Cookiequeen3fan-blog - Untitled

heyyyyy bottle x black hole enjoyers what we eatin tonite

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.

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Wissam's Family Escape War and Famine, organized by Casimir Reynolds

My name is Casimir, and I am organizing this fundraiser on behalf of Wissa… Casimir Reynolds needs your support for Help Wissam's Family Esc

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.😭😔

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Thank you 🩷

In regards of the Trump government scraping all trans inclusion in its queer information portion of its websites I have made this thing. Spread the word. Don't let them pretend we never existed.

P.S: Don't like! Reblog! <3

EDIT: Well this got a lot of attention! I got a few users asking to print or repost my art and I am unimaginably grateful to everyone's interest, especially since it's a really simple drawing I made on a whim haha! Anyone who is looking to print these out to hang or hand out or repost on another platform is free to do so, although I ask you to credit me and let people know it's from my Tumblr profile! If anyone wishes to do anything else with my art or post and wants to clarify what I consent to then they can message me privately and I'll explain! <333 all my love to my queer siblings

EDIT: I made an LGBTQIA+ version with a focus on trans and intersex folks, it's on my pinned if you prefer this version of the acronym.

Some commissions I finished recently!

The trope of "ugh i hate you, (and liking you)" then proceeds to go on a date w them>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Did a redesign of my character Kandi Godiva.

Changed her hair from braids to an Afro, added more fluff to her desgin to make her look cute and gave her a color palette of pink, yellow and white.

Fuck Grammarly

Okay I need to rant about Grammarly. A program I never used before and never will now. Doubly pissed because their ads keep interrupting my peaceful 4-hour Minecraft music session with their fake-ass influencers.

Guys. Gals. Nonbinary pals.

“As a corporate girlie—” learn how to write a proper concise email.

“I used to spend hours proofreading—” enjoy the process, and then the product.

If you hate proofreading, to the point where you’ll consult a robot to do it all for you, then you hate writing. If all you care about is the end product, sorry to say but ‘writing’ is like, 30% of writing. The other 70% is editing, by design. You’re supposed to like it.

Of course I’d love to have beautiful artwork of whatever’s in my head, but I’m going to love whatever I make a whole lot more than whatever I type into some garbage generator. Because I love the process of creation.

Do I think editing is tedious as hell? Absolutely, but it’s still a tedium that I enjoy. I like fixing my mistakes, I like improving my sentence flow. I like thinking about patterns and connections that I didn’t see before and revising and reworking until I’m satisfied.

For the humdrum day to day work emails that some of us have to write—if you’re sending out whole essays to your coworkers that you need a robot to write for you, you’re doing it wrong. Corporate emails are boring and trite, but I can type out a “hey please do this thing for me” faster than I can load up ChatGPT or Grammarly, type out my prompt, make sure the result is what I actually want to say, and then send it to my coworker. If you can’t, learn.

Apparently, Grammarly used to be a helpful way to check for spelling and grammar errors. I don’t have any issue with the AI that runs spellchecker whatsoever. I type so fast and miss typos constantly and when the spellchecker is absent, like on this website, it’s annoying af.

But that’s not what Grammarly is about anymore, and that’s not what the above ad was trying to sell you, either.

You won’t get better if you don’t practice. You won’t get better if you aren’t the one making, seeing, and fixing your mistakes. Especially if you write fiction where grammar rules are a suggestion at best. My published novel is littered with flagged words and sentence fragments that I know are technically improper English, but I sacrificed an MLA-proof paper for something fun and entertaining.

AI does not understand nuance and flavor text and aesthetic choices. It never will.

If you train yourself by using a crutch you don’t need, you will end up needing it because you’ll be too afraid to act without it.

Fuck up. Make a mess. Make mistakes. You won’t make them for long once you see them. You do not need a robot to do it for you. We’ve been writing books for hundreds of years and all the authors who came before did it just fine without a robot.

This isn’t even about writing novels, it’s about communicating in the written medium. Fucking. Learn. It’s not rocket science, it’s not coding in C++, it’s not brain surgery. It’s stringing words together in a comprehensible sentence.

And obligatory disclaimer: To anyone who has an impairment and needs these tools, this is not about you and you know it.

Here are some gal designs I made recently that I'm very proud of! ^_^

Dont skip 🔴

I am Falestine, Jad Al-Haq, I am 37 years old, married, and I have a eight-month-old child named Youssef. I gave birth to him during the war during very harsh conditions that no human being can bear. I moved from the hospital immediately after giving birth to the tent in which we were staying after we were displaced to it after the Israeli bulldozers completely bulldozed my house. and my suffering did not start from here. Rather, it began since the beginning of the war, and I am still suffering. I cannot provide enough milk for my baby or diapers. Even medicines and vitamins are not available.

I ask you for your urgent help in disseminating the link to my family and communicating it to people interested and able to help us.  I didn't want to do it, but the tragic situation we are living in is what pushed me to do it.  I feel sad and helpless, after we had everything, we are now homeless on the streets, living in a tent next to a dilapidated public toilet and there is sewage, dirt and waste everywhere, we sleep on it!  We suffer from terrible heat, insects, scorpions, the danger of death, bombs and missiles, in addition to hunger of course, the danger of pollution and terrible diseases, especially the digestive, respiratory and reproductive systems!

.  My father and mother could not bear it any longer. My father had a stroke after losing his home and his place of work, and my mother suffers from chronic diseases and needs treatment.

  Do you have the right to imagine that when you spend your life building for yourself and your children to live a decent life, all of this disappears in the blink of an eye, and now when you reach the age where you should rest, you are forced to start again!!?  But the most important thing now is to try to survive and protect your children from all the factors of death that surround us!  I ask everyone who has humanity or conscience to feel our situation and put themselves in our place.  How can someone who has lived with dignity all his life accept this?  We are slowly dying every day.

Your donation, no matter how small, can have a big impact.  It can provide a meal for my little one, a clean bottle of water, or a moment of safety under these difficult circumstances.  Every donation brings with it a ray of hope, alleviating our suffering and giving us the strength to face a new day.

I ask you to donate and support the steadfastness of the Gazan people, and share this campaign with your friends and families.  Together, we can make a difference and help my family get through this ordeal.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your generosity and support.

Warm greetings,

Falestine

Chuffed

Help Falestine and Her Family Survive the Gaza Crisis

Hello Everyone,