drop of water, and watching my people suffer in silence. I have lost everything—my home, my safety, my dignity.

Escape from Gaza is my only hope, but it’s almost impossible without financial help. The cost of evacuation is far beyond my means, and without support, I’m trapped in a warzone with no way out.

I’m reaching out to you now, in the hopes that someone, anyone, can help. I am not asking for luxury. I am asking for a chance—just a chance—to live. A chance to escape this never-ending cycle of fear, destruction, and loss. A chance to rebuild my life somewhere safe, where I can begin again, where I can find hope once more.

Any amount you can give will help me get closer to safety. Even the smallest donation will make a difference—it could be the lifeline I need to survive. If you are unable to donate, please share my story. The more people who hear it, the better the chance that I can find the support I desperately need.

Your kindness and support mean the world to me. You’re not just helping me escape a war; you’re giving me a chance to live, to rebuild, to breathe again.

Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring.

Vetted by @gazavetters

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My name is Aisha, and I’m a mother of eight children living in Gaza.

Before the war, we lived a simple life. We had a small home full of love and a butcher shop selling fresh and frozen meat. It wasn’t much, but it helped us survive.

Then, everything changed.

An airstrike destroyed our home. Our shop was reduced to rubble. In one moment, we lost everything—our shelter, our source of income, and our sense of safety.

Now, we live with no home, no food, and no income. Each day is a painful struggle.

My daughter is a widow—her husband was killed by Israeli forces, leaving behind a little boy who never got to meet his father.

I also have a baby, just seven months old, who is suffering from a sebaceous cyst near his ear. Doctors say he needs urgent surgery, but I have no way to pay for it.

There are days when my children go to bed hungry. Today, I managed to buy a little flour to feed them, only thanks to the kindness of strangers.

But tomorrow? I don’t know what we’ll eat. I don’t know how to save my baby or care for my orphaned grandchild.

I’m writing this from a place of deep pain—not weakness, but desperation. I am a mother doing everything I can to protect her children.

You can help me buy food, medicine, and get my baby the surgery he needs.

Please, from one human to another—help us survive.

You can help a family that has lost everything stand up again.

Your donation can save lives.

May your kindness be returned to you a thousand times.

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Save our lives ‼️🚨

"I am Wissam... The last time I hugged someone, it was a corpse." 😭💔

The night was very long that day. I was counting the days until I would give birth to my twins. I brought them names, and planned to wrap my body around them when the tents grew cold. But death was faster. 😭

We fled our home under shelling, and my father was in the hospital, unable to stand. I told them, "My father can't move." The soldier said, "It doesn't matter, leave." So we left... and my father was left alone, until his heart closed forever. 😔💔

On the way south, I walked for hours carrying two children in my belly, a bag in my hand, and the rest of my memories on my back.

I bled on the way.

I lost my twins there, on the asphalt, in front of my other children who couldn't even cry. 😭😭

The next day, I woke up and found them buried under the sand. No grave, no names.

Now, I'm seven months pregnant with my third child.

But anemia is tearing me apart, stress is breaking my head, and hunger is eating away at what's left of me.

I feel my baby pleading with me from within: "Mother, don't die."

And I apologize to him every day... because I can't promise him life.

“I am Wissam… I lost my father, my children, my home, and even my voice.

I don’t want to lose this child too.

Help me before I become another memory in this broken land.

My father was the only one I could place all my hopes and dreams on. He was the one who lifted me up whenever I fell, and held my hand when my steps faltered. In those dark days of war, I saw him strong in front of me. Even in moments of silence, his presence was enough to make me feel safe. He wasn't just the father I loved, he was my refuge, the hope I lived by. 😭💔

But one day, suddenly, that hope disappeared.

The sky was covered with heavy clouds, as if it knew what was going to happen. That day, I was at home, climbing on my tiptoes, holding on to any glimmer of hope, but when I entered our small room, I found my mother in the corner of the room crying, her face pale, her eyes filled with tears, and her mouth almost unable to speak. 💔😭

I couldn't believe what she was saying. My father, who had always been the strength in my life, was gone. In an instant, everything disappeared, and the words kept repeating in my head without me being able to understand them. "He's not coming back." Those words were harder than any blow I had ever received in my life. 😭😭

I felt like I was in a dark dream. How could my father disappear like that? How could time go on without his voice, without me seeing his face again? How much I needed him in those moments, how much I needed to hear his words of reassurance. But it was all over, and all that remained was the silence filling the emptiness around me. 💔

Every corner of the house became a tragedy. Everything reminded me of him, every corner, every smell, everything. I thought I would lose my ability to breathe. His absence was heavier than anything else. I cannot imagine a world without him, and I cannot see a future without his advice, without a hand to lift me up whenever I feel like I am drowning.

As I sit here, in that dark room, I remember everything about my father. How he used to laugh when I made small mistakes, how he used to hug me when the world was dark, and how his words filled my life with meaning. But now he's not here, and the emptiness in my heart can't be filled with anything else. Every time I close my eyes, I see him in every corner. I feel him, but I can't touch him. And despite all the pain, despite all the sadness, I know he's not coming back, that he's left me in this world, to face it alone.

He's gone, but a part of him, a part of his soul, will remain in my heart forever. Even though I can't hear his voice or see him, I carry his memories with me every step of the way, every moment. I've lost him, but I can never forget him.😭😔

Share my campaign 🙏

Thank you 🩷

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Please help me. My daughter’s condition is bad and she needs special care and some needs. Donate to me what you can please save her from here🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🥺🥺🥺🥺

Please, my friend, donate me to buy the medicine for my daughter. Please, my friend, 🍉😭

Verified by : @90-ghost

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CW: Gore + Body Horror?

I have nothing scrumptious to feed y’all so take my son

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Urgent Humanitarian Appeal: My name is Musab, a father of three daughters. Due to the ongoing war, I was injured, and my youngest daughter, Lama (4 years old), was also hurt. I have undergone one surgery on my shoulder but urgently need another. Unfortunately, my financial situation does not allow me to cover the costs.

I am reaching out to anyone who can help. Your support can save my life, help me complete my treatment, and provide care for my injured daughter. Donate to Saving Musab's family from war, organized by Mosab Hammouda.

"Please donate as soon as possible – your contribution can make a huge difference."

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I saw your arts and I really like your creepypasta and Scp arts, I was wondering if you know Backrooms, Bad End Friends and Trevor Henderson's arts?

I always loved the concept of the backrooms honestly!

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Helen otis art and my life is yours 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

I will definitely consider…

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Bunch of dudes. (Old art)

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Old art from my TribeTwelve obsession…get me out of the trenches

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Creepypasta in 2025? Woah man…

Anyways old creepypasta art dump (lowkey queer stuff + popular pastas in my style)

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The Ultimate Town Sandbox brainrot has gotten me…

(I don’t support actual cops, just this little queer)

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Old SCP Art dump (+ Warriors Cats Au). Teehee

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A drawing of Patrick with the song Frontier Psychiatrist by The Avalanches. :) love this bastard.

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A drawing of my Homicidal Liu design (and rewrite) from a while back.

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I decided to escape Instagram and seek refuge in Tumblr, what is up ladies heheh. Anyways, here’s some of my ocs in the span of a year or so…My art style is still changing!