#may we all survive the week

[inpursuitofnunchi]

WHAT AN ABSOLUTE BANGER OF AN EPISODEEEEE

The pining is reaching a pinnacle y'all, i had literal heart palpitations at the cliffhangerrrr

The 개쌔끼 ex is gonna show up next week and make choisseung jealous AF and I AM PRAYING TO THE DRAMA GODS FOR A CONFESSION 😌😌😌🥺🥺🥺

Also Cho Han cheul never disappoints 😭😭😭 DAD OF THE MILENNIUM...I SOBBED SO HARD at his adorable conversation with seokryu 😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️

[satans-knitwear]

I did remember it was a Friday!!! So, fishnet.

Treat me ~ Tip Me ~ More of me

[radioactive-cloud]

this photoshoot is simultaneously the best and the worst thing that's happened to this fandom

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

I got a packet from the social security people I have to fill out and have sent back in--by mail--by the 26th. I got it on Friday. And I haven't looked at it til now, bc I was so stressed out about my dog being sick and i feel so overwhelmed. They want all my medical records from the last year, which I don't have, because I've only started keeping that stuff since I had my complete mental breakdown and she took me out of work. And there's so many pages and so much information they want. They have to nitpick my whole fucking life, before they can decide I deserve health. Being disabled in this country is a fucking nightmare. Instead of trying to hep, the just look for reasons to disqualify you. Because they don't want to help us; they just want us to go away

[dying-suffering-french-stalkers]

god help me i'm going insane about dickson xenoblade again

[hind3en]

A photo from memories, captured in May 2023.

Everyone has a superhero. For any girl in the world, her superhero is her father.

He is our hero. He is a doctor. Before this ongoing genocide, he worked at Al-Shifa Hospital. He is a wonderful plastic surgeon, loves his work and is committed to it, to help people and relieve their pain.

When We were forced to be displaced to Al-Shifa Hospital at the beginning of the war, he was still committed to his work. He worked nonstop for 40 days, besides caring for his family, especially in these difficult times!

But unfortunately the occupation stormed and burned the hospital after We were forced to evacuate , raising white flags. We could not carry anything, just our souls. We fled to the south on foot. He carried his two children in his arms, and walked long distances for many kilometers during the afternoon among tanks and heavily armed soldiers, and even among decomposing corpses!

Finally, we reached the UNRWA school at Khan Yunis. He started working in Nasser Hospital, which the occupation also stormed and destroyed! Even when we were displaced, he was working.

All that happened did not stop him from performing his lofty job as a doctor. He has now returned to work in MOH hospitals to carry out operations of debridement and grafting of needy injured people, but he is alone, we are far from him.

He decided to protect us and made a decision to refuge in Egypt to be survived. While he stayed in Rafah before the beginning of the military operation there. Then he was forced to be displaced to Deir Al-Balah.

Every morning he goes to work at Nasser Hospital in Khan Yunis and returns to his tent in Deir Al- Balah in the evening all week.

Is this what we and he deserve?

We stay away from our hero and torn our family. While at the same time, he is putting himself in danger while saving innocent lives!

For your information, his profession is considered more dangerous than ever before, due to the occupation’s systematic policy of targeting hospitals and medical staff!

All the day, we are worried about him. May Allah save him. Moreover, there is no safe place.

We hope to reunite again, we want each other, we want our home and our dreams!

We need your help and support to meet our father again, reunite our family and rebuild our lives. Little matters! Your little means a lot to us.

Please, donate or reblog this with others.

Our story is here:

This was not our only tragic story in this genocide, every day was a struggle for survival!

Thanks!

🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🍉

[indiegame]

i refuse to text out i can't

[n3onwraith]

I'll kms if we move actually.

[gromlyn]

ben won’t be back until next sunday god (his mom) is cruel

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

not to be superficial but seeing those pics also motivated me to work out after work tonight even though I really didn't feel like it lol

[thebibliosphere]

Not to keep reliving trauma on main, but I'm getting weird deja vu from where my health was a few years ago and where it's at now. And most of it is revolving around Good Omens.

In May of 2019, we genuinely thought I was dying because I was dying. My organs were in the process of shutting down because my red blood cells were prematurely self-destructing and damaging my kidneys in the process, and I was rapidly coming to terms with the fact that I might not survive much longer. I'd fought the good fight, and I'd lost. Mostly due to medical neglect. And I was mad about a lot of things, but do you know what I remember from the traumatic blur I'm left with?

"I'm going to be so pissed if I die before Good Omens comes out."

I'd waited 20+ years at that point for something like a tv adaptation of Good Omens. Ever since I was a child and my dad read the book to me, and I fell in love with it. And here I was, mere weeks away from the TV release and on the verge of death.

Then like a miracle, a miracle that hinged on human compassion and a doctor being willing to listen to me, I was saved. Dragged back from the jaws of death by a relentless hematology department that refused to give up on me and ultimately saved my life. And a week later, I got to watch Good Omens propped up in my own bed, still weak, still ill, with my heart stuttering in my chest every time I laughed. And I remember thinking, "I did it. I got to see it."

That it's now it's 2023 and my health has tanked again. My organs are rebelling against me and no one seems to know why. But yet again, a few weeks before Good Omens is set to release, I find a doctor who listens to me and is doing all he can to help. Striving with the grim kind of determination that can only come from a place of compassion and care. Like my world is worth saving, and not just his.

Which is rather fitting, I think.

[drmohammedibrahim]

My journey to buy milk and diapers for my child read and tell me your opinion.

yastrday I went to the Market (Deir al-Balah city in the middle of the Gaza Strip) to buy diapers and milk for my baby Ibrahim 9 months old after spend more than 3 hours to find anyone sales it I found 2 people have milk and diapers ... the important point how much they ask? how much the price? .. Don't be shocked the milk can number 2 price around 32$ which just 400 gram which not enough for 1 week , l leave him and walk then I found who's selling the diapers size 4 and the only one I found and I feel happy when I see he have size 4 diapers then I stop and ask him how much this pack which contains 40 pieces... here really the big disaster just imagine and don't lose your mind ... he ask 340 (Shekel) which means 96 $ usd... for a moment I think he joke with me then I ask him again how much you said? he repeat same price and say if you don't just put back and leave from here I looked to him and held myself not hit him after that i walk away and sit down beside the main road looking to sky and talk with myself what is going on? where we will reach? I held myself from crying front of people and I keep say may Allah take my soul I want leave this world. Then I stand and back to my tent walking with empty hands and whole the way keep thinking what do i say to my wife she wait me more than 3 and half hours what do i say to my little child Ibrahim? I'm at a loss for words 😕.

This one of stories I shared with you.. put yourself in my place what I should do .... another story I'm not tell you yet about vegetables and groceries prices I will write soon every types and how much?

If you want donate this will be from your  kindness and if you don't thank you enough to share my story and donation link to your friends.

This not the end ... see you friends if we survive... love you all.. goodbye

Vetted by

@90-ghost here

@gazavetters here (#137)

@mazzikah @irhabiya @terroristahorcsog @watchnplay4u2c @stuckinaprill @tortiefrancis @timetravellingkitty @flouryhedgehog @jinnazah @soracities @bloglikeanegyptian2-blog @handweavers @trans-axolotl @plomegranate @pcktknife @transmutationist @sawasawako @anneemay-blog @bedufairy @briarhips @dirhwangdaseul @mahoushojoe @rhubarbspring @schoolhater98 @starstrucksnow @handsworthplay-blog @determinate-negation @khanger @kibumkim @qattdraws @brutaliakent @librarypossum @geeseareassholes @wellwaterhysteria @deepseacurrent @edwordsmyth @chilewithcarnage @psychotic-gerardway @post-breakup @bringmemyqueen @arslanjamshaid-blog @reduxskullduggerry @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness-blog @kyra45-helping-others @log6 @7bittersweet @sharingresourcesforpalestine @neechees @mothblyatebanaya

[bet-on-me-13]

Lex is Vlad reincarnated

So! Lex Luther, the greatest person to ever exist, had recently made a discovery.

A few weeks ago, a Cult of moronic simpletons had managed to kidnap him. Him! All for some stupid Demonic ritual where they sacrifice the wealthiest man they could find in return for something meaningless like "No More Poverty" or "No More Starvation".

He had survived, of course, and was unfortunately save by Supermoron.

But before the Man of Steel had busted in, he overheard something from the Cultists. Apparently they had chosen him for more than just his wealth, there was something more about his Soul that they were after. It felt "Divine", as if he had the soul of a God stuffed in a Mortal's body.

And obviously it must be correct. He was already the most intelligent man in the world, One of the wealthiest, and held more political power than any single man on the planet, so of course "God in disguise" was the next logical addition to that List.

Over the next few weeks he studied and prepared.

He needed to make sure that his efforts would be rewarded, that those Cultists had been correct about him despite their idiocy.

After buying up as many Magical Artifacts as he could related to Identity and Soul, he tested himself on Each and Every One. And Lo and Behold, he is truly a God.

Well, the Reincarnation of One. Apparently this was common in immortal beings such as himself, reincarnating themselves into mortal bodies as a sort of Vacation from their Duties. All he needed to do now was find a way to regain his Memories and Power without dying, and he would truly become a God On Earth.

A few more weeks of Preparation, and he was ready.

Apparently the Manchild of Steel had caught onto his plan in that time. His Ego probably couldn't bear another God living in the same City as himself, so he tried to stop Lex's plans of Ascension. Thankfully, in his research he had discovered his Rival's vulnerability to Magical Attacks, and set up countermeasures for him and his Breakfast Club should they attempt to interfere.

He stepped into the Ritual Circle, and began his Ascension to Godhood.

Try as they might, the League could not foil his plans this time. The Ritual Circle lit up with a sickly green light, and expanded to cover his entire body. The Ritual began to finally complete itself.

He had Won.

...

Oh.

...

Vlad stood at the center of the circle for a few moments. He took in all his Memories of his most recent Life, and Facepalmed so hard he was sure The Badger heard it back in the Realms.

Ten Tousand Years of Therapy specifically to curb his egotistical tendencies, and That is how he decides to spend his most recent Life? Acting as a Billionare Supervillain attacking a well meaning Hero for nothing less than Ego?! He even Cloned them!? Had he learned NOTHING!?!?

"Careful Team, we don't know how powerful he is now." He heard his current Nemesis say.

Oh right...they were still there.

He didn't really feel like explaining everything to them, and he technically still had about 40 years left on his Vacation...

He simply turned his back to them, flew back to his Mansion, turned back into his Human Form, and set about his Day. Maybe he could right a few of the wrongs he had done on this life?

It would certainly throw his current Nemesis for a loop. And while he may not Hate him anymore, he definitely still liked to Mess with him.

Maybe this would be more entertaining than he thought?

[montaser-bashir2002]

My name is Montaser, and I live in Gaza, where we face an extremely difficult life due to the ongoing war. With each escalation, my family is forced to relocate in search of safety.

We have moved from Gaza to Nuseirat Camp, then to Khan Yunis, then to Rafah, and finally to Al-Zawayda.

My family consists of 14 members, including elderly individuals, sick individuals, and children.

We live in a small tent from 7 Oct 2023 till now, a tent that barely fits all of us.

Life here has become unbearable. We suffer from a severe shortage of water, food, and medicine. Every day is a struggle to survive. We have reached the point where we have to drink seawater because we have no other choice. We truly have a water crisis; water only reaches us once a week, and due to the heavy crowding, we are unable to secure enough water.

My mother and father both suffer from high blood pressure and need regular medication. I suffer from chronic digestive problems and also hepatitis.

I am writing to you today to ask for help. We are in desperate need of your support to provide the basic necessities for my family. Every donation, no matter how small, can make a significant difference in our lives. Through your support, we hope to secure clean water, food, and medicine for my family members.

Thank you for your time and generosity. We hope that our plea reaches you and that you find it in your hearts to offer assistance. Every donation makes a difference and helps save lives.

May God bless you all.

[odinsblog]

“I first started noticing the journalists dying on Instagram. I'm a journalist, I'm Arab, and I've reported on war. A big part of my community is other Arab journalists who do the same thing.

And when someone dies, news travels fast. Recently, I pulled up the list that the Committee to Protect Journalists has been keeping and looked at it for the first time. There are 95 journalists and media workers on it as of today.

Almost everyone on it is Palestinian. Scrolling through, I started to get angry. These were the people carrying the burden of documenting this whole war.

Israel is not allowing foreign journalists into Gaza, except on rare occasions with military escorts. These people's names are being buried in a giant list that keeps growing. What I want to do is lift some of them off the list for a moment and give you a glimpse of who they were and the work they made.

I'll start with Sadi Mansour. Sadi was the director of Al-Quds News Network, and he posted a 22-second video on November 18. That was a report from the war, but it also gave me a picture into his marriage.

Sadi's wearing his press vest and looks exhausted. He's explaining that cell service and the Internet keep getting cut off, and it's often impossible to text or call anyone, including his wife. So they've resorted to using handwritten letters to communicate while he's out reporting, sending them back and forth with neighbors or colleagues.

He ends the video with a picture of one of these letters from his wife. In it, she writes,

‘Me and the kids stayed up waiting for you until the morning, and you didn't come home. We were really sad.

I kept telling the kids, Look, he's coming. But you didn't show up. May God forgive you.

Come home tomorrow and eat with us. Do you want me to make you kebab or maybe kapse? Bring your friends with you, it's okay.

And give Azeez the battery to charge. What do you think about me sending you handwritten letters with messenger pigeons from now on? Ha ha ha.

I'm just kidding. I want to curse at you, but we're living in a war. Too bad.

Okay, I love you. Bye.’

A few hours after he shared that letter, Sadie and his co-worker Hassouna Saleem were at Sadie's home, when they were killed by an Israeli air strike that hit his house.

His wife and kids, who weren't there, survived.

Gaza is tiny, and the journalist community is really close. Reading the list, you can see all the connections between people. Like with Brahim Lafi.

Brahim was a photojournalist, one of the first journalists to die. He was killed while reporting on October 7. He was just 21, still new to journalism.

On his Instagram, you can see that in his posts just a few years ago, he was still practicing his photography, taking pictures of coffee cups and flowers. Then he started doing beautiful portraits and action shots. You can really feel him starting to become a journalist.

Clicking around on Instagram, I found a tribute post about Brahim from his co-worker Rushdie Sarraj. In this photo, Brahim staring intently at the back of a camera, his face lit up by the light from the viewfinder. He looks so young.

The caption reads, My assistant is gone. Brahim is gone. Rushdie himself was a beloved journalist and filmmaker.

And I know that because he's also on the list. He was killed just two weeks after Brahim. I read the tribute post to him too.

I saw this over and over again. Journalists posting tributes, who were then killed themselves soon after. And a tribute goes up for them.

And then the pattern continues.

Thank you.

Something else I saw over and over on the list, journalists later in the war who had become aware that they could be making their last reports. They'd say it at the beginning of their videos. And those were the hardest to watch, especially when it was true.

One video like that was posted by Ayat Hadduro. Ayat was a freelance journalist and video blogger. Her videos before the war covered a wide range from what I can tell, interviews about women in politics.

She even appeared in a commercial for ketchup-flavored chips. She clearly liked being in front of the camera. Once the war started, Ayat's pivoted to covering bombings and food shortages.

On November 20, she posted a video report from her home. You can hear the airstrikes hitting very close to where she is. It's scary.

‘This is likely my last video. Today, the occupation forces dropped phosphorus bombs on Beit Lahya area and frightening sound bombs. They dropped letters from the sky, ordering everyone to evacuate.

Everyone ran into the streets in the craziest way. No one knows where to go.

But everyone else has evacuated. They don't know where they're going. The situation is so scary.

What's happening is so tough, and may God have mercy on us.’

She was killed later that day.

Targeting journalists, in case you didn't know, is a war crime. So far, the Committee to Protect Journalists has found that three of the journalists on the list were explicitly targeted by the IDF, the Israeli military. Investigations by the Washington Post and Reuters, Human Rights Watch and the United Nations have also raised serious questions in these three cases.

And the Committee to Protect Journalists is investigating 10 other killings. When we reached out to the IDF for comments, they said, quote, the IDF has never, and will never, deliberately target journalists. That's the answer they always give in these situations.

Meanwhile, dozens of seasoned reporters have fled Gaza. Journalists who worked for Al Jazeera, the BBC, the New York Times, the Washington Post, Reuters, Agence France-Presse. So many media offices were demolished in Israeli airstrikes that the Committee to Protect Journalists stopped counting.

It's not just individual lives that have been destroyed. It's an entire infrastructure.

Thank you.

The name on the list that was hardest for me to look at was Issam Abdullah, because I'd crossed paths with him once. Issam was a Lebanese journalist, a video journalist for Reuters for many, many years. He had just won an award for coverage of Ukraine.

I'm Lebanese and still report there sometimes, and I'd worked with Issam a couple of summers ago. He helped me film a sort of random story in Beirut. I was interviewing this entrepreneur who had started a sperm freezing company after an accident where he spilled a tray of hot coffee on his private area, burning himself.

I know, ridiculous. It was a really silly shoot. Right after we said cut and started to rap, Issam started this whole bit about being in his late 30s, reconsidering his own sperm quality and everything he now realized he was doing to hurt it, and no one could stop laughing.

It was a really good day that felt good to remember and to remember him that way. Issam was killed by the IDF on October 13. His death was one of the three that the Committee to Protect Journalists has identified as a targeted killing.

He was fired upon by an Israeli tank while standing in an empty field on the Lebanon-Israel border with a small group of other journalists. Everyone was wearing press vests with cameras out. They were covering the Hezbollah part of this war.

A few other journalists were injured in the attack, which was captured on video. The IDF says they were responding to firing from Hezbollah, not targeting the journalists. But multiple investigations, including by Reuters, the United Nations, Amnesty International and the AFP, found no evidence of any firing from the location of the journalists before the IDF shot at them.

The journalists in the group and video footage confirmed that there was no military activity near them. I had only met Issam once, barely knew him, but it affected me so much when he died. I know that he understood the risks of his job, but somehow it still felt so random and unfair that he would be struck down like that, following the rules, wearing his press vest and helmet, and a pack of reporters on a sunny day in an open field.

I find myself thinking about him all the time. His last Instagram post was commemorating another journalist, this iconic reporter Shereen Abou Aql who had been killed by the IDF. When I first saw that post in October, I thought how ironic because a week later, Isam also was killed by the IDF.

But then, after spending time reading the list, I realized how common this had become. I still haven't finished going through the list and looking up the people on it. I keep finding things that stick with me, like the funny way this one radio host would cut off a caller who was rambling on for too long.

A tweet from reporter Al-Abdallah that quoted Sylvia Plath. It read, What ceremony of wars can patch the havoc? I'm going to keep going down the list, even though this story is over now.

Just for myself. My own way of bearing witness. Which is, in the end, all that these journalists were trying to do.”

—DANA BALLOUT, The 95. Dana sifts through a very long list—the list of journalists killed in the Israel-Hamas war, and comes back with five small fragments of the lives of the people on it. Dana is a Lebanese-American, Emmy-nominated documentary producer.

[contact-guy]

Part 7, the final comic in my SIGN OF THE FOUR chapter. (Part one), (part two), (part three), (part four), (part five), (part six).

The context for this conversation is: Holmes has had no work from Scotland Yard due to rumors about his and Watson's relationship. He responded to this with excessive cocaine use and then working himself unhealthy on the one case that came along; Mary Morstan's. Meanwhile, Watson befriended Mary, who is also gay, and realized that a lavender marriage with her could make him and Holmes safe, as well as granting her more freedom. Watson has not yet told Holmes of his decision.

(This is part of the Watsons sketchbook series!)

canon scene under the cut, which is achingly poignant in its own right:

“Well, and there is the end of our little drama,” I remarked, after we had set some time smoking in silence. “I fear that it may be the last investigation in which I shall have the chance of studying your methods. Miss Morstan has done me the honour to accept me as a husband in prospective.”

He gave a most dismal groan. “I feared as much,” said he. “I really cannot congratulate you.”

I was a little hurt. “Have you any reason to be dissatisfied with my choice?” I asked.

“Not at all. I think she is one of the most charming young ladies I ever met, and might have been most useful in such work as we have been doing. She had a decided genius that way: witness the way in which she preserved that Agra plan from all the other papers of her father. But love is an emotional thing, and whatever is emotional is opposed to that true cold reason which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgment.”

“I trust,” said I, laughing, “that my judgment may survive the ordeal. But you look weary.”

“Yes, the reaction is already upon me. I shall be as limp as a rag for a week.”

“Strange,” said I, “how terms of what in another man I should call laziness alternate with your fits of splendid energy and vigour.”

“Yes,” he answered, “there are in me the makings of a very fine loafer and also of a pretty spry sort of fellow. I often think of those lines of old Goethe,—

Schade dass die Natur nur einen Mensch aus Dir schuf, Denn zum würdigen Mann war und zum Schelmen der Stoff.

“By the way, à propos of this Norwood business, you see that they had, as I surmised, a confederate in the house, who could be none other than Lal Rao, the butler: so Jones actually has the undivided honour of having caught one fish in his great haul.”

“The division seems rather unfair,” I remarked. “You have done all the work in this business. I get a wife out of it, Jones gets the credit, pray what remains for you?”

“For me,” said Sherlock Holmes, “there still remains the cocaine-bottle.” And he stretched his long white hand up for it.