El Chupacabra Believes In You Too!

Cryptocurrency? No no you misheard me, I buy cryptidcurrency.

shoutout to all the people who kept meticulously detailed journals about a niche topic as a child and genuinely believed they were going to have a breakthrough one day

how’s the neurodivergence treating you wenches?

For the longest time, when people would say "Cryptocurrency," this is what I'd imagine.

My favourite niche of horror will forever and always be lighthouses. The isolation. The dread. Whenever a protagonist is in a lighthouse, they’re cut off from the rest of the world. Especially in horror, the atmosphere of terror they create is peak because it’s a simple enough space to navigate with not a lot of places to hide and, that’s want makes it so scary. The waves crash loudly against the shore but, inside, all you can hear is the sound of your own heartbeat as it becomes louder and louder. Your heart beating out of your chest. Because you know The Danger isn’t hiding. It can’t. It doesn’t want to. And if you just turn around then, well.

shoutout to the metaphor of a lighthouse mirroring the isolated state of a character, gotta be one of my favourite genders

🌸 From One Mother’s Heart – Please Read 🌸

My name is Saja. I’m a wife, a mother, and a woman who once believed her story would be simple. I thought my days would be filled with watching my daughter grow — from her first smile to her first steps — surrounded by the small joys of everyday life.

But life had other plans.

War has returned to our home. Again. And once again, we find ourselves living under skies that never seem to rest.

There was a moment — a fragile, breathless moment — when the bombs paused and the world seemed to remember us. It gave us hope. We thought maybe, just maybe, we could start to rebuild. But now, we are back in the dark — hiding, holding on, praying.

I’m writing this not as someone seeking pity, but as a mother who has no other choice but to speak.

Imagine holding your baby in the middle of the night, not because she cried, but because the world outside roared too loud for either of you to sleep. Imagine whispering bedtime stories not to lull her into dreams, but to keep the fear from settling into her tiny bones.

This is my life.

This is my daughter’s life.

And even now — especially now — I believe in softness. I believe in kindness. Because when everything else is taken from you, hope becomes the most valuable thing you have.

Why I’m Reaching Out Our home has been damaged. Our lives changed. But through it all, my daughter wakes up every morning with a smile. She reaches for me with trust, with love, with faith that I will keep her safe.

That’s why I keep going.

I’ve launched a campaign to ask for help — not because it’s easy, but because silence is no longer an option. I am asking for support not just for me, but for my baby, and for the quiet strength of so many mothers like me who are fighting, every single day, to hold their families together.

How You Can Help: 🤍 Help us restore parts of our home so we can live with dignity 🤍 Support women and mothers in Gaza with access to care and resources 🤍 Keep the light of hope alive for a generation born in the shadows of war

💛 If you can, please support our journey here:

Chuffed

I Am Saja – A Mother Holding On Through the Return of War

My name is Saja. I am a wife, a mother to a precious 8-month-old girl, and I am writing this in a moment that I wish I didn’t have to live t

If you can’t give, please consider sharing. Your voice might be the reason someone else hears ours.

From My Heart to Yours Maybe our lives are worlds apart. Maybe you’ve never lived through war. But if you’ve ever held a child and wished the world could be better for them — then you understand more than you know.

I don’t want my daughter to grow up thinking the world turned away.

Please, if you’ve read this far — thank you. Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for caring. We are still here. Still hoping. Still holding on to every kind act like it’s a lifeline.

With love and endless gratitude

my desire for a slasher summer severely outweighs my knowledge that I do not posses the skills necessary to survive it

The sea is a wretched, greedy mistress. She swallows up her lovers deep down in the depths of her cavernous desires.

The ones who are lost are never seen again. But, there have been times some have returned. Washed up on the shore like the carcass of dead fish.

Their families are never glad to see them though.

Because the sea never returns her lovers. So what is that?

rip mabel pines you would’ve loved the crystal girlies

the woods are beautiful, the sunlight peaks through the trees and dances across the surface of the lake. The sky is clear with not a cloud in sight and everything is quiet.

peaceful.

where is everyone?

the crickets, the birds, the critters, the people?

all the hot girls are chasing a formless void of energy, a concept really, dangerous and cunning through the woods in search of answers, seeking to know the truth behind the entity and subsequently, themselves. Being aware that knowing will ruin them, drag them down with the insurmountable tide of despair that keeps cresting time and time again but, not knowing will leave them with a gnawing creature in their chest, ripping out and eating their heart like a sick parasite or an obsessed lover.

bring your cameras