Iminconstantturmoil - JustVibin' Don't Mind Me

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iminconstantturmoil

10 months ago

Cases of Skin Rash are increasing everyday because of bacterial , fungal or viral infections , on the other sides alot of insects such as mosquitoes, ticks, fleas and flies, which act as vectors. What we are witnessing in shelter centers and displacement camps from the accumulation of stagnant water and inadequate management of waste and sanitation provides a fertile ground for disease vectors. Every day we see in our Medical point about 50 cases of multi-cause rash. 😥💔

Save our children from this war. Link for donation 👇🔗🍉

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Alaa's and her family evacuate, organized by Alaa Ayad

Alaa Ayad is raising funds to help her family evacuate from Gaza. Currently, Gaza has… Alaa Ayad needs your support for Help Alaa's and h

Verified by Operation Olive Branch line 395 master line

We still very far from the goal. I hope everyone will donate even a little. I am confident that you will stand with me and support me until I reach my goal and remove my family from the danger of war. Share my story. Pin my story to your page. Everything helps.

@stil-lindigo @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @palestinegenocide @communistchilchuck @palentonga @palms-upturned @commissions4aid-international @cherifaouachani @sayruq @sar-soor

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iminconstantturmoil

10 months ago

Stop putting that fucking ballerina mom on my fyp I don't careeeee white women were sooooo quick to cry over her— like snot bubble, runny nose sobbing, over the choice she made to marry wealthy and have kids, but if you tell them about the sexual violence women and kids are suffering in Congo watch them turn stone face so quick, they couldn't give less of a fuck about black and brown women. They feel more for a wealthy white ballerina who gave up her dreams for a MAN than they do about Women using tent lining as menstrual pads in Palestine I don't careeeeeeeeee about the fucking ballerina she'll live get off the floor stop crying

Immigrant women give up their dreams every day, refugee women give up their dreams every day, Palestinian women give up their dreams every day, women in Congo give up their dreams every day, Bangladeshi women give up their dreams every day and they're dreaming about safety and security. We should all be so fucking lucky to give up being a ballerina to be a rich man's wife I DON'T CAREEEEEEEE AND I HATE Y'ALL

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iminconstantturmoil

2 years ago

Muerte/Death x Reader:

Love?

Just a short one. I wanted to write after not being able to for so long, and this'll probably be the only one I'll post after a while because exams are coming and I have, like, 2 bedrooms and an entire loft apartment I need to design + an explanation as to what design principles I chose and why I chose them, all while I'm sick and need to finish my architectural plates. So yeah xD

She's never loved anyone before.

At least not like this.

Before, she used to think that maybe love wasn't meant for her. That it was something that she wouldn't be able to reach out to and fully grasp in her hand, feel it in between her fingertips and feel its welcoming warmth in her palm and press it closely to her beating chest like she was so used to hearing about in books and in stories. That it was only something she could look at from afar and watch as others would be complete with their hold of the feeling of romance so dear that they dared trust it near their heart.

And she wasn't going to lie. She was content with that. She was content with the thought of never finding love like the others. Because maybe, maybe that's not where her life was supposed to go. And yet even though she's told herself that a plethora of times that the words were engraved in her head and in her heart, that it replaced the prayers she muttered to herself in the morning or at night, she still looked at a couple happily holding one another with the burn of wonder and jealousy that the words she had engraved so long in her heart and brain would fade.

How would it feel to have someone you could trust enough with the darkest and most destructive part of you? Trust them enough to hold you so close in a way that you would be treated as the most delicate fine china that they'd ever seen, cup your cheek with the palm of their hand and brush the soft or calloused flat of their thumb against your cheek and feel the love in that single stroke before looking at you in the eye and whisper out those words of reassurance that she's never had the privilege of hearing.

"I love you."

The words that burned through her heart and cracked the thick stone walls she's built around her heart and engraved with the words she's told herself since she had the acceptance of her lack of romance, watch as those walls crack and crumble until she's buried underneath the debris of pain and loneliness she's protected herself from after all these years.

Now, she feels the way his arms wrapped around her form, holding her as if she's the most delicate fine china she never was, feeling him laying his chin atop her head as his evened out breaths were the only sound that mattered in the dark room. She could feel the warmth of his embrace surrounding her with more care than anyone has ever given her in her life and could only lean her head against his chest, too tired of trying to fight away the love he was giving her, too tired of denying herself something that she should be receiving in the first place.

She's never loved anyone like this before. And when she goes to wrap her arm around his form, smell the lingering scent of the smoke of incense mixing with her bath products from the amounts of times he's joined her in the bath before, feel the softness of his fur in between her fingertips and feel the tip of his claws tracing mindless circles on her back, she knew she finally found the comfort of a home.

And though poets will tell people not to think of any person as such because they'll one day turn your comfort into fear, turn that love into hatred, and crush the thought of home from your mind that the sight of comfort would make your insides burn with anguish, she could only look up at his sleeping face, let the smile grace her lips and watch with a strange fascination as to how he'd come to change her life, and give him her full trust that he will remain as her home for as long as he wanted to be, and she knew she'd be doing the same.

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iminconstantturmoil

2 years ago