Summary: he ruined your birthday without even being there.
The noise was around you was odd. Loud but drowned out. The cake was coming closer, almost feeling like everything was in slow motion.
It felt like you could throw up.
Luke was supposed to be here. He me promised he would, but that all changed the moment he betrayed camp. No good son of a bitch.
You took one last slow look around you. Annabeth, Percy, Clarisse, Grover. Hey, at least Thalia was here, right? You had to briefly close your eyes. When you opened, the lit candles were closer than before, you could sense the birthday song coming to an end.
I am doing a FREE digital portrait sketch commission for you, if you help my friend from G@Z@!
Terms and conditions
If you can provide proof that you have donated 30 euros or more to this WHYDONATE campaign, for @abdulrahman-family . I will draw a digital sketch of your beautiful, kind, and generous face. 🥹
My friend's mother needs another surgery, so we need to collect another 1000 euros quickly.
His campaign is vetted by @gazavetters, number on the list is ( #642 ) @90-ghost
Let's help our friends in struggle. 💜
If you do donate and want the portrait, please message me.
Me behind the screen smiling deviously as I read a fic where the reader is called ‘clingy’ or ‘needy’ and in response the reader stops being ‘clingy’ and now the character I’m reading about is left with regret (the little girl who was always afraid of being too much and was no matter what she did feels loved):
Joan and Bert “My beloved vampires” Need I say more about this post?
They were literal racist klan members. They were not “slapped upside till they understood equality.” They were under remmick’s control. He forcibly made them “unracist.” Just like he made stack and Mary attack their loved ones; something that they would never do.
joan and Bert made no efforts to change their racist ideals before Remmick took control of them, and I bet if they had survived the night and gained consciousness once again they still would have been racist.
Also, let’s talk about how you make them these uwu people instead of the idiot racists they are.
My name is Adham, I'm 20 years old, and I'm from Gaza City. I dreamed of a happy life, completing my studies, and getting a job, but the war turned this dream into something impossible 💔😭. We lived through this massacre in all its painful details, and we're still in pain 😔. We were very happy when the ceasefire was announced, and we returned to our homes in northern Gaza after being displaced for a year and a half in a tent in the southern Gaza Strip. After we fixed a small room in our destroyed house to live in and start over, unfortunately the war returned stronger than before 💔. Now, we have no shelter and no source of income. We exhausted all our savings during the war. I know that I started my campaign very late, but that's because there is no other way to help my family 🙏. I am completely confident and optimistic that someone here will help us as much as they can and save my family in these difficult circumstances 😔.
I know that the feeling of starting from scratch is painful and frustrating, but I hope to receive any amount for my family 🥺🙏.
Hello, I am running this campaign to benefit Adham, who is in Gaza. He is trying to survive and provide for his loved ones during the ongoin
Even a small donation would have a great impact on us 🥺. May God bless you, my friend 🥰❤️.
ᯤ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 pre crash!nat scatorccio x reader / 0.5k words
ᯤ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 kinda angsty, drug abuse mentioned
ᯤ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 hey! thanks for requesting! i think this take on nat's drug problem is something i liked challenging myself with. please note that I don't have any experience with drugs or their affects (thank god) but it may seem too mellow or not accurate
♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎
“Where is it, don’t you dare lie to me.” Nat shuffles through a duffle bag, frantic. You stand frozen, bag still slung over your shoulder as you take in the mess. Her room’s utter chaos.
Clothes lay scattered on the carpeted floor, paper crumbled and torn apart, her CD collection is spread by the desk in shambles.
This is not Nat, not your Nat. This is withdrawal Nat and you don’t like her - to say the least.
Her skin’s pale and her hands shake - whatever she’s used yesterday, it’s wrecking her body to remind her how much she needed it just a couple of hours ago.
“Baby - I don’t know what you’re talking about.” That catches her attention, her movements still and all that you see in this moment of silence is her shoulders moving like a trapped animal.
Her breathing’s fast and the sheen of sweat makes the cause the more obvious. Nat spins around, eyes wide and glassy.
“Don’t fucking lie to me - you took it.” Her words crack through the air like a whip - mean and sudden.
She crosses the room in three strides, doesn’t stop until she’s almost nose to nose with you and you swear - it’s not anger, it’s desperation.
“Where is it?” The change of tone is familiar, quieter, more careful when the aggression doesn’t work.
“I didn’t take it.” You whisper back, not budging. Even if you did take it - you wouldn’t tell her. You watch her crumble, the need to use is overwhelming and it eats you up inside.
“Baby, look at me.” Her eyes flicker to seek yours, for anything other than this horrible hot need inside her chest. You see it then - the tears, the tremble of her chin.
“I need it.” She whispers and the way her voice shakes, devastated and hurt.
“I know, baby - I know.” You lower your voice, coaxing even. She needs this - needs you but she’s too lost, too caged in her own skin to articulate the necessity.
“I’m here.” A tear slips down her damped skin, her fingers shake when you lace them with yours.
It doesn’t take a second longer before she crumbles into you, trusting and tired. You catch her without missing a beat, arms around her waist as the both of you sink to the ground.
Nat’s head comes to rest against your shoulder, a shuddering breath fans against your neck and you know - you know how much she needs you.
“I’m here, baby.” You murmur into her hair, one hand smoothing over her back in an attempt to soothe her. She clings to you, hands curled in your shirt as if she’s afraid you’d disappear if she doesn’t hold on tight enough.
“I’ll always be here.” It doesn’t heal her right now, she’s still a sweaty, in withdrawal stricken mess but you holding her not despite her being this but because she is this - broken and a little lost - it helps and somehow, that’s enough for now.
‼️PLEASE DON’T IGNORE THIS – A FAMILY NEEDS YOU NOW ‼️🥺🥺🙏🙏🙏
This was our home… now it’s gone
We have collected $20,477raised of $40,000 !🇵🇸
Verified by : @nabulsi
Click here to make donation👉 gofundme
Even $20 will make a big difference and save us!
🔗 🔗 Gofundme link for donations 👇👇👇👇🔗 🔗
Hello everyone,
We are the Anas family, a fam… ANAS MOHESEN needs your support for ANAS family from Gaza,Help Us Rebuild Wha
save family lost their home ,dreams and everything in Gaza 💔💔
This is my home before the war and after the war how it became💔💔💔
Before: After:
Before the war, we lived a simple but happy life in Gaza. Our home in Shujaiya wasn’t big or luxurious, but it was filled with peace, love, and comfort. We had our own land — a small garden where we planted vegetables, a roof where we sat on warm evenings drinking tea, laughing as a family. Our kids went to school every day with joy, dreaming about their future. We had work. We had neighbors we trusted. We had routines, family dinners, birthdays, laughter. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was ours. It was full of meaning.
The bombing started, and we had to flee our home during the first week of the war. We left everything behind — not knowing it would be the last time we would see our home standing. We first went to Rimal, hoping to be safer. That’s where we heard the news: our home, the place we built with love and hard work, was destroyed. Flattened. Just like that — gone. Everything we owned, everything we saved for, was buried under rubble.
After that, we kept running. From Rimal to Al-Zawaida. Then to Rafah. We’ve been displaced four times. Each time we carry less with us, but more pain. We sleep on floors. Sometimes there’s no roof. Sometimes we stay in tents. The nights are cold, the days are burning hot. There is no electricity, no clean water, no toilets, no privacy. We wait hours just to get a piece of bread. We lost our jobs, our income. We lost our safety, our dignity. We live in fear every day — fear of the next bomb, the next loss.
We used to dream of the future. Now, we just dream of surviving the next day.
We are the Anas family — like many families in Gaza — ordinary people who only wanted peace, a safe home, and a chance to live in dignity. But the war has taken everything from us: our home, our land, our jobs, our dreams, our stability… even our sleep.
It’s hard to write this. It's hard to ask for help. But we are desperate.
Please, if you are reading this, help us. Even a small donation could mean we sleep under a real roof again. Could help us buy medicine, food, or clean water. Could bring back a little dignity to our lives. If you cannot donate, please share this story. You might reach someone who can.
This isn’t just a story. This is our life. And we’re still living through it.
Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.
💔
Please, we are in dire need of you and your support. If you cannot donate, you can share☹️❤️🥹
