One Of Them Is Not Like The Other.

i don't think you read my last message

Oops, sorry man! I was just trying to help people. I was also kind of busy. So, I didn't read it right, sorry.

I am Ehab Ayyad ❤ a palestinian youngman from Gaza🍉🇵🇸, seeking to find safety and peace ☝️for my family if twenty members. We have been ❤🇵🇸🍉passing through all forms of torture and pain for almost ten months because of the war on Gaza.

Life is very miserable and tragic❤🇵🇸 as we are now deprived ❤🇵🇸🍉of all means of living. Drink water, healthy food health care and medicine❤🇵🇸 have become things 🇵🇸🍉❤of the past. We are dying dear friends. That is why I am asking you to help us break through this tough situation.Life in hot tents is incredibly sad and miserable. We are now experiencing the worst circumstances we have ever had in our life. The war has stolen happiness and life from us.

Please don't leave us alone in such dire times. Your kind contribution either through donating whatever you can or sharing my posts will be highly appreciated and valued.❤🇵🇸🍉

Please donate and share if you can! Let's spread love not haterade.

Hello🤗❤️

I hope you are well🌹

Can you help me get my voice heard

and share my family's story?🙏🏻

Can you Reblog my pinned post from my blog or donate 5$?

By helping to reblog my story, you could

save a family from death and war.🌹

Thank you very much🌸

🕊️❤️🌹🙏🏻

Please share of donate if you can!

I am Dr. Imtithal, living in the besieged northern Gaza Strip. For 11 months, we have lost our lives. We have lost everything. I have lost my brother, my home, our money, our source of livelihood, my profession as a dentist, and all our memories. Our lives have become difficult. We cannot obtain the necessities of life, such as water, food, medicine, and shelter. We live a difficult life in a school as a shelter for us after we lost our home. We cannot obtain a clean life and we suffer from the spread of diseases. Every so often we are displaced. We cannot settle in a place because of the intensity of the bombing. I hope you can help me so that I can protect my family, which consists of 35 people, most of whom are children...

Please donate or share if you can!

My writing

Here is Suzanne Chazin's The Long Journey Home but in omegaverse, I don't know why I did this. I even posted this on ao3.

“A letter arrived from your mother,” my friend Aoi said, the thin air-mail envelope crackled like rice paper in her hands. I nodded but didn’t move. “Perhaps you’ll read it later,” she offered. I had arrived in Japan after finishing college. The trip was my mom’s graduation present, and he had talked excitedly about my returning home. But two months later I wrote that I might remain to teach English. I knew my letter would pain him, and I dreaded his response. As I sat in the sparsely furnished room, I recalled tales of my mom’s youth, riding the rails during the Great Depression. He had been a hobo then, as full of wanderlust as I was now. If I had vagabond blood in my veins, I’d gotten it from him. I thought about the gift that got my mom to quit his wandering. It was my favorite story of his life on the road - and I could practically recite it by heart. In fact, I could almost hear is Brooklyn-edged voice telling me now: He was 20, traveling in a freight car across the western foothill of the Rocky Mountains. The other men, mostly alphas in the car were scattered along the walls, their dusty faces as empty as their pockets. Their work clothes were worn, their hands callused from hard work. Each stared silently out the open doors as if he had some particular destination in mind. They were heading east, but they were all going nowhere. My mom had left New York a year and a half earlier. It had been easy to abandon the concrete stoops and corner stores of his neighborhood. There, young men worked odd jobs in factories, when they could find work at all. And old men - mostly Russian immigrants like my grandfather - whiled away their time talking about the motherland. In Russia, my grandfather had been an engineer who spoke four languages. In America, he was a house painter. His friends were counts who now waited tables, and captains who now opened doors and hailed cabs. Late at night, they would talk of the armies they’d led and the banquets they’d attended decades before. They were men who walked in their own shadows.

I can't fit it all in here so here (https://archiveofourown.org/works/62090032) is the link to ao3 where I posted it.

For personal reasons (im a whore), I need Harvey Dent to be an absolute unit

Hello, I am Tareq from Gaza Iam trying save my famliy from the genocide happening here. I ask for your help in spreading my story and donating if you can contribute anything, no matter how small.Please don,t forget to sharethe latest post from my page and follow my account to help spread the story to the world. Thank you.

htps://gofund.me/481656bc

Please donate or share if you can!

That one twt meme but college days scollace

Look at them, two friend going out for a swim.

1000 likes!