oliver

Hey guys! This is way overdue (By almost 3 months XD, Sorry!!). I have finally made an aspiration tutorial, so if you are interested in making an aspiration, follow the steps below!!

(*Note: This is pretty long!!)

Being a golf caddy at a country club isn’t Trevor’s life dream. It’s not even, like, top eight life dreams. (Or: the perks of being a nepo cousin, or: how to get a girlfriend by watching from a distance. 15k, Trevor/Arasha AU.)

they're gonna be the coolest customers at marya's toys and trinkets and other drivel to distract you from life's tragedies: a toy store.

marya shirt closeup:

i am a very new fan of hermitcraft and life series , literally only started watching hermitcraft at the end of march after my friend lars told me too LOL

anyway i chose skizz first and i quickly became hooked, idk how it just happened but like not only his silly personality but truly how wise and introspective he could be at times, it was probably mazlo’s pyramid that sold me the most on skizz, i could listen to that man talk for hours about that dang pyramid

skizz for me these past few months has been an outlet for me to just get distracted, either it be from the hectic life of my first year of college or when i needed a break from hearing about the awful shit our world is doing, or even simply needing something to focus on and calm down when my anxiety is keeping me up at odd ours of the night and his content genuinely make me very happy

Tinky doesn't always get to win

Consider this the part 1 origin of my Unstuck AU wherein Ted is saved from a life of torment within the bastard box. Hoping when I have the energy I can release the part 2 that happens in btwn Hidgens experiments and the phone call (heavily featuring our favorite red-haired witch)

This is what Ted is seeing/feeling in the last panel. Btw.

No food. No water. No medicine. No education. No shelter. No safety.

This is not life… this is daily suffering, a slow bleeding of dignity and spirit, in the face of a deadly global silence.

We are not living — we are barely surviving.

A single loaf of bread now costs over $25.

There’s no electricity to bake, no money to buy, not even a safe place to eat.

My children are hungry. And I am powerless before them.

We are not asking for luxury or comfort.

We are simply asking for the bare minimum — we are begging to stay alive.

If you’re reading this, you are the light in our darkness.

Donate if you can. And if you can’t — speak up. Let the world know.

Share our voice. Spread our pain.

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.