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My grandmother Naifa al-Sawada was born in June 1932. A beautiful girl with blue eyes, she was the only daughter to her parents. They were originally from Gaza but moved to nearby Bir al-Saba, where Naifa’s father Rizq worked as a merchant. She did well at school and in 1947 obtained the necessary certificate from the British – then the rulers of Palestine – to attend university. She did not do so, however. Her father was fearful about what could happen to her at a time when war in Palestine appeared imminent. At a young age, she married my grandfather Salman al-Nawaty and went to live in Gaza. Between 1947 and 1949, Zionist forces expelled approximately 800,000 Palestinians from their homes. Among those directly affected by the Nakba – Arabic for catastrophe – were Naifa’s own parents, who fled their home in Bir al-Saba for Gaza. Having witnessed the Nakba, Naifa encouraged her own children to defend Palestine. Naifa gave birth to four girls and six boys.Like so many mothers in Gaza, she experienced great loss. Her son Moataz went missing while traveling to Jerusalem in 1982. It is still not known what happened to him. Another son Moheeb, a journalist, left Palestine for Norway in 2007. Three years later he traveled to Syria. In January 2011, he went missing. The Syrian authorities subsequently confirmed to the Norwegian diplomatic service that he was imprisoned. But he has not been allowed to contact his family.We do not know his current whereabouts or even if he is alive or dead. My grandmother witnessed the first intifada from 1987 and 1993. On the streets around her, youngsters with stones and slingshots rose up against armed Israeli soldiers in tanks and military jeeps. During that time, her son Moheeb – the aforementioned journalist – was held for more than a year without charge or trial. That infamous practice is called administrative detention. My grandmother lived close to al-Shifa, Gaza’s largest hospital. She took great care of arranging everything in her home with her delicate hands. She used those same hands to comb her hair into braids. She memorized the Quran and took great interest in the education of her children and grandchildren. On 21 March this year, Israeli troops broke into my grandmother’s home. The soldiers displayed immense brutality. They ordered the women in our family to evacuate on foot and arrested the men. They would not allow the women to take my grandmother, who had Alzheimer’s disease, with them. The soldiers claimed that my grandmother would be safe. That was a lie. The invasion of my grandmother’s house took place amid Israel’s siege on al-Shifa hospital. My grandmother’s house was destroyed during that siege and she was killed. Her remains were found days after the Israeli troops eventually withdrew from the hospital earlier this month. She was killed – alone – in the same house where she had lived since 1955. We do not know if she suffered or if she died quickly. We do know that she was older than Israel’s merciless occupation.

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I want a story about a king whose son is prophesied to kill him so the king is like “whatever what am I supposed to do, kill my own kid wtf is wrong with you” so he just raises him as normal, doesn’t even tell him about the prophecy, and instead of some convoluted twist of events that leads to the king’s murder the son grows up and when the king is very old and dying and in excruciating pain the kid is just like alright I'mma put him out of his misery.

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platforming palestinian joy is just as important as sharing the suffering they're enduring during this genocide. despite continued displacement and bombardment, you cannot steal their joy and spirit. happy birthday to this sweet baby 🖤🇵🇸 may they grow up to see a free palestine

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Israeli forces abducted nine doctors from Gaza’s Nasser Hospital during a four-month ground operation in Khan Younis, the Gaza Media Office reported on April 23. “We believe they have been executed and buried. The process of recovering the bodies is still ongoing, and we expect to find some of them," Gaza Media Office Head Al-Thawabteh said, noting that Israeli authorities have refused to disclose any details regarding the fates of the missing doctors.

On April 25, The Palestinian Civil Defence reported that the number of retrieved bodies —including children's— from temporary mass graves dug up at the same hospital rose to over 390. Israeli forces withdrew from Khan Younis on April 7 after a prolonged ground invasion there that included the storming of the Nasser Medical Complex. Israeli forces have killed over 34,200 Palestinians and injured at least 77,200 others in Palestine’s Gaza since October 7 while imposing a crippling siege that has pushed the enclave’s entire population — especially residents of northern Gaza — closer and closer towards starvation.

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it is so incredibly sad to constantly see kids on instagram and tiktok who are younger than my brother have to literally beg for shelter, food, water, medicine, and their right to exist as human beings

i mean, this young girl is only ten years old, yet she is essentially responsible for convincing random people scrolling through instagram that her and her family’s life are worth fighting for

on top of that, their gofundme is not even 10% funded and time is running out, please if you can’t donate, just share

please don’t let this little girl die begging

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Help Hamza get his family out of gaza.

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🍽 - A special treat of their choice

♡ Inspired by this ask game!

♡ Captain Syverson x Reader

-

“You know, I shouldn’t be surprised you like strawberries so much,” you say as you slice another one in half. “Mommy used to eat whole cartons of these with whipped cream when I was pregnant with you.”

Diamond accepts the fruit when you hand it over. “What’s pregnant?” she asks between chews.

“Pregnant is when women have babies in their bellies,” you explain, popping the other half of the strawberry in your mouth and grabbing another from the carton to add to the bowl of fruit salad before you.

“That’s where all babies are from?” She points to your middle, poking the stubborn minute pouch of fat under your belly button.

“Pretty much.”

Diamond looks down at her own stomach and then back up at you. “I can have a baby, too?”

“When you’re older, yeah.”

“Why not now?”

“Because you’re still a baby yourself, mamas.” You pass her a pineapple chunk next. “When you’re much older, if you want, then you can have a baby.”

“Were you ever a baby?”

You nod. “I was a long time ago.”

“Daddy was a baby too?”

“If you can believe it, yeah, he was.”

“And DJ?”

“Him, too.”

“And Grandma?”

Turning towards your three year old, you manage a patient smile at such inquiries. She stares up at you expectantly, her large brown and blue eyes glued to your mouth awaiting an answer.

“Everyone and everything starts out as a baby,” you tell her and resume cutting. “All your cousins, Uncle Derek and Dylan, Auntie Lay. Everyone.”

“How does the baby get in your stomach?”

“You were a gift from Daddy,” you start, tossing the empty strawberry carton to the side in favor of a bag of honey crisp apples. “You know how we started planting our flowers for spring and we need seeds and water for them to grow all nice and beautiful? Well, Daddy gave me one of his seeds and we decided to grow you in my belly because it was too cold to put you out in the garden. You got really big in my belly and when you sprouted, we named you Diamond.”

“I’m a flower?”

You can’t resist giggling at the innocent manner in which she asks. She’s truly too cute for words.

“Yes, girlie, you are a flower. Mommy’s little flower. Here,” you say and hand over an apple slice. “And you’re only gonna get bigger, beautifuler and smarter.”

“DJ’s a flower,” she states simply and takes a huge bite out of the slice with a loud crunch.

“DJ’s a tree,” you correct her. “He was a flower when he was little but he grew.”

“I don’t wanna be a tree. I wanna stay a flower.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that for a while,” you assure. Given that height runs on both sides of the family, the pediatrician predicts she’ll be close to five feet by the time she’s in first grade, which is only three years from now.

But you’ll let her stay a flower for now.

“You grew DJ, too?”

“Of course, I did. He was my first flower. I had him right after me and Daddy got married.”

“What’s married?”

“Getting married is when you and someone you really love get together and become one in the eyes of the law,” you explain, transferring the apples into the bowl and grinning down at your curious daughter. “Daddy and I got married, he gave me a seed for DJ and I grew him just like you.”

“It was too cold in the garden?”

“Yeah, baby, too cold,” you chuckle. “I had another flower after him. His name was Logan.”

There’s an obvious question written on Diamond’s face, so you continue on your way over to the counter to retrieve the sugar canister.

“Logan sprouted when DJ was about your age,” you say, sprinkling sugar over the salad and mixing it with a wooden spoon. “You remember when we checked on our garden yesterday and some of the tulips were dried out and couldn’t be plucked for our bouquet?”

Diamond nods and reaches upward for more food. You pass over a blueberry.

“Well, something like that happened to Logan. It wasn’t his time to be with us and so he had to leave for a little bit.”

“Where did he go?”

“I’m actually not sure,” you tell her honestly and point over to the fridge. “Can you be Mommy’s little helper and grab me the whipped cream off the door?”

“Okay!” she exclaims and skips over to the refrigerator.

“Thank you, sweet girl. You’re so helpful,” you say when she hands over the can. “Don’t forget to close the fridge.”

Diamond obeys and rejoins you at your side, watching with wide eyed interest as you scoop a few spoonfuls of the fruit salad into a paper bowl.

“Will Logan ever come back?”

You pause at the question and look down at Diamond as she awaits an answer, never once losing focus of her snack on the counter.

“Sometimes I think he already did,” you admit, pulling a kitchen island stool back and lifting her into the seat. “You look like him.”

You shake the can of whipped cream and spray a fair amount over the mountain of fruit in her bowl.

“Eat up.”

“Thank you, Mommy!”

“You’re welcome, baby. It’s good?”

“Mhmm,” Diamond hums as she munches. “Is Daddy gonna give you another seed for more flowers?”

You stop in your tracks, eyebrows quirked.

What an interesting thing for her to ask.

“I don’t know,” you say.

“I don’t think you should have another flower.”

“No? Why not?”

“I’m still a flower.”

“Hmmm,” you hum in feigned thought. “That’s true. You got me there.”

“Is DJ gonna give seeds to someone and grow a flower?”

“No time soon, I hope. I’m a little bit too young to be a grandma.”

In the midst of idle snacking and cleaning up the kitchen, the sound of the alarm beeping followed by the opening and closing of the garage door perks you up.

“Daddy!” Diamond cheers and attempts to hop from off of the seat but you catch her just as she begins her descent.

“Aht!” you say as you plant her safety on her feet. The millisecond her toes hit the floor, she zooms off in the direction of the garage door to greet her father.

“Daddy!” she exclaims, arms in the air and smiling wide up at Sy who obliges and picks her up.

“Hey, Peach,” he grunts and kisses her cheek. “Where’s Mama?”

“In here!” you call.

“Holy shit,” Sy mutters under his breath as soon as he rounds the corner into the kitchen and spots you at the sink washing dishes. Before you’re able to reply, his hand lands a loud smack to your backside, making you jump and swat at his hands.

“Stop,” you hiss without venom and a hesitant smile. “Not in front of the baby.”

“I’m not a baby. I’m a flower, Mommy.”

“Right, right,” you say with a nod. “Not in front of the flower.”

“A flower, huh?” he asks and Diamond nods.

“Mommy says I’m a flower and DJ is a tree.”

“Did she now?”

“Mhm!”

“If you’re a flower and DJ is a tree, what does that make me?”

Diamond and Sy turn to you with the same curious look on their faces.

“Daddy’s a tree. I think it’s fair to say I’m a tree, too.”

“Mommy’s a flower, too,” Sy corrects and twirls in a circle, eliciting a giggle out of the toddler in his arms. “My two flowers, so beautiful and so tall.”

You grin to yourself and gesture to the bowl of fruit salad on the table. “I made something to hold you over until dinner,” you say.

“Fruit salad,” he notes, eyes going back and forth between the sugar and whipped cream before landing on you. “Hmmm.”

“Me and Mommy made it!” Diamond announces.

“Did you now? It looks good, sweet girl. Here,” he says, setting her to her feet and handing her her half eaten bowl. “Go on in the living room and put on a movie. Daddy’ll be there in a second, he’s gotta talk to Mama.”

“Okay!”

Diamond takes off towards the living room and it’s not until the opening score of the live action The Little Mermaid movie starts playing does Sy turn back to you with a suspicion in his blue eyes.

“What?” you ask and return the look.

He side-eyes the fruit salad and slowly approaches. His body is barely an inch away from yours before he sets his arms on the counter to cage you in.

“Some’ you wanna tell me, shug?”

You blink up at him. “I don’t think so.”

The side of his lips quirk up in a smirk. “You sure?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You just had a random craving for fruit salad?”

“Kinda.”

“Hmph,” he huffs and glances down at your stomach in silent inquiry. “Last time you wanted it, you were carrying a ‘flower.’ Is that the case this time?”

You stare at your husband, unsure of how to answer. What you thought was a spur of the moment snack actually stemmed from a week long craving that you’d only felt when you were pregnant with Diamond.

Your silence serves as answer enough and Sy exhales a sharp breath.

“Shug—” he starts but you interrupt with a shake of your head.

“I don’t know for sure,” you whisper. “My period’s about a week late, but you know it’s been irregular since she was born. That’s not a definite reason.”

“Did you take a test?”

“I didn’t want to without you.”

Sy nods. “And if you are?”

You shrug. “Then I am.”

The two of you stand there in contemplative silence for a brief moment. He brushes a stray curl from your forehead to peer into your eyes.

“What if I’m not?” you ask.

It’s Sy’s turn to shrug. “Wouldn’t mind another one running around here. Diamond’s gonna need a friend when DJ goes off to college anyway.”

Before you can answer, Sy’s lips meet yours in a sweet peck. He pulls back just barely to where your lips aren’t touching, but you still taste the day he’s had on his breath.

“When we get the chance, we’ll sneak away and take a test, okay?” he utters. “And if it says what I think it does, we’ll do whatever you wanna do. Understand?”

You nod and return the kiss.

-

The funny thing about that is that you didn’t know what you wanted to do.

You just wanted a fucking fruit salad.

-

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DONT STOP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE! DONT STOP TAKING ABOUT GAZA!

DONT LET THEM MAKE YOU FORGET!!

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Reblog if you think a woman can be complete without children

Y’ALL HAVE TIME TO REBLOG THIS. IT TAKES LESS THAN FIVE SECONDS.

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“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”

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Lena knew this was going to be a bad one. She was making dinner when she glanced up and saw that the Lakehawks game had been interrupted by a breaking news report. There was a fire on the south side hills, flames raking the side of the building as they reached hungrily for the sky, as if to consume the stars themselves.

Rushing to the balcony, she could see it, an angry red glow on the edge of the city. It was a bad place for a fire. It was out of control and the brush and vegetation nearby was dry; all of Southern California was under drought conditions and a fire watch. Everyone in the city would be glued to their televisions; a helicopter thumped overhead, sending a downblast over her as it thundered towards the fire.

Lena watched with her own eyes, briefly spotting the red and blue streak across the night sky. She couldn’t see the fire itself but she could imagine Kara slicing through the air at full speed, dousing or something the flames in some clever way. True to form, the glow died down quickly. Lena didn’t need to turn back to the tv to know the fire was was contained and would soon be out.

She waited patiently on the balcony, leaning over the railing and letting the crisp night air sweep through her hair. She looked up when she saw that familiar dash of red and blue slow and descend beside her, cape billowing out behind Kara as she landed.

Her face and hair and suit were streaked with soot and her eyes were downcast. Lena said nothing as she placed her hands on Kara’s big shoulders and led her inside. As soon as they were in, Lena closed the doors and pulled the curtains, then swiftly turned and undid the clasps that held Kara’s cape to her shoulders, sweeping it over the back of a chair. From the set of her back and the way her head hung, she knew at once that something as wrong.

She didn’t ask. Kara was never cruel to her, never snapped at her, but Lena had learned to read her and knew that she needed a little bit of silence to process after something happened.

A kind of ritual had been created between them. Lena parted the skintight suit to reveal the hidden zipper and pulled it down, exposing the honeyed skin of Kara’s broad back. She wore a crop top and boxers under the suit, and shimmied out of it, gathering it and the cape.

Kara turned to head towards the bedroom, and Lena caught her with a hand resting softly on her forearm.

“I wasn’t fast enough,” Kara whispered, as the tears began to fall.

Lena took the suit from her and the cape and laid them reverently across the chair.

“Don’t worry about me,” said Kara. “I’ll be fine.”

“You will be, but I’m going to worry all I want.”

Lena pressed into her and Kara wrapped her arms around her, nuzzling her nose into the crown of Lena’s head. Kryptonian super-senses. She was taking deep breaths of Lena’s pheromones and feeling the beat of her heart against her own chest. Kara smelled like sweat and burnt drywall, but Lena didn’t care.

“Eat your dinner. I’ll be okay.”

Lena let her go, but put away what she’d been making; the chicken could brine for up to a day anyway, and she wanted to share this meal for Kara. Lena wouldn’t admit that she enjoyed feeding Kara, whose body seemed so incapable of gaining any weight which was not muscle, but she knew she did. Not to mention the little thrill she got from introducing her to new tastes.

She had a protein shake instead, waiting for Kara to come out of the shower. Kara would wash her suit and cape herself, so Lena left it.

When she stepped into the bedroom, Kara had changed into a loose, threadbare t-shirt and was fluffing her hair with a towel. Eventually it would dry into flawless waves with loosely curled, salon perfect ends; apparently Kryptonians also had super styling amongst their repertoire of scientifically implausible abilities.

Kara flopped on her side on the bed, sighing.

Lena crawled aboard behind her and wrapped her arms around Kara, and Kara immediately sank back into her embrace with a soft sigh. The bed erased their height difference and Lena sheltered Kara with her body, tucking her head against her chest. After a while, she began slowly running her fingers through Kara’s damp hair, and her tuneless hum became a half-remembered lullaby her mother had sung as Kara let out a quiet sob and shuddered.

Sometimes, the biggest person needed to be small, and the strongest woman in the world needed someone to be stronger. Eventually, Kara told Lena what happened, yet another invisible scar she’d carry forever. Once again Lena bitterly thought that Kara didn’t deserve to live like this, bearing the guilt of two whole worlds on her shoulders.

But she did, so Lena would help her carry it.

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