Just a sketch
when youโre reading fanfiction and you get so involved in the story you start imagining different scenarios in that same universe and then itโs fanfiction fanfiction
Dear humanity,
Please Help Me โ My Son May Die at Any Moment.
I'm Amal, a mother of three children, living under the weight of the genocide taking place in Gaza. ๐
Hereโs my story, and Iโm reaching out with a hopeful heart ๐โจ, hoping someone will feel what my family and I are going through.
My son is suffering from a severe and life-threatening injury after being shot by Israeli drones. He urgently needs medical treatment outside Gaza.
Time is running out, and we are facing a critical situation. I am asking for your generosity to help us save him either through a donation or by sharing this urgent plea with others
I beg you, i kiss your feet, to help my son. My son may die at any moment.
I lost most of my family. I'm afraid to lose my son too ๐ฅบ
Mohammed deserves to live a happy and healthy life, just like every other child on this earth.
So I humbly ask you to donate even a little or at least reblog this appeal.
.m
Who needs sleeves on winter? Not him.
take some Zane cuz he is silly and I really wanted to draw his arms.
FSM: We need to find a way for Morro to be redeemed, my son when he was young made mistakes, though his Morro has paid the most for them. Cloud Kingdom: Well you see, we have tried multiple times... He was given another chance as a ghost you see. FSM: That was a singular time and under the grasp of the preeminent and destiny was warped to fit her pleasing. Cloud Kingdom: Fine we shall try the process once more, he is in wonderful hands.
... Cloud Kingdom: turns Morro into a fish.
Morro was a failure, everyone knew that, since the day he was born. His no where to be seen parents saw that, Wu saw that and destiny did too. He had tried and tried again to be something, something that mattered, something that would prove to the three to keep him around. Of course destiny had to constantly screw him over and throw him under the bus.
So the day that his second life has ended his third life began.
This time, this life, he embraced what destiny had out for him. Which was not much, mostly rot and spackle in the water depths of stixx, hear the screams of the cursed, and be crushed by the deathly grip of what remained of his late mistress. A hell hole customized just for him, how lucky.
It was a constant state of torture, the constant pain being branded into his mind as something that would always be there. A fact that living could not be without it. Time passed and nothing would ever change, repetitive cycle that had a beginning but no end. He certainly didn't get used to it, no matter how long it would last he couldn't (getting sucked out for the day of the departed and being trapped in a wax statue of himself didn't help either). Though it became a sense of home for the specter, a shelter from the barrages of thoughts that swirled in his mind. He didn't want to think about his previous lives, and with this treatment he was given, he didn't have to.
Pain reeked with a stench that stained ones mind, worming it's way inside like a weed. Weeds blocked the grain from growing, overwhelming the field and giving the famer an unfruitful harvest. The grain if you couldn't tell was his thoughts, his thoughts. These were of the purest, not warped by the Preeminent, nor tainted with Wu's guidance. And Morro feared them for that very reason.
Confrontation of any sorts never set well with Morro, he was skilled in fighting, not in whatever sort of communication which was this. When he was confronted by Wu he had been given a home and let himself drive himself to something he was not destined to be. When he was confronted by the golden weapons and destiny itself, he left what mattered the most and drove himself to death. The tiny confrontation with Wu, when his sensei offered him practically another life? Nope. He chose to let himself rot in here, for here he could be ridden of this belligerent, annoying, feature of life which was, confrontation.
He wasn't let off the hook that easily. He should've known. He was destiny's personal punching bag after all, he had spited, broke and disobeyed it. So when the glowing figure of the FSM master materialized of nowhere, he should've been prepared.
The pair's conversation was short, mostly due to Morro's stubbornness of staying in this little mindscape he cowered and hid in. Maybe he should've been less antagonistic, maybe the old man should've drank some weird tea to open his eyes and see that Morro was in no state to be given another life. The ex-ghost had clearly tried to convey the message in his tone, curt and annoyed. Though nothing ever had gone Morro's way before, this was not going to be the start.
The next thing that happened he didn't even notice until destiny nudged another in his way... That person was Benthomaar.
Harpy Hare, where have you buried all your children?
You can't keep them all caged
They will fight and run away
Mother, tell me, so I say
they donโt know they have beautiful eyes ๐ฑ๐
I drew a lot about this guy๐ช๐ช๐ช
omg guys its pythor irl
(got this dumb little slap bracelet at my towns festival and now I can't unsee pythor)
"please, expect me to be constantly on life support or monster" He/They | Gender fluid menace | Omnisexual Panic
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