luna

being alive is so stressful like are they mad at me? can i afford this? will i finish this assignment? will i pass? like OH MY GODDDD MAKE IT STOPPPPPP

okay guys nevermind im still mad but i found my babysitter’s a vampire and can die happy rewatching my husbands benny and rory and wife erics

Hello, my name is Lama, and I am from Gaza City, specifically in the northern Gaza Strip. I grew up in a loving family of resilience and hope, with my parents working tirelessly to provide us with a life of dignity and opportunity. My father was our steadfast provider, and my mother was the heart of our home. I have two brothers and three sisters, the youngest of whom is just six months old. She is frail and often sick due to the lack of proper food and medicine. My siblings and I have shared dreams of education, careers and a bright future. But life in Gaza is marked by hardship, and when the war began, everything we had built was shattered. My older brother, a kind and a courageous soul, was martyred while trying to secure basic necessities for our survival, my younger sister was gravely injured, and the cost of her treatment weighs more than the universe to us, now the responsibility for my family has fallen on my shoulders.

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #510 )✅️

Our home, once filled with warmth, laughter and memories, has been reduced to rubble. We have been displaced more than thirty times from place to a place with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Each time we returned, we found more destruction, we always clung to the hope of rebuilding, but in the last attack, our home was completely destroyed, we are now homeless, living in unsafe conditions with no shelter to protect us from the cold nights. The loss of our home is not just the loss of a building, it’s the loss of safety, stability, and the place where our dreams were nurtured.

With my father unemployed since the beginning of the war, we have no income to provide even the most basic necessities. Water, food, medicine, warm clothes and blankets-things that many take for granted-are beyond our reach. Every day is a battle for survival, and every night is a reminder of the dangers and struggles we face. I am determined to care for family and give my younger brothers and sisters a chance to grow up with hope. But I cannot do it alone.

I am reaching out to you with a plea for compassion and action. Your support can help us rebuild our lives, restore hope, and secure a future where my family can live in peace and safety. Every donation, no matter how small brings us closer to survival and dignity. Please for the sake of god and humanity, help us in this time of desperate need.

player two | t. shigaraki

⇨ you beat him in a match. he found your number. unfortunately for you, he’s chatty.

Ushijima Wakatoshi does not like to repeat himself. 

“What did you have for dinner?” 

Your words come out slightly slurred by the alcohol running through your veins and the fellow clubbers chattering around you. 

Ushijima looks down at the dishes he’s currently washing then back to where his phone rests on the counter.

“The leftover grilled fish from yesterday, steamed tofu with some soy sauce, and miso soup with egg.” 

“Oh!” you exclaim, voice staticy from your spiked volume and speakerphone. “That sounds good. Was it good?” 

“Yes. Are you having fun with your friends?” 

You giggle and he smiles a little, now turning back to the dishes. He listens to you ramble as he scrubs and rinses, humming acknowledgements as appropriate. 

“How about you, Toshi? Did’ja eat dinner yet?” 

Ushijima is familiar with your habit of asking the same questions over and over when you’re tipsy. He’s often the primary victim. 

Unphased, he responds. “Yes.” 

“What did you have?” 

“Fish, tofu, and soup.” 

“Ooooh sounds healthy. Did you count your macros and calories? Meet your protein goals?” 

The last dish is placed on the drying rack. He considers drying the dishes since it’s an easy, mindless task that would allow him to continue talking to you. He grabs a dish towel. 

“Yes. Where are your friends?” 

“Oh, here and there. Bathroom? Dunno…” 

He stays on the line as he hears you yell your friends’ names, having a full, only somewhat incoherent conversation with them, having seemingly forgotten him on the line. 

He listens to you make plans for one more drink, decline an invite to the next bar, and wonder aloud where you could flag a taxi. 

“Want me to come pick you up?” he asks. 

“Nope! I just flagged a taxi. On my way home!” 

“Okay. Be safe. See you soon, love.” 

“Wait Toshi! I wanna keep talking to you.” 

“Okay, what about?” 

“Hmmm… Oh! What did you have for dinner?” 

Ushijima Wakatoshi does not like to repeat himself. 

But, when it comes to you, his lip curves up and warmth floods his chest as he responds, certainly not for the last time tonight, “Fish, tofu, soup.”