I don't know what's going on, I can't help but feel like I'm becoming--!!
Not today Justin
Mike Driver
i don't do bad sauce passes

titsay
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

ellievsbear
Xuebing Du

Andulka

Discoholic 🪩
No title available
wallacepolsom

No title available
Cosimo Galluzzi
art blog(derogatory)
Cosmic Funnies
tumblr dot com

★
No title available
hello vonnie
Sade Olutola

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Estonia

seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from France

seen from Malaysia
seen from Algeria
seen from Germany

seen from Türkiye

seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Netherlands
seen from United Kingdom
seen from France
seen from Germany
@butcer
I don't know what's going on, I can't help but feel like I'm becoming--!!
STILL WORKING ON THE REFERENCE FOR HIS BODY AND OUTFIT but heres some Plink reference djkdfnjdfklfkndfnfk of course things might change over time but still
Very chill space
i like the. him.
Everything changed the day Amira was born. The world outside was collapsing — bombs, dust, screams, and fear. Yet inside a small room, by the dim light of a single candle, a new life began. While others were running for shelter, I was holding my newborn daughter, trembling, crying, trying to believe that something so pure could still exist in a place like Gaza. I named her Amira, because I wanted her to feel like a child of life —not a child of war.
A year has passed since that night, but nothing has really changed Our house is still rubble, our streets still carry the smell of smoke, and the sky still echoes with sounds that make Amira flinch in her sleep. She has just turned one. She’s learning to walk, holding my finger with her tiny hand, laughing at the smallest things — as if she doesn’t see the destruction around her. She doesn’t know the word “loss.” She never met her father, but when she smiles, I see him there. Sometimes I watch her sleeping, and I wonder what kind of world she will grow up in — whether she will ever know what peace feels like, what home smells like. And yet, when she opens her eyes in the morning and says “mama,” everything becomes bearable again. I want to rebuild our home. Not just for the walls — but for her future. For Amira to have a small room, a safe place to dream, a life that belongs to her, not to war. I’m not asking for much. Only for a chance to give her a beginning filled with warmth instead of fear
My name is Saja. I am a mother, a wife, and just one of many women in Gaza trying to hold on — to hope, to my family, and to a life that no
A Mother’s Message
To everyone reading this — thank you for listening to our story. Your kindness means more than words. Every share, every message, every donation — it all helps me rebuild not just a house, but a future for Amira. From the heart of Gaza, from a mother learning to hope again — we will live. And I will make sure my daughter grows up in a world that knows love more than war.
"Ramadan Without My Mom…"
Before I write this, I paused for a long time… I didn't know where to begin.
My name is Nasr. This is my first Ramadan without my mom and my sister. The emptiness they left behind isn't just in our home — it's in every moment, every suhoor, every iftar.
I am the oldest among my younger siblings, and a responsibility I never imagined now rests on my shoulders. I try to stay strong in front of them, I try to smile and make them feel like everything is okay… but deep inside? I'm scared.
Eid is coming… and I don't know how to bring them joy. These kids deserve happiness. They deserve Eid gifts. They deserve a smile.
At the same time, my dream of continuing my university education has been delayed — not because I don't want to, but because the circumstances are bigger than me.
I'm not asking for pity. I'm asking for a helping hand.
Any support, no matter how small, will make a huge difference for me and my little siblings this Ramadan and Eid.
🔗 Donation Link:
My name is Naser AbuThaher. I’m 18 years old, and I live in Gaza.
May God bless you just for reading this. 🤍
𝒢℘ . . .⠀ Pink scenemo !! 0_o
Please do not reupload any content on this post. Everything is free to use with credit, please reblog!
For @stomachbooks !
Like what you see? Then consider joining . . .
♡ CUPID CURE
somebody come get their dog
pining
glad he didnt overreact
“Why would you run away from me?”
+ small bonus
⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ͝ ꒡⠀† ݁ ⠀ ⏝⏝ ⠀ ݁ †⠀꒡ ͝
⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀dividers⠀ ⠀ 𝜗ℓֺ ۪ ⠀ ⠀ mbm
⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀like & reblog if using
Beacon of the Sun
Nulla,, toffee chocolate chip cookie,, 👀
Everything changed the day Amira was born. The world outside was collapsing — bombs, dust, screams, and fear. Yet inside a small room, by the dim light of a single candle, a new life began. While others were running for shelter, I was holding my newborn daughter, trembling, crying, trying to believe that something so pure could still exist in a place like Gaza. I named her Amira, because I wanted her to feel like a child of life —not a child of war.
A year has passed since that night, but nothing has really changed Our house is still rubble, our streets still carry the smell of smoke, and the sky still echoes with sounds that make Amira flinch in her sleep. She has just turned one. She’s learning to walk, holding my finger with her tiny hand, laughing at the smallest things — as if she doesn’t see the destruction around her. She doesn’t know the word “loss.” She never met her father, but when she smiles, I see him there. Sometimes I watch her sleeping, and I wonder what kind of world she will grow up in — whether she will ever know what peace feels like, what home smells like. And yet, when she opens her eyes in the morning and says “mama,” everything becomes bearable again. I want to rebuild our home. Not just for the walls — but for her future. For Amira to have a small room, a safe place to dream, a life that belongs to her, not to war. I’m not asking for much. Only for a chance to give her a beginning filled with warmth instead of fear
My name is Saja. I am a mother, a wife, and just one of many women in Gaza trying to hold on — to hope, to my family, and to a life that no
A Mother’s Message
To everyone reading this — thank you for listening to our story. Your kindness means more than words. Every share, every message, every donation — it all helps me rebuild not just a house, but a future for Amira. From the heart of Gaza, from a mother learning to hope again — we will live. And I will make sure my daughter grows up in a world that knows love more than war.
Cuties ❤️❤️❤️