I Need More Fashion Subcultures! I Need Something Crazy Snd Wild That Stands Out From The Crowd, As The

old pkmn legend pics 

‼️🚨Urgent appeal, very IMPORTANT 🚨‼️

The crossings are closed again‼️

We need your help, the situation is unsuitable and dangerous, we need your help, you are our last hope... Food, clothes, milk, and everything else has become expensive, and we are in the holy month of Ramadan...😭😔🤲

We want food to eat after fasting for 15 hours, nothing is like before... The prices are very expensive...😞

The elderly, our children, us... we all need food, drink, medicine, milk and winter clothes... We live in tents that do not protect us from the cold of winter. 🥶

Please help us... Any donation will save our lives and the lives of our children.🙏😭👶

Campaign Link ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Chuffed

Help Lama's family to rebuild her life

Hello, I'm Lama from Gaza, I'm 24 years old, and my husband Mohammed is 30 years old, we got married in 2022 in a beautiful, warm and quiet

it’s annoying bc a lot of ppl just associate lolita and gyaru with just being alternative fashion and while they are alternative fashion not every alt fashion is lolita and gyaru theirs specific rules to it there r different types of lolita and gyaru u can’t say ur a hime gyaru and not dress like a princess with excessive bows big hair lots of pink etc like that’s the whole point the words mean something and ik im saying this as someone who hasn’t dressed gyaru in a while but its so irritating

the concept and idea of “you can always start trying to be a better person” is extremely important to me both in media and irl and i continue to be deeply deeply disturbed by the trend on this site pushing that these ideas in media are bad writing or even morally reprehensible

because theyd rather someone stay terrible or just straight up die than become a better person 

from a compassionate point of view it’s deeply distressing and from a pragmatic point of view it’s outright frustrating

it’s fucked up. 

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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Why is being a writer so hard? Why is coming up with ideas for a possible Persona 6 so difficult and hard? Why is this my life?! Why?’

I been looking at the PPNKG comic and tried to analyze it/come up with headcanons:

I never realized how much Brute talked, I always thought she was the quiet pessimistic girl, but I feel like she always tries to get a word in. I think Brute thinks she's the leader or the commanding one, like she's the one calling the shots when she's just adding onto whatever Berserk or Brat says (like adding on "And blue" to Brat's "Maybe something in black" or adding on "C'mon girls, it's back to business as usual" to Berserk's "that's ok.. we can still bust up Viletown".

While I like the headcanon of Berserk getting easily obsessed with people (especially Blossom), I think (based on my interpretation of their personalities in the comic) that Brat would be the one to get more attached to the idea of defeating and getting revenge on the PPG in a "fair" battle. Berserk and Brute moved on pretty quickly, but Brat was the one to get petulant.

It's interesting how the PPNKG are so in sync and treat each other well to the point where they finish each others sentences. Brick scolds and hits Boomer and even the PPG have disagreements, but the PPNKG always seem to be on the same page about most things. Maybe I can write something where the PPNKG are co-dependent and have to learn and discover themselves without their sisters. I don't know.

The way they treat the Professor isn't really that bad in my opinion. I honestly feel like it could have been worse, they just act like teenagers who want their privacy (they just say it in a aggressive way). I think they value their room (and their privacy) and being outside their house because Oppressor Plutonium is very controlling and treats them like lackeys.

(I'll update this as I get more ideas)

Then he realized lmao

Something spicy (?) Srry not sorry lol

I'm not dead I swear 😭, I have gained a bit of motivation lately reading sonadow fanfics 😏.