dizzilad

[dizzilad]

THERE IS NO NAME

FOR A FATHER LOSING HIS CHILD

YET THERE IS A NAME

FOR A BROTHER IN DENIAL

no text ver

the person in front is just an oc, the person on the left is frisbee, the right is lyre.

[dizzilad]

dumbasses missed their slash

[dizzilad]

Come on everybody, smile smile smile!

Fill my heart out with sunshine, sunshine!

[dizzilad]

HEAVEN SAYS.

[dizzilad]

I un-eviled it

[dizzilad]

🌿 My Name is Rola, and This is My Story 🌿

I never thought I would be writing this. I never thought I would be begging for help just to keep my children warm, just to feed them one more meal. But here I am, reaching out to you, because I have no other choice.

My name is Rola. I am a mother of two beautiful children, and before October 7th, we had a life filled with love and laughter. We had a home. My children had their own room, filled with their toys and drawings. We would sit together on our balcony, drinking coffee in the early morning light. We had dreams, just like any other family.

But in an instant, it was all gone.

A missile struck. The earth shook beneath us. The air filled with dust and fire. My husband and son ran, stumbling over each other in terror. I stood frozen, the ringing in my ears drowning out my own screams. Our home was shattered—windows blown out, doors ripped from their hinges. And when I looked outside, our neighbor’s house, a place that once echoed with children's laughter, was nothing but rubble and ash.

That was just the beginning.

The bombs never stopped. Every night, I held my children close as the sky rained fire. The sound of explosions mixed with the cries of mothers searching for their babies in the darkness. I covered my children, whispering words of comfort, but how do you comfort a child who is terrified of dying in their sleep?

We had to leave. We walked away from everything—our home, our memories, the warmth of our life before. My children left behind their favorite toys, their books, their safe space. Now, we have nothing.

No home.

No food.

No clean water.

No way out.

I went to buy sugar the other day. It cost $20 for just a kilo. Food is disappearing, and the little that remains is impossible to afford. Every day, I fight to find just enough to keep my children alive.

I am exhausted. I am scared. I need your help.

I never imagined I would have to beg for my family’s survival. But today, I am.

Please, if you are reading this, help us. Help me save my children. Help us find shelter, food, a way to rebuild even a small piece of the life we lost. If we ever have the chance to leave, we need support. If we are forced to stay, we need a home again.

Every donation matters. Every share helps. Every voice that speaks for us keeps hope alive.

💚 Please donate if you can. Share our story. Help us survive. 💚

[dizzilad]

"C00kid go kick that guy butt"

[dizzilad]

RAHHAHAHAHXHSHZBYGJgahaHfahaggahahs CJ fChHAGHANAHABXHSNSJYSHASHGbAhgshshdhdjhzbsysbhsbaushwyhwuwjsunhznrhxh

//AIB

I miss this show so much man

[dizzilad]

hi.

[dizzilad]

🌿 My Name is Rola, and This is My Story 🌿

I never thought I would be writing this. I never thought I would be begging for help just to keep my children warm, just to feed them one more meal. But here I am, reaching out to you, because I have no other choice.

My name is Rola. I am a mother of two beautiful children, and before October 7th, we had a life filled with love and laughter. We had a home. My children had their own room, filled with their toys and drawings. We would sit together on our balcony, drinking coffee in the early morning light. We had dreams, just like any other family.

But in an instant, it was all gone.

A missile struck. The earth shook beneath us. The air filled with dust and fire. My husband and son ran, stumbling over each other in terror. I stood frozen, the ringing in my ears drowning out my own screams. Our home was shattered—windows blown out, doors ripped from their hinges. And when I looked outside, our neighbor’s house, a place that once echoed with children's laughter, was nothing but rubble and ash.

That was just the beginning.

The bombs never stopped. Every night, I held my children close as the sky rained fire. The sound of explosions mixed with the cries of mothers searching for their babies in the darkness. I covered my children, whispering words of comfort, but how do you comfort a child who is terrified of dying in their sleep?

We had to leave. We walked away from everything—our home, our memories, the warmth of our life before. My children left behind their favorite toys, their books, their safe space. Now, we have nothing.

No home.

No food.

No clean water.

No way out.

I went to buy sugar the other day. It cost $20 for just a kilo. Food is disappearing, and the little that remains is impossible to afford. Every day, I fight to find just enough to keep my children alive.

I am exhausted. I am scared. I need your help.

I never imagined I would have to beg for my family’s survival. But today, I am.

Please, if you are reading this, help us. Help me save my children. Help us find shelter, food, a way to rebuild even a small piece of the life we lost. If we ever have the chance to leave, we need support. If we are forced to stay, we need a home again.

Every donation matters. Every share helps. Every voice that speaks for us keeps hope alive.

💚 Please donate if you can. Share our story. Help us survive. 💚

[dizzilad]

"No child should say goodbye like this."

In this image, a little boy gently touches the forehead of his brother—cold, lifeless, lying in a morgue. This is not a goodbye any child should ever experience. But in Gaza, it happens every single day.

And yet… someone looked at this heartbreaking moment and chose mockery over empathy. Someone called this grief “a cult.” As if pain needs permission. As if mourning a sibling is some kind of performance.

But this is not a show. This is real. This is my life. I am a mother. My son is wounded and clinging to life. And every time he cries out in pain, I wonder—will I be next to say goodbye like this?

Instead of compassion, we receive mockery. Instead of help, we’re dehumanized.

But I will not stop fighting for my son’s life. And I ask you—please, stand with me. Help me get him the treatment he needs. Help me protect him from becoming another lifeless body… another number… another memory.

Don’t scroll past our pain. Don’t let hate drown out humanity

Please Donate now:👇👇 👇

✅️My campaign is vetted by el-shab-hussein& Nabulsi's, my number verified on the list is ( #355)✅️ 👇

—————————————————————————

[dizzilad]

"No child should say goodbye like this."

In this image, a little boy gently touches the forehead of his brother—cold, lifeless, lying in a morgue. This is not a goodbye any child should ever experience. But in Gaza, it happens every single day.

And yet… someone looked at this heartbreaking moment and chose mockery over empathy. Someone called this grief “a cult.” As if pain needs permission. As if mourning a sibling is some kind of performance.

But this is not a show. This is real. This is my life. I am a mother. My son is wounded and clinging to life. And every time he cries out in pain, I wonder—will I be next to say goodbye like this?

Instead of compassion, we receive mockery. Instead of help, we’re dehumanized.

But I will not stop fighting for my son’s life. And I ask you—please, stand with me. Help me get him the treatment he needs. Help me protect him from becoming another lifeless body… another number… another memory.

Don’t scroll past our pain. Don’t let hate drown out humanity

Please Donate now:👇👇 👇

✅️My campaign is vetted by el-shab-hussein& Nabulsi's, my number verified on the list is ( #355)✅️ 👇

—————————————————————————

[dizzilad]

What the fuck do you mean theres yaoi in the minecraft movie.

[dizzilad]

Tw blood on bottom half

Fall with me! come on, fall with me!

[dizzilad]

🚨URGENT🚨

Please stop ✋🚨 you're the only hope to save a child🥺

My son Mohammed is in critical condition after being shot by Israeli drones. He has been taken to the operating ⛺️ and urgently needs treatment outside the Gaza Strip.

I lost most of my family. I'm afraid to lose my son too 🥺 .

I need your help please donate and share, evry contribution, no matter how small, brings us hope in these dark times.

Mohammed deserves to live a happy and healthy life, just like every other child on this earth.

Please Donate now:👇👇 👇

—————————————————————————

✅️My campaign is vetted by el-shab-hussein& Nabulsi's, my number verified on the list is ( #355)✅️ 👇

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/0/d/1yYkNp5U3ANwILl2MknJi9G7ArY4uVTEEQ1CVfzR8Ioo/htmlview

——————————————————————————

[dizzilad]

GET THIS STUPID YAOI OUT OF MY HEAD OH MY GOD GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT G

[dizzilad]

wah.