Me encantan los artistas
There were thoughts about how Emma builds the process of working with mercenaries. Under her responsibility are mostly newcomers, and I have a headcanon that scout was one of those who Emma coordinated, so all such thoughts are shown through their interaction. To put it briefly, I like to think that Emma punishes mercenaries in her own way for some misdeeds. Here everything is individual, but she frequently use as "educational measures" something like that: cleans up the training ground, unloads the ammunitions (there are people there who do this, but she sends extra hands to help), and for some mercenaries who don't care about cleaning/unloading, she may not give out some contracts (I think Miss Pauling gives Emma a pack of contracts that are most suitable for new mercenaries, or Emma negotiates with ms P so that the guilty, in Emma's opinion, mercenaries are not given an additional tasks. IMHO, the lack of extra money is so-so. Not critical, but unpleasant)
Redrew an Al Parker ad as Magnolia.
I think I did good 🥱
I need your kindess to support me in Gaza ❤️🙏‼️
✅️Vetted by @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #538)
Hi everyone,
I’m Inge Kassab 22, dental student in Alazhar university Gaza, I have finished three years of my studies at the university and unfortunately my university has completely destroyed due to the war in Gaza and I can’t go abroad the city to continue my studies because all boarders around us were closed and I forced to live her under bombing.
For almost a whole year and half I have been living in Gaza, where wardestruction and chaos spread everywhere in Gaza.
My home and my university were completely destroyed .
I am currently in Deir El Balah after I have displaced from my city Gaza , trying to save money to rebuild home to live in a safe place with my family. My father is an old man who lost his work and my mom also lost her work. I need you to support me and my family to build our life again.
Because of the war, it has become impossible to provide money to live, buy food, clean and drinkable water, and education here. This money will be used to provide what the war has destroyed for us, and also to provide a place to stay, especially since we are now approaching the winter season, where we need winter clothes, repair the damage to the house, and provide what protects us from the cold and hunger of winter.
Gaza has become a place full of destruction and is no longer suitable for any opportunity here. Diseases have spread in the Gaza Strip, especially those skin diseases for which there is no treatment due to the war. The water here has also become polluted water and has spread, and there is not enough food for everyone here.
I created this campaign to ask for help and support from you. As a human being who lived an entire year and half under the flames of war, destruction, and tragedies, I am addressing you and asking you for help, to help me get a chance to survive war, death, and hunger with my family, and to start from scratch. A new journey of living and recovering from those traumas and painful memories that we experienced in the war. So we stayed in the Gaza Strip under the genocide to live in difficult conditions and complete our studies with the least available means. Before the war began, I was at the beginning of the clinical stage and the beginning of my work on patients, but the war came and destroyed all my dreams, as I lost my university and my dental tools, which cost my father more than $1,000, and I lost my future. But now I am trying to return again in order to complete the number of study hours and graduate. Therefore, I need your help to complete what remains, as there is only very little left to graduate and go out to work and help patients.
This money will also help me to cover our living expenses and buy food in Gaza. Buying food and groceries in Gaza is something we cannot afford every day because of the high prices, and there is no opportunity to work here. The money will also be used to buy available cooking gas, wood and firewood which will also be used to provide fires for cooking and also to keep warm from the cold at night in the coming days. Also I want to build my own clinic after graduation.
I hope you will hear my voice and help me get a chance to evacuate from here, and a chance to evacuate from Gaza if we can . 🥺❤️
I am a person whose dreams, life, and ambitions were stolen during the war. All I have left is the hope of escaping from here. Help me revive this hope ❤️🙏🙏
Or here directly
So Please Help Me to Put (Dr.) before my name please make this post viral 🥺❤️‼️
Inge Kassab.
1. Gravity Falls and its AUs. I am a walking wiki.
2. How Brahms: The Boy II goes back against everything the first movie set up and why it's so vexing.
3. Mary Sues aren't a bad thing and majority of times it's used in an unsolicited 'critique' context
4. Eggnog.
5. How to make food from nothing. I was poor growing up. If I wasn't an artist, I'd be a chef.
@joonliebe @engag3d @scozthewoz or anyone
I saw this meme going around on twitter and I think it'll be perfect for this account.
List 5 topics you can talk on for an hour without preparing any material.
Send questions about yourself
Ask questions to/about your characters
Ask about your headcanons
Send questions about your works (fanfics, art, music, RPs, etc)
Ask about popular ships/headcanons
Ask about plot ideas you’ve had but haven’t acted upon yet (snippets of AUs, a scenario you wish to write/draw but haven’t gotten to yet)
Questions about other ships/headcanons that aren’t as popular or are rarepairs
Questions or comments about favorite tropes, headcanons, characters, foods, weather, or anything else you are okay in answering!
Buncha doodles of Magnolia and her kids while I procrastinate on finishing my comics.
I love them.
Tf2 solar system au
Tf2 solar system actually make by me, lol, what a cringe au
🚨 URGENT DISTRESS CALL
Hello Dear🌹
Please Share/Reblog Our Story & If You Can Kindly Donate To Support Us🙏🏻
I'm Alaa Khateeb From Gaza, Palestine With 8 Of My Family Among Us 4 Young Children Under 10 Years We Lives A Dangerous War From October 2023.
Displaced From Our Home 7 Times & Now Living In A Tent That Lacks Of Life. We Lost Our Jobs, Salaries & Everything.
Pictures & Words Fail To Describe Our Situation🥹
Your Donation Will Save Our Lives🙏🏻
💌https://gofund.me/cb8c05a3
Thank's A Lot❤️🌹
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Please support me
, I'm Karam Al Nabih from Gaza. My home, dreams, and university have been destroyed by the war. I'm a software engineer in my final semester, and I'm urgently seeking your support to rebuild my life and help my sick mother.
Please consider donating, even a small amount like 10 or 15 £, as every contribution makes a difference. If you can't donate, please share my story to help me reach my goal. Your support means the world to me.
Reblog pin post
Donate here: https://gofund.me/a9d0f2d7
Thank you so much! 🙏❤️
Vatted by @nabulsi @90-ghost
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Please read this man’s description of his dachshund and its most annoying habit
“I have a ridiculous dog named Walnut. He is as domesticated as a beast can be: a purebred longhaired miniature dachshund with fur so thick it feels rich and creamy, like pudding. His tail is a huge spreading golden fan, a clutch of sunbeams. He looks less like a dog than like a tropical fish. People see him and gasp. Sometimes I tell Walnut right out loud that he is my precious little teddy bear pudding cup sweet boy snuggle-stinker.
In my daily life, Walnut is omnipresent. He shadows me all over the house. When I sit, he gallops up into my lap. When I go to bed, he stretches out his long warm body against my body or he tucks himself under my chin like a soft violin. Walnut is so relentlessly present that sometimes, paradoxically, he disappears. If I am stressed or tired, I can go a whole day without noticing him. I will pet him idly; I will yell at him absent-mindedly for barking at the mailman; I will nuzzle him with my foot. But I will not really see him. He will ask for my attention, but I will have no attention to give. Humans are notorious for this: for our ability to become blind to our surroundings — even a fluffy little jewel of a mammal like Walnut.
…
When I come home from a trip, Walnut gets very excited. He prances and hops and barks and sniffs me at the door. And the consciousnesses of all the wild creatures I’ve seen — the puffins, rhinos, manatees, ferrets, the weird hairy wet horses — come to life for me inside of my domestic dog. He is, suddenly, one of these unfamiliar animals. I can pet him with my full attention, with a full union of our two attentions. He is new to me and I am new to him. We are new again together.
Even when he is horrible. The most annoying thing Walnut does, even worse than barking at the mailman, is the ritual of his “evening drink.” Every night, when I am settled in bed, when I am on the brink of sleep, Walnut will suddenly get very thirsty. If I go to bed at 10:30, Walnut will get thirsty at 11. If I go to bed at midnight, he’ll wake me up at 1. I’ve found that the only way I cannot be mad about this is to treat this ritual as its own special kind of voyage — to try to experience it as if for the first time. If I am open to it, my upstairs hallway contains an astonishing amount of life.
The evening drink goes something like this: First, Walnut will stand on the edge of the bed, in a muscular, stout little stance, and he will wave his big ridiculous fan tail in my face, creating enough of a breeze that I can’t ignore it. I will roll over and try to go back to sleep, but he won’t let me: He’ll stamp his hairy front paws and wag harder, then add expressive noises from his snout — half-whine, half-breath, hardly audible except to me. And so I give up. I sit up and pivot and plant my feet on the floor — I am hardly even awake yet — and I make a little basket of my arms, like a running back preparing to take a handoff, and Walnut pops his body right into that pocket, entrusting the long length of his vulnerable spine (a hazard of the dachshund breed) to the stretch of my right arm, and then he hangs his furry front legs over my left. From this point on we function as a unit, a fusion of man and dog. As I lift my weight from the bed Walnut does a little hop, just to help me with gravity, and we set off down the narrow hall. We are Odysseus on the wine-dark sea. (Walnut is Odysseus; I am the ship.)
All of evolution, all of the births and deaths since caveman times, since wolf times, that produced my ancestors and his — all the firelight and sneak attacks and tenderly offered scraps of meat, the cages and houses, the secret stretchy coils of German DNA — it has all come, finally, to this: a fully grown exhausted human man, a tiny panting goofy harmless dog, walking down the hall together. Even in the dark, Walnut will tilt his snout up at me, throw me a deep happy look from his big black eyes — I can feel this happening even when I can’t see it — and he will snuffle the air until I say nice words to him (OK you fuzzy stinker, let’s go get your evening drink), and then, always, I will lower my face and he will lick my nose, and his breath is so bad, his fetid snout-wind, it smells like a scoop of the primordial soup. It is not good in any way. And yet I love it.
Walnut and I move down the hall together, step by bipedal step, one two three four, tired man and thirsty friend, and together we pass the wildlife of the hallway — a moth, a spider on the ceiling, both of which my children will yell at me later to move outside, and of course each of these creatures could be its own voyage, its own portal to millions of years of history, but we can’t stop to study them now; we are passing my son’s room. We can hear him murmuring words to his friends in a voice that sounds disturbingly like my own voice, deep sound waves rumbling over deep mammalian cords — and now we are passing my daughter’s room, my sweet nearly grown-up girl, who was so tiny when we brought Walnut home, as a golden puppy, but now she is moving off to college. In her room she has a hamster she calls Acorn, another consciousness, another portal to millions of years, to ancient ancestors in China, nighttime scampering over deserts.
But we move on. Behind us, in the hallway, comes a sudden galumphing. It is yet another animal: our other dog, Pistachio, he is getting up to see what’s happening; he was sleeping, too, but now he is following us. Pistachio is the opposite of Walnut, a huge mutt we adopted from a shelter, a gangly scraggly garbage muppet, his body welded together out of old mops and sandpaper, with legs like stilts and an enormous block head and a tail so long that when he whips it in joy, constantly, he beats himself in the face. Pistachio unfolds himself from his sleepy curl, stands, trots, huffs and stares after us with big human eyes. Walnut ignores him, because with every step he is sniffing the dark air ahead of us, like a car probing a night road with headlights, and he knows we are approaching his water dish now, he knows I am about to bend my body in half to set his four paws simultaneously down on the floor, he knows that he will slap the cool water with his tongue for 15 seconds before I pick him up again and we journey back down the hall. And I find myself wondering, although of course it doesn’t matter, if Walnut was even thirsty, or if we are just playing out a mutual script. Or maybe, and who could blame him, he just felt like taking a trip.”