Harry Potter Materlist

i beggest thou pardon — eddie munson

▸summary: you have an issue. eddie has a talent at acting. you have to get rid of a really sketchy guy. he has to get people to stop making up rumours about him and chrissy. a perfect problem. 

▸characters: eddie munson, fem!reader, chrissy cunningham, male!oc

▸tw: creep guy, borderline sa, an adult word or two

▸a/n: this came to me in a dream. it was a great dream. i was sad it was over

MANY OF THE students at Hawkins would say that Percy Thorn was a pretty good choice of boyfriend. He was a very tall, slightly lanky yet strong art student with a charming personality, a dazzling smile, and a 1984 Harley Davidson FXRT. Yes, he was quite a choice.

He was also an incredible egomaniac.

For the past week and a half, Percy Thorn had not once left you alone if he could help it. Lunch times, he was there. Art class, he was there. Maths and English, he was there. He was like carbon dioxide: always there, yet never wanted. 

Well, this past couple of days, he’d gone above and beyond in trying his best to ‘get you’. He’d tried the flirting, leaning against inanimate objects (and animate objects, such as poor Joseph with the glasses), pick up lines, asking his friends to ask you out for him. Nothing seemed to work. So, he tried the next option.

Touching.

First, it was an arm around your shoulders. Then pats on the head. Then a hand grab. But today, he’d been rather bold, going as far as to place a hand on your thigh. When he did that, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Oh, boy. You had just told Percy Thorn that you had a boyfriend. That did not exist. That was nowhere to be found. That currently had his residential address set in Narnia. You had to find a boyfriend, stat.

When lunch rolled around, you burst into the cafeteria wide-eyed, panicked, and panting. Your eyes then landed on one set person that could quite possibly guarantee your safety from Mr.-let-me-lick-my-lips-and-hope-I-look-sexy.

You beelined for the table he was currently sitting at, taking the empty seat next to him, smoothing out your skirt. 

“I’m really sorry, but I need a boyfriend.”

The man blinked once, twice, gaping like a fish. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before blurting, “I beggest thou pardon?”

It was probably the stupidest thing Eddie Munson could have said. But he was discussing Hellfire, and he was speaking in old English, and then he remembered he had a Shakespeare assignment due tomorrow, and the dominoes just kept falling. 

Eddie had never thought that someone such as yourself, a rather ethereal being that was currently spending her angelic time at a school such as this, could ever taint her reputation by breathing the same air as him, never mind sitting next to him. He was a little taken aback, evidently. 

Gareth, who was sitting opposite him, merely dropped his head rather heavily on the table, banging it a couple of times before sighing. Jeff merely pat him a few times on the back, muttering “I know, dude, I know” to the poor boy. You and Eddie both watched this with rather similar facial expressions, allowing Eddie time to process what you’d just said.

“I’m so sorry,” he backtracked. “I meant to say... what?”

“Percy Thorn won’t leave me alone, and I told him I had a boyfriend, and he didn’t believe, me, and he won’t believe me until I show him, and I know that you’re a kind of freak, no offence, but if you pretended to date me, he’d probably get the message and leave me alone because he would never try to mess with you, what with you being the devil’s spawn or something, I don’t know, but I suppose the basic gist of this is, can you please pretend to be my boyfriend so he can stop touching me?”

How you managed to say that in one breath was rather impressive, Eddie had to admit. He also had to admit that he was, in fact, not listening until you mentioned touching. His eyes narrowed when he heard that and he pursed his lips. 

See, he had his own little problem. Someone had seen Chrissy and him talking at one point in time, and now they had spread the rumour that the two were know a thing, meaning that Chrissy’s anxiety had skyrocketed when people whispered, and Eddie was getting into a lot more fights than he was before the rumours began. He’d only just had a black eye fade, and already had a threat for another one. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to go blind.

“Pissing off Percy Thorn, huh?” he murmured thoughtfully. “Hmmmm...”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, dude, take the deal,” Gareth hissed, not lifting his head from the table. 

“Sure, why not?” the metalhead smirked, and you nearly fell backwards from relief. 

“Okay,” you breathed, ready to cry. “Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

“Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart, relax.” He raised a hand to your waist, halting and asking permission with his eyes. At your soft smile and small nod, he wrapped an arm around your lower back, peeking two fingers underneath your ABBA themed baby tee. You shivered at the cool temperature of his silver rings, and were quite flustered at the heat of his skin. It was a rather beautiful contrast. 

You were a rather physically affectionate person, and were rarely uncomfortable with touch unless someone else was. But this was an Eddie-initiated thing, so you leaned into his side, placing your head just below his collarbone. His hair smelt nice, and it was gorgeously soft. He had great curls. 

“Wow, your hair is like, ridiculously nice,” you muttered. He chuckled. 

“Thanks, doll. It’s my three-in-one shampoo,” he joked. You cracked a small smile at that, it dropping as soon as you heard footsteps and turned to see the douchebag himself strutting over. 

“Well, well, well.” Percy Thorn also had a very silky voice. He could’ve been a voice actor. “We find ourselves in a predicament at the moment.” 

Gareth lifted his head from the table, his eyes slits as he glared through his own brunette curls at the leather-clad artist. “And what would that be, o mighty one?”

Percy turned up his lips, looking Gareth up and down, turning back to Eddie. “The devil’s spawn has his hands on my girl.”

Eddie raised his lips in a sarcastic grin, cocking his head. “Last I checked, she was my girl.” Eddie tightened his arm to sell the point, and you raised your hand to his, lacing your fingers. You really wanted to vomit when Percy said ‘his girl’.

Percy scoffed. “Oh, please. No one would be caught dead sharing your seat on the bus, let alone allowing themselves to be called your girl.”

“Yeah, well, the reason she is my girl is because we shared a seat on the bus, so I guess luck was on my side.”

Damn, Eddie was good at lying. You smirked a little at the little made up story. You nuzzled into his neck a little, grabbing his attention. 

“I have to go. Mrs. Craig won’t handle tardiness from anyone, not for the sake of algebra.” You swung your legs over the seat, hand still interlaced. He did the same, only with one leg. He pressed his lips to your knuckles, delighting in Percy’s absolute look of fury.

“I shall see you soon, my heavenly rose,” he bade farewell, sounding like one of the characters from the play he was meant to be analysing, Twelfth Night. You giggled a little. Even though you were only pretending, Eddie was rather funny. 

“I await the chance, fair knight,” you returned, curtseying rather clumsily. He smiled back at you. You were quite pretty when you smiled. 

You began to walk away, avoiding Percy’s look of rage when you passed. You couldn’t walk very far however, when you gasped, stopping in your tracks. Tears appeared in your eyes. 

Percy smirked, the spot where he’d slapped your butt still tingling. You’d never wear this skirt in public again. Your hand flew to the spot, trying to stop something, anything, everything from happening all at once. You spun around, hunched over a little as you kept your legs together, as though you were a cowering puppy. 

Eddie’s smile faded, replaced with a rather scathing look. The look of fear, no, distress that was on your face had him reeling. He grabbed the nearest thing, which was his lunch tray, shot up, flung his arms back, and brought the tray right on Percy’s ear. 

The art student crumbled like a sack of potatoes, yelling as he clutched his ear. Eddie stood in front of you protectively, lunch tray still clutched rather tightly in his hand. 

“You bastard.”

“Mr. Munson!” The whole cafeteria swung from looking at Eddie to looking at the teacher that had just shouted. “Principal’s office! Now!”

The brunette sighed, dropping the tray. Gareth sputtered.

“Wha- but Percy literally just assaulted her!”

“You too!” She didn’t even know his last name. 

“That’s not fair.” You were trying to help, but it was hard when you were trying not to burst into tears. 

“You know what? Life’s not fair. All three of you, go!” She pointed in the direction of the principal’s office Percy’s friends rushed to help their fallen mate.

Eddie stuck close to you the whole walk to the principal’s office. “Welp, that was an eventful relationship.” He tried joking, but it didn’t crack a smile this time.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I got you both in trouble.”

“Nah,” Gareth waved his hand, dismissing you. “It was worth it. Seeing Thorn fold like that was funny. Plus,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “Eddie’s got a girlfriend.”

“Pretend girlfriend.” Eddie cleared his throat turning a little red. Gareth shrugged and walked a bit in front of them. The metalhead turned to you, sheepishly running his hand on the back of his neck. “Sorry about him, and that whole tray smack thing.”

“It’s okay, for both things.” You said quietly. “But, uh, you wouldn’t mind being my pretend boyfriend for a little longer, would you? I’m a little paranoid now.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Eddie grinned like the cheshire cat. “How about I drop you home to solidify the story?”

You smiled at that. “I’d really love that.”

Besides, he could use your help on that assignment.

^^^

🌸 From One Mother’s Heart – Please Read 🌸

My name is Saja. I’m a wife, a mother, and a woman who once believed her story would be simple. I thought my days would be filled with watching my daughter grow — from her first smile to her first steps — surrounded by the small joys of everyday life.

But life had other plans.

War has returned to our home. Again. And once again, we find ourselves living under skies that never seem to rest.

There was a moment — a fragile, breathless moment — when the bombs paused and the world seemed to remember us. It gave us hope. We thought maybe, just maybe, we could start to rebuild. But now, we are back in the dark — hiding, holding on, praying.

I’m writing this not as someone seeking pity, but as a mother who has no other choice but to speak.

Imagine holding your baby in the middle of the night, not because she cried, but because the world outside roared too loud for either of you to sleep. Imagine whispering bedtime stories not to lull her into dreams, but to keep the fear from settling into her tiny bones.

This is my life.

This is my daughter’s life.

And even now — especially now — I believe in softness. I believe in kindness. Because when everything else is taken from you, hope becomes the most valuable thing you have.

Why I’m Reaching Out Our home has been damaged. Our lives changed. But through it all, my daughter wakes up every morning with a smile. She reaches for me with trust, with love, with faith that I will keep her safe.

That’s why I keep going.

I’ve launched a campaign to ask for help — not because it’s easy, but because silence is no longer an option. I am asking for support not just for me, but for my baby, and for the quiet strength of so many mothers like me who are fighting, every single day, to hold their families together.

How You Can Help: 🤍 Help us restore parts of our home so we can live with dignity 🤍 Support women and mothers in Gaza with access to care and resources 🤍 Keep the light of hope alive for a generation born in the shadows of war

💛 If you can, please support our journey here:

Chuffed

I Am Saja – A Mother Holding On Through the Return of War

My name is Saja. I am a wife, a mother to a precious 8-month-old girl, and I am writing this in a moment that I wish I didn’t have to live t

If you can’t give, please consider sharing. Your voice might be the reason someone else hears ours.

From My Heart to Yours Maybe our lives are worlds apart. Maybe you’ve never lived through war. But if you’ve ever held a child and wished the world could be better for them — then you understand more than you know.

I don’t want my daughter to grow up thinking the world turned away.

Please, if you’ve read this far — thank you. Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for caring. We are still here. Still hoping. Still holding on to every kind act like it’s a lifeline.

With love and endless gratitude

thank you so much this is such high praise 🥹🥹🫶🫶

ain't no sunshine — steve harrington

▸summary: steve just wants cuddles. and he'll play the song on repeat until he gets them.

▸characters: steve harrington x gn!reader

▸tw: tooth. rotting. FLUFF

▸a/n: i did not die. have some happy words.

HE MUST'VE HAD the song downloaded four-hundred times on his cassette tape, because you were just about ready to bash your head in when the beginning notes played from Steve's bedroom. 

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, it's not warm when she's away.

You were in the living room, finishing up some writings that you had due for your classes when you gazed unamused at the ceiling. He'd been playing the song on repeat, singing along badly in order to coax you into giving him some love and affection as you always did on a Tuesday afternoon. Unfortunately, this deadline was currently taking priority, and Steve was being a drama queen about it. 

You still had about four pages to write, as well as some questions to answer before anything else took over your mind, so you had to suffer. 

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, and she's always gone too long, anytime she goes away.

You'd practically memorised the words and melody to this song, mouthing them with good ol' Bill Withers as he provided sustenance to feed Steve's dramatics. You could hear Steve's faux grieving voice as he sang along, making the song a whole heap more dramatic than the original recording. 

Wonder this time where she's gone, wonder if she's gonna stay.

Trying to persevere through the loud stereo blasting muffled music above your head is a lot more difficult than you might imagine. Ever since you had gone to his place in a tizzy that you had things to do before a deadline and couldn't afford any distractions, you had banished him to his room, and for about an hour, had some quiet. 

That changed when the second hour became the third, and the music started when the sun began to go down, reeling on loop as though it was a broken record. 

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, and this house just ain't no home, any time she goes away.

You smiled slightly, though. For all of Steve's dramatics and ridiculous behaviours, he loved you, and you loved him. All of his quirks made him special to you, and you loved to be with him no matter what was happening around the world, especially when the whole Upside Down thing began catching up to him, mentally and physically. Now, he was a cuddly baby that loved hugging you. He always said that he felt safer to sleep in your arms. 

And I know, I know, I know, I know...

He must've given up on singing, because Steve's voice could no longer be heard. Probably ran out of oxygen. Good. He needed to rest after the whole Russian situation. You only had one page left to write and a few more questions to do before you could give your Steve what he needed so desperately. 

A hug. And a fat nap.

You sighed as the tape continued playing the bridge, scrawling your pencil over the paper. You had started with gorgeous cursive, and had evolved into writing chicken scratch to speed up the time. Two questions down, half a page to go...

Hey, I ought to leave the young thing alone, but ain't no sunshine when she's gone.

Three lines, two sentences, aaaaand...

Done.

Throwing the pencil down and thudding the book shut, you pushed yourself to a standing position, practically bounding up the stairs, dragging yourself up by the handrails. 

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, only darkness everyday.

You came to the first floor landing, stepping onto the carpeted floor with your socked feet and beelined for Steve's room. The door was shut, but Bill's soothing voice carried through the wood, almost getting impossibly loud as you inched closer. 

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, and this house just ain't no home, any time she goes away.

Stepping into the room as you swing open the door, the final outro of the song is echoing through, fading away. You smile to find Steve on his back, staring at the ceiling as he waits for the next loop to begin. 

You are silent as you halt the tape, crawling onto the bed and giving him a big ol' smooch. He looks at you with innocent and wide eyes, a big fat smile settling on his face. 

"All done?" he asks. 

You nod, confirming. "All done."

You yelp as he flings himself at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tumbling over the other side of the bed. He's quick to bring the covers over you both, leaving the bed side light on. A new habit, but it didn't bother you. 

You tussled for a little, finding a comfortable position that agreed with all parties and bones. You settled on bear hugging him as he tangled your legs together and kept his nose near your hair. 

You giggled, running your nails down his back. "You big baby." 

He grumbled. "Ain't no sunshine when you're not here."

🏚️ From Rubble to Renewal — Help Mohamed Rebuild a Home Full of Hope 🌿

In the blink of an eye, the life we knew disappeared.

My name is Mohamed, and I’m writing this with a heart full of sorrow—but also a quiet flame of hope. Our family home, a place that held generations of memories, was reduced to rubble in an instant. The rooms that once echoed with laughter, the walls that witnessed our stories, and the garden where we dreamed of better days—all of it is gone.

And yet, we are still here.

Still standing. Still believing. Still dreaming.

Before the war, our home wasn’t just a structure—it was everything. It was the heartbeat of our family. We shared countless dinners around a modest table, whispered goodnight to one another across quiet rooms, and celebrated the small joys that made life meaningful. It was a place of love, of safety, of tradition.

Losing it has left a deep wound in our lives. But what we haven’t lost is our will to rebuild.

We are determined not to let destruction be the end of our story. We want to rebuild our home not just with bricks and wood, but with faith, with dignity, and with your support.

I know there are countless stories in the world that deserve to be heard, and I humbly ask that you take a moment to hear ours. We are turning to this community, to the kindness of strangers, because we believe in the power of people coming together to lift one another out of despair.

Your support—whether it’s a donation, a share, or even just a moment of your time—can help lay the first stone of our new beginning.

💛 Every dollar brings us one step closer to safety. 🧱 Every share gives our story a voice. 🌱 Every gesture, no matter how small, is a reminder that compassion can grow even in the harshest soil.

We are not asking for charity. We are asking for a chance. A chance to rebuild our lives, to give our children a roof under which they can dream again, and to find peace after so much pain.

gofundme.com

Donate to A Plea for Hope: Rebuilding Our Home, Rebuilding Our Lives, organized by Mohammed Altelbani

In the blink of an eye, everything we knew and loved w… Mohammed Altelbani needs your support for A Plea for Hope: Rebuilding Our Ho

Please, if you feel moved by our story, consider helping us build something new from what’s been lost. Your kindness will be felt not just in concrete and wood—but in every smile, every warm night, and every future moment of joy that your support helps make possible.

From the deepest part of my heart—thank you. For your time, your love, and your belief in us. We will never forget it.

With all my gratitude, – Mohamed

Children in Gaza are slowly dying—not just from bombs, but from hunger. The war has destroyed our access to food, and mothers like me are helpless. I am terrified that my baby, Qais, will not survive much longer. He’s already weak, and I cannot find enough nutrition to keep him healthy. Please, I beg you: if you are reading this, help me save Qais. A small donation could mean food, milk, or medicine for my son.

The starvation in Gaza is real, and it’s killing our children:

1. Most markets are empty, and the prices of food are impossible for us to afford.

2. Even baby formula and basic nutrition are unavailable for mothers and infants.

3. Many children are showing signs of severe malnutrition—thin bodies, weak limbs, no energy to cry.

I don’t want to lose my child to hunger. I am doing everything I can, but it’s not enough. If you have anything to give, Please Donate To Help Qais. Your kindness could be the reason he survives. No mother should have to watch her baby starve. Please, help us.

Donate Now

If you would like to feed Qais's weak and fragile body, DONATE HERE.

Please stop ✋🚨 you're the only hope to save a child😔😭

Vetted by @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #64 )🍉🇵🇸

fear — steve harrington

▸summary: you expect people to do die with honour, with bravery, with courage. you died with fear. steve can't know.

▸characters: steve harrington x gn!reader, eddie munson, dustin henderson

▸tw: angst. like, really bad. it's an issue.

▸a/n: i don't actually know what goes on inside my brain. for some reason, i just really like angst.

LOVE HURT.

IT was something that multiple people agreed upon. Steve Harrington was one of them. 

The whole party had some semblance of loss somewhere in their hearts, but Steve… 

It just seemed like something was gunning for him, sucking the happiness one loss at a time. 

Steve had never before known what love could’ve been until he met you. There was always something about you that never seemed to leave him alone. Whether it was that stupid grin, the stupid hair, the stupid arms, the stupid hugs, the stupid sappy words. Everything that Steve missed out on was being passed onto him like he was a reject shop, which was what he felt like. You gave him love, gave him hope, gave him life even. 

Then you died. 

When Dustin and Eddie came back through the portal without you, Steve freaked out. When Dustin couldn’t scream the words without them catching in his throat, Steve begged him to keep them there. When Dustin said he wasn’t strong enough to carry you and Eddie was on his way to collapse, Steve screamed that he was. He was strong. He could do it. He could, he promised he could. With tears in his eyes and dirt on his face and his hand on his chest, he promised he could carry you back. With his knees on the ground and his voice lost in the wind, he promised he could. 

So he ripped himself up like he wanted to rip his heart out of his body, ignoring the cries and begs of the people behind him. He had never moved faster in his life than when he was climbing into that portal, throwing open the caravan door, sprinting to the figure that lay in the dust. His voice returned as he screeched, flailing his arms to rid the area of any of the bats that might have smelled the meat, the fresh kill. There were no bats flying. They had all dropped a while ago. He knelt next to the person he had recklessly given everything to, shaking your shoulders and begging you to wake up. He didn’t stop asking the favour, even when he claimed it was too cold for you here, dragging you body upright into a standing position. He didn’t stop asking even when he began walking, praying that your legs would move the same way. They left tracks in the dirt as they dragged. He didn’t stop begging even when he screamed at Nancy to pull you through. She could feel the toll that death had taken on you. The loss of muscle, the eerie stillness. Yet, Steve still didn’t stop begging even when he said that you were safe now. 

Wake up now. You can’t sleep here. You have to wake up.

Your eyes were open. 

There was no such thing as peace at that moment. Nobody was blessed with the grieving silence. Steve wouldn’t let that happen. He didn’t want it to be silent, not when you loved to make noise. Not when you would laugh at his lame jokes. He couldn’t be silent in his efforts to somehow make you wake up. 

Eddie sat on the ground, his back propped up against the wall. He stared straight ahead, his facial expression not changing even as there was a tear. Nancy and Robin didn’t even try forcing their faces still. They twisted and sobbed and cried no matter how hard they tried to stifle it. They didn’t want to add to Steve’s pain. Dustin was in worse shape. He didn’t know what to do. Does he hug Steve? Does he leave him alone? Does he cry? Does he stay strong? What does he do? So, he stands there. He stands there, and he cries, and Steve doesn’t see. He can’t see. The blurriness of his vision paired with the agonising pain in his brain and his heart just makes it so that he doesn’t see anything. He can’t even remember how they got your body to the hospital. 

Telling your parents sucked. Steve couldn’t actually do it. He stood at one of the tables, folding clothes for the people packed in the stadium, the ones that had their houses crushed in the ‘earthquake’. He stood there, and he looked horrible. He was pale. He had bags under his eyes. He was thin. His eyes were red and his nose was raw. He couldn’t even talk properly. His hands shook. His knees trembled when your parents walked over. 

Dustin had spoken to them. Told them how you died. Or, how you ‘died’. You were caught saving him and Eddie in the ‘earthquake’, and you had died. He chose to keep the fact that you had stood alone, surrounded by a swarm of bats after pushing Eddie out of the fray into Dustin’s arms. 

The funny thing was, you didn’t die from the wounds from the bats. You didn’t even sustain many. Sure, you had enough that it would’ve put you in serious danger, but it wasn’t the wounds that killed you. Dustin may have been a little delirious, but he didn’t imagine you clutching your chest and dropping like a sack of potatoes. He didn’t imagine the jerk your body made as you breath caught. He didn’t imagine you dying standing up. He may not have been a doctor, but he wasn’t stupid. He was a nerd, and nerds read. 

You had a heart attack. The fear had actually killed you. You had been scared to death. 

That wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was when the bats began to swan dive straight onto you. That was the worst part. That was the part that got Dustin screaming himself awake at night. That was the part that pushed Dustin to drag Eddie away, away from you. You didn’t feel it, at least. Steve didn’t even know how you died. Dustin knew that if Steve knew, he’d actually go mental. So, he and Eddie swore never to tell anyone else. Not family, not the party, no-one. 

So when your mother came walking over to the Harrington boy, tears collecting in her eyes as she stretched her arms out, his knees finally gave out. He collapsed in her arms, filling her ears with never ending apologies. She shushed him, sobbing. Soon, your father joined the hug, and the three of them cried over your heroic sacrifice. 

Meanwhile, Dustin and Eddie looked on from opposite sides. They exchanged glances, and went back to their own work. They never had to know that your death was so out of place, that you died with that much fear. They never had to know that you had cried that you didn’t want to be there. They didn’t have to know that you had asked Eddie to take you home. They never had to know that you asked Dustin for one more hug. 

Love hurt, but they didn’t have to know how much worse it could get. 

They kept their mouths shut.

hi hi this is super random but i LOVED your recent miguel blurb. it had me giggling and kicking my feet.

omg thank you so much!!!! I aim to have this effect on people <3 I was kicking my feet and giggling just writing it

cobra kai masterlist. 

𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦 

𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦, 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥

⤑ characters

miguel diaz | 

𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 

𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘶𝘱, 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳

⤑ miguel diaz

nothing like this

you believed you were ready for anything. anything did not mean this. nothing like this.

ain’tcha just the cutest?

you have a phrase that you love to say to your boyfriend. miguel loves when you say it. win-win.

𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩 

𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥

Trump's statement: "Aid will enter Gaza"

While my child was trying to cling to any chance of survival, I lost my only child. My child was killed. He will not live hungry anymore!! Please do not leave my family. Save my family, even if one meal is enough for $25, or any help. Do not ignore their cries for salvation. You are their only hope.

D O N A T E H E R E F O R G A Z A C H I L D R E N

Chuffed

Donate to help Motaz and his family survive

Hello, my name is Ash, I'm fundraising for my friend Motaz.  Motaz is a journalist living in Gaza who has frequently been displaced from hom

Please take a few minutes to watch the video and read this post.

I am writing these words after losing hope in everyone… except for you, my friends. Tumblr has a very large number of users, estimated in the millions . That’s an enormous number! But imagine, with all those of people, how would you feel if people saw you and ignored you? You’d feel deeply disappointed, right? Or maybe you’d even wish for death.

Have you ever wished for death? For me, I feel like I’d rather die than be ignored by everyone. If I wasn’t in desperate need of help, I wouldn’t ask anyone for it. I really need help.

Imagine for a moment that you have a small child you love dearly, and you’re forced to watch her suffer in front of your eyes. This isn’t just an imagination for me; it’s my reality. My family and I live this pain every day.

Please, be our hope. Be our voice. Be the ones who save us from despair. Don’t ignore us. Donate, even if it’s just $5 .

There are so many people reading this post right now. I beg anyone who sees these words to donate if they can, and if not, to share this post. Please, don’t leave us behind.

Be our family, or think of us as members of your own family, and save us from this suffering. No matter how small the amount, your help means the world to us. And if you can’t donate, share this post and add a few kind words to inspire others to help.

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Sahar & Her Family Survive and Evacuate Gaza, organized by L J

Hi, I'm Lia & I'm organizing this fundraiser for my friends the Shehabs. They're… L J needs your support for Help Sahar & Her Family Survive

Thank you so much, everyone. I wish you all the best.

✅vetted by The ButterflyEffect Projects #764 on verified campaigns list) previously shared by 90-ghost ✅