˗ˏˋ in a world of boys, he's a gentleman ˎˊ˗

Please take a moment to read my story.

I am Heba Al-Dahdouh. I currently live in the completely destroyed city of Gaza. Since the war on Gaza began on 7/1/2024, my family- my father Nasif, my mother Asmaa, and my siblings Khaled, Ahmad, Muhammad, and Malak-have been living in constant fear, crying, and suffering due to shrapnel, shells, and bullets.

We have no food, no electricity, no cooking gas, no schools, no homes, no cleaning supplies, and no clothes. My school has been bombed, and my brother Khaled's university is now rubble, depriving us all of education. The war has forced us to live in displacement centers, which are just tents unsuitable for living, especially in winter.

Every day we live death, terror, and panic a thousand times because of the ongoing bombardment of my city. The war has killed more than 50 of my relatives and neighbors. At the start of the war, we sought refuge at my aunt's house, but it too Imagine: we have survived imminent death more than 20 times and have been displaced among shelters more than 13 times. My siblings and I have suffered from many illnesses due to malnutrition, and we need medication continuously.

If we stay in Gaza, we might lose our lives. Recently, we have been seriously considering leaving Gaza for a safe place. However, travel costs are extremely high. We need over $50,000 to leave Gaza. Due to exorbitant prices, rampant unemployment, lack of security, the ongoing siege, and relentless bombardment, we have lost all our money. How can we live in such insecurity, with constant shelling and shrapnel flying above us? Dear compassionate friends around the world,

With your generous donations, even if small, you can save 7 people from imminent death, allowing us to start a life outside Gaza filled with love, peace, and hope.

I’m not exaggerating when I say I nearly had a heart attack from the shock and stress — especially after all the hope and effort I poured into that campaign.

Here is the link to my new fundraiser. Please, if you can donate or even just share it, your support would mean the world to me. I urgently need the funds, as I still haven’t been able to undergo the second surgery for my shoulder, and things are getting harder by the day.

I’ve been verified by @gazavetters

I’m writing this with a heart full of pain and hope.

My name is Nasr, a young man from Gaza, and I’m sharing our story not because I want to—but because I have to.

💔 The war took everything from us.

In just moments, my entire world collapsed.

My mother and sister were killed in an airstrike.

My father is seriously ill and unable to work or provide for us.

Now I am the one responsible for my younger siblings—little children who have seen more horror than any child should.

We used to live a simple life.

We weren’t rich, but we had love and hope.

Now, we sleep under the open sky, surrounded by fear and uncertainty.

Every night, I wonder how I’ll feed them tomorrow.

Every morning, I’m just thankful we’re still alive.

This is not just my story. This is our fight to survive.

We are now struggling to afford even the basics:

A home, food, medicine, and safety.

Right now, we need your kindness more than ever.

Even $10 💵 can help us:

Buy food for the children 🍞

Get essential medicine for my father 💊

Buy them clothes or warm blankets 🧥

Give them a small sense of safety

If you can’t donate, you can still help.

🔁 Re-share this post. Spread our story.

You never know who might see it and feel moved to help.

We are not just numbers. We are human. We are survivors. And we’re asking you… please don’t look away.

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:

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.

My name is Nadin. I never imagined I would write something like this. I’ve always been someone who kept her worries quiet, someone who believed that even the hardest days could be endured with patience and faith. But right now, I am reaching out — not because I want to, but because I need to.

I am a wife, a mother, and one of many women in Gaza trying to survive days that feel like they have no end. There was a short time — a brief ceasefire — where we thought things might start to heal. Where the sound of war faded for just long enough to let us breathe. But that moment is gone now, and the fear has returned louder than before.

My days are filled with uncertainty, and my nights with prayer. We have lost so much. Our home was damaged, our sense of safety taken from us. But through all of this, I try to keep going. I try to hold on to what little peace I can create with my hands, my words, and my love.

I am not asking for much. Just a little help to keep our lives from falling further apart. To fix the small things — a cracked wall, a leaking roof, the pieces of daily life that help us hold on to dignity.

This campaign isn’t just about survival. It’s about holding on to what makes us human in a place that keeps trying to take that away. It’s about showing my daughter — even though I won’t mention her name here — that the world didn’t forget us.

If you’ve ever felt powerless in the face of suffering, please know that even the smallest gesture can carry great meaning. A kind word. A shared post. A quiet donation. These things remind us that we’re not alone.

I am still here. Still holding on. Still believing that people out there — people like you — still care.

My name is Abdelmajed. I never imagined I’d be sharing my story like this, but life in Gaza has become unbearable. I am a survivor of the war here, and in the blink of an eye, everything I once knew—my home, my safety, my community—was ripped away from me.

The war has transformed Gaza into a graveyard of broken dreams. The buildings that once stood as symbols of life and resilience are now piles of rubble. Every corner is filled with the echoes of explosions. Every moment is shrouded in uncertainty. There is no security. There is no stability. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.

Basic needs have become luxuries. Food is scarce. Clean water is even scarcer. Hospitals are overwhelmed and under-resourced, and there is almost no medical care to be found. Every night, families go to bed hungry, praying they’ll wake up to see another day. The cost of basic necessities has skyrocketed, and it’s become a daily battle just to survive.

I’ve seen things I never thought possible—standing in long lines for a piece of bread, rationing every drop of water, and watching my people suffer in silence. I have lost everything—my home, my safety, my dignity.

Escape from Gaza is my only hope, but it’s almost impossible without financial help. The cost of evacuation is far beyond my means, and without support, I’m trapped in a warzone with no way out.

I’m reaching out to you now, in the hopes that someone, anyone, can help. I am not asking for luxury. I am asking for a chance—just a chance—to live. A chance to escape this never-ending cycle of fear, destruction, and loss. A chance to rebuild my life somewhere safe, where I can begin again, where I can find hope once more.

Any amount you can give will help me get closer to safety. Even the smallest donation will make a difference—it could be the lifeline I need to survive. If you are unable to donate, please share my story. The more people who hear it, the better the chance that I can find the support I desperately need.

Your kindness and support mean the world to me. You’re not just helping me escape a war; you’re giving me a chance to live, to rebuild, to breathe again.

Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring.

They are currently at $6,682/$90,000

reading this and lol I'm so sorry but,,,,,, my first thought was

all too well

And maybe he tells her in return that actually, he’s always been really into boys, and it’s just a really nice moment of them trusting each other with their honesty.

I think about Michimiya and Daichi, who stay friends even after school, who stay friends throughout their entire adult lives; who still visit each other when Daichi has grandchildren (and Michimiya has three dogs). Michimiya who’s there for him when he gets broken up with by his first boyfriend, but then also during the next relationship, with someone he ends up marrying; Daichi who’s there for her when she drops out of university and has a break year before figuring out what she really wants to do, and going back to university for a different degree.

okay! it's really just a small subsection of the fandom i think but i've seen it enough times for it to really get on my nerves.

i have seen people say they hate her, i've seen people call her a bitch. they demonize her or they make her into this annoying girl who just can't take a hint that daichi doesn't like her and she's super clingy. or she's daichi's jealous and controlling homophobic/biphobic gf who doesn't like daichi hanging out with suga because suga is gay.

and like mischaracterizing her to make her some villain in your fics is one thing (still shitty and i still hate it and i will click off if i see it) but i really really take issue with people who look at her IN CANON and think she's a bitch. for what? having a crush on daichi? being an absolute sweetheart and a great captain?

and it's sooo funny because i know it's because they see her as "in the way" of daisuga when... daiyui isn't even canon. daichi doesn't even know yui likes him because he's an idiot. how exactly is she competition? suga, in canon, clearly likes her so why do i see fics where suga hates her?

suga and yui bonding over having a crush on daichi >>>>>> suga hating her for some reason (or yui hating suga for some reason)