when you’re a 14 month old french infant in a military hospital in the late 18th century and that weird hungry guy comes into your room
🐜<- ?
do not point to his ASS that is very rude
My name is Nadin. I never imagined I would write something like this. I’ve always been someone who kept her worries quiet, someone who believed that even the hardest days could be endured with patience and faith. But right now, I am reaching out — not because I want to, but because I need to.
I am a wife, a mother, and one of many women in Gaza trying to survive days that feel like they have no end. There was a short time — a brief ceasefire — where we thought things might start to heal. Where the sound of war faded for just long enough to let us breathe. But that moment is gone now, and the fear has returned louder than before.
My days are filled with uncertainty, and my nights with prayer. We have lost so much. Our home was damaged, our sense of safety taken from us. But through all of this, I try to keep going. I try to hold on to what little peace I can create with my hands, my words, and my love.
I am not asking for much. Just a little help to keep our lives from falling further apart. To fix the small things — a cracked wall, a leaking roof, the pieces of daily life that help us hold on to dignity.
This campaign isn’t just about survival. It’s about holding on to what makes us human in a place that keeps trying to take that away. It’s about showing my daughter — even though I won’t mention her name here — that the world didn’t forget us.
If you’ve ever felt powerless in the face of suffering, please know that even the smallest gesture can carry great meaning. A kind word. A shared post. A quiet donation. These things remind us that we’re not alone.
I am still here. Still holding on. Still believing that people out there — people like you — still care.
Please, if you feel moved, consider supporting or sharing this campaign.
Stacy's car has got her pretty far
I hate work I should be at the (remembers I don't want to go to the club) the imagination
There’s so much to unpack here:
Pack of Beakers
Goth Beaker
The Beaker snitching and pointing out the photographer
The Beaker that’s about to unload on the photographer
The terminator strut before the ass whooping and you know he’s moving at speed because of the blur
The ominous feeling that you know this is 3 in the morning
Do you know how many abs you have, Kacchan? SO many abs!
Source: here
DEADPOOL MAKING A DABI REFERENCE
Bitches love reblogging this post every Tuesday the 18th
Nice, Izuku likes when his organs are in ‘relatively good shape.’
Source: unknown