Shoutout To Dior Goodjohn's Scream Of Anguish When Percy Broke Clarisse's Spear In 1x02. It Was So Striking

welcome everybody

I am Muhammad Imad Abdel Latif Sharab

First, after an aggressive war on Gaza City and its revival, we were displaced from our 3-storey house in which I and my family of 3 members live.

My father's family consists of 8 members

My grandfather, may God have mercy on him, was martyred by occupation aircraft on 12/14/2023.

The one who was martyred while he was leaving the house to check on our house next to him, which could not be reached due to a brutal enemy who does not differentiate between anyone in death, went out to check on our house, which we were not in because of my displacement to Rafah, me, my father, and our families due to the intensity of the fighting in Khan Yunis, and after that A few days ago, our store in which my father and brothers work was bombed by occupation aircraft. He was working to gather his strength from it and meet the needs of our house, which no longer exists due to the bombing. We ask you to help and contribute, even if just a little, by donating to us so that we can compensate for a little of what we lost.

Many thanks to you 😢

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

If you do not understand the words well, because I am not very good at English, but I ask you to help me with money so that I can compensate for even a little of what I lost, and I am very grateful to you, my dears😢🥺😢🥺😢🥺🥺😢

Martyred. By. An. Occupation. Craft. Muhammad, إِنَّا ِلِلَّٰهِ وَإِنَّا إِلَيْهِ رَاجِعُونَ 🙏🙏

Ghada Karmi and Ellen Siegel, in 1973, 1992 and 2011. Photos by Francis Khoo (1, 2) and Jean-Pascal Deillon (3).

write for yourself. put your fantasies on paper. no one knows what you are writing. no one knows what's in your head. no one is going to write it for you. if you don't write down your ideas they will disappear. if you are too scared to write your thoughts then don't write, try something different. if writing is the only way, get to writing. no one else's opinion matters. no one else's opinion will ever matter

🕷️MANDA🕷️

they say 'wya?' and i say im in my delulu era and miles morales is responsible. thank you so much for the serotonin boost bc what the fuck. this is amazing. this part particularly got me giggling my feet:

📌 "Sorry for taking so long babe," he grinned, bending down to place a kiss just below his drawing before looking up at you almost sheepishly.

your writing style is amazing, hello? i can picture miles *doing* that. i can picture his soft smile in this paragraph alone too:

📌He wasn't even thinking of his drawing anymore as he watched you, being adorable as ever. He was going to add that no drawing of his would be more art than you were.

ajsjsdb thank you for sharing your craft to the internet. this is amazing ❤️

none would be more art than you || miles morales

"You know you have like a hundred notebooks that aren't even filled yet."

You groaned, glancing at Miles who had a marker in one hand, and the other gently holding your arm still.

It was a free period and you decided to hangout at some random corner. One thing led to another, a pack of colored markers were pulled out of seemingly nowhere, and now you were a human canvas. 

"Don't move," he hissed. 

"You're gonna mess it up."

He said this without even looking up at you, eyes dead focused on whatever he was drawing on your upper arm. 

If your arm wasn't starting to tingle you would have giggled as the tip of his tongue peaked out of the corner of his lip.

"Miles my arm is gonna fall asleep," you complained, despite your free arm moving to hold up your sleeve so it wouldn't get in his way.

"Let it, it might be tired," is all he responded with as he switched out his marker for another color.

"Fine, just hurry up."

Minutes passed and so did markers, and Miles was finally capping the last one and putting it back in its box.

"Okay, it's done," he flourished his hand before beginning to rub up and down your arm gently to get the blood flowing once more. Of course while avoiding his new art piece. 

"Sorry for taking so long babe," he grinned, bending down to place a kiss just below his drawing before looking up at you almost sheepishly.

The skin of your cheeks went hot at the action, making you smile back at him.

"You only get a pass because I think you're cute," your finger tapped his nose, now making his skin go hot. 

"Lemme see it now," you moved your arm, angling it up towards your head so you could finally see what was so important he couldn't let you stretch.

It was worth it. 

The drawing was of your names. Yours and his intertwined in a mix of bubble letters and cursive, with splashes of color spread out behind it, your favorites and his. In the middle of it all  were two silhouettes, and it was enough to make you swoon.

"Awww, this is so cute, ligaya," you smiled, moving your arm around to get better angles of it, and he chuckled at your compliments, smiling along with you.

"You kinda half branded me like a whore, but it's still cute," you teased, locking eyes with him, making his flustered expression morph playfully into one of annoyance.

"Oh, shut up, he pushed your forehead with two fingers, making you laugh.

"I'm glad you like it. I'm trying to mix some stuff up."

"I love it," you corrected, making him smile even wider.

"I'm gonna feel so bad when this comes off in the shower, quick snap a picture," you tell him, already fixing your hair and turning to the side so he could get a good angle of you and the drawing.

"Okay, okay, gimme a sec," he dug into his pocket to grab his phone. Adjusting it just enough so that the lighting around you perfectly highlighted you and his drawing. But mostly you.

"Okay, ready," he promoted, and you began giving him various poses.

There was one of you slightly glaring at the camera in a poor attempt of looking fierce. One of you with a wide smile, cheek on your shoulder as you pointed happily at the piece. And another of you pretending to lick it off.

Miles laughed heartily as you posed your heart out, happily clicking away on his phone. He didn't care if the memory got full, you were worth it.

The laughs continued until you were slightly out of breath, hair now out of place from your constant moving. You sat there smiling softly as you caught your breath, looking fondly down at your names.

Things had gone quiet, so much so that you glanced up to catch the boy you loved looking at you with an almost distant look in his eye.

"What?" You quirked a brow, suddenly getting a bit self conscious at how he just stared.

 "Do I look bad?" You straightened up in your seat .

"Is it the lighting? I can move if you wa-," you were saying, beginning to stand up before Miles stopped you.

"No, no, no," he shook his head, putting his phone to the side and gently pulling you back down to sit.

"It's perfect," he assured you.

 "You're perfect," he whispered, and you were flustered all over again. You were unable to speak, but he didn't mind. He continued to look at you with a look you realized wasn't distant, but dreamy.

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he inched closer to you, till you were one movement apart.

"Miles," you swooned, gaze flicking down to his lips.

"But you're also really weird though," he added, making your half lidded eyes turn into a glare.

"Fuck you," you pulled away from him, looking away with a pout on your face. This made him laugh, and he pulled out his phone once more.

More laughing ensued as he began snapping pictures of you pouting and swatting him away. Empty threats flew from your lips as he continued on. 

He wasn't even thinking of his drawing anymore as he watched you, being adorable as ever. He was going to add that no drawing of his would be more art than you were.

But he already was cheesy enough for the day. He'd tell you next time.

THE GREENS. (THE BLACKS.)

Dozens of Jewish activists drop a huge banner from San Francisco's Colt Tower sending a message to mayor London Breed not to veto the ceasefire resolution that was passed by the SF Board of Supervisors 10 days ago.