There Are Moments When We Have Real Fun Because, Just For The Moment, We Don't Think About Things And

Hello,my name is Yousef Hilles from Gaza. I followed my campaign and was verified by @el-shab-hussein I hope you can help you can help Campaign number(209)

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Donate to A Father's Plea: Help Save My Family, organized by Omar yousef

My name is Youssef Helles, 42 years old. In 2019, I left Gaza in search of a better… Omar yousef needs your support for A Father's Plea: H

veiled in the wilds

flavourful illustration of Lotte with her cloak that lets her shapeshift into animals.

— checkmate

Tubbo looked up at his best friend, grinning.

“Checkmate,” Tubbo said victoriously, moving his queen to Tommy’s final piece and knocking it off the board.

“Let me win for once,” Tommy moaned, sighing heavily.

“And have you bragging in my ear for the next two months? I don’t think so,” Tubbo shook his head, setting up the pieces so that they could play again. He glanced at Tommy, and catched him looking at Tubbo whilst chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” Tubbo raised an eyebrow, folding his arms and watching Tommy closely.

“We’ve been doing this all day - are you not bored?” he asks, leaning against the back of his chair and crossing his legs. Tubbo frowned again, catching his gaze and briefly admiring his enchanting grey eyes, before finally responding.

“How could I ever be bored of spending time with you?” Tubbo asked softly, making his first move on the chess board. Tommy watched Tubbo, looking pitiful, and doesn’t make his move.

“I’m glad, but…” he sighs, staying completely still whilst still looking at Tubbo. Tubbo sat upright against his chair, waiting for Tommy to continue.

“You need to remember that I am dead,”

Tubbo blinked, and when his eyes are opened, Tommy’s gone. Vanished, as if he was never there. Just like that, Tubbo was alone again, sitting in front of his chessboard playing with nobody.

➡️My Story⬅️🕊️🕊️🕊️

Please Give Me Attention & Support By 🔄Share My Story🕊️🕊️🕊️

🆘I Pleased You If you could Donate to me so that I can travel & complete my emergency treatment journey.

Your Donation, even if it's small, means a lot to me & will save my life. I will then return to my normal life by your generosity & donation💝

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Donate to Help Amira get medical treatment abroad, organized by Pegah Ferydoni

Hello, I‘m Pegah from Berlin and I‘m collecting your donations for my friend‘s … Pegah Ferydoni needs your support for Help Amira get medica

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// au, dsmp, rp

- mentions of death, like, a heavy existential crisis

immortal phil au where he is actually an asshole. he's been alive for thousands of years, he's seen people fall innocent or guilty, he's gotten attached and lost everything and repeat more times than he can count.

but after it happens so often - that's all people are to him. an hourglass, with its sand slowly but surely running around, a ticking bomb that could blow his heart to pieces again at any time, for he only knows the timer exists, he doesn't know what time it displays.

he meets techno, someone who's lived for a little bit longer than others - centuries are meer child’s play for phil - and techno is, well. valuable. he's a skilled fighter, and he's clever, and he's fun to be around.

and so phil indulges- but keeps his distance. goes with techno on adventures, starts empires and begins great tales, takes him on flights and resource runs and teaches him, all the while they're happy, and phil's happy, and he's occupied until inevitably techno passes and he'll be on his own again.

there's nights in the empire where techno will almost reach out, almost, almost. he holds out his hand - metaphorically - and almost begs phil to follow, to slide his hand in his and let techno lead them forward for once, to great times of wars and conquer, and phil looks away, backs out, raises his walls and leaves until it gets better, because he- he's better than this, he doesn't get attached, he doesn't need techno in his life, this is just a momentary little friendship that he can milk experience and reputation from until techno dies- that's what he tells himself.

but he's scared, somewhere deep- terrified of opening his heart once more to someone who could throw it in his face the next year, month, day, hour, if he's not careful, because he so painfully knows techno's timer exists and beeps loudly but he doesn't know when it will go silent and play out the last breaths techno will ever take.

and before he knows it, every day spent on his own, every night spent ignoring techno's hitched breath and darkened eyes glossed from nightmares, every day spent dodging techno's attempts at something more, something like a warm presence for his cold eternal heart - he can't wait to get back to techno. he always takes a step back, raises his shield and throws on a brave face, but then he's longing to be spending the nights around campfires again, craving that warm sunlight as they lay in the fresh grass and enjoy the warmth of the rare summers in the arctic.

he didn't mean for it to be this way, he didn't mean for techno to become something- something more than just a playful hot potato game with the slowly emptying hourglass techno really is, but he can't handle life without techno anymore, can't imagine himself without him, because when he wakes he thinks if techno's slept well, when he cooks their food he thinks if techno prefers salted over sweetened, and when he shivers out in the wild arctic he thinks, is technoblade cold, or is he huddled around the fireplace and cozy and everything phil longs to be at night?

and then he finds himself wasting his days away pouring over old books full of knowledge that even transcends him, the bags in his eyelids getting heavier and limbs drooping, aching with lack of sleep as he trails over every word, searching.

immortality, life expansions, revival, resurrection.

he finds nothing.

and then he screams, and screams again, and throws the books into the fireplace with as much hate as he can muster, because they're the reason techno will be dead, the reason why techno's hourglass will shatter and scatter all the precious sand for phil to try and fail to pick up and repair.

he wails and he breaks swords against walls and he cries, loud and raw and heartbreakingly open for the universe to see, because there's no denying or helping it anymore; techno's going to leave him, and he'll be alone, and the warm days will turn withering and freezingly cold, because no matter how much the sun tries to hold him together for a little more, without techno, he'll never be whole again.

he comes back, eventually, thinks it must be the world's disgusting sense of wicked humor that forces him to walk up to the empire's doors again- no, not forced. he wants to be here. he needs to.

and he's open again, back in techno's arms and throat too hoarse to talk, but techno understands and looks at him with eyes that threaten to pull phil all the way down to the bottom of the earth and leave him longing, longing to see the amusement and joy and cheer in techno's eyes instead.

and that night he dusts the old libraries, sets his bed, wipes down the windows and cooks them a meal for the night, and as he looks out into the wild arctic he feels no need to leave anymore.

that morning, he wakes next to techno, and makes breakfast with techno, and feeds their chickens with techno, and he thinks, cathartically in some fucked up way, techno will die one day. he will pass, he will close his eyes for the last time and breathe out the final breath. and phil will be okay.

phil will be okay because when that day comes he'll be there, right by his side, holding his hand and leading him to the other side, and he'll be okay because they'll have precious memories and adventures behind them, and phil will be there for them all.

he'll grieve, and he'll be alone, but he'll be okay, because he'll never leave techno's side again. he doesn't long for immortality, or to have a dance with death to drop to his knees and beg, not him, please not him, not yet, because it'll be okay in the end, whenever techno's day will be, because regardless of what happens, phil would have been there, and he would have made techno's life outweigh the pain in his burning heart.

I don’t think you’re ready to have an adult conversation about politics until you’re able to admit that there are things you love and enjoy that would not and should not exist in a just world. $8 billion dollar budget movies every other month don’t exist in a just world. New 900 GB AAA video games every year don’t exist in a just world. Next day delivery doesn’t exist in a just world. 80 different soda brands don’t exist in a just world. 

All of those things come from exploitation on some level, and if you wouldn’t trade those for a world where everyone can eat and have a home no matter who they are or what they do, I don’t know what to tell you. 

Hello! I'll be posting short-form/incomplete and general original works and other things here! Examples will be random sentences and paragraphs I come up with that will never be used, chapters of books I had ideas for but never completed, etc, etc! :)

Even with a ceasefire, the lives of Gazans have been destroyed. Here are dolls made by Safaa, who used to support her family with a crochet business before losing her home in an airstrike:

Her parents both have diabetes and have not been able to access treatment since October 2023. Her father also lost an eye in an attack.

Please support her and her parents in rebuilding their home and the crochet business

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Donate to Hot meals 4 Starved Palestinian Kids in north Gaza, organized by Hani Almadhoun

Do you know what it’s like to watch your family starve? I do. My… Hani Almadhoun needs your support for Hot meals 4 Starved Palestinian

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Donate to Hot meals 4 Starved Palestinian Kids in north Gaza, organized by Hani Almadhoun

Do you know what it’s like to watch your family starve? I do. My… Hani Almadhoun needs your support for Hot meals 4 Starved Palestinian

The US-backed terrorist state of Israel killed Palestinian chef and co-founder of the Gaza Soup Kitchen, Mahmoud al-Madhoun.

Mahmoud was able to feed over 3,000 Palestinian civilians a day through the genocide.

Let's keep giving it all we've got for the Gaza Soup Kitchen. Israel has repeatedly targeted and killed those who have given service to the Gaza community.

Donate as much as you can or if you're unable to, share this post so it reaches more people! Any amount, even a dollar, can help the heroes of the Gaza Soup Kitchen to feed the people of Gaza.

(source)

Surprise meeting from the future