#embark vet

[golden-girl-daisy]

[kangals]

i'm very happy it worked out so that i was able to meet puppy and his breeder today - and also equally happy that i'm not taking him home until later in the week (i've done the 'brand new dog on a worknight' routine before, it sucks). the show was an all-breed with like 700 dogs, so it was super cool to just wander around and be like "oh borzoi! oh keeshond! oh sealyham!" etc etc it really lit up that obsessive-dog-child part of my brain lol. breeder was there doing her grooming prep so i didn't want to take up too much of her time but she was very nice.

little man is so cute! obviously i'm 100% smitten already. i walked him around outside for like 20 minutes, i'm not a great judge of puppies when they're so young (he turns 8 weeks old tomorrow) but i think he's doing great - he didn't shy away from anything or seem nervous, didn't bark (i know that won't last), seemed very curious and engaged. and, importantly, seems to already be used to crates. he's definitely bigger/chunkier than stellina, i don't know if he's like Certifiably HugeLarge but the breeder said he "has good bone" and expects him to be around 70-75lb as an adult. i got all his paperwork done so i'll pick him up early on thursday morning and take a long weekend. exciting!!!

[roominthecastle]

River & Siegfried: parallels in trauma and healing

Animals, like people, cannot simply be tinkered with and fixed like a wristwatch. Undoing the damage will take time. But we'll try.

[steverogersnotebook]

The DNA results are in! We scored ourselves a 100% American Pit Bull Terrier. Through a rescue.

That's right. Natasha Romawoof is not, as we thought, a mixed breed. Doesn't change anything, it just flabbergasted us. Whodathunkit?

[hazemsuhail]

Emergency: Help my family survive and start a new life

Hello everyone, I hope you take a minute to read our story.

I’m Hazem Shawish, trying to save my family from the war

We’re a family of 8 members, me, my mother, and I have 4 brothers and two sisters. And their kids

Islam (30) years old ( @eslamsuhail )

Samer (29)

Hashem (31)

Mohammad (35)

Nisreen (37) ( @nisreensuhail )

Noor (36).

Kids:

Amal (12)

Kenzy (17) ( @kenzish )

Zoheer (19)

TikTok video link

In the shadow of conflict, our family has faced unimaginable hardships. The passing of my father, a victim to the cruel grasp of hunger and inadequate healthcare, left a void in our lives, underscoring the fragility of our existence here. My brother, Samer, battles bipolar disorder, a condition exacerbated by the ongoing war and the severe shortage of essential medications. Without access to the necessary treatment, his life is at risk, and we live in constant fear for his well-being amidst the chaos that surrounds us. These personal tragedies have deepened the urgency of our situation.

My brother Samer

Every day is a struggle for survival, and each night is filled with prayers for a brighter tomorrow. Yet, amidst the darkness, we hold onto hope, seeking solace in the belief that one day, the clouds of war will dissipate, and we will find the peace and stability we so desperately crave. Until then, we endure, clinging to the threads of our resilience, and nurturing dreams of a safer, healthier future for us all.

Our home, once a sanctuary of love and warmth, was destroyed, displacing us into a life of uncertainty and fear. The laughter of my children and my sister's daughters, once the music of our home, is now silenced by the echoes of conflict. They deserve a future where education and happiness are not just dreams but realities.

Our entire neighborhood In Gaza Before and after

we had a supermarket that helped as to live and earn money, but it was bombed and we have nothing now, pic of our supermarket

But our challenges are not just physical; they are emotional and psychological. The loss of my father and the imminent threat to my brother's life weigh heavily on us. My mother, who has endured so much, faces the unimaginable fear of losing another child. For her, for my brother, for my children, and for the future of our family, we seek a new beginning.

We dream of a place far from the sounds of war we want to be safe with my family we dream to move to Egypt to save ourselves

This journey is more than a physical relocation; it is a quest for dignity, for normalcy, for the very essence of what makes life worth living. We seek to restore what conflict has stripped from us: our home, our health, and our hope.

We turn to you, not just as donors, but as fellow humans who understand the power of compassion and community. Your support, in any form, is a beacon of hope in our darkest times. It represents solidarity and a shared belief in the sanctity of life and the right to a safe and peaceful existence.

Our dream is simple yet seems a world away:

to escape to Egypt .

for children to pursue education and a life unshaded by conflict, and for us to honor my father's memory in a land of peace.

However, this dream bears a significant cost, one that is beyond our reach. For each of us to make this journey, to cross borders towards a life of safety and dignity, we estimate the need for at least $5,000 per person. This sum covers the complex tapestry of legal, travel, and initial resettlement expenses.

All of our important links are here

Thank you for hearing our story, for your empathy, and for considering standing with us as we embark on this journey to a new life.🇵🇸🍉❤️‍��🙏

With heartfelt gratitude,

Hazem Shawish

vetted by :

@dlxxv-vetted-donations (vetted)

@a-shade-of-blue

@gazavetters , my number verified on the list is (#75)

[mohammedaldeeb]

⏰ 🚨 attention please🙏🚨

I am Dr. Mohammed Aldeeb,🩸💉 a dedicated specialist in emergency medical care from the Gaza Strip.

💊 🩺🩹

For years, I poured my heart and soul into my work at Al-Shifa Hospital, striving to be a doctor of great repute,

caring for the wounded and the ill with compassion and skill.💉🩹

However😥,

the devastation of war disrupted our lives and prevented us from serving our patients at Al-Shifa Hospital😣💔,

forcing me to leave my cherished home and the familiar walls of the hospital that had become my second home, a place of comfort, peace, and beautiful memories of my work.😔

As I left behind the echoes of laughter and camaraderie with my colleagues, patients, and friends,😰

I embarked on a painful journey southward. I bid farewell to the streets where I grew up, the corners I sought refuge in😥😭💔, and the colleagues who felt like family.

Memories of my formative years and the countless lives I touched during my tenure at Al-Shifa 😣and other medical facilities, such as Friends of the Patient Hospital and the Indonesian Hospital, overwhelmed me as I struggled to come to terms with the upheaval.😔😥

Despite the adversities that besieged me,

I held fast to my dream of becoming a successful doctor. 😀😁✌💚

I was fortunate enough to study medicine at Al-Azhar University, from which I graduated and later served as a teaching assistant, imparting knowledge to aspiring medical students with unwavering dedication. 😀🙏🖤

The idea of specializing in internal medicine drew me back to Al-Shifa Hospital, but sadly,

the brutal war destroyed it, shattering my hopes.In the midst of the chaos and destruction brought by war🥺😣💔

I sustained multiple injuries and narrowly escaped with my life. 🥺

The sanctuary of my home, a place of peace and beautiful memories, was completely destroyed, leaving my family and me impoverished and homeless. 😣💔😰

Yet, amidst the ruins, a glimmer of hope persists as I continue my work at Al-Aqsa Hospital😀, extending a helping hand to those in need without expecting anything in return. I draw strength from the humanity and love instilled in me by my teachers and mentors during my years of education and service.✌😁❤

Today, we find ourselves taking refuge in a humble tent, ⛺ 😭😣💔

stripped of our possessions and livelihoods. The loss of my job, my home, and some of my loved ones is a heavy burden to bear. 😢

Nevertheless, I refuse to succumb to despair, holding on to the belief that brighter days lie ahead.

With a heavy heart, I reach out to you🥺🙏💚

dear reader, seeking your assistance in securing safe passage for myself and my family from the chaos and brutality of war in Gaza. 🥺🙏🇵🇸🍉💔🖤💛💝

With your kindness and generosity🥺, I hope to reclaim the path to achieving my medical career, 🩺💉🩸

becoming a specialist in internal medicine, and returning to help my people.

This would enable me to provide care for my loved ones and contribute to the healing of our wounded nation.Your compassionate aid would mean the world to me and my family.🥺🙏❤🇵🇸✌

Please note that our campaign is vetted

Thanks @90-ghost ... link vetted

Thanks @el-shab-hussein ...link vetted

Thanks @mangocheesecakes ...link vetted

Thanks @horrorhorizon...link vetted

Thanks @nabulsi (number 212)

With gratitude and hope,💜💙

Dr. Mohammed AldeebGaza Strip

WhatsApp: 00972599095244

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of Korben the cats most illustrious nicknames is Piss Boy Supreme. Truly, it wasn’t his fault. Korben is an immaculate groomer and whatever else can be said of him it must be noted that he’s always the tidiest cat in the house.

But the last time I took him to the vet he needed to have a dental cleaning. They knocked him out and he usually comes home high as balls and upset.

On this particular occasion he exited the carrier and I turned to release Leeloo from hers. My beloved said, “Why is Korben wet?”

I glanced over at him, slinking toward the stairs, “No, I think his fur is just scrungly, they always look like that after surgery.”

We both continued to observe him and my beloved exclaimed, “He’s dripping!”

Indeed, he was dripping. I leapt forward and scooped him up, dashing him to the upstairs bathroom. The second my fingers touched him it was immediately apparent that he was absolutely saturated with piss. He was thirteen pounds of pee soaked sham-wow.

The poor lad had been too nervous and high to pee at the vets and instead released the entirety of his bladder onto himself in the carrier.

So there we were. In the bathroom with a very inebriated and distressed sopping wet piss boy. Korben has never needed a bath in his life, he’s always been so fastidious. But he needed one now. We took that poor cat, high as balls, and stuck him in the tub.

The sounds he made were unlike any he’s ever produced. The desperate hoarse wails of an animal that knows his end is nigh. He shrieked and sobbed as we sprayed him down, and our hearts misgave us.

We relented, hauling him out to towel off. But we weren’t convinced he was clean so we kept him quarantined in the bathroom to sober up and dry off.

An hour later when we revisited him we staggered back. The whole bathroom reeked of his uriney misadventure. He was clearly too deeply soaked for a casual rinse. So to all of our mutual dismay we embarked on Korben’s second bath of his life.

He was no less distressed and only a little less high as we soaped him as thoroughly as his flailing limbs would allow. Near the end he just let out an ululating continuous wail of pain but we persisted. He was finally clean.

But the memory remains, the absolute Piss Boy Supreme.

[allmystuff]

It’s time to celebrate your dog’s birthday!

Click Here Now:  https://is.gd/agetests

[almostheav4n]

Tomorrow Never Came: Chapter 1

masterlist | ao3

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ warnings: unspecified age gap, hints at past SA, no break-out, no y/n, no reader description, discussion of past trauma, reader develops a reliance on him, hints at a ddlg relationship in terms of a caregiver x little relationship (reader is of legal age), joel is a vietnam war vet with a very tough exterior so it takes a bit to get it moving but it does by chapter 2! <3 word count: 5,495 summary: set in Texas in the 1980s, Joel picks you up on the side of the road when headed west, you embark upon a journey of self-discovery with the help of a seasoned man

“Do you wanna see the west with me? Cause loves out there & I can’t leave it be.”

The cold beer bottle contrasts your harsh, warm, two-handed grip on it as your feet sway from the bar stool sat at. Your cross-country adventure had landed you here, in west Texas, penniless & destitute, nothing but the jacket on your shoulders and the pistol in your pocket. 

You had traveled from west to east in an attempt to meet your father who you later found out wanted nothing to do with you. Having had saved up for years to make the trip, not accounting for how expensive shit was, landed you in the middle of nowhere Texas, trying to make your way back to your home in California. Truth be told, you set your hopes high that maybe your father had just desired to leave your mom and not you but you learned very quickly that wasn’t the case. 

Now you sit, in a dusty dive bar, men circling like vultures as you try hard to ignore their glances and as one next to you, leans into mumble something you can’t make out. Instead you focus on the sounds if Bob Dylans ‘knockin on heaven door’ that plays loudly from the busted jukebox. 

“Wanna dance?” You slur a bit, not necessarily because of the alcohol, but maybe an attempt to match the demeanor of the man next to you, who bought you the beer. He isn’t ugly, he isn’t pretty. He is drunk though, maybe drunk enough that you can slip some bills from his wallet. 

He’s eager you realize as his hand lands on the small of your back, tripping a bit over his feet to make his way to the dusty center, the wood creaking beneath your feet as you place your hands to his chest, slightly propping him up, the bourbon on his breath quite rich. 

Your eyes scan the room to find men and women watching, finding it a bit silly. Being from California, quite used to others dancing like no ones watching. Finding that in Texas, people are always watchers rather than dancers. 

A watcher catches your eyes, his grayish-green eyes narrowed towards you as he brings a glass to his lips, his face mostly shadowed by a brown cowboy hat as he leans against a pillar. 

You can’t help but be a little taken aback, his aura fogging up the space around him like a puff of smoke, as he tilts his head down, focusing on the drink in his hand, scuffing up his boot on the ground before turning his attention back to you. Swiping his tongue against his bottom lip as he adjusts himself, thumbing his belt loop. 

It fills your belly, the admiration, bubbling up into your throat as you smile, a little quirk of the lips as you stare at him, stupidly and obviously. 

He returns the stare. Not smiling back, but the stern gaze worn on his brows replaced by a softer one, more relaxed. 

You're pulled back into reality as the man’s hand slips below your back onto your behind as you sway to the music, causing you to break apart. Whispering nonsense into his ear comprising of ‘if he wants to get out of here’, knowing he’s drunk enough and will most likely barely make it to his car. 

You’re correct as he piles into his truck and falls asleep halfway out of the lot, allowing you to maneuver the vehicle to the side, eventually slipping into his pockets to pull out his wallet and the forty-three dollars.

Ditching him there, you head for a motel and pay them the $30 fee for one night, giving you enough time to bathe and wash your clothes in the bathtub before eating half of a candy bar and heading to bed. 

The nearest grocery store is a bit of a long haul as you walk a few miles until you head into the small mart. Its the size of a shoe box with people littered up and down the aisles as you make your way to the hygiene aisle, slipping a packaged bar of soap into your deep pockets along with tampons. Wandering onto other aisles, sifting through the snacks before landing on a few breakfast bars, deciding to slide one up your sleeve. Your eyes peeking to the side to find that you’re being watched by a familiar set of eyes. 

You slip up the bar into your sleeve before turning to the man you had seen yesterday, his brow raised curiously, having seen your little trick. 

He strikes you once again in a different light… his worn jeans, scuffed boots, his flanneled shirt, the sleeves rolled up exposing his tanned arms, thick veins roped within them leading to his hands, the one specifically carrying a cart with his own personal items. His dark beard ruffles as he bites on his inner cheek, studying you it seems, his eyes roaming around the aisle and then back to you. The same hat worn yesterday, sturdy on his head. 

You hum a bit, leaning back on your heels, not sure whether he means to turn you in or something else. You simply bring your finger to your lips to create a ‘shush’ sound in hopes he will keep your secret before heading for the exit, stopping to pick up a coke, tossing a quarter to the cashier, and promptly exiting. 

Finding a nearby patch of grass, you pass your time by watching the cars and drinking your Coke until it’s empty. You figure now might be the time to make your way from Texas, heading for the busiest road and sticking your thumb out as you follow along the white line on a dirt path. 

Five cars pass before a blue Ford pickup truck pulls up, the gleaming shine causing you to cover your eyes as they adjust, hearing the driver's door open & close. 

You instinctively take a step back, watching a familiar hat make its way from around the truck as you can’t help but break out into a smile. 

“Third times the charm huh?” You laugh a bit watching him remove a hat, letting it fall to the side in his hand as he runs his other hand through his hair. 

“Uh-huh,” He grunts, leaning against the side of the truck, observing you just as he did in the store and in the bar.

“You a cop?” You question, brows scrunching up to match his hardened gaze. The question makes him laugh, a short release of breath before composing himself. 

“Ain’t a cop darlin’…” He mutters, eyes going to your tattered shoes, biting on the inside of his cheek once more, followed by a clicking sound of the mouth.

“Who are ya then?” you place your hands on your hips, attempting to assert any dominance you have, feeling picked apart by his gaze. 

“Didn’t your mama tell you not to talk to strangers?” He inches closer, calculated, stopping far enough from you to bring you ease, his noticeable large size gaining your attention. 

“Tell me your name and you won’t be a stranger… this being our third meeting I find myself quite familiar with you…” You don’t know why your voice catches in your throat as you speak, but you clear it quickly.  

Maybe because he was unlike the men you came across during your journey. Quite honestly, the men you came across reminded you of the boys in high school. Unsure, dull, weak. A boy in the shell of a “man”. 

He wasn’t a boy in the body of a man, just a full man, through & through. 

“Joel.” He offers, his head pointed towards the ground, focused on a trail of ants, then back to you. It’s difficult to hold his gaze without blushing. “Where ya headed?”

“West… California.” You admit, watching as he nods, eyes searching the sky now, observing as he always seems to do. 

“What’s there for you in California?” He questions, eyes coming back to you as you feel your words stuck in your throat, his stare enough to cause your knees to buckle and weaken. It’s a hard gaze, one you hadn’t noticed as clearly beneath the shadow of his cowboy hat.  

“My mama…” you mutter, words coming out hushed, embarrassed, deciding to focus your own attention on the ants, you stupidly feel naked when he looks at you just bare and open.  

You don’t hear him head for the door, only hear the door opening, your eyes shooting up to Joel as he looks at you, bewildered as if you should know what to do, patiently waiting as your eyes swipe back from him to the truck and back to him. 

“Whatre you waitin on? Get in.” He speaks lowly as you attempt not to feel stupid, the blood rushing to your cheeks with a quickness as you bite your lip back.

“Not gonna kill me right?” You ask, stuffing your hands in your pockets watching as he lets out his same light laugh, just a puff of air. 

“I ain’t planning on it, sweetheart.” He bites on his bottom lip, the thick hair on his beard twitching as he waits. 

You hesitantly approach the vehicle, calculated steps leading you around where he stands by the door, sliding into the truck, the leather seating new indicating a certain amount of wealth that puzzles you. 

To be honest, the men who usually attempted to pick you up were composed of overly excited older men with fast food wrappers & cigarette buds piled up in the passenger's seat and the smell of beer wafting from the vehicle. 

It was rare you ever accepted rides from men, usually finding a chick who could take you a few hours down before dropping you off. 

His truck however seemed almost brand new, and clean, even the trash within it, was still kept nicer than most people who offered you a ride. 

The door shuts beside you with a click as he soon piles in, turning the ignition with ease and one hand steering the vehicle back onto the road with one smooth motion. 

It’s a routine, you think as you watch his legs spread apart along the seat, his free hand fumbling with the volume of the radio as he finds a station playing old country which seems to satisfy him as he relaxes into a manspreaded position. 

The motor and the hum of the songs is all you hear about an hour in as you realize he’s quite quiet. Which is rare. 

He hadn’t pestered you about your past, stared longingly at your exposed legs in the summer heat, or even tried to touch you. 

The few times you had gotten rides for men when you were younger and rather dumb, they had talked your ear off about something irrelevant, asked too many questions, or taken the first opportunity to lean over and try to fuck you right in the seat. 

He is quiet. Joel's quiet… hard set gaze focused on the road, the only constant motion being the rise and fall of his chest & occasional repositioning of the wheel.  

He pays you no mind. You would like to assume he’s gay but you don’t think so 100%

“You pick up strays often?” You break the silence, used to being the quiet one. 

He doesn’t answer immediately, only readjusts himself in the seat. You wonder if he is maybe a serial killer. 

The dirt under your fingernails seems interesting all of a sudden as you focus your attention on cleaning them, the awkward energy looming within the truck, 

“Strays…” He responds, finally, rubbing his hand over his beard before scratching at it with a deep sigh. 

“Don’t usually pick up hitch-hikers if’s what you’re askin’” He grumbles lowly, his Texan accent deep and thick. 

You think for a beat, wondering if his natural nature is stoicism and a cold front or if he’s already annoyed by his pestering passenger. 

“Why’d you pick me up then?” You question turning your head towards him, attempting to read him more. 

God, it takes him forever to respond. You aren’t sure if he’s thinking about the question or just in no hurry whatsoever, but it fills you with anxiety and anticipation. 

“Well…  when you stole from Earl, he sorta went around lookin' for you… Then when I saw you stealin' from that shop, I assumed it’d be best to get you to where you need’ta go so trouble doesn’t find you no more.” He admits shooting you a quick look, a quick raise of the brow in a disciplinary way, he means to scold you, you think.  

“Earl?”

“That man you went home with from that bar…”

“Oh… ha! earl,” you snort a bit remembering him. When you stole, you made sure to never stick around for that reason exactly. 

“Well, my thoughts on the matter are men take advantage of drunk women every day, I’m just leveling the playing field.” You respond in a sassy manner, crossing your ankles to sit up straighter, asserting yourself.  

“I ain’t judgin, I just didn’t want to see him comin’ down to find you.. he’s a drunk & a mean one,” He mentions cracking the window, the summer breeze picking up the strands of his dark brown hair & some gray.  

“You know a lot about this, ‘Earl’ ?” You roll down your window then, the wind blowing over your face a familiar and refreshing feeling, picking up your own hair as it tossles over your face. 

“Knew Earl all my life, worked for me…” He grunts, clearing his throat. 

“You hire drunks?” You giggle, feeling like you caught him, disappointed he doesn’t return the laugh as he only shrugs. 

“Like I said… I don’t judge, ‘f the work is done, it's done.” He switches his blinker on before pulling into a lot filled with shops, your eyebrows scrunching as you eye him. Bathroom break maybe. 

“Bout time to eat and get you some new shoes…” He gestures down to your feet as he parks, slightly far from other cars, maneuvering into the spot with ease as the truck comes to a jolt. 

You giggle dumbfoundedly, tickled by the thought that he thinks you walk around in tattered shoes because you choose to. “Joel… I don't have any money.” 

The sound of his door closing acts as a response as it barely grants you a moment to think until your side door is pulled open. “I am well aware of that, cmon now.” 

He’s confusing, his coldness, and lack of conversation, followed by an offering to purchase new shoes. You feel the need to make it clear to him you aren’t a prostitute. 

“I’m not a hooker,” Your nose naturally scrunches in confusion, ready to bolt if he accuses you of wasting his time or something worse. 

He laughs, a true laugh, his shoulders rising and falling as he tips his head down in a chuckle, the top of his cowboy hat revealed to you. 

“I know darling, now don’t rush on my account,” he teases, still propped up against the door, waiting for you, patiently. 

You bite your lip back to distract from your red cheeks. He’s quick to reach his hand out to help you down from the truck as you take it, calloused and warm. 

You don’t desire to let go, trying to remember the feel as he breaks away once you find your footing. 

His long strides are difficult to keep up with you find, his head moving from left to right then left again, surveying the lot for oncoming traffic or anything else that might come at you sideways in a lot, always on alert it seems as he leads you towards a store reading ‘PAYLESS’. 

The door opens with a jingle as he holds it open for you before leading you down the multiple aisles, past the men's section into the womens. 

You collide with his muscled back as he stops abruptly, your eyes narrowing as you back up slightly. 

It takes a few seconds to realize he is waiting for you. Looking down at you, your eyes connecting up to him as blood familiarly rushes into your cheeks, standing closer to him than you ever have been honestly, allowing you to smell his cedarwood aftershave, makes you wanna purr. 

“Well, you have to go select the shoes now don’t you?” He chuckles as he always does, fast and dry but warm as you look down the aisles, scrunching up your nose in confusion. 

“Where you will be?” It’s stupid to already feel a sort of attachment to him, curious about his well-being more for the safety of your own. 

“I’ll be parked right here,” He gestures to a nearby bench seated across a young child screaming and crying as a mother forces on their shoes. 

You only nod back, not trusting your mouth to form appropriate words as he gives you a nice playful push with his elbow passing behind you, gesturing for you to go on. 

He does just what he said he would and you find yourself slivering between row after row of shoes, eventually finding a nice comfortable shoe that doesn’t cost too much, moving to show Joel before being gobsmacked by a pair of leather western boots. 

You decide to pick both, coming to the conclusion that Joel can decide as you walk towards him with one shoe on each foot.

“Okay, okay, ya gotta choose alright?” You position yourself in front of him, finally getting the chance to be above him, feeling a sort of strength and confidence because of it.

His head rises from where it was slouched on his chest, his hat covering most of it until he takes it off with a puzzled look on his face, probably having just napped you think. 

“I gotta choose huh?” He questions slowly in a drawl, snorting a bit as he rubs his nose. 

“Mhm!” You nod turning to the back of the aisle before walking down the carpet as if it’s a catwalk, giving him a little twirl at the end watching as his brows raise in curiosity. 

He responds with a slow clap as you curtsey to finish it off, eyebrows high as they screw together. 

“Well, aren’t you just the bee's knees…” He smirks a bit turning his head to the side, biting the inside of his cheek in long thought as you rock back and forth on your feet in the silence.

“I say get 'em’ both.” He shrugs. 

“Joel…” you pout placing your hands on your hips, “You’re supposed to choose the best one.”

“Go’n and get both, s’ my choice, like you said… toss that pair on your feet and wear one out of the store. Those shoes have seen better days…” He gestures to worn ones nearby with his foot before sucking his bottom lip in, biting down as you scrunch up your face once again, confused by his generosity. 

You open your mouth to speak until you hear his name called, a gentleman his age heading over with a big smile on his face as Joel gets up to greet him shocked it seems by seeing the man. Before he dives into conversation about some time in Arkansas they shared. 

He seems to forget your presence until he fishes in his pocket before turning to you. 

“Check out baby, I’ll be there soon,” He mumbles, handing you his wallet before turning back to converse with the man about god knows what. 

Baby… 

It sits on your tongue as you repeat the word… baby. 

Once you pack up the western boots & toss your ratty pair, curiosity gets the best of you look through his wallet to find a hefty amount of cash along with a few cards, his ID reading ‘JOEL MILLER’. 

You ponder why he trusted you with it, you could bolt, to be quite honest, live off for months with the amount of cash stored. 

You don’t, finding zero need to. 

Eventually, you realize it could be because he trusts you since he’s the furthest from careless. 

It’s a funny feeling, trust, as you make your way to the checkout stand. A boy maybe a bit older than you reading a magazine as you have to muster up a ‘hello’ to gain his attention. 

“Fuh- Sorry, shi-, I mean, sorry I ain’t see you or nothin’” he nervously rambles taking the boxes, one empty but still necessary to scan.  

“Wasn’t ignorin’ you…” He adds as you smile a bit, attempting to ease his nerves. 

You are reminded of how you are able to make boys nervous, having been able to do so since grade school, and not necessarily because you were some Hollywood star, you simply carried yourself with a certain amount of confidence that had boys sputtering and timid. 

It’s refreshing you find after figuring you don't seem to do that to Joel. 

He is never nervous around you, quite the opposite as you feel as if butterflies are swimming in your belly every time he looks at you.  

The boy with a nametag reading, Ted, begins to bag as you slide the total amount on the counter from Joel’s wallet, your pinky hitting a jar of candy on the counter. 

“These free?” You question eyeing a red lollipop. 

“No, um, you can have it, it’s 25 cents, goes to helping out a kid in need,” He fumbles giving you your change as his sweaty hand releases it into yours. 

You return a quarter and fish out your lollipop, discarding the wrapper into your pocket before plucking it into your mouth. 

It isn’t difficult to notice the boys attention on your mouth as your lips wrap around the sucker as you turn your head a bit, sorta wishing it was this easy with Joel. It makes you smile a bit, the idea of getting this reaction from him but the boy thinks it's for him as he smiles back. 

You make sure to wear a look of disgust to dissuade him from thinking it’s for him, lost in your own fantasies as you stick the lollipop far into your cheek. 

“You uh- need help carrying this back, maybe I can help you carry this back to your car?” He offers a little breathless as you pop the sucker from your mouth. 

“Maybe, uh I don’t know where-” You start

“Sorry bout that darlin’,” the gruff voice behind you is followed by the warmth of a hand on your hip as he picks up the bag with the boxes, ignoring the cashier's hand on it. 

“We all square?” He questions looking down at you in a familiar stern manner, maybe questioning the fact that you didn’t steal this time.

“Uh huh,” you nod, “Bought candy too…”

“Oh yeah I can see that-”

You press the lollipop to his lips cutting him off suddenly, expecting to gain some sort of reaction from him finally, but he only opens his mouth to take it in before stuffing it in his cheek, “Delicious… let’s get a move on.” 

A giggle expels from your mouth as you find yourself bewildered as he leads you out of the store before handing the sucker back to you in which you take it swiftly, before waving goodbye to the clerk who wears the strangest expression of confusion, making you laugh even more. 

You expect to head to the truck, and instead follow him towards a sandwich shop as he holds the door open for an elderly woman before letting you pass in. 

“You know what you want? They got hot & cold sandwiches it seems…” He mutters moving up in the line as there’s a good amount of people in front of you. 

“Umm, just a coke…” you hum happily looking at the glass bottled drink behind the counters before hearing Joel sigh out gruffly. 

“Look at me.” He’s stern when he speaks yet soft as he turns towards you, curling over as he closes the space between your bodies. You attempt to make eye contact with his grayish-green eyes, before looking down at your feet, your stomach turning in on itself. 

It isn’t until his fingers move along your jaw to your chin, tugging it up so you can look at him right there, your face resting in the cup of his hand, his hats shadow covering the both of you, making it feel as if you are the only people in the room as a slow gulp glides down your throat, his eyes searching yours as you can feel his breath on your lips. 

“I need you to get real food, you’re gonna get a sandwich. You understand me?” You open your mouth slightly to breathe in his words, stuck in a trance that has you resting your hands on his forearms for balance. 

You wish to speak, to object but only nod as he seems satisfied before breaking away to move up in line with only two people now ahead of you. 

It feels as if your heart is beating through your throat as you expected him to kiss you then, wanted him to. Yearned for it, lips left unsatisfied as you take them between your teeth to gnaw at them. 

He doesn’t even seem bothered in the slightest as he continues to read the menu, distracted as you size him up. 

His tanned arms roped with veins leading down to his hands, his jeans bolted together with a belt as the jeans hang over his boots, the thick beard that holds specks of gray that creep down his throat. His face littered with scars, the most prominent on his nose… he’s truly one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever come across. 

Why didn’t he kiss you… 

Your thoughts are interrupted as the person making the sandwiches asks what you want. You list off an assortment of turkey and cheese and other veggies before turning to Joel, somewhat seeking his approval as he gives you a little nod. 

You slip his wallet into his jeans before heading to find a table in the back, immediately getting side-tracked by a little kiddie ride shaped as a horse, seen through the glass window of the building, fishing into your own pockets to pull out a little ten-cent coin before exiting through the back door. 

It isn’t hard to settle onto it, clearly made for those younger but something fun to do while you wait as it begins to rock you back n forth, popping your forgotten sucker back into your mouth as you move your hips with the ride, it brings you back to a certain comfort forgotten in your childhood as you close your eyes, listening to the carnival music that exudes from the speaker box next to it.  

“What… are you doing?” You're interrupted by a familiar voice as you turn your head to Joel as he stands by the door, propped up, arms folded across his chest in a questioning way, not judging but curious. 

“Ridin’ a pony…” You hum biting into your lollipop, turning back your attention to the machine as it ceases. 

“Seems like you’re done ridin’ a pony, come on in so we can eat.” He huffs out, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, the summer sun shining down as you remove yourself before heading inside, sliding into a seat across for him, unwrapping your sandwich to find he’s already dug into his own, pastrami it seems. 

Your eyes narrow behind him as you find a group of teen boys, three, eyeing you. 

One spreading his legs open as another makes a gesture to sit on his lap, realizing they had seen you from the glass on the ride, a queasy feeling filling your stomach as you remove your hands from the wrapper placing them in your lap.

It doesn’t take Joel long to notice, his brow raising, chewing on the last bites in his mouth before leaning back in his seat, expecting some sort of reason as to why you haven’t touched your food. 

“Theyre just… starin…” You whisper, hushed, scared to provoke them, avoiding their gaze, and chuckles from behind him. You’re older than them, you know it, but there's more of them, and with men, when there's a will there's a way. 

He’s quick to set his food down, not missing a beat as his head swivels over his shoulder before back to you. 

It’s hard to hide your sickening expression, regretting your choice to reconnect with your inner child, “Can we maybe leave?” 

The stupid tears prick at your eyes as you once more feel dwindled to a piece of meat for the wolves to pick at. 

You don’t expect the reaction, you don’t expect Joel to get up with a loud screech of the chair against the tile that has patrons of the shop turning to see the commotion. His reserved, quiet, & sturdy demeanor, now replaced with a brash, harsh, mighty one as he approaches the table. 

“There a fucking problem?” 

He doesn’t yell… you think it’s scarier that way? His anger low and simmering yet already intimidating, you hope you never see his anger come to a rolling boil. 

The men, younger, stupider, shake their heads, one of them speaking up, “N- no just having fun, just fun…” You don’t hear Joel’s response but watch as the boys scurry out eventually, allowing Joel to return to the table after apologizing to a nearby couple for his language. 

He sits back down, not waiting to take a bite into his sandwich before gesturing to yours as you obey, unwrapping it and digging in to eat in comfortable silence, a strong wave of protection washing over you. An unfamiliar one, one never expressed to you before, it isn’t necessarily the possessive protection from toxic boys in the past, it’s healthy and feels good? 

You don’t notice he’s finished, lost in your own thoughts until you hear his mouth ‘tick’ and then feel his thumb swipe at the corner of your mouth getting at a bit of mustard there before pressing it to his mouth, sucking it off with a quick motion that leaves you biting into your sandwich to subdue the need to press your lips to his, squeezing your thighs together. 

It’s nice just sitting in silence with him, as he sips his beer, and you drink your coke, finishing eventually, keeping the bottle cap.

Eventually, you head back to the truck. 

Truth be told you hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks, making it hard to stay awake for the drive, eventually resting your head on the window as you think of telling Joel just that, maybe to show your gratitude. 

Instead, you drift off deciding whether to or not to. 

You don’t notice you’re awake until you collide with a plush mattress, groaning into the comforter as you come to realize you’re in a bed. 

You spring awake, forgetting the day, forgetting where you are, only knowing you are now in a strange bed placed there by a person…

“Easy…” A familiar voice sounds out as you scramble to get up, a warm hand pressing to your chest to ease you back down as you remember, it’s Joel, you’re safe. 

He pulls back the covers as you slip in, expecting to hear him follow in soon, expecting to feel his body heat warm the cold bed.  

Instead, you watch as his figure strides to the door, confusion setting in. 

“Joel… where are you going?” It comes out in a hush, feeling too vulnerable for your own skin, the exterior of hyper-independence you've worn since grade school replaced by an anxious curiosity.  

“Got a room right next door, just holler f’ya need anythin…” He moves to open the door, a gust of warm wind entering as you realize it’s night, a nearby clock reading 8:32 p.m.

You don’t know why you’re frustrated, it’s stupid. Your hands balling up the sheets as you clench onto them, attempting to figure out what it would to get him to stay. 

He’s being respectful you think, but it makes a certain loneliness you are familiar with, creep its way up your spine. You don’t have the guts to ask him to stay. 

“Okay… if some serial killer comes to get me in the middle of the night it's your fault,” is all you can get out, attempting to soothe your own anxiety with jokes. 

You can see him slightly as he exits the door, the soft moonlight reflected upon him in a way that makes your heart flutter, “Not on my watch baby, get some sleep.” 

The door shuts with a hard thud and soon you get up to lock it behind him leaving you wishing he shared the bed with you. 

You drift off that night imagining what it would look like if he did.

[thedailydescent]

In the besieged lands of Gaza, the search for drinking water unfolds as a tragic odyssey of endurance and deprivation. Every step taken to procure this fundamental necessity is laden with hardship and uncertainty. Families embark on wearying journeys, traversing long distances in pursuit of a simple sip of water. Yet, the wells of health and purity run dry, as contamination and scarcity cast a shadow over their quest. The echoes of war reverberate through their struggle, rendering the act of securing clean and uncontaminated water a poignant reminder of the entrenched suffering that defines life in Gaza.

https://gofund.me/31239068

This fundraiser is listed at #247 on the Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser List.

Amna is a mother of three: Ahmed (8), Adam (6), and Ayla (4). They are currently being denied an education and childhood and are in constant fear of noises overhead.

Amna needs €40,000 to cross the border. We are currently at €13,542. Please reblog this or her pinned post, and donate if you can. Let's keep spreading the word to avoid stagnation.

[chrimsonfoxdon]

Got a big wave of job rejection emails again today 😔 please share my sh0p around and consider taking a look. It and my Kinder World collab are my only sources of income atm, and I’m still recovering from my dog’s 3k+ vet bill

Here’s my kinder world collaboration link too! I get a small commission for each download through the link or QR code, but only if I meet a certain amount of downloads. I still haven’t hit that threshold yet, so any help would be greatly appreciated

[drmohammedaldeeb]

Dear Reader,🌷

My original account has been blocked 😣and that's my new one...here is my story 🍉🇵🇸

I am Dr. Mohammed Aldeeb, a dedicated medical professional specializing in emergency care, hailing from the Gaza Strip🇵🇸🕊✌.

For years, I poured my heart and soul into my work at Al-Shifa Hospital, tending to the wounded and the ailing with compassion and skill.😃

However, the ravages of war tore through our lives, forcing me to abandon my cherished home😢 and the familiar walls of the hospital where I once found solace.😥💔

Leaving behind the echoes of laughter and camaraderie, I embarked on a painful journey southward, bidding farewell to the streets where I grew up,😓💔 the corners where I sought refuge, and the colleagues who felt like family. Memories of my formative years and the countless lives I touched during my tenure at Al-Shifa and other medical facilities flooded my mind😢, as I struggled to come to terms with the sudden upheaval😥.

Despite the adversities that besieged me, I persevered in my pursuit of healing😢. My determination led me to Al-Azhar University, where I embraced the role of a teaching assistant, imparting knowledge to aspiring medical students😁💚 with unwavering dedication. Dreams of specializing in internal medicine beckoned me back to Al-Shifa Hospital, but alas, the brutal onslaught of war reduced it to rubble, shattering my aspirations in its wake😢💔😥.

In the chaos and carnage of conflict, I sustained injuries🇵🇸😢, and the sanctuary of my home was obliterated,

leaving my family and me destitute and displaced.😣

Yet, amid the ruins, a flicker of hope persists. At Al-Aqsa Hospital, I continue to extend a helping hand to those in need,💚❤🍉 drawing strength from the resilience instilled in me through years of education and service.🙏🤍💛

Today, we find ourselves sheltering in a humble tent ⛺ 😓stripped of our possessions and livelihoods.

The loss of my job, my home, and the comforting presence of my loved ones weighs heavily on my heart.😣😣

Nevertheless, I refuse to surrender to despair, clinging to the belief that brighter days lie ahead.😓

It is with a heavy heart that I reach out to you, dear reader, seeking assistance in securing safe passage for myself and my family from the turmoil of Gaza. With your kindness and generosity, I hope to reclaim the path to realizing my medical vocation, enabling me to provide for my loved ones and contribute to the healing of our wounded world.

Your compassionate aid would mean the world to me and my family.

With gratitude and hope,

Dr. Mohammed Aldeeb

Gaza Strip

WhatsApp: 00972599095244

Thanks alot @ibtisams for verification....link vetted

Thanks alot @palestinegenocide ...link vetted

[kookie-doughs]

Daddy Cupid

Modern!Various One Piece Men X Reader

-When your father grows weary of your single life, he takes it upon himself to play matchmaker. With him knowing the entire city, he embarks on a mission to find you the perfect match.

Chapter 1: Cupid's Bow

You sat alone in your cozy apartment, the dim evening light casting long shadows on the walls. Typing on your computer, paying no mind to your surroundings, each passing minute was marked by the distant ticking of your wall clock. The silence was broken only by the occasional honk of a car horn from the street below.

A sudden buzz interrupted your work, and you sighed as you picked up your phone. It was another message from your father, a message you had been dreading all day. "When are you going to settle down?" it read, the words in bold and accompanied by a string of emojis, including hearts, wedding rings, and not-so-subtle hints at grandchildren.

You rolled your eyes, knowing that your dad's matchmaking mission was about to kick into high gear again. You love your father dearly, but his obsession with finding you a husband had reached legendary status in the city.

Leaning back in your chair, you gazed out the window at the cityscape beyond. Grand Line, the bustling city you had called home for as long as you could remember, stretched out before you. Its streets were filled with endless possibilities and countless bachelors, all waiting to be vetted by your father.

But you weren't quite ready to dive into the world of love and commitment. At thirty, you were content with your career, your independence, and your circle of friends. Marriage and settling down seemed like a distant future, one you weren't in a hurry to embrace.

Figuring your dad, and you yourself, would appreciate coffee before another session of nagging and proposing potential husbands, you went over to the coffee shop close by.

Figuring your dad was not going to leave you alone, you shut your computer down and got up. Yawning and stretching, you walked to your closet to get changed. You opted for a plain white t-shirt, distressed blue jeans, and comfortable sneakers. As you stepped out of your apartment and onto the bustling city streets, the vibrant energy of Grand Line unfolded before you, promising another day of adventures and surprises.

Your dad held a high position in the city, his name known through out the city. He had dedicated his life to various community initiatives, charity work, and local businesses, earning the admiration and trust of both young and old. His presence in the city was like a reassuring anchor, and despite the city's considerable size, it felt like a small, interconnected town where everyone's lives were intertwined in some way.

"Hey, Law. Good morning!"

Trafalgar Water Law, or simply "Law" as he preferred to be called, is a part-timer at the neighborhood coffee shop. Despite his perpetually tired appearance and the assortment of tattoos that adorned his arms, Law was a young man who defied expectations. Law had ambitions to study medicine in college, a path that seemed entirely unfitting for his appearance.

"Dad's favorite and my usual, please. Thank you," you say, offering a warm smile.

Pressing the items on his cashier monitor, Law efficiently processes your order and writes your name on the cup.

"Grandpa Rayleigh came over a while ago," Law speaks up as he begins crafting your coffee.

You can't help but grumble inwardly, fully aware of the purpose of the visit. Law was adopted by one of the most powerful families in the city, the Donquixote family. Doflamingo and Rosinante Donquixote were two of your father's potential sons-in-law.

"Please tell me that your dad was the one home... please," you implored Law with a hint of desperation in your voice.

"No," Law replied with a sympathetic shake of his head.

You took a deep breath and screamed silently, clenching your fist in frustration. It seemed like everyone preferred Rosinante, Law's adoptive father, and honestly, you couldn't blame them. Rosinante had always been kind, considerate, and genuinely caring. He had a warmth that drew people in, including you.

On the other hand, Doflamingo was a completely different story. As much as he might excel in his role as a family person, he was a crazy and obnoxious individual. He embodied the stereotypical rich bully, and from elementary school through high school, he had made your life miserable. You had no idea why your dad considered him a candidate for marriage, and the thought of being tied to someone like him sent shivers down your spine.

Law hands you your two coffees, and you accept them with a sense of resignation before making your way out of the coffee shop.

"Y/N!!" A child's voice calls out, and you inwardly sigh, thinking your day couldn't possibly get any worse. Turning around, you see Shanks with his wide grin. Beside him were three children: Zoro, Usopp, and Luffy.

"Sweetheart!!" Shanks starts to come toward you, ready to wrap his arms around you in a warm embrace, but you extend your arm and gently push him away. Instead, you kneel down to Luffy's level.

"Hey, kids~ Do you need help? Why are you with him?" You smile sweetly at the three youngsters, curious about their presence with Shanks. "Did he take you away?"

Shanks grins broadly and attempts to charm you. His hand on his chest presenting a faux offended look. "My love, I can't believe you'd think that!! I'm just being a nice citizen here, and I'm bringing these brats home! Aren't you falling for how great I am yet?" He bats his lashes, trying to win you over.

Usopp points at Shanks, "He was drinking with Dad, and they lost us."

"SHUT IT YOU BRAT!!!" It seems like the day's events had been just as chaotic for Usopp and the others as they were for you.

You hit Shanks on the head with a glare, your frustration evident. "Take them home and tell Yasopp to stop drinking or else!"

With a huff, you turn and stomp away, ignoring Shanks' calls as you make your way back to your initial destination. The events of the day had left you exasperated, and you needed some peace and solitude to clear your mind.

You arrive at your dad's place, already exhausted from the day's events. However, your frustration only deepens when you find him drinking with his friends Oden, Roger, and Edward.

"Hey, Dad," you say with crossed arms, glaring at the group. "Can you three go back home? None of you guys should be drinking."

Edward laughs heartily and gets up, stumbling over to you. He puts his arm on your shoulder and pulls you closer, his words slurred, "I have a son around your age. Gurararrara! Rayleigh told me you're looking for someone! I ca-"

Before he can finish his sentence, you interrupt him, your patience running thin. "Edward, go home. We can discuss this when you're sober." You give him a stern look, hoping he'd take your advice seriously.

Edward smirks and exclaims, "I'll tell my son to pick me up! Gurarara!!!!" His laughter rings through the room, and you can't help but shake your head at the drunken antics of your father's friends. Dealing with their overzealous matchmaking attempts was becoming a routine you'd rather do without.

Roger, clearly affected by the alcohol, sobs and clings onto your dad. "My son is 10... I want Y/N as my daughter-in-law too!! Rayleighhhh!" he exclaims, his emotions running wild as he joins in on the matchmaking fervor. You roll your eyes at the absurdity of it all, feeling like you're stuck in a never-ending loop of potential suitors.

"Ooh! Ooh!! What about my son!!" Oden cheers enthusiastically.

You grumble in exasperation, "Oden, your son is 16."

"It's close to your age!!" Oden insists, seemingly undeterred by the age difference. "Aren't you like 17 or something?"

"ODEN, I'M 30!!! Can you three drunkards please just go home!" You sigh defeatedly, feeling the weight of the matchmaking chaos weighing heavily on you.

You sigh with relief as you successfully manage to drag the drunk grown men out of the house and usher them into a cab that you've hailed. With the chaos outside resolved, you return to find your father slumped in the living room, going through his phone. You take a moment to clean up the mess they've made, trying to regain some semblance of order.

Your dad suddenly strikes up a conversation, "How was your date with Linlin's son?"

You shake your head and reply, "That date with Cracker is never happening again." The memory of that disastrous date still lingers vividly in your mind, making it clear that some potential suitors were better off left in the past. "Our deal was if I went on that date you'd leave me alone, remember dad?"

Your dad continues to express his concerns, lamenting, "I know, dear, but what am I supposed to do? You're 30 years old and single. How am I going to have grandchildren this way? I need at least 3 of them, you know!"

"Dad, I'll figure it out, please," you implore, feeling the weight of his expectations pressing on you.

"What about that clown? His circus is booming from what I heard. You grew up with him," your dad suggests, trying to be helpful.

You shake your head firmly, saying, "I'm not dating Buggy, Dad. C'mon, can't you just leave my relationships to meeee?"

He persists, "I would if you just go on a date with that Donquixote boy. Or Shanks, I hear he's doing great."

"Doflamingo is crazy. And Shanks is dating practically the whole city," you counter, exasperated by the suggestions.

Your dad's matchmaking attempts continue as he suggests, "What about that boy you used to like? The one that's in the National Kendo team."

"D-Dad, I liked Mihawk back in college! And he has two kids!" you exclaim, trying to put an end to this.

"And no wife!!" your dad interjects, clearly undeterred.

With your patience wearing thin, you warn him, "If you don't stop naming everyone, I'm gonna leave you to clean up yourself."

Your dad continues his relentless matchmaking efforts, suggesting, "What about just one date with Edward's boy? Hmm? What'dya say? Do it for your dad, c'mon. This'll be the last one, I swear."

You raise an eyebrow and reply skeptically, "You said that about Cracker. And also Kuro. And also King, not to mention Crocodile."

He tries to defend himself, "You dated that Croco-boy back then, though!"

"Yeah, so you'd get off my back!" you retort, the frustration evident in your voice as you remind him of your past attempts to appease his matchmaking desires.

Grumbling and realizing your dad wasn't going to stop his matchmaking efforts, you finally sighed in defeat. "Fine, I'll go out with Edward's boy! But you have to swear this is the last one!"

"Fine, fine, fine! I'll text Edward," your dad agreed, somewhat reluctantly.

"Swear on Mom, Dad," you insisted firmly. He flinched and looked at you, hesitating. You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow, waiting for his response.

"Do we have to involve your mom?" he asked, trying to avoid the commitment.

"I'm moving to Calm Belt if you don't stop," you threatened, not willing to back down.

"FINE! I swear! But if you end up not ruining the date on purpose, I'm gonna keep pestering you," he reluctantly agreed, realizing he had no other option but to give in to your demand.

Masterlist | Next

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @nykie-love-anime

[missymoe07]

This is the newest member of our family. I'm convinced he was sent to save me from my depression after losing my sweet Koda Bear. His name is Zuko! He's been with us about a month!

We Ordered a Dog DNA kit from Embark because I hate mysteries! The shelter listed him as Great Pyrenees mix and the vet agrees. We noticed the other night he's got webbed paws so we are thinking maybe some lab, and something about his face makes me think boarder collie (the vet thought that one too) so we will see. What do you guys think?

[woozysioux]

Lovely supporter ,🌹

Thank you for your continuous support for the Palestinian cause until freedom is achieved🇵🇸 🕊♥️.

I hope you can help me spread my message to the whole world by reblogging my story🥹🙏🏻♥️.

It's vetted campaign 😁.

Best regards and love💚.

Dr. Mohammed Al-Deeb from Gaza-palestine.

yes absolutely i will share your story, i admire the courage you have to reach out during these horrific times and wish you all the best ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🇵🇸 This campaign is VETTED (links: 1 / 2), and a bit more than half way to the goal. Please donate / reblog to get it all the way!!

Dr. Al-Deeb's own words under the cut:

"I am Dr. Mohammed Aldeeb, a dedicated medical professional specializing in emergency care, hailing from the Gaza Strip, We are a family of 4 members. We are suffering from the ravages of war and we want to save our lives by traveling outside Gaza to continue my educational plan, my brother's, and the living and educational expenses in Egypt... In addition to helping us bear the very high living expenses here in Gaza, between housing, food, and drink.

For years, I poured my heart and soul into my work at Al-Shifa Hospital, tending to the wounded and the ailing with compassion and skill. However, the ravages of war tore through our lives, forcing me to abandon my cherished home and the familiar walls of the hospital where I once found solace.

Leaving behind the echoes of laughter and camaraderie, I embarked on a painful journey southward, bidding farewell to the streets where I grew up, the corners where I sought refuge, and the colleagues who felt like family. Memories of my formative years and the countless lives I touched during my tenure at Al-Shifa and other medical facilities flooded my mind, as I struggled to come to terms with the sudden upheaval.

Despite the adversities that besieged me, I persevered in my pursuit of healing. My determination led me to Al-Azhar University, where I embraced the role of a teaching assistant, imparting knowledge to aspiring medical students with unwavering dedication. Dreams of specializing in internal medicine beckoned me back to Al-Shifa Hospital, but alas, the brutal onslaught of war reduced it to rubble, shattering my aspirations in its wake.

In the chaos and carnage of conflict, I sustained injuries, and the sanctuary of my home was obliterated, leaving my family and me destitute and displaced. Yet, amid the ruins, a flicker of hope persists. At Al-Aqsa Hospital, I continue to extend a helping hand to those in need, drawing strength from the resilience instilled in me through years of education and service.

Today, we find ourselves sheltering in a humble tent, stripped of our possessions and livelihoods. The loss of my job, my home, and the comforting presence of my loved ones weighs heavily on my heart. Nevertheless, I refuse to surrender to despair, clinging to the belief that brighter days lie ahead.

It is with a heavy heart that I reach out to you, dear reader, seeking assistance in securing safe passage for myself and my family from the turmoil of Gaza. With your kindness and generosity, I hope to reclaim the path to realizing my medical vocation, enabling me to provide for my loved ones and contribute to the healing of our wounded world.

Your compassionate aid would mean the world to me and my family."

[dpfantasyzine]

Hail and well met, traveler! Welcome to the lands beholden to the DP Fantasy Zine. We are so excited to embark on this journey together across the Infinite Realms and the worlds contained within. If you have any questions regarding the DP Fantasy Zine, here are some Frequently Asked Questions that may be what you’re looking for. 

Q: What content can I expect in the DP Fantasy Zine?

A: Fantasy is a huge genre that encompasses a lot, and so we aren’t imposing many limits on our contributors! You can find the expected high fantasy staples like dragons and fae, but also keep an eye out for other fantasy subgenres and inspirations. 

Q: Will there be shipping in the zine?

A: Ships and romance are not the focus of the zine, but may be included per contributor discretion.

Q: Will the zine be Safe For Work?

A: Yes, the zine will be SFW. Fandom typical gore and violence are allowed and may be included. Content warnings will be provided at the beginning of the zine for visual art and before any relevant fics. 

Q: Is the DP Fantasy Zine for profit?

A: No! After the cost of production is covered, anything that remains will be donated to a charity that contributors vote on. The selected charity will be vetted and verified. 

Q: How will purchasing work?

A: There will be a pre-order period where individuals can purchase a physical copy of the zine. We will have few, if any, extra copies after the fact so be sure to pre-order to guarantee yourself one. There will also be a limited digital sale period. After the digital sale period closes, proceeds will be donated to the agreed upon charity. Expect more details such as the purchasing platform as we near production.

Q: Will content be zine exclusive?

A: Contributors will be welcome to post their work after zines have shipped out at their own discretion. Merch will only be produced for the zine and will not be re-released after zines sell out.

Q: When can I expect the zine to release?

A: The current schedule is being worked on, but dates are currently: 

CREATION Official Pitches Due = Feb 2nd  Check-In 1 (25%) = Feb 23rd - Feb 25th Check-In 2 (50%) = Mar 15th - Mar 17th Check-In 3 (75%) = Apr 5th - Apr 7th Final Submissions = Apr 26th - Apr 28th PRODUCTION To be announced RELEASE To be announced