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My name is Maram, I am 25 years old from Gaza. I dreamed of a peaceful life, spending my life with my husband and my three children... but the war turned this dream into an impossible one 💔😭. We lived through this genocide with all its painful details and we are still suffering from it😭. We were so 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 south of the Gaza Strip. After repairing a small room in our destroyed house, we began to live there and start over. Unfortunately, the war came back, and it was even stronger than before 💔. Now, we have no shelter or source of income. We have used up all our savings during the war. I know I created my campaign very late, but that's because I have no other means to help my family 🙏. I am completely confident and hopeful that someone here will help us as much as they can and save my family in these tough circumstances 😔.
I know how painful and frustrating it is to start over from scratch, but I hope to get any amount for my family 🥺🙏.
My name is Maram, a Palestinian woman from Gaza. I am 26 years old and a mother of three children: Malik (8 years old), Ibrahim (6 years old
So, please, donate to my campaign, even if it's a small amount—it will have a big impact on us 🥺. May God bless you, my friend 🥰❤️.
Hi! :} My name is Arin (19) I'm trying to connect to more people from here since my Instagram has been disabled. Find friends and those who can support my families in Palestine, for collectives in Sudan, Congo, Tigray etc. 🇵🇸🇸🇩🇨🇩
This is my backup for this —> @angelwhispss2 but I also reblog, interact on here of course.
Please let me know if you're able to offer any support in this (whether through sharing, donating etc.) and/or know others who may be able to 🙏🏻
(looking for campaign managers/organizers especially, for the longest time.)
Thank you 💛🌙
(Ps—so sorry if if this message is showing up twice in your feed, sometimes I lose track of account names of those I reach out to) /:)
sharing this for better coverage; pls spread to others as well
My name is Mohammed, I live in Gaza City and I am 19 years old. I have lived through the full horrors of war — hunger, displacement, fear, relentless bombings, destruction, and so many other painful experiences 🥹😭.I never created a donation link before, and I haven’t received any kind of help throughout this devastating war 🥲💔.
I was so happy when the ceasefire was announced, and I dreamed of starting a small shop to earn a living. But sadly, the war returned — even more violent and destructive than before 😭.Our area has now been declared a dangerous combat zone, and we lost our home — the only shelter we had 💔.
Worst of all, my father was seriously injured: he tragically lost one of his hands and an eye, and he is now completely unable to work or support our family 🥲😭.
Prices have skyrocketed, and we have no source of income. I’m launching this donation campaign now with a broken heart but a little hope 🥲.
Please, for the sake of humanity and for the sake of my family, consider making a donation to help us survive 🙏💔.
I just created the donation link, hoping that someone out there might lend a helping hand.
My name is Mohammed. I am 18 years old and live in Gaza City. I am still at the beginning of my life, dreaming of a better future. My father
My name is Maram, I am 25 years old from Gaza. I dreamed of a peaceful life, spending my life with my husband and my three children... but the war turned this dream into an impossible one 💔😭. We lived through this genocide with all its painful details and we are still suffering from it😭. We were so 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 south of the Gaza Strip. After repairing a small room in our destroyed house, we began to live there and start over. Unfortunately, the war came back, and it was even stronger than before 💔. Now, we have no shelter or source of income. We have used up all our savings during the war. I know I created my campaign very late, but that's because I have no other means to help my family 🙏. I am completely confident and hopeful that someone here will help us as much as they can and save my family in these tough circumstances 😔.
I know how painful and frustrating it is to start over from scratch, but I hope to get any amount for my family 🥺🙏.
My name is Maram, a Palestinian woman from Gaza. I am 26 years old and a mother of three children: Malik (8 years old), Ibrahim (6 years old
So, please, donate to my campaign, even if it's a small amount—it will have a big impact on us 🥺. May God bless you, my friend 🥰❤️.
My name is Mahmoud. I live in Gaza with my family, and we are going through a very difficult financial situation. I tried to create a donation link for my family, but I couldn't find someone to help organize and manage the campaign 🥺💔So my friend Ahmed decided to support me by sharing his own family’s donation link, and we agreed to split the donations between our two families.
Right now, we have almost no food, and the cost of living has become unbearable due to the siege, soaring prices, and the closure of all crossings.Everything has doubled in price in an unimaginable way 🥲🥺
We might be forced to flee to southern Gaza after the announcement of a full invasion of Gaza City 💔
The bombing and destruction never stop — not for a single moment. There is no longer any real life in Gaza. We are just struggling to survive, trying to secure the bare minimum: water and food.
Winter is coming, and we have no winter clothing after our home was destroyed and we were displaced multiple times 😭🥲Please, we urgently need financial help to buy food and store some in case the situation worsens.
This is our donation link.
Please remember: donations are shared between two families. So, for the sake of God, help us, my friend. Save our children, my younger siblings, my parents, and even my older siblings — we are all homeless and hungry 🥺🥲💔
My Story: From the Hell of War to the Search for Safety My name is Ahmed, a 20-year-old young man from Gaza. Since the war began, my life ha
My name is Hisham, a 26-year-old young man from Gaza. Like any young person, I dreamed of a simple job to achieve my goals and build my future step by step, but the war turned all our dreams into rubble. We were displaced many times, carrying our homes on our shoulders, leaving our memories under the debris.
My family now lives in a tent with no stable shelter, my sister Jana has no school, and I have no steady job. My brother Kamal carries the burden of the entire family, working every day to secure just enough food, while I search for any work, no matter how difficult or dangerous, just to survive.
My mother, the beautiful dream we once cherished, wished for a calm and happy life for us, but the war tore us apart and shattered our hopes. As for Jana, my innocent sister, she lost her school, her books, and even her sense of hope, yet she still writes her dreams on small pieces of paper, hiding them in her torn clothes so they won’t get lost like everything else.
We are not asking for the impossible, only what keeps us alive with dignity and gives us a chance to rebuild our lives. Every donation, no matter how small, means so much to us. Your support will give us hope to keep going and try again. 🙏❤️
My name is Ramy, I’m 22 years old from northern Gaza, and I am the oldest brother of four younger brothers and one little sister who rely on me completely. Our home was destroyed during the war, and since then we have been living in a fragile tent with no safety, no stability, and often not enough food. I’ve searched everywhere for work to support my family, but I simply cannot find a job 💔
Every day, I watch my younger siblings grow weaker from hunger and exhaustion. Even our dog, who has always been part of our family, has lost so much weight because I can no longer provide food for him either. The hardest moments are at night when my siblings ask me when life will become normal again, and I have no answer except patience and prayer.
My name is Ramy. I am 22 years old, from northern Gaza, and I am the oldest brother in my family. I have four younger brothers and one littl
I am not asking for luxury — only a chance to protect my family and restore a little dignity to our lives. Any support, no matter how small, can help provide food, medicine, and hope for my brothers and sister 🙏🤍 Even sharing our story means the world to us.
My name is Mahmoud. I live in Gaza with my family, and we are going through a very difficult financial situation. I tried to create a donation link for my family, but I couldn't find someone to help organize and manage the campaign 🥺💔So my friend Ahmed decided to support me by sharing his own family’s donation link, and we agreed to split the donations between our two families.
Right now, we have almost no food, and the cost of living has become unbearable due to the siege, soaring prices, and the closure of all crossings.Everything has doubled in price in an unimaginable way 🥲🥺
We might be forced to flee to southern Gaza after the announcement of a full invasion of Gaza City 💔
The bombing and destruction never stop — not for a single moment. There is no longer any real life in Gaza. We are just struggling to survive, trying to secure the bare minimum: water and food.
Winter is coming, and we have no winter clothing after our home was destroyed and we were displaced multiple times 😭🥲Please, we urgently need financial help to buy food and store some in case the situation worsens.
This is our donation link.
Please remember: donations are shared between two families. So, for the sake of God, help us, my friend. Save our children, my younger siblings, my parents, and even my older siblings — we are all homeless and hungry 🥺🥲💔
My Story: From the Hell of War to the Search for Safety My name is Ahmed, a 20-year-old young man from Gaza. Since the war began, my life ha
It’s hard to put into words how exhausting this journey has been.
Since losing our home and the life we once knew, everything has felt uncertain 💔
Every day we try to keep going, stay hopeful, and believe that maybe things can still get better somehow.
I’m trying to continue my education while also helping my family through one of the hardest periods of our lives. Some days I feel strong… and other days everything just feels too heavy.
This campaign became our way of holding onto a little stability and hope 🤍
We’ve now reached £2,384 and we are only £116 away from our goal of £2,500 🙏
Being this close means so much to us, but we still need help reaching that final step.
If you can support us, even a little, please know it truly matters more than I can explain.
Your kindness helps us keep going when life feels overwhelming ✨
Hello, my name is Amjad from Gaza, Palestine 🇵🇸. I need your help and donations through this link so we can get the daily necessities to keep me and my family alive. As you know, we have nothing left. My mother has passed away, and my father is disabled and needs care and diapers. I hope you can help me with a donation, even if it's just $5 or $10. Thank you for your support and generosity. 🍉❤️
A mother's plea: Help us survive and protect my child who was born in war.
My name is Sahar. Like any young woman, I dreamed of a stable and happy life. I was engaged to Mohammad, and together, we dreamed of building a warm little home where we could start our life. We spent years preparing our house, but just before our wedding, everything was destroyed in an instant by the war.
I was faced with a choice: to leave Mohammad in the midst of this chaos or to stand by him and begin our journey together, no matter how difficult it might be. I chose him. We got married, not in the dream wedding I had envisioned, but under the harsh reality of war. Our new home became a fragile tent, offering neither comfort nor security.
After we got married, I received the news that I was pregnant with my daughter, and I live in constant fear for my unborn child. I am terrified of the world she will be born into—a world of poverty, hunger, and bitter cold. We have been displaced from our home more than nine times, carrying with us nothing but the burden of loss and the hope of survival. The house we dreamed of is now rubble, and the tent we live in barely protects us from the rain and cold.How will I protect my daughter? We struggle to find enough food. Basic necessities like milk, blankets, and clothing feel impossibly out of reach. The cost of survival has become unbearable. Every night, I am haunted by the thought: how can I bring her into this world, knowing I cannot keep her safe?
After a long pregnancy filled with pain and fear, after nights without sleep, I finally gave birth to my baby girl. She was born in the middle of bombing, surrounded by destruction and poverty—not in a warm room, not in a safe place. Her first cry mixed with the sound of explosions, as if she was announcing her arrival into a cruel world she never chose.
I gave birth to her with nothing but my heart. I cannot promise her anything. Poverty surrounds us from every side, and the cold reaches her tiny body before night even comes. My baby and I are suffering deeply, not because we ask for much, but because I am unable to provide her with the most basic needs: milk, warmth, and safety.
When I look into her eyes, I feel strength. When I look at my empty hands, I break down in tears. I am a mother trying to save her child from hunger and fear, in a world that has shown no mercy even to the dreams of children.😢🥹
To donate or support us, here is the link 👇🙏
Help Sahar and Mohammed Build a Safe Home for Their Baby
Sa… Jordan Brusso needs your support for Help Sahar and Mohammed Build a Safe H
From the depths of my heart, thank you for your kindness and compassion🥹❤️🙏
you had always thought you were a listener. sometimes you are. but when you get down to talk about something, anything, with the person you're comfortable with you became a full on chatterbox.
so imagine when you're talking with megumi. maybe you're lounging around in his room, on his bed in eachother company's. and you kept talking and talking. and he's there, listening to every word. adding tidbits to your rambling but never shut you out.
you then realise how quiet he'd been and asked him questions about his days. he answered like he always do. short, precise and leading the conversation away and back to you.
you didn't notice how flawlessly he turned the topic. you only noticed how you're talking again. and a lot.
feeling self-conscious, you stopped mid-rambling. you fidget around your fingers and chuckles nervously, "i'm sorry i'm talking a lot," you said. a little sheepish that you let your mouth go on and on.
he was about to say that, no you aren't. infact it wasn't enough. he wanted you to talk more. that he was obsessed with your voice. with you and every part of your thoughts even the mundane ones.
but you cut him off, "if you think that i should shut up just say so. you don't have to—" you started apologizing before he squished your face with his palm.
your mouth looked like a duck when you tried to speak, "gumi what are you doing?" a small giggle came out of you.
megumi isn't the best at speech. he is worse than inumaki with the speech curse. he couldn't for the life of him convey to you how he felt with words.
so he did what he did best. he leaned closer to you. gave your cheeks a squeeze or two. and with what you think was a subtle pout on his face he said, "never stop talking."
he never said why, never told you how you make him feel, never said that whenever he's with you it was the highlight of his day. well, he didn't need to. because the way he took care of you and your feelings showed you more than he needs to say.
with a soft smile on your face you nodded, "alright." as you picked up where you left off. he's all ears for you, always for you. itadori, nobara, gojo-sensei, never got what you get. his neverending attention.
love the idea of two boyfriends who take turns on you all night. every time you thing its over, ten minutes later a stiff cock is nudging at your cunt again-
and they urge each other on, shit talking about how the other isnt making you cum hard enough, how he's not gonna be able to get hard again-
You’re being unmade by a ghost—touched by something that looked like a man but felt like nothing at all. OR: You're having sex with Johan except you're more scared than horny.
EXPLICIT CONTENT BELOW. Read with discretion.
◣─────• ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ •─────◢
The room is suffocatingly quiet, the only sound is the ragged hitch of your own breath against the stillness of his.
Having sex with Johan feels like having a mannequin doll maneuver you as if you're not human too, as if you're less than a thing yourself.
Indeed, you feel your center quivering as he moves with a slow deliberate rhythm—that you don't deny. His fingers are covered by your essence, too; a heavy, grounding weight in and out your core that pins your whole body to the mattress. He smiles whenever he feels you clench on him, or whenever you moan a bit too loud. He teases you just right whenever he feels your hips trying to meet his pace.
But there's something wrong, something you can't deny.
It's not that he's rough. In fact, he's terrifyingly gentle, but it's rather the gentleness of a collector handling a rare, fragile antique.
Beyond its physical sensation which is, by far, feeling normal so far (like you're having a sex with a normal person and you're positive you're going to cum), the texture of this experience is wrong because of Johan himself. There's a distinct lack of humanity in the friction. His skin is too smooth, flawless to the point of feeling synthetic—like cool, polished porcelain against your own sweat-dampened flesh. How can you not let it bother you when his smile is so flat, his teases empty, and his eyes utterly void? Hell, you can't even bring yourself to look at him in the eye when he pulled out his fingers and licked it clean before you. More than anything, you just bent your head away from him and let out a moan in hopes he wouldn't notice that small moment of wanting to stop out of jitters.
He doesn’t fumble, doesn't gasp, doesn’t lose his rhythm when he lined up his dick to your entrance either. In fact, as soon as he slides himself in your core, he lets out a ragged exhale—and this, by far, is the most human response he has ever given yet.
"Are you okay?" Johan asks while slowly pushing himself in.
No, I'm scared. My heart is beating fast. I'm scared. "Y-yes, ah—Johan. Feels good," you cling to his shoulders in support. "Please keep going."
"Yes," he cups your cheek then, "my good girl."
Physically, the remark made you wetter. But deep in your mind, the condition of you being his brought overwhelming fear to your nerves. To belong to someone this inhuman? You close your eyes shut, hoping he doesn't sense the voices in your head screaming, okay, let's stop this. Oh no, stop, stop. Please stop. I'm scared!
When he feels you have adjusted to his size, he starts moving with the hydraulic precision of a machine, every shift of his weight calculated for maximum efficiency.
He reaches out, fingers wrapping around your wrist. Only that he doesn't hold your hand; he moves it like its will lie upon his and not yours. He lifts your arm and places it above your head, adjusting the angle slightly as if he were posing a mannequin in a shop window to catch the best light.
You lie there, breath hitching, feeling less like a sexual partner and more like a prop. An accessory to his existence.
Then he asks, "Is this better?"
Stop. Just fucking stop. "Yeah, hah, this is good."
Why stop, when he sounded polite? You better cease asking yourself, however, because deep inside you know: he wasn't asking if you felt pleasure, he was asking if the mechanism was functioning correctly.
God, it shouldn’t have felt like this.
To distract yourself from vocalizing your looming regret, you stare up at him instead, right at his beautiful, sculpted face that showed no strain, no flush of desire. With your mouth open, his hand locks to your jaw—he tilts your chin, while his other hand shifts your hips so he can thrust deeper.
"Look me in the eye," he whispers. It's not a request.
Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.
You force your eyes open, meeting his. That's the hardest part—and he doesn't close his eyes either. He doesn't lose himself in the sensation the way you're beginning to (only that it's difficult to reach your peak when you're this scared).
But you can't make it known.
Of course you can't; Johan is watching you—he's studying the way your breath catches in your throat, the way your fingers dig fruitlessly into his shoulders. You have to keep going and pretend you're feeling nothing but pleasure, even if his gaze is pale, abyssal blue, clear and unclouded by lust. Even if he's looking at you right now not like a lover, but a man observing a fascinating collapsing mountain.
He shifts, presses closer, and the sudden friction drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. He absorbs the sound, a faint, ghost of a smile touching his lips.
"You're trembling," he notes, voice steady, devoid of the raggedness tearing yours apart.
Your confusion then starts, whether to feel more of the physical pleasure or the emotional fear.
He reaches for your other hand as he lurches, interlacing his fingers to yours to pin you further to the bed. His grip is firm, inescapable (much to Johan being petite and feeble-looking, moreso when naked). He's not just touching you this time around; he's dismantling you, taking you apart piece by piece through this physical act to rummage what you really feel inside.
The pleasure is there, sharp and undeniable, but it's edged with fear that prevents you to fully relish the moment. To be this close to him is to be consumed.
And he can't know you're bothered by that. He can't know you're scared.
You arch into him, seeking an end to the tension, but he controls the pace, he keeps you suspended on that precipice, he forces you to endure his complete, undivided attention.
Even as he lets out a short moan then spills inside, he doesn't let you move your hands away, doesn't let your eyes stray far from his. Trapped, bound together, all to be consumed by him.
As if he's curious to see how the human body bends and reacts while he remains entirely separate from it. As if he's not human himself.
You're being unmade by a ghost—touched by something that looked like a man but felt like nothing at all.
Oh, to be touched by a ghost. U’re gonna reach the height of pleasure at the cost of being devoured.
But if we’re underneath him already, guess we gotta power through the “clinical” precision of the interaction. Intimacy with Johan really is a psychological game — but the more horrific thing is realizing it’s that feeling that’s gonna get you off🥹.
To be this close to him is to be consumed
It’s the only way the common (wo)man can experience the caresses of someone like Johan Liebert. You leave yourself because u’re in communion with a specter.