mito

Hi, my name is Mosab , and I’m from Gaza. Life here has been harder than I could ever imagine, but today I’m sharing my story with hope in my heart, because your kindness has already given us so much strength.

This journey hasn’t been easy. The war has taken 25 family members from us—25 beautiful souls we loved deeply. Their laughter, their presence, their love… all of it is gone, leaving behind memories that are both precious and painful. Every day, I carry the weight of their loss, but I also carry their spirit, which gives me the strength to keep going.

Our Journey So Far

When I first reached out, I couldn’t have imagined we’d make it this far. Your support has been a light in these difficult times, and we are so deeply grateful for every single contribution.

But the road ahead is still challenging. Every day, we’re reminded of how much we’ve lost and how much we still need to rebuild.

Here’s what life in Gaza looks like for my family right now:

🏠 Safety: The uncertainty of tomorrow weighs heavily on us.

😢 Loss: The absence of the 25 family members we’ve lost is a pain we carry every moment.

💔 Dreams on Hold: The future feels so far away when survival takes all our strength.

How You Can Help Us Cross the Finish Line Even the smallest act of kindness can make a difference:

✅️ Vetted by @gazavetters ( #309 ) ✅️

Why Your Support Matters Your kindness isn’t just about helping us meet our goal—it’s about reminding us that we’re not alone in this fight. It’s about hope. It’s about survival. And it’s about giving my family a chance to rebuild our lives, even in the face of unimaginable loss.

Thank you for helping us get this far. Your generosity and compassion have already brought us closer to a better tomorrow, and for that, I’m endlessly grateful.

With all my love and gratitude,

Mosab and Family ❤️

send requests !! dc, cod, bes, the bear, or any fandom that i currently write for ( check masterlists ) !!

Concept of a concept time:

Reader who goes through the whole relationship with Ghoap or the whole 141 believing that they would always come second place, because of course Simon would burn the world down if Soap was taken out of it. Of course, Price would do everything and anything to save Simon. Of course, Simon would turn into monster if it meant keeping his family safe, keeping his TaskForce safe.

Of course, Kyle would go mad with grief if he was to lose Johnny. Of course, Kyle would become a shell of himself if he lost Price.

Of course they would all shatter without each other alive and well. It was obvious. It was a fact.

Reader who sees it and places themselves on the outside of it, because these men were already something before they came along. These men were already tight knit and close to each other.

These men were already family when Reader got dropped into their laps. It’s only natural they don’t really slot fully. There’s just no more space.

Reader who takes every bit and crumb of an affection they are given. Reader who gives away everything. All of them. Every kiss and confession, every hug, every bit of love and care they have. They give it all, because yeah, maybe they will never be a part of these 4. But they can be near and maybe…maybe that’s enough?

Reader, who dies. Not instead of Soap, not instead of anyone. They just don’t come back from the job one day, their foot locker was supposed to be shipped out to the family. But there is no family.

So 141 takes it. Who, if not them, right?

Reader, who dies and haunts the narrative from that point on. Reader who leaves a hole the size of a person and no one can fill it. It’s impossible.

Reader, whose warmth was seeping through them all for so long, the absence of it feels like a whiplash. The absence of it feels in their bones and it’s cold-cold-cold now. Their hearth dies and there is nothing to do about it but keep going.

Soldiers die every day, this one shouldn’t have been special. But they were.

Kyle who takes their personal things before someone else can come and toss them out, sleeping with their T-shirts and hoodies. Part of him dies with Reader. Part of him is getting buried with them. He’s sitting at their funeral until Price leads him away.

Simon who takes their photos and books, hiding them, keeping them safe. He needs to have it, because memory is traitorous and one day he might not be able to put a face to the name and he’s terrified of it to the point of feeling sick.

Soap who takes mementoes — keychains and magnets from all of the deployments, he takes every knick knack they found in the foot locker and Reader’s room, he stores them next to his. There are new keychains on every set of his keys. He’s fumbling with them every time he feels like there’s knot in his throat and he can’t speak.

Price gets the notebooks. Just a few of those were in a footlocker, filled with scribbles and meal plans and random quotes and games Reader played with Kyle during boring briefings. But it feels like them. It smells like them. Reader never wrote a consistent diary, too little time and too much going on, but they notated the places and times and that Soap coughs like a sick Victorian child and that Kyle has the most perfect beauty marks on his thighs and that Price sneezes like dad and that Simon sleeps with lamp on.

It is everything there was of them. Everything there’s left of their love and John isn’t sure he’d be able to part with it. It isn’t fair that it happened like that. It isn’t fair that he feels like destroying his whole office when he reads the “im not sure i fit in. on the bright side I reckon if something was to happen to me, no one would mourn too long. they have each other, I should be happy it is like that. I should be grateful” because it’s not fair-not fair-not fair-not fair.

John doesn’t show these diaries to anyone. John guards them like his most prized possession, reading it over and over because you, silly perfect thing, why haven’t you said anything. Why haven’t they noticed anything.

John doesn’t show it to anyone because he’s not sure if they won’t crumble under the notion. He’s not sure they won’t shatter when the rest find out that Reader died thinking they weren’t part of the family.

John sobs so hard, bile rises to his throat, world swimming in his eyes and it hurts, and he’s so fucking angry and it’s so unfair. Because it’s not true, because of course you were part of them, of course you matter, of course they mourn.

Because you die never finding out how much you were loved. Because there’s nothing he can do.

And it’s not fair.

yeah ahaha ITS SO OVER

no but what if reader sacrifices themself for soap in the tunnel... (implied ghoap, ghoap x reader; mcd, reader has very low self esteem, reader probably has depression, mw3 spoilers)

you know how important he is to ghost. everybody does- it's hard to not notice that they are practically symbiotic- feeding off of each other's laughs, near inseparable. you never see one without the other.

and compared to him, you are nothing more than a burden to the team, you figure. you do not carry soap's explosive force, the intensity in his eyes, nor do you have half of ghost's expertise in sniping, do not carry any of his mystique. you dont- you dont deserve a second glance, much less any of their kindness. your fascination, you like to call it, towards johnny and ghost, it should be hidden under your tongue, clandestine and invisible.

nobody gets a say in how quickly you are to establish yourself as the wallflower of the 1-4-1. and by the time of mw3, nobody gets to intercept how you manage to run solo in a team, no matter how much they try to reach out. they have each other. why would they ever need you?

so in that clammy, chilling tunnel, your reactions to such an ambush are second nature- you shut down the moment johnny's shoulder is shot. tackling the enemy- the movement is so instantaneous and blurry that you do not realise that said enemy is makarov himself-onto the asphalt and plunging your knife in and out of him until the muzzle of a gun presses against your head and it's bullet lodges into the back of your brain. you die instantly, silently, not hearing how johnny screams your name instead of your callsign, how simon, for the first time, seems uncoordinated, desperate like a dog as he fumbles to revive you. you had never thought that they cared, never believed they would look at you with reprocipricated admiration. and moments before you die, you realise that you will never know how much of a presence you were in their lives, and you close your eyes knowing that they will be okay together. but you arent around long enough to see how they crumble, and you die with the belief that in this world, you are none other than a replacement. you never seem to stay around long enough to see how simon, johnny, love you.

and you never will.

someone on this post asked me about price and gaz’s reactions and im fairly proud of the result considering it was written in a short time, so i’ll put it here.

i think price would crash out and lose a few screws. he's usually a man of order and the voice of reason in his team, but reader's death would be a bit too much to handle, i think. he doesn't want to blame ghost and soap, but he looks at reader's dead eyes and knows that they were the last people to exist in their thoughts and he can't bear that, nor can he look ghost and soap in the eyes when laswell calls to transfer them to a different team.

gaz is the first to enter reader's room after they'd passed away, is the one who has to file away the papers that still need to be written up, who will have to be finished by someone else. they're dead, buried in their hometown with the medals they've pulled over this career, and the world dares to keep spinning. for gaz, it's almost completely put to a standstill. once he's comfortable as he can be with the fact that they're gone, and he's just starting to accept that he has to scramble bits of them together, he's sleeping on their bed until their smell finally fades, wearing their shirts to sleep. he doesn't dare wear them outside though, where ghost and soap and price can see them, because like how he feels, it will dig deep and injure the parts of them that have hurt the most. right now, he is the only thing keeping what's left of the 141 together, but part of him wishes that you have loved him just as much as you loved ghost and soap, just as much as he'd loved you. maybe, things could have been different. but they aren't, because he's holding his own hand and pretending it's yours and there's two members left in the 141 out of the five that had previously been there- him and price, just like how it had started. (except it never hurts more.)

dare i say price/reader and ghost/reader

I raise you Gaz x anyone but he’s the one on the left instead of the wolf and he’s crying

since when has it become socially acceptable to reboot posts with the most coldest hardest most heartbreaking takes ever can i like . borrow your brainworms PLEASE

—THE SMELL OF BOOKS

𝜗𝜚 — in which, two book nerds start to fall for each other; you both meet your other half through wuthering heights

— so sweet made my own teeth rot, love this sm, not requested —

JASON TODD, the enigmatic literature professor you’ve heard whispers about from students and staff alike, is known for two things: his sharp intellect and his tendency to disappear into the university library for hours on end. He’s a mystery to most, but you’ve caught glimpses of him during faculty meetings—usually seated at the back of the room, arms crossed, half-listening while his mind seems to wander elsewhere. There’s something about the way he carries himself; a quiet confidence, a brooding edge that sets him apart from the other staff.

thing + side order anniversary art