It legitimately took me a minute to realise this was a cropped screenshot from the movie
They look like tiny die-cast toys
Wow, gotta learn how to translate Celsius into Fahrenheit so my cars fics are more believable that they take place in America.
Wait
If I don't understand Fahrenheit,
Then Lightning isn't allowed to understand Celsius
Punishing a character for my own stupidity
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
đź’› 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.
Just saw an ad of a car giving birth and I'm making it everyone's problem.
*Yes this is an actual ad*
https://youtu.be/MtRzkaSF66o
For your information, in Gaza we don't eat chicken, meat, vegetables, fruits, eggs, fish, milk, yogurt, cheese, and the list goes on... Most people don't have flour, sugar, ghee, oil, thyme, or even work... The list goes on and no one has gas or electricity, and the list goes on... And people are still living, and when I ask them how they are, they say "Thank God." Don't these people deserve support and respect? Don't we deserve to live?
Help me provide bread for my children, it costs $500. I trust your generosity and humanity.
New fic idea to the notes note for ao3 ideas, I won't start it until I've finished the ones I'm working on now.
Here, take part of the idea;
The last part I don't remember adding, don't worry he makes it👍
Every url that reblog’s will be written in a book and shown to my homophobic dad.Â
The Israeli occupation bombed Nasser Hospital tonight and bombed the journalists' tent there, which led to the burning of 3 journalists and there are 8 martyrs. The Israeli occupation is using the most heinous types of killing and genocide against us. We do not deserve all of this. Please, I do not want to burn to death here.
Help me with a donation, so that I can escape, me and my family, out of Gaza as soon as possible. Please.
We desperately need your help here so we can escape the war zone. Please donate and share. Tell everyone what is happening to us here.!!
My search history is going to look so weird at the end of the year
I present, my close personal friend
Does twink stand for Twink-ie? But you fill Twinkies with cream?
Wait
🌿 My Name is Rola, and This is My Story 🌿
I never thought I would be writing this. I never thought I would be begging for help just to keep my children warm, just to feed them one more meal. But here I am, reaching out to you, because I have no other choice.
My name is Rola. I am a mother of two beautiful children, and before October 7th, we had a life filled with love and laughter. We had a home. My children had their own room, filled with their toys and drawings. We would sit together on our balcony, drinking coffee in the early morning light. We had dreams, just like any other family.
But in an instant, it was all gone.
A missile struck. The earth shook beneath us. The air filled with dust and fire. My husband and son ran, stumbling over each other in terror. I stood frozen, the ringing in my ears drowning out my own screams. Our home was shattered—windows blown out, doors ripped from their hinges. And when I looked outside, our neighbor’s house, a place that once echoed with children's laughter, was nothing but rubble and ash.
That was just the beginning.
The bombs never stopped. Every night, I held my children close as the sky rained fire. The sound of explosions mixed with the cries of mothers searching for their babies in the darkness. I covered my children, whispering words of comfort, but how do you comfort a child who is terrified of dying in their sleep?
We had to leave. We walked away from everything—our home, our memories, the warmth of our life before. My children left behind their favorite toys, their books, their safe space. Now, we have nothing.
No home.
No food.
No clean water.
No way out.
I went to buy sugar the other day. It cost $20 for just a kilo. Food is disappearing, and the little that remains is impossible to afford. Every day, I fight to find just enough to keep my children alive.
I am exhausted. I am scared. I need your help.
I never imagined I would have to beg for my family’s survival. But today, I am.
Please, if you are reading this, help us. Help me save my children. Help us find shelter, food, a way to rebuild even a small piece of the life we lost. If we ever have the chance to leave, we need support. If we are forced to stay, we need a home again.
Every donation matters. Every share helps. Every voice that speaks for us keeps hope alive.
đź’š Please donate if you can. Share our story. Help us survive. đź’š
I draw & write stuff ● fandom is a bit dead right now so I mainly will be on and off 🍉 🍉🍉
179 posts