Dr. Gojo Satoru added Prof. Shoko Ieiri to Cupids <3
Dr. Gojo Satoru: Sho where are you taking your lunch today? You: Eat with us in Gojo’s lab!
Prof . Getou Suguru emphasized your message
Prof. Shoko Ieiri: …why? Dr. Gojo Satoru: colleague bonding time! Prof. Shoko Ieiri: what’s the catch? You: Why does there have to be a catch T-T Prof. Getou Suguru: Join us, and we’ll accompany you to that meditation class taught by the cute brunette you’ve been drooling over.
Dr. Gojo Satoru laughed at a message
Prof. Shoko Ieiri: yeah alright
Shoko appears in the doorway of Gojo’s lab shortly after agreeing to join. Her white lab coat flutters as she strides in, a fitted blue shirt tucked into black pin-striped slacks. She plops her brown bag onto the table beside you, tossing her long brown hair over her shoulder, and extracts a sandwich and an apple.
Across from you, Gojo sits perched at his desk, leaning back with his legs crossed atop the surface. His usual smug determination is evident, highlighted by his untouched strawberry cheesecake yogurt. His white turtleneck peeks above the collar of his lab coat, accentuating the icy hue of his hair and brows.
Unfortunately, spending so much time with Gojo means you are beginning to mirror him in subtle (and sometimes regrettable) ways. Today’s shared wavelength is your matching outfits—both of you in white turtlenecks and brown straight-leg slacks. Though, judging by the label on his, the price tags aren’t even close.
Getou, seated on a stool to your other side, shakes his salad container, the silver hem of his cardigan shimmering under the fluorescent light. A stray strand of hair falls across his face, and he tucks it behind his ear before turning to Shoko, who silently munches on her sandwich.
“So,” Getou begins, smirking, “we’re just going to ignore how quickly the promise of getting near your little hippie crush convinced you?”
Gojo snickers and Shoko shoots Getou a glare.
“She’s not a hippie,” Shoko retorts, wiping her mouth. “Meditation is a holistic approach with spiritual and health benefits. What do you guys even want from me? Gojo, you don’t eat lunch on campus—ever. The café staff down the road probably know you better than your students.”
You chime in. “Important business, Shoko. Gojo and I are working on a project requiring the intellectual brilliance of like-minded individuals.”
Getou nods solemnly. Shoko laughs.
“Thank god you entertain him,” she says. “Back when my pre-med lab was next to his, he wouldn’t stop dragging me into his ridiculous schemes. You’ve saved me countless headaches.”
Gojo grabs a stress ball from his desk and lobs it at her. Shoko deflects it with her elbow, the ball bouncing to the floor.
“You’re so mean,” Gojo pouts. “Anyway, you’re here to confirm my theory that first-years Itadori Yuji and Kugisaki Nobara are the ideal match.”
Shoko groans. “Of course I am. Let me guess—you two,” she points at you and Getou, “think Itadori and Fushiguro Megumi are a better match.”
You nod eagerly.
“Well,” she sighs, leaning back, “considering Gojo’s total lack of social awareness, I’d normally side with you two. But…Gojo, are you positive that you can concretely back your theory?”
Gojo stands, pacing dramatically. “Is an atom that’s lost its electron considered positive?”
“I think you’re saying yes?” you guess.
“Exactly!” Gojo snaps his fingers, grinning triumphantly.
Shoko, ever the pragmatist, pulls out her phone. “Fine. This semester, I’m teaching those three in Health & Wellness. Let me show you something.”
She scrolls through her phone and finally finds a video. “Yuji and Nobara worked together on a group project. Watch this.”
00:03 =⬤--------------------------- 01:17
⇆ㅤ ◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷ㅤ ↻
[The video begins, revealing Yuji and Nobara squeezed together in the frame, their smiles radiant. Nobara playfully elbows Yuji, whose eyes widen in mock shock before he starts speaking.]
Yuji: “Hello, Sensei! Nobara and I finished the group assignment together and decided to try something totally out of our comfort zone. Actually, it’s something we’ve joked about before because it sounded ridiculous.”
[He stifles a laugh, running a hand through his pink hair, the short strands standing on end.]
Yuji: “We went to a local teaching farm and did… goat yoga. We’ve seen the posters on campus forever, so we thought, why not? It was a blast! The goats were fun, and hanging out with Nobara was great too!”
Nobara: “Yeah! Honestly, I was kind of nervous at first. It’s not easy convincing a goat to climb on your back during yoga poses. But once they did, their little hooves felt like a mini massage. Here—look!”
[She lifts a photo into the frame, holding it close to the camera. The image comes into focus: Yuji in a shaky downward dog pose on a yoga mat, Nobara beside him coaxing a tiny goat onto his back with a piece of hay. Nobara bursts out laughing and shakes the photo.]
Nobara: “Haha! Right after this, the goat climbed off Yuji and—get this—it started peeing. Like, it barely missed his pants! He’s so lucky he didn’t get soaked.”
[Yuji yelps, shoving her shoulder while Nobara doubles over, her laughter echoing. Grinning through his embarrassment, Yuji snatches the camera, bringing it close to his face.]
Yuji: “Okay, Sensei, I’m cutting this off. Nobara’s having way too much fun at my expense. But yeah, aside from that one… incident, it was really fun. I’d totally do it again!”
[His hand covers the lens, and the screen fades to black.]
01:17 =================⬤ 01:17
⇆ㅤ ◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷ㅤ ↻
Shoko lowers her phone, pressing it to her lips as if lost in thought.
“Sorry, you two. After watching that again, I’m siding with Gojo on this. Look at them—they’re glowing. If someone made me laugh and smile like that, I’d be completely done for.”
Getou scoffs, muttering something about how that explains why Shoko’s “so giggly after meditation.”
You shush him, trying to keep things light.
“Alright, that makes it 2-3. But you know who else teaches those three? Professor Haibara. We have to ask him.”
Before long, Haibara Yu strolls into Gojo’s lab, looking as disheveled as ever. His charcoal slacks are slightly wrinkled, his pale pink shirt untucked, and his silver glasses sit crooked on his nose.
“You called—Oh! Everyone’s here! Hi!” he exclaims, spreading his arms wide in greeting.
Getou, ever efficient, disposes of his salad container and slings an arm over Haibara’s shoulder.
“Hey, Yu. Quick question: as their professor, do you think Yuji and Megumi would make a good match?”
Haibara blinks, caught off guard. “As in… romantically?”
When Getou nods, Haibara rubs the back of his neck, thinking.
“Well, they’re in my History of the Samurai class, and let me tell you, they’re my most enthusiastic students. On the first day, I asked what everyone already knew about samurai. Yuji and Megumi practically bolted to the board and started writing a list of skills they’ve practiced together.”
He grabs a marker and writes neatly on the whiteboard:
Samurai Fighting Basics – Megumi & Yuji
• Iaido: Drawing & Sheathing Iaitō • Kenjutsu: Bokken Stances & Striking • Kendo: Shinai Quick Attacks
“They even demonstrated some techniques right there in class,” Haibara says with a grin, his thick bangs falling into his eyes. “It’s obvious they’re close and share so many interests. Honestly, I ship it!”
The room erupts into chaos as everyone starts debating further. The argument rages on until Gojo’s next class begins trickling in, scattering the group with reluctant promises to continue later.
During your own lesson, as your students take turns popcorn-reading poetry, your phone buzzes in your pocket.
Dr. Gojo Satoru: Hey, I just remembered. We’re facilitating that student union meeting today. We can totally ask the upperclassmen for their opinions!
You sigh, typing back a quick response.
You: Fine. Get back to teaching, Gojo.
When you woke up this morning, you definitely didn’t expect to be holed up in an empty classroom, grilling the Student Union’s elite members one by one about your matchmaking drama. Yet here you are, derailing their bi-weekly brainstorming session for fund allocation. To justify your antics, you and Gojo promised them unwavering financial support—if they gave you honest answers.
First up is Vice-President Okkotsu Yuta, his usual warm demeanor making him an ideal candidate for candid feedback. Sitting across from him, you can’t help but notice how he smiles sheepishly, like he’s trying to soften whatever he’s about to say.
“This probably won’t help much,” Yuta begins, rubbing the back of his neck, “but I’m ninety percent sure Maki likes Nobara. I mean, I can really see it, so I propose… NobaMaki.”
You and Gojo exchange a look, equally unimpressed. Without a word, you call in the next person.
Secretary Inumaki Toge is next. Sassy and loyal, he takes his seat across from you with a raised brow, clearly amused by the situation. After you explain the debate, he listens intently before lifting his hands to sign his response.
“I don’t know about Megumi and Yuji,” Toge signs carefully, his fingers precise, “but if you’re suggesting Nobara and Maki, I’ve got news: I’ve heard Maki and Yuta are actually a thing.”
You freeze mid-follow-up, fumbling for the signs to convey “suggest” and “imply.” Gojo swoops in, translating seamlessly. Of course, he’s fluent—he picked up sign language quickly after the two of you agreed to learn for Toge’s sake.
“Well,” you mutter, leaning back in your chair. “That cleared up absolutely nothing.”
Finally, you summon President Zenin Maki. Confident and direct, she strides in with her arms crossed, rectangular glasses reflecting the fluorescent lights. Her thick lashes peek over the frames as she narrows her eyes at you.
“What now?” she snaps, cutting right to the chase. “Me and Yuta? Seriously? Look, you didn’t hear this from me, but since we’re dragging Yuta into this—Toge likes him. So there’s that.”
Maki turns on her heel and marches out, her ponytail swishing with every sharp step.
Gojo groans dramatically and leans his head on your shoulder, the soft tips of his snowy-white hair brushing your cheek.
“This is just getting more ridiculous,” he says, voice muffled against your arm. “Everyone’s in love with someone else. What the fuck?”
Your phone buzzes in your pocket. Careful not to disturb Gojo, who’s still sulking on your shoulder, you retrieve it.
Prof. Nanami Kento Can you return my projector tomorrow morning? I need it for my lesson. Thank you kindly. Also, I hear you and Gojo are still sniffing around where you don’t belong. Just a word of advice: being messy usually leads to more mess. Good luck cleaning it all up.
You sigh, sliding your phone back into your pocket. Nanami’s right, of course. But does that mean you’ll stop? Absolutely not.
insp by @r4yz-4u's comment !
https://gofund.me/5954916f
Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #31 )
Hello, my name is Iman, a mother of five children, the oldest is 15 years old and the youngest is two. I live with my family in northern Gaza. Our life has turned into a battlefield. We lost our home and were forced to flee and escape with our lives. We have been displaced eight times, moving from one school to another, and we are now living a life of homelessness and hunger. Even clean water is unavailable 💔😭. My children are suffering from starvation and malnutrition, going to bed hungry every day. I cry for my little daughter, who is two years old, when she asks for milk, which we don't have, and her frail body survives only on flour and stale bread. She has been deprived of everything. My children long for vegetables, meat, and fruit, which we haven't had in 11 months since the war began. Our bodies have been worn down, our bones are brittle, and my son Mohamed's chest bones are now protruding along with his spine. His body is covered in scabies due to a lack of cleanliness and the absence of medicine. Our bodies are swollen from the intense heat as we live with 40 people crammed into a small classroom filled with displaced people. My children have been deprived of education, even though they are all excellent students. On top of everything, there's constant bombing, fear, and hunger every day 🥺. This is why I am reaching out, as I have no income to provide for their basic needs as we try to rebuild our lives
Your donations will be the lifeline for my children, offering them a chance to survive and live through these difficult and harsh conditions. Even a very small contribution will make a difference in their lives. Every dollar counts in helping them through this crisis. Please, join in lending a helping hand during this tough and challenging time.
We are in northern Gaza, bodies without life, starvation is killing us, from the youngest to the oldest. We need your support, even if it's something
part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")
So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.
Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.
Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.
So, it’s an Eddie thing.
But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.
Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.
Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.
And this thing with Eddie… is not that.
So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.
(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)
And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.
Steve notices though. He always notices.
It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.
It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.
Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.
But he can’t fucking tell.
-
To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.
Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.
Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.
Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.
It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.
So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.
Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.
But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.
A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.
After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.
But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.
It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.
So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.
It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…
Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.
And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.
Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.
Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.
It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.
“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”
He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”
Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.
“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”
Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.
Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.
“Mm?”
“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.
But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.
Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.
“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—
Unless…?
“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!
“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.
“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.
“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.
Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.
Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.
Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.
Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.
“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.
“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”
There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.
“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.
“Do you want to try again?”
Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.
Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”
‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.
It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.
And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.
It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.
“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.
“Can I... have a hickie?”
now with a part three !
"I want to live in a world in which teenagers can fulfil their natural purpose of being annoying" and "I do not always want to be annoyed by the teenagers" are compatible sentiments
for a few days now i've been chatting with @hazempalestine, and i'd like to help boost this incredibly kind person's fundraiser in any way i can. he hasn't been able to see his family in 6 years, and his campaign has been progressing very slowly; as of posting, it's only at €6,661 out of a needed €50,000.
[link to el-shab-hussein and nabulsi's list of verified fundraisers]
Thank you dear supporters for all the help you are offering the people of Gaza in this dire time. I am a father of four tender babies who are paying much of their childhood and innocence in this unfair war. Please do whatever you can to help me save my family till the war ends.
Despite the suffering and hardships of this fierce war , your support and assistance ease us and grant us power and patience. Your contribution keeps a whole family safe, that is why i am asking you to donate whatever you can of at least share my link so that other donors can know about my tragedy and pain.
#90-gohset
This is for the support of Gaza's Municipality Services - which help ensure clean drinking water, waste collection, debri removal and sanitation services - life saving services to run a state - reader I imagine wherever you are or how lacking the municipality services in your city is, it's not worse than Ghazza.
Currently it's only at 11% - please donate -
I don’t know if I like it but my neck hurts too much not to post it
I am Dima from Gaza. I am 30 years old. I stand before you as a person trying to support my family of 3 members, me, my husband, and my young daughter. We are living in very difficult circumstances after the occupation launched the war on Gaza. We were displaced from our home and live in a tent that does not protect us from the cold of winter or the heat of summer. We live in extreme poverty due to the circumstances and there is no income. We are no longer able to provide the necessary supplies of food, drink and others due to the insane rise in prices. Thus, my source of livelihood was destroyed and we live in very difficult conditions in tents. It is difficult for me to find the words to describe what we face every day in the tents without food, medicine, or drinking clean water, along with the oppression, helplessness, psychological pressures, and daily traumas that everything causes. Around us and unable to care for our families, the fear of danger, disease and death never leaves us
Now, I find myself in this difficult situation, and I humbly ask for your help to save the lives of my family, especially my little girl, by getting us out of Gaza to Egypt and building a new life outside Gaza or helping us get money to buy the necessities we might be able to afford. Asking for help is not easy, but we had no choice because we want to survive and strive to rebuild our shattered lives. We are very grateful for any help you can offer, no matter how small, because your help will go a long way in alleviating our suffering. I hope you will share my story with your family and friends.